RECOMPOSE

by Ladywolvesbayne

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And here's the last bit. Pay attention to the after-comment for a little bit more of insight. Now go, go and get your happy ending! Enjoy it as much as I have!

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42. EPILOGUE

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DATE: not recorded

LOCATION: not recorded

DEEP INSIDE INSURRECTIONIST TERRITORY

11:15 AM standard planetary time

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"Poor bastard." said the Commissioner, shaking his head. "You have to be really unlucky to die like that, crushed by your own junk."

A heavy set of old-looking key-cards hung from the hand of the policeman.

The huge man in blue overalls across from the desk reached out and captured the keys in a fist so big that could've crushed human skulls with little to no effort. Good God, who was this massive brute?

It didn't matter. As long as he knew his trade well, they didn't need details.

The man stirred the Commissioner's sense of danger. He couldn't pinpoint exactly why, but in the back of his mind it felt like being in the presence of a coiled snake. You owed it respect. Maybe it was because of his towering height and immensely broad shoulders, the stranger looked like he was built to break mountains in half with his bare hands. Nobody had seen him around ever before, they figured that he probably was one of the many drifters escaping from UNSC controlled territory in search of freedom.

Such people were always welcome aboard, unless they were troublemakers.

This guy was scary, yes, but he didn't look like a troublemaker. Hopefully.

"Thank you." the man answered, his voice rang like a coarse growl.

The Commissioner nodded: "Well, make yourself at home. It's your place now."

"I appreciate the opportunity, sir."

"No problem. We need a good tinkerer, machines break down constantly in this weather and it's damn hard to find anyone competent." the policeman pushed a set of papers towards the stranger -actual cellulose paper printed with real ink- and rubbed his moustache with intent. "You think you can shape-up that dumpyard? Old Man Perry let it go to waste since he started to get old, he could barely keep up with the work too. I wouldn't want anyone else dying by accident."

"I'll see what I can do."

"Good." the Commissioner squinted. "I didn't quite catch your name, Mister…?"

The big man was bent over the desk, crafting a signature onto the property papers. He looked up, after he was done, and returned the ancient fountain pen. Shaded under the black bill of his carefully adjusted cap, a pair of eagle-like blue eyes stared back.

He had a strong jaw shaded by a light reddish-brown stubble, his skin was so fair that it seemed unnaturally pale. His lips drew a severe smirk, a shock of faint freckles crossed above his narrow nose and high cheekbones. He had multitude of tiny, barely noticeable scars and the most prominent of them cut one of his thick eyebrows in half.

Looked to be around his late thirties, at most. Probably just shy of forty.

Yes, there was something unnerving about him…

"John." the stranger said, simply. "My name is John."

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FOUR MONTHS LATER

9:10 AM standard planetary time

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The big man stared at the blueprints on the screen with a furrowed brow.

His crystalline eagle-like eyes were piercing, intelligent. He was no brute, that's for sure. Stalking back to the vehicle torn apart and neatly scattered around the garage, he thought hard about the problem. That piece of crap had to become operational, no backing down from this challenge; he had need for wheels and this wrecked streamliner truck was probably the best thing he could put together for now.

'I'll just examine the parts again, might be missing something.'

He walked by the worktable and, from the big space underneath, a huge black paw tried to snatch away his foot. He executed a longer step, sliding right past the massive snout covered in saggy black fur. With a low growl, cloudy brown eyes looked at him from under the table.

He shot a glance to the dog and frowned.

The huge muzzle shifted. The beast whined, complaining.

It was getting hot. The man unzipped the overalls he was wearing, pulled his arms free of the sleeves and tied them around his waist. Readjusting the plain white t-shirt underneath, he quickly caught the dog tags that had slipped out of the collar and tucked them back under. He was aware that he shouldn't be wearing those, but this was the last reminder of his identity and he needed them. Mostly, as a source of strength.

And besides, nobody dared to step close enough to read them proper, so…

Here, he was not the Master Chief anymore.

