A/N: Only warnings for dorky SPARTANs, bossy SPARTANs, and kids being...well, kids.
Also, to the two kind people who left me a review: THANKYOU! Seriously, I'm so happy to see that people are enjoying this! Here's chapter two...hope y'all enjoy!
Fields near the shipbreaking yard, Asźod, August 30th, 2552
It's over. That's it. I'm done. Goodbye, Noble Team. My second family. I'll see you soon, Jorge.
Artemis tore off her damaged helmet – it was of no use to her now, because the visor was far too cracked to see out of – and grabbed her MA37 where she'd dropped it, firing on the surrounding Elites in one long spray of bullets.
But it wasn't enough.
The shots only took down the Elites' shields, and they simply darted out of the way before they could take damage, and their shields recharged. Still they charged at her, plasma weapons firing, growling at her in their native language, intent on killing her.
Don't miss me too much, guys. I won't be alone up there, at least. And you've got each other – that counts for something.
Closing her eyes, Artemis braced herself for her imminent death, still firing at the Elites.
Nothing happened.
Instead, she heard the unmistakable sound of an SRS-99 AM Sniper Rifle, accompanied by the equally-recognizable sound of an M392 Designated Marksman Rifle, and she opened her eyes again to see that the Elites were all toppling over around her, dead.
And not one of them had gotten close to her enough to deliver a killing shot.
Suddenly feeling weak, she collapsed in a heap, no longer able to stand, let alone fire a weapon. Her assault rifle dropped from limp hands, and she lay there, panting, feeling the blood seeping out of her body.
Even though the Covenant in the area were dying all around her from some unseen ally, it did not matter. Artemis was probably going to bleed out before her would-be rescuers saved her from death. She managed to roll onto her back, and stared up at the dark red sky, and simply smiled, clutching Jorge's dogtags in her hand. She would be joining him soon; that much she knew.
Strangely, though, she did not see the burning skies of Reach before she passed. No, instead, there was a familiar figure standing over her, dressed in olive green armour, and his hand was reaching out to her.
He was talking to her, saying something, but she was too far gone to be able to understand.
And then there was another SPARTAN standing over her; both armoured warriors pulled her to her feet and half-carried, half-dragged her towards a waiting Pelican. Her head lolled forwards, and her eyes slid shut, but not before she saw two – wait, three? She could no longer count – more armoured figures waiting in the back of the dropship, looking at her.
That was the last thing she knew, before passing out.
"She's gonna make it, right?" Emile asked, glancing around at his teammates. They could all see that Noble Six was in a bad way – worse than Carter had been when he had escaped the combined wreckage of the Pelican and the Scarab.
Said other gravely wounded SPARTAN opened his eyes to glance at the assault specialist, and he shook his head, shrugging. "She'd better. She saved pretty much all of our lives. We owe her that much, at least." he half-growled, and then his eyes slid closed again of their own accord.
"She might not have saved my life, but I'm rather fond of our new Noble Six," Jorge said quietly, passing a medkit to Kat, who was doing her best to patch up Artemis. "She's a good kid, and I know it would still hurt to say this, but...even though no-one can take Thom's place, she got pretty damn close."
Emile thumped his chest as a sign of respect, nodding. "Hear hear to that, big man. Pilot, how far out are we from Camp Hathcock?"
"Shouldn't be more than fifteen minutes, sir," the pilot replied, and at those words, the other SPARTANs allowed themselves to relax, even if only slightly. Time was on their side, at least for now – there was a chance that Artemis would make it.
Noble Team had survived against all odds.
Camp Hathcock, Highland Mountains, Eposz, August 30th, 2552
"Jorge, Jun, do a perimeter sweep; when you're sure it's clear, get yourselves out of your armour and take a damn break. Emile, go get de-armoured and get some shut-eye. Move, Noble – consider that an order." Carter instructed, and though his voice was firm, nobody could deny the undercurrent of exhaustion they could all hear. None of them disobeyed the order, however much they might have wanted to; the three aforementioned SPARTANs filed out of the room in utter silence.
