Thanks for being here. I'm not going to hold you up.


Cold Front

Written by TunelessLyric, ft. BrambleStar14

I've cast a spell

So you'll be less like you, and more like someone else

-Amaranthe, 'Burn With Me'

So say the word and I'll be running back to find you

-Starset, 'Starlight'

It was getting colder on Byzantium. As Hannah stood on the roof on guard duty, she noticed her breath turning to fog. Soon the frosts would come and, with them, even shorter days. Longer nights. Longer shifts up on top of the base with nothing but a rifle for company while the rest of the team burrowed deep under their blankets.

Meals had been loud for the past week. Everyone had been excited to have Harper and Jason returned to them. And Hannah had been, too. Just… for the first time, when he was around, she was nervous. What he had said as she held his hand hadn't stuck with him into consciousness. Really, she hadn't expected it to, so it was easy enough to swallow. She hadn't expected that flat mask when he looked at her to disappear.

No, as he glanced over the table that first night back, at the faces he knew like his own, it slammed down faster than usual when he turned to her. And Harper's hand drifted to lace fingers through Shaw's. Too casually to have been thoughtless.

Hannah had just shrugged and returned to her meal. Returned to whatever ribbing Aaron was giving her about her hair growing out.

She reached up and ran a hand through the blonde that brushed her shoulders now. It was all uneven and shaggy, in desperate need of someone professional to fix. Oddly enough, no one on staff around here seemed capable of wielding hairdressing scissors. Despite their varied talents with cutting, stabbing and slashing. It was something to address the next chance they took for personal time.

"Just about frozen through?"

She turned, offering Phil a smile. Rubbing her hands together and shivering, she answered, "Ready for bed, too!"

"Well, good thing I'm here." He went to blow on his own fingers before remembering Geist's advice and tucked them into his armpits instead. "Night duty sucks."

"I'd complain that Mike's not here to take his favourite shift from you, but I'm glad that he's got the night off." In the days since Shaw's release from the infirmary, the sniper had spent a lot of time up on sentry duty.

The team second looked up at the shifting lights in the sky. "One of us should be sleeping tonight."

Not like Phil didn't also need the rest.

"Sounds like a lot of people wandering the halls tonight."

"You know Lucas. I passed Aaron on his way to the gym. Geist was already there, I think. And Jason and Ian—" He broke off, indecision in the hunch of his shoulders.

"Are celebrating Shaw's all-clear to resume active duty," she finished, opting for more tact that she felt. More than the stab of irritation should have allowed had it not iced over instantly. "I get it."

"Sorry, Hannah." Phil's voice was soft as he reached for the communal rifle.

She met his eyes as she surrendered the weapon. "There's nothing for you to apologize for. I made this wound. I'm the one who won't just let it scar. They're two adults. What they do in their spare time is none of our business."

Phil looked away, off into the dark line of pine trees. "None of you are happy with this between you all."

Hannah shook her head. "Good night." She turned her back on him and headed toward the promise of heat. This was a problem she had been working on figuring out for days. The others hinting at getting some sort of move on weren't helpful in the least.

The team second murmured an answer just before the door shut between them, sealing the autumn chill out. Exhaustion dragged at her as she stumbled through the halls to the barracks. Maybe if the others were able to bed down and stay put tonight, she would be able to do the same.

She peeled off her heavy jacket and fatigues the second her room opened, dropping them where she stood. As she crossed to her bed, she shed clothing and climbed into bed, not noticing her door had caught on the balled-up sleeve of her jacket. It hung just barely ajar. Not totally soundproofing her quarters. Hannah fell asleep within minutes.


A raised voice echoed down the hall. Bitterness jerked the ex-ODST from her smoky, insubstantial, inky dream. Disoriented, she lay still while building an understanding of her surroundings.

"Not right now, Harper," growled a familiar voice.

Opening her eyes, Hannah squinted into the light shining through the crack between door and wall. A flash of movement was all she could catch before quick footsteps rang through the barracks.

The Innie lieutenant responded. Too quiet to make out words, the tone made her breath catch. She had never heard Harper sound so close to pleading.

"I'll go spend the night in my cell," Shaw answered, not slowing his steps.

