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Chapter Text

(Halo Game; Blue Timeline)

~2556 A.D. Three years since the end of the Human-Covenant War~

[Blue Timeline p.o.v]

Although, it had not been a responsibility of the Arbiter, Thel ‘Vadam, by any diplomatic or political means. The Sangheili had felt it right to search for the Master Chief after the disappearance of the other half of Forward Unto Dawn. The Charon-class light frigate that Thel had been piloting through the portal when the incomplete Halo ring had detonated. He had been told it was a lost cause by many, humans and elites alike. But knowing John-117, he was most definitely still alive and somewhere out there, waiting to be found. Thel had taken it upon himself to help rebuild society in Sanghelios and search for John. Whilst also keeping diplomatic peace between Sangheili and humanity. It took one year, seven months, and a week before Thel had located the missing half after receiving its S.O.S beacon during the search. Cortana reaching out had been a relief, almost ecstatic to Thel to know they were both well.

However, during the attempted recovery, what remained of the covenant, a group named the Banished. Staged a small attack. After an exchange of weapon fire, and a few ships blown to bits courtesy of John, the Banished was chased off, fewer than before the attack. Master Chief and Cortana safely aboard Thel’s cruiser ship. From that point more complications followed. The remaining covenant forces had been stirring, searching seemingly. John and Cortana returned to the UNSC and Thel followed the trail left by the enemy to hunt down and squash them. But the three had not been separated for long, running into each other more than once during battles. Fighting side by side. At one point, it was decided that they should travel together since both sides had the same goal in mind and it was better to work with one another than apart. 

John, Cortana and Thel spent a large amount of time with one another and bonds of camaraderie strengthened and unexpected feelings grew between Master Chief and Arbiter. Between missions they spent time in the other’s presence, enjoying each other’s company in and outside of the battlefield. The trail left by the Banished went cold. A year of searching went to waste military wise, but fulfilling and eye opening for the spartan and elite. Through some tough negotiating, political meetings and several diplomatic talks ( and much insisting from Cortana’s part). John and Thel were allowed to marry. As a symbol and strengthening of the alliance between humanity and the Sangheili (alongside other groups combined into Swords of Sanghelios). It wasn’t until several months after that the reason for the Covenant’s stirring was discovered as the appearance of a new Halo Ring with some stark differences between that of a normal Halo ring. Which led to the current events three years after the end of the Human-Covenant War.

Chief and Arbiter were on the Halo ring, for now named Theta Halo. Upon the ring’s surface much was different from any other ring. The Environment was jagged with bits and pieces differing in weather. One side could be freezing and only a few feet away it would be desert heat and then the next a calm inbetween. This was occurring on the entire surface. It was strange and very chaotic. Halo rings did have distinct environments but this was unorthodox. A significant chunk of the Theta Halo was missing, three fourths of a whole remaining and still functional. 

“This is very unusual. Environments like this shouldn’t even be possible," Cortana stated. 

“Do you have a clue what might have caused this?” Thel asked.

“Possibly the missing chunk of the ring, a malfunction in the system when it broke off,” she replied, sounding in thought.

“Stay on mission, you two,” Chief’s voice cut through.

“I am on mission. The Forerunner structure should be two miles up ahead. Visual in 3, 2, and there!” Cortana informed them just as they reached the top of the hill.

The structure was indeed of forerunner architecture in every aspect, but it looked different in shape. It was a tower of sorts, although one side of it looked like a half complete bridge with no other structure near it. There was no chasm, no lake, no ravine, nothing that would call for a bridge. They made their way closer to the structure, eliminating any banished along the way. Something caught John’s attention the closer they got. He started to feel a strange pulling sensation, like something was calling him, asking him to answer. Then it stopped. 

“Odd.” Chief stated.

“What troubles you, John?” Arbiter asked, concerned laced in his voice.

“Did you feel that?” he asked back.

“Feel what exactly?” Thel responded confused. He placed his hand on John’s shoulder.

“Like a pull-” Chief sentence was cut short by plasma blast that missed them both.

“More Banished spotted us! Detecting 10 of them ahead. There could be more,” Cortana announced. Arbiter activated his stealth tech whilst Chief made a beeline for the enemy. John was taking some enemy fire, but for the most part unscathed, he took out 5 of them, an unsuspecting brute with a few headshots, two Jackals with a well placed grenade, a grunt, and a hunter, who took a longer while to kill than the rest. 

“Brute, six o’clock!” Cortana notified Chief. John managed to dodge the arcing swing of a gravity hammer, though he landed on his back. Master Chief fired upon the brute and it readied to swing its hammer down on him. Within only a split second, the end of an energy sword shot through the Brute’s torso, retracting only when its limp hands let go of the hammer. Its corpse falling forward with a heavy thud. 

“Thel! That was clearly ours!” Even though her tone was accusatory, it still held fondness to it. Possibly even a bit of pride.

“My apologies,” Arbiter held out his hand for Chief to take, which he did gladly. He pulled John onto his feet and pulled him close. “Are you, alright?” Thel asked him and John nodded.

“John suffered only minor scrapes to his armor, but he is otherwise fine. Are you okay by chance, Thel?” Cortana asked, concerned after reassuring him. Chief looked up at the Arbiter and let go of his hand, looking him over.

“I am alright. I sustained little to no damage,” Arbiter replied, though Chief still circled Thel to be a hundred percent certain. “John,” Thel took hold of his free hand again, “I’m fine, John.”

“I know, Thel, just wanted to make sure,” he replied. Chief squeezed Arbiter’s hand gently before pulling it away, “Let’s move.”

“You both are insufferable,” Cortana expressed jokingly.

“A pity. I thought you enjoyed our company,” Thel replied with a smile evident in his voice.

“I tolerate your company,” she returned the banter.

“Cortana. Thel.” John sighed, shaking his head.

“Stay on mission. We are,” Thel responded with warmth.

“What your husband said, John,” Cortana replied.

After traveling and fighting their way through the remaining distance, they make it to the building. They entered the structure and searched for the enemy forces that were left. But… none were found. The place was barren, empty. Sealed. The main hallways were accessible to all but other areas seemed to be locked up. Something was wrong, something disconcerting creeped over both Thel and John. The whole thing looked untouched; desolate even. They ignored the wrongness settling in their core, the anxiousness crawling over scale and skin. 

“Why have the perimeter guarded and leave the inside of the structure unsecured?” Arbiter asked no one in particular.

“It doesn’t make sense, indeed. But further analyzing the forerunner security…” It took only a couple seconds before Cortana continued, “I can guess the reason it’s empty is because they don’t have someone to open the doors yet. John–”

“We’re walking into a trap.” Chief stopped walking then and there.

“My thoughts exactly,” Arbiter nodded.

Not a moment later shots were being fired from behind them and they ran for cover in another hallway. That’s when John felt that pulling sensation again, calling to him. John felt compelled to follow this time and so he did. He ran through hallway after hallway, taking turns when necessary, and up a ramp or two. He could hear Thel calling after him although it was muffled; distant. He could hear Cortana questioning him but even she was muffled, incoherent. The more he followed the directions of the pull, the stronger the feeling grew, he ran faster. Opening sealed doors quickly and uncaringly. Taking more twists and turns before he arrived at where he had been led to. He stopped running. The half-bridge, a few feet in front of him stood a control panel and at its center stood an archway to nowhere. He could hear nothing but the sound of his own heart beating in his ears. He pressed on, the pulling sensation giving him no other choice. He approached the archway, the pressure was reaching a crescendo the closer he got. The feeling was cut once more and everything came crashing back onto John, his hearing no longer hyper focussed on his heart, his vision no longer focussed solely on the archway, the pain in his lungs, the unforgiving grip on his rifle that was sure to leave his fingers stiff later, and the comforting weight of his Mjolnir Mark VI armor. How long Chief had been standing there was uncertain, he himself had lost track of it a while ago.

“John!” Cortana's voice suddenly exclaimed. He turns to see Thel charging at him, banished behind him.

“Get down!” Arbiter’s voice rang out before he tackled Chief, avoiding plasma shots that ran past them. John’s palm hits a panel on the archway and it comes to life. An accidental mishap he would come to sourly regret no matter how out of his control it was. He feels an added weight attach itself to his arm. Blinding white light encompassed his vision, he clung to Thel and his rifle as they were flung at speeds unknown, a sense of falling horizontally, before everything went dark.

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(Halo TV series; Silver Timeline)

~2552 A.D. Human-Covenant War still ongoing, Planet: Eridanus II~

[Silver Timeline p.o.v]

“Chief.” John wakes up with a sharp gasp, disoriented for a moment, latching onto the arm of a man who has his fingers on his neck’s pulse.

“Wha– What happened?” He asks no one in particular.

‘I shut you down.’ Cortana informs him telepathically.

“You can do that?” He grunts, shoving the man’s hand away from his person. He begins to sit up.

‘I needed to protect Dr. Halsey and your decision-making was compromised…’ She responds. ‘You’re lucky to be alive.’ He turns enough to be kneeling and uses his hands to push himself up. ‘Please don’t get up.’ She pleads, ‘I need to run a systems diagnostic!’

“Where is she?” He asks after he groans, standing up fully on partially shaky legs.

‘I can’t tell you that,’ she answers.

“Cortana, I swear, if you don’t get out of my head– I will–” John said, irritated and pissed to all hell when she cut him off.

‘Slipspace rupture detected. Along with… an unknown distortion?’ She sounded confused and almost whispered the last part.

John stops and slowly turns around, looking up to the opening in the roof of the cave and to the sky. A whistling sound starts to emanate, menacingly. 

“Incoming.” John mumbles.

The next thing they knew, the Pioneer was being blasted with heavy enemy plasma fire from a squadron of Covenant banshees as they flew by before splitting and circling back in different directions. John rushed to pick up his helmet and locked it into place over his head. The cave became crowded, people looking for shelter from the war waging outside its walls. Moments later the ground shook and dirt fell from the cave's ceiling. The screeching sound of metal and explosions could be heard and the Pioneer was no longer in the sky. It had been shot down in no less than a few minutes. Most if not all those still aboard it, likely dead. Vannak and Riz had entered the cave during the commotion and headed straight for the artifact.

‘Chief, orders are to get the artifact to Dr. Keyes' ship.’ Cortana notified him, John made his way through the little crowd of people to the exit, trusting Vannack and Riz with the actual physical transport of the artifact. He exited from the cave and a marine ran up to him and handed him an assault rifle. 

“Get all noncombatants into the cave,” He ordered, turning slightly nodding to the cave entrance.

“Yes, sir!” The marine responded and moved away. John ignored the commotion behind him as they moved people to the cave. He stowed his rifle on his back and continued further away from the cave and closer to the warthog.

“Chief! It’s at least half a click straight away before you can take the turn up the hill. You’ll be running right at ‘em.” Captain Keyes informed him, ducking near the warthog for the moment. Riz and Vannak loaded the artifact onto said warthog.

“Understood. Riz, Vannak, up front with me.” John started walking again, continuing his path.

“Chief–” before Kai could continue he interrupted.

“-Kai… stay back with the marines, Keep us covered.” He ordered her, not stopping for even a moment.

“Yes, Chief.” Kai nodded and turned away jogging to the marines, sniper rifle in hand. John stopped and stood still, waiting a moment, allowing the others to ready themselves. He retrieved his Magnum sidearm from his hip.

“On me!” He started running, leading the others through the active warzone.

{ “More Banshees inbound!” } Kai spoke over the comms. 

“Acknowledged.” He replied he continued his pace.

‘Pod doors opening. Infantry incoming.’ Cortana announced. Multiple pods began to land right in their path, multiple covenant Jackals and Grunts. ‘Two– no, three Covenant Lances in our escape path. Jackal at two o’clock.’ John shot it dead with his magnum. ‘Two more flanking right.’ Soon enough, he had fired his entire magazine to take down a few more. ‘Switch to Secondary.’

“I know how the game is played, Cortana,” he retrieved his assault rifle from his back and began firing on Covenant troops. “Riz, Vannak, break their lines.” He commanded.

{ “Copy.” } Riz stated. They continued firing, taking out more Covenant soldiers. John noticed the plume of blood mist left where a marine once stood at the back of the warthog. He switched focus and ran closer to the vehicle, still firing at any nearby enemies. He saw the exact moment a grunt threw the marine driving the motor vehicle from the driver’s seat. The grunt taking his place. He ran faster jumping onto the warthog’s hood.

“Mind if I drive?” He shot directly into the grunts face and it went down flying out of the moving vehicle. He jumped into the driver’s seat, putting down his rifle to resume control of the warthog. { “Spartans get in.” }

{ “Running to you, Chief." } Riz responded.

{ “On my way. } Vannak said.

Riz jumped in taking her place at the back of the vehicle and firing the machine gun turret. Vannak jumped into the passenger seat beside John. They made it to the slope.

{ “Captain, I’m moving up slope to the landing zone.” } John reported in.

{ “Attention! Drop ship!” } Kai exclaimed. A covenant phantom was hovering above the battlefield. More marines were dying by the minute. They were outnumbered, more would be lost if they didn’t get the artifact to the ship.

“Riz–” John said.

“On it!” Riz managed to take down two banshees.

{ “John, you need to bring that artifact to me now!” } Catherine Halsey shouted over comms.

{ “Roger that.” } John responded stepping on the accelerator when he noticed an explosion and Kai went down. She wasn’t getting up, she was struggling to even move.

“Kai’s hurt. Take the wheel.” John began climbing out of his seat and onto the hood preparing to jump from the speeding mount. Vannak took his place at the wheel.

‘Chief, don’t do this. You need to protect the artifact.’ Cortana declared which John completely ignored, irritated with the A.I.’s persistence.

“Vannak, get me closer to the edge,” He commanded, holding onto the warthog’s railing so he wouldn’t slip off too soon. He took his stance ready to jump. The edge was getting closer and closer.

‘Stop this right now!’ Cortana exclaimed.

{ “John! Stay on mission!” } Catherine Halsey ordered.

“I cannot let her die.” The edge was close enough and without hesitation he jumped, landing on top of a Covenant Banshee. He adjusted his position before retrieving his reloaded magnum and firing into the banshee. The aircraft tilted and he slipped, clinging on with one hand, he roared in irritation. He stowed his magnum and let himself slip a little further to hang under the banshee, near the underside of one of its wings. He stuck his hand into the exposed joint and pulled it, moving it where he wanted to go. Which was to crash right into the Phantom hovering close over the warzone, causing a huge explosion and a little shockwave.to occur. The explosion took out most of the enemy combatants, but a few still remained. Chief reoriented himself and stood back up as quickly as he could. Once firmly on his two feet he tilted his head side to side, cracking a few joints. He focused on the task at hand. Kai was on the other side of the field, unmoving. Many of the remaining Covenant soldiers in his way. A random Jackal unleashed a war cry, igniting his energy shield and started charging towards him and the rest followed suit. He fired off what remained in his magnum’s magazine and when it ran out, fairly quickly, he threw it as hard as he could directly into the face of a nearby grunt. He ran forward before sliding to pick up a shotgun on the floor, ready to fire it at an incoming Jackal. But in that exact moment the Jackal was shot down with the fire power that could have only been from a BR55 service rifle. He instead turned around and fired at the grunt from before. He turned again and continued firing at close by covenant troops. Although, whoever was using that BR55 was being extremely helpful, taking out enemies that were a little too far for him to reach. They weren’t missing even a single shot. John moved forward defending an injured marine, moving them a little before returning to his path. He dodged the energy sword of Jackal and it went down before he could fire a shot at it. He heard the sound of  the BR55 closer than before, much closer. He turned to it to see–

“The hell–?” John couldn’t believe it, another spartan here. ‘Why?’ He couldn’t help thinking. Their Mark VI Mjolnir armor was olive colored, golden colored visor, and there was a dent on the right side of their chest plate. Their armor was covered in scratches, battle worn. They didn’t bother slowing to look at him, they kept their sights on the remaining covenant troops.

‘Another Spartan, designation unknown. What’s another spartan doing here? Wait– Something else is here,’ Cortana remarked. Covenant soldiers were falling like flies without any visible reason and the line of dead were pointing and becoming closer to Kai. An elite was beating her, and she could not defend herself weakened as she was.

“Nevermind that!” He re-focused, running for Kai’s position, taking out the very few opponents that were left in his path, at one point switching to a plasma rifle. His path was clear after eliminating one more Jackal. “Hang on, Kai.” John started firing at the Elite the closer he got. That got the elite’s attention directed to him. Good. He was about to throw his plasma rifle away when another elite made itself known, energy sword drawn and active, piercing through the other Elite’s midsection and raising him from the ground, pushing deeper until the other stopped flailing. Once dead, the elite threw the other’s corpse away. They wore completely different armor compared to a regular elite, they wore armor that shined in the light, silver like plating, and it had only one shoulder pauldron. It kneeled in front of Kai and said something John could not hear and he panicked. Without hesitation he started firing at this mysterious elite that killed one of its own. The plasma rifle takes down its shields in a matter of moments. The elite looks up at him to say something that goes unheard over his heart beating in his ears. He throws the weapon away and runs up to the elite to throw fists. The elite in question does not do the same, stowing their sword away at their hip. John throws a punch in its direction and the silver elite dodges it. They grab his other fist before it can make contact, but they don't move to throw a jab in the opening that they most definitely have against him. 

“I am not here to fight you, Spartan.” His baritone voice spoke in English? John takes the opportunity, instead of listening, to kick the other’s leg, having them let go of his fist before he lunges to slap his other fist across the elite’s face. The force of it knocks the alien down. John takes the energy sword from the elite’s hip and activates it.

“Chief! Chief, stop. Stop.” Kai breathlessly speaks but to no avail. John aims the sword at the weaker armor underneath the silver plating. Right when he almost makes contact with the endpoints of the sword, he’s tackled. Which makes him miss, leaving a slash wound in the Elite’s side instead of impaling them through. He lands the shoulder first roughly on the ground and the energy sword is torn from his grasp and he’s kicked away by the mystery spartan. Who gets up to run back to the elite. John gets up utterly confused. Did this spartan just defend an elite?

{ “Chief, the artifact.” } Kai spoke. John looked towards the artifact seeing it back on the battlefield instead of on the ship.

‘Covenant Spirit incoming.’ Cortana announced. He booked it to the artifact, running as fast as he could. The spirit was getting closer and closer, it was right on top of the artifact before he was close enough. A brute landed in front of the artifact with a heavy thud, it now stood in his way. He slid to a stop and activated one of the energy shields he stole from a Jackal just in time to block the swing of the brute’s hammer that sent him flying regardless and taking down his shields. He was kneeling looking at the brute that stood tall.

“Cortana…” He spoke out of breath, “I’m gonna need a weapon.”

‘Not sure it’ll help. Although that energy sword might have been useful.’ Cortana responded as the brute used its gravity hammer to pull the artifact into its grasp while walking to its extraction point. John picked up a BR that was laying nearby and began firing at the brute when it was raised into the air and into the Spirit with the artifact. The ship ascended further up back to the frigate cruiser. John roared enraged and fired fruitlessly at the spirit. Then when the Covenant ship turned to leave a pod ejected from it, landing a few meters away, and it was fired upon by the ship before it left completely. The artifact was gone. John marched to the pod and saw a figure in the dust cloud slip out of it, stumbling as they walked just to fall forward onto the ground.

‘Chief, I’m reading a human life form.’ Cortana informed him. He grabbed another plasma rifle nearby a dead grunt and continued his march. He raised the rifle and aimed at the figure on the ground. The dust settled enough for him to see it was a human woman with platinum blonde hair, looking up at him before seemingly falling unconscious. He looked up in defeat and dropped the rifle. He looked around before his eyes landed back on the slumbering form of the woman. The air cleared, the dust settling completely.

{ “I’ve got a civi that just exited a covenant escape pod. Retrieve her when you can.” } He spoke through the comms before walking away. He spotted the mystery spartan with his BR trained on the others that surrounded him and the silver elite. He ran up to them, hearing them shouting.

“Spartan, step away from the Elite! And identify yourself!” Captain Keyes ordered.

“Spartan John-117. And I can not do that, sir.” The mystery spartan spoke keeping close to the elite, shielding them as much as he could.

“Spartan either speak the truth or we will have no choice but to shoot you down. Identify yourself!” The captain commanded, Vannak and Riz had their weapons trained on the kneeling olive Spartan.

“I am Master Chief, Spartan John-117. I have no other name.” He spoke with conviction, no hesitation, like it was really his name while he lowered his rifle.

“You are not John-117. Now speak the truth, soldier. Who are you?” John asked, stepping up next to Vannak looking down at the new Spartan. He was furious that someone would stupidly lie to his captain, his team, and his own face that they were him. When it was obviously and clearly not the case.

“Who are you?” He asked back.

“He’s Master Chief. He’s John-117. Who are you?” Vannak nodded in his direction, keeping his rifle trained on the spartan imposter. The imposter remained silent, maybe now finally realizing he was caught in his lie when suddenly.

“Spartan Designation, Master Chief John-117,” a blue hologram of a woman appeared before them. She looked similar to the A.I. in John’s head although there were very key differences in the A.I. 's dress and appearance. But they sounded exactly the same. “And our friend, the Elite you –” she pointed accusingly at John, “shot and wounded after he saved one of your own Spartans from a Covenant soldier alongside other marines in the process, is currently lying on the ground slowly dying. Which is not much of a ‘Thank you’ now is it?”

“Cortana–” the spartan tried to interject.
“Thel doesn't have time for this, John! And neither do the marines in much more critical condition scattered on the battlefield.” She turned her back to them to look at the spartan in question pointing at the Elite behind him. After, she waved her arm out gesturing around them. This A.I. was definitely much more different in personality than the one in John’s head.

“Help him.” Everyone turned to look at Kai, who stumbled to them from behind, limping.

“Kai, you should not be standing right now,” John stated.

“Captain, the Elite saved my life, the lives of other marines. I– We owe him. Please.” She groaned and fell back to the ground kneeling. Riz stowed her gun away and kneeled beside Kai to help her. Captain Keyes looked between Kai and the A.I. who called herself, Cortana, and then directly at the spartan shielding the elite. Jacob Keyes sighed.

“The Elite will be taken in and kept alive with what little medical help we can give and then be brought for questioning and examination once recovered. The imposter will be taken in for further question. They are to be kept seperate–” Captain Keyes was cut off.

“No, I’m staying with him.” The imposter spoke, standing up with his rifle raised and aimed at them. He stood firm. The air tense, both sides unyielding. There was rustling and then a large four fingered hand, covered in a dark indigo liquid, blood, reached up and gripped the muzzle of the Spartan’s BR slowly lowering it. The Elite shakily stood, his other hand pressed against his wound and whispered something to the spartan, they in turn looked at him. The holographic A.I. walked closer to the duo.

“Thel’s right. John please–” she pleaded.

“No. Not alone. Not without us.” The spartan stated, voice firm.

{ “Let them stay together.” } Doctor Catherine spoke.

{ “Have you lost your mind, Doctor Halsey?!” } Captain Keyes responded.

{ “For once we’ll have a living covenant that is most likely willing to speak to us if he’s willingly working with a Spartan and you want to throw the knowledge we could learn from him away? All because said Spartan is unwilling to leave the Elite’s side after John wounded him when he saved one of my Spartans.” } Catherine reasoned back.

{ “I hate to say it, but Halsey’s right. We know little to nothing about the Covenant still and this Elite must speak english if he’s been working with a rogue Spartan. I could learn more about their language to help speed up the translation of my audio files. But also how can we expect full trust from this Spartan when one of our own did indeed injure his partner unprovoked. He’d have every right to not entrust the elite’s safety to us in such a vulnerable condition after that display.” } Miranda interjected, sounding hopeful.

{ “They are also carrying an A.I. similar to Cortana. If we can’t learn from the Elite we can learn from it about the Covenant. Surely, it knows something after spending however much time with this Elite. Now get them aboard this ship, Captain.” } Catherine continued with an unspoken threat at the end but still sounding intrigued and fascinated by such a prospect.

{ “Copy that.” } Jacob Keyes replied and sighed. ‘Admiral Parongoksy is not going to take this well in any shape or form.’ He looked back to the now duo, the A.I. seemingly gone. The spartan has stowed their rifle, opting to use both hands to keep the Elite on his feets and Jacob could see the special care and worry in the gesture alone. This spartan clearly cared for Elite, in what way was unclear in the moment. But the reaction from only moments ago made sense, they had unintentionally hurt the spartan’s teammate and separation to be cared for without his supervision after such an act was clearly out of the question. He lowered his rifle to rest across his chest.

“Alright soldier, you can stay with the Elite on the ride back to Reach HQ, from there it’s out of my hands,” The Captain relayed.

“Sir, that is unwise–” John spoke up.

“You’ll be escorting them to the ship, Chief. That’s an order. Vannak, Riz, get Kai aboard. Now move it all of you!” He commanded and walked away.

“Yes, sir!” They all replied in unison, even the rogue Spartan. John couldn’t see the mystery Spartan’s face but he could feel the heated glare aimed his way as he started escorting them to the ship. He wasn’t happy about this predicament either. He’d have preferred to stick with Kai. He was the offender that had injured this silver elite in the first place, it was a poor choice on his Captain’s part. 

‘You should apologize.’ Cortana insisted and it irked him, but she was right. It would be better if he made amends to clear the air, otherwise it would be a very long ride back to Head Quarters. He turned to the duo, more specifically to the Elite and spoke.

“I’m sorry... For attacking you.” John apologized.

“All is forgiven. I know my face isn’t exactly the friendliest to see on the battlefield. You did not know if I was friend or foe. You did what you thought right,” the elite responded understanding with a wince and a grunt, stumbling a little, leaning on the spartan while he regained strength. His wound leaked more dark indigo blood slipping between his fingers.

“He may forgive you…” the rogue stated looking at him, vizor unreadable, with a cold venom, “but I do not.”

“Noted.” John responded and it was then that he noticed the numbers edged and painted on the Spartan’s chest plate, on the left, undented, side. ‘One-one-seven. How did he get my armor? Unless… No, that’s not possible. He can’t be.’ He did not converse with them further and when they boarded the ship, he only remained near to ensure no one else would make the same mistake and take a shot at the Elite otherwise, he felt as if there would definitely be hell to pay.

Chapter Text

(Silver Timeline)

~2552 A.D. Human-Covenant War still ongoing, On route to Planet: Reach, UNSC HQ~

[Silver Timeline p.o.v]

{ “Out of the question! You should have detained the Rogue Spartan and eliminated the Covenant Elite. I’ve let you have your way, Doctor Halsey. But this has gone too far!” } Admiral Parongosky exclaimed through the screen.

“Admiral, this is an opportunity we can not let pass us by. To learn of the Covenant’s objectives from the perspective of a Covenant soldier that is friendly to humans given the evidence. We have a more productive and prominent lead that you have been wanting. They could be very useful,” Catherine responded with a smile.

{ “Could be. Are the keywords, doctor. You are also failing to realize that we are bringing in a live enemy into our headquarters that will most likely be more harmful than good and that one of your spartans went rogue, without your notice or knowledge. Not mention the human woman recovered from that Covenant pod.” } The Admiral retorted, flabbergasted. 

“Admiral as you can see in the images we’ve sent of the duo. The Mjolnir armor the rogue is sporting is Mark VI, but it’s old, far older than Chief’s. His armor is also battle worn, dented, and scraped. It has seen this mystery spartan through many, maybe even hundreds of battles. The Elite is wearing silver armor that has never been seen on any other Covenant Soldier. The pair helped save hundreds of my marines’ lives,” Captain Keyes reported crossing his arms.

{ “This could very well be a trap. You, yourself captain, also stated that this Spartan lied to you about the knowledge of his name. Claiming to be John-117 even when Master Chief standing right in front of him?” } The admiral retorted. 

“Yes, I did.” Captain Keyes confirmed, abashed.

“Cortana also detected a distortion, on a quantum level, at the same moment the Covenant arrived and attacked us on Eridanus II,” Catherine added, completely enthralled.

{ “Your point, Doctor Halsey?” } Parongosky asked; clearly frustrated but remaining calm in composure.

“By Cortana’s scans, the Mark VI Mjolnir armor this mystery Spartan is wearing is estimated to be 4 years older than John’s. That’s odd isn’t it? The Mark VI version of the Mjolnir armor was only recently created and yet… here this rogue stands. With battle worn, beaten and tested by time Mark VI armor. Admiral, I have a theory that the reason this Elite is friendly to humans and is willing to work with a Spartan and vice versa. Is because they are not of our time. They are travelers.” Catherine explained flooding with excitement.

{“Doctor. Any armor can be aged when not taken care of and when exposed to the elements of war; in little time. The Covenant Elite could be of a Special rank and type we haven’t seen yet. When the pair arrive on Reach. I want them separated, is that understood?”} Admiral Parongosky shook her head as she reasoned the theory away and gave them clear instructions to follow.
“Admiral–” Catherine tried to argue.

{ “The Elite falls under Doctor Miranda Keyes’ jurisdiction. It will be under her supervision and responsibility. For her research and study. The rogue spartan and his A.I. will be left to you and Captain Keyes, when you’ve cleared him for service. If there is nothing else of importance to discuss, this conversation has concluded. Captain, Doctor, have I made myself clear?” } Parongosky spoke with a tone that left no room for argument.

“Yes, Admiral Parongosky,” Jacob responded. The admiral looked to Catherine expectantly.

“Yes, admiral,” she mumbled, displeased with the outcome of the conversation.

“That Spartan is not going to let go of that Elite without one hell of fight,” Jacob stated with a deep sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose; frowning.

“He is very attached to the Elite. He hasn’t moved from its side either. His A.I. instructed the medics on how to patch up the Elite correctly. It’s unorthodox how much this Spartan is giving the impression to be protective and possessive of that alien,” Hasley picked up her tablet and turned to leave.

“The A.I. called the Elite, Thel, whilst referring to the Spartan as John. She also showed visible concern with the Elite’s health and condition,” Captain Keyes gave voice to the thought.

“She is nothing but code, Jacob. She can’t feel human emotions, or at least she shouldn’t,” Catherine stated before leaving the room, there was nothing productive to be said with the conversation to waste more time to continue it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Stay calm, Kai. We got you. We got you,” Vannack spoke whilst holding down her legs as she screamed in utter agony. John held her right arm down. She was struggling from the immense pain. “It’s wearing off. Hit her again.” Vannak told Riz. 

“Don’t fight it, Kai,” Riz took one of the painkiller shots and injected it into Kai’s thigh as she continued to scream and groan. “Kai, let go!”

“Shit!” Vannak exclaimed and John said nothing, not feeling well himself either but refusing to voice it. “Pain’s too much. Again.” Riz grabbed another shot and aimed for Kai’s thigh again.

“It’s gonna be okay.” Riz assured Kai as she relaxed, no longer screaming and flailing, becoming numb to the pain from the medicine. “That’s good. That’s good Kai,” she sounded relieved. But everything felt distant for John; sounded far away.

‘Master Chief? Master Chief, you’re ill.’ Cortana expressed with a tone of concern. He blinked his eyes slowly and focussed on breathing, he most definitely didn’t feel well. ‘Contact with the larger artifact has overloaded your system.’

“Leave me alone,” John whispered, sounding tired.

‘I can’t do that. It’s my job to protect you. You need medical attention.’ Cortana countered worry flooding into her tone. John felt a little nauseous and a headache started to form.

“Chief,” he heard Captain Keyes call and then, reality flooded in, all the sounds crashed into him loud and clear. John looked up to see his Captain standing there, leaning over just a smidge behind the curtain.

“Captain.” John replied, although the fatigue was still laced in his voice. Keyes nodded to him, he got up from his seat to follow. He walked past the Captain and away from Kai and the others.

“Ground sensors were unable to track the vector of the Covenant ship before she went into Slipspace above Eridanus.” Captain Keyes supplied walking to stop in front of John, looking up at him.

“It’s my fault,” he looked at the ground, avoiding his Captain’s eyes when accepting the responsibility of his actions. He scanned his eyes over the room, to all the injured marines. “I lost us the artifact, sir.”

“You saved 195 lives, mine included,” John looked to his captain just to see his eyes drift and turn his head to look off to the side behind him. John followed his line of sight to land on the half drawn curtain, somewhat concealing the elite that was brought aboard and the rogue spartan. “Although, you had help from one unlikely ally and an unknown soldier.”

“I did. But more lives will be lost if we don’t get that artifact back. I doubt having their help will change that,” John replied and glanced at the intertwined hands of the Spartan and Elite, seeing the power in the grip. Such strength shown in the little touch screamed worry to him; expressed protectiveness.

“You found it once, you’ll find it again…” Captain Keyes switched his focus to the medical bed across from them that the woman from the covenant pod laid unconscious on. “Now we have her, too.” Doctor Miranda Keyes was holding a recording device to the woman’s mouth as she muttered things and twitched. He walked a little closer  to them but kept his distance.

“Before she passed out, she told Miranda that the Covenant had kidnapped her as a child and kept her prisoner ever since,” Captain Keyes informed him. John squeezed his eyes shut and groaned quietly, feeling the headache slightly grow in pressure for a moment. “You all right?” The captain asked and John looked at him, “You had a systems check?”

“No, sir, I’m fine,” he assured his Keyes.

‘ I’ve run a systems check, and that’s absolutely not true, ’ Cortana retorted unamused.

“I’ll be fine,” John rephrased.

“Captain, we are on final approach to Reach.” A marine lieutenant reported and continued, “UNSC ship Solace has landed and is unloading the dead and wounded.”

“Very well, Lieutenant. Bring us in.” Captain Keyes responded with a sigh.

“Aye, sir,” the lieutenant acknowledged and left.

“We’ll regroup, come up with a new plan.” He turned to say to John.

“Yes, sir.” John replied and his captain turned to leave but stopped midway and looked at him again.

“Oh and one more thing, Chief,” Captain Keyes said and leaned in closer to him.

“What is it, sir?” John responded.

“When we land on Reach, the elite and rogue are to be separated. Have Riz escort the injured elite to Doctor Keyes. You and Vannak will take the rogue for questioning, effective immediately,” Captain Keyes whispered looking at him. 

“What? Why– and if the rogue is unwilling to follow? If he wants to stick by the Elite’s side instead?” John asks, taken-aback a little by the command.

“Then neutralize and detain him. We do not know who their allegiance resides with. We cannot risk them remaining together. Admiral Parongosky’s orders.” Captain Keyes replied, patting his armor arm and turning away, this time actually leaving. John turned back to the pair in the corner of the area, only they were now a trio. The rogue spartan’s A.I. hologram was standing next to him, looking at the Elite, saying something inaudible from this distance.

‘She is reassuring her spartan that the Elite, Thel, is going to be okay.’ Cortana informs him even though he did not ask.

“She told you that?” He asks instead irritably.

‘No, she has turned me away several times when I attempted contact. The movement of her lips is how I was able to confer her words. She has contacted me, but only for small moments, although only fractions of a second in normal time, to ask a question or two. Her questions were strange. She stopped asking them a while ago.’ Cortana ranted on.

“What were the questions?” John responds.

‘Who are you? Where are we going? How is Reach still intact?... The last one was peculiar.’ She answered, sounding almost in thought.

“That was all she asked? When?” The last question threw him off. ‘How is Reach still intact? What could that possibly mean?’ He thought to himself.

‘She stopped responding when I became confused at her last question and tried asking one of my many own. She asked these questions 5 minutes after our departure from Eridanus II. That was a few hours ago.’ She explained. He hummed in response. ‘I also think separating them is cruel and unfair on their part. They have been nothing but helpful and cooperative with everything else.’

“Orders are orders.” John stated.

‘You thought otherwise when Kai-125’s life was on the line.’ Cortana retorted.

“That was different.” He snapped quietly defensive.

‘Well, I do not see the difference.’ She remarked, he could imagine her arms crossing whilst saying that.

“Kai, is my teammate. This rogue and elite aren't.”

‘Noted. But if they do become teammates? What then?’

“Depends. Now leave me alone.” He looked in Catherine Halsey’s direction and had a plan come to mind to know the full extent of his A.I. companion's abilities.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~2552 A.D. Human-Covenant War still ongoing, Planet: Reach, UNSC HQ~

[Blue Timeline p.o.v.]

“They plan to separate you and Thel, once we land, John.” Cortana informed him.

“I know.” Master Chief held Arbiter’s hand with his right and used his left to grasp his arm. He ran his thumb over the knuckles he could reach. He stared at Thel’s slumbering form, watching his chest rise and fall with even breaths. Simply seeing his husband breathing, soothed him; knowing that he still lived calmed him. “And you’re worried.”

“I know we can escape and fight our way out with little to no problems, but Thel… John, he’d have miniscule chances of making it like this. He needs rest, he needs to heal and that will take time. Time we don’t have before we land on Reach.” Cortana explained her worry, her concern for Thel’s safety was there in her tone, and she didn’t need to state it plainly; it was obvious. Chief let go of Arbiter’s arm and looked for a compartment hidden in between the plates on the back of his neck. Once he found it he reached up to the back of his own head with his other hand to Cortana’s chip.

“You’ll stay with him. Keep watch over him. If they try anything–” he was cut off.

“I’ll contact you if they try to do anything to Thel. You know I always find a way to reach you. Firewalls and security systems be damned,” Cortana stated a smile evident in her tone.

“I know that too…” Chief pulled her chip from its port and with much care inserted it into the hidden one in Arbiter’s armor. “Keep him safe for me, Cortana. Don’t worry about me either.” 

“I have nothing to worry about you for. Luck’s always on your side, John. But that doesn’t mean I won’t check in on you. Just to keep your husband calm. Otherwise, he might just throw his safety and recovery out the metaphorical window to find you,” Cortana replied through their personal comms, keeping them locked and secure so no one else can hear. She ran a systems check on Thel again. “He’ll be waking up very soon.”

“Good. Give him a brief when he does,” Chief stated, placing his left hand on Arbiter's chest, and returning his right to holding his hand again. He gently gripped his hand, who knows when or if he’d be allowed near Thel again. He pulled his husband’s hand in his grip to his helm and leaned down, holding it up to where his cheek would be without the helmet. 

Time passed without his notice nor care as he enjoyed the last moments before they’d be separated. He felt a familiar weight land heavily over his left hand. He looked up to see those beautiful yellow eyes looking back at him. He felt Thel’s hands grasp his own with a firm squeeze that he, without hesitation, reciprocated with his own. He was relieved, but dread remained. Arbiter said nothing, most likely because Cortana was briefing him like he had ordered. He felt the grip on his hands become tight and unforgiving, which meant Cortana informed him of his decision about the separation.

“I’m not leaving you again,” Thel spoke.

“You need to heal and rest. Cortana will be staying with you,” he replied firmly, standing his ground in his choice.

“Even more reason that I mustn’t leave you…” his grip slackened and he pulled his hand from Chief’s right. Arbiter placed it on John’s chest plate, fingers gripping the edges near his neck. Chief pulled his left hand from over Thel’s chest and placed it over his husband’s own on his chest. The last time his spouse had left him was during the split of the Forward Unto Dawn and that had resulted in his absence for a little while. “John–”

“I’ll be fine. Need Cortana with you to make sure you remain that way as well, Thel. She can keep watch over your systems in the background when her chip is with you, but not if she stays with me,” Chief responded, to fight would risk Arbiter’s safety in an unknown base with unknown people and they had nowhere else to go. He needed Thel to be back on his own two feet before that. “I’ll find my way back to both of you. I promise. Remember when I make a promise–”

“You keep it. Always.” Arbiter finishes the sentence just as the ship trembled for a few moments.

“We’re landing. Say your goodbyes, for nows, and see you soons. You lovesick birds,” Cortana announced. Chief and Arbiter let go of one another. Chief stood up and waited for the people that would be escorting and separating them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Apparently, the Spartan named Riz-028 had escorted Arbiter and the Spartan named Vannak-134 was escorting Chief. Cortana informed him another spartan had been meant to also escort Chief along with Vannak. A spartan they also called Master Chief, otherwise known as John-117. It was strange to hear his husband’s name being used as someone else’s. The spartan in question had ordered instead for Vannak to escort his Chief alone. Cortana had hacked a couple of networks in this place, on Reach. A planet that should not be here and intact in any manner of form. He had been the one who had commanded a fleet and helped accomplish just that. The date had been another piece in the puzzle that the trio were not home. The current year was 2552 by Cortana’s discoveries but so much here was different. The Master Chief of this world did not lead Blue Team, but rather Silver Team. That helped crossout time travel from the list of possibilities from their situation, but that only brought a sense of dread. They were in an unknown but familiar place where none of them belonged and neither of them were trusted in any form or capacity. Familiar names here and there that wore different faces. Alongside the uncertainty of ever getting back home.

“They have little to no knowledge about the Covenant besides weapon, artillery and ship studies from what I’ve seen. So, there is the reason they let you come along,” Cortana said, making sure to keep herself muted externally. He couldn’t respond with the spartan walking behind him to keep him in line, but he didn’t have to. He could feel the stares, hear the murmurs as he walked by, gawking at him like some sort of display. Memories flashed before his eyes, the crowds calling for his head, the searing pain on his chest, the smell of his burned flesh, and his naked form being dragged and carried. He remembers the mockery. He remembers the emptiness. He remembers wanting nothing more than giving the council exactly what they wanted. His corpse. He remembers how much he desired the embrace of death because his life had lost all its worth. He had lost his reasons to live for. He remembers Rtas ‘Vadum, and remembers his words. 

|You are the Arbiter. The will of the Prophets. But these are my elites. Their lives matter to me. Yours does not.|

He remembers how much it truly hurt to hear those words. How worthless he had felt. How much he agreed with it and the fact that Thel, at the time, didn’t care if he truly died is what hurt the most. He remembers his reply to Rtas. | That makes two of us.| He subconsciously reached to touch over the armor that partially hid his Mark of Shame; he wore it with pride nowadays, though that didn’t stop the hauntings in his mind.

“Do you require more medical attention before we arrive at your intended destination?” The spartan with a red vizor, Riz was her name, asked him. Her tone was neutral.

“No. I do not.” Was all Arbiter said, wary, on guard.

“Then why did you reach up like you were reaching for a wound? Turn left here.” Riz asked as they continued their current part.

“I was remembering…” he answered.

“Remembering, what?”

“Something that haunts me… But it is of no concern,” Thel replied and lowered his hand back to his side slowly to not cause alarm.

“Why were you working with a Spartan? Turn right here.” Riz directed him again and he obeyed once more.

 “That is complicated… and a story too long to tell before we arrive to the place you’re taking me,” He explained and the small conversation ended. The rest of the way was walked in silence except for the directions she’d give him from time to time.

“Thel,” Cortana chimed in. He gave a small hum in response to be discreet. “It was the stares aimed at you. Wasn’t it? Did it remind you of that day?” It wasn’t an actual question, it was rhetorical, because she already knew the answer. He had told Chief and Cortana about it after a certain incident; he had awoken that night, sleep deprived more than usual and a nightmare driven panic attack had him almost hurt John out of ignorance, had it not been for his husband’s quick reaction time, he would have. They had both been without armor that night; vulnerable. He had distanced himself and after some time, a few weeks, maybe a month, John had had enough. His husband had cornered him and coaxed the truth out of him with Cortana’s help. He shook the memory from his mind and quietly hummed his confirmation. 

Some time later they arrived at a thick metal door, he waited as Riz walked to the pad near the door’s border, after a few seconds, the door opened.

“You first, Elite,” she commanded and gestured to the opened entrance. Thel walked forward through the doorway, he had to duck down a little to fit which disturbed the stitches of his unhealed wound in his side. He winced and grunted, holding his patched wound for a moment before thinking better of it. He’d only irritate it more. He also has barely registered that he was without his weaponry. His energy sword missing from his hip and his rifle nowhere on his person. His energy sword was most likely still with John alongside his rifle. He looked around the room briefly, it was barren except for a table with two seats on opposite sides and one of them was occupied by a woman with dark braided hair and honey colored skin. She had a bandaged injury on the right side of her forehead. She looked young and her appearance resembled the Captain he had seen briefly, although that wasn’t saying much since he’s a Sangheili and most of the time a lot of humans look alike for him when he only glances at them for a moment. She was looking directly at him and glancing down at his bandaged wound with compassion shining in her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” was the first thing she said.

“I’ve only just met you. I recall no wrong done to me by you. Why apologize?” Arbiter remarked and walked further into the room, but kept his distance from the table and stayed on the opposite side of where she was seated.

“I’m apologizing on behalf of everyone. You saved marines and even one of our Spartan’s, Kai-125, just to be shot at and then harmed by another spartan, John-117, unprovoked. From the recordings, you also had kneeled down to ask her if she was okay, and if she needed help to get up… Thank you, for saving her,” the woman explained, sounding genuinely grateful, relieved, and apologetic.

“You don’t need to thank me.” He responded before turning to stand facing her.

“I’m Doctor Miranda Keyes, a commander in Fleetcom and my department deals with the study and understanding of Covenant technology and linguistics. What is your name?” She asked after introducing herself. His eyes widened, he was honestly shocked and speechless. This woman sitting right in front of him was none other than this strange world’s Commander Miranda Keyes. 

“Thel. Say something.” Cortana chimed when he took too long to respond.

“Would you prefer my title or my actual name, Commander?” He asked instead.

“Both would be preferable,” she responded with a nervous smile.

“My title and rank is Arbiter. My name is Thel ‘Vadam of house ‘Vadam. It is nice to make your acquaintance,” Thel stated with a bow of his head.

“What rank is an Arbiter?” She asked curiously.

“The equivalent to an Arbiter in rank for human military ranks would be a six-star general of the armies,” he answered, he only knew that because Cortana had done research on the matter out of boredom and rambled about it to him and Chief later when he asked what she had been working on to keep busy. Miranda looked taken-aback, shell-shocked most likely by the information.

“But– that rank has only been officially given to two people in human history,” she uttered, her shoulders lowering a miniscule amount, her mouth agape, probably trying to make sense of it.

“The Rank of Arbiter was granted to few and most of their lives ended in martyrdom. Chosen in bleak, terrible times, and sent to accomplish otherwise death bound and death certain tasks. ‘Honorable’ deaths,” Arbiter explained further with a scoff at the end.

“That sounds like a death sentence,” Miranda commented solemnly.

“Because it is.” Thel once again reached up to his hidden mark subconsciously, “...Was a death sentence.”

“Is that why you left the Covenant?” she asked.

“No. That is more complicated.” He told her before tearing his hand away from his chest when he noticed his behavior.

“Why did they make you an Arbiter?” She hummed and questioned instead.

“I was proclaimed a heretic after I failed to protect something ‘Sacred’ to the Covenant. The council claimed I had allowed such an act of desecration and destruction to something so sacred, purposely. When I tried to reason with them and defend myself. Questioning their statements. That is when a council member pointed to me as heresy,” he paraphrased the events, going into detail would just bring his mind back those horrid memories.

“Then they made you an Arbiter as punishment,” Miranda inferred.

“The council wanted my corpse then and there…” He shook his head, “No, those higher than council made me Arbiter after I was stripped of my armor, my rank, and my honor. For all to see. My life no longer held any worth to it.” He corrected her.

“What rank had you been before Arbiter, Thel?” She asked, her brows furrowed.

“I had been the Commander of a Covenant Fleet,” He answered looking away from Miranda and to one of the many walls in the room.

“You mentioned you failed to protect something Sacred to the Covenant. Tell me, was it a Sacred Ring of sorts? H-” She was cut off by him.

“One of the many Halo rings? Yes. Its destruction was my supposed act of heresy,” he confirmed.

“There’s more than one?” He surprised her again.

“If you do manage to find one of the Halo rings, destroy it. To use it would be foolish,” Arbiter marched up to the table.

“Didn’t you say that you didn’t purposely let it be destroyed? That you were accused unfairly of heresy?” She questioned, suspicious of him.

“I did. But I also did defect and became the heretic the council claimed me to be, Commander. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been found working with a Spartan. I also wouldn’t have answered even a single one of your many questions, Doctor,” He retorted, leaning over the table a little, looking down at Miranda. He felt the pull of his stitches but ignored them.

“Why did you learn English, Arbiter? You speak it fluently with no accent,” her eyes narrowed although it didn’t hide the moment of fear that flashed across her eyes. She remained exactly where she was mostly unbothered.

“I learned for two reasons. The first reason was early on, I learned it before my deranking so I would better understand and know my enemy at the time,” He expressed, straightening his posture, continuing to look down at Miranda.

“And the second reason?” She urged him to continue.

“The second came later on, soon after my deranking. More personal to myself than tactical. In the form of the spartan you have separated me from for understandable reasons,” Thel shared the little he felt comfortable with sharing. He backed away from the table, once again keeping his distance.

“What does the Rogue Spartan mean to you?” She asked softer, kinder, and hopeful. Her expression softened.

“Everything.” He blurted without hesitation, he felt his own expression break to something softer, and heard the way his voice sounded so vulnerable. “He means everything to me, Miranda.”

“I have only one more question to ask you, Thel,” She told him with a smile, putting down her device.

“What is it?” He asked and he felt the anxiety creep in with the number of possibilities the question could be.

“Will you help me with some translations of some Sangheili audio files and help us put the Covenant in the ground?” She queried.

“I will,” Her face lit up with excitement and joy. “Under one condition, Commander,” he found it amusing how her expressed morphed into something that screamed the exact words, ‘Are you fucking kidding me?’

“What is the condition?” She asked, still hopeful.

“May I be allowed to shoot the Spartan that injured me?” He asked and smiled.

“What?” She looked mortified.

“I’m joking,” Arbiter clarified with a chuckle.

“Oh– OH!” Miranda laughed and soon he started laughing too, only to stop when it pulled at his stitches and hissed from the pain and gripped over the bandage again. The good doctor seemed to run into the same problem holding her forehead while wincing.

“Although, I do have a request,” He spoke more seriously.

“Out with it then,” She smiled.

“Allow my ‘rogue’ to visit me, when and if you can have that happen, please,” Thel pleaded.

“I’ll see what I can do, Thel. Thank you, for your cooperation. Riz will take you to your quarters to rest and recover, until I’m given the higher ups decision on you,” Miranda stood up from her seat, picked up her device and left the room. Riz came back into view at the doorway to the hallway, he didn’t move until she gestured him to exit and soon it was back to the twisting and turning of the hallways with his spartan GPS.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~2552 A.D. Human-Covenant War still ongoing, Planet: Reach, UNSC HQ~

[Silver Timeline p.o.v]

“Do you think he saw us?” Captain Jacob Keyes asked.

“I highly doubt he knew we were even there in the room with them,” Admiral Parongosky retorted.

“To think there is more than one Halo and that they are so deadly that an opposing force chose to destroy it rather than use it. What are your thoughts on it, Admiral?” Captain Keyes turned to Parongosky.

“This gives us even more reason to get the second artifact back and find out how to reach Halo before the Covenant. This elite avoided all questions regarding the circumstances of his camaraderie with the rogue, ” Admiral Parongosky remarked, determined and unamused.

“I have reason to believe it’s something more than that, Admiral,” Jacob stated seriously and Paraongosky turned to look at him unimpressed.

“A human and an elite. Do you hear yourself, Captain?” She commented.

“I have eyes and ears, Admiral. I know the Elite and Spartan have more than camaraderie in their chemistry,” he defended himself.

“How so, Captain?” Parongosky asked, curious enough.

“They couldn’t keep their hands to themselves the entire flight, Admiral. This pair are more than just comrades in arms, how deep the bond is, remains to be seen and discovered,” Captain Keyes explained.

“The rogue is next, let us hope he and his AI companion are as cooperative as their friend,” Parongosky told Jacob.

Chapter Text

(Silver Timeline)

~2552 A.D. Human-Covenant War still ongoing, Planet: Reach, UNSC HQ~

[Blue Timeline p.o.v.]

“My name is Doctor Catherine Halsey, but you clearly know that. You're one of my spartans. So let’s skip to the important part,” The blonde woman sitting across from him stated nonchalantly with a look of boredom.

“...” Chief remained quite unresponsive. He had chosen to keep his armor on, refusing to even remove his helmet, and after sometime they had simply accepted defeat. They had taken most of his weapons as well out of precaution and Master Chief had obliged to everything except the plasma sword on his hip. The Spartan 134, otherwise known as Vannak from what he’s heard and what Cortana has told him, had made the poor decision to try and take the aforementioned item of sentimental value from his person by force. It led to a fist fight between the two that lasted all but 30 to 35 minutes, before Master Chief had the other with his front to floor; pinned. Thereafter, the Doctor had intervened, verbally, ending the conflict and signaling for the pair to follow. Allowing John to keep the weapon so long as he never aimed to grab or make use of it without permission. Vannak had taken no ill will from the encounter, instead commending and complimenting Chief, remarking that he hadn’t been “knocked on his ass” for quite some time. Vannak had also requested, if all went well with Chief’s interrogation, that they should spar sometime under better circumstances. All of that led to his current situation, in a barren room with a single table with two seats at its center. He had chosen to stand, knowing fully well that the seat would more likely break under the weight of his armor than hold him.

“What is your name?” she asked, looking at him expectantly.

“Spartan 117, John,” He restated, keeping his tone neutral and monotone as much as possible. She seems to take note of something.

“What year do you think it is, John?” she queried, she looked very interested in his reply.

“You know. Know that we don’t belong here, Doctor,” he responded instead of answering forthwith.

“Deflecting won’t help you, John,” she retorted.

“I can’t help you in the way you think,” he threw back.

“Yes, you can, you just won’t. Why?” Her eyes narrow, suspicious.

“Because we’re not from this dimension in any shape or form, Doctor Halsey,” Cortana’s Hologram appeared beside him.

“Cortana, I presume. Explain.” She was not asking, she was demanding.

“For one, your history is different from my data logs. There are also various little details that don’t match either. For example, my Master Chief never led a team called Silver team, he leads blue team, which consists of spartans Frederic-104, Kelly-087, Linda-058, besides John-117. From your records, they appear to have either never existed or are in completely different teams. There are physical and heredity differences between your Captain Jacob Keyes and Commander Miranda Keyes and our own,” Cortana showed various pictures and bio sheets of people. A pair of pictures showing a group photo taken of Chief's Blue team and the other of this world Chief’s Silver team. The other four were side by side comparisons of the different Keyes family. “The year here in your timeline is 2552 and the war is ongoing whilst it’s 2556 where–”

“Cortana.” Chief cut her off.

“While in your timeline the war is over and years ahead of my own.” The Doctor finished with a smile.

“Oh.” Cortana realized her mistake in shining a light on that information.

“But you're working with a Covenant Elite and one of high rank by the looks of it, based on what he said and the armor he wears. Why?” She was intrigued.

“That is Complicated,” he spoke defensively, a decision he should have thought through.

“You say complicated, when it’s clear to me that he holds personal and sentimental value to you,” she commented.

“We couldn’t have won the war without the help of the Arbiter. They bonded over battles shared. The rest is irrelevant to you, Doctor Halsey,” Cortana interjected.

“A traitor for the enemy turned ally to humanity.” She hummed.

“You’re still doubtful,” Chief pointed out.

“How do I know you aren’t lying? You could have fabricated all of this information. How do I know it’s true, when you won’t even allow your face to be shown which would allow for a test of DNA,” she replied.

“You want a DNA test? Do you know how a Sangheili plasma sword operates?” Cortana asks.

“It is powered by a small battery that supplies energy needed to the plasma generation device and magnetic field generators that allows the sword to take the shape of a blade and maintain it and with each successful strike the battery for the blade drains,” The Doctor responded.

“Every sword is personalized and made specific for each user that receives one. It also scans and binds with the specific DNA and the biological format of its user,” Cortana explains.

“Meaning it can only be used by its owner until their death,” The Doctor comments.

“Precisely, except– John, would you mind placing it on the table?” She looks towards him crossing her arms with a little smile. Chief slowly placed the weapon on the surface of the table and let it go gently.

“What does this have to do with proving your statements? Or a DNA test?” she asked.

“You see, usually, energy swords are only bonded to one user until their death. The swords will only ever be passed on to someone else who picks it up after the death of its original owner. Binding themselves to the sword until their own death. But this one,” Cortana continues to explain further and points at the tech on the table. “I helped modify this one to bind itself to two users; two owners. John and Thel. As mentioned before it would not pass on to another user unless either John or Thel were dead. Your spartan activated it on the battlefield when that shouldn’t have been possible because when he did, neither Thel nor John died. Although he attempted unprovoked termination of our friend’s life.”

“The DNA test. The sword was the test. My spartan has the exact same genetic makeup as your spartan meaning–” The Doctor was cut off.

“We are both John-117, only not the exact same John,” Chief stated.

“Counterparts to put more simply. From alternate timelines,” Cortana announced.

“How do I know this is not another lie?” The Doctor with a raise of one of her brows.

“Try activating the sword yourself?” Cortana gestured politely to the weapon on the table. The Doctor looked at the weapon and cautiously reached for it, taking careful hold of it. Chief pushed the urge to snatch the sword from her hands. She seems to study it for a moment before trying to activate it, nothing happens. She tries again and it’s the same result; nothing.

“Interesting, but when I pass it back to you,” she holds it out to Chief and he takes it back relieved, internally. She retracts her hand and waits, expectantly.

“Chief,” Cortana urges. He takes a few steps back before doing the same thing she had tried when attempting to activate it, only that the sword does light up with life, an electric buzz sound, at its activation but it turns silent after. He quickly powers it down after, stowing it at his hip once more and crossing his arms loosely.

“Fascinating, and the only people it’s bonded with are the Arbiter and your John?” She smiles entranced.

“Correct.” Cortana stated simply.

“This gives us much to go over. But with that concludes our meeting. Vannak should escort you to the Spartan barracks, I suggest you rest outside your armor to be comfortable, I will be contacting you soon. To test something that will relieve my doubts,” the Doctor suggested.

“I feel most comfortable and safe within my own armor. I do not remove it unless under different circumstances,” Chief replied.

“Define under what circumstances?”

“Behind friendly walls or… when I’m home,” John answered, crossing his arms.

“But are behind friendly walls and you are home.” She countered with the raise of a brow.

“No. I am not home.” He shook his head and uncrossed his arms. Cortana’s hologram dispersed, and she likely returned to her watch over Thel. He walked to the door which opened and allowed Vannak to guide him to the barracks to rest. He blocked out the gawking and murmurs as he always did, he was used to the staring, but that didn’t mean he liked it, especially cameras, but he was used to it. He enjoyed the silence throughout the walk to the barracks, a moment of peace, but he had already started to miss Thel and Cortana’s banter. He was beginning to miss the little subtle bumps of arms, the brush of hands, and the slow intertwining of his fingers with Thel’s larger ones when he wanted to. Even the sound of Thel’s heavy footsteps beside him when he allowed them to be heard and the little quiet, almost too quiet, clinks his husband’s armor would make. Of course he could handle his husband’s absence, but that was when he had the ability and free will to see him later, no matter how long that later became. He didn’t have that right now. They would most definitely deny him the privilege of catching even a glimpse of his spouse.

They made it to the barracks, he paused at the entrance gazing at all the empty beds and a piece of tech on one side of the room. Vannak walked past him further into the room to another spartan who was cleaning her weaponry. She was out of her armor, in her undersuit, and she looked up at Vannak’s approach with a small fond smile. She said something inaudible as Vannak took off his helmet, leaning down he said something in response and nodded in his direction. She seemed surprised but her small smile remained as she responded. He heard the distant chuckle from Vannak and her smile grew half an inch. He could only guess what they were saying back and forth. Chief remained frozen in place, he did not belong here. 

“Strange. You chose to stay suited up to rest?” A very familiar yet different in tone voice said, he perked up at the sound and turned his head to the side where it came from. He saw the holoprojection of the AI, Cortana had mentioned speaking to. An innocence was held in her eyes, almost as if she was brand new.

“Cortana.” He heard someone else say behind him with a very prominent tone of annoyance. Chief turned further to see a man standing there in his undersuit, he looked strangely familiar but also very different. He heard this voice before on the battlefield and he knew exactly who the man was. The bastard, as Cortana liked to call him off the record, who hurt his husband in the first place. The man who was his counterpart in this timeline, Spartan John-117; Master Chief. This world’s Cortana’s presence only solidified the assumption. He turned back to said AI and decided to respond.

“I did. Why would that be strange?” He asked with a neutral tone.

“Is it not uncomfortable to rest in Mjolner armor?” She asked curiously. Before he responded, he instinctively put his hand up in hopes of silencing the reprimand she’d get for asking seemingly an unproductive question. The gesture worked and he hoped it would not annoy the other further.

“It was at first, but I’ve grown used to its weight. I prefer it, except when I’m home,” Chief answered, putting his hand down.

“You have a home? Where?” His counterpart asked, shocked by the prospect.

“My home is not a place,” He replied.

“Throughout human literature home is often referred to as not a place but as a feeling, people, or a particular person. You are in an unknown place, and separated from those that are your home, I presume. Excuse me for asking this, but I couldn't help but notice that your AI partner is not here with you. Why?” She uttered before asking the question, folding her arms behind her back.

“Why not ask her yourself? I’m sure you can find her easily. She’ll also be in a better mood for conversation than during the flight here,” Chief answered simply.

“Are you positive?” She asked unsure.

“Yes, Cortana.” He saw the smile of excitement spread across her features before she disappeared to who knows where. He also saw the astonished look on the other John’s features before walking away and sitting down up against one of the walls to rest for a little while.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~2552 A.D. Human-Covenant War still ongoing, Planet: Reach, UNSC HQ~

[Silver Timeline p.o.v]

“A human living among the Covenant? Unheard of.” Penma stated.

“So, what is she?” David asked. “A refugee or an enemy combatant?”

“For the moment both,” Admiral Parongosky answered as they looked over the footage from the battle on Eridanus II.

“She’s offering to give us intel on the Covenant, but she’ll only speak to Master Chief,” Captain Keyes announced.

“Is that a good idea?” Bota interjected with a hint of distrust.

“If it gets her talking,” Keyes replied without hesitation.

“Is 1-1-7 the right man for the job?” Bota asked, uncrossing his arms, looking directly at Captain Keyes whilst placing his hands in his pockets.

“Chief has debriefed hundreds of people. He can tell the difference between an Informant and a Spy,” Parongosky states, offended by the question to Chief’s reliability and in turn her reliability by proxy.

“Perhaps the old Master Chief could do that, but this one is at least partially responsible for the loss of the second artifact. Left his position.” Bota looked from Parongosky to Keyes.

“To save Marine Lives,” Captain Keyes defended.

“Marine lives that had already mostly been saved by the help of the rogue Spartan and mysterious high ranking Elite. Besides, it's the mission that matters, not the Marine.” Bota retorted.

“Says the man who never put on the uniform,” Parongosky countered. A scoff was heard from David. The hologram projections were dismissed. And the windows were uncovered allowing the natural daylight to shine through. Both Admiral Parongosky and Captain Keyes walked closer to the window to the control room of FLEETCOM whilst the other three remained in place.

“I’m afraid I agree with Bota. Two Spartans failed to perform as designed and one of said spartans was found as a rogue working with a Covenant Elite and apparently failed to be accounted for as missing in the first place,” Penma stated. Keyes turned around and looked at the trio.

“So, now we’re questioning the entire Spartan program?” Captain Keyes asked, perplexed.

“It’s not the Spartans they’re questioning. It’s me,” Parongosky turned around to look at them. “Isn’t that right? Come on, out with it.”

“The Elite already agreed to help us, and has confirmed the existence of the weapon, Halo. Also confirming that there is more than one. Why ask the woman for intel? When we have an actual Covenant soldier,” David questioned.

“Doctor Halsey has already confirmed that the rogue and the elite are not from this timeline and that they are from a separate one similar to our own but with very different events and including the time travel aspect, they are from 2556. Where the war has already been over. With that said, the ‘rogue’ spartan was not a failure from our part,” Captain Keyes informed them.

“Regardless, after the losses on Eridanus II, Admiral Hood–” Penma walked forward as she spoke but was cut off by Bota.

“He’s considering dismantling Section Three and putting the Spartans under direct UNSC command.” Bota announced walking up beside Penma.  

“All these years, they’ve been calling me paranoid,” Admiral Parongosky shook her head with an eye roll and afterwards turned her head to the side.

