Hey all! I'm back from the dead! My apologies for my tardiness and the short chapter--I've been running short on ideas of late. Oh well, I tried I guess. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own nothing from Halo.

Chapter Fifteen: Confrontation

John was glad he was the only one around when he started banging on the door of one Lynn Hutchins. When she didn't come immediately, he banged even louder.

"All right, already!" an angry female voice bellowed from inside. It sounded like Jessica, but with the door in the way he couldn't be sure. Ten minutes later, a striking redhead opened the door, still dripping wet and wrapped in a terrycloth bathrobe.

"I hope you have a decent reason for trying to bash in my apartment door."

John was speechless: of all the greetings he'd been expecting, this wasn't it.

He couldn't help but stare at the woman in the doorway: it had to be Jessica Hawkes in front of him! There was no mistaking that green-flecked glare, and her voice was an exact match.

"Well, are you going to stand there looking stupid or are you going to let me get back to my bath?" the redhead asked in irritation.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, I didn't realize I was disturbing you, but I was told you could help me."

"I can't help anyone when I'm soaking wet, now can I?" she responded.

"Please, ma'am, I only need a moment." John wasn't used to asking for anything, but then again, civilians weren't military and couldn't be ordered around.

The redhead's scowl deepened, but behind it he swore he saw unease, as if she were hiding something. Then again, if she is Jessica, she wouldn't want to be found out, he thought. Finally, she came to a decision.

"All right, but don't expect too much. I don't have any truck with the military if I can avoid it." She opened the door a little wider and he walked in. As he passed her, John noticed something odd: while the rest of her was dripping wet, her red hair was suspiciously dry, and it seemed to sit awkwardly on her head. A wig? Maybe.

"As I said before, I don't interact with the military all that much, but I'll do what I can if only so I can get back to my bath," the woman was saying. John forced himself to remain calm—it seemed as though Jessica, if it was her, was purposely trying to anger him.

"I'm looking for an old comrade of mine, and last I heard she was in this area. She left the UNSC rather quietly, and I just wanted to talk with her, for old times' sake." I hope that sounded convincing, he thought. Pulling a datapad from one of his uniform pockets, John showed the woman a picture of Jessica, and noticed the slight tensing in her shoulders.

"I haven't seen her, but then again I'm not much of a socialite. Maybe someone else at the complex has." As John retrieved the 'pad, he noticed something that any other pair of eyes would have missed: a few damp strands of brown hair were hanging down from under the red mane. There was the last bit of proof he needed—this "Lynn Hutchins" was the missing operative.

"I can point you in the direction of the complex manager," she was saying, "they might have an idea if your friend is here."

"No need for that," John replied as he stepped closer, "Jessica."

----

She was trying really hard to get him out of there, but like all Spartans he was persistent. Hopefully the wig and the attitude will fool him, she thought without much hope.

"I can point you in the direction of the complex manager, they might have an idea if your friend is here." They won't, but maybe it'll throw you off. Not likely, though.

"No need for that,Jessica," the Chief answered, moving a step closer. She backed away slightly, feeling a lot like a cornered animal.

"I think you have me confused with someone else," she began, attempting to stall.

"No, I don't. Your eyes gave you away, and your wig's a little crooked." Damn! Shoulda looked in the mirror first. After a moment's hesitation, Jessica sighed and pulled the red wig off her head, letting damp brown waves cascade down her back. Looking back at the Chief, she shot him the dirtiest look she could.

"Why in hell did you come looking for me, Chief? I left the military behind for good, and didn't want them in my life anymore. I would've been just as happy living my days out here without you snooping around—what in hell possessed you to come after me?" Jessica knew she was hurting him, even if he didn't let on, but she couldn't help it: after all, she still hadn't gotten over him and the Olympus encounter.

"Ackerson asked me to find you, he was worried that you left like that. He wanted me to make sure you were okay." Was that hurt in his voice? she wondered.

"I'll be fine soon enough," she replied, inwardly wincing at her tone. "In the meantime you can tell Ackerson that I'm perfectly fine, and not to send out any more goons looking for me."

"So that's all you see me as? One of ONI's grunts to be sent out at a moment's notice to play babysitter?" he shot back—Jessica could never remember seeing him this close to anger. Not once had it been mentioned in his file, either.

"Apparently, since even you couldn't see that I wanted to be left be. Why in hell did you agree to come after me?" She watched in surprise when he deflated suddenly.

"Cortana showed me a surveillance log from the Athens," he muttered. "Surveillance from your quarters after our last discussion."WHAT??

Jessica was speechless—why would Cortana show him that? And why would that make him so eager to find her. Unless…no, that's not possible, it can't be!

"You haven't answered my question, Master Chief," she pressed, the hard edge in her voice beginning to waver.

"I think you know the answer, you just won't admit to it," he replied as he moved closer. For some reason she found herself unable to back away.

"We both know ONI would never allow that," Jessica protested, one last weak attempt to maintain her dignity.

"Let Ackerson deal with them." She didn't get the chance to argue further as his lips met hers. Her arms wrapped around his neck as she was pressed against him.

For a long while each had nothing to say.