Faith's all I have left

My dreams and hopes have been reduced to ashes now

Singed by fate's cruel wiles

No longer afraid

Just a faint sorrow as I face the shadows

I will miss you when my star stops shining.

- Emil ~ Sacrifice, Nier OST


New Phoenix was thrown from the discord that had come from a ground battle in a heavy urban environment, into pure chaos for those left behind for but an instant. Waves of energy radiated out from New Phoenix in all directions, kicking up a dust storm that would have rivaled those that plagued Mars before it had been civilized and terraformed.

Morgan could only watch as the city was lost behind that wall of dust, with no idea what was going on. Her helmet had fallen to the ground, damaged and forgotten as her fingers went limp. It was like a glassing, but she had no idea that it was so much worse in its own way.

The other Spartans of Fireteam Vegas, crowding around her to get a look at the city, were witnessing seven million people being lost to a digital hell that they would never return from. Those people were alone in their final true moments, skin ripped from muscle, muscle ripped from bone, and bone turned to nothing more than ash to mark that they had ever been there at all. Finally, they were scattered by the energy waves, sent throughout the city in a storm that was the accumulation of millions of years of memories and experiences.

And then it was all gone as the pilot in the cockpit pushed the throttle up and raised the nose, lifting them higher and higher to escape from the rapidly advancing dust storm, before leveling out and showing only the late evening sky and the beam falling from orbit.

She stared for the rest of the trip, trying to keep sight of it, until the Pelican banked and started dropping altitude, and the city had long since disappeared over the horizon. When the Pelican touched down and the bay hissed open, Morgan felt her frown tugging at her face, and she finally stretched down to grab her helmet.

Vegas filed out around her as she looked down at it, staring into the damaged visor, and then she saw a flash of familiarity in her mind. The nightmare she'd had the night before Greer and Jun had first come to bring her back into the fold, her helmet had been damaged in a similar fashion. Her armor had worn the damage that had been inflicted to it at the end of the war, but the damaged visor looked just like this, and she felt that old chill go down her spine.

Instead of putting it back on, she hooked it to her belt, wanting anything but to look at it again on the heels of so much happening. Hocus being shot down, nearly being killed by that Elite, watching New Phoenix disappear under that beam of light. She shuddered.

A hand on her shoulder startled her, and she turned to follow the hand back to its owner. Sarah Palmer had a look of questioning on her face, her own helmet off. "You alright?"

"Not after today." Morgan wouldn't lie. She had been out of the fighting for so long that coming so close to death wasn't a common thing anymore. She had little to lose back then, save for herself. Now? She had the world and more. Not just the world in general, but her world.

"I don't think any of us are alright after seeing that," Palmer admitted.

The only response she got was the tightening of Morgan's frown, her lips a thin line. After a moment, she spoke up again. "Do me a favor?"

"Anything, ma'am."

"Find out where they have my wife. I would like to see her."

Palmer licked her lips as she nodded, her helmet coming up and onto her head again. With her speakers off, Morgan heard nothing for almost a full minute, before Palmer was exposed again. "Medical building, right next to the main taxiway. Building is big and blocky, right behind three permanent hangar buildings," Palmer said, pointing off to the north side of Joint Spaceport Leonard Haywood.

That was all Morgan needed, and she set off at a jog. They had put down not far from the medical building to begin with. Lessons had been learned in keeping medical facilities capable of stabilizing wounded near runways until they could be moved to more dedicated trauma facilities. It wasn't a long run by any means, and she was there before she had much of a chance to think about it.

Stepping into the air conditioned building, her armor stood out, dirty and damaged. People in fatigues were moving from place to place to deal with the wounded that had been evacuated from Tucson. She made for the front desk, and the single minded focus that a Spartan could bring to bear was turned on the lower enlisted trooper sitting at the front desk. He looked up at her and then back to his monitor, before doing a double take. "Ma'am?"

"Amber Bailey, Pelican pilot brought in here close to half an hour ago?"

