This is mostly based off of the games, because I haven't read the books. My knowledge of the Halo-verse is pretty limited, so bear with me. If there are any factual errors, I apologize.

I do not own nor am I in any way affiliated with Halo. I write for the experience and for the fun. Please enjoy!

oOoOoOo

Charlie awoke with a start, her heart thrumming in her chest. Another bad dream - only this one was absolutely horrid. John had died. It seemed to last forever in her head, his death long and dragged out. She shuddered and rolled over to find herself alone in his bed. Her brown pools flickered down to the mess of blankets on the floor, and their uselessness. A small tendril of excitement wavered insider he, reminding her of the prior night's happenings. A small smile stitched its way onto her lips, and she stood up, pulling the light blanket around her chest. She failed to find her clothes, which were somewhere strewn about, so she helped herself to one of John's shirts. She slipped it on, and adjusted her hair, opting to throw it into a messy bun. She managed to drag her pants out from under the bed, and slipped them on, notching the belt and slipping into her steel-toed boots. Now, where had John gone off to?

The ship was silent, but the gentle lull of the machinery below told her they were moving. Charlie walked down the grated hallway slowly, peering around hallways. Since her encounter with the Covenant, she felt extremely cautious. They seemed to be quite skilled at stowing away and coming out of nowhere when she was alone. Although she was afraid she might find Sarah in the bridge, Charlie climbed the stairs to the room anyway. John was standing above the map, his helmet placed on its edge, his eyes stony and concentrated. She gently placed one foot at the head of the stairs, and attempted to sneak up to him. But, of course, this was quite impossible.

"Good morning," John said with his gravely voice. He flicked his eyes over his shoulder at her. He didn't smile, but she could see a certain look in his eyes. Oh well, she didn't expect much more. She cupped her hands behind her back and approached him, with her own toothy smile.

"Good morning Master Chief," she said quietly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. He eyed her for a moment, watching the curve of her mouth, her eyes, the loose bits of hair touching her neck, and turned back to the map, a new look on his face. Determination. Charlie leaned against the table and sighed, "So, what are we doing?" she said, deciding she would not distract him from the task at hand. He narrowed his eyes, and fleeted a glance at her.

"What do you mean we?"

"Oh don't start that again." Charlie stood back, arms crossed, her brow furrowed. John's eyes turned hard.

"This is something I can't let you do. Facing covenant forces is not a game," he said a bit harshly. Charlie frowned.

"I can handle myself John," her voice as determined as the crease in his forehead. The Spartan scowled and crossed his arms.

"I can't let you go."

"Well I am."

"No, Charlotte," he said, sounding like her father. He turned back to the map, but she stepped up to his side, moving in his way.

"You can't tell me what to do. I am going to help." John let out a breath, and opened his mouth to speak, but decided against it. He set his jaw and looked over his shoulder. She watched his eyes flicker to the stairs.

"What if you are hurt?" He seemed serious, his eyes rippled.

"I will be fine." Her voice was soft.

That was the end of the discussion. For now.

oOoOoOo

John didn't know exactly what had happened the night before. It was very... foggy. He remembered arguing with Charlie, he remembered her kissing him. And he remembered her skin, the smell of her hair, the feeling of her skin. But he couldn't accept that he would allow himself to do those things. He wasn't supposed to care about things like that. He wasn't supposed to get involved with people. And he never had. But she was so different. She challenged him, made his heart beat that familiar rhythm he felt when he was in the heat of battle. Adrenaline. Somehow, Charlie had broken through his walls, made him think he was capable of... well, of caring. He had never been mean, exactly, just cautious. Conservative. He was a mess. He couldn't decide if he wanted to care about her, or pretend nothing happened. He knew it would be in both of their best interests if he just erected those walls once more. But he didn't know if he could hurt her like that...

Seeing her the next morning was a whole new emotion. He felt... happy to see her. In that moment he felt like there was no way he could pretend nothing had happened. It had. And he had liked it. Even worse was the fact that Charlie thought she was invincible. He couldn't stand to see harm come to her. He would be at risk if she was on the battlefield with him. His head would be elsewhere. And then... then there was the matter of her brother. Something he had hidden from her the moment they had met. He didn't know how he could carry on caring for her, with that burden on his shoulders. Wait. He didn't even know if he cared for her. It was misplaced. It was all just a huge jumble, and he was confused. He clenched his fists unable to organize the mess.

