A/N: Hooray, chapter four is here! And this is where Things really start to Happen ;)

Admittedly it's somewhat shorter in length, but this is only a filler chapter, and therefore isn't as necessary to write as much as with the action chapters. That said, it's still very important narrative-wise, as most filler chapters are!

"Lieutenant."

B312 glanced up from cleaning her MA37, meeting Carter's gaze. She saw that like her, he was out of armour and only wearing the bodysuit that sat underneath all that plating. Even with it removed, to her, he still looked intimidating. Perhaps it was just his neutral expression that did it. Sure, he was easy on the eyes – not that she was interested, but at least he didn't look… well, dark. Some people just had that natural aura of ugliness about them, that had nothing to do with whether or not they were pretty… it was more to do with the fact that they had an ugly heart, and it showed on their countenance. Carter, thankfully, was free of that, and it made it much easier to look him in the eyes, much easier to trust him.

If she were to ever let herself trust him.

"Commander."

She noted how his eyes flickered down, and sideways, and she realized that he was looking at her wounded leg when his statement changed to a question halfway through. "We need to… What happened there?"

She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "One of the squid-heads got too close for comfort," she answered, using one of many terms that UNSC foot soldiers had come up with for the saurian aliens over the years. "Struck me with its energy sword as I was down. Of course, I snapped its neck in retaliation."

He was unperturbed by the admission of what she'd done to the Elite; they were all well used to having such things occur right in front of their eyes, not always being initiated by their own hands. Instead, one dark eyebrow arched, and he mused, "I see."

Silence lapsed, with the two officers continuing to stare mutely at one another. The lone wolf wondered which of them would budge first. Which of them was less stubborn, and would break the silence first, or give up and walk away. Six set her jaw and dipped her chin, wondering just how far the Commander's stubbornness went. Was he as bull-headed as she was, or did it simply spiral into stupidity, like what seemed to be the case with Emile?

Eventually Carter gave in, his gaze sliding sideways, followed by a clearing of his throat. "I can tend to that, if you want," he offered, gesturing to her thigh. "Noble considers me the unofficial team medic, aside from being their leader. And a marksman."

"You, team's medic? Never would have took you for such a thing." she remarked, a note of amusement colouring her voice.

It sounded like he began to chuckle, but was smothering it with a cough – at least, she thought that was the noise he made. Either that or it was some kind of strangled squawk. She couldn't tell either way. In response, she smothered a snort into the back of her hand, acting as though she'd sneezed to hide the noise.

"Sure… I don't mind." She shrugged again, both shoulders this time, and seated herself in one of the chairs scattered haphazardly around the room. Her eyes tracked him as he knelt beside her to examine the gash, fingers gently probing, before his gaze met hers a second time to give his verdict.

"I'd hate to cut away from the wound because your bodysuit can be patched up, so I'm gonna have to get you to strip it down to about your knees."

The lone wolf stared at him and said nothing; silently, she began to peel herself out of her bodysuit, methodical until she became stuck. That was one of the downsides to having those techs gear her up and dress her down before and after each mission – she was not careful enough with her motions, and the moment her elbow became snared in the material, she struggled. Panic rose up in her chest, and she realized that she had to stop and ask for help, as much as it galled her to. She simply had no way of knowing how to get herself free, and her flight or fight instincts were beginning to kick in.

A long, growling sigh escaped her instead.

Why was it now, when she needed actual help, that her words failed her? Perhaps it was simply because she felt stupid for asking. The entire situation made her look like a helpless idiot, and she hated the very idea of it. She loathed that it was happening to her.

Before she could even attempt to get the words free of her throat and ask for some assistance, Carter had shifted closer, so close that he was in her personal space, and gently eased her elbow and the rest of her arm free of her bodysuit. Then, without bothering to ask if she wanted further help, he worked on sliding the material further down her body, silent as he worked, and deliberately avoiding looking into her eyes. B312 had to pull her head back to keep from bumping him – that, and she felt somewhat… nervous… about having someone she barely knew crowding her. She'd never particularly been at ease when someone was too close for comfort, and this situation was no exception.

