Welcome back to another chapter of Burning Cold! Thanks so much for being here once again. And once again thanks to BrambleStar14 and Minaethiel's unparalleled beta reading.
Violent Ends
Written by TunelessLyric and BrambleStar14
I'm out on the edge and I'm screaming my name
Like a fool at the top of my lungs
Sometimes when I close my eyes I pretend I'm alright
But it's never enough
-Jason Walker, 'Echo'
The sun fell across the autosurgeon, bathing it in soft orange light. Hannah leaned in the doorway, holding her breath as she took in the entire scene. The blond was a statue, head bowed as one hand rested on the machine's lid as if he had some power over the procedure.
They had stumbled in, a sea of glazed eyes and fraying nerves, everyone making the trek to the infirmary even though they were all exhausted, scraped and bruised. She didn't know where the rest of the team had gone. It had been a struggle to choke something down in the mess hall and shower, but then again it was impossible to sit in the break room and stare at the wall.
She had braced herself to see Harper here. Expected it. But actually seeing him chewed through her stomach. There was no way she could go in and wait for Shaw's surgery to finish. To sit with him until he woke up the way Mike had for her. The way Harper had with her. It didn't matter how much she wanted to go in, she didn't know how Shaw would react.
Not like Harper would leave his side or let her be there.
With one final look at the sleek white machine, she turned to leave, uncaring if Harper heard her. Not like he hadn't noticed her getting to Shaw first at the dig site. Kind of hard to miss the fully-armoured woman he threw roughly aside so he could take her place.
When Harper rather abruptly spoke, his voice was muffled enough for her to tell that he hadn't turned to face her, that his eyes were locked onto Hunter's immobile body. As they had been for hours. The tension in his frame was mirrored in his voice.
"Leaving, Blizzard? If we'd placed bets, I would have said you'd have lasted longer." There wasn't any of the usual joy she had gotten accustomed to, the fierceness that snarled defiance at the rest of the world. He sounded empty.
"Didn't seem like you wanted me around before," she answered in a similar tone. "Didn't see why that would have changed now."
Looking back around, one hand drifted to her pocket. Her thumb rubbed against the cool, smooth surface of the die pin as she gave it a mental roll. She wanted to stay. Wanted to leave. It would be easier to just go and never have to talk to Harper about whatever the hell had happened when he pushed her away. It was something she and White would have gone over carefully and calmly, but she couldn't quite see the two COs bonding over sandwiches at a park.
The lieutenant took a while to respond. She couldn't tell if he was weighing his words up or he'd gotten distracted again just by looking at the man in the autosurgeon, as he so often did when Shaw was awake.
"Don't care that you're around. You're a Phoenix. One of us. You're going to be around." There was an inflection on the last few words that they could both read.
Doesn't mean I have to like it when you're always around.
"Yeah, well, you recruited me."
"The worst part about recruiting you is that after seeing you, I can't say it was a mistake. You're a Phoenix at heart. Took to it well, eventually."
It sounded like the admission cost something. They'd rarely talked, just the two of them. She was used to the other Phoenixes, the ones that could at least mask their own problems or lack of social skills.
She felt unsteady. Unsure what either of them were winding up for. Hannah looked at Harper and the casual way he dismissed her presence when there was Shaw to attend to. She hesitated before saying, "You got there first at the club and I let you go. I got there first today and you shoulder-checked me to the ground."
"Wasn't intentional. Would have done the same to Lucas. Or Mike. Or... you get the point."
"So less of a personal problem with me than one with you," she answered, nodding slowly as if that explained everything. Walking into the infirmary proper, despite misgivings, there was suddenly much less distance between them. Between her and the autosurgeon.
There was an attempt at a laugh. It sounded instead like an empty choke. He still didn't look at her. Still didn't tear his eyes off the unconscious soldier in the machine. "If you've just figured out I've got problems, you've been spending too much time wallowing around in the little pity parties you've been throwing."
She scoffed at that. "Right, the pity parties where Lucas told me about his suicide attempt or the nights Aaron and I have the gym to ourselves until we can barely stand. Those ones that I'm wrapped up in." Another knowing nod as her arms crossed. "The ones the commanding officer of a team is supposed to involve himself in."
