Content warning: discussions of depression and suicide.
Special thanks to BrambleStar14 and Minaethiel's beta reading work. And thanks for reading, favouriting and/or following. It means so much to me to have you along for this wild adventure.
Burning My Cathedrals
Written by TunelessLyric
If you could just forgive yourself
But still you stumble, feet give way
Outside, the world seems a violent place
But you had to have him, and so you did
Some things you let go in order to live
-Florence + the Machine, 'Various Storms and Saints'
There was no knock on her door as the clock ticked steadily toward the time Phoenix met for training. No insistent voices dragging her from her bed as she stared at the patch of sky outside the window. The darkness faded to blank grey to an overcast day. They certainly weren't storm clouds. But they were enough to hide the blue and the sun.
Sleep hadn't come in the hours since she had left Lucas' room. She kept seeing the line of dead soldiers. The line of raised flesh marking his arm. The line of the edge of the roof. Lines she crossed and never thought she would. Like the tenuous one, atrophied and weak she still felt when she tugged on the charred connection like gravity, even though it was buried beneath the snow and ice.
With a long sigh, Hannah rolled herself out of bed and dragged some clean clothes on. She needed to eat something. Even if she wasn't ready to face some of her teammates, it was only a matter of time. Not something she could escape.
They were waiting for her in the mess hall. All of them were in the middle of conversation, speaking between—or through—mouthfuls. Nobody looked up when she drifted in, but she was certain every single Phoenix noted her entrance. And they had left her customary spot open. Dropping into it with her meagre pickings of buttered toast and a banana, Lucas glanced quickly in her direction. Just long enough for her to see a hint of happiness in his eyes. He turned back to his debate over different kinds of sights with Mike.
A flicker of gratitude rose through her chest when none of them made any fuss over her presence. Or her absence at their morning session. It reminded her of those first weeks when she tagged along without being part of the group. This time she felt the difference. The way they left gaps in their chatting in case she had anything to add. Any words to use.
She didn't. Unlike even yesterday, she felt them in her mouth. Tasted them. But wasn't ready to hear them.
"Well, since we only just got back home, we're having a light day," announced Harper, leaning back in his seat. "Firing range for a couple of hours, then the afternoon off."
Phil finally addressed Hannah directly. "You and I are exempt. We're going for a walk."
She had to give Lucas credit once again. He said he'd get her set up with Phil and a pass with Harper and he'd come through immediately.
Nodding to the Phoenix second, she chewed on her well-tanned toast. She was grateful the conversation didn't linger. Nobody asked for details or brought up the events of last night. Or yesterday.
Pushing away from the table, Phil circled around to pick up her tray when she was done. The others piled out together, laughing at something Shaw was teasing Aaron about. She half expected the analysis to start as soon as they were out of earshot, but Phil simply returned the dishes, rubbed his palms together thoughtfully and set off at a leisurely pace.
He stayed at her side, never leading exactly, but guiding them through the base. Their first stop was the barracks for extra layers. Holding the door open for her, he let a cold gust charge into the corridor. Summer was over, the long days of heat with it.
Hannah stepped out into the moody day. The wind caught blonde hair, tossing it until it blew into her eyes. She wanted to ask where they were going. Holding the question in, she figured he didn't even know.
At least they stayed well clear of the obsidian monument on one side of the building. Stayed down on solid ground instead of climbing up to the roof.
Phil pulled his hands from his pockets to pick up a stick the length of his arm. Spindly and delicate, he examined it closely. "It's still green," he said, peering up at the tree beside them. "Wind must have pulled it off."
He offered it to Hannah. Unsure what his point was with this, she took it. Felt the way it bowed and bent in her hands. She passed it back, expecting him to abandon it and lead her deeper into the trees. Instead, he manipulated it much like she had. Bent it and curled it in on itself.
"Imagine it's a person. Usually it can take a lot of punishment. Hard to damage when it's so flexible, right?" He twisted it into a loose knot. "And then it snaps back into proper shape the moment the pressure comes off."
