It's still Sunday here, which means my deadline of posting once a week has been held, for this week at least. Anyone up for making a bet on how long I'll manage?

Here's another chapter for you peeps, and from this point out, things are going to escalate a bit! So put on your emotional armour and prepare!

As per usual, and as my duty requires;

Reviewers:

mimimi - We'll see how able I'll be to keep that up, but at least it's a driving factor to get me writing more often xD.

Savage Kill - Well, who knows? (Hah, I do).

Moves of a Dreamer - Heck yeah, I am! Feeling rather rejuvenated, too.

And to those who are following and reading in the dark, and also to my new followers - Thank you! You all spur me on to get this story going again, even though some moments just seem so... dull, but I'm feeling quite inspired a lot these days! 3

Disclaimer: Nope, nothing new. At least, last time I checked I don't own no Halo. We'll see the next time.

Chapter 24 – Unwanted Realizations

She knew she was a mess. Fuck, everyone knew she was a mess. That she'd let herself come to this low… Very few reasons could sway her boat and leave her in this state of being.

But she had been stupid, idiotic, a moron.

She'd been mindless, tossing carefulness right out the airlock, which is why she was currently existing in this state.

'Why, in all seven levels of Hell, did I go and open that… that GODAMN box?' 013 fumed within herself, as she swung a hard-packed punch into the sandbag in front of her, a huff forcing its way through her lips. Anything to release and quell the simmering anguish that was currently suffocating her chest cavity – it felt as if it would implode in on itself at any given time.

'Why-' Punch.

'Was-' Kick.

'I-'. A huff.

'So stupid?' A combo of left hook, knee jerk and spinning to dunk her elbow into the bag using her momentum to power the hit. She went for another combo right after, the exhilaration of just… physically doing something, helping in stunting her nerves, keeping them at bay. Sort of.

Her fist however, landed wrongly, as she was not really concentrating on doing the movements correctly, of applying actual technique, rather, she was abusing the ecstasy that came with landing a powerful force against a solid object.

Now she was paying for it though, the stinging of her knuckles signifying that she'd not lucked out. So here she was, with two most likely broken knuckles, or at least out of alignment. A bemused sigh passed her lips in a quiet whoosh. 'Guess it's time for my long-awaited meeting with Doc then.'

With that thought in mind, 013 packed her things, throwing the duffelbag over her shoulder with the use of her good hand, before, almost lethargically so, shuffle towards the exit. Only, she didn't get too far, her movement halting as the doors to the gym swung open, revealing two people she rather not meet. Not at this hour, or any other hour for that matter.

'Seriously? What fuckery is this?' 013 growled within her mind, her eyebrows narrowing. She did not need this.

"Oh hey, look at that, is it Tutu I'm seeing?" Came the snarky comment of Team Airhead and Co.'s leader, whose first thought upon seeing her was to apparently name-call her with that crappy nickname he believed was funny and original. It wasn't, and is a weak attempt in trying to push her buttons.

Or, it once was. 013 felt pain blossom within her quickly, and cold dread settled in as she realized something. Apparently, her mental state couldn't handle even the tiniest pokes of ridicule such as the one she'd just been put through, if the harsher breathing and her nerve-endings shooting off emotional signals of pain like a damn fireworks show was any indication. Her body's reaction only reminded her just how far her walls had crumbled. How far she let those walls crumble.

Bringing herself back to reality again, 013 observed with half-lidded eyes how the leader and his lackey behind him were blocking the exit - which meant she couldn't just ignore them and shuffle around their bodies. No, she had to now approach and get them to move the fuck away - Even though she was in no good state to do so, knowing the repercussions from an encounter such as this would bring her further beneath ground, as if she wasn't buried deep enough already. Hell, she could consider the hole she was in her own grave, with how deep she'd dug herself.

'What a damn hassle…' Came the fleeting thought within her upset mind. Guess it was time to just, get this over with, then. There wasn't exactly anything else she could do.

"Hello to you too. Can you move now, please?" 013 said tiredly. Not only was her mind feeling like a broken mirror, her knuckles were stinging more by the minute, and it was gnawing away at the miniscule amount of patience she had left.