John looked down at his breakfast, glad that Charlie had decided to visit Lasky in the infirmary with his food. He didn't want to be around her. She clouded his judgment. She clouded everything. He pushed a clump of egg around with his fork and flicked his eyes up to see Sarah sitting down. He quickly ate a piece of his food.

"So, what is the plan, exactly?" she said, seeming a bit annoyed.

"We have to destroy the Device. And the only way to do that is to find it. I think I know where it is. If the Covenant is convinced the Key was with Charlie, they must still be on earth. They would have wanted to be prepared. We find the Device, destroy it, and the rest of the Covenant with it," he said, sounding extremely confident in this assessment. Sarah seemed to agree, mumbling and eating her food. John ignored her, and finished his breakfast so he would be able to escape and get some peace and quiet.

He was on his way to the lower deck of the ship, when Charlie found him. She touched his elbow, and smiled brightly, something he would prefer she never did again. He shifted, falling out of her grasp and facing her fully. Her smile faltered momentarily and she looked up at him. "Do you think you might be able to help me learn how to use some weapons? I'm a little rusty," she said, biting the side of her mouth. She noticed something was off. John stared at her for a moment and slowly nodded his head. He was trying not to yell. The unorganized thoughts were almost crippling. He wanted to kiss her. No. He wanted her to leave. He wanted to be alone. He didn't want to hurt her, but he did. He ran a hand through his hair and gritted his teeth. Damn it all. He brushed past her, leading her to the indoor range the ship offered. Charlie followed closely, an odd look of suspicion on her face.

The range was empty, and John removed the Assault Rifle from his back. He swung it down and checked the safety, handing it to the petite woman. The large rifle dwarfed her. He pushed her up to the firing line. "Go ahead," he said curtly, watching a strand of hair fall from its place behind her ear. She looked at him, and narrowed her eyes, facing her target full on. She lightly squeezed the trigger. The recoil punched her shoulder roughly, and she let off, watching the casings fall to the floor. She barely skinned the target. John sighed, "Don't just squeeze on it." Charlie gave him a glare and turned back to the target. She lightly fingered the trigger three times, bursts following. She hit the target's lower abdomen. She did it again, only this time her finger slipped, squeezing the trigger tightly. The barrel climbed, and knocked her down, taking her by surprise. John scowled and reached down, picking up the weapon before she killed herself. Charlie stood roughly to her feet and stared at him roughly.

"You don't have to be so goddamn rude," she seethed, rubbing her shoulder.

"You don't need to know any of this!" John shouted, surprised. Charlie took a step back and kept her gaze. John placed the rifle roughly back onto his person.

"What is your problem?" she snapped, and he knew she meant today. When he should be "flirting" or whatever people did after intercourse. He rolled his eyes and turned away from her, looking down at his boots.

"You are," he said, and it hurt to even speak the words. He didn't know why. But it was bitter and it made him want to apologize. But he couldn't. He didn't need to look at her to know she was hurting. She swallowed hard.

"I wasn't a 'problem' last night," she said, her voice wavering.

"That was a mistake," he quickly snapped at her, looking over his shoulder. Charlie's eyes flickered over.

"I see," she said softly, letting her gaze fall to the floor.

"None of this should have happened."

"Well it did, John," he could tell she was trying not to cry. He didn't answer. "Thanks for the lesson," she added, turning on her heel and walking quickly from the room. John wanted to stop her. Tell her he didn't mean to hurt her. But those were emotions he had to have in check. He had made a mistake. A stupid mistake. He turned his head to watch her run around the corner, the hell of her hand pressed against her eyes. Something inside him gnawed away at his thoughts. But he didn't have time for them.

oOoOoOo

Sarah was not one to hold grudges, or show an unkind word most of the time. In fact, she was quite kind. But Charlotte Taggart had rubbed her in all the wrong ways. She was soft, selfish, clumsy, self absorbed and a distraction. And she just ran into her. Sarah instinctively held out her arms, preventing the petite woman from crashing into her. Charlie met contact, blindly, and was thrust onto the ground. "Watch it," Sarah said heatedly, narrowing her eyes at the woman on the ground. She noticed the tears on her cheeks. "The Chief finally get tired of your antics?" she said coolly, quirking a goaded brow. Charlotte stood up quickly, dragging her hand along the wet tracks down her face.