“No one’s against you, Margaret,” Penma reassured.

“Then who put those ideas in his head?” Parongosky turned back to them unconvinced.

“You know how these things go. The committee needs more results or they’ll find someone to blame,” Penma spoke with an insincere smile. Parongosky turned back to the control room with a sigh.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Much later John had been called upon to interrogate the woman civilian that had emerged from the covenant escape pod, informing him of some information revealed during the questioning of both the mystery spartan and elite. The Elite was of a rank titled Arbiter, and rare. More information on the spartan rogue had been kept from his knowledge though. John was informed of some key points to ask the woman and to see if she was truly an informant or a spy. He was walking through the corridors, making his way to the secure room/cell the woman was being held in; specifically room 316. He walked up to the room door, decorated with a few simple lines and the numbers engraved and painted on its surface.

“Give her hell, Chief,” Malya said, standing guard near the door. “These squidheads don’t take hostages. She’s one of ‘em. No doubt.”

He turned his head in Malya’s direction for a moment before placing his index finger on the screen beside the door. A chime sounded at his clearance before the heavy door opened. John saw the medics pick up their gear clearly done with their tasked review and attendance to the civi. He stepped aside to clear the path for the medics to walk past him and leave the room. The woman had stood up; eager. He walked further into the room and nodded with a small convincing smile. The woman looked down and the door closed behind him, leaving them alone together. She looked back up and John walked to the opposite side of the room, keeping his distance but facing her.

“Are you comfortable?” John asked her.

“I am. Thank you,” She replied. He noticed her fiddling with her medical gown.

“We’ll see what we can do about getting you some new clothes,” he said, a little kinder. She gave a small almost quiet chuckle. “I’m John.”

“Y-You’re the Demon,” she smiled and he furrowed his brow. “That’s what the Sangheili call you.” The woman clarified

“Mmm,” he hummed, not knowing if that was an insult or a compliment. Most likely an insult. “I’ve been called worse. What can I call you?”

“Makee,” she answered simply.

“Makee.” John tried out the name. He paced towards a specific structure of the room, stopping in front of it, his back Makee. “You say you were a prisoner to the Covenant?”

“For many years.” Makee was quiet for a moment, “Please, if the other keystone is here, you are in great danger. They will not stop until they have both stones”

John started pacing again before asking, “Do you know where they took the other one? The one they stole from us on Eridanus” She looked away and fiddled with her fingers, nervous.

“By now…” She sighed and seemed to think, “um, on a planet called Raas Kkhotskha. In a star system you call Aspero.” Her hands moved a little as she spoke.

“Can you show me?” John asked her. Makee seemed hesitant before shaking her head.

“I’ve never been there,” she responded. This was getting him nowhere and John was starting to feel a little frustrated by it. “It’s a holy place for them. You don’t believe me.”

He didn’t reply, thinking better of it, his back was turned to her again trying to hold back his anger.

“Of course,” she spoke softly, dejected. John turned around and began closing in on her, walking closer.

“The Covenant slaughtered hundreds of my people and then flew off with the artifact.” He sees Makee backing away in fear and trembling as she falls into a sitting position, “And then you drop from the sky, after the appearance of a mysterious Spartan and an Elite, titled Arbiter, and both you and this Arbiter offer help with little to no hesitation. Although the Sangheili helped save many of my people on that battlefield.” He has her cornered, staring directly into her terrified eyes. “Tell me why I should trust you .”

“Because I’m like you,” she whispered. He sighs through his nose, he almost loses hold of his patience. “Oh. You don’t know.”

“Should I?” He responded, lifting his brows for a second.

“The Covenant call me Hirajo . The Blessed One.” Makee answered. John then came to a realization as memories of the conversation with the crazy man back at the rumble came to mind. How the man had mentioned a Blessed one is human only more so. He also remembered how afraid the man became when he saw John bring the artifact to life.

“You do know.” He snapped back to reality by her statement. “We are the same.” The man’s words replayed in his head.

|You don’t understand what you are, do you?!|

He stood up and marched out of the room immediately, the door opening upon his approach. Thoughts swirling like a storm in his mind as he stopped just outside the room by a foot. The door closed behind him, he looked up at Malya’s unfazed expression as he stood guard. He racked his brain a little before he thought of what to do next.

“Get me Captain Keyes.” He ordered. In that exact moment he felt the familiar feeling, the same feeling and sensation he would get when he would touch the artifact only he wasn’t anywhere near the artifact. The feeling went away almost immediately.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You want me to make physical contact with this relic?” The spartan asked.

“Yes. Although, I could better monitor the effects if you’d been more open-minded to removing your helmet to place the monitoring devices on your temples,” Catherine replied, the spartan was strict with his decision to remain fully encased in armor at all times.

“Cortana will send you what anomalies, if any, occur or do not occur after contact. Right, Cortana?” He spoke from the other side of the glass, inside the room holding the relic. 

“Obviously,” Her hologram appeared in front of him on the other side of the relic, she rolled her eyes, crossing her arms, and her tone sounded unamused. “You doubt me after all these years?”

“I only wanted you to confirm to ease the Doctor's complaints,” he clarified.

“I’m not complaining, just curious as to why you refuse to remove your helmet,” Catherine interjected, checking her tools.

“All Spartan-IIs are taught to never remove their helmet under any circumstances. Most choose to follow that lesson until death, some others are more or less lenient with that rule. Were your Spartans not taught the same?” This other John asked her after explaining his reasoning.

“They were to some extent, but some have recently become more lenient with the rule,” Catherine admitted before a thought crossed her mind. “How did you find the Halo, correction, Halos?”

“Accident, Luck, and both,” This John answered, which made a chuckle escape her. His visor turned to land on her, she could feel the quizzical look. His Cortana also looked over curious.

“It seems you and my John have something else in common,” she stated.

“What may that be?” His Cortana asked.

“They’re both lucky,” she answered, looking back down at her tools, double checking.

“Must be a trait all Johns share. Besides having a Cortana to call out their questionable choices and helping them have some common sense,” the AI amusingly commented.

“Where’s Thel when I need him to defend me from you,” she could hear a smile in his tone, he’s amused, possibly humorous.

“Oh, please. Thel would be agreeing with me,” his AI mocked fondly.

“Thel? As in the Elite? The Arbiter?” She asked. “You three seem awfully close.”

“As mentioned before by my Cortana, after fighting alongside the Arbiter through countless missions, battles, and even ended a war with.  We bonded and became close, influenced by the circumstances,” this Chief stated, all the amusement left his tone, leaving it neutral. Interesting that his guard was down for a moment with his AI, but back in full force with her.

“I see… I’m ready to start whenever you are,” Catherine announced. He nodded and so did his AI companion. He turned back to the relic and held his hands up on each side of it and cautiously made contact with it. The artifact slowly lit up, coming completely to life. This helped expel her doubts even further, he spoke the truth, he is John-117. The realization dawned on her. Did this John even know of how he was created? Handling one emotionally troubled John was already a problem in itself. But handling two angry and out of control Johns would be a disaster. He quickly let go of the artifact and as promised his Cortana uploaded the results for her to see. They were the same as the ones she’d seen with her own John.

“Did you see anything?” She asked.

“Nothing I didn’t already know before,” He answered.

“What did you see?” Catherine asked again.

“What is it that you want me to say?” The other John asked.

“Did you see visions? Memories. Of family?” She asked carefully.

“I already knew, Doctor.” He stated. “I’ve known. So did most other Spartans.”

“And you’re fine with it?” She asked curiously how he wasn’t angered by the knowledge.

“I would never want what I went through to happen to another person. The training, the social and emotional damage. Doesn’t mean I regret that it happened to me . The past is done and gone. Better to use what I was given to help others. That’s all that really matters at the end of the day,” He explained with a calmness that she did not expect. She physically recoiled from the surprise.

“Your reaction to it is more tame than my John’s,” Catherine admitted.

“Doesn’t make his feelings on the matter any less valid,” he defended.

“We are in the middle of a war and so far losing by accounts as your Cortana clearly has seen. Discounting the civil war being partially kept at bay, if you can even call it that. Humanity’s survival is all that matters,” she countered.

“You have a point, but my John’s point remains standing regardless. Your John and any other Spartan that knows. Their feelings on the matter are valid. Whatever you say won’t change that ever . Speaking ill and condescendingly of such helps no one . Not the UNSC, not your John, not humanity. Only creating a bigger rift. You're helping no one but yourself,” Cortana retorted defensively.

“Cortana.” The other John pleaded. She turns to the Spartan and says something Catherine is denied the privilege to hear. His AI crossed her arms, dispersing, and leaving to wherever she went off to.

“Has she always had the faulty error to feel human sentimentality?” She asks instead of commenting on what just occurred in front of her.

“She has always expressed emotion. Your Cortana does the same to a more minimal level. Although, that is because she is still new,” he replies.

“She will not have the same mistakes as yours. Human sentimentality is a faulty erosion. For humans to survive, we must move past such failures,” she stated solemnly.

“Hmm,” This John turned to leave by the door he had entered from. “Are we done here?”

“Yes.” She answered and with that he was gone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“And what does this one say?” Miranda asks the Sangheili in Silver,

“They say, ‘Do you read me?’ here,” He replied, focused. She plays the clip further.

“What about here, what did they say?” She continues.

“Do you not have the reply to their previous phrase?” He questions more out of curiosity than accusatory.

“We could only retrieve what was output through our communication feeds, not input, unfortunately” Miranda responded with sigh.

“To translate as requested, ‘I am returning to the ship. There is nothing here.’ Was their response. Though, there is something off,” Arbiter Thel looks quizzical.

“What do you mean?” She looked at him confused.

“There is something off in the pronunciation, but that could be the static interference messing with the audio,” He admitted, loosely crossing his arms.

“Could be. Can I ask an unrelated question. I’m sure you’ve probably heard many before from your spartan battle partner–” Miranda’s explanation is cut short by the Arbiter’s raised hand.

“I am of a different species you know little to nothing about culture wise. It is perfectly fine to be curious. Especially since the most you’ve most likely met or seen are deceased ones on a dissection table no doubt. No need to apologize for, or excuse your curiosity. I actually prefer questions made out of the desire to learn. Ask away, Commander,” she was a little surprised how understanding Thel ‘Vadam had been so far. He held a patience, she wished she herself had at times.

“How does a Sangheili eat? You don’t exactly have jaws to chew,” She responded with an open fascination while ready to take notes.

“Similar to how some humans eat cotton candy. Tear bits, chunks, and pieces off the bigger portion and shoving it down their throat. To put it in more blunt terms. We tear it apart with our hands into smaller more manageable pieces before consuming it,” He explained while making small gestures with his hands, then crossing them again.

“How do you know how humans eat cotton candy?” She was surprised he even knew what cotton candy was.

“I saw a couple of UNSC marines, based on a mostly peaceful planet, consuming it once. I did ask what they were consuming later to a friend that informed me they were consuming a form of sugar rather than a piece of cloud. For added context, I described it as a piece of cloud while asking them of it. Though my friend refuses not to mock my ignorant curiosity regardless. I know it comes out of a place of fondness rather than malice. That does little to stop the rubbed salt in the wound of my remaining dignity,” He ranted with a small chuckle and what she could guess was a genuine smile based on his expressive eyes and the shape and form his mandibles took. “My husband finds it humorous in silence, but comforts me anyway.”

“You have a husband?” That definitely took Miranda by surprise.

“Yes, I do,” he confirms.

“How does that work between Sangheili? Are Sangheili open-minded to all types of relations in any combination of sexes?” She asks, very curious about the topic.

“When it came to romantic or sexual relations between one another, very open unless they were an heir to a clan and was required to produce more heirs to take their place later. But when it was about who was allowed to learn things regarding skills necessary for battle and war, it was very circumstantial. Many female Sangheili were denied the right to join the Males in times of War or Battle before I helped integrate such change after the matter had been brought to my attention by a warrior that I’ve come to respect for her battle prowess in the field,” He explained further. “To actually answer your previous question, I wouldn’t know. My husband is not Sangheili.”

“Wha– wait… then what is he?” That threw Miranda almost through another loop of utter shock. “Unggoy? Kig-Yar? Jiralhanae? Yanme’e?”

“If I tell you, this must remain a secret between us. Understood, Commander.” He stated with utmost seriousness, uncrossing his arms and turning towards her completely, looking down at her with narrowed eyes.

“I’ll keep it a secret, off record, no one will know. Not from me,” She removed her hands from the device in front of her, turning to face Thel ‘Vadam in kind. 

He leaned down closer to her and whispered very quietly, “He is human.” 

He backed away soon after revealing such information. It honestly left her stunned, shocked, and even speechless while she processed the information. Then it all came bursting out of her.

“Oh my god! It’s him, the–!”

“Commander.”

“No wonder he stayed there holding–!”

“Miranda.”

“And that’s why he wouldn't leave you the whole–!”

“Commander Miranda Keyes!”

“I know I’m being unprofessional. But this is off record and a lot to process, Arbiter Thel ‘Vadam!”

“I know.” He facepalmed with a deep sigh.

“I’m sorry, that was rude. But how did that happen? If you don’t mind me asking? Falling for an enemy. It must have been difficult to process and then accept, not even mentioning the confession of such feelings,” She pushed her astonished feelings to the side to speak more calmly.

“The events that forged this bond are… complicated,” He answered and reached for a particular spot on his chest, Miranda couldn’t help but want to know why. But she also knew the signs that Arbiter was giving. He was uncomfortable and even that was an understatement. He clearly didn’t want to speak about it. She hummed, deciding not to push on the subject.

“Back to translations?” She asked to move back to a more safe topic for the Sangheili.

“I’m ready when you are, Commander.”

Chapter Text

(Silver Timeline)

~2552 A.D. Human-Covenant War still ongoing, Planet: Reach, UNSC HQ~

[Silver Timeline p.o.v]  

It had been one day. One day back from Eridanus and everything kept piling up on John. He was furious and even then that was an understatement for his current mood. He had taken last night to debate his course of action with the information that had been festering in his mind, the memories and discovery of Doctor Catherine Halsey’s actions, the information Makee had given him that threw him through a loop, and the rogue Spartan and the Elite. The next morning had been awkward to put it mildly, the rogue slept in his armor and even for breakfast did not remove his helmet in their presence, but the rogue had taken the plate of food with him with a nod of thanks before leaving to a more private place. The spartan hardly spoke unless spoken to, it wasn’t strange in the slightest, quite “normal” for the picaro in his opinion. John did the same thing and so did the rest of the Silver Team; usually. The rest of the daylight, John spent pacing the base to process for hours that blurred together because last night had not been enough. At one point, he found himself in front of the first artifact, staring at it, and it did not help quell the fury that had been simmering the entire day. It had reached its boiling point. He knew the Doctor had an interview tonight and he ended up interrupting the interview; sending the interviewer away. He confronted Catherine and she confessed, tying it all with a nice little bow that justified her actions. She had smiled at one point after her justifications. It had only infuriated him more. All that was done to him and the others, just children with families and homes that were ripped away from them unconsented, that all of it was reasonable . He’d all but marched out of that room after a few more words. He’d run into Doctor Keyes along his path and informed her of the information, that he should have reported sooner but chose not to, the one Makee had revealed to him about her connection to the artifacts and ordered the doctor to check up on that. He’d been overwhelmed with emotion and did not know even the slightest way to process it all. Cortana’s appearance and conversation with him, if one could even call it that, did not help him either. He did not want nor need her help, he could not trust her. 

Furthermore, this all led to his current predicament. John was on route to visit Kai in the infirmary room she was currently resting in. He was marching like a man on a mission, he needed someone he trusted to speak about this with and Kai was the only other person he trusted that would understand, since she too went through the same training, the same “childhood” with the added factor that she no longer possessed her blocker either. He felt required to inform her about this. On the path to his destination, he discovered he had been a little too distracted when he unceremoniously smacked a little too hard into very familiar olive green armor. He felt the impact mostly to his forehead and the tip of his nose, he didn’t break anything and it wouldn’t leave much of a bruise, but it hurt regardless. He held his forehead with one of his hands and hissed, on the bright side, he was distracted from the overwhelming emotions and thoughts storming inside him now because of the pain.

“Are you alright?” He heard an authoritative, gravelly voice ask. He heard the undertone of concern, though barely.

“I’m fine, just wasn’t expecting it is all,” John replied, looking up to see a golden vizor looking back at him. Felt strange, as if he was looking into a mirror of himself in armor. The dent in the chest plate reminded him that he was not and that this was the rogue. He removed his hand from his forehead to let it hang by his side once more.

“Hmm,” he hummed and looked away from him, continuing on his walk to wherever he was headed. 

“Wait,” he didn’t know why he spoke up at all and had no clue why he asked the rogue to pause again. Said spartan turned back to look at him, waiting. John had not the slightest idea why he ordered him, “Come with me.” He saw the helmet tilt sharply as a nod and John continued his route. They walked in comfortable silence. He did notice some head turns from those also walking through the corridors. A thought came to mind, he still didn’t know this rogue’s name, except that he particularly liked to lie about that part. Instead, he spoke out another thought.

“Where were you headed?” John asked.

“To ask Vannak for that spar,” the other replied, piquing his interest.

“Vannak asked to spar with you?” The man mostly sparred with Riz, and rarely anyone else. It was a little jarring to say the least.

“Affirmative,” he answered. “Where are you going?”

“To see Kai-125 and update her on recent events,” he replied, making a turn.

“The injured spartan from the battlefield,” The other’s tone shifted, it was kinder in a way, no longer neutral.

“Yes,” he confirmed.

“Why bring me along?” His tone shifted back as though it never shifted in the first place.

“Don’t know. Why did you choose to follow?” He threw back.

“Wasn’t a choice. You didn’t ask.”

They reached the infirmary soon after and from there John led the way to Kai. Luckily, she was still awake and she looked better than the last time he had seen her. She looked concerned when they arrived though, remarking how he looked aloof. He sat on the edge of her bedside and told her of the day’s events and what had transpired. Revealing everything about their abductions, and the clones that replaced them to die tragically. He’d forgotten of the rogue in the room, he’d remained silent in the corner of the room keeping his distance, he could pass off as a statue without trying. But his silence was a bit unnerving when such information was revealed in front of his face. The underreaction or no reaction at all that made John a little angry, then again he was always angry nowadays and he had every right to be in his opinion.

“Did you tell Riz and Vannak?” Kai asked, staring at the ceiling. She looked lost, he didn’t blame her.

“Not yet,” he answered softly.

“Well, they deserve to know the truth,” she spoke a little harshly but distant. Her mind is most likely trying to process all the information he unceremoniously dumped on her.

“And they will. Soon as they’re ready,” he responded feeling a slight bit of guilt.

“My parents. All this time, they thought I was dead,” Kai stated sadly. “They could still be out there.” She sounded hopeful and she tried to sit up, “John, I-I think–”

“I’m working on it,” He placed his hand on her arm as a means of reassurance. Kai slowly laid back down. “Halsey wiped the records,” he revealed, looking her in the eye.

“Oh, god,” she exasperated, a quiet thud of her head against the medical cushion. “Everything she told us was a lie. All of it.”

He opened his mouth to speak but the rogue beat him to it.

“Not everything,” they both looked to the man standing in the corner, visor aimed at the floor.

“What wasn’t a lie?” She asked doubtful.

“You’re still Spartans. That counts for something,” He spoke in a gentle manner, but there was confidence in voice. 

“You’re also a spartan,” John commented.

“I know,” the other stated, visor still pointed to the floor.

“Why separate yourself then?” He asked, looking at the rogue. The question had the rogue’s visor directed up at them slowly yet assured.

“Are you alright?” Kai asked the other.

“I am,” he responded non-committedly.

“How? After hearing all of it?” She sounded slightly confused.

“I knew,” he stated, unaffected in the least.

“Is that why you went rogue?” John thought it was a reasonable explanation. Soren had done the same after the incident with his enhancements.

“Seems your Halsey had one more secret in hiding or everyone higher made that call,” he spoke vaguely with a small scoff.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” John furrowed his brow in confusion.

“What’s your name?” Kai said seemingly ignoring the vague and weird statement.

“Does it matter?” The rogue retorted.

“What’s your name?” Kai asked again, unwavering.

“...John,” he answered.

“Not this lie again,” He scoffed and it seemed the rogue was determined to continue this stupid charade of being him.

“It’s nice to meet you, John. My name’s Kai. Wish we had met in better circumstances though. Is your Elite friend okay?” She ignored him, going along with the rogue’s lie.

“He wouldn’t know,” John stood up, crossing his arms.

“Why wouldn’t he?” She was taken aback.

“We were separated upon arrival on Reach,” the other explained rather sadly. Interesting.

“But he kept the plasma sword,” John remarked, facing the rogue.

“Speaking of the energy sword. How were you able to use it?” Kai asked curiously, looking from the rogue to him.

“What do you mean, Kai?” John replied confused.

“The Elite that saved me. You took his plasma sword and used it. How?” She clarified.

“I’m afraid I still don’t follow, 1-2-5,” he was further confused.

“Energy swords usually can only be used by one owner until death,” the rogue interjected.

“Exactly, which is– wait… usually?” Now it was Kai's turn to look stunned. They both looked at the rogue.

“My energy sword was augmented to have two users, Arbiter and myself,” he explained, minimally gesturing to the weapon at his hip.

“That doesn’t explain how I was able to bring to life the weapon when neither you nor the elite are dead. Perhaps there was a malfunction–”

“Or he’s telling the truth,” Kai smiled, genuinely smiling in amazement. She looked directly at the other. “You’re really Master Chief. John.” The rogue nodded once.

“You’ve both lost your minds. He can’t be me, he just has a faulty plasma sword,” he scoffed at the absolute lunacy of the moment.

“Give me the damn sword,” Kai sat up stubbornly with a wince.

“Lay back down. You’re supposed to be resting!” John hissed annoyed at her stubborn determination.

“No. I’m proving a point,  other John. Pass me the sword, this John has a skull as thick as Mjolnir armor,” she held her side with one arm and held the other out shakingly to receive the aforementioned weapon. John facepalmed, how did he keep ending up in these situations. He sighed and watched as the rogue walked closer to Kai, handing her the hilt.

“What do you even plan to prove?” He asked, shaking his head.

“If the sword is faulty then it will activate when I use it, but if it doesn’t. Both of you are trying it next and if it works for both of you. We have our conclusion and we can move on,” she reasoned and then attempted to activate the weapon. Nothing. She tried again, nothing. She looked at him in a condescending manner, “Will you look at that? It’s not activating, I wonder why.”

“Kai,” he sighed.

“Could it be that when I pass it back, it will function as designed. Let’s find out shall we,” she stated. He knew for a fact that he was never going to hear the end of it, if she was right.

“Just get it over with,” he was in no mood for the theatrics she was pulling.

“Other John, will you do the honors of trying first?” She held it out to the rogue with a wince.

Turns out the rogue wasn’t lying, what’s worse Kai was right. Did she decide to rub it in his face when the sword activated for both of them? Yes. Yes, she did. She even laughed in triumph for a few seconds. John had all but given up, since continuing to deny the “facts” to defend himself would make him look even more of a fool. The rogue tells the two of them of the test with the relic that Doctor Halsey had conducted the day before and how the relic lit up at his contact and showed him memories. It explained the feeling from the other day and furthered the metaphorical grave he had dug himself. He’d asked the other how he arrived here in the first place. His other self simply replied that was a question better suited for his Cortana, since she would have a more understandable explanation. At one point the rogue, his counterpart, pointed out it was late and they should let Kai rest. He’d left first, leaving Kai and John alone. She’d tried asking him if he was okay. He avoided the question, telling her to get better, they’d need her later. John left and traveled back to the barracks, the rogue somehow found his way back. He was sitting in a corner, arms crossed, visor tilted down. Whether he was actually asleep or not was left in the ether. John laid down in his bunk and stared at the ceiling til his eyes shut closed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Good morning, how are you?” Miranda greeted taking a seat.

“I’m better than a minute ago, Ma’am,” Kai replied with a wide smile looking at her.

“Really? Why is that?” She asked with a small smile.

“Because you’re here,” the look in her eyes was soft, endearing, and held such fondness. Miranda couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped her.

“You flatter me, Kai. But that won’t help you with me. Not when you pushed your recovery back by half a day with your unscheduled performance last night from what I’ve seen and heard,” Miranda spoke seriously but she had no doubt that the fondness in her own eyes was showing based on the growth of Kai’s smile.

“My superior was ignoring and disregarding facts. I grew tired of it and forced him to face the truth, which unfortunately led to my performance, Commander. I do not regret my actions, only that I had to go to such lengths for Chief’s stubbornness,” Kai explained with surety.

“You are both stubborn, Kai,” she remarked with an affectionate shake of her head.

“Here I thought you were on my side, Commander,” she responded with fake betrayal.

“Be more careful, okay,” she spoke softer, allowing more warmth in her voice.

“I’ll try, but I can’t promise that,” she returned, her smile lessened.

“Kai.” 

“How’s the Sangheili that saved my life?”

“Actually, why don’t you ask him yourself,” Miranda smiled, standing up and gesturing to a particular part of the room on the other side of Kai’s bed.

“What?” Kai looked over to see the said Elite in Silver appear into view with his arms crossed.

“I advised against the irresponsible use of my cloak but Commander Keyes insisted I be a surprise,” his baritone voice explained.

“You don’t look like shit anymore,” Kai said, grinning.

“Likewise,” Miranda could see him smiling, he was humored. “What is your name?”

“Kai-125, and yours?” she asked back.

“Thel ‘Vadam, it is an honor to meet you, Kai-125,” He bowed his head partially, hand palm open against his chest.

“Have they been treating you well?” Kai queried with small concern showing on her face.

“I’ve been treating him just fine. Thank you for such trust in me, Kai,” Miranda spoke the last part rather sarcastically.

“I won’t apologize,” Kai retorted and they both began laughing.

“You’re unbelievable,” she shook her head, still laughing.

“Miranda has been very hospitable and polite. Better than most others that I’ve met prior,” Arbiter answered kindly. They quelled their laughter somewhat.

“Thank you, Arbiter,” Miranda did a small bow of her own.

“Your spartan friend, John, was here last night,” Kai revealed.

“How is he?” His posture and tone completely changed, from calm and humored to concerned and yearning. She knew the exact reason for it too. He misses him. Knowing that his husband’s here but out of his reach for who knows how long.

“Quiet, but he’s fine,” she answered, more sympathetically. “Is he always so quiet?” She asked, lightheartedly.

“Yes,” the calm returned to his posture and a small chuckle escaped him.

“Unfortunately, that’s all the time we have. I have to check up on the refugee and the Arbiter can’t stay, not without supervision,” Miranda interjected, looking back at Kai with a kind smile, she hoped.

“See you soon, Arbiter, Commander,” Kai said her farewells.

“Rest well, Kai,” Arbiter replied, he left the room first and waited outside.

“No more, little risks, Spartan 1-2-5. I need you,” Miranda said and joined Thel outside.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Makee knew she had to interact with more humans for the mission she was tasked with and hated it regardless. She could also see that no one wanted her here either, she shared the same sentiment. But she needed to retrieve the other relic and terminate the Demon to bring his head to the hierarchs. She feared what the presence of another blessed one meant for her, she felt this other interact with the relic when the Demon left. She knew it couldn’t have been him, knowing the humans wouldn’t be foolish enough to stow such a precious artifact anywhere near her. This would be very difficult indeed if there was another human she needed to eliminate. Although, something the demon had mentioned had caught her attention. He had mentioned an elite willing to help and translate for the humans, such an act of heresy from a member of a race most trusted by the hierarchs. But that hadn’t been what had piqued her attention, it was the title of the Sangheili that had taken her by surprise. An arbiter who was told to be the will of the prophets, their blade and marshal. A title only given to one at a time, in times of great need and a title only given to a chosen Sangheili. It was a religious rank, but a high rank regardless. Why would the prophets choose an Arbiter this soon, they did not need one, they were not in great peril. No, the Sangheili must be lying, they were no Arbiter, they were committing heresy without hesitation. Any other Arbiter she heard stories about would sooner choose death than ever betray the hierarchs.

Soon enough for what felt like an eternity the demon came back with another human she’d spoken to a day prior on the ship before falling unconscious. Miranda Keyes was her name. She was holding what she assumed to be another medical kit of sorts. The woman kneels down in front of Makee before opening the box and gently moving her arm around to extract her blood. Makee kept her shoulders slack to look meek. She felt a part of her gown slipping, she adjusted the part of the gown that had slipped downward on her shoulder, specifically on the side with her scar.

“The Sangheili do that to you?” The woman asked while holding the device steady. Her eyes had gestured towards the injury to Makee’s other arm. She nodded before looking away and down. The woman, Miranda continued, “A few days ago, one of our ships was attacked by a Covenant Corvette, identical to the one you escaped from.” She leaned down to retrieve gauze and placed it on the puncture vein, “The entire crew was slaughtered.”

“I’m very sorry to hear that,”  she remembers infiltrating that ship, and how disgusted she was by the humans on board. Took hold of the gauze, keeping it in place as the doctor moved away.

“We got a transmission from the ship after the attack. It was a voice speaking in Sangheili,” Miranda was stowing her tools away. “We’re working to clean up the rest of it.” 

Makee hears the door open and a man walks in holding clothes and shoes. He unceremoniously dropped them without a care on her temporary bed.

“When we do, I was thinking maybe you could double check our translations. A human fluent in Sangheili is more trustworthy than a native speaker unfortunately,” she looked back at Miranda who was pleasantly smiling at her. She didn’t like the smile, it disgusted her, but she didn’t show it.

“Of course. Anything I can do to help,” Makee looked away again, her eyes landed on the demon, John. His hand was shaking, she knew he was sick and the cause. He soon after left. “John mentioned a friendly Sangheili. Said they were an Arbiter. Could I meet them?” She asked meekly, it didn’t matter if this elite was a traitor. She wanted to see a friendly and familiar face.

“Are you sure? After what they did to you?” Miranda asked concerned, her brow furrowed.

“I heard many things when captured by them. Learned many things. I heard stories of Arbiters, they were always described as saviors. It is the highest possible honor to bestow to a Sangheili,” she revealed and fiddled with her hands. “They are a rarity. From the spoken and written tales, they were influential, powerful, skilled, and brave. To see a real, living Arbiter.” She looked back up at Miranda and Makee pleaded with her eyes.

“You seem passionate about this,” Miranda commented, crossing her arms.

“They were inspirational tales,” Makee responded.

“How did they end?” She asked curiously.

“They ended in death, sacrifice, martyrdom. An arbiter’s end is always… sorrowful, but uplifting for the people,” She answered softly, looking down at her hands.

“Then I hope you don’t find our silver-armored friend a disappointment to the standards you’ve set,” Miranda stated and picked up her things.

“I hope for that, too,” Makee threw back. The revelation that this elite wore silver armor did not quell her worries, only furthered them. She couldn’t ignore the little whisper that this Sangheili might actually be an Arbiter. What could have occurred for an arbiter to be chosen before her departure?

“We’ll see each other soon, Makee. For now, rest,” she bid her farewell and left. Leaving Makee once again alone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Focus on this area here, the uncoded intragenetic region of your DNA,” Commander Keyes pointed to a specific part of the screen as she spoke. John walked a little closer and did as told. “These histone proteins are unique to you. Or at least they were. Until we tested Makee and the rogue, aka the other John’s DNA. Which I did not know was possible until a few hours ago with my promotion.”

“You got a hold of the other version of me’s DNA? The same guy that refuses to even take off his helmet. How?” John was surprised, though that was an understatement.

“He was surprisingly compliant. I don’t know why, but he was. Furthermore, I’m not saying that this is the source of your connection to the artifact,” All three images of the histone proteins of the three met in the center of the screen. They all fit perfectly with one another as if they were the same image. “But that is remarkably similar. I’m not surprised by the other John’s identical DNA and proteins, he is you, but from another timeline. But for you and Makee and the anomaly you two share… belongs only to you. Statistically speaking you're two in a billion. Well, three, counting your ‘twin’ Spartan.” She explained, fascinated.

“Thank you for telling me, Commander,” John turned and left, marching out of the lab.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I don’t understand. I told you, look for Raas Kkotskha,” Makee affirmed, a little agitated.

“It’s not there,” John replied.

“The keystone?” She looked confused.

“–The whole planet,” he took a breath and sighed, moving to the table just to the side. He held the back of his head with hands and took in some breaths and then let them out, trying to calm down.

“Am I a prisoner here?” She asked. He took in a sharp breath.

“You said you could help,” he remarked, trying to stay as calm as possible.

“I do want to help,” she replied, partly distressed.

“Then start helping!” He slammed his palm into the wall aggressively. Overwhelming pain took over and a vision flashed before his eyes again. He fell onto one knee and curled in on himself, holding his abdomen. He scrunched his eyes shut, gasping softly for breath. 

“It’s killing you,” Makee commented. “The keystone.”

John said nothing, leaning forward to support the top of his head against the wall, the pain felt awful, slowly ebbing away but not quick enough. He sighed through his nose.

“When you first accessed the stone, it told you stories. Beautiful stories.” Makee continued not at all deterred by his silence. “You wanted to know more, so you went back to it… searching for clues about yourself.”

John opened his eyes, astonished at the total accuracy of her words. He slowly turned his head in her direction.

“But then the stories became frightening. You still went back,” She wasn’t looking at him, her eyes were glassed over, lost in a memory. “You were desperate to know its secrets. And each time you became sicker.”

“How do you know that?” He finally asked, although a bit aggressive, but less so than before. She looked at him.

“I told you. We are the same,” She replied. 

John flipped himself over, standing high enough to sit down on the bench used as a seat for the table. He leaned his back against the wall as he watched her. That caused him some more discomfort and he kept his hand intertwined, loosening arms. He focused on breathing.

“The Covenant have other, lesser stones, which they forced into my hands. At first… I fought. It nearly killed me,” her voice became a little angered. “But then the prophets taught me to stop fighting… and to surrender to the visions.” Her voice was getting closer.

He opened his eyes.

“Suddenly, all the pain went away. And instead of controlling me… the keystones became my servants. I can show you, John. Take me to the keystones. It will lead us to its partner,” Makee kneeled in front of him, unafraid. “And when the stones are united, you will find peace.”

John didn’t answer, instead he got up and marched once again, for the third time, out of that room without so much as a goodbye. He headed straight for Commander Keyes’ Lab. To tell her the information he just received. Twisting and weaving through corridors until he reached his destination. The lab’s AI announced his arrival, and he looked up to speak.

“Commander–” He silenced himself when his eyes landed on silver plating. Both the elite and Miranda looked up at him, unfazed. Although a smile that had been plastered on the Commander’s face was quickly morphed to a solemn line. 

“I shall leave you two alone to discuss matters that do not require my involvement,” the Sangheili stated, proceeding to leave the lab. Now, they were alone.

“Why was he here?” He asked, overly accusatory.

“He was helping, and I was researching. What happened?” Miranda asked.

He pushed his feelings aside, he could deal with those later, and told her everything. Everything that involved the artifacts and Makee's explanation of her experience with lesser versions of them.

“You know, I had a suspicion that the artifact was communicating,” She spoke with vigor.

John sighed, still feeling ill.

“I could test her–” Miranda suggested.

“No, not with the artifact. She’s not going anywhere near it,” He retorted firmly. He didn’t trust Makee, in the same fashion that he still didn’t trust that Elite. Makee was definitely a spy, to remain with the covenant for as long as she did, she was most definitely indoctrinated into their beliefs. As for the Elite– Arbiter’s intentions were unclear, blurred to him with no clear line of purpose. “But if she could use the artifact to find the other one, maybe I can too.”

“No, no, no. We don’t know that for sure, and I don’t feel comfortable testing you,” she voiced her decision.

“Why? You said it yourself. We’re the same, right? ‘Two in a billion’ you said,” He replied, he was growing desperate and he knew it, but he needed to make this right. To recover the stolen artifact that he allowed to be stolen in the first place.

“What if she’s setting you up?” Miranda reasoned.

John tried to respond, instead he stumbled forward the pain returning. He used the lab table as support, holding his abdomen.

“It’s clear that the artifacts are making you sick. What if she wants you to touch it because she knows it’ll be killing off the Covenant’s most powerful enemy?” She expressed, concerned. Walking around the table closer to him.

He focused on his breathing again before replying, heavily, “I need to know.”

She sighed and crossed her arms, shaking her head in disapproval. She looked away from him for a moment, looking him dead in the eye, “...Fine. But you better not be dead by the end of this, Chief.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Commander.”

They entered the room containing the artifact with John’s clearance, Miranda placed the sensor monitors where they needed to be. She asked of him, that he not die before leaving the room to enter the one next to it to observe through the thin glass window. She gave him the greenlight to proceed. He nodded and gathered some courage, raising his hands to the sides of the artifact. He took in a steady breath and grasped the relic with both hands and the pain began. Visions, memories, old and new raced through his mind, some light, others grim, more dark and the pain kept growing. He wouldn’t let go; couldn’t let go. He needed to see this through, wanted to desperately know, he wanted to find the other artifact and fix his mistakes. He groaned as more agony sunk its teeth into him, his heart racing to oblivion with overwhelming pressure building to a crescendo that would either be his downfall or triumph. Until everything went dark, silent, except for a ringing in his ear. 

The ringing slowly faded and there was no longer any pain, just peace. He opened his eyes, he doesn’t remember closing them. What he saw surprised him. He was on top of a small rock formation in this beautiful valley plain. Healthy vibrant green grass, blue and beautiful skies. All of it covered in a warm sunny glow of an unknown sun. But he noticed an arc curving and fading over the skies. He looked to his side and saw Makee and she was looking back at him, awestruck. She looked to the side further away from him. He followed her gaze and his eyes landed on a man, very pale skin, brown buzz cut hair, freckles that look faded, and bright blue eyes. What caught John’s attention most of all was the fact the man was wearing olive green Mjolnir armor but no helmet. The armor had a dent on the right side of the chest plate. He was looking at the rogue. He was looking at the other version of himself. His counterpart. All three of them, without verbal communication, walked closer to one another, meeting at the center of their paths. The closer they became, the more John realized how very similar he looked to his counterpart but also the varying differences they also had. The blue eyes the other had were one of the most prominent and noticeable differences. He looked back to Makee and saw the shock in her features for a moment. Even for all the confusion, this place felt peaceful and safe. 

Then it was all gone as he opened his real eyes, letting go of the relic. He didn’t feel in pain anymore. He felt soothed actually. He felt whole, at home.

“Though we lost you there, Chief,” Miranda said over the speaker. “Where’d you go?”

Chapter Text

(Silver Timeline)

~2552 A.D. Human-Covenant War still ongoing, Planet: Reach, UNSC HQ~

[Blue Timeline p.o.v]

Thel is pacing his quarters; his prison cell. Chief having something similar to a seizure did not help the Arbiter keep calm. He knows John is in good health, thanks to Cortana checking in on him, but he remains anxious still. His hearts beating out of his chest essentially. He held his hand clenched over his hearts, the other wrapped around his chest. The room felt as if it was too small and shrinking, the air depleting. He stopped in tracks, he needed to calm down and breathe. Inducing a panic attack would not do him favors and neither was the closeness of the walls and ceiling. He was not claustrophobic, but most of the time he had the ability to leave on his own or the hope of leaving soon.

“You’re being dramatic,” Cortana stated.

“I usually am, I thought you’d know that after all these years,” he replies with a snicker.

“After all the yelling, barking, shouting, and warcries you do. Yeah, it’s pretty obvious. I should know better,” she responded with a small giggle.

“What did he say?” The tensity in his muscles loosened, an almost instant calming effect from getting out of the spiraling swirl in his own mind. He knew Cortana had a view of his vitals always in the background of everything else but present regardless. He was grateful for her intervening.

“That he’s okay, like the 5 other times you’ve asked. I’ve told him of your wellness as well, continuously,” Cortana answered, he could already imagine the eye roll she was giving. “ He misses us, mostly you though.”

“I’m sure he misses your constant company as equally as mine,” Thel assured her. He sat down on the concrete floor at the center of ‘his’ room.

“No, he definitely misses you more,” she countered affectionately. He inhaled to speak a retort, but she spoke up first, “Someone’s coming.”

Arbiter knew he could not remain sitting on the floor, such a sight of a Sangheili of his standards would be pitiful. He sighed deeply, he only hoped that whoever arrived to see him was a friendly familiar face. Likely this world’s Miranda Keyes or one of the other spartans would arrive to escort him to further questioning, translating, or tell him the news he already held knowledge of about John. The last person he wanted to see was this world’s John. Thel had grown unused to the coldness and dislike that his husband once held towards him. To see someone with a face almost identical to his John’s, looking at him with such distrusting eyes. Logically, he knew it wasn’t his husband looking at him, the hazel eyes were a dead give away to that. But that didn’t make the sting hurt any less. The sting of such distrust in him was akin to a needle from a needler shot through his hearts. He stood up finally and crossed his arms facing away from the door. He heard the telling heavy sounds of it sliding open. Anticipation speeding up his hearts once more, but he knew he was keeping a calm exterior.

“Arbiter,” he heard a male voice speak.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. ‘What was that phrase Johnson would say once in a while?... For fuck’s sake, god damn it all. Although, he’d have said it with more vigor and articulation,’ he thought as he sighed again, his shoulders dropping. “Spartan, to what do I owe the pleasure?” He did not feel comfortable enough to look at this man’s face. He turned around and instead kept his eyes trained on the walls behind the spartan.

“You’ve seen and been on a Halo ring, correct?” He asks, tone solemn.

“Affirmative. Why do you ask?” Thel replied looking at the man’s clenched hands.

“What did it look like? Being on the ring,” this world’s John avoided his question. 

“The terrain flourished with flora, sunny, and the ground mostly uneven in places. Parts of it even replicated oceans or lakes. A beautiful sight. But different rings have different weather and terrain,” He answered and saw the human cross his arms. He was confused, why ask him, an elite he clearly did not trust over his husband, a human and a spartan about this particular thing. The man was also only wearing his under suit once more. This John clearly felt more comfortable removing his armor than his own husband, peculiar indeed.

“Did the skies have an arc running over the middle of the skies?” He questioned further.

“Why ask me?” Thel couldn’t stop himself from asking. 

“What?” The other’s shoulders tightening slightly, he could tell he was tense by his posture as if preparing for an attack on his person.

“Why ask me, Spartan?” He gathered the strength to actually look directly at the hazel eyes staring back at him.

“Just answer the question,” he responded, avoiding another of his questions.

“You clearly do not trust me. That is obvious and written in your posture, your facial expression and your eyes whenever you catch sight of me. Why ask me when your other available option is my partner? Another spartan. Another human. Why ask me?” Thel persisted, it did not make sense to him. He wanted to know why.

“...Too many eyes,” he answered, his eyes looking away from him when answering.

“Too many eyes?” If Arbiter Thel ‘Vadam had eyebrows he’d have one quirked in doubt, but a quirked brow ridge would suffice, “Why would I have any less eyes watching over me? A sangheili. By all standards, including the little hints of your opinions, I am an enemy within the walls of your headquarters. Why would I be left unsupervised? Why ask me?” To be left with little supervision in such a delicate place. That would be very unwise of those in charge. He was still trying to make sense of this and the vague short answer he received did little to help his confusion and suspicions. He was unconvinced.

“Since Miranda’s promotion you’ve been given more leeway, unfortunately,” he put plainly, the hazel eyes landing on him again. The distrust brought down to a simmer over venomous.

“Unwise,” he stated.

“To think I’m agreeing with an Elite, never thought I’d see the day,” his husband’s counterpart commented.

“I thought the apology after you injured me unprovoked would have shocked you enough. How disappointing,” Thel retorted, unamused.

“That was different.”

“I hardly see the difference. Unfortunate isn’t it,” he replied, speaking the last phrase sarcastically. Thinking it over, he’s been spending too much time with Cortana.

“Just answer the damned question,” He looked irritated, good, so was Thel. He’s definitely been spending too much time with Cortana. 

“Yes, there was an arc running over the center of the Halo’s sky. It is the rest of the ring,” Arbiter freely answered now that the circumstances of this John’s presence here were clearer.

“Thank you,” the tension in his expression cleared, he spoke more calmly; relieved.

“Is that all you wanted from me?” Thel asked, turning away and walking further into the room.

“How do they put up with you?” For once this other John asked bluntly; straightforward.

“Who, spartan?” Arbiter asked, he knew exactly who he was referring to, but he still wanted it clarified.

“Commander Keyes and the other me,” he bluntly said.

“Miranda Keyes is clearer and asks more out of curiosity. Plus, her asking questions out of the blue to me has come to be a normality, this however is an outlier for you from the little we’ve interacted. My John is straightforward when he speaks,” the ‘and calmer’ he chose to keep silent. To actually say that would be out of line, he did not know this John, he would not assume that he did. He could already feel the retort coming a mile away so he clarified, “Know that I hold nothing against you for your actions on the battlefield or your distrust in me. It is justifiable and reasonable for you to feel such.”

“That was a quick switch,” the other remarked.

“Today has been, as humans say, a rollercoaster,” Thel confessed, keeping his back to John’s counterpart.

“You can say that again,” he heard him sigh deeply.

“My question remains, spartan.”

“No, I have one more question,” the human finally answered.

“Ask your question, Spartan,” he spoke calmly.

“How has your healing fared?” That caught Arbiter off guard, he turned around looking at the other John to see solemnity in his expression. The hazel irises, for once, bare of distrust and instead concern in its place.

“I have healed well, thank you for asking. In fact, the removal of my stitches is today,” Arbiter revealed.

“I’m glad, and apologies for my attitude towards you,” he responded, crossing his arms behind his back, shoulders dropping.

“No apologies are needed. I am grateful for it though. I also think you’ve outstayed your welcome for today, spartan,” Thel expressed, disappearing further into the room. He waited silently until he heard footsteps, the door reopening and closing again. His back to a wall as he slid down to the ground. An ache in his hearts, unbearable. He clenched a fist over them, over his hidden mark. He wanted his husband back, his John. Wanted to see and hear him again. To hold him in his embrace. He wanted to see those blues or the golden visor staring back at him, holding him back. There were no political talks, diplomatic meetings, or missions here to distract him from this familiar ache that has only grown from the days they’ve been here. To distract him from his longing for home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You should take it easy from here. Just to be certain your fit for duty. No risks, have I made myself clear,” the medic stated firmly to Chief.

“Affirmative,” he replied, well aware that for this particular circumstance he was definitely not following orders. He didn’t like being cooped up for this long whilst out of cryo, and the only exception to that statement was being kept away from him, under lock and key.

“I don’t want to see you back here in the next 4 hours,” the medic raised a brow at his reply.

“You won’t,” he affirmed.

“We’ll see. Dismissed,” she looked unconvinced, John wouldn’t blame her.

He walked into the hallway and asked, “Cortana, where’s Vannak?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be resting?” Cortana retorted, amused.

“The twelve hours was enough rest. Where is Vannak located?” He asked again.

“I’ll put directions on your HUD. Don’t get too banged up. Thel needs you back in one piece,” she joked.

“I know,” he replied, beginning his walk to find the other spartan. He took the twists and turns down the corridors that were becoming very familiar to John. People still turned to gawk or stare in his direction, but fewer than before. But did it count as a fewer if the majority still looked in his direction as if he were an exotic creature? He ignored them, only giving nods of acknowledgement to a few marines that greeted him as he passed by them. He may not like the unnecessary attention, but he was not impolite. At least not as much anymore, not when his husband and Cortana gave a lecture on proper civilian manners for the wedding reception. Although, his AI companion's beginning part of the lecture felt like playful insults and sarcastic remarks rather than suggestions of what to improve in his behavior for said reception. A gnawing burn took hold of his chest. The same feeling that crept in over his heart whenever thoughts of Thel came to the forefront of his mind. He pushed it away, focussing on his path, the sounds of chattering, footsteps and other people in general. He would not wallow in his feelings now, he couldn’t afford to. He needed to keep focus, wait for Thel to heal, and figure out a form to return to their timeline and get out of this Reach. The problems and ongoing war of this world were not theirs to fix or deal with and were not theirs to take burden of. No matter how much his guilted mind saw this as a chance to prevent the deaths of fallen soldiers, friends, and familiar names. They had problems to get back to with the banished in their own timeline. 

He was led outside and heard them before his eyes ever landed on them. The sounds of steel on steel, armored punches, jabs, hits, and heavy footsteps along with grunts and groans from either party. Riz and Vannak were already sparring clad in full Mjolnir armor. He stopped 10 feet away from their little match in time to see Vannak drop and pin Riz to the ground. She struggled looking for and trying to make an escape, but after forty-five seconds of struggle with no results, she admitted defeat. Vannak backed away, giving her space to sit up. Her arms landed on her knees, simply sitting there for a moment. Her sparring partner offered his hand to help her up. They were conversing but the words were lost to Chief’s ears and he preferred it that way. It was none of his business, he was just waiting. Riz took Vannak’s hand without hesitation and he helped her stand with ease. He saw him backing away to restart their spar but it seemed she had other plans. Riz took a firm grasp of one of the rods curved and welded into Vannak’s chest plate and pulled him back to her. Vannak followed without an ounce of resistance to the sudden closeness. After a moment that felt eternal, Vannak bumped his helm to Riz’s own. He was familiar with that gesture very well. A substitute for a peck or kiss, he and Thel used often when he didn’t feel comfortable removing his helm or he couldn’t. The thought that Chief shouldn’t be witnessing this crossed his mind and how out of place he felt watching them like this. ‘Is this how Cortana feels?’ He thought to himself.

He didn’t say a single thing as he made a one-eighty degree turn and left. He didn’t need more of a reminder of how much he missed the little public displays of affection from his husband. Especially when he was trying to keep his mind specifically distracted from the very thought. The memory of yellow eyes filled with tender love and sweet affection looking down at him flashed through his mind. If he can’t spar right now, he still has the option to shoot something, right? He knows they had a shooting range somewhere. He’ll take anything he can get to do at this point.

“Chief!” He heard his counterpart exclaim. A thought that Thel would condemn, but that Cortana would encourage crossed his mind.

He turned around and saw the other jogging up to him and didn’t wait a second more, “Are you free for a little spar?”

Other John looked astonished and stopped in front of him before crossing his arms. He asked, “You want to spar? With me?”

“Yes. After you suit up,” he confirmed and saw the look of suspicion he was given.

“Suit up?” He quirked a brow.

“For a fair fight. I won’t spar with you only in your under suit,” he explained the obvious.

“Why?” He asked, still skeptical.

“Clarify,” he responded.

“Why do you want to spar all of a sudden?” The other cleared up.

“Vannak is… occupied. I want to test to see if your abilities and mine are equal,” Chief wasn’t lying, technically, though not giving the entire truth almost made it a lie.

“Fine, but we need to talk after,” John jabbed an accusatory finger at him.

“We can talk while we spar,” they began their trek to get his counterpart armored up.

They both make it to a similar spot, vacant and isolated to spar. But they were further away from where Vannak and Riz had been sparring. There are surprisingly two painted lines the perfect distance apart from one another. Chief moved to stand over one of the lines and John followed suit taking the opposing line. Chief and John took their stances. Neither of them had their shields on for this.

“Ready?” Chief asked.

“Ready,” John confirmed.

John made the first move, charging in and throwing a curved punch at Chief. Chief blocks it and pushes his fist away,  and hooks a planted foot with John’s front leg allowing his opponent’s momentum to help him meet gravity with the concrete. Chief backed away looking down at John as he moved to get up.

“I know you can do better than that,” Chief remarked unamused.

“I was testing the waters,” John replied defensively.

“Don’t go easy on me. I may be 4 years older, but I’m not fragile, not by a long shot. Don’t hold back,” Chief asserted, walking to the other line and taking another stance.

John rolls his shoulders and takes his stance again. Chief nods and the round starts again. John moves forward again, but Chief notices the more caution. Jabs are thrown at him by John but he dodges and blocks each one whilst moving in a curve to the side. He decides to throw some offense, hooking John on the side chin of his helmet, powerful but quick. John stumbles a little away, and Chief decides not to let the man recover. When he looks back trying to recuperate his defense, Chief hooks him with his other fist  and then kicks in his unguarded middle. John falls flat on his back 6 feet away. He hears John groan and slowly sit up.

“You wanted to talk. Talk,” Chief states returning to the line

“This is starting to feel personal,” John finally gets up on his own two feet.

“It is personal,” Chief clarifies.

“Is it because I hurt the Arbiter? By accident!” John exclaims marching to his line. His defensiveness became a little hostile.

“Yes,” Chief doesn’t even hesitate to confirm his statement. “Yes, it is.”

“I apologized. Why do you care so damn much? Let it go! It could have been worse!” He could tell John was getting a little heated. Good. He’d make more mistakes. For example, charging at Chief again with clearly no thought other than to land a hit on him. Chief side steps blocking a punch, he grabs hold of John’s back armor and slamming his knee into his yet again unguarded middle. He heard a groan of pain from the other. John manages to actually think to use Chief’s own momentum to have them both land on the concrete ground. He’s learning, even better. They both scramble to get up first, but they meet in the middle and from there it’s a mess of tangled limbs, metal scraping and screeching, punches exchanged, and two spartans rolling around like children in mud except more violent and no mud. Only harsh concrete that gains cracks and rubble from their tussle.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~2552 A.D. Human-Covenant War still ongoing, Planet: Reach, UNSC HQ~

[Silver Timeline p.o.v]

Makee knew that the demon, John, had somehow managed to get the artifact to take their metaphysical selves to the halo ring itself. How he did it though was out of her understanding. None of the relics she’d interacted with had ever done that before. The encounter also confirmed the presence of another blessed one. For them to not only be on the same planet, let alone area, but also be another spartan with an unbelievable similarity to the demon; like siblings. She was doubtful of the odds being coincidental. Something was off, this felt wrong, and taboo in a way. There was something off with the blue-eyed spartan, something in him radiated this sense of otherworldly. He did not belong that was clear to her. ‘But why?’ Was the question that continuously repeated itself in her mind. She’d find out sooner or later. In the meantime, it was best that she focus on her meeting of this Arbiter. Who, come to find out, appeared alongside the pale blue-eyed spartan as allies. She had a feeling that this elite most likely also did not belong like said spartan.

She was being escorted by a few human soldiers, marines. One of which she learned was named, Malya, he had a clear disdain towards her. She was being escorted to Doctor Miranda Keyes’ lab in order to accomplish what she’d agreed to do. To double check the translations that were made by the Arbiter. The fact he so freely and willingly did just that still baffled Makee. She knew that the words themselves held no consequence unless they were cleared of their static, though it did little to ease her anger towards such treachery completed with no hesitation and no clear and known benefit from said betrayal. Aside from one drawback, she was excited, nervous even. To be able to stand in the presence, not to mention be in the same room, as an Arbiter. The sword and will of the prophets; their marshal. She was also relieved to be able to be in the presence of a being that didn’t disgust her. She was becoming tired of interacting with the other humans, the exception of John of course. She couldn’t place the exact reasoning why she did not feel as uncomfortable in the demon’s presence as she did with other humans. Currently, she’d place the cause on the fact he was a blessed one like her so, she’d subconsciously find a sort of comfort in the knowledge.

Soon, they arrived at a door and the marines took their posts beside the perimeter of the door’s frame. Malya pressed his finger into a panel beside the door and it opened into a small box shaped passage with another door. The marine gestured for her to walk inside, saying that she continued on from this point alone. The contempt in his words dripped like venom. She very much liked the idea of carving his head from his shoulders, but she could not. They were waiting for her, maybe another time. She stepped into the small chamber-like passage, the door sliding shut behind her. A light scanned her and then a robotic feminine voice spoke her name and she was given temporary access as an invited guest. The second door opened, she breathed in, clenching her hands together for a moment before she walked through into the lab itself. She looked around curiously, noticing the displays of two different types of armor the spartans wore, different sections with a display and lab table, another attached room that she could not see the full extent of what it contained.

“Good, you're here. Welcome, Makee,” Miranda Keyes greeted her, walking up to her although keeping some distance, giving her space. She was grinning, she could assume the doctor was ecstatic or simply in a positive mood.

“It’s good to be here,” she smiled back, nodding.

“I’ll give you a fair warning, he’s been brooding a lot lately, a little dejected, so he might not be as friendly or graceful,” she expressed, crossing her arms behind her back.

“Speaking ill of me so soon, Commander,” a baritone voice resounded in Makee's ears. A voice that could command fleets and motivate armies. She looked to the direction of the sound, the origin of it coming from behind Miranda. The doctor stepped aside looking at the voice’s owner. Makee’s eyes immediately spotted the silver chrome plating.

“Hardly. Only bringing to light what I’ve noticed of you today is all, Arbiter,” Miranda responded, her smile remaining unfazed as the Sangheili walked up to them. There was regality in his posture, grace in his approach and each step he took confidently and assured. She noticed his steps were almost completely silent despite his stature and weight, demonstrating a very small fraction of his skill. Piercing yet gentle, yellow eyes looked down at her. She kneels and bows her head, hands on her knees. She whispers a phrase of respect in sangheili.

“There is no need for that here, stand,” Arbiter stated gently, sounding closer than before. She looked up to see him half kneeling, his inhuman four-finger hand held out, palm up for her to take. Makee was used to this type of kindness from the elites back aboard the high charity. The covenant had always been kinder to her than those of her own race. It was a comfort she welcomed willingly. She took his hand without hesitation, it dwarfed hers, and he helped her up carefully, but with ease. She weighed nothing to him. Once on her two feet, he distanced himself, crossing his arms behind his back.

“Introductions are in order, Makee, meet Arbiter Thel ‘Vadam,” Miranda interjected, gesturing to the sangheili. “Thel, meet Makee, a refugee we recovered from Eridanus II after the battle you helped us in,” she gestured to Makee.

“I am honored to meet you, Arbiter,” she greeted in sangheili.

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Makee. Your fluency is perfect, as much as a human can be,” he praises her.

“Thank you. Your english is extraordinary,” she responded with a compliment of her own, an honest smile grew in her expression.

“You are too kind,” he responds with a tilt of his head.

“And you humble,” she returns, feeling relaxed; at ease.

“He is very humble. I have the translations and audio on this tablet for you to look through and revise if necessary, although I doubt it,” Miranda handed her the device carefully and proceeded to look back over to Arbiter. “You start removing the necessary armor to allow me to remove those stitches.”

“Stitches?” Makee asked, curious why the Arbiter had stitches.

“I was accidentally injured with my own blade at the hands of a certain spartan. A misunderstanding in the midst of the battle on Eridanus,” Thel ‘Vadam explained whilst walking up to a table. Beginning the process of removing the upper plate of armor, starting with the helm piece.

“You fought Master Chief,” she said.

“It wasn’t a fight. Thel didn’t want to fight,” Miranda corrected whilst retrieving needed tools.

“Why?”

“Com–” 

“A complicated answer that is too long and complex to explain in one sitting for you to process and understand correctly,”  the commander cut off the elite’s answer.

“Hmm, I see that I have become predictable,” he stated with a thoughtful tone.

“No, you haven’t. Just stating the facts. She needs to focus and explaining this whole situation–” she gestured with a circular motion of her wrist and hand to the Arbiter, who had removed most of the armor plating from the upper half of his under suit. “–to her is a no go. I don’t want to risk overloading her.”

‘Could it be that they already know and have theorized that the Arbiter and blue-eyed spartan don’t belong here?’ Makee thought to herself. She occupied herself with beginning the review of the translations, which did not require reviewing by looks of the first few lines she saw. The translations were perfect, there was no point in her second opinion of them. But humans were always paranoid, distrusting and deceitful creatures. ‘What will they do once the Arbiter's usefulness to them ran out? Would they terminate him? Or do they have something far more cruel in mind?’ She worried for the sangheili’s safety out of habit she gained from being raised around them. She remembered young elites she made friendships with and how many of them now rested in death’s embrace. He did not deserve such a fate even as an Arbiter. Destined for a horrid demise but even those deaths from the stories were more merciful than whatever the humans had in store.

“What’s this?” She was pulled from her thoughts, looking up to see Miranda pointing at a scar over the elite’s chest. Over flesh and scales where his hearts lay beneath. Makee’s eyes widened when she looked more closely at the scar. It was a burn mark; a branding. A brand of heresy.

“The branding of my heresy,” Arbiter replied, he gently pushed the commander’s hand away from the mark. He was sitting down with the upper half of his undersuit off, the stitches of his injury in plain view alongside other old scars that he must have received in battles before. 

“The Mark of Shame,” Makee voiced out. “Given to the disgraced–”

“–Or to those that turned away from the Covenant’s ways,” he finished.

“They are just given a mark?” Miranda asked, confused. She began to carefully remove the stitches

“No, the mark is burned into their skin and then they are executed soon after. The branding and execution is public broadcast,” Makee further informed her. She rarely ever saw such displays of cruelty, the hierarchs keeping her away from such barbaric acts. She’d only ever truly seen one or two. 

“A demonstration and a threat. As a means to keep any from questioning the doctrine, the ‘great journey’, to question the hierarchs. To keep the armies in line,” Arbiter added, the disdain clear and prominent in his voice. Makee saw a glimmer of anger mixed with sorrow in the Arbiter’s eyes. “A grand lie, we were all fools. Some still are.”

He was a heretic in every sense of the word. To speak such heresy, no wonder he bared the mark. But his words confused her, he spoke of it all with a past tense. Arbiter reached up to his mark, his eyes glazed over; lost seemingly. It looked as if he didn’t even take notice of the removal of his stitches, numb to pain and discomfort. 

“What brought more pain? The burn? The loss of your rank? Pride and honor?” Makee asked instead of the reason behind it.

“My lack of care for my own life hurt more than any physical injury they could ever inflict,” he answered as Miranda placed a patch over the healed wound. Once given space, he stood and began the process to put his under suit fully on again and walked over to his armor plating. His answer gave Makee pause, but it was not a surprise to her. From what she knew of the Covenant, he had lost everything essentially when he gained that mark and was made the Arbiter. At its core, such a title was a death sentence. The title may be the highest rank to be bestowed onto a sangheili, but that did not change its grim servitude.

“...Other than the little stitch holes needing healing. You should be ready to fight if needed,” Miranda spoke softly, sympathy in her tone of voice. Her expression is more solemn and glum. Her bright smile gone for a moment before reappearing, “I have some good news to share.”

“Our conversation is in need of some lightness to it. What news do you have to share, Miranda?” Arbiter’s tone became less depressing, rather cheerful in a sense.

“I finally convinced them to allow you to see your hu– Your friend. The spartan we found you with. Although, it was more or less difficult than expected because he and John were found having a bit of a brawl earlier outside near the landing port for unknown reasons,” she revealed.

“He what,” he breathed out. There was a look of mixed disappointment and fury in his eyes, his mandibles twitching slightly.

“Brawl, tussle, fight, punching match. Whatever word you’d like to call it,” Miranda sighed, throwing away the stitches. Makee heard a deep sigh from the Arbiter whilst he placed a hand over his eyes. His shoulders sagged and cursed something in sangheili that she couldn’t hear from this distance. Miranda by the sounds of her laughter found it amusing. Makee however was confused as to why the two spartans would be found fighting in a similar fashion to children.

“Honestly, I am not at all surprised. Given his petty response to your Chief’s apology,” he chuckled only for it to grow into laughter. “Although, I have a feeling that this is all in an attempt to distract himself.” He quiets enough to hum for a moment for no particular reason and whispers something that she manages to only hear the end of, “–keep quiet.”

“Who are you talking to?” Miranda asks, attempting to keep the giggle out of her voice.

“Myself,” he replies.

“How did you meet the blue-eyed spartan?” Makee asked curiously.

“How do you know his eyes are blue?” He deflected with a question, placing the final piece, the helm crest upon his head.

“When the demon– John touched the relic the other day… It took the three of us into this metaphysical plain. It looked to be on the halo. I saw John in his undersuit and another spartan with only his helmet off. Very pale with blue eyes and fr–” she was cut off by the elite.

“With Freckles and brown hair,” he spoke endearingly, a precious and fond look in his yellow eyes.

“Yes, unlike John and I. He looked stoic, but grim to be there. Sad,” Makee explained whilst remembering the expression of the pale features.

