WARNING: MATURE CONTENT IN THIS CHAPTER! Well, now that that's out of the way, here's the next 'deleted scene'. I have no idea where it came from, but it almost made the grade. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own nothing from Halo: Combat Evolved or from any of the books.

11. A Spartan Scorned

Laura happened to wake up in the middle of the night; she was at her mother's house on leave, but her mother had been called to cover an emergency shift, so she'd be alone all night. The moon was shining brightly through her window, glinting off the wooden floor. The scene was so idyllic that she was content to lie there on her stomach, bare skin against the sheets (all her nightclothes were in the laundry), and watch the silvery glow, at least until the sound of someone's footsteps approached. What the hell? Who can that be? She quickly closed her eyes as the soft sound of a heavy tread echoed across the floor of her room. Too late she realized that her top sheet was bunched up around her waist, exposing her bare back.

John had slipped out of the base on his own, for reasons he couldn't explain; all he knew was that he had to see the woman who had stolen his heart and then rejected him. It wasn't too hard to get to her mother's house, and even easier to get inside: someone had left the sliding door to the back porch unlocked. Soft-footing it through the house, he finally found Laura's room; whatever he'd been expecting, this wasn't it. The walls were painted a pale shade of violet, a large picture of a musical instrument hung on one wall, and an ornate mirror dominated another. The window faced east, and in the center of the room, one end set against the south wall, was her bed. Laura was sleeping, that he was sure of, but he hadn't expected to see her naked beneath her sheets. Sometime during the night the top sheet must have slid down: from the waist up was all bare skin and brown hair glistening in the moonlight.

They hadn't been alone together like this since Christmas, and the memory of their first touch haunted him. He couldn't help himself; moving quietly so he wouldn't wake her, John approached the side of the bed. Her dark hair spilled all over the pillow, partially covered her face, and contrasted sharply with her pale skin. Pale, white scars were visible in the moonlight, reminding him what kind of hells she went through day in and day out; like himself and his friends, she was a Spartan, and had seen her share of action. And yet, there was something different about her, something…special. Gently, he reached out and gripped the sheet, pulling it back over her body, but before he finished he gently brushed his fingers against her back. She's so soft, so warm, he thought, just before an iron-hard grip snagged his wrist and yanked him down.

She felt her sheet moving up her back, which had surprised her: most men (she assumed it was a man) would have pulled it down or left it be. When she felt someone caress her back, though, that made her mad. Thankful that she'd decided to play opossum, Laura grabbed the intruder's wrist and yanked; he sprawled across her bed, and she pinned him beneath her, her top sheet tangling around her as she somehow managed to keep it between herself and…Oh hell! John looked up at her, dark eyes both surprised and mildly amused at their current situation. Angry with herself for what she saw as her own foolishness, Laura decided the best course of action would be to get him out of the house as soon as she could.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she hissed angrily.

"I wanted to talk to you," John replied, her anger starting to make him just as angry; his anger, however, was ice to match her fire, albeit swiftly melting ice.

"There's nothing to say," Laura snarled, getting angrier by the minute, and trying hard to forget how close he was, that the only things between their bodies were his fatigues and a thin sheet. He looks so darn attractive in the moonlight, she thought fleetingly, and got even madder at the thought.

"Oh really?" He moved before she could prepare herself, and rolled her beneath him, both hands pinning her arms, his legs trapping hers, the weight of his body keeping her from moving. The sheet was miraculously still between them, but it had somehow gotten untangled and had been pulled taut over her figure, outlining every curve of her body. Seeing her almost helpless like this touched something inside him, a sense of possessiveness he'd never felt before. He was close enough to see the fire in her eyes, a fire he'd seen many times before when she was pissed at ONI.

"Really. There's nothing to say, so you might as well get out." In truth, she didn't want to send him away, but she had no choice. Here I am, trying to save his life, and he's not going! What is it going to take to make him hate me? And when in hell is he going to move his sidearm off of my leg? A few seconds later, she realized he wasn't wearing a sidearm. She tried to get loose, but her body wouldn't respond; it was as if something had paralyzed her, and that only fueled her fury. And yet, she was also slightly amused by their current situation, and didn't realize it was showing on her face.

"I'm not leaving," John hissed, angry at her for her rejection. They were too close, but even if he'd wanted to leave he couldn't; something was keeping him atop her, something was happening to him that he didn't understand. His pants felt uncomfortably tight, and his breath came in shakily as if he'd been running for hours. Laura was still beneath him, and something in her face made him think she was the cause.

"What have you done to me?" She has to know something, otherwise why the arrogant look? The fact that she had that knowing smirk plastered on her face really pissed him off.

