The Angel's Halo
By: Sinead

Chapter Three

"Get in there!"

"No! I'm fighting with you whether you like it or not!"

"You can't drive one of these! Move!"

Snarling a livid curse, Willow barked, "Fine! But you'd better live, or I'll never forgive you!" She leapt into the beam, pulled up into the Phantom. The white-clad Spec-Ops Leader gripped her right shoulder as other Elites watched with amusement. Unlike the Brutes, they thought that those who had been Claimed had been done so for a reason, and most of them weren't for sexual favors. A few wounded ones had seen her fight off Heretics, standing guard over them while an unwounded one picked them up and brought them off.

"You have a fine tongue, human, but remember not to argue with Arbiter like that around those who are not of the Sangheili. The Jiralhanae would not hesitate to cuff one who speaks out of turn."

Willow nodded, still angry. The Leader nodded, seeing the want to do something. "You know first aid for my kind?"

"Not really. Only what I've learned from being around medics on the battlefield."

"Then I'll admit that it is more than what I know. Tend to my Elites."

"Sir."

She turned to see who looked the worst, and one of the wounded indicated another lying on his side, breathing heavily. She nodded, walking over and pulling a first-aid kit off of the wall. By the third patient, the Leader suddenly was by her side. "I'm going back onto the station. Continue what you're doing." He lowered his voice. "Tartarus is on the other Phantom. This one is for Elites only, you included. I do not believe that he knows you are with us."

Willow nodded, her hands never stopping as she wrapped an Elite's upper arm. Looks like Dragon will have more opposition than he knows about, she whispered in her mind, resting her hand upon his unwounded shoulder before standing. His eyes caught hers, and he ducked his head slightly, which she had come to learn as being an unspoken "thank you." Uttermost respect between Elites was shown through either silent movements or meaningful grunts. Never was it spoken. She squeezed his shoulder again, moving onto the next wounded patient, who had just been brought up while she had been treating the last of the first group. Carefully taking off his helmet and handing it to him, she stanched the flow of blood from a nasty gash above the left eye caused by a lucky needler round, soothing him from panicking by resting her hand upon the right side of his face. He leaned the weight of his head upon her palm, a sign of complete trust. And that almost scared her that these aliens, whom she had killed without hesitation, were now trusting her with their very lives.

She sighed, treating the wound one-handedly, and by doing so, that reassured the Elite that she would help him and stay watch over him. But how did she know all these nuances in an Elite's body language? Shaking her head, she returned her mind to what was going to be happening below her, and who was with them on this mission. Looks like we're not going to be getting rid of this Tartarus. Blasted gorilla.

-

Willow joined up with Arbiter after the mission was complete. He was weary from so much fighting, but only his eyes showed that much. She lowered her own eyes after a moment, then heard his bark, "Come."

They returned to the lodging he had been given, for a rest after the fight. His armor was stained with blood and the yellow-green pus from the Flood, hers from the blood of their comrades. She helped him out of it to discover that his wounds weren't all that bad, and that he didn't want her to worry herself over "trivial scratches." He walked to the large, soft bed, curling up without another word. Willow smiled sadly, watching him fall asleep almost immediately, then set about getting her suit off so she could clean them both. She still had energy to think, and she wanted to exhaust herself so she would sleep deeply.

After shining both sets of armor, she set them out neatly on their separate racks, stripping out of the underlayer, picking up both hers and Dragon's to deposit them into a cleaning unit. Another set had been brought for both of them, and Willow could already tell that this one would fit her better, more snugly.

"Why are you still up? Get over here."

"Hah. Make me. I feel so gross right now, you have no idea . . ."

"You can clean yourself tomorrow. I want you to stop making noise so I can sleep."

"Spoilsport."

"What? Oh, I'm not spoiling anything. You just didn't interpret that correctly."

Willow laughed outright, walking over to rest her hand upon his chest, feeling that the burn-scar was still warmer than the rest of his skin. She reached over to pull down the burn treatment, rubbing it carefully in. "Hold still."

"It hurts."

"So does my heart, but gentle words still soothe the pain, sometimes."