"Oh, were you expecting something like your old unit?" He didn't sound offended. "We've all got our demons, Blizzard. I've been there with them. I'm not there with them every night. I'm not going to hold their hand. I'm not White."
Anger, icy cold, surged up. Hannah forced herself to drop into a chair across the ward as her hands fisted. "No, I never thought you would be anything like him. I know enough about you. I've heard enough stories. But this?" Her chin jerked at the machine working over Shaw. "That's just weird, Harper. Your fascination. The way you hold his hand."
If it was at all possible, Harper's voice held the same iciness that she found so easy to use. "You going to start pointing fingers at Aaron and Geist next? I'm not the only one. Inter-team… it's not so rare." He seemed unwilling to place labels onto any of it, before his voice came back, amusement forced into it. "Maybe in your case, though."
"Oh, you thought that's what I meant. Cute," said Hannah, swinging her feet in an attempt to calm herself. "I meant the savage killer who may or may not eat people in his spare time. The grand URF lieutenant who trusts his men to figure their own shit out without 'wallowing' who won't let his boyfriend have a moment alone."
"He's not-!" Harper cut himself off, the fury leaking into his words suddenly absent again, taking a moment and refusing to chase the rise that she'd drawn from him. His shoulders were rather tense, the hand not on the glass of Shaw's cradle curled into a fist at his side. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? I saw you at the club, watching him. Wanting him. You had your chance. Your opportunity."
She didn't know what to say. He was right. She'd had her chance and left Shaw hanging.
Harper let out a long exhale. "You cut him loose, Blizzard. Cut all of it loose. You don't get to cling on to what you had before. You made that clear to him."
"Did he cut me loose, Harper? All the quick looks, the times he almost asks me questions when everyone's joking and playing around? If you've seen me, you must have seen him, too. There's something still there and I didn't know it was at first," she said in a rush, grabbing onto that rage he let slip out and burying it in the familiar frigid chill.
It had made more sense then and she hated that. Regretted it so much every time she looked back. She'd been stupid not to understand the cold front Shaw used because he thought it was protecting them both. She was an expert in that.
"Did it feel good? Telling the rest of the team about Errera, sharing that private night. The what-could-have-beens?" His expression was impossible to read. "Because you hurt him to feel good." Oddly enough, it wasn't dislike in his voice this time. It was something closer to familiarity, just for a moment. "You slept so quietly that night. No more nightmares, because you cut him loose and you told him."
Her jaw tightened and she didn't bother hiding that it had stung. "You are the expert on hurting people to feel good. You tell me." Eyes sliding away from her verbal sparring partner, Hannah watched the trees move in the start of an autumn windstorm. "If you really have to know, I wasn't telling the crowd something personal. I was talking to him in the only chance I felt I had without him closing off. I was angry and hurting and just wanted it to stop. I wanted him to stop looking at me like he hated me. I wanted to stop losing the people I cared about. Are you happy? Does that satisfy you?"
Her voice rose until she was nearly shouting her final demands. Didn't matter who heard her, really.
Harper could have said anything in response. There were probably hundreds of possible barbs aimed at her, ready to launch. Instead, he merely retorted, quietly and as empty as before, "Clearly didn't satisfy you."
Hannah rolled her eyes. "Astute observation, truly. You should be a private investigator after the war ends."
"I haven't got any 'after the war ends' plans. How about you?"
She lifted a finger to point at the black headstone she could barely see from her seat. "ODSTs don't have retirement plans either."
"How about now? You're not an ODST anymore. Well," he veered suddenly for levity, "you're still an ODST. It's in the blood. Just wondering how long we've got you around, after that debt of yours is considered settled."
"Ready to be rid of me already?" She wasn't the least bit surprised. She complicated whatever his thing was with Shaw and she threw wrenches in most of Harper's comfy team dynamics. A shrug was the only answer as she considered things. "You want to engineer some more asinine death traps for the others and get me out the door tomorrow, or what? I'm here as long as it takes. Believe me, I'm not super thrilled about some aspects of this either."
"Don't you worry. I'm not going to put the others at more risk than usual just to get you out of my life." But it sounded like the idea tempted him, leaning over Shaw's cradle just a little more. "But yeah. I'm ready for you to be out of here. I don't mind change, Steele. Just not in every aspect of my life. Especially not this one." His fingers tapped the lid's glass, just once.
