Author's Note: Here it is! Remember to review.
He wasn't really concerned. Not really. Because, like every other morning over the past few months, the first arrangement of thoughts was her name.
Sheila.
Jack drew in a deep, slow breath. And smiled. Then he opened his eyes.
Unusual. He wasn't looking at a bare steel plate, inches from his head. The top bunk of the Commonwealth was gone. The ceiling was much more aesthetically pleasing-smooth white plastic. The air tasted different. It was… not cleaner, because no air was cleaner than what came from the military-strength scrubbers on the Commonwealth. It was… richer. Heartier. It smelled like pine trees. Not the fake pine-tree-smell, either. The real thing, like back home.
Home. Had this all been a dream? Was any of what he'd experienced in the Halo universe real? Did Sheila exist?
He lurched upward, tearing out two IVs. He barely noticed.
This room was civilian…ish. Angular lines, steel construction. But it had a recliner, a mini-fridge, and what looked like an entertainment center with a holo-projector. Blue carpeting… definitely not UNSC issue. It was small. Was he in someone's first apartment?
Jack became aware of a ringing alarm. Three guys burst in from a door. One of them was Jorge.
"Jorge!" Jack coughed. His throat was full of junk.
"Glad to see you're awake, mate," Jorge grinned in that older-brotherly way that Jack remembered.
"What's going on?" Jack asked. Jorge's smile became fixed.
"Well… it's a long story. I think it's best that the Doctor explain."
Jack didn't know why, but he was just so glad to see the big son of a bitch. He noticed Jorge had… what?
"I'm sorry, man. But do you have wrinkles?" Jack chuckled.
"Afraid so, mate. It's a stressful job I do. Plus the other factor," Jorge grinned.
"What other factor?" Jack asked.
"It is very good to see you awake," Dr. Halsey appeared from behind the towering Spartan.
"Good to be awake," Jack yawned. "How long was I out? Where's Li and Sheila?"
"Well…," Dr. Halsey said carefully. "Try to remember. What happened yesterday?"
"Huh," Jack frowned. He thought back.
"We… were taking on Asef. We stormed an apartment complex…," Jack said slowly. "I remember being in charge of the mission, because I asked Sheila,"
"Yes," Jorge said soberly. Jack noticed that Dr. Halsey had gray in her hair.
"We got to Asef… and…," Jack remembered.
"You should have dealt with me peaceably, Jack. Now I get to take four Spartans from the UNSC," The bricks of plastic explosive lining the walls gleamed…
"There was an explosion," Jack whispered. "A big one,"
"Yes," Jorge said sadly.
"Is she ok?" Jack burst out, jumping off the hospital bed, tearing out the last IV.
"Yes," Jorge grabbed him around the shoulders. Holding him still.
"She is?" Jack asked wildly.
"Yes, Jack. About as well as you were," Jorge said.
"What do you mean?"
"Jack… sit down," Halsey commanded. He did. Jorge grabbed some bandages, and wrapped up Jacks wounds. He was dripping blood everywhere, from the IV holes.
"Jack… that explosion killed you. It killed all of Gold Team. There was a mistake in the wiring-less than four of the plastic explosive bricks detonated on time. By the time the rest had exploded, Gold was blown out of its path,"
"Through three walls," Jorge said.
"It saved you from the rest of the bomb," Halsey said. "But you all still were badly hurt, Jack. If medical personnel hadn't been on-hand, you wouldn't have made it,"
"We got thrown in cryo. There wasn't a beating heart among us," Jorge said grimly.
"If it wasn't for the MJOLNIR armor, and the ceramic in your bones… you would have had no chance. But they took enough of the damage to leave your brain intact, albeit damaged," Dr. Halsey said.
"I… I…," Jack stuttered.
"We were mulch," Jorge said solidly. "We got put in cryo within minutes,"
"And I spent a considerable amount of time and energy using flash-cloned parts and delicate surgery to patch you up," Catherine said. "Jorge I fixed first. Then you… but you were more hurt than the rest, being closer to the explosives. After ensuring you were… stable, I worked on Li,"
"How much of me is… me?" Jack asked.
"Well, every cell in your body naturally dies and is replaced every seven years or so…," Dr. Halsey trailed off at Jack's glare.
"Roughly six percent. It was an extensive rebuilding process," She said apologetically.
"Damn," Jack breathed, laying back down , in shock.
