Chapter CXXXV: Stranger in a Strange Land

February 6, 2545 (UNSC Calendar)/one month later

Anchor-2, in orbit above Reach, Epsilon Eridani System

"Ever read that book? About the man that returns home after decades of being away, fighting a war or something. Yeah, I always felt like a stranger when i returned, I just never felt like a fucking alien."

Ok, maybe I should've just written it off as me being on Reach as opposed to Anchor-2, but I decided to start this here, so I guess you'll have to deal with it.

The station, being one of the Anchor-class stations, was abuzz with activity. The moment I was kicked out of the transport ship I found myself surrounded by techs and repair crews all moving around like ants. Mostly they were refitting some ships that had just arrived from patrolling other systems or fixing a few of the ones that had survived the Covenant. On the massive hangar bay I could see Longsword fighters and other smaller craft being worked on for maintenance. The crews didn't seem to pay us any mind, they probably just thought of us as a nuisance that could be tolerated. A few of them elbowed their way past me as I went through, but most just kept a berth and ignored me. It probably didn't help that I was wearing standard marine fatigues, my all blacks had been lost with the Inconvenience.

I really didn't have much to do while waiting to be cleared to fly down to Reach. I confirmed that my armor and whatever was left of my weapons was packed inside one of the cargo freighters and that it would be shipped to the mailroom in the Bonaparte Marine Base in New Alexandria. I hated the idea of going down there to get my things, but it was technically the base that I was assigned to. Once that little matter was cleared up I was finally allowed to hop onto one of the Pelicans that would fly me down to the planet.

New Alexandria Naval Base was the official name, but it had originally been named after Jaime Batista, a renowned officer during the Rainforest Wars. He was a renowned tactician and a father to all those that served under him. I wonder what he would think of somebody deciding to change the name of the biggest thing dedicated to his memory for the sake of simplicity.

Probably as pissed as I felt trying to figure out why the hell no one had come to pick me up.

I mean, they were supposed to know when I got here, I had sent several messages to Pavel and the rest of the squad. Some of them had even bothered with a reply. I know that I'm not exactly a shining example of punctuality, but I can tell you right now that I never would've left Pavel hanging if he returned form a six-month stint with a shrink. The three-day nirvana with that one particular waitress called Katie Ayers didn't count. It was a secret that I would rather keep to myself for the time being. Already I was doing a marvelous job at forgetting all about it and burying it in the deepest, darkest recesses of my mind. I'm not even kidding, the only thing balancing out my anger was my giddiness and excitedness about seeing Hanna again.

Man, I should've been one of those guys that can get many wives. That would solve so many problems.

"Or an open relationship," Schitzo suggested. "But then again, we weren't really the kind to give. More of a taker. As in give and take."

"He gets it," Scarecrow sighed. "And what's that about 'we'?"

Shut up, both of you.

The two of them disappeared when I turned my head to look at an approaching troop transport Warthog. The massive polycrete surface that served as multiple hangars and runways extended in every direction, but this 'Hog in particular came from the direction opposite New Alexandria. That in itself was unusual enough, but a statuesque beauty with dark hair and perfect makeup stepping down from the wheel was the cherry on top. I was now officially confused.

Wait…I paused and examined the woman in uniform. She was wearing the so-called informal dress version. "Camilla?"

"Good to see you Frank," she replied with a warm smile. "The beard suits you."

I stroked the hair covering my cheeks and smiled. "Thanks. Your hair…"

"Long story. I'll tell you on the way. Oh, and I was kidding about the beard."

"On the way to where?"

"Bonaparte Marine Base."

I raised my eyebrow inquisitively. "Why exactly would be going there?"

"Your things," she explained, hopping back on the driver's seat. "And I work there now."

"You what?" I asked. "Why?"

She raised her right arm. Well, it wasn't exactly hers, but you got my meaning. It looked exactly how you'd expect a regular arm to look like. It had the texture and the shape exactly right. That's where similarities ended. Instead of being the same color as Grass' skin, it was carbon black with a hexagonal pattern. There were no nails on the hand either. "It's hard enough to get back into service when you're missing an entire limb," Cam told me, speeding up and driving away from my previous position, "it's even harder to join when someone doesn't want you to."