"I had nothing to do with whatever's turned you on," she shot back, the knowing smirk vanishing to be replaced by one of the dirtiest looks John had ever seen. "I'm certainly not the stuff dreams are made of, much less sexual fantasies. If I've gotten you hard you must be desperate." I do not believe this! He's lying on top of me, he's got himself a hard-on …and he doesn't know what to do with it! The whole situation struck her as almost laughable, except for the man pinning her to her own bed with his body, a fire in his eyes that angered her and enchanted her all at once.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, and I don't care. Just stop whatever twisted game you're playing!" John shouted. She's so beautiful when she's mad. The thought flickered by for an instant, then was gone.

"I don't play games, Spartan!" she shouted back; thank goodness there was no one else around to hear. She saw him flinch, so she made the mistake of hurling more insults. "If you think for even one second I could go out of my way to make myself seem attractive to one of ONI's mindless killing machines, think again! I can think of—"

"Shut up," he growled, voice low and threatening.

"I am not going to shut up!" Laura shouted, really mad now, especially since she'd been interrupted. "I'm not through with you, and there's nothing you can—"

Laura didn't get to finish her sentence; her barbs and angry words had provoked a reaction, but not one she'd expected. John had lowered his mouth on hers and kissed her fiercely while she was still shouting at him; he was angry, and his instincts had taken control. The kiss was rough, fierce, and heated; it swept through both of them, confusing them, blocking out their minds with a loud, primal roar that lasted for a full five minutes. When John finally pulled away, he saw a look in her eyes that mirrored exactly what he felt: anger mixed with desire.

"You shouldn't have done that," Laura whispered angrily; the last time he'd seen that fire in her eyes, she'd incapacitated a squad of Helljumpers for calling her a traitor.

"You shouldn't have pissed me off," he growled, keeping her pinned beneath him.

"Coming here was your first mistake, making me mad was your second," she hissed, her anger and her desire taking control of her senses; managing to pull one arm from his grasp, she yanked him closer and returned his kiss, the anger in her giving her an energy she didn't expect. Forcing his mouth open with her own, she thrust her tongue fiercely against his, gripping his shoulder with a strength that surprised both of them as she deepened the kiss, feeling a sudden primal need connected with her fury. John held her down with one hand, using the other to pull the sheet away from her body. His clothes were still on, but she was naked beneath him, her fiery passion fueled by her rage. Their bodies pressed together, his weight atop hers, his chest against her breasts, his hands pinning her to the bed as he devoured her lips; feeling the contours of her shape only added to his need, as he felt the press of her body through his clothes each time she arched into his kiss, as he ran his calloused hands down her body. She could feel the hardness of his body through his uniform, angry that only a little bit of cloth still separated them; all sense of self-control had vanished because of her rage, and almost all that remained was raw, primal instinct. He felt her hands wander to his pants, trying to undress him. Keeping his mouth locked with hers, he pulled off his fatigues as quickly as he could, tossing them around the room; there was a loud tearing noise as Laura assisted with the removal of his black, no-nonsense, regulation undershirt. John pulled away briefly to remove his trousers; when he was stripped he came back and pinned her down once more.

Their first sexual encounter was hardly the romantic one Laura had envisioned: there was no tender touch, no soft embrace, no gentle words. Both of them were infuriated with the other, and their anger needed an outlet: it was much too good to be wasted. Their rage fed the lusts inside them, and they threw themselves into the battle eagerly. It was the classic struggle between man and woman: the man trying to dominate, the woman resisting. Laura lay beneath the furious Spartan as he tried to subdue her with angry passionate kisses and heated thrusts of his body against hers, but she returned every angry blow with one of her own, just as strong as his. Rough hands gripped her breasts, and she responded by raking her nails across his back, gasping from the sudden pleasure. He forced himself down, she thrust against him; he pinned her beneath him, she returned the stroke and rolled him beneath her, straddling him, thrusting herself against him as her rage grew with her passion. The same raging fire that filled her was reflected in his eyes: angry, primal desire. She nearly cried out when he gripped her waist and pulled her against him, an iron grip clasping her to his chest as he forced himself inside her. Again and again he tried to conquer her, but she refused to submit, meeting him head-on whenever he attacked. Both of them climaxed together, and even though the wild, furious sexual encounter was over, the anger still wasn't spent. They lay glaring at each other, still more furious than either one would have expected. No arguments were forthcoming, however, because when Laura tried to open her mouth John covered it with his, the lustful rage still filling him and giving him energy he'd never felt before. Yanking her tightly against him, he rolled her beneath him and pinned her to the bed with his body, kissing her fiercely, trying to drain his fury. One muscled thigh forced her legs apart, and he felt himself push into her warmth. She didn't shy away, but responded in like kind; her hands raked through his short brown hair as she kissed him, moving her hands to his back and holding him tightly as she thrust up against him.