His mouth opened slightly as he started scouring his terminal for the information. "Third floor, west side, room 311." Patient information shouldn't have been given out so freely to someone who'd not even identified themselves, but there was no way he was going to bring the ire of a Spartan fresh off the field, not when they had armor that was damaged like hers.

The next stage of her trip led her to an elevator, and she decided against waiting for it, instead going into the stairwell, taking them three or even four at a time, wanting nothing more than to be with her wife again.

She had only gotten to the third floor when she realized that she was prioritizing her wife again, one person, instead of thinking of the battle above, of the Master Chief and his suicide run against the Didact. The wind left her sails, and it all started to pour in.

She stopped there, at the landing right outside the door that would take her into the hallway and her wife. Without thinking, her hand shot out to the side, and her fist left a large spiderweb of cracks in the concrete wall.

"Fuck!"

She turned her body, rearing back with her other hand, and forced herself to stop before she damaged the wall even further. She felt responsible for John, for Cortana. She felt as if she was failing them by not thinking of them in what might be their final moments. But what could she do? She wouldn't be able to join them, to help deliver that nuke, or even to get back to Infinity. Her fight was over.

All that was left was to go to her wife, to make sure she was going to be okay.

And so she did. She left the cracked wall behind, pushing out into the corridor and getting her bearings before going into room 311, where Amber Bailey lay in a hospital bed, her flight gear gone and a hospital gown replacing it. Doctors had cut the gear away and checked her immediately on landing. The Marine squad leader had made good on his promise, and Gibson had swung more than a little weight around. Amber had been right in the beginning.

Nepotism was a bitch.

Heavy armored boots on the floor of her room caught the pilot's attention, and she looked over at Morgan. Stitches went through the wound that had been ripped open on her face, and the skin around it was red and swollen, her right eye being mostly shut. The hair on the right side of her head had been pinned back. An intravenous line was inserted in her right arm, and on her right hand, swelling around her thumb was already showing up, and movement wasn't happening any time soon. It had been splinted, and a small wrapping filled with ice had been put around it.

Morgan managed to force a smile as they met each other's eyes. "You look like you lost another bar fight."

Amber almost smiled, but winced. When she spoke, her voice was slightly slurred, partially from the painkillers and partially from the right side of her face being swollen up like a balloon. Some yellowing was already showing up, and darker coloration wouldn't be too far behind. "It was one time. Maybe if you'd pulled your weight…"

Morgan's smile got a little more genuine. "I was pulling my weight. In case you forgot, you got the easy fight. I had to fight off four angry bikers without killing them, while you got into a slap fight with a woman that looked like she was built from twigs." A moment of thought, and she faked being puzzled. "Y'know, I didn't think that motorcycle gangs still existed until then."

The wounded pilot's chest rose and fell with concealed laughter, only the breaths escaping as Amber fought to keep from moving too much. "Everyone is built from twigs to you. Either way, I could have taken them."

Morgan only rolled her eyes. "Uh huh, whatever you say."

She moved closer, and with no chairs able to hold her weight, Morgan crouched down, taking a knee and locking her armor from the waist down before reaching up to take her wife's hand. "I was worried about you."

One brown eye met green for a moment as the brown eye searched Morgan's face, then her armor. "It shows," she replied softly. "Didn't realize it at first but, you were supposed to still be in the sky. How'd you get to me so fast?"

"Crash landing." She didn't elaborate.

"Voluntary or not?"

"Voluntary."

Amber's good eyes closed and she sighed softly. "You're a damn fool, you know that?"

That got another half smile from Morgan. "Yeah, well…" She shrugged. "Split second decision in the heat of combat."

This time, the look was withering, disapproving. "You shouldn't have done that just for me."

Morgan's smiled turned into a frown, and she looked down at Amber's hand. "I know. I felt terrible when I got in the cockpit. I didn't even look at the co-pilot until I knew you were still breathing." Amber's face softened as Morgan went on. "They were gone, nothing I could have done, but it still felt… wrong. I prioritized you over everything else. The battle, your co-pilot, nothing else mattered. I only had room in my brain for you."

Amber gave the Spartan's hand a squeeze. "I understand."

Morgan looked back up at her. "You do?"