"What happened?"

"Well, as you know," she started, her eyes straight ahead. "I am what you would call…well, my appearance is…I don't know hot to say it, but-"

"Yes Cam, you're freaking gorgeous, we all know that."

I could swear that I saw her blushing, but she hadn't done that for a while. No Helljumper did after a couple of years. "Yeah, well, my looks got me a job."

"Really?" I asked her. "What job?"

"For starters, I got promoted."

"What?!" I exclaimed. "Congratulations Corporal!"

"It's sergeant, actually. They said it sounded more professional."

"More professional?"

She sighed. "I'm supposedly a liaison now, whatever the hell that means. I'm supposed to be an aide and inform the upper ups on how we grunts would react to certain new rules and changes."

"Ok, that sounds like a smart idea," I conceded.

"Well, that, and I'm going to be a spokesperson."

I laughed. "Damn, I wouldn't be surprised if they asked you to do photo shoots for the Corps magazine."

"There isn't a Corps magazine, Frank," Camilla told me, chuckling.

"I know, Sergeant," I told her. "Just messing around."

As she took a turn leading into the highway that ran through New Alexandria I switched topics and asked her a different question. "Where's Pavel?"

"Some things happened while you were gone Frank," Cam said. "He's not dead," she quickly added.

"Then?"

"He just came back from deployment, he's spending time with his family."

I huffed. "You know, I kind of expected for you guys to just stay here for a while until I returned."

"Not everything turns around you Frank," she said firmly.

"Yeah, sometimes it seems like it."

She looked at me quizzically. "I don't know whether you're flattering yourself or your six months with the shrink weren't enough."

"I don't know," I shrugged, scratching my beard. "Maybe both. Angel?"

Camilla sighed and shook her head. "He was given an honorable discharge. He had been talking about leaving the Corps."
"He never told me," I said.

"He thought you'd disapprove," she informed me. "But he did want to leave the military, talked about the usual stuff, family and kids."
I laughed. "Somehow that doesn't seem like him."

"That's what I said," she agreed. "Well, he got discharged and then…well, he disappeared."

"You haven't heard of him?"

"It's not that," she said. "It's just that he's gone. His previous name is still there, but I think that he might've made himself a new identity."

"Put those skills to use. Why?"

"Beats me, probably didn't want to go back in the Corps."

"Damn," I cursed. "Think we could track him?"

"With a couple of AIs analyzing every single image from city superintendent cameras. Potentially we could, but for all I know he could be on Earth right now."

"Maybe later we'll find him," I said, knowing that it probably wasn't going to happen, at least not soon.

"Maybe…"

"His injuries?"

"That's probably what drove him to run away," Camilla said simply. "His whole torso was a bloody mess. I didn't see anything 'cause I was unconscious. You know, losing my arm and all that."

"I sort of understand," I smiled, patting my own fake ribs. "I think."

"Well, Robbie said that it looked like a bloody hamburger. They didn't know if he was going to make it."

"Well, I'm glad that he did." I looked outside of the Warthog and examined the buildings flashing by. "So, Pavel is getting funky with his wife and Angel is probably in a hacker cave doing odd jobs for criminals. Could be worse."

"That's true," Cam agreed. She opened her mouth to say something and then looked straight ahead, overtaking a sports car.

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing."

"What?" I pressed.

"Nothing!" she snapped.

I raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Is there a problem Grass?"

"You missed the funerals Frank," she finally said. "All of them."

I looked at her, but Camilla still kept her eyes focused on the road. "Do you think I didn't want to be there?" When she didn't reply I pressed her. "Honestly, do you really think that? Because if you believe for a second that I didn't want to be here I'll get myself another ride right now."
She groaned. "You know I didn't mean it like that." Camilla sighed as she turned to enter a tunnel. "Everyone was there, everyone but you. So few of us made it out alive Frank, it was hard that you weren't here."

"I didn't have a choice," I reminded her. "I'm not that in there, remember."

"Yeah, I remember."

I waited until we left the tunnel to talk again. "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine."

"Come on," I pressed. "Yev was my friend too."

"I don't want to talk about it," she snapped. "I'm just fine."

