A/N: So...it seems that getting off Reach was just step one in their plan. What are SPARTANs to do when they're off-duty and cooped up aboard a frigate? Maybe coming together as a family is a good idea...

Also, once again, Carter is used as a human teddy bear. I swear, one of these days I'm gonna write these guys doing something productive.

And here also is my take on what happens in the Deliver Hope trailer. Honestly I loaf my children sm and I know that they'd mourn the loss of a fellow team member, especially one that they've grown particularly close to.

UNSC Stalwart Dawn, outside of Epsilon Eridani system, September 9th, 2552

The fall of Reach had hit them all hard. The individual members of NOBLE Team – who had miraculously survived near-death situations – suffered each in their own way. Only Jun suffered less than the others, simply because he had left with Dr. Halsey before anything had happened to him.

They had escaped the doomed planet just before it was entirely overrun and glassed by the Covenant, and now had an indefinite home in the barracks of a lone, space-wandering UNSC vessel, commandeered by the few surviving Marines who'd come with them.

Emile would wake, yelling out "I'm ready, how 'bout you?!" before stabbing his kukri into the wall or throwing it halfway across the room – thankfully, if the sharp blade got too close to one of the SPARTANs, their augmented reflexes saved them from injury. Carter would often fall out of bed into a crouch, his hands reaching for a DMR that was no longer there. Kat and Jorge, the most silent of the five who had frequent nightmares, would not make any noise; Kat would twitch and jerk in her sleep, and sometimes Jorge's limbs thrashed about like he was swimming in space. Every now and then, the big man would fall off his bunk, but he was quick to reassure the other SPARTANs that he was coping and would get back to sleep. These nightmares...they were easy enough to deal with. If they weren't able to manage to fall asleep after waking up, they would chat quietly with each other before drifting off, or they would watch the stars and planets they passed by, or play cards, or something simple and quiet like that.

Lieutenant Artemis-B312, the mysterious and deadly Noble Six, was hit the hardest.

It surprised everyone, because, even as young as she was, Artemis was the most silent one of them all – and she was a very good soldier. She was one of two SPARTANs in history to have been called a "hyper-lethal vector", and it had always shown in battle. And there had been young SPARTANs before, so this was no different.

Yet Artemis often woke screaming, thrashing, limbs flailing. Sometimes her screams were cries for help, other times she called for the rest of the team, but most of the time...she screamed in absolute, abject horror. Nobody could work out why, and nobody knew how to comfort her. Oftentimes it took three of them to hold her down and wait for her to fall silent and still once more. Every time they heard her scream, it haunted them, and they left her to sleep whilst they quietly discussed what they could do for her.

These six SPARTANs were more than just a team – they were a family. Their bond had been forged in battle; in war, and as they helped each other through the after effects of the nightmares, that bond was strengthened.

Finally, Jorge tried something that none of them had ever even thought of: instead of trying to hold Artemis down, he crouched beside her bunk, stroking the top of her head and talking to her in a soothing voice – only he spoke in Hungarian, because, oddly enough, the accent seemed to soothe Noble Six more than English did, for some strange reason, even though she didn't understand a single word of what he was saying.

The first time he attempted this, Emile was clearly giving the SPARTAN-II a "what the fuck" expression, Jun seemed bemused by the whole thing, and Carter was the only one who seemed to understand what Jorge was aiming for.

It was the way a father would comfort their terrified child.

It made sense that Jorge would be the one to try to calm Artemis down in this manner – he hadn't been fondly called a "gentle giant" for nothing. Even though he was also as lethal as the rest of them, he was still somehow more... soft. That was proven during their battles on Reach, when he had calmed down that civilian girl whose father had just been killed by a team of Zealot-class Elites. It was his words and his actions that had calmed the girl – not anybody else's.

Once Artemis had slipped back into a deeper, seemingly more peaceful sleep, the others gathered around the low table in the centre of the room, talking quietly lest they disturb her.

"What are we gonna do? I've known guys with shell shock...but hell, I have never seen anything like that. At the very least, none of it has affected me like this before." Emile tapped his fingers against the hilt of his prized knife, and the assault specialist was abnormally subdued.

