A/N: Hi there! Welcome to my newest Halo fan-fiction, featuring everyone's favorite sniper, Jun. Left uninspired, this story was left alone for 3 years. Now, for some reason, I've gotten the urge to get write this, so here I am with newer ideas and concepts! Hope you guys like it and stay tuned for newer chapters!
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Halo - "Love At Long Range"
Location: Lionsong Medical Facility
October 2nd, 2552
1:24pm
October 2nd, 2552
Surprised?
I know. I'm not the kind to write. But I think that recent events make it justifiable to keep a little journal.
Where shall I begin?
I'm alive, but hurt. In fact, I'm unfit for active duty.
After I said my goodbyes to Carter, Emile and our newest recruit, Misha, I escorted Dr. Halsey to CASTLE base. There was minimal Covenant activity in the area when we arrived and by the time we cleared them, more had arrived. The remaining UNSC soldiers didn't make it. It was all me. So I told her to seal all doors and I fought them off the best I could.
A Hunter knocked me out cold for a while. When I woke up, I was in a Phantom, being taken to goodness knows where. The dropship ran into some trouble, the whole crew was in disarray… needless to say, I managed to take control of the Phantom. I identified myself and the UNSC Longsword it was battling picked me up.
But during the whole thing, I myself was in disarray – the bruised and broken ribs, the feeling in my left arm and right leg fading away, the multiple stab wounds I had in my back… I could pretty much hear my heart pounding in my head.
Stepping into the Longsword, I passed out instantly. I woke up and found myself in this bed, in this medical facility, Lionsong. They told me I was lucky to be alive.
'Lucky'? I don't think so. I was told that the rest of Noble Team didn't make it. None of them. Not one of them left. Sole survivor, once again. And that feeling… it's been eating me up ever since I got the news. It's just not fair.
I've been missing for about 3-4 weeks apparently. It's been 3 weeks since they found me; I've been recovering ever since. Rehab's been going well – the feeling in my right leg is completely back. I'm also there for my left arm.
But therapy? Not so much. After all, I don't like to talk to strangers about my problems. I'd much rather talk to people I know.
Diagnosed with PTSD. This, my past experiences with my feelings, and my horrible injuries give me a discharge from the program. I don't know what's installed for me after I fully recover. I guess I'll be doing desk work for the rest of my life.
The future's looking so cloudy for me. Why? Why did I have to survive again?
"Pardon me, Spartan,"
Before he could write the next statement, a single gentle voice called from the doorway of his room. Jun glanced up to find an officer, perhaps in his 40s, in a wheelchair. He held a smile for the former Spartan-III as he waited there by the doorway for a reply.
"Can I… help you?"
"Jun, isn't it?"
Jun shut the journal and tossed it to his right where it landed on his bed softly. He dragged himself closer to the edge of the bed, feeling a little bit threatened by the new presence in his room. He never had any other visitors that didn't include doctors and nurses. "You have a name, sir?"
"Oh, of course. Forgive me. Musa-096. Commander."
"... Did you just give me a Spartan-II designation, commander?"
Musa gave a little nod, his smile not going anywhere. "That I did, Jun."
Something big was going to happen. Jun could feel it in his injured guts. He kept his composure and continued on. "I don't get commanders visiting me often. In fact, you've the first to come see me, yet I don't know who you are or your purpose here, commander."
"Please," He held up one hand politely. "Musa would be just fine. But you're right – I do have a purpose for coming to see you, Jun,"
There it is. "And that is?"
"The Spartan- IV program."
October 3rd, 2552
So…
Guess who's the new second-in-charge of the Spartan-IV program?