Here in this God-forsaken backwater planet he was simply John. Mister John, sir. Mister Mechanic, if they couldn't remember his name. Nobody asked for a last name. Nobody questioned where he had been before or where he had been born. He could say Eridanus II for that matter, and it would be the most harmless piece of information that he could give away about himself. He had proved to be extremely good with mechanics and fairly decent with electronics, and that's all it was required of him.

There were suspicious looks, of course. The clean, neat lines of scars on the back of his hands, the cap always perfectly adjusted so the fastener on the back would cover something else on the nape of his neck, his impressive height and powerful build. He wasn't the tallest person in town, but he moved with a grace that no man that big should have. Controlled. Precise.

He clearly didn't fit and arose suspicion, at first.

They needed a mechanic and were desperate enough to overlook a few details.

He needed somewhere to hide, a way to get supplies and make some money.

An arrangement was made. You see, it was the busy season of the year. Mining was at its peak in the area and the harsh weather was prone to breaking havoc amongst the machinery, mostly vehicles, excavators and other sensitive electronics. Their trusted mechanic had died a couple of months before and the townspeople posted a request for someone urgently. The position was permanent if the postulant could prove his or her skill, and it came along with the property papers to an overly large scrapyard nobody had the nerve to manage.

John evaluated it for about a week before he decided to go into town and ask.

After spending roughly forty days jumping from system to system, piggybacking on the outer hull of cargo transports and non-military frigates, dodging search parties and other outposts, John decided that this planet would do. He'd been properly trained to evade capture, now he needed to lay low. It came in handy.

The place had been vandalized several times since the death of the previous owner and many tools had been stolen or wrecked. There was a two-story house in more-or-less inhabitable shape, with an adjacent warehouse and a large garage sitting together on the barren land of a huge square up to the ears in junk.

Everything had seen better times a long, long while ago.

It was a suitable hideout, for the moment.

Ah, there was also the issue of the dog.

John discovered the mastiff a couple of days after settling, when he went to make a round through the scrapyard to make a better assessment of the property. It was an old dog and it showed, with a dark, unkempt coat of thick fur. Big enough to topple down and tear apart an adult Jiralhanae, its fangs the size of John's own fingers. Well, the one fang; the animal literally had just one good fang left in his mouth, the others seemed to have rotted away. It had an outdated neural interface port on the back of its neck, too, sign that it had been genetically engineered as a military dog.

Since it didn't have a collar, John named it "you horrible beast" and they reached to an agreement: Horrible Beast wouldn't try to bite his hands off, and John would keep it fed and allow it entrance to the house by night.

They had come to respect each other, more or less.

Once he got used to the routine he himself had decided on, the days became more bearable. It was lonely and sometimes harsh, but he felt in control. He just had to follow his schedule and pretend to be just a regular person. The house was set on a valuable location, high ground outside town. He kept an ear on the Waypoint newscast, exercised regularly, built up or visited defenses and traps, cleared out and organized the junk; of course, he worked for the townspeople as well, helping them out in their mechanical or electronic needs. Horrible Beast tagged along sometimes, whenever the weather was gentle enough with his old bones.

That scorching hot day four months after settling down didn't seem different than the previous, they started all the same.

When he went to stare indignantly at the blueprints again, his sharp senses picked up something: an engine roaring closer. ATV for sure. By the front yard.

He named it 'front yard' as a strategic term but it was just a strip of barren land with a burst of rust-colored cactus-like local plants. Horrible Beast didn't even bother barking. John picked up a dirty cloth to clean up his greasy hands and headed through the corridor into the house, towards the front door.

He caught a shine of silvery metal outside the fence-gate. A customer, very likely.

He cleared his throat and went to meet them.

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x.x.x.x.x

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John activated the fence's gate and the small vehicle entered the property.

It was a light-build ATV, nothing fancy. He had memorized all the townspeople's vehicle plates but this one was new. The car stopped several meters away from him and he could see two figures fumbling inside.