Arbiter took this in silently, noting the tears forming in his Claimed's eyes. "The Spec-Ops Leader asked me how I had tamed you."

"Hmph. He asked me how I had kept you from being completely broken."

"I'll show you how I tamed you."

"Ooh, a threat?"

He grabbed her, his suppressed childlike playful side getting the better of him in his tired state, and proceeded to pin her down while pressing the front of his face to her left shoulder lightly. She sighed deeply, then asked, "When you first laid Claim . . . and when Tartarus opened the door, you sounded so . . . evil."

"The snarl?"

"Yes."

Arbiter sat up, but still knelt over the human. "That is because it is pure instinct to protect the Claimed. It originally had been only used for . . ."

"For?" Willow prompted.

He seemed embarrassed. "Mate-for-life."

"So it's all inbred to keep a chosen mate safe from all harm. That explains it all. And these other Elites that had used Claim?"

"Were all like me: No mate, no prospective mate."

"Dragon?"

"Yes?"

"I can't feel my legs."

"Oh, I can fix that . . ."

Willow giggled.

-

The two walked in for debriefing the next day, passing honor-guard Elites that were taking off their ceremonial helmets which were rudely snatched up by the Brutes. Glad that the helmet masked part of her face, Willow walked behind and to the right of Arbiter, a position, he said, was ceremonial for an assistant of her rank, now that she was Claimed, armored, and understood more of what was going on around her.

But he still felt the waves of pure hatred radiating from the human the moment she saw the Prophets. Which he didn't understand in the slightest.

The Spec-OpsCommander left, passing them with a few of his officers andnone too happy. He glanced down at Willow for a second, then at a place, narrowing his eyes just that tiniest bit. She blinked in reply, still automatically measuring her paces to match Arbiter's, but heading to stand at the mark she had been told to. The older Prophet watched her warily while she stood to an indifferent attention.

Afterwards, and once they were gathering supplies for the next mission which led down to the new Halo, Arbiter asked, "How did you know where to stand?"

"The Spec-Ops Commander."

"He said nothing, though."

"Verbally. He glanced at me, then the spot where I was to stand."

"You're learning. Good."

"Who's the leader for this operation?"

"Tartarus."

"Greeeaaat. Another thing I love about being under your Claim."

"He will not risk the Hierarchs' anger by usurping something that has been Sangheili tradition since before Covenant. Our Prophets understand our Claim, and more, they support it completely. For a Brute to try to have relations with one under Claim, regardless of consent . . . well, we shall say that it had been tried before. And the Brute was dealt with slowly and painfully."

Willow looked up at the Elite, now an individual whom she trusted her life with. "And he will not touch you as you are the Sword of the Prophets."

"He cannot touch me. Only an Elite can become Arbiter. Only an Elite can replace an Arbiter." He smiled through his eyes. "But never has an Arbiter had such a strange assistant. Look at this, all pink flesh, strange curves in strange places, and no real natural defenses! Plus, those eyes are odd enough, and the hair . . . simply astounding! Are you completely sure that is your natural color?"

The human laughed, accepting his teasing. "Keep packing, oh Glorious One, or I'll get nasty right back at you!"

-

Battles innumerable against the relentless Flood. Arbiter stopped for breath, feeling Willow at his side, pressing her hand upon his own, feeling her raise it up to her cheek. "Don't give up now."

He shook his head. "Catching my breath."

Willow blinked, then turned, hitting the Elite's button for his active camo, but didn't get a chance to do so herself, as the two humans had already seen her. Sergeant Johnson looked at her in complete shock as the woman to his left frowned. "What's this?"

"Commander Keyes, I would like to introduce you to the lovely lady-officer Sergeant-Major Willow Takayuurei."

Willow removed her helmet, ignoring the Arbiter, giving him cover. "You flirt, Johnson. What's happening?"

"Oh, us? We're looking for the Index, so we can stop this thing from activating. What in the seven circles of hell are you wearing? Is that Covenant material?"

"Long story, Sarge. One that has to wait until the ending is found, and all the loose ends are tied. I'm still on mission."

"Son of a . . . Sargeant! I found it! Just a little further . . ." Commander Keyes' voice said.