"If she wants the help-" Carter began, but Jorge cut him off with a polite but firm "Sir".

"It goes beyond that now. We're a family, and if someone needs help, we give it to 'em, whether they asked or not. It's the right thing to do." the SPARTAN-II stated, and the others nodded in agreement. The Commander hesitated, voicing his concern, but the others were quick to dismiss him and assuage his fears; he eventually caved and agreed to the matter.

The instant they heard noises of distress, five heads snapped over in the direction of Artemis' bed; she was mumbling and tossing about in her sleep. None of them could quite make out what she was saying, until her voice rose, and she sounded sad, and almost...desperate. "I'm so sorry...there was nothing we could do for her. I couldn't – I saved her once, but I just – I'm so sorry. No, she was - ... I'm so sorry, Carter, I-"

The aforementioned SPARTAN-III was the first to stand up, and before the others could do anything, he shooed them to their own beds; Artemis' words had caused something to twist in his gut, and he was going to help her. When Jorge paused and looked like he was about to say something, Carter frowned, and responded firmly, "That's an order, SPARTAN," only it sounded more like a request than a proper order. The heavy weapons specialist complied, but he could still feel the older man's eyes on him as he walked to Noble Six's bed, dropping into a kneel and shaking the lone wolf's shoulder.

Artemis shot upright the moment she was touched, and stared unseeingly into the darkness, eyes wide. She then looked about the room, biting her lip to stifle the whimper that rose up in the back of her throat; her eyes locked onto Carter's, and without hesitation, she leaned over and wrapped her arms around his upper torso, accepting the help he was offering.

Noble One hadn't been expecting that kind of response from his fellow SPARTAN-III, and so he was unmoving in his surprise before he embraced the supersoldier; he didn't exactly know what else to do. He wasn't really used to this whole "offering comfort to those in need" thing, but...if it meant that his teammates were happier, then so be it. Awkwardness be damned.

"It wasn't real," he said quietly, and that was a shock to him – since when did those kinds of words ever come out of his mouth? Strange...maybe this was what it was like to be human rather than a genetically and biologically augmented man in a powered suit of armour.

He supposed that normal people did this on a regular basis.

Eventually he felt her relax, and he stood up, starting to move away – but he didn't get very far, because Artemis' hand shot out and gripped his wrist, tight. He looked at her questioningly, one eyebrow raised.

"Stay..." she implored, voice barely audible, and when the SPARTAN made no move in either direction, she added, voice quavering, "Please?"

Carter heaved a sigh, and gave a slight shake of the head, relenting. The look on her face ... something akin to fear ... it caused his gut to twist again, and she was asking him for help. "Alright. But just this once, okay?"

Six nodded and slid off the bed – it made sense if he got on first; he was bigger than her, after all. Even if only by a little.

Shooting Emile a warning look – Carter sensed that the assault specialist wanted to make a stupid quip – he clambered onto the bed and got as comfortable as he could, leaving as much space as possible for Artemis. The lone wolf jumped up beside him with an almost feline grace, curling up with her face buried in his chest.

Oh boy, why do I get the feeling that I've been downgraded from team leader to human pillow?

Carter heaved another sigh and wrapped one arm around Artemis in case she fell off, and closed his eyes. "What happens off-duty, stays off-duty. Consider that a standing order, NOBLE." he commanded, and when he heard nobody rejecting the idea, he felt a small sense of relief. Good. Because if word got out of things like...this happening, it would tarnish the team's reputation.

The sound of Kat cursing loudly as he drifted into awareness nearly had Carter jolting upright in alarm – were it not for the fact that Artemis was still sound asleep, curled up against him. Even so, he shifted about and swung his head in the direction of Noble Two, concerned. "What is it?" She only ever swore if something was seriously wrong.

"I just found out that some very dangerous things have been done to Artemis," Kat looked up from her datapad, and her expression showed she was...disturbed. That was alarming in itself – just what had she read? "Take a look. This wasn't even in her file that we read. Took me awhile to decode it. I have no idea who sent it to me, or why." She tossed him the datapad, and he caught it easily, skimming over the contents.