"Mhh… Think I'll stay here just a while longer. Eh, shouldn't we?" The leader glanced over his shoulder to smirk rather victoriously at his companion, who stood slouched, and gave him a thumbs up in reply.

He turned back around, assuming an even cockier stance, hip shooting out, arms crossing over a puffed out chest, and continued his verbal assault.

"It was a long time since we've seen you, you know. Ages ago. You ought to miss us." 013 didn't know what was worse; his supposedly over-confident stance, or the fact that he put "miss" and "us" in the same sentence whilst referring to her and themselves. Her eye twitched at the notion. Such a combination of words, she would never use when it came to them, neither should they when it came to her. Heck, she'd rather surrender to the Covenant and take their crap than miss Team Airhead and Co. She was quick to point this out.

"Yeah, except I don't miss you. Any of you. The Covenant would have a bigger chance at becoming my best pal than you guys. And I see you're just the same shitty assholes you've always been, but with a bigger vocabulary this time around." 013 retorted, feeling slightly proud of her own wit. Obviously, with 'big vocabulary', she referred to him using the word 'ought' in a sentence without sounding dumb. Or rather, dumber. In fact, she was actually impressed that he even knew of the word's existence. 'Someone's been reading the dictionary lately.'

Her comment had the leader's expression turn sour, his lips turning into a savage-looking snarl, making him appear more animal-like than human. 031 almost snickered out loud from the thought but caught herself just in time. 'It would explain his small brain capacity…'

"Little bitch. You finally washed out, huh? Look at you- " His hand swept at her body.

"- you're a disaster. A train-wreck. No one wants anything to do with you now, isn't that right? I haven't seen your Spartan friends around for some while, where are they? Did they finally tire of you and toss you away like the trash you are? They probably think it was good riddance anyway."

013 went uncharacteristically quiet, even the two before her shifting their eyebrows in slight confusion. Her gaze slowly shifted to stare at the ground, eyes becoming unseeing as she turned her focus inward.

She hadn't expected that. 'Good riddance, huh? I wonder… ' As if all air within her simply up and left, she deflated suddenly, shoulders sinking down, all her energy vanishing like vaporizing water.

"… Are you done with your little rant now? Can you just move and let me fuck off?"

For a second, it seemed as if the man, animal, whatever, opposite her looked stunned, as if he hadn't anticipated her lack of backlash. Then, he just huffed and, finally, moved out of the way.

Not before harshly bumping into her shoulder first though. It jarred her injured hand so much that she couldn't hinder wincing from the wave of pain it caused her. 'Dick.'

Her journey to the Infirmary was slow, and she could barely remember how she got there, she was so lost in her own thoughts. Or rather, lack of thoughts, it was as if she'd been set on auto-pilot. For some reason, her mind refused to stop replaying the last bit of the conversation between her and team Airhead and Co. It was stuck on an infinite loop, it seemed. 'Was he right in the Spartans... abandoning me… ?'

Finally however, 013 pushed through the Infirmary's doors, lifting her injured hand in greeting to the familiar woman standing at one of the many tables within the room - this particular table being equipped with a seemingly advanced lab set-up. All thoughts of the previous event left her mind upon seeing Doc. And upon studying the table said woman was stationed, 013 could barely name half the stuff that was on it. Glancing at the Doc, the woman seemed to be studying whatever substance that was within the vial in her uplifted grasp, looking rather engrossed in her work.

But 013 being 013, she was able to bring anyone out of their reverie. She just had that kind of effect. That, or, Doc just had been waiting for her arrival for some time. After all, she didn't hold a long record in most visited times at their ship's Infirmary for nothing. Her reputation sure did precede her.

Upon hearing 013's entering, Doc turned her gaze slightly to the right, towards the soldier in the doorway. The slow, gracious way she moved had 013 feeling bothered for some reason, as if she had just interrupted the Doctor in something too important that would warrant her wrath. Doc's mood when angry or irritated was scary, and definitely nothing to joke about… 013 felt her eye twitch – was she supposed to be worried now?

The vial was set down slowly in an incubator, where other vials were stored.

"Took you quite a while this time around." The woman's soft voice reached 013 and she smiled an easy smile in response.

