A/N: Things! Excitement!
Also two chapters in a row? Strange, yeah; but I'd uploaded the first of these onto ao3 awhile ago and had never gotten around to uploading it here. SO, a double dose of Spartan antics for y'all!
Aboard The Athenian, outskirts of Monastir, New Harmony, unknown system, February 18th, 2559
"How are we gonna break it to 'em?" Artemis paced anxiously, one hand tapping nervously on her thigh while the other one was occupied with a hand weight. "I mean, telling them that the planet we all almost died on has been invaded again... it's not gonna be easy. And then we have to somehow talk to the UNSC about this. That's – that's the main thing I'm worried about. How are we even gonna get in contact with the UNSC to tell them that there's a Covie faction on Reach?"
"Answer is: we don't."
The Lieutenant stopped in surprise, looking across the gym to where Carter doing pushups on the floor. "My understanding is that we were going to tell them. That was what we agreed on."
"Yeah," he grunted, "But I've thought of something better."
"Alright, hit me." Artemis resumed her pacing, her free hand now flexing at her side. "Tell me, Commander, just what is a better idea than straight-up telling the UNSC what's happening on the surface of Reach, a planet long ago lost to the Covenant and glassed to shit?"
"We get the UNSC on side."
Again, Artemis stopped in her tracks, and glanced over to her teammate. What the hell was he contemplating? That was crazy. They were hiding from the UNSC; how could they get them on side when they weren't in any UNSC-held areas? When they were supposed to be dead? She couldn't see any sense in the idea.
"Hear me out." He stood up, stretching his arms above his head while he talked. "We go down to Requiem – the Forerunner planet that the Master Chief mentioned was being overrun by Storm Covenant and Promethean constructs, the last time he was there with Blue Team – and we help the UNSC out of their stalemate. We know that Captain Lasky is a good man. He's disobeyed orders once. What's not to say he'll do it again? Once we have him on side, it shouldn't take long to convince the UNSC brass of the idea of heading to Reach with a battlegroup or three. Scout out what the hell's going on down there, and get rid of the bad guys. If the brass don't agree, it doesn't matter, because we have the captain of the UNSC's biggest and best warship on our side. One ship, plus her contingent of Strident heavy frigates, should easily be enough to get rid of... whatever the hell those ex-Covies were."
That made sense.
Artemis squinted at her teammate in confusion, wondering if he was okay. For the past couple of weeks he'd been awfully distracted, spaced out and not 100% there, and now he was back to his old self. Thinking, planning, preparing for what lay ahead. She knew she'd have to confront him on it sooner or later; she just had to pick the right moment. Maybe once this particular line of conversation was over...
A new thought struck her.
"What if Captain Lasky doesn't agree, or doesn't believe us despite the hard evidence we have?" she questioned.
Carter lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "Then we go on our own. There's ten Spartans now – five of our number are IIs, and the other five are IIIs. I think that should be enough of a strike force to get rid of those aliens. If not, we'll scout them out and live to fight another day. Go back later with more munitions, more vehicles, more purpose. We've fought for our lives to defend Reach before, and lost. This time, we won't lose. We're better than we were back then. Besides, it's nothing we haven't done before. Just a different scale and with a new enemy to fight."
Artemis couldn't argue with him. He'd made a valid point – a few of them, in fact – and his line of thinking was sound. In fact, she was more than certain that she had nothing else to add to the conversation. She gave him a gesture that was half-shrug, half-nod; not flippant, just acceptance in a casual manner. After all, what other options were there? They couldn't just leave the planet and the ex-Covies on it alive. Some ten-odd years from now, the UNSC would send out an exploration and research team, to determine if the planet was worth re-terraforming. And it wouldn't work if there were aliens there. On top of that... those aliens needed to be stopped. If they managed to discover the wreckage of that vessel underneath SWORD... there was no telling what they could do.
That ship could have belonged to the Forerunners, and given the other Forerunner artefacts that both humanity and the Covenant remnant factions had found so far... it was likely something that had immense power. Something that could be used to destroy humanity while it got back on its feet.
Silence fell between the pair. Not unwanted silence; it was a comfortable silence, like a warm blanket being draped upon one's shoulders.
Artemis set the hand weight down and settled upon doing some crunches on the floor. Her eyes tracked Carter as he moved across the room, to use the weightlifting set. She could have spotted for him, but what was the point? More often than not, when the Spartans spotted for one another, it was only to hold conversation when the rest of the gym was crowded. But it was quiet, and there was no use watching out for him, because he'd never drop the bar bell. Benefits of augmentations – they were quick enough in eye, mind, and hand to catch the weights should one end slip.
