Forward: First of all, I own nothing of the Halo franchise. Also, credit for the subtitle of this fic goes to Gundam Wing from the feature film Mobile Suit Gundam Wing: Endless Waltz. Now that that is out of the way, a little PSA from your friendly neighborhood amateur author. While I've read my share of Halo literature (Ghosts of Onyx and Grasslands completely, bits and pieces of other novels, plus I've played all the games), you won't find the military jargon precision or perfect attention to detail of the entire Halo Universe that is present in the best of Halo fanfiction. I state this not as a "Come on guys, I'm not great but give me a chance!" shtick, but to relax your minds, so to speak, of such expectations. I write for characters, and for those quiet, pensive moments you find in classic cinema, moments that authors like Karen Traviss tend to leave out (and yes, I am throwing a little elbow at Traviss. She has decent mechanics and fundamentals of writing. Ya know, grammar, sentence flow, comma control, only the occasional misspelling ((which is a little embarrassing for a professional author)). But her work lacks charm and, ya know, character). What can I say? I'm a sucker for noire. And that's the vibe I like to play with in my work. Naturally I'll do my best to stir up some action for the Spartans. Why ignore the selling point of the series, right?

What I really want to explore in this story is a soldier's motivation for attaining peace. Why a warrior fights, and how long that personal cause of theirs can keep them going. And ultimately, what is more important: Victory, or peace?

Also, this takes place after Halo 4. Godere!

1st Movement: Stacking the Deck

Chapter 1: Instigating Actions

Part I

Our Respective Similarities

While Dr. Halsey was the only person onboard technically incarcerated, the UNSC Port Stanley still felt like a prison. It wasn't just that the Port Stanley was not a "pretty" ship by any means. The ship was lifeless. It was hard to explain. The crewmen were always nearly silent and uneasy, not afraid but suspicious of their own shadow. It's like no one on the entire ship trusted each other, aside from their estranged rescuer's inner circle and even they had their own subtler brand of paranoia constantly hanging in the air around them. Tom B292 has always had a way of understanding people. He supposed that was why he got to be the leader of Foxtrot; he just had a natural insight about others, and about human nature to a simple degree. As much as a Spartan could, anyway. But even though Tom had a natural understanding of the human condition, he couldn't figure out why he wasn't very happy.

He had just about everything he could possibly want. They were out of danger (for now), they were heading back to Earth, and they had discovered new technology that would invariably make tremendous breakthroughs for human science. But most importantly to Tom was that Lucy was talking again. It had been so long since he heard her voice he was afraid that he might forget what she sounded like. But of course, he hadn't. Even though Lucy was still getting used to speaking again and her voice was very quiet, raspy, and strained, the moment he heard her again a thousand memories of their youth rushed back to him. She would never be the same person she was when they were twelve, but that was alright. His Luce was healing.

He stared at the ceiling of his temporary cabin on the Port Stanley, a cabin that was usually reserved for Lieutenants, but the Port Stanley seemed to be a pretty understaffed ship. Probably because of the "classified" nature of its operations. Heh, classified. Everyone onboard knows this is a black ops boat. Maybe it was just the bad vibes of the ship that was bothering him. Wow, if Lt. Ambrose knew that he was using abstract colloquialisms like "vibes" he'd have Tom running sprints across camp on his hands for hours.

Tom was snapped out of his melancholy reverie by a beep from the com in his helmet. The helmet was currently mounted on the wall with the rest of his SPI armor. He hopped up from his bed and crossed the little cabin to his helmet. He placed the familiar armor piece on his head and answered the com.

"Tom-292," Tom said in even tone.

"The Doctor said this would be the easiest way to get a hold of you." The call signature identified the caller as UNSC Port Stanley Brig.

"What do you need," Tom responded.

"Dr. Halsey wants to see you."

Why would she want to see me? She was never too fond of any of the IIIs.

"Tell the doctor I'm on my way. On what deck is the brig located?"

"Deck 13, sir."

"B292, out."

At first she wondered if he would even come. Why would he want to see the old bitch that nearly sent his friend over the edge? Halsey still had the black eye to show for it. But sure enough, the communications officer told her Tom-B292 was on his way. She had summoned him on a whim, a little feeling. She must be getting old fast, because she would never usually let such a thing move her to even lift a pencil. With usual Spartan promptness, Tom had arrived before Halsey had constructed exactly what she wanted to say. Looks like we're winging it.

Tom sat down on the other side of the bullet proof glass that separated Halsey from the outside world. Even though there was no way Halsey would have had any chance of escaping even if she tried, Paragnosky was not about to show her any mercy. The old bat was going to revel in her victory. Though I suppose if my Spartans wanted me free, they'd have me out and in control of the ship within a couple hours, even with Osman on Paragnosky's side. She wouldn't stand a chance against Blue Team. But no, her Spartans were too loyal to the UNSC. They were soldiers, and they would follow their orders. Even if it meant leaving Mom to the wolves. It probably made it easier that she was a pretty terrible mother.

