Chapter 8: Words Won't Work

[15 September, 2551]

[Officers Quarters, UNSC All Under Heaven]

[21:10 Hours]

Claire lay sleepless in her bunk.

It had been three- no, almost four- days since David, Spartan-009, one of her best friends, had charged headfirst back into her life. In that time she had seen him only once, immediately before he was evacuated to the All Under Heaven following the takedown of the Scarab and the pitched street battle that had followed. She hadn't gone with; the plasma burn where she had been shot in the ass (which she was sure Katy would NEVER let her live down) wasn't enough to warrant a MEDEVAC, and besides, the Covenant were on the run, and ground forces needed all the able bodies they could spare, hers included. It had only taken an hour before the Covenant ships in orbit had executed a tactical retreat- mostly because for once they were outnumbered two to one. It had taken another two days to clear out the stranded alien ground forces and shuttle refugees' off-planet.

At least they prevented Angelus-II from getting glassed. Score one for the boys back home.

But now Claire had been evacuated, debriefed, dismissed, and retired to her bunk to rest. And somehow, she couldn't.

Part of it had to do with the wound she had received. Her bodysuit had taken the worst of the plasma bolt, but the heat had still given her a righteous burn literally right on her ass. It made sitting nigh impossible and even sleeping on her back a challenge.

Part of it was David.

Every time she closed her eyes she could see him reaching out for her as he fell into the Scarab's explosion. See his body jolting as the radioactive rounds ripped through him. In her dreams she ran to him as she did that night, only to discover upon reaching him that he laid too still. She ripped off his helmet and his sharp brown eyes were glazed over, staring blankly into eternity. The few times she'd slept over the last three days she'd awoken panting and sweating, almost on the verge of calling his name into the darkness.

If she had lost him that night…to lose him again, this time before her very eyes…

She thought back to what she had screamed at him, the both of them wounded and immobilized as the Covenant advanced: "THEN WE DIE TOGETHER"

She had meant it. By God, she had meant each word.

So what the hell did that mean?

Her fingers seized like talons and she thumped her head into the pillow, squeezing her eyes shut. Christ, Claire, get some sleep!

She opened her eyes. The hand that held her pillow was her cybernetic one. A facsimile of the flesh and blood she once took for granted, taken from her by time and fate.

David had sat up all night with her when she'd lost her hand, keeping her mind off the pain with poetry and physical proximity. She had always meant to thank him for that. Then he'd been taken from her, and she never got the chance. She'd taken time for granted. All the things she had wanted to say to him, words that lost their meaning on paper and over the vast distance of space…she couldn't let that happen again.

She needed to see him. Now.

Inquiries she had made earlier had fallen on deaf ears, but with the wounds David had sustained, he could only be in the med bay. Barring that, she'd search every Officer's cabin until she found him.

And then she'd tell him…well, whatever it was that she needed to tell him. She'd figure it out on the way.

Claire threw on her uniform jacket, tied her hair back, and walked out of her quarters.

[Medical Bay, UNSC All Under Heaven]

[21:15 Hours]

He lay there, staring at his arm, willing it to move.

It didn't move.

Shit.

The trouble had started the day before, when he'd woken up after a hard fourteen hours of sleep and realized he couldn't feel anything from shoulder to fingertips. The doctor on shift had told him that that was most likely just a byproduct of the healing agents he'd been treated with, that it would most likely dissipate, not to worry.

He wasn't worried about that. What worried him was the visitor he had earlier that day…

[15:35 Hours]

"You're a goddamn saint, David."

The voice was the last one he wanted to hear, and he'd heard his footsteps approach far away enough not to be startled, so he decided to just pretend he was still asleep.

There was a scrape as Keller drew up a chair next to his cot, and that odd smacking sound that came from him licking his lips. It set his teeth on edge that sound.

"Yooou just had to up and trump my symphonic Scarab demolition derby. Bristow's golden boy always has to have the limelight. And you don't even have the damn decency to die while doing it."

"Not in the business of dying." He opened his eyes and fixed Keller with a hard look.

"Not in the business of playing hero, either. I gave you an order to fall back."

"And leave behind two dozen wounded soldiers? You expect any sane man to follow that order?"

Keller smiled thinly. "Of course not. That's why I gave the order to YOU."

"I'm gonna let that one go." David sighed and tilted his head back. "There was an Elite on Angelus-II, when I was captured. Claimed to be a student of Peccamee."

"And you didn't kill him? Poooor form, David."

"He didn't pose a threat."

"Did he throw down his arms, prostrate himself before you, and confess all his sins before slitting his own throat?"

David looked at him, deadpan.

"Then he was a threat. What is Bristow gonna think, his bouncing baby boy letting squishy aliens live and defying orders to save soldiers…"

"You're not gonna call Bristow," David said calmly, "because you hate him more than you hate me."

