Hello, all! This is another short story about Alex. It takes place a little after augmentation, when they are all 14. It is a little out of pure traditional Halo, but it does make sense. 14 year olds do get in fights, even if they are Spartans. I might make more, but it is kinda meant to be a oneshot. Also, I AM working on my other two stories, Sangheili Ascension and Spartan-109, but I am really busy right now. Please check 'em out, and leave a review or two.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything concerned with Halo, and am not doing anything to steal ideas and blah blah blah.

Claimer: Spartan-109, Alex, is all MINE! MUAHAHAHAHAHAAHAAA! Well, here ya go.

1236 hours, June 5, 2525 (Military Calendar)\

Epsilon Eridani system, UNSC Training Center

Facility B-184, planet Reach.

Spartan-109, Alex, slapped a chunk of C-4 onto the building which he was hunkered next to. Bullets zipped overhead, thudding into the concrete above, and sending fragments of dust and debris flying into his face. He was nervous.

Spartan-104, Fred, fired off a few shots from his MA2-B and yelled at him to hurry up. Alex couldn't hear him over the rattle of gunfire and explosions. It was dark, but frequent flashes of light from bombs illuminated surroundings enough for Alex to see what he was trying to do without his headlight. He fumbled with the mess of wires and switches. He dropped them, picked them back up. A round pinged a meter to his right.

Fred hit him in the shoulder. "GET GOING!" He yelled as mortar fire erupted near them. Alex swallowed, and began again.

He was the best demolitions man his team had. Or he used to be. Alex was 14. Before the augmentation, he was the best. He could do any job, any time. Rig any explosion, anywhere. He used to be able to blow away stuff to the precision of a foot. But no more. The augmentation had left him... scattered. His body had come out fine, for the most part. Aside from uncontrollable spasms of violent twitching, that is.

As the twitching began to interfere with his normal functions, Alex's self-doubt began to grow. It was no longer just a physical problem. He was now unreliable, self-conscious, and unsure. It didn't help the situation at all.

They were in the middle of a jungle on some island, without air or ground support, in a large compound sort of like a prison camp. They were crouched next to the corner of a large building which happened to be where the enemies stored their provisions of food and ammo. It was pitch black, cold, and very, very dangerous.

Spartan-043, Will, dropped out of nowhere and next to them. Alex connected the charge.

"Ready!" he said, rolling up and around to join his comrades by the corner of the facility.

He knew it was just training, but training was yet another term used by the military to shield the reality. Like the word interrogation. This, in reality, meant torture. Training or not, he would be just as dead if he got slotted.

"GO!" Fred yelled, and they sprinted away from the building. They fired nonstop at the overwhelming number of targets, who were firing nonstop at them. Rounds chewed up the dirt floor around them. Alex saw everything in slow motion as he ran. It was like running a movie frame by frame. It gave him an edge. John's trainer had said it was just his heightened awareness from augmentation combined with adrenaline, combined with Alex's gift for it.

They dove down a foxhole, and Alex pressed the detonator. Everything became silent, and then a wave of heat and fire erupted towards them. Sound came, and a roar tore through the night. He tumbled down the stairs, cursing, as chunks of twisted metal and concrete reined down, crushing earth and flesh.

They got out of there. Fast. Alex flew forward as a massive block of building crashed behind them, cratering the earth. He landed hard on his head, it snapped downwards onto his chest, but he twisted onto his shoulder before he broke his neck. They got up, and kept going, fleeing into the simulated night.

THREE HOURS LATER

Alex sat apart from the other Spartans, hanging back. He watched the others talk, laugh, play cards. They were all in a corner of the barracks at 3:30 AM enjoying the privacy and chance to get away from the trainers. A chance to say what they could not on the field.

He snuck a glance at Linda, who was also hanging back from the light of the single bare bulb. She was leaning back in a chair in the dark, arms folded across her chest. He could see her eyes glinting in the dark as their gazes met. He blushed, and looked down at his feet.