"I figured you would start to miss me if I stayed away too long, so I here I am." 013 reached out with both her arms, as if opening up for an embrace.

Doc hummed and shook her head lightly.

"Fortunately, I was just finishing up here."

"Ah, that's great… So no pissed Doc this time." 013 mumbled under her breath, to which the other woman in the room raised an incredulous-looking eyebrow.

So she'd heard her anyway, damn it. 013 played it off by shrugging off her duffelbag, the 'oof' of the bag landing being dismissed by both parties in the room. Although, 013 swore she almost saw Doc's eyebrow tick upon her bad manners.

'Oops.'

She then seated herself at the all too familiar cot in the middle of the room, her bruising hand outstretched.

"I kind-of-sorta managed to damage my knuckles quite badly this time."

A moment of silence, then;

"It seems your hand isn't the only thing in a rough shape, 013." The meaningful eyes of Doc met 013's rather guilty-riddled ones. She squirmed uncomfortably before settling once again, this time a defeated sigh escaping through her lips.

"You're not wrong in saying that… " 013's brow crinkled, and her gaze slowly sunk down to the flooring. She distinctly registered Doc grabbing her hand, the intense tingling of her nerves coming from her swabbing it with rubbing alcohol. Her ministrations were quite comfortable in comparison to the mind-numbing war that had been going on in her head, the warfare affecting her to the point of even physical abuse.

"I opened the box again, Doc." 013 said quietly.

The woman before her knew what she meant by 'the box', she was, after all, 013's assigned Doctor, having responsibility over her physical evaluations – but also the psychological ones.

Doc hummed again.

"It's because of the upcoming anniversary, isn't it." The question was more of a statement, and 013 nodded solemnly.

"Yeah."

"Go on." The woman motioned, now half-way done, her hand reaching for the bandage laid on the steel table next to her.

"Why doesn't the pain go away with time, Doc? My father… and my mother, they… They passed away long ago. Why am I then still so affected by it? Shouldn't I have come over their deaths by now? Instead, I keep feeling this suffocating pain upon just looking at the letters mom sent me. And the stuffed bunny-plushie? Don't even get me started on that one." 013 laughed sardonically. It was an ill-fitting reaction, but the truest one.

"It just hurts… so fucking much, and the worst part is that I can't seem to do anything about it." The tense shoulders of the soldier slowly lowered, as she uttered that last sentence. Melancholy overcame her, and she stared unseeingly into her lap. She'd laid it all out now, smack-dab right onto the table, open for dissection, and the poking and prodding. She felt rather bare, having confessed such deep emotions to someone who she didn't know all too well, despite the easy-going nature of their relationship.

As the minutes ticked by, the silence draped over them both, 013 had yet to move from her position even though Doc had signalled that she was finished. The woman let out a small breath, before seating herself next to the younger one on the cot.

"The relationships you had with your parents have always been tense, 013. I doubt the feelings will ever go away, but that doesn't indicate it has to be sorrowful. I believe you've warped their memories into sadness, because your time with them both was cut rather abruptly. Memories aren't just negative however, you must understand this. Don't forget that you have all those positive memories with them as well, and those are the most important to cherish when they are gone from this life. Live your life as your parents would want you to live it. I hardly think they wish upon you to feel such sorrow like you do. No, they would love for you to cherish the good times you had with them and perhaps, in a distant future, create such memories with children of your own."

The wise words from Doc had 013 mulling a lot of things over. First, perhaps she was wallowing quite a lot in the bad memories… Especially the one where she was enjoying her hot cocoa only to try calm a grieving woman in the best way she could at her age the next second. Secondly, Doc was probably right in saying that her parents most likely didn't want her to be this devastated, looking like a train-wreck every time their anniversaries came knocking. But it was one thing to agree with that thought, than to make herself believe it…

And thirdly, children of her own? The thought has never struck her during her whole existence. She never pictured herself as a future mother, because who would she be with? Jeff was a good candidate but, they were past that stage already. Both knew they would never end up together, building a family, their friendship ran too deep. And over the years she's been in the UNSC…. There's not been one other viable candidate. No one. And to marry a civilian? Yeah no, that wasn't even a possibility she would have the courtesy of entertaining.