The limb did just that when he undid the twist. Eyes on her, Phil took it firmly in both hands, one on each end. A savage jerk downwards as he lifted a knee was all it took to snap it in half.
"Enough pressure applied in the right way will break anything. Like a person."
She really had no argument to make. Enough soldiers had snapped in the middle of a firefight before her eyes. A teammate who watched their best friend die, maybe. A CO who lost too many of their men. Maybe a green recruit who thought they could handle the ugly mess that was war. They did stupid shit. Took terrible risks. Outright asked for death and received it as brutally as Phil broke that stick.
Harper specialized in it. He lived off it. That terror that made veterans squirm when they saw him dancing through the fray. Heard him laughing over the gunfire. And she had chosen to follow him. Antagonize him to get her way. Well, it was no wonder he had done his job on her.
Phil's mouth curled into a wry smile. "I don't agree with his methods sometimes. Sometimes they do more harm than good. What we all need you to remember, him most of all, is that we look out for each other. That's what being part of this team is about. Not killing all of the unjust and self-righteous, though it's our job. We're a family. We all know you've been through hell, Hannah. We're going to help you find the way out."
She pointed at the tall grass trodden down by their feet. They were words she didn't think she would ever be able to give to her voice.
It's too much to keep going on.
He held his arms open in answer. "Come here."
With no reason not to, Hannah pressed herself against Phil. Arms went around her shoulders, pulling her in close.
"You aren't a bad person for doing what you did. They were trained soldiers who knew what they were doing. They knew who we are. They knew they had lost and what would happen to them. If not you, then Aaron or Ian or Geist. It would have been one of us. You put Aaron's life over theirs because he's your friend. Nobody blames you for it. They wouldn't. They knew it was your choice the moment Aaron sat down," he said gently.
All Hannah could do was nod, throat tight as she pictured them trussed up like meat at a market.
"Fireteam Orange were trained soldiers who knew what they were doing. They knew they had lost and they would all be glad that you survived, right?" he asked, rubbing circles on her shoulder blade.
She nodded again. Pascal, Theresa, Dom, White, they all would have wanted her to keep going. Never forget, but at least let them go. Find a way to move forward. Make new friends. A new family.
"Don't judge yourself too harshly. You helped settle the debt owed to them with Mars."
Squeezing her eyes shut, Hannah felt tears slip out. "I miss them," she whispered into his shirt.
Phil kept drawing those circles on her shoulder and back. "I know," he answered.
"I saved an Innie. Killed my own people." It came out in that same broken breath when all she wanted in that second was to scream it until her throat was raw.
He didn't make any reply. Maybe he didn't have one to give. He stood patiently.
It was so messed up, that thought. Because it wasn't an Innie, it was Aaron. They weren't her people, they had been some other squad of ODSTs she had never met. That's what war was. Killing someone you didn't know and hoping your convictions were right. Clinging desperately to the idea that your side knew better.
She had seen both sides.
They were the same.
"It's a waste of time," said Hannah, voice stronger. Louder.
There were alien races banding together against their species, bent on extermination of the human population. And the humans had drawn a line down the middle, content to throw stones at one another. Content to snap sticks over something petty and irrelevant in the face of extinction. That was the real fight. The one worth dying for.
The one worth killing her own people for.
The sacrifice of her teammates meant something. It was a war cry in the face of the Covenant.
What she had done… it meant almost nothing. Confirming her loyalties one more time, that's all. Loyalties Aaron hadn't doubted. Geist hadn't doubted. Revenge on Harper's part for what she had done to Shaw. For what she had done to him by defying him openly. Proving to herself that Hannah Steele was gone and there was only a Blizzard in her skin.
That was what she struggled to live with.
Phil's arms loosened as she pulled away, wiping her face with a sleeve. "Come on. We wanted to show you something."
