"A true friend freely, advises justly, assists readily, adventures boldly, takes all patiently, defends courageously, and continues a friend unchageably." -William Penn
Author's Note: So, a lot of things have been happening lately and I apologize to all of those people who have tried to contact me lately. I was going through some writer's block plus I was going to extreme measures to make the next chapter of my story for HLV perfect. THAT BEING SAID, I have found a wonderful (don't tell him I said that) Beta,DragoLord19D, who has helped me immensely these past few days and has put up with my sh*t. Thank chu. Thank chu very much. Anywho, I wrote this story to kill some of that writer's block virus and well...this piece of crap was the result. I hope you enjoy. :/
This…this is Reach…
The body moved forward, not on its own accord, but on someone else's. The body complied with the demand, it moved; the body walked through the field of softly swaying in the autumn breeze it had never had the pleasure to experience in its original form. The face contorts, the expression changes into one of displeasure. The look is aimed at the ground. The body is dressed in off duty military fatigues. It rarely receives this small form of heaven. The mind does not believe there is time left; the mind does not believe the body deserves that kind of peace. The mind finds peace in serving. It develops a serene atmosphere in fighting the 'good' fight. It is pleased with this. The head nods in agreement with the mind and the look of displeasure on the face eases into nothing but smooth surfaces. There are no scars here. There is no marred flesh and damaged nerves on the planet…on Reach. There is only confusion. The mind cannot comprehend why it has been brought forward, why it is reliving a chapter that has already been written and tucked safely into memory to cherish and guilt over another day. The eyes, once hissing like snakes with electric blue and cerulean, are a different shade. The irises have contorted and changed back to its original design. Bodily structure has been greatly reduced as well; no longer are there borderline inhuman muscles piling over sturdy bones as strong as the element of steel. There is none of that. It is the average flesh and bone that an average body carries. There is only an average body and this troubles the mind for a moment. It feels…exposed, nude…it is unsure of how to react to this, how to go about such sudden changes. It is…afraid.
I don't understand. I'm so confused.
She is yanked back, far back, into a time she does not wish to remember. She pleads with her subconscious; Please, don't make me relive this! Anything but this! Her cries are ignored. She is forced to relive every second, every breath, and every dot of drying blood. She is surrounded by fire. There are shadows that move in the distance. Their cries of battle, of a longing for blood make her shake. Her eyes are wide, irises pure—irises that have never been infected from his doings. She is human. Here, she is human and she cannot do anything as her fragile, human legs carry her across what used to be beautiful land. But it isn't…anymore. She can't cry, she can't think. All she can do is run. She runs home and tries to search for them. What were they called? Mother….father…Mommy…..Daddy….Dad….Mom….so many names and they don't quite fit what she feels towards them. They are…Home. Her fragile body stops at her home, or rather, what is left of it. She is confused. Her young mind cannot comprehend what has happened, she cannot form words for the fear that builds within and threatens to burst. She must find them, she cannot leave them behind. Her legs move again, a bit slower than what the infection has made them and when she arrives…when her eyes take in the scene…her heart, mind, and soul knows what she will find. But that is the infected being that has been compressed inside a girl's body. The child that remains, she drops to her knees. Ash and debris hiss as they slowly sink their way into delicate skin scarred with the common clumsiness of a child, not scarring that are the results of being infected. Her home is like her house. There is barely any trace of who it was or their purpose. She cannot move. She is frozen. She looks from one scorched, blackened body to the other.
Home…family….why have you left me?