"Dangerous? Dangerous how? Physiologically or psychologically?" Carter questioned, scrolling further and further down before actually properly reading into what the Lieutenant Commander had found. He wanted to know what he was looking at before delving deeper.

"Psychologically," Kat got to her feet and paced the room. "We're talking things that would cause permanent damage to a person's psyche – SPARTAN or not."

That wasn't good news at all. Carter began reading the files, getting more and more disturbed the further down he read. And then he discovered something that made him stop reading entirely. "SPARTAN-117? What's it saying about him?" He glanced over at Kat, eyebrows raised.

This was serious. If it was mentioning the Master Chief in her file...it related to the legendary SPARTAN-II as well – and was this something he knew, or did he also have yet to discover things about himself that he never even thought possible?

"From what I've gathered, it says that he's Noble Six's biological brother. It then goes into great detail of how ONI achieved that." Noble Two answered, and it was plain to see, then, that she was truly, deeply disturbed.

For all intents and purposes, ONI had done some very shady things – damaging things. But why? For what reason had they needed to seemingly "create" a SPARTAN-III entirely from scratch?

Jorge spat out the mouthful of water he'd just swallowed, and wiped his mouth, coughing. "John-117 is Artemis-B312's brother? How is that even possible? That can't be right." The big man was shocked, to say the least. To learn that one of his own brothers-in-arms was biologically related to one of his sisters-in-arms, of a later generation entirely...that was something that he'd never expected.

Wordlessly, Carter tossed the datapad to the gentle giant, and soon he, too, was as troubled as the others. "And I don't think John would even know what ONI has done." He handed back the pad, a look of disgust on his features, and he shook his head. "But it doesn't make any sense. Why would they need to do such a thing? What use would it be to them to have another Master Chief, without having another Master Chief – if you understand what I'm getting at."

Sudden realization struck the team leader, and he shook his head, frowning. "They wanted a fallback plan, Jorge. A replacement for the Master Chief, if he was ever killed, or went rogue. The only thing I don't understand is why they deployed Artemis when she was supposed to be a "what if" replacement."

"I think they put her in with the other SPARTAN-IIIs simply because it was easier than keeping her as replacement. How hard do you think it would be to contain a singular SPARTAN for an indefinite period until, on the off-chance, the Master Chief was killed or went rogue?" Kat informed him, and she looked angry. "That, and not only did she need to have the same training as the other IIIs, but she also needed to have...memories. Good enough ones to not break her. They wanted her to do the things that SPARTAN-117 would never do – why do you think so many militia groups disappeared in such a short amount of time? Artemis was kept to do ONI's dirty work, whilst 117 was off saving the galaxy elsewhere, under the watchful eye of the UNSC. They knew, even as a four year-old, that she would survive the augmentations simply because they had seen her courage, her will to survive; that knowledge, paired with the genetic markers she carried, meant that they now had someone to do what most others wouldn't. It also now makes sense as to why she was pulled out of Beta Company directly after training."

Jorge rubbed his chin, looking thoughtful. "I bet that ONI didn't even let Dr. Halsey in on this little secret of theirs. Figures they'd keep something like this from her. They couldn't have the creator of the SPARTAN-II program going nuts just because they'd fabricated a sibling of John-117." he mused, shaking his head.

Carter opened his mouth to reply, when, faster than he could react, he was flipped around and pinned on his back, before being thrown halfway across the room, crashing into the table with a groan. Artemis sat in a half-crouch on the bed, eyes wild and breathing heavy, and Emile and Jun had been rudely interrupted from their sleep; both SPARTANs looked around in confusion.

"I got you," Jorge helped the commander to his feet, and moved to check over Artemis. "You alright?" He addressed the frightened soldier in a more gentle tone of voice.

"What did I...?" Artemis looked around, lost in a haze of confusion. When she saw Carter leaning heavily against the wall, her eyes widened, and she looked visibly upset. "Commander, I-"

The SPARTAN-III held up a staying hand, shaking his head. "I'll live," He removed his hand from where he had it pressed against his stomach, and when he saw red spots, he was slightly worried. "Ah shit. Damn stitches reopened. Kat, I might need a hand."