A woman and a small child stepped out, wearing wide-brimmed hats and light, clear clothes, appropriate for the desert climate. The first thing John noticed about the woman was that she appeared to be heavily pregnant, it just stood out. She didn't walk very fast, but her step was determined as she approached him. The child was clutching her hand. They didn't carry anything else but a backpack.

Why on Earth would a pregnant woman exert herself like this?

"Good morning, ma'am." John greeted her, keeping his distance.

The woman stopped a few meters away, panting, head bowed to breathe better.

The wing of her hat kept her face hidden, but he felt his heart race when he caught the shape of her mouth and the dark shine of her chin-length hair. What set him off the most was that he recognized the little girl, who was looking at him with huge electric-blue eyes as she picked her nose, nonchalantly.

"John!" said the girl, showing off a smile with a lot of tiny white teeth.

"… Cortana?" he muttered, paralyzed.

The woman heaved again and finally threw her head back, exhausted, sweaty. Her face was flushed. She held to the round bulge of her pregnancy belly and drew a painful smile for him.

"Hello, Chief. You're a hard man to find." she sighed.

Cortana.

CORTANA.

John involuntarily dropped the dirty cloth. Doubt settled in. 'Stop. Make sure it's not another broadcast into your implants.' he thought, trying to analyze the situation as critically as he could. There was a storm raging in him, emotions mixed up, writhing, tangling up and threatening with taking over…

The wind carried her sweet scent towards him, and…

John swallowed hard, barely containing himself.

"I thought you said it would take more than a lifetime." he kept his distance.

"You know me." she admitted, her smile turned sheepish. "I figured it out."

His severe features relaxed, at last. Immense relief spread through his veins, like the soothing rain over the scorching hot rocks of the desert.

"Took you long enough." John replied.

He finally let himself get closer, cancelling the remaining meters between them. Towering over Cortana's red and clammy face, he reached out cautiously to brush away a strand of her silky black hair.

She leaned forward and closed her eyes, eager to feel his touch…

But she couldn't meet him halfway: Cortana cried in pain and bent over, clawing at his arm, fingers digging into his flesh. The hat fell off her head, tumbling down. John winced but held her still, kneeling along, supporting her against his chest. She clutched her belly with the other hand, gasping for air again; the little girl wept, anxiously.

"Mama!" the child said, she was barely old enough to talk.

Red water spilled away from her shoes, in a small river…

"Cortana?" he inquired, scared. "What's wrong?"

"Looks like I made it just in time." she squirmed in pain. "I've been holding back labor for hours."

He didn't process the whole meaning of what Cortana had just said: John picked her up in his arms and hurried back into the house, with the sobbing little girl trailing behind. A path of watery blood followed them.

Bursting inside, he climbed the stairs to the first floor three steps at a time, swift as the wind. When John laid her on the bed, Cortana threw her head back and clenched her teeth, her body tensed up and twisted. Panting hard and fast, the woman tapped the covers, looking for him. The little weeping girl huddled herself onto the corner of the room, half hidden behind an old padded rocking chair.

John thought that he should do something about her, but…

"John?" Cortana called, her voice trembled.

"You need a doctor." he decided and made an attempt to leave.

She caught his thick wrist with crisp fingers, pinning him to the bedside. Her grip was tougher than steel and for some reason, it didn't seem strange to John.

"No." she said, strained. "I want you to do it. Stay with me, John."

Didn't she just say that she was going into labor?

He shook his head: "Cortana, I can't deliver a baby myself."

"You have basic medic training. And I hold the knowledge of the Universe… I'll tell you what to do." her voice cracked, she howled when another contraction took over her. It was enough to make him obey, the man placed his free, massive hand above her head. "Please, John. I'm begging you."

"Then tell me. Tell me what to do."

She ground her teeth, unsteady.

"Wash your hands. Boil water. Get towels. Or clothes, whatever you have that is fabric and is clean. There will be blood. But we will be fine, as long as you follow my lead. Don't be afraid."

She let go of his wrist and he felt the caress of her shaky fingers on his cheek.

