Happy weekend, everyone! Thanks for joining us again. Big thank you to BrambleStar14 and Minaethiel for beta reading, as always.

Not the Mercy Type

It's too late to make it right

I probably wouldn't if I could

-The Chicks, 'Not Ready to Make Nice'

Hannah slunk out of her room like a shadow the next morning. She'd been hiding from the new kid under the pretense of recovering from her wounds. The fresh skin itched where there had been bullet holes just yesterday. Her muscles ached from the fighting. But she welcomed it. The pain couldn't chase away the empty feeling in her chest, but it was a distraction.

She ate breakfast in a hurry, shunning the Phoenix table in case her teammates showed up. She wanted to be alone. Wanted to sink deep into the memory of ODSTs dying because of her. The others would try to cheer her up—or push her to talk about it. But the words were broken glass in her throat.

The gym was silent and still when she slipped inside. She thought of her data pad, nestled deep in the twisted sheets of her unmade bed. But she couldn't bring herself to go get it. To plug it in and listen to music today. To let herself feel the weight.

Not today.

So Hannah stretched in silence, pushing her body until the aches started to ease. Relishing the tug and pull and the thick layer of armour that settled over her. The plates of quiet, the weave of solitude, the solid protection of standing apart from the universe. It was just her. For that one single hour, she could pretend she didn't exist. No, that everything else didn't. That she was and always would be by herself. That the war was nothing more than a fading nightmare. That the people she had once known were made up.

That she had never done any of the terrible things that cracked her heart in two.

But then the door slid open and joking, teasing voices tumbled in, breaking over her like waves. She couldn't force her eyes to stop climbing the mirror and watching them. From watching Mike shake his head at Lucas' wild gesturing. From Aaron's grin as he elbowed Geist in the side. From Phil striding confidently at their head.

Her eyes finally landed on Kyle Mathesson. He stuck out like a sore thumb—this rookie was a lean, stalking ghost keeping firmly to the fringe of the group. His brown hair was strictly regulation, but his dark eyes were smudged with haunted shadows that darted through the room. Not like a self-assured soldier, but like a prey animal searching for threats.

Until he caught her gaze in the mirror. Then his shoulders squared. His spine straightened. He lifted his chin with a clear effort of will.

"Hey, Hannah! Missed you in the mess hall earlier," called Lucas.

She uncoiled from her spot on the floor, but immediately folded her arms. Instead of heading across the room to join the team, she waited for them. All she gave as a reply was one lifted shoulder.

Lucas' expression shifted instantly. He hurried to her side, reaching out for her elbow. Hannah jerked it away, refusing to turn her head his way. He hovered a few feet away, glancing at Mike for help.

"I know you two already met, but I wanted to actually introduce you at last," said Phil, stepping in smoothly. "Lance Corporal Kyle Mathesson, this is Sergeant Hannah Steele. Hannah's been part of the team for about a year and a half. Kyle here is joining the team officially as soon as Harper gets back."

Neither of them made a move to acknowledge the other. Hannah knew she should at least nod in approval. But he should salute his superior, and that didn't happen either. Instead the silence hung a beat longer than necessary.

"Since you're already warmed up, why don't you take a run while we catch up?" Phil suggested.

Turning on her heel, Hannah made her way to a treadmill without further discussion. All she wanted was to be left alone. At least Phil let her have the semi-privacy on the other side of the room. It didn't stop the feeling of eyes boring into her back while Aaron and Lucas took turns watching her every move. Their concern only made irritation flicker somewhere deep in her chest.

The rest of them joined her eventually. So she stared at the wall in front of her, memorizing every imperfection in the metal panel. Tracing the rivets holding it in place. As if the chaos of the galaxy could be distilled to that same simple logic. As if ninety-degree angles and fasteners every four inches could hold her life together.

"Okay, that's enough."