"Where's he buried?" I asked her after a few seconds.

"You mean where there's a tombstone with his name."

I rolled my eyes and suppressed a smile. It wasn't a mean smile, it was just that I thought Yevgeny would find that attitude slightly amusing. "Yes, that's what I mean."

"He's here in Reach," she revealed. "Buried in the New Alexandria Armed Forces Cemetery, same as everybody else."

"Want to swing by for a visit?" I asked. "Let me rephrase that. Do you want to join me for a visit?"

There was an uncomfortably long moment of silence that was only interrupted by the occasional whooshing sound that was made whenever cars flew in the other way. After waiting for an answer for lone enough I decided that I wasn't going to get one and slouched down on my seat, kicking my feet up on the dashboard and allowing myself to relax. If I was lucky I might just get to doze off for a few minutes and rest up. I didn't look forward to stepping inside the Bonaparte Marine Base again, but I guess that it was unavoidable.

"We're here," I heard.

"Mhm," I grumbled in reply, pulling myself up on the seat and opening my eyes very slowly. I glanced around and tried to get used to the abrupt change in lighting. The entrance to the base was the same as always, a couple of visiting civilians were walking in and out while a few uniforms returning home for a late lunch or an early dinner made their way to their cars. Some were smoking outside, talking to each other and laughing.

"You know, I never did ask about the dye job," I said suddenly, referring to Camilla's new hair color. "Looks good on you, but it's not quite…Grass."

"My new boss told me to," she replied simply, hopping of the huge vehicle and dusting herself off. "Apparently there's still some prejudice against blondes."
I smiled. "Two blondes are locked out of a car," I started.

"Can it Frank," she interrupted.

"That's Gunnery Sergeant for you," I said playfully. "Still, I liked the blonde hair better, but then again, I always did have a thing for blonde girls."

"That explains Marina and Hanna."

I stiffed a little bit at the mention of my girlfriend (was she still my girlfriend?) but otherwise remained stoic. I didn't say anything and just walked inside the building with Camilla. An enlisted man looked up from a large desk that acted as a reception desk and smiled broadly at the sight of the gorgeous woman that Camilla was. His smile wavered when he saw me in tow, but it didn't disappear.

"Sergeant Seppa, good to see you again!"

"Likewise Private," Cam replied, returning the smile. "Gunnery Sergeant Castillo here had his luggage shipped here. It was slated to arrive…"

"An hour ago," I replied. "Give or take a few minutes."

"Um sure," the private said, mumbling something to himself as he tapped on a terminal. "I'll have some knuckle-draggers bring your things. It says here that you are slated for reassignment."

I sighed. "Wonder why?"

Camilla just glared at me and shook her head disapprovingly. She was probably right in doing that.

The private shook his head, not at me, but to himself. "Um, Major Cavallaro has been waiting for you. Damn."

"Damn indeed," Schitzo said. "Thinking that it's time to tell him about me?"

I sighed. "Where is he? Still in the same office?"

"I wouldn't know. Is it-"

"Never mind," I interrupted. "Cam, you'll stay here?"

"That was always my role, staying behind and babysitting?"

"Excuse me?" the private asked.

"That was once," I told her. "And you got as much action as the rest of us."

"Ok, I'm slightly confused now," the man said to himself.

I sighed for what must've been the hundredth time in the past hour and then walked towards one of the elevators. It was going to be a complicated trip. Take an elevator to one of the underground floors, then travel to the ONI section by foot and then go to a super ultra top secret elevator again.

Or not.

"Gunnery Sergeant Castillo," a voice on the speaker said. It was clearly an AI.

"Yeah?"

"Major Cavallaro is waiting for you in one of the conference rooms, if you'll follow me to the second floor."

"Sure thing," I replied in a fake cheery tone, annoyed that the AI had asked me to follow it without displaying its hologram.

The elevator doors dinged open. "Over here." I followed the voice until a corner.

"Marco?" I asked. "Marco?"

"Polo. Sorry, this way."

After humoring the ridiculously stupid fucktard of an AI for an equally ridiculously long amount of time I came to a door.

"We've arrived Gunny."

"Thanks Marco, now I can tell my kids all about this. You fuck."

