Archive of Our Own ^beta

Maine had slammed them into the wall before anyone even knew what was going on. With his hand grasped tight in the other man's hoodie, the familiar blue hoodie he knew wasn't his, he held him a foot in the air as the man started swearing.

Once everyone caught up with him, there was yelling, loud words jumbled together in a way Maine would never be able to make out. The only one not yelling was Missi, who simply sat at the mess table he just vacated, eating vegetables with her knife.

“What the fuck!” The hoodie thief yelled indignantly. He wiggled and squirmed trying to escape, but Maine knew how to hold a hostage. Even if he hadn't, it wasn't exactly hard with one so short. “What's your fucking problem?!”

Maine growled, trying to explain with words that never worked well to begin with. Doubly so after the throat injuries. While it didn’t say a damn thing, it did make his captive freeze like a deer caught in headlights. So it at least wasn’t a waste of effort.

Sigma appeared in the corner of his vision, halfway through some fancy words that Maine didn't mean when Maine cut him off with a snarl.

Sigma startled to silence, a tentative question floating into his mind.

Maine didn't need help. The hoodie thief knew what he did. Now he just had to tell him where the owner was, and return the stolen property. Maine didn't need fancy, long winded explanations for that.

The AI sent his understanding along with a new question. If he kept the explanation simple and brief, could he still explain for him? After all, even if the thief knew why he was pinned to the wall, something Sigma seemed to doubt with a hint of amusement, no one else did. And the group, minus Missi, were starting to get increasingly agitated over it.

Maine allowed it, if only to get them all to stop yelling.

“Everything is under control,” Sigma announced. The fact they shared a mind being the only reason Maine could understand him in the mess of voices.

The hoodie thief yelled something indignantly but Maine didn't really care what.

“Maine would like to know where you got the hoodie,” Sigma said. “It belongs to a friend of his and he wants it returned.”

“It was in the lost-and-found!” The hoodie thief yelled once everyone else had stopped yelling, no longer mixing words together into a mess. “I didn’t steal shit!”

Maine growled, not liking that answer.

“So you don’t know where the original owner is?” Sigma asked for him.

“Fuck no. I don’t even know who that is!”

Maine tried to answer but, of course, no words came out. Sigma stepped in once again.

“His name is Mikael. Mikael-111.”

“Is that a fucking Spartan?!”

“Yes.”

“There are three Spartans registered on the MOI,” Delta’s hologram popped up next to the hoodie thief, a little folder in his hands as he pretended to read from it. “You, Mississippi, and Mikael. He was never given another designation and, instead, kept in R&D for testing. They have plans to transfer him to a stationary Lunar base later today.”

Maine liked that answer even less.

“Do you know exactly where?” Sigma asked of his own accord.

“Yes,” Delta agreed. “I will send you the file.”

“Much appreciated,” Sigma said as he got a ping notification of its arrival.

They're shipping him off soon, but he hasn't left yet, Sigma mused as he went through whatever he received from Delta. If we head there now, we might be able to catch him.

Maine nodded in agreement, giving the hoodie a shake until the thief fell out of it. He was still swearing as Maine left the room.

Sigma led Maine around the ship, through doors he probably shouldn't have access to and into coradores he'd never seen before. But that didn't matter. If he got in trouble later, so be it. He was going to see Mikael because, the way things were, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to do so again.

“AUGUST!” A shriek that was vaguely recognizable as his name, was the only warning he got. He didn't have time to follow the sound before a freight train ran into his side. It was convenient that Maine was used to such treatment or else both he and the blue armored man would have ended up as dents in the hallway walls.

Mikael had his helmet off, a grin stretched wide across his scarred face as he hung off Maine like a bulky cape. His hair was longer than Maine remembered him having it, with fluffy brown curls sticking out around his head with a few grey strands starting to peek through. Spartan blue eyes crinkled up at him though the mess.

“Hi,” Mikael said, his voice back to his normal volume, which was still loud but not as loud. “Your face is a bubble. You should fix it.”