The reply was soft, before their eyes met again. "Of course I do. You spent a month with Noble, and they haunted you for years after. We've been together… for far longer, and I know exactly what would have happened to you had I not made it out of that crash."

Neither of them said it out loud, but both knew that if Amber had perished when her Pelican went down, Morgan would have followed soon after, picking every fight she could in an effort to vent her sorrow and rage, and eventually, she would have met her match.

The mood had immediately turned from one of relief to one that was somber, contemplative. They both sat there quietly for a time, before Morgan leaned down, bringing Amber's hand up and kissing her knuckles. Amber quietly watched, letting her wife have a moment, before she spoke up.

"What now?"

Morgan didn't take her eyes off of that hand. "Nothing. Our fight is over. It's all up to Infinity and John. If they fail…" She trailed off, shaking her head.

That was all the answer Amber needed, and she let her head lay back against the pillow, staring at the ceiling. Everything was out of their hands now. They stayed like that for a time, before a chirp came from Morgan's hip. Reaching down with her free hand, she pulled her helmet up, and Amber watched as her helmet came into view. When she saw the exposed green eye from inside, seeing the damage the helmet had taken, she looked away, her lower lip twitching before her mouth tightened and controlled itself.

"Go for Crown."

"It's finished." It was Caesar.

"Say again?"

"Look up."

Morgan slipped her hand out of Amber's, going to the window and looking out at the sky. There had been no flash, no sound to accompany it, nothing that would have told her it had been finished, but as she looked out to see the Didact's ship, she saw nothing but a rapidly spreading debris field glittering in the sky. The beam that it had emitted was gone, and Caesar was right.

It was finished.

"...Copy. Status of the Master Chief?"

"Unknown, as soon as some of the radiation clears, we'll start picking through the debris field, see if we can't find a transponder. But… don't get hopeful, Morgan."

Morgan squinted her eyes closed, frowning, her hands tightening into fists at her side. Caesar waited for her response patiently, and she finally responded. "Understood. Call fireteams back to Infinity when able, and I'll return as soon as I'm finished here."

"Yes, ma'am."

Then he was gone, and her helmet came off of her head again, dropping to the floor with a heavy thud and staying there.

She watched that debris field for what felt like hours, until Amber opened her mouth again. "Morgan?"

Morgan turned around, meeting her wife's eye, and Amber didn't miss the glossiness that was in those eyes. Amber only motioned her closer, and Morgan once again went to a knee. Amber's right hand came up, pulling Morgan's head down to her lap, and both hands sat on the dark hair. As Amber slowly started to stroke those loose hairs down and comfort her wife, Morgan Bailey finally allowed herself to cry again.


An hour passed by, and Morgan only left Amber's bedside when she was being transferred, personally pushing her wheelchair all the way out to the waiting medical Pelican. A team from Infinity was already onboard. Amber was the only surviving casualty from the shoot down of Wizard flight. All Spartans that had taken damage had been minor wounds, or in Morgan's case, heavy armor damage.

The flight up was slow, careful, and much smoother than a combat burn to orbit. Infinity sat waiting, and the flight control room guided the Pelican in, where another group of people, this time medics, were waiting to receive the pair.

Morgan helped Amber to her feet. She could walk on her own, but the pilot knew better than to be stubborn in a situation like this, especially when Morgan hadn't said a word since Caesar had called to her almost an hour before.

Moving to another wheelchair that would take her to Infinity's medical wing, where she would continue to heal in preparation to return to duty, Amber refused to let go of Morgan's hand, waiting until Morgan looked down at her and met that questioning look. No words were spoken, but they didn't need to be. Amber squeezed Morgan's hand tightly, and Morgan squeezed back. It was all the reassurance she needed.

Morgan was wounded, not dead. She would carry on, just like she had said she would to HIGHCOM.

The pair split up as Morgan went the opposite direction, towards the bridge. It was a blur as she went through those far-too-similar corridors. She wouldn't be taking her armor off, wouldn't be replacing it just yet. She had eyes on only one thing. Pelicans were scouring the debris field now, looking for any sign of the Master Chief, or at least his armor. Something for them to recover, or a final confirmation that he was to be truly listed as KIA.

