Shoutout to all of you for being here. To BrambleStar14 and Minaethiel for beta reading, as always. Not much left to say except: let's have fun.
Orpheus and Eurydice
Written by TunelessLyric
You thought you were standing beside me
You were only in my way
You're wrong if you think that I'll be just like you
-Three Days Grace, 'Just Like You'
It had been snowing all morning. Too cold to brave the heavily drifting snow, the entire team was getting restless. Weeks had drawn on where no one had been outside for anything other than sentry duty. And as much as Hannah enjoyed her teammates' company, the simple fact was that they had spent far too long in close quarters. Stir-craziness was starting to set in.
Sprawled out on the break room floor, Aaron heaved a heavy sigh. "I'm bored," he complained. Again.
Next to him, Lucas groaned and scrubbed his face with one hand. "I'm sick of hearing you whinge."
"Not helping." Hannah elbowed the engineer in the side.
Harper blew out a sharp breath and slapped his thighs. He stood and waved a hand. "Your attention over here, yeah?"
"All right, you really didn't need to be so dramatic, we're all dying for something to happen. We were already watching you," said Jason, rolling his eyes.
Clearing his throat pointedly, Harper shot him a glare. "Anyway," he said slowly, "weather's too bad to leave this damn base, so we have to make our own fun."
"Like the fun we've been having all day?" asked Aaron, raising his hand from the floor. "Havin' a fucking blast, ain't we?"
"Please continue," Phil said before anyone could join in and further stoke the irritation.
"Get some gear on, we got a shipment of ODST training rounds. Free-for-all," continued Harper, sparing a moment to flip Aaron a pair of middle fingers. "Stay inside, don't lock yourself in your rooms, leave the live fire in storage."
Hannah sat up. "Have any of you actually been hit with ODST rounds?" she asked, memories of exercises rearing their ugly heads.
The men all murmured negatives, interested now. At least nobody offered an explanation of what had happened to give the URF access to the training weaponry of the UNSC's elite troopers. She really didn't want to know. Or think about it any longer.
Though her friends leaned forward eagerly, her answering smile was frosty. "These aren't just rubber bullets. Feels like the real deal. There's a cocktail inside them, part tranquilizer and part chemical that triggers pain receptors. They burst red to make you think you really are bleeding. You sure you want to fuck around with those?"
"Free," said Harper, "for all." He answered her frozen grin, a slash of teeth that was most certainly not reassuring.
"This is the single best idea anyone's had all week. I'm in," said Aaron. He stood and stretched feeling back into his arms.
"Sure, why not. Get to see what it was like to be you for a couple of hours," added Jason, nodding her direction.
Hannah shrugged. "Fine. Don't say I didn't warn you."
They had all been shot. They had all been torn bloody and raw until they had been worked over by teams of medics. Now they were going to experience the next best thing for fun. She simply shook her head and fell in beside Mike as they filed out. Harper had a spring in his step for the first time in days at the prospect of perceived physical agony as he led them to the armoury.
It was going to be a weird afternoon.
The boxes of training rounds looked like they always had. Innocuous, the small grey cartons fit easily in even Hannah's hand. The green lettering warned against use as live fire, conventional training exercises and marksman practice. In front of Harper, the warnings may as well have been a foreign language.
Shoving away the creeping nostalgia for Helljumper bootcamp, she shouldered her way to the centre of a table to swipe up a box for each of her selected weapons for the day. Along with the ammunition, the URF had gotten hold of a staggering array of guns specially modified for this use. Hannah quietly loaded a few spare magazines for a pistol and assault rifle.
Moving down the table with the natural flow of the drill she had been forced through more times than she could count, Hannah reached into the next crate. The vest even smelled the way she remembered. She slipped it on, tightening the Velcro straps on muscle memory alone. Next she grabbed a helmet and pair of safety glasses.
Even though her teammates had years of practice kitting up, she was still waiting in the doorway several minutes before Geist joined her. Just the routine of it, as familiar to her as falling asleep, she guessed.