Suddenly, the girl is pulled. Secure arms, lined with painful metal digs into her back as it picks up the girl and takes her away. The girl opens her mouth to scream, but cannot find her own voice. The girl cannot feel anything except for guilt. The girl knows it is her fault. The stupid, stupid girl should have never run out that morning! That damn girl is one to blame for all of this! The child should have stayed and faced her problems, but she ran. The child ran because she was upset. The child wanted out; she felt like a caged beast, angered from being constantly poked with tools and she could not care less of what her home, her family wanted her to do at the time. The girl held out a hand, silently screaming to be caressed by father and guided by mother. They do not answer. The arms take the girl away. They bring her to this strange bulk of mass. The girl does not recognize the contraption, but she recognizes the symbol that glistens proudly in the light of the fire; it is an eagle. The girl is pulled inside the strange thing…she hears a voice above her head. It is shouting to another body somewhere to start the 'engines'. The girl can tell that he is in pain. The girl twists her body, she tries to see him, but there is a mask on the man's head that prevents her from seeing. The man sits, he pulls the girl into his lap and he rests. The girl is curious so she slips her fingers under the mask and pulls with little strength she has. The man stirs in his resting time, his head tilts down at her and the girl is nervous. The man, completely silent, gently moves her fingers away. The man keeps his eyes on hers as he removes his helmet. The man has soft green eyes, just as her friend did. Friends… She barely remembers them now. She can feel the sorrow build in her chest and the girl blinks rapidly, trying to move past the tears, but she cannot. The girl looks down, trying to hide her sorrow, and sees an odd symbol, another one she remembers. It is a skull that is placed in fire. Much like her house. The arms that held pulled the girl into the machine tighten around her and pull her into the chest of the man. For a moment, the girl thinks it is not all real. For a moment, the girl is fooled into thinking that everything will be alright. The man rests his chin on the girl's head; it parts her hair as he holds her to his chest.
"It's okay to cry," the man whispers. "It's okay to feel sad."
But the girl refuses. She shakes her head violently and hides her face in the man's exposed skin. The girl does not want to face reality. Ignorance is bliss. The girl wants to remain ignorant, but she is too intelligent. The girl will not be allowed such a sweet escape. The man offers comfort, he brings her even closer to his form and he pats her head gently. The girl is innocent, but she is not ignorant. The man knows this; he is much like her in a way. The man embraces her and pats her head gently. He begins to chant softly in her ear, in a language she does not know: "Gafflwn Dihenydd O'r fuddugol yn wiriol sydd, Ni fydd ned yn en drechu, Falch ydy ni I drochu, Traed o flaen I'r Annwn, mewn y gwybodaeth fe godwn ni."
She does not understand. She looks into green eyes, ever so gentle and she wonders. She asks. "What does that mean?"
The ever so gentle green eyes are focused onto her face now. The man smiles, but he is not happy. He is saddened. "We cheat Death from his rightful victory. No one can defeat us; we are glad to plunge feet first into Annwn in the knowledge that we will rise." The man is silent as he waits for her to respond. When she does not, he places a kiss on her head. "It is okay to feel sad…but you must find strength in it, gyermek. You must learn from this and evolve."
She nods because she understands. She is intelligent, she is not ignorant. She pauses, looks around the machine, then looks back at ever so gentle mantis colored eyes. "Where will they take me?" The man smiles and pats her head. "Somewhere safe, where you can learn and live your life again."
The girl frowns, but does not question his words. She trusts him. He is her friend; he is not here to hurt her. "What is your name?"
"I do not have one, gyermek…"
"I should give you one then," she demands, irises sparking into stubborn confidence. The man chuckles softly and he nods. The girl pauses, looks around the machine again, and let her fierce irises settle onto his ever so gentle mantis irises. "Brave-heart."
His eyes crinkle at the ends as he smiles. "Bátor-szív," he whispers and nods. "That will be my name….my mark…Will you fight my gyermek?" She nods quickly and the smile falters just a bit. "Promise me that you will survive. If you fight, you must survive. Do you understand?"
"I understand, Brave-heart." His lips pull back now and his teeth shine brightly. She mimics his expression and pulls her close, giving her a gentle squeeze.
"Sajnálom…"
The woman gasps. She looks up and it isn't Brave-heart she sees. It's…it's… "Jorge."
He smiles as he stands in his armor, his helmet rested against his hip. "Szia, Six. Hogy vogy?" Hello, Six. How are you?