Hannah's breath came in short gasps and her legs felt like jelly when Phil finally called a halt. She stepped off the treadmill and snatched up her water bottle before walking around the room aimlessly. No laps or destination in mind, just the need to keep moving while she caught her breath and settled her racing heart.

Not that the break lasted very long. Already, Mike was pairing them up for sparring.

"Wait."

She wouldn't let herself turn. She wouldn't engage.

"I want to partner Steele," said Kyle.

"I don't think she's on the roster today," said Aaron. "Someone has to sit out anyway. Uneven group."

"You're going to let her get away with being rude?"

Something about the question prickled over the back of her neck. Like an accusation levelled against the rest of the team. Maybe an abusive one echoed in her ears.

She spun to face Kyle. He could say whatever he wanted about her. It was probably true anyway. But if he thought he could wheedle or undermine any of her teammates, he was in sore need of a lesson. She settled into her ready stance, fists up to protect her face and elbows tucked to her sides. With a jerk of her chin, she invited him over.

"Hannah—" began Lucas.

She shook her head.

The corner of Kyle's mouth tugged into a cocky grin. He swaggered over. "Guess you do know how to greet someone after all."

He was taller than her—everyone was. He had ODST training, but at this point she'd taught most of her tricks to the rest of Phoenix. He had reach, weight, stride length—everything except experience in his favour. And his preferred method was knives. When it was a coin toss every time she went toe-to-toe with Geist or Harper, she didn't like her odds. But he was still riding high on the arrogance of bailing her out in the control room. He figured it had been luck that put him on his ass the last time they had fought.

So she feinted, circled left, feinted again. Like she was testing his reflexes. Like she was still trying to dial him in. But she left openings for Kyle, waiting to see if he'd take them. When she stepped forward to feint again, he met her halfway with a jab that she caught on a forearm. So not the patient type, then.

She let him take the offensive. He came at her quickly, game to loom over her and pummel her from above. For a while, she let him hammer away at her blocks before she slipped to the side and threw a right cross at his ribs. He twisted, letting her fist glance off without the force to bruise.

Against Jason, she would have grinned. But as she and Kyle squared up again, she simply watched for a tell. As he stepped forward, she didn't spot one. But she knocked his punch aside and slipped inside his guard. This time he had to jerk his head back to avoid the uppercut. When he lost sight of her, she jammed her elbow into his stomach before backing out of reach.

Hannah returned to her ready stance while he recovered. Returned to waiting for something like satisfaction or anger to crawl out of the cavern yawning inside.

This time Kyle was ready for her to dance out of reach. He grabbed her arm and dragged her back, fist cocked and ready to fly. She barely managed to wrench herself free in time to block it. Her forearms were starting to ache with the constant punishment, but that was nothing new. She gritted her teeth and answered with her own flurry of blows.

Back and forth they went, bruises blossoming wherever knuckles slammed home. Hannah's breathing fell out of rhythm again until she was sucking down great gulps of air. Kyle flashed his teeth as if he smelled blood in the water.

"Aw, does it hurt your bad bitch pride that I rescued you?"

Like breaking through a thin skin of ice, all of Hannah's carefully chained loathing turned outward. "You don't know anything about me."

He laughed.

She threw herself at him, textbook form going out the window along with any finesse. She just needed to make him hurt.

Hannah stomped on his toes and grabbed a fistful of his shirt to pull him in close. Her fist landed just as his own came down on her head. Dazed, she clung on doggedly. And kept on lashing out on blind instinct. Kyle caught her by the wrist and twisted her arm behind her back. She slammed the back of her head into his nose. He swore and when his grip loosened, she slipped away.

As she was about to charge into him again, Kyle shook his head to clear it.

Clapping rang through the gym. Hannah was about to ignore it, but Kyle whirled. With his back turned, she stalked forward and touched two fingers to the base of his skull. "Bang."

Harper, leaning against the wall, brought his hands together one final time. "It really warms my heart to see you playing nice with the new kid, Hannah. But we both know that's cheating."

She scowled across the room at him. "Match wasn't over."