"I wasn't much better: eleven percent," Jorge said with a shrug. "Still going strong,"
"Jorge wanted to wake you up earlier," Dr. Halsey said. "But I figured you would want to wake up around the time that Sheila did. I took the opportunity to do some follow-up surgery,"
"What did you do?" Jack asked, horrified.
"Well, you had to be re-augmented. That was done, and much more effectively than last time. With new technologies-"
"What new tech?" Jack demanded.
"Well, for example, instead of the carbide ceramic, we used a reverse-engineered compound. Similar in structure to the material in Hunter shields and armor," Halsey smiled hopefully. "Sixty-three percent stronger. And much more resistant to plasma fire,"
"What else?" Jack asked.
"Well, the same material forms an artificial ribcage. It's more flexible and more resilient. More like plate armor than ribs, I suppose. A regular ribcage is very vulnerable to bullets-one shot could slide between, and puncture your heart or lungs," Dr. Halsey shrugged, slightly pleased with herself. "This makes you much less vulnerable. Your vertebrae have been similarly upgraded,"
"It would take a Brute on steroids to snap your neck," Jorge chuckled. "I almost wish she'd delayed my awakening, too,"
Jack shook his head, wide-eyed. This was too much to take in.
"How long have I been under?"
Jorge shifted weight to his left foot. Dr. Halsey frowned.
"Well?"
"It is January 22, 2530," Dr. Halsey said.
"What?" Jack jumped back up.
"I know, I know," Jorge said.
"Five years?"
"It was slow going. Command decided to let you stay dead," Dr. Halsey's eyes flared. "I disagreed. I used my own resources and free time to rebuild you,"
"Jesus…," Jack said.
"It was two years, for me. But I know how you feel," Jorge said.
"I… I can't believe…,"
"A lot has changed," Jorge said.
"Like what?"
"Wallace is dead. He bit it in 2528, defending Madrigal," Jorge said. "So he won't be bugging us, anymore. What else, what else… Oh, right, we've got shields,"
"What?"
"In your little book," Dr. Halsey said, grinning, "It's revealed that we do, in fact, unlock the technology of Covenant energy shielding. Funding for the reverse-engineering project was being diverted; it looked like a fool's errand, and we needed the money for other, more promising ventures. I pushed hard, and got the money to keep going. We figured it out last year. The Mark V Armor is being developed now, being rushed through the beta-testing. It'll be pretty similar to the IV, except for the shielding,"
"That's... incredible," Jack was stunned. In the books, shielding wasn't realized for soldiers for another twenty years. How many other changes from the canon had Jack inadvertently made?
"What about on ships?" Jack asked.
"Working on it," Dr. Halsey's smile faded. "That's a different issue; much more difficult. But in another five to ten years, every new ship of the line will have shielding,"
Well… damn! The end of Halo 3 was in 2552, and they didn't have shields then. Jack realized he was almost scared. He knew what would happen in the old Halo timeline… but would the future even be recognizable now?
"Where are we?" Jack asked.
"Reach," Jorge said with a broad grin.
"Why?" Jack asked.
"Class Two is underway," Dr. Halsey said. "And Jorge is Commandant of the training program,"
"I… holy shit, really?" Jack asked.
"Yeah," Jorge said. "I'm a Lieutenant, now,"
"Damn… sir,"
Jorge laughed.
"You really don't need to call me that,"
"Hey, whatever you say, sir," Jack grinned, and punched him lightly on the shoulder. Pain exploded up his arm, from each joint up to his shoulder.
"Fuck!" He gasped, cradling the arm.
"You've been given painkillers, but that doesn't mean you're good to move, Jack," Dr. Halsey said, gently pushing him down onto the bed. Then she re-inserted the IVs.
"You always overdo it," She scolded. "Maybe I should knock you out for a few more weeks,"
"Hell no!" Jack exclaimed. "I've been out long enough!"
"Promise to take it really easy?" She glared at him. He looked down and burned red with chagrin.
"Yeah, sure, mom,"
"Good. Then I'll only put you out for a few hours," She fiddled with the bags above his head, connected to the IVs.
"Hey, come on!" Jack whined. "That's not… not… fair…,"
The world had fuzzed out before his eyes closed.
LLBLBLBLB
"Quit moping,"
"Huh?" Jack blinked away his confusion.
"I said, quit moping. Not doing anyone any favors, especially you," An old man with a mop grinned.
"I'm not moping," Jack said.
"Yes you are," The old man chuckled.
"Even if I was, if wouldn't be any of your business," Jack grunted.
"You made the right decisions. What happened wasn't your fault,"
"Are you the janitor or my new therapist?" Jack rolled on his side.