Keller burst out cackling, drawing worried looks from patients in the cots on either side. "HAAATE YOU?! I don't hate you! No, you? You make this world…seem right. This job would be soooo BORING without you around, because who else am I gonna watch fall apart, mission, by mission?"

"Now you're getting nasty."

"Would you have gone after those Helljumpers if Claire hadn't been there?"

"Of course."

"If Bristow had given the order?"

David was silent.

"Hmmmm?"

"Bristow wouldn't have given that order."

Keller's smile split into a horsey toothed grin.

"Who gave you the report that Claire died, those years ago?"

David looked at him.

"I'll leave you to chew on that. Off to report to Daddy. Rest up, Davy Boy. We need you."

He patted David's wounded shoulder as he got up and left.

[21:22 Hours]

He was sleeping when she entered the med bay. The doctor on duty, Rosen, glanced up at her, and then checked his wristwatch. "Bit late to be visiting, Lieutenant."

"Sorry doc, it's the, uh, Spartan."

"Ahhh…friend of yours?"

"I haven't seen him in two years. I just want ten minutes."

Rosen looked over at the sleeping giant in his cot, and then shrugged. "Hell, I'll give you fifteen. Be warned, though: you agitate him and I'm kicking your ass right out of this infirmary. Deal?"

"Deal." She nodded gratefully, then made her way quietly to the chair next to David's cot. She sat down without a noise, wincing as she shifted her weight off of her left side, unsure if she should wake him. The laundry list of things she had wanted to tell him had abandoned her.

Funny how words tend to do that.

She studied his face, composed with the heaviness of sleep. Beneath the dark, coarse stubble was the aquiline features she had memorized, working side-by-side for three months those two years ago. No new scars, at least from her angle. But the dark circles under the eyes, the slight frown that creased his lips even in deep sleep- those were new.

She glanced at his hand, where it lay palm up on the cot. His fingers were long and tapered, callous set in the base of each. It occurred to her now, as it occurred to her on that long ago night when David had sat by her side, that he had beautiful hands.

She reached out and gently brushed her fingertips along the lines in his palm.

"Help you?"

She jumped, startled, and then broke into a relieved grin and laughed softly. David hadn't moved but as she looked he partially opened one eye and looked at her, his lips curling as if to smile.

She smiled back. "No, no, I just-"

(Needed to see you)

"-wanted to check in on you."

"I appreciate it." His voice was soft and dry but steady, and wonderfully calming. She felt herself relax some.

"How are you feeling?"

"Better now. You?"

She shrugged. "Not sure if I'll ever live down getting shot in the ass."

"At least you weren't the Spartan who got his ass kicked by a Helljumper for the entire world to see."

"Yeah…sorry about that…"

"Don't be. One thing though?"

"What is it?"

"My memory's a little hazy. Did you call me a 'selfish bastard'?"

Claire cocked her head at an angle, widening her eyes innocently. "I have absolutely no idea what you're referring to."

David shrugged. "Selfish bastard or not, at least my butt cheeks are intact."

She snickered, covering her mouth. He smiled, that shy half-smile that softened the rigid features of his face and made him, for an instant, almost boyish.

When she had regained her composure, she said, "I'm glad to see you."

For fucks sake, she thought, you barge into the infirmary after hours and wake him up, and THAT'S all you have to say?

"I'm glad to see you too."

Okay. Good enough.

He was smiling again. She smiled back. The two sat in a companionable silence, the kind that only comes from an old familiarity and an implicit trust between two people. It was an intimacy different than that between friends or lovers, something built upon the unspoken knowledge that he had her back and she had his, come what may. It was a soldier's bond, and she was tempted to just sit here for as long as possible and savor the uncomplicated feeling of security that came with it.

But she had come here to tell him…something, and she was beating around the proverbial bush. Not that he was helping much, sitting there smiling his heartbreakingly beautiful smile at her. She worried her hands in her lap. "So…"

"That driver in that Troop Transport? He make it?"

She shook her head.

His smile faded. "Poor kid."

She remembered the kid's smile, right before his neck exploded and showered blood on her face. "Yeah."

He turned away and she focused on examining her hands, her brutally short nails. The silence was no longer comfortable. It was more like a yawning canyon between two people. She was losing him.

She looked up in time to see him staring at his left arm. Then it suddenly occurred to her that it lay too limp at his side, like a part disconnected from the whole. "David, is your arm-?"

"Doctors say it's just a side effect of the pain medication. Should dissipate in a couple of days."

She felt her stomach lurch slightly. "I'm sorry."

"Not your fault. Occupational hazard."

