Another week, another instalment of Hannah Steele's misadventures. Big thanks go out to BrambleStar14 and Minaethiel, as always, for their time and effort to beta read this fic. And, as always, thank you for reading, following, reviewing, favouriting. It's so cool that so many people are tuning in each week and it really means a lot.

All These Broken Souls

Written by TunelessLyric

You're cold until my body bathes

You in the heat I kept aside

All these days

-Snow Patrol, 'The Golden Floor'

Something in her surroundings shifted. Her eyes opened on a neatly tiled ceiling. Not a combat hospital, not with the distinctly permanent feel to it. A hand flew to her abdomen. To the round hole that had been leaking blood the last she remembered. All she felt was gauze taped over it.

There was a man lounging across a chair at the foot of her bed.

"What?" she asked.

"It has been brought to my attention that I've been a little hard on you lately," said Harper, not stirring. "Admittedly, that was quite some time ago. But what I can do right now is at least thank you for half-drowning yourself for Lucas."

There was the Pelican as they left the freight yard and then… Nothing after passing out. Not unusual, or even too rare. Being an ODST didn't exactly lend itself to pleasant walks in the park. There were gaps in her memory where there should have been exfils and evacs. Workplace hazard.

But she could feel the chill of the water. The screaming fear as she searched the murky harbour without seeing him. "Anyone on the team would have done the same," she said at last.

Harper just raised an eyebrow that said he disagreed somewhere along the line. "The others are fine, by the way."

It was pointed. Like he couldn't fully let it all go. But she didn't feel the same edge in the air as he said it.

"Good," she answered, thinking about the slash on Shaw's arm. The wound Aaron held to staunch the bleeding.

The data pad at her bedside chimed. She took one look at the device and instantly knew from those scuff marks on the edges that it wasn't hers. Her eyes flicked away before she could take in any more detail.

Getting to his feet, Harper swept around to snatch it up. He read the message and snorted. "Someone wants to come say thank you in person." Pocketing the tablet, he strolled out, with that same unflappable air of someone who owned every room he found himself in.

The door didn't get the chance to shut before Lucas slipped through. Coffee mug in one hand, the other was buried in his pocket. "I hear you're feeling better," he greeted.

Sitting up, Hannah nodded. "I'm sorry we had to leave your armour at the bottom of the lake."

Because she truly was. It was an expensive pile of metal they'd likely never see again. Not with the hard retreat the UNSC had put them to.

"Could just as easily have left me," the engineer said quietly. He dropped into the vacated seat, eyes finding hers in a searching look. "Why did you do that?"

She made a helpless little gesture. "Like you said. We're even now. You saved me, I saved you."

"Hannah, I helped pull you out of a ditch. You swam to the bottom of a harbour, nearly got dragged out to the centre of the lake, and helped me swim back." He fidgeted with something in his pocket, balancing his mug on the foot of the bed.

"My recollection of that is a little hazy near the end, but I think there was something about a burning Warthog in my g—ditch."

She glanced out the window. She could see them from here. The impression of scars in stone.

"Even if I could accept that as being square, you still took a bullet while I hid behind you." Lucas put both hands, fisted, in his lap. Stilled.

"Anyone on the team would have," she repeated her words to Harper, more forcefully now. "It was nothing."

He shook his head. "No, I don't think it was."

A long sigh rolled through her. "What do you want from me?" she asked softly. "I owed you another one."

Wordlessly, her combat partner held one fist out. His sleeve slid up his arm, raised flesh visible as he gently took her hand and pressed something into her palm. It was warm, all smooth edges and sleek surfaces. Looking down, at first the object puzzled her. The shape was generic. Square. No, a rounded hexagon. A die pin with a butterfly back.

For a second, her mind's eye was flooded with burning shattered constellations and the roof of a transport truck. A glimmer of metal pinned to an undersuit, barely visible.

"Where did you get this." Her voice was barely a whisper.