"My pleasure."

I steeled myself and opened the door. It looked like a typical business meeting room. A large table that would fit about a dozen and a fancy holographic displayer in the middle. It was currently displaying images of Reach's most beautiful landscapes. Major Cavallaro was seating on the head of the table, opposite me. He was examining a datapad and looking like a spook.

"Sir," I saluted lazily.

"Frank," he greeted without looking up. "Sit down."

"I'd rather not."

"Suits me fine," he shrugged, still not taking his eyes of his datapad. "You've been reassigned, obviously. That little business with the Inconvenience. Nasty stuff. Well, nothing we can do about it. Your transfer has already been handled. Papers are in front of you."
I grabbed a manila envelope and looked at it. It had my name, rank, and number on it. I tucked it under my elbow and looked at the man again.

"I took the time to get you together with your old squad, what's left of it," he informed me. "They've already worked with your new unit and can get you up to speed. You have any questions?"

"Yes, one."

"Well?"

"What the fuck did you put inside me?"

Cavallaro looked up from his datapad and gave me a long, hard look that only served to annoy me further. "Your facial hair is past regulation," he said simply. "So is your regular hair. You ought to trim it down, your new CO isn't as lenient as Brooks. Neither is your ship's captain."

"Answer the question," I said.

"I'm afraid that I can't."

I smiled, very sarcastically I might add. "You're afraid you can't?" I asked him, walking towards him and placing the folder on the table. "You're not afraid Major. You're just a fucking dick!"

"Now there," he started calmly.

"You're afraid!" I yelled. "You're fucking afraid? No you're not. You see, I can make you afraid."

"I'm in a good mood today," Cavallaro said calmly. "Which is why I will ignore that threat."

I lost it, I am ashamed to say. My hands seemed to grow a mind of their own and reached for the spook's lapels. I dragged him up from his chair and slammed him against the wall. I don't know how I could do it so easily. I guess that I always suspected that his little pet project was what got me stuck with Schitzo. His back banged against the polycrete walls and he grunted in pain.

"You're in no position to ignore my threats," I growled. "I want you to tell me just exactly what you did to me and how to fix it."

Cavallaro sighed. It was such a calm sigh when compared to my own angry demeanor. Guess how that made me feel. Major Cavallaro looked at me and lightly pushed me away. "Listen Castillo, some things you are better off knowing. And I'd advise you to get your hands off me, a group of MPs will arrest you."

"You're head will be mush by the time they open the door."

"I take it you really want to know then?"

"You fucking broke me," I growled, finally saying it out loud. "You've made my life harder."

"Ok, first of all, I didn't exactly create what you are," he said. "In this situation I'm just a grunt. You're not my project, that was a lie. I'm just your…handler."

I released him and stepped back a little bit. "Answer my question."

"Fine. I take it you have heard about the Spartan program. Never mind, of course you have. Well, Spartans are incredibly expensive to make, that's the main reason why made the Threes, they're good, but they're cheaper and, in turn, expendable." He paused. "This is going to take a while."

"I'm in no rush."

He shrugged. "Well, the Threes certain augmentations, meds, that allowed them to be better than your peak human. The weakest Three could run laps around the strongest average human. But not you. You, Gunny, you were given a gift. A gift that you don't seem to appreciate very much. You can run faster, think quicker, jump higher, aim better, and take more punishment. And yet you still complain."

"I complain because I see fucking hallucinations all day long."

"But you are functional? Is it not a good trade?" He waited for a reply but I had none. "Your gift has saved you and your friends countless times. To you it seems normal, perhaps like you're exceptionally lucky or just very talented, but to everyone else you're a larger than life figure. I'm not just saying this, I'm not one to compliment people, but I'm not one to lie either."

That was definitely a lie.

"You already know the basics, but I'm going to give you the details that you seem to want so much. Do you ever seem to see things moving in slow motion?"

"Yes," I admitted. It only happened during moments of extreme danger.

"Well, that's drug number one. 87556-UD58. It's not as effective as the one that we gave the Threes or the Twos, but it increases your reaction time by about seventy percent. Impressive, isn't it?"

"Go on," I said.