"Name's Owen. And that's 'Maintenance Officer Owen' to you, kid," Owen said. "Look at me when I'm talking to you. Didn't your parents teach you that?"
"They didn't teach me much," Jack growled, but rolled back over. "You could be Admiral of Cleanliness and I still wouldn't give a shit,"
Jack saw it coming a mile away, and could have stopped it. But he was stunned by the randomness of it, not to mention his petrifying depression. So the upper handle of the mop whacked him in the nose.
"Ow!"
"Didn't your parents teach you manners? Learn a little respect. I've been mopping floors since before you were born," Owen continued not mop the floor, resting his hands on the end. Staring at Jack.
"Disappointing."
"I understand that you have a kung-fu-like mastery of that particular object, but what the hell? That hurt," Jack said.
"I understand that you've kicked plenty of Insurrectionist and Covenant ass, but when I say watch your language, I mean it. You'll get a whupping, boy," Owen grinned.
"You think you can take me?" Jack said, unbelieving.
"I know I can."
"Really?" Jack scoffed.
"Yup," Owen said.
"I've killed dozens of aliens. And people,"
"I've killed hundreds of stains."
"If I wanted to, I could punch the back of your face," Jack said incredulously.
"If I wanted to, I could sweep the Armory."
"I can break your osteoporotic bones like chalk," Jack laughed skeptically.
"I can break chalk." Owen was still grinning.
"Do you want me to kick your ass?" Jack asked, and Owen laughed.
"I want you to try."
Jack tore out the IVs, and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Fresh blood welled out of the holes. The old man didn't look intimidated. Jack took a step forward, and winced as pain shot through his legs. He cracked his neck and braced for more, taking another step forward. It hurt, but was manageable.
One more-and the old man's mop whipped up by his head. Jack moved his arm to block-and was stunned by the pain of that simple actions. But it had been a feint.
The mop handle pulled back and jabbed Jack under the ribs.
"Ah!" Jack fell to his knees, his arms and legs on fire from catching the floor.
The mop rapped the back of Jack's head, shooting pain up his neck.
"Officially, you're dead. They don't give much help to dead people. I've been assigned as your physical therapist, by the Doc. Until then, mopping the floor comes second," Owen grinned. "Nod once if you surrender,"
Jack knew he'd lost, and he hated it. But he nodded.
"Here," Owen stuck out a hand. Jack took it. The old man gently helped him up and back into the bed.
"You're not much of a physical therapist," Jack grunted through gritted teeth.
"Dr. Halsey has been forwarding me materials on it for months," Owen said, leaning back on the mop. "Out here in the woods, I don't have much else to do. Might as well learn something, get more hours in,"
"That doesn't make any sense," Jack said. "You're a friggin janitor. How can you-"
Whack! The mop smacked his midsection.
"You son of a bitch!" Jack locked up, fighting a tidal wave of pain.
"This is physical therapy-getting through the pain and moving forward. And I may be a janitor, but don't think that means I got nothing to teach you," Owen said. "I see it'll take time to learn you your manners,"
"When I get healed up…," Jack snarled.
"Chin up, son. Negative reinforcement is character-building. And besides. I think they made a mistake making you a Spartan before you learned discipline. You need to learn to listen to people."
"How do you know so much stuff about me?" Jack asked. Owen snickered.
"You're fourteen-not that hard to read. Plus, the good doctor has needed someone to vent to. I'm good at keeping secrets."
"I think I'm nineteen, now," Jack sighed. "Five years, right?"
Owen laughed. "You don't age in cryo, kid. Maybe a little physically, but not at all mentally. Unconsciousness don't grant wisdom,"
"So I need arthritis and liverspots? Damn," Jack said sadly.
Whap!
"Goddammit!"
Whap!
"Don't you take the Good Lord's name in vain," Owen said.
"Why the hell not?" Jack growled.
Whap!
"Hell is now a no-no," Owen said sternly.
"Ah, come on! Just take my goddamn middle fingers, why don't you?" Jack shouted, and braced himself. But no hit came. He looked up and saw Owen sweating, catching his breath. Leaning heavy on the mop.
"Give it a sec," He panted. "It's coming,"
Jack blinked.
"I'm sorry," He said. "It's just a teenager reflex. Don't have a heart attack or stroke or something,"
Whack!
"What the crap was that for?" Jack rumbled.
"You got a lot to learn… you big sack of turd," Owen said between breaths.
"Ow," Jack said weakly.