She was too invested in the life of a soldier, and a civilian would never truly understand what that kind of lifestyle meant. Her mother might've been a civilian in the end, but during her twenties she too had served in the UNSC. Simply put, civilians were kind of off the chart in ever starting a family with.

A distant thought prodded the back of her mind then.

There was one other viable candidate… A green-armoured enigma of a candidate.

Immediately, 013's eyes widened, and she felt herself drawing in a deep breath as the once dormant butterflies in her stomach went completely wild.

Her, and… The Chief?

'Why am I even having this thought, there is no way that would… ' 013 never finished her sentence, her throat feeling too constricted. She quickly dismissed the thought, and along with it, the butterflies. She needed to breathe, where was the air? Where was it?

013 drew in several lung-plunging breaths, feeling the nails of her good hand digging into her thigh. When did she do that? And why did it still feel as if she was suffocating despite the huge amounts of oxygen she was inhaling?

"You alright there?" Came the soft voice of Doc, and 013 slapped herself internally. 'Pull yourself together, girl. Now's not the time for a psychotic breakdown.'

"Yeah… yeah." 013 said rather unsteadily, and she slowly loosened the tight grip she had on her thigh. There'll definitely be marks left behind on her skin, small half-moon ones.

Doc didn't prod about what just happened, and instead went ahead with chastising her for not taking care of herself. The familiarity of it all calmed 013's frayed nerves down. At least this was ordinary, this was something she was used to, having Doc scolding her like a child for not being careful enough.

"Thanks Doc, nothing like one of your rants to soothe my soul." 013's lips pulled up into a snarky smile, while Doc's eyebrows simply twitched in response.

"Don't you dare damage that hand further, or I will personally see to it that you're bedridden for a week."

013's face dropped, and she shook her head slowly.

"No, you wouldn't dare."

"Oh yes I would, I'm the Doctor here. Anything I say, goes. You better take better care of yourself now."

"Fine, I'll be careful and all that…" 013 mumbled, her hand waving in the air.

"Good. Now get, I got a few other patients arriving soon." Doc spun around then, heading to one of the cabinets to grab a couple files, whereas 013 shuffled off of the cot, grabbed her duffelbag and told Doc goodbye before exiting.

Since training was off the schedule for a while – what is she supposed to do now?

The soldier glanced at one of the clocks hanging in the corridor, and she sighed. It was 03:00 AM, and she'd disturbed Doc in the middle of the night. She frowned. What was the woman doing up anyway?

'She did say she had a couple patients left but, who needs check-ups at this hour?'

She soon got her answer however, upon standing in front of the elevator. It dinged, before the doors groaned slightly, and revealed a team of five.

Five people that she had not expected to run into.

'Great.' She regretted asking her question of who was Doc's next appointment. What was with all these spontaneous, unwanted run-ins anyway?

Before her stood Blue Team, clad in under-armour only. And to 013's big dismay, she also noticed Stacey's presence betwixt them.

How is she supposed to handle this situation? She was in no ways prepared for it, especially not after the mind-fuckery her brain had pulled in imagining her and… the Chief as something more than whatever they currently were.

And speaking of the enigma, here he was, standing in all his tall glory, gaze unreadable and steadily looking down onto her. Once, she craved having him looking at her, but now? It only unnerved her, and made her feel uncomfortably uncomfortable. Actually, emphasize uncomfortable a million times more.

She wanted to gulp, but seeing as she was in the presence of five Spartans she would rather die than show such weakness in front of them.

So she opted for the only reasonable response.

"Hi… " She murmured quietly, stepping slightly to the side to let them pass her by. She'd already drawn the conclusion that they were the patients Doc mentioned previously.

"Why good morning, Tutes." Came the soft voice of Frederic, and 013 glanced up, her gaze slightly shocked upon hearing him address her so casually. Were they on such… good terms again? 'Why did I ever believe for a second that the Spartans have abandoned me… clearly they haven't, at least not everyone.' The fleeting thought came and went quickly, quietly.