And yet…

His proximity made her skin prickle in a way that was unfamiliar to her, and she began to wonder if there was something wrong with her. She could feel her heart banging against her ribcage – thump, thump, thump – and she found that she was almost holding her breath even as she continued to look away from him. When he shifted away and rose up, her gaze could not help but track his movements, and she was struck, suddenly, by the intensity of his eyes; not his stare, this time, but the colour. They were so bright; such a deep, vibrant blue, and she sucked in a nervous breath, releasing it with a quiet whoosh. As quickly as those thoughts had made themselves present, she banished them with a shake of her head and a firm, mental no. What was she even doing – she needed to refocus on the situation at hand. It was absolutely ridiculous to be so preoccupied with such foolish, insignificant details, like the defined curve of his jawline, or the sharpness to his cheekbones, or the slope of his nose…

"Lieutenant?"

She was aware, very aware, that the Commander was staring at her, a frown marring his features – marring? since when? – and she shook her head again, lowering her chin. "Sir."

"You zoned out back there. Everything okay?"

Another quiet whoosh of air escaped her. "Fine. I was just… thinking."

Yeah, no shit.

"Careful. You might get lost in there." he ribbed, a corner of his mouth twitching, threatening to turn into a smirk. And was it her overactive imagination, or was there a gleam in his eyes that hadn't been there before?

It took her a moment to recover, and by that time, he'd already begun to walk away to fetch the medkit. "Funny," she sassed to his retreating back, and she was rewarded with an amused snort.

By the time Carter returned, Six had finished cleaning her assault rifle, and had pieced it back together. She was just setting it aside when he called her attention, and she glanced up, tilting her head inquiringly at the bottle of vodka he held in one hand. "What's that for?"

"Disinfectant."

She frowned at him, snatched the bottle before he could even set it down, popped the top, and chugged half the bottle down in one swift movement. She cleared her throat at the burn rather than coughing, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and shrugged nonchalantly at the bewildered expression on his face. "What?"

"That's not…" He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. "Nevermind."

She shrugged again and handed the bottle back to him. "Numbs the pain," she said casually, "Also I needed a drink, so, two birds with one stone." Her eyes closed and she settled back against the chair, ignoring the burn on the outside of her body as the other Spartan dabbed at her wound with a pad he'd doused in the alcohol.

She wasn't bothered by the fact that she'd received yet another injury. The only irritating thing about the entire situation was that it happened on her first day as part of this new team. It made her feel like an idiot – like she was not as good as her file said she was. Sure, everyone made mistakes. But she was not human, like the rest of them. She was a weapon – weapons didn't misfire unless the wielder was incompetent or there was a mechanical issue. In this case, the wielder was very competent indeed; COLD MOON had known damn well what they were doing when they allowed her to be rostered onto NOBLE. And there was no way that there was a mechanical issue… was there? Was working as a team compromising her?

The very thought made her uncomfortable, so she dismissed it before it could spread its venom any further. There was no point getting caught up in that web.

The sigh that escaped her was short and huffy, and it was enough to give Carter pause, staring up at her with a puzzled frown on his features. "Did I hurt you?"

"No, you're fine. I'm just frustrated with myself. I'm sure you've been there a dozen and five times." Well, it wasn't her intent to make conversation. But she couldn't stop talking. She wasn't particularly chatty, by any means, but then, her superior had told her to make sure she fitted in with the team. And what better way to slot herself in as one of them by making herself appear less hostile, more approachable, more likeable?

He grunted noncommittally, and bent his head down to resume cleaning her wound, removing the charred, dead skin with a practice and gentleness that suggested he hadn't been joking at all when he had stated he was the team's medic. That was another aspect of him that surprised her. She'd expected him to be concerned about the welfare of his team, yes, but not to go to such lengths so as to treat their injuries himself. If anything, she thought that that would have been the job of someone like Jorge.

Finally, he did speak to her, when he'd gotten to the stage of stitching up her wound, but it wasn't related to the topic she'd brought up; it was another matter entirely. "You know…" he began, and it seemed more like he was talking to her leg than to her, but she knew that it was only because he was so focused on his work. "I'm starting to wonder if you're deliberately butting heads with me because you don't like being told what to do."

"What, you didn't read my psych eval?" she muttered, half-joking and half-serious. Her eyes stared at the back of his head, and when they noticed a crescent moon-shaped scar, for just a beat she idly wondered how he'd gotten injured there.

"Of course it didn't mention trouble with authority figures." he stated, a note of frustration creeping into his voice. "Well?"

"Listed as rebellious," she answered with a derisive snort, "And you would know that strong-willed is in there as well, which is one of your primary personality traits, I've come to notice. Have you not met someone as stubborn as you are, before? Pig-headed people are bound to clash. That's the way it is."