"What the hell have you done, Blade?" he growled as he thrust down against her, his anger beginning to give way to passion as it ebbed.

"I've done nothing," she whispered fiercely, eyes widening with his thrusts as she threw herself against him, her own anger also nearly spent. A noise of disbelief came from the man above her, soon replaced by a loud cry as he came forcefully inside her. She followed him, gasping in surprising bliss as she felt him enter. A dull ache pounded throughout her lower body, but her rage was gone: she felt weak, tired, and exultant. Then she finally remembered why she'd been angry in the first place, and the reason why brought a cold chill. I love him, and now I've put him in danger. What on earth possessed me to kiss him? Then she felt the warmth of the man atop her, felt love beginning to stir in her heart, and made a decision. We've had this night, and I'm not going to regret it. But I can't let this happen again. I have to send him away, somehow. She didn't like the thought of parting with him, though, and tried hard not to notice the way his head rested on her shoulder, or the look in his eyes when they met her own.

John had never felt so strange in his entire life: one minute he was enraged with the very woman he secretly loved, the next he was doing things he'd never thought could be done. Now he lay on top of Laura, his anger spent, feeling more worn out than he'd ever felt before. Parts of his body that hadn't been sore in a long time ached, but he felt oddly content. What in the hell happened? Lifting his head from her shoulder, he looked down and noticed a smirk on Laura's face; she seemed nearly as tired as he felt, but she also seemed to understand exactly what was going on.

"Congratulations. You are officially a man," she muttered sarcastically.

"And just what the hell is that supposed to mean?" he asked, feeling his anger start to rise again.

"Only that you've finally had a sexual encounter for the first time in your life, and probably the last too." More anger flashed in her dark eyes, but behind it, John almost swore he saw a hint of sadness. Before he could ask her what was wrong, her next words hit him like a hammer blow. " My first one wasn't nearly as much of a workout."

"Your first—" John choked. He couldn't believe it. She's done this before?

"My first. And I hated every minute of it." Seeing the anger in his face and realizing he'd misunderstood, she looked away; it hurt her to see the hurt in his eyes. Well, you were kind of vague, she censured herself mentally. "Being raped by a Helljumper at twelve years old isn't exactly my idea of a pleasant experience."

"Is that why you hate them so much?" The feeling of possessiveness strengthened; it was all he could do to keep from leaping up and strangling every ODST in the vicinity.

"One reason of many." She shot him a hard look. "Why do you care anyway?"

"Did it ever occur to you that if I came all the way out here in the middle of the night it was for something besides sex?" he muttered, getting mad again. Laura saw the anger in his eyes and smirked.

"Most guys, that's all they think about." Her dark eyes narrowed. "Why did you come here, anyway?"

"I wanted to talk to you, I wanted some answers." He shook his head, realizing he'd gotten some answers, answers he hadn't expected.

"I don't have any answers for the questions you'd ask," she said softly. No answers you'd want to hear, anyway. Some of her regret must have shown through her eyes; John touched her face, the caress a sharp change from their furious embraces.

"Laura…" he thought she regretted their time together. "I'm s—"

She put her fingers to his lips, stopping his words and sending a tremor through his body.

"Don't say anything," she whispered. "I wanted it, you wanted it, we're both at fault." She sighed heavily. "You should probably go."

Realizing she was right, John reluctantly pulled himself off of her. His fatigues had been thrown around the room during their wild time, so he gathered them up one by one and put them on, with the exception of his torn undershirt. As he walked out of the room, something inside of him screamed go back, go back, but he never did. Behind him he swore he heard the sound of a woman crying, but after a while he was sure he was mistaken; Spartans never cried, especially not Laura.

I mean absolutely nothing to him now, because I forced him to hate me, Laura thought as she watched him walk away as if nothing was wrong. As soon as he was gone, she turned her head and sobbed into the pillow, trying hard to ignore the scent of his body which still lingered. I've had to alienate the one man I truly love. Damn ONI for bringing me to this! She had wanted so much to tell him the truth when he'd come to her, but fear kept her silent; actually, first it had been fear, then anger, then wild sex, then fear again. Forcing herself to look around, she finally saw the mess: scattered bedclothes, two halves of a black undershirt, and her bottom sheet wet with sweat. Yikes. Better try to clean this up before Mom gets back.