He didn't answer. Didn't have to. "Thought you might want to find out if the universe ever answered with your lucky number."

"Lucas Thorpe, it did." Her own hand fisted around it. Felt the edges dig into her skin as a reminder. "It gave me a friend like you."

"Then it'll be something for you to remember me by when you leave." His somber expression melted into a carefree smile.

She couldn't help it. That smile was contagious. "Nobody could ever forget you."

The engineer sat back in the chair, settling in comfortably and taking a drink of his coffee. "Then I don't need anything in return to remember Hurricane Hannah."

"Stop. You're not making that a thing." She already had too many nicknames. Some she couldn't shake no matter how she tried.

"All right, all right. I'll make you a deal." That mischievous sparkle in his eyes came back. The one she missed whenever things got too serious. "I'll never call you that again if you agree to come out with us. We're celebrating you being back to one hundred percent and all of us living to see today, thanks in part to you. Retreat be damned, we all want a chance to drink and have fun."

In spite of the bitter memories of the last time she had been out for the wild parties, Hannah made herself nod.

Lucas grinned. "Right, well, we'll get you discharged on the next rounds and we'll be gone by thirteen hundred. Better shower and get all fancied up. Think business casual."

"I have regrets," she said lightly, not meaning anything heavy like she once would have.

"Better dance those away in a club," he answered without missing a beat.

The city was bustling for a Tuesday night. Hannah would never have guessed that an hour's flight east of the secluded valley where Phoenix made their roost was a thriving nightlife. She had, unfortunately, been forced to throw a set of fatigues on since she owned absolutely nothing aside from her armour. But that had been rectified with a quick trip to an outlet mall.

Lucas had offered to accompany her, but she waved him off. There was no way she was dragging him through womens' sections in seven different stores.

And it felt like a terrible attempt to recapture her last shopping outing.

It was just easier to be alone. Get the job done and pick up some civilian clothing so she wouldn't get sideways stares all night. To not think too much about anything other than matching colours and finding flattering cuts.

In the end, she bought a couple of shirts and a few pairs of jeans. There was no reason to get anything fancier as far as she could tell. Changing into a sea-green blouse and black skinny jeans back at the empty Pelican, she pulled on a pair of comfortable sneakers and headed back for the city.

She had dinner plans. Plans that Harper insisted were non-negotiable when the team began dispersing for their individual or small-group adventures.

Even though the summer had given way to fall, the evening was warm enough to not need a jacket. But the wind dragged the barest hint of teeth on her skin as it followed her down the street. Nobody glanced twice at her, just another face in the crowd. She was nobody important, living her life that they would never know anything about.

She wondered if any of them knew about the Insurrectionist base on the edge of the wilderness beyond the urban sprawl. If any of them were allies of the URF. She didn't know anything about them either.

Still, she couldn't bring herself to regret leaving all of her weapons at the base. The others hadn't had any such altruistic ideals. Climbing aboard and looking the guys over, she had picked out half a dozen concealed holsters and knew there were likely twice the number of hidden knives on their persons.

None of them needed the weapons to kill. She didn't.

Hands in her pockets, Hannah stepped into the restaurant. It was a dim establishment, clearly high-end. Quiet jazz music trickled through the burgundy dining room and clinking utensils.

"Can I help you, miss?" asked the host, standing primly behind the stand and taking her in.

It certainly didn't strike her as the type of place that matched with Ian Harper or Aaron Paul.

"Table for Fiona Nicks," she answered. Their little undercover joke. "Some of the party may already be here."

The host smiled. "This way, please."

He led her through clusters of tables and quietly chatting patrons. Eyes crawling through faces and discarding them almost instantly, she picked Phil and Mike out of the sea of people.

"Successful trip to the mall?" asked the team second as she sat down.

With a nod, she said, "I have to ask. What are we doing here?"

"Geist knows the owner. From before," said Mike. He didn't elaborate and Hannah didn't push. He just picked up his napkin and began folding it down into a small triangle.