"Hold on a sec, cutie." He winked, then walked nonchalantly over to the vine Keyes was holding onto, catching it just as it broke. "Y'know, your father never asked me to catch him either."

"Look out!" Keyes yelped.

Willow ducked and rolled, seeing the shimmering lines of the Arbiter dodge bullets and knock the gun from Johnson's hand, leering closer into his face. The human grinned back up at the Elite. "Well, hello."

"Don't hurt him!" Willow hissed. "Arbiter, listen to me."

"He's known to the Covenant," the Elite growled.

"Yeah, and so'm I and the Chief. Now put him down."

Johnson looked from the girl to the alien, who sighed mightily, and placed him upon the ground again, backing off. "I do not like this."

"I know." Willow looked back at Johnson. "Sir, there are many things going on inside, but you have to let me ride this wave out."

"You're comin' back with us, right?"

Willow shook her head, unable to look at the two officers. "There are some things that mean more than simple warfare. You'll see soon, Sarge, and–"

A magnetic field caught Keyes, dragging her towards what looked like an ugly albino gorilla. A second Brute knocked Johnson unconscious, then dragged him over to Tartarus, who merely grinned, and aimed his hammer at the Arbiter, sending him flying towards the pit. Willow grabbed his arm, stopping him from being sent off completely, but then felt an electric ball hit her, sending her flying into oblivion . . .

-

Words . . . voices . . . her head felt fat . . .

Memory.

"Arbiter!"

She felt the sensation of being lifted high, then saw the biggest maw of her entire life. "Of all that is holy . . ."

"Which, little human, I am not," the thing said.

She twisted, seeing Arbiter glowering towards the Master Chief. "Hey, will you knock that off, Dragon?"

"I will not! You have not told me that which I want to know!" he snapped.

She felt the tendril move her so that she was between the two. The maw opened. "You of small nature and stature know evils beyond speaking and thinking. Share what there is to know."

The Master Chief looked at the human girl. "So how's your mission going?"

"With all due respect, sir, you can wait until I'm done with him. Besides." She grinned lopsidedly at him, winking. "We'll meet again. I'm sure." She aimed her formidable glare at the hapless Elite. "You want answers, you thick-headed poor excuse for a warrior!"

"How dare you!"

"Does Claim mean that you will try to make me feel inferior? Does it mean that I'm the one that is always at the butt end of jokes, of you pitying me? I'm sick of the glances you give me, thinking I don't see you. I'm sick of the pity that you think I need, since you don't really know how a human mind works, wondering how I'm dealing with the fact that I've been interrogated, tortured and raped by that idiotic, scum-sucking waste of life known as Tartarus! Now knock! It! Off!"

Arbiter was struck dumb.

John chuckled. "So you miss your recruits, Sergeant-Major? That was a fine speech." His demeanor sobered. "But it seems that you've been through a lot since we've last talked."

Willow felt the tendril upon her loosen and shift so that she was no longer being suspended, but more so that she was sitting. She aimed a thankful glance over her shoulder before replying. "Yeah, and I'll be the first to admit that I'm stressed." She looked up at the Elite. "I'm sorry, but some things that need to be said . . . aren't."

Arbiter nodded, replying, "Questions can wait. As can answers. But . . . are they right in saying that Halo is a weapon?"

Willow nodded. "And it's designed to obliterate anything that the Flood can use as a host. I'm sorry that you have to learn this the hard way."

Arbiter shook his head, reaching out to Willow, who gripped his hand firmly. "Atta boy. So does that explain a bit more about the Demon?"

"Demon?" John asked.

"You," Willow replied, smiling, ever irrepressible. "But really, I'd like to see him react to you as you, and not as the Chief."

The Spartan looked at Arbiter, seeing the Elite watch him not with anger and hatred as before, but now with confusion and a wary, wavering trust. He sighed, looking back at Willow. "Kid, I'd love to see his face."

"Then you will. Promise me that you'll live."

"As long as you two do."

They nodded, seeing John, Master Chief, Spartan-117, the Demon, nod as well. And they were thus sent on another mission.