She was on her feet, leaning into the door in a flash. About to kick the jacket free to follow him, she froze when another figure appeared in his own doorway. Green eyes simmered as he watched Shaw round a corner.

Harper snarled wordlessly, slamming a fist into the wall before withdrawing.

Hannah unjammed her door and let it slide shut. As much as she wanted to follow her teammate down to the row of panelled glass doors, this was something she could use to her advantage. Better to leave him enough space to calm down on his own. To talk to his brother if he was willing to speak to anyone tonight.

She climbed back into bed and stared at the blue, green, purple light dancing along the ceiling and wall for a long time.


The dawn broke, grey and cold. The clouds beyond the window were almost purple, heavy with the threat of an autumn storm closing in. Hannah had to admit, the idea of the base shaking with the force of thunder spiked excitement through her. Though she wasn't so certain the others would appreciate foul weather.

Actually, she wasn't so certain what mood the others would be in at all.

Slipping into the mess hall, Hannah was relieved to see Lucas wave from the breakfast line, fresh mug of coffee in hand. Mike leaned comfortably back in his usual spot, listening to whatever Aaron was saying. The pyro appeared to be relying on his hands to get most of the message across, leaving Geist to hold up a hand to ward off the flashing fork and dangling strand of bacon. At least they all looked to be in their usual good humour.

By the time she had served herself some oatmeal and added a few fruits to it, Phil was cradling a cup of tea to his chest, absorbing the warmth gratefully. He gave no indication of being aware of the argument last night. None of the guys did. So Hannah took her seat and ate.

"Okay, but just imagine, you're surrounded by Grunts, UNSC, what have you, and at the click of a button—"

"Mate, I'm going to stop you before you get any further," Aaron interrupted Lucas, frowning. "If you put fireworks on my jetpack, you'll be the one to test it out and blow yourself up."

The engineer's face fell momentarily. He glanced around the table, searching for support. His expression brightened and he waved enthusiastically. "Shaw, get over here and tell Aaron he's an idiot for me."

Sure enough, Jason strode over, pile of scrambled eggs thoroughly swimming in hot sauce and ketchup in hand. He smiled easily enough, though it didn't thaw his eyes. "Aaron, you're an idiot. Great, now what's this about?"

Hannah went back to mixing brown sugar into her oatmeal, grip relaxing on her spoon. She got through a few mouthfuls before the familiar pause rippled through the mess hall. Jason tensed, filling his fork with breakfast and shovelling it in so he wouldn't have to say anything as Harper brushed past on his way to get something to eat.

Mike's eyes followed the team leader before sliding back to those already seated around him. "Aaron, acknowledge the usefulness of flares. Lucas, your idea isn't going to work. Don't touch his jetpack," he said, soothing both sides.

Reluctantly, the redheads huffed and made nice.

Too bad Shaw and Harper were too busy building a frosty wall of silence together to follow suit. The false smiles and convincing laughter didn't work on anybody at their table. Hannah knew the others noted the sudden lack of elbowing and glances stolen when the pair thought nobody was looking. Harper was too invested in spinning Lucas' flare idea into something that had potential in the field. And Shaw carved valleys into his mountain range of eggs, turning to Phil to discuss the shortcomings of the new version of the UNSC's M6.

It was a relief when plates emptied and Phoenixes began to stretch restlessly. Phil shot Harper a glance before getting to his feet. "You lot look like you need a training session."

"I was starting to think you'd never say that," complained Aaron, piling his tray onto Lucas' and pushing his chair away from the table.

Lucas quickly stacked the used plates and empty cups in front of Mike and fell into step with the pyro. Hannah followed suit. As she pushed her chair back into place, Geist and Shaw added their own trays to the precariously-balanced pile. Baxter sighed deeply and reached for Harper's half-abandoned cereal.

Today, the team made a circle around the petite blonde and watched her expectantly. It was a far cry from the kids she had taught back in high school, but she plugged her data pad into the gym's speakers and worked her teammates through the old warm up. The sight of a ring of Innies doing jumping jacks when she was more used to watching five-year-olds around her was nearly enough to make her grin.

Orange had never had these group training sessions. They used to go in pairs, whenever duties allowed. Which meant she usually worked out with Dom, who flatly refused her warm up after all of the half-jacks he'd bought them back in Basic.