"Tag anyone you see, be the last one alive," said Harper, meeting all of their eyes quickly. He set his timer. "Everyone has two minutes to get somewhere else, then we start." Again, that slash of a grin.
Hannah exchanged a glance with Jason. He shot her a wink. Then she all but fell out of the armoury as seven Phoenixes all rushed to find the best spot to begin their hunt.
Seconds ticked by as she jogged through the base. Past the gym where she expected Aaron to lie in wait, if not Geist in expectation of the pyro. Past the break room with the long hall perfect for an ambush by Mike. She stalked down the barracks corridor toward the motor pool. There would be plenty of cover there and hopefully Lucas might be thinking the same thing.
Hannah entered her code in the keypad at the security desk, eyes up in case someone had followed. The door opened behind her and she hurried through. Inside the garage proper, stark light cast few shadows. Base personnel went about their usual duties, tinkering with Warthogs and Pelicans that had just come back from various conflicts. She made her way up and down the aisles, sweeping methodically for any hint of Phoenixes. So far, so good.
On her way past, she hooked a key fob from the rack on the wall. As she kept walking, she again punched her code. A light blinked green as the system recognized her authority.
Satisfied there was no reason to stay here if none of her teammates were around, she tucked the fob away and hurried out.
Hannah backtracked through the barracks, using far more caution now. Instead of her brisk jog, she crept forward a couple steps at a time to cheat motion trackers. As the minutes climbed past twenty on her timer, she couldn't help the itch building under her skin. Her luck wouldn't hold forever.
Another corner later, she caught a black-vested figure leaning around to keep tabs on someone farther down the hall. She swung back into cover, thumbing the safety of her rifle. One more peek revealed the lanky form of Phil, too intent on his own prey to notice the eyes behind him.
In sparring, he had a massive advantage. In a firefight when she had the drop on him, experience won more times than he cared to admit. She simply had years as an ODST, fighting against the best of the Innies and Covvies both.
So she leaned forward, rifle couched comfortably against her shoulder, and put a burst into his back.
Phil managed a choked cry as he folded up into a limp pile. Red leaked down from a tight grouping around the centre of his spine.
Running feet retreated down the hall, wisely fleeing the automatic fire.
Hannah ducked out of sight, checking the ammo counter. Letting Phil get whatever bearings the fire in his nervous system allowed. "Nothing personal, right?" she called.
He groaned. "Oh, yeah, we're cool," he rasped back.
Stepping fully into the hall, she squeezed the trigger on instinct alone. Paint spattered across his chest. The DMR fell out of useless fingers as his head hit the floor. Despite having lost feeling in his lower body, Phil had managed to flip himself over and half-rise to aim at his assailant. He just hadn't been fast enough.
Hannah kept her rifle up, pointing the direction he had been tracking. With one hand, she grabbed a fistful of his vest and hauled the limp man out of the centre of the hall. She left him propped against the wall, helmet tugged down low over his face as if he'd fallen asleep sitting there. A thin smile curled her lips for a second. One second. That was how long she envied him.
She stepped over his long, nerveless legs and continued to her next destination.
She wasn't, she reasoned, hiding in her room. The door slid open on silent hinges. It stayed open as she slung her rifle and opened a drawer. With both hands—an ear out for stealthy approaches—she gathered all of the civvie clothes from the drawer. She hooked the duffle bag out from under her bunk and dropped everything into it. She added a couple of pairs of shoes and zipped it with practiced precision.
Glancing up to check the hall, Hannah shouldered the duffle and swung her training rifle back into her hands. Once she had ensured the corridor was clear, she hurried out. Phil slept on, oblivious to the rules of the exercise being broken mere feet away.
None of the Innies in her path so much as glanced twice her direction. They all knew better than to interrupt a Phoenix, never mind one with as much gear as Hannah had on her. Never mind one armed, even if a second glance revealed that this rifle was for training. It could still break skulls with enough force behind the blow.