"You could say that… But then again, I doubt my morning is better than yours." 013 held her bandaged hand up for them to see, as she shrugged indifferently.

"That's an understatement, what did you do this time?" Frederic sidestepped the Chief, who had yet to say anything, to grasp 013's hand softly, analyzing the damage she'd caused it.

"Let's just say that the punching-bag and I had a disagreement."

Frederic hummed, before letting go of her hand. She vigilantly ignored the tingles that were running through her body upon the teal Spartan's touch.

"I'm guessing it's your guys' turn to visit our favourite Doc?" 013 asked, wanting to steer away from the topic of her wellbeing.

"A simple check-up before our mission so we can have full clearance to leave." Frederic replied, and 013 cocked her hip, hands coming up to grasp the strap of her duffelbag.

"Right, you're due to leave at… 05:00 AM, was it?"

"Correct."

"Shoot something for me while you're there."

"Gladly." The Spartan smirked lightly at her, before stepping into the direction of the Infirmary. However, before disappearing on her, Fred turned to look over his shoulder, this time his gaze having dropped all playful mirth.

"Take care of yourself." The tone which he spoke in was serious, and 013 only nodded in response. She didn't think she could manage a verbal comment anyway.

Then he walked ahead, the rest of the Spartans following along.

Well, almost all of them, there was one remaining.

013 refused to look at him, instead opting to stare onto the floor. She was still mad at him, but it wasn't only that. A lot of other things were aggravating her that had her on such edge around him.

Silence swept over them both, the seconds ticking by before 013 then steeled herself, having enough of the awkward atmosphere and would rather get it over with than suffocate a second longer in it. She took a breath and looked up finally, meeting the Chief's gaze head on.

"Aren't you going to follow your team?"

013 waited for a reply.

However, she received none. Her eyebrow rose then.

"You have nothing to say?" Perhaps her voice sounded a tad bit little too venomous…

The Spartan suddenly took a step forward, which almost had 013 flinching back, before a hand came into her view. Her eyes followed its movement tensely, and was all too surprised at what came next.

The Chief's hand had reached forward, and grasped onto the strap of her sports bra. He twisted it once, releasing it from the knot it had tangled itself into – something 013 hadn't even noticed. Then, his hand slowly came away, not before also adjusting the chain of her dog-tag, though.

And after perhaps a second of mulling something over, 013 could only stare as he lifted a chain from around his neck, and then reached forward once more, placing said chain with an almost intimate carefulness around her neck.

The Chief glanced with an unreadable emotion present in his eyes at the two dog-tags hanging from her neck before looking up to meet her gaze one last time.

Then he stepped away, leaving her with a rapidly beating heartbeat, an infinitely deep hole in her stomach and an unknown feeling filling her whole soul.

What… just transpired?

Time Skip –

Two weeks had flown by since Blue Team's assigned mission, and the intel in the reports they were given were of insignificant value. They had yet to find the A.I. located on Meridian, which had all other members of their haphazardly formed team pulling at their hair. Figuratively speaking, of course - except for Jeff, whose scalp did not agree with its rough treatment it was receiving.

Agent Casey Mitchell muttered curses under her breath as she read yet another report of their diligent but non-rewarding search.

"Seriously, how hard is this A.I. to find!? Shouldn't our A.I. be able to sense it, or whatever?" Casey grumbled, her fingers tapping rapidly against the table's surface.

"Well, it did tell us there was a risk of it becoming dormant from lack of contact with another party. If it can't communicate with anything then it won't learn, thus deeming its active state unnecessary." Jeff commented, his eyebrows slightly furrowed, brow dipped downwards. He too was feeling the effects of the lack of progression in their self-assigned mission.

013 stabbed idly at one of the carrot pieces on her plate, or well, carrot-like piece. She was unsure if the orange solid thing was dignified enough to be called after the vegetable that it did not taste like. It'd be disrespectful to the family of carrots.

"Maybe the location was wrong?" 013 inquired with a shrug, which was something she should not have done, if she valued her life. Vibrant eyes were quickly narrowed dangerously at her, and 013 practically felt the irritation and killing intent oozing from her friend - the emotions shone brightly through the poor attempt of the concentrated façade Casey was desperately trying to hold onto. It was a good thing she currently didn't value her life all too much at the moment, or she would've dropped dead by now.