"You also got yourself 88005-MX74. It's pretty much the same muscle enhancing drug that they gave you straight out of bootcamp but up to the eleventh power. Still, not nearly as powerful as the one the Spartans got, but it allows you for heavier lifting and to have more powerful muscles with less mass." He smiled almost cockily at my expression. "Then we gave you a carbide ceramic ossification catalyst. A bone enhancer. It makes your bones stronger and harder to break."

I scoffed at that. My little tour in Asilon had disproved that drug's capabilities. Shattered collarbone, minor ankle fracture, broken wrist. Not to mention six snapped ribs and many additional fractures that I couldn't even begin to remember. "Sounds like you dropped the ball on that one."

"It makes your bones harder to break, not unbreakable."

"That it?"

"No, we gave you one more, a highly experimental one. 009761-AA. An aggression enhancer. It also seems to have side effects that allow you to have more strength, endurance, and tolerance to pain. That is probably the only reason why you're alive. That and that alone, none of your other enhancements matter. The 009761 is your lord and savior."

"But it also gave me a mental disorder."

Cavallaro nodded. "Yes, an unforeseen side effect. It was slated to be used on the next Spartan-III generation, but results from you and other subjects have eliminated that possibility."

"So you made me a freak for nothing," I concluded.

"Call yourself what you want. You're still alive and you've got ONI to thank for that. Yes, you're not exactly sane, but you're alive and I'm willing to bet that this war is not going to kill you."

I stepped back. "Will it get worse?"

"Yes," he replied immediately. "But new advances will be made, a way to counter the drug's effects will be found. If you're lucky we might just make it in time."

"Hear that?" Schitzo asked me. "We're going to be together for a long time."

"I'm sorry Francisco," he told me. He almost sounded genuine. "This is not a problem that can easily go away. For now, the only thing that I can recommend is to take your pills and take advantage of your augmentations. You're fighting the good fight."

I scoffed at that.

"Fine, you're fighting for the survival of humanity as a whole," he amended himself. "Will you stop doing that just cause you're pissed at me? At ONI?"

"I'm not fighting for humanity."

"Fine, fighting for yourself. In any case you should keep on fighting, it's a good thing and it's the only thing you're doing."

"I fight because I chose to," I told him, even though the statement wasn't really related to the argument.

"Fine, good for you. The time may come when you're going to have to fight whether you like it or not."

I took in everything that he had said and considered the implications. I didn't think that he had lied to me in any way, perhaps he kept some of the truth from me, but he answered all my questions. Major Cavallaro sidestepped and picked up his datapad from the floor and placed it on the table before looking towards me and waited.

"What am I?"

"You're a warrior."

I turned to face him. "What am I?"

Cavallaro lost his cool façade for a moment and tugged at his collar before he could compose himself again. He looked at me long and hard before talking. "You, my friend, are the very first Spartan-IV. The final product will be…better, but you are still a very promising prototype."
How he could talk straight to my face as if I was only a piece of equipment angered me, but then I understood it. I was only a piece of equipment. I wasn't a regular jarhead, I was a very expensive ONI toy. I was no better than those freaks with the green armor or those Spartan III kids playing at being soldiers. I was one of them. I was just another freak.

I turned back towards the door and grabbed my envelope on my way out. "Why are my papers sealed?"

"I have a penchant for the dramatic," he admitted.

I shrugged and walked out of the door, Schitzo walking next to me and saying nothing. It was a very depressing walk. Going back and realizing that I wasn't the human that I always thought I was made me feel terrible. I can't really emphasize just how bad I felt. It's as if I had lived as a man my whole life only to be told that I underwent a sex change operation as an infant. Well, maybe that's a little bit drastic, but it's related. To top it all off, I was batshit insane, seeing hallucinations and shit.

"Something wrong?" Camilla asked when I returned to the reception desk. "You look pale."

"Nothing." I took a deep breath and did my best to look suitable annoyed. "It's just that Cavallaro really fucking pushes my buttons sometimes."

Camilla looked at me quizzically but otherwise said nothing about it. "Your stuff is already on the 'Hog."

"Then what are we still doing here?" I asked her, eyeing my surroundings with newfound hatred. "Let's leave."

