Still Waters

Foreword

Thought I'd write something about that little segment between the Chief and Shepard in the Epilogue of Lost Legacy – well, it's more of a spinoff. I know that many of you felt a bit disappointed that there was no solid ending, but I want to gift this little segment to you.

Warnings, spoilers for Lost Legacy.

…

Elsyian Fields, Greater Ark

Civilian life, it was something that John had rarely if ever, experienced it in its vanilla form. The war against the Covenant still felt quite raw, fresh in the back of his mind, just like it would be for Miranda Keyes. But unlike her, he never had the luxury of shore leave.

He wasn't stupid or naïve; he knew exactly why he rarely had the chance to leave the base. It was because there was nothing for him outside of the military life. He'd probably been to a bar once or twice because of some thankful soldiers who wanted to give him a treat. Or maybe it was ONI trying to keep an eye out for him.

Either way, whenever he was away from the battlefields, there was always a mission in mind. If he was in the cities, it was to help take down an Insurrectionist cell.

Standing on the patio of his villa was something surreal. He had a home now, a place to rest outside of the military barracks. It was his place to call his own, away from the prying eyes and those eager to learn of the man behind the gold visor.

Turning away from the breath taking coastal sight, John turned towards the door and entered into his new home.

Pushing open the rich timber door, he found himself inside a tastefully mix of classical and contemporary interior design accented by redwood and glass furniture. The Spartan had never been much for finer things in life. He never had the chance. But guessing by the way how his home was designed, he assumed Keyes might've had a hand in it. It seemed so much in line with the scientist's tastes.

Not an unpacked box insight, everything had been placed neatly, giving the estate both a showroom and homey touch. In time the showroom aspect would disappear. John took another look around the foyer, taking in the sight of the grand marble staircase and the ornate chandelier that hang over the water fountain.

"Home," he whispered quietly.

The Spartan set down the hall, listening to the ambiance of the home, straining his ears to pick up the cries of the sea ravens and the soft swirls of the waves. Easing himself onto the couch in the main lounge, he interfaced with the home entertainment and turned on the news.

So this was what normalcy was like, calm and dull. But he could see the beauty of it all, to be caught up in worries that weren't really life or death, where only the mundane was the worst to happen. John certainly envied the people who had managed to be left unscathed from war.

The door bells chimed, bringing him out of thought. Lifting himself out of the firm leather sofa, John quickly jogged back to the main atrium and opened the doors.

"Nice place," Shepard beamed. "Got us pasta and…"

"Chocolate frappes," John finished.

"You betcha."

Walking back into the living space, Shepard placed the takeaway pesto linguini onto the black marble counter top, and fished for some cutlery in the drawers. Her eyebrows arched slightly when she saw a fine crafted silver fork with excellent weight.

"So, Keyes set you up with this?" she asked. "Final orders before retiring."

John nodded, picking up a container.

Essingdon's resignation was something that had dominated the news cycle for days. He even appeared on a few talk shows and news stations to answer questions; some were more professional than others, and most asked him about what he planned to do after his resignation, while others dared venture into polcies.

"I'm impressed. Love how the back is facing the mountain. Unlike Hock's house."

"What was wrong with Hock's mansion?" John asked.

"Great view and all, but the back of the house was hanging of a cliff, I dunno, it felt like I was going to fall over backwards. Nervous tick I suppose," Jane shrugged.

John nodded.

"So… any plans for tonight? Or the month?"

The Spartan shrugged. "Long service leave. Not sure."

"My advice, spend the first month doing nothing. It works trust me," Jane said. "Then the second month, you start planning trips."

John tilted his head slightly.

"You're on leave next month."

Shepard grinned.

"Exactly. I'll grab the team together, we'll have fun."

…

Richards's Estate

John Richards, that was a name he remembered, before it was replaced by 117. This was a new life, a fresh start. But it was all so overwhelming. It was surprising to learn how dependant he had been on the UNSC medical and technical staff to take care of him and his team whenever they weren't deployed. There was always a support not too far away from the front lines, ready to make sure that he was in form, and now there were none.

He was his own man, on leave, and free to do whatever he pleased. Though all of it felt hollow and empty without Blue, sure Fhajad, Cassie, Maria and Naomi visited, but it just wasn't the same. They all had their own lives.

Hearing the front doors part open, he knew it was Shepard. Her distinctive footfalls in the halls, and the familiar rustle of shopping bags instantly gave her away.

"Jane?" he called out.

"Yeah?" she answered. "Where are you?"

"Lounge," John answered.

A few moments later, Shepard plopped herself onto the leather couch by his side.

"Anything interesting on TV?" she asked.