He set off in the direction of the base. They took a direct path through the tall grass whispering in the wind. Not the same meandering, aimless steps it had taken to reach this place to begin with. He took her straight to the break room where the quiet chatter of the other Phoenixes cut off as soon as they heard two sets of footsteps.
The team stood shoulder to shoulder in a long line facing Hannah. Phil left her standing near the door to take his place near the end of the line. The only sound was Shaw flicking the lid of a lighter open and shut. The metallic sliding sound cut through the tight silence.
Lucas had his sleeves rolled up, baring the marks he had shown her last night. "I told you about these. How I couldn't cope with my loss and regrets. Mike and Phil were there for me for the months it took to get better. Aaron and Geist, too."
Shaw flicked the lighter open again.
Next in line was Mike. He held up an orange-tinted plastic bottle with a white screw-on lid. It rattled when it moved. "Took a few tries to get the dosage right. But I had the best psychiatrist ONI could buy at the time to figure it out for me. I still miss her. I still miss him. But I can live with myself now."
The lighter clicked shut.
Pulling his shirt over his head, Aaron turned around. Hannah had seen snatches of the mess that had been made of his back. The pinching burn scars that he wore like he had earned every single one. They didn't match the ones on his arms and hands. These were violent. "I pulled my entire squad from the burning building because it was my fault. I estimated wrong and couldn't let them pay for it. For me," he explained. A finger ran over the bold black CAT 9 on his spine. "Skipped out on my sessions, ended up in jail for one of the dozens of things they should have pinned on me." Turning back around, he shot Geist a look. "ONI fucked a lot up, but I stopped being lonely thanks to them. I stopped blaming myself for my screw up and started appreciating the risk I took to fix it."
The lighter opened with another slick metal sound.
"I purged my records before ONI. I don't exist. I'm Geist and that's all I'll ever be," said the assassin. He held up his pack of cigarettes. "Filthy bad habit. Reminds me I'll probably outlive everyone in this room, but at least I won't go quietly. Silently, maybe."
Shaw set his thumb against the lighter's ignition wheel. "I chose the roof, too," he said, meeting her eyes for the first time in weeks without showing her that mask of nothing. "Was going to be quick." One smooth motion and the lighter gave birth to flame. "Light the petrol and be done. Harper got there first." He flicked the lid shut, snuffing out the tiny, delicate flame. His voice was barely audible as he said, "It's not just you. We've all felt that way."
"I shot my CO, Hannah." Phil's shoulders lifted in a helpless shrug. "Turned on my teammates and my then-girlfriend. I don't have anything to show you, but I can tell you I haven't been with anyone since then. I can't picture myself being that guy again. The one someone cares that way about."
Harper sighed through his nose. "Rode buses in New York for weeks after I left this lot. We didn't have ONI. We didn't have my brother. We barely had each other before I took off. Allen found me. Said I could do something to ensure nobody ever went the way of Isaac Harper again. Now here we are, sharing all of our wounds for you." He shoved his hands deep into his pockets.
She looked at them all. Each one with their personal memento mori and the two who only had the emotional scars. All of them risen from ashes and turned into a person who could smile and laugh and be alive. Hannah dug out the twisted metal around her neck, squeezing it until her knuckles ached.
"They died for something," she rasped. "The one I killed didn't."
Eyes softened. Aaron and Lucas and Mike all stepped forward, reaching. But she had already turned and walked out of the break room. Breaking into a run, she dodged personnel in the halls without seeing them. There was only the breath in her lungs and the impact of her feet on the floor. Everything else melted away.
And she found racing steps slowing between paneled glass doors. Panting, feeling the sound in every fibre of her being, revelling in the noises that finally flowed out of her, she found the one she was looking for.
The prisoner looked up at the sound of her steps. The half-smile and greeting froze on his lips when he got that first look at her. At her windblown hair and blotchy red face. "Hannah?" he asked carefully.
"I can't," she tried, cracking and breaking over the words that tried to stick in her throat. Tried to strangle her. "I don't recognize myself, Mark."