"Ian comes for the free food and the strong drinks. It's a good spot to start the night off right," added Phil. He waved as Lucas and Shaw entered, Aaron at their heels.

Blue eyes slid over her before darting away. She opened her mouth as the three of them settled in. Instead, she reached for her water and took a long drink. Playing with the ice cube was a good excuse not to acknowledge the look and the dismissal.

Harper wasn't far behind and Geist arrived before the team lead was even to his chair. Food was ordered and brought out. Meals were demolished as the soldiers fell on the carefully prepared offerings. It was the first time in over a year that Hannah had tasted real vegetables. The meat smelled like meat and oozed red when she cut into it.

And the wine.

Geist ordered the table a couple different bottles, which everyone sampled. Much to Hannah's surprise. She hadn't taken Aaron and Harper to be wine snobs, but they each commented their appreciation before draining several glasses each.

Meal finished, Phoenix sent their compliments to the kitchen, tipped the waitstaff, and followed Mike down the street.

All in all, far from the burning trash heap they were in the mess hall.

"So where are we going?" she finally asked Lucas as they walked.

He shrugged, running a hand through his wild hair. "It's a surprise. He said he had a place to check out, so we're on our way there. After we've had a round or two, it's Harper's turn to take us somewhere."

"There's an entire system," she said.

"Course, we take fun very seriously around here." He grinned widely.

"Thorpe, Steele! Come on, mates, we're waiting on you two," complained Aaron, already shuffling himself into the bar. Or rather, being tugged along into the bar by Geist's hand on his lapel.

Straightening his shirt, Lucas followed. "All right," he muttered to himself, "tonight's the night."

"Night for what?" asked Hannah, falling back into step with the engineer.

They passed over the threshold to be assaulted by several different sports casters commentating four different disciplines from two dozen different screens. People lined up at the bar wore a riot of jerseys and team merchandise.

Lucas' face reddened in the fluorescent half-light. "Er, night I get a girl's number."

Hannah looked him over with a critical eye. "Well. Good luck with that," she said.

"What?" His tone rose, plaintive, as he dusted his shirt off, dislodging nonexistent fluff.

She reached out and undid the top button of his shirt. And the second and third, resecuring them in the proper holes. "Better."

He swallowed hard and faced the bar. Mike leaned against the damp wooden surface, running through the shopping list of orders for the men settling into a booth farther in.

Fingers laced through hers as Lucas gulped again. Daunted. Speechless. She gave his hand a squeeze and tugged him toward the rest of the team. "Come on, let's have a drink before you dive in," she suggested. He was thinking about the lines on his arm. She could see it in the glazed and dazed expression painted across his face.

They joined the others as Mike, tray balanced on one hand, arrived. Aaron cut himself off mid-sentence in favour of taking a long pull of his gin.

"You're never actually going to finish telling me this story," Shaw complained loudly, spinning the brown bottle in his hands. Around and around it went, thumbs rubbing against the corner of the label with each revolution. "Every time you start it, something interrupts you."

Harper rolled his eyes, faint smirk twisting his mouth. "He's just screwing with you, Jay."

Aaron rounded on the blond, indignant. "Why did you tell him?" he demanded.

"Because it's been months and he hasn't figured it out," sighed Phil, rubbing his forehead. "Take pity on the poor guy."

Shaw turned to Hannah, mouth opening to make some appeal for justice over this slight. Her grip tightened on her whiskey, cold glass biting her palms forcing her calm. Blue met blue and for a blank moment where there should have been a heartbeat, she thought that careless teasing voice really would come out this time.

He turned fractionally. "Thorpe, help me out here."

Lucas just took a sip of his own drink, shaking his head.

"Tell him the story, Aaron," she said in the unsubtle silence, turning away from the table. She stalked away with her jaw clenching and relaxing.

Too much.