It was only then that Carter tossed off his helmet and slumped into a nearby office chair, letting his head loll backwards, which gave him a nice view of the ceiling. "Please tell me we have a big enough barracks here for six SPARTANs," he muttered to said roof, rather than directly to his second-in-command, who was watching him with concern; though he couldn't actually see that, he knew her well enough to know that she would be.
"We do," Kat assured him, fiddling with a datapad. "You should take a break yourself, Commander. You're in a worse state than most of us here…not to mention you're in dire need of a good night's sleep."
"I can't. Somebody's gotta-" he paused and gestured to the sleeping Noble Six, momentarily losing his train of thought. He only continued when he managed to pick it back up again. "Watch over the kid. And I just… I feel like I owe her, but at the same time I don't. Y'know? So it's gotta be me and not anyone else. Besides, I'm team leader; it's my job."
"You're not the only one who owes your life to her," Kat gently argued. She fell silent for a few minutes, obviously in deep thought, and then added, "How about we take turns keeping watch? You can get some rest here in the meantime…but at least take off your armour. That cannot be comfortable for you."
"Yes Mom," Carter retorted, and he rolled his eyes good-naturedly when Kat poked her tongue out at him in a childish manner.
Carter limped back into the room a good twenty minutes later, freshly showered and dressed in a tank top and track pants that was, as Kat had said, far more comfortable than his bulky MJOLNIR armour. He grunted in pain and gritted his teeth when he sat down too heavily in the chair he'd occupied earlier, and met Kat's gaze from across the room. "Lucky they had two armour stations in full working order. ….What are you hacking now?" He raised an eyebrow at her, shaking his head in fond exasperation.
"I'm searching the databases to see if I can find some more files on Six. Some things just don't seem to add up…and I know there's more to look at than what I previously hacked." the Lieutenant Commander informed him, focusing on the datapad in her hand again. "I'm running a decryption program now… there's a lot of firewalls I have to go through."
Something she'd said caught Carter's attention immediately; he got the sense that the file she'd hacked previously was barely even scratching the surface. "What do you mean by "some things don't add up"?" he questioned, wondering if she had actually managed to come across anything new.
"Her behavioural patterns, for one thing," Kat responded, "Not to mention the fact that not once in the file we've already gone over does it mention where Six comes from, nor what her real name is. The only thing I've managed to discover so far from what I've hacked today is that she was born on Reach. She could be related to Jorge; you never know."
Noble One was so exhausted that he completely missed the smirk on Two's face, and the teasing tone of voice she used; he mistakenly took her quip to heart, and so responded accordingly – well, he thought so, anyway. "That couldn't be possible. For one thing, consider the…what is it…at least 22-year age gap between them, not to mention the fact that Jorge is Hungarian, with traces of a British accent, whereas- oh."
It was only when he actually bothered to properly look at the Lieutenant Commander that he realized she was teasing him.
She shook her head, a sly grin on her features, and answered, "You didn't even know that I was just messing with you, did you?" She then became rather solemn, and went on, "I might not be leader of this team, and you might outrank me, but as a friend and your second-in-command, I am ordering you to get some rest. I can keep Noble organized without any help – you need a break, Carter."
The Commander shook his head again, uttering a deep, bone-weary sigh, and ran a hand through his close-cropped black hair. "That obvious, huh?" he queried.
"That obvious," Kat confirmed, frowning at him. "Have you even looked in a reflective surface lately?"
"Shit," Carter huffed, closing his eyes briefly. "Shit. Ahh dammit."
Don't lose it now…keep it together…come on, you're better than this!
He nearly jumped out of his skin when Kat gently patted his shoulder, and he glanced up into her concerned eyes. Damn, he was really losing it, wasn't he?
"Get some shut-eye, Commander. I'll be back soon after changing out of my own armour." She gave a soft chuckle, and Carter couldn't help but grunt a laugh of his own at that; who ever thought that the cryptanalyst would take her own advice to others and use it on herself.
By the time Kat had managed to get out of her own armour and change into clothes similar to what Carter was wearing and make her way back to the room where she'd left Nobles One and Six, One had finally managed to fall asleep. It was plain to see how exhausted he was now that he was relaxed; it was written all over his face.