The gym door was open when she got there, the sounds of a fight inside. She dropped the duffle and inched up until she could peer inside. Lucas was holding his ground against Aaron, the two of them trading volleys across the aisle between weight racks. Neither of them noticed the shadow at the threshold.
Loading a fresh magazine into the breach, Hannah put Aaron on the floor with a burst to each knee. She added a headshot to the spread before the swears could make it past his throat. He crumpled, senseless.
Lucas dove for cover, knowing better than to present even a slim target to his battle buddy. On any other day, Hannah would have indulged him. Given him an opportunity to learn from the encounter. Today, however, she was running on a tight schedule. She moved into the gym, sliding down into Aaron's spot.
"Nice day for it?" said Lucas, far too casually.
"Oh, optimal weather," she answered, crawling forward without letting her vest drag on the floor.
"Thanks for the hand with Paul, he was starting to win there." He was moving, too. Luring her deeper into the maze of equipment.
"Well, you know me. I help my friends."
She hated the way it sounded. How pleasant and open and honest. Aaron's still form drew her eye for one distracting second.
You trust me too much.
Hannah inched forward, swapping to her pistol. Cutting Lucas off.
They rounded the corner at the same time, both sidearms between them. Lucas' hand swiped forward, trying to slap her barrel aside. She jerked away, twisting one shoulder forward to tackle him. They fell together. Hannah landed heavily on his chest, knocking the breath from both of them. As they wheezed, he struggled for control.
An elbow jabbed into her chest. She tightened her abdominal muscles not an instant too soon, maintaining her hold. Lucas thrashed in an attempt to shift her weight, his face twisted into a snarl. This wasn't her best friend. This was a trained killer.
She pressed the barrel to the centre of his chest and squeezed the trigger.
Lucas' eyes widened as pain flooded through him, deadened already by shock.
"Sorry, buddy," she gasped, finally able to suck a breath down. Standing on shaky legs, she turned to face Aaron. "But you guys would just get in my way."
Her unconscious friends didn't hear her apology. She didn't feel any better for what she had done to them. Didn't feel better for her main concern being whether or not Geist and Harper had found each other. If they could keep each other busy long enough for her to get moving again.
But Hannah made it to the armoury without issue. Four more Phoenixes likely still roamed the halls, but thankfully they hadn't found her yet.
She let herself in, just as she had before with the motor pool and barracks. Squashing down the guilt at once again breaking the exercise's rules, she went straight to her locker. The blank faceplate of Blizzard stared out at her. She pushed it aside, reaching instead for the half-zipped pack stuffed full of survival equipment. A week's rations, foil blanket, canteen and a green tarp. She shoved it all into the duffle, already moving to the weapons lockers.
The security system granted her access to anything she wanted. Nothing was off-limits to Fireteam Phoenix should they need it. This time, it granted her access to standard-issue M6s and MA5s. She took a pair of pistols and a box of rounds for them. She pulled out a handful of spare magazines, opening the ammunition box at the centre table.
An icy chill slid down her spine. As her eyes shot to the door, she saw a figure standing there.
Incomprehension coloured Jason's features, shadowing his eyes as he stared at her. He made no move to lift his modified SMG.
"Jason," she said, softly, slowly, "I need you to go."
He blinked, frown deepening.
"Now."
"What…" He shook his head in disbelief. "What are you doing?"
She gritted her teeth. Damn him for being the one to find her. Damn her for not just shooting him with her training pistol. Damn her for everything. "You need to leave. There's something I promised someone I'd do. I need you to trust me on this."
A stab of something painful broke through her chest when he shook his head. "Hannah, what are you doing with that?"
Her hands had kept moving, feeding bullets into one magazine and moving on to the next.
"They aren't for us. You don't have to understand, you just need to know I'm not going to hurt anybody. I promise, okay?" she said, still searching his face for any hint at a real crack.
"I—yeah, I trust you, just, what is this?" He waved a hand at the duffle bag as she dumped her finished magazines into it and yanked on the zipper.
