AN: Happy Valentine's Day all! I've decided to update this Troy again for another year. Hopefully I'll keep with this tradition for a while. It's a nice way to keep my writing on schedule.

This chapter was done as a collaboration between me, and Ladyreclaimer, another amazing writer on this site. Initially, she was writing this fic as a gift for me, but gave up on it, so I proposed that I post it here instead. As such, most of the credit for this chapter goes to her. I just cleaned it up a little and finished it. If you like it, definitely check her out.

Love you all!

-Actual

Linda 058 considered herself to be… a patient individual. In fact, she prided herself on her ability to reach a zen like state of focus on and off the battlefield. It required years of training to get to that point. A human mind was meant to absorb all the information it could. Learning to block those sources of noise was like starving it to death.

Although it might seem counter intuitive, she found her focus in a firefight was often much better than when she was alone and at peace. Maybe it was her brutal upbringing that made it easier for her to block the detonation of an anti-tank rocket out of her mind than to forget about a buzzing florescent light.

Right now, she could use a few anti-tank rockets to break up the deafening silence that enveloped her recovery room on the UNSC medical facility Endurance.

Only a few weeks ago, she and the other Spartans underwent grueling augmentations. "The next step" in their training she was told. That was Halsey's nice way to mask the fact that half of her brothers and sisters were killed, not in the glory of battle, but on an operating table like dissected frogs. They didn't become the sacrifices of war they were told they would become, but offerings to the unholy altar of science.

Stretched out on slabs; they were taken apart like machines, sliced like slabs of meat, and haphazardly sewn back together until their bodies began to give out, one by one, leaving a river of innocent blood in Halsey's wake.

Linda was almost one of the unlucky ones.

"Your statistically underdeveloped frame caused structural stress and bone temerity," was all Halsey said when Linda woke up as a woman in pieces.

In Sam's words, "You're so shrimpy that the doctor nearly stretched you too far, Lynn."

Sam, always making things easier to bear. It was just in his nature.

He was also right, technically. For a Spartan, she was delicately framed. Seven foot two and two hundred and forty pounds was hardly what an average woman would consider a delicate frame, but weighing in at thirty pounds less than her brothers and sisters wasn't a negligible tolerance when dealing with highly experimental science.

Doctor Halsey tried for weeks to raise her weight and muscle density prior to augmentations, but artificial measures were no substitute for natural resilience. She suffered from the moment she was put under until the moment she woke up. She felt her bones ground to dust and napalm run through her veins as whatever vile chemical she was to be subjected to next flowed through her body like a river of fire.

And then she was confident to bed and left to rot for weeks on end. She couldn't handle a zero to sixty like that. She was born, bred, and fine tuned for action, and not having it was killing her slowly.

Linda considered stealing anesthetic from the doctors just to put herself out of the agony of waiting. It'd been three weeks and she was only just beginning to walk. The doctors kept a constant wary eye on her, as if afraid her body would collapse, and Blue team was doing the same. Every hour, one of them would appear by her bedside or near her chair, telling of some new effect of their augmentations, bringing her a glass of water, Or worse, just watching her sleep. She hated being seen resting like this. It was an embarrassment. She should be fighting, not sitting on her ass.

However, notably absent from her hawkish attendants was the one she wanted to see the most, John. He, among the members of Blue Team, rarely ever showed up in her recovery room. Often, Linda would put herself into a deep state of mediation, enough to fool her heart rate monitor into showing that she was asleep, and only then would he come to visit her.

He's never stayed long, and his expression was always angry as he enquired of the doctors of her condition. Then he would whisk out the door like a ghost.

This wasn't the John she knew. He would never stay to talk to her, and never leave her any gifts or notes. Despite the fact that they were alone with each other many times he never tried to wake her, or even reach out and touch her. She sighed and frowned and she thought about how much she longed to feel his warm hand entwined with hers. He'd only held her hand a few times, usually only when they were alone in Reach's tundra and she needed something to warm her, but his touch felt more than warm. She wanted it for reasons other than physical comfort, reasons she couldn't explain.

Linda's mind slowly drifted from these unconscious thoughts back to reality, as it often did. Sometimes she wondered where she went when she meditated like that, and what her body did while she was gone. She found herself sitting in a chair in her bedroom with her fist supporting her chin, feigning interest and listening to a young doctor go over her blood results.

"Alright, your white blood cell count is still low, we're going to have to add a supplement of Ti-lexathyne until it raises. Also, I want you to get more exercise, maybe take a few laps around the gym. You may want to-"

Linda let her focus shift away to something else as the Doctor continued to talk. After all, he would leave the report on her nightstand when he would leave, she could always read it then. She decided to work on her observation skills, to amuse herself. The doctor had a pleasing west African accent. That accent and many others were rather rare considering the great migration of humanity's races across the stars. Accents turned into more of a social statement than a cultural phenomenon. In the 26th century, an accent could be as important a heritage as another language, but still, Linda was surprised she picked up on it. She rarely noticed small details about transient people like this doctor.