"Come on then." Noble Two walked out with Noble One, ready to assist him in case it was worse than they thought. Artemis saw this through half-shut eyes; she hugged her knees to her chest and chewed on her lower lip. She also saw Jorge watching her with worried eyes, but she ignored him. She didn't want to talk – she had just hurt one of the team, reopened one of his wounds, and all because she couldn't control her damn reflexes.

"She ain't gonna respond, you know that, right?" Emile asked quietly, shaking his head. "She's entered into a state of shock that she ain't gonna come out of easily. Trust me, I've seen it before. And it ain't pretty if you try and force 'em out of their heads."

Jorge glanced at the assault specialist, looking for all the world like a concerned father would. "We can't just leave her here like this." The SPARTAN was at a loss for what to do for his friend.

"You'll figure it out, big man," Emile clapped him on the shoulder. "I'm gonna go grab somethin' to eat. If either of you get hungry, I wouldn't mind the company."

Noble Team all sat down to have lunch together; it was a rather silent, solemn affair – aside from the quiet bickering between Jorge and Emile over a game of cards they were partaking in. Artemis wanted to be the one to break that silence – she wanted to know more about the team. But the thing was, she didn't exactly know how to go about asking things like that. Sure, they might've been SPARTAN-IIIs, trained not to feel anything, but NOBLE were different...they were a family, now, and their memories scarred them.

Artemis didn't want to bring up anything that might cause issues between team members. That would make her feel guilty for doing such a thing to them.

And yet, her curiosity got the better of her; she found herself asking Kat, "I don't want to sound like...like I'm looking too much into it...and I don't exactly wanna cause any ... bad memories to resurface, but I noticed that after I saved you, you were crying. Why ... why is that?"

Jorge and Emile paused the rather heated card game they'd been playing – rules were always disputed with those two – and the cards scattered all over the table. Jun nearly dropped the protein bar he'd just picked up, and Carter merely raised an eyebrow, before glancing at Kat.

Clearly this was a matter that the rest of the team already understood – perhaps the reason stemmed from one of their prior battles? Maybe it was even to do with how Noble Two lost her arm. Either way, it was something that the SPARTANs had not expected to be directly confronted about, especially not by one of their own.

Her question was still answered, however, when Kat uttered a slightly bitter chuckle, shaking her head. "I suppose it was because when I looked up...all I could see was Thom – the original Noble Six – standing above me, and I thought that my right arm was numb again. I thought that the MFDD was close to going off...I thought I was going to die all over again... It's a long story. I don't even know where to begin."

Exact location unknown, Fumirole, unknown system, April 22nd, 2552

It was a simple enough plan. Fight through hordes of Covenant, arm the MFDD, get to the Covenant ship hovering above the city, and destroy it.

Simple didn't mean it was easy, however. As in the oft-repeated words of Commander Carter-A259, "It wouldn't be a NOBLE mission if it were easy".

Barely even pausing as she sprinted towards her destination, Lieutenant Commander Catherine-B320 armed the Medium Fusion Destructive Device, or MFDD, setting the timer for two minutes, and tucked the device safely under the crook of her arm once more.

She was barely paying attention to the battle raging around her – she only had one thing in mind, and that was to get the MFDD to the CCS-class battlecruiser holding position above the city and destroy it before it could deploy any more troops. Kat didn't even have to take a single second to think each time she fired her M6G pistol into the Covenant forces; she just fired and hit her targets each time, not slowing her stride even once.

She heard the loud, unmistakable chattering of Chief Warrant Officer Jorge-052's machine gun, and watched as an Elite Ultra fell, its body riddled with bullets. Explosions, plasma fire, and bullets flew all around her; she tuned everything out.

Warrant Officer Emile-A239 was there not far ahead of her, waving her on, his shotgun in hand and ready to slaughter the Covenant bastards with vengeance – shown especially in the form of the white, grinning skull painted on the visor of his helmet. His own handiwork, which he was rather proud of, and often proclaimed so.