John pulled himself out of deep thought, his eyes pulling away from the expansive vista and back to the monitor.

"Nothing much," he shrugged. "Just the news."

"John… it's a soapie."

He blinked again. "Oh, hadn't noticed."

A small concerned expression appeared across Shepard's features.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Nothing," he answered, shaking his head.

"Must be important," she said softly, placing a hand on his arm.

"Just new to this," he shrugged.

Shepard gave a reassuring smile.

"Yeah, normal is a bit much at first. You get used to it."

"Eventually," John agreed.

A comfortable silence passed between them as they mindlessly watched some dramatized family argument unfold across the screen. He didn't know who was in the wrong or right, but it did come off as a bit too cheesy for his liking.

"Pass me the remote, maybe we can watch something on demand," Shepard said, trying to sound as if being annoyed by a soapie was beneath her.

Reaching to the coffee table, John handed her the device and let her flick through the archives of film over the past centuries.

"The Last Emperor, sounds interesting," she said, selecting to the movie. "You've had dinner, right?"

John nodded as they slipped into a comfortable silence. But despite the movie's historical premise, he soon found his mind drifting back to lost friends. Their names were on a memorial wall, lost in a sea of other faceless names that only history will remember.

The artificial sky began to take on an amber hue. He felt a weight press onto his shoulder, and found a sleeping Shepard using him as a pillow. A soft smile spread across his lips as he saw her peaceful expression, reflecting the light of a setting sun. Not wanting to disturb Jane from her sleep, he decided to settle in and ease into the sofa, remembering to turn down the volume.

…

The next day, Shepard returned at a later time. She found John out on the front patio, nursing a drink in his clasped hands as he gazed out over the city below. His shoulders were slight hunched over, and his legs were slightly apart, ready to spring into action at a moment's notice. Remembering to lock her car, Shepard then walked up the stairs and sat down next to him on the bench.

Despite the casual lounge clothes he wore, he was still ever the soldier, itching to return to duty. But she could see it in his eyes, an infinite weariness that may never pass. She had seen it so many times in the faces of others and her own.

"Hey," she says, smiling warmly.

John moved to make more room for her on the bench. She could hear his breath, slow and rhythmic in a trancelike concentration.

"What's on your mind?" She asked.

His eyes panned out across the city once more, and then locked on to her cerulean turquoise.

"I'm not made for this," he said softly. "I want to know how we are, where we're going."

Shepard reached out for his hand, and meshed her fingers with his and squeezed.

"You need a break John… you can't save everyone."

"But I can try."

"Don't," she said, shaking her head. "Don't do this to yourself."

John's jaw tensed, and then relaxed as his gaze fell down to the stone tiles.

"We never had breaks… well, not this long."

"What was it like? The war?"

"Thirty years," John answered with a solemn tone. "We started out fighting the insurrection… and then the Covenant came. We were always on the move… always something to do."

He turned his gaze skyward, looking at the spiralling form of the Milky Way, wondering how many years into the past he was seeing.

"We lost so many," he whispered.

She could see it, the pain in his eyes that held more grief than those that flooded with tears. She moved closer to him, and placed her free hand on his. A bold move, but it was something he needed. Despite all of his training and indoctrination, he was still human.

"Do you really want to go back?" Jane asked softly. "I know you're getting restless… but honestly, do you?"

A pause drifted between them as he mulled over his thoughts.

"I… I don't know," he answered.

"I know how you feel, John. You just want to get back to what's normal for you… for us. But the truth is… we can't keep this up forever. No one can."

…

With both of them on leave, they fell into a familiar weekly routine since Shepard was staying at John's house. Weeknights were usually spent at home, watching the news and catching up on popular culture. And by pop culture, it was law cases for Shepard and historical military documentaries for John. Of course, there was that one sci-fi thriller TV-show that they both watched religiously. It was always fun trying to guess on who played what role in every episode, of course most of the time they were wrong since Cassie was one of the lead writers. It was safe to say that John was getting used to the humdrum of normal life. He was adjusting, slowly.

Or so she thought.

John was by no means a noisy person; in fact, he had one of the lightest footsteps she ever knew. But she could always tell when he was up and moving. Throwing the covers off of her, she pulled out of bed, adjusted her nightie and walked down to the kitchen.

The low level lights were on, casting a soft calming glow from the floor. John sat by the kitchen counter, shoulders hunched and a gourmet soda that she had bought from the market a few nights ago.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey," John replied.

Walking to the fridge, Shepard pulled out a small carton of coconut juice and stood opposite from John.

"Trouble sleeping?"

"I don't need more than a few hours."

"John," she said firmly, looking into his eyes.