After she underwent augmentations, Linda noticed that her hearing was multiplied tenfold. Now, voices and accents had deeper levels of richness and variety. This young doctor had a warm medium toned voice with a habit of humming in between sentences. Linda could also make out the faintest remnant of a childhood lisp. She wondered if his parents helped him overcome it...her parents...

"058? Did you hear that?"

Linda snapped up and refocused on him, a stiff nod was enough to satisfy the clearly uncomfortable doctor.

"Good. Well, I'll see you tomorrow."

The heavy white door swung closed behind him, leaving Linda free. Quickly rising from her chair, she ran towards her bed and flopped back onto it.

Linda gave a sigh of relief and stretched out luxuriously onto the soft hospital bed. She often felt guilty about enjoying luxuries like this, but she assured herself it wouldn't be long until she was back on an army cot. Linda rolled over onto her shoulder and looked at the nightstand beside her bed; the lab report sat on top. Linda stretched out an arm to grab it, but the sight of her own arms stopped her. Ugly red scars stood out on her arms. But it wasn't the scars that caught her attention, such vain concerns didn't affect her; what did affect her was how thin and weak her arms looked. How would she hold up a sniper rifle like this? The recoil would take her shoulder out of her socket. She knew she was being dramatic, of course. She was augmented now. She has muscular structure that could rival any athlete, but compared to John...

Why do I always have to compare myself to John?

Linda sighed. She needed to get back in shape, regardless of what her doctor said. She couldn't stand staying weak and unconfident any longer.

She slipped on pt pants, knotted them tightly, and slipped on the tank top. Linda jogged for the door and grabbed the crash bar firmly in her hands, but her reflection in the door's glass window made her pause. A pair of large, bloodshot green eyes, rimmed in pink stared back at her. Her red hair was shorn off for the surgery but a few weeks of uninterrupted growth gave her a short red fringe which curled slightly down over her ears.

For once in her life, she felt genuinely disgusted with her appearance. Between the scars that covered her body and the weakness in her eyes, she looked like a shadow of her former self.

Is this what John sees? Is that why he stays away? Is he embarrassed that I've become weak?

Linda broke away from the reflection and shrugged off the thought. She'd become strong again. She'd prove to him she wasn't weak. She threw herself out the door, determined to prove him wrong.

The walk down to the gym wasn't too bad. The hallways were mostly clear of any staff or Spartans, which helped her ego as she stumbled through her first, long walk in weeks. Most of the quicker recovering Spartans were probably attending a class of Deja's. Doctor Halsey put them all on, not only a physical regimen, but an educational one as well. Linda felt a cold weight in her stomach as she thought of her teammates. Her recovery time was starting to make her feel ineffective and useless.

Linda's contemplation as she walked down the hall was interrupted by the low rumble of John's voice.

"Linda," John said, "glad you're finally out of bed."

He was standing at near perfect attention next to the gym door as though he was expecting her. His face was as even as ever. No sadness, no remorse at her condition, and definitely no happiness to see her.

In spite of her anger at his neglect of her, she felt relief at the fact that she was finally talking to him, but being as she was the most stubborn of Blue Team she would never admit to it.

"The hell do you care?" She barked, "I'm your teammate, John, maybe you could have at least talked to me rather than sneaking around."

Stared at him with bared teeth after she made her statement, awaiting a response, but the impassiveness in his face remained. His eyes glanced at the floor for a brief moment, a response she couldn't place, but frankly, she was too angry to care.

She rolled her eyes at his lack of response and walked past him into the gym. John followed behind her. Linda quickly noticed he was also in his gym clothes but he hadn't sweat in them yet….yep, definitely waiting for her.

"Linda," he said, breaking the silence.

"Yes, John?" Linda asked coldly as she continued to stride along the track path marked out in red on the gym floor. It traced out the length of approximately .7miles. If she walked it three times over she should fulfill her physician's wants.

"Doctor Halsey asked me to help you get back into shape."

This made her heart drop, but she kept walking, not betraying the fact that she felt disappointed that John didn't want to see her.

"You always were Halsey's little pet," Linda snapped, "what are your orders, squad leader?"

John did a terrible job of masking the hurt that now adorned his face at Linda's snapping.

That's right, feel guilty, asshole.

He jogged up beside her and handed her a roll of bandages to wrap up her hands.

"Sparring."

Linda put on a sideways grin.

Good…I'm going to make him pay.

John was surprised when Linda snatched the bandage roll eagerly and practically ran over to the boxing ring. With a bit of vindictive pleasure, Linda tightly bound up her hands and glared at John as she did so. If he noticed, he didn't show it; he just strode around his corner and warmed up.

Linda did her warm up exercises, surprised at how winded they made her. It only made her more determined to show John she wasn't weak.

As soon as Linda signaled to John that she was ready he positioned himself in the middle of the ring and raised his hands.

John through a hard and fast punch straight at her. It had little impact force, but it was quick. Linda's augmented mind picked up on it instantly, but as she tried to block she felt a jet of pain shoot through her right arm, stopping her block short.

John's punch was only inches from her face when he realized she wasn't going to be able to block. He stopped just short of hitting her, and lost his balance for a moment, giving Linda a temporary advantage.