When she leaned down and brushed a hand over his hair to test if he would stir, she got absolutely no response. He was down for the count – and would be so for quite some time, it seemed.
Poor guy.
She could sympathize with him to a certain extent; after all, he was the leader of the team and shouldered most of Noble's burdens, and he also took it into his own hands to push himself harder than the rest of them. If one of them even so much as tried to push themselves, Carter would order them back into line and do the heavy lifting, so to speak, himself. It was just the way he worked. Although such lines of thinking worked on the battlefield, it also drained him both physically and mentally, and so in the breaks between, they could all see that every time they entered battle, the Commander gained yet another step to his inevitable collapse.
Judging by all the signs that he was giving off now, and the fact that he had been doing this for years, Kat knew that he was probably going to lose it fairly soon. Better then that they stayed out of the battlefield for some time than to have Carter go down mid-fight; the Lieutenant Commander was glad of the indefinite break they were having now in more ways than one.
Shaking herself free of her thoughts, Kat checked the decryption program she'd set to run nearly an hour ago now; there was a couple of notifications testifying to her handiwork – not much could escape the cryptanalyst's supernatural hacking skills. An amused smirk quirked up her lips as she felt a small sense of pride; that smirk quickly changed into a frown when she began reading what she had discovered.
She had barely just sat down to check out exactly when Six had been born when the aforementioned SPARTAN suddenly came to with a jerk and a gasp, crying out in pain when she found herself unable to sit upright.
Without wasting a second, Kat moved over to the bed and gently pushed her teammate flat on her back again. "Take it easy, Lieutenant. You're in no state to even try to walk around, let alone sit up. Those Elites did a number on you – you're lucky to have survived."
She could see the lone wolf biting back a groan at the thought of being bedridden, but the SPARTAN-III nodded and allowed herself to relax.
"How are you feeling?" she questioned, taking a brief second to look away and scan over the younger woman's vitals, checking they were good before glancing at her teammate again.
Six coughed weakly and rubbed her head, but managed a tired smile. "You know it'd take a lot more than a couple bastard Elites to take me down, Kit-Kat."
The cryptanalyst couldn't help the laugh that slipped past her lips at the use of the old nickname and the fond, nostalgic memories it invoked. "How long has it been since I last heard you say that?"
"And how long has it been since we last saw each other?" Six countered with a smirk; Kat laughed again, shaking her head.
"Touché."
As if answering her own question, the Lieutenant mused in a wistful manner, "I would say that it's been far too long…honestly, it's good to work with you again."
"You too."
How long had it really been since the Beta Company Spartans had worked together? Then again, "worked together" was probably the wrong term; they hadn't ever been deployed on the battlefield alongside each other up until a couple of months ago. Trained together would be the right term for it…Kat had never seen the Lieutenant after they had been pulled from training by their superiors, and sent off to different parts of the galaxy.
If she was being honest with herself, she had missed the younger SPARTAN; Six had been like a sister to her growing up, and in fact, the age gap between the two soldiers had been the same age gap between Kat and her flesh-and-blood sister – though she hadn't seen her real sister since she was seven years old. Out of all the SPARTANs of Beta Company, the first – and strongest – bond that Kat had ever formed had been with any of her fellow soldiers had been with the lone wolf…borne of a need to protect, and of some common interests, that bond would never be broken, nor forgotten.
Looking back on it, Noble Two could remember meeting Six as if it were only yesterday…
Camp Currahee, Onyx, Zeta Doradus System, exact date unknown, 2537
Catherine had been harassed by a trio of boys around her age, though they were all far bigger and stronger than she. They had thought it funny to take the set of dogtags that were her only priceless possession, and they teased her mercilessly for wearing something that, according to them, was utterly meaningless.
"Give them back!" the black-haired, blue-eyed stubborn spitfire of a girl yelled, Slavic accent marring her words. She snarled at them angrily and lunged for the dogtags, only to have the chain yanked out of her reach and a foot stuck out in front of her, causing her to trip into the mud. Slithering and sliding, she tried in vain to get up, but she was unable to get her feet under her, and the boys only laughed more at her expense.