Her mouth twitched at the combination of fond memories and the image of Phoenix dutifully hopping away. Until her eyes fell on Jason's tight expression. He stared determinedly at the wall. Very pointedly not looking at either her or Harper.

Finally, she called a halt to the aerobics. With the worst edge taken off their energy, Phoenix split into pairs near the centre of the room, giving each other enough space for their sparring bouts. Hannah found herself squaring off against Mike first. He gave her a quick nod of acknowledgement. Returning it, she feinted a couple of jabs at his side. The sniper jerked away once, twice, then blocked the left hook she actually threw.

With his height advantage, the fight could have been over in seconds. Instead, the ex-ODST twisted away each time he tried to force her onto the defensive. Hannah avoided him, dodging aside to elbow Mike in the kidneys. They were both breathing hard, bruises blooming on their knuckles from impacting calmly placed palms instead of pliant flesh. At last, she slipped under a punch that would have knocked her onto her ass. Instead, she drove her heel into the back of his knee.

With her opponent down and unbalanced, Hannah wrapped an arm under his chin. She pinned his arms to his sides with her legs, letting him take all of her minimal weight. As she clung to his back, her other hand resting on his head, a twist and a squeeze was all it would take to end the fight.

"That's a good trick," said Mike, waiting for her to climb off.

"Gotta have a few when everyone else is freakishly tall," she answered, shaking her hands out. Nothing hurt too badly when she gave her fingers an experimental flex.

"Not everyone's as tiny as you, but you should pick on someone closer to your size." Lucas grinned, leaning his weight on one foot as he took Mike's place.

"You're welcome to try, Thorpe," invited Hannah, sinking into a ready stance again.

In the months since she had joined Phoenix, the engineer's close quarters skills had improved. But that meant they spent too much time watching each other on ops to have any tricky moves left up their sleeves. Lucas didn't have to rely on his humbler to even the playing field anymore. Hannah looked forward to their sparring sessions because he was going to give her a run for her money in another month or two.

For now, she was still quicker. Still better at reading the blows before they fell. Still finding holes in his guard to punish with a kick to the ribs that made him wheeze, fists wavering. She landed a right hook to Lucas' other side that made him stagger. While he worked on reorienting himself, Hannah swept his legs out from under him. He tapped the running shoe planted on his chest, panting.

"Hey, that was a new record," she encouraged. Offering her friend a hand up, she patted him on the back. "You might just get me next time."

"Sure, sure," he said, still breathless, and turned away to get a drink of water and collect himself before his next match.

She couldn't help but feel the warm glow of pride when she took stock of the many sore spots Lucas had given her. Scooping up her own water, Hannah took a few sips. A couple other fights were still raging on. Phil was winning the wrestling match against Aaron. Harper and Geist whirled around each other, fists little more than blurs as they traded blows. But Mike and Jason were both waiting on their next opponents.

Swishing a final mouthful around, Hannah tried to gauge how fresh Shaw was. As she watched him, his customary blank expression closed him off. He didn't look as if he slept particularly well on the bare cot in his old cell. But his hands came up to guard his face without hesitation as she stepped forward.

Unlike the other times they had faced off against one another, she didn't give him the chance to pick a rhythm. She didn't let him lead their dance to whatever was in his head. Whatever got him through pretending she meant nothing for her own sake.

This time Hannah let the familiar song carry her. Two punches—a jab and right hook. One for each syllable in the first line of lyrics. She slid two steps to the side, watchful.

Jason responded with two more steps to follow her movements and a third to finish the phrase. A pause before he ducked her next swing. Coming back up to his full height, he brought his heel down hard. She barely drew her own foot away, saving her toes from being crushed. He stepped forward again, a flurry of attacks coming from seemingly every direction.

Each one fell exactly when she expected them to as she listened to the music in her head. It was only a matter of turning away the worst couple of hits and dodging the rest. She answered with a more measured, carefully timed, series of punches.

They were close now, very close. In the break between the chorus and the next verse, Jason backed away. Gave them room to breathe again as they circled to the same beat. This time he stepped forward first. She let him.

Back and forth they went. First him, then her. Neither one gained the advantage. Not when the other always anticipated where they would be. When they would strike.