You want to have a conversation with him, you idiot!
Yeah, but what's so wrong about having one from halfway across the room? Not like anyone else is here.
That's not manners, especially not with your superior officer.
He's a friend.
No he's not.
The hell are you on about? He's both. And you can't possibly mean that he's neither, because that wouldn't make any sense. After all, you-
She released a hiss of air from between clenched teeth, and she saw Carter's eyes flicking a glance to her, concern flashing in those orbs of electric blue, before flicking back to look at the ceiling.
Pulling herself into a sitting position, the Spartan tangled her fingers into her hair, frustrated. Her hands flexed against her skull, before she whooshed a sigh, getting to her feet and trotting over to one of the treadmills alongside the weightlifting set, resting an elbow on the control panel. "Can we... talk?"
"Sure, though I thought we already were." The bar bell clunked as it set back into place, before Carter lifted it high above his head. "About what?"
Her fingers drummed on the control panel of the treadmill. "You've been... how do I say this without sounding mean?...You've been different these past couple of weeks. Spaced out and not really all... there. And now you're back to your old self, completely out of the blue. What's going on?"
This time, the bar bell was dropped so fast that it thunked loud enough to startle Artemis, and she jerked, stepping forward off the treadmill. Her breath caught in her throat as she saw a look in Carter's eyes, as he swung to sit upright and face her head on. Something was different about him. She didn't just see it; she felt it, too. It sent a shiver down her spine.
What the hell is going on with you? You've changed so much... I know we've all changed but these past two weeks you've changed beyond that...
"Yeah. I made a mistake." he breathed quietly.
Without warning, he stood close before her– closer than he'd ever had before, aside from when they hugged. And the next thing she knew, his lips were pressed against hers. There was a desperation there; she felt it coursing from him, straight to her. There was confusion, hesitation, determination, and something strangely along the lines of love – but of a different kind.
It felt so strange, but at the same time, Artemis wasn't resisting. It also felt nice. Her body tingled; then went warm, like she'd been sitting near a toasty fire. She sighed and melted against him, like ice melting in a wild spring river. She felt his arms around her; steady and warm and sure. She felt his heartbeat beneath her finger tips, from where one hand was pressed against his chest; reminding her she was alive. She was lost in the blue of his eyes; drowning in them; in him. It was all new, different... it felt surreal.
Unfortunately, the moment he parted from her, the spell broke. The magic was there, yes – would be for a long time, in fact. But the feeling of being locked in such a sensation was gone.
"...How was that a mistake?" she questioned, voice soft.
"You make me feel... you make me feel," he said quietly, fiercely, "And I don't like it. I want it to stop. Now."
"You really don't get it, do you?" she said, almost laughing, "You're not the only one who doesn't feel... well... the same as you used to. Believe me, for the longest time I thought that you were one of my best friends and now... I'm just confused." Artemis reached up and gently rubbed a thumb over his cheekbone, a corner of her mouth twitching into a smile when he nuzzled into the touch. "It's okay to be conflicted, you know. For people like you and I, it's completely normal."
One dark eyebrow raised in inquiry. "Is it?"
This time, she did laugh. "Yes. Of course it is. Besides, it's less scary when there are two of us to go through it... together." Her eyes softened. "Stay with me. Forever and a day; until eternity; I don't care just stay, with me." she whispered. "Stay with me, Carter Harkness."
"Okay, Artemis Fox. I promise." His voice was warm, and rumbled through his chest.
Familiar, comforting. Like home.
Artemis closed her eyes again and buried her face into the crook of his shoulder and neck, sighing in content. Yes, this... this was bliss. It was peace. It was good.
In a Pelican in the atmosphere of Requiem, Epoloch system, February 22nd, 2559
"Spartans." Carter addressed the armoured warriors assembled before him. "Everyone ready?"
Nineteen voices gave their assent. Nineteen. It was a lot. They were all veterans in one way or another, but he'd never commanded nineteen at once. It was going to a hell of an effort. He could do this, though. He was a born leader, and he hadn't been awarded the rank of Commander for nothing. He was damn good at his job, and this time would be no exception. He would not let them down; he would show these Spartan-IVs just what he and his team were made of.
He gave them a nod, thumping his chest. Noble Team and Blue Team responded in kind; the Spartan-IVs just looked among one another, confused. He thumped the door control, watching the loading ramp swing down. The sky rushed past, far below his feet, and he double-checked that everyone was on the same COMM channel before leaping out.