B292 had been sitting there silent for a good couple minutes now. He was so tiny compared to her Spartans, just under two meters tall and no muscle mass augmentation like the Spartan IIs. To the naked eye, he looked like any other twenty year-old man. A very fit twenty year-old man. Finally Tom's patience seemed to wear down.

"You rang?" Tom quipped. Halsey couldn't help but smile a tiny bit. While Spartans tended to banter occasionally, she had never seen a Spartan quite so…sociable as Tom. Even off duty, Spartans still spoke like they were on a mission. But not Tom. He could actually speak like a civilian without trying. Like it was natural. Well, enough stalling. She didn't have a plan to bring it up subtly, so she might as well let it out.

"You remind me of John," Halsey said. The words sounded strange coming out of her mouth, like such a statement should never be uttered. Really, it shouldn't. John-117 was one of a kind. Even still, there was something about this boy, something about him that was exceptional beyond statistical prediction just like John.

"W-what?" Tom stuttered, utterly disarmed. Me, like Master Chief? What's this about? Has the Doctor gone off her rocker or is she playing an angle? Or maybe…no.

"You just-" she began, trying to find a way to explain the unexplainable, "You've got a special touch Tom. When you're around, things go right."

"Heh, you never read the post-op on T.O.R.P.E.D.O. did you?" That was only half a joke.

"Yes. You succeeded and survived a mission that should have impossible to even complete, much less survive. You even saved the girl while you were at it," Halsey said, intending that last bit to be a joke. But by the way Tom's fingers twitched toward forming a fist, that wasn't a smart move. Or was it? Maybe Halsey just stumbled upon Tom-B292's source of luck: the lady. She continued, "That's it, though, isn't it? The difference between you and John. John's success comes from his luck, but you have something different that pulls you through. Something…Someone that keeps you going."

"I complete my missions like any other soldier, ma'am," Tom replies tersely, not sure how he should respond to that for a second. But, as it always seems to, the right words came to him and so he continued, "I just happen to have a little extra motivation I suppose."

Dr. Halsey smiled. Despite her previous prejudice against the Spartan IIIs, she was beginning to like Tom. She supposed that her dislike of them stemmed from the simple fact that they weren't hers. Pretty unfair of her, but at her age she was allowed to be a bitter old woman every now and again, right? A bitter old woman with a lot to answer for.

"Well," Dr. Halsey said after a rather elongated awkward pause, "I suppose that's all."

"Really?" Tom asked with eyebrow raised.

Halsey snorted and retorted, "Yes boy. Now run along, go play with your G.I. Joes."

While Tom had no idea what the hell a "G.I. Joe" was, he got the message that the good doctor was done with him. He gave her a nod, stood, and turned on his heel to leave. Just as he got to the door he was stopped by Dr. Halsey's last words to him, "Take care boy. And take care of her."

She found him in the first place she looked, right where she knew he'd be. The Port Stanley was between the Earth and the Sun, bathing Tom's back in brilliant solar light as he stared out the starboard window wall of the observation deck. If there was any place on the Stanley that could be called "nice" it would be the observation deck, maybe you could even call it…

"Beautiful, isn't it?" he said without moving a muscle. Lucy smiled. It wasn't a question of how he knew she was there, but how many seconds did it take till he knew she was standing there watching him. She padded lightly over to Tom's side and nearly absent mindedly tucked a lock of hair behind her right ear. Nearly being the case because she took a pause to realize how long her hair had gotten. Since surviving T.O.R.P.E.D.O. she kept it a bit longer than a customary Spartan in a jagged pixie cut, but now you could almost say her shoulder length hair nearly flowed.

As if reading her mind, and no doubt noticing her hand hesitating by her right ear, he looked down at her with a little smile and said, "I like your hair long."

Lucy tried to fight the smile that cracked onto her face but failed. She met his eyes for a second and let her smile free. It wasn't a big one, nothing was big about Lucy, not even her happiest smiles. Tom was just fine with that. In fact, he loved it. All the more reason why he chuckled when she gave him a light swat on the stomach as she looked down and away. Tom loved moments like these, where just for a second there were no wars or xenocidal alien races or children to mold into killers. Just Tom and Lucy, together and happy.

Lucy loved it too, much for the same reasons. The therapeutic effect of a couple careless seconds was amplified a million fold for Spartans. Their war pedigree could hardly handle the jubilation of free laughter. But just as their minds were about to get lost in a light hearted wonderland the moment was done. They went back to looking out the enormous window before them, but only Tom was admiring the Earth. Lucy's eyes were unfocused with contemplation. She had the strangest urge to tell Tom something, however, she didn't know why she wanted to. But despite not having a concrete reason, her compulsion got the better of her.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, nearly too quiet to be audible. But Tom's ears had been trained for years on Lucy's soft tapping and little whimpers she made in her sleep.

"About what Luce?" he said, this time fully facing her.

"When I spoke…When it started again…It should have been you," she stammered, not sure how to word it for a world of reasons. But as always, Tom understood.

"No Lucy, it's alright," he said, "I'm just glad you started speaking again at all. I've been waiting for a long time."

