Note: I'm sorry this one arrived so late. I will try to be more punctual in the future.

With their plan written down in detail, the Reds and Blues all agreed to have a party to celebrate their theoretical impending victory. Cortana, of all people, seemed up for it. Chief, however, didn't really condone it. "I'm only saying it doesn't seem like a good idea," he explained. "If we're going to tackle the Mother of Invention tomorrow, we have to be at our peak. Getting intoxicated the day before will just slow us down."

"Blah blah blah," Grif said, setting the Reds' reserve of beer on the table. "That's what you sound like right now."

"Yeah, man," Tucker added, placing the Blues' keg, "this is how we do things. Lighten up."

Cortana patted Chief on the shoulder. "Just let them have their fun, Chief. You can't talk them out of it at this point. Besides, we never got to fully enjoy the last party we were at, remember?"

The Spartan thought for a long minute. He knew Cortana was right, and the sim-troopers wouldn't back down on their decision. Still holding that it was a bad idea, he sighed. "If you all want to get drunk then go ahead. I won't stop you."

Grif and Tucker gave each other a triumphant high-five.

/-/

Little more than an hour passed and the party was in full swing. For a couple of teams locked in a perpetual fight with each other, the Reds and Blues seemed to get along oddly well. Texas and Washington were presently in a heated discussion about the code of ethics that came with beer pong, and Chief simply stood by himself at the back of the room. He watched as Cortana swamped Sarge and Church in darts, all the while thinking about how he was having serious déjà vu. "Dad-d?" Chief looked up, knowing no one would be there still. "Are you-u ups-t about so-thing?"

"No, Sierra," he answered. "I'm fine."

"I on-y asked cause yo-'re alone over here. You look like you-ou lost an arg-ent, o-or may-e a bet."

"I'm just… I'm trying to figure these Reds and Blues out. When we got here, they seemed like they wanted to kill each other over all else. Then we told them about the Freelancers and they united almost instantly. And there's no doubt that, after we're done here, they'll just go right back to hating each other again. They have no rhyme or reason to anything they do, and I'm pretty sure half of them are psychologically damaged - Private Church even claims he died, yet is… well, losing at darts to your mother."

"I think maybe y-ou need to see-ee it from their persp-tive. They've been here for al-ost six years trai-ing to fight a non-exis-nt enemy because someone else told them to. As far as they could tell-ll before we a-ived, the Free-anc-rs were just soldiers, same as them. Af-er to-orrow-ow, the Reds' tra-ng will tell them that the Blues are the ene-y. Kee-ing a cycle like this-s-s up for so long is bound to leave some mental deter-or-tion. But Lenny did die; he told me so!"

"…You're a smart kid, Sierra. You really are your mother's child. But I'm pretty sure Private Church is alive."

"You can ask him your-elf, if you wa-ant."

While Chief explained how Church couldn't possibly be dead, Wash and Texas decided to change topics. "So, Chief and Halsey," Wash began. "Since I've seen them, they've had this weird air about them. Am I right?"

"They're not like the others; that's for sure. There's something I can't figure out about those two, and I think Church thinks the same thing."

"Well, while Chief beat the snot out of me, he seemed to do it half-heartedly. And Halsey barely kept eye contact while it happened. Could be that their softer than everyone thinks - well, the big guy anyway."

"I think it's something else, though, because nearly nobody likes torture. It's in the way they act around each other in contrast to how they do around, say, me." Texas gestured to the giant Spartan, who now was speaking to Cortana. "Notice how casual they are with each other. They easily know each other outside of work; but how?"

"Aren't soldiers like him always on-duty? Does he even get an 'outside of work'?"

"Not sure. So how do they know each other? And how did they find time to meet?"

The two of them continued to speculate. Meanwhile, Tucker was developing theories about Chief and Cortana with Simmons. "Me and Church were really close to figuring this out the other day," he said, "but you saw how that worked out. What we've got is that Sierra refers to them as her parents."

"Maybe they entered the Adopt-an-AI program?"

"Or they made her themselves."

"…You know, the rational part of me might have been saying that too."

"Stay focused, dude. So, they're her 'parents'," he air-quoted. "Chief houses her, and Cort defends her."

"Chief must look after Sierra himself. He houses her in his helmet and speaks to her to calm them both down at times. Plus, you saw how much he cared for her when he took her from Agent Washington."

"So how does Halsey fit? She doesn't directly deal with Sierra, but she still watches her and the Chief while they do their thing."

"Maybe she programmed Sierra? She seems to know all the technical stuff about her."

"A programmer would still define their piece of work as 'it'. Cortana says 'she' and 'her' when talking about her, so there's at least something sentimental between them. But what?"

As Tucker continued to scratch his head on the matter, Cortana and Chief finished their conversation. The former moved over to Texas and Washington, who had nearly abandoned the thought they shared. "How are you two liking the party so far?" she asked.

"Never really liked parties," Washington answered. "Then again, I never went to any."

"Because you were never invited," Tex teased.

"Because I never got the memo," he clarified, glaring at Texas. "But, this one's alright."

Cortana nodded. "Glad to hear."

"So, Halsey," Texas said, getting to the point, "what's going on between you and the Chief?"

"…What do you mean, exactly?"

"Don't play dumb," Wash said. "You're all chummy with this super soldier guy who gets no actual time off. How do you know him?"

"Work," she answered. "We know each other through work."

"You're too informal with him for that to be true."

"Well, it's the truth. So can we move on?"

Washington almost spoke again, but was interrupted by his radio. "Recovery One," said a voice, "what is your status? Over."

"…Shit…"