"Fine, fine," she groaned, annoyed. "I'll see you later, Private."

"Likewise Sergeant Seppa," the man replied eagerly.

I made a point of staring at Camilla on the way to the vehicle. It got so annoying for her that she almost exploded when she turned to face me. "What?"

"You like that private?"

"No."

"Then you shouldn't lead him on."

"I'm not."

"Are too!" I yelled in a fake childish voice.

"Ok, I'm most definitively not going to get dragged into one of those," Cam told me, sounding as annoyed as I felt.

Don't get me wrong, I was trying to forget all about the meeting just so I could drown it with booze later. Hanna wasn't going to be happy. I snapped back form my internal musings and just shrugged as I hopped on the car and motioned for Cam to start it. We drove in silence for the most part, only stopping once on our trip to the cemetery. Camilla parked outside of a flower shop and emerged with a dozen flowers I didn't really know the type, but they weren't roses or lilies. They were just beautiful, the way flowers should be.

"Gay!" Schitzo booed. I almost smiled.

The road towards the Armed Forces Cemetery was transited by quite a few people. The place was so large that you had to drive inside of it and reach a certain section before getting off. That's not all if though, there were several checkpoints in between gates and we had to show our ID to the security guards. It was depressing, seeing rows upon rows of white tombstones for half an hour before finally arriving. Cam jumped off the 'Hog with the flowers under her prosthetic arm and walked towards the shiniest white headstones. They were all a perfect white, carved out of marble and inscribed with the name, rank, and number of the marine resting under it. Each headstone also had a small phrase that suited the dead marine or a particularly memorable one that had been said by that person. It reminded me of my high school yearbook.

I clearly remembered myself smiling at the camera.

"Just because you don't have many friends doesn't mean you're not cool."

They should've written down that I didn't actually have any friends whatsoever. Even if I did manage to lose my foreign kid that is creepy cause he lost his parents reputation in the eyes of the others, I never lost it in my own eyes. Wow, I sound all emo now and it still annoys me even though I have an excuse.

"There," Cam pointed. "All of those."

I immediately felt depressed again. While the grass had grown and covered the recently dug graves, one could still tell that they were fresh. The whiteness of the marble was a stark contrast to the weather-beaten headstones next to them. I walked after Cam and then gave her some space as she stood in front of Yev's final resting place. I walked around, examining the names, occasionally recognizing one and straining to remember the face of the person without the need to activate their holographic pictures. I failed more often than I succeeded, and often I didn't even remember the person after seeing their faces.

It was sad, seeing every single one of the men and women that had fought alongside me staring defiantly at the camera, occasionally a small smile on their lips, but more often than not they'd have a serious expression. What they all did have though, was a look of pride in their eyes. Pride in themselves. I couldn't help but wonder if they had died proud men.

After a while I stopped.

"Here lies…" I started, choking on my own words and looking away.

"Here lies Second Lieutenant Emily Hardwick," Schitzo enunciated. "UNSC Marine Corps. Born 2517, died 2544." He paused briefly and chuckled a little bit before reading the next part. "Her Hornet never seemed to run out of rockets." Schitzo once again said nothing for a few moments, instead taking a step forward and standing by my side. "Tough blow, man."

"You'll get over it," Scarecrow said. "You'll be fine."

"But she won't," I said quietly, looking at the headstone and reading over the inscription several times. I stood there for a while before I clicked the button that projected a hologram of Emily. Unlike so many other people, she was smiling on hers, a cocky smile that she seemed to carry around all the time, especially right after she had saved your ass or provided exceptionally good air support. For all the good things that she had done, she would be remembered.

"And who will remember you, Francisco?" Schitzo asked. "Pavel. Your squad won't forget you either, but who will remember you?"

I wanted to say something, to hit him in the face, but instead I just walked over to the next gravestone. And the next one, and the next one. I stopped on Zekalwe's and stood there for a little while, trying to remember all the little chats that we had in the hangar of the Inconvenience. He was a good friend, always smiling and good-natured. Only now did it hurt that I didn't get to know him more. I stopped again on Captain Brooks' little plot. There were fresh flowers next to the white marble, hopefully from his daughter. He was one of the best strategists that I ever had the pleasure of meeting. He was also a great man. His hologram looked every bit as serious as he usually did. Even then he seemed to carry himself with a barely perceptible air of superiority and self-confidence. I stomped lightly on the grass underneath me. Wondering what the Captain would think of me for visiting him.