A laugh tried to escape, but the sound got shredded by his fucked up vocal cords turning it into little more than a hiss of air that made his throat ache. Despite it all, he found himself relaxing at the sound of his partner’s voice. It had been too long since they had been separated upon being shipped to Freelancer.

August took off his helmet, tipping his head to bonk against Mikael’s forehead with his own warped version of a smile.

Mikael had always been very touch-oriented, even before they became partners. He was constantly in someone's personal space, requesting hugs from his team or leaning against them for no other reason than he could. He thrived on physical contact in a way that the UNSC could never really train away. August was never quite as casual about touch himself, but he never minded being the target of Mikael's.

He was reminded briefly of when they were both fifteen, sharing a recovery ward while the scientist tried to figure out why their brains had gotten messed up by the augmentations. August had lost most of his language comprehension, having to relearn the languages he had known from scratch once again. Mikael had spent so much time at the end of his bed, or sitting at his side, doing his best to reteach August a lot of what he lost despite having similar struggles. They had gone as far as creating their own sign language which was easier for both of them to use, before the scientists even noticed what was going on.

“You're still bald!” Mikael announced happily. “I'm glad. Your head should be shiny but not as shiny as that.”

Another hiss of air escaped instead of a laugh. Mikael's head tilted curiously.

“You haven't said anything. Are your words broken again? Do I have to share some of mine?” Mikael asked. August could hear his hands tapping against his armor, reflexively trying to sign his half of the conversation while not letting go of August. 

August had been just about to sign back when Sigma started speaking. He cut the AI off with a snarl. He didn't need him here. August had been communicating with Mikael non-verbally since they were kids, he didn't need help talking to him now.

Sigma stopped in his tracks, startled as Mikael stared at the hologram without blinking. August could practically feel the calculations running as Sigma processed whatever input he was receiving.

“Apologies for the intrusion,” Sigma said instead before disappearing again. He didn't log off, August could still feel him in the back of his mind watching. But he was giving him some space which is what August wanted.

“You have a little light friend, like John?” Mikael asked.

“A throat injury while on mission,” August signed in explanation. “No more verbal words at all.”

“But our signing words work?” Mikael said, hands tapping still. August nodded. “Good.”

Mikael finally decided to let go, though he stayed pressed against August’s side with barely enough room to sign his own words.

“Why the John-light-friend?” Mikael signed.

“Bosses think I need verbal words,” August explained. Mikael made a face. “Bosses don’t understand me without them. So Bosses assigned me a John-light-friend to live in my head.”

“Stupid,” Mikael signed. “Their own fault. Bosses shouldn't have separated us. I understand you without verbal words just fine. I could translate instead of dumb-John-light-friend.”

August huffed in amusement. Even so, Mikael’s mood plummeted at the reminder.

“Stupid-bosses are sending me farther away,” Mikael signed slowly. “New mission. New designation. Want me to pretend to be normal-boring-army. Don’t like it.”

“Don’t like it either,” August signed back.

“Don’t want to go,” Mikael said. “Want to be partners again.”

“Stupid-bosses don’t want partners here,” he explained. “Everyone for themselves.”

“Stupid,” Mikael signed again with a deeper frown. “Should tell them why we shouldn’t be separated. Explain we understand each other's words best and that we can translate each other. We work best together.”

“Stupid- bosses won’t listen to us,” August said, leaning back against Mikael knowing he would be gone soon. “Stupid-bosses didn’t listen to army-bosses when they said that.”

Mikael started signing something else but got cut off by an R&D guy walking around the corner calling his name.

“Mikael! Your shuttle’s leaving. You- wait, what are you doing here?”

August and Mikael stared at the man, neither even bothering to shift away from the other.

“Don’t want to go,” Mikael signed, turning back to August.

“Orders are stupid,” August agreed. “But they’re orders.”

“Come with me?”

“Won’t let me,” August signed. “Stupid-bosses like me. I have their John-light-friend.”