"No, they're correct. I've double, triple-checked them. Four times. They aren't wrong." Casey almost seethed, her tone hard and biting. 013, unfazed, shrugged again.

"Then maybe they're looking in the wrong places. Have they even tried searching below ground? Since Meridian was glassed, there are layers upon layers of dirt, sand and whatnot that could've buried the station. Skyward, they should've found it already, and area-wise, well, since you're stating that your facts ring true, then there's only one other viable option. Go underground." 013 replied rather casually, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. She too had read the reports and quickly noticed that Blue Team had yet to conduct any underground searches. Why they haven't yet, 013 could only guess. 'Maybe they're trying to accommodate Stacey so she doesn't ruin her perfect hairdo and undamaged skin… Skinny wimp.' The marine thought sourly.

013 didn't notice Casey staring at her in surprise, not until the silence went on long enough for her to look up from her supposedly called food, and lifted an eyebrow in confusion. Then, Casey furiously started typing away on her keypad, and 013 could only shake her head at her friend's weird behaviour.

"How could we have missed that!?"

"You mean how you could've missed it. I didn't." 013 was quick to point out that she did not belong to team Idiot.

"Hush, let me just…" Casey never finished her sentence, as she was all but consumed in her new task of responding to Blue Team with orders of underground searching.

"Tutes, always the team-player." Jeff snickered, who was sitting next to 013, before cringing from the punch delivered onto his arm.

"Hey, uncalled for!"

"Was not."

"Was too."

Was not."

"Was too."

"Can you two quit your childish blabbering and try to be useful?" Casey growled out, her eyes never leaving the keypad.

"I was just being useful, I solved the riddle to their endless searching in Meridian's jungles." 013 argued, feeling pretty insulted at how Casey so easily dismissed her assistance. 'Not being useful, my ass.'

"So, what now?" Jeff asked then, changing the topic. His utensils clattered onto his plate, and it was pushed off to the side. He'd just finished his last bite of the unappetizing food they'd been served today and the little bit of food remaining he had no interest in devouring. He hoped internally that the lunch menu for tomorrow was better than what today's had been.

Then again, it wouldn't be hard to top this gruel, considering its awful taste and appearance. Even porridge was a better option than… this.

"I don't know, we can only sit on our butts, remember?" 013, recalling what her and Jeff's assignments were, said with bitterness. They were, after all, told do just that – absolutely nothing.

"Hey, at least we have more free time on our hands, nothing like getting to avoid my Commander for as long as possible. You remember her, right Tutes?" Jeff looked pointedly at 013, who tried to convey a look of innocence at the question he'd directed at her. The fact that he'd drawled on the syllables of her name had her strictly believing that he still did not appreciate her promised attempt at becoming said Commander's best friend at some point in her life.

But she failed, badly at that, in her attempt of convincing him that nooo, who was he talking about again? So instead, she played her spare card - The benefits of always having a plan B in case the first one went to hell.

"Ah, that wonderful woman, of course I remember her. I have yet to pay her a visit, maybe now I should do that, seeing as I have all my hours freed up." It didn't go unnoticed how 013 really despised her predicament, despite the humoristic commentary. She resented it, having nothing to do with the hours on the clock. Literally, she had nothing to do, except train, think, train, eat, sleep, converse with friends when they themselves weren't busy, train. But even that was off the chart seeing as her knuckles still weren't fully healed. And the fact that she wanted to avoid Doc's wrath, she'd not even attempted a training session since the injury happened. She appreciated life a little bit too much to risk it.

But the monotony was starting to get to her, she could feel the itch under her skin that never went away no matter what she tried to do to subdue it. It just wouldn't leave her alone, constantly being there, totally unreachable, reminding her of how little she could do.

"Any word from Lasky?" Jeff's question broke her out of her depressing spiral, and she peaked up at hearing Lasky's name. Did he perhaps have any luck in finding something out that could help?

"No, nothing yet. But I was informed that he's having a bit of trouble from the Board upon sending the Spartans away without consulting them first." Casey responded, still engrossed with her message to Blue Team. Oh, and 013's sour demeanour was back, this time returning with a vengeance. Were they kidding her?