"Nothing too bad, I hope," I muttered as I moved on.

I shook my head sadly at Captain Salas', Major Hernandez, and Lieutenant Chloe Delacroix's respective tombs. They were as good as they came and it didn't help them one bit. Marines and soldiers were supposed to fight the good fight on the ground, killing aliens with good-old-fashioned guns. What could they even hope to do against a Covenant capital ship when they were trapped inside what was essentially a huge metal coffin? Well, it wasn't necessarily an impregnable metal coffin, a few people had made it out. Lieutenant Krikor Darbinian had, stealing one of our pods and jumping himself towards outer space before activating his emergency transponder. It had been a small miracle that he had been found, but I still thought he was a condescending dick.

I stopped on a few of the Rangers' final resting places. By the time I was done with all of the graves I returned to the one Camilla was standing in front of. First Lieutenant Yevgeny Domitrovich Nezarian. Cam was crying, not the shaking and sniffling kind of crying, the one where you just stand and stare at something with tears flowing down your face. I put a hand on her shoulder and stood next to her. I had had six months to get over the fact that my second best friend was dead. The moment I touched Cam she started sniffling and sobbing. I pulled her towards me and tried to keep myself from crying.

After five minutes she had decided that there had been enough time for mourning and walked away without saying a word. I stood there for a few more minutes, pulling up the collar of my coat. I tried very hard, but all I could see when I thought of Yevgeny was his scared face and his bleeding neck. He was one of the bravest soldiers I had ever met. He didn't deserve to die like that. He was one of the greatest men that I had ever met. He didn't deserve to die. None of them did.

"Goodbye, my friend," I said, tapping the gravestone and walking back towards the 'Hog, my chin tucked to my chest.

February 8, 2545 (UNSC Calendar)/

Esztergom (Ezhtergom), Viery Territory, Reach, Epsilon Eridani System

The Grenadier was empty except for me. That in itself wasn't very surprising, it was still pretty early, but not even Murphy, Shaw, and Driscoll were here. Only Captain Montgomery. Hell, even Lys had taken the day off. It suited me just fine. I was meeting with Pavel for the first time in almost seven months and I was pretty damn happy about it. I was slightly early, which was something that I never ever did unless it was by accident.

The door creaked open and Pavel walked inside.

"Pavel!" I cheered loudly, lifting my tankard and gesturing for him to sit down. He grinned back and proceeded to do so. "How have you been?" I asked.

"Well, I guess," he replied. "Like your beard."

"Thanks," I smiled, running my hand along the light brown fuzzy hair and extending my neck to the sides theatrically. "I'm quite proud of it."

"You get beards all the time," Pavel sighed.

"Well, this one's special."

Pavel suddenly grimaced. "Why?"

"I was only joking," I told him. It was quite obvious that he had thought I grew the beard in account of my lost comrades. People often stopped caring about their appearance after traumatic events, men grew beards, women grew…well, hair on their armpits. "I like how it looks."

"Good," he huffed. "Snark stopped shaving and grew a fuzzy mustache. I thought Indians were supposed to be able to grow nice beards."
I shrugged and took a healthy swig from my drink. "He ok?"

"Shocked still, but all of us are."

I nodded slowly, carefully. "How's Rob?"

"Angry. Very angry."

"I can relate to that."

"So can I, but it's weird. He was an angry person before…well, let's just say that he'll explode for the slightest thing. The new guys understand, but they're a bit iffed by it. He'll get over it."

"I hope so." I wouldn't want Rob becoming a bitter man. Well, bitterer. "And Caboose?"

Pavel smiled. "Caboose is-"

"Caboose," I finished. "So, let me hear about these new guys."

"Not much to tell really, I mean, they're interesting and overall good guys, but you'll get to know them."

"Good soldiers?"

"Don't you mean Marines?" Pavel teased.

"Warriors."