"Fine. Are you coming with me or are you going to let me do this? I can't let you take any of the blame." She crossed the room, stopping to gaze up at him.
Jason's eyes flicked down to her mouth, his throat working. For an instant, she thought he was going to bend and kiss her. But he just stepped aside. "I'm going with you," he answered, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
She pushed past him, brushing their knuckles together. "Whatever happens, this was my idea and I don't care what anyone says, you aren't taking the fall for it," she insisted, because she had to be certain.
"Okay." He made no attempt to be convincing. "Where are we going?"
Hannah left one sidearm holstered at her opposite hip, just in case. She took the lead, bringing them deep into the base. Into the place it made the most sense to keep a thing like the security room. "We're going to stack the deck in our favour," she answered.
He pulled the duffle bag off her shoulder, swinging the weight onto his instead. Heavy footfalls turned into silky smooth paces as he shifted from confused Shaw to Hunter without hesitation. As he followed Hannah without even asking what she meant.
She wanted to sprint through the hall. She wanted it to be over and to be relieved. Instead, she forced them to stalk only a few feet at a time. Each corner held another wave of wariness, making Jason peer around it before she could incriminate herself if Harper or Geist lurked beyond. If they ran into Mike, maybe she would be able to reason with him.
The loaded pistol on her belt doubted it.
They were waiting for Hannah and Jason, sidearms free, when the security room door opened. She dropped to a knee, training pistol already aimed. Just a squeeze tore a scream from one of the guards. A hand reflexively clapped to cover the gout of red that sprayed from his chest. Eyes rolled into his head as his system registered the apparent double-tap.
Near her ear, a pair of SMGs emptied into the second guard. The limp form jerked with each impact, shock flooding through her before her body fully absorbed the simunition. She joined her companion on the floor, leaving sprays of red on the monitors behind her.
Hannah took the magazines from their weapons without looking at what she was doing. She only had eyes for the bank of screens. Combing over them, she watched two seconds of Geist, Harper and Mike in the most intense training match of the decade. Just enough to see by the ducking and measured firing that they were still utterly absorbed in their fight. More than enough. She shut the system down with a couple of keystrokes, courtesy of absent-minded instructions from Lucas during one of their midnight hang-outs.
Jason had the guards restrained by the time she turned her attention back to him. Both Innies lolled in their chairs, tied to the armrests too far from each other to make a great escape.
She left them without a word, already reloading her modified pistol. More than hearing his movement, Hannah felt Jason fall into step behind her. He still hadn't spoken since the armoury and if he had worked out what they were doing, he made no sign.
Satisfied their route was safe for the time being, Hannah pushed herself into a run. The base blurred. Semi-permanent walls turned to glass. Tile turned to concrete. Windows shrank until only the smallest rays of grey light trickled through. This place was lit only by harsh halogen bulbs. It was unhallowed ground, barren and hostile. Neither of them so much as glanced at the walls with far too many tally marks, with scratches and scars and gouges in the floor. With unmade cot, door hanging nearly off its track.
A shadow stirred within one of the cages.
"Jason?" croaked Mark, eyes like bruises deep in his skull as he sat up in bed, the sheets clinging to his withering frame.
The younger Shaw's jaw fell slack. Apparently he hadn't been down here in a while. Apparently he had been too focused on balancing his two lovers.
Hannah didn't flinch at the shrouded shade. She had spent enough time in this hall in the deep, lonely hours of the night. Particularly the hours while her shoulder blade itched and she needed something to take her mind off the urge to scratch the still-healing scars on her chest.
You trust me too much.
She held a key card-lifted from a guard coming off duty the day before, too soon to have been logged and deactivated-to the pad on the wall. The door slid open. Before she could so much as hold out a hand to stop him, Jason lunged into the cell.