Raised partly on a tonal language, Claire detected the slight rise in pitch at the end of that last sentence. She reached out to touch his shoulder. "David," She murmured softly, "what has the universe done to you?"

He looked at her. "Well it hasn't killed me. So that's a plus."

She drew her hand away, feeling foolish and almost ashamed. Here she was fretting over trying to hold onto the words she wanted this man to hear, and he might be facing the prospect of a dead limb. She felt angry at herself for feeling this way, and angry at him for making her feel this way. Reminded her of a grade school truism: "You know what FINE stands for, right? Freaked out, Insecure, Neurotic, Emotional!" Yeah, she was just FINE, alright.

But if any of that showed on her face, David didn't notice or didn't make mention of it.

Retreat. You're not doing anybody any good here.

"I should go. You need your rest."

"I've slept enough. And I'd rather you-" He stopped, cleared his throat. "I mean, if you're not busy…"

Her heart skipped a beat. "Yeah?"

She watched as he struggled to regain coherence. She wanted to hear him say it.

"…but you probably need your own rest." He finished, a little lamely.

Now the silence was just plain awkward.

"I can't sleep." She said quietly.

He grunted in response.

"Remember the night I lost my hand?"

"How can I forget?"

"You were by my side the whole night. I thought I'd return the favor."

"Have to sometime."

And just like that, the dissembling fell away.

"I'd like that, Claire."

"So would I."

He looked around. "You wanna go for a walk? The medicinal stench grates after awhile."

"Sure, if you feel up for it."

"I do." He swung his legs to the floor. He was dressed in regulation trousers and a sleeveless gray T-shirt, with white socks encasing his size twelve feet. He rolled his bad shoulder, then stood up and stretched. "I'm going for a walk, doc."

"The hell you are." Rosen put down his chart and folded his arms. "You're beaten half to hell and high on painkillers. Only place you're going is right back to bed, Spartan."

"That so?"

"Yeah, that so."

"And who's going to put me there?"

Rosen wasn't any taller than Claire, built like a bantamweight. But he stared levelly at the imposing cyborg.

So David talked to him, on the level. "Rosen, I've slept for fourteen hours, I haven't had painkillers for most of them, and if I spend another hour in here, I'm gonna tear the place apart. A walk with the Lieutenant is gonna do me the most good right now."

Rosen held his ground, then threw his hands up. "The hell with it. Anyone asks, you two pulled rank on me." He wagged his finger at the pair of them. "You keep things PG, you crazy kids you."

Claire felt herself blush slightly. "Get your mind out of the gutter, Rosen."

"Mmmmhmmmm." Rosen tossed David a makeshift sling for his arm, along with a fatigue jacket roughly his size, then settled back into his chair and resumed tapping at his holographic chart. He didn't look up as the Helljumper helped the Spartan into the sling, draped the jacket over his shoulders, then looped her arm through the crook of his good arm, and walked out of the infirmary.

[22:45 Hours]

They had met no one in the course of their meandering stroll through the cramped corridors of the ship. Strange, given that the All Under Heaven was neither the largest or roomiest frigate in the UNSC fleet. Although it had a crew complement identical to any other ship its size, it may as well have been empty save for the two of them.

They had talked sporadically as they wandered through the ship, catching up on their lives in the two years since they had last worked together. Claire told him about the fate of the Wolf's Sun, the operation with Keller that had led to her new posting. He hadn't asked any more about what happened between her and Keller.

"What became of Schaefer and Atwood?"

"Schaefer put in his papers as soon as we hit Reach. Said he'd had enough of ONI agents and me, among other things."

"He shouldn't have said that about you."

"With all due respect, Spartan-009, there's some truth to it. I just seem to be a magnet for you ONI spooks."

He grinned at that. "And Atwood?"

"Transferred. Last time I shipped out, word was he was looking for a temporary posting in the 340th CTU."

"Combat Training Unit? Makes sense. He always was a gold brick."

Claire snorted at that. "Don't be mean."

"I'm not. I thought he was a good sniper. He was just a lousy soldier."

"I believe his intention was to 'maximize the odds and minimize the risk'."

"Turning my words against me again? Cheeky girl."

She winked, stuck her tongue out at him.

"Get that out of my face."

"It's not in your face, it's in my mouth."

"Get what's in your mouth out of my face."

"Or what?"

He winked, a small flash in his eye. "I leave that to your vivid imagination."

His flirting had actually improved in the time since they'd worked together. It wasn't anything, harmless banter between soldiers. After that awkward forehead kiss back on Agricola, he'd never made any indication towards acting on the insinuation tete-a-tete they'd developed, learned to trade in the quiet moments between gunshots. If he had, she'd have nipped that in the bud, toot sweet. He was handsome, he was articulate, and he had a great body, but….huh. She struggled to remember now what her reasoning for rejecting him was.