Spartan physiology allowed the body to get away with a few hours of sleep without any negative physiological repercussions, but psychological was a different aspect. The mind needed rest.

"Friends lost," he answered.

"Anyone in particular?"

A sad expression formed across his stoic expression.

"Kelly, Sam, and Parisa," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Shepard moved into the seat next to him, keeping a hold on his hand.

"Parisa… she was my first friend. Before I joined… I…" he trailed off, recalling a memory so precious to him.

He couldn't remember his mother or his father that much. All he remembered was that his mother was warm, and smelled like soap, and his father's name was Sam Richards. But Parisa, she somehow stood out against the rest. After he had saved her, he had promised to marry her. And many years later he had learnt that she intended to hold him to that promise.

"What was she like?"

"I… I don't remember."

Taking a sip from her drink, Shepard breathed in deeply, watching John has he relieved his memories.

"What about Kelly and Sam?"

"They were my first friends," he answered. "Didn't like me at first because I wasn't a team player… but then we became friends."

His lips curled into a soft smile, recalling the fond memories of those exercises.

Shepard could see the joy in his eyes. Lifting the mug to his lips, she watched his Adam's apple bob up and down as he took greedy gulps of his drink.

"I miss them," he said softly, his eyes falling to the floor. "All of them."

"We can't save everyone," Jane repeated. "We can only do our best and hope that everything will be alright."

Standing up from her seat, she pulled him into an embrace, wrapping her arms around him. Her scent was something he couldn't describe, but it was uniquely hers, soft, warm and a hint of hazelnut.

"At least we're still here," she sighed contently.

"We're still here," John murmured into her hair. "We're still here."

…

The night was warm, and people were out on the coastline boulevards, enjoying the festive atmosphere with friends and family. Children ran about on the sand, staying away from the waters like their mothers had told them to. And students circled around camp fires, exchange stories and songs. She could see the boys becoming increasingly distracted by the girls who flaunted their bodies, and vice versa.

Shepard was slightly envious of them. They were lucky enough to grow up in the Magellanic Clouds, away from war and the evils that formed in the wake of sentient life.

But at least she could enjoy the simple pleasures of walking on the beach, the feel of the sound underneath her bare feet, and the soft sea breeze rolling across her skin. Turning to John, she could see his eyes focused on the reflection of the Milky Way, over the ocean. It was a beautiful sight, seeing the spirals shimmer and dance like the aurora borealis of the northern skies, and the child in awe of it all as his mother explained to him what was happening.

"You still here?" she asked, walking alongside him.

"Just thinking."

"About?"

"Family."

"Oh," Shepard said softly. "You want to find them?"

John nodded.

"I think Keyes can call in a few favours for you."

…

Essingdon had been more than happy to provide assistance. Within the hour, a file complete with dossiers on his parents and living relatives were immediately sent to John's inbox. Shepard stood right behind him, a hand on his shoulder as they read through the documents. She could feel his body shake ever so slightly as he scrolled through the files.

His mother's name was Diane Elizabeth Maraniss, an organisational psychologist for Ernest-Martin Finance. His father's name was Samuel Lloyd Richards, a Law Professor at Harvard University.

He read on further, and a photo of a woman with fair skin and jet black hair, with blue eyes appeared.

"Gemma Anne Richards," John whispered.

"Your sister," Shepard murmured.

She had followed in father's footsteps, and had set up a law firm on the Lesser Ark. Gemma was married, divorced and remarried to a woman named Laurel Freeman. She also had a child – who was now an adult. John kept forgetting that what had been a few months for him had been a thousand for everyone else.

Reaching for the off button, John quickly turned off his datapad and exhaled uneasily. It had never occurred to look for his family until now. He had always thought that his Spartan brothers and sisters were his family. But knowing that his biological kin was still alive, it stirred something inside of him.

"Do you want to go see them?" Shepard asked. "I'll go with you."

"They wouldn't even recognise me," he said.

"We don't have to meet them," Jane countered. "Keyes gave this to you for some closure… and maybe a way to reconnect. You deserve it."

A message alarm chimed on his datapad, turning the device on, he discovered that it was an audio message from Essingdon.

Shepard sat down next to him, and rested an arm on the table.

"John… if you're reading this… well… I wish I could do this in person, but… it's a bit… anyway, I digress."

Keyes sounded tired, but not the kind of tiredness from lack of sleep. This one sounded like a weariness burdened by guilt.