"Leave me alone," Charlie spat wiping her hands along the thighs of her pants. Sarah wasn't intimidated.

"Not everyone has to fall to your feet, Taggart," she sighed, moving so Charlie could pass by. But she didn't move, she just glared at Sarah.

"I'm sorry my brother would reciprocate whatever feelings you had for him, but I don't blame him. You are a rude, miserable person," Charlie said, huffing slightly. She wasn't so good on the uptake. Sarah scowled and leaned in, heat rolling off of her.

"Your brother was a disgrace to the human race," she spat back. She knew she had been goaded on, but she didn't care. She was tired of Charlie.

"Don't say a word against my brother you bitch!"

"How can you defend him?" Sarah said, suddenly enraged. Charlie backed up, but her back hit the cold, hard metal of the Master Chief's suit. She glanced up at him.

"That's enough Palmer," the Spartan said. Sarah just ignored him. Master Chief moved Charlie to the side. But Sarah was already set. "How dare you stand there and defend someone who was single-handedly responsible for the death of an entire planet," she said hotly. Charlie blinked.

"Enough," John said loudly. But it was out. Charlie looked between the two soldiers.

"What do you mean?" Charlie said panicked. Sarah shook her head.

"You didn't even know. Your brother helped the Covenant glass an entire planet. He lost his mind... probably all that time in isolation. He was a walking timebomb."

"Palmer, enough," Master Chief's eyes flashed. Sarah shook her head. But enough was said. Charlie had disappeared, slipping between the two soldiers, and running down a flight of stairs. The Spartan looked at her disapprovingly. "You had no right to tell her that."

"Why didn't you?"

"You know that was confidential."

"Not anymore."

oOoOoOo

Charlie couldn't believe it. It wasn't true. Tears stung her eyes, her lungs burned, her heart ached in her chest. She reached the bunk, and slammed the door, kicking it closed and repeatedly kicking it. After the door had received enough of the brunt, she paced the room, wiping away tears with her hands.

John stood in the doorway, gazing at her. She couldn't even look at him. She wanted to scream. Finally, she turned and stared at him. "You..." she started, but couldn't finish, turning away and "You hid this from me?" she finally said, whipping around to face him.

"I couldn't tell you," he said gruffly. Charlie laughed, almost hysterically.

"Oh, so, so it's okay to fuck me, but not tell me my brother is a homicidal maniac?" she shouted. John looked uncomfortable. Good. He closed the bunk door.

"Calm down-"

"Don't tell me to calm down! Do you have any idea... any fucking idea how long my father looked for him? Do you? Someone kidnapped him John, they took him away from us. Changed him, distorted him, shoved a gun in his hands and told him to kill," she raged, still pacing, pointing at him occasionally. John remained silent. "They made him a monster. Ripped out whatever was left of humanity, and put a machine it its place. My father died looking for his son. HIS son!" she screamed, now trying to punch him. John grabbed her wrist and pinned it to her side along with the other.

"A lot of people lost their children," John tried to say, but she just violently tried to escape.

"And that make it OKAY? You're a fucking monster, just like all of them. Designed and created to do nothing but kill," she said loudly. John felt an unfamiliar twinge of hurt. "You're not capable of anything else. Not love, not friendship, not kindness. You take what you want and complete your goddamn mission," she said, now out of breath. He let her slide to the ground in a heap.

"Charlie..." he began, but she just curled up, her hands over her head. He left her then, quietly. She wanted to beg him to stay. To hold her. Kiss her, tell her everything was alright. But she knew he wasn't coming back.