She didn't have the heart to reproach either of them for clinging to each other for the first time since their capture over a year ago. Instead, she removed the pistol from her belt, tossing it onto the abandoned duffle bag at her feet. It felt too personal to watch their reunion. To watch the way the armoured Jason cradled his fragile brother in ceramic-coated gloves.
She knew his touch. The way he always fit his fingers around her neck as if to protect her spine from an unseen assault. She knew he did the same for Harper. She knew he was doing the same now, using his own body to block the faded frame of his older brother.
Hannah turned away.
The man ten feet away was covered in scarlet spray. It had worked its way into the loose strands of his hair. Into the straps of his vest. The crevices in his weapon as it shook in his hand, aim wavering around her chest, never losing its lethality.
Most people, when faced with this situation, had put up their hands in surrender. Had gotten down on their knees and begged, pleaded, cried. They had all been shot dead. Or worse.
She had her pistol in hand with less than a full thought. Nothing was between them but their barrels, both aimed to inflict mind-warping pain, simunition rounds or not. Whoever pulled first would win.
"The stupidest fucking part is that I knew," said Harper, eyes darting between Hannah and the Shaw brothers. "I bloody well knew I couldn't trust you two."
Jason whirled, releasing Mark and looking for all in the world like a deer about to be steamrolled. His expression reflected all the raw edges of Harper's.
"You can't keep Mark here. If you want him, you have to deal with me first," said Hannah, not letting herself feel the chill creeping through her heart, flooding her veins. If she did, she would do something she would regret.
The decision passed over his face before it reached his trigger finger. Just a thinning of his lips, a clench of his jaw. Hannah ducked before the simunition round burst against the glass wall. Her elbow slammed into Harper's wrist. The pistol fell from numb fingers.
He responded with a right hook that made her ears ring. Before Hannah could clear her blurring vision, free hand up to guard half of her body, he batted her aside. Already unsteady, she sank to the floor, uncertain which way was up.
Harper scooped the pistol from the duffle bag in his off hand and barked, "Jay, move."
Hannah crawled to her knees, slapping the floor as she searched for the forgotten training weapon. Stars continued to burst across her vision.
Two pairs of unsteady feet sounded on the floor as Jason pivoted with Mark still behind him. "Do what you want with me. Let him go," answered the younger Shaw.
Her sight finally clearing, Hannah froze when Harper threw himself at Jason. The two of them danced to a beat even she was unable to follow, knocking each other's weapons aside just before they found a gap to fire into. A punch landed, was returned in full. Armour didn't count when both fists were plated.
Mark stumbled out of his cell, nearly sagging onto Hannah. She tried to pull him away, but he stood firm, watching as Lieutenant Ian Harper kicked out at his scarred little brother.
Blue eyes flicked past Harper's shoulder as Jason slipped under a headlock attempt. Harper spun, face wiped oh-so-carefully blank while he struggled to gain the upper hand against his fiery little protégé. He lifted his arm and Hannah's mouth opened as she shoved Mark to the side.
Live fire cracked through the cell. Harper's eyes widened in shock, already dropping the pistol as if it had bitten him. Hannah jerked even though she had been expecting it. Mark stiffened beside her. Rage broke the still surface of Jason's expression as he rounded on Harper.
She was on her knees in the dead hall anyway, hands already soaked with hot red as she applied pressure, her mind all too clear as she heard herself try to speak. "Jay—" Just a whisper that didn't fully form. "Jason."
Too late. He was already throwing himself into the thunderstruck Harper. The Innie snapped back on himself, reacting instantly. They grappled, each searching for a weakness as their brutal fistfight resumed.
Mark heaved a shaky breath.
"Jason!" It cracked through the still air.
He shoved Harper off, slipping and skidding on the slick floor. Before he fully landed next to her, Hannah was back on her feet. She felt knuckles brush the back of hers as they passed. As he fell on his bleeding brother.
Harper was ready for her, all sick grin and dead eyes. They collided with a force that rattled her teeth, but all she felt was the storm of fury. He was a living, breathing target. He was about to become ground zero, would run for cover when Hannah touched down. All that mattered was hitting him where it would hurt most. So she did.