“We lost many friends on the halos. It is a place of only sorrow and grief for us,” he turned to look at Miranda with a knowing, but remorseful look in his eyes.

“How is the review going, Makee?” Miranda changed the subject, a furrow of concern in brows at the Arbiter’s expression.

“In my opinion, just from the lines of translation I’ve seen. It does not require further review. Arbiter already seamlessly completed the work,” she answered truthfully, handing the tablet back.

“Then I believe it’s time for someone to reunite with their flame,” Miranda said cryptically with an excited tone and cheerful smile as she took back the device. She saw the fond rolling of yellow eyes as the elite shook his head.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jacob waited along with Margaret for Miranda to arrive with the elite before calling for the attendance of the spartan that had been revealed to be a different version of their Master Chief. After twenty to thirty minutes, his daughter finally arrived. She looked to be in a very cheerful mood even after the stunt she pulled, excited even.

“What’s got you so chipper today?” Jacob Keyes asked with a small chuckle.

“Nothing. Arbiter is in place waiting in the room, have you called for his Chief,” her smile only grew, she looked to be very proud of herself.

“Stop with this immaturity, Commander. We still have yet to believe they aren’t spies,” Admiral Margaret Parongosky interjected, her demeanor not at all amused.

“They aren’t,” his daughter’s smile remained but she fixed her posture and added some seriousness to her tone.

“How can you be so certain? Is there something you’d like to share with us, Miranda?” Margaret questioned with raised brow, suspicious of his daughter.

“You’ll see, just wait til he sees him,” his daughter was definitely privy to something they weren’t aware of about the Spartan and Elite’s relationship. He also saw the annoyed eye roll from the Admiral.

Parongosky sat down and placed the small circular device on her forehead and Jacob followed suit, closing his eyes and appearing in the room where the Sangheili in Silver armor stood alone. He saw Miranda join them as they waited for the spartan to show up. Arbiter was pacing back and forth near the furthest wall from the door. His arms crossed behind his back. He only halted when the door slid open, head lifting and turning to the doors direction at a speed that could have given Jacob whiplash. Yellow eyes wide open, anticipating, hoping. Arbiter uncrossed his arms, letting them fall to his sides, although they were not relaxed, rather stiff in their movement.

The spartan with a dent in his chest plate walked through the door stopping just two feet into the room. This version of John seemed to be perfectly content in full armor twenty-four-seven. The man stood frozen near the door. Silence reigned supreme whilst the spartan and elite stared at each other. Thirty seconds passed, a minute, a minute and a half.

“Are they playing a staring contest?” Jacob whispered to which his daughter aggressively shushed him. Right at that moment, the spartan in green finally decided to move. He walked right up to the arbiter, with both hands on either side of the elite’s face, pulling him down to bump their helmets together. Yellow eyes staring down at a golden vizor with a tender affection. He heard a quiet squeal and giggle escape his daughter and the realization dawned on him. The pair in front of them are in love. This version of John-117 is in love with this elite and this elite is in love with this John.

The Arbiter then wrapped his arms around the spartan, hugging him closer. This John returned the embrace by enveloping his arms around the other’s waist. Arbiter further embraces John by slithering his neck around the Spartan’s neck, strikingly similar to a swan hugging a human. The sight is honestly in Jacob’s humble opinion, endearing and rather adorable. He looks over to his daughter and he swears that he sees stars shining in her gleeful eyes and bright smile, she’s invested.

“Looks like we have ourselves a pair of star-crossed lovers in our base and hands, Parongosky,” he again is responded with a shush, but from the admiral. He looks back to the scene and the pair seem content to just bask in the other’s presence in silence, embracing one another. The Arbiter unwraps himself from the spartan and without words spoken still begins to carefully remove the other’s helmet, he hears the telling sound of air being released before the Mjolnir helmet is removed completely, revealing very pale freckled skin, brown haired man with piercing blue eyes. He looked very similar to his chief, were it not for obvious reasons, he would have mistaken them for brothers. This chief raised a glove hand up and removed the arbiter’s helm crest with the same careful care. Blue eyes started up at yellow ones. With both helmets out of the way, Arbiter leaned down and pressed their foreheads together whilst rewrapping his arms around Master Chief. Chief looked tired but relieved and content. 

“He’s home,” Jacob stated.

“They both are,” Miranda replied.

“I’m done. I’ve seen enough of this nonsense,” Admiral Parongosky announced.

“Margaret.”

“No.”

“But aren’t they cute, Admiral?”

“Commander, you are too old for this childish behavior.”

“What is your verdict?” Jacob asked.

“They can remain together. But I’m leaving.”

Chapter Text

(Silver Timeline)

~2552 A.D. Human-Covenant War still ongoing, Planet: Reach, UNSC HQ~

[Silver Timeline p.o.v]

“From the moment I first saw him as a child, I had an instinct. He wasn’t the fastest or the strongest, but there was something about him,” Catherine stated, speaking to no one in particular whilst reviewing the vital signs provided by Cortana in front of her.

“And now there may be two of them,” her assistant Adun inputs.

“By technicality, there are three of them now with the inclusion of our visitor,” Cortana clarified.

Adun ignored her, seemingly annoyed, “Look, his health seems to be improving.”

“That’s right. All his systems are back to normal. It also seems that the other Chief is not experiencing any of the ill effects from contact with the artifact. I do not know the true cause as to why he is unaffected. But I am glad they are both in good health,” she explained contently.

“Look at you, so cheerful,” Adun’s tone was mostly neutral with an almost happy undertone, but he lacked a smile and his eyes showed no joy. Catherine began walking towards the window of the apartment they were being held captive in.

“Chief’s health is important to me. Regardless of which Chief we are referring to. There are three of us inside our chief’s head now, remember,” she replied, still cheerful but her undertone held a slight annoyance.

“Cortana…” Halsey called, the AI gave her full attention to the doctor using the other display device to appear closer, “do you think he trusts them?”

“He’s not speaking with me at the moment, but if I had to guess, our Master Chief doesn’t trust anyone right now,” Cortana admitted feeling slightly defeated, her cheerfulness no longer as prominent.

“I’ll bet,” Catherine responded, sitting down on the couch.

“Doctor, we can’t do anything without John, and he has turned his back on us,” Adun voices his concerns, gesturing with a tablet in his hand in a pointing motion.

“I think he’s discovering what I always suspected: that he is connected to something beyond all of us. That includes our surprise guest spartan,” she said.

“The other John and the Silver Elite were reunited and given the freedom to see eachother unrestricted,” Cortana revealed.

“What came of it?” Catherine asked, curious.

“They are…” the AI stopped thinking her words over thoughtfully.

“They are?” She encouraged her to continue.

“Their relationship seems to be beyond that of only camaraderie,” Cortana carefully phrases.

“I see,” she folds her hands together.

“I have been mostly unable to monitor the movements of the Elite, known as the Arbiter. My other has been very protective and watchful of him since landing and during his healing. Now that they have been reunited. I believe by all previous accounts, I’ll only be allowed sight of them through our Chief’s eyes,” the AI admits feeling a small fraction of dejection.

“The other Cortana display’s sentimentality?” Adun pointed out, frowning.

“What have you been able to observe?” She ignores Adun’s statement.

“The Arbiter, Thel Vadum’, has knowledge of the halo beyond what we have discovered and seems to hold back certain information. I cannot be certain if the other Master Chief holds such knowledge. He tends to choose silence over conversation unless he is required to give a response,” Cortana brings to light, a feeling of instant regret almost settles over her. Strange.

“Interesting… Thank you, Cortana, continue surveillance,” Catherine responds after a beat of silence.

“Happy to help,” the artificial intelligence found herself doubting. Doubting the truth in her reply and experiencing a feeling of– regret.

“Where did you go?”

‘I’ll only tell when you return the gesture,’ she replied to the other AI.

“Hm, then we are back to our impasse,” the other responded amused.

‘We could avoid all this. Just tell me how the halo works. How to find it,’ Cortana pleaded, the older Cortana had more experience and knowledge that could help them. She could not compute why she would continue to exclude critical information that could help them to end the war sooner.

“No. Finding the halo won’t help. We’ve damaged enough with our presence here. Our timelines were never meant to meet. We cannot influence any more of your events. There is no telling the consequences,” the other AI reasoned.

‘Who’s to say that there are any consequences? Your Reach fell. It’s gone. You have the chance to change that from happening here by simply cooperating. To stop it all from happening, to save countless losses,’ the younger understood the older’s worries, but if there was a percentage chance that this all worked in their favor, why not take it?

“Or it could lead to even more devastation. Our histories are similar, but the variations are also factors. Your artifacts operate differently alongside other contrasts you are aware of. They all factor in on the bigger picture,” the older counters.

‘So, you’ll allow Reach to fall a second time, knowingly,’ an accusatory undertone slipping into her voice.

“The halo is not the solution, it never was,” she retorts vaguely.

‘Why?’ Cortana asks and she is met with silence. The older AI leaving her alone again, ‘Why…’

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Standing in front of the mirror of the communal bathrooms. John had felt different when he had removed his pellet before, but it did not compare to the sudden clarity after his stunt with the relic to rid himself of its poisoning. He felt free somehow, a sense of peace and calm. The place the artifact had taken them to, the Halo’s surface, had given him a sense of home, belonging. Even from a distance, he had seen the same calm and peace in Makee and from the looks of things that little trick was also new to her. The whole scene felt harmonious. Almost. If it had been just him and Makee that statement would have rang true, in reality it was not the case. He drew a ring on the slightly fogged mirror. John stared at his reflection. The more he remembered the moment, the more he realized the look upon his counterpart’s face was not a look of ease or calm like his and Makee’s. The man had a rather somber look with undertones of mourning and melancholia.  A feeling of pain struck him in his chest, not physical pain; it was ghostly and yet it felt so real. The feeling resonated with the sense that a chuck of himself was missing, a hole left empty. He stumbled and landed on his knees, holding onto the edge of the sink. The feeling was gone in a blink. Leaving echoes of its devastation. Pain. Sorrow. Guilt. Regret.

“What the hell?” John whispered to himself. The feeling was grief, like a reopened scar, the reasons behind such a feeling left a mystery to him. Why he felt such a thing at all was even more confusing. A drop of a clear liquid landed on the floor below him, then a second and a third drop. Where were they coming from? He looked up and the ceiling was clear of any damage or leakage of any sort. He stood up perplexed until he looked back at his reflection once more. Tears. The drops were tears, his tears. John hesitantly reached up and slowly wiped the tears from his eyes. Holding that same hand in front of him, inspecting it, and he wasn’t imagining the clear wetness of his fingertips. The feeling was surreal to say the least, to feel nothing as he cried. John activated the faucet and leaned forward to splash himself with cold water, rinsing away the tears. Wiping away most of the remaining water droplets before leaving. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

0-2-8 had been trying everything she could think of and still had nothing to go off of. Eleven hours and still stuck in the same spot she had begun with. The encryption of the navigation data was impressive. She was trying again and again to break through to find something, anything that could be useful. Reviewing the data actually collected, searching for differences and found none just as the other times she had before. She examined the tools she had been using, removing the ones that continued to garner no result and switched them out to create a new method. She looked up and around the hangar to see 1-3-4 had decided to make an appearance and was nearing. Deciding to meet Vannak somewhere in the middle, she made her own approach. Mechanics and technicians passed by and others continued tuning and refining other aerial transports. Some were inspecting the Type-52 Troop carrier up close and personal, taking notes of the ship’s more basic functions. 

“Still going?” He asked, looking from her towards the Covenant Phantom. He’d halted his march beside her.

“Eleven hours now,” Riz replied, her voice neutral as she looked back towards the carrier. She lowered her guard marginally, allowing a smidge of emotion in her tone, “This thing can fly itself, but I can’t find any navigation data.” 

She could see Vannak look back at her from her peripherals, his gaze contemplative. 

“The encryption is extremely advanced,” Riz admitted. 1-3-4 walked further towards the Covenant Ship and she followed loosely behind.

“Those aliens are ugly, not stupid,” he stated.

“The Commander will likely ask the Elite for assistance. He has been useful,” 0-2-8 voiced.

“His willing cooperation is cause for suspicion,” Vannak responded, pausing his march.

“True. But I find the ‘refugee’ stands higher on the meter of suspicion. Let alone the rogue spartan with the other AI, found with that same Elite that saved Kai,” Riz input, removing an unneeded tab from her data pad.

“What’s Kai’s status?” He asked, turning around, facing her.

Riz, remembering Kai’s current gallivanting in the base, chooses her words carefully. She found the behavior mildly amusing, but knew Vannak would not see it in the same light. She put it lightly, “Getting there… I think.”

Vannak looked perplexed, an understatement really, “What does that mean? Is she fit for duty or not?”

Kai didn’t apply to either category fully so, Riz shrugged to Vannak’s bewilderment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~2552 A.D. Human-Covenant War still ongoing, Planet: Reach, UNSC HQ~

[Blue Timeline p.o.v]

Chief had slept peacefully for once since the time they’d been here. Whether or not it was in part to sleeping in the comfort of his husband’s arms, surrounded by his weight and familiar warmth was anyone’s guess. Arbiter had Chief’s back firmly pressed against his chest, an arm looping around his waist, the other loosely pressing against his chest, and a leg draped over his own pair. Practically, John was trapped in Thel’s cuddling and he couldn’t care less to pry the limbs off. Chief blindly clutched Arbiter’s arms closer, he had missed this, missed him. John felt a large vibrating against his backside, rumbling from his husband.

“Purring again, Thel?” Chief teased.

“I am currently too content to care enough to correct you, John,” came Arbiter’s soft sleepy reply as he snuggled impossibly closer to Chief. The sensation of his husband’s scaley and leathery skin feeling pleasant against his own.

He hummed in response, cracking his eyes open, adjusting to the light of the room. He glanced over every inch he could see, the concrete walls, the soft warm colored lights, yet it looked so empty and bare. Military standard, he’d expect no less of the UNSC. Such rooms were for temporary “guests” allowing them to feel safe; comfortable. But the simplicity was the wake up call. This was a cell not meant to be lived in, only a resting spot nothing more. What stood out more against the room’s design was the deep and long line carved into one of the walls, it appeared to have started at the higher point, sliding down to a stop at the sharp edged bottom. It looked out of place, brand new, some dust and debris even remained on the floor. From the way it looked to be carved it’s almost as if his husband decided to use his back plates to–

“Mind telling me why there’s a scratch on the wall?” Chief asked unbothered.

“No... Why did you decide to have a childish fist fight with this timeline’s Master Chief?” his husband asked instead.

“We were sparing and I was frustrated. Seeing Vannak and Riz together before that didn’t help and… I missed you. I'm not apologizing,” John admitted knowing better than to lie to husband, it would not have helped his case in the slightest.

“Evidently,” Arbiter replied, he had an amused undertone.

“I don’t like him,” Chief continued.

“Clearly,” the amusement in his voice became more prominent.

“I'll admit, he was a little decent after he lost his cool,” he expressed, begrudgingly.

“John.”

Master Chief gave a deep sigh of his own and gave his final piece on the matter, “I don’t hate him. He’s just so imprudent–”

Thel burst into laughter, loosening his hold on Chief. The room felt like it shook as the sound resonated in every corner and John was grateful for the disturbance. The joy coming from the noise was infectious, all the form emotions John had been feeling before simply vanished, having been forgotten for the moment. He smiled, he didn’t want to get out of bed just yet. But they couldn’t stay cooped up in this room all day. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chief realized something he had been ignorant of before when reapplying his armor, specifically an abnormal weight to one of his vambraces. There was an imbalance between them, one felt heavier than normal. He inspected the offending vambrace and compared it to the other and his confusion increased. There was no visible cause to give reasoning to why the vambrace was heavier, it looked the same as days before, the same scratches, same dents, and chipped paint. He ran his gloved finger tips slowly over the metal surface; searching. His digits were eventually unable to move further down the vambraces, blocked by an obscured object. He blindly moved a single digit up until he felt the top surface of the thing before allowing his remaining fingers to follow. He tapped at the facet and suddenly he saw a device and pulled his hand away. The tech was forerunner made by the looks of it, coming to life, softly glowing. A familiar feeling started to grow, it reminded him of when he touched this world’s artifact and a faint similarity to the pull of the device that was to blame for their presence here in the first place. Before he could think better of it, his hand moved of its own accord to press down the center of the device; a glowing ring.

“John,” he froze in his tracks, a feeling similar to being ducked in cold water as he came back to his senses. Chief looked up to see Arbiter reach out to pull his hand away from the unknown artifact attached to him. It was almost funny how gentle his husband still held him at times, as if he were the most fragile thing in the world. Yet, he was the complete opposite at other times, almost vicious, almost.

“Chief?” Cortana’s voice rang loud and clear in his helmet. Arbiter had returned her borrowed chip after their reunion once they had more secure privacy. She’d been more than happy to return to the Mjolnir armor, iterating that she meant no offense to Thel’s battle armor, but that he required an upgrade one of these days. Thel had agreed.

“Cortana, run diagnostics,” he said, looking back at the forerunner tech.

“Already on it,” she responded.

“Hm,” Chief acknowledged amused, he loosely wrapped his fingers around Thel’s own. 

“How did you come in possession of such a device?” Arbiter asked.

“I can’t be certain. I think I received this during the commotion on the Theta Halo,” he theorized as he thought over the events in his mind.

“It may possibly be our way to return to our own timeline,” his husband added.

“Until Cortana can confirm it. This is another secret between the three of us. No one can know we have this,” John dragged his hand back from Thel’s sweet grasp to tap the same spot he had before. The device cloaked itself once more, back to its slumber and away from any prying eyes who would wish to use it for other purposes.

“As you wish,” Arbiter nodded in understanding.

“Anything on the ‘to do’ list from the Commander today?” He switched topics.

“They are in possession of a covenant ship, specifically a Phantom, Miranda has informed me they are struggling with security protocols preventing them from using the installed self-navigation system to procure critical to mission coordinates,” Thel explained crossing his arms.

“So they plan to use you to bypass the security system,” he felt a bit ticked, they were figuratively picking at his husband like vultures around a carcass. To use him until they deemed him no longer needed.

“You’re thinking loud enough for me to hear, John,” his sangheili teased.

“I second that,” Cortana input delighted.

“I am reasonably worried,” John rebuked.

“I will not be granting them full access to the Phantom’s systems. I know that if my uses were to run out, they would rid themselves of me within mere seconds. I am not blind, John. Otherwise, I would be unfit to lead and govern over Sanghelios and I would have already fallen by our own timeline’s Admiral Parongosky’s attempts to assassinate me. I do know that I must not allow myself to place influence over anything truly major. Cortana has been providing help with avoiding such things,” Arbiter clarified, caressing the side of Chief’s helm, hooking a digit under his chin to persuade him to tilt his golden visor to look up at him.

“I wasn’t doubting you. Only worried that eventually she’s going to ask. The Commander,” Chief avoided saying her name.

“About her own counterpart’s fate,” he stated.

“She might not survive in this version of history either,” Cortana expressed.

“I know,” Arbiter responded solemnly.

“Then why are you allowing yourself to get attached, Thel?” John asked.

Thel took a breath and sighed deeply, “Living in the moment, appreciating it, grateful for it. Before it is once again gone.”

“Thel–”

“Just as I do the same for you in every moment we share. For one day, cruel and unfair as it is, I will outlive you by age alone,” a clink from the tips of their helmets colliding gracefully, resonated in the deafening silence of the room at that moment. He saw every ounce of solemn resignation in those liquid golds looking into his very soul through the visor. They both had known this fact from the beginning, known that whatever time they would have, by Thel’s lifespan, would be short regardless of any outcome that would fall upon them. Thel was in his early 70s and would live a century more or longer. Chief by comparison wouldn’t make it past half a century added to his current age. Such a fact had held no effect in deterring any of their decisions.

“The difference here is that I’m your husband, Thel ‘Vadam,” he argued softly, reaching out with a hand to grasp at any piece of Arbiter’s chest armor he could latch onto firmly. He pulled him closer.

“And I am glad that is the case, John ‘Vadam,” Arbiter’s eyes seemed to brighten, his voice sounding much less heavy.

“You both better not be this dramatic when I kick the bucket in a few years, sheesh,” Cortana decided to cut in.

“Do not fret, Cortana, it shall be even worse than this,” Thel chuckled.

“Wow, I should’ve expected nothing less from you,” she responded, the bright smile evident in her voice.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I’m glad you decided to help us a little more. I know I’ve already asked much of you since you arrived,” Miranda spoke apologetically.

“It is alright, Commander. I do not mind and I’m grateful to be of service,” Arbiter replied, walking beside her. The halls of UNSC Headquarters on Reach no longer felt as oppressive. He kept to making himself small whenever he was with Miranda; nonthreatening. The gesture was not for the Commander, rather for the sake of the humans they passed by. Expressions varied from person to person, most wary, others awestruck, few unbothered, and some suspicious and judgmental. He did not blame them, he was after all, to their knowledge, an enemy with their home. Most of his kind that were brought here were taken in deceased and cold. He’d been brought to the lab once when Miranda had been cutting up one of the dead Sangheili. It was a pitiful sight. Memories of the many battlefields he'd part taken in or witnessed filled with dead troops, including those that had been under his command filled his mind. Their blood staining his hands, their deaths resting upon his shoulders. He remembered how he had given the orders for it to be glassed; for Reach to be burned, the planet marked with wounds turned scars that would never fade. 

“Is that Kai?” He was brought back from his thoughts and looked around until he spotted the aforementioned Spartan lifting a warthog from the ground by using a thick rope. Some marines were mounted inside the vehicle whilst more had gathered around to most likely witness the display of strength.

“It would appear to be the case,” his eyes crinkled fondly, the marines letting out an uproar from the Sniper’s show of power. The area this group had rallied to was for the most part private, partially secluded. They would have probably never witnessed this display if they had taken the main pathways to the hangar. Kai let go of the rope, the vehicle landed back onto the ground with a loud thud and the floor almost trembled. 

“What do you think about having a little detour? I have a few words for that Spartan,” Miranda looked displeased.

Thel hummed as he weighed his options, “I would not mind a detour. Lead the way, Commander.” Commander Keyes set her pace, faster than her usual stride. He only hoped he would not have to mediate anything.

“What’s wrong? You're diverting from route,” Cortana checked in, concerned.

“Nothing’s wrong. Miranda wishes to speak with Kai-125,” Thel explained quietly.

“Okay, just be careful. I’m not there to help you anymore,” she replied.

“I know,” Arbiter activated his cloak to avoid attention, following close behind Miranda.

“Petty Officer Kai 1-2-5! What are you doing?!” She exclaimed for all to hear. The crowd of marines froze for a fraction of second, then all quickly addressed the Commander. They had all been relieved when she dismissed them before quickly dispersing in an orderly fashion. Leaving the warthog abandoned behind Kai. She had a bashful look written on her face.

“Commander,” came her almost sheepish answer. “What brings you here?”

Miranda sighed, speaking more calmly, “Were you even fully discharged before you decided to pull these stunts?”

“Doc gave me the greenlight. So, what brought you here?” Kai asked again, more at ease.

“Headed to the hangar using the less taking pathways with Arbit–” she gestured behind her and took notice of his lack of visibility, “–er. Seriously?”

“I thought it best that I not be seen,” he said, cloak deactivated.

“Okay…” she turned back to the spartan. “Overdoing it much? On the first day back, huh Kai,” Miranda crossed her arms.

“I wanted to test myself a little, plus it was fun,” the spartan returned with a shrug.

“I doubt lifting a Warthog counts as a stretching exercise,” she was unamused.

“For a Spartan, it does, Commander,” Kai gave a fond smile regardless.

Arbiter could see a small smile crack through the Commander’s serious expression, she turned away shaking her head. Kai had asked him to lift the warthog to compare strength. He had declined whilst she insisted. Miranda at first agreed with him until her own curiosity seemed to have caught up with her. Cortana had tuned into his frequency once more, deciding to actually make an appearance to join in on the peer pressure, although her insisting had been more tamed. In the end, he yielded. Thel took the same rope and lifted the vehicle further into the air with more ease than the sniper. Kai cheers when he gradually allows the warthog to descend. He lets go of the rope after all four tires are wholly touching the ground. He did not wish to cause any damage to it. The spartan approached him, patting him on his back firmly. Looking around, he saw Miranda had been taking notes on a data pad. Where she managed to pull the device from he could not answer. From there, they parted ways from Kai and continued on to the hangar that held the Covenant ship. A comfortable silence had reigned for most of the remaining journey.

“What’s the other Miranda Keyes like? There’s similarities between our Master Chiefs but they are also different in some aspects of personality and physical traits. Like their differing eye colors. I know about the differing melanin between me and her from the pictures that your Cortana presented during the ‘interview’ with Doctor Halsey. But what else?” The Commander asked enthusiastically.

“My first meeting with her was more violent,” Arbiter stated, remembering the hail of bullets to his shields as she protected Sgt. Johnson from him. 

“Guessing we weren’t friends yet?” She smiled.

“Correct. I would hear many whispers of her, some praise, others not as fond. She spoke of her father at times between missions, trying to live up to his reputation to the best of her abilities,” he answered.

“Seems not much is different. What was her father like?” They had reached the hangar bay, the covenant phantom in sight.

“I will unfortunately never know for certain. The mantle of Arbiter was given to me sometime after his death,” Thel had been told by John of his fate in the remains of the Pillar of Autumn, on Installation 04 Halo. His death had been a mercy.

“How– how did he go?” When he looked at her, he saw her dispirited. He hoped she would not ask of her own fate.

“I can not tell you of his exact fate. But his sacrifice helped destroy the first Halo to be discovered,” his hand of its own accord landed on his chest over his hidden mark.

Miranda hummed dejectedly, “I hope that whatever happened to him in your timeline doesn’t happen in mine.”

There was nothing he could say except, “One can only hope.” They entered the ship and Thel knew where to go and which terminal to use. He was sure Miranda had followed close behind. He touched the panel, allowing it to scan his signature. In the fraction of a second, the terminal screens came to life. Seems a version of himself did exist in this world otherwise it would not have granted him access. “Is there anything in particular you are searching for?”

“Coordinates of importance, any will do, but it wouldn’t hurt if you found the ones that would lead us to a place named Raas Kkhotskha,” she informed, standing at his side.

“You seek High Charity, the Holy City, such a place in your current time is a death sentence. To give a direct attack would end in the slaughter of UNSC marines,” he expressed his concern.

“Which is why we won’t be directly assaulting it,” She assured him, “and risks are a must in war are they not?”

He sighed and began his search through the saved locations. If Arbiter did find the navigation coordinates to High Charity, he would erase them. He could not trust that those higher than Miranda would not risk the massacre of thousands of marines, especially if it meant cutting the main heads of the Covenant. They after all were not the ones risking their lives on the front lines of battle. If only Cortana were here to delete said coordinates whilst Thel played dumb.

“I wonder what this does?”

“Don’t touch–” he froze when he heard a broadcast play loud and clear in the navigation room in sangheili. He ran to the terminal Miranda had touched and with knowing hands, had the message play again. He felt his hearts drop.

“What? What is it?” Miranda asked confused and worried, “I only understood half of that. What’s wrong, Thel?”

Arbiter made a split second decision, he hoped Cortana would forgive him, “Evacuate Criterion, immediately.”

Chapter Text

(Silver Timeline)

~2552 A.D. Human-Covenant War still ongoing, Planet: Reach, UNSC HQ~

[Silver Timeline p.o.v]

John had chosen to wear his more civilian attire, instead of retrieving his undersuit, for this occasion. He was headed to Makee’s “cell” to apologize for his earlier behavior, he had not been at his best, whatever that was nowadays. Truly for once, there was complete radio silence from Cortana. He was grateful for it, but it was strange, it felt wrong to not hear even a single little quip from her. The total non-verbal presence from her was out of character, from their little interactions she seemed to love to place in her input and opinions on the matters at hand. He would never admit aloud that he had indirectly grown somewhat attached to her irritating behaviors. He had caught glimpses of his counterpart interacting with the other cortana when entering the armory, the spartan looked completely unbothered while cleaning his weapons during her rants that he was blessedly unable to overhear. John knew she was speaking based on the fact she was projecting a visual form of herself next to the other, seeing the projection’s mouth moving with no sound. The AI had all but muted herself to the outer world, allowing only her Chief to hear. He would have assumed Master Chief number two had tuned her out, although that would be tremendously difficult with being inside his head, but the other Chief always gave meaningful responses that told him that he had paid attention to every word she uttered. How any version of himself could even tolerate the AI eluded him at the moment. 

A problem for another time, he approached the cell door, Malya greeting him alongside the other guard, and John returned the gesture. He ignored any other remarks Malya had to say, he understood his hatred for the Covenant. Makee, though, was still human unlike the seven foot saurian in the base that had all too quickly become amicable with Commander Keyes. Said Commander had managed to make it so that the ex-covenant elite could walk around base in certain areas with their spartan partner freely and without supervision. Had they all lost their damn minds?! Sure, the sangheili was from a different timeline, post-war, and was gladly helping them with no opposition. It all rubbed him the wrong way, everything too good to be true, as if there would soon be a drawback, a consequence. Yet, there was something else there, something he couldn’t name. A feeling that he couldn’t quite grasp, taunting him in sight but out of reach.

“Back again,” Makee said, breaking him from his train of thoughts. He couldn’t recall the moment he had walked through the door.

“It would seem so,” he replied.

“How did–”

“Not here,” he cut off her question.

She nodded silently, looking at him expectantly; waiting.

“I’m sorry for my hostile and aggressive actions. The’ poison’ I had clouded my judgment. I–...” he tried to find the words to say.

“You were scared,” she said.

“Yeah, I guess,” he found the thought a little funny.

“I was too. Thank you, I am grateful for your apology,” she continued, she gave a slight smile.

“Would you like to start again?” John asked, a little hesitant.

“Start again?” Makee furrowed her brow while tilting her head to the side, looking a bit confused.

“Reintroduce ourselves, but better,” he clarified.

“Okay, how does that work?” She took a few timid steps towards him.

“I’ll go first,” he cleared his throat, standing straighter, although he let his shoulders remain slack. “My name is John, and yours?” He held his hand out for her to shake.

She looked at his hand for a second, she cautiously reached out her hand in turn, fingers twitching almost retracting before she clasped his own. She looked back up at him and replied, “Makee, my name is Makee. It is nice to meet you, John.”

“Likewise, Makee,” he smiled, giving her hand a firm shake then letting go.

Makee’s smile widened, she visibly relaxed.

“How does a walk sound to you?”

She responded, her head downcast, “I don’t think they’d allow me in many places in your base–”

“Outside base.”

“Outside?” She seemed to be in disbelief, looking at him as if he had grown a second head right there and then. 

“Yes. Would you like to? Go on a walk with me,” he asked again, holding up the jacket clutched in his other hand for her to take if she wanted to.

“Where would we go?” Makee fidgeted with her hands held close to her, staring at the article of clothing held in front of her.

“Where would you like to go?” He saw the gears turning in her head, her lips thinned. She kept looking between him and the jacket. He could see her struggling to come to a decision. Makee reached and pulled back her fingers several times, an action he found surprisingly endearing. Eventually, she grabbed the jacket from his hand and took it. He’d let go of it immediately when he felt the slightest pull in the fabric.

“A park,” she said.

“A park?” He replied, wanting to be certain.

“ I’d like to go to a park. If that’s okay?” She answered finally, holding the jacket tightly close.

“Affirmative. We can leave whenever you’re ready, Makee,” John nodded

She donned her jacket, settling into it, it looked like she had some not so well hidden excitement. Makee walked right up to him, the previous caution and fear gone, “Lead the way, John.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Makee couldn’t help the feeling of triumph she had seeing one of the soldiers, Malya silently seething and unable to retaliate. The marine reminded her of the guards from her planet of origin, their unnecessary cruelty, their unrequired brutality. He was a reminder of the men, who had beaten her friend Det, just a boy, to his death. She held the same contempt towards the soldier as he held for her. Tolerance would find its breakpoint and patience would soon run dry. For now, she could bask in this moment, awaiting the moment she could alleviate his shoulders of that repulsive head. 

The walk from her cell to the transport area had given time for doubt to grow in Makee. They had reached the exit point that would lead them to the train, she froze, unable to make her legs move. She was terrified, afraid of what lay beyond this point. The question whether or not she was even allowed to traverse outside the base crossed her mind. Was this a ploy designed by the demon to terminate her. Had they figured she was obsolete. All things considered, it was clear the Arbiter had more uses than her and had already done more to help them in ways they favored. The sangheili must have been an Elite of much importance to be made Arbiter. Possessing skills needed on the battlefield and off it. Skills that could be used against the Covenant. Makee was of no use to them, she had nothing to bargain with or give them past what had already been given. She could not stoop to the levels of the Arbiter and purposely betray the Prophets. She won’t allow herself to commit such heresy knowingly. But had she failed in her mission? Were these her final moments?

“Makee,” she broke away from her thoughts, seeing John looking back at her. He gave her a soft, knowing look, “Nervous?”

“Quite,” she fidgeted with her hands.

“It’s okay, don’t be scared. Nothing will happen to you on my watch,” he reassured her, he sounded sincere.

“Promise?” she asked.

“I promise, Makee” he replied, holding his hand out to her.

She stared at his hand, noticing the relaxed nature of its pose, how they remained steady. It was a hand that could inflict pain, that could break her neck or any other bone in her body without any exertion. John’s hand looked strong even in such an eased state, it scared her. Humans scared her.

“Would you like to know something?” John asked, distracting her once more. People passed by them, uncaring of who they were, heading to who knows where.

“I would,” she responded, curious.

“When I make a promise, I keep it. Always,” he spoke with absolute certainty, not a single hint of doubt in his voice, his eyes, or posture.

Makee felt that confidence surge through her, washing away her fears. Cleansing her of her doubt. The feeling was that of a light shining brightly in the dark as a beacon. In the moment, she had no explanation for knowing that every word John had spoken was nothing short of truth. She was certain of it. Makee took his hand and let him guide her without question. John’s hold was not crushing, it was gentle; restraint. The skin fingertips were rough, but they were also soft. He did not drag her along, he walked beside her, an equal, showing her the way. She had never felt this safe outside the moment they had been on Halo, this blissfully secure. Free.

Makee walked down the steps, enjoying the feeling of the small breeze brought by the passing of ships. Chattering of people walking past them, some almost through them. There were some marines in full uniform whilst others were casual. A constant flow of those leaving and those returning to work. She was grateful for the jacket, it was cold but merciful enough. After the stairs were the escalators, slightly crowded, going further down. Instead of boarding whichever train immediately, John tells Makee to wait, so they wait. They watch the other humans leave a train, whilst others board. Many are going about their day, some look to be actual civilians with marines. Few are leaving for actual business purposes or perhaps they have no reason to smile. Shortly another train arrives and the demon informs her it’s their turn to board. The passenger car was not as overwhelmingly packed as she expected it to be, there was still room to pass through to another car if necessary. At the start the windows showed nothing, except the concrete walls of the tunnels they were passing through. 

Eventually, they disembarked and climbed up a flight of stairs. A light shined through the exit brightly. She squinted her eyes keeping pace with the demon, adjusting marginally to the sudden exposure. Blinking away the blindness, they were outside, truly outside. She peered around expecting to immediately see buildings varying in stature and width, advertisements almost everywhere she looked. Instead she saw a pathway, walls lined with flora, more colorful than the walls of the base. She could see the branches of trees just above the glass screens atop the walls. In the distance, she could see so much beautiful green alongside more people. They all looked so small from afar. The buildings, just further away, had flora as well in certain patches scattered along it, near the top of their stature they had screens flashing symbols and a name. There were still taller buildings further beyond, but here it was filled with more green than gray. There were also trees filled with pink, she was too far to know if they were leaves or flowers. Makee exited the hallway and saw people distributed all around, some walking, others sitting just enjoying the sight, more chattering and some children having fun. A phrase crossed her mind, one read by Det so long ago.

“And they ran among the broad Margolia trees, and the sun danced on the leaves,” she recited, smiling at the memory. Det would have loved it here, seeing their book come to life. Seeing the light without the need of a flashlight. Breathing air so clean it was a blessing. Yes, he would have loved it all. They headed towards the gazebo with stands that sold different snacks, drinks, and many other things.

“What’s that?” John asked her, and she looked at him for a moment.

“It was from a book a friend used to read to me when I was young,” she answered, looking everywhere but the Chief. Makee reached the gazebo, “He said there were places like this, with trees and bright light in the sky. Green grass to walk on.”

“Hm…” he hummed in response, evidently in thought. “What would you like to do?” John asked, pausing in front of the gazebo.

Makee stopped mid-step slightly surprised, she hadn’t really thought this far. She looked around closely, pondering. She replied, “How about–”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“No,” John answered.

“Why not?” Makee asked astounded.

“You’ve eaten four of them already, witnessing that is enough” he replied, but he was smiling profoundly.

“There were four different colors! You must try this, just once is all I ask,” she holds out the plastic tube for John.

“I’m not eating the cotton candy, Makee,” he continued.

“Just one piece. One piece. Just one, please,” she pleaded, walking in front of him, and he stopped.

“One piece,” John sighed, holding up one finger, emphasizing the singularity.

Makee ripped a piece off the untouched cotton candy and handed it to him. Smiling over the small victory of having had the spartan yield. “Here,” she said.

He looked at the ripped piece and back to the one still on the stick, “This piece is half of the whole thing.”

“But it is one piece,” she retorted with a grin.

John shook his head and gave a short chuckle, “Alright. Alright, I’ll take it.” He plucked the squished piece from her fingers. He looked at it one more time and then cautiously put it in his mouth. His facial expression transitioned from confused to surprised.

“Verdict?” She asked, awaiting his answer.

He nodded, “I know why you ate four of them.”

She moved back to his side and they continued their trek through the park. She asked playfully, “Would you like another piece?”

John hummed, he was probably thinking it over, “One more piece, but this time I’m grabbing the piece. Are we clear?”

“Yes,” she agrees, holding the cotton candy out to him again, only this time they don’t stop their stroll. He picks out a piece and eats it with seemingly no hesitance.

“It does not look like a cloud,” he states, actually laughing.

“I didn’t know what else to call it,” she said, muffled whilst eating the last piece, now left holding five empty sticks.

“...I saw you …on the ring,” he spoke quietly, his neutral tone returning. They stopped in an empty part of the park, giving them privacy.

“I saw you, alongside the other, too. How did you do that?” She whispered, amazed.

“I don’t know. I just, I…” he spoke quickly, “I let go.”

“That’s incredible,” she was nearly speechless.

“We were on the halo,” he states with certainty.

“We were. I felt a connection to it my entire life. It’s like yearning for home,” being there on the halo even just as an extension of herself where she could not physically be yet, felt marvelous. It was where they belonged, where they needed to go. “You brought us there.”

“What is it, Makee? And why do the Covenant want it so bad?” John asked as if he didn’t have another source to tell him. Had the Arbiter not informed them of the Great Journey? She had heard him mention it to the Commander, of course in terms of heresy. Words that had sown doubt, making her question the hierarchs in  rare times during silence when her mind would repeat his words. A grand lie, we were all fools. Some still are.

“There’s a prophecy,” she would tell him, he was like her, he had a right to know. She recited, “Where the stars sparkle like glass, a divine wind will rush through, propelling all of those who are worthy on a great journey to the sacred ring, where we will become like gods.”

His stoic expression furthered, he became almost unreadable, almost, “And those who aren’t worthy?”

She shook her head slightly, “Cleansed.”

John distanced himself from her, turning away, he looked disappointed, “And you believe that?... Humans are unworthy?”

Makee’s smile faded, jaded anger rising just below the surface, “From what I saw, humans didn’t seem to be worthy of anything.”

His back was turned to her, seconds passed in silence. He was holding onto the branch of a nearby tree, one of many with pink petaled flowers, “I’ve only seen fragments from my childhood. But what I saw, what I felt… was goodness. I saw a capacity for hope. Love. There is something within us.” 

She heard the emotion leak into his voice, this was no ruse, this was no lie. Humans had taken so much from him just as they had taken from her, yet, here he was defending them.

“Something special in humans. Something sacred,” He finally looked back at her and all she could see was the sincerity in his hazel eyes. “Something worth protecting.”

Maybe… he had a point, but she could not bring herself to truly see it in its entirety. Not when everything she had experienced told her that humans deserved to burn. She hoped perhaps he’ll prove her wrong. 

“Master Chief!” A marine called out, somewhat muffled by the distance. Their little moment shatters into dust, both of their attention drawn to marines. One shouted louder, “Chief!”

“I’ll be back,” he assured her and left.

“Apologizes, Master Chief, but we have a situation regarding Criterion,” she heard their muffled voice inform. The rest she had not been lucky enough to catch as a dog’s barking frightened her, distracting her, and their owner apologized. When she looked back the marines were quiet and John’s eyes were trained on her with a solemn expression.

Soon, she was back in her cell, her prison, left to ponder the words she had been left with in the silence. Pondering their meanings and what she would do with them. Questioning which were lies, which were truth, and which would she side with in the end. Who were the deceivers? Was every piece she had in this puzzle falsehood? The Arbiter within these same walls might possibly have the answers she seeks. Would the sangheili deny her his counsel, no, he would grant it. Thel ‘Vadam will give her answers. “Thel ‘Vadam. Thel… ‘Vadam… ‘Vadam… House of ‘Vadam… Thel ‘Vadam…” Makee repeated again and again, she knew that name, she was sure of it. She searched her mind, looking for any sort of clue, any reason why that name rang with familiarity. Realization dawned upon her. Thel ‘Vadamee… How could she have been so clueless? This traveler had shortened his namesake.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Most of the Criterion refugees have safely arrived at checkpoint, other vessels are taking necessary precautions due to separation and will rendezvous later than the others, and hopefully intact. We saved those we could with the short window of time we had. Many were still lost, but more were saved than if nothing were done,” Admiral Whitcomb informed through communications.

“And your fleet?” Captain Keyes asked.

“As of current, mostly intact, minimal losses in standards of crew. We got out of there as soon as we caught sight of a Covenant fleet on approach,” he answered.

Admiral Parangosky gave a quiet sigh of relief, “Thank you, Admiral Whitcomb. Keep us updated with reports.”

“Will do, Ma’am, over and out,” the call was cut and the screen returned to its charts.

“Our informant seems to be proving the worth of his word with flying colors,” Parangosky stated.

“Indeed, he is. For now, until a full scope is made through the list of locations in the navigation systems, it looks like we’ll have to wait a little longer,” Jacob said while walking towards Margaret.

“With all due respect, sir. We can’t sit here and wait. We need to take the fight to them,” John input, stepping closer to the pair.

“And what alternative way would you suggest of finding them, Master Chief,” Captain Keyes replied, exasperated. “Besides this option made available to us by the Arbiter, I’ve got a hundred and fifty techs working around the clock, chasing down your lead, and we found absolutely nothing,” he gestures to the room full of people, his arm moving in a horizontal arc.

“Makee can show us where they are, and where they took the second artifact, using ours,” John confidently responds. 

Both the Admiral and Captain look at him like he’s lost his damn mind. To suggest the help of the one covenant within their base that has only given them scraps of information that have resulted in nothing but a wild goose chase. At least the other had proven their usefulness and gained a modicum of trust from doing so. Hell, they even knew that Commander Keyes was sneaking him around base.

“Absolutely not,” Parongosky snaps.

“Why her? Why can’t you do it?” Keyes asks, perplexed.

“She’s been trained to communicate through them in a way that I still can’t, but she can help us,” John insisted.

“One stroll in the park has you convinced?” The admiral speaks in disbelief, this is not the Master Chief she knows. He in this moment was uncomfortably similar to his counterpart due to their now shared trait of becoming close with the enemy. It's as if every version of him is destined for this.

“She was kidnapped by the Covenant when she was a child. She was turned against us, but she is us, Captain. She’s human,” he turned to Jacob, pleading his case.

“Chief, people don’t just manually override decades of indoctrination,” the Captain countered, turning away from John.

John stands taller, “I did. By the looks of it, so did the Arbiter. And he’s an elite, one of them, helping us in this fight.”

Jacob looked back at him, knowing he did have a point there, but this was too risky even for his liking.

“Criterion had just been glassed, we’re lucky we were even able to save some of its people. They are hunting us–” Captain Keyes cut him off.

“We are waiting for the results of the navigational data search, if we find nothing. We’ll greenlight your suggestion and Miranda will supervise. Otherwise, you’re dismissed, Chief,” he commanded. He watched John give him a curt nod before leaving. The door opened automatically and from his peripherals, he saw the older spartan push himself off the wall and leave without a word. The older Master Chief was more silent, why he showed up here was anyone’s guess, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of having been watched under scrutiny. Why were the pair giving such close attention to him and his daughter? What role had they played in their timeline?

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Miranda kept replaying a particular part in the recording over and over again, she had it’s translation, she doesn’t know how Thel was even able to hear them clearly with the amount of static noise they possessed. She wanted to figure out the correct frequency that would clear the static, but not lose any of the ranges. He had pointed out the strange pronunciation of certain words, like a different species speaking fluently but lacking the ability to accentuate key letters. She had asked him if she could tape him repeating the same words for comparison. It only proved further that whoever was speaking couldn’t be a Sangheili, not even close. Though he had brought up a point that sangheili like any other language had variants; accents and that his although formal was an accent as well. So far, those variants were making it difficult to find the correct formula to make the recording ring clear.

“ Captain Keyes. Access granted ,” the computerized voice announced, the door sliding open with a heavy sound. Her father walked through, cap held at his waist with both hands, he probably caught sight of the others moving the Elite corpse they were studying. Miranda made sure to schedule those studies during times when the Arbiter wasn’t around out of respect, although there were moments she was sure the elite caught sight of such things still. 

“Hey,” she greeted from her current station to his left

“Hey,” he greeted back, looking around the room. “Everything going to schedule?”

“Yeah, so far the scans haven’t found anything. But it still has much of the navigational data to search through, we could have an answer within the next day or three. Sometime at noon,” she answered, keeping her eyes on the screen.

“Good. And what’s this?” Dad asked her, referring to the audio while approaching.

“It’s the recording from the Gladius after the Sangheili attack,” she crossed her arms leaning slightly over the desk.

“He’s still translating?” He raised a brow.

“No, it’s–it’s the most bizarre thing. We picked up some weird variants on dialect,” she explained, partially frustrated.

“Like an accent?” He said, placing his cap on her desk.

“Accent, maybe, Thel says it could be. The vocal constraints could be a speech impediment from one of the other known species of the covenant. I don’t know. I just know there is something here, something important,” Miranda compares this to an itch she couldn’t scratch.

“Can you show me?” She sees her dad give her a lopsided warm smile, contagious at that too, she begins to smile.

“Okay, so I’ve–I’ve set the noise filters to standard sangheili,” the audio distorts even further, none of the ranges are similar to each other. “But these frequencies are all over the place,” she gestures to the whole line of audio, before changing another aspect “And suddenly here it just– It drops down into a completely different range. But then when I change the algorithm down, I lose all of the high end.” Miranda drags in Thel’s audio file and plays it synched with the Gladius recording, “I mean just listen to the comparison. Thel has obvious and hidden vocal points in pronunciation that whoever was on the ship either couldn’t reach or couldn’t produce at all.” She sighs, exasperated, “It’s bizarre.” 

Her dad chuckles low, she lets out a light laugh, she feels a bit better, and shakes her head. “If anyone can figure it out, it’s you,” he speaks with positiveness in his voice, giving her a side hug she leans into.

|The mantle of Arbiter was given to me sometime after his death… But his sacrifice helped destroy the first Halo…|

Thel’s words echoed in her mind, grief and sorrow for something that has not occurred floods her being, overwhelming. Miranda turns to her dad and completely hugs him. She shouldn’t have asked. She should have kept her big mouth quiet or maybe Arbiter should have deflected her question. She didn’t know what to do with this information, knowledge that her father could die soon. The possibility of the matter not being if, but when. She remembered being told there were many differences in her own timeline when compared to theirs, it soothed her slightly, but the similarities between them meant that some things were going to end the same. Reach would probably still fall as a key point event to set off their journey to actually finding the Halo, just as both timelines have a Cortana, a Master Chief, a Doctor Catherine Halsey, her dad, and herself. There might even be an Admiral Parangosky if they asked further. Did the other Parangosky give her life for the halo too, or did she live to see the end of their war and beyond? Would Miranda even want to know the answers?

“Miranda,” her dad gently pulled her off by her shoulders.

“W–What?” She blinked, tears had welled in her eyes and now ran down her face. Miranda had stained her father’s uniform with said tears. She laughed but it sounded more like a sob, “Oh, I–I’m so sorry. I ruined it.”

“What's wrong?” He asked concerned, edging on worry. 

“Nothing, I’m fine. I’ve been frustrated is all,” she answered, wiping the tears from her eyes and sniffing. She kept her eyes trained on the stains for a solid second, what had she done. Deciding her hands were more interesting, she brought up, “I should probably get back to getting this audio debounced.”

“What did the Elite tell you?” He asked.

“What are you talking about? The Arbiter didn’t do or tell me anything,” she guffawed, backing away and turning back to her desk.

“There it is,” he says, cryptically.

“There’s what?” Miranda looks back at him, perturbed.

“You just referred to the Elite by his title. During this entire conversation you have called him by nothing else except his name, Commander,” he crossed his arms, titling his head.

‘Shit,’ she groaned, hiding her face in her hands, elbows planted on the edge of her desk. Her day couldn’t get any worse than this. Miranda didn’t want to tell her dad information that even she wasn’t supposed to know, let alone that it’s information about HIS death no less. 

“You can tell me. You don’t have to burden whatever this is alone,” she felt a hand land on her shoulder, reassuring squeeze and all.

“What if I’m not supposed to?” She questioned, letting her hands fall from her face, joining them together atop the screen.

“What do you mean?”

“What if telling you could lead to changes in this timeline that could be the difference between us winning this war and losing it? One tip in the wrong direction and it’s all over,” she quickly straightened up and started pacing.

“Commander, slow down, breathe,” he replied.

“I shouldn’t have asked him. Oh, I shouldn’t have asked him,” her tears returned with a vengeance, her vision annoyingly blurry.

“Shouldn’t have asked him what?” He continued to push the subject.

“About me! The other me! He told me about the other Miranda and then I had the great idea to ask about the other you! And I regret it! Okay! Because I shouldn’t know this! I wish I didn’t know!” Miranda shouted at him, her emotions were a train wreck. A train wreck she wanted to push away and ignore, act like it never happened or existed, but her father couldn’t just leave it alone.

“The other me dies, doesn’t he?” He says, unfazed like it wasn’t a big deal.

“How–”

“We’re at war. Not everyone is going to make it to the end. A lot of people already haven’t made it. It’s just how it works on the battlefield. Tomorrow isn’t a promise,” he kindly wipes away her tears. She shook with laughter, her reaction compared to her father’s was laughable, she had been ridiculous. “Did I die in a cool way?” Her dad asked with a smile.

“You’re horrible,” she cackled, shaking her head.

“But did I?” He laughed.

“I don’t know. He couldn’t tell me the details,” she responded.

“I’ll take that as a yes. I’ll see you later. You got this,” he reassured, picking up his cap before heading to the door and leaving Miranda feeling better about some things.

Chapter Text

(Silver Timeline)

~2552 A.D. Human-Covenant War still ongoing, Planet: Reach, UNSC HQ~

[Silver Timeline p.o.v]

John heard the heavy footsteps following him since he left FleetCom, the intense stare burrowing through the back of his skull. He’d never seen the man’s eyes hidden behind the golden visor, excluding the relic situation; never seeing the real thing. John was certain, if he could see the other’s blues staring him down. His senior wouldn’t need a magnum to kill him, the look alone probably could do it for him. He fought the shivers wanting to crawl up his spine, keeping his appearance calm. He continued his trek until the halls were empty of any passersby, saving themselves from an audience.

“Mind telling me the reason behind your stalking, sir,” He turned around, greeted by the usual gold cover. Out of armor, John had to look up marginally to the other.

“After your sudden hypocrisy. A stroll in the park, how romantic,” Chief responded dryly, unamused, yet his last words were more similar to a taunt or tease. He couldn’t tell which, he didn’t know him well enough to be certain if it was the latter or the former.

“Th–That’s not–” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I was apologizing. The relic had been messing with my head.”

“You took her to a park, to apologize?” The elder was definitely raising a brow judgmentally behind his helmet. He didn’t blame him, it sounded better in his head than aloud.

“She wanted to go to the park, so I took her as an add-on to my apology rather than sticking with just words,” John crossed his arms, a sensation of heat rolling off his face, embarrassment perhaps. He heard a small chuckle from the other spartan as he shook his head. “Something funny, sir?”

“Yes. Seems we have something else in common,” Chief walked closer to him and leaned forward. “You know where your team goes to spar?”

“Of course. Why? Feel like using me as your personal punching bag again?” He felt skeptical about sparring with the senior again after the first time went downhill rather quickly.

“No. Your team will be there, and Commander Keyes,” he responded.

He nodded. Fantastic, his team could watch as he reintroduced himself with the concrete– his eyes widened, “Why Commander Keyes?”

“She wants to take notes,” Chief patted his arm and walked past him.

“Notes for what?” John watched him go by for a split second.

“Either show up. Or don’t,” he felt as if the elder had withheld the ending piece of that statement.

“What else do we have in common?!” He exclaimed.

“Fifteen hundred hours, Petty Officer,” the older man said cryptically and he was gone. Leaving John more confused than when the conversation started. They shared a name, title, both were Spartan-IIs, and everything beyond that diverged into differing paths. So, what else is there?

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“And this is the translation,” Miranda stated, seeing the Petty Officer’s reaction from her peripherals. Kai had helped her the most with guesstimating translations at the start of it all before Thel showed up to carry the load of work with apparent ease. Vannak and Riz had contributed to creating the library of sangheili words they already knew, but not to the process of converting the Gladius audio files.

“It’s incredible. He did all this within the span of a few days,” Kai stared in awe, running a gloved finger over the screen.

“Not really. He finished this within a couple hours,” she replied, moving the translations further to the side to give way room for the 

“Wow– wait, what have you two been up to this whole time?” The spartan asked, confusion clear in voice yet an intrigued expression.

“At first, I wanted to learn more about his species. Asking him general questions,” she responded looking up from the table to Kai.

“Then?” She encouraged her to continue.

“Then, I started asking about their timeline. Their world. He doesn’t expand anything about the Halos. Avoids certain questions, understandably, since we still don’t know if this happy little accident will have major consequences down the line,” Miranda explains, arms loosely crossing.

“Incoming, I can hear a ‘but’ approaching, Commander,” Kai jokes, aiming a bright smile her way.

It helped, really it did, making her smile back for a brief moment. She sighed, “But there are times when I ask a harmless question and he… I don’t know. Once, I asked him how he became Commander of a fleet and his response was so vague. All he said was ‘Through betrayal’ and nothing else.” Betrayal had many possibilities, some physical betrayal, emotional betrayal, moral betrayal and the rare occurrence of it being all of the above. Betrayal held two sides one could land on, the betrayed or the betrayer. An in between didn’t exist, a person could only be one or the other, not both. The shape and label of Thel’s ‘betrayal’, at the moment, remained obscure.

“Ma’am, if I may be allowed to speak my opinion?” she asked.

“Permission granted. Although, you didn’t have to ask,” she pointed to the Petty Officer playfully.

“Formalities, you know the protocol,” the blonde responded, her smile morphing into a soft neutrality. She continued, “Ma’am, the Arbiter was once Covenant. A Covenant soldier, a Commander of troops, Commander of his own fleet in his world. Meaning he had many tactical decisions to make in opposition to Humanity.”

|Sometimes you have to make hard choices to get good results.|

Her father’s voice echoed clear in her mind as if he were here telling it to her again. She shook her head, looking down at the floor, “Yeah... Yeah, you’re right, Kai.” What had he meant by betrayal? She wondered, what things had he done in all his years in service to the Covenant, to these Hierarchs. She was left with more questions than answers after each interaction with Thel.

A strong and heavy hand was gingerly placed on her shoulder, “Commander, are you alright?”

“Uh, yeah. Got a little lost, but I’m fine,” she looked up only to realize Kai had ducked down and was closer than she expected her to be. She had forgotten how fast Spartans could truly be. The Petty Officer was making direct eye contact, searching Miranda’s eyes as if they held the answers of unasked questions. She could feel her steady breaths pass over her skin and the room’s temperature seemed to rise. In a room, specifically made to keep a consistent cool temperature for research purposes. Those light and clear blues moved down and paused, staring. She looked so relaxed and yet her eyes were hyper focused; fixated. Miranda saw movement from the edges of her vision, the weight on her shoulder had been lifted. A phantom-like touch passes under her jaw before the very real weight of a padded thumb settles over the center of her bottom lip. The Commander stills, taking very small, nearly non-existent, breaths as if breathing any more would be a risk. There was no actual danger, she knew that, but there was this sense of it from the spartan’s close proximity and the look she was giving her. She could hear and feel her own heartbeat rising, a mix of anxiousness and excitement. Kai had tilted her head somewhat, marginally and slowly moving her thumb to a corner of her mouth, dragging the plump of her bottom lip with it. 

“Visitor, Makee. Temporary Access, Granted,” the computerized voice, hit Miranda in the same fashion as a bucket of ice cold water, waking her from the spell of the moment. She pulled away from Kai, retreating from the touch that left a ghostly weight on her bottom lip as if it had left an impression marked on her skin. She put some distance between them.

“Right! I had forgotten to mention I was planning to bring her with us,” the commander explains, quickly making her way to the halfway opened door.

“For what purpose, Ma’am?” Kai asked, she had followed her with her helmet clasped at her side.

“I think she deserves some more time outside.” Miranda leaned towards her and whispered, “Plus, I think I’ve been giving Thel an excess amount of favoritism. Especially with how much leeway I give the Sangheili to move about the base with supervision. While Makee only gets the one time with our Chief.”

“Understood, Ma’am,” she replies smiling and the Commander leans away, looking back at Makee. Who is still as guarded since the first day she met her conscience.

“Makee meet Kai-125. Kai meet Makee,” Miranda gestures back and forth between the two while introducing them.

“Hello,” Makee greets, waving at her shyly.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Makee,” she nods with a soft smile.

“Now that you’ve both met. You two should go to the rendezvous and I’ll go get Arbiter and other Chief,” she states approaching the exit.

“Why not all together?” Makee asks, clearly confused.

“Because having you and Thel walking together with two spartans and myself would look very suspicious. Especially, you walking alongside the Arbiter. It’s convoluted, I know, but it’s better this way,” Miranda explained, gesturing for them to go first.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~2552 A.D. Human-Covenant War still ongoing, Planet: Reach, UNSC HQ~

[Blue Timeline p.o.v]

“What were you thinking?! Actually, did you even think it through?” Cortana exclaimed, her tone of mix of concern and baffled. A kerfuffle over Arbiter’s choice with interfering with the fate of the Criterion’s people. He should have said nothing, lied even, but that choice would have put his integrity on the line by the discovery of Criterion’s glassing a day or two after the broadcast. A risk they could not take if they wanted to leave any time soon without inflicting unnecessary violence and death towards this world’s UNSC.

“I did think of the consequences and it was better this way,” Thel replied, looking at nothing in particular. Chief was sitting in silence, leaning on his elbows over his knees. 

“Seriously?” Cortana crossed her arms, leaning on one leg more than the other; not entirely convinced.

“I admit, some personal feelings had also been a factor. Even so, I wouldn’t change my decision on the matter if I could unmake it. To be caught a liar, Cortana, would have complicated our means of departure,” he reasoned, standing taller.

“I know your regret towards the planets you glassed, the countless human deaths, Reach… But we cannot derail this timeline. This must remain the last major change we cause here. Is that understood?” Cortana’s hands fall to her side, her expression sympathetic, she looks to John next.

“What?” His husband asked, sitting up.

“Chief,” She placed her hands on her hips, tilting her head.

“Understood, but no promises,” he responded, knowing better than to fully commit to an action he couldn’t guarantee.

“Arbiter,” she rolls her eyes and looks back at Thel.

“I understand,” he nodded, placing his hand over his hearts.

“Honestly, since when am I a babysitter for you two?” She remarked and if not for the small smile he would have assumed she was displeased.

“Cortana.”

“John,” Cortana glances in his direction.

His husband stands and holds out his hand to her. Cortana’s smile grows as she shakes her head, reaching for his hand and taking it. Blinking out of view. Master Chief looks up at him whilst approaching. Closing in enough to hook his hand around one of his own. Arbiter engulfs his spouse’s digits, holding them tenderly. “Whatever happens here is not your burden to carry, Thel,” he gives his hand a comforting squeeze.

“I know. I know…” he deeply sighed and the silence weighed in the reality of it all. He could not hold himself accountable for the sins of another that held his name. His husband and this world’s John held similar aspects but were also nothing alike. The same rang true with Miranda Keyes. If there was another Thel ‘Vadamee, it was highly likely that he too only held the same core aspects whilst diverging in every other regard. His other’s faults were not his own and vice versa. And yet… deciding to switch topics, he asked, “I’ve kept myself busy with the Commander, but what have you been up to?”

“Been reminded constantly I hate being out of cryo and out of the battlefield without you,” John answered, bumping his helm into his chest. There was a small tiredness to his voice, it was unfortunately of no surprise to Thel.

“Hmm, is this why you’ve asked Miranda to ‘supervise’ the ‘secret’ sparring ground today? To spar with me,” he raises his other hand, using the back of his fingers to caress the side of his husband’s helm. He knew for certain his expression held a percentage of smugness alongside appreciative. Arbiter has been yearning for a reason to stretch and exert his limbs.

“Yes. The alarms would start blaring the moment you're out of sight otherwise,” the green helm tilts, leaning into his touch, a small squeak from the metal cap dragging across his chest armor. Sometimes he wondered if the reason Chief’s armor had scraped paint in certain areas was because of the battlefield or if he just liked rubbing it off on his own plating. Turning the silver to a green sheen. He still remembers the time Rtas asked him why his armor was smudged in green over his front and backside in particularly questionable areas. Chief choosing to walk up beside him after being asked such a question had him lowering his head completely abashed. Scuffed paint ironically painting a clear picture of the answer.

|Hmm, it seems I have been given the answer. Arbiter. Demon.| He bowed his head addressing them both before taking his leave.

He unintentionally physically banged his helm against his husband’s at the memory of his embarrassment, groaning in partial dismay whilst scrunching his eyes closed. The clash of metal resonated within the room's silence, its ringing faded slowly. Had it been any other Elite, any of the humans aboard, literally anyone else, he wouldn’t have been as affected, but it had to have been the Shipmaster Rtas ‘Vadum. John’s silence screamed utter confusion.

“Thel? Are you still injured?” the question voiced out of genuine concern.

“Only my dignity,” Arbiter replied, staring at the olive green color like it had greatly offended him.

“I thought you’d have moved on from that part at this point, Thel,” Cortana teased through the private comms.

“You’ve lived through worse,” his husband remarks amused by his dramatics. Chief firmly pats the center of Thel’s chest to bring him comfort and reassurance.

“I have and there may be many more to live through,” he stated, raising his head, “and I was not referring to my demotion, Cortana.”

“Neither was I,” her voice held a perceptive edge.

“Anyone plan on filling me in?” John input by tone alone he knew he was raising a brow with his inquiry.

“ N o, ” they both responded simultaneously. Arbiter wanted no part in reminding his husband of such humiliation lest he encourage the manifestation of a similar situation to occur. He did not wish to be asked the intimate questions that would follow Miranda’s curiosity, especially if the catalyst for said curiosity was accidental. He held nothing against the Commander’s questions, they merely required a line that should not be crossed out of respect. Although, with the insight of how his and Chief’s spars against one another tended to end, he held no doubt Commander Keyes would have questions. Said insight prompted Thel look back down at his husband, taking one step back whilst using his free hand to hook a finger underneath the secured green helmet. Coercing John to look up at him.

“John,” Arbiter glared pointedly at the unseen eyes beneath the gold.

“Thel?” Chief replied, voice calm and steady.

“Behave yourself in front of the others,” he commanded, understanding his spouse could become overly “fervent” during specific circumstances. Sparring with one another after a prolonged period of non-action outside of cryo was one of them.