"Oh, nice song choice," one of the S-IVs commented, as jaunty music rang out over TEAMCOM.
"My idea." Emile leapt out of the Pelican in an entirely too casual manner, chuckling with glee. "Nothin's as good as doing an orbital drop to Mr Blue Sky."
"Nerd," Artemis teased, flinging herself out after giving Jorge a shove. Even now, he didn't particularly enjoy orbital drops. Then again, it was due to his dislike of heights and lack of control when he fell from the sky. She couldn't blame him. They all had their own quirks and fears; they had to learn to adjust to them and control them – or at the least, rein them in. And if they couldn't do it alone, there was always someone else there to have their back and help them out.
It was chaotic, on the ground. Noble Team had never seen so many Storm Covenant on the ground at once, and especially not paired up with the strange, mechanical constructs they'd come to learn were called "Prometheans". They were creepy things, the Prometheans; all hardlight bonds and tough battle armour, problematic and dangerous. Apparently they'd been created by the Forerunners to defend against the Flood; after that, some had been left here to defend the planet while the Forerunner known as the Didact had been sleeping in a cryptum. And now that the Forerunner was gone, the Prometheans were effectively rogue, serving no purpose except to annihilate humanity – and more often than not they were doing a better job than Jul's Covenant.
And one variant of the Prometheans in particular – Soldiers, they were called – were just a pain in the ass. They weren't very efficient marksmen compared to the bigger, deadlier Promethean Knights, but the Soldiers knew how to teleport. And that was what they did – teleported all over the shop, dancing tauntingly in and out of the line of fire in a manner that was nothing but frustrating. Even the Spartan-IVs who had dealt with the Prometheans for a lot longer seemed to be struggling with the Soldiers. Every now and then a complaint would rise up out of their ranks – at least, until they switched COMM channels, as evidenced when Emile thanked the Spartan called Hoya for getting rid of a Soldier while he was dealing with a Knight, only to get a wordless nod in response.
The S-IVs had been courteous and responsive up until that point; Carter wondered if perhaps the younger soldiers had simply grown wary of the more experienced Spartans. Either that, or they just didn't want to talk to the IIs and IIIs, and thus had changed COMM frequencies. He growled in frustration and made a gesture at their leader, Spartan Palmer. "Tell your Spartans to switch frequencies to ours, or switch their COMMs back on."
"No can do; they don't want to deal with you guys at the moment," came the clipped reply, the SCOUT-armoured Spartan moving to headshot a Crawler; she then downed a Watcher and added, "They'll switch back when they've sorted things out amongst themselves. Your arrival was unexpected and I think they don't want their limelight being stolen."
He knew there was no sense arguing with these Spartans – not when they were in the middle of a firefight. Afterwards, though, he'd have a word or seven to say to them. They were good soldiers, yes, but they were...wilful. Loud and showy and only wanting to follow their own orders. It was problematic; whoever had trained them hadn't trained them hard enough, or they were simply allowed too much free will.
"You're kidding, right? Jun, c'mon man, I thought you picked better than this!" Emile lamented, punting a Crawler sideways before putting buckshot through its head. "You are the recruiter for the SPARTAN-IV program, aren't you?"
"Yes, but I'm not the one that trains them." the Slav grumbled, watching as a Watcher's body crumpled to the ground, followed by a second and a third. "I think the UNSC just gives them too much free rein to do as they please."
"You're not the only one who's thinking that." Carter lamented. "I wish they'd just do as they're told. At least we know how the chain of command works."
"Oh, they know how it works alright. They just prefer to ignore it because there's no chain of command in the Spartan Branch." Jun returned, sighting down a Knight. "I'm going to have to speak to Musa about that."
Something was wrong. Something was really wrong.
They'd split up after the first firefight against the Storm and Prometheans, searching for any stragglers. They couldn't let a single one survive; upon finding only one escaped Zealot, the Spartans began to regroup. Only they were one short.
Artemis hadn't returned.
Cold dread settled into Carter's gut as he scaled a rock slide and skidded down the other side, searching. His motion tracker showed no movement, and yet, she could be still, tracking down a target. Something told him it wasn't that simple.
He'd been searching for fifteen minutes now to no avail, calling, scanning, with despair clawing at his chest. There had been not one sign, save for a bootprint in a mud puddle, pointing away from where they'd originally landed. Since then, nothing.
"Artemis."
Silence was the only thing that greeted him.
Come on; come on, where are you...
A last, despairing call.
"Artemis!"
There was a rasping cry of pain, from somewhere close.
