The Traveler's Chronicles

Rating: T - M (Rating my increase in later chapters).

Disclaimer: Bungie, I don't own this. Also, please hire me. My headcanon has some pretty awesome ideas, and I wouldn't even be jelly if they were used in the game!

Summary: The Traveler has many children, and these are their stories. Small drabbles, new prompt every chapter. Today, a Russian Warlock, Katya, reminisces on her day of awakening.

Warnings: Absolutely none. Enjoy your reading.

Author's Notes: I like messing around with canon. So you have this. I won't spoil what it is.

But I have another chapter that will explore this in more depth.

Also, sorry. I'm not good at writing Brits. But I'm trying to throw a little bit of cultural diversity in here. . . .

"Right now I'm having amnesia and déjà vu at the same time. I think I've forgotten this before."
-Steven Wright

Today was a wonderful day, Adrian decided.

He was almost in a chipper enough mood to hum as he walked through the Tower's main pavilion, and he was strongly considering it when his best friend and teammate, Brian, dropped into existence beside him. Adrian paused, turning to his friend, and the expression on the poor Hunter's face was enough to make him chuckle.

"Ah, Brian, when you gonna learn, mate?"

Brian glared absolute acid at him, which Adrian took in stride. Grinning, he waited for Brian to grumble and stalk away, steaming. . . literally. The poor Hunter's camouflage drive was broken - a lucky shot from a Fallen Captain with a shrapnel launcher. What had made the situation so funny, however, was the fact that Brian had been jumping when he'd been hit. To this day, Adrian knew he would never forget how utterly hilarious it was to hear Brian squawk in shock as he spun around like a ragdoll. When he'd hit the ground, he'd blinked and stared around stupidly.

It was like watching a cat fall off of its perch, try to shake it off, and act as though it had meant to do that.

Brian's poor ego was wounded beyond repair, Adrian knew. It would take years for the proud man to finally come to terms with what had happened. Adrian grinned to himself as the smoking Hunter stomped across the pavilion, uncaring of the stares he received. Stretching, Adrian enjoyed the feeling of his muscles pulling under his skin, releasing knots and tension that had been developing. As the Titan, it was his duty to punch all things that deserved to be punched. And a certain Fallen Captain's luck had run out as quickly as it had begun - in fact, Adrian was fairly certain that he still had ether on his knuckles.

Brian snarled as he passed by a few other Hunters, and Adrian chuckled all over again. Winding his way through the hallways, the pair made their way to the hangar bay, where they'd go have a small chat with the Vanguard Quatermaster. Whether or not the poor Exo could repair Brian's armor was. . . up for debate.

"'Ey," Adrian said, giving his friend a whack on the shoulder, "Don't go ignorin' me, mate."

"Sod off." Brain snarled.

That just made Adrian laugh.

Brian would snap out of it when his poor little gear had been repaired. Within minutes, they arrived, and Brian made short work of somehow shimmying into another set of armor, summoning his Ghost and pulling it out of subspace. Giving the Quartermaster his busted armor, Brian was getting ready to turn away before the Exo tapped at her keyboard, and a small beeping noise stopped them all.

"Oh! I'm sorry Guardian, but it appears your signature is needed."

Adrian watched as Brain stiffened, and the smile quickly disappeared from his face.

Oh.

Shit.

Without realizing her blunder, the Exo swiveled the computer screen over to him, and picked up a small stylus pen.

"I just need you to sign the date here, your name, and print it, please. It's just for official records so we know whose gear is whose."

Adrian watched as Brian stood there, looking like a deer in the headlights, a myriad of pain and embarrassment flashing in his eyes. Adrian, not wanting to see his friend yell at the innocent Exo, quickly stepped in, flashed the machine a winning smile, and picked the pen stylus.

"We'll consider this one one me. It'll be coming out of my stipend, so label it as my gear." Quickly initialing boxes and signing the date, Adrian scribbled down a small signature. The Exo nodded.

"The repair job will be expensive."

"I know. He saved my ass out there today. We'll just call it even."

The Exo nodded, tapping away at a holographic keyboard to change the new details, and Adrian turned - finding Brian was already halfway out of the hangar bay. Jogging to catch up, he skidded to a halt beside the other Brit.

"Hey, she didn't know, it's okay-"

Brian waved him off.

"This day is pretty much bollocks. I'm going to. . . return to the dormitory." He finished lamely, a look of defeat in his eyes. Adrian deflated a little, as well, but nodded his head.

"I understand, go get some rack."

Brian waved to him as he slunk across the Tower corridor, and Adrian watched him go in silence. With a mental summon, Adrian asked for his Ghost - and it popped into existence beside him. Adrian was quiet for just another moment before turned to the tiny, enigmatic machine.

"Why can't he write anymore?"

The Ghost shuttered at him, imitating a blink. "I've told you this before, Guardian. Many times, in fact."

"Remind me."

The Ghost swiveled, likely scanning the interior of the tower for his friend.

"The same reason you keep forgetting," His Ghost replied, swiveling around to look at him again, "When I reconfigure you, after every death, bits and pieces of memory or brain tissue are destroyed. I cannot repair what is corrupted, so I must forge new, blank neurons for you to imprint to. Memories are lost in the process. This is why you cannot remember that I have already told you this. If I recall correctly, this is the fifth time we've had this conversation."

"Five times, eh? Doesn't explain why he can't remember how to write. . . and I can."

"That would link back to your Rebirth." His Ghost answered. "During the initial resurrection process, a Ghost must reconstruct a Guardian's brain. Unfortunately, this involves wiping most of your fine motor skills and past memories - they have been corroded or corrupted because of time. We try to give Guardians as many of their past life memories as we can, but the only material we have left is often the DNA left clinging to dried, weathered bones. . . A Ghost can only do so much, you know."

"So I'm an exception?"

His Ghost waffled side to side.

"A little. Just a little. When I reconfigured you, I found more source material to work with - hence, why you can remember how to read and write. Other Guardians can, but they are uncommon. And this is not including those Guardians who have learned, but have had those neurons corrupted due to multiple deaths - and eventually, the Ghosts must erase those neurons. . . meaning they must start over again."

"Will that happen to me?" Adrian asked, concern leaking into his voice.

His Ghost swiveled to him. "Not if I can help it. I do try to keep you preserved in the peak of your prime, Guardian."

Adrian flashed his Ghost a small smile. "Thanks. . . I guess."

His Ghost flickered out of existence, and the smile disappeared from Adrian's face.

One day. . . One day, he'd up like Brian.

And it was only a matter of time as to when.