Finally, Hannah swallowed hard on the adrenaline that had nothing to do with the fight and everything to do with her dance partner. She had to tilt her head back to meet his closely guarded gaze as she gave ground with each step he took, chasing her across the floor. Forcing other sparring pairs apart for them until the rest of Phoenix were watching Shaw and Steele.

She counted his steps, swallowing one more time against the dryness in her throat so that she could be heard softly singing, "Don't leave me lost—"

Jason froze, absolutely still. He wasn't even breathing as that blank mask of nothing shattered into a storm of grief and fury.

Hannah realized it was incredibly, profoundly silent. She had the instinctive fear that she had made a terrible misstep when his knuckles turned white as he squeezed his fists just a little too tight.

He collided with her, leaving Hannah reeling as if she had slammed into a wall. He didn't even give her a second to raise her hands to protect her face. Still dazed from the impact with the floor, Hannah didn't feel his fist rattle her teeth the first time. Each hit was followed by another, another, another as he crushed her into the gym floor, his full weight pinned on her chest.

She only distantly felt the pain. The greedy burn in her skin as he left bruises and split skin with each desperate blow.

Hands appeared, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt. Wrapping under his arms to haul his dead weight away. Hannah rolled onto her side, coughing against the sensation of her lungs finally filling to capacity. Pushing herself to her feet, she had to meet Shaw's wild eyes. His face twisted with rage. He struggled to wiggle free, to throw off the hands of Phil and Mike as they held him out of reach.

"Hey, that's enough," Phil was saying, shaking one of Shaw's shoulders. "Go take a walk and calm down, Jason."

"Mate, don't worry about her. It's not worth it," added Mike, trying to turn his friend away from Hannah.

She couldn't move. Couldn't wipe away the blood about to drip off her chin. Could barely even feel the damage to her face. There was only the flood of ice in her veins. The roiling storm trying to drown the flames he'd ignited in her very bones.

He sagged between the teammates who had pulled him off her. Cautiously, the team second and sniper let him go. He stalked from the gym without speaking. Without a backward glance.

"That was cold, Blizzard. Even for me."

Her head snapped toward the only sound in the room.

Harper's eyes raked over her. Satisfied with the sight, he grinned widely and gave her a loud, sarcastic, round of applause. "You did quite the number on him in front of the crowd that night. Might have done an even better one today."

She flinched, realizing much too late what this would have looked like. To everyone. To Jason. "I didn't mean—"

"It doesn't matter what you meant," Harper explained with exaggerated patience. "You manipulated him. Humiliated him with whatever that was." He waved vaguely.

Clenching her jaw, she spun to appeal to the others. Aaron's mouth hung open, shock written all over his face as he stared at her. There was no recognition. Like he was looking at a stranger. Lucas made a conscious effort to hold his hands limp at his sides. Something accusatory in her friend's eyes, he pointedly didn't meet her gaze. Geist shook his head once, watching the door that had shut Jason away from her. Mike looked as if he'd just been run over, dazed expression giving way to a weariness that went all the way through his soul. And Phil. Phil's mouth was a pinched line as he forced his breathing to remain even. He held very, very still.

"Inspired job, Bliz. Truly. Get out of my sight before I finish what he started." Harper's voice matched the cold hand squeezing her heart.

She couldn't meet their eyes. She couldn't explain this away. Justify it and make them understand how differently she had pictured this going.

Biting down on her tongue until she finally felt something, Hannah trudged to the door. It opened as if nothing had happened, gliding soundlessly on its track. Something shrivelled into a little dead thing when she didn't find Jason lurking just beyond the gym. Just a vacant hallway that stretched for miles in either direction. Neither leading anywhere in particular. Only away.

Didn't matter where she went. She didn't care. Picking one side at random, she started walking. The hall turned and twisted and she didn't see any of it. Not as she turned inward and stared at the rage that contorted Jason's face when he looked at her the final time. Like he wanted to make her scream in pain for what she had done to him.

She was in her room, she realized. It was dark, the storm clouds having opened up to drench the base. Sheets of rain slashed against the window and blocked out the pitiful noon sun. Hannah left the lights off. She climbed onto her bed and curled up. Fishing her Orange tags out, she laid the cool metal against her cheek and shut her eyes.