"I'm pretty sure that's up to him, if he's ever given a chance."
It was probably stupid to even hold onto the shred of hope left that Jason still felt anything for her at this point. But now that some time had passed, now that they had gotten used to the idea that they were both here and not going anywhere anytime soon, the idea was lodged firmly in her mind.
"Do you know where he was, while you were sleeping easy, ripping that old memory apart in front of everyone? He was in the river, a few minutes away, with my knife. Phil found him and spoke to him, but I got the gist of it. He thinks you cut him free and that the Hannah Steele he knew is dead. And the Jason Shaw you thought you knew wasn't even real."
Sighing, Hannah leaned back, closing her eyes. The image came without thought, black hair touched by the brilliant light of the aurora.
"Of course he wasn't," she said softly. "It was five minutes in a busy nightclub. We didn't know the first thing about each other. Still don't. But there's this pull. Like gravity." Her eyes opened again, staring straight at Harper with a quiet vulnerability for once. "I can't escape him."
For the very first time since Hannah walked into the infirmary, their eyes met. It was impossible to see if he'd sensed her moment of weakness, or he simply didn't like what she had to say. The gash above his eyes was still bleeding, even now. His expression was open for once, not hidden behind his charming mask. She saw intense dislike, but she couldn't say that was a surprise.
"You don't get that anymore. You had your chance. Your time with him. You should have brought him back. You should have come back sooner. You should have… You don't get to come here after we let you in and judge us for what this is."
"You're right. I should have brought him back to my place and we should have been a good little ODST on shore leave and her adoring civilian and fucked. But we didn't. I didn't have my chance, Harper. I shipped out and spent seven months sleeping on bare rocks in my armour while people died less than a kilometer away because your people wanted them to," she hissed, holding his gaze. "I couldn't go back to Reach until we finally won because the Innies didn't have the resources to hold what they grubbed in the dirt for. And by then, you already took both Shaws as your own. So you'll have to excuse me if I judge you."
"I don't have people, I only have Phoenix. But if you're possessive over both Shaws, you can have the older one. I'm running out of uses for him." His hand waved almost dismissively. Almost. "But I'll concede the point. Because I'm nice like that. You can judge all you want. Just do it quietly and where we can't hear you."
She swept an arm out to gesture at the base. "It's pretty close quarters here, people hear all sorts of things they don't want to on their midnight strolls. It's not my fault if you overhear."
"You've got plenty of space. I've heard the view from the roof is pretty good, this time of year." It was a low blow, even for Harper.
"How would you like me to do it then?" She got to her feet slowly, feeling the stiffness in her legs from the fight earlier. "Should I step off like I planned, or do you think Shaw would lend me his lighter?"
This time, she'd struck a nerve, something in his eyes like a ghost, a memory catching in his expression as he tore his face back down to watch Shaw being slowly stitched back together underneath him. "Possibly would. You did say he was nothing to you anymore. He might do it."
"Fuck you," she growled, stalking around to lean her elbows on the top of the autosurgeon and letting her hands dangle off the edge closest to Harper. "You'd better hope that when the day comes when I have the chance, I don't leave you to die."
For the first time, he seemed to find her genuinely funny and he let out a laugh. "You could do it. It wouldn't be hard, when the time came. Just let me die, or finish the job yourself. And you know the best part? He'd hate you for it." When his eyes turned back to Shaw, it wasn't pride on his face. Instead, concern tinged his features.
"Only if he found out," she said quietly, looking down as well.
He looked at peace. Caught somewhere between sleep and death as the machine worked to erase one swipe of an energy sword. With his eyes closed and expression relaxed, Shaw was the most at rest she had seen him since walking into the break room months ago. She wondered if he was dreaming.
"He'd know." Harper seemed remarkably sure of that fact, refusing to look away from Shaw once again. "He'd know you did it, because he knows your debt. He'd know you did it, because he knows I'm not just giving up."
"Sometimes things don't work out perfectly according to plan." She nodded down at the man between her and Harper. "He and I are proof, aren't we? I'm a good soldier, one of the elite trained by either of our former organizations. But I couldn't save Orange. I might not save you. And if there's something out there that can threaten Geist, do you honestly think I could kill it?"