He knew he had feelings for her, but he always tried to ignore them. He wondered if she felt for him. He doubted it. They did have something in common, though. He and Linda could sit back, watch the others, and think the same thing. They looked at the others and wished they could be like them. That the mental scars of augmentation would go away. It was comforting to know someone else had your problems.

Alex looked up at Linda again. She met his gaze again. He wondered how she knew when he was looking at her. She gave him a challenging look. Buzz off, it said. So he went to polishing his MA2-B.

Zoning out of reality for awhile could help a lot. It saved him from a lot of grief. He could shut off his feelings, shut everything down and just sit. He knew Linda did it also. He knew that vacant stare of hers. He knew she saw it in him. That gave him comfort too.

So he did just that. He shut out the voices, the light, the pain, and zoned out.

He was jerked back into reality by Linda's voice. Alex blinked and looked around, disoriented, and then looked to her. She was sitting in the same place, but Fred was now behind her. He leaned down and whispered in her ear, brushing his lips on her cheek. She elbowed him.

"Cut it" he heard her growl. He smiled. Nobody noticed what was happening, they were so engrossed in discussion and word games. He kept listening to Fred, and tried to hear what he was saying.

"and then there's Alex." He heard Fred say to her. Alex couldn't make out the rest, as it was jumbled up in the others voices. But he didn't have to wait long. "What about Alex?" an unintelligible voice asked.

Fred called back. "He is not the type of person our squad can use anymore. He is not made for action. He can do the slow methodical stuff while we do the more swift termination."

Alex leaned back in his chair, pretending to be at ease. He was angry. It grew quieter, as more Spartans paused to listen. Fred had been chaffing him the whole week, and he wouldn't leave Linda alone. He was sick of it.

"Yeah, you kill everyone in sight and some of us think first." It was instantly silent. No-one moved, no-one spoke, except for Fred.

"And we have the complete clean mission record." Fred leered back.

"Yeah, because we clean all of your messes up. And get away from Linda. Now." Fred chuckled and turned to look at Alex with a mocking grin.

"You can't do anything else. You can't even shoot straight anymore."

Alex yanked Fred forward, and slammed his face into the side of his forearm with a crack. Fred took it with a grunt and tackled him, bodychecking him hard against the wall. Alex slammed his palm into Fred's rib cage, rocking him backwards, and driving the air out of his lungs. He launched a front kick at him, but Fred was now inside the arc of his foot, and past his defenses. He punched Alex, who couched flecks of blood up, but grabbed his vest and launched him into the table anyway. Fred landed hard on top of the table and chairs, wrecking them. He rammed both fists upwards as Alex crashed on top of him. Alex gagged. He needed to breathe, but he couldn't. He wrenched his arm around Fred's neck, and squeezed hard. Fred was hammering his sides the whole time, but he couldn't feel the pain anymore. He could only see his dead brothers broken body tumble from the augmentation tube. Blind rage forced him on, as he throttled Fred, tightening his hold like a vice.

Alex couldn't see anything anymore, just red. His strength failed and he hung limp as someone ripped him off of Fred. He was thrown onto the rough concrete floor and pinned there. The cool of his cheek against the floor brought Alex back. And he regretted being able to feel again as his face and sides pulsed with a dull hurt. Blood pooled around his face, and he guessed from the pain that he had a broken nose and a few missing teeth.

The Spartan took a few deep breaths (as best he could with the knee of some Spartan grinding into his back) and sucked up the pain.

"I'm good. Get off." The other Spartan got off. Alex pulled himself to his knees, and spit blood. He wiped his nose with his arm; it came away with dark red smears. He gingerly felt his nose, and decided that yes, it was very broken. He got to his feet, swayed a minute, and turned around.

"Don't do that again." Linda growled. He was taken aback at her ferocity. "But thanks anyway." She added, smiling slightly. She looked him up and down, and tossed him a can regeneration foam. Alex caught it while stepping around her to look down at Fred, who was sitting on the floor, wheezing.

"You all think just because you didn't come through augmentation with any scars that you're so cool. You think you're better than us. You have no idea what the word loss means." Alex laughed, bitterly. "Idiots." He walked off.

EDITED FOR ERRORS ON June 27, 2006.