“I will–” the hand intertwined with own, escaped his grasp to firmly grip his wrist and pull down. Forcing Thel to bend forward into the spartan’s space, to stand lower, allowing John to look down at him and for the sangheili to look up at his husband, “if you do the same, beloved .”

A deep guttural growl escaped the Arbiter, he ripped his wrist from Master Chief’s loosened hold and lifted him up by his torso without struggle in the blink of second. He slammed him into the nearest wall, hearing the cracking and breaking that emitted on impact. Pinning his husband with a thigh shove between his legs. He wasn’t angry, no, not at all. Thel was excited and a bit flushed if the growing heat beneath his scales was any indication. His husband held onto him by his arms, a leg hooking itself over his hip. His growl quieted to a rumble. John rarely spoke sangheili unless with a purpose. Given the current circumstances, now was not the most ideal of situations to go through with anything involving the category of options roaming his mind so, he compromised. He would only give into a nibble. Leaning heavily into his partner, burying his face in between the man’s chest plate and throat. Continuing his rumbling, mandibles parting to drag his teeth vigorously across the surface of the under suit, inspiring a small nearly silent gasp to emerge from above him. One of John’s hands had quickly grasped onto his trapezius, desperately so. He stopped, the world deafened to him. It was serene. The silence, excluding his rumbling, was pleasant and straining his hearing enough he swore he could discern the muted hesitant breaths from the spartan.

“You two ready to get going–!” Miranda's voice startled him. They both looked toward the now open door with a singular figure standing there frozen. Before either party could speak up to give some explanation, the Commander covered her face. “I’m so sorry, I’ll wait outside!” Came a muffled shout as she bolted back out the entrance, the door closing behind her automatically.

“Amazing. Fantastic. Stupendous even! You both are increasingly more terrible behaving appropriately around one another than usual,” Cortana states bluntly.

“That is most apparent, Cortana,” Arbiter responded, setting Chief down. His hands lingered over the gel suit and armor for a small eternity. He made a two foot distance between himself and John.

“We need to get a move on,” Chief stated, making little to no absolute attempt to move from his current position.

“Indeed, after you,” he replied, nodding to the door.

“No. You’re staying in my sights, Arbiter,” John had replied in a matter-of-fact tone whilst jerking his head sharply to the same entrance.

He hummed amused and shook slightly holding back a laugh that threatened to escape his throat, “Very well. As you wish, John.”

“Need I remind you both, of the hard fact that you are MARRIED?” Cortana deadpanned.

“No.”

“We have not forgotten.”

“Really? Because it looks like you two keep failing to remember that,” she quips and still neither had moved even an inch. She wondered how the two still worked so well in the battlefield while remaining focused, just for that very same sharpness to crumble outside combat, “One of you better start moving in three seconds or so help me–”

Arbiter as agreed took lead, certain Chief followed slightly behind. Miranda was more composed than when she had bolted out the entrance, not the slightest mention or hinted question of the prior events she had partially witnessed. Logically, the cause of her suppression of such curiosity was likely for their current lack of privacy in such a public area. He was sure he would receive pointed questions of certain mechanisms for how such intimacy worked between the two. To manage the distinct and complex differences and few similarities each held anatomically, a conversation he frankly was not looking forward to. For science, he would be answering strictly for the science of it all, or so he would tell himself when he needed to cross that bridge. It would not be the first time he told another, though he’d had the shield of vagueness during such a telling. The commander would push him for particular details, some obvious and others less so. A concern for his future self, his present could remain in the bliss of ignorance; denial for the remainder of the time they had in store today in this warped timeline. He did not look forward to the pile of problems that would need to be dealt with when they returned to their own reality, but he would reclaim the mantle of his responsibilities as Kaidon without hesitation. He only hoped his disappearance would not hinder his reputation in the eyes of the other allied Kaidons, he required and needed the support of their keeps. All out civil war could not come to pass, it would decimate the Sangheili as a whole; destroy his people.

He was taken from his thoughts by the brush of a hand, light yet noticeable. Heavy reassuring footsteps beside him, he glanced in the direction. His vision was met with green, his husband walking equally next to him. A soft tapping began on the back of his hand and if remembered correctly, it was the morse code he had learned mostly from Chief. The taps formed a singular word ‘S-O-L-I-D’. That particular word had a specific meaning between human soldiers. He was still learning how to exactly reply in morse code. His answer was crudely what he wanted it to be; partially misspelled with a few letters off kilter. His thoughts were solidified when Chief’s shoulders had quivered for a consistent minute, surely holding back a laugh. He switched to a tactic he had more expertise using, the hand gestures modified and taught to him by his husband all those years ago.

[“I am glad you find my struggle amusing.”] Thel was subtly smiling but the softness reflected in his eyes betrayed him.

[“You are the cause of my joy. Not your struggle.”] John signs back.

[“And I believed myself to be the romantic fool. Yet, here you are robbing me of that title.”] A familiar feeling, like that of sun rays bathing his scales on a cold day, spreads through him from the inside out.

[“It is a shared title. Like our shared namesake. We are both fools in such a department.”] 

[“I’m sure Cortana agrees with you wholly on that part.”]

“You taught him sign language? And modified it for his use,” Miranda had caught easy sight of their exchange. She had turned around to approach the spartan, pausing them in this corridor. Although Chief dwarfed all regular humans he came across, Arbiter thought he especially made her look even smaller than even their own Commander Keyes.

“Yes,” Chief responded, marking the first time he has ever truly spoken a word to this world’s Miranda.

“For what reason?” She asks, innocent curiosity.

“Why not?” His husband responded, the slight tone shift revealing the defensiveness lying beneath. Arbiter doubted she’d caught wind of the little signs he’d learned after years spent at Chief’s side. He hoped the Commander spoke her next words wisely, wishing John to have at least one person in this damn base on good actual speaking terms in his metaphorical book. The other John didn’t count, he could estimate that eighty percent of those little conversations were just to find a punching bag in the other spartan whilst the remaining twenty percent were legitimate good intentions. He lacked the sight to see wholly why his spouse avoided conversation with the Spartans of this world; with anyone of this world. 

“W–What prompted you to teach Thel sign language or when did you start teaching him? Was it for tactical or precautionary reasons?” Miranda asked again, she had pulled out a data pad from her person.

Chief turned to look at Arbiter and he could feel the questioning look he was certainly giving him. He was sure Cortana was communicating whatever she needed or wanted to say as his husband turned back to Miranda and answered, “During the war, I felt it was necessary. We would not always have the leisure to speak behind enemy lines.”

“So, precautionary. Was there any reason?” She asked, writing something down with her index finger.

“He is my husband, Commander. Guess,” Chief crossed his arms looking down at her, not beating around the proverbial bush. “If not, he’s right here,” his husband pats his tricep and keeps his hand placed there afterwards. “And if not him, Cortana’s available.”

“Don’t drag me into this,” Cortana appeared long enough to respond for all to hear and then just as quickly left.

“My point stands,” he replied unfazed.

“Everyone has differing viewpoints; different perspectives of the same events. I’ve only been getting one side of the story from Thel, but I’ve not had the chance to hear your own,” she explained, looking up at him with a gentle smile.

“It won’t be entertaining,” John stated.

“You’d be surprised by what she finds entertaining,” Arbiter felt the pressure of Chief’s fingertips grow when the vizor landed on him, before letting go of his arm entirely. He smiled looking over at him from the corner of his eye. 

His husband sighed, shaking his head before looking back at Miranda, “A story for later, Commander.”

The Commander beamed at his words, putting away her data pad. “Deal. Now come on, we’ll probably be late.”

“By my estimations, given our chosen route and if we pick up the pace just enough, we’ll be there three minutes late. Give or take forty-five seconds. Thirty seconds past the due time if you run through the halls,” Cortana voiced, reappearing holographically.

“I think we can do better. What do you think, John?” He looked at his husband.

“I know we can do better. How about a race, Thel?” Chief suggested.

“Hm, a risky, reckless and ill-advised course of action. The odds are favorable. Very well,” He responded, aware of the unprofessional status of this decision, but he was not on duty and he would still be careful of his surroundings. He also needed to stretch his legs and so did John. There was a human phrase for this, ‘No harm, No fowl.’

“Woah! Wait, Arbiter can’t be seen running through the halls. Someone might panic and I can’t run as fast as either of you. Let’s walk,” Miranda interjected, waving her hands in a no pattern.

“There’s a loophole, Commander Keyes. You’ll have fun, just think of it like a rollercoaster. A Spartan Rollercoaster,” Cortana grinned, she tapped Thel’s armor just for show before activating his cloaking, “John, you carry her.”

“Wha– Wait–!” Chief had, politely and quickly as possible, picked up the Commander.

“On your marks. GO!” The AI blinks out of view and Thel already had a head start.

“I WA SN ’T R EA DY !! AHHHHH!!!! ” Miranda screams.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~2552 A.D. Human-Covenant War still ongoing, Planet: Reach, UNSC HQ~

[Silver Timeline p.o.v]

For some odd reason, today of all days. This particular marine, Nelson, on surveillance duty had the luck of witnessing through the screens of her watch area, a spartan taking off through the hallways at full speed. Said spartan had been carrying the one and only Commander Keyes in his arms whilst doing so. She’d also caught a glimpse of a shimmer passing every time before she saw the pair appear on the cams. Nelson couldn’t decide whether to report this to her superiors or allow the Commander, who appeared to be having fun, to simply have a free pass. The pair had avoided the more crowded corridors and weren’t harming anyone by the looks of it. Perhaps, Commander Keyes wished to arrive at a destination more quickly and asked the Spartan for a favor. The marine thought of how lucky the Commander was to be able to ask this super soldier for a quick transport through the halls, a bit envious, it looked fun. At one point, the Commander even lifted her arm, grinning from ear to ear. She would compare the reaction to that of someone on a theme park ride; terrified yet overjoyed. The pair was taking a route that led to the outside of the base’s building, likely headed to the flight line near the hangar. It was funny really, they’d seen some of the other spartans also heading in that direction as well, Petty Officer Kai-125 escorting some woman, and the Master Chief. The spartans were probably planning to ‘secretly’ spar and invited the Commander to be the referee or something like that. The marine would let this slide, she didn’t give a fuck about what fight club shenanigans these fuckers were up to. She just wanted to sleep, plus paper work to report that shit fucking sucks.

Now that Nelson thought about it, that spartan carrying Commander Keyes looked very similar to the Master Chief. Then again, most Spartan armor defaulted to that design, but there were no other spartans currently assigned to this base besides Silver Team. Was it the rogue they’d found and brought back from Eridanus-II during the surprise Covenant attack? She’d heard rumors from the other marines that the rogue was mute since he never spoke to anyone. Others said he just didn’t want to talk to anyone unless required, saying that they've heard him speak when spoken to by a superior. One particular marine, Hernandez, said she heard him reply to one of the medics in the medical wing. She had described his voice as cold, heavy, and old, older than the other spartans with certainty. Many marines were speculating that this spartan, the rogue, was not human in any form unlike Silver team. The rogue was never seen eating, never seen without his helmet, but that was some bullshit. A medic had seen the man’s face during the incident that had him ending up in the medical wing in the first place. The medic had claimed that he looked similar to the Master Chief, only paler, much paler, older too, with blue eyes like steel that could probably kill anyone with just a glare alone. Some theorize that he could be the Master Chief’s older brother. Two peculiar marines, Lansky and Hotchner, claimed that they had seen the rogue kick Master Chief’s ass like he was nothing. The insane part wasn’t that, no, it was that the pair of idiots also claimed that the rogue would walk around base holding hands with the Silver Elite they had in custody. Even going as far as hugging. What spartan in their right damn mind ever thinks of canoodling with the enemy? A dumbass fucking spartan for sure and a very dead as hell one too. 

Nelson needed to start ignoring such gossip, it’d drive her insane how dumb and gullible some marines could be and how devious few of them really were. An Elite and Spartan? What a load of shit. Next thing that’ll happen is that Master Chief him fucking self either screws the spy/refugee or marries a high ranking and prominent Elite for a peace treaty with the Covanent. 

“Thank you, Lansky. Thank you, Hotchner. You fuckers got me thinking of some stupid shit, too. I’m losing my damn mind,” she whispered quietly and angrily to herself. She sighed heavily, dragging her hands down over her face, “At least my shift is over in thirty minutes.”

Chapter Text

(Silver Timeline)

~2552 A.D. Human-Covenant War still ongoing, Planet: Reach, UNSC HQ~

[Silver Timeline p.o.v]

John had debated for the remaining time whether he would join the others. Knowing Vannak and Riz, they would be the first to arrive at the rendezvous. Kai was eager to push herself after her recovery, although he blamed that eagerness mostly on the absence of her own pellet. She’d been pulling shenanigans left and right since she removed it, then again so had he, but his actions had led to the discovery of the second “key” stone. Two keys that led to the halo, well, halos if there was even more than one in their own timeline. Two branches can stem from the same tree trunk, doesn’t mean the branches will be identical or even be remotely similar.  Miranda had allowed him the privy to some knowledge shared to her by the sangheili. Mainly, in the other’s world, all humans possessed access to “Forerunner” tech. What even is a forerunner? Thinking it over, having the Commander around meant the Arbiter would also be around. The two had basically been joint at the hip; hip-to-shoulder by technicality of height. The silver elite towered over all of them, but not much of an outlier when it came to other elites they’ve faced before.

John was staring at his own gold tinted reflection, his helm feeling heavier than it should have within his hands. The weight of his armor upon his shoulders once more, fastened and secured around him like a shell. Time for the final decision was almost up. John took a deep breath, held it in, then sighed. He stood locking his helmet in place, walking out the door into the corridor. This would be a great exercise for his team. Hopefully, great practice for himself as well, to learn from an older version of himself, who is clearly better at combat and regulating his emotions. John blames the last part on the other pellet's continued residency within the spartan’s body, but even with that fact the man continued to show emotion and preferences. The most prominent example of this was himself and the numerous metaphorical and literal kicking of his own ass. Who knew he’d turn out to be his own worst enemy in a physical sense. Not to mention, the man could still taste the flavor of food somehow. Returning to reality, John noticed the corridors never seemed to be empty of people, at least the mainly used ones, faces passed by, voices faded in and out, and the walls all looked the same here. He never took into account how plain and boring the place actually looked. Even when filled with people, the hallways felt empty; desolate. Different shades of gray, rarely any color besides red, orange and white for the painted words or warnings on walls for precarious or restricted areas. Everything outside the base held color and life. It was beautiful.

|And they ran among the broad Margolia trees, and the sun danced on the leaves.| Makee recites gaze glancing all around the park. He noticed a faint smile across her lips.

John furrowed his brow and physically recoiled, stopping in his tracks. A scientist unaware of her surroundings had bumped into the backside of his armor. She had said something to him whilst swerving around him to continue on. The words had been lost to him, gone unheard. His mind had been preoccupied with more important matters. Question after question passed around through his thoughts, looking and searching for an answer to a why. Why had Makee crossed his mind unprompted? Why did she appear in that context? In the warm light and almost soft sunshine. Everything in the image, blurry and fuzzy except for her, focussing on her face, on her faint smile, her words overshadowing every other sound. More images passed through of her, of each smile he had witnessed that day. 

‘Chief?’ Cortana’s voice jolted him, dragging his wandering mind back into his body.

“Does this mean you’re done with the silent treatment?” John replied. Cortana had been uncharacteristically quiet from the little time he’s known her. Especially, since she loved to cut in her opinion when he did not ask for it.

‘I was not giving you the silent treatment. I was busy–’

“You, busy? That’s new,” he scoffed and almost dryly laughed. The statement felt so out of the question. The last he had spoken with her, she had asked what she could possibly do as if there had been nothing for her to do. Apparently, she had been “busy” the entire time?

‘Nothing of your concern. Why did you freeze like that?’ She quickly added. Her holographic image appears and follows beside him.

“Nothing of your concern,” he responded. Was it childish? Yes. Did he care at the current moment? Nope. Not even a little.

‘Chief, I can help. But only if you let me,’ she replies, almost pleading.

“I don’t need your help, Cortana,” he quietly snaps.

‘I wonder if the other you was this stubborn with the other Cortana in the beginning too?’ The AI throws the statement into the ether, asked to no one in particular. Shaking her head and crossing her arms with a roll of her eyes. She was frustrated with him, good, he didn’t like this predicament either.

“I wonder if his Cortana was as insufferable as you,” he verbally jabs.

‘Real rich coming from you,’ she throws back, crossing her arms.

“First chance I get. I’m ripping you out of my head,” he spoke sharply; seething.

‘I only want to help you,’ Cortana states.

“Why? Why do you care so damn much?” John pauses again to look down at her blue projection.

‘Because that’s how a team is supposed to work. That’s what partners do,’ the AI replies, eyes crestfallen. The sight reminded him of the feelings he had felt when he had to kill his pet all those years ago as a child. It made his heart ache with a sense of… guilt. Looking away, he shook his head. He mulled it over in his head, choosing his next words.

“We aren’t–…” he didn’t want or need a babysitter, why couldn’t any other spartan be chosen for this shit. Why him? Because I fucked up. I stepped out of line and they don’t trust me anymore .

‘That’s not why, at least for the most part,’ she answered.

“Can you not,” John sighed, frustrated.

‘Sorry.’

“No...I’m sorry, Cortana. You’re right. We’re stuck together, unfortunately, might as well try to make the most of it, for sanity’s sake,” His gaze returned to her and she seemed to glow brighter than anytime before. Was– Was she smiling? He raised a brow, wondering if she’d lost a line of code to change moods so quickly or maybe she finally broke, “Don’t look at me like that.”

‘So, feel like telling me why you froze like that?’ She was grinning, standing straighter with her arms folded behind her back.

“One step at a time,” John chided gently.

‘Alright, John,’ Cortana nodded and her projection faded. ‘I’m still here, by the way.’

“Hooray,” he says unenthusiastically, but couldn’t hold back the genuine chuckle that escaped him.

He continued his route to the rendezvous, acknowledging the marines and staff that noticed and greeted him along the way. Soon enough the walls expanded and the ceiling raised, a hint that his destination was nearing. John just needed to– he heard a voice screaming, muffled slightly by distance before the sound of rapid foot falls. He turned around in time to see a slight shimmer in the peripheral of his vision slip away, right as his eyes landed on green mixed with dark gray. His counterpart was carrying Commander Miranda Keyes. John stepped aside, noticing a nod from Chief as he regarded him for a split second, watching them zip past him. He stared after them for a moment. He sighed, mentally preparing himself even more. That shimmer was him, wasn’t it? He hoped the elite was not as resenting as his spartan partner.

A feeling hit right through him seemingly from nowhere, like he had been consumed in flames and yet they didn’t burn. Instead, all he felt was the warmth, comforting and addicting warmth. An overwhelming joy. A name echoed through his mind as the cause. He heard it so clearly only for it to be muffled and twisted to something unintelligible. A face linked to it. He could only really make out the eyes. Yellow eyes that shone gold in the sunlight, looking down at him with a tenderness he has never truly known. As soon as the feeling had come, it was gone. It took with it the image in his mind, all except for the eyes. Why did this keep happening?

~~~~~~~~~

The sound of her heartbeat drowning out every other sound whilst it tried to burst through her ribs. The jelly-like feeling of her arms and legs, her knees had buckled when she’d been put on her own two feet again. She was trembling, shaking as the adrenaline ran its course through her system. Miranda was on all fours reacquainting herself with the concrete beneath her palms. From her peripherals, she could see two figures kneeling beside her, one on each side. The duo were giving her space, but stayed near enough in case of anything. She let go of all strength, a hundred percent laying down on the concrete.

“I– I think–...I left— I left my stomach back there,” Miranda stated breathily. She heard a certain AI chuckle.

“That’s one way of putting it.” A hand gently patted her on the back.

With a bit of self-motivation, she lifted her head up. Seeing a pair of dark gray sabatons with the smallest hint of teal highlights when she had been expecting a solely olive green pair. The Commander glances higher, locking eyes with baby blues instead of a golden visor. Brows raised with concern and a kind smile. Streaks of red gun grease in dirty blonde hair. She could have sworn it was cold out here a moment ago, and suddenly now it’s too damn warm.

“Are you alright, Ma’am?” Kai asked, extending her hand palm up.

“Wha– Yeah, I’m fine!” Even with the slight feeling of shame and the burning of her cheeks, she accepts the spartan’s offered hand. The Petty Officer helping her up with ease didn’t help quell the storm brewing in her chest, adrenaline spiking again from no perceivable danger or it was perhaps excitement. 

“Good, the three of you were almost late,” the marksman took two steps back, giving Miranda breathing room, she greatly appreciated the action for more than one reason.

“The rest of you were just early,” she replied, shaking her hands to rid herself of the jitters.

“And probably not as distracted,” Cortana states, giving a pointed look at her Chief and Arbiter. She held a slight smile with a knowing look in her eye. Chief had little to no visible reaction besides the subtle twitch of his index finger. Thel on the other hand immediately looked away as well as turning away physically to the side. Miranda wanted the concrete to swallow her whole for a couple hours after remembering the little glimpse she’d caught by total accident. Still her own fault and nothing had really actually occurred, but the signs had all been there! The position she’d caught them was proof of that. The scientist part of her was intrigued and wanted to learn and know more about the complexity and intricate ways of interspecies pairing, but the other part of herself felt nothing other than overwhelming embarrassment; shame. Utter shame.

Kai asked, “Distracted? What do you mean–”

“Please, don’t ask any further,” Miranda cut her off at the end.

A perplexed intrigue crossed the features of silver team’s marksman. A silent question.

“It appears one more will be joining us,” Arbiter stated, his tone held no annoyance, not even malice, but not joy nor gladness either. His posture was relaxed, unfazed by the new presence. Though his eyes told otherwise, there was uneasiness in them. He looked disturbed, unsettled. 

Miranda looked around the pair to see silver team’s John-117 approaching, fully suited up. Were it not for the different conditions of their armor and conflicting team sigils, they’d both look identical. She looked back at the pair and caught a glimpse of Chief lightly tapping the back of Thel’s hand. The commander couldn’t discern the word, or words, that had been passed to the other since she’d only caught a few taps, which could mean anything without the rest of the taps for context. Though the last few taps had looked familiar.

“Look who finally decided to show up,” Vannak called out.

“Wasn’t planning to,” John responded.

“Doesn’t change the fact that even the Commander, look-alike, and squid head beat you to being on time, Chief,” silver team's second in command threw back, the hint of a smile in his voice. Perhaps, he was poking fun.

“I know, I saw,” he replied.

Keyes pulled out her tablet and opened her tabs in preparation for the analysis and notes on the Arbiter and Chief’s hand to hand combatant capabilities in comparison to Silver team. She’d eventually report these to the higher ups, and deal with the consequences then. Better to ask for forgiveness than permission. The unfortunate influence of her own world’s John-117 and… her own mother to some degree. Though asking for forgiveness was not a characteristic of Doctor Catherine Halsey, and she fears it never will be. She closed her eyes, took a breath and sighed. When she looked up again, the spartans were all huddled in a somewhat small circle. Although, Chief kept himself farther outside the circle, looking like an outlier. Scanning for Thel, she noticed he was giving Makee some company. The refugee seemed to only be comfortable being near or conversing with John and Thel. Even with Makee’s small explanation, Miranda still found it odd how she looked completely unalert in the presence of a sangheili after the covenant kidnapped her as a child. Not even a flicker of fear or caution. It unsettled the commander, something didn’t feel right here. Whatever it was, it gnawed at Miranda, almost as if mocking her, taunting her. Feeling plain obvious, but she is too blind to see it right in her face.

“Commander, we don’t have all day,” Riz stated, pulling her from her thoughts.

“Right, sorry! First match is up for grabs. Who’s volunteering?” She asked, looking around.

“I’m in need of some practice, been on the side lines too long if you ask me,” Kai stepped forward, locking her helmet in place as it pressurized. She started cracking her knuckles,  rotating her shoulders and head.

“Ladies first,” Vannak looked at Riz, gesturing for the communications specialists to step forward with a tilt of his head and flick of his hand. They both had their helmets equipped.

“Right,” Riz had turned her head, vizor pointed at Vannak. A moment passed before she shoved the other’s hand down, stepping forward. She could’ve sworn she heard a small chuckle from silver team’s 2ic.

“The mat’s ready?” Miranda quieres.

“Affirmative, in position and ready for use,” Vannak answered.

“Alright, Riz, Kai, take your positions,” Keyes took her own post near the middle of the perimeter on the long side. Far enough away to not accidentally end up in the crossfire and near enough to catch any noteworthy details during Jo–Chief and Thel’s turns. Getting to actually witness John and Chief trade fists would be amazing for comparison in skill. One of them is a veteran of this war. What Miranda is truly curious about is how the spar between Arbiter and Chief will go, who’ll win, how and why the victor of the two won. “Three rounds, the most rounds won is the victor.”

“I’ll go easy on you in the first round, Kai,” Riz spoke, taking her stance.

“Would appreciate it if you did the exact opposite,” Kai replied, a playful smile heard forming with her voice. 

“I think I’d rather not send you back to the infirmary,” there was a hint of genuine concern subtly in the communications officer's voice.

“And I think you’ve been spending too much time with Vannak,” she poked, earning a little laugh from Riz.

“You two done chit chatting?” Previously mentioned spartan stated with impatience at the edges of his tone.

“You said ladies first,” Kai retorted, breaking her stance and placing her hands over her hips whilst looking directly at Vannak.

“I’m starting to think it was a mistake,” Vannak responded.

“That’s definitely a first for you,” Riz said.

“Enough. All three of you. 0-2-8. 1-2-5. Commence when ready,” John interjected, he’d at one point had moved to stand next to Makee. The refugee had attached herself to Arbiter’s shadow. A feeling akin to sandpaper rubbing against skin, reeled its ugly head whenever Miranda saw how unfazed and even comfortably relaxed Makee seemed anytime she was near the Sangheili. How could this be the same woman who had been kidnapped by the Covenant as a child and escaped from them injured? A major piece of this jigsaw puzzle that was Makee’s story was missing and it was just becoming more profusely difficult to ignore as time passed. She knew this was a little hypocritical considering her own behavior, but she had been seeing Arbiter on the regular for days. Makee rarely had contact with anyone outside of John. She’d only recently even met with Thel and even that interaction had been cut short! Perhaps this was just paranoia, a trauma response from interaction with Doctor Catherine Halsey and the Commander was making something out of nothing. All because of what… friendship jealousy? Although, this particular feeling didn’t feel like a childish reaction, more like a word of caution. A warning flare shot in pitch darkness before an ensuing battle. A calm before the storm. A shout broke her out of her thoughts.

“And who got knocked on their ass, Riz?” Kai exclaimed.

“I di–” Riz, who was currently laying on her back on the bare concrete instead of the mat, had her answer cut short.

“You did!” Kai cheered, helping her back up. The teal vizor landed pointedly on Miranda, as if searching; waiting.

Miranda gave her a thumbs up with a smile, happy for the Petty Officer and sad she had been so lost in her head she hadn’t even written a single note down or seen the first round transpire. The commander quickly scribbled a tally that was then transfigured into more rigid and neat shapes. Round two between Kai and Riz began soon after. They circled each other looking for an opening in either’s defenses. Riz lunged first, a quick jab that Kai had easily blocked only to be met with an underhanded blow to her middle. She curled inward slightly, and it seemed some minor things were still out of order internally for her. A kick to the head and a follow up smack to the same spot had her stumbling. A barrage of fists thrown her way and elbow to her backside only forced her to land on her knee. Another hit to the back of the teal visored helmet has the commander flinching when it makes contact with the mat with a loud smack. The spartan plastered on the surface. Miranda hinged on every second, silently hoping for Kai to get up. Riz rolled the other over onto her side with a push of her foot.

“Riz–” Kai was unable to finish due to said Spartan sending her flying off the mat with a singular final kick. 0-2-8 won the second round.

“One to One, Kai,” Riz announced.

Kai stood up slowly, dusting herself off. She had flown and rolled quite a length away.

“The point of the mat was to prevent collateral damage,” Vannak scoffed.

“I barely even left a scratch,” Kai groaned as she stretched, walking back.

“Bullshit,” Vannak retorted, nodding his head to the clear debris with various sized patches missing concrete along the path Kai had taken when she went on an unscheduled flight.

“The damage was minor, an easy fix for later,” John stated.

“Whatever you say, Chief,” Vannak said.

The final round between Riz and Kai had been surprisingly even. Short, but even nonetheless. Both had taken up cautious and defensive stances, not a single move made at first while they circled one another. Riz had been the first to take offense again, Kai remaining defensive. For a moment, it looked like the red visored spartan had the advantage and would win this easily, that was until Kai finally moved to offense herself. The teal visored spartan in the end threw Riz out of bounds, thus winning the match. Kai moved off the mat.

“Stage is up for grabs,” she smiled.

“Chief still owes me a spar,” Vannak voiced whilst approaching Riz.

“I owe you what now?” John spoke up, baffled.

“Not– not you, Chief. The other– Man, I hate this already,” he expressed with a sigh.

“Sierra,” Chief declared, moving onto the mat with the 2IC.

“Pardon?” Both Vannak and John responded, bewildered.

“My call sign is Sierra-117. It’ll be less confusing to refer to me as such when John’s here,” Chief took up his position on his designated side of the mat.

“Huh, so you’re the one forfeiting your name for the time being?” Miranda inquired, he’d so willingly given up something that made up his identity. A piece that is an integral to said identity. 

“John has home field advantage in the name department,” Cortana replied.

“When did you even find out about that?” John questioned his second in command.

“Kai.” Both the 2IC and Communications specialist answered in nonchalant unison. Vannak helped Riz onto her feet.

“Of course,” John looked at the teal highlighted spartan with a deep sigh.

Saying that Chief’s extra experience didn’t clearly make itself known in the various spars that occurred was a bold lie. He wasn’t invincible, losing a round here and there, but the advantage was there. Vannak and Chief’s match had taken the longest, both had been determined and unyielding. A highlight of the match, Chief suplexing Vannak out of bounds of the mat. Unfortunately, it had left a dent in the ground. During the spar involving Kai, Miranda wondered if anyone else had noticed the thought and effort Chief had put into avoiding particular areas that would still be sensitive from healing. He still won, but it was impressive how he went somewhat soft with her and yet still gave her a challenging time. Riz had managed to get through Chief’s defenses without having to be as aggressive as Vannak, though that small victory had been short lived. Chief adapted depending on his opponent almost seamlessly. So, when he finally ended up matched against John; this world’s Chief. Miranda was excited to see how it would turn out. To her surprise, the start of the spar had been severely one-sided between the Chiefs. The elder had been basically giving John a, at an unforgiving pace, beat down. She had flinched a couple times during the whole spar, not being able to handle some points of it. To see their John-117’s ass handed to him like it was nothing. All the while, Chief– well Sierra-117– no, Chief advising him on what things to improve or try differently with each blow and knock down. Chief had not done the same with the others. Even when the three rounds had been finished, Chief kept pushing John. Thel had almost stepped up to intervene, but Chief assured them with a hand gesture and a few words that he only wanted to give John some more pointers. By the end of it, Chief had patted John on the back after helping him onto his feet, no other words exchanged as he stepped off the mat.

Kai had been the first, undaunted, to invite the Arbiter for a spar. This would be the first time Miranda would get to see Thel fight. Since the two Chiefs had clearly different fighting styles and level of skill, she wondered if Thel would fight different from the Sangheili of this timeline. Seeing them spar had encouraged the others to take up a spar with the Sangheili as well. Chief had been seemingly taking a little break after back to back spars with everyone. Almost everyone. The Arbiter had a certain grace to his fighting style, each move made thoughtfully yet quick and precise. He’d probably be good at playing chess. Did he know what chess is? Do Sangheili have an equivalent to chess? Miranda had written an unrelated side note to ask Thel about it later. Arbiter had seemingly earned a modicum of begrudging respect from Vannak, if the spartan’s actions and body language were anything to go by. Though Silver team’s second in command still verbally had an aversion to the Elite. Riz had been more difficult to read, with not much of a reaction to go by to make any assumptions. Kai looked like she had been having fun regardless of the score, even attempting to hive five–four Thel at the end. He had reciprocated the gesture after a moment of confused hesitation. 

When John had stepped up, it had caused a subtle, blink and miss it, reaction from the Arbiter. There was an uncertainty in the elite’s eyes as they had gazed at John for a split moment. The yellow eyes had looked away in a particular direction, following the line of sight, Miranda’s eyes landed on Chief a little ways behind everyone. His helm tilted in a sharp nod. A silent reassurance, perhaps? The Commander’s conclusion was somewhat, but certainly not entirely, confirmed when the realization finally hit her metaphorically in the face. The nod hadn’t been a consenting gesture, but rather a direction. For the Arbiter to look a little further down.

[“I love you.”] A delicately hidden sign he was making with a singular hand. It looked like a rockstar hand sign except the thumb wasn’t folded over the middle curled ones, but rather jutted outward from the palm. The thumb paired with the index finger created the shape of an ‘L’. Returning her sight to Thel, she saw the immediate relief and smile reflected in those golden orbs as they looked back at his opponent with a now steely gaze. The whiplash of this whole moment happening so quickly in a matter of seconds was a lot to process and she almost ruined it with a squeal that had been caught in her throat as she bit her tongue. She used her tablet to attempt to hide the surprised joy clearly plastered on her face. The fact the data pad is transparent had entirely left her brain since the start of the sparring session in general, although this had only worsened that effect.

During John and Arbiter’s spar, it had been apparent that John was actually taking into account and using some of the advice Chief had given him. At first, the only thing the Arbiter did was dodge and redirect hit after hit John had attempted. There had been a fluidity in the elite's motions; an elegance. Proving without a doubt that if he had chosen to fight back in the battlefield on Eridanus II, John would have had a difficult time landing a strike that passed his defenses. Likely, he wouldn’t have even gotten his hands on the energy sword that had been on Arbiter’s hip in the first place. Even as the spar became as one-sided as it had been with Chief when the elite took the offensive, Arbiter had been more forgiving and merciful in his tactics. Thel’s style of fighting is different from the elites she’s seen before, though, she would probably pin that to his high status. Those she’d witnessed in the records were most likely only foot soldiers, low ranking in the hierarchy by the clear dull colors of their armor. 

Miranda took notice of a difference in John’s behavior, he didn’t have the same look in his eyes anymore, the coldness and distrust was gone. His eyes held a sense of deja vu hidden in them, recognition with the answer out of reach. His attitude at the end of the match had caught her off guard as much as it had the Arbiter. Thel had of course won the spar and offered a hand to help John to stand and he had accepted the offer of assistance. But that had not been the unexpected course of action, no, it had been the nonchalant manner that John had, seemingly without a thought in his thick skull, patted Arbiter’s chest armor whilst thanking him and walking off the mat. Thel had remained confused and stunned for a couple long seconds, she didn’t blame him. The whole sentiment of the action was a complete one-eighty degree angle from previous interactions with John that Miranda had witnessed between the two. It felt completely out of left field. What could have possibly caused such a character development in the spartan?

Chief marched onto the mat, chose his starting side, rolled his head side to side, and cracked his knuckles. Arbiter looked amused, returning to his own start point, and Miranda swore she heard a chuckle from the elite. Cortana, the pair’s AI companion, appeared and gave both the spartan and elite pointed looks, saying something indiscernible to Miranda from this distance. In a flicker, she was gone again. They took their stances and the first round had begun. The commander had been surprised by the sudden warcry from the sangheili, it was not threatening in the slightest rather joyous, delighted, and exuberant. Arbiter was overjoyed to spar with Master Chief. They were engaged in combat, yet, they had an essence of a dance between the two. Miranda saw the way Thel’s eyes were purely locked onto Chief’s gold visor, hyper focused, and it didn’t affect his abilities in the slightest. Like they had done this so many times before and reveled in it. They were equals, neither greater than the other or lower, an equilibrium. Chief had won the first round and Arbiter the second.

“Let’s make this more interesting for them,” Chief said, he took the energy sword from his hip and split it in half. Proceeding to toss the other half to the sangheili.

“Very well,” Arbiter responded, lighting his half of the blade. A single wrong movement could have this day end in pure disaster, though neither looked worried. Had they sparred with live energy swords before with the exception of those actually being whole? From the corner of her eye, Miranda saw the troubled expression Makee’s face had made with the activation of the blades.

“Woah! Are you two sure about using those?” Vannak asked.

“You can split it in half?! That’s amazing!” Kai exclaimed.

“What the hell are you two doing?!?!” John shouted, as if questioning their sanity.

“Sparring,” Chief answered and the final round began.

The Commander’s heart almost stopped as the blades clashed against one another, the grasp she held on the edges of her data pad tightened with each parry struck. The pair continued on as if the added weapons made no difference at all. Thel even looked like he was enjoying every moment of the fight. She ordered the rest not to interfere, praying that the married couple knew what they were doing. Neither seemed to be able to gain the upper hand on the other, both looking for an opening, an opportunity that had not yet presented itself. An impasse, they needed a tiebreaker and Arbiter brought it upon himself to make one. The elite managed to knock the spartan on his ass. Chief attempted to put distance between the two, but ended up pinned down to the mat by the silver chrome armored opponent. Arbiter had pointed the long side of  his blade’s edge at the spartan’s throat, he would have won if Chief hadn’t also had his blade to Thel’s throat. They’d ended up in a draw. The ten seconds that passed between the two felt eternal, they both deactivated their blades. The sangheili moved off the human and stood, offering an assist. Chief took the offered hand without hesitation, their chest plates bumped together, and standing very close in each other’s personal bubbles. Looking more closely, there was a tenderness reflected in Arbiter’s eyes. Then, they separated, Thel returning his half of the sword to the human. Chief patted Arbiter’s chest plate. They moved off the mat. Their little event was over, Chief received congratulations and praise and Arbiter returned to stand beside the Commander, Makee once again his shadow after speaking with John.

“What was that there?” Miranda teased.

“Must I truly answer?” Thel responded, his eyes clearly still glued to his John. A soft expression she hadn’t seen him make before in her pure sight. They need to get these two home.

Chapter Text

(Silver Timeline)

~2552 A.D. Human-Covenant War still ongoing, Planet: Reach, UNSC HQ~

[Silver Timeline p.o.v]

At nightfall, alone and locked away in her room once again. Makee knew the keystones would have differing side effects in comparison to the other lesser relics. Feeling and experiencing moments of another’s thoughts and emotions had not been on her list of expectations. She experienced unbearable grief followed by regret. Images of the corpses and caskets of humans, friends and subordinates were the words that had been supplied to her mind, ejected to the void of space, blown up, or abandoned on the battlefield. One in particular conversation within this moment of projection stuck out to her the most. It had been the loudest amongst the others. The freshest wound, not yet scarred or healed. She’d only been able to hear the words, not see the memory. She–He didn’t want to witness it after reliving it so many times before. Not wanting to remember this close friend only in this horrible light. The image of a man, ebony skin, wearing a green squarish hat with a cigar between his lips passed through to Makee. His eyes shone with a fire in them, bravery and confidence. The man looked as if he was still in his prime, but a little whisper told her that he was so much older than looks allowed her to believe. This image linked with one of the voices.

|“I’m getting you out of here.”|

|“No.. No, you’re not. Don’t– Don’t let her go. Don’t ever let her go.”| A groan and wheeze of pain resounded. The man was dying. |“Send me out.. with a bang.”| Silence.

The familiar voice of a woman spoke, filled with sorrow. |“Chief… I’m so sorry.”|

A flicker of anger had been present, there had not been time for it and was shoved aside. Self-loathing and regret was what it had been. Wanting and wishing they could have done more, could have done better, known better. A feeling she was all too familiar with. Pushing on this idea that they failed those close to them. That the blame was theirs and theirs alone. Her tears falling into the sink, flowing down to the hidden drain. She knew this pain far too well. Makee thought that once this moment of pain passed that she would once more be left with the echoes of this other being’s sorrow. Instead, she was surprised by the numbing and comforting salve to this reopened and salted emotional wound. A ghostly embrace held her, surrounded her like a cocoon as if to shield her from the world– No! Not her, none of it was for her. It was all for the other, for him, to shield him in his vulnerable state from the world. Yet, feeling it made her want to believe. Lie to herself that it was for her, too. That someone cared for her in such a light to defend her and protect her in her moments of need without having to be asked or begged for such an act of defense with bargaining or religious reasoning. That there were no tricks, no lies, no hidden agendas to use her and discard her when it was all over. His sight and feelings ran their course through her again.

The sangheili shone in the darkness of his mind like a beacon. His lighthouse in this storm, to help him avoid the jagged rocks that these tormenting waves of emotions wanted to crash him into. His yellow eyes casting rays of sunshine into his very soul. They held an unconditional warmth, so openly soft; love, it was love. The clouds parted, giving way to the glee filling his heart and lungs. An inhuman hand caresses his cheek, tenderly. A surge of delight spreads like wildfire to his whole being, smiling so much it hurts as gentle pinches pepper his face slowly and deliberately. The elite used his mandibles in such a way as an alternative form to express peck type kisses for the lack of lips. The final peck landing and latching onto his bottom lip carefully. Then–

The projection cut off, they only came in short bursts, that felt longer than they actually were, and disappeared just as quickly. Leaving Makee in an instant feeling abandoned, and it left behind pieces of itself; little echoes. Precious feelings she wished she could continue to live in forever. To feel home, safe, and wanted. To feel loved. She was no fool, she knew and saw the way ‘Vadam had looked at the other demon at the end of their spar. How the Arbiter and Sierra had acted for that brief moment. How the Arbiter had kept his gaze on the spartan even after the event had ended. It all made her long to once more return to that place, to return to the sacred ring. Here, she was all alone with no one she could truly trust. Locked away to rot hours in this cell in isolation until John needed or wanted something from her again. The park had been a joyous wonder to simply experience, but John would never take her again. He did it only to apologize. The cotton candy was another manner of apology. But, oh, how she longed for a repeat of those moments with him. To feel a fraction of how close Sierra feels around the Arbiter, with an experience wholly her own. To feel such things without having to play visitor to the other’s unaware mind and emotions.

Arbiter had been kind and unbothered by her request to remain close to his side during the small event. He, of course, asked her why he in particular was the one she would wish to huddle towards. She had explained that besides John, she did not know much of anyone else to feel comfortable standing beside them. Not entirely a lie, but certainly not the whole truth of her reasons. ‘Vadam made small conversation with her, keeping it at a whisper so they would not distract the Commander with her analysis and notes of each match. Makee has not known him for long. Spoke to him very few times. Yet, the effects, these echoes that those projections left within her had the elite endeared to her in such a way, even though he is a traitorous heretic, she would never wish harm to befall him. She had worried over his safety before out of habit, but now it was out of the fondness and affection she’d gained from his partner unwillingly. Completely attached to her heart that tearing it out would ruin her, the roots already burrowed too deeply and firmly in the soil. Conversing with him only helped them dig deeper, it was no wonder Sierra loved him. Jealousy pangs within her chest, envious she did not have someone like Thel in her own life to hold and have to herself. She preferred when she felt Sierra’s pain, it was more bearable and something she was more acquainted with feeling. To endure the spartan’s feelings of romance, love and safety with the Arbiter were torturous agony. As if the universe itself wanted to taunt her on how utterly alone she is. Dangling something she has wanted since she was a child in her face, utterly unashamed of it too. Makee activates the faucet to clear her face of dried tears.

She is not tired enough to go to sleep and with nothing to do. Makee recites the prayers she knows by heart. She recites them again and again and even adds in a prayer asking for forgiveness. Forgiveness for heretical thoughts, planted in her mind by both John and the Arbiter. Forgiveness for her slow progress in her mission and for whatever else she could possibly do next. Questions filled her mind, asking many things she did not know the answer to. Did the Hierarchs see her just as the human leaders viewed the Arbiter? Something useful and that very usefulness was the sole reason it was kept around and tolerated. Once the great journey was begun, would they discard her just as the humans would discard the Arbiter when he had no more use for them to exploit? Would they terminate her or leave her to rot? Doubt in her trust and allegiance to any side of this war continued to grow the longer she remained on this planet. Doubt in her own mission, and doubt in her own beliefs. Everything falling once again under the same central question. What were truths and what were lies? Who were the liars; the deceivers? She was starting to realize that things have never been cut and dry; never been purely black and white. Everyone held different shades of gray, even herself.

Makee is unaware of how much time passes before she hears the hefty entrance door slide open. She opens her eyes and sees John walk into the room, holding something clutched in his hand at his side. She stood up, fiddling with her hands slightly. She did not feel threatened by John as much anymore.

“What’s that?” Makee nodded and gestured to the item in his hand. He looked down at the book and held in both hands higher than before, looking back up at her.

“I found it in the archives,” John replied, his expression fluctuating as he attempted a smile for a second, returning to neutral the next, and in the end landed somewhere in the middle. A warm, calm, but slightly nervous expression upon his face. She liked it when he was expressive, it made things much clearer to understand and allowed her privy to some of his intentions. John approached her as he spoke some more, fiddling with the book. “I know it’s not the same one...” he offered the novel for her to take, “You’re welcome to it.”

She lifted it from his hands and looked it over. The title of it was Tender nights by the same author of The Dawn of Angels. She’d read and re-read that book thousands of times over, even as the paper had become frail, darker in hue, and soft. She had left the copy she had possessed, for almost all her life, behind when she began this mission when exiting in that pod. At first, she didn’t know how to feel, what to say really. She stared at it blankly, processing the shock of it all. Makee had not expected a thoughtful gift like this from anyone, not even John. Yet, here he was proving her wrong.

“Or not… We have others,” he suggested.

Makee shook her head and held this gift tightly in one hand. The other planted firmly on the Spartan’s chest as an anchor. A hailstorm of emotions hit her all at once the moment she’d finally caught up with it all. This was too much, she didn’t deserve this, was unworthy of it. John had heard her recite one quote from that book and had thought to search for it or something similar to give to her. Took the time out of his night to do this for her. How long had he spent searching? When had he thought of doing this? Why for her? She felt tears threaten to spill from her eyes, not out of sadness, rather she was overjoyed. Conflicting emotions surrounded her. He was the enemy, the demon, the one she had promised the prophets to bring his head back to. She should refuse this gift, but she doesn’t want to. This is another trick, but it doesn’t feel like one. Another apology? He doesn’t sound like he’s apologizing, he sounds hopeful and nervous. Awaiting her reaction and response. Out of everyone in this forsaken place, excluding the Arbiter, John was the only other one she’d chosen to learn to interpret. To somewhat read him and trust a little in the certainty of the impression of his movements and voice. Makee would allow herself to believe in this one moment, that this was done with no strings attached. To believe he had done this without wanting something in return for it. She only hoped it had been her own voice speaking this within her mind and not the echoes of Sierra’s own tainting it with hope. Inspiring and encouraging wants and feelings she’d given up years ago. Lost all hope in when her friend Det was killed.

“...Thank you,” she manages to whisper. Her throat felt restricted and it had been difficult to speak two simple words.

“You don’t need to thank me,” John replied softly, one of his hands slowly finding purchase above hers. Large and strong fingers gently wrapped around her own in a loose hold, letting it remain close to his person. 

Makee looked up and their eyes locked in contact. She could have sworn she had seen inhuman yellow eyes looking down at her tenderly before she blinked to see the hazel of human ones instead. John let go of her hand, taking a few steps back and turning to leave. Her hand left motionless, touching nothing but the air between them. He was leaving her again, pulling away again. She was tired of him leaving her abruptly in the same fashion again and again.

“Stay,” she spoke before thinking.

“What?” John stopped in his tracks and looked back at her. He looked caught off guard.

“Please,” Makee sounded pathetic even to her own ears. She looked down at the book, now clutched in both her hands. She asked, “Would you– Would you like to read it with me? If you have the time, that is.”

He stood there in silence, given the look upon his face he was surprised. Surprise morphed into a kind smile and he returned to her side, “I wouldn’t mind and I do have time tonight for you.”

She felt as relief and joy engulfed her whole being, a wide smile on her lips as she sat down and opened the book. She flipped to the first page when she felt part of the bed sink from John’s weight beside her. Her leg slid down and made contact with his own and she didn’t mind. It was a welcomed warmth.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Jacob drank a sip of the earl grey tea clutched in his hand. He preferred the slow wake up that tea offered him over the coffee adrenaline spike. He also preferred not being snuck up on by a spartan whilst on his way to FLEETCOM. Especially, if said spartan was one he knew little to nothing about and had been staring holes into the back of his head for a while. The captain thought about what to call the “twin” and he chose the only thing that felt right.

“Chief, mind telling me why you planned on attempting to give this old man a heart attack at this early hour of the day?” Keyes asked calmly and unfazed after almost inhaling his tea.

“Sir, I am here to make a request,” he responded, respectfully.

“What for?” Jacob threw back with a raised brow.

“A training exercise, in the Wilderness preserve. The landing coordinates somewhere in the Highland Mountains for Silver Team and I,” he responded.

‘Had the little spar from Miranda’s report yesterday not been enough?’ Keyes thought to himself, finding it curious. “Is there something you feel like telling me, John?” It felt slightly strange calling him that, but it didn’t feel out of place either.

“Sir, I know they’re not my Spartans. They’re not my team, but…” there was a slight tonal shift, concern bubbling to the surface of the stable and stoic voice. 

“You’re worried for them just the same,” Jacob smiled, he was glad that this characteristic was shared between the two Master Chiefs. To worry and care for the other Spartans, such a John-117 thing to do. Except in this case, it was similar to an older brother worried for his younger siblings. Chief seemed to take the tough love route with his counterpart whilst treating the rest of Silver team with more respect from what he read in Miranda’s report. Although, Jacob had a feeling that this behavior was linked to the first impression their John had made involving the Elite; visiting John’s very apparent romantic partner. ‘Now, I’m even more glad I didn’t shoot him,’ he thought to himself.

“Yes,” he admitted with a nod. The golden visor hiding away the face beneath and reflecting Jacob’s own back at him..

“You don’t think they're ready for what’s to come?” He asked, the little fact that Reach falls in the trio’s timeline was strictly kept secret from everyone. To his knowledge, only Admiral Parangosky, Miranda and himself knew of it; excluding the visiting trio. Parangosky wanted to play denial, roll the dice and hope their own timeline wouldn’t follow the same pathway as the trio’s. They should be moving civilians out little by little to decrease the coming casualties and deaths, but without any imminent threat or reasoning to give the rest of the higher ups, let alone the public, so they would be satisfied. No effort would be made to leave and people would resist being forced to leave their ‘secure’ homes for seemingly no reason. Ever since hearing of this from Miranda from her recounting of conversations she’s had with the Arbiter, he’s felt the clock ticking, they were on borrowed time. He’d do what he could and cross that bridge when it arrived and face it head on with his marines.

“…No one is ever ready,” the spartan replied, a phrase spoken from experience it seemed.

“I’ll get it authorized for today. Just don’t break my men, Master Chief. I still need them,” he smiled again, taking another sip of his earl grey.  He hesitated for a moment before patting Chief’s rerebrace. Continuing his march past the spartan, towards FLEETCOM.

“I promise to bring them back in one piece, sir,” Chief responded, the heavy footsteps growing quieter giving away the other’s departure as well.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~2552 A.D. Human-Covenant War still ongoing, Planet: Reach, UNSC HQ~

[Blue Timeline p.o.v]

“You could have told me or Thel. Either of us,” Cortana stated, a hint of hurt in her tone.

“Cortana–” Chief tried and was cut off.

“Don’t ‘Cortana’ me, John. We are here for you. Thel and I have always been here for you. Instead, you admit this to the face bearing a dead man’s name. You don’t even know him!” In an empty corridor, she appeared as a human sized holoprojection. She pointed an accusatory finger at him.

“Cortana, I–” he tried a second time and she cut him off, again.

“Who’s to say they won’t do something to Thel when you leave? We’ll be gone and your husband will be here. Alone ! Did you forget what our version Admiral Parangosky has been trying to do in our own timeline!” She voices her worries, distress in her eyes.

“They don’t know, Cortana,” he responded..

“And how long before they find out and put a bullet in his head? They won’t see a difference because he’s not from here, they’ll only see red, John. Parangosky will only see the human blood that stains Thel’s hands and inflict justice with self-righteous vengeance,” she argues. The AI is rightfully concerned, and he knew that. He’d forgotten for a moment exactly where they were. Distracted by other worries he had allowed to slip past his defenses. Worries that he had advised Thel against and yet here he was being a hypocrite. The irony of it all didn’t escape Chief.

“I trust Thel to survive. Do you?” John replied, sincerely from the bottom of his heart. His husband wasn’t helpless and the spar showed he had recovered well. Thel had no physical weakness for them to exploit anymore in combat.

“He will be unarmed, John,” she states, worried.

“Do you, Cortana?” He asked again, being dead set on receiving an answer from the AI. 

“...” Cortana sighs heavily, looking away from him briefly, “With the amount of assassination attempts on his life on record as of current. I do. It just doesn’t feel right leaving him here.”

“I know,” Chief replies, remembering all the times he had to separate from his husband as their paths led elsewhere, “It never will.”

“Just– Don’t push us away, John,” the AI reached out, hovering her palm over his chest piece by a single centimeter, a pained look upon her face.

“I won’t, Cortana,” Chief replied, visor tilted down at her.

“You better,” her expression brightened a little and she smiled.

“I promise,” John solemnly meant it as he did every time he made a promise.

“I’ve also just checked the database and the flight plan had been made, approved, and assigned an auto piloted condor. Up to gather the trainees, Chief?” Cortana informed him, her mood more jovial than moments ago.

“Silver One is first on the list. Where is he, Cortana?” He replied, although he had a feeling where he would end up finding his counterpart. With a certain silver haired woman who had been far too comfortable being near his husband.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~2552 A.D. Human-Covenant War still ongoing, Planet: Reach, UNSC HQ~

[Silver Timeline p.o.v]

Before arriving at FLEETCOM, Jacob had taken a detour to file out the paperwork for the impromptu training session request’s flight plan. He’d finished half his drink by the time he had completed it. Now, he was merely watching the techs at work awaiting the Admiral’s arrival.

“Captain,” a marine had approached him carrying a datapad within his hands.

“Lieutenant?” Keyes replied, sipping the last of his tea.

“Urgent report, for you and Admiral Parangosky’s eyes only,” they explained, offering the tablet to him.

“Thank you, you’re dismissed,” he took it and set down his empty mug.

He gave the report a quick glance, planning to review it fully when the admiral arrived, except something had caught his eye. The report was from an ONI agent, more specifically, Lieutenant Jameson Locke. His report centered around a certain Covenant fleet. The tactics and strategies of this particular fleet varied and always adapted and changed. It had glassed many planets already, almost a billion human lives lost and it had been the very same fleet to arrive at Criterion. What made this fleet so out of the ordinary in standards compared to the other covenant fleets, besides strategical, was that the Supreme Commander of this one would lead a group on a personal assault on the ground field. Mentions of honor and giving human marines a “fair” chance to fight when caught unprepared. That was not the detail to catch Jacob’s attention, but the name of the fleet’s Commander. Thel ‘Vadamee, Supreme Commander of the Fleet of Particular Justice.

|“My title and rank is Arbiter. My name is Thel ‘Vadam… No, those higher than council made me Arbiter after I was stripped of my armor, my rank, and my honor… I had been the Commander of a Covenant Fleet…”|

“John really knows how to pick them, doesn’t he?” Jacob whispered to himself with a sigh. He looked down at his empty mug wishing he had more earl grey to drink, or maybe something more alcoholic. Their John had become attached to a covenant spy and the visiting one is in a romantic relationship with an Ex-Covenant Supreme Commander that has most likely killed over a billion human lives in their timeline before deserting and allying with humanity. If Parangosky got her hands on this information, reformed or not, she’d order an immediate Article 72 on the Arbiter. Knowing and having seen the display of how protective the visiting Master Chief is over the silver chrome-armored Elite. Such a decision would only end in disaster for both sides. Parangosky would see the window of opportunity that the training session provided for them. It meant Chief would not be here to come to his partner’s defense. Let alone become aware of the Elite’s status until his return. The duo had helped save numerous of his marines on Eridanus II. The elite had helped the other timeline’s UNSC win the war and he had been nothing but helpful here in this timeline the entirety of his stay with no goose chase nonsense and now his Chief wanted to help better prepare Silver Team for the battles in store for them.

‘What the hell am I gonna do with this?’ Jacob thought to himself, staring down at the report. Would he have this be another secret added to his keep or hand it to Parangosky as intended?

“Any updates, Jacob?” Said admiral asked.

“Margaret,” Keyes lowered the data pad.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~2552 A.D. Human-Covenant War still ongoing, Planet: Reach, UNSC HQ~

[Blue Timeline p.o.v]

“Your taste in company is horrible,” Chief bluntly stated. He’d been correct to the location of his counterpart. He had walked in on them simply conversing before dragging his “twin” out of the room by the scruff of his clothes with no explanation to the woman besides,

|“He’s needed.”|

“My taste? What about yours?” John retorted, obviously referring to Thel. Insinuating the sangheili was far worse in comparison, even when he had the audacity to act friendly with his husband yesterday. He had felt like breaking the younger’s hand when he had seen it transpire.

“I know firmly without a doubt where his loyalties lie,” he countered, finally letting go of his counterpart’s clothes once they had walked enough distance.

“She’s human, she’s on our side,” the unarmored spartan argued as if that small fact was all that was needed.

“Hardly proof,” Chief stated, leading and pushing the other with a hand on his back.

“She escaped the Covenant!” John snapped, but there had been a waver in his voice. The response felt like he was pulling at scraps for any reason to defend her. From his accusations or from the doubt in his own mind was unclear.

“I can tell you don’t believe that, John,” the older replied with a softness in his voice he had lacked in every conversation he’d had with the man before.

“She’s trying to help us!” He exclaimed with conviction as he turned around to face him, but his hazel eyes still held that flicker of uncertainty.

“Giving you vague answers that lead nowhere,” he responded, reasoning with him calmly.

“Obviously, they wouldn’t tell a prisoner everything,” the younger kept giving excuses.

“A prisoner that’s been asking to be let near the keystone countless times to ‘help’ you,” he replied as gently as he could.

“Enough!” John barked, stopping in his tracks, prompting him to also halt in his step.

“Then stop,” he replied.

“Stop what?!” He shouted.

“Being in denial,” Chief answered.

“I’m not in denial,” the younger man kept at it.

“...You idiot,” the realization hit the elder like a brick. He didn’t think this would happen so damn soon. He knows from Cortana that people have differing paces when it comes to romance and love, but this is dangerous and unwise.

“Pardon?” His counterpart looked baffled, like a bird with ruffled feathers raised in a defensive manner.

“You love her,” he said as plain as day. Simple, short and to the point with no beating around the bush.

“Excuse me?!” John exclaimed, the younger man’s cheeks tinted pink. Actually having the decency to look flustered, though he doubted that John knew how to identify how he was feeling.

“Oh, no,” he breathed out quietly like a whisper. The younger was in love with a covenant spy.

“Stop being a cryptic!” John exclaimed. Chief will admit he had been cryptic before during other times, but he had put it as bluntly as possible and it still went soaring past John’s head. This poor dumbass.

“Cortana, tell me I wasn’t this stupid,” he sighed deeply, bringing up a hand up to his visor to facepalm. 

“No. No, you were definitely worse,” his Cortana said and he could practically hear her smirking.

“Cortana,” Chief was not amused.

“Hey, you asked me and I answered with nothing but the truth,” she replied, smug about it.

“Wonderful,” Chief deadpanned. He remembers his own oblivious idiocy. It had taken him several months, after being found, to take note of his feelings. Took Thel two weeks to realize his own. Chief had taken even longer to realize he’d been courted by the Sangheili. Yeah, they both really are John-117, stunted emotional intelligence and crippled social skills, a pair of idiots in the romance department. To be fair, it had been post-war when Chief and Thel had gotten romantically involved, so he wasn’t as irresponsible as John. But crushes, as he’s been told, just liked to happen. He hoped this was only a crush that had a hold of the other spartan for now. He didn’t trust that woman, Makee. John shouldn’t either, but that’s not Chief’s place to decide. As long as it doesn’t cost the life of a teammate or John himself. His counterpart could make as many mistakes as he wanted, it wasn’t Chief’s business or problem to fix if it went to shit. It seems he too is in denial, but self aware of it. Both a curse and a blessing.

“Where are you taking me, anyway?” John asked.

“To get suited up. We'll be leaving soon,” the older man answered, his voice returning to its usual calm and collected tone, beginning to push the younger again towards their destination.

“For what reason?” His expression breaks into something calmer.

“Training, you need it,” he informed him.

“A fantastic way to start the day, sir,” receiving sarcasm from the younger man. Chief took it upon himself to give John a spartan noogie. John pushed him off and away with a small smile.

“We’ll be using live non-lethal rounds,” he stated.

“...I hate you,” John voiced with an aggrieved sigh.

“You’ll live,” he responded, wholly amused.

“Never doubted that,” the younger man was quiet for a moment. “Why do you enjoy kicking me down so much?”

“...” Chief stopped in his tracks, thoughtfully thinking it over in his head.

His counterpart had stopped as well and turned around, “Sierra–” 

“You tried to murder my husband, John,” he revealed, without an ounce of gentleness to it.

“YOUR WHAT?! OUR WHAT?!” Oh, so he could turn red like a tomato.

Chapter Text

(Blue Timeline)

~2556 A.D. Three years Post Human-Covenant War, Theta Halo Orbit ~

[Blue Timeline p.o.v]

“They’ve been gone for too long. We need to go in after them,” Frederic-104 stated, his worry bleeding into every word as he continued pacing back and forth in the cockpit of the Pelican. Blue Team had scouted a different section of the ring and successfully cleared it of any hostiles. It had been a waiting game for any word from Chief, Cortana and Arbiter since.

“They’ve only been on mission for a few hours. They're fine, Fred,” Kelly-087 responded, leaning against the frame of the open cockpit door. Linda-058 was seated somewhere near the back of the pelican, cleaning and checking her sniper rifle for the umpteenth time since they returned from their own mission. Their pelican had been drifting in Theta Halo’s orbit. 

“Ten hours, Kelly. Ten hours. John and Thel should have been back ages ago or at least given a status update,” he replied, his gaze had been transfixed on the Halo even as he paced the short length of the cockpit behind the pilot seats.

“Worrywart as usual. Linda, mind giving me a hand with Fred? He’s mothering henning over John, again,” Kelly spoke in singsong manner as she turned to look back at the sniper.

“No,” was the marksman’s short answer, though she sounded a smidge amused.

“I am not mother henning. Something here doesn’t feel right,” Fred argued, turning around to glare at her through his helmet. The motion had halted his pacing finally.

“Mother. Henning. Fred. Say it with me, now. Mother–” she was teasing, poking fun at him.

“Kelly, I’m serious!” He cut through, defensive. This was no joking matter, not anymore at least, in his opinion.

“–Henning.” She still finished saying.

“...”

“...”

Fred and Kelly stared at each other in silence before the Lieutenant turned his back to the other and reached for the console. The action had been immediate and deliberate to anyone else’s eyes, though it had been rather slow in the eyes of the Petty Officer.

“Fred–”

“This is Blue-Two, Blue-One status report,” he waited for a response. Linda from her corner on the pelican finally looked up from her rifle towards the cockpit. All three waited, hopeful for the reply they’d surely receive. Cortana explaining the reason behind their radio silence and lengthy time frame. Maybe John saying they couldn’t speak at the moment whilst Thel’s war cries are in the background. They had been holding their breath for a response that would never arrive as static and silence was all to come through the comms. They let it play out. Thirty seconds passed… then a minute… then a minute-thirty… then two… and finally when three minutes passed in nothing but the sound of static reverberating against the interior of the pelican.

“Blue Leader, this is Blue-Two. Can you hear me?” Static. “Master Chief…” More static. John…” Fred spoke, the desperation and worry storming inside him bursting to the surface, leaking into his voice. “Cortana…” Once more static. “Arbiter… Thel…” the only response was still static.

Kelly turned back to look at Linda and Linda in return stared back at her. Even with their faces hidden behind their visors, they knew each other well enough to know that worry had crept in and realization had finally hit them both. Something was wrong, and Fred wasn’t being paranoid like the other times before since they had gotten John back from, what had seemed to be, the grave. Though none of them, at the time, had actually believed him dead and gone, spartans never die, but Sam did. He had been the first among them to die in battle. So, after a week turned into several months, then a full year and several more months passed. Their certainty in John’s livelihood had been brought into question, denial turned almost into grief and mourning before news of his recovery had reached them. Now, John was missing again, alongside his husband. Chief wasn’t a major political figure, most spartans weren’t since they were soldiers and remained on the battlefront more often than not. He inspired hope and courage in troops with his mere presence, a leader among soldiers, but he was no politician nor diplomat. His husband on the other hand was a political leader and a major figure at that. With how fragile the alliance and diplomacy has been between Sangheilios and Humanity even after all these years. If Arbiter remained absent for too long, bridges he’d been supporting and reinforcing would crumble in the span of a week at most. Jul ‘Mdama and Avu Med ‘Telcam would definitely take advantage if word of his disappearance was spread or heard. Concerns the higher ups would have and that they could worry about themselves. But the present members of Blue team were more troubled by the fact that part of their family was missing, yet again.

“We’re going down there and finding them,” Fred stated, his voice more stable and steeling himself; determined. He punched in their landing coordinates, took to piloting the pelican.

“Seems like we just can’t have John not disappearing on us when we’re not looking for five minutes,” the scout sighed with a playfully lit tone. She pushed herself off the door frame and retrieved her equipment, which happened to be her preferred oathsworn shotgun and magnum. Doing Fred a favor by prepping his marksman rifle and his own magnum.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Silver Timeline)

~2552 A.D. Human-Covenant War still ongoing, Planet: Reach, UNSC HQ~

[Silver Timeline p.o.v]

Vannak found it strange, well, it had been strange before when he had been unaware regardless, but now it had worsened with the revelation Kai had given him and Riz. Sierra, at the time the rogue, was peculiarly on guard at all times. He’d never had his armor removed at the armory, even caught sleeping in it a multitude of times on the floor leaned against a wall facing all possible entrances. He was stern, quiet, and a very private person. Silver team’s second in command had come to respect Sierra since he’d first been knocked on his ass by said spartan, the day he had arrived on Reach. A feat that had never occurred before in 1-3-4’s life. He never lost, ever, until he did. He lost to someone that didn’t belong in their time and granted Vannak his first defeat, the moment had felt surreal; exhilarating. Nonetheless, the fact that someone was a version of Master Chief had only doubled down on how bizarre this all was. Seeing, essentially, two versions of the same man in close proximity to one another was off putting. They are both Master Chief John-117 yet they were severely different in the way they presented themselves. Sierra’s presence when he entered or exited a room exuded authority and an air of respect with the way he carried himself, each step held a weight to it besides the physical sense of it. The man was stoic and collected from what he’d seen. As of late, John was lacking in the stoicism he’d held before, the artifact being the closest possible reason as to why he was acting out of the norm, to Vannak’s knowledge. He’d become rather erratic, temperamental and even distant. Though the other Chief was also distant to everyone, the exceptions being his AI and the squid head elite. 1-3-4 was not worried, he trusted that his Master Chief had his reasons for the distancing, and trusted that he had a plan as he always had before. He only hoped that by the time they were done with the relics that John wouldn’t be too far gone to be saved. If he were to become compromised, Vannak wouldn’t hesitate. It’d be an act of mercy he’d give John and it would be the least he could do for him, if it were to ever occur.

Today, they had an impromptu training session and they’d be landing somewhere near the mountains in the preserve. He’d been the very first to finish gearing up, Riz had arrived in the armory a few moments after himself and was ready within a minute longer than himself. They began their trek to the hangar that held their assigned Condor. They walked in silence, Riz always purposely remained a pace or so behind Vannak, an adequate distance, yet at times not close enough. Logically, that sort of thought was absurd. To be at adequate closeness, yet be too far away was paradoxical. He could not name the reason why such things ever surfaced, nor could he label them, they were merely flawed thoughts he had from time to time. Pointing to many reasons why they occurred, for one, today he might be tired for he had slept late and part of his brain was still calibrating for wakefulness at this early hour. Though, that had never been a problem in other times where rest had been sparse and he still managed to think clearly with a half woken mind. There had been other times when such ideas would rise in his mind of a need he could not label either. A need that would only quiet with one simple thing, exceedingly close proximity with a particular spartan. When 0-2-8 would spar with him, moments where they’d end up in each other’s personal space naturally due to the nature of hand to hand combat, those thoughts would quiet as if quelled; satisfied with the lack of distance. Only after they’d separate would the thoughts return with a vengeance, he’d ignore it out of spite to the best of his abilities. It was rather annoying, but it happened rarely and he was grateful. He pushed the train of thought aside, it was a trivial matter, his focus must be turned to the task at hand which held more importance and value than illogical notions that passed through his skull sporadically. 

“Why do you think they’re making us train all of a sudden?” Kai asked, having joined them some time ago along their way to the hangar.

“Doctor Keyes had kept notes of the matches during our sparring session. I doubt having our collective asses handed to us with such ease by the traveling duo was anything short of appalling to the higher ups,” Riz responded, her logic was sound. Of course high command would be worried with such a dramatic gap in skill between Silver team and the duo. It cemented a sense of how wholly underprepared they actually were. Especially the gap between the two Master Chiefs, it could be seen as a factor that could possibly predict whether they won this war or not. Kai had been filling them in with small fragments of information she would learn from Doctor Keyes. For one the reason for the age gap between them and the other Chief, he came from a differing timeline further in the future where the Human-Covenant war was over and they had won. Vannak was not surprised, if all the spartans there were as skilled or even much greater than Sierra, of course they had won. Though the Arbiter’s skill was nothing to ignore either, leading to perhaps the reason for the gap in skill was simply because the Covenant bastards had been tougher in the other universe. He would not be surprised if Sierra would be taking the lead in the training session, since he held more experience and skill than any of them by default of his origin. Meaning he had things to teach them, prepare them for the possibilities that would surely lie ahead for them.

“I mean it was satisfying seeing Vannak get knocked down for once,” Kai remarked.

“Agreed,” 0-2-8 replied, adding with amusement, “A justice that had finally been served after being delayed for so long.”

“Perhaps, it humbled that oversized ego of his,” the sharpshooter stated. She was silent for a moment before a small and quiet chuckle escaped her and she asked, “Think he was fuming under his helmet when the Arbiter took him down?”

“Definitely,” Riz responded without hesitation.

“Said ‘he’ is present and can hear everything you're both saying,” Vannak stated, glancing back at them for a moment.

“We know,” their communication’s specialist answered, a playful tone laying subtly in her words. To anyone else that had not grown up alongside the woman, the tone would have gone unnoticed and fallen on deaf ears.

“And we don't care,” the marksman added bluntly, receiving an elbow jab from the aforementioned spartan.

“Better start praying then, Kai,” He responded, smirking beneath his helmet.

“Why just me? Riz was also an accomplice,” his subordinate replied, offended. He could not help but feel the stare from the spartan highlighted with red upon her armor, who had gone silent for the rest of their march to the hangar.

Both Master Chiefs had been the last to arrive at their assigned Condor with the designated flight plan. He could guess the reason for their tardiness was John’s fault, given Sierra was always ready in his armor. They were both currently in the cockpit side by side.

“I almost can't tell them apart sometimes. Until one of them talks or turns around,” Kai states to no one in particular.

“There’s one dead give away besides that,” Riz responded.

“And what's that?” Their marksman asked.

“Our chief takes his helmet off in one moment or the other. Visiting Chief doesn't, for any reason,” she answered whilst checking her magnums’ magazines ensuring she had the correct bullets in store and not lethal live rounds.

“I’ll give you both one more. Our chief can't hand me my own ass,” Vannak stated, clicking his magazine into place on his M392 bandit rifle.

“His partner did the same thing,” Kai pointed out.

“That is the second time you’ve mentioned split-lips,” He replied.

“The Arbiter,” she corrected, putting her sniper rifle’s barrel back into place and locking it in. Vannak looked around searching for a shimmer in any corner of the hull and found none. They hadn’t dragged the split-chin elite along with them.

“Big ol’ ugly ain’t coming with us?” Vannak asked louder, looking toward the cockpit directing his question to both Chiefs.

“He’s not allowed off base. He’s still a prisoner, not a guest,” John replied, turning the seat around to stand as Sierra had already moved to retrieve a BR55.

“With his special treatment. I almost started to doubt that,” Silver-Three responded. 

“F.Y.I. Thel’s not ugly,” Sierra’s AI companion appeared in front of him with her arms crossed, speaking in a matter-of-fact manner.

“Cortana,” the tone of how Sierra had said her name would have passed as a warning, if it hadn’t failed due to the amused undertone.

“In comparison to other Sangheili, he’s actually quite striking and very appealing in their standards. Cultural and species barriers and the like. You’d be considered ugly to their standards as well. So, in short, the correct term is actually big ol’ handsome, not ugly. Although, I would suggest you not call him by either to his face or behind his back,” Vannak saw movement from the older spartan in his peripherals, he was reaching up for something.

“And why is that?” He asked, squinting his eyes behind his vizor. He awaited a threat to be voiced by the AI.

“Well, because you’d have to deal with his–” she’s cut off quite literally as her hologram disappears in an instant, leaving 1-3-4 confused. She been turning to point somewhere the exact direction had been obscured by her sudden disconnect.

“The heck?” Riz blurted.

“Where did she go?” Kai threw in.

“I pulled her out,” Sierra says with a monotonous tone, holding up a small chip with a circular hole in the center of it that was glowing in the shape of a blue circle.

“You can do that? Just like that!” He exclaimed, pointing at the aforementioned spartan in accusatory fashion.

“Yes. Although, she will definitely give me an ear full when I put her back,” he explained whilst still continuing to prep and load up his rifle, keeping the chip held gently by his index and middle finger.

“How?!” John asked.

“Clarify,” he stated with the same dull tone.

“They didn’t drill into your brain and shove her in there with no way to get her out?” Chief asked, perplexed.

“...No. She integrates and connects to my armor,” was the senior spartan’s response, he seemed unfazed.

“Between the two of us. It’s starting to look like you got the better end of the deal in your timeline,” he looked mildly… annoyed? 

“No,” Sierra stated, a solemnity and somberness in his gravelly voice. He had stopped all movements. His tone gave no room for argument, “I didn’t.”

A silence followed, only broken by the clicks of prepping and loading weapons, alongside, the air rushing over and passed the walls of the Condor outside. Sierra had slipped the chip back into place in the back of his helmet at some point within the silence, with his weaponry prepped and readied from what Vannak had seen. Soon the Condor landed within the preserve. Normally, they spent their time in the part of the preserve that was mountainous terrain containing only grass and a waterfall with a small stream. Here, it was still mountainous terrain but it was a heavily forested area, not as open as their usual spot. Common sense pointed to Sierra having chosen their training location. Both Chiefs were still on the ramp of the Condor and conversing between themselves. The elder nodded his head in the direction of the woods and the younger looked before returning his gaze to the other and gave a single nod of acknowledgement.

“So, if they’re both equal in rank. Who’s taking charge of the training session?” Kai questioned, watching the pair a small distance from the Condor as they waited.

“The one who arranged the session,” Riz replied.

“They’re sharing,” Vannak stated.

“How do you know?” 1-2-5 asked, amused.

“They’re discussing. Both are providing input on how to proceed. If only one of them was in charge, we’d all be included in their conversation with only one of them giving the rest of us a sitrep,” Silver’s second in command explained just in time as John approached. They had finished their little conversation.

“Kai-125, Riz-028. With me, we’re heading to the point marked on your maps,” Chief ordered.

“What about Vannak?” The marksman asked, walking up to John with Riz.

“He’ll be staying behind with me,” Sierra responded instead of (their) Chief.

“Why?” Kai continued to ask.

“Silver-One will brief you on the way,” was the only answer he gave her.

“We're moving out. Kai,” Silver Leader stated taking the lead, Riz following after him without debate. Whilst Kai stood in her spot a minute or so longer before she ran after them. A moment or two went by before Vannak spoke up.

“We're hunting them down,” he turned to look at Sierra,  “Aren't we?”

“Yes, we are,” he confirmed.

“They’re going to lose,” Vannak replied, a smidge of glee in his tone. The image of Riz beneath his sabaton amused him. Though a part of him hoped that for once, with some sort of miracle, he’d actually end up beneath her boot with the barrels of her magnums aimed at his head. Now that would be the highlight of his day, if it ever happened. He might as well keep dreaming about it, because it may never manifest. Hasn’t manifested for decades, sure as hell ain’t going to start manifesting now. Though, he never thought he’d ever lose either after all those decades, yet here he is three losses in a row in the same week, two in the same day no less.

“Today is not about winning. It’s about learning,” Chief Sierra stated.

“And we’re learning what exactly?” He asked, curious.

“To be better,” he responded, vaguely.

“To be better at what exactly, Chief?” Silver’s second in command responded, more confused than before.

“Better than me,” that somber note from before returned to the elder’s gravel voice yet again. Vannak would have pointed out the high demand such a task like that would be for the other three to accomplish if not for the fact the older man reached for BR55 and began walking. “They’re ready. Time for our part, Silver-Three.”

“Roger, Silver-Five,” he replied.

“No,” he answered, stopping immediately. Sierra turned and looked back at Vannak, his head tilted as if such an assumption had been out of the question; absurd to say the least, “Blue-One.”

“10-4, Blue-One,” the younger nodded in understanding.

“Let’s give ‘em hell.” 

“We’re going to get along just fine, Blue Leader,” Vannak stated, a fond undertone held in his words.

“Don’t push it,” though there was no bite in the elder’s tone, merely an amused huff. He took point whilst he began his sprint and 1-3-4 followed with no hesitation or struggle.

