Pain, thats all he felt. From physical or emotional he couldn't discern. He assumed the worst and decided it was emotional. Pain is constant in what he did. A soldier, an embodidment of War, Death's favorite dealer. But the sheer loss of losing her was something that his training didn't cover. He wasn't supposed to have those feelings, he mused to himself. He was supposed to be programmed ,a robot, to the cause, ever since six years old. His training taught him to repress his emotions not heal or shield from them. Be on the offensive always on the move. Basic infantry military doctrine. But this is something he can't take the fight to. Something he wasn't conditioned for. Nothing could have prepared him for losing her. He always found a way to save the galaxy or mankind along with her. A lone tear fell from his eye, the eye with the scar he received so long ago. "Cortana," he mutters nearly choking on her name, "I miss you."