“Give it back.”

“In my head. Can’t get out.”

“Sad face,” Mikael signed, bonking his head against August’s shoulder again.

“Are you ignoring me?” The R&D guy demanded.

They ignored him.

August instead offered the hoodie tucked into his belt, getting another smile from Mikael.

“My hoodie!” He exclaimed verbally, his hands too busy grabbing the jacket to sign. “It was lost! Where did you unlose it?”

“Short-jacket-thief had it. I took it back,” August stated. “He’s not allowed to have it.”

“Thank you!”

“Mikael!” The R&D man yelled again. “We don’t have time for whatever this is. Let’s. Go.”

Mikael made a annoyed but determined face before turning towards the man.

“I’m not leaving. I have to stay with Auggie,” Mikael said firmly. “He lost his words and he shouldn’t need a flashlight person to find them for him.”

“What Agent Maine is doing has nothing to do with you,” he said slowly. August didn’t like his condescending tone. “Because you’re leaving.”

August growled lowly at him, though he was barely heard over Mikael’s exaggerated gasp of offense.

“Um! Excuse you!” He said, starting to stutter angrily. “August is my very best, my best friend. No, he's more than my best friend! He’s my- we’re quippers and that is, that is more than friends. I’m not-I’m not leaving!”

“What the fuck’s a quipper?” He asked, confused. “You know what? Never mind! Mikael, I swear, I will get security involved if you don’t get into that fucking shuttle.”

August couldn't say he wasn’t tempted to let this continue. To watch security try to get them to comply knowing they were no match for two angry Spartans. But being a Spartan was more than raw strength and fighting prowess. It involved training that made them the perfect soldiers. And a soldier had to follow orders, even if they hated them.

“Mikael,” August got his attention before he could challenge the R&D guy any further. “Orders are orders. Even if they’re stupid-orders.”

Mikael deflated, the fight leaving him in second. He knew August was right, even if he had to be reminded of it sometimes.

“Miss you,” Mikael signed slowly. “Don’t like missing you.”

“Miss you,” August signed back.

Mikael straightened up, walking down the corridor to pick up a blue, mark V helmet he had abandoned at some point.

“Well?” The R&D guy demanded. Mikael said nothing as he put on the helmet and went to stand by him. “That’s what I thought.”

The R&D guy turned to Maine next.

“And you. I’m just going to pretend I didn’t see you,” He stated. Like he had any authority over him. “But only if you leave right now.” 

Maine growled at him as Sigma chose this moment to reappear.

“We were just leaving,” Sigma said simply for once.

Maine turned away, slipping his own helmet on before sparing one last glance back at Mikael. He stood tall as he left with R&D, looking every inch a spartan leaving for a routine mission. The only hint there was something wrong being the death grip he had on his hoodie.

Turning back forward, he left the area as well, not daring to look backwards again.

“You care for this Mikael quite a lot,” Sigma commented as they headed back the way they came. “Not in a romantic sense or even a familial sense.”

Maine explained briefly that they were partners, a two-man team that worked best together. Civilians apparently called it a QPR, a term which Mikael had liked, though he never could remember to pronounce it properly, or what it meant.

“It was wrong for Freelancer to separate you two in this way,” Sigma continued. “Though, I might have an idea on how to fix it.”

This got Maine’s attention, and judging by the barely hidden smug radiating from Sigma, he knew it.

“I would need some assistance though. And it would be going against Freelancer at some point. But, in the end, I should be able to reunite you and Mikael permanently. Does that sound like something you would like to help me with?”

Maine thought for a long moment before settling on a maybe. He was a Spartan, he was required to follow orders. But Freelancer seemed to be doing a lot of shady things that he doubted were UNSC certified and he wasn’t sure how long they’d be operating for anyways.

“I will let you think on it,” Sigma allowed. “Until then, I sincerely hope that Freelancer will reunite you two at some point in the near future.”

Maine doubted that would be the case.