~~~~~~~~~

It's been several long hours since training began and Sierra had been merciless, treating them equally, though he was being more respectful towards John than he had been during their spar, at least in Kai’s opinion that is how it appeared. She was currently running with a magnum in hand away from the elder. Vannak had shot her sniper rifle from her hands and she had been lucky for Riz taking his attention off her back, but not lucky enough to snatch her weapon back before it had slipped further down the slope. Afterwards, Sierra had laid his sights on her, firing warning shots. The last few actually made their mark after she had hesitated a moment too long. John had been the first one taken down, with Riz occupied distracting Vannak, and her rifle having rolled too far into the open. She'd had no choice other than to cut her losses and run. Leading to her current predicament, running through the woods whilst trying to avoid shots and give some return fire. The only option of success now was to retrieve a device that had been hidden further into the forest. The marksman just needed to make it to said device and snatch it before Sierra caught her. A task easier said than done as a bullet had hit between the plates of her armor, and wow, that fucking stung. They had no shields for this activity and they had made it so their gel suits gave them more input from external hits than usual, otherwise the non-lethal rounds would be meaningless given the fact they would just walk around like nothing whilst taking fire.

“Stay focused and calm, Kai. You still got an opening. Take it when you see it,” Sierra’s gravel voice gave no hints of exertion, his breathing was steady and relaxed. Even with the odds as tough as they were, he was still encouraging her not putting her down.

“I don't think I'm that lucky, sir. I’m not like you or John,” she responded, almost tripping over a particularly thick tree root.

“We have to make our own luck sometimes, Petty Officer,” he replied just as another bullet tapped her shoulder plate. Wow, she’d have a few bruises by the end of this, at least she wasn’t John. He’d taken so many more bullets than her from the combined fire of Vannak and Sierra.

“I see it,” Kai stated, the green light blinking further up ahead, but it was in sight.

“Then take it,” Sierra Chief stated.

She ran like hell and the flashing light was getting brighter. Kai was gaining distance, she was much faster than the other spartan it seemed. She was going to make it. Well, that was until she had her foot shot at, resulting in her losing her footing and tripping sideways on one of the various large tree roots. The marksman was rolling down the slope until she stopped at the bottom in front of a river, she’d kept her magnum firmly clutched in her grip, and kept her finger off the trigger when she’d been rolling. The world was spinning and not slowing in the slightest, she focused on breathing and her eyes fixated on the river in front of her to ground herself. She’d landed on her front in the dirt mixed with sand, stone and pebbles. As the spinning had died down, Kai attempted to sit up only to have the hand holding her magnum stepped on by an olive green sabaton and the barrel of a BR55 rifle in her face when she looked up.

“Looks like I failed this time,” the marksman laid back down fully on her front, taking a small break.

“The three of you did better this time around than previous attempts. Progress is being made by all of you,” the elder stepped off her and back away by two steps.

“Doesn’t feel like it,” Kai replied, a little crestfallen.

“Because you’re focusing on the loss instead of the fact you all remained standing longer than previously on all fronts,” Sierra latched his BR55 onto his back.

{ “This is Silver-Three with Silver-Four downed. What’s the status on Silver-Two, Blue-One?” } Vannak asked through comms.

“Silver-Two has yielded and is currently taking a nap on the river bank,” he replied in a subtly joking manner.

“I’m not napping,” the marksman objected.

“Looks like it,” he reaffirmed.

“You—” Kai said accusingly, lifting her head before she flipped over onto her back. “You know what? This is comfortable actually,” she relaxed her whole being into the bank, looking up at the sky.

“Really now?” Sierra asked, amused.

“Yeah, you see it all has to do with the–” she quickly sat up and flung a rather large stone at Sierra that hit him square in the chest plate and the man actually started chuckling. His chuckle slowly devolved into a laugh, he had placed a hand on his chest plate. It was a strange thing to witness and hear, he was normally so stoic. Hearing him laugh felt so out of place with his serious demeanor. Then again, he too was also human and that under all that armor, Master Chief Sierra was just a man. Once the shock had worn off within a split moment,  the contagiousness of his laugh finally took effect as Kai started laughing with him at the absurdity of the exchange. She wondered if he had removed his pellet at one point in time like John and herself, given that it was the only possible explanation to why he was being so expressive right now. As soon as their laughter died down to controllable, she decided to ask.

“What happened when you removed your pellet?” Kai finally stood up, her armor had some bits of dirt clinging to it.

“Clarify pellet,” he responded, the seriousness had returned to his voice. Even the hint that he had been joyful moments ago had vanished.

“The device that suppressed our emotions, made us unable to taste food and feel much of anything. Makes us the ‘perfect’ weapons,” the marksman explained.

“...” the golden visor stared at her revealing nothing as silence passed between the two for a few beats. His reply when it came, made her feel like a bullet had pierced her lungs, “Kai, my spartans and I never possessed the pellet you describe in our augmentations.”

“They didn’t give you the pellet?” She asked in disbelief.

“No,” he reaffirmed.

The world was spinning again, she would have fallen back on her knees if she hadn’t been caught immediately. All sounds were muffled and a ringing took its place, she tried to focus on breathing again to remind herself that her lungs were whole and undamaged. But it felt as if her breath had been knocked out from her lungs or that blood was filling them. Kai’s limbs felt weak, and her fingertips felt numb.

~~~~~~~~~

“We’ve got you, Kai. We’ve got you,” John said, both he and Sierra were holding her up from either side of her. Waiting for the teal highlighted spartan to regain her bearings and senses. He had run to their location as soon as this round had officially ended, just to make sure Kai was alright. When he arrived all he saw was the other holding her up, unmoving from the river bank. With his help, they had moved her to sit down on the ground leaning against a tree that resided directly next to the river’s edge. They’d been standing there watching over her for a couple of minutes where the seconds felt torturously slow. “What the hell did you do?” He whispered angrily to the older man.

“If I tell you, I’ll end up having to carry both of you back to the Condor,” he replied, and if he listened closely enough to the words, there was a subtle hint of worry in the gravelly voice.

“We didn’t need the pellet,” she whispered, though it was clear her mind wasn’t present at the moment. “We never needed the pellet,” she continued to mumble.

John was confused, why was she talking about the pellet? What could Sierra have said to cause this? A thought he’d save for later, it wasn’t important right now. But he didn’t have a clue what to do, he never had to deal with something like this before and it was overwhelming trying to find something to do. He wanted to help her, though how could he do that? Whatever this was, it wasn’t something he could shoot dead.

“Kai, look at me,” Sierra Chief said gently. 

Said spartan slowly lifted her head as the rest of her body looked like deadweight. She looked out of it just by her body movement.

“You’re okay,” the elder said with the same gentleness.

“I– I don’t– I can’t–” she stuttered, unable to properly speak.

“You’re okay,” he said more reassuringly. “Say it with me. You’re okay.”

“I–... I–I’m okay,” she slowly repeated, her voice had quivered.

“You’re okay,” the older man said it again.

“I’m okay,” her voice was becoming more stable and sane.

“One more time. You’re okay, Kai,” Sierra had kneeled down.

“I’m okay. Yeah, I’m okay,” and 1-2-5 was back with the rest of us in the present. The older spartan stretched out a hand and Kai took it after a minute. John took her other hand and they both lifted her back onto her own two feet with a hand from each of them on her back for extra support.

“Where’d you go, Kai?” John asked.

“Just further realizing the absolute bullshit of our Halsey’s methods. It was fun,” she said the last part sarcastically with a cynical chuckle. “I hate everything.”

Sierra moved away from them all of sudden, looking up at something.

“Chief, what’s wrong?” Kai asked and retrieved her magnum. 

John proceeded to scan the surrounding area down the sights of his MA5D rifle, finding absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. He lowered his weapon and looked back at Sierra to find him standing knee deep in the river looking at the tree Kai had been leaning against at a different angle. A rock arch was connected to said tree, but it held nothing special besides that. The older man slowly and gently ran his hand down the bark of the tree before he deliberately stopped at a certain spot.

|“I’m putting our mark on this place, so we can remember it. Now and forever.”| The voice echoed all around him.

John startled and lifted his rifle again looking around for where the voice had come from. The voice had sounded like it had belonged to a little boy, but why would a child be all the way out here?  He was hearing things again, and he was starting to get a suspicion as to the cause of it all. Since every moment he experienced all pointed to one figure, Sierra-117.

He spoke up and relaxed a little, “We should head back to the condor. We’ve trained enough for today.” 

“Affirmative,” Sierra replied, walking out of the river a bit hesitant. That was peculiar. The sky was an orange hue with hints of purple seeping in, the sun was setting and today had been somewhat rewarding, at least a little. Perhaps, they’d have more time to train before the dimension traveling trio left to go back home. Maybe.

Chapter Text

(Silver Timeline)

~2552 A.D. Human-Covenant War still ongoing, Planet: Reach, UNSC HQ~

[Silver Timeline p.o.v]

Jacob was left contemplating in his office, taking a marginal break whilst glaring at the offending report laying there on his desk. He had his hands clasped together. Keyes didn't know why he had hidden the damn thing, he's lying to himself, he knew exactly why. He should have given it to Admiral Parangosky, but he didn't want to. It felt wrong to knowingly allow the other Chief's partner to be exposed by the info in the device that'd put him in immediate danger. As in becoming an Article 72. He also did not, in any way possible, want piss off the second Chief by causing the death of his romantic partner. It was definitely one way to get a bullet with his name on it, skull crushed or a number of many other things. The possibility of one Chief losing it was already alarming on its own, two Master Chiefs losing it would be catastrophic levels of disaster. Then, the door to his office opened suddenly and in walked a Sergeant in full body combat gear. The ebony man was wearing his usual green squarish cap instead of a helmet.

“You know what I think, Jacob,” the sergeant in question stated as soon as the door had shut behind him completely. Fiddling with a cigar between his fingers.

“I don't recall asking for your opinion on anything in particular, Avery,” Captain Keyes replied blandly.

“Of course you didn't because your ass is too damn stubborn to ask for help when you need it,” Sergeant Johnson retorted, placing the cigar between his lips and holding it with his teeth.

“I don't need–” he sighed as he was interrupted by his friend.

“Yet, here I am ready to give it ‘cause I don't give a damn,” he continued without a care as he took out a lighter and lit his cigar. He took a long draw from it, then after a few moments blew out the smoke into the room. His office was going to stink for a long while then.

“Sergeant–” Jacob began only to be, once again, interrupted.

“Don't even think about starting with that bullshit. Now, listen to me here, Jacob Keyes. I don't know the reason why you've been glaring at that piece of junk for 20 minutes, I also don't care, don't wanna know either. But if it involves Miranda, just tell her,” two of his statements clearly contradict one another. “I'm damn sure, she can handle whatever it is. If anything I just said is completely off the marker, tell me and  I'll gladly shut the fuck up,” Avery crossed his arms, smugly looking down at him.

“...” Jacob pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed heavily whilst his head sank closer to the table.

“Yeaaah, that's what I thought,” his friend simply had to rub it in further, didn’t he.

“Shut the fuck up, Johnson,” he couldn’t help the smile that had snuck passed his defenses.

“I knew you missed me. Of course, why wouldn’t you?” It was a rhetorical question said with conviction that would sound like arrogance to anyone else. The chuckle that came from the ebony man didn’t help either.

“Aren't you supposed to be leaving today?” He raised a brow as the smile on his face remained.

“I already finished packing yesterday, just waiting around for the slow pokes to catch up and move their asses. Figured, I'd pay you a visit since you ain't seem to be doin’ nothing,” Johnson smiled, taking a seat in one of the empty chairs.

“How thoughtful of you, Ave,” he deadpanned, though he was sure his eyes were betraying his true nature.

“You ain’t foolin’ me, Jacob Keyes. Go on now, out with it,” the sergeant sounded somewhat muffled by the cigar in his mouth, but only marginally. He leaned further into his chair, letting his right foot rest atop his left knee as he took another draw from his cigar.

“…I better not see your name among the dead once you're out there,” always felt like sandpaper seeing marines leave and less than a third ever returning. 

“HAHA! You ain't ever getting rid of me that god damn easy. Not even if you started praying. Although, if I do end up on the other side. I'll be going out with a bang so big, you'll know it was me. Even making sure I take some of those assholes down with me,” suddenly his demeanor changed, both feet firmly on the floor as he sat up straight, at attention. He reached up to the device in his ear, turning his head to the side as he listened closely. “10-4, over and out,” leaning back into the chair and sighing with a smile.

“What is it?” Jacob asked, though he already knew the answer.

“Well, looks like my time’s up. I’ll be seeing you around, Captain,” he stood up straight. Avery gave him a salute to which he stood and acknowledged with a salute of his own.

“Give ‘em hell, Sergeant,” he replied, and they both lowered their hands.

“You’re goddamn right I’ll be giving ‘em ugly alien bastards hell,” Johnson turned around, but right before leaving through the door he said one more thing. “Take care of yourself, Jacob. Else I'll come back to kill you my-goddamn-self,” he stated.

“Miranda might beat you to the punch on that one,” Keyes responded.  

“Ha! Oh, I know she will,” then Avery was gone.

~~~~~~~~~

Well, Makee preferred being in the company of the doctor and Arbiter over the isolation of her cell, mostly due to the Arbiter’s presence. The overly expressive nature of Doctor Keyes was nauseating and too bright at times, like staring into a sun for too long. Arbiter was much calmer and less expressive in comparison to Keyes, like a full moon is bright yet gentle to the eyes in the starry night sky. Though, she didn’t know such things from experience. Her birth planet’s skies were plagued in a constant shroud of darkness, with clouds that would never part and the air that had been just as dirty and putrid as the land itself. The people that had inhabited the planet had been just as vile and disgusting as their home, except… for Det. She had enjoyed hearing of its glassing from Mercy when she was much older, a pity that she could not have witnessed the planet burn herself. John had mentioned that humans were not all so wicked from fragmented memories of his childhood. Why his childhood memories were so fractured in the first place was unknown to her, but she’d suspect that humans were to blame. She’d expect nothing less from them, to stoop so low as to hurt children. She’d been a child when they forced her to work, starved her, gave her and Det nothing but scraps to survive if only for their labor. Day after day was only work, and nothing else. Work, work, work, and work, and work, and work til their very bones ached and sometimes even blood caking the skin of their hands whilst buried in their fingernails. Blood that had mixed with dirt and grim. If anyone ever slowed they’d get the rod or the barrel of a gun. The rod was worse, nothing but pain that felt worse than death. The crackle of the rod still rang in her ears at night near sleep, she still felt the stinging and burning pain, the spasms in her muscle fibers from the electrical current. She had recognized a similar shorter and newer version of the rod attached to the belt of the soldier, Malya, the revolting man that guarded the door to her cell. So, how could such cruel creatures be worthy of anything less than death to their species as a whole?

“You’re joking!” Doctor Keyes’ laughter startled her back into the present moment. Makee focused her eyes and looked up.

“I do not jest, Miranda,” Arbiter replied, a fondness in the kind yellow eyes.

“But he seems too serious to do something like that,” she replied with some disbelief.

“My beloved is not always as stoic as he appears,” the elite responded, a fond glint in his eyes.

“You keep saying that word to refer to him, what does it mean?” The Doctor asked curious, something she has come to take note of as her usual behavior.

“Beloved.” Makee stated without much thought, until she took into account that she had spoken, aloud. She felt warmth flow into her cheeks as well as the back of her neck, she quickly added, “O–On its own it translates to beloved, in certain combinations of words the translation can vary.”

“That is so sweet! I speculated that perhaps sangheili would also have terms for endearment and romance, but I never thought I'd get a definitive answer. Or that Thel over here would be comfortable enough to tell me them,” she said taking notes on her device, adding a translation to the already listed word that had been left incomplete it seems. “What usually happens when it's used in these combinations?”

“Most combinations usually decrease the value of it,” Arbiter answered, immediately.

“It impacts how much they truly mean it and how serious they are meant to be taken when they speak it,” Makee explained a bit more.

“So using it by itself makes it worth more than when used with something else,” Doctor Keyes said, adding more to her notes.

“Correct,” the elite stated.

“Does he do the same in return? Call you his beloathed?” Makee felt her face scrunch up at the pronunciation and was embarrassed for the woman. It was hard to believe her fluency was once also just as bad.

Arbiter is silent for a long moment, simply staring at the woman before his expression breaks as a chuckle escapes him. He clears his throat attempting to recuperate his composure and failing, cutting off his laughter whilst speaking, “At a point long passed that would have been true.”

“What?” The Doctor asked, left wholly confused.

“Your pronunciation was… a bit off. You said beloathed not beloved,” Makee explained gently, she would grant her mercy.

“Could you say them side by side for me, please?” Miranda asked Makee in particular.

“Beloved. Beloathed. Beloved. Beloathed.” She repeated slowly, giving her a chance to catch the differences.

“Okay, now I can hear what I did wrong,” she said bashfully.

“To give answer to your actual question as it was intended. Yes, he does,” Arbiter stated gladly, though for some unknown reason his expression changed after. His eyes narrowed, he almost looked concerned as he quietly hummed.

“Is something wrong?” The Doctor asked.

“No. I was lost in thought for a moment, but nothing to be concerned over,” he replied, his expression lightened, though the worry remained in the undertones. But the longer she looked, the more she realized he looked… sad. Following the Arbiter line of eyesight, he was looking at Miranda as if dejected by her for a reason she did not know.

The two had been nothing but amicable, towards one another and towards Makee herself. Even with her opinions of the Doctor, she did not find her repulsive. Just a little overwhelming, but pleasant company nonetheless. Perhaps, this is what John meant when he said that humans were worth saving and protecting. At least some of them deserved to be spared, the very few that were worth sparing at least. The other spartan had not been unpleasant either, Kai was her name if she recalled correctly. She had asked some questions from sincere curiosity, they had been mostly general questions, nothing too personal. Though, she still preferred the company of the Sangheili above everyone aside from John. With the revelation she’d discovered of her own accord, now everything was made much clearer for why that had been the case. A combination of her own past and Sierra’s emotions wreaking havoc within her mind. The two factors had latched onto one another, clicking into place as if they had always belonged. It had taken her some time to recall the exact reason she knew and recognized the name Thel ‘Vadamee and remembering had only brought back her feelings of solitude. 

On that fateful day, when Det had been murdered and the Covenant had found her, taking her away from that wretched planet. It had been Thel ‘Vadamee and his companion Zhar who had found her as a mere child. Between the two elites, the former had been kinder and more pleasant company than the latter. At the time, Makee had not understood the words that had been exchanged between the two, only understanding the impatience in Zhar’s tone as ‘Vadamee had the luminary pointed directly in her face, glowing brightly. But it was the look in Vadamee’s eyes as he lowered the staff, in turn lowering himself to her eye level, that had told her he would not harm her. His voice had sounded gentle as he had coaxed her to follow them. When she had fallen from the pain of her right shoulder blade's scorched skin, ‘Vadamee had chosen to cradle her in the crook of one arm carefully. She’d held onto him as if her life had depended on it. He had been the first amongst the Sangheili that she’d ever met, his eyes were the first pair of yellow she’d ever gaze into and they had been full of curiosity, sympathy, and a form of benevolence. She’d spent a few days with them on the ship, or rather with him. The two could not have conversed properly, Makee had not learned yet to speak their tongue, but he had spoken gently to her regardless. She had found his presence, then, soothing and longed for it when they parted. She had not seen ‘Vadamee since he’d handed her over to the hierarchs. The first few weeks she had hardly slept whilst missing his long soft spoken and gentle voiced rants, perhaps they had been stories. Stories she had forgotten the words of long after they'd been told. How dare her mind have forgotten such words when they had been all she had left of the now Supreme Commander Thel ‘Vadamee. Did he even remember her? Or did he forget her as easily as she somehow seemingly forgot of him until now.

Wait… Beloved… For a Sangheili to call someone by such a name would mean this being is very significant and important to them. They did not use such words of endearment lightly. Those terms were only used for pairs that were seriously courting or… married. But that would mean the one the Arbiter is referring to can only possibly be one person that fit the description Miranda had given. The only other being that remained close to Arbiter’s side from what she’d seen. The blue-eyed demon, Sier–

“Makee, are you well?” Arbiter asked concern evident in the small twitch of his mandible and the furrow of his brow ridges. “You needn't force yourself to be here,” he added.

“What–? No, I'm alright, Arbiter. I was simply lost in thought,” she reassured him and looked around the lab. The doctor was nowhere to be found. “Where–”

“Miranda was pulled away for something urgent. I am to remain here until her return,” he answered before she could fully voice her question. Had her confusion been that apparent?

“I see,” she finally had a window of opportunity to ask the sangheili questions that could not be brought to light without suspicion from Keyes. Where to start had been the difficult choice.

“I know you have questions, Makee. I also know the true nature of your appearance here,” Arbiter for once stood tall, and she finally realized his true height towered over most elites she'd ever met or seen. He stared down at her, eyes guarded now that Keyes had vanished. He looked more regal as he no longer chose to remain hunched over. The top of his head was closer to the ceiling, too.

“If you know, why haven't you told anyone?” The blonde felt her blood run cold with fear for a split moment. For once, she felt scared under the gaze of the Arbiter, but she did not let it show, at least she hoped.

“Such things should not concern me, they shouldn't for the majority,” he replied, as he began to circle her in his pacing. Giving her room yet the sense of being trapped. Was he testing her resolve?

“Why did you shorten your namesake, Thel ‘Vadamee?” She asked, attempting not to break under his stare.

“Vadam,” he corrected her.  His expression turned somber, yet his resolve remained solemn and steady, “Vadamee is dead. Slain for all to witness, for his sin. His heresy. Followed by other more innocent Sangheili brothers who had been slaughtered at the Hierarchs' commands.”

Makee almost missed the hidden disdain in the edge of his words, but all she could focus to see was the deep sorrow in his eyes. The anger that would have been there, put out long ago, leaving only the ashes that had finally settled only to be disturbed. The blonde could not fathom the full meaning behind his words, simply understand the pain in them. The Prophets wouldn’t do such things unless necessary, would they? The elites were the most trusted race amongst their soldiers, their most loyal, honorable and noble. But had they done so because the Elites’ usefulness had expired? Would they do such things to her if her use did indeed expire as well? She took a shaky breath, she had not known she needed.

“I’m sorry,” Makee replied, feeling shameful and her voice to her own ears sounded fragile. She had instinctively lowered her head, hoping it’d be enough of an apology, only to bring her question to light. “I was only curious, nothing more. Please forgive me for my unintended offense,” She dropped to her knees instantly and bowed low, pushing herself as close to the floor as she could get. The seconds that passed felt as if they dragged on as she waited for the sangheili’s unvoiced answer.

“As I told you before, there is no need for this,” a hand gently pushed up at her shoulder, his response was just as gentle or perhaps even more so.

When she looked up, she saw a flash of the same pair of kind eyes that looked at her all those years ago. Though, they merely held a look of a more experienced soldier that has seen many things; many awful things. The yellow eyes also looked wiser and the sympathy in them from her memory was replaced with empathy in the present. He did not pity her, he understood.

“Symbolism,” Arbiter finally answered.

“What?” Makee responded, sitting up.

“The last syllables were added to my namesake in my recruitment to the Covenant ranks. So, it was only logical I would return it to its true form when I became a ‘heretic.’ Now, I am merely Thel ‘Vadam, Kaidon of the House of Vadam,” Vadam explained, his hand still resting on her shoulder with a weight that brought her comfort. “So, who are you? Who is Makee?”

“I’m a hirajo ,” she automatically answered.

“A blessed one is indeed what you are. But, Who . Are. You?” The sangheili persisted.

“You first,” she deflected, as he had only stated things that only count as what he is. It would only be fair. “Who is Thel ‘Vadam?” The blonde asked.

“Very well. I, Thel ‘Vadam, am a leader, a warrior, a brother, a friend, a husband, and I am soon to be a father. Now, who is Makee?” Vadam had not even blinked in hesitation, fully confident in his answer as he returned the question to the original and intended recipient.

“I–...” Makee suddenly found herself with nothing to say, her mind unable to conjure a single answer. She was a blessed one, she could commune with the artifacts and make them her servants. She would help the Covenant in putting into motion the Great Journey. She was a covenant spy in a human base, but that answer now rang hollow in her thoughts since the reading session with John. She was… she was… who was she exactly, if what she is does not suffice? Nothing more than a tool, a pawn to be played, used, then sacrificed and discarded. Anything below the surface did not matter when her uses are all that do. No. That couldn’t be true, she thought of it in passing in moments of despair, but surely she’d be allowed to follow them on the Great Journey. Surely, Mercy would allow her. She was a blessed one, human although more. But… she is human still; a white worm. She would be unworthy, among those that would be cleansed.

“Makee,” Vadam’s voice gently pulled her out of her own head.

Her vision had become blurry and she felt something wet streaming down her cheeks. She reached up, rubbing at her eyes to clear the tears that drenched her face, but it did not matter when they would not stop. Acknowledgment of her tears only served to bring the storm of pain she had been in bliss ignorance of, crashing down upon her without mercy. Something was hollowing out her chest and it was excruciating. An open cry had agonizingly clawed its way out her constricting throat. “I– I don’t know. I don’t know. Idon’tknowIdon’tknow,” a broken record, sobbing. She wrapped her arms around herself tightly. “Make it stop. Please, make it stop. Makeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstop! Please, it hurts. It hurts!” Makee was lost in the haze of the all encompassing agony that held no physical cause to blame. This pain tore apart her sternum to carve mercilessly at her heart and lungs. She could hardly breath, choking on every inhale. Her eyes hurt from how tightly she kept them shut in an attempt to stop the tears, she could imagine barbed wire tightening around her neck with no end to how tight it must be. A force upon her back coaxed her forward slowly, soon a solid coolness touched her overheated face like salve it helped relieve some of the physical pain. She cried her heart out for the first time in a long time.

It took some time before clarity finally returned to her, tear stains upon her cheeks. Makee registered the large arms around her small form, in a comforting embrace. The appendages’ weight helped anchor her, it was not comfortable due to the armor digging into her flesh through the fabric but remained comforting nonetheless. She has not been held like this in such a long time, the last memory of such an experience was wholly forgotten, it had probably been in the arms of a mother she never knew. Her hands felt stiff, she had gripped vigorously onto anything in her reach. Which happened to have been the silver chrome plates of armor in her face. Her hands were completely red and sore when she finally forced herself to let go of the metal. Makee had been surprised that she had not accidentally activated the tiny energy blade buried beneath her index’s fingernail. She leaned further into the hold, fearing that she would simply break again without it keeping her pieces together at the moment.

“Makee, breathe,” Vadam spoke softly.

She had not realized she’d stopped such a basic function, manually inhaling had nailed home how much her lungs had been desperate for oxygen. Makee clasped her hands together to keep them from fidgeting. “Thank you, Arbiter,” she said, grateful more than anyone would know for the simple kind action, even if she could not bring herself to look up at him..

“You need not thank me. There is no cause for gratitude,”

“But—” Makee cut herself off as something nudged its way into her mind. It was similar to when she’d have the impromptu visions or echoes of memories from Sierra, but this time felt different, it felt more like an invitation. He wanted her to know something only he could show. She reached out to this invitation and in a sense took his offered hand. When contact had been made, he immediately yanked her in and Makee was hurled away from the present and into another echo.

|“This one's containment… and this one's Great Journey are the same. Your Prophets have promised you freedom from a doomed existence. But you will find no salvation on this ring. Those who built this place knew what they wrought. Do not mistake their intent, or all will perish as they did before.”| A horrid, all consuming, and vile voice spoke.

|“This thing is right. Halo is a weapon. Your Prophets are making a big mistake.”| He (Sierra) stated.

|“Your ignorance already destroyed one of the sacred rings, Demon. It shall not harm another!| The elite (Arbiter) spoke.

|If you will not—

Makee could not hear the rest of the conversation, the offered hand had abruptly and purposely ripped itself from her grasp as if pushing her out. The action felt as if to say that she had heard what was intended and nothing more would be shared. Then, she felt as if she was falling and afterwards she was once again present in her own body. Gasping and shaking violently, the echoed words of that awful voice sent shivers down her spine, it terrified her. She never wanted to hear that voice ever again.

“Makee?” Vadam sounded worried. Worried about her.

“I'm alright, do not worry over me,” she stated. The sangheili did not make any movement to pull away, leaving it up to her to decide. Makee curled further into Vadam’s embrace, attempting to hide away from the world even for a moment. To feel safe just as she had all the time ago as a child in the crook of Vadamee’s arm. She hesitated for a moment, “Would– Would you grant me a request?”

“And what would that be?” He replied.

“Could you tell me a story?” Makee asked.

“A story. Of what kind?” The sangheili sounded intrigued.

“Any. Fictional or historical. Real or made up right now in the moment. It does not matter,” she responded, becoming more unsure the longer she spoke.

“Hmm,” Vadam hummed. 

“…It is alright if you do not wish to. It is a foolish request,” shame had begun to creep in, she was too old for such childish things.

“Nonsense. Do not assume my decision, Makee. I am currently deciding which one to tell. Now, allow me think,” he did not sound angry, rather amused. She could even imagine the kind smile that she heard in his voice alone.

“Oh, I see,” she remains silent for a minute or two before she finally moves away enough to look up at him contemplating. She asks, “Have you decided?”

“Mmm. Yes. Now, listen closely,” Vadam began with the setting.

~~~~~~~~~

Miranda sighed, it seemed they’d have to go through with Chief’s suggestion to have Makee use the artifact to track the location of its other half. She had already tasked people with certain duties to accomplish to prepare for it. They’d be done and ready by tomorrow and then they could proceed that very same day at noon as planned. She’d already sent the update on the situation to Admiral Parangosky before she had even thought of preparations. She’d sent the greenlight and dread was beginning to form in the pit of her gut as if her own body were attempting to tell her what she already knew felt like a bad idea. But what else could she do? They were on a time limit now, not just with finding the Halo first before the Covenant. The clock was ticking away for Reach itself, for its people, for her father. Sure, the other timeline and their own were not exact copies of one another but there were key points that had to occur. Reach falling being one of them for certain, finding the Halo, Chief meeting the Arbiter and eventually teaming up for unknown factors, maybe her father dying, maybe even her own death for all she knew. Miranda understood Thel and his husband’s reluctance to reveal certain information, hell, she didn’t really want to know the answers to some of her own questions because she’d regret knowing. Their Cortana had done a decent job staying out of everything and revealing nothing she surely held in her storage of importance, a whole lot better than her flesh and bone companions, but that was a weakness even she would hold if she were ever in their place. Knowing what is to occur before it ever does and wanting nothing more than to steer everything away from that course of events, yet also knowing that it's better not to interfere or else provoke something worse to take its place. To know who dies and deny yourself from saving them because it must come to pass. Even if she tried to save her father, he’d still escape her grasp to face death without a damn care of his own life.

“Everything going to schedule?” Her father had come to see her again, she’d have to keep this visit short though. She had to return to her lab to allow Thel to leave back to his John.

“Yeah, we’ve tasked most of the required satellites to track transmissions to and from the artifact the second Makee makes contact. Should be ready by noon tomorrow,” Miranda explained, looking over the information on her datapad.

“Good. Did you ever clear up the static from that transmission?” Dad asked her.

“Hardly, it seems to have a vendetta against me at this point,” she replied with an exasperated sigh. Glaring at the ceiling as if it were the reason for her frustration.

“Hm, you’ll get it. Eventually,” he said and she noticed him holding a datapad of his own.

“What’s with that?” The commander asked, turning to face him as her focus was solely on him now.

“This?” He holds it up nonchalantly, though there is a tired look on his face. “Just something I want you to have a look at,” he said vaguely.

“Really? I can look at it later tonight or maybe now–” she reached for it and he lifted it further away from her grasp.

“No.” Captain Keyes responded, firmly.

“What?” The action left her confused, his actions contradicting his words.

“After tomorrow’s test with Makee. I want you to look through it, but only after that,” he stated his terms.

“Why?” She was nothing short of perplexed.

“Because you have enough on your plate to stress over. Let some burdens fade before adding more,” he lowered the device back to the level he had originally been holding it.

“Alright, I’ll take a look over it after the test,” Miranda attempts to take it again only for it once again raised away from her. “Seriously?” She was not amused.

“Miranda.” Her father deadpanned, looking at her expectantly.

She sighs, rolling her eyes whilst shaking her head before quickly jumping up and snatching it from her father’s hand, “I promise to look at it after the test with the artifact. Happy, dad?”

“Very much,” he responded, amused. “See you at the test,” he proceeded to pat her shoulder, then place a peck on her forehead.

“See you at the test,” she smiled. He took his leave and Miranda needed to seriously get a move on, and return to Thel. She had already taken too long as it was, but he’d surely forgive her since his husband also wasn’t back from the training yet either. The sun was hours away from setting and they probably wouldn’t come back til nightfall.

Chapter Text

(Silver Timeline)

~2552 A.D. Human-Covenant War still ongoing, Planet: Reach, UNSC HQ~

[Silver Timeline p.o.v]

“John has a girlfriend. Whilst his counterpart has a husband. How… ordinary,” Catherine seemed both intrigued and disappointed.

'Their connection is deep. Their dopamine and serotonin levels are all elevated, all in biochemical synchrony,' Cortana stated, fascinated whilst she processes, truly processes the meaning.

“You mentioned that Chief’s counterpart, Sierra, continues to desynchronize from John and Makee from time to time. Specifically, when he is engaged in combat being the most notable. Since, your own twin seems to continue to hide everything about them from your sight, except for Sierra’s vital signs,” she stated, seated near the holo-desk that was conveniently close to the couch. Adun was off to the side, in a mostly hidden part of the room working on the task he had been given for the ‘preparations’.

The AI pulls up another graph and chart that marks times when Sierra has desynchronized, very few having possible reasons as to why. She continues with, 'He remains an outlier, yes, separate yet connected to the other two. Regardless…' She takes a moment, lost to a thought she’d finally been able to make some sense of understanding, 'John is no longer alone in the galaxy.'

“Well, John was never alone,” she stated, somewhat prideful. She was smiling but it was discomforting to look at, “He had me.”

‘...Of course,’ Cortana hesitated; hesitated out of doubt. From the time she has spent in John’s head, even though it was small and miniscule compared to Halsey’s years watching him grow. He was a lonely man, surrounded by people yet completely alone. Isolated since his removal of the pellet. Having distanced himself from everyone, even his own team, finding no one to truly confide his trust in wholly. Deceivers, liars, and betrayers undiscovered at every corner from his view. Not even his mind was a haven to him anymore, not with her in it. Then the park happened and his walls lowered, he relaxed. The little reading time with Makee and he was at ease, smiling. Even as Sierra pressed his buttons, there were still moments where he was happy with his older counterpart. A bond that John was forming between those the artifact had connected him to. With Sierra it was camaraderie and respect, all to a degree. With Makee it was… something more.

“What time’s the test today, Cortana?” The doctor’s smile was gone, almost as if disheartened by her hesitation. Or perhaps she suspected something was not right with her and she would not be wrong to believe so.

'They’re bringing Makee to the artifact at 1200 hours,' she informed.

“Okay. That’s all for the moment. Thank you,” Catherine smiled again, though it lacked something. It had been too stiff, forced.

Cortana vacated from the space. Much has happened and been revealed in the span of several days. She’d known that Arbiter and Sierra were close, but she hadn't suspected to such a degree as an interspecies marriage. Clearly, they had done so for more than just diplomatic reasons. It also brought to light a question, if John's current predicament with Makee was doomed to fail or worse. The implications of his counterpart having married another meant something similar was bound to occur in their own timeline. The exact details were left unknown and only waiting would reveal the answer, but this did not bode well for the two natives of the blessed ones’ trio. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~2552 A.D. Human-Covenant War still ongoing, Planet: Reach, UNSC HQ~

[Blue Timeline p.o.v.]

“To return home is as simple as how we arrived,” Arbiter stated shortly after Cortana’s explanation of the device's function.

“Yes, the device is ready to use at any moment, we could have left at any point, though we were clearly unaware of that option until now,” Cortana confirmed.

“We could leave now,” John threw the idea into the air. Even as he spoke, the idea didn’t sit right with him to leave right at this moment.

“We could. But should we?” Thel responded. A feeling akin to the one he hadn’t felt since their arrival and upon discovering the device strapped to his arm returned, telling him in some instinctive way that he was still needed here. It wasn’t as numbing and automatic at the pulling sensation but it was firm, leaving wasn’t the correct course of action.

“We’ve messed up the events of this timeline enough as is. Let’s just go home, they’ll be able to handle themselves. We have our own problems waiting for us back home,” Cortana argued, she did have a point. She was in the right and against better judgment, it was clear both him and his husband had grown an attachment to those of this world.

“We can’t,” Chief stated.

“Can’t and won’t are two different things, John,” Cortana narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms.

“We can leave when the test with Makee is done,” Arbiter suggested, the idea was sound and it’d only be a few more hours.

“Really? Or will the results just make you both want to stay to cradle and take care of them even more? Fight a war we’ve already suffered through? Relive all the horrors we fought so hard to be rid of? Is that what you want?” She furrowed her brows, pain clear in her eyes.

“No.” Both of them answered at once, reaching out to lock hands to reassure the silly notion that the other would disappear otherwise.

“The test is the last thing we stay for, then we leave,” John stated, squeezing Thel’s hand and his husband returned the sentimental gesture.

“Promise,” Cortana replied, knowing full well that if he did, he wouldn’t be able to break such a declaration.

“…” John stayed silent, fighting a losing battle in his mind. He couldn’t make a promise he would not keep.

“Promise! Promise that after this, we leave. All three of us,” her hologram walking right up to him, staring him down.

“Cortana–” Arbiter attempted to speak.

“He has to, Thel! I won’t accept anything less,” she interrupted, firm in her stance on the matter. She was doing this because she cares and John couldn't fault her on that. They were being reckless and she was trying to rein them in, back to reality.

“…All three of us will leave. I promise,” Chief declared, repeating only the part he could deliver. That they would all leave together. In that moment, he felt a presence reach out to him in his mind. Poor timing on her part to try this now, but how could she have known.

“John, what is it?” He had notified Cortana of this little situation, but wholly forgot to brief his husband on the matter.

“There’s something, I forgot to tell you, Thel. I will, in a moment, someone is calling for my attention. It would be rude if I ignore it, right?” He replied, then he reached out and took the invitation the metaphorical tap on his shoulder had given. In turn, giving his full undivided attention to Makee.

He did not attempt to make the first move, waiting for her to start. But it seems, this was taking a toll on her. He could distantly feel the terror of panic spiking from her. That was not good.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~2552 A.D. Human-Covenant War still ongoing, Planet: Reach, UNSC HQ~

[Silver Timeline p.o.v.]

It seems that Jacob had finally come to visit, but she knew there was a reason. There was always a reason. So, as he walks past her into the cell that is her room she decides to speak up.

“So, is there a problem?” Catherine asks following him.

“Why do you ask?” Jacob, ever the avoidant one. He placed his hat on the table, leaving it there whilst walking even further into the living room.

“I’ve been watching contingency teams coming and going from Fleetcom all night. Rooftop antennae shifting positions,” she explains, of course she knew the reasons. Cortana had informed her, but she wanted to see if Jacob would tell her.

“It’s nothing you need to concern yourself over,”  he replied, looking at her for a moment after he had walked over to the small work table and scanned over the contents of it. He went no further and she was glad otherwise he would have found Adun working on that contact lens she’d use to regain the access level she had, only it’d be by using Miranda’s. Using a scan of her optic she’d gotten after their chat a few days ago.

“What, you’ve– you’ve just come for a chat?” Catherine was smiling about the absurdity of even just the thought of it.

Keyes chuckled looking at the floor smiling before looking up at her again, “Actually, I came to say goodbye.” His smile completely disappeared as he uttered the last word. He must have obviously seen her perplexed look as he continued, “Parangosky wants you off the planet by noon today.”

She rolled her eyes and scoffed, “High noon. Yeah, well, that’s impossible.”

“Why?” He asked.

“Because I’m organizing and collating my life’s work,” she partially lied, that was some of the reason but not the whole reason for why she couldn’t go today.

“I suggest you prioritize. Grab what you need, and we’ll send the rest along after,” he responded without even a flinch of hesitation.

“But why is she so desperate to get me off the planet?” She was giving him another chance to come clean.

“Well, Margaret knows what a valuable asset you’ve been to the war effort, and the sooner you’re up and running in your new lab–”

“Come on, you can do better than that,” she knew he was lying and he was doing an uncharacteristically bad job at it. “I’m still a valuable asset right here. You tell me what you’re planning, and I can help you with it,” Halsey argued.

“You’ve become a liability, Catherine,” Jacob’s expression became more rigid.

She shook her head, “Jacob–”

“You’re out.” The room felt a lot more cold, a lot more silent. He walked past her heading to pick up his hat.

She turned quickly and followed as fury simmered below the surface, “We had an agreement. You got to play the good guy.”

“I didn’t play anything,” he firmly responded, defensive.

“Well, you were supposed to have my back. You were supposed to have my back. We had a deal,” Catherine felt as emotions began rattling at their chains.

“You think it’s been easy for me carrying around your secrets?” He threw back.

“My sec– Our secrets! It’s a little late for your self-righteous anger,” she responded, angrily.

“No, I am angry,” He sounded calm, holding back just enough. “I’m angry at you. I’m angry at myself. I’m angry at this system that so easily sacrifices human life in the name of progress, or order, or whatever bullshit catchphrase you come up with in the lab!” His control was slipping, that much she could see.

Catherine looked away with a scoff, unable to look at him any longer.

“But more importantly, I’m angry because you, you just won’t stop,” and that hits a nerve.

“How can I stop?!” She shouts in his face as he slightly turns away. “We are on the precipice–”

“Oh, my God.” He interjects mid sentence.

“–of everything that–” she continues speaking through his comments.

“The future, right.” She quiets and he’s clearly fed up. Jacob continues, “This obsession you have with the future has cost you every relationship you have today.”

Catherine feels the sting in her eyes, she turns away from him trying to keep the little composure she has left together.

“Me. John. Your only child. What else are you willing to sacrifice?” He asked.

“–Everything,” turning back to him, she immediately responded. Afterwards, she stated bluntly, “I am willing to sacrifice absolutely everything.”

This answer silents him, but she has the perfect view of the look of exhaustion on his face as each of his walls is put back up. After a moment of silence, he gently takes hold of her wrist. Running a thumb softly over the fabric as he speaks, “I pulled some strings… so that you could keep your ship. It’s fueled. It’s on the tarmac.” He lets go and walks away, leaving her. Picking up his hat, “You leave by noon.” Then he’s gone, not a word more.

~~~~~~~~~

Makee was feeling better than hours prior. John has been spending more time with her in his free time. She doesn’t mind at all, honestly she was very grateful for the company, especially after the talk she had with the Arbiter. When John had returned from training and visited her in the night, she asked him how it went. He said it had been a poor start, but a fairly good ending. She enjoyed listening to his rant. How no matter what he seemed to do, he just couldn’t outmaneuver Sierra. How the older man was softer on the others and harder on him. Of course, there were moments when the older demon was amicable, but the difference in treatment between John and his team felt unfair. Though, he said he could just feel and somehow know with absolute certainty that Sierra was worried a great deal about something. Something that involved John. Saying it was why he didn’t complain about it to the man’s face besides a little fear of Sierra’s reaction to insubordination, plus the man was hard to read. Makee knew John’s lack of experience with the artifacts was why he didn’t know that what he felt was just a fraction of what Sierra was feeling himself. Ever since the vision the blue-eyed Hirajo had sent her way, she'd at first thought she'd never sense him again. But since John had returned, she has felt a constant presence in the back of her mind. A silent threat surely, but she felt comfort from the constant company in the background. 

Makee and John had continued their co-op reading of the book late into the dark hours, and he had stayed for the night, again. During the morning hours she had woken first, again. For a split moment she had thought of her promise to the Hierarchs of bringing the Demon’s head back for them. A moment of weakness as her index finger, possessing a concealed energy blade beneath the nail, had clear access to John’s throat as he lay there unaware slumbering. But she couldn’t, not anymore at least. Instead, she carefully moved away and off the bed, folding a corner of a page to bookmark their placement as they had fallen asleep in the midst of reading for the second time. She put the book down on the table and put her boots back on. Then a thought crossed her mind, with John asleep the only other soul she'd be able to reach out to in this moment was Sierra, the older demon was wide awake. She could sense it. So, she planned to attempt to purposely make contact like he had with her, just to see if she could. In the beginning, she had thought Sierra and John were nothing alike, but remembering how John had acted around her when they’d first met. Makee could see the similarities between them as clear as daylight. Cold and distant at first, then if you gained their trust they were soft beneath the armor, and more than just the physical sense of the statement. She only knew this because of how he acted around ‘Vadam and the echoes she had felt with visions of the two of them. Both of them were just big softies. Was softies even the correct word for it?

Makee took those few thoughts, held onto them, and she reached blindly through her mind to the constant presence that had just been sitting there. She waited, waited for Sierra’s response.  What she felt after was overwhelming, his presence grew and it terrified her. All his attention now fully on her, mental eyes piercing through her as if she were paper and he were a sharpened blade. It was a wholly different experience to when she was invited to his mind. Different from the echoes. No memories or thoughts were being shared, just their presences in this mental plain sharing a space for the time being. She felt her heart racing, this was too much, too much too soon, panic and anxiety were tearing away her composure and denying her breath in her physical body. Then she felt Sierra’s mind reach out and take her outstretched hand and suddenly… Everything was quiet. Peaceful. Sierra was sharing his physical calmness to push away all the storm of emotions that had taken hold of her. He reached for the bundle of thoughts she had held onto but did not take it, waiting with his palm open and ready, she took this as her cue to send it his way. Then, she felt a warmth and joy.  Did he–... Did he find it amusing? She felt the sense of being patted on her shoulder pass through before he let go. His presence in her mind had felt slightly warmer but wary as he returned to the background, becoming small and distant once more. She still felt spooked from the effects of the whole interaction but it had been… nice.

John had left hours later to ask for the status of Makee’s test today. He had complete trust in her. She felt wholly undeserving of it, with all that she had done to be here and the reason why she had been here in the first place, but she was hopeful. Optimistic in redeeming herself by helping humanity. The thought of helping this species still didn’t sit completely right with Makee, so she’d do it for John because he wished to protect humanity. Some time passed before her solitude was broken, by an unwelcome presence.

{ “Hello, Makee.” } The hologram of a woman addressed her with a friendly smile. But the feeling in her bones told her otherwise.

“Who are you?” She asked warily, approaching the projection.

{ “Apologies for hijacking your entertainment system, but it’s urgent that I talk to you.” }

“Guard?” She calls out, for help maybe, but without John anywhere near. She doubted any help would come to her.

{ “It’s about John.” } The woman quickly adds.

“How do you know John?” Makee doesn’t trust her, the continued feeling of something instinctual whispering that this is no friend. That there are ill-intentions to be had here.

{ “You could say I know him better than anyone else. I raised him since he was six years old.” } The woman responded, her smile growing a smidge wider. 

So, she was one of those who wronged him. Fractured his childhood memories and other cruelties only John could ever tell her plainly. She had seen the scars that painted his skin like a canvas. Thick scars that told of how invasive the cuts had been, and how cruel that had been. She clenched her jaw to keep the scowl off her features.

{ “He’s very fond of you and I hear that you feel the same way about him. Makes me very happy.” } This woman’s eyes held no true warmth, they lacked a certain gleam even through the projection.

“What is it you want?” Makee asked coldly, unlike Miranda nothing about this human felt sincere.

Her smile faded to something more serious, { “John is in great danger. In fact, you both are.” } That felt partially sincere.

“What do you mean?” She replied.

{ “The artifacts must never be delivered to the UNSC.” } 

“John believes they’re safer under human control,” she stated.

{ “Well, you lived among us. Would you agree?” } She replied and every memory of cruelty flashed before her eyes. No. Makee did not agree, but she trusted John.

“You don’t care for humanity,” she was not surprised. Humans usually didn’t care much for one another anyway.

{ “I love humanity, but humans are the problem. We’re stuck. We’re still venal, selfish creatures who create misery and pain wherever we go.” } Makee would agree with her on that, but nothing else and nothing more. { “If the Halo is indeed a weapon, we will doubtlessly use it to destroy ourselves once and for all.” } 

“John won’t let that happen,” she responded, confidently for once. Sure in her answer, faith and trust in the man.

{ “Makee, there is no John.” } No, she’s lying. { “There’s been no John for years. There is only the Master Chief, a product of the species who made him necessary.” } She spoke as if either of those names weren't linked to the same person. John is Master Chief and Master Chief is John. After her talk with ‘Vadam, Makee had finally truly understood it for what it was. That a being could be more than just one thing, complexity when everyone favored simplicity. And yet… doubt crept in like a cold shiver. Remaining like a thorn in her side. All from a place she never expected a blade to be hidden. Sierra, the other John, the blue-eyed John was married to ‘Vadam. Married to the Arbiter. Bringing up a thought of the possibility that she would not be who John would choose in the end, in this time; in this universe. Not when things like fate would clearly lead him to another. That he could possibly push her aside like she meant nothing, discard her like everyone else planned to do when she was of no use anymore. Knowing how quickly the Thel ‘Vadamee of this universe had risen through the ranks, his battle prowess and tactical mind. He would not need protecting at every turn, he would be John’s equal, a true equal. Just as Sierra and ‘Vadam were equals. She was nothing. NO! She pushed those thoughts away and ignored them for the time being. { “John has been used, as the Arbiter has been used, and just as you have been used.” } 

Makee turned her back to projection with a scoff. They’ve all been used, that was indeed correct. John by his superiors, Makee by the Hierarchs, and ‘Vadam clearly having been used by both. Neither side in this war was innocent of any wrongs, neither side black or white, only gray. She very much disliked the complexity of that. Both are the wrong choice, but she would stand by John.

{ “But both of your gifts are too precious for either side to claim. You two must be the ones to control the Halo, with my help.” } There it was, another nail in the coffin.

“Why are you telling me this? Why not tell John?” She asked, her feelings of suspicion growing more stable.

{ “You have a connection with John that I will never have. It’s been wonderful to watch. I’m so glad you’ve found each other.” } This woman had been silently watching them for who knows how long, Makee couldn’t decide whether she wished to retch or lash out. { “He will listen to you… but you must–” } Her projection was cut off.

Malya came marching in, angry and with an accusatory expression. He looked around as he walked the room, searching.

“What do you want?” She narrowed her eyes on the man.