"It's all a matter of circumstance, Blizzard. Right place, right time. Doesn't have to be an even fight." Something else was in his tone as he watched Shaw, fingers drifting down the glass to hover over Shaw's limp hand. "For example, you ended up away just long enough for him to sign up with the UNSC. Maybe he was hoping to run into you out there, I don't know. Instead, here he is."
"And here I am. Funny how that worked out after all. The three of us, in this room right now."
"Except when he wakes up, it's not your room he's going to. Not you and him that I have to watch." Whether he meant for her to hear or not, it wasn't obvious. But Harper very rarely let his guard down, even if he'd been doing it just a little more often with Shaw at his side.
Since they'd decided to stop hiding it from her.
Hannah consciously had to press her hands to the cool glass to hold herself still. She could just climb over the machine and get a punch or two in before he subdued her. Her entire body itched at being this close to Harper and holding herself back.
"Not yet," she said. It had sounded more careless, more flippant, in her head. When it left her mouth it turned into a frosty cloud that hung in the air.
Harper had looked uneasy when ONI had taken his weapon. He'd looked nonchalant when she'd revealed her past with Jason. He'd looked panicked when Hunter had been stabbed mere hours previously. When he looked up at her, for the first time, he gazed at her with open hostility, like he was sizing up a threat.
"You're not letting that go, are you? You can't stand that it's me he chooses to sit next to, lean into, watch in all those quiet moments, just enough to show off that he's mine."
"I'm not ready to let go of Jason." Hannah stood up, running her fingers lightly across the top of the autosurgeon before letting her hands fall to her sides. "Even if it was Aaron or Lucas, I wouldn't be able to watch. Of course I want him to be happy, but we've both caught him looking at me and wondering. He feels that pull, too."
She put her hands back in her pockets and started towards the door. She needed some air. Or to hit something. Probably both.
"How's the bullet wound healing?" It was out of nowhere, a topic shift that was as random as it was possible to get. Harper's voice wasn't the same growl that it had before. "Recovered yet?"
"I killed a Hunter single-handedly today, Lieutenant," she threw over a shoulder, pausing to see how that sank in.
"That's good. I'm not asking for me. For him." There was a tap of knuckles on glass. "He came to see you, when you were recovering. Just the once. He was in there for hours. Had to be pulled away in the end. Not forcefully, but we had to talk him into getting sleep. I told Phil not to tell you. Figured you'd let that connection die. Wouldn't want to bring it back. But I figure there's no point hiding it now."
She turned to face him one more time. Seconds ticked past as she studied the Phoenix leader and the still figure encased in glass and metal. Blue eyes roved over the scene repeatedly as she searched for a response. As that spark deep in her chest flared with heat.
"Do him a favour and open the lid before he wakes up. It's too tight in there. It would make me panic."
Glancing down again, a grimace crossed Harper's face, whether at the similarity, or just the idea of his Jason in that kind of distress. Then, instead of responding to what she had actually said, Harper offered, "You woke up. Jay told me. Didn't say what you said to him. You weren't up long, out of it on the painkillers. You don't remember it anyway. But you talked."
There was another hesitation, where he seemed to grapple with himself, just for a second, two very different instincts at war with one another. Finally, he spoke again. "I would have wanted to know. If it had been me. So there you go."
She recognized it for what it was. Something traded for the information she had volunteered, even though it was practically meaningless. Nobody knew what she had said but the man who was unconscious. And he wasn't telling anyone, even while awake. There was still that gap of nothing in her memory, one of hundreds. Just the Pelican as she realized she had been shot, then Harper at the foot of her bed. She wondered what Jason had heard. If he would ever have the chance to tell her about it.
For a moment, Hannah opened her mouth. When nothing came out, she let it close again. Without another word, she left Harper staring down at Shaw.
Putting the infirmary behind her, she paced restlessly for a time. The many things Harper had thrown at her face cycled through her head. The things he'd said about Jason visiting her after the last mission. What he'd said about Mark. About her pity party and the mistakes she had made since joining the team.