Noble Two didn't even flinch as another Elite flew backwards in front of her, the contrail from an SRS-99 AM Sniper Rifle – fired by Warrant Officer Jun-A266, hiding out high above – hanging in the air to show what had taken the monster down. The sniper had her covered.

In her peripheral vision, she saw Carter pulling out his combat knife and stabbing an Elite, kicking the body aside before running back into the fight. Not far behind was Thom-A293; the reports from his Designated Marksman Rifle told her how close he was.

Not even checking her stride, Kat leapt high off a pile of rubble, firing her pistol and landing neatly. She was almost there – and with three and a half minutes left to go on the MFDD's timer.

Everything changed in a matter of seconds. A Type-26 Banshee swooped low overhead, ejecting a fuel rod missile which exploded in front of her. Kat went flying through the air, landing heavily on her right arm – the crunch hardly registered, and she did not take note of any pain – before flopping onto her back, pistol sliding from her limp grasp. Her visor had shattered upon impact with the ground, and she could barely see what was happening around her – but even with her suit's systems not working properly, it was hard not to hear the beeping of the bomb nearby, and she felt, then, that perhaps she was going to die.

She could no longer feel her right arm, and at this point, almost didn't care if it was still there or not. That bomb was due to go off in two minutes, and nobody was near enough to save her.

Kat must have blacked out, because when she next opened her eyes, she could see the sunlight flashing off the gold visor of Thom, who gave her a nod and grabbed the MFDD, before walking away and activating the jetpack strapped to his back.

She wanted to scream, to cry out, to say or do something – she felt she had to deter her teammate somehow, because with the amount of time left on the bomb, she knew that there was little hope for the SPARTAN-III to survive the detonation – but fear had gripped her chest; she could scarcely even breathe as it was.

Noble Two felt so useless – and powerless to stop her teammate – as Thom vanished from sight, and moments later, the Covenant cruiser exploded, destroying the ship and any Covenant infantry aboard.

After the battle had ended, and the rest of Noble Team had boarded a Pelican dropship for safety, it was only then that the loss of Thom-A293 hit them all.

She saw the pain in Carter's eyes as he tossed off his helmet and shook his head at her, answering her unasked question – the rifleman had not made it off the ship before it exploded. They had lost one of their own, and the grief was greatest for the Commander and Lieutenant Commander – for Carter, because it was his job to lead the team, and make sure they all stayed safe and alive, and for Kat, because she was the one who had designed the op entirely.

Noble Two did not realize that Noble Six had dropped his dogtags beside her before he'd sacrificed himself until she saw Noble One holding the silver chain in his gauntleted hand, and then, for the first time since she was around seven years old, Kat allowed herself to cry; she was overwhelmed by grief.

Carter did not make any comment – he was silent in his own suffering, and what was there to say? – as he sat on the floor of the dropship and bowed his head, one hand moving to grasp Kat's own.

The battle was over, and it had been won, but at a great cost.

Present day

"It was hard for everyone that day," Emile was unusually sombre; even his green eyes held hints of pain. "But we pulled together somehow."

Artemis bit her lip and stared at the table top, seeing the haunted looks in the other SPARTANs' eyes. "I didn't mean to-" She began to try and apologize, but Carter shook his head at her, and she fell silent.

"Don't be. Sometimes talking about things like that can help." Even his own voice, so usually firm and commanding and full of strength and confidence, was low and tinged with grief. "No matter how hard it hurts." He shared a glance with Kat, and they both pulled silver chains off their necks; both held a singular dogtag at the end.

What was that all about? Artemis wondered, looking at the tags thoughtfully. Do they only have one dogtag each? That's certainly not something I've ever seen before if that's true.

To her surprise, the SPARTAN-IIIs handed the dogtags to her – she gave them a quizzical look, but took the two chains nonetheless. "What are these for? Who do these belong to?"

"Thom. They're his – we kept one each as a reminder to never fail our team again...now we want you to have them. You've earned your place on the team as Noble Six...the dogtags are your keepsake now." Carter replied, and when Artemis hesitated, he gave her a firm nod.

Noble Six didn't know what else to say. What could she say, except maybe...? "Thankyou," She took the tags firmly in her hand, and slung the chain around her neck. "They'll be safe."