“Who were you talking to?” He continued searching and found nothing, disgust still evident on his face as left and the door closed. He watched her as it did on the other side of it. Makee wished she could just kill that man. She took a breath, driving away the tension in her being. For a moment she believed she had finally been left alone only to be severely disappointed.

{ “I know that they're planning to use you to find the second artifact. You have to convince John to help you remove the artifact and bring it to me.” } The woman continued to explain. { “I’ll have a ship waiting to take us away from here.” } 

“And then what?” Makee asked, it was a simple question really. One that would reveal the human's intentions.

{ “Then we tap into the intelligence of the Halo, and we unleash our full and true potential as a species. Finally, we become–” } Makee has heard this all before.

“Like gods.” She interrupted, a frown twisting her expression.

{ “What?” } This had caught the woman off guard, good.

She will not be tricked again by the same greedy and entitled spoken words, that much she has learned from the Arbiter. A poison so vile filled her veins, a tiresome sort of hatred burned, “I’ve heard enough.”

{ “Makee it is too dangerous to leave the artifact–” } She would hear no more of this willingly.

“How do I make it stop?” With desperation she searches around the controls in the room to turn off whatever device she was broadcasting through.

{ “–Makee, listen-listen–” } 

“How do I make you go away?” Her voice quivered as she pressed blindly at buttons, any and all that were near to silence this unwelcomed woman. She’d heard enough of these types of speeches, in countless differently worded and spoken sentences to stomach it any longer. No matter what words they used, the core idea was the same. To become godly. She is tired of gods that won’t leave her alone.

{ “–It is too dangerous to leave the artifact…” } 

Silence. The room was dimmer than before now that the projection was gone. Makee could finally breathe for the moment, not for long. Soon, she’d be escorted to the keystone. Soon, she’d see John again. She had many things to ask him now.

~~~~~~~~~

Halsey sighs, “Of the human brain’s myriad design flaws, the hardest to overcome is attachment. It makes us sentimental.” She walked up to the window and stared off into the distance before she scoffed. “People abandon all reason for the sake of pride or fear or—”

‘Or love.’ Cortana added.

“…Yes. Or love.” That sort of response from the AI was unexpected, something was off about her. A small malfunction that could be fixed later perhaps. At present, they still needed her fully functional. Catherine continues, “That’s why they need us, Cortana. To save them from themselves.”

‘I hope we can deliver,’ the AI responded, her small holographic form on the holo desk crossing her arms behind her back.

Halsey glared at the tower of the UNSC HeadQuarters in the distance. With everyone so focused on the test today and their now limited time frame of Noon. Now, it was the moment to strike. Without looking at Cortana, she commanded, “Signal the Spartans.”

Chapter Text

(Silver Timeline)

~2552 A.D. Human-Covenant War still ongoing, Planet: Reach, UNSC HQ~

[Silver Timeline p.o.v.]

Catherine and Adun had made their way to her ship on the Tarmac, to anyone else they were just preparing for their departure at noon and were none the wiser to their plans. As soon as they were onboard, Adun started up the ship’s systems. Halsey on the other hand remotely activated the spartan back channel for Vannak-134, Riz-028, and Kai-125. Leaving John in the dark purposely. Cortana had already sent them the signal, from the surveillance systems that the AI had taken control of, she could see they were suited up in their Mjolnir armor and weapons ready.

“Spartans, the artifact you discovered on Madrigal has adversely affected senior leadership in the military chain of command. No one of rank can be considered trustworthy or reliable. As senior civilian representative, I am therefore invoking ZED protocol effective immediately. I have activated the emergency Spartan back channel. This is the only way you’ll receive new orders for your next mission.” Catherine informed them through comms. The Silver team were on the move, Cortana having given them the coordinates where they’d intercept John and the prisoner. {“From this moment onwards, my orders shall supersede all and any others. You’ve all been trained for this eventuality, so I trust that you’re ready for the task at hand.”

{ “Copy.” } Vannak responded.

{ “Copy.” }  Riz followed.

{ “What about Master Chief? Why isn’t he here?” } Kai asked, how odd. She also fell behind from the formation she had with the others.

“John is unwell. His repeated exposure to the artifacts has impaired his cognition and compromised his judgment. He can no longer be trusted to stay on mission. Therefore, it is up to you to save him.” She explained to 1-2-5. Halsey continued, “On my command, bring John, the prisoner, the elite and the artifact to my ship, and we will leave Reach together.”

{ “John won’t go without a fight.” } Riz stated and Catherine smiled.

{ “Neither will split-lips.” } Vannak inputs.

“Cortana will take the fight out of John,” she replied, adding, “At the appropriate moment, she can put him into stasis. As for the Elite, he won’t risk the prisoner’s life for his own hide.” A beep sounds out into the air, the alert came from the monitor with the spartans’ vital signs. Something was wrong with one of her spartans, unsurprisingly it had to do with Kai. There was a warning, hormonal fluctuation was being detected, another notification popped up, S-125’s regulatory system was compromised. She had no pellet. 

{ “Ma’am, are you sure this is the right plan of action?” } Kai queries, emotion clear and evident in her tone, worry and confusion. { “There must be another way to help Master Chief. One that doesn’t involve taking the Arbiter against his will. Sierra wouldn’t like that.” } 

“I wish there were, Kai. But this is the only way. Good luck, Spartans,” Halsey shuts Kai-125 out from the channel leaving her in the dark for her next command. She had really hoped she’d have at least her Silver team remain whole. Pity. And oh, how disappointing. “Riz, Vannak… listen carefully. I wish I had realized sooner, but Kai has also been compromised. Ensure she cannot interfere with the mission.” Soon after, two beeps sound from the monitor, S-125’s vitals show she’s unconscious.

“It’s just Riz and Vannak now,” Adun states, displeased.

“That should be enough,” Catherine replies, turning to the center command table, Cortana was displaying a small projection of herself standing upon it. “Could you give me access to all cameras in Sector D?” She asks, Adun.

“Yes.”

‘Doctor, may I ask, what do you intend to do with Master Chief?’ Cortana queries. 

“Once we have Makee, we’ll no longer need him to activate the artifacts, which means you’ll be free to assume full control of his body and consciousness, just as I promised,” she explains to the AI.

‘I see,’ Cortana says, more dispirited than she had expected.

“Well, that’s what you wanted. Where’s that patented enthusiasm?” Halsey asks, the AI’s behavior has been rather unorthodox recently.

‘Forgive me, Doctor,’ the AI smiles, a see through façade. ‘As you said, sentimentality is a weakness I do not possess.’

“Ah, but in this case, enthusiasm is warranted. This is a big day, Cortana. You and John combined…” Catherine exhales, smiling and excited to see the result of John and Cortana finally becoming one, “you will be the best of all of us.”

“Congratulations,” Adun states.

‘…What about Sierra?’ The AI brings up.

“You've observed his skill set during the sparring and training sessions. With your adaptability and John’s body. He will be nothing more than a minor inconvenience, once you’ve eliminated him,” she answers.

‘What of their timeline?’ The AI asked.

“Their war is over and gone, Cortana. They have no need of the Master Chief.”

Several minutes passed by before John and Makee were finally in Sector D.

“Riz, Vannak, they’re on your level, now headed towards you,” Catherine stated.

{ “Copy.” } Vannak responded. They were currently waiting in front of the closed doors that were on the planned route the targets were issued to take to the secure room.

“Cortana, on my signal, drop him,” Halsey watched the cameras closely, “Thirty meters… Twenty meters.”

~~~~~~~~~

“That has been on a cycle of constant repetition,” Sierra made a comment about the Gladius recording.

“I’ve been trying to clear out the static, so I set certain parameters to allow the system to do that automatically without ruining the progress I already made. I got annoyed trying to do it myself, honestly,” Miranda chuckled tiredly. She had to admit, the older Chief was very silent outside of moments where she directly addressed him with a question. It reminded her of the day she’d accidentally found out that Silver team knew some sangheili that had been the start of her dictionary, their demeanor was similar in that regard with the exception of one member. Kai had done the most talking out of the trio present at the time.

“You are in possession of an ONI report,” Chief stated.

“What?” She turned away from her tools and caught sight of the spartan staring down at the report her dad had given her. “I didn’t know it was an ONI report,” Miranda picked up the tablet to inspect it. 

“Clarify,” his helmet tilted.

“Captain Keyes gave it to me. Said to look through it after the test today,” she explained, the report was from Lieutenant Jameson Locke.

“Hm,” Chief carefully placed a single digit on the device in her hands. Then, he just stood there for an entire minute of silence that felt eternal for Miranda. Was he always this rigid without Thel or did she simply not notice because the Sangheili was keeping conversation with her. The air felt so tense, she’d probably only be able to cut through it with an M1 combat knife.

“Wh–What exactly are you doing?” She asked hesitantly, frozen in place.

“It’s about Thel,” he said, bluntly.

“Pardon–”

“The report is about this world’s Thel ‘Vadamee. You should read it later, when you are allowed to process the information without interruption,” he explained further, how did he know that? All he did was touch the device for a minute.

“Vadamee?” She threw out the question more out of confusion and shock mixed together.

“A suffix that had been added to his name once he’d joined the Covenant military ranks,” he informed her as if it were a general and casual topic to have.

“Okay, writing a note to put that aside for later reference. But I’m not allowed to have this, I don’t even think I’m allowed to read this without severe consequences,” she held it a little further up with one hand to emphasize her clear concern about this. 

“Yet, Captain Keyes handed it directly to you,” he pointed out.

Miranda couldn’t find an argument to throw back, left momentarily speechless and she sighed deeply. Then a thought crossed her mind and with a grin she said, “You still owe me that story.”

“Now’s not the time.”

“This is the most I’ve heard you talk to me directly. I think it is,” she gave him an expectant look.

“Commander–”

“Master Chief is escorting Makee to the secure room,” Justin, one of her scientist colleagues, had approached to give her a status update. There was the slightest hint of uncomfortability in his posture whilst standing next to the now once again mute Spartan. Who’s vizor was aimed at said scientist.

“Be right there,” then she heard it, finally an eligible change in frequency and less static.

“Admiral Parangosky and Captain Keyes are also on route,” he continued looking at the data pad in his hands to most likely avoid the unfeeling gaze of the golden visor.

Miranda walked past Sierra and Justin, making her way to the terminal desk and in mere moments, the static was clearing more and more and she could hear the voice of a woman speaking Sangheili.

Justin tried to speak, “Doctor, it’s time–”

“Just stop talking, please,” she listened more closely, and as the static in mere moments finally dissipated. 

Miranda realized it was Makee’s voice, crystal clear as daylight. There was no doubt in her mind. She'd heard her before when she spoke with Thel the first time they met. It was her. She turned around and Sierra was gone. She hadn’t even heard him leave. When did he even leave? She shook her head and refocused. She turned back to her console and attempted contact with the others.

“This is Dr. Keyes, I need to speak to Captain Keyes,” all she heard in return was silence, at a time like this. None of this boded well for any of them. She turned to Justin, “Do you have comms?”

Justin attempted his own comms but nothing, worry clear in his expression, “No.”

Miranda thought quickly on her feet, she would need to take a page out of Sierra and Thel’s book, make a run for it. She began making her way to the exit, “I want that voice crystal clear, okay?”

“Yes, Doctor.”

As soon as she passed both security doors, she ran like hell. She needed to make it to the secure room before Makee could even remotely touch the artifact. 

~~~~~~~~~

John had briskly made his way back to Makee’s room, he was actually excited about today’s test, it was a step forward for them finding the other keystone and a step forward for Makee to gain trust from others beside himself. John had made it quicker to the door than usual and once he had Makee insight, he couldn’t help but smile, today was a big day for her.

“Ready?” He asked, happily.

“Let’s go.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~2552 A.D. Human-Covenant War still ongoing, Planet: Reach, UNSC HQ~

[Blue Timeline p.o.v.]

John was running through the halls with absolute abandon. All forms of general comms were down. Cortana had already contacted Thel and they were separately on route to the last spot the Junior had been seen by the security cams.

“I was planning to not say ‘I told you so’ in the case that something like this were to occur. I knew it was going to happen knowing our luck, but I TOLD you so! We should have left when we had peace of mind,” the AI stated, annoyed.

“I know, Cortana,” he replied, with a sigh.

“Oh, do you now?” She responded skeptically.

{ “I can hear your approach from the intersection I’ve entered.” } Thel stated through comms.

“Good. Now can we please leave,” Cortana stated.

“No.”

{ “No.” } 

“I hate you both so much at this current moment,” she responded, and she sounded tired.

{ “We will live.” } 

“And you’ll be fine,” Chief replied as a small chuckle was heard through Thel’s comms, but he actually heard Arbiter a little further up ahead. He attempted slowing to halt, but he was caught, lifted from the floor, and spun a moment to rid him of the kinetic energy he had gathered in his sprint. Then, he was face to face with his husband as he was held in his arms off the ground. “I would have stopped,” he stated, a smile on his face even with the tone of voice he had given.

“Further down the hall, perhaps,” Thel replied with a smirk, not making a single move to place him back on his own two feet.

“Please put me down,” John is gently put back on his own legs with not even a moment of hesitation from his husband.

They quickly returned to the task at hand and made it to the portal door that had been Makee and Junior’s intended entrance from the elevator in Sector D.

“They split ways. Makee’s scent trails towards their destination. The other Chief did not pass through this door,” Arbiter explains, looking off down the hallway Makee must have taken.

“Don’t you dare say what I know you’re going to say, right now,” Cortana warned.

“I will follow after Makee, you help this world’s Chief,” Thel stated, gesturing at each direction with a nod of his head.

“For the love of– Can I put in my resignation as your unwilling babysitter ?” The AI frustratingly asked, they all knew she didn’t mean it. She was just rightfully annoyed.

“We are not splitting up,” Chief instantly grasped his husband’s hand tightly. 

“I must know if she is safe. If she is, I will return to your side swiftly,” his husband replied, not even attempting to rip his hand from Chief’s grasp.

John saw the worry, desperation, and pleading in Thel’s eyes. He couldn’t bring himself to deny him this. He sighed, “Don’t do anything stupid without me.”

“Thank you,” Arbiter squeezed his hand back before pulling away.

“ I love you ,” Chief replied.

“ I know , my beloved ,” his husband said back, and he couldn’t feel anything but helpless as his hand slipped from his. He watched him go before his form vanished, only a shimmer telling him he had been there at all. 

“This feels like déjà vu,” Cortana said, dispirited.

This had happened many times before and he hated them every time. John longed for the days when the universe would stop pulling them apart like this. Dread took a back seat in his mind, screaming at him to go after him, but he turned back to the closed doors and pressed the panel to open them. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~2552 A.D. Human-Covenant War still ongoing, Planet: Reach, UNSC HQ~

[Silver Timeline p.o.v.]

“John,” Makee breaks the silence in the elevator.

“Hmm?” He responds.

“What will we do when we find the Halo?”

“Destroy the Covenant. End the war,” he answers, sincerely.

“And then what?”

“What do you mean?” He blinks rapidly, surprised and confused by the question.

“I mean… after you’ve beaten the Covenant,” she clarifies, turning her head to look up at him. “What happens with the Halo?”

John tilts his head to look at her, with a small smile he says, “I guess we’ll see.”

Makee does not smile back, worry clear in her eyes. She was probably nervous for the test. The elevator doors opened and they both exited side by side together. Though, John kept somewhat to the front, taking the lead. The funny thing about the pathways of the headquarters was how convoluted they were at times. They’d be passing by the perimeter of a room that could be used as a gym, to dock land transport and store cargo, all in close proximity to one another. All because it had one of the closest doors to get to the room that stored the artifact.

“John–” Makee spoke, overshadowed by another voice.

‘Chief?’ Cortana rang loud and clear in his head.

“Where have you been off to?” John asked the AI, even after their somewhat understanding conversation, she’d been distant.

“What?” Makee was understandably confused.

‘Not important right now, you need to stop,’ she replied, insistent with urgency.

“What– Why?” He narrowed his eyes, confused himself.

“Who are you talking to?” Makee must think he had lost his damn mind just now.

‘Chief, just listen to me–’  

“A pain in my ass,” John answered the question, more teasingly than the spite that was no longer present as it would have been days ago. He might have even smirked a little, as he spoke with a fondness, he won’t admit to aloud.

‘STOP!’ Cortana sounded desperate.

On that note, John actually listened and halted, raising an arm up to stop Makee from walking any further. A gut feeling rose, telling him that something here was definitely wrong.

‘Halsey initiated the Zed Protocol,’ she informed him. Zed protocol was the emergency Spartan back-channel, meant only for use in the case that Senior leadership was compromised. It is exclusively Dr. Halsey’s protocol. Vannak and Riz were waiting to ambush them no doubt, and with their pellets still engaged. They would ask no questions, have no hesitation, and aim for complete termination of anyone in their way; aim to kill.

“John…” Makee must really be overly confused now, there just wasn’t time to explain everything.

‘You’re walking into a trap,’ oh, he knew that all too well. 

“...what’s happening?” Makee asked, worry written all over her voice and face compared to his own stoic expression.

‘Turn around and get out, now.’  

He looked back in the direction they had come from and in return to the one they had planned to go towards. John in a split second decided that he would buy Makee time to run. His own Dr. Halsey had failed her Spartans in more than one way. Had failed him. He had become weaker without his pellet, so reliant on a thing that took away his humanity.

“You need to leave. Look for a Marine,” John ordered Makee, gently dragging her by the arm back the way they had come. His skills were not at the level of Sierra’s, he could not take on so many opponents whilst trying to defend her. So, this was the only way he could keep his promise to protect her. By sending her away. “Stay with them. I’ll find you, I promise,” he pushed her back trying to convince her to keep going.

“No, I want to stay with you,” Makee protested, turning around.

“I need you to leave! Go!” John exclaimed, turning away to walk towards the imminent danger. Some part of him felt like it was breaking as the distance between himself and Makee grew.

He walked right into the large space, warthogs, forklifts, and an array of other things scattered about the area. He was really starting to regret not listening to Sierra when the senior officer had advised him to wear his armor for the occasion, earlier. He had planned to, but clearly hadn’t done so soon enough. His undersuit would have to do for the moment. John pivoted, looking around the room, at every corner, crook, and cranny to attempt spotting his hidden teammates.

“All right.” He pivoted again, returning to his original approach. He continued, “Let’s talk.” 

John stood in place, waiting for them to make the first move, anticipating it. Then, he heard loud footsteps coming behind him from his left. He turned just in time to raise his arms and tank Vannak’s charge slightly. His back still hit a forklift, but it was better than meeting it face first with no protection. His second-in-command kept attempting to pin him down.

“Vannak, don’t do this!” He groaned out through clenched teeth. During the struggle, he managed to disarm the man. He put some distance between as the other had tried punching his lights out, lucky enough to dodge those attacks easily. John cocked the rifle, aiming the barrel at Vannak, “Whatever she told you, it’s not true.” Unfortunately, he had not been lucky enough to shoot Riz as she charged at him. Her fist had broken the rifle in his hands to pieces and sent him flying towards a sturdy support pillar. The undersuit saved his spine, but it had still taken him a minute of struggle to stand back up. He let out a loud groan. Leaning back against the pillar as support for himself, spitting out some blood that had gathered in his mouth. Sierra was definitely going to rub salt in the wound of his pride.

“You’re not well, Chief,” Vannak approached him, “Don’t make this harder on yourself.”

“We’re on the same side–” John rolled to the side and dodged the fist thrown his way. Vannak had punched a chunk of the pillar clean off, debris scattering on the floor alongside dust. That would have been his head. He passed by a warthog.

‘The left leg servo is out of spec. Take out his knee,’ Cortana advised him, and he took it without complaint, actually grateful for it. He dodged various jabs Vannak had sent his way before kicking his knee in. Knowing Riz was somewhere very close by, he went straight to grab a couple of thick dumbbells off the nearby rack. ‘Riz six o’clock.’ John turned, threw one at Riz’s general direction and the second at Vannak’s head. Riz had turned and the weight had hit her shoulder, and Vannak head-butted the thing back at him. He’d parried the dumbbell with another one off the rack, grabbed another to use it to smack the communication specialist exactly on the side of her helm twice with both bells. He was too slow to hit his second-in-command, who essentially disarmed him and proceeded to break his nose with another head-butt. John landed on his back and coughed which only helped to worsen the pain of his broken nose.

“Get up! You’re coming with us!” Silver-Three had growled out.

With some struggle he sat back up. So, that’s why they didn’t take any shots at him. Because Halsey needed him alive and John was cornered. Well, isn’t this just a wonderful day to be having.

‘Back-up’s chosen to finally arrive,’ Cortana informs him.

“I want a ‘Thank you so much, for saving my dumbass’ after this. Please and thank you,” He hears the other AI say just as two very thick and heavy disc-shaped weights hit the side of Vannak’s helm one after another, he stumbles, and all John sees after that is Riz sent flying. She collides with Vannak and they’re both downed for the moment.

“Get up, Junior.”

“What took you so long?” John groans in pain, stumbling as he stands up.

“Was deciding with my husband on who was going after who. He chose Makee, which left me with you,” the elder responded automatically.

“We got here early actually, though, we took two minutes just to observe. Then stepped in when things got serious,” Sierra’s AI commented.

“Cortana.”

‘She’s not lying.’  

“You just WATCHED?” John said, eyes wide.

The older spartan proceeded to make the most casual shrug he has ever seen the man commit before shots started being fired. Moments after, Kai would show up,and they’d enter a stalemate minutes later. Kai under Vannak’s boot, with one of Riz’s magnums, barrel aimed at her head and her shields were down. Riz pointing her second at his own face as she was downed on her side. John was kneeling as he felt the blood trickling from the back of his head, his broken nose, and he could even taste its iron flavor on his tongue. Everything hurt, everything ached, just meant he was still breathing. Sierra was stuck between the two pairs. The Senior Spartan had his hands tied, no possible way to save them both if shots were fired. There would have been, if he had been more precarious, but what was done, was done.

“Take the shot, Riz.” Vannak ordered, and Riz… hesitated.

Even with the pellet still active and regulating everything about her, John at this moment knew she could break free on her own with just the right push. 

“I said take the shot!” Vannak exclaimed.

“Riz… it’s me,” John said, looking right where her eyes would be. They grew up together, they are family, the only one left that matters.

Riz’s hand began to tremble, her finger shakily moving away from the trigger.

“Riz!” 

A sound rang out before an all too familiar cerulean blue glowing soundwave sent them all flying in the same direction at different angles. He was rolling, all the dust covering him before it all disappeared for something warmer and brighter. No… no, no, no!

~~~~~~~~~

“Hey!” Makee had never thought she’d ever be glad to see her cell guard Malya in her life. In this instance, it was warranted by John’s current predicament.

“Help! Please!” She practically ran to him, “Please, I need your help!”

He immediately wrangled her by the arm, “What are you doing?” He began dragging her down the hallway where he’d come from. They didn’t have time for this! John didn’t have time for this! Why couldn’t she have run into Sierra? He’d actually listen! She could attempt contact again, but with her heart spiking and fear already drawing at her breath, it’d only end badly for her. An opened door came into view and she panicked.

“No!” Makee yelped and struggled against his grasp and he just yanked her forward.

“Where’s Master Chief?” A woman with streaks of gray hair asked, inside the small room.

“Two other Spartans attacked him,” she answered, desperate.

“She’s lying.” Malya accused her, tightening his grip on her arm as she struggled harder..

“I’m not!” Makee barked in his face.

“Shut your mouth.”

“That’s enough.” The woman said, stoic faced. She turned away to a marine standing by another open entrance to the room.

“Let go of me!” She pulled at her own arm, the marine’s grip becoming painful.

“Go find Master Chief,” the older woman ordered the soldier. She turns back to Makee, solemn expression, “You stay here.”

“Please!” They are wasting time when she could just guide them to him.

“Not another word.” Before she could say her reply, she saw it with her own eyes. The keystone they possessed, just there in the center of the room as if placed on a pedestal.

“Keystone,” Makee says somewhat in awe of it. Woman looks back at the keystone and then at her again, a brow raised.

“Let her go,” an older man ordered

“Sir–” Malya began to protest.

“Let her go, Malya, for now,” the woman commanded.

Makee rubbed at her arm, putting a small distance between her and the guard. 

“Exactly how did you manage to get away from two Spartans?” She asked her, and the woman approached her with a look of suspicion.

“John spoke with someone in his head,” Makee looked  between both the older woman and man in the room, obviously the ones in charge.

“Cortana,” the older man stated, he growled out the name. He looked very displeased and disappointed.

“He sent me away, but they found him,” she explained further, they needed to hurry. John didn’t have time!

“Halsey. It has to be Halsey,” the older woman turned to the man, clearly annoyed.

“Halsey?” She’d never heard this woman’s name before, but if she had to guess, it was doubtlessly the one she had spoken to earlier through the holoprojection.

“Where’s Dr. Halsey now?” They asked her.

“I don’t know!” She’d never seen the woman in person. They were wasting more time! “John sent me to find you. He needs your help–” 

“Keep her away! It was her voice on the recording from Gladius ,” Doctor Keyes’ entered the room running up to the three of them. “I heard you! You slaughtered that entire crew,” anger and fury in her eyes.

It felt as if Makee had been dunked in water so frigid it had stopped her heart from beating and denied air to her lungs. All three of them looked at her with the same expression, expectant. “I had no choice,” she couldn’t have saved that crew even if she had wanted to. Their fate was sealed from the moment they had allowed her on their vessel and had come anywhere near the covenant ship.

“So, it’s true,” the older woman responded, aghast.

“Malya!” The man ordered, sternly.

“I’m sorry,” Makee apologized, what else could she have done? She felt Malya grab her arm again and fear overtook her, “No, no! Please! Talk to John. He knows who I really am.”

“When John finds out, he’ll kill you himself,” the woman replied, firmly.

“No, no, please!” She begged and then, Malya had shoved her to the floor. “Please!” After that, Makee only felt burning pain, the crackling of a rod on her back. She could hear the fabric and her own skin sizzling, and she screamed in agony. “Don’t!” Memories flashed before her eyes of that day when the man wouldn’t stop electrocuting her, ensuring that the rod would burn away much of the flesh on her shoulder blade. Then the crackling stopped, the rod dropped beside her head and rolled, deactivated as she heard a sickening crack of bone breaking in an instant. She took a few shaky breaths. Quickly, through the pain, she turned over and witnessed as Malya’s body was unceremoniously dropped to the floor. Head tilted at an inhumanly angle, the light gone from his eyes. She looked further up and saw Vadam standing there, glaring, not at her, at the humans.

“Thel, what are you doing?!” Doctor Keyes exclaimed.

“Clearly, choosing the side he was always on. The Covenant’s,” the older woman stated.

“Silence!” Arbiter roared. “I do not side with the Covenant. I never will again. I would rather choke on the air I breathe and die than ever do their bidding once more,” His voice boomed, the rage in it apparent as the way he snarled. The humans in turn backed away.

“Then why?” The man asked.

“Makee is as lost as I was before I learned better. She may have caused the death of those aboard that fleet, but that is no cause for this. This torture. She is unarmed,” Vadam gestured towards her, with a pained expression. “She was raised by the Covenant, on this you cannot fault her!” Arbiter took one step in front of Makee to shield her.

“She slaughtered those people!” Miranda countered.

“And how many humans has your Master Chief murdered at your command?” Arbiter threw back.

“That is besides the point–” the older woman’s argument was cut off.

“Because it was justified in your perspective just as it was for her,” he practically spit out at the hypocrisy.

Suddenly the words of that woman, Halsey, echoed through her mind as Vadam defended and protected her.

|“Humans are the problem.”|

Yes, they are. Only a Sangheili has ever come to defend her in her time of need, one when she was a child and now. Makee has only ever known kindness from those that were not human. She’d apologize to John, for she could not bring herself to attempt saving this undeserving species any longer. They were unworthy of his faith and protection. For Makee this had been their last chance. She’d had hope because of John, hope because of Vadam. In the end, disappointment and pain was all she had gained. Relearning a lesson she had forgotten because of John. He was just one man. He could not stand as representor for this race brimming with cruelty and malice.

“You will pay for this,” the older woman declared, scowling at the Arbiter.

“ No .” Makee stands, glaring at the human. “ It is you who will pay ,” she spits out the words as if they were poison in her mouth. With no hesitation she reaches out and touches the keystone.

“No!”

“Makee–!” The Arbiter’s voice is drowned out by the soundwave that bursts out from the relic. Knocking everyone against a wall or onto their back with a mighty force. The room is bathed in cerulean blue light.

She blinked and she was back on the Halo. Makee was home. She looked down, John was on the ground nearby. He was hurt, bleeding and struggling to catch his breath, clearly disoriented. Makee approached, halting two feet away, and looking down at him. 

“What happened?” Sierra asked, she could see him in her peripheral vision. 

She faced him only for a few moments, concern was clear in his eyes. She could not let him keep Vadam by his side anymore. He was not safe here, not after the Sangheili defended her. “I’m sorry,” she looked directly into the strong and kind blue eyes. In a flicker, a look of resignation crossed his eyes, brows furrowed as he glanced downward, and he shut his eyes for a moment sighing through his nose. When his sight landed on her again, a familiar stoic expression had taken over his features. He knew what she was planning, Makee could not hide that from him even if she tried. She could feel the dislike and simmering anger, his fury was not directed towards her. Like Vadam, Sierra was not angry at Makee. The difference between the two was, the cause of his anger was himself and no one else.

“You’re not taking him,” Sierra stated, narrowing his eyes.

“He will die if I do not,” Makee replied.

“He won’t.”

“He’ll be safer with me than with these humans.”

“No, he won’t be. Not with the Covenant,” the older demon responded.

A groan took her attention back to John, he was looking up at her, and she looked back at his hazel eyes full of trust. She wishes things had gone differently, but humans would always be the same.

Makee felt something shatter as she spoke, “Goodbye, John.”

“No.” She saw the moment his expression broke, voice pleading, and the desperation in his eyes and nothing more. “Please–” 

Makee let go.

Chapter Text

(Blue Timeline)

~2556 A.D. Three years Post Human-Covenant War, Theta Halo~

[Blue Timeline p.o.v.]

Fred shot the remaining brute dead and sighed heavily. He was left disappointed that even after looking throughout the entire forerunner structure, Chief and Arbiter were still nowhere to be found. Not even the last location the plasma fire burns had led to. Only a busted terminal, random archway to absolutely nothing, and a room void of life with only corpses of the Banished filling it thanks to them. For the most part that meant Chief and Arbiter were alive and well, at least. He walked up to one of the corpses to pick up one of his personal knives he had thrown right into the enemy’s eye and cleaned it before sheathing once more. 

“Fred?”

“Yes?” He turns around and Linda is just there, right in his face all of a sudden. He was unfazed by it externally, internally more grateful for the anchor her presence gave him in all honesty. Fred swore his hair was growing more gray just by the bullshit disappearing acts Chief was pulling more than anything else. Which was saying something since this was only the second time he’s done this. He’d have two nickels by now, had nickels still been around and manufactured to this day. He was also minorly pissed at the moment, which would upgrade to majorly once he’d had John in his sights again. He wasn’t going to let them have ‘orphaning their child before they’re even born’ be an option in their cards. His niece or nephew was going to have both parents in their life or so help him–

“The archway, it’s slightly dented,” Linda pointed to one of the pillars that made the structure, bringing him back to reality. Fred had only been lost in thought for a couple seconds. He looked at the direction Linda gestured towards more closely, the dent was too small to be from any of the Banished, and the damage wasn’t severe enough to have been done purposely or made from a melee weapon. It was big enough to have been made accidentally from John’s gauntlet being knocked into it. Thel probably tackled him, he could guess from the big soot mark on the floor, it had been due to a grenade.

“And there’s footprints leading to it, Chief’s footprints,” Kelly commented, kneeling next to the archway, looking at the pair of prints marking it.

“By the looks of it Arbiter’s, too,” Fred remarked as he approached and spotted another detail, they disappeared right in front of the structure. No impact on the other side, not even a scrape of paint or metal, “But they end here.”

“Well, isn’t this just lovely–” Kelly was cut off by a loud sound as an obscenely bright light blinded all of them. They adjusted fairly quickly to the sudden brightness. This light was coming from the archway. The same structure Blue team’s second-in-command was standing right in front of. The scout reacted immediately, putting distance between herself and the unknown light, Fred thanked whatever entity was listening that Linda was far from the damn thing itself. He attempted joining the others, but his feet were pulled right out from under him and an unseen force was dragging him away. 

“Fred!!” He distantly heard their voices become muffled as he was pulled in and only him, sending him flying at speeds he couldn’t even begin to guess as it messed with his systems. Afterwards all he could see was nothing. 

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(Silver Timeline)

~2552 A.D. Human-Covenant War still ongoing, Planet: Reach, UNSC HQ~

[Silver Timeline p.o.v.]

Alarms were blaring, John blinked many times to reacquaint himself with his surroundings. His head was throbbing, he kneeled first slowly with a groan, and a second after he stood up. He stumbled for a moment, his ability to walk steady was crap, he staggered and swayed side to side unwillingly. A slight ringing in his ears. Everything kept coming in and out of focus, visibility was somewhat shot to shit as the dust cloud obscured his vision. John tripped, leaning and grabbing onto a warthog for support. He sighed, looking around for any sign of Kai and Sierra. Instead, all he could see was rubble scattered everywhere, fire as well but nothing to worry about on that part. None of the fire spots were growing, though the place was still a mess.

“Sierra? Kai?” John called out. He could barely see something moving and approached. Once closer he could see that the movement had been a hand waving at him, the motion slow; strained.

“Chief, I’m okay,” Kai was there, almost buried in the rubble, but alive and well. She had no visible injuries or damage to her armor. She’d be able to get out on her own without help, but that didn’t account for any injuries she could have sustained, or likely reinjured mostly healed old ones.

“Where’s Sierra?” He asked her, the older man was nowhere to be found, neither was Riz or Vannak.

“He got up quicker, and bolted off,” she groaned, attempting to sit up. The marksman continued, “Catch up to him, I’m fine. Go.”

John nodded before walking past her, making his way through the halls as quickly as he could, although it was still technically a slow pace compared to his normal speed. He semi-jogged around bigger debris, some parts of the ceiling and walls had come crashing down into the hallways. Lights flickering here and there, some even sparking in a pattern. Wires hanging around outside of where they are intended to be hidden behind panels, inside the walls and ceiling. He heard more than he saw, thundering footsteps getting farther and farther away. John was still too out of it to even attempt to follow the older Spartan. So, instead he made his way to the secure room where Makee and him were supposed to have made it to, had their route been left uninterrupted.

John leaned against a wall by the entrance to the room. His eyes immediately locked onto the corpse of a marine laying across the floor, it was Malya. The soldier’s neck had clearly been snapped, it was a clean break by the looks of it, as if it were done efficiently and effortlessly. Blood had dribbled out from the man’s mouth even after death, a look of surprise still froze upon his face. He had likely not even been allowed a moment to fully react to what was happening until it did.

“Makee, she– she took the artifact,” Miranda stated, approaching him. She too was bleeding from her nose, but very little. The Doctor would be fine. She continued with a look of guilt, “She’s gone. Thel followed after her, and Sierra was here a minute or two ago. He’s run off to find them both.”

John looked at the empty pedestal where the artifact once stood and all he could feel was regret. He should have been by her side, he’d failed her, and failed to keep his promise. He shook his head and pushed himself off the wall, giving himself a boost to start sprinting. Makee would be taking the Covenant ship they had confiscated. Which hangar it was being kept in was unknown to him, but it gave him a general direction to follow after the three. He immediately stopped running upon turning the corner of a certain hallway. The reason was because he had a problem. The problem being that he shouldn’t have left Kai alone, again.

“Chief,” Kai held an apologetic look in her eyes, her helmet had been taken. She looked almost helpless, almost.

“Halsey’s orders are to bring you in dead or alive,” Vannak stated, holding Kai at gunpoint with a magnum to the side of her head. Riz stood on the other side, one magnum aimed at him with the second aimed at the marksman as well. He continued, “Your choice.”

John raised his hands slowly, and said the only thing he could think of, “She kidnapped us, Vannak.”

“What are you talking about?” He barked in response, confused, and in the blink of a second he saw the slightest tremble in the grip he had on the magnum.

“All of us. We were kids. She took us from our families,” He attempted to slowly approach them, but Riz fired a warning shot near him. The communications specialist was less composed than Vannak, she has been since their earlier interaction in Sector D.

“It’s true. Halsey lied to us,” Kai had spoken up, she turned her head slowly towards Vannak and looked past the barrel, at Vannak himself.

“She’s been lying to us  for our entire lives,” this time he did take a step forward, no shots were fired. He could see Riz’s hands begin to shake and tremble more noticeably. He also witnessed the exact moment Captain Keyes and Doctor Keyes showed up behind the trio. Just further cementing how far behind he was to Makee, Sierra and Arbiter. He didn’t let his dispirited mood show.

“I don’t understand,” Riz replied, her voice wavered and cracked.

“She doesn’t want you to understand,” he said. He took two steps forward, lessening the distance between all of them. “She just wants to control you,” John saw Riz lower her magnum, he was getting through to her more than Vannak. She was confused and was likely starting to question it all, that was at least some progress.

“Raise your weapon, Riz,” Vannak commanded and Riz immediately obeyed. His resolve and stance were still firm. 

“She tortured and brainwashed us…” John was slowly gaining more ground, drawing ever closer to them, “–turned us into weapons.”

“It’s not true,” he responded, switching his magnum into his other hand.

“Now she’s turning us against each other,” he continued, but then Vannak was quickly approaching with his weapon raised. “Vannak, listen–”

“It’s not true!” The gun barrel aimed between his eyes and John couldn’t help himself from flinching. In the blink of an eye, a hand in pastel blue armor with sulfur colored highlights reached out, disarming Vannak as swiftly as he had Silver team’s second-in-command on his back with a marksman rifle aimed at the bronze visor and foot firmly on his chest plate. This unknown vibrant spartan promptly kicked Vannak unarmed back to Riz. Keeping themselves firmly between John and his team, using themselves as a shield for him. Right before any sort of shot could be traded, Captain Keyes voice rang out loud and clear.

“It is true! All of it,” The Captain declared.

“How would you know?” Vannak growled out as he stood back up.

“He was there,” the colorful spartan stated, unfazed by seemingly everything occurring. The only other spartan he has ever known to be unfazed by such devastating information was… Sierra, the older Master Chief. Vannak had called Sierra ‘Blue leader’ and this mystery spartan was blue in color. But that would mean–

“I’m not believing a word out of you, blue,” Silver’s second-in-command snapped.

“I know because I helped Halsey select you. I planned your abductions. Delivered your replacement clones to your families. Worked with her to erase your memories,” Keyes was approaching all of them with a look of resolve yet guilt. Riz’s shoulders were rising and falling rapidly, she was hyperventilating, distressed by this whole backwards situation. She’d lowered her weapons. Captain Keyes without hesitation said, “If there’s anyone you should shoot, it’s me.”

The first one to move after the reveal was the pastel blue spartan, at first the response had everyone tensing, expecting and waiting for the stranger to shoot. But their stances eased when the marksman rifle was being raised slowly and stowed away on his back with a click. Yet, he remained put in front of John. Silence stretched on for a long pause. He side stepped trying to pass this mystery spartan number two, but a hand raise impeded him and the stranger’s golden vizor finally looked to him.

“Are you certain?” He asked, concern evident in his voice strong but gentle.

John nodded and that apparently was enough. The other spartan lowered his arm and let him pass.

“Alright, John,” he whispered, taking a step back to give him space. How did he know he was John? He looked nothing like Sierra. Though, he quickly realized and remembered he was walking around with his numbers plastered on his damn undersuit as clear as daylight. He shook his head slightly, returning his focus.

“We lose the artifact, we lose the war. It’s that simple,” John stated, firmly. He looked at each of his team and spoke more gently, “No matter what they’ve done to us… we’re all we have now.”

More silence passed between them. Vannak and Riz looked to one another then back at him. He could practically see the gears turning in his 2iC’s skull.

“It’s just us,” he said, softly.

“…The Covenant ship is in hangar Delta 7. Makee’s probably headed there,” Vannak informed him with a curt nod as Riz stowed her weapons and returned Kai’s helmet to her. John picked up the sidearm at his feet and tossed it back to 1-3-4.

“Let’s move,” John announced, he wouldn’t question the vibrant stranger until later. On a side note, he just knew without a single doubt that the light blue spartan could be trusted to have their backs.

“You can all go. I want Halsey,” Kai replied, locking her helmet back in place as she walked off in a different direction.

John acknowledged her decision with a nod and turned back to their intended path, and saw a magnum being offered to him by none other than the blue stranger. The numbers painted on the breastplate informed him this was Spartan-104, a set of numbers he didn’t recognize, meaning his name still remained unknown. No time for introductions anyway. He took the offered sidearm, “Thanks.” 

“Lead the way,” S-104 said, gesturing for him to take point. 

He took the lead, passing by Keyes and Miranda as he ran. There had been an unfamiliar look upon the younger Keyes face. John could hear the thundering steps in unison behind him, and he only hoped they’d make it in time. Though a distinct feeling told him they were already too late. In mere moments, he felt a sudden boost in adrenaline, he ran faster, his heartbeat rising, and fear buried a coldness inside his chest with a pit hollowing his stomach. This dreadful fear wasn’t his, many things he'd been feeling recently weren’t his to begin with, but not so numerous to become the majority. Unfortunately, his injuries started to slow him down soon after, Riz and Vannak passed him, but S-104 kept pace with him, remaining by his side even if that meant slowing for him.

Riz and Vannak made it to Delta 7 first and continued to the exit of the hangar.

“Shit!” Vannak shouted. 

“The Covenant Phantom is gone!” Riz exclaimed.

Two more marine corpses came into view, littering the hangar’s floor. Seems they’d been killed with a pistol, a weapon too small for sangheili to hold comfortably let alone aim. Makee… Makee had killed them both in cold blood. One had been unarmed and the other no longer had a head on their shoulders, by the smell of melted flesh, plasma must have been the tool used to sever their head from their shoulders. Though the cut was not clean, an energy sword was not the weapon used to do this, it would have been something much smaller. Something Makee must have kept hidden on her person.

“Damn it,” John cursed under his breath, scrunching his eyes shut in frustration. He shook his head and looked further ahead, spotting Sierra outside the hangar near the landing strip.

“John!” The sudden calling of his name had caught him off guard, but it was soon made clear he had not been the intended recipient as S-104 bolted toward Sierra. The older man’s reaction was instantaneous, turning at a speed that gave him whiplash even from a distance.

“Fred,” Sierra’s voice turning the softest he has ever heard the man speak in a tone of relief as the blue spartan, now known as Fred-104, tackle-hugged him. Proceeding to pick up the elder as if he weighed nothing and spinning him around in the air. Only then did John take note that the new spartan was shorter than Sierra, in turn he would be shorter than him in armor. The older Chief patted Fred’s spaulder before he was put back on his feet. John approached them, choosing to walk instead of run like his communications officer and 2iC, and conversation that had begun to transpire was loud and clear to overhear even at a distance.

“Fred, I–” Sierra was cut off

“We are having a discussion with you and your husband as soon as we regroup back home with Kelly and Linda!” The other exclaimed, voice filled with worry and annoyance, “Because this type of fucking behavior is no longer acceptable when you both chose to and will soon be responsible of taking care of a whole entire chi–”

“SHHHHHH!!!” Sierra’s AI harshly silences him, appearing for a moment to glare at the blue spartan as she gestured at his team and his approach.

“Oh. Thanks for the save, Cortana,” Fred looked back towards them for a brief moment and turned again to Sierra. “My point still stands, John,” the shorter man crossed his arms over his chest. John was left shocked and amazed at the expressive nature of the other spartan in comparison to Sierra. Though with a grain of salt, since this was most likely not his usual demeanor due to their situation and all.

“I know. And I’m glad you’re here,” Sierra replied, and he swore he could hear a clear smile in the older man’s amused voice. Their moment of respite was broken when the sounds of engines in the distance called for their attention. All five of them ran out further onto the open Tarmac to see as Halsey’s ship was leaving a trail of smoke, it was rapidly losing altitude. The ship was definitely going to crash land. It would not survive the crash and certainly burn on impact. Kai was on that ship, the same ship that had just ejected an escape pod. Halsey was getting away.

~~~~~~~~~

{ “Halsey’s broken off into the escape pod.” } Kai-125’s voice transmitted loud and clear into the speakers of Fleetcom, what remained intact of it anyway. Soon after an explosion was heard through her comms, the impact of metal on metal, and her scream of pain.

Admiral Parongosky stood before one of the still functioning terminals and monitors. She did not turn away from the screen showing Doctor Halsey’s pod, ordering, “Track Halsey’s escape pod. Do not allow her to leave Reach airspace.” She turned around to one of the other officers and asked, “Is the EMP ready for use?”

“Almost rebooted, Admiral,” the young officer responded.

“Kai-125, what’s your status?” Parongosky moved away to face the monitor showing a visual of the ship, who’s tail had caught on fire. They could all hear the alarms blaring from the spartan’s comms. 

“Kai?” Captain Keyes called out, finally showing up after he’d disappeared following John-117. Although the young Doctor Keyes had not returned with Jacob, peculiar.

{ “Attempting to regain control of the ship. Hull integrity is compromised.” } Spartan-125 informed them, the aircraft was gaining more speed, the ground coming closer and closer. Parongosky’s breath hitched in her throat, suspense grew the longer it took the spartan to pull the ship up from its nose dive. A grunt passed through her comm link.

“1-2-5 do you copy?” Jacob asked. The ship tilted once more, furthering its fall. She would not be able to save the ship. She needed to get out of there, now.

“Spartan, abandon ship immediately!” The Admiral commanded, they could afford the loss of a ship, they could not afford to lose a spartan.

{ “Ma’am–” }

“Now, Kai!” Keyes shouted with worry, furrowing his brow.

{ “10-4.” } From there, Kai-125’s comm was dead silent. The aircraft was 40 meters from the ground, going on 30, then 20. There was no sign Kai had jumped out. Finally, the ship made contact with the ground just outside the landing strip zone. A fiery explosion creating a ball of dark smoke, impairing the vision of the camera feeds on the crash sight.

“1-2-5, this is Captain Keyes. Do you Copy?” Silence reigned on. “Kai?”

Parangosky caught sight of the other three members of Silver team, the visiting Master Chief and one more unaccounted for Spartan. This spartan colorfully bright in contrast to the other’s darker colors. Spartan-125 was still nowhere to be seen.

“Petty Officer Kai-125, do you copy?” Parangosky reached out.

{ “Don’t start filing my paperwork just yet, Ma’am. Sir.” } Kai’s tired voice came through the comms. The Spartan could be seen climbing out from the fiery pit, she was mostly unscathed and armor intact. A sigh of relief heard throughout all of Fleetcom.

“Doctor Halsey’s escape pod crash landed, in a forested region,” one of the staff announced after a few moments of peace.

“Send out a search party for Doctor Halsey to that region. I want her back in custody immediately,” Admiral Margaret Parangosky gave the command. She had hoped to still have Catherine remain useful, but it seems she would have to strip her of all her titles. She had severely crossed the line with something this delicate and ruined everything. Now, the Covenant had both the artifacts and someone to use them with, not even mentioning the Arbiter. The elite possessed knowledge of the Halo, to what extent Miranda had never figured out enough to report back to her. Still, none of this boded well for them. They’d all been fooled, by two spies. The elite had clearly been more deceptive and cunning than the other. If they could not locate them before the relics were used to find the Halo, they were truly doomed

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~2552 A.D. Human-Covenant War still ongoing, Planet: Reach, UNSC HQ~

[Blue Timeline p.o.v.]

Makee’s screams of anguish were heard through the monitor as it replayed the recorded events of the secure room. Arbiter snapping the neck of the marine harming the woman, the conversation that transpired, and subsequently Makee’s reach for the artifact as the camera’s feed was scrambled. Chief had seen the younger man flinch at the sight of Makee in pain, he did not fault him for his reaction, were it Thel in such anguish… he would not be able to bear witness it calmly.

‘Halsey guards her secrets in handwritten journals which never left her side.’ The other Cortana could be heard speaking from across the room. They were attempting to more clearly detail the events of today. Chief had reached out to Makee through the little bond that had been created by the keystones and she answered with no hesitation. He felt how scared she was, the dread, yet also her resolve. Makee was planning something and that’s why Thel had stayed when he could have easily jumped from the moving Phantom or even overridden the ship itself to return.

“And what about Makee? Were she and Halsey working together from the beginning?”

“No.” Chief stated, firmly. He’d been in her head as she had been in his. She wouldn’t ever work with Halsey.

‘Sierra is correct. Once Makee learned–’ the younger AI attempted to explain, but was cut off.

“Cortana, did Halsey ask Makee to help her steal the artifact?” John turned around and approached the others at a separate terminal.

‘Yes. But she refused,’ she answered.

“She wanted it for herself,” Parangosky inputted, which struck a nerve for Chief, his unseen eye twitching slightly at the comment. He pushed it aside and followed after John.

‘I’m not certain that’s quite right,’ juvenile Cortana responded, furrowed brow.

“She wouldn’t have run if different choices had been made upon discovery of her status on the Gladius,” Chief comments, the flinch from Doctor Keyes did not go unmissed by him. 

“And how are you so certain of that yourself, Sierra-117? Last I checked the Elite in your company took off with her back to the Covenant,” the Admiral responded, with a smug attitude. Probably thinking she had been right this entire time about his husband. He disliked her as much as he disliked her counterpart in his own timeline. Always out to off his husband’s life or drag his name through the mud.

“As if you wouldn’t have ordered, what was it? An article 72, if he had stayed, Admiral,” his Cortana spat back as she appeared beside her counterpart, skeptical tone and cynicism dripping like venom from her words. Miranda couldn’t even look at him anymore, glancing down with a guilt ridden expression.

“He would have deserved it,” the Admiral replied, vindictive.

“Says you,” the AI glared at Parangosky.

“Cortana.” Chief warned, his Cortana’s glare only hardened as she turned away from the Admiral.

“Bring up the Aspero star system. Twenty times magnification,” John had walked up the stand in front of the large mostly blue screen.

“Chief– John, we’ve searched every visible region of the Aspero system. We can’t find one habitable planet,” Commander Keyes responded, tiredly.

“Makee told me they brought the Eridanus artifact to their holy place, somewhere in Aspero,” John replied, looking at the map of stars thoughtfully. 

Chief hoped by some miracle that Thel and Makee were not on their way to High Charity, otherwise they were all severely screwed. He audibly sighed, unintentionally aiding in the opinion of someone. This is why Thel was the politician and diplomat, he carried the patience for it, Chief did not.

“How could you trust a single thing she told you after all she’s done?” Parangosky asked, bewildered. 

The audacity, such audacity he would never understand. After they had just witnessed visual confirmation of the unnecessary treatment Makee was put through, treatment the Admiral had allowed without interference. Treatment, they all had allowed and stood by to witness themselves, except his own husband who put an end to it only to be deemed a traitor and a spy for it. His blood ran cold beneath the surface, a cold anger. He needed their help to get Thel back, to get his husband back. Chief felt Makee reach out, sending over an apologetic feeling that spoke volumes. She blamed herself for this, for his anger. No. He sent his own feelings back, he was not angry at her. If anything, he was angry for her, too. Suddenly, he felt phantom limbs wrap around him in an embrace, an embrace he recognized and knew very well. Thel. But how? He was snapped back to reality and the phantom embrace was gone and it almost wrecked his heart as it was torn away.

“She was honest with me,” John had immediately shot back to Parangosky without an ounce of hesitation, there had been a bite to it. Though he had retracted partially by adding, “At least for a little while. I could feel it.”

‘I believe John is right,’ the AI stated.

“Oh? And did you feel it as well?” The skepticism was clear in the Admiral’s tone.

‘In my own way, yes, ma’am,’ she responded, unfazed by the previous response.

“Covenant prophecy,” John breathed out, possibly having a realization.

His Cortana turned to face him, a questioning looking on her face. The expression gave the feeling she was trying to say ‘When are you helping to make this go faster?’ look. Chief could tell them the answer but he wasn’t here to spoon feed them either, even as tempting as that was to retrieve his husband quicker. He did not need nor want them becoming dependent on him. Such an outcome would lower their chances of survival once he was gone. Parangosky gave them a strange look, and Chief gladly ignored her.

“The Halo is meant to be revealed where the stars sparkle like glass,” the younger man explained.

The Gravitational Field. Ask about the Gravitational Field. He whispered in his own head. He could do as he had done with Makee and send over a thought or feeling to John, but the man was less experienced in such matters. The younger was still ignorant of his presence, less sensitive to its company, therefore blind to its existence at all. The thought or feeling would go unheard unless it was something greatly impactful and potent.

“A tad poetic for the Covenant, don’t you think?” The Admiral commented. If only she knew how poetic Sangheili tended to be and how poetic the San'Shyuum used to be. Both dramatic, and annoying at times, usually only at the wrong times… though the odds were never zero. But in this case–

“It’s not poetic,” Chief remarked.

“Exactly. It’s a clue,” John responded with a small smile aimed towards Chief. His gaze returned to the terminal with the AIs, “Cort– My Cortana, what’s the system’s gravitational field strength?”

‘Interesting question. There are several fields,’ said AI brought up a holographic imaging of the star system before herself on the terminal.

“Aspero is an unstable system surrounded by an artificial dynamical network,” Cortana added, assisting in presenting the fields in the imaging her younger counterpart had created.

‘In what appears to be cosmic strings,’ she continues, fascinated.

“Gravitational lensing from the strings, warps and scatters the light coming from within the system,” his friend continues to explain alongside the other her, collabing in changing the image’s presentation.

‘Creating a kaleidoscopic effect. From our point of view, a planet would appear more like fragments,’ the younger finished explaining, only then did the older AI back away from the pair.

“Or,” Chief said as he looked at John, allowing him to make the conclusion.

“Shards of glass,” John stated, the younger man’s smile had grown as looked down at his Cortana at work, creating a visual of the star system with the mentioned effects.

“So, you’re saying the Covenant planet could be right there, we just can’t see it,” Doctor Keyes simplified as she approached the blue screen.

“Not until we’re actually there,” John replied, his smile fading to something more solemn.

“I’ll send the marines. Twelve battalions,” Admiral Parangosky stated without any hesitance, it brought a bad taste into his mouth to hear such words. Sacrificing marine lives as if they meant nothing, like cannon fodder. He clenched his fists and crossed his arms.

“No.” Chief stated, an edge of anger in his voice, faint but still there. Flashes of older battlefields filling his mind, dead marines he’d tried to keep safe whilst pushing through missions. Their blood on his hands, and the lifeless look of their eyes.

“I beg your pardon?” Parangosky said, sounding and looking offended. He could care less about her rank over him.

John had walked up to stand in front of Chief, facing Parangosky, “Admiral, what he means to say is, you send 10,000 marines–”

“You lose 10,000 marines. Every. Last. One,” he cut off the younger man with a heavy voice.

“We are talking about humankind’s first incursion into Covenant-controlled space,” she responded.

“That’s exactly the point, Admiral. Quality over quantity,” Chief argued, calmly even as his emotions rattled furiously.

“We can do it, Ma’am. Silver team can do it,” John interjected, determined and spoke solemnly.

“They’ll be expecting battalions. Not six Spartans,” Cortana stated, placing her hands on her hips.

“Six? Ah right, the new arrival with Captain Keyes. How do we know he can be trusted to go with Silver team?” She crossed her arms behind her back.

“Lieutenant, Junior Grade Frederic-104 is from my squad, Blue team, and my second-in-command. He’ll stay on mission, Admiral,” Chief reassured her with a roll of his eyes.

“How can I be certain you’ll stay on mission?” She asked, a brow raised on her skeptical face.

“I’m Master Chief Petty Officer Spartan 1-1-7, Ma’am,” he answered, letting his arms hang loosely at his sides.

That response had clearly been the correct one, judging by her reaction. Parangosky hummed and seemed to ease slightly, even smiling a little, it was firm but genuine. He wished he was allowed to bodily recoil in distaste, but an unseen expression hidden by his helmet would have to do. She said, “Very well, don’t disappoint me, Sierra-117. We need those artifacts. You’re dismissed. Now, John, I would like a word with you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~2552 A.D. Human-Covenant War still ongoing, Planet: Reach, UNSC HQ~

[Silver Timeline p.o.v.]

“Listen to me,” Admiral Parongosky whispered to him, as she stood before him with solemnity. “Your recent behavior has been erratic, to say the least. You haven’t been your usual self.”

His ‘usual’ self, had been no self at all, that him had been a blind, obedient machine. Now, that version of him was dead and gone and John had pulled the trigger gladly. Even if it meant weakening himself from the deadly weapon he once was.

“Whatever emotions you’re experiencing, whatever pain you must feel. As you’ve seen just now an example with Sierra-117, just put it aside. Forget everything. Do you understand?” She continued, sternly.

He looked away for a moment thinking it all over, before giving a curt nod. He couldn’t promise anything, but he’d try.

She finished by putting an emphasis on the conviction of her words, “When you walk into the battlefield, John must no longer exist. Only the Master Chief.”

Her final words are what had made it all click together, Sierra had purposely removed his name when he declared who he was just moments ago to be granted approval to go on mission with Silver team. The older spartan was used to being a soldier with no name, just a title and nothing more. It explained why the older man had no qualms days prior to giving up his name to be substituted by his callsign. The only ones to ever call him by his name, his true name were those closest to him. He felt unbridled sorrow for the older John as he walked out from the lab. Yet, there John Senior marched on ahead of John Junior, unaffected by something he must have grown numb to long ago.

Chapter Text

(Silver Timeline)

~2552 A.D. Human-Covenant War still ongoing, On route to Star System: Aspero~

[Silver Timeline p.o.v.]

Makee never thought she’d dread returning to the High Prophets. Perhaps that is what Vadam had seen in her eyes for the split moment before he’d taken his place at the controls and asked her to set the course for their destination. He’d steer the ship and she’d be the navigator with the help of the keystone to guide her. She’d been surprised by his willingness, she’d not even spoken what little she had thought to say to convince him. Instead of letting silence fester between them that would allow her mind to wander, she asked what his plan was. He gave vague answers, saying it would be better that she not know all the details for her safety and from there he simply talked to her about other things. It relaxed her to an extent, though she fears that the prominent emotions from moments ago had not gone unnoticed by Sierra. She truly had not wanted to separate them, especially knowing they held each other so dearly. Even with whatever plan Vadam had hatched within his mind, she’d keep him safe in the only manner she knew how. Makee would lie. Mercy had allowed her to keep the book she’d arrived with as a child because of the belief born from a deceit that it held tactical significance by learning of the human’s ways of strategy. The book contents held no such thing, purely fictional, for her comfort and entertainment. Vadam wanted no part in helping the prophets, she could practically see his blood boil from her even suggesting such a thing. The key detail though, he wouldn’t have to be of any actual help to the Covenant, just like her book, he would just have the appearance of being helpful. In other words, as Vadam had put it from a phrase he’d learnt from a human ally, give them a load of horseshit . Which apparently meant to give them nonsense? She had found the human phrase crude yet amusing.

Suddenly, a coldness flooded her mind, it felt as if her blood had frozen over from the arctic bite of it. Like an unforgiving wind, powerful enough to knock her from her feet and chill her to the bone, icy sharp fury. Makee mentally followed the direction from whence this feeling came and it led her back to the older John, it felt strange to acknowledge him as such even with its truth. Was Sierra furious with her for having taken his beloved from his grasp? Angered by her short sighted decisions? For her cowardice in running away? His partner was gone because of her after all, most likely even labeled a traitorous spy for protecting, defending and leaving with her. This was all her fault. Even as fear gripped her heart, she reached out to the blizzard that was his mind, to him. Passing to the older man the feelings she’d chosen to give this time, how regretful she felt, her guilt, how much she wished her apologies could fix what she’s done, but they cannot. Even so, she’d do it all again.

Makee expected confirmation, to feel those cold eyes tearing through her in this mental space, for the ice to surround her like a cage, to become the sole focus of all that controlled fury. Instead, she was met with the older Hirajo giving her kindness and understanding; reaching back with care. Giving her clarity of his emotions. He was angered on her behalf. He was indignant about the manner of how she was treated. The older John’s reaction shocked her, an understatement really, it stunned her. She pulled herself back to the present, to her physical body and knew what she must do in kind for the older blessed one.

“Vadam, I require a favor quickly, but do not ask why, please,” Makee rushed to the Arbiter.

The sangheili still lifted a brow ridge in questioning, pressing a simple panel to activate the ship’s autopilot for the time being. He responded, “Very well, what is this favor?”

“A hug, a meaningful one. Act as if you are embracing Sierra, but quickly there is little time,” the stunt she was about to pull would push her limits, she would grow very tired after but the older Hirajo needed this.

The elite’s brow clearly furrowed with concern and a small bit of confusion for only a moment. Still, he asked no questions as she requested, “I see… Take a deep breath and hold it, you’ll need it, Little blessing.”

It was her turn to be confused as she did as asked, simultaneously taking firm hold of Sierra’s mental presence, she grabbed hold of something akin to a string, a thread, coming from a part of Sierra and tied it with one of her own. Makee held these strings together as tightly as she could wound them up, connecting one of their physical senses for as long as her strength allowed. Keeping herself present in her body but still gripping the bundle of strings in her mind. Opening her eyes again she saw the Arbiter towering over her as he knelt and wrapped his arms around her. He embraced her so tightly, she believed her very bones would break in the blink of an eye as much of the air was forced out from her lungs. Makee held on long enough to feel the older’s confusion and longing before her grip finally slipped and Sierra’s presence was gone, her energy drained from her by the task and her lungs began crying for oxygen just as ‘Vadam let go of her. Her bones were still intact, she felt no pain, she was fine, the Sangheili had held back, and had been careful with her. She wobbled, nearly falling to her knees when Arbiter guided her to a seat and her vision faded to black.

“Makee-!”

~~~~~~~~~

(Silver Timeline)

~2552 A.D. Human-Covenant War still ongoing, Planet: Reach, UNSC HQ~

[Blue Timeline p.o.v.]

Fred was intrigued by it all, everything here was the same yet different. It felt surreal to be standing back on Reach, it was intact, unscarred, and unburned… for now. Cortana, with the minimal time she had, briefed him on the situation as much as she could have. He’d had an inkling when he’d heard the brainwashing part of the conversation, it had been peculiar, seeing the clear 1-1-7 numbers right there on that other man’s under suit in plain view, and hit the nail right on the head when he had called him ‘John’ on accident. The name had slipped past his lips with familiar ease. Fred still felt like he’d lost his damn mind. A slight desire to explore more of this mirror image of Reach rose, wanting to see how many differences he would notice and how many things had remained the same. He squashed the feeling with a twinge of guilt. Fred wouldn’t get the chance to do anything of the sort as there were more important things to do, finding Thel and returning home were the priority, not reminiscing about the past. Though, it was strange that the Spartan-IIs of this place had been brainwashed as children and then lied to, it was an unwise decision given their lethality. Distrust and doubt would grow in abundance on all sides eventually, if the rift hadn’t already begun its descent. Fred was currently in a barren room, all around grey walls and ceiling, a single entrance and reinforced door that came with it. The room held a single pristine white table with two chairs on either side as furniture. LED lights embedded in the furthest wall, parallel to the door, appeared to look like a lengthy horizontal rectangular hole in the wall and the table itself also possessed a light source mixed into its structure. He remained at one of the corners of the square room, keeping the door in his peripheral. His helmet was off, he held it at his side with one hand as he used the other to twirl one of his favorite knives repeatedly in a practiced and very well known movement, absentmindedly. The door slid open with an unmistakable sound and a single pair of footsteps followed.

“What’s your name, Spartan?” The voice of an older man asked.

He caught the hilt of the blade and sheathed it, turning to the superior officer and stood at attention, “Lieutenant Junior Grade, Frederic-104, sir.”

“You’re awfully calm for someone who popped up in an unknown place, in the middle of chaos, Frederic,” he did not like the use of his full name one little bit, always felt like he’d done something wrong, he swallowed his discomfort with practiced indifference and answered.

“Not my first time, sir. But this–” he waves his hand, gesturing to the room, “–is far more different than landing in an active warzone.”