Harper shrugged. Kyle bristled. Hannah ignored them both, searching through the equipment and Phoenix members for black hair and brilliant blue eyes.

"He's not here."

Did she imagine the tinge of defeat? Or was it regret?

"Anyway," Harper swept on as if nothing had passed between them. He unhitched himself from the wall and strolled right up to Kyle like he was meeting an old friend at a café. "Lieutenant Ian Harper, but you know that. I don't think I've ever had the pleasure of seeing you before. Mathesson, was it?"

"That's me. Kyle." The new guy forced himself to stand tall while facing his former enemy number one. "Sir."

Harper laughed. "Oh, we're not a formal group. Just the name will do. I see you've had the absolute wonder of experience to get on Hannah's bad side. What the hell did you do to her on your first day?"

For her part, Hannah simply glared at Kyle, daring him to tell his glorified version of events. Paint her the villain. Harper would eat it right up.

"She seems to think I'm scum of the earth for helping her kill my last team," he said evenly.

One of Harper's brows rose. "Oh, boy. You two are going to have a lot to talk about." He looked past Kyle to pin Hannah with a look. For once, he seemed to see her. The tension in her fists and jaw. "You good?"

Something made her meet his eye. To do him the same courtesy of looking and even seeing. There were tired lines carved into his face. The customary lopsided grin felt plastered on. There were bags under his eyes, his hair was shorn close to the scalp and fresh scars peeked out from his sleeves.

Hannah couldn't uncurl her fists. She couldn't drop her shoulders or relax her jaw. If she did, she'd fall apart right in front of the new guy. She'd have to bear the weight of the entire team's pity. She'd have to watch them walk on eggshells around her for days.

But she managed to shake her head.

Harper didn't do her the disrespect of letting his eyes soften, or even linger on her. He just dropped his chin a fraction of a centimetre in acknowledgement before his attention snapped back to Kyle.

"So I hear you think you're Phoenix material. Jumped in and helped Aaron, Hannah and Lucas finish their objective, did you? Let's call that your audition and your match just now your callback." Harper looked over his shoulder to the rest of the team. "What do you think, lads?"

The other guys gave up the last half-hearted pretense of their sparring. Each of Hannah's teammates gave a thumbs-up. Aaron added, "Hell yeah!"

Harper turned back to Hannah. "Has to be unanimous," he said. Not gently, because that would have looked obscene on him. But quietly. Like he didn't want to bother her for once in their lives.

Her gaze slid past Harper to the rest of Phoenix. To Lucas, who waited with an expectant expression. To Aaron, still nodding enthusiastically. To Geist's impassive face. To Mike, who looked like all he wanted was to sit her down and wait out the storm. To Phil. She wondered if he was thinking about their last heart-to-heart.

And her mind went to Jason. She couldn't help but wonder what he'd make of Kyle Mathesson. She couldn't deny that Kyle needed a fresh start. That he was full of jagged and cracked stuff like the rest of them. That he'd settle right in as if he'd been made to be one of them. That, in another life, maybe they could come to understand one another.

She stuck her fist out.

Kyle was everything she wasn't. Not in the way Jason was lively and full of fire for life. But Kyle was like looking into a funhouse mirror. If she hadn't had Orange, she could easily be him. Funny then, that they were both here in this gym covered in scrapes and bruises shaped like each other's knuckles.

Hannah's arm twisted, turning her thumb toward the ceiling.

"Welcome to Phoenix, Rook."

The guys were entrenched in an extremely competitive round of poker when Hannah slipped out of the rec room. She had quietly folded out of the game, having agreed to a hand in the name of bonding time. What she really wanted was somewhere quiet to ignore the thoughts circling like vultures, ready to pick her apart.

She wandered, letting her feet take her wherever they wanted. The sun hit her face like a slap. Blinding and hot, it beat down on the grey wasteland until there was nowhere to hide. She followed the trail to the ridge and sat in the dust, looking down at the base she'd helped build.