The two Spartan bridge guards, wearing white armor, watched as she cut a path through the empty corridors. One, a monster that might have been a bit bigger than August, watched her. The other, far shorter, slimmer, did likewise. The big one read as having Spartan II tags, and wore the Mark V pattern of all things, and the other was a III from Gamma clad in the GEN 2 tech suit and the Helljumper pattern. She hadn't met either one yet, but she would meet them eventually. Now, she only had eyes for one thing.

Both saluted as she passed them by, and she returned it, not slowing her stride as the bridge doors hissed apart. People remained seated at their stations, coordinating as they were meant to with the ship still tentatively at general quarters. Two people stood in front of the holotable. One was Captain Lasky, his arms crossed, but his face softening slightly as he saw who was entering. The other was a tall black man with caramel colored skin. Commander Marcus 'Caesar' Gibson's head was shaved bald, reflecting the overhead lights. A severe appearance with a nose that looked like it had been broken more than once was the first thing that stood out. He stood a little taller than Lasky, broader in the shoulders, and heavily muscled.

Both of them caught sight of her at the same time, and while they knew what had happened to Hocus had wore on her, Gibson having heard it first hand and relayed to Lasky, neither of them had expected her armor to look battered and broken. They saw that single green eye, exposed through the hole in her visor, and frowned.

She simply gestured to Lasky. His lips tightened for a moment, before he gestured to the holotable in turn, where Monsoon suddenly appeared. Her raincoat had been soaked with water, a heavy rain coming down on her holographic form silently. "Monsoon, status?"

She responded immediately. "Super Niner Eight has reported they are homing in on the center of the radiation, but they are experiencing complications when attempting to pick out any particular transponder frequencies. High frequency radiation. Additionally, Super Niner Niner has moved off from Niner Eight, and is attempting to form a perimeter around the expected center of the zone. Triangulation efforts to follow when Super Six Four has moved into position."

"Estimated time to completion?" Morgan was quick on the draw.

"Unknown, Captain, but closest estimate is at the very least, 10 minutes. Multiple factors complicate the search."

She pursed her lips. "How long since the ship blew?"

"Exactly 76 minutes, 43 seconds."

Mjolnir only had 90 minutes of air. Even if he was alive, he was running on borrowed time now. All they could do was wait, and so they did. The triangulation started up soon after, and the three officers stood waiting, wondering if anything would be found.

When the transponder showed up on the holotable, and the comm from Super Niner Eight came through, Morgan's breath hitched in her throat, and she intercepted Lasky before he could say anything. "Niner Eight, say status."

The signal was covered in static from the radiation. "Armor seems to be in one piece somehow. No scorch marks, even. We're bringing him onboard now. Have medical standing by. ETA five mikes."

The big woman felt herself shudder beneath her armor, something that neither Gibson nor Laskey picked up on. "I'll… meet them when they arrive."

Neither tried to stop her as she turned on her heel and left, the bridge doors hissing closed behind her. She had to temper her hope, had to believe that, if he was coming in, he was dead. Nothing more than a body in the armor. She put her helmet back on, immediately opening a comm to Crown. "Paul."

His response was immediate. "Send for Paul."

She hesitated for a moment, closing her eyes as she steadied herself. "They found him. You and Castille, meet me in Hangar 12B-L."

He didn't say anything for a moment, and when his voice came back, it was almost downcast. "On our way."

It cut as soon as he was finished, and Morgan only focused on going to meet the Pelican when it touched down. Best case scenario, she welcomed her friend back despite the odds. Worst case?

Crown would be pallbearers for Humanity's greatest hero.

She was the first to arrive, with August and Helen coming through less than a minute later. They stood there in silence until they saw the landing lights of Niner Eight moving to pierce through the hangar shields. It was still the same old Pelican, but it had something more to it now. It turned in the air, until the tail was facing them, and slowly came down to the ground.