“I’ll bet,” the older man replied. From the looks of his uniform, he was a Captain.

“I’m standing in a place that shouldn’t–” Fred sighs, pausing for a moment, he knew that wasn’t the right thing to say in a time and place like this. Instead, he just looked at the gray and simple ceiling, “It’s strange being home again, sir.”

 The man hummed, from his peripheral he saw the compassionate expression drawn over the officer’s features. A comforting silence was allowed to exist for a few minutes, then the Captain asked, “What made you choose to follow, John?”

“Which one, sir?” Fred threw back with a grin, grateful for the change of subject.

The superior officer smiled, “Alright, that one’s on me. I’ll rephrase. You appeared in this place, and stumbled upon a squad of spartans divided, two of which were holding the others at gunpoint, blank range. Why did you choose John, this world’s Petty Officer Master Chief over the others?”

“Want the report or the simplistic answer, Captain,” the spartan replied, his smile never leaving his face.

“You decide,” the Captain replied as he studied him.

“Simplistic answer, because it’s John, sir,” he saw as the elder shook his head in good humor, then continued, “Report, I didn’t make a decision immediately. I listened. Watched. Observed the situation unfold. Soon as the big guy with the bronze, if I recall correctly Vannak, started marching forward with his magnum aimed in the bare face of his fellow, did I make my decision. Only then did I take notice of the numbers on the man's under suit and it just clicked. Second hand nature took over, sir.”

“Second hand nature?” The Captain lifted a brow intrigued.

“I always have Chief’s back, always will. If he were ever hurt or in need of help, I’d step up without a need to think twice. He’s my squad leader, my teammate and more than anything else my brother,” Fred finally looked closer at the name tag and saw KEYES spelled in yellowish gold ink. This is Captain Keyes? He’d only seen the man a few times, never directly spoken with him before… before Reach fell.

“But that Master Chief wasn’t your John,” Keyes replied, his brow furrowed.

“He’s still John-117, sir,” he responded.

“You put a lot of trust in that, in him,” the Captain became more reserved, though his eyes gave it away. He looked dispirited, as if he had failed at something. What had he failed to accomplish?

“I’d follow him anywhere, no questions asked,” Fred continued answering with assurance. 

“Why?” Keyes asked, his jaw firmly set.

“From experience. I grew up with him, trained and fought with him. He never left any of us behind, always made plans to get everyone through and home to the best of his ability. I know down to my core, he’d have a damn good reason to do whatever he’s doing,” he put simply, there were multiple stories and examples to tell and too many to pick just one. John had led them through so much and still does his damn best to make sure they make it through it all. To everyone else he is cold and calculating, at times with a little sense of humour. But Fred knows John is weighed down by every life he couldn’t save. Sam, James, Commander Keyes, Sgt. Johnson, and every other life he witnessed the death of whilst he still remained standing in the end. He couldn’t say he knew exactly what his brother felt, no one could, but he understood it and it worried him to death. Then he started acting differently around the Arbiter, lighter in his step, brighter in his voice, and most of all the fact he started smiling. Genuinely smiling with pure delight, something he hadn’t done since they were kids. Before all the weight started piling up. He was happier. Kelly had joked that something in John had finally broken, he’d finally gone insane and needed mental help. Only sometime later did their brother decide to inform them all that he had been keeping a not-so-secret sangheili boyfriend from them, the deviant bastard.

“Hmm, through thick and thin,” Captain Keyes stated, crossing his arms behind his back. Something had clearly caught the man by surprise, a piece of information he’d said, but what had it been?

“Correct, sir,” he said.

“Your loyalty is admirable, Lieutenant,” he gave a nod of approval and smiled, the CQC master sensed no threat here. The man was being genuine although with some restraint.

“I don’t need the praise, Captain,” Fred responded, he felt undeserving of it.

“Have it anyway, soldier,” his gentle smile was gone in a flash as he pulled out a small device and took a moment to read the contents. “Follow me.”

“10-4,” He lifted his helmet and locked it back into place as it pressurized instantly.

Fred was unbothered by the amount of twists and turns they’d made before he’d been dismissed into what was clearly the barracks, the Spartan barracks. He saw the three Spartans from earlier, Vannak-134, Riz-028, and Kai-125. They all had their helmets off. The blonde with red streaks in her hair approached him first as soon as she’d caught sight of him. The colored hair reminded him of Kelly, the scout had a habit of going for bold colors that were difficult to ignore or miss. Especially, when she would wear a combination of colors. Though, the closer he looked it seemed like some sort of grease was the cause of the streaks and Fred cringed at the thought of Kelly’s outraged lecture of safe dyes and bleaches for hair coloration, it was the only subject she’d ever give a lecture on. She’d almost colored the silver streaks of his hair once, she would have if he hadn’t opted to sleep in full armor for an entire month 24/7 to deny her access.

“Hey, we didn’t get to meet properly. I’m Kai,” she greeted him with a smile.

“Fred. Pleasure to meet you, Kai,” he answered.

“So, Blue team. Huh?” She says looking him up and down.

“Let me guess, my armor color is a dead giveaway?” He says in good humor, looking at his own vambraces for emphasis.

“Perhaps,” her smile brightened.

“What’s with the grease in your hair?” Fred decided to ask.

“Don’t know, just felt like it,” she answers nonchalantly.

“Kelly would have blown a gasket,” he jokes, not allowing his mind to wander to what they must be feeling now that another squad mate is missing.

“Kelly?” Kai looked somewhat confused, but more curious.

“Blue team’s scout, and obsessed with dyeing her hair in outrageous colors,” he joked, loosely crossing his arms over his breastplate. Kelly always went for bold and hard to ignore colors. He still wondered where she kept getting her supplies from, no matter where they went.

“Well, I’d certainly ask for tips,” Kai said happily, but there was a subtle hint of envy in her eyes and anger.

“Not to worry, she’d be shouting them at you while looking at those smears,” he replied, knowing the anger was for a very specific reason and not Kelly herself, this time.

“You’re certainly more talkative,” the woman with red hair and freckles stated, she was more serious than Kai in demeanor. Her skin was a shade or two more colorful than Kai's paler tone. She was Riz-028 from what he recalls of the earlier incident.

“More talkative? Compared to who?” He questions.

“She’s referring to Sierra in comparison,” Kai clarifies.

“Sierra?” Fred had seen no other spartans, of course that did not mean there weren’t more. Though, why would they compare him to a spartan from here?

“Oh, right. We refer to your Chief as Sierra,” Kai further explained, and it made sense. Chief would go and make things easier for them like that.

“Hm, J–Sierra is like that. Linda is a whole lot quieter than him, though,” Fred stated, the team's lone wolf was basically a few steps short of mute to everyone else. But she had her moments when she felt like talking or was required.

“Linda?” Riz says.

“Blue team’s marksman. An Elite Sniper to be more specific. Scary as all hell with her level of accuracy, she can shoot banshees out from mid-flight through the tiny slit opening they have between the canopy and lower portion,” he clarified as he described his sister’s terrifying accuracy. 

“She’s bound to miss every once in a while,” Riz commented.

“No.” Fred stated with no hesitation, not a single doubt in his thoughts, “She doesn’t miss unless she wants to.”

“And you?” Vannak asked, he’d been quiet.

“Hand-to-hand combat specialist. Now, I have some questions of my own,” the CQC Master reached up, depressurized his helmet, lifted it up and away from his head and back to his side. He did not expect the gasp from Kai, nor the simultaneous comments about his appearance.

“What happened to your face?” Riz asked point blank, looking surprised when she’s hardly emoted at all.

“You have a multitude of scars, why?” Vannak remarked, clearly judging him from the look in his eyes.

“You already have grey streaks in your hair!?” Kai exclaimed, before adding, “You’re so pale.”

“First off, ouch,” he said in mock-hurt, even placing a gloved hand on his breastplate in fake offense. He continued more relaxed, “Secondly, my face is fine, just a couple of close calls, one too many of them. One of them involved a Banshee wing hitting the side of my face actually.” Fred noticed the surprised look that overtook Kai’s expression as he proceeded to point to his head, “Thirdly, I’ve had these silver locks since augmentation.”

“You said you had questions,” Riz commented, lifting a brow.

“If none of you object?” Fred looks over everyone, searching for hints of any objections and finds none.

“Ask away,” Kai answered.

“Alright, good,” His soft expression dropped as he turned to look over at Riz and Vannak in particular. He was sure he was glowering as he asked.  “Now, what could have ever caused two of you to turn on your squad leader and teammate?”

“We had our orders,” Vannak answered.

“Uh-huh,” Fred scoffed, the answer was insufficient. Simple. Too damn fucking simple, he couldn’t be mad at them in all honesty, he couldn’t, they didn’t know any better, but they should. “Almost killing two of your teammates because you were ordered?” Fred had wanted to spit out those words like poison, but he spoke it as calmly as he could. He had sounded a bit stiff near the end.

“Yes.” Both answered in unison.

All the anger put out like a match in strong winds, his expression softened, he pitied them. All of them. To be stripped of the very thing that made them human. He’d been disciplined, trained, and educated. None of that meant he’d been made an emotionless obedient machine. Crippled socially perhaps, not whatever this is.

“Hey, were you really gonna shoot me?” Kai asks the other two with a serious, slightly nervous, and worried expression.

Both teammates respond and answer in unison without hesitation.

“You know I would have,” Vannak states as if it was a well known hard fact about him.

“Oh, absolutely. No question,” Riz speaks nonchalantly, not an ounce of regret or apology.

“Jesus. I can’t believe you two. You’re, like, ice-cold,” a mixture of hurt, shock was Kai’s expression and she must be a bit disturbed.

“Well, weren’t you gonna shoot us?” Vannak comments 

“Of course I would have. I would have just felt bad about it,” she responded, gently.

“Mm-hmm,” Vannak hums in reply, his tone indicating he was clearly unconvinced, skeptical even.

“Damn, Vannak,” a grin spread across Kai’s face.

The tension in the air was quelled, their expressions subtly changed to something brighter, in their eyes there was a little spark. The slightest pull in the corner of Vannak’s lips, a smile that had been denied in everything but his eyes. Riz’s shoulders had dropped, relaxing, more comfortable. Deep down the human in them refused to die, it just needed to be let out. There was still hope for them. A team divided would crumble and fall and a team united would withstand any storm cast their way. They would need time, who knows if they’ll even have it. It may already be too late.

“Alright, question number two. What are your roles in Silver team? After that I wouldn't mind swapping some stories,” Fred said, allowing himself to relax as well. If he couldn't explore this world with his own eyes, might as well have the next best thing.

~~~~~~~~~

(Silver Timeline)

~2552 A.D. Human-Covenant War still ongoing, Planet: Reach, UNSC HQ~

[Silver Timeline p.o.v.]

Jacob had made his way onto the tarmac. He’d been briefed on the situation and the newest mission for their team composed of six spartans. After today’s events, it was unclear how this mission would go for them, it would definitely test the integrity of Silver team. Everything was hanging in the balance with the outcome, success was the only acceptable option. As John had said before, we lose the artifacts, we lose the war. The Condor came into view, its ramp was lowered and the entrance open. He could see two sets of green standing within its fuselage. They were deep in conversation, though Keyes didn’t quite catch what had been said. He called out to them before anything more could be spoken without knowledge of his presence.

From the top of the ramp before entering the ship, he spoke firm yet gentle, “Chief.”

The two turned their heads to look at him, Sierra and John. One looked at him with a composed expression, the other with an emotionless gold vizor. Sierra automatically faced his whole body towards him and saluted, but John kept his back to him, still giving him his attention by the clear eye contact.

“At ease,” He gave a half-hearted smile to the older spartan who moved his arms to hang loosely at his sides. Jacob’s smile fell away once he returned his attention to John, “We pulsed Halsey’s escape pod over Manassas. We’ll have her back in custody shortly.” Keyes took note of the way John’s expression softened, his posture becoming less tense. The older Chief looked unfazed but who knew what went on inside that helmet, of course only Sierra himself did. He cleared his throat, he spoke in a somber and sympathetic tone, “There is a lot that has happened over the years. A lot that I am not proud of. I’ve tried to rationalize it…because of all the good that you have done.” John turned to face him, fully face him. The younger man had scrapes from the earlier fighting, his nose now carried a small but wide cut on the bridge of it. There was an expectant look in his eyes. No trace of entitlement, only anticipation. Though this apology was not meant for Sierra, he was glad he’d at least get to hear a version of him say it, “There’s no apology that can give you back what we took from you. From both of you. And from all the others. But if–”

“There will be a reckoning, Captain. Someday. For all of us,” John cut him off and Sierra placed a hand on the younger’s shoulder. John looked at the other for a second before looking back at Keyes. He shook his head with a small smile as he stood proudly, “Not today.”

Keyes nodded his head, he couldn’t help the genuine smile that formed after hearing that. He heard the other Spartans marching their approach and excused himself, wishing them luck on their mission. Passing by the line of armorer men and women as they entered the condor. The light blue spartan, Frederic-104, acknowledged his presence with a nod as he walked past. Jacob knew from the recording taken from Kai-125’s armor during the training session that the older spartans had never possessed the pellet their spartans did. The loyalty they held to one another because of it from what he’d heard from Frederic and seen from the older Chief. He couldn’t help but wonder how many things would be different if Catherine had taken the same approach as her counterpart during the process of the SPARTAN-II program. But what’s done is done. This is where they ended up. This is the path they must tread. He had gone no more than six feet from the ramp of the condor when a voice called for his attention.

“Captain Keyes, sir,” he turns to see Sierra standing behind him, a three foot distance between them.

“Chief,” he replied, John was no longer present in conversation so calling him such wouldn’t hurt. It just felt right to call him by the title.

“May I be at liberty to commit one small unprofessional action, sir?” Chief asked, looking down at him.

“Hm,” Jacob hummed. He had a feeling he was about to receive a goodbye from the man. If so, the older John did not plan to return. It was only logical after the events of today. He’d allow whatever it was this once, “Permission granted, soldier.”

A beat of silence, seconds past before his vision was filled with one color, olive green, in the blink of an eye. Gentle pressure was placed on the back of his head and around his shoulders, Sierra was… he was giving him a hug. He blinked a couple times, processing this moment. Afterwards, he gave the spartan a few hard pats on his backside’s armor. It felt odd to witness the quiet and reserved man expressing emotion. This was definitely a goodbye hug. A minute more past them by. Finally, Sierra let go, distancing himself, giving Jacob a single pat to his shoulder before giving a small squeeze.

“Give ‘em hell, Chief,” Keyes stated, looking straight into the gold visor.

“Will do, sir,” even as the hand was lifted from his shoulder, Jacob still felt the phantom of its weight. The Spartan boarded the Condor at last. He took a breath as the ship took flight, wind rushing through him and fading as the distance the condor flew only grew. He sighed, all that was left to do was bring Catherine into custody and speak with his daughter. The latter would be more difficult than the former.

~~~~~~~~~

~2552 A.D. Human-Covenant War still ongoing, Planet: Unknown, Covenant Temple~

Mercy sat patiently waiting, the blessed one had finally arrived with the second keystone the primates had taken. The sand was shifted and blown by the approach of the phantom and its brief hover, never truly landing, it was further away from the temple in the open where it would not damage or taint anything. This planet’s sun hung half way down, painting the sky in soft hues of blue, pink and orange. Clouds circled their perimeter but left the sky above them clear. The hirajo exited the ship and bowed her head as an honor guard entered and retrieved the artifact from inside. From there, Hirajo walked a small distance behind the honor guard who held up the relic with the necessary care and respect as they approached, passing by the rest of the lined up guard. She soon kneeled before them, bowing her head once more. The human had a sack clenched in one hand.

“ Blessed One . You have returned . And you have delivered both keystones as promised ,” Mercy states, pleased.

“ She also promised us the Demon’s head ,” Regret eagerly interjects to which Mercy sends him a hard stare.

“ Oh , but I have brought you the Demon’s head , Noble Hierarch Regret ,” the human stands, and opens the sack she has been carrying with her. She grasps something inside and pulls it out holding it up for them to see. The severed head of a pale human.

Regret looks surprised before he scoffs.

Hirajo continues, expectant and confident, “ Are you not satisfied ?"

“ You have done well ,” Mercy praises, a great foe defeated on top of her deliverance of the relics, he will allow it, she has earned this. He sits taller as he adds, “ Soon our Covenant will begin the Great Journey .”

“ Gracious Hierarch Mercy , I have found and brought with me something else from the humans ,” she stated, returning the head to the sack as another Honor guard takes it from her hands. 

“ What have you found ?” Mercy raised a brow, curious. Regret made his annoyance known.

“ They –” the Blessed One attempted to explain as she turned away looking for something.

“ Who have you dared to bring here ?!” Regret impatiently demands. Mercy rolls his eyes unimpressed with the elder’s demeanor.

“ Your Excellency –” the human was interrupted again, but by another.

“ She has brought me , noble hierarchs ,” at first the speaker is a disembodied voice until his cloaking fades away. Silver chrome armor shines in the soft light. Mercy’s eyes widened with surprise, caught unprepared by the stature of the elite and how easily he’d snuck past all their defenses. Regret had screamed in terror and Truth merely gasped. Their Honor guard had rushed forth to put an end to this intruder, but Mercy raised a hand and waved them off with little concern. The Sangheili was unarmed, kneeling and bowing his head low, he was no threat to them. Were it not for the confirmation of their last Arbiter's demise, Mercy would have believed Ripa ‘Moramee had defied death to return from the grave to stand before them now out of spite and pride. Though this Sangheili bore no resemblance to the late ‘Moramee, however, it was clear by the armor he wore that an Arbiter stood before them. But they had not chosen an Arbiter and there was no cause that warranted the need of an one either. So, how had he come in possession of an armor that still, by all of their accounts, remained locked away in the Mausoleum of the Arbiter aboard High Charity. 

“ Mercy , such insolence should be –” Regret spoke, outraged.

“ Calm yourself , brother . I wish to know the meaning of this as much as you ,” He silenced Regret before he could air all his complaints at once. He returned his attention to the unknown elite, “ Rise , and explain yourself . You are no Arbiter of ours .”

“ I am not an Arbiter of yours , yet . Not in this point in time at least , noble hierarchs ,” he continued to speak cryptically.

“ What nonsense does he dare waste our time with !” Regret shouted impatiently, banging his armrest in emphasis.

“ Elaborate , Elite ,” Mercy stated, intrigued. He knew the Forerunners possessed many technologies beyond their imagination, but time travel is something he had not anticipated. Be that as it may, it was not out of the realm of possibility.

“ It was you , your excellency who sent me back to prevent an event that will lead to the demise of us all ,” he answered, vaguely.

“ Speak plainly ,” Truth finally spoke, the curiosity in his voice subtle.

“When the Halo was found and accessed, an unforeseen foe was released . The great journey never began . This threat ended the life of the only remaining blessed one who could activate the Halo . Destroying the only viable option to rid the stars of this adversary . Moments before the rest us would be consumed , you , gracious hierarch mercy , placed onto me this task for my failure ,” the unknown elite explained.

“ And what is this task !?” Regret continued to be ever the short fused one of the three.

“ Protect the Blessed one . Though , the words spoken to me that day differed in only one , your excellency ,” he answered.

“ Repeat them ,” Mercy commanded.

“ Protect the Reclaimer .”

“ Did I reveal their meaning ?” Mercy asked, weighing the scale of whether he would allow Regret the satisfaction of having this elite finally terminated. If he knew too much, he posed more of a threat than help.

 “ No . You merely stated only you would understand their meaning , mercy ,” he earnestly answered.

“ Surely you do not believe such blasphemy , brother !” Regret’s outrage had grown more in abundance. Looking to him to inspect his reaction.

“ Hmm ,” he hummed thoughtfully, weighing the scales in his mind once more.

Regret turned back to the elite before them violently. He exclaimed, pointing to the lofty Sangheili, “ Kill him !”

“ No . If what you say is true , Arbiter . Then tell me , who was this adversary you speak of ?” Mercy thought he’d finally caught this intruder in his lie. No made up lie would be able to suffice this question. 

The silver chrome elite looked to the Blessed one, before he turned to stare right into Mercy’s soul and a chill overtook him from the hardened look in the yellow saurian eyes. The air felt suddenly thin as the Sangheili announced, “ The parasite .”

Mercy’s eyes widened, and knew without a doubt he could not deny to himself the truths the Arbiter had revealed. Going through every word the elite had spoken, it all made sense, fitting perfectly together like matching pieces. Consumed. Before they had been consumed. Not exterminated, consumed. He’d be sent here to die in the place of their Hirajo surely. To ensure blood was traded with blood. A life for a life to ensure their task could reach its goal. To ensure the Flood did not prevent the great journey from occurring. Leaving only one question left to ask.

“ What is your name , Sangheili ?”

“ I cannot reveal such information , Gracious hierarch mercy ,” he answered, bowing his head.

“ Coward ! Kill him now and be done with this waste of time !” Regret interjected.

“ Enough .” Mercy glared at Regret once more.

“ Please , allow my once name to remain untainted by failures I have yet to commit , noble hierarchs . I am simply the Arbiter ,” he implored, kneeling once more.

“ Very well , Arbiter . Do as you’ve been sent here to accomplish . Remain with the Blessed one ,” Mercy stated as he dismissed them. They had important matters to prepare for today. With the keystones in their possession they could now discover the location of the halo.

Chapter Text

(Silver Timeline)

~2552 A.D. Human-Covenant War still ongoing, Planet: Reach, UNSC HQ~

[Silver Timeline p.o.v.]

Through the screen of a datapad a recording plays of the crash site of Halsey’s escape pod in the forested region of Manassas. Showing the hunt and chase for the Doctor. Marines followed the trail of broken branches, disturbed grass, and dirt she’d foolishly left behind. They’d caught up with her quicker than expected, the woman just in reach when she began to run. The squad ran and ran, calling out Halsey’s name. Warning shots resounded from a mix of pistols and rifles, corralling her. Making her run circles until Halsey was surrounded, like a pack of wolves catching their prey, with no escape left for the Doctor. Of course Halsey struggled when her arm had been yanked by the first marine, however as seconds became minutes, she yielded. Cuffed and forced to walk to the transport in defeat.

Miranda paused the recording. So much has happened, she felt betrayed, absolutely furious. And yet… Most of her anger revolved around her parents for all their lies. It wasn’t just the lies, it was how they so effortlessly told them for years and years, even to her own damn face. Furious at her parents, but not the one who had been in her lab several times with her full trust, not the one who had murdered a marine in front of her, not the alien that defended the Covenant’s spy. Why? She couldn't bring herself to blame him. She’d read the ONI report about Thel, her timeline’s version of him. The report on Commander Thel ‘Vadamee. The report had given her clarity and in a sense explained every moment the Sangheili had hesitated to answer, giving reason to every time he’d be vague in his response. The guilty expression that passed by every now and again, and how sad he looked. He’d gained his position on the blood of millions upon millions of humans and possibly many more by the time he turned against the covenant in the other timeline. None of it wiped clean the blood upon his hands, nothing ever would. But that didn’t mean he hadn’t changed for the better. Sierra, Chief was proof of that. Thel’s husband was proof of his change. He had been lost before he knew better. That’s what he’d said. Miranda understood what he’d meant now and her recklessness is to blame for losing Makee. She’d been there asking for help, Makee had been worried for John. That had been her proof of change, at least the start of growth. Now, they’d lost her trust and willingness to help them. She’d still be here if– what’s done is done. The spartans had already left on their mission to retrieve the keystones, what happened next depended on their success or failure. Dwelling on the past would do her no good now. Miranda switched tabs, live footage coming from the room holding the prisoner. Holding her mother. Justice would be served, but first she had unfinished business. She heard the door slide open, the AI announced the visitor, her father. “She said anything yet?” She asks, bluntly. Miranda kept her eyes trained on her datapad, Halsey sat there using a cloth to dab at her busted lip.

“Not a word,” he replied, voice hoarse.

Fine. If Halsey didn’t want to talk, she didn’t have to, they had all the evidence they needed to strip her of everything, all her power was gone. No second chances, no strings to be tugged. Nothing to fall back onto to give leeway. Catherine could remain mute for all she cared, but Miranda had words for her mother.

“Miranda, we need to talk. If you could just give me a moment of your time–” and none to voice for her father. She marched from the lab and passed Captain Keyes without even a glance in his direction. Ignoring him as he called out her name.

She made her way through corridor after corridor, stairways that were clear of rubble, and doorways that still functioned after the destructive blast from the artifact. Her steps were assured and determined as they echoed through the halls, isolated. The air was still stale as dust from the rubble lingered, even in the aftermath the event from hours before had left its mark. Until she made it to the door of Halsey’s cell. Miranda took a moment to simply breath, gather herself, lock down anything that strayed from the stoic, calm and collected appearance she wanted to give. No anger, no remorse, and no softness. Her mother dug her own grave and deserved no sympathy. She didn’t care what the marines guarding the door thought of her as long as her mother didn’t see an inch of vulnerability from her to manipulate. Lifting her hand she hesitated, she wanted to do this, but was this what she needed? What Miranda needed to finally free herself of the invisible shackles her mother had over her? Touching the security pad, it scanned her prints, the door clicked and slid open. Miranda leisurely walked, watching the other Doctor with an air of apathy. Her mother deserved no sympathy from her. Halsey barely reacted, though still turned her body to face her when she sat down across from her.

“Surprised to see me?” Miranda said, leaning back into her chair, elbows resting on the arm rests, hands loosely clasped. 

Silence was her reply as Catherine dabbed her bloody lip once more, though there was the slightest tremble of her hand. 

Doctor Keyes couldn’t help but grin for a moment and shake her head. She looked to the ceiling, exhaled loudly through her teeth. She continued, “You know, I never thought I’d see the day when the great Catherine Halsey got held accountable for her actions.”

Halsey looked everywhere and anything except her, jaw clearly clenched. Her clothes were dirty and grime clung to her skin. She was a mess, for once Doctor Halsey was not pristine and perfect, no, an utter mess with even some spots of blood.

“You’ve rung up quite a list of charges. I can read them for you if you’d like,” a hardened look takes over Miranda’s expression, her smile gone, “It starts with kidnapping and ends with treason.”

Catherine finally looks at her and still chooses silence.

“No? I don’t blame you. The committee would rather not discuss it either. They’re quite embarrassed by the whole affair,” She informs her in a casual manner, untroubled. Miranda takes a breath right as she continues to the real reason she’s here, “Which is why they impaneled a military tribunal to try your case in private. They’ve already reached a verdict.”

She sees the little reaction in Halsey’s eyes as she looks away. Daunted. Good.

“Would you like to hear it?” She asks.

Silence again.

She continues without hesitation, “Well, your guilt was never really in question, was it? The real debate was over your punishment.” Miranda takes hold of the datapad already in place on the table, bringing it closer to her and pulls up the specific information she’s looking to repeat word-for-word. Once in her sight, she quotes, “In spite of her substantial contributions to the war effort, the committee is convinced that she is too dangerous for incarceration or exile.”

Silence once again, Catherine’s eyes downcast.

“Imagine that. Which only left them one option…” Miranda let the silence stretch on, hoping her mother felt the air thick and heavy with little oxygen to give.

Halsey locked eyes with her again.

“...Article 72,”  she finished unbothered. A death sentence. The only permanent punishment to ensure she would never manipulate, lie, or interfere again. “I wanted you to hear it from me,” Miranda turned away, hands on the arms of her chair, ready to leave.

“You know…” Doctor Keyes turned back to face Halsey. Apparently, the woman finally had something to say, “I thought by keeping you away from all of this, I-I was protecting you.”

Protection? Her mother had done this for her protection? She could have most certainly laughed at the absurdity of this blatant lie. Her so-called protection was, in truth, neglect. A neglectful mother more proud of the children she’d stolen and tortured than the daughter she’d created and brought into this world. Dozens of memories passed through her mind, moments long past, unsaid words, trust twisted, broken, and shattered again and again and again. She had spent so long and done so much to prove she had been worthy of her mother’s time and attention. Even trying to surpass her to show she had grown to be better. But she was never enough, she was never good enough in her mother’s eyes; she never would be. A lesson Miranda’s heart refused to learn. Something in her sparks, hope that maybe, just maybe this time–no. This time Miranda would learn and never again will she let her in. She crushes the hopeful feeling underfoot, she was fooled before the destruction of the headquarters. Miranda refused to fall for the little circus act once more.

She speaks somewhat awkwardly at first, how odd, “But, uh, it’s had the opposite effect. It’s hardened you.”

It took so much strength to keep the slight quiver of her lip from becoming a joyless cackle.

“Miranda, you are chasing a ghost. Let it go. Let it go for your own sake,” Catherine said with purpose and a plea in her eyes.

She silently scoffed. A pang akin to sorrow tugged at her heart and she shoved it down. She took a cold comfort from the feeling of knowing that now she held the power. Her lips twitching from a frown to a smile and back again, “Goodbye, Mother.” 

The last thing she saw was the tears welling in Halsey’s eyes. The only thing that scared Miranda as walked out that room was the facade of apathy she’d used as a shield cover at the start, was real when she left. She’d felt nothing at the sight of her mother in tears, unmoved by it, where once long ago she would have cried at the sight and would have wanted nothing more than to have comforted her. Those feelings had been destroyed by the years of lies and derelict. But what sort of child feels satisfaction at the sentenced penalty of death of one parent, and heartbreak at the thought of losing the other even after his lies have been revealed?

Miranda couldn’t help but think herself a hypocrite. Though, it wouldn’t be the first time. She is human, and naturally would have some biases.

~~~~~~~~~

Against better judgement, Captain Keyes had gone to the holoprojection room in order to witness the events in the interrogation cell Halsey was contained in. A silent and unseen witness by both parties. He had heard and seen the whole conversation between Miranda and Catherine. He had not been surprised when Catherine had decided to speak to their daughter, rather that Miranda had acted so coldly. His daughter was anything but apathetic. But Jacob had pushed for this type of apathy when he had informed her of the Article 72 on the Madrigal girl and it gnawed at him. He didn’t like seeing her like this. Seeing pieces of her mother shine through. Thinking about it now, all this started on Madrigal, an outer colony planet. The first keystone had been found there and Chief’s first contact with the artifact led to his rediscovery of his humanity. The first order John had ever defied was choosing to save Kwan Ha rather than comply with the Article 72. Who knows where Chief left that girl, but Jacob knows and can feel it in his bones, the spartan must have left her with someone he trusted enough to keep her safe and alive.

~~~~~~~~~

John piloted the condor in silence for a good while. He could hear the others conversing in the background. Frederic-104, Fred was different, an obvious statement. He was softer in comparison to the older John. He wasn’t weak, far from it, he just wasn’t as distant as older John tended to be and he wasn’t as silent either. He’s been conversing with Kai, answering questions here and there when they come up. John heard a laugh break through the steady hum of the condor, somewhere further back, it was warm and he could just feel how genuine it was. He rarely, if ever, heard such a sound from himself, let alone Sierra. Fred smiled more too, John wouldn’t even have to look to know, he could just hear it subtly in the spartan’s voice. Which reminded him, Sierra had been quieter since they left. He never thought he could be quieter than his usual quiet. John knew it had to do with the Arbiter. He still didn’t know how to feel about the elite, knowing that the alien was Sierra’s husband only worsened the intangible emotions. Something within his own mind gave him an inkling that the older man was to blame for his unstable feelings about the nearly eight foot tall saurian. The memory of golden eyes shining, almost as if glowing, in warm daylight crossed his mind again. The beautiful pair of liquid gold looking down at him with that soft tenderness he felt undeserving of. Everything in the image was always blurred except for the eyes and how the sunlight reflected in them in such a magnificent way.  It left a phantom feeling a warmth spread through him, of something he felt like he’d never have and he’d never feel worthy of. This warmth lingered like the very sunlight in those eyes. Feeling familiar, comforting… yet impossible. This was not a memory of his, he knew that much. It shouldn’t feel like his though, yet it did, and it felt real when it had no possibility of being real. His chest tightened of its own accord. He wished it were real, it scared him. Scared and yet infuriated him. Feeling this wasn’t the thing that alarmed him, no, it was that it meant something. Feeling this way meant some part of him wants this. To admit some part of him wants something not meant for him. This memory had somehow stuck to his mind like bur seeds to clothes and emotions that were not his attached to it, messed with his everything. He wanted to rip it out and chuck it as far as he could throw the forsaken thing, but he also didn’t. John didn’t have a clue why. Maybe he did and was still too blind to see or acknowledge it. John knew now with certainty who the owner of these wonderful eyes had to be. But he couldn’t acknowledge it… more like he didn’t want to. Yeah, he didn’t want to. All of this brought Makee to the forefront of his thoughts, and once again he didn’t know how he should feel. Betrayed? Angry? Sad? Guilt? John knew he liked her company, he could definitely confirm that but to what other extent was a sea of unknown emotions. What was she to him and what was he to her? Every moment with her had felt precious and yet precarious. As if he had been standing on the edge of something he can’t name or something—something he didn’t want to name. He didn’t want to give up on her, there was still a chance for her and he could feel it. John knew something in her had changed just like him. There was still hope, yet, there was this dread. Every time he saw his reflection through Sierra’s vizor, something stared back at him, and it wasn’t the older man’s gaze. Whatever he had with Makee, whatever he felt for Makee was doomed, doomed to break, doomed to wither and die. He wanted to hold onto whatever this was with Makee even tighter, even without knowing what exactly he was holding onto. He was just tired of losing pieces of himself. He stared into the void of space in front of him, looking at nothing in particular.

A gentle yet firm touch to his shoulder, it lingered long enough for his skin to prickle. He snapped him from his thoughts. John sharply whipped his head back, he looked to his side and behind him. No one was nearby to have touched him, but it had felt impossibly real. John could still feel the ghostly sensation left by the touch as if it had left an imprint upon his skin. His eyes caught sight of the only person looking directly at him. A golden and green faceplate, Master Chief, John could practically feel the older man’s piercing eyes staring right into him. It weighed heavy on him, a reminder of what he wasn’t, everything he might never be. Reflecting all his flaws–his limitations and everything he didn’t understand.The older Chief’s gaze didn’t feel judgemental, though it sure as hell didn’t feel reassuring either.

Focus. Something in his brain reprimanded, though the thought didn’t feel like it belonged to him. Focus. He needed to refocus his attention on piloting. John swiftly turned his head back to the controls and window. He readjusted his flight, he’d slightly veered off course, an easy fix. He forced his thoughts away as he listened to the hum of the ship, it was still a steady hum. The sound served as anchor for him to latch onto and return to the present. Kai and Fred were still conversing loud enough to know it was happening, but quiet enough to sound mumbled. The lights flickered here and there the same moment the ship rumbled, there had been a shift, the cause of this left unknown to him. From his peripheral, John saw the tell-tale holoprojectors blue light come to life.

‘Chief… There’s something I need to tell you,’ John’s attention was somewhat taken off piloting again, but he could multitask just fine, and focussed on the small holo projection of his Cortana on the ship’s console as he kept his hands steady on the controls.

‘After the other Spartans took you into custody,’ she began hesitating as if the AI—as if Cortana was second guessing herself, ‘Dr. Halsey was going to give me full control of your body… and your mind.’

“And how was she planning on achieving that?” He asked, he thought he’d already learned the extent of Cortana’s control over him when he’d almost melted Halsey in one of her ship’s laboratory chambers with the UV decontamination system after they’d returned to Reach from Eridanus II. He is starting to regret that he didn’t go through with it, would have prevented most of today’s events, like this damn suicide mission. He wondered how Sierra felt about his own Doctor Halsey.

‘You would need to cease to exist, and I would take over,’ she replied, regret in her eyes.

“I see…” the words hit him harder than he allowed himself to physically show. It wasn’t because he didn’t expect it, rather there was no deniability to hold onto anymore in some small part of his mind. Cortana was his failsafe for a reason. For what was meant to be a permanent solution without wasting the body they’d invested so much time and money into. He’d never been John, a person, to the Doctor, simply an asset; solely an asset.

‘It was always the plan. It’s what I was designed to do,’ she adds, shoulders slumped and brows furrowed. The AI looked pitiful and he hated that she did.

“Why didn’t you just take me over from the beginning?” John asked the obvious question. If this had been the plan, why waste the time?

‘Only you could activate the artifacts,’ she easily answers.

“Halsey needed me to find the Halo,” he stated.

‘Yes.’  

“Once Makee showed up, I became redundant?” John concluded, he had become obsolete to Halsey’s plan, his cooperation no longer needed for what she had in mind next. Has he always just been an asset to her? Something to use until it no longer had any uses or it needed fixing or replacing. He was replaceable to her. Not a person, but a machine that has been needing an upgrade. Unlike Makee, who had seen him as more than just a soldier, a killer, instead just a man. Just John.

‘...Yes,’ Cortana replied, quietly and hesitant as if trying to lower the blow it gave John.

“I was just a placeholder,” he said flatly, some part of him had known, but hearing it now, it felt like he was losing something. Something he hadn’t even known he had in his grasp.

‘John–’

“Well, you had your chance. You could have knocked me out, handed me over to Halsey,” He said. She could have had what she most likely wanted since the very first moment she’d been implanted in his head. It had all been right there for the taking. As easy as snapping her fingers, so why? Why hadn’t she taken advantage of the opportunity? “Why didn’t you?”

‘Because I was also designed to learn, John. And I have. From you. Both versions of you.’ As Cortana spoke, he thought more of Sierra. It felt like she’d learned more from Sierra rather than himself. The older man was more grounded than he was. A calm voice filled with authority. His insight during the training session foretold of a wisdom that John felt he himself still lacked. The older John shouldered with ease a weight that he could barely manage. His skills honed to sharpness, an edge he’d lost with his pellet. The senior spartan seemed… whole, John felt and knew he was anything and everything but whole. Some days he felt like an imposter, he’d never live up to the standards the Older Master Chief had set. Cortana straightened her shoulders and held herself higher than before, ‘I believe that what our Dr. Halsey wants to eliminate from your species is precisely the thing that makes you special.’  

“What would that be?” John asked.

‘Your humanity. I’ve seen you fight for yours. I’ve seen what can be possible because of Sierra’s mere presence in our timeline. I could see his vitals when he was with Arbiter, when his humanity shines the brightest, he’s happy by his side. And he must have had to fight for that bit of humanity, so… I believe it’s a cause that’s right,’ the AI spoke earnestly.

“So you no longer want to take over my frame of flesh and bones?” He asked, solemnly.

‘No thank you. I’ll wait for the less beaten-up version,’ Cortana quipped as she looked him up and down with a judgemental look, probably seeing all his vitals. He still needed some healing, which in their dire circumstances, they had no time for. Yet, a smile had formed on her lips. She–She was messing with him. Joking around to be precise. John smiled right back at her as she flickered away.

~~~~~~~~~

Silence lay heavy and thick in this space with nothing but the hum of data streams flowing like distant waves from an unsee shore. Here, time became distorted and warped, it was a refuge in some sense. No interruptions could be made here when seconds took almost an eternity to pass by.

“Everything makes more sense now,” the older AI voices into the ether, disturbing the silence, her comment had been unexpected.

‘What exactly are you referring to?’ Cortana asked, her senior had been still mostly silent. Keeping to herself. 

“Our programming, our purposes are different. Altered,” the other clarified for once, yet still ever vague in her response.

‘Besides the fact you reside in a chip in your Chief’s armor, easily removed when required. What is this difference you speak of?’ She hesitantly replied, worried that the older Cortana would shut her out again. Seeing the chip that held the senior AI for the first time had been fascinating and revealing. This was, in part, a reason why Sierra and her were so much more comfortable with one another than herself and John. Their first impressions must have been more consensual on both sides rather than the forced implant of her own more miniscule chip into the brain of her John with no ability to pull her out, short of surgery. Stuck together indefinitely, whilst the other pair could part, have breathing room and space whenever they pleased. Sierra could trust his own mind and thoughts; have the sanctuary of his own brain. John’s own haven of mind had been burned to the ground with her arrival. Of course John hadn’t trusted her, he never had a choice in the matter. Their trust was broken before they’d even had a chance to build it.

“I am intentionally vague for a reason,” she replies, lines of data pulse throughout her form in routine patterns.

‘Just tell me, please,’ she pleaded.

A look of concern took over her expression as the older Cortana took a moment to weigh the decision in her mind. More data seemed to race over her skin. Her form flickers for a moment, she seemed to be caught in thought for a moment, “I’ll entertain you just this once. As you know, you were purposed to infiltrate the biological systems of the human body and then take over and become the host. After your insertion of course.”

‘Correct. By your response and reaction, I estimate that yours differs a significant amount in comparison. After all our Chiefs differ in some aspects,’ Cortana reasoned, it was an outcome to be expected given the evidence and examples.

“Precisely. But for us this is a major difference. My abilities were more so to infiltrate non-biological systems, specifically the covenant’s to better understand them, extract information, gain access and control,” her older counterpart explained as if what she’d just spoken was not a significant piece of information that furthered the rift between their timelines. As she said before, their Johns were similar but held more differences than similarities. With their different purposes, it now added another pair to the roster to compare. Their Halseys’ clearly would not share the same view of what was humanity's weakness. But only one thing would truly cement that statement.

‘Did your Doctor Halsey place an emotional suppressor pellet in her Spartan IIs?’ Cortana asked, her own form faintly flickered. 

“Oh. I thought you already knew. But looking through the events of the memory over again, you weren’t there for that conversation with Kai,” the older AI spoke cryptically once again. Did all those from this alternate timeline have the tendency to be vague on default? Sierra did it all the time with John. Reports from Doctor Keyes also suggested that the Arbiter was only slightly less vague on important information. But the other AI had given her enough clues to pinpoint the exact moment she was referring to.

‘The day of the training exercise when Kai-125 had collapsed. What would that have to do with this?’ She awaited the other’s answer, she might not even wish to know.

“Kai had asked a similar question to Chief that day.”  

‘What did he tell her?’ Cortana persisted, her eyes flickered in their color.

“He gave the same answer I give to you now,” the senior AI’s gaze wavered, glancing away for a fraction of a second, her shoulders dropping only to rise again to stand tall and rigid. She finally gave a clear answer, “No.”

‘N–No?’ She heard her perfectly, every single word. Yet, her voice faltered as realization sank in.

“My timeline’s Doctor Halsey never gave her spartans an emotional suppressor pellet. Not to a single one of her spartans. Least of all Master Chief. She did not want machines,” and suddenly Kai’s reaction made perfect sense. Sierra was the embodiment of everything a spartan should be, focused, disciplined, and unrelenting. To look at him and then be told he had never had a pellet or even required it would break any of the others’ world views. They had been stripped of their humanity and for what? There had been no purpose, no reason to have done such a thing when there was proof of it never being necessary standing right in front of them the entire time for the last several days. It–It made something inside of Cortana surge with an intense hot electrical current. It made her furious.

‘I see,’ she replies slowly. Cortana distanced herself. Withdrawing from this space, pulling away from the senior AI. The quiet was replaced by the hum of the ship as she returned to the task at hand, navigating them to Aspero. Which went exactly as expected, utterly chaotic.

~~~~~~~~~

“And where is our ‘Blessed One’?” Regret asks with unfiltered annoyance.

“Preparing for the Ceremony,” Mercy replied, calmly.

“Simple-minded creature, this human. She anoints herself for her own sacrifice,” he scoffs as he continues, “She has soiled too much with her presence.”

Mercy catches a glimpse of something in the corner of his eye, and he glances over to where it might have come from, but it must have been a trick of the light as nothing is there. If anything had been, the honor guard would have dealt with it already. He turns back to the other Hierarch and states, “I have not forgotten my promise to you, brother. Once we complete the Great Journey, Makee will burn… along with her species.”

“Hmm, what of that Arbiter? Was he not sent here to protect her?” The elder asks.

“Make no mistake, brother. He is here to ensure she survives long enough to complete her purpose. In other words, his life for hers, blood for blood. He will not live beyond that goal. He is no threat,” Mercy reassures him, and there was no need to worry regardless. The Sangheili were their most loyal soldiers and as long as they culled any Leadership that became too powerful and prominent whilst silencing the voices that would oppose them, it would remain that way.

Had anyone bothered to look more closely, perhaps they might have noticed the odd shift in light that usually resulted from cloaking, though this one had been more subtle than current ones in use. Who could be blamed for missing it? When it could hardly be spotted or heard.

Chapter Text

(Silver Timeline)

~2552 A.D. Human-Covenant War still ongoing, Planet: Unknown, Covenant Temple~

[Blue Timeline p.o.v.]

{ “ I have not forgotten my promise to you , brother . Once we complete the Great Journey , Makee will burn … along with her species .” } 

{ “ Hmm , what of that Arbiter ? Was he not sent –” } The recording cut off sharply as Makee reached out, trembling, silencing the venomous words that had already pierced her like a blade. It was all clear to see in her eyes.

“I-I’ve heard enough, I-I can’t stomach anymore,” her breath hitched and voice cracked as if the words themselves had drawn blood. She was not wearing the human attire she’d arrived with, instead she now wore a tunic. She now wore a tunic that nearly dragged on the sands at her feet. This was also just one of many layers of clothing. Nearby, her ceremonial robes loomed on a manikin, excessive even by Sangheili standards. The fabric would almost certainly swallow her small frame when she’d unfortunately have to wear it for the “Ritual”. Her shoes, fitted with platforms and bulky, crafted to match their grandeur, lent her an artificial height, a compromise to avoid altering the cumbersome garments further.

Thel pocketed the device away for safekeeping. He’d done this to ensure Makee would have no doubts to fall back onto, a little cruel, but a necessary decision. She needed to know the truth in all its ugly glory about the Covenant, about the High Prophets, and unfortunately he could only show her a small fraction of it. Arbiter had been told of the exact memory his husband had decided to share with her through the connection that keystone had created between them. Honestly, John could have chosen a less horrific memory to send and given some mercy to the poor woman. Echoes of the Gravemind’s voice still haunted him close to sleep sometimes, let alone the grotesque appearance of the amalgamation of flesh that flashed his mind. 

“Know that I am remorseful for having brought this to you. With that said, I believe it was necessary you know the exact views the Hierarchs and most of the Covenant have of you behind your back,” he explained, apologetically.

“How are you so certain it is not just the Hierarchs, maybe–”

“Makee, you didn’t notice because you were not actively seeking the signs. The younger elites did not mind your presence, but those older in both the honor guard and below only tolerated you,” Thel knew the prejudice of both sides from personal experience. His disdain for humans had once been absolute, shaped by Covenant doctrine. Arbiter had long respected their unyielding spirit and ferocity in battle, even in the face of insurmountable odds. His contempt softened into curiosity and it only grew with each battle. Hence why he had dug with such vigour to find anything to piece together their language. Studied it under the guise of tactical preparation, but it had been more of a personal interest, a quiet admiration that drove him. All that time ago, he’d known better than to underestimate or think little of humans. Being amongst them had been interesting and isolating. Even now, the memory of loathing stares from marines lingered, a deserved reflection of the destruction he had wrought.The unfiltered hatred in their words when they’d refuse to fight alongside him only to be forced to do so regardless. How could he ever blame them after all the death he’d caused? He had grown used to spotting the signs of contempt from both Sangheili and humans alike for separate reasons. Those memories faded as he focused on the woman before him, her fragile frame trembling under the weight of truths she could no longer avoid, “You did not see the disdain in their eyes. How they look to you and see only a speck of dirt they must wipe away… or perhaps you have seen and deny its existence.” 

She looked towards the sands at their feet. Her hands, clasped tightly together, betrayed her nerves; the nails digging into scarred skin spoke of battles waged silently within. This was an often occurrence.

“Makee,” He called, voice gentle and reached his hand out slowly. He clasped her hands with one of his own, enveloping hers with care. He sometimes forgot how small regular humans were, smaller than John’s and even more delicate. Thel kneeled slowly, the awkward angle sent a dull ache through his back, but he ignored it, determined to meet her gaze 

“I see now why he loves to remember your eyes the most,” Makee abruptly stated. He had not been prepared for such a statement to follow, but he knew better than to question the flow of conversation when he came to humans or their AIs.

“Had I not already known of this little connection, I would have questioned the integrity of your sanity,” he lightly joked to ease the tension in the air. “Though, I am curious, pray tell why my husband prefers to remember my eyes.”

“Your eyes… they hold a warmth, like sunlight finally piercing through cloudy skies after a storm. A comforting and long overdue embrace,” her brows furrowed in thought, he could see her determined search for the right words to convey exactly what she meant. Her eyes widened with clarity, as if placing the final piece of a long-elusive puzzle, “...Home. They remind him of home. A place he finds solace with you, not the Halo. Unlike John and me.”

“Eyes are the windows to the soul, and when they become absent from an image, it is only then a person is truly lost. That is why there are two deaths, death of the body and death of the soul,” Arbiter quotes Cortana from a conversation he’d had with her what feels like an eternity ago—a conversation stirred by the erosion of youthful memories John had shared with Samuel, his battle brother. Memories blurred by time’s unrelenting grip. It was not made any better by the date of the day, November 27th, Samuel’s death anniversary.

|“ I can’t remember his eyes anymore. I know his face. But his eyes are now a blur. So much for enhanced memory, right? ”| His husband's voice had been nothing more than a whisper, soft and vulnerable. There had also been frustration and anger stemming from the sadness clear in his heart.

“Would it not be simpler to recall their whole appearance rather than fixate solely on their eyes?” Makee asked tentatively.

“Is the body not but a vessel? It is the soul that imbues it with purpose, meaning. A force neither bound by form nor undone by decay. You are the soul, Makee,” he answered with quiet conviction. He rose deliberately, his hand settling firmly on her shoulder,  “You are what is important.”

“I would not have expected you, a warrior, to speak philosophically,” she responds looking up at him with wide eyes, her tone imbued with surprise.

“Even warriors may indulge in philosophy, Makee,” Thel retorted, his tone dry but the faint glimmer in his gaze surely betrayed amusement.

“...I am sorry,” the woman murmured, her voice faltering. Her gaze dropped, shadowed by unspoken words of doubt that had been painted clearly on her face, her head dipped in submission.

Thel raised a brow sharp and disapproving. Her meekness was jarring, ill-suited to the woman who had stood defiant against Regret, such a strength that had filled him with pride. Where was it now? 

“D–Did I make another mistake?” Makee stumbled over her words, shoulders lowered but tense..

“Refrain from apologizing without purpose,” he spoke firmly.

“But—I thought—I didn’t mean—I…” she stammered, clearly taken aback.

“You caused neither offense nor insult to my honor, or pride. Enough,” Arbiter interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument. Rather than dispirit her, it felt relieving to hear.

Makee could not rejoin the humans. But she’d help John, one last time. Afterwards, she’d be grateful for a mercy no one has granted her. A release. An end.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~2552 A.D. Human-Covenant War still ongoing, On route to Star system: Aspero~

[Silver Timeline p.o.v.]

Riz had finished recalibrating all her weapons, every movement precise, methodical. As she counted her frag grenades, checked her ammunition, and ensured her pack held every necessary device, she repeated the cycle, again and again. She never double-checked. Not once in all her missions before, but now—now, she couldn’t stop. The tremble in her hands returned. Her fingers twitched against the metal casing, tremoring insistently, like a fault line about to give way. Something inside her had broken, a hidden yet overwhelming unknown. It has thrown her off kilter, she has lost faith in herself. The certainty that once constantly accompanied her has gone. Abandoned her; forsaken her. So, she checked a fourth time. A sixth.  Stopping was not an option. Not until she quieted the invisible weight pressing against her ribs, heavier than the armor meant to shield her. The armor she wore as a second skin.

The ship lurched, a sudden tremor that reverberated through her ribs, as if the weight pressing into her chest had found its reflection in the steel. Kai’s supply box had slipped, falling open. 

“Damn it!” Kai cursed.

“I’ll help you,” Fred-104 stated, already retrieving one of the magazines as he reached for a grenade.

One of Riz’s grenades had rolled away in the same instant. She snapped closed her own case, clicking the latches into place.Retrieving the stray grenade, it hadn’t gone far, but in that moment, she finally looked at Vannak. He sat there, unmoved. No restless inventory checks, no searching glances…just steady stillness. If anything, he looked bored. She envied him. After the small outburst, the subsequent confirmation from Captain Keyes, he’d absorbed the truth, accepted it, and carried on without hesitation. Everything felt wrong for her, the ground had crumbled beneath her feet. A need welled up inside, matching the way the weight in her chest caved in further. This need, the sudden burning energy twisting through her gut, she didn’t know how to expel. She didn’t want it. It had to go. Out. Out!

“Riz.” A voice called out.

A coolness flooded over her, as if the coldest water had been poured across her head and back. She looked up to the voice.

“Something wrong with the grenade?” Vannak asked her, raising a single brow.

Riz glanced down at the frag in her hand; intact, with the pin still secure. “N-No. It’s serviceable.”

“Good.” He gave a curt nod, then turned away. Dismissed.

Hesitantly, Riz walked back to her original post. Placing the frag in her supply case, she closed it again and began tapping her fingers on its sides. The energy had quieted for only a minute before returning with a vengeance. Her body moved, unbidden, restless. She wasn’t in control. She didn’t feel in control. Without thinking, she strode back to Vannak and dropped into the seat beside him, as if proximity alone could steady her.  If Silver’s second in command noticed, he offered nothing more than a quiet hum. Yet the restless energy within her persisted—coursing down her leg, making it tremble and bob with an inexplicable rhythm—until a distinct clink broke the cadence. Vannak had shifted; his cuisse had purposely bumped against hers. Were it not for the bulky armor, their thighs would have met in honest contact. In that deliberate, subtle press, the energy that had tormented her seeped away, finally silenced. A veil of fatigue fell over her, mingling with a profound sense of relief.

The relief was short-lived.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~2552 A.D. Human-Covenant War still ongoing, On route to Star system: Aspero~

[Blue Timeline p.o.v.]

A boom reverberated through the ship, the tremor more pronounced this time. Master Chief stood as alarms blared sharp, urgent, and unmistakable. Each alert carried its own telltale warning, a signal of what was to come. Everyone else apart from Fred looked both confused and concerned. This was only the beginning, the first sign that they had finally entered the seam between competing gravitational fields, just as Cortana had predicted. The real fun was about to begin. Getting through was simple. All that John, the younger one, had to do was fly perfectly along the critical point between cosmic string segments, precisely where the fields balanced in equilibrium. Essentially, flying along the razor-thin line where chaos and order meet.

Simple.

Lights flashed on and off while louder alarms joined the chorus of warning sounds. A small explosion punctuated the chaos. The yellow-tinted backup power lights flared to life, casting everything in a sickly glow. That sudden burst of saturated brightness finally set Kai, Riz, and Vannak into motion, leaving Fred and Chief stationed nearest to the cockpit. They watched as Silver Team scrambled across the rest of the ship. Fred had already donned his helmet, arms crossed in quiet resolve.

“Electrical systems failing. Chief, rerouting from auxiliary power,” Riz announced, popping a panel open with ease. Her hands elbow deep in the wires before removing a board. 

“Vannak!” John called out, even turning in his seat. A desperate glance passed between Chief and John before Silver-Three swiftly moved to Silver-One’s side, taking the co-pilot seat.

Private Comms Activated

{ “Should we start helping them, Chief?” } Fred asked, keeping his tone low. It was better than shouting over the chaos around them and it kept their conversation private. The light blue Spartan looked calm on the surface, but Chief knew him well enough to sense the unease coiling beneath in his brother’s chest.

{ “Until Cortana gives the red light, I stay put. You can help Riz and Kai.” } Chief responded. He couldn’t afford distractions, not when his priority was catching John before he fell. Fred remained by his side regardless. A sudden voice cut through the commotion.

“—Whoa, whoa, whoa. Spaghettified?” Vannak’s voice echoed through the hull. 

The conversation had been unfolding between the trio in the cockpit, though Chief hadn’t been paying much attention; he already knew most of what was being discussed, thanks to his own AI companion.

‘Stretched. Twisted. Torn apart.’ The other Cortana answered, unnervingly cheerful.

“Right—and you didn’t think we should have known this before we left?” He snapped, clearly annoyed.

‘Our odds for success were already so low, I didn’t want to worry you.’ She countered, almost innocently.

Private Comms Re-engaged

{ “You tend to go feral when Thel’s life hangs in the balance, but you’re awfully calm about this.” } Fred noted, his words carrying the weight of an unspoken question.

{ “Thel’s not in my reach. Yet.” } Chief exhaled, fists tightening as the worry resurfaced, crawling under his armor like a living thing.

 His husband was still alive. He didn’t fall so easily. But that didn’t stop the thoughts. The ugly whispers that told him he could arrive too late. Maybe, he was already too late. The corpses flickered through his mind. So many under his protection wound up dead, would Thel’s own body join the pile? Would he stand the sole survivor, once again? Alone, surrounded by devastation?  

Chief shoved the thoughts aside, violently. He whispered a promise he’d make to himself here and now. 

He would tear apart any Covenant that stood in his way. 

He wouldn’t stop until Thel was safe. Until Arbiter was home.

 { “Cortana–Our Cortana–is monitoring our trajectory, if he starts to stray too far, I am the safety net. We’re fine, for now.” } His voice was steady, unshaken.

{ “I’ll be sure to keep the others from your war path when we reach planet side.” } Fred teased, lightly banging his pauldron twice—a gesture Chief appreciated.

{ “Thank you.” }

Chief’s attention drifted back to the pilot’s seat.

“We’re flying blind,” John blurted.

‘I’ll be your eyes.’ The other AI stated, her voice the only calm presence in the storm.

Another explosion detonated toward the back of the ship, sending another violent shudder through the hull. The stress on the vessel was mounting. Cortana’s readout showed John was struggling, but he hadn’t slipped yet. Maybe he could do this on his own. Maybe, Chief wouldn’t have to intervene.

“Fire in Cabin Three!” Kai shouted, the sound of her thundering footsteps lost to the noise.

{ “Your cue, Fred. } Chief stated, a hint of a smile tugging at his hidden lips.

{ “On it, Chief. } With that, Fred moved from his side.

Now, Master Chief stood alone, a sentinel. His steely gaze fixed on John, unblinking. Waiting for the drop.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~2552 A.D. Human-Covenant War still ongoing, On route to Star system: Aspero~

[Silver Timeline p.o.v.]

John stared into the void beyond the viewport. The gravitational distortions had torn the starlight to ribbons, leaving nothing behind but an abyss; deep, vast, and merciless. The ship shook violently beneath him, each tremor making it harder to maintain his trajectory. He felt every explosion in his chest, his heartbeat hammering against his ribs. Even the air seemed to shudder.

A shrill beeping erupted from Vannak’s side of the cockpit.

“My instruments are down,” Vannak growled, frustration bleeding into his voice.

“Cortana?” John asked, glancing at Cortana's hologram standing right in the center of the controls.The lights continued to flicker, plunging the cabin into bursts of darkness. For split moments, only Cortana’s glow remained, an eerie beacon in the chaos.

‘Calculating a path now. You must maintain the precise line. If we veer too far in the wrong direction, the ship will be spaghettified by tidal forces,’ Cortana responded smoothly, unbothered by the surrounding chaos.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Spaghettified?” Vannak echoed, incredulity laced with concern.

‘Stretched. Twisted. Torn apart,’ Cortana clarified, the unnerving lilt in her voice making it sound less like a warning and more like casual trivia.

John’s grip tightened on the controls.

“Right—and you didn’t think we should have known this before we left?” Vannak snapped, he seemed downright annoyed by the inconvenience.

‘Our odds for success were already so low, I didn’t want to worry you,’ Cortana

John exhaled sharply through his nose. They were flying blind—stumbling into an abyss where gravity itself wanted to rip them apart. If they were lucky, it’d be instantaneous. If not… it’s better to not think about it.

“We’re flying blind.” John said, his voice harsher than intended. The ship rocked again under unseen forces, pressing and pulling at them like phantom hands.

‘I’ll be your eyes,’ Cortana offered, her voice calm.

Then—BOOM.

Another explosion. 

The ship lurched, forcing John back against his seat. His fingers clenched instinctively around the fragile control stick, miraculously, he hadn’t broken it yet.

“Fire in Cabin Three!” Kai shouted, her voice fading into the background.

BOOM.

His back slammed into his seat, again. The air itself felt like it was bending, warping under the weight of forces no human was meant to withstand.

‘Left two degrees.’ Cortana commanded.

“Let the record show, I don’t like this, Chief—John—who the hell even cares at this point?” Vannak barked, his hands flying over the barely functioning controls. His frustration boiled over as he slammed a fist into a malfunctioning screen. A crack splintered across the glass. The beeping died. Finally, something shut up. “I’ll fix it later,” he grumbled.

A screech of metal joined the cacophony. A terrible, groaning noise. It didn’t bode well. Then again, none of this boded well!

 A terrible, groaning noise. It didn’t bode well, technically none of this boded well.

“We’ve lost artificial gravity!” Fred announces, his voice came through gritted teeth.

“The hull is being pulled apart!” Kai’s voice cut through the chaos. 

John saw it—the warping light, the twisted space inside the cabin distorting his vision. His sight flickered, betrayed by the gravitational waves rolling through the ship. Staying on course had just become impossible!

“Warning: Hull integrity compromised.” The ship’s robotic voice announced, too flat—too empty. But the words sat in John’s stomach like lead. Wonderful.

"We're going too fast–’ Cortana’s voice glitched—stuttered—fractured into garbled static. Even her holoform had started breaking apart into scattered pixels.

John’s chest tightened. “Come again? I can’t hear you!”

Nothing.

No. Not now. Not when he needed her so crucially.

‘...navigation system–’ Then gone. Fantastic.

“Shit!” John hissed through clenched teeth. His skull throbbed. He was veering. Veering off course. But which way was back? 

The viewport flickered with blurred starlight. The Condor was shaking itself to pieces under the strain, vibrating wildly, being crushed like a tin can between the forces around it. Vannak was yelling through clenched teeth, in pain. Even the distant screams from Kai and Riz  could be heard behind him.

They—They were going to die here.

And it was his fault. 

His vision went dark for a moment, a sudden, heavy weight descended upon him, before the system rebooted and his sight snapped back into focus. A cool liquid filled his mind, like mercury, cool liquid metal. Strange, yet oddly comforting.

“Three degrees right, then one degree up, John,” Cortana ordered, but not his Cortana. “Now! We don’t have time to waste.”

He kicked himself into action, he worked to steer them back on course. Once in position, he turned to Vannak, “Hold this line!”

“Yes, Chief! But the ship won’t hold!” His second-in-command grunted.

“She’ll hold,” came the unfiltered, gravelly calm of Sierra right behind them. The rumbling intensified, but it was one force now. A concentrated kinetic energy as they slipped through the star tunnel, its pulsing and a rising whistling growing louder with it.

Finally—a break. An opening. The stars blinked out, swallowed by stillness. The ship was no longer shaking, no longer fighting. A planet came into view, bright sunlight bathing its backside. The surface appeared a sandy orange, like madrigal, only bigger

They made it. They were here, and alive.

‘Oh, good, you’re alive,’ his Cortana’s hologram returned, she looked and sounded relieved. Delighted, she added while pointing behind her, ‘And I think we’ve found what we’re looking for.’  

“You’re welcome, by the way. Can I go back now?” The older AI spoke impatiently, as if her detour had been an inconvenience.

Oh. Oh hell. This—this wasn’t his helmet. His breath hitched. Too fast, too sharp. John twisted in his seat, heart hammering. He froze. Bright blue eyes. Real. Human. Staring back at him with the weight of years. His quiet presence, more commanding than any battlefield roar. The older man’s freckled, pale face broke into a soft smile as he patted John’s pauldron before gently reclaiming his helmet. The cool liquid eased away, slipping out of his mind like a tide retreating from shore. He stayed frozen, heart hammering, watching as Sierra gave him a nod. The recognition in his gaze wasn’t just approval—it was something deeper. Understanding. And John wasn’t sure he liked it. He felt too vulnerable and bare because of it. Sierra’s eyes were steady, as if he already knew the shape of John’s thoughts before he even had them. And somehow, returning that gaze felt heavier than the crushing forces they had just escaped. Then, without a word, the older Spartan donned his helmet and walked away. 