Being here was too much. Without Orange. Without Jason. It was the same. But different. Just enough to throw her balance completely. It would have been easier to remain on-base with the laughter of Phoenix ringing through the vacant halls. Instead she tried to lose herself in the press of sports fans cheering on Grifball players.

She found herself standing behind a group of wasted men, gesturing and complaining about the referee's call. Her glass was empty. Her chest was empty. A hexagon's edges were against her fingers as her thumb rubbed the smooth surface over and over. A roll of the dice that the thrower would never see. Her own roll day after day that was easier to ignore. Seven men who found it easier to grin and joke than think about their own rolls. The numbers the galaxy dealt out. The bets they collected, racked up, paid out.

The people they killed.

"Need another drink?" Red hair melted from the unfamiliar faces.

"Need another," she echoed. An answer itself.

Aaron took her glass and disappeared.

She stayed there, watching the blue and red figures swing weapons at each other that she had seen cut soldiers down permanently. What a sick joke, Grifball. Death meant nothing. Energy swords and gravity hammers meant nothing. Just tactical plays and careless respawns every time they should have been eviscerated or crushed into pulp.

Red hair swam into focus again, a different face this time. "Aaron got held up, sent me instead," said Lucas. He pointed at a brunette sitting with a squad of her friends at the centre of the bar. All attention funneled her direction at one point or another. "And I need some help."

Hannah blinked, sizing the target up. "She's confident, pretty and she knows it, and she wants people to notice her. Tell her she's pretty and she'll preen. It's not about you, it's about her."

He nodded. "Right." Fidgeting hands shoved his inside out pockets back into their proper place. He unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled his sleeves.

"Relax," she added. "She won't bite. Unless you ask her to."

"Yeah. It's just." Lucas chewed on his lip, glanced down at his bare forearms and unrolled his sleeves again. "I'm out of practice, is all," he finished, lying to save his own embarrassment.

She put both hands on his shoulders, spinning them both inwards until they had the illusion of privacy in the loud bar that didn't care. Her chin angled up so they could look each other in the eye. "You're allowed to be happy, Lucas."

Tension left his frame. "Right," he said softly, abandoning the anxious fiddling with his shirt. "Yeah."

"Go over there and tell that airhead she's pretty and don't think too hard about what you're saying. She's not after anything personal or permanent. Good starting point for you." She nudged him toward the brunette.

The last she saw of Lucas, as she sat at a small table by herself, he was draping himself over the bar in the picture of confidence in spite of the twitching fingers trying not to climb into his pocket to twist the spare wire he kept there. The woman he spoke to looked vaguely interested at whatever he was saying.

Phil walked past at one point, depositing another whiskey on her table. He didn't stop to talk or even look like he considered the option. Keen eyes drifted between Hannah and Lucas, evaluating the situation. He disappeared back to the main Phoenix table.

Hannah allowed herself a pleased smile as the brunette slid down from her stool, hand on the back of Lucas' head as she kissed him long and deeply. She stalked away on six-inch black heels, hips swaying, flanked by her girls. A lopsided grin dangled on Lucas' face as he watched her clear a path with only her eyes.

After the woman was gone, the engineer wandered to her table and sagged into the chair opposite her. They didn't say anything. Didn't have to.

They heard the gratitude each had for the other in the eased breathing through the chaos of the sports bar.

The two of them sat in that comfortable pocket of quiet until Mike sidled up to the table. "We're heading out now." He glanced at the empty glasses on the table. "Looks like good timing."

The sniper made an elaborate wave that ended with a finger pointing at the door.

Hannah heaved herself to her feet. Even with the alcohol burning through her blood, she didn't think she was ready for wherever they were going next. Not with Harper's carnivorous grin as he bounced on the balls of his feet in anticipation. But one look at the giddy smile on Lucas' face had her striding a lot more steadily than she expected through the bar's exit.