"Claire?"

She jolted out of her reverie. "Yeah?"

"What's the first rule they teach you when under fire?"

"Oh. Run towards the source-"

"-instead of away from it-"

"-because you'll just get shot in the back if you do. Yeah, yeah, I see what you're saying about Atwood." She shook her head. "To be honest, I never understood the logic of that line. At least not when it comes to Covenant."

"Yeah, they sort of put the lie to that."

"Especially when the Grunts decide to Kamikaze."

He laughed aloud. "Oh no, you saw one?"

She grinned widely. "More like a half dozen, all at once." She told him the story: the artillery unit her platoon was slated to drop, the orange-armored Elite officer and lance of twitchy Grunts that had impeded their progress, the explosion of blood that immediately followed Corporal Hudson sending a dosage of 14.5mm lead aspirin into the Elite's scaly noggin, upon which the Grunts…

"-dropped their weapons, drew a lit plasma grenade in each claw, and bum rushed us, all in unison!" Claire felt an odd combination of absurd amusement and comedic horrors taint her laugh as she relayed the story. "Which would have been our asses, had we been indoors. On an open plain with fifty meters distance…not so much."

"Maybe they were banking on you laughing too hard to shoot straight."

"Or they just wanted to go out in style." They had reached a large window looking out into space. She unhooked her arm from his and looked out into the cold star-studded blackness. "You know, like you."

"What say?"

The words had slipped out before she could catch them. But now that they were out, she may as well follow through. "I dunno. Every time I've seen you in battle you've done something insane and suicidal."

He turned to look at her. "You think I'm insane and suicidal?"

"You're a little too comfortable flirting with death."

"I'm a soldier. A Spartan. It comes with the territory."

"Really? I had no idea Spartans were mandated to try and get themselves killed in the most idiotically heroic way possible every chance they got." Her voice rose slightly in pitch.

"Claire, don't-"

"You were trying to get yourself killed."

"Leave it alone."

"Admit it."

"Leave it-"

"Admit it."

"Leave-"

"Admit it!" She snapped.

"Alright."

She looked at him.

"I was trying to get myself killed. I've made a habit of it. Learned to enjoy it. Forgotten what it's like to try and do things any other way."

"…Why?"

David looked out the window. When he spoke again, his response was slow and painful. "I told you, back on Angelus. You were dead, and I didn't know how to cope with that. I've lost people before- family, when I was a kid; teammates, dozens now- but losing you was different." He sighed. "I guess something in me gave up. After that, every operation…it was like I was daring the Covenant to kill me. It was the closest thing I felt to happiness." He turned and smiled wearily at her. "So yeah, you're right Claire: I am a selfish bastard. Because I was trying to get myself killed in the vague and selfish belief that I might find you in the next life."

She didn't know what to say. Instead she wrapped her arms around him and rested her head on his good shoulder. "Don't ever do that again."

She felt his good hand gently stroke her hair. "I won't; I don't need to. You're here."

"Even when I'm not here."

"No promises."

She poked him in the ribs. "Try not to, then."

"Ow." He wriggled his torso. "Well, since you ask so nicely…"

He let the sentence drift off as he refocused on Claire. "Alright," he said gently.

"Thank you."

"Anytime."

They finally broke the hug. Incredibly, David looked a bit embarrassed. His cheeks were flushed; it made him look more handsome. He cleared his throat and looked out the window. She followed suit.

"David?"

"Mm."

"Are you angry?"

He inclined his head quizzically. "At what?"

She shrugged. "Me coming back from the dead. Keller. Everything."

"Why would I be angry when life suddenly makes sense again?"

She smiled at that.

The Spartan and Helljumper lapsed again into silence- comfortable silence once again- as they looked out into the great void of space. Claire gazed outwards, feeling herself sink into a mild blue funk. She was making a botch of this. All the articulate, controlled thoughts that had ran through her head, that were so readily available, had evaporated when she actually needed them.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" David motioned towards the view outside.

Out of the corner of her eye, she glanced at him. Bathed in the cold, clear starlight, his face looked deathly pale and strikingly handsome at the same time. Yet there was a weariness to him, an unhappiness that had everything to do with the hand life had dealt him in the past few years. It made her heart ache to see him in that light, because beneath the weariness, she could see the man who had been her friend and never left her side, no matter what. She had to let him know that she had never wanted to lose that.

She didn't know what she was going to do until she was already moving. By then it was too late to stop.

She stood up on tiptoe and kissed his cheek, her lips brushing the corner of his mouth. She held there for a long moment, then pulled away.

David hadn't moved.

"I'm sorry." She murmured.

"Yeah." His voice was unreadable.

They both stared out the window.

Then he moved, touching her cheek and turning her to face him as he pressed his lips to hers.