He killed the pitying look before it could fully form. Instead, he uncoiled to his feet and crossed the cell so he could sit against the door like they had before. Facing the far wall so she didn't have to see his face he said, "Why don't you start at the beginning?"
So she did. Right from waking up the morning of her own funeral, she told him the story of Lieutenant Hannah Steele and Blizzard. It was a testament to his patience that he listened to the entire thing without commenting. Without passing judgement. Not that there were many chances to, the words pouring out of her too quickly. As if she wouldn't start again if she so much as paused.
Finally, it was over. And silence echoed through the base, thick and choking. Laced with something toxic.
Mark sighed. "It sounds like you have a choice, Starlight."
She flinched at the name. The evidence of who she had once been still stubbornly held against her.
"Either you let this eat you and stay that good person I met that night. Or you stay here and become that Insurrectionist they want to make you into."
It was so simple, put that way. He kept his tone even, but she knew exactly what he thought of her situation. What he wanted her to choose. There was a reason they were on opposite sides of the glass.
But it wasn't simple. It never could be. There were the six debts she owed them. The four graves left to leave offerings for. And, sides of the glass considered, they weren't completely bad people. Disillusioned for good reason, given a cause to fight for when they had nothing, there was at least a reason for them to have become the Innies they were now. When they had all been burned out, burned down to nothing, someone had come along and gathered them up. Shown them a purpose again.
And damn if they hadn't done the same for her.
Whatever Harper's personal issues with her were for her position in the UNSC military, for her former place in Shaw's life, he offered her a purpose again. No questions asked. The rest of the guys never blinked at anything she did. They all accepted her. Opened their wounds up to show her they were on her side. Aaron had placed his life in her hands without hesitating, even with Geist watching.
"There's more to it, Mark," she said at last. "More than right or wrong. Yes or no. White or black."
He sighed, long and deeply. "That sounds like a decision to me."
She couldn't get one thought out of her head. Shaw standing there. Flicking a spark that caught. The idea of his clothes dripping gasoline as he stood close to where she had stood. And the look of empathy when he met her gaze.
For the first time in over a month, a delicate flame caught in her heart, deep within walls of ice. Protected from the barest breath of wind that could snuff it out. There was something still holding onto her. Despite everything she said. Everything she did. The number of times she walked away from him. He couldn't fully let her go.
Maybe not the best reason. Not when paired with the need to save the lives of men who got excited over the prospect of burning a city to the ground. But a reason nonetheless.
"I can't hold onto that ideal anymore," she said. That ODST was gone and wasn't coming back. Not if Hannah was going to survive this.
"Yeah. I thought so." He managed to keep the disappointment out of his tone. That was it then. His last hope of a rescue. Gone.
She turned to look at him over a shoulder. He slouched down, folding into himself against the realization. "Hey. I won't let them hurt you," she breathed, lips not even moving.
Mark grunted neutrally.
"I owe you, too." Even softer than before, just to be sure no one would overhear. She stood, watching his shoulders tense with the information. In a louder tone she said, "See you later."
The Marine stayed where he was until she was out of sight, apparently defeated. But she could have sworn she felt a small smile touch the air behind her.
As she walked, she folded each name close. Placed each into a chamber of her heart, one for each ghost who would stay with her for the rest of her life. Padding the space around that precious spark of hope she had.
Reaching down deeper into the centre of who she was, she pulled ice up by the handful. This was who she was. The potential she always carried with her. The storm she could become, one that could level cities in the way that Aaron, Lucas, Mike, Phil, Shaw, Geist and Harper could burn them. That was Hannah Steele. A force of nature that needed them to match her. To breathe heat back into her bones afterward.
Entering the break room again, she found them all circled around the table with a deck of cards. She slipped into the gap left between Lucas and Aaron and drew her own hand.
"So," she said, "what are we playing?"
Across the table from her, Harper flashed a broad, carnivorous smile. His nod, however, was one of approval.