White would know what to do. How to fix her catastrophic mistakes. Hannah Steele would have been able to do the right thing. The person she was now, the influence of Ian Harper and that broken part of her—that part of her who liked hurting people—that was exactly why Jason had kept away. And she had proved him right.

Sometime after the blood dried up, crusting her face to her blanket, there was a firm knock on the door.

"Hannah, I wanted to see how you were doing. I want to take you to the infirmary to have some of those cuts looked at."

She sighed and squeezed her eyes shut. Pretended it was just a trick of the grumbling thunder that made Phil sound so drained.

Defeated.

"Look, Hannah, it's going to take us all some time. But you're still one of us. And we…"

She rolled over, facing the wall. The storm. Choosing it over him.

"I guess we all failed each other today. Can you open the door, please?"

He stood outside for another five minutes. She counted. Then he left.

Defeated again.

She waited until the storm was right over the valley. Each flash of lightning split the artificial night of her room. The thunder made the very foundations shudder. That was when she deemed it safe.

Hunger punched through the dead layer of ice that had settled over her. The mess hall was empty, the lunch rush having come and long gone while she was nearly senseless. Still, she took her sandwich with her. There was wisdom in Phil's recommendation to get something done for her face.

The hovering medical staff clucked and twittered, scolding her for looking like partially-tenderized meat. They prodded and glued and sterilized. Stitched and bandaged and iced.

"Went looking for him."

One lingering nurse took one look at the soaked and dripping Ian Harper standing in her ward and put one hand on her hip. "Not here, Lieutenant."

For a moment, Hannah thought he would launch himself at the nurse, damn the consequences. His expression quieted, head cocked on his usual angle as he surveyed the uniformed woman with interest. Baring his teeth he said, "Fine. I'll wait in the hall."

The nurse rolled her eyes. When she had finished, she sent Hannah out to meet her fate. As the blonde turned to go, the other woman brushed a hand against her elbow.

Hannah set her shoulders as another clap of thunder rolled through her. She barely made it over the threshold before Harper pounced.

"He's not in the base. We've been searching for hours, by the way. Nice of you to help out," he growled.

"Looks like your search took you outside, so my help wouldn't have done much." She scoffed, feeling a twinge of pain race along her jaw. "As if he'd want to be found by me."

He leaned down, letting rainwater run off his clothes to pool at their feet. To drip onto her head and run through her hair in frigid paths. "He was fine before you showed up. Now he's out in that storm alone. What if he went back to that river? What if he took his blades with him?"

Before she could even think about it, Hannah shoved him square in the chest. Wild green eyes widened with shock as he stumbled a step.

"You did this to him!" she shouted. "You made him into this fragile thing. I'm trying to make him better!"

He grabbed her arms, pressing tight against her chest as he lifted her off the floor. Pinning her to the wall, she could feel each breath splash over her face. Could feel the chill wet seeping into her body from his. "He. Isn't. Yours," he hissed through gritted teeth. "Not before. Not after. Not now that you've shown him just how like me you really are, Steele. You think he'll forgive you?" He laughed.

"No," she admitted.

Lightning flashed, the lights overhead flickering in answer.

"That's what you want, isn't it?" pressed Hannah, letting the anger at herself escape. "For me to say it and believe it. I do. He isn't going to be able to look at me and remember the woman he met one night on Reach. He'll look at me and see you. Another twisted memory you dug your claws into. Congratulations, Harper. You did it. Made me into some destroying machine for you."

He blinked slowly, appraising her. "Good." He sounded deflated, a little uncertain. Like he wanted to torment her more, but couldn't when she was already tearing herself apart.

Harper let her slide down to the floor, releasing his grip and stepping away.

She went back to her room. Let him have the last word.

Like the night before, her door stayed propped open. Hannah sat wrapped in her sheets, staring at the little sliver of hallway through the crack. The rest of Fireteam Phoenix were subdued as they made their eventual way to the barracks. Each was just as soaked as their leader, having searched the trails and valley for their missing member. None of them tried to talk to her again. Phil glanced at her door, shook his head and disappeared into his own room.

Still she watched, listening to the rain and thunder into the morning hours.

Jason didn't come back that night.