She blinks and shakes her head. It was like a translator had been built into her subconscious. "Jorge…I…how are you here? Why are you here?"
He frowns and shakes his head. She is back where had begun; she is in the fields of Reach during autumn. "Épp fogja megkérdezni ugyanezt." I was just about to ask you the same thing. She looks down, feeling ashamed. He doesn't know. He doesn't know about Reach, he doesn't know that the Covenant bastards have won. Jorge moves so that he's within arm's reach and sets a hand on her shoulder. She looks up and he's smiling. "Tudja, mit kell csinálni." She knows what to do.
"She? Who's she?" She was so confused, so out of it. Her mind was being pulled in too many different directions. She couldn't grasp what was going on. Closing her eyes as tightly as possible, she begged herself to wake up, to go away from this nightmare. Instead she felt a warm hand on her cheek and look up into the eyes of Jorge…eight year old Jorge. He was small, with his tanned skin glowing and hazel eyes watching her with a hint of mischief. They were eight, for just a moment. He smiled at her, missing teeth, but looking absolutely adorable and precious with his round cheeks and eyes. She looks at her hands and blinks at how small they are.
Suddenly her lip begins to tremble and her eyes burn with a fire she hasn't felt in decades. She doesn't realizes that there are streams lukewarm water going down both of her cheeks until Jorge wipes them away and gives a concerned expression. She looks into those hazel eyes. It's been so long since she's just…cried. Jorge smiles a bit and gives her his best bear hug. And it's like he never left. It's like none of this ever happened, like the Covenant didn't come to invade Harvest and Reach and all of the other poor planets. It's just her and her best friend, enjoying the young lives they never truly were able to experience. He pulls back and laughs a little at her expression. She's pouting and there's an absolute fire in her eyes and he thinks it's her best expression. He tugs on her hand, eyebrows raised.
"Jössz velem játszani tag?" Will you come play tag with me? She nods, grinning and he grins too, taking off. "You can't catch me!" He says in English and she growls playfully, following after him. "Yes I can!" She protests and picks up pebble from the ground, throwing it at his back. "Ow!" He sticks his tongue out, but keeps running; she isn't far behind.
Finally she stops, holding a hand to her heart as she tries to catch her breath. She keeps an eye on her surroundings though, looking for any sign of the smug little—"Got you." She screams and twirls around to the vaguely familiar voice and her jaw drops. "Emile?" The dark skinned boy flashes an evil grin, one furry eyebrow raised. "Yeah, what is it?" She stutters trying to find the words and fails to say anything. Running a hand over her face, she sighs. There must have been something she drank, right? That was why she was experiencing all of this…right? Lifting her eyes to take another glimpse of her much smaller, dark skinned companion, she finds that he's already staring at her. Blinking furiously to try not and laugh at his dumbstruck expression, she mimics his expression from earlier, raising an eyebrow. Emile huffs and turns away, crossing his arms.
"You know…if I had known you were that pretty, I would have destroyed that piece of shit helmet the moment I met you," he grumbled softly.
"I….Uh…Wait…my helmet…? What…what do you mean piece of shit helmet!" She yelled, fists balled and foot quirking with the need to stomp on him. He made eye contact and paused before frowning. "I just gave you a compliment and that's how you say thank you?"
"How the hell was that a compliment!" She challenged, stepping closer.
"I was admiring your god damned face! You could at least work with me here!" He yelled back, taking a step towards her as well. Jorge chose this time to come back from where he had been hiding and watched the two argue back and forth. He smiled both on the inside and out. He knew bringing her here was a good idea. He was never wrong.
"…Stupid ass skull on your visor!"
"Hey! I carved that myself! I am very proud of it!"
"Oh, really? I've seen a Grunt do better handiwork with a stone and piece of paper!"
"Oh. Oh no the hell…are you calling me a bad artist?"
"I'm not calling you for dinner fat ass."
Growling, Emile launched himself at her, but was pulled back by a set of strong hands. His growling was turned to the attention to the intruder, but it immediately subsided. "Commander," he said, surprise clearly in his voice. She stood and blinked.