After a while, she found herself standing in the armoury, looking at the row of lockers with all of their names. Whoever had put Shaw's equipment away hadn't fully shut the door. She went to push it closed, but her attention snagged on the data pad inside. It lit up, showing an unread message. The background displayed the team gathered around the breakroom table, halfway through a very competitive game. Aaron grinned over his massive hand of cards, hanging upside-down from the couch. Harper frowned seriously down at his own cards while Geist silently dared Lucas to call his last play. Across the table from them, Phil leaned casually into his seat to keep Mike from peeking at his hand.
Her stomach lurched when she saw her own face half-hidden behind her cards, off to the side of the frame.
"Don't," she warned herself in an undertone.
Biting her lip, she reached a shaking hand into the locker and pulled his data pad out. Ignoring the message, she swiped at the screen, shocked to discover he hadn't set a password for it.
The device opened up to the music program, displaying the playlist he had last listened to. Scrolling through the songs on it, she was surprised to discover quite a few she recognized. There was a lot she didn't, admittedly, but that was hardly surprising. Ex-DJs knew their music.
Her finger froze on the screen as her song appeared at the bottom of the screen. Somewhere, that spark she'd hidden away burned a little brighter. She opened another playlist. Another. At some point or another, there it was. Sometimes the studio version, other times an acoustic reworking, but it was on every single playlist Jason had.
Hands still trembling, Hannah returned to the menu he'd left it on and returned it to the locker. She carefully pushed the door shut until the lock clicked home.
Now she definitely needed air. Needed to breathe in the night sky.
Grabbing a hoodie from her room, she went up to the roof. The wind had picked up now that the sun had fully set and the moon climbed higher. Brushing blonde hair from her eyes, Hannah swept most of it back into a ponytail, surrendering her bangs to the wind without complaint.
A long sigh drew her attention to the figure sitting with his back to the storage crate. Long legs stretched out before him, longer than the abandoned sniper rifle next to him. "Should have guessed you'd find your way up here tonight," said Mike.
Hannah pulled her hands into her sleeves, balling the cuffs into her fists to keep the chill out. There was something in his voice that made her shy away from that defense. She didn't need its protection tonight. She sat down next to him, pulling her knees up against her chest.
He didn't speak again. Every so often, he took a long drink from a liquor bottle. Otherwise they sat staring out into the treeline.
"It wasn't your fault," she said at last, not looking at Mike.
He shook his head, sliding down into a deep slouch.
"No, look. We all had the same chance to notice and we didn't."
Glancing sidelong at him, Hannah caught the grimace that twisted his normally calm face. She snatched his bottle away, holding an arm up to ward off his half-hearted grab for it. Setting it beyond his reach, she shook her head. "It's bullshit and you know it. We're all trained soldiers. We all make our choices. And sometimes we make the wrong calls."
She rubbed her hands together before folding them back into her sleeves, returning to watching the lights shift over the trees.
Mike shook his head and climbed slowly to his feet. Facing her, he stared down at her. Towered over her. Let his shadow cover her.
Listening to the silence she knew so well, she sighed. Words White once said to her came echoing through her memory. The first time they lost a battle, it had hit them both hard. Over the years, members cycled through Orange's ranks. A few managed to transfer out to other units. Being ODSTs, the majority of them didn't. Maybe that's why White had held onto her so tightly. Groomed her for his approaching retirement.
"Just because they're under your care doesn't mean you can make all of their failures yours."
In her mind's eye, White was smiling, proud of his protégée. The thought made her choke.
Mike spread his hands wide and slurred, "You'd think I'd have learned better by now. I've tried three times now and sheer luck is what saved Jason today."
"Sit down, Baxter," she said gently. "Shit happens and the sad reality is that there are eight of us total. You're an amazing sniper and do amazing overwatch. It's all of our jobs to keep an eye out for one another. And it's Harper's job to watch out for all of us as the team lead. It's his job to watch Shaw as his battle buddy."
He gestured broadly again. "Thanks for saying it, really, but not helping."
"All right then, let's talk it out," she said.
Sighing, he dug both hands into his pants pockets, fiddling with something. "Lucas told you about the night I called him. About Phil and I sitting in his hospital room. And—" He looked away, off to the side, gritting his teeth. "It wasn't the first time someone I cared about died on my watch."