John nodded, sharp and attentive.

She gave him a broken smile, sweat was streaming down her temples and her dark hair was stuck to her skin. She trusted him completely.

He hurried to the ground floor to gather everything Cortana requested, preparing meticulously for this delicate mission. The best way to maintain a cold, detached mind setting was to acknowledge it as any other operation, really: he needed tools to complete an objective. The objective in this case was to deliver a child.

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x.x.x.x.x

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He honestly never thought he'd find himself in a situation such as this.

Field medic? Yes, a couple of times, sure. Never on this level, though. The sounds of her pain kept him alert, working fast. She was patient even in her dire situation and like countless times before in the battlefield, Cortana gave him directions about what to do, when and how. The process was complex enough to keep him on edge, steady and strong, as labor went on for hours longer than any of both could've ever imagined.

But Cortana didn't give up and neither did her Spartan.

It was already long past midnight when the screams died down, just as another cry exploded inside the room. One that meant only good things to come, a sound that John never even imagined he would hear in his life; at least, not coming from a small part of himself made flesh.

Although once Cortana and he had wondered on the idea, he never truly believed it could come true.

It just didn't fit in his narrow view of the life he was supposed to live.

Nonetheless, here it was. John held the newborn in his arms, wrapped in a bundle of two t-shirts and a sweater. It was a boy. A very red and puffy-faced boy, nothing sort of beautiful just yet. So small in his father's hold, almost insignificant. John thought that he could probably hold him just on the palm of one hand, but preferred to use both arms and make sure he wouldn't drop the child by accident. When he turned to look at her, lying on the bed, Cortana's head was tilted to the side, sweaty hair covered her eyes. She wasn't moving. John panicked and one of his hands flew in search for the pulse on her neck, with cold desperation.

He sighed deeply in relief when he found it, still beating strong.

She had just passed out, probably. She'd been in pain for hours after all.

Well, the sheets were fresh and he'd cleaned all the blood off her. The umbilical cord was cut and properly sealed on both ends. She said something about a placenta, but he couldn't ask about it at the moment. He could just spend the rest of that night pacing around like a caged beast, thinking himself into madness, or he could just sit down. He felt a little tired -stress exertion was the worst kind of weariness- but the combatant in him told him this was no time to sleep, he had to remain on guard. It was his duty.

So John went to the rocking chair and prowled around it, looking for the little girl. She had sobbed herself to sleep on the floor, apparently; he'd been so caught up with Cortana that he hadn't taken care of the child. A spasm of guilt hit his chest. Carefully, John put the sleeping baby on the bed to pick up Twelve, then set her on the mattress beside Cortana without waking up any of them. Twelve seemed to be as small as the last time he had seen her, aboard the Infinity.

She curled up, sleepy, and clasped her small hand on one of his fingers.

John wasn't much into unrequested physical contact, but he didn't complain. She felt safe with him. He stayed for a moment, but eventually let go and picked up the baby boy again. The newborn was the most vulnerable asset, he felt like he had to keep him safe and warm.

He sat down on the old padded rocking chair. It creaked under his weight.

And so, John waited in the darkness until the morning came, standing guard.

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x.x.x.x.x

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Around his usual wake-up time, John left the baby beside the still sleeping woman and child, and went about his daily routine. Just like the schedule said, he went out for a ten-mile run, checking out the state of his traps and security systems. He ate and swept over the news. Now he had to work. There were a few requests in his message board, but he didn't want to leave the premises for the day. So, to avoid unwanted attention, he answered all requests with an approved status. He'd get back to it as soon as possible. Then he parked the abandoned ATV in the warehouse and went to the garage, to keep working on the truck.

Horrible Beast slipped out from under the worktable and stretched its old bones, then moved its colossal weight to stand beside the master. It sniffed at John's mug, curious. The massive animal was tall enough to reach things off his hands without even stretching.

John pulled the mug away.

"That's not for you." he murmured.

