Okay, first ever Halo fic from me. Wow, what a landmark.

First off, like I say, this is a first attempt at writing Halo. As such, canon is sketchy at best. I've done my best, trying to keep characters away from being too OOC, but I think I slipped up here and there, and as for timeline...well, I'd like to say it's set during Halo 3 (a part of it was inspired by Starry Night), but seeing as I have no real info other then what I see in trailers and such, it's kind of hard to place (Mind you, being fan fiction it doesn't have to be comepletly canon anyway right?). As such, I'd kinda appreciate no comments about canoncy and the like, or flames for that matter. Constructive criticism is always appreciated though.

Anyway, read on, and I hope you enjoy.

Spartans can't love.

That little titbit of information, courtesy of Cortana, surprised me.

And I remember, as I watched him and a dozen or so shock troopers drop to the surface of the second Halo (it feels like eons ago), that it saddened me too.

This war…it's coming to an end. One way or another, I can just feel it in the air, whether that's the starch conditioned air of In Amber Clad's Bridge, or here, on this Pelican, breathing in the dry, sandy atmosphere of the African plains as we fly off to God knows where. There's just a sense of the end is near. I don't know if that's good or bad for us, but it's definitely there. You can see it in every soldiers eyes, be him (or her) UNSC or Covenant. They're tired, we're all tired, we all just want this war to end. Even the Elites, confused and betrayed as they are.

But we keep fighting, because we don't want the other side to win.

And so as I sit here, in the back of this drop ship waiting for the next chapter of this ongoing saga, I can't help but wonder what will happen if we win.

What will happen to people like…John?

John. Simple and easy to remember. A bit like him really.

I smile slightly as I let my eyes drift over to where he stands near the open hatch, one hand steady on the side of the craft as he watches the world flash past beneath us. It took me a minute to realise who Cortana was talking about in her reports about the destruction of the first Halo. I just kept seeing John 117. It was only after reading through Johnson's (who refers to him as Master Chief) did I make the connection.

Sometimes I wonder exactly how close that AI is to this man.

I'm kinda drifting from my point here.

I often wonder what will become of the Spartans if we win this war. Earth is a united front, has been for years, even before the Covenant glassed Harvest.

People like me, officers and marines of UNSC, we have a future if…and when…we win the war. Humanity will always need captains and crew for their ships, and marines will always be needed just to make sure things stay peaceful in the colonies.

But for Spartans, it's a different story.

They are a race of warriors, bred for war and nothing else.

They don't break easily, they seem ever calm and resilient, and some even say they never feel a thing, not even pain.

Of course the Master Chief is the only example of a Spartan II I have ever known properly, and even many of his aspects are still a mystery to me. Like what does he look like? I wonder if my father knew?

I'm straying again.

My point is, all people like John know is how to fight, and as hard as I try, I just can't see him in a setting of peace. Sure, there may be a few rebel cells he can take care of, but it will be nothing compared to this war.

I can't really speak from experience, but if it were me, I think that might drive me insane.

Then another thought hits me: what if he's just put on ice? Just shoved into a cryo-chamber until some other enemy decides to rear it's ugly head? Would they really do that? Would they really treat men and women who are humanity's heroes like that? Just putting them away until they become useful again, like tools?

They may not be upgraded with all kinds of cybertronics and what not, but they're still human.

"Commander?"

His even voice pulls me out of my thoughts, a part of my realising I've been staring at him for the past five minutes, my embarrassed features reflected in his gold face plate.

"With your permission, I'm heading out,"

It took me a minute to realise the Pelican currently hovered near the remains of Old Mombassa, one of the Marines shoving out a Mongoose onto the dirt as I stand to give him a proper goodbye, a mild irritation as I have at having to look up at him to (hopefully) meet his eyes.

"Very good Chief," my voice sounds so formal in my ears over the sound of the Pelican's engines, "I hope you trust the Arbiter to do his part,"

The Spartan did an impression of a half shrug, "Trust has nothing to do with it. We need each other for this to work. That's the only reason why we're here,"

I felt the corner of my lips tug upwards slightly at his bluntness. We stared at each other from across the blood tray as the marines made sure the area was secure, it taking me a moment to realise it was just the two of us in that cramped bay.

"With your permission," he seemed to be feeling uncomfortable under my gaze, "I'd like to get underway,"

"Just a minute," I took a few steps closer to him, if anything so I wouldn't have to shout over the engines, "I was wondering Chief, if we win this war…"

"When,"

I couldn't help but smile. It was very rare for a Spartan to correct a superior. Was he really so at ease with me?

"When," I coincided, "When we win this war…do you know what you're going to do?"

"Do?"

"Yes you know…" I gave him a helpless expression, not really sure how to explain it, "What will you…do with your life?"

John paused, his head bowed slightly, as though in thought.

"I don't know," his voice was surprisingly quiet, yet I could still hear it over the noise of battle, "I've never really thought about it. All I know is how to fight," he looked up at me, "I'd always thought I'd go down fighting,"

I give him a sympathetic smile as I try to pat him good naturedly on the shoulder, then thinking better of it and settling for his upper arm, due to my height.

"When this is all over, I'm going to help you find something to do that doesn't include anything along the lines of a SMG, you have my word,"

The statement seems to surprise him (even under MJOLNIR armour, I can still feel his arm tense up under my hand), it certainty surprised me. It was like a sudden snap decision, heat of the moment, that sort of thing, a decision that would properly change my life if I went through with it, but a decision that made me feel good on the inside.

Helping this man, who Johnson said my father held in high regard, seemed the right thing to do.

"If I survive,"

I quirked an eyebrow at this with an amused smirk. I figured he might say something like that.

"Oh you will,"

"How can you be sure?"

"Because you will. You're that kind of man,"

He seems to regard me quietly, although it's hard to tell with that faceplate in the way.

"I…would appreciate that Commander,"

I smile again as he turns to gaze out towards the approaching storm, nodding to one of the marines as he gives the signal that the area is secure.

"John,"

He turns back to me as his name escapes my lips, that uncanny feeling that he is surprised washing over me as I step up to him, my mind not completely sure of what my body is doing.

Slowly but surely, my hands reach up and grasp either side of his helmet firmly, a hint of amusement gracing my mind as he hesitantly stoops heavily as my limbs guide his head towards me.

And there, in front Johnson, a dozen marines, and maybe any Covenant that might be hiding under our nose, I kiss him.

It's not particularly romantic, pressing my lips to the top of his face plate, neither does it taste very nice; a sort of metallic tang mixed in with the grit of the area, but as I step back, I have a feeling that it was the right thing to do sweep over me, not to mention some amusement at the thought of him going crossed eyed trying to see if I'd left a mark on his plate.

"Good luck Master Chief," I smile again with nod, "Come back alive, understand?"

He seems to shake himself out of his revere, standing once more to his full height with a nod.

"Yes Ma'am,"

Then he jumps out of the hatch, mounts his vehicle, and drives away towards the storm, a trail of dust his only wake.

I sigh as I watch him disappear, before sliding back into my seat as the marines file in.

For the first time in a long while, I actually feel at ease, calm, ready to face anything, and even positive that we will win this war.

For as the Pelican takes to the skies once more, and I ignore the amused (and bemused) looks Johnson and his Marines give me and each other, I know I have a purpose, other then that of commanding ships and men, once the fighting stops:

To help a man named John…regain his humanity.