Over and over, faster than he could block while half his attention was still on his Jay. His pet. It disgusted her. Made the howl in her ears all the louder for the possession written in every line of his body as he let her hit him. He turned the worst blows aside, fending off her every attempt at a hold.
"Leave," she ordered, breath coming hard as Harper made a grab for her fist.
"I can't—"
"Go!" She wouldn't let herself be distracted. Wouldn't allow herself to glance his way.
"Move!" Jason shouted, voice cutting clear through the anger still driving her every blow.
Harper opened his fist, a shine of metal around his finger as he waved to her. That was when the deadly calm settled over her senses. Each painful second lasted a year as Hannah stared at the grenade falling between them. She slammed into Harper's shoulder, nowhere to go but through him. Limp in anticipation of the blast, he crumpled over her. Her momentum rolled them both. She lost track of where they were in the spaces between the slow thud of her heart.
The floor rocked and heat bloomed, boiling away the air. Hannah's head swam as every sound was swallowed. She rolled them one more time, pistol pressed to his forehead. Didn't know if it was a safe one or not, but her finger was on the trigger as she leaned her weight onto it.
Harper's mouth was full of blood as he snarled up at her. Hannah felt her chest vibrate as she spoke, but her ears were still deadened from the blast. "I should kill you right now," she felt herself growl.
The hand tight around her biceps fell away, practically inviting her to finish the job. His expression didn't change, defiant to the last.
"But I can't."
Sounds were starting to come back. Her voice may as well have been coming from underwater.
She looked out into the hall. The duffle bag was open, its contents scattered across the floor. Mark held his hands over the dressing hastily patched over his side while Jason watched her every move. He was pale, shaking as if about to vomit.
Hannah looked back down at Harper. Really looked. His right arm was a mess of charred meat and exposed bone, barely held together by a few strands of flesh. Shooting him might be a mercy. Her thumb instead found the safety and she tossed the pistol out of reach.
"I think letting you live is a better punishment anyway," she said, sitting back. She hoped he remembered this. She hoped the physical trauma didn't block out his memory.
Her feet barely held her when she stood. Each step was stumbling, fumbling, until she could drop back down next to the duffle bag. With trembling hands, she threw all of her scattered supplies back into it and shoved it at Jason. "I told you to go," she growled, shooting a pointed glare at Mark.
"You…" Jason shook his head, voice little more than a hoarse whisper.
"I have to stay."
He flinched with every word, as if they were stones pelting him.
"You have to leave. I'll get a message to you when I can." She stood, thrusting the bag out to him again.
Jason's finger traced a line beneath her nose, coming away rusty brown. He stared at her and once again, she almost expected him to kiss her. He took the bag and helped Mark find his feet.
"Hannah, I—"
She pushed him away. "Keys are in the side pocket. Enough food and clothes for you to get to the city. Credits to get you offworld. Go before lockdown. Please."
Mark's head dropped toward his chest. She watched his lips move, but only Jason ever heard what he said. Blue eyes tight with pain, both Shaws took one last look at the carnage they had all helped create before they staggered down the hall. Once they were out of sight, Hannah let herself collapse in the sticky puddle of Mark's blood. The concrete bit her palms as she coughed and retched until the glassy walls smeared into unending grey.
Only then Hannah allowed herself to curl onto her side, letting the pain deep in her belly swamp her. Even the ice in her veins couldn't deaden the pounding of her head. Pounding echoing in her ears as boots stomped toward her. She wondered if she would be executed on the spot, or if Mark's cell was about to become hers.
Geist skirted the mess in the middle of the hall, kneeling only long enough for her eyes to pull him into focus before he left her stranded there. She watched him tend to Harper with rapid, sure movements. She didn't envy the Phoenix leader his awakening, though as she felt her grip on reality slipping, she couldn't deny that she was glad to watch him suffer.
They had both played with fire.
The blue heart of the flame always did bite the hardest.