"Ugh, not those old bastards again... " 013 dunked her forehead onto the table's surface, the loud thunk echoing around them.

"Haven't they had enough drama already? Are they that bored that they have to go dig their disgusting, wrinkled, creepy fingers into everyone's business? As if mine isn't enough for them?"

"Well, you know old people, Tutes. They're desperate for any sort of action." Jeff's underlying meaning had 013's eyes twitching, as it was the last thing she wanted to imagine and having stuck in her brain.

"Yeah thanks for the gruesome imagery, Jeff, fantastic, really."

"You're welcome, hope you'll feel inspired now." Jeff's shit-eating smirk made 013's hands itch in wanton, her fists aching to punch the living daylights out of him, if only to wipe that smugness off of there.

"Inspired for what, exactly?" She totally forgot about that part, and thus, her eyebrows narrowed dangerously. Was he insinuating something that she just knew would piss her off?

"Well, you know, inspired to maybe make a move on a certain-"

"Ah no, I'll stop you right there. I'm not making a move on anyone, except if it's to plant my fist in someone's face. And I'm just this close to preferring facing Doc's anger of not following her orders, for the glory of hitting you where it hurts the most." 013's ominous voice just dripped of acid, and Jeff shuffled a tad bit further away from her. Actually, make that a lot further away, the other side of the bench-further away.

Sometimes, 013 could pull off being scary as fuck, even worse than his own Commander, and this was one of those moments.

"Okay, okay, backing off. Don't-hit-me-please."

013 glared at her male friend, watching him intensely in case he was bullshitting her, but seeing as he kept his mouth shut, 013 leaned back, and reversed back to the calm nature she'd had just previously.

"Cool, cool. Good choice you made there, Jeff, I'd hate to see what would've happened." 013 held a satisfied gleam in her grey eyes, one which just spoke of victory. Jeff gulped, before changing the topic once again.

"So, anyone up for playing some poker?"

Location; Meridian, Hour; 01:53 PM

Meanwhile, in the dense and not to mention humid jungle of Meridian, Blue Team was shuffling through the forestry, their stagnant search putting everyone in a sour mood.

"Ugh, how can you guys stand this? I don't get how you do it… " Agent Vicks' nagging voice echoed in their coms, to which every Spartan simply ignored her. None of them were in the mood to handle the agent that had barely any field experience. It was enough with the fact that their searching had turned up fruitless so far. And it's been two weeks, going into the third.

"Time to take a break?" Kelly's soft voice came through the coms then, and the Spartans nodded in unison. Might as well, seeing as they had been actively moving since early morning.

And also because of the agent behind them who kept complaining about aching feet.

The group settled on a spot with shade, Fred and Linda seating themselves on a couple roots that sprouted proudly from the ground, while the Chief and Kelly opted for simply standing up and lean against the nearest tree. Whatever was the most comfortable in the moment.

"We just received a ping from agent Mitchell." Fred spoke up, then proceeded in opening the message that they were sent. There was silence for a moment as he read it through.

"We've been ordered to conduct underground search from now on."

"Underground? Why?" Agent Vicks' voice sounded small, and timid. As if she was afraid of going underground.

"Cause this planet was glassed years back."

"Meaning the station could've been buried under those layers." Kelly further explained Fred's statement, even though it perhaps wasn't necessary, however for agent Vicks' sake, Kelly felt prompted to do so. The girl probably didn't understand their team's way of communicating, it was a rather complicated way, and has been built up by the passing of time, after all.

The blue Spartan then suddenly turned south, taking it upon herself to scout for a pathway that would lead them down, and under, using her helmet's scoping mechanism. She checked both north and east before settling on west, where an anomaly popped up on her visor, telling her there was a decline that perhaps could lead them where they wanted to go.

"I've found a probable entrance, shall we keep moving?" Kelly inquired to the rest of the team, her helmet turning to meet those of her fellow teammates. They nodded, rose, and checked their weapons as a safety precaution before moving once again. Agent Vicks let out an audible groan, stretching her arms skyward before settling in at the back of the troop.