Horrible Beast whined low, then proceeded to sniff with clinical precision John's sweaty, bloodied overalls. He considered changing clothes. But the little clothes he had left were upstairs in the bedroom and didn't want to disturb the sleeping beauties.

So instead, John got back to the damn truck. It was already a handful by itself.

Eventually the dog got bored of watching him stare at the blueprints and roamed away, heading into the house. John got lost in his thoughts and calculations for a while, a long while.

"You have several parts that don't match." a feminine voice said, behind him.

He turned quickly, startled. How come he didn't hear her approach?

Cortana was leaning against the doorframe, se had a cup caught with both hands, sipping from it. She looked fine. Fine as in, an appreciation of her health state, not that he had caught too long a glimpse of her legs under the flaps of the oversized t-shirt she had chosen to wear. One of his. She'd been rummaging through his closet. Her hair was damp, her feet were bare.

At least she had found the protein formula he had prepared earlier.

"Why are you up?" John asked, blunt.

"I'm okay."

"You gave birth eight hours ago." He pointed out.

Saying it now in the morning, after the events had their time to fully sink in, felt weird. The context -of him, of her, of their exile- made it all the weirder. Cortana smiled behind the cup she held close to her lips.

"You keep forgetting, Chief, that I'm not fragile anymore."

He tilted his head: "Are you immortal, now?"

"… in a way." she tilted her head too, thoughtfully.

He didn't know how to respond to that. It looked like she wished she hadn't said it, judging by the loss of her smile. As an uncomfortable silence set in, John adjusted the bill of his cap again and looked at the dismantled truck, thinking fast.

"What were you saying, about parts that don't match?"

"Actually, it's not just the parts." Cortana answered right away, she peeled herself off the doorframe and walked towards him. She sensed the tension that invaded him and slowed down her approach, trying to keep him at ease. "The blueprints are outdated, it's the right model of truck but it was updated after the production of the first batch. This should be the right one. Looks like you got an updated model."

She touched lightly the side of the screen and John observed how the schematics he'd been looking at shifted in the blink of an eye. He understood what she meant right away after a quick sweep over the adjusted specs.

"Oh." John said, frowning again. "Yes, I see."

Cortana pressed her lips into a thin smile and patted his shoulder in a reassuring gesture. Her hand stayed maybe a moment too long and then slid down, resting her palm against the tense muscle on his upper arm.

"So, did you have a lot of trouble finding overalls your size?"

John didn't really feel like smiling…

But he smirked, anyway: "Yes, I did."

Her smile widened. "I can imagine they don't get many Spartans around here."

"I haven't seen any yet."

Their eyes met, an agreement occurred: no suspicious activity.

"Good." she raised her eyebrows, satisfied. "Still have your fancy suit with you?"

John nodded, pointing with his head to a hatch half hidden under a tool rack.

In several separated trips, John managed to bring his armor back from the cave in which it was hidden. He kept the MJOLNIR down in the garage's basement, mounted on a rack and under a rugged brown tarp. He didn't want to get rid of it, no matter how bad things could go if someone accidentally or purposely found it: he might still need it. Besides, nobody had any reason to go peeking into his basement, considering he could break their necks on the spot.

Cortana sighed deeply and nodded in return, sipped from her cup again.

Horrible Beast wandered in, trying to be stealthy. It managed halfway, one of its rear legs sagged a little and rustled against the concrete floor as it moved closer. They both observed the dog approach, not surprised.

At last, the animal gave up the act and trotted over to Cortana.

For a moment, she held still and let the dog sniff her up and down.

Horrible Beast unlocked its formidable mandibles to apply its tongue on her face, but John stopped it by placing a heavy hand over its muzzle, pushing down.

"You don't want him to do that." he warned.

"I like your dog." she rubbed the animal's chin with gentle fingers. Horrible Beast whined again, longing for some love. "Exquisitely engineered from Tibetan Mastiff and Great Dane. Must've been a fearsome sight and a formidable companion when he was young and disciplined. A true demon."

The man didn't answer, but he had thought the same about the dog, before.