He raised his head to look at her, and there was a spark of defiance in his eyes. "Kat's stubborn." She noted, too, the way he set his jaw, and the furrow between his eyebrows; he was beginning to lose patience, it seemed.

"Kat's not me-level stubborn." The ghost of a smirk flickered across her lips, fading as quickly as it had appeared. "She'll back down eventually. One of the things I remember well from training."

"Except for when she doesn't." he countered, voice even.

She hadn't meant to push his buttons, but she just couldn't help herself. "So now you're bad-mouthing your own XO, huh? And I thought you two were close."

Six felt a smug satisfaction surge through her when his eyes flashed; this verbal sparring was actually quite amusing. Her intent wasn't to test his patience, to watch him crack and get pissed off at her. She didn't want to get on his bad side. She just wanted to get to know him.

Carter's frown deepened, and one hand curled into a fist. "What are you getting at, here?" he questioned through gritted teeth. "Are you deliberately pushing my buttons? Is your problem with authority that bad, that you have to question nearly everything I say, or counter it with backtalk? Because it's going to get really old, really fast, if that's the case."

"Relax," she drawled, aiming to soothe his metaphorical hackles. "This is just me getting to know you. Is it so bad that I'm making little digs? Because I could just as easily give you the cold shoulder, or worse, openly hate you. I mean, I'm trying to be nice here, but you're not making it easy. There's no need to get testy. I'm here to do my job, and get back to ONI when it's done. And if that means I need to fit into your team, then so be it. Fitting into your team means getting to know each and every one of you."

Carter was silent as he mulled her words over. Then, after what seemed an eternity, he sighed wearily and shook his head at her. "I'll never understand you, Lieutenant. One minute you act as though you don't want to be here, and the next, you act as though we're all old friends."

B312's lips curled, and she bared her teeth in a wolfish grin that didn't meet her eyes. "I'm simply testing the waters, Commander. Gauging each and every Spartan's personalities. And yes, I've read the psych evals, but a lot of people are biased when they write those. It's always good to make doubly sure you know who's watching your six and who isn't." Her expression dropped, and her eyes hardened. "Trust isn't always easy to come by."

"No," he agreed, his voice quiet and soft, "No it isn't." Their gazes locked for a few heartbeats, before the Commander looked away again, refocusing on the task of patching up her leg.

Am I crazy for thinking I felt a flash like static electricity just then?

…Yeah, buddy, you're insane.

The lone wolf hadn't realized that she'd spaced out again when a warm, soft-yet-calloused hand was laid on her knee, and it was all she could do not to jump in surprise as she looked up to meet Carter's gaze once more. A corner of his mouth was threatening to curl upwards again, and yes, this time there was a spark in his eyes, one of cool amusement. "You're good to go." he informed her, rising to his feet and packing up the medkit. "Just take it easy and it won't reopen."

She rolled her eyes. "Right. Like you need to tell me."

"I do need to tell Emile. And you remind me of him, with your…" He paused for a moment, searching for the right word, or words. "Fiery attitude. That's not to say you're not different, because you are. He's more hotheaded than you, but you hold more anger than he does."

Had it been that obvious? "Really?" She cocked her head to one side.

"It's in your eyes." His voice softened again, and for some reason, she felt like she couldn't breathe. "There's tragedy in them, and rage. So much rage…" He shook his head as though he were clearing out of a daze, blinked, and turned away. "Anyway, as I said. Take it easy until it's healed up some."

"Sure thing, boss." She waved his concern off with a mock salute, and the smile that had been threatening tugged at the corner of his mouth in response. Her heart thudded strangely in her chest, and she reached past him, grabbed the bottle of vodka, and downed the rest of it in one gulp. She needed to clear her head, she told herself silently, and so what if the Commander judged her? He was the one who'd had the bottle in the first place. And it wasn't like he kept it purposefully around to use as disinfectant for wounds – they had proper stuff for that. Whether it had been his or not didn't matter; it was there for drinking, and that's what she'd done.

"I take it you feel it was a long day." Amusement lined his voice.

"You could say that," she mumbled, getting up to leave and pulling her bodysuit back up into place with the movement, "Be seeing you."