The night air was blessedly cool on her face after the thick heat of the bar. Cars sped past, ruffling Phoenix on the sidewalk. Aaron hung off Geist's arm and Shaw's steps were uneven as he and the pyro cackled uproariously at something Phil was saying just beyond earshot. Sounds washed over Hannah as she simply followed along with Lucas at her side.

Same. But different. Not quite Orange. But her team nonetheless.

The club line was surprisingly short for this time of night, but perhaps that was thanks to the overpacked bars on a Tuesday night. Phoenix waited about ten minutes before being waved in. The first thing Hannah noticed about this place was how heavy and hot the air was. The noise hit her an instant later, like a physical blow that rocked through her gut with a regular beat.

It could have been any club in any city. Computer-generated sounds shook the chunky tables as whirling lights swept over and over the room. So generically nondescript.

Hannah curled her fingers into fists and fought her way to the bar to order something expensive. Something that would take her mind off the ex-bartender locked in a cell and the names written down her side. When it finally arrived, she took a seat to watch the mass of people on the dance floor. As arms waved and bodies shifted, she caught familiar faces.

Harper and Geist had taken up residence at a table, both staring with singular focus into the crowd, drinks untouched before them. Mike protested as Lucas linked their arms together to drag him in the direction of the dance floor, but he went along with the engineer. Phil swayed to the music, laughing at Aaron's energetic bopping and fist-pumping.

Darkness flashed over the group, hiding them like a secret. The song abruptly transitioned into another. Strobing colour splashed across Hannah, the team lead and assassin at their chosen table. Blinding white light lit up their teammates on the floor, throwing harsh focus on messy black hair and laughing blue eyes.

She took a drink, smiling at the carefree expressions on so many of their faces. Not soldiers tonight. Not Innies. Just guys out for a fun time. Tomorrow the war would still be there. Fights would still need fighting. But not tonight.

As she cradled her glass in her lap, Shaw glanced in her direction. He took in her carefully-arranged relaxed posture. The one that was too casually draped to have been natural. She waited for the blank nothing to slam his expression shut. Those blue eyes snagged against hers, longing in every line of his body as she watched him dance.

She was on her feet. An ice cube shifted in her drink, resting against her palm. A shiver raced down her spine as she started walking. Each step sounded another pulse of the beat. Another move of the ex-DJ's body. Then a head came between them. People completely disregarded the petite blonde. There were spaces between dancers that she threaded through.

Phoenix formed a circle for their own use. Nobody tried to edge into their space. Mike simply opened up a spot of her with half of a step without missing a beat, lifting his hands over his head for a little more room.

Shaw faced away from her, doing his own thing and looking more at ease than she had yet seen him. An arm wrapped around his waist, drawing him away from the team. The dance floor plunged back into utter black as she let herself move to the music.

In the stark white that struck to the rolling boom of bass, green eyes glittered over Shaw's shoulder. Triumphant.

Hannah spun to dance with Aaron as the pyro gave up trying to coax Geist into motion. She let Harper guide Jason away. Didn't let any of them see the flare of anger. Just let the fake smile spread over her face until she was almost convinced by it.

The base was dimly lit at this time of night. Ears ringing and headache forming to the pounding in her temples, Hannah knew she needed about a gallon of water and some painkillers for the hangover setting in.

The churning of her stomach had nothing to do with the hard drinking of the night.

She stood facing Mark, letting the die pin wander between her fingers absently. For his part, the elder Shaw sat patiently on his bed and let her find the words on her own time.

"He carries a lighter," she said, holding up the pin. "Now I have this."

Curiosity flickered in his eyes. Hungry for any information about his brother.

"He looked at me tonight. I thought we were going to make up some ground. Harper got there first." It came out flat, like she could figure out the meaning if she stripped the feeling out of it. Like it was too much effort to use the emotions. It was easier to let it ice over. Choke the flames.

"I'm sorry, Hannah," said Mark.

It was all he could say. Harper got there first. Before he did. Before she did. It was the problem they were both up against.

"I'm going to keep trying."

This time, when a spark kindled in his eyes, it was hope.