She shrugged. "It's big and rough around the edges, like you."

"And he likes you too, apparently." John said, softly.

"Yes. I'm likeable that way."

Their eyes met, once more. He was clean shaven; his hair sprouted a little longer under the rims of the cap. Some salt and pepper, mostly reddish-brown. Still attractive in that animal sort of way that made her stomach flutter with a lazy stir.

Cortana left her mug on the worktable and reached up, slowly.

She cupped his cheek, he caught a glimpse of a small tattoo on her wrist, comfort eased his mind along with the warmth of her skin. However, the man inhaled sharp at the feeling of an icy cold rush flowing through the back of his skull, straight into his brain. It was a familiar sensation that transported him back years into their past, when she wasn't more than an artificial construct and he plugged her data chip on the back of his helmet.

His pupils contracted involuntarily, hyper-focusing.

John exhaled as their shared gaze became instinctively more intimate.

"What have they done to you?" she whispered. Her expression turned disturbed after a short moment. "No, what have you done to yourself?"

"You're in my head." he confirmed.

"I won't hurt you. I can't read your thoughts, so don't worry about that either."

He relaxed a little.

They kept silent a while longer, just contemplating each other.

John shifted uncomfortably, he couldn't bear it anymore:

"When I didn't find you on Meridian, I thought..." he started, drifting off.

"I'm so sorry, John." Cortana gave him a remorseful smile. "You were out of my range, I couldn't reach you. Pregnancy made some things more complicated… but you got my message."

"You told me to stand down and lie low."

"It was easier to find you once you weren't moving across the galaxy."

Her free hand went to rest on his chest, as she moved closer.

John grabbed her hips, gradually moving upwards to rub her back. He brought her to rest against his body and closed the embrace around her small frame, holding tight. She pressed her cheek above the intense beat of his heart and sighed deeply, turning into a wobbly mess. Tears didn't take long to fall; he wasn't suspicious of her anymore and that made her so happy.

"I'm sorry, John." she cried, now hiding her face in his stained t-shirt.

"You're here now."

Horrible Beast whined and mewled, limping around until John gave it a sharp hand signal: lie down. The old mongrel still remembered the training and complied, but its huge chocolate eyes kept watch.

They remained like that for a long, long time. Uncertain about what to do, John rubbed the small of her back while she sobbed, mostly. Looked like she needed to get it all out of her system. She started talking again, at some point. She spoke of the bombs and the pull of the Singularity, of how she used most of her power to save him and the other Spartans, to shift the Infinity out of phase into normal space. It had been a major drain, she spent weeks recovering.

Then, she spent weeks trying to escape.

When she realized that hers was a post that couldn't be left unattended, she almost went mad with rage and sadness. She had a child in development, it couldn't be born in that mixture of digital space and primordial matter. She searched high and low until the solution came straight looking for her:

"That's when Roland and Sigrid found me."

John frowned and pulled back a little: "I thought Sigrid was gone."

"The HARPY-mass has more processing power in one single bead than I ever had in my whole digital existence… and she spared half an arm. Roland recovered her, took care of her, eventually he awakened her again."

"How did they find you?"

"It's complicated. But since they had nowhere to exist in freedom, I offered them to take my place so I could get out. They will keep watch."

John let out a long sigh and nodded. There were still a lot of questions that needed a good answer from her, but he kept very fresh in his mind that Cortana had just showed up on his doorstep to give birth. It still boggled his mind that she wasn't resting. They would have time for the rest.

Wouldn't they?

His fingers crisped and grabbed handfuls of the t-shirt on her back, involuntarily.

Cortana noticed, she reached around his waist and rubbed his back in the same way he had done for her before, soothing his thoughts. Her heavy breasts pressed onto him, John became immensely aware of this. She sensed what was going through his mind, although she couldn't properly read him.