How they thought the situation was even remotely funny was beyond her, but more important to her at that moment was getting those dogtags back – they belonged to her father, who had died trying to protect their home, and had been given to her by her mother to remember him by. Her daddy had been a hero – she was fiercely proud of that – and so to have the precious items taken from her made Catherine want to cry and scream and hit whatever was closest to her.
But she did not cry – she was stronger than that. Her father had been the one to teach her that if bullies hit her without being provoked, then it was more than okay to hit back. And that was exactly what she was trying to do.
If only she could get her damn feet to stop sliding in the mud!
Growling in frustration under her breath, Catherine made another lunge, only to be tripped again; this time when she fell, she landed on her butt which caused her head to be jarred, and her ears rang slightly.
"She said to give them back, you stupid jerks!" The tiny, yet firm voice of another girl rang out, and Catherine was barely able to spot something blurring towards the boys, before they were all shrieking and running away, and then the dogtags were dropped into her hands. It was only when her rescuer helped her to her feet that she got a good look; the girl was tiny, much smaller than herself, and much younger, too.
The fact that someone far younger than those boys had managed to scare them off stunned Catherine – that, and the fact that the girl did not seem to hold any fear over the matter, told her that this girl was rather brave.
Boldly, the Slavic girl stuck her hand out and gave the redhead a big smile; her rescuer smiled back and shook her hand.
"I'm Catherine. Thanks for kicking those boys' butts…I thought I wasn't going to get my dogtags back."
"Caff-…ughh…C-…nope…Ci-cka." the redhead scowled, trying to work out how to say her name, but to no avail. "Eh, Ci-cka. And it's okay. Those guys were big meanies and I saw that you were stuck in the mud so I hadta come an' help."
Catherine giggled at the other girl's butchering of her name, and then responded, "It's okay if you can't get my name right. You can just call me Ci-cka if you want. What's your name?"
"I can't say it so you can call me A." the other girl responded with a shrug; it seemed that it was of no fuss to her. "I know what my name starts with but I dun-no how to say it right so I just tell people to call me A."
The Slavic nodded slowly, processing this new information, and smiled again. "It's nice to meet you, A. Do you want to be friends? I can look out for you if you get scared and you can kick people's butts if they try to hurt me."
A chuckled softly, nodding. "Alright. I think that's a fair deal."
Present day
"I still can't get over the fact that you were four and you kicked the asses of three boys who were seven. Nearly twice your age – and yet you weren't afraid." Kat remarked quietly, drawing a laugh from the lone wolf.
"What can I say? Like I told you back then, those guys were being mean, and you needed the help…plus I guess I've always had a penchant for taking things on twice my size. I've done it for as long as I can remember. I dunno… just like doing the right thing. Don't care if I get anything in return or not – though that time was the exception."Six explained, shrugging and acting entirely nonchalant. It wasn't even feigned, either… the SPARTAN-III truly was not fussed about helping others out even if she did not get something as a reward for doing so.
Curious. Perhaps this is one of those "special things" that ONI saw in Six… one of the reasons why she was chosen as a candidate in the first place… and probably also why she was used as a lone wolf assassin – she does not care about getting her hands dirty if it means doing the right thing in the long run.
Mentally filing that note away for later, Kat decided to ask, "I never did learn your true name. Mind sharing it with me?"
"Ah, heck. Well, normally I'd say that's classified, but…" the lone wolf rubbed her jaw thoughtfully, and shrugged. "Artemis. Artemis Fox."
Kat raised an eyebrow, smirking at her fellow Beta Company Spartan, and quipped, "A fitting, badass name for someone so … badass."
"Ha ha, very funny," Artemis said dryly, rolling her eyes. "Though to be honest, I have missed your snark. As I'll bet you've missed my own shitty humour."
"How could I not?" Kat retorted, drawing a snort from her oldest friend. Both women then lapsed into silence, content to enjoy each other's company once more.