"I like that," he said while nodding thoughtfully. "Yes, at any rate. All of them are the jack-of-all-trades kind. Well, sure there are some specializations, but not to the extreme of Lamberti only knowing how to handle a squad support weapon."

"Knife guys?" I asked.

"Not that I could tell."

"Good, at least I'll have my thing."
Pavel let his face fall to his hands and used them to muffle some screaming. Very theatrical, really. "You'll always stand out, you pretentious asshole."

"At least it's not because I'm an asshole," I shrugged, dismissing his annoyance. "Have you heard about any of the other guys?"

"Most took the retirement," Pavel told me. "Then again, most of them are scarred for life. Ourselves included."

Images of the dead crew and complement of the Inconvenience filled my head. "That we are," I agreed. "Claire?"

"Specialist Winchester? Damn, she took it especially hard. She tried to kill herself the second week she was here."

"What?!" I shouted, standing up from my stool. "Why the fuck didn't anybody tell me?!"

Pavel extended his arms and motioned for me to calm down. "Peace friend, peace." He waited for me to sit back down before he explained. "All her friends died. Literally, all of them. She got survivor's guilt or something and tried to end her life."

I waited a second before asking the question. "How?"

"A length of rope," he said simply. "Marina walked in on her. Don't ask me how or why."

"Well, I'm glad she did."

"Marina's a rock, I think that out of all of us she's the one with the least damage."

"Even after Shep?"

"Even after Shep," he confirmed.

I chugged what was left of my beer and burped loudly before rubbing the back of my neck. "Hanna?"

"I was wondering when you'd ask me that…Well, the answer to that question is a simple one."

"Please, by all means keep me waiting."

"Don't tempt me."

I growled quietly. "Don't tempt me."

"Fine," he ceded. "It's good news."

I felt torn between happiness and frustration for a second, but then the happiness completely overwhelmed the frustration and I felt the best I had since I left Paris IV. I just felt happy that it was good news. "Go on," I pressed him, sounding giddy and childish and not even caring.

"She was pretty beat up over what happened," he started.

"How is that good news?" I exclaimed.

"Let me talk," he said, doing his best annoyed expression. "Well, I don't think that I should be the one to tell you, but she still loves you."

I sighed with relief and leaned back on my chair. "Good. Do you know why she never answered my messages?"

"She should be able to tell you."

"Where is she?"

"Probably her house."

"Should I do an impromptu visit?"

"Only if you have flowers with you," Pavel smiled.

I stood up with a grin and slid my credit card over the bar before walking out the door, Pavel wishing me good luck. I hopped on the first cab that I saw and went all the way to Hanna's apartment, only stopping to get a dozen roses. I climbed all the way to Hanna's floor and then rang the doorbell. I did my best to smile at the small camera above the door and made sure that the flowers were in sight of it. A few seconds after I rang I heard footsteps on the other side of the door and a moment later it was opened.

Hanna looked tired. She looked beautiful as well, she always did. Her blonde hair was longer than I remembered, but her lovely brown eyes were just as lovely as they had always been. She seemed confused and had her mouth open and gaping.

"Frank," she said.

"I missed you."

I hugged her and walked inside the room. You know, in retrospect, I think that it was rude to not even think about Katie when seeing Hanna. The only problem is that I still don't know who it's insulting to.

Thanks to Alshep and SilasWhitfield for proof-reading this chapter.

Well, the two of them are alive, that's good. So are Claire and Marina, but you already knew that. It's curious how the only survivors happened to be close to Frank and his squad. I wonder why...

Ok, there's really not much to say except that I'm sorry if the scene where Frank get all pissed at Cavallaro was completely unrealistic. In real life Frank would've been automatically discharged and would've lost payments and benefits. Here, he is a special case because he's to damn important, and Cavallaro and his superiors aren't willing to risk such a valuable asset.

When I say valuable asset I mean it as a way to test results, not in the way that Spartans are assets.

Hanna's still there and Frank hasn't even begun to experience guilt for what he did. Sucks for him, I'll make him pay for it, but all in due time.

Don't forget to review, your feedback helps me make this story better and better. Also, the higher the number of reviews the better I feel about myself, inspiring me to write more for my own selfish reasons.

Stay strong.

-casquis