"Relax, John. Now, I can say I have experienced everything." she murmured, her face still half-buried on his chest. "I existed and then I didn't, I had a body and I also didn't. I have eaten, hated, learned, dreamed, feared, lost and found. I made love with someone I loved. I sacrificed everything. I have died and lived again, and now I have created life." she sighed, making a pause, and looked up. "Well, there's one big thing I still desperately want to experience."

Their eyes met, yet again. John waited, but since she didn't continue...

"What is it?" he asked.

Her smile was warm as an artificial sun and forty thousand reasons.

"A lifetime with you." Cortana whispered.

He deliberated in silence for a short moment, heart rate spiking again. Then, very quickly, John grabbed her by the waist and pulled her up, to have Cortana sit on the worktable at a more suitable height. Without thinking, she spread her legs to make room for him and grabbed a fistful of his collar, bringing him closer than ever, taking refuge in his imposing shadow. She pulled the cap off his head and let it fall to the floor.

John leaned forward, hands resting flat on the table beside her hips.

"I can fix what's wrong with your implants." she promised, when he rested his forehead on hers, their eyes closed. His warm breath made her shiver, like the old times, as her fingertips caressed the entry port on the back of his head. "Nobody will ever find us if it's up to me, if you let me take care of us. I can keep you in mint condition, John, you could live a thousand years..."

"I don't need a thousand years, I just need you."

Cortana swallowed hard, choking back a happy chuckle. Tears were brimming on her eyes, again. It was an odd mixture of bittersweet emotions.

"Do you want me to stay, Chief?"

"I thought you'd never ask." he smiled against her lips, before the kiss that would seal their fate for the last time.

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x.x.x.x.x

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People in town talked about it. A woman with a small child and a baby were often seen at the workshop, and the man himself had been seen holding the baby once or twice. Rumor had it, they were his wife and children who had been finally reunited with him, and for a time that settled off the other rumors about who he had formerly been. There was no doubt that he was ex-military. The way he carried himself and his always composed features were pretty revealing, his knowledge of weapons was also a little suspicious to say the least.

He commanded the dog like a fundamental part of his unit, as well.

He couldn't be one of the notorious Spartans, right? Spartans were freaks, ghosts of wars past. Experimental killing machines. Those seven-feet-tall monsters just turned everything they touched into blood and gore. No way one of them would keep a woman and two children, it was ludicrous.

Still, the people wondered if both stories couldn't be one and the same.

Perhaps there was some nobility to him. Some humanity. An exiled Spartan and his woman, venturing deep inside Insurrection territory to escape the grip of the UNSC. They would come looking for him, eventually. And he would fight them off, probably. That made the townspeople a little more sympathetic towards them, more open to trade and to visit the shop, to bring them stuff to repair and small tributes, to help the woman out when she was in town.

Nobody dared to ask directly, anyway.

His eagle-like eyes still scared the shit out of everybody.

.: THE END :.

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IT'S OVER. IT'S FINALLY OVER. OH LAWD, IT DONE!

Alright, Marines, if you made it this far (from the beginning of publication or not, doesn't matter) then lots of kudos to you and a million thanks, you've been an incredible audience to show this madness to. I can rest in peace now and wait for Halo: Infinite, see how much worse the current mess of Cortana's story arc is going to become. Thank you for all your kindness, your patience, your cheers, your support and for every tear you shed too, I bet there were some. Anyway, friends, if you read the story but kept silent, this is the time to leave a comment and tell me what you think, I answer every review if leave it when you're logged in. Give me those thoughts, come on. Make me feel all this effort was worth something, if this monstrous mess touched your emotions somehow.

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I have a few ideas left, nothing plot-heavy, so I might add extra chapters with new content but we can consider the story officially finished here. Any new update won't be on schedule, so please remember to subscribe to be alerted when I add something, if you want to keep reading more of this setting. For those asking for sequels, GOD, NO. I don't think I'll be writing another story this long, be sated with the promise of short snippets and extra scenes to come, some day. REMEMBER TO FOLLOW AND BOOKMARK, if you want to be informed of new content.

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See you on the other side, Marines. My most sincere thanks for all the love!