Until even that hurt to look at, the metal walls reflecting sunlight straight into her eyes. Then Hannah flopped onto her back, arm over her eyes, and finally let the crushing despair crawl its way free. It chewed through her in seconds—all those questions about what she was doing, how she could turn against her people, if it even mattered if the UNSC ground everyone down in the end, if it mattered when the URF did the same—leaving her lost and alone.

Until she heard footsteps in the loose dirt.

She couldn't bring herself to sit up, or even move her arm so she could see who it was. The footsteps drew closer, then came the sounds of someone settling comfortably next to her.

"I was starting to think we'd gotten you past this, Hannah," said Harper. "That you were getting back to your old self. Guess I should have known better."

She wanted to tell him to fuck off, but couldn't scrape together enough energy.

"Phil told me about the fight on the roof. The others brushed it off as you being a crazy ex-ODST. Well. They did until this morning," he went on, casually as if discussing the weather. He let out a small sigh. "I asked Jason to come back. I know he hasn't been in touch with you. Anyway, figured you would want to know."

Hannah scrubbed her dry eyes and forced herself to sit up. To answer the ache in her back from the rocks digging in. "Anything useful?" she croaked.

He shook his head and squinted at the horizon. "Not much beyond what we had in the dossiers. ONI black ops, egghead in charge almost as insane as me."

She felt the comments lining up on her tongue. Waste of time. Can't do a simple recon job right. What use was Harper anyway? But he was here, answering her questions and expecting nothing in return. Checking up on her. Asking her permission to induct Kyle.

"What's the next move?" she asked instead. Because that's what she should do.

Harper turned his heavy stare on her. "I know the guys don't want you to go—and while it hurts my pride to admit it, you're a damn good soldier. I'd be lying if I said you weren't a damn good Phoenix."

"But?"

"But," he said slowly, tasting every sound of the word, "you're not happy here anymore."

She couldn't hold his gaze. Her eyes dropped to her hands, staring down at the creases and lines in her palms instead.

"I know you're going to go running right back to him and I can't say I blame you. I don't know what else to do to keep you from eating yourself alive, Hannah."

She heard the part he wouldn't—couldn't—say. I'm worried about you.

What could she even say in response to the rare display from him?

"Are you…" it sounded ridiculous out loud, but she'd already thought it, "replacing me?"

Harper laughed. "You haven't paid attention to a single thing we told you if you think that. This isn't me rushing you out the door. You have to contact Steele and work out pardons and getting an in at Freelancer. And if you change your mind about your place here, nobody's going to make you go."

"Not even you?" She finally looked up at him.

"Cross my heart and hope to die," he said with the hint of a grin. "You're one of us, even after you leave. Being a Phoenix isn't just a uniform. It's who you are. I'd say it's in your soul, but that'd be the lamest thing I've ever said."

Hannah turned the idea around and around, trying to examine any possible angle. Sure, he was stepping back and releasing her from any obligation to not only him, but Phoenix and the entire Insurrection. He was opening the door to reuniting with Jason—if he even cared to have her, an insidious part of her supplied. But another thought crawled out of the coldest depths. "You know if you want me to spy for you, all you have to do is ask."

"And what would you say if I asked?"

"That this war's gone on long enough."

There. She'd admitted it.

Harper watched her silently, sensing there was more coming even if she didn't know what it was.

"And, god, I'm tired."

"There it is." It wasn't concern because he was a self-professed psychopath who didn't care about anyone except Jason and his original Phoenixes.

She shrugged. "But I can't walk away."

Dana Steele's garden, the peaceful play of sunlight on the surface of the pool, the noise of nightclubs—they might as well be wiped off the map if Hannah gave in. One side or the other would steamroll right across sleepy neighbourhoods sheltered from the battlefields eventually.

Maybe it wasn't about winning or losing anymore. Maybe it was about stopping.

"So what are you going to do, Steele?" asked Harper.