He wasn't talking about Lucas anymore. That ghost who clung to their shoulders and dragged them down. The one with the empty locker painted with all of the colours available to the lieutenant of General Allen.
"I—Hannah, she was my sister." He'd started forcefully, nearly shouting the admission until he cracked into a whisper. That silver head shook once fiercely. "I taught both of them to shoot. I taught them to be patient. But I was always better than both Isaac and Amy. And I was supposed to protect them, do you understand me? It was my job. My fault."
"Yes, Mike, I get it," she answered. She thought of every grave that bore the seal of Orange scattered through the stars. Half-melted and scarlet-soaked faces swam behind her eyes, not just those whose names were carved down her side. "I don't know exactly how you carry them, but I understand."
In a flash he pulled both hands free. She barely had time to register his wind up before he pitched something small and cylindrical at her. Reflex and training brought her hands up to protect her face fast enough. Her fingers wrapped around plastic warmed by his grip. A telltale rattle was all she needed to know what it was.
"It's been years, Hannah. I haven't gotten better," he said, face twisting into derision at the final word. "Just better at the numbness."
She got to her feet, turning the bottle of pills over and over between her fingers. Just a few chemicals wrapped up in nice blue packaging that tasted like failure contained by Phoenix orange. "Sometimes," she said, aware of her bitter, icy tone, "you have to take not sliding backwards into that pit as victory. Sometimes all you get is maintaining. Floating in place. And that's better than losing. Better than the fall behind you."
Mike shook his head, gaze pinning hers. "I should know better by now. It was so stupid to just stand there, staring at the sky. I should have kept looking around. Should have seen them sooner."
"With what, your sonar?" she challenged, snatching his hand. It felt massive in hers as he wobbled far over her head, looking down on her. Roughly pushing the bottle back into his grip, she went on, "You didn't have a chance. I was looking. I was keeping an eye out. I didn't see them either. Not with the fog and the jungle and the frigate burning up in the atmosphere."
One hand fisted around his pills. The other fisted in the front of her hoodie, dragging her close enough to smell the burn of alcohol on his breath. His harsh breath, as if he'd run a marathon and found her at the finish line.
"Don't make excuses," he growled, furious for the first time. Anything except calm and collected for the first time. Even when they had retreated under UNSC fire the day Lucas nearly drowned, Mike had been a spot of sanity.
She grabbed his wrist in both hands, feeling his pulse pounding against her grip. "Don't make a freak chance your fault. This isn't like Isaac. And it's not like Amy. Like I said before, it was Jason's mistake letting the Elite get behind him. It was Harper's mistake to not keep an eye on him. And it was the Elite being quicker than any of us that got it that free hit. We have our own jobs to do, Baxter, we can't do their jobs for them."
He released her, sagging as the anger left him as quick as it came. "Amy was my own sister. And I still wasn't there for her when she died."
"I'm sorry, Mike," she said, holding his wrist and guiding him toward the door that led back into the base. "My dad said you were a sad story. I didn't realize how bad they fucked you over."
"I thought I was doing right by her when I joined the Insurrection. It was her dream, not mine. Freeing the Outer Colonies. And then nothing ever got better."
"Mike-"
He just shook his head, eyes glazed. Done talking. He followed her without complaint. He still hadn't let her say anything by the time Hannah was knocking on Phil's door. The team second appeared only heartbeats later, concern in every line of his body.
"All right, mate, come on in." Phil tugged the sniper into his room and sat him in the desk chair.
Hannah stood on the threshold of the room, not wanting to intrude or hover behind Phil or overhear anything Mike wanted to keep to himself.
Gentle brown eyes darted her way once, briefly. He nodded gratefully.
"See you in the morning," she said quietly.
She left them in their relative peace. There was a lot for her to process and it was getting late. Her feet brought her straight to her own quarters, right into bed. She lay there, staring up into the darkness and trying to unravel all the snarls in her life. Jason's cold, flat mask that was in direct defiance of the playlists. The wallpaper of his data pad that included her. Harper's blank stare turning to intense dislike, as if she were a maggot discovered in his oatmeal. His declaration that she could do whatever she liked with Mark Shaw. The fact that she had said something to Jason when she was barely conscious and not the least bit aware. Something he hadn't shared with anyone.
It was a long time before her mind quieted into sleep.