Obviously some degree of creative licensing here with the character of Cassandra, as little is known about her. This takes place after Halo 1 and I'll try to keep it in with the canon, so reviews accepted if I need correcting! (Romance/Action/Drama)
Invisible Inkling
"117
As you might imagine - though I know you won't - I've heard quite a bit of your recent adventures on the Halo. I'm glad you made it; I have to assume you always will. Recovery is going well and I am proceeding on to fourth-stage rehabilitation. It is significantly more painful than previous stages, but I'm happy to be skinned once again.
I hear that you will be testing the new Mark VI. I will definitely look for the reports on how it works out. The specs are obviously improved, but the choice to incorporate further Covenant technology somehow makes my skin crawl.
We miss you, John. I've asked Sergeant Johnson to let me know if you're ever near the M25L Recovery Station and perhaps I'll be able to come see you. I'm hoping I'll have the chance soon. Today, humanity feels pale and thin with only ghosts to defend her heart. I feel much the same.
I'll write again.
-Cassandra "
Spartan 117's eyes flickered over the note, a smile twitching the corner of his lips as he thought fondly of Cassandra, once his comrade, now onto the road to recovery. On re-reading the last paragraph, his brow furrowed, discontent marring his essentially ruggedly handsome face.
"...humanity feels pale and thin with only ghosts to defend her heart."
It was troublesome to read. Spartans had never been known for their sharp wit and emotions, but the extract seemed to differ. A Spartan that could feel...
John shook his head and placed the letter face down on his quarters desk and stared at it. Spartans had dulled emotions, the military expected that. Cassandra was obviously undergoing stress from her treatment. He would have to visit her, remind her of the Spartan and Mjolnir way, refresh her senses and remove her from a pit of despair.
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Sitting in her sparsely decorated recovery room, Cassandra's thoughts drifted back to her old training days. John had never been particularly fast nor strong, but was balanced, and exceedingly lucky, sometimes scarily so. His leadership skills had strengthened, and his recent victories did little to contradict this.
She stretched her arms in front of her, her once muscular forearms weakened through drug intake and rest. She was looking a little more feminine now, and it was hard to take in. Soft flesh had replaced stacked up muscles, and she knew she would have to train again to resume her once glorious form. The doctors had made it known to her that the road back to being a Spartan would be a dubiously hard one, but she hadn't listened. Hardship was the life of a Spartan, and she knew one day she would help John defeat the Covenant.
She lifted herself up with her forearms resting on the bed. Her legs were weak from the treatment and she would have to get used to walking all over again. She stood tall for human female, 5ft 11 inches. Her hair was cropped short, brunette, with a side fringe neatly but averting her cerulean right eye.
She gazed into the mirror that lay across from the bed and smirked in a childish manner. All of this time out of her Mjolnir armour, and she'd changed so much. She wondered what John must look like, battle hardened, scarred, pale. She thought about him frequently so, dreaming of him. Voices recurring in her sleep of childish games they had played in the power struggle that had been their first week in the camps.
His reluctance at first had cost dinners for his team. Now Cassandra only wanted to see who that proud boy was now. His quick succession through the ranks suggested otherwise, but there was something in that young boy, perhaps just the pure connection to the past, that made her sad. She hoped he would see her swiftly, that the letter had even reached him... But the UNSC postal service was in complete dissaray with Covenant forces attacking in sheer randomness.