Morgan hung on every slight movement. The ventral thrusters shifting before the thrust ceased, the downward movement of the Pelican settling on its gear, and most importantly, the initial movements of the Pelican's bay door hissing open and slowly lowering to the floor.

Inside, olive drab armor, a golden visor, a stoic monolith that had been a savior to Humanity for over 30 years, stood without a sound as the light from the hangar settled on the Master Chief. Minute movements that only Spartans would have noticed could be seen as his eyes must have passed over the three of them, before he finally settled on Morgan in the center.

They stared each other down for a few moments. His armor was the same as it had been when he'd left, no new damage whatsoever. Hers, on the other hand, had been savaged in the fight on the ground, and it didn't pass over the Chief's mind that her visor had a large hole in it, exposing her eye.

Finally, he stepped down, his armor seeming sluggish, heavy, lacking that familiar grace that she had learned to associate with him. When he stepped to the bottom, Morgan started to say something, expecting him to stop in front of her, but no such thing happened.

Instead, he simply walked around her, his visor ahead, eyes only for the door to the rest of the ship. Crown's leading three members turned in place and watched his back go, and Morgan felt a little bit of hurt deep inside. It wasn't that she felt slighted, or less than important. Something was wrong. Something was extremely wrong.

August and Castille looked at her as if she had an answer, but she didn't. Quietly, as her shoulders fell, she almost whispered their orders. "Dismissed."

The two shared a look between each other now, but they could pick up on their leader's state by now, and they left as she had asked. Neither would push her, not now.

Morgan stood there for a few moments, trying to think, trying to figure out what had happened. He had said nothing of his own state, physical or otherwise. He wasn't hurt, he wasn't looking for help or treatment. He had gone around her, like a river flowing around a boulder. Why was-

And then it hit her like a slap in the face, and she felt that knot in her gut go cold. Closing her eyes, she sighed softly. Only one of them had made it out the other side, and she only had one guess as to who it was.

A few more moments of contemplation, and she called the bridge. "Lasky, Crown."

Protocol was gone. "What happened?"

"I think… I think we've lost Cortana."


Only the hum of the ship around the lone figure that had taken up residence on the starboard observation deck made any noise. The hum of the engine, occasional calls through the intercom for the area, and the sound of one heart beating on when it felt it had lost the reason to do so.

John-117 had been there for a half hour, not making a sound, locked in that position as he looked over Earth and the slowly spreading debris field that had been left behind from the destruction of the Mantle's Approach.

It wasn't often that something could sneak up on the Master Chief. Few things had succeeded. Behind him now, though, a ghost had seemingly materialized.

"Mind if I join you?"

His contemplation broken, he glanced over his shoulder at the voice behind him. Morgan Bailey stood there, clad only in her tech suit, the armor having been taken off and left behind. "Of course not, ma'am."

She stepped forward, still not making a sound. Green eyes watched as he turned back to look at Earth, and she stopped next to him. There was a moment of comfortable silence, before she spoke up. "You ever take the time to stop and look at a planet when you're in its orbit?"

A shift, armor moving against armor as he glanced over at her. "No."

It was short and clipped. She went on. "Me neither… but there's something beautiful in it now." She waited a moment, but he didn't respond. "Takes on a whole new kind of look when you have something down there. Something concrete." She shrugged, pointing to the middle of the URNA, where even from here, large mountain ranges could be seen with their enhanced eyes. "See those mountains? That's where I've spent the years since the war ended. Where I've been able to make something that's not…" She reached over, wrapping her knuckles on his shoulder armor. "...this."

Looking over at him, she saw that he was looking at the planet again, but she had no way of knowing what he was looking at in particular. He still said nothing, seemingly locked down tight.

Her lips dropped into a frown. "I'm sorry, John."

Another look from him, this time just barely noticeable. "...You knew?"

She turned to meet his eyes in particular. "I assumed. I didn't hear anything from her, and you looked like you'd lost everything."

Instead of saying anything, he reached up to his helmet, pulling the AI datachip from it and holding it out to her. The center was dark, lacking the telltale blue glow that had indicated Cortana had been in it before. When she saw it, her frown deepened, and she remembered a conversation they'd had many years before, on the Forward Unto Dawn.