She laid on the floor, sobbing for hours, it seemed, until she finally fell asleep. Her dreams were plagued with her brother's face. By John, by her father. They were horrid things she didn't know were alive inside her. Hate for her father, for leaving her too soon, for spending his time on her brother. Hate for her brother, for the atrocities he had committed. Hate for John for lying to her, using her and leaving her. And a hate for herself, for not standing up, or knowing better than to trust him.

She awoke from her sleep, sore and bruised, and John absent. He must have bunked elsewhere. Good. She stretched, her limbs screaming. But she didn't have time to think about that. As she lay awake in the early morning, her thoughts distant, foggy and dark, she thought of the one thing she could do to make herself feel right. And she planned on doing exactly that. Her whole life, she had spent taking care of her father, watching him die, watching him mourn his son. Then she met John, and she let herself trust him, trust a machine. And in each instance, she had fallen and no one was there to help her, or take care of her. She knew what she could do to show everyone, exactly how capable she was.

The first part of her plan involved her extreme stealth, which she was no master of. She found John slumbering in the cot below deck, surrounded by the lull of machines. He hadn't taken his suit off. She toed, quietly, excruciatingly slowly, to his side. She found the pouch where he kept the key, and slipped out, clenching her jaw and watching his face. He didn't move. Quickly, she jaunted up the stairs, and down the hallway towards the bridge. She found Sarah there, and poked her head in for a moment.

"Quick question," she said, sounding bright.

"What?" Sarah said flatly.

"Are we in within dropping range of earth?"

"In ten minutes, yes. Go wake up Master Chief."

"Okay," she responded. But she had no intention of doing so. Instead, she headed for the cargo bay. There she suited up in a very heavy, very usual uniform. ODST gear. Something she had once done for fun on her father's ship, for which she was seriously punished for. She had met many people while under her father's eye, including many Orbital Drop Shock Troopers, who tended to be a pretty unfriendly bunch. At one time someone had shown her how the pods worked. And although she didn't remember it word for word, she figured she could just wing it. She tucked the Key into a pouch of her gear, and faced a large black object with a door. The pod was for two people, back to back. It looked intimidating, but she had made up her mind. She walked over to the panel controlling the pods, and calculated it the best she could. As she was punching in the last numbers, she heard footsteps approaching the staircase. She leaned back and punched a button, that swung the door shut, and locked it. Suddenly, Palmer's face was in the small window of the door, angry and yelling. Charlie wiggled her fingers at her in a fake wave. Behind her, she could see the glint of John's armor.

"Charlie, what are you doing?" he was on the intercom. Charlie sighed, and ignored him, punching more buttons. A red light on the pod lit up. John's eyes darted to it. "You're not seriously-" he began rummaging around in his pouches.

"Looking for this?" Charlie said in a sing-song voice over the intercom.

"Open the door."

"Not a chance." And with that, she strolled over to the pod, and went about strapping herself in.

"You're not trained for that. You will get yourself killed."

She ignored him, strapping her legs in. She looked up, her eyes lingering on him. She punched an interior button, and the door came down with a hiss, locking her in tightly. She couldn't hear them now, the sound of silence enveloping her. She closed her eyes, as a small feminine voice began to count down to her ascent.

"5... 4... 3... 2... 1"

The next few moments were incredibly intense. She felt dizzy, her skin covered in goose flesh. Her breathing increased, adrenaline coursing through her. The slight sound a whipping noise as she dropped to earth. She knew she could be falling to her death, completely untrained and not even sure if she had correctly done everything - but if she died, what loss was that? She had no home, she had no family. In the long run, at least trying to redeem herself seemed worth it.

As she felt herself slowly falling into blackness, the entire pod jarred. She thought he legs might have broken on impact. She wasn't ready for that. She knew she had sustained some injury, but wasn't sure of the extent. The interior light flickered, and she could see some blood on her upper lip. Her nose was bleeding. But that was from altitude and the trip down, she was sure. She unstrapped herself, and punched the release. She fell out, and onto her knees, and knew almost immediately she had hurt her right ankle. But it wasn't too bad. She had sprained it.

Suddenly, she realized she was surrounded by forest. Something loud screeched in the distance - and it hit her. She was utterly on her own.