They expected her to give a report of her status whenever possible. Right. Like they actually thought that was possible while she was deployed on the field of battle. Sure, it wasn't like she hadn't managed it before, but back then, she'd been deployed a solo operative. Being part of a team meant that chances for privacy were few and far between. And she preferred that the others weren't aware of what she was doing – she didn't want them to know that COLD MOON were building profiles on them. It was the only way she could protect them from the fate that she alone suffered.

They were looking for ways to push forward their work, and they were considering all the options. She knew damn well why they were looking into whatever she reported of her teammates. It was why she had to be careful, too, in what she wrote. She could not doom them to a similar fate to her own.

And so it was that B312 decided that the armoury was the best place to tuck herself away for ten, perhaps fifteen minutes, while she mulled over what to write in her report, and then to write it and send it to her superior. She did not think that anyone else would be there at this time of night. She knew that Emile and Carter were assigned to nightwatch, and as for the others, they would more than likely be sleeping to make sure they were well-rested for their turn on patrol. The armoury felt more secluded than the planning room, and the rec room-slash-kitchen would be where anyone would head to grab a snack if they found themselves hungry.

She had her head bent over her datapad as she walked, fingers pecking at the screen as she searched the file directory for where she'd saved copies of each Spartan's psych eval. She made no note of her surroundings; so absorbed was she in what she was doing that she didn't notice Carter walking out of the armoury until she'd smacked straight into his remarkably firm chest – the hell did that observation come from? – and he'd reached out to steady her, one hand closing around her elbow, and the other one holding her datapad so that she didn't lose her grip on it.

"Easy there, Six." he told her quietly, mirth in his voice. "Got lost in your thoughts again, I see." For some reason, the fact that he hadn't let go of her yet had uneasiness churning in her gut. What was he doing? Why was he looking at her like that?

"Something like that," she answered, and there was a rasp to her own tone that hadn't been there earlier. Was something wrong with her? No, that couldn't be right. It was simply an unfortunate side effect of all that vodka she'd chugged; it had burned her throat and her voice was affected as a result.

He still hadn't let go.

She wanted to ask what the hell are you doing? but the words died in her throat before they even had the chance to form.

B312 stared at Carter; he stared back.

It was like she was frozen. She couldn't move, no matter how much she willed herself to do so. She couldn't speak, no matter how many thoughts raced around in her head, questions right on the tip of her tongue. What was he doing to her? Was it just that he had caught her so off-guard she'd done the first thing her instincts could tell her to do? She didn't know; it was too hard to tell.

And then he leaned in closer and kissed her.

His mouth on hers was soft and almost tender, and one hand finally let go of her to grasp at her waist and bring her closer still. She went with the motion, almost like in a dream, almost like she was not herself; that someone else was pulling her strings and that she was simply watching events unfolding through her own eyes. And then something in her warned her that this was a mistake.

She snapped, eyes flying wide open, rage and bewilderment boiling in her chest. She raised her hands, shoved them into his chest, shoved him away from her, stumbled back herself. She stared at him again, eyes narrowing this time, breathing hard, a low growl of warning escaping her. Adrenaline flowed through her veins; her flight or fight instinct had kicked in, and she was ready to kick his ass.

His hands were up defensively, and he rested his weight on his back foot, ready to ward her off should she choose to attack him. He looked confused, like he hadn't been in control of his own actions, like he, too, had been part of a dream; that someone else was pulling his strings.

She hated that parallel.

"How dare you." she began, voice low, and she hadn't realized that she'd retrieved a combat knife until she was crowding him, the blade resting against his throat. "Don't you ever do that to me again," she snarled, cold, ice cold, "Keep away from me, you bastard."

The other Spartan didn't seem bothered by the knife, like he'd been threatened physically before, like it was no big deal. That would be his mistake should he move towards her; he did no such thing, thankfully, and stayed perfectly still. "I don't know what came over me." he informed her, voice quiet, so quiet, and was there a flash of hurt in his eyes? "I'm sorry, Lieutenant."

"You'd damn well better be." she stated hotly, and spun on her heel, readying to move down the hall, back the way she'd come, but his voice ringing out stopped her before she could even more.

"You're on patrol with Kat. I was just on my way to tell you that before you— Nevermind. Go get yourself geared up."

The lone wolf felt like an ice queen as she shoved him again, harder than before, hard enough for his back to slam into the wall with a thump that sounded oddly satisfying to her ears. "Bite me." she flung at him over one shoulder, stalking towards the armoury that awaited her at the end of the hall.