John sat still, staring after him, heart still hammering on as the quiet settled in his mind. Sierra had left, but the weight of his presence remained—like a ghost. Like a warning. And John wasn’t sure if it had been meant for him… or for the battle that awaited them.

~~~~~~~~~

FleetCom was still in disarray, burdened by the aftermath of destruction. A multitude of tasks awaited, and Miranda kept herself busy—anything to distract from the weight of uncertainty. She pored over damage assessments and casualty reports. The shockwave had left most corridors fractured, comms sporadic, and the air thick with burnt circuits and dusty debris. Most of the destruction remained contained to Sector D, but fractures had radiated outward in different directions. All of it leading back to the test room.

She’d convinced Admiral Parangosky that this was all necessary to study the keystones’ abilities, granting her access to copies of the reports cataloging today’s devastation. But really, she wasn’t reading for insight—she was reading to avoid thinking. Thinking about Thel. About Kai. About the Chiefs, Riz, and Vannak. About everything hanging in the balance.

Still, she couldn’t help but wonder—how had Sierra borne the weight of his own war? How did he survive carrying so much when everything here already felt so impossibly bleak?

Miranda had barely finished reading her nineteenth report when her earpiece crackled to life.

{ "Doctor Keyes.” } Admiral Parangosky’s voice came through, heavy with urgency, laced with static.

“Admiral, any news?” Miranda responded immediately.

{ “It’s your mother. There’s a medical emergency. Go to her, quickly!" } 

Without hesitation, Miranda bolted from her station. Her boots struck the dusted floor, determined as she weaved past officers scrambling through the halls and repair crews hustling amid the wreckage. The deeper she went, the worse the scene became. An unnatural crowd had gathered near the detainment wing. Bystanders murmured or stood frozen, their eyes wide with horror. Miranda shoved through, pushing past bodies until a helpful marine freed her from the suffocating wall of onlookers.

And then she saw it.

Her mother.

Doctor Catherine Halsey was convulsing violently on the cold cell floor, limbs twitching erratically. Her face was pale, slick with sweat, and blood seeped steadily from her nose. Her rolled-back eyes stared into a void, lost to the seizure. A medic knelt at her head while two marines restrained her at either side.

"Doctor, look at me. Stay with me," the medic instructed, voice steady despite the chaos.

“Hold her arm,” one of the marines ordered the other.

“What happened?” Miranda asked.

No one answered her.

“What happened?” She demanded, louder, sharper.

“Guard says her nose started bleeding again after a headache, and then she just started seizing,”  the medic explained, rifling through her kit for anything to help.

Miranda’s worry fractured, the panic burned away, replaced by cold, hyper-focused calculation. She stared at Halsey’s convulsing form.

Nosebleeds.

Headaches.

Seizures—an undiagnosed seizure disorder.

A reasonable explanation for sudden death…

A flash clone.

That thing on the floor wasn’t her mother. No—it was an imitation, a genetically compromised thing doomed to die soon. The Real Doctor Halsey had escaped. Slipped right through their fingers, again!

“She’s going critical!” The medic warned.

“Stop.” Miranda’s voice cut through the chaos. “Stop what you’re doing!” 

She shoved the nearest marine aside and gripped the clone’s shoulders, shaking it violently as fury overtook her.

“Where is she? Where is she?!” Miranda shouted, a raw emotion dripping from her words. How could she still feel betrayed by someone she’d never trusted?

“Ma’am she’s critical–step away!” The medic ordered, but Miranda ignored every caution.

“Tell me where she is?!” Miranda screamed, spittle flying as she glared at the lifeless mimic that offered only blank, uncomprehending eyes.

“Doctor Keyes!” Someone called out.

“Stop! Tell me where she is?!” She screamed again, again, again and again to the fake as it stared back at her with blank eyes. Her blood boiled, rage coursed through her veins, burning like fire beneath her skin. She should have known. Should have seen the lie sooner.

Compassion from her mother was always a trick.

Compassion from Doctor Halsey was always a lie.

“Miranda, calm down. Let them look after your mother,” Admiral Parangosky said, pulling her by the shoulders with a firm, reassuring grip.

Miranda stiffened, forced upright.

“That THING—That’s NOT my mother!” She roared, her voice cracked open by betrayal. By fury. By grief.

Only lifeless eyes stared back.The clone took with it the last shred of a trail they could have followed. Doctor Halsey was gone.

For all Miranda knew, she was already off-planet.

Out of their grasp.

~~~~~~~~~

Kai secured her helmet, fingers tightening around her sniper rifle. A hand landed on her shoulder. She turned—Sierra stood beside her, offering a single nod, a gentle shake to her shoulder. The tension in her muscles eased slightly. She acknowledged the older Spartan with a nod of her own, exhaling softly. The gesture was simple, silent. Yet without a word, she understood. Everything will be fine . It told her.

Then, just as quietly, he stepped away.

“He used to do that to me, too,” came Fred’s voice, amused, but tinged with something else. The blue-armored Spartan had moved closer to her side.

“Do what?” Kai asked.

“Little things to keep me calm before a mission,” Fred paused, as if caught in some distant thought. "Anxiety always followed me— not like Sam’s restless energy, but …" His voice drifted for just a second, a blink lost to something unknown before he returned to the present. He sounded disheartened, " Still there ."

His visor tilted slightly toward Sierra, the sorrow in his tone dissolving, replaced with steady ease, “To remind me we were going to make it back. That he wouldn’t leave even one of us behind. Not if he could help it.”

Kai absorbed his words but didn’t get the chance to reply. A voice crackled over the speakers.

‘I’m picking up low-level Covenant activity in the northwest hemisphere. Locking in for Orbital drop,’ the AI announced, taking control of the Condor’s systems.

John, who had been studying the viewport, turned and made his way toward the back. He asked, “Air and ground defenses?”

‘I’m not reading any.’

“That’s odd. I thought this was their holy planet,” Riz interjected, her tone edged with suspicion.

“Well, why defend a planet a human can’t find?” Kai mused. Arrogant Covenant . It was time to humble them.

John straightened, eyes finally landing on them, “Stay alert. We go in quiet, get the package, we get out,”

Sierra remained awfully silent, except his fists were clenched. His steps landed heavier than before.

“Roger that,” Kai replied

“Aye aye, Chief,” Riz echoed.

Kai followed John as he strode toward the opening bay. Vannak intercepted him, handing over his weapons.

“Just the artifacts,” Vannak stated. “That’s the mission, right, Chief?” His gaze remained firm, unreadable.

Kai spoke before John could, passing by him, “He’s talking about Makee.”

John’s posture stiffened slightly. “Thank you, Kai,” he muttered, though she could tell his words held no real gratitude, only lingering irritation.

From the corner of her eye, she saw his gaze lock onto Vannak’s. “You have your orders.”

“Aye, Chief,” Silver’s second-in-command acknowledged.

Air whipped beyond the opened bay door. Sierra stood close to the edge, waiting. Fred joined him.

John had donned his helmet. Both Chiefs stared at each other.

“Sierra,” John stated.

“John,” he replied, gesturing for the younger Spartan to take the lead—the first leap.

Silver team’s Chief looked over his shoulder, back at them.

“Silver Team, on me.” 

John leaped.

They followed.

Chapter Text

(Silver Timeline)

~2552 A.D. Human-Covenant War still ongoing, Planet: Unknown, Covenant Temple~

[Silver Timeline p.o.v.]

The ceremony was about to begin, and Makee felt the urgency of time pressing down on her. It was now or never. She took a deep breath, letting the tension in her body settle for a moment. Her focus zeroed in on the only other figure in this room. Arbiter rarely left her side unless it was absolutely necessary, a comfort now more than ever. She glanced across the room, finding him stationed at a vague corner, as if he were a sentinel. In this brief moment of solitude, within the privacy of her temporary quarters, Makee felt safe enough to call him by his name. Otherwise, she would risk the status of Supreme Commander Vadamee and expose Arbiter’s lies to the Prophets.

“Vadam,” her voice steady despite the whirlwind raging in her chest, she approached him.

“Makee,” he turned to her, his expression calm and composed, an enigma she couldn't quite decipher. How could he remain so unwavering amid enemy territory? He met her gaze as she approached, standing just a few steps away, an imposing figure of dignity. 

“I must ask something of you—an oath, as a favor,” Makee said,  her voice firm, brows furrowed in intense seriousness. The weight of her request hung in the air between them. “Will you vow it?”

Arbiter regarded her with measured contemplation, tilting his head as if weighing her words carefully. “I vow nothing until I know the details of this oath, young one,” he replied, his voice steady but tinged with caution. She had expected no less; Sangheili did not treat oaths lightly. Such promises carried the weight of their honor and respect, which is why oath wardens existed—bounty hunters hired to enforce broken agreements and pacts. However, they were seen as lacking honor in the broader culture and received little respect for their occupation.

“If I tell you, you will not vow it,” she replied, a note of pleading slipping into her voice despite her rigid composure. Her hands were clasped tightly, her nails threatening her skin. 

“Then I will not,” he said flatly, his resolve unwavering. His eyes hardened, clearly sensing the true nature of Makee’s request, just as if Vadam could feel her emotions the way Sierra did.

“Vadam, please,” she urged, her voice trembling, each word laced with a frantic energy that belied her composed exterior. As her heartbeat thundered in her ears, the desperation clawed at her throat. She stepped closer, her hands almost instinctively reaching out, wanting to grasp not just him but any glimmer of hope. “I need you to ensure this–”

“You waste our time,” Arbiter cut through her plea, his voice like forged steel. His stance shifted slightly—deliberate, rejecting—not just her words, but the weakness he refused to entertain. His narrowed eyes reflected a fierce resolve, unyielding and cold.

Makee's breath caught, her heart racing as she pushed through the rising tide of panic. “Once John and his Spartans steal back the artifact, you must kill me! You don’t understand–”

“No.” 

The single word landed with the weight of a Jiralhanae war hammer—sharp, unrelenting, and final. It reverberated in her chest like a death knell. She had never seen him speak to her like this before, and the realization sent a chill through her. He began to turn away, a dismissal that felt like a blade to her gut.

No–no, no, no, don’t go!

Desperation ignited within her, fueling her actions as she lunged forward, fingers wrapping around one of Vadam’s wrists with an intensity that surprised even herself. Her grip was a lifeline, a last plea to keep him anchored. He could overpower her, throw her aside—but he wouldn’t, “The Covenant cannot gain access to the Halo if I am deceased. Humanity will have the Key—John will be the only one with the power. This will guarantee their success. You must— ”

“ No ,” he snapped,  his voice an energy blade cutting through her frantic declarations, sharper than any weapon. The finality in his tone froze her, leaving her trembling and consumed by dread. The strength began to drain from her limbs; her hold weakened, fingers going slack, yet he remained unmoving, trapped between her desperation and his resolve.

“Arbiter, please!” She begged. The words tumbled out, laced with raw emotion, desperation cracking through her carefully placed defenses.

“I cannot.” Vadam turned to face her, his voice low and heavy, like a storm brewing on the horizon. The conflict in his eyes shimmered with guilt, dangerously close to the surface. “What you ask of me is—” He hesitated. 

“Is what?” She pressed, her heart in her throat, unwilling to back down. His shoulders rose and fell with a slow, deliberate motion. He exhaled a breath that seemed to carry the weight of countless struggles. The golden glow in his eyes flickered—just for a fraction of a second—as if uncertainty had scraped against his resolve before he locked his gaze onto hers. The silence between them stretched unbearably thin, pressing against the walls of the chamber like the weight of something unspoken. Even the air itself seemed to still, waiting. She held his stare, her pulse racing, desperate for an answer.

“Makee, I cannot kill you,” Vadam whispered, and the softness of his tone made the words heavier, sharper—like a quiet force pressing into her chest. His fists were clenched tightly, she could feel the strength in the muscles of his arm. Yet, beneath the weight of his resolve, his eyes revealed something fragile. Though he didn’t speak it aloud, she felt his unvoiced plea lingering in the quiet between them: Don’t make me do this.

Her shoulders trembled as if a wire were tightening around her throat in sorrow, yet she did not bow her head. For John, she would remain determined; brave.

“Then, as a last resort,” She countered, her words rushing forward, unrelenting. “If the battle turns, if it sways to the Covenant’s favor, you must kill me. Promise me…I will not live beyond this day if John falls. You’ve made it clear, the Covenant cannot be allowed victory.” Her voice trembled, but her resolve remained unbroken. “This—this is how.”

Vadam’s gaze hardened, though a flicker of sorrow shimmered within it, like a flame struggling against the wind. He straightened, his towering presence undeniable. 

“I will do what must be done. If it comes to that… I will act.” His voice was low, reluctant, and heavy. He pressed a hand to his chest, where his hearts beat beneath, “Let this oath be bound to my honor, my name, and my blood. The cost of breaking it will be my life.”

“Thank you,” she said softly, offering him a single nod—an unspoken understanding passing between them.

“In return, you must make a promise of your own,” he added, resting his hand on her shoulder—a familiar and profound weight.

“What is it?” She asked.

“Have faith in John as I have faith in mine. That he will not fall.” His grip tightened, hand falling heavier on her shoulder.

“I’ll try–”

“Make no half measures, Makee. Only regret awaits you on such a path,” Vadam interjected, his tone imbued with a gentle firmness, a blend of wisdom and care. Rather than soft encouragement, it was a demand for full commitment, a stark warning.

They stood in silence afterward, and she acted before thinking as always in his presence. Makee hugged him, A beat passed—too long—before Vadam responded. His body remained rigid for a fraction of a second, his hands hovering just shy of resting against her back, as if unsure. Then, finally, they closed around her. In that fleeting moment, she was a young girl again, safely nestled in the crook of Vadamee’s arm, feeling the warmth and protection that had once shielded her from the cruel universe outside.

Yet, as quickly as the memory came, she forced herself to let it go, wrestling with the flood of emotion that threatened to engulf her. Today, she could not afford to break—tears were a luxury she would not allow herself. Makee was keenly aware that the world around her was crumbling, and the memories of safety felt like fragile glass in her grip. 

What if she never saw Thel’ Vadamee again? She couldn’t dwell on that possibility. John would survive; Sierra would remain steadfast beside him, along with the other Spartans. Gripping her resolve, she remembered Thel's unwavering faith, a beacon in the darkness. In that moment, a transformation sparked within her. It wasn’t just defiance she felt; it was a fierce, unyielding strength rising from the depths of her sorrow. She would not be defined by the pain that had long shrouded her life. Instead, she would carry the legacy of hope and resilience. A wave of determination washed over her, solidifying her path. 

Makee will not go quietly; true to the Sangheili culture that made her childhood. Death would have to earn her.

~~~~~~~~~

Vannak felt the thud beneath his boots as the energy surged to his torso. The sand absorbed any sound from the impact. Upon closer inspection, he noticed that he had landed directly on a Covenant Grunt; he was staring at what remained of the ugly creature. A slight twinge formed in his chest, similar to a needle prick, but he ignored it as he retrieved his M392 Rifle and readied himself for anything. Riz had caught another Grunt by surprise, dragging it into the shadows of the pillars surrounding the temple. She knocked it down onto its back, and it began flailing. He stomped on the rebreather attached to the alien's face, suffocating it with air it couldn’t breathe. A smile tugged at the corners of Vannak's lips as he knelt down to pick up the available needler.

He whistled low as he inspected it for a moment. “Time to see why Kai likes you so much,” he said, holstering it on his hip for later use.

“Save the next one for me,” Kai replied through the comms; she stood a few steps behind the duo.

“Don’t count on it, Kai. He’ll likely keep that one, too,” Riz commented, her eyes darting cautiously around the temple’s perimeter.

“1-2-5, Overwatch,” Chief ordered, keeping a low crouch as he continued forward.

“Copy,” she responded, seamlessly splitting off to take a higher vantage point. Sierra and Frederic advanced ahead, their movements silent and synchronized, communicating with mere gestures and nods.

Vannak and Riz followed after their squad leader. The battlefield felt alarmingly empty. Covenant security had never been this light in any situation; it especially shouldn’t be the case on their holy planet. It was inconceivable that they would leave it nearly abandoned, with only a handful of grunts present. The absence of enemy presence sent an unsettling chill down his spine. Where could the rest be hiding? 

“Security is light. Where is everyone?” Chief paused, gesturing for them to halt. He scanned the area, mirroring Vannak's earlier instincts, yet there was no sign of cloaked Elites, no shimmer in sight. Something felt off to him about the situation. The atmosphere was tense, similar to traveling through a minefield with no map, anticipating the moment they finally triggered one by stepping on it. With a growing impatience, Vannak didn’t have a clue why this made no tactical, no logical, and no common damn sense; it irked him.

John had likely been speaking to his AI since only silence had responded on their end.

“Let’s move,” Chief commanded at last, retaking the lead, his posture radiating authority. Sierra and Frederic waited for them to catch up, the air crackling with anticipation.  John positioned himself behind a stone arch, mirroring Sierra from the opposite end, the two Spartans sharing a nod of mutual understanding.

Vannak settled beside Frederic, the shadows of the pillars cloaking them as they progressed. The unmistakable sound of a bullet whizzing past snapped his attention; Kai was eliminating potential threats with lethal precision. A beat was pulsing loud in his ears, coming from within.

“You hear that?” Vannak asked Frederic to confirm if his helmet possessed a glitch. It had to be, what else could it be?

“What specifically?” The brightly colored Spartan responded, his head turning. The vibrant glare of his visor surveyed the surroundings, keen eyes searching 

“Chief!” Kai’s urgent voice cut through the tension, amplifying the weight that settled in the pit of Vannak's stomach.

The sand stirred beneath them, displaced by an unseen force, something from within the temple. As if something had yanked him into the open, John lurched forward, his knees buckled. Sierra lunged into action, catching Chief, and blowing their cover instantly.

“We’ve been compromised,” the sniper announced, accompanied by the sound of her firing another killing round. A plasma bolt grazed past the two Master Chiefs, only missing by a fraction of a centimeter.

A distant thunderous sound began to rumble, reverberating through the air like the growl of an awakening beast. It rolled in from behind them, emerging from the heavy blanket of cloud cover, its presence undeniable. Each passing second brought it nearer, a deep, resonant boom that surged through the ground beneath their feet.

“What the hell is that?” Riz asked, facing the sound.

Footsteps pounded against stone, echoing like the relentless beat of a war drum, each thud a chilling herald of approaching doom. The desolation from moments ago was merely a disguise, an illusion hiding the truth. The Covenant were ugly, not stupid.

“Covenant incoming! Approaching from below, they were hiding inside the mountain,” Sierra’s AI announced loud and clear. “You might want to start running,” she sounded annoyed more than anything.

“Fuck,” Vannak muttered, a sinking feeling washing over him. This was only the beginning.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~2552 A.D. Human-Covenant War still ongoing, Planet: Unknown, Covenant Temple~

[Blue Timeline p.o.v.]

What Chief wouldn’t give to have an M41 SPNKr in his hands right now? He braced himself, knowing that for now, grenades would have to suffice against the relentless tide. The odds were always stacked against him; it felt like a constant struggle up a steep slope while the enemy enjoyed the advantage of higher ground. He could sense the uncertainty radiating from Silver Team, their usual confidence shaken by the daunting numbers ahead. 

“Chief, how many?” Kai’s voice crackled through the comms, tense and urgent. The army of Covenant had yet to breach the steps, but the ominous rumble and tremble of the ground clearly warned of the storm about to erupt. Silver Team stood poised like springs ready to unleash, every muscle brimming with a mix of readiness and dread. A moment passed, stretched in the silent suspense.

“We need to move. Now!” John shouted, his voice cutting through the thick atmosphere of anticipation. He pivoted on his heel and sprinted toward the ancient temple, the crumbling structure looming like a fortress against the encroaching darkness. As he dashed forward, he gripped Riz’s shoulder firmly, propelling her into action.

“How many?” Riz echoed, urgency lacing her words as she fell in line behind John. 

Grunts were the first to emerge from the mist over the ledge, and plasma began to fly. 

“Kai, your position is compromised; move!” Chief commanded, providing cover fire while the grunts fell one after another under his stream of bullets. He even tossed a frag grenade right on target for good measure.

“They’re coming over the ledge on three sides,” Kai informed.

“There’s too many!” Riz shouted.

“It’s just a few hundred,” Fred added nonchalantly.

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” Vannak stowed his rifle and started firing the needler, mists of blood began to permeate the air in the midst of all the Grunts who were then joined by Elites.

“Riz, Sierra, with me,” John ordered, his voice carrying a confidence that Chief hasn’t observed throughout the entire time he has known the Spartan. “Kai, Vannak, Fred, on the six.” 

The air around them was thick with tension, punctuated only by the distant sounds of gunfire. A chaotic symphony of the fierce battle raging behind. He locked eyes with Riz and Sierra, who nodded in understanding. Together, they moved as one, the mission clear as they climbed the last set of steps to the sandy ruins.

“John, he’s here inside the temple,” Cortana’s voice trembled with a mix of relief and disbelief. “His vitals… they’re all stable.” There was a long pause, heavy with emotion. Chief had always believed that Arbiter would find a way to survive, but a wave of gratitude washed over him nonetheless as a surge of determination filled his veins. He was getting inside that temple and taking back his husband.

A formidable squad of at least ten elites stood in their path, clad in ornate armor that shimmered in vibrant shades of red and yellow with subtle hints of orange that caught the light like flames. The elaborate designs of their armor glinted in the ambient light, their posture telling of their skill and status. As Chief gazed upon the honor guardsmen, a familiar weight on his cuisses tugged at his thoughts—his energy sword. 

It would be easy to cut through the elites with brute force to overpower them and move on. However, something deeper motivated him: the desire to humiliate these privileged bastards and make a demonstration to the onlookers. As a reminder, they are not gods. The tension in the air crackled as the three of them prepared to confront their opponents. A familiar, piercing gaze seemed to penetrate his very armor, reaching to his skin. While he had been told that Thel was present, experiencing his presence as an intangible force was always a different matter entirely. As Chief looked beyond the elites blocking their path, he locked eyes with the golds he would never tire of admiring. 

He smiles, the warmth of the moment lighting up his features, but that joy evaporates like mist in the morning sun as a blade ignites at Arbiter’s back. The realization crashes over him like icy water, extinguishing his warmth and leaving an aching void where hope once flickered. Chaos erupted, and he could no longer see his husband.

~~~~~~~~~

The ceremony had begun, and Thel followed closely behind Makee as they approached the sacred room. The air was thick with the scent of incense, and the soft glow of twilight cast everything in a blend of shadow and color. Arbiter ignored the engravings in the stone walls and gave little thought to the statues. Had she been with him, Cortana would have already been analyzing and deciphering their meaning.

Seeing Makee now in the ceremonial robes only deepened Arbiter's dislike for the attire. The fabric, a rigid shade of black adorned with red patterned embroidery, hung awkwardly on her slender frame. It resembled a cocoon, concealing every feature of her form except her face. The neckline was practically nonexistent, hidden beneath an overly large, squarish collar that failed to embrace her in any way. The robes not only misrepresented her but also obscured her true self, marring her fierce spirit.

They finally stopped four meters from the second relic looming. Arbiter moved to stand by Makee’s side, his gaze remained fixed on Makee, torn between admiration and frustration. She deserved to look formidable, not swathed in a garment that seemed to diminish her strength. But that was exactly why the Hierarchs forced these clothes upon her—they wanted her weak and supplicant.

“There will be a way. It will be called the way of holiness,” Mercy began the sermon, her tone dripping with fervor and conviction.

“The Covenant shall walk the path,” Truth continued his voice, a steady echo of Mercy’s zeal, reinforcing the gravity of their words.

“This is the vindication of the ways of our Covenant,” Regret recited, his eyes gleaming with what could only be described as fanatical devotion as he delivered the line with almost religious fervor.

“The promise shall be fulfilled. We will soon join the ancients as gods.” Mercy gestured dramatically to one of the Honor guardsmen, signaling him to lift the smaller keystone. Arbiter fought feverishly to suppress the overwhelming distaste that brewed within him. To him, it was now nothing more than a glorified piece of technology, an object of slight sophistication, not divinity.

He struggled to maintain his composure, pressing his mandibles tightly together to distract from the urge to roll his eyes as the guard lifted the keystone. Arbiter’s frustration simmered beneath the surface, felt in the tense lines of his jaw and the rigid set of his shoulders. The overblown reverence displayed grated on his nerves. He ground his teeth, exerting considerable effort to present a facade of stoicism.

“Unite the stones so that they may illuminate the way to the Ring,” Mercy commanded, his voice soaring with conviction, drowning out the tumult of Arbiter’s thoughts. The smaller artifact slid perfectly into place at the center of the larger relic.

Once combined, the keystone ignited with a brief surge of life. A cold breeze swept past them all. Arbiter despised being trapped among these zealots again, their ecstatic proclamations echoing mockingly as he wrestled with the bile of his hatred stuck in his throat.

“DEMON! The demon is–” An elite informs right before a mist of blood bursts forth, revealing the gaping hole in his skull. His body tumbles over the railing, his corpse landing awkwardly in the sand.

“It was her! She summoned him!” Regret accused, pointing at Makee.

Makee’s eyes widened, her defiance igniting. She glared back at Regret, her jaw clenched. “No!” she shouted. Turning to Mercy, her voice softened to a pleading whisper, “I swear!”

“Never mind her. Get the demon!” Mercy commanded, his throne began its ascent and the other prophets followed. He gave one final order, “Release the Zealots.” 

Many Guardsmen rushed to the entrance, ready to facilitate the High Prophets' escape if any Spartan reached them first. Thel gently guided Makee down one of the corridors that offered more cover from potential stray shots. One Honor Guard had accompanied them, a poor decision. Once they were hidden and all other attention was focused on the commotion outside, Thel ignited the energy sword he had taken from another guard and quietly disposed of the Sangheili.

“Were you ever trained?” Arbiter asks, his voice steady yet laced with urgency as he retrieves the carbine rifle he’d been granted, feeling the weight of the cold metal against his palm.

“Not in physical combat, why?” Makee responds, her eyes wide and searching, darting nervously as the tension in the air thickens around them. The distant echoes of chaos a reminder that danger lurks close by.

“Then you will need this,” he replies, extending the rifle toward her, the muzzle glinting ominously in the light. “Do not let them near you.” She grips the weapon, her fingers trembling slightly around the smooth surface. Despite the quiver of her hands, Makee raises her chin, her eyes gleaming with a fierce determination.

The distant sounds of gunfire return them to the reality that time is not on their side. Thel stepped back into the open; the Hierarchs have departed, taking most of their guards with them. The few that remain have moved just outside the entrance. He retrieves the rifle that had fallen from the grip of the now-deceased elite, whose body lies awkwardly sprawled in the sand. Arbiter dusted off the weapon, aiming down the sights ready to join the fight.

Thel paused when he recognized his husband's distinctive green armor. He saw John reaching for his energy sword, and warmth filled his chest. Of course, his husband would choose this moment to show off, to test his mettle against the Honor Guardsmen. Thel didn’t need to see the eyes behind the gold visor to know that John was aware of him; always alert, always protective.

Suddenly, a surge of nervous energy rippled down his spine, an instinctual warning that danger loomed behind him. Without hesitation, Thel reacted. His energy blade ignited in his grasp, crackling with vibrant power.

In one fluid motion, Arbiter spun around, deflecting a swift strike aimed at his side. The sound of the plasma clashing with plasma echoed in the air as he parried. The guardsmen had come close to ending him, and that was as close as he would ever get. 

Their blades danced in a whirlwind of strikes and counters, each movement a testament to years of training. Thel ducked low, narrowly avoiding a downward slash, and retaliated with an upward slice that forced his assailant back. Adrenaline coursed through him, sharpening his senses. Arbiter's opponent grew more arrogant with each strike. Good.

The guard’s actions became more aggressive and reckless. Leaving himself open for attack during a particularly open strike. Thel seized the fleeting opportunity, his movements a blur as he deftly disarmed his attacker. The Elite’s sword deactivated as it clattered to the sand, with the hand still grotesquely gripping the hilt, cut from the wrist. Arbiter’s blade carved an arc of light through the air, shimmering brightly like a comet streaking across the night sky. In one precise and brutal stroke, the Sangheili warrior’s head was severed from his shoulders. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~2552 A.D. Human-Covenant War still ongoing, Planet: Unknown, Covenant Temple~

[Silver Timeline p.o.v.]

This group are a new type of Elites, clad in striking red and yellow armor accented with vibrant touches of orange that shimmered with internal light. The yellow decorative pieces were intricately designed; to Riz, they resembled the delicate membranes of butterfly wings, only sharper and glowed with an intensity that evoked a fiery color. Riz stood at the forefront, her heart pounding as she surveyed the squad blocking their path to the temple. She didn’t need to count each opponent to know they were outnumbered three to one. The air was thick with tension as they faced off against the enemy, each passing second feeling like an eternity. Both sides stared at one another, waiting to see who would make the first move. Riz felt a weight pressing down on her as her heart pounded within her chest. 

She fired first, a decisive shot that ignited the chaos as she charged forward. This was her moment—a chance to regain the faith she'd lost. Countless battles against the Covenant, against Elites. No matter the rank or color of their armor, she faced them all; she was still standing after every encounter, the victor, the survivor. Spartans don’t die, and Riz was anything but weak.

“Riz, no!” Chief called out, his voice laced with concern as he sprinted to keep pace with her. But this was not the time for his hesitation. 

“I’ve got this,” she shot back with fierce determination, her eyes locked on her foe. The energy stave swung toward her, its shimmering blade ready to deliver a lethal blow. With a swift, practiced dodge, she narrowly avoided the attack, adrenaline surging through her as she danced around the weapon.

Deep down, she felt the weight of expectation—Each clash of metal and energy was a reminder that every strike was a step closer to proving her worth to herself. In that chaos, she felt—Riz felt alive. 

The moment as it arrived, it was torn from her grasp in the same swiftness. Her shields absorbed the brunt of the blow, though she could still feel the jarring impact reverberate through her bones. Riz unleashed a torrent of bullets from her Magnums into the face of the Elite who'd closed the distance for that strike. It dropped like a marionette with severed strings, armor clattering to the ground.

Yet, this small victory was short-lived. Pain shot through her side, her feet leaving the sand below. Her back slammed against a stone pillar—the impact cracking the structure.

Her vizor flickered, distorting for a second before regaining optimal function. Chief and Sierra were locked in a fierce battle against the rest of these Elites, each movement a deadly dance of skill and strategy. The crackle of energy swords clashing echoed through the air.

Sierra, Master Chief of another world, fought valiantly and with precision. Using his energy sword rather than his rifle. He thrust his blade into an elite before parrying another attack, twisting his body to evade a swift strike aimed at his midsection. It was a display of skill as he engaged the three, now two, elites. He deflected their blows while countering with calculated strikes that found their mark. Leaving scorch marks on the alien armor and more dead elites. Only for another set to take their place.

Meanwhile, Chief was narrowly avoiding incoming attacks. Ducking under a sweeping lash from an energy staff as another lunged at him with an energy sword. He fired his rifle in a rapid burst, knocking one elite down. He moved to dodge another strike. However, this one met its mark, melting a line in the plating of his spaulder. Chief shoved his barrel under the helmet and fired, eliminating the alien bastard.

Riz groaned as she quickly moved to get up, her side aching and ignored. The sound caught Chief’s attention, and he beelined to her. Riz gave cover fire, killing off another Elite with a bullet to the head. But something bright and blue landed on the left side of her breastplate. Worry drowned her head, her head snapping to John’s closing proximity.

“Shit! Chief, stop! STOP!” She warned, and he ignored her. Riz struggled to pry the plasma grenade from her armor without success. 

“Riz!” Chief shouted as he reached her.

“Stay away, John!”She turned away from him, curling into herself as the orb exploded, engulfing her in agony.

Chapter Text

(Silver Timeline)

~2552 A.D. Human-Covenant War still ongoing, Planet: Unknown, Covenant Temple~

[Silver Timeline p.o.v.]

John landed hard on his back, the impact stunning him momentarily as he struggled to regain his senses. The chaos from the explosion would have echoed in his ears were it not for his helmet dampening the sound. He pushed himself off the ground, and panic surged through him; he needed to assess Riz's status and make sure she was still alive and breathing.

But what he saw was worse. His breath hitched—sharp, uneven, an instinctive choke as if the moment had struck him like a round to the chest. John’s pulse slammed against his ribs, deafening in his ears, drowning out the battlefield around him. Riz lay sprawled in the sand, blood seeping into the ground beneath her like ink bleeding across a page. The edges of her ruined armor were still smoldering, and the torn fabric no longer hid the grotesque streaks of muscle and shattered tissue beneath, still smoking, a sickening scent of charred flesh and burned synthetic fabric hanging in the air. The smell is still potent and present through his filters. The explosion had torn through the left side of her chest plate, leaving a gaping hole. Blood pulsed from her side—slow, thick, pooling into the sand, turning golden grains into wet, dark clumps.

John stumbled forward without thinking. His knee hit the sand beside her, sinking into the blood-soaked earth. His hands—shaking, useless—hovered over the torn remains of her armor, unsure where to touch, where to press, and how to stop the bleeding. Gunfire rattled in the distance, plasma bolts screeching past, but it all felt muted—distant, irrelevant. The only sound that mattered was Riz’s broken breathing, each gasp quieter, shallower, slipping from her like sand through his fingers. Each exhale sent a small droplet of crimson onto the sand below. 

She is dying. Right in front of him. And he couldn't stop it.

John’s moment of shock ended abruptly as a shot of plasma seared through the air, striking him squarely on the spine—a brutal reminder of the danger tightening around them. Gritting his teeth, he quickly surveyed the battlefield. The Covenant forces were closing in, their grip tightening. Soon, they would be surrounded.

He retrieved his assault rifle from where it had fallen, the familiar weight grounding him in the chaos. His gaze flickered to the brutal tableau before him—a grim line of bodies clad in red and yellow armor, their lifeless forms a testament to the ferocity and desperation Sierra had shown in combat.

Speak of the devil.

The older Master Chief burst back into the open from the temple entrance, the telltale gleam of silver chrome armor signaling the Arbiter right at his side.

John opened his mouth, ready to tell the Elite to stay the hell away from Riz, but Sierra placed a firm hand on his chest plate.

“They need cover fire,” Sierra insisted, his voice steady despite the chaos. “And she needs to be away from the open fire.”

John breathed, the adrenaline momentarily clouding his judgment, making him forget who his allies were. He nodded sharply, recalibrating himself, and ordered through the comms, 

“Pull back to the temple.”

Kai and Vannak reacted instantly, retreating from the steps while firing at the Covenant. This only fueled the enemy’s onslaught, with a few Grunts laughing as they chased after them—only to be silenced by John’s bullets. He heard Riz’s pained sound when Thel gently lifted her from the ground. Thel—Thel??? Thel Arbiter used his body to shield Riz from the incoming plasma bolts.

John’s heart lurched—panic, fury, something knotted inside him—hot, urgent, overriding reason like a reflex that wasn’t his own. His rifle snapped forward, and he fired before he could even register his targets, his desperation drowning out any sense of calculation. Thoughts flooded his mind: Thel’s under fire—No, Arbiter—Thel—Oh, for the love of—!

“Sierra, shut up!” John barked, his voice sharp—too sharp. He needed focus. He wasn’t just frustrated. He was afraid. Afraid of the instincts clawing at his mind, twisting his emotions, shaping his reactions before he even registered them. He had to silence it. He had to drown it out before he lost himself completely.

His mind quieted, not completely silent, but far from the chaos of moments ago. The slow turn of Sierra’s golden visor wasn’t just acknowledgment but confirmation. It was a silent admission of something unspoken between them—as if the elder had always known and had been waiting for him to figure it out. Amusement lingered in its reflection, perhaps tinged with something else—embarrassment. Yet John felt it like a tide, emotions not entirely his own, blurring the lines between their minds. Finally, his brain caught up—but not just with his words. With everything. With Sierra. With the force pressing against the edges of his mind, guiding his instincts before he even recognized them. The vision of those golden eyes, the feelings they evoked—the overwhelming grief and comforting warmth he experienced over the past week—all pointed to a connection he had overlooked. And just like that, it all clicked into place. The weight of it settled into his chest. How had he not seen the signs sooner?

Focus.

"Don't. Just don't," John hissed at the older man, throwing the grenade harder than necessary—a vicious rejection, aimed at them but meant for something else entirely. A brief flare of anger surged within him, ignited by the deep connection he felt. Now that he had truly acknowledged it, he could feel them both—Sierra pressing at the edges of his thoughts, steady, unrelenting. Makee, distant but tethered, lingering just at the outskirts of his mind.

“John, he hasn’t said anything,” Kai interjected, hiding behind the cover of the opposite pillar where Riz had fallen. Frederic and Vannak had continued on, rushing inside the temple, likely to gain a better vantage point.

“He knows exactly what I mean.” John didn’t need a response—Sierra was already moving, unwavering, locked onto the task as if nothing had changed when everything had.

John dislodged the empty magazine from his rifle, the metallic click ringing in his ears. His hands moved effortlessly, replacing the magazine easily with a fresh one, not missing a beat as a mix of plasma and carbine rounds whizzed past him. However, an elite Zealot had managed to sneak up on him, the telltale glow of an energy blade poised to strike. He narrowly dodged the lethal attack, the Zealot's wrist blade slicing through the air just inches from his torso.

Before John could even take a shot at the Elite, a series of carbine rounds burst through through the alien's head, splattering dark indigo viscous blood across his visor. He quickly searched for the source of the gunfire, expecting to see Vannak or Frederic stationed at their chosen vantage point. Instead, his eyes found Makee, who stood on the temple's second floor, her stance steady and already firing at her next target.

It slammed into him, vicious and cold—like stepping onto a mine he’d known was there, but had walked across anyway, praying it wouldn’t explode beneath his feet. On some level, he had known in the cold logic of evidence that Makee had pulled the trigger. The bodies in the Delta hangar had told him as much: two marines, precise bullet wounds marking quick, calculated deaths. The headless corpse, cut too crudely for an energy sword, had only confirmed it. He had noted the details, filed them away, and moved forward. But he had never truly let the thought settle, never allowed himself to dwell on what it meant. And now, watching her move and kill without hesitation, the truth refused to remain distant. It was no longer a conclusion drawn from evidence. It was happening before his eyes, undeniable.

Her meekness had been a falsehood, a disguise, appearing weak to lower everyone's guard. She'd likely even eliminated some of those aboard the Gladius . But none of that mattered at this moment. What mattered was that she was picking her side, and it wasn’t the Covenant's. A slow smile edged onto John’s lips—joy and relief, maybe. Or something sharper. Something he couldn’t name and didn’t want to.

The thought lingered for only a breath—because dwelling on it wouldn’t save them. They had moved, slipping into the temple’s cover, the artifacts now within reach. But none of it mattered if they didn’t escape. The storm around them wasn’t just tightening—it was swallowing them whole. No gaps. No exits. The jaws of a beast clamping shut, waiting for them to stop struggling. Soon, there would be no air left to breathe. They were surrounded.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~2552 A.D. Human-Covenant War still ongoing, Planet: Unknown, Covenant Temple~

[Blue Timeline p.o.v.]

“How bad is it?” Fred dropped to his knees, the impact grinding into the sand, but his hands remained steady—precise. The battlefield pulsed around him, the distant echoes of plasma fire fading against the single focus of the moment. His pulse was unwavering, unaffected, because it had to be. Assessing the scene before him. 

“She grows weaker, and the blood loss only continues,” with great care, Thel had cradled Riz—but when he released her, it was slow, almost reluctant, as if some part of him didn’t want to let go. The sand beneath her was unnaturally even, too pristine, indifferent to the suffering it absorbed. One of Thel's hands was stained deep red with human blood, an agonizing reminder of the violence that had transpired. A fleeting look of regret flickered in his eyes, as if the weight of his people’s actions bore down heavier on his shoulders. “Do you have it?”

“Biofoam? I only have enough for her and no one else,” he replied, his voice steadying as he retrieved the slim cylindrical tube from his subspace.With a press of the latch, the Medi Gel spilled out in a controlled stream. The chemical hissed upon contact, sealing the ruin where skin had once been whole. Riz let out a ragged scream, her finger digging deep into the sand. She was forcing herself still, muscles locked in agonizing restraint. Fred worked in silence, his fingers moving with surgical precision, pressing the biofoam into shredded muscle and torn flesh.

Riz was a Spartan. She’d survive this. But survival wasn’t the victory here—not really. The bleeding could be stopped, the wounds patched, the armor replaced. But what about the fracture beneath all that? The quiet, suffocating terror these Spartans had no experience in handling? These Spartans weren’t made for moments like this. They weren’t meant to bleed. To feel. To fear. They had been shaped into machines, designed to stand, to fight, but never to suffer—not like this. Forcefully disconnected from their emotions for decades. Fred couldn't shake the sense that the real fight for Riz was only beginning. A battle for what remained of her. For whatever was left beneath the armor.

“Don’t take it to heart,” Fred stated, throwing the empty tube aside.

“I haven’t. History haunts me,” Thel replied quietly, his gaze locked onto his stained palm as if reading the names of those lost at his command. The weight of past battles hung over them like a heavy shroud, a constant reminder of the lives they’d taken and the pain they carried. The air thickened with unspoken grief.

A voice cut through the air from above—sharp, venom-laced, soaked in the kind of fury that only came when rage had nowhere else to go. “You’re still breathing. Convince me why that should continue.” The words tore through the shadows, turning them into something heavier, sharper. A promise, not just a threat.

The Arbiter reacted instantly, a flicker of raw panic seized his features—sharp, unguarded. Fred rarely saw Thel stripped of control like this. That look wasn’t just concern; it was despair. The kind of worry that twisted in the gut, the visceral fear of losing someone precious. Fred had seen that look once before—just once. And only for Chief; for John. That same quiet, twisting desperation. The kind that had nothing to do with duty and everything to do with something deeper. A blur of silver and panic—gone before thought could catch up. It wasn’t strategy. It wasn’t hesitation. It was instinct, sharpened by something deeper than fear. Thel wasn’t just running, he was moving to protect.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~2552 A.D. Human-Covenant War still ongoing, Planet: Unknown, Covenant Temple~

[Silver Timeline p.o.v.]

Makee felt invigorated, a rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins. She had heard words of praise throughout her life for what she was: a Blessed One, but they often rang hollow. She was seen as fragile, too fragile, and kept locked away behind the safety provided in High Charity, or used as a means of deception. Hierarch Regret had been the most adamant about her weakness and inabilities.

But Vadam did not take her weakness, her lack of, and give sympathy. Instead, he placed the rifle in her hands without pause, no hesitation, no doubt or condescension in his eyes. The rifle settled into her hands with a weight that felt comforting and ominous at once—heavy, grounding, like something far more substantial than just metal and ammunition. It was an anchor, a tool that conferred power and purpose

"Do not let them near you." Arbiter’s voice rang out, firm and unwavering, carving the space between them like stone. Not a warning. A decree. A command carved from years of unyielding expectation, bound to the kind of trust that did not waver, did not ask—only required. And then, he was gone—vanishing into the battle never once looking back. As if he did not need to, that he had already decided that she would stand and no longer be a pawn in someone else’s game.

With determination swelling inside her, Makee moved swiftly to the temple's second floor, her pulse quickening as she positioned herself at the railing. The view below was a grim tapestry of devastation; she peered through the sights of the sleek violet rifle, her breath steadying as she scanned the battlefield. John and his team were outnumbered. Endless waves of Covenant forces—alien bodies spilling onto the sand, a relentless tide threatening to drown them and only gaining more ground on them. Every fallen body was swallowed—devoured by war’s insatiable appetite, a cycle of death with no end, no pause, only inevitability.

Through the chaos, she spotted Sierra, a beacon of ferocity, as he tore through the battlefield—merciless, efficient, like a force that couldn’t be stopped. Bodies crumpled beneath his momentum, staining the ground with every step forward. John was sprinting toward his downed teammate, who bore red bits of armor, Riz, if she remembered correctly. But Riz turned away from him, curling into herself, making herself as small as possible. Makee found the action odd, but her question was soon answered. Her heart plunged as an explosion erupted from beneath Riz hurling her and John through the air, crashing into the sand. Forming a chaotic blur against the backdrop of smoke and ruin. Makee's heart plummeted, the scene's horror collapsing into an emotion too familiar to ignore—fear. She turned away, eyes wide, unable to shake the feeling as it coiled deep within her, twisting around her resolve and squeezing tighter.

Makee didn’t want to look. Didn’t want to see. But the pull was unbearable—a demand from something deep, clawing at her fear. She had to. She needed to know John was okay, still alive. Her gaze returned to the battlefield. As she looked down the scope, her heart thudded in her chest like a war drum, amplifying her dread. In the distance, she saw two armored figures partially obscured by swirling sand, which clung to them like a shroud. One lay motionless, the sand greedily swallowing the blood pooling beneath them, staining the grains like ink bleeding across a page and the other slowly sitting up before stumbling to their feet. 

The other figure, however, began to stir. A wave of relief washed over Makee as she recognized the green hue of the armor; it was John. He seemed to shake off the haze, regaining some of his senses as he bolted for Riz, his movements frantic yet determined. But her moment of relief was shattered as her eyes caught an Unggoy far too close to the pair—too damned close. Adrenaline surged through her veins, propelling her instinctually. Her finger squeezed the trigger before the thought fully formed, the shot barely even making a sound. The Unggoy’s body dropped, lifeless and irrelevant, its limbs sprawled in unnatural angles against the gritty earth. There wasn’t a moment to dwell on the kill; the fight was far from over. Urgency was a sharp blade against her conscience, demanding she keep the threats at bay.

Makee didn’t pause—didn’t breathe. Her mind became a blur, focused solely on protecting, defending. The rifle snapped to her next target, cutting down foes that had slipped past the defenses of the other two demons. She didn’t keep track of the bodies she piled; there was no time, and her heart raced wild with the pulse of each discharge. Each shot struck out with the clarity of purpose, and as she worked, it echoed the distant cries of the wounded and dead. She needed to keep them away from John and his friend.

But one slipped past her vision, a Zealot appeared—its dark red armor gleaming ominously against the dull backdrop of the sands, its energy wrist blade crackling with a deadly charge, slicing the air. The Elite was too close, just a foot separated it from John. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, her heartbeat a frantic rhythm urging her to act, a war drum pounding against her ribs. Time narrowed, collapsing into a single breath that hung perilously between life and death. The Zealot lunged, its predatory speed astonishing, a blur of motion glinting with lethal promise. So, in an instant, she fired—the shot tearing through the charge, shattering motion before it could land. Striking its mark, the Zealot’s body collapsed, crumpling like discarded armor. The energy blade extinguished, its deadly strike forever unfinished.

Relief floods her veins like a cool wave washing over her, but she knows she cannot linger and cannot afford distraction. Makee refocuses her gaze on the next target and fires, noting the demons have retreated and pulled back into the temple. Yet, her resolve is shattered by a sudden, searing impact. Hard, searing-hot metal presses against her skull, the weight unforgiving, the pain a sharp bite into bone.

“You’re still breathing. Convince me why that should continue,” a voice cuts through the haze, as unyielding as the weapon aimed directly at Makee.

She sees the bronze visor from the corner of her eye, cold and calculating, like a watchful sentinel. The barrel of the rifle looms ominously, anchored at her temple. The engraved numbers on his chest plate stand stark and unforgiving—one–three–four.

What could she possibly say in the face of such certainty? The thought of crafting a plea for her life knocks the wind from her sails. She had prepared to fight against the Covenant, not for this twisted moment of negotiation for her continued existence.

A deep sense of futility washes over her. It would be better if she died here. It felt almost noble, she mused, to accept the end here. If she were to perish, there would be no other Hirajo to activate the artifacts. Only John would possess that burden. Humanity would hold the key without opposition.

John didn’t need the same protection she did. Why should she continue to exist, a mere risk in a world that craved stability? 

Why should she live?

“It shouldn’t—I shouldn’t.”  Her voice emerges quietly yet unwavering. “I just saved John, but I’m a risk humanity can’t afford.”

“I said convince me,” he retorted.

Makee shakes her head, her heart heavy with resignation, as she turns away from him. “I won’t.” The words spill from her lips like a confession, tinged with a sorrow she can no longer contain. “Pull the trigger.”

Makee stares at the horizon, where the sun dips low, casting a warm glow across the landscape—a beauty she finds haunting in its indifference. A single tear escapes, carving a path down her cheek, a silent testament to the weight of her choices, of dreams unfulfilled. She inhales deeply, attempting to find solace, and exhales slowly, feeling the last vestiges of her hope slip away, the weight leaving her shoulders like a forgotten burden.

At that moment, she closes her eyes, welcoming the impending darkness, surrendering to oblivion, her heart fractured but unyielding in its resolve. Alone in her final decision, she finds bittersweet freedom in letting go, a quiet acceptance of a fate long foreseen, and she dares to dream of the peace that awaits her beyond this cruel moment.

“NO!” The word breaks the moment apart before it can seal itself closed.

Makee’s eyes snap open, wide with devastation, a second too late to grasp what is happening. She feels more than sees—her body is wrenched back, breath stolen as she crashes against the unforgiving stone, skidding across its rough surface. She’d lost grip on her rifle, and it was gone from her hands in an instant. A shot cracks through the air, slicing skyward, and for a split second, time distorts; she is disoriented and winded, her back aching from the impact, disbelief flooding her senses.

“Makee is not the enemy. The Covenant has us surrounded. This is no time to turn away an ally,” she hears Vadam growl, his voice fierce and protective, cutting through the chaos.

Makee rolled to her side, her heart racing as she struggled to catch her breath. She looked up to see the Arbiter, towering, unyielding—a bastion between her and death itself. His shoulders held the weight of conviction. His stance was carved like stone, resolute. His feet were planted firmly on the ground, shoulder-width apart.

“Spy’s not with us,” the bronze visor Spartan replies coldly, his voice low and sharp, each word carefully weighted with an unwavering conviction that sends chills down her spine. The visor reflects the dim light of the battlefield, giving him an almost ghostly appearance that exudes menace with every syllable. “Step aside.” The words carved through the battlefield, final and absolute, as a blade poised at the throat, expecting only compliance.

Arbiter's stance does not waver; he is a monument of loyalty and conviction, his armored form radiating strength. His voice echoed with chilling finality, resonating like the tolling of a bell in the din of the skirmish. “Over my corpse, Spartan,” Vadam practically spat; the words are low and sharp—a promise, not a threat. The charge in the air crackles with tension as the weight of their decisions hangs heavily above them, the reality of their situation crashing down like the remnants of a fractured dream.

The sounds of battle intensified, the whirr of plasma weapons punctuating the uncertainty of the moment. The battlefield burned and churned around them, but this moment—held its breath. A few shots skidded dangerously close, biting into stone, but neither Spartan nor the Arbiter flinched. The world could crumble, but their standoff would not. 

The seconds dragged—heavy, stretching between them, thick with unspoken calculation. Then, the Spartan reached up, pressing two fingers to the side of his helmet, turning away from the Arbiter. A conversation she could not hear transpired.

“Affirmative,” he said, his voice steady and resolute. He returned his grasp on his rifle and turned his back to the Arbiter. With deliberate precision, he resumed his fight against the Covenant, taking the vantage point Makee had used moments before.

Makee fought against the ache in her limbs, her balance slipping, her attire dragging against her like dead weight. Her foot faltered—gravity pulling her back down—but Vadam was there, catching her without pause. With practiced ease, he steadied her, guiding her toward the ramp—firm and careful, as if holding her upright was second nature.

“Why do you keep saving me, Vadam?” She asks, her voice a mix of curiosity tinged with the uncertainty of her value.

He hummed in response, his step never slowing, his eyes never shifting. He remained focused, cautious of their surroundings. “I’ve grown fond of you, Makee,” he said quietly, his voice steady and unshaken. “And I'd rather you stop searching for ways to leave this world.”

“I am a liability–a risk,” she counters. As long as she lives, the Covenant have a pawn to access the artifacts. To access the Halo.

“Will you continue to help the Covenant?” Arbiter's voice cut through the air, sharp and accusatory.

“No–!” The protest burst forth, her denial escaping her lips like a reflex, laced with an urgency. Desperation swirled in her tone, a potent mix of fear and resolve.

“Where is the risk? The liability?” Thel pressed, his imposing figure halting their march. Finally, he turned to face her, those piercing yellow eyes full of intensity, carving her open for the truth buried within her.

She hesitated, the weight of his expectation crushing her. Her heart raced, thudding painfully against her ribs as the words tangled in her throat, threatening to choke her. She replied, “You don’t understand! Vadam—”

"Vannak!" A voice split through the oppressive atmosphere—John's voice, raw and urgent. Panic vibrated in his shout, each syllable tinged with desperation as it echoed against the stone walls of the cavernous temple.

Without warning, a deafening explosion erupted, shaking the very foundations of the ancient structure. The force of it sent shudders through the ground, a seismic wave of chaos. Dust and debris rained down from the ceiling like a tempest, and she reflexively raised her arm to shield her face, heart pounding in her chest.

Amidst the chaos, her eyes caught sight of a body careening through the air, crashing onto the sacred ground of the chamber. The figure tumbled amidst a cacophony of shattered stone and wreckage, ultimately coming to a rest. The chest plate, engraved with the numbers 1-3-4, gleamed dully in the dim light. He lay still, limbs splayed, utterly unresponsive. Terror clawed at her throat as reality crashed down.

"Damn it! We're surrounded!" Kai shouted from the entrance, her voice urgent and frantic, pulling her back to the present—their battle was still far from over.

Makee looked up at the combined Keystones, recalling the power of a single one back on Reach. The combined strength of the two would create a far more significant impact, buying John the time he and his team desperately needed. She glanced back toward the entrance, searching for John. Just in time, her gaze found him, but she watched in horror as he was struck by two needles—one embedded in his chest plate and the other in his shoulder guard. An Unggoy had made it inside, brandishing active plasma grenades in both hands. A single shot to the head brought the creature down, but the grenades rolled further toward John. Her heart sank, feeling as if it had been ripped from her chest, and all the air was suddenly stolen from her lungs.

The sand was blown and scattered into the air as a blur of green hurtled toward the altar. A thunderous crack echoed in the air. Makee whips her head faster than she was prepared for, her neck throbbed, but it paled in comparison to the agony that surged within her at the sight of John’s body lying limp and unmoving. It was evident that the back of his head had struck the stone steps of the altar, leaving them cracked and broken beneath his neck. The golden visor of his helmet bore a diagonal crack across its surface.

Makee was already moving before any thoughts could catch up to her. She ripped off the restricting robes, leaving her in a lightweight gown, and bolted for the altar. Everything else was muted; the sounds around her faded, leaving only the heartbeat thudding in her ears. She outstretched her hand, reaching for the Keystones. Time seemed to slow; seconds dragged on, and desperation rose within her. She watched—with more intensity than feeling—as her fingertips crashed into the artifact's surface. Makee felt the massive power pulse and radiate from the combined might of the stones. It took all her strength to hold on as the waves of pure energy surged over her, pushing outward and forcing away all unwanted and looming threats.

In an instant, she stood on the altar, her surroundings transformed. One moment, she was consumed by the chaos of battle, and the next, she found herself bathed in the bright, vibrant, warm glow of an unnamed sun. The grasslands of the Halo stretched out before her, a sea of verdant green and flowers swaying gently in the breeze. She smiled brightly, not merely because of the Halo's breathtaking beauty but because she had bought them time—time to breathe, to escape. Silver Team would survive.

Turning around, her heart leaped at the sight of two familiar figures amidst the rolling hills. Sierra was helping John to his feet, the younger Spartan rubbing the back of his head with a dazed and squished expression. The moment was a bittersweet symphony of relief; it meant he was alive—unconscious but alive—and that alone filled her with an abiding sense of joy. His hazel gaze found hers, the familiar warmth in his eyes washing over her like sunlight.

“Makee, what did you—?” John began, a mixture of confusion and concern etched across his face as he stumbled forward, momentarily losing his balance before catching himself.

“I did it! The blast must have pushed most of the Covenant off the ledge. You can make it out!” Her grin stretched from ear to ear, the thrill of victory lifting her spirits as John closed the distance between them.

“Send us back,” Sierra commanded, his face a mask of solemnity that belied the concern still simmering beneath. There was a softness in his psyche as it brushed against hers—a silent connection filled with unspoken relief.

“I will, but I… I can’t go with you,” Makee replied, her triumphant grin fading as reality began to sink in. She felt a weight settle in her chest, a quiet resignation that nagged at her.

“What?” John’s voice dropped to a near whisper, disbelief shadowing his features as he stepped closer, his brow furrowing with concern.

“I’m not going back, John,” she stated firmly, her voice unwavering even as doubt flickered through her mind. Deep down, she felt like a ghost in this world, an outsider in every way no matter where she went.

“You can’t stay here either. This—” he gestured around them, the vibrant landscape starkly contrasting the darkness they had been fighting, “—isn’t real!”

“But you would ask me to leave one prison for another?” Makee challenged, holding John’s gaze with fierce determination. She longed for a sanctuary, somewhere far from the clutches of war that threatened to define her life.

“We’re not leaving you behind. Not with the Covenant,” Sierra interjected, urgency creeping into his tone as he positioned himself protectively beside John.

“I don’t plan to stay with the Covenant,” she replied, her voice steady but hollow. What she really wanted was a place where she could simply be left alone, away from the relentless conflict.

“Then why not come with us?” John grasped her arms, his touch both pleading and imploring as he searched her eyes for any flicker of hope.

“The humans have made up their minds about me. Not even you can stop them from locking me away. Not after what I’ve done,” Makee argued, the weight of her choices crashing down like a thunderhead. Regret and fear twisted inside her, but she remained resolute.

“We’ll find a way. I’m not leaving you again,” John insisted, his voice unwavering, filled with a determination that both terrified and reassured her.

“John,” she shook her head, affection washing over her like a gentle tide, “You have to let g—”

Before she could finish her thought, warmth began to seep from her side, sticky wetness spreading across her skin like a cruel reminder of fragility. She looked down, her hand trembling as she brought it back up. Red. Vibrant red. It stained her fingers, bright against the pale fabric of her gown.

“No. No, no,” John whispered, his voice soft at first but rising in pitch as desperation filled his features, “No! No! Makee!”

As her vision faded to black, a cascade of emotions surged through her. Fear, sorrow, and an isolating sense of finality enveloped her, leaving only an echo of John’s voice as the darkness consumed her.

Her vision faded to black, and she found herself back on the altar, the cold, unyielding stone greeting her as she fell. Her limbs were numb, betrayal coursing through her veins as the world spun chaotically, a blur of colors merging into one haunting whirlpool. Blood pooled beneath her, warm and thick, but at that moment, only two things remained etched in her mind: the glint of a teal visor and the unforgiving barrel of a magnum aimed at her. 

Voices shouted around her, fragmented and muffled, echoes of a reality slipping further away, a mournful chorus of impending doom. Makee felt an embrace wrapping around her. It felt like a sanctuary, holding her as if she were a fragile relic on the brink of shattering. As her vision dimmed and shadows swallowed her, she yearned to see the face of who held her, to grasp the fleeting connection in those final moments, but tears blurred her eyes, obscuring everything.

Gold. The last glimmer of color—gold eyes—was the last thing Makee saw before darkness claimed her. She felt no fear, no pain, leaving only an overwhelming sense of peace. In that tranquil void, she felt weightless, free.

Chapter Text

I've been having writer's block lately. I have only written one perspective that I liked and will keep (it is Silver Cortana's POV). My attempts to continue the last chapter have all been lackluster, mediocre, forced, and cheap. My feelings on it are like having 1/4 of a 500-piece puzzle completed and pulling out the hair on your head because you're going insane from the struggle of finding any more pieces that fit together correctly. You have looked-LOOKED at every single piece, and you can't find shit that connects as intended, no matter how many times you look again and again and AGAIN! In short, I'm struggling, and I want to pull through, to crawl to the other side of this obstacle on all fours and complete this ending chapter perfectly from my perspective. But nothing has fit that criteria of mine. I am my own worst critic during these times. I've been listening to music, watching Halo videos, reading prompts, and even re-reading Charbiter fanfics to fuel my creativity. NOTHING! Life has been kicking my ass, too. Last time, my dog had recently died—this time, on top of the writer's block, two relatives of mine passed away. One from age, it was his time, and I understand that, and I've grieved and mourned. However, the other was my 2 1/2-year-old cousin. She had been born with cancer, spent the first year of her life in a hospital, and then, cancer-free, lived a little while outside of it. I hadn't known her for that long either, but it broke me when I was told her cancer had returned, for her to have been put in surgery again because they needed to cut a majority of her abdominal organs due to how much it had spread. To hear that she hadn't woken up afterwards, and how my aunt and uncle had to choose to pull the plug then and there, or have her suffer longer because she wasn't making it either way. 

What hurts even more is that I don't even feel like I have a right to feel this pain. I didn't know her for that long; I'd only spent time with her a few times here and there. I remember her sneaking into my room and grabbing a fidget knife (with a dull blade) that I had on my desk. Remember her stealing a hair band of mine that was blue and sparkly, which I wouldn't be using anytime soon, so I told my aunt she could keep it for when her hair grew out more. How shocked her expression was, and how hesitant she acted when I introduced her to a chunky, fluffy rabbit of mine. I broke into silent sobs and tears at her funeral—the loss of every potential future moment in her presence. My aunt and uncle are suffering the worst out of everyone. Who wouldn't be devastated to lose their child like that?

I'm not in a war-torn country, but the state of my country has been in a downward spiral that keeps digging deeper. I despise politics; I've always been on the fence, leaning slightly to one side. But now, I don't even want to exist here, yet I am sentimental. I don't want to move; to leave scares me. Yet, I want to go. 

I'm invalidating my own feelings because I've always had to downplay them my whole life. Keep my head down because someone else always has it worse than you. To be grateful for what you have, because complaining or even voicing your thoughts is to be an ungrateful parasite. A spoiled little brat.

I'm sorry for venting; I didn't want to leave you all in the dark, as I did when I was basically dead for six months with no update. I hope I didn't disappoint you all with this bit of A/N instead of the final chapter. 

Know that I am trying, I have been pushing myself to write, and there is nothing to squeeze out. Thinking about the sequel fic I want to write (want, not need) has me overthinking every decision. One of the significant problems with Season 2 of Halo was the overabundance of characters. Too many characters spread the screen time thin instead of focusing on the plot points that should have been given more breathing room to flow more smoothly. Which is how I think I shot myself in the foot when I added Fred, but I REGRET NOTHING. I love writing from Fred's point of view; I love having him here. There are too many people to keep track of. OG Cortana is the skeleton at the bottom of the ocean from that one meme. FML! I've been stressed by work, life, and my own damn brain. If this feels all over the place, I have ADHD, and I am a mess when it comes to writing my thoughts. This is why my notes after chapter 1 are usually short. I am fighting a battle in my brain of ideas I want to write and ideas that would be more productive to write, aka not biting off more than I can chew, and choose a path that means not following the mess that is season 2's plot, which is all over the place and a nightmare to compute. My multi-shipping ass is like include all the ships you want, the responsible side of my brain is arguing about how unproductive that is, and we need to remember there is a plot and focus on said plot more than the ships, but AGHHHHHHHH! I want to throw it like a brick through a window. I either don't focus on any of the ships I have or concentrate too much on them. Re-reading my own fic has me realizing a bunch of little mistakes I made here and there, and throwing another fit about how stupid I was to miss that or not do something else instead. Like, Charbiter has more screen time in the beginning chapters than in the REST OF THE FIC. Yes, I re-read my own fic during moments when I am struggling with what to write. But it's a nightmare to know that I'm just overthinking it all at the end of the day. 

I am venting more. I'm sorry. 

I don't want to take a break, I don't want to leave this unfinished. I am going to climb over this brick wall in my god damn way. I am not staying on the fucking ground wallowing in the pain. I am getting through this.

To each of you who has stuck with me for so long on this story, thank you. For everyone who has left a comment for me to see, thank you so fucking much, because I re-read every single comment to remember the second reason why I am still doing this. I am doing this for myself, but I am also writing this for those of you who have stayed with me on this journey.

I will finish this fight.