"Commander…Two?"
Carter and Kat smiled at their Six and nodded. "It's us, Lieutenant." Carter replied, nudging Emile in his ribs playfully. Emile growled low and looked away from the other three. Jorge approached the group and smiled genuinely at her.
Kat smirked, setting a not-metal hand onto her hip. "Good to you see, Six," she said softly in her own accent.
She shook her head. This was…confusing. "Why am I here?"
All of four of the soldiers glanced at one another, then looked back at the new and confused addition. Jorge stepped forward, his smile stretching into the biggest he's ever had. "Because Six… Spartans soha nem hal meg." Spartans never die. He placed a finger on her heart and she watched him with widened eyes. He smiled, his hazel irises seeming to swallow hers. "Maradnak a szívben," he continued, using his free hand to grip hers. They stay in the heart. "Amíg emlékszem rájuk," he whispered gently and pulled her into a tender bear hug. As long as you remember them. Behind Jorge she saw everyone she had lost in her life and it all came crashing down. She was living in the past, she thought these people were gone forever. She felt as though something as heavy as the universe itself had been lifted off of her shoulders. Living in guilt, becoming depressed…this was why he brought her here. He brought her here because he wanted her to see what he saw. That they were alright and everything was going to be just fine.
"Spartans never die," they all hushed together, unison of strength and love. They were her protection and her guidance and would be here, should she ever call upon one or all. She smiled and returned Jorge's hug, much to his surprise. He laughed it off though. She was his best friend and he was hers. There was place she would rather be than here. But she had a job to finish and she needed to let him know that. Pulling back, she smiled and pinched his nose. He grunted and stuck his tongue when she let go. "I can't stay, I still have someone to protect. I must protect Motherland. I must protect my comrades. But I'll be back, I promise. Once I save her, once I save those people, I will come back and then we can play a game of poker, okay?" He nodded, his irises twinkling with happiness. She smiled and turned towards the horizon. There was a light, subtle feeling that continued to dance around her heart, her mind, her stomach and she relished in it. It was the best she felt since she was a mere infant.
She turned and walked towards the horizon, just as Reach began to pick up a wintry breeze and it swept through her hair. "Six!" She paused and looked over shoulder at Emile, who stepped forward. He frowned, fists balled at his sides. "When you come back…we should blow some shit up." Her lips trembled and she parted them to let loose a howl of laughter. Emile blinked in confusion. What was so funny? She nodded and started walking again. "It's a date then," she called back to him and he went still. "Date? Who the hell said anything—OW DAMN IT!" Jorge smiled happily as he set the stick down and watched his friend disappear into the tepid colors of the setting sun. When he could no longer see her body, he closed his eyes and whispered five words that gave him the feeling of assurance: "Legközelebb csak a barátom." Until next time, my friend.
The Lieutenant sat up in the cot that she and the Master Chief took turns sleeping in. Her body felt unbelievably warm and she couldn't help but notice how…empty the room seemed. Her lips upturned in a smile when her eyes settled on the Chief. He sat on the side of the bed, leaning against the rail, his cheek nestled into his hand, eyes closed. She tilted her head and waited for a few moments. "Bad dream?" He asked finally, coming out of his drowsy state, eyes slowly opening and focusing on her silhouette in the darkness. She simply shrugged and lay back in the cot, unconsciously tracing twirling the sheet around her finger.
"Not really…it was sort of a memory. Not bad, but not good either." Her infected eyes were drawn back to his shape and she saw him nod, before his arm stretched out and she felt a pat on her shoulder.
"Spartans never die?"
She smiled brightly. So he wasn't lying when he said that she mumbled. "Damn straight, John; Spartans never die."
A/N: Okay, so what did you think? Terrible, yes? Yes...I know. But I had to get it out. And figured why not share the terribleness with the world. xD I have never had this much amount of not-faith for any of my writing. Until I read over it a few days later.
See chu guys later!
-LadyDynamite312 (Siri)