Heart pounding in his chest, he skidded down a low rise, and stopped, horror freezing him and turning his veins to ice. She was there, on the ground, motionless, her helmet knocked aside. There was a pool of blood beneath her...
No... it can't be. This isn't real.
"Artemis?" A questioning plea. He stepped forward, hesitant; when he saw her struggling to rise, he rushed to her side, crouching down beside her. Her skin was so ashen. Her eyes were glazed, and the look in them was just wrong. "Istenem, Artemis..." He borrowed one of her and Jorge's more common Hungarian exclamations. Dear me.
For a moment, when her eyelids fluttered closed, his heart jerked in his chest.
I'm too late... aren't I?
"Carter..." Her words were no more than a hoarse whisper, breathy at best. "Took a hardlight blade right through the gut... on top of the other injuries... I'm sorry."
"No..." He reached a hand towards her, only to find that it was shaking. Both his hands were shaking. Why were his hands shaking? He wished he wasn't wearing the damn armour gauntlets. He wished that he could press his fingertips to her face and feel the skin. He wished he knew how he felt about her. He wished this wasn't happening. He wished...
No use wishing for things that are never going to happen.
"No, that's not..." He shook his head in disbelief. "You'll be okay. You've gotta be okay."
Artemis coughed, and blood speckled her lips. "Except I'm not."
He couldn't deny the truth that was right in front of him. He didn't want to believe it. Didn't want it to be happening. He knew there was nothing he could do to prevent it. But he was so desperate. He couldn't lose another member of his team – his family. Not after Thom. After Thom, they'd all vowed "no more". And yet here was one of their own, dying.
Briefly, he allowed his head to hang, and one hand curled into a fist, while the other remained hovering halfway, reaching out to her.
He sensed movement and looked up again, watching as her hand gripped his wrist. "I'm not gonna be okay. Biofoam's not gonna hold me together long enough, and..." She coughed again, blood dribbling down her chin. He could hear the death rattle in her lungs.
Why aren't you calling for help? A Pelican extraction. We can get her back to The Athenian and take her straight to the medbay...
Who are you kidding? She's already gone. She's still here because she's clinging to a thread of life. Surgery isn't going to save her now.
Further movement caught his eye, and he saw a flash of silver, before she pressed something into his palm and closed his fist around it. He knew at once that it was her dogtags, and he shook his head, lifting his helmet off and chucking it onto the ground.
"No... No, I can't take these..." He couldn't give them to anyone else, either, because she'd given them to him. They were his keepsake. Yes, he and Kat had given Thom's tags to her, but that had been different. She was giving them specifically to him; Thom had just dropped his tags beside the teammate nearest to him, which just so happened to be Kat. "Artemis, please..." His voice became choked, and his eyes watered, obscuring his vision. "You have to get up..."
"I -..." A wheezing cough. "Well, I'll try." She didn't like things getting her down for long. "I don't think the blade hit anything vital but... If we don't get back to The Athenian in time..."
She let the sentence hang in the air, ominous.
"Don't need to tell me." He helped her to her feet, one hand going out to steady her. "Come on. We'll be home free. Let's grab your helmet and mine and we'll get out of here."
Artemis tilted her head, lips twisted in a fraction of a wry grin. "Oly Oly Oxen Free, right Carter?" Without warning, her expression shifted to one of pain, intense pain and surprise, and the Commander's eyes flicked up to see a Promethean Knight halfway out of a translocation portal, its hardlight blade going right through the Lieutenant's armour, istenem, how could I have not seen this, no, Artemis please, you can't leave me...
"No!" he barked out, pain and fear in his voice. So much pain and fear... he couldn't lose her...
The Knight made an eerie noise that sounded almost like it was laughing, and it vanished into the portal, air returning to normal once it closed.
"No... Artemis please... don't... don't go... stay with me, please... stay with me..." Carter clutched at her as her knees buckled, cradling her close. "Stay with me... stay with me Artemis..." One shaking hand stroked the back of her head, while his other kept her in place. He knew it was too late; knew there was nothing he could do. But his mind had shut down to that; he wasn't accepting it. She wasn't dead; no, she was fine. She was fine. She'd be okay. "Artemis, Artemis, Artemis..." He said her name over and over, whispering it, voice quavering and pleading.
He didn't want to lose her.
He felt her body go slack, and that was the moment he went completely numb. He felt nothing, saw nothing, heard nothing; just stood there, holding her limp form in his arms, hand still shaking as it stroked the back of her head. She was gone.
We're all out in the free. We're all free.