"Tom…" but that was all she managed to squeak out before both of their pagers issued to them by ONI for temporary use aboard the Port Stanley beeped at once. The pair of Spartan IIIs shared a glance before checking their pagers. "REPORT TO ADMIRAL PARANGOSKY AT ONCE." Tom and Lucy looked back to each other confused before sharing a decision to resign to the order. Before either moved though, Tom changed his look to the silent question, "You were saying?"

Lucy responded with her own look of, "Oh, nevermind." She then began toward the aft side lift, and Tom fell into step with her a moment later. Both of the Spartan IIIs were very wary of Parangosky, but no matter what the frightening woman had in store for them, they would face it together.

Part II

Shanghaied

"At ease," Parangosky ordered, but from her bitter tone in almost sounded like a threat. The Admiral almost snickered as she watched the battle hardened suicide soldiers before her squirm, albeit subtly and in their own Spartan way, like naughty children waiting for a punishment from their school master. She continued, "I have summoned you to offer you two an opportunity. An opportunity to continue serving humanity. ONI is launching a new Spartan generation: the Spartan IV Program. This generation is to take after the ORION Program. No child soldiers, only willing, adult volunteers. And as previous members of the Spartan program, you two have an early invitation. So, what do you say? Save humanity one more time?"

Tom hesitated. He knew he would be the one to answer vocally for the pair, but he looked to Lucy first before even thinking about answering. To the naked eye, Lucy looked stone cold and unperturbed by the offer. But to Tom, her expression told a different story: her slightly upward eyebrows conveyed mistrust, her pinch corners of her mouth and slightly narrowed nostrils showed aversion, and her eyes, which were the real kicker, were the slightest bit widened and glassy which told Tom the simple answer of "Please no," which was all Tom need to see. He nodded the slightest fraction to her, which set her eyes a bit more at ease.

"This is an optional program, correct ma'am?" Tom asked, to which Parangosky nodded stiffly in response, "In that case ma'am, we would like to decline." Parangosky's eyes caught fire and her nostrils flared with blatant anger, as she was not a woman accustomed to being refused.

"Are you really turning your back on your race Petty Officers? Scorning the very peoples you have sacrificed your lives thus far to protect? Surely you cannot be so cowardly," she seethed, growing in her indignation which every syllable.

"Admiral Parangosky, ma'am, you just said this was an optional program," Tom stated slightly defensively. He did not like the rising agitation of his superior for several reasons, one of which being that he had the continually sinking feeling that the offer to join the new task force was actually just an order in polite disguise.

"You two have some nerve to spit in the face of the people that gave you everything you have!" she barked, now slowly starting to stand behind her wide, precisely organized desk, "You were bred to serve the human race, to fight for ONI and the UNSC. What you're doing may as well be desertion, childish treason-"

Tom couldn't contain himself any further. He snapped, "Last time I checked Admiral, the war was over! Lucy and I have paid our dues, taken our hits for humanity and watched all of our friends die and burn for the sake of buying a couple extra days for Earth. Now we're going to retire and try to piece together some kind of existence that doesn't involving killing for king and country, and no black ops ring leader is going to tell me we can't. Good evening, admiral! Come on Lucy."

Lucy was presently blinking in disbelief that her partner had just exploded at the highest authority either of them had ever met as Tom grabbed her arm and dragged her toward the door. But just as Tom reached Parangosky's office door and the electric door began to slip open, the door slammed back shut and sealed with a hiss. Tom whipped around to find Parangosky standing with her hand just finishing punching the command to seal her office.

"Open that door Admiral, before I break it down," Tom growled, not totally out of nerves, especially from the lack of meds that were still being re-engineered for Lucy and him.

The admiral ignored his command and spat bitterly, "BB, activate Protocol I, two subjects."

Suddenly, a massive electrical current that would send a normal human into a coma shot through Tom and Lucy from the floor to render them unconscious. The Spartan IIIs hit the floor like sacks of cement, and Parangosky sighed as security was hailed to take the super-soldiers away. She was hoping to take them willingly so that she could use them as incentive for the third generation IIIs to follow, but she could work around it. As Parangosky watched Tom and Lucy's unconscious bodies be dragged out of her office, a small part of her subconscious that was still allowed to process any sort of idle thought wondered why and how two bred and born warriors had lost the will to fight.

Boy do I love to hate Parangosky. Don't you? Anyhows, don't expect too much more from Halsey I think, until I find a way (or reason really) to tie her back in. I'm sure there will be though, as from here on out this bad boy is going to get progressively more AU chapter by chapter. But that's what a fan fic is supposed to do, right? Anyhoodles (that's my new word. Copyrighted ((But not really)). Don't steal it. Pretty please.) I'm debating whether to have next chapter be about Katana and the rest of Blue team, or just keep following Tom and Lucy. What do you all think? As any author, feedback is appreciated whether good or bad, simple or extensive, Judeo or Christian, ect.

For those of you who have played Halo 4 (which exceeded my wildest expectations), I imagined the observation deck to look like the deck of the final cut scene.