"We took something away from you – your very life away from you so that others could keep theirs. Morally, this is unjustifiable, and unforgivable. On an objective level, it was the only logical course of action from avoiding all-out war with the insurrection. Still, it doesn't make it easier, knowing that you have accepted the hand you were given. I know you don't feel any ill will towards me or my mother, but I feel like I should set the record straight. You saw how she was near the end. She was tired. She just wanted to save everyone. And I feel that I should do the same. It never occurred to me that I should've done this a long time ago until you called me. So consider this a gift, from one friend to another. This is your chance to have your old family back, your chance to move forward. I know it will be hard. But meet them at halfway, and it should all be okay."

The message ended, and then deleted itself from the system.

"Choice is yours, John."

"I'll think about it."

Shepard looked him in the eyes, hoping that he understood what Keyes had just done. He had given John a way to reconnect to his past, and hopefully his future. The Spartan-II Program was now public knowledge since the Cerberus Scandal, there was nothing stopping him,

"Let's get dinner going first, we can talk about this later," Jane said, hoping to distract him away from the datapad.

In the kitchen, the two fell into their normal routine of cooking with the TV playing in the background.

…

It was just one of those mornings Shepard would consider a late day – but by many standards, it would still be considered early. A she left her room, she could hear the television on down in the lounge. Entering the nicely decorated room, she saw the back of John's head as he watched the news segment.

"Sit down," he said, his attention glued to the bulletin.

Shepard recognised the woman to be Alice Crenshaw, the domestic correspondence for CCN.

"Thank you Daniel. I'm standing outside of the former Director's home, where local Law Enforcement and the FIA have set up a perimeter."

Within the camera view, dozens of crime scene investigators combed over the apartment block and the surrounding vehicles as per standard protocol.

"Sceptics have questioned whether the General's death was actually a suicide, or retribution. It is believed that he will be given full military honours at his funeral, with Chief of Staff from all branches expected to be in attendance."

The silence was deafening, as Jane remained stuck to her spot. She looked over to John who appeared to be in a state of shock. Another one of his friends had died.

…

The funeral was a half-day long ceremony, beginning at Keyes's old school where his name would be added to their memorial, before the service would then be moved to a military cemetery. John was quiet throughout the whole sermon, listening intently to the pained words from Doctor Halsey and Miranda Keyes.

When it was over, he and Shepard remained behind, offering words of condolences that seemed to take a weight off from Essingdon's family.

The drive home was done in quiet contemplation. Not a word spoken as they left the car and made their way into the kitchen for drinks.

"Have you given it some thought?" Jane asked.

John nodded. "I think it's what he would've wanted."

Smiling, Shepard gave him a quick hug, and handed him the telephone.

…

Lesser Ark

John had to thank Corporal Jessica Ashley for setting up the meeting with his family. No doubt that they were sceptical at first, but after some coaxing, they had agreed to meet him. At his behest, Shepard was also with him, it would be nice to have someone who was an outsider to support him. Of course she was by no means an outsider to him, but her perspective would hopefully keep things peaceful.

"Ready?" Shepard asked, adjusting her officer's cap and straightening out her dress blues.

"Ready," John nodded, fitting the cap onto his head.

Walking across the boulevard, they garnered a few looks before entering a restaurant.

"Hello sir, how may I help you?"' the waitress asked.

"Booking under Richards," John said.

"Of course, this way please."

The waitress led them upstairs and into a private conference area. She held open the doors, allowing him and Shepard entrance. Inside were three people, his mother, father and sister. Just the three of them, to keep the welcoming committee small.

Taking of his hat, John stepped into the room uneasily, locking eyes with his mother. She looked just like how he had remembered her, or at least she fit into the image he had in his mind. Her blue eyes filled with tears as she cupped her own mouth to stifle her own cries.

"My boy," she whispered, and quickly rushed to pull him into an embrace.

John stood rigid and still for a brief moment before he felt Shepard nudge him. Pulling himself out of the surprise, he gently wrapped his arms around his much smaller mother and smiled. It was her; he just knew it was her. He then looked at his father, who had tears in his eyes. And just like his wife, he moved up to embrace his son, his voice rumbling with laughter of joy.

Shepard stood back and beamed happily at the family reunion, it had gone far better than she had expected. But these were parents who had lost their son many years ago, not a soap opera. They were happy to have their son back, regardless of what had happened. He was alive and well, and that was all that mattered.

Slowly, his parents pulled away from him and beckoned the Gemma over.

"I – uh – guess I'm your sisters," she said, holding back tears. "Welcome home."

This was John's first step forward to gaining a life beyond the uniform, and Shepard was more than happy to be with him, every step of the way.

…

Afterword

I hope you all enjoyed that little story. If you want to keep up to date with anything I'm up to, follow me on tumblr at andrthir . tumblr and follow news on my upcoming story Shadow Contingency at shadowcontingency . tumblr.

Thank you all, and hopefully we'll be able to enjoy another journey together.

Cheers,

Andrithir