A time when she'd tried to give him his brother's tags, and he had made her keep them.

Now, she looked it over, and after a moment, she took it, but she didn't pocket it. Instead, she put a hand on his shoulder and kept him from moving, reaching up and slotting the chip back into place in his helmet. "This belongs to you, John. I refuse to take that from you. I'll-"

It was almost like he had remembered that same moment. "You'll honor her your own way."

His gravely voice had an air of finality to it, and she slowly nodded. "I will, but more importantly, I think there's something you should learn." When he didn't answer her again, she went on. "Something that I've learned over the years, wearing Jorge and Emile's tags almost every second since I got them." She reached up, putting her hand on her chest where she knew the tags lay under her tech suit. "There are things that we keep to remember people by. Dog tags, pictures, memories, whatever it may be. For me, it was their tags. I didn't have all of them but I had some of them, and that was enough."

She didn't look at him, instead focusing on that mountain range, on where her home was, where her life had truly started. "If I didn't have these tags, I don't think I'd ever have been able to receive true closure. Now, I think… that chip may be the same for you. A way to remember her, not just in your memories, but in feeling too. A physical reminder that she was here, and a reminder of all that you both went through together."

Still nothing came from his lips. A silence spread out between them, before she spoke up again, sounding almost sad. "I won't pretend to know just how deep your bond with Cortana went, but I know what it feels like, to lose those you consider the closest, and I never want to feel that again. In our line of work, though…"

She trailed off, and when he finally spoke again, the sound of conviction was in it, but it was shaky. "Our duty, as soldiers, is to protect Humanity… whatever the cost."

Morgan's mind immediately went back to her wife, already established in the medical wing, and that feeling of shame came back to her as she remembered that she had thrown everything to the side when she'd expected her wife to have died in that crash. When she looked back to her friend, she had a sad smile on her face, one borne of understanding, and shared pain.

"We're soldiers, John, but we're Humans first. You and me, and the other Spartans, all the way down to a baby that's being born down there right now. The only difference between us is the upbringing we've had. We're people, not machines, despite what we've been made to be. We're capable of things that no other people are capable of… but that doesn't make us different from a child and their favorite toy, than a parent looking upon their baby for the first time, than a woman learning how to leave a war behind and make something new."

He turned to look at her at the last bit, and her smile grew slightly. "You're just like me… but you can't see it yet. We're not machines, John. I need you to remember that." John held her gaze for a few moments, and her smile slowly slipped down to something that was barely there. "I… When this is all done, and Infinity stands down for repairs, there are some things I want to show you. But until then, I'll let you have the deck to yourself." She turned and started walking away, and before she got to the door, she stopped, not looking back. "When you're ready… come find me."

And that was all that needed to be said. The door opened, she stepped through, and she was gone as she left John-117 to grieve in his own way.


I decided to make this author's note at the end, much as last time. For those that struggled with the links I posted, I have them on my profile. Fanfiction likes removing links, I guess, so I left instructions on how to do it.

I struggled with this chapter and the direction I wanted to go. The only thing I've ever tried to write for Morgan's story before it was ready was this epilogue analogue, because I knew it was coming eventually. I didn't truly know where I wanted to go with it or what I wanted to do. For those of you asking for Halo 5… well, I'm not sure about that. There's a lot going on that I just don't know how to reconcile as a narrative without changing the whole thing up, but at the same time, I don't know how to do that. Not yet. If I ever decide to continue through to the next story, I think I'll write it all up, complete it, and only post after it's finished. I don't want to start something that I might not be able to finish.

There will be one more chapter after this, and then, Infinite Choices will come to a close. Morgan's story will continue in Snapshots, and you'll get to see the transition from the war weary woman you all fell in love with, to a woman who finds something more than just an existence, but a life. So for those of you that have stuck with me since the beginning, I thank you wholeheartedly for supporting me on the journey I've taken. I hope you'll stick around for whatever else comes down the pipeline.

Now, bear with me one more time before the curtain falls, and thank you for coming.