"I so do not look forward to this… "

No one had the decency to reply.

A few hours passed by, and Vicks was really feeling the fatigue kicking in. She kept going for a while longer though, knowing that she'd been annoying enough already. But as the last hour slowly ticked by in a snail's pace, Vicks stumbled on one of the rocks, and felt how her body simply succumbed to the gravity, her energy finally having reached the bottom of the figurative pit.

She never face-planted as she firmly believed she would, because a pair of arms had caught her mid-fall. The hands helped her balance herself once again, and looking up to find out the identity of her saviour, agent Vicks was met with the Chief's ever familiar orange visor.

She sent him a sweet smile, feeling both lucky and grateful at his quick reflexes.

"Thank you, Chief, you're a real lifesaver." She dared an attempt at flirting with him, and then took hold of his hands, wanting to physically show him her gratefulness. She was just about to entwine her fingers with his, when she felt him pull away from her, leaving her grasping air. He only nodded in reply to her thanking him, then rose from his kneeling position to resume his previous one. Which had him slowly walking away from her.

Vicks frowned at the portrait of his back, feeling at a loss with the man's lack of… verbal reply, feeling rather hurt.

She wanted him to at least show some kind of emotion towards her… He did it with 013, so why not her? She was pretty enough, and, if she dare say it, prettier than 013… but that obviously didn't affect the Spartan walking further and further away. It was quite ironic, that – the image of him heading towards the horizon, shrinking from her view. It could be applied to what he was doing to her, psychologically.

Vicks straightened herself then, and steeled her resolve. Rising up, she sped up to match the Chief's tempo, wanting to strike up a new conversation, and perhaps this time get him to talk.

"So, think we'll find anything, Chief?" She asked curiously, studying her surroundings with feigned interest. There were trees, vines, some more trees… a flower here, a flower there…

"Perhaps." Came the stagnant reply from the Chief, and Vicks frowned again. One-word syllables? How boring. At least she got him to talk… However, maybe she should try another topic, one that would gain his interest and spark a two-way conversation instead of this current on-going one-sided one.

"Hey ah, Chief?" The agent said carefully, dropping her tone an octave, her voice turning sly. A little charm has never killed anybody, has it?

"When is your next shore leave?"

This time, the answer came back rather quick, compared to before.

"I don't take shore leave."

It was another bummer, though. Vicks restrained from showing her frustration more than she already was, but it proved to be quite the challenge for her to do so, the agitation within her constantly rising. How can this man seemingly dismiss everything with just one sentence? She didn't get it, she really didn't - what was she doing wrong? Not one to give in so easily however, Vicks kept up the conversation, despite her being the only one doing any meaningful talking.

"Oh… Might I suggest then, that maybe we could do something, spend an evening out with the other soldiers? If only to do something entirely else than our jobs?" Vicks asked, her gaze turning slightly sideways to study the green-clad Spartan walking next to her.

An almost uncomfortable amount of time passed by, where Vicks thought perhaps she should simply give up, before the Chief finally replied. He sure has a tendency to draw out the pauses in a conversation…

We'll see." Came another of his infamous short answers. Vicks didn't feel disappointed this time around however, because at least he hadn't said no. A victorious smirk curved her lips upwards - leave it to alcohol to loosen up any soldier, no matter their calibre; Spartan, ODST, agent, none of it mattered when an evening of fun awaited them. Maybe then, she would have a better chance at charming the mysteriously handsome, dark prince next to her.

"We'll take rest here." The Chief spoke over the coms, and Blue Team quickly assembled into a close-knit group, grabbing canteens and energy bars to refill their energy levels. Agent Vicks more than gladly collapsed against a tree, ploughing through her energy bar in under a minute before grabbing the next one, however this time eating it in a much slower pace, her hunger not as intense.

Just then, Kelly's voice spoke up, interrupting their peaceful break.

"I think I see the infrastructure of a building about a mile away, along with a small heat signature omitting from it."

That was the best news they all have heard in two and a half weeks' time.

However, everyone collectively thought the same thing;

What was creating the heat signature?

Boom, you've been struck by, you've been hit by, a smooth cliff-hanger.