Grief was the only thing Carter knew.
It was wrapped around him, dragging him down, drowning him, crushing him under its weight. He didn't know how long he stood there, clutching at Artemis' broken body, wishing for things to go back to the way they were. Wishing that it wasn't true. That she wasn't dead; that her body wasn't growing colder by the minute. And yet he couldn't deny it any longer.
She was gone, and there was nothing he could do.
He was so numb to everything that he wasn't aware of a translocation portal opening up, taking Artemis with it. His body was frozen, locked in place, staring blankly at spot so many klicks away. Empty. Dead inside. Something inside him had broken; something irreplaceable. Something that could never be fixed. Something that he didn't think he would ever be able to understand.
He could have sworn his ears were ringing, and when it cleared, he heard Kat talking to him. His vision blurred, then cleared, and he blinked a few times.
"...What?"
The hell...
Was that his voice? Gone was the ringing, firm command; gone was the light, warm rumble. It was hollow; as hollow as his chest. There was no life to it.
"I said, are you alright? You look like you've seen –" He wondered why she'd stopped. Then he heard her cry of dismay, and watched dumbly as the smaller Spartan scooped up Artemis' helmet. "Carter, what happened? Where's Artemis?"
"She's... istenem, Kat, she's gone." His voice cracked on the word, but somehow – somehow – he managed to hold himself together.
"Gone? Gone how-" Kat stopped herself again and shook her head. She had seen his face; filled in the gaps for herself. Somehow she, too, held herself together; grabbed his helmet and lead him back to the awaiting Pelican. The Spartan-IVs were not there, he dimly noted; he had vaguely noted their sister Pelican was already halfway into the atmosphere.
"What's going on?" Emile looked from one Spartan to the other in confusion, narrowing his eyes as he watched the helmets clattering to the floor. "What am I missing?"
"The mission was a failure." Carter found himself snarling. Why had he gotten so aggressive out of the blue? What was wrong with him? He felt multiple pairs of eyes on him, and wished he could just sink into the floor, or vanish into a pile of hardlight like the Prometheans did.
"Commander, where's Artemis?" Jorge rumbled in question. He sounded more confused than angry, head canted to one side, one hand resting on the barrel of his machine gun.
"Artemis is dead."
Silence filled the Pelican. The dropship's tail slammed shut and it rose into the air, but nobody paid any attention. Numbness descended over them all. That couldn't be true. It just didn't make sense to any of them. One of their own couldn't be dead.
"NO!" thundered Jorge, a rare bout of rage flashing in his hazel eyes. "I'll kill whatever monster did this to her! WHERE IS IT! LEMME AT IT!"
"It's gone," Carter said wearily, head hung low.
Jorge roared, in a mixture of anguish and rage, and one arm flew out to punch the Pelican - and possibly put a dent in it.
"Hey, hey, whoa!" Fred leapt into action first, yanking on the bigger Spartan's arm, but even with his full strength it wasn't enough to pull him away from the walls of the Pelican. "A239, A266, help me out here."
The two Warrant Officers immediately rushed to his aid, pulling on Jorge's torso, dragging him back to the centre of the aisle. They kept a tight grip on him, even when he didn't fight, instead sagging to the ground, head hung low.
"Some-...Somebody tell me this ain't really happening. Someone tell me this ain't... real." Jorge stumbled over his words.
Kat, having seen the blood on Carter's gauntlets and chestplate, and knowing it wasn't his, shook her head. "It's true." She hadn't wanted to believe it, either, but the empty look on his face told her everything. He'd been there with her as she'd died, and there had been nothing he could do to save her; he had been too late.
Jorge keened, feeling nothing but immense pain and loss. His sister... the lone wolf... gone, just like that. It didn't add up to the big man. It couldn't be true. But Carter had never lied to them. And he could see that the Commander was shattered. It was obvious to them all. Anyone who couldn't see how broken the poor man looked was oblivious to basic human emotion. Even Spartans as emotionally stunted as Blue Team were able to see that something terrible had happened.
Emile just felt sick, staring numbly at his kukri knife, with the blade resting against the armour plating of his thigh. "Didn't think it'd be her dyin' before any of us..."
"Shut up," Jun snapped, a growl rising from his throat. "Don't even talk about it. Just don't."
The assault specialist wanted so badly to retaliate, but he didn't find it within him to do so. He just... couldn't process anything anymore. He mumbled out a sorry and stared at his kukri, gaze becoming blank. Nothing mattered anymore; he didn't care about a damn thing.
It was a dark time for them all.