Hannah figured her knock would go unanswered. In fact, she shoved both hands into her pockets and slouched away toward her room, trying to pretend the room hadn't been left empty out of the thin hope Jason might one day move in.

The click and hiss of the door opening made her turn back.

"Well, well, Sergeant Bitch," greeted Kyle. He leaned against the door frame and eyed her with dislike.

"Keep going and you'll have a full collection of Sergeant Insert-Insult-Here," she said in that dead voice that lived in her chest now. She didn't have the energy to paint a smile on and fake the sarcasm.

"I'd just as soon not." He wrinkled his nose. Leaving the question of what she was doing bothering him hanging in the thick air between them.

She nearly asked to move their conversation into his room, but the way he filled the doorway warned her out of his space. So she said, "Let's take a walk."

Without waiting to see if he was following, Hannah set off down the hall. Selecting directions at random, she stopped paying attention to where she was heading. The only thing she was aware of was the way Kyle moved at her side. Not liquid like Jason, or brusque like Geist. Or absently like Lucas. Or purposefully like Phil. Rushed like Aaron or strolling like Mike. Kyle stalked, not in the way Harper stalked, but as if he'd wake the shadows and send them chasing after him.

"I don't hate you," she said at last.

Kyle didn't answer beyond a scoffing laugh.

"If you want to play the Sob Story Olympics, we don't even come close to winning," she said, edging around the still-healing hole in her heart as if she could possibly delay reopening it. "Personally, I'd give the gold to Lucas or Mike, bronze to Ian. I think I'd probably give myself a top five finish though."

"Congrats?"

As if she could have ended up anywhere else—Hannah realized they were climbing the stairs and stepping out onto the roof. The sun sank beyond the wasteland, turning the sky a thick scarlet that bled to black overhead.

If that was the case, why not take a seat with her feet hanging into empty space? Fitting, then, to end her formal introduction to Kyle in almost the same place she had hidden from him.

"I was second-in-command of Fireteam Orange."

If he recognized the name, Kyle gave no sign.

"The day of our last op, my pod's chute didn't open properly. I should have died a dozen times that day. Two feet to the left and I would have gone into the cliff and crumpled like a tin can. But I ended up in the lake instead. Which boiled away when I landed, but that's beside the point," she said, eyes unfocusing until all she could see was the warnings flashing on the displays. The front panel blasting free as she fell out, shaking and retching until Dom grabbed her by the shoulder and set her on her feet.

"We got bad intel. I watched them all die, one by one. I should have been killed in the fight, too." She tugged the collar of her t-shirt so he could see the scars. "Phoenix found me surrounded by corpses, in mud three inches deep, my guts in a puddle. They put me back together and made me one of their own. So yeah. I thought you were a shitstain to the name of the outfit when I watched you cut your team apart."

Kyle kicked his heels against the base, watching the colour seep out of the sky, leaving a thick coat of black over the plain. "I'm sorry that happened to your team."

"Yeah. Me, too," Hannah said to the first stars burning coldly from billions of miles away. "Best fucking soldiers I ever served with."

"I never had that," he said.

"I know. I know your teammates were fucking awful. I'm sorry they weren't the family I had."

"But they're gone now."

She nodded. "They're gone now. These guys are different."

"I know." He hesitated. "So are you."

Hannah felt a cold smile crack her flat expression. "I'm leaving them in your hands. Don't let me down, Mathesson."

"And where the fuck are you going?" He met her demeanor as if he'd caused her shift from blank to frigid.

"What do you know about Project Freelancer?"

"They're not ODSTs, but they're pretty damn close. Fucking nuts, every single one of them," he said.

Her smile widened and pride touched her aching heart. "Maybe that's why my boyfriend won't answer my mails."

Kyle, to his credit, kept the shock from his face. But she saw it in his eyes anyway. "You'll fit right in with them," he decided. "You're fucking nuts, too."

That made her laugh. "Yeah, but so are you. Welcome to Fireteam Phoenix, Mathesson. Nobody's sane here."