She seized her momentary advantage as John moved in to make sure she was ok. Linda leapt at him and tackled him to the mat, getting him into a mount and pinning him down. She rapidly threw punches at him. Even with her delayed physiology, John wasn't able to block all of them, and before long his face was black and blue.

But he wouldn't hit back. He still thought she was too weak to fight.

"Hit me!" She screamed at him, "I'm a goddamn soldier. I can take a few punches. Hit me!"

Just before her last punch landed, John rolled out from under her, pushing her off the ground as he rolled to his feet. Linda landed in a crouched stance and looked up at him.

John looked down at her with a mixture of anger and sadness. Conflict raged behind his eyes, and linda saw all of it as he struggled to speak.

"Linda, please, I don't want to hurt you," he said in a heavy voice.

Linda glared at him and stumbled to her feet.

"You're going to have to."

She didn't give him a chance to react before lunging at him in fury, her fist coiled over her head, poised to strike.

The strike was sloppy, but she didn't care. He caught the strike, but Linda was aiming for his heart and his mind, not his chest. Her punches weak and off-center and her kicks were anything but firm. However, little by little she was beginning to tap into her muscle memory.

Quickly the minutes ticked by until nearly an hour passed, and John still didn't lay a hand on her.

Linda growled in frustration. He didn't give a shot about her, so why was he torturing her like this? Was this his punishment for her being weak, to leave her feeling like she wasn't even strong enough to fight him?

"Linda, enough," said John in a stern voice.

"We've been at this for hours. You look tired and hurt. Let's go catch the end of that microphysics class Deja was leading."

That pushed her over the edge.

"Tired and hurt? Is that what you think of me? You don't think I can handle myself in a fight, do you? You think that just because I can't recover like you that I'm weak?let me show you just how wrong you are."

Linda slowly lowered her bandaged fists to her sides and wearily leaned against the ropes as she waited for his response. The red scars covering her pale arms matched with the blood red ropes, but she didn't care. As far as she was concerned, she was never more ready for a fight.

John dropped his tape to the mat and walked towards her, his eyes sad and narrow.

"I know you're tough Linda, but you need to get your strength back, and until you do, I'd rather let you kill me than fight you."

For a moment, Linda seriously considered the thought. He just about killed her when he left her cold and alone for a week. Returning the favor would do him some final good.

"Why does it matter if I get my strength back?!" Linda shouted angrily at him.

Her strength was starting to flag as she threw a sloppy straight punch to his gut, in an attempt to knock him over. John didn't even attempt to catch the punch. If he reacted, the punch probably wouldn't affect him, but against the open target he left it caused him to completely topple and land on his knees.

"Answer me," she screamed.

Linda never saw a more defeated look on John's face in his life. He was always the hero, the on everyone counted on, now he was kneeling before her after letting himself be beat into submission. That pulled at her heartstrings. She didn't let herself show it, but she began to consider that maybe her anger got the better of her in this situation.

John reached up, and placed his hand over her own, just like he did on those cold nights on Reach. She fought back the urge to sigh. She fought to get her anger back, or anything to use against him, but it was gone.

"I don't want to almost lose you again," John said hoarsely.

"When I looked at you after your surgery, I thought you were dead. Your heart was beating, but I felt like part of you was lost. You didn't look as strong or confident as you used to. You looked broken, and there was nothing I could do about it. I couldn't stand not being able to help you. I'm sorry."

Linda's prepared retort froze in her throat. Was he saying that he was…worried about her? Linda stared down at him in amazement. Apparently John was surprised by what he said too. He drew back, withdrawing his hand from off of Linda's. There suddenly felt like there was too little space between them and yet too much. John exhaled sharply and ducked under the ropes.

The instant his eyes were no longer on her, Linda felt like she had forgotten something. John was making his way out of the gym, hindered by the wounds she gave him. They were both broken now, and she had herself to blame for that.

Before she knew what she was doing, Linda was storming after him.

"Wait! John, please don't go," she said as she chased after him.

John kept walking, and quickened his pace, running away from her. He took off, running as fast as he could though the station until he finally hit a dead end hallway. He about faced to run again, but he didn't have a chance. Linda was standing there, inches from him, breathing heavily from her pursuit.

"John, it's alright, please, I care about you," she said sadly.

She fumbled for a way to show him how much she cared. He was everything to her. One of her only friends in a very cruel reality. Finally, she reached down and took his hand in her's.

She saw the way his eyes dilated when she touched him. He was scared, he wanted to leave, but he also enjoyed it?

"Linda, please, I'm sorry, but you need to let me go," he sad shakily.

Linda glared at him.

"No, I'm not letting you go," she said, a hint of bitterness in her tone in spite of herself.

"I want an explanation first. I deserve that much."

John cast his eyes wide searching for words. His eyes finally fell on her again, but this time there was a strange look in them. For a moment the two of them stood there extremely close.

Before she could react, John reached down and cupped her face gently with his palm.

"Linda I've always thought, I've always liked..."

John choked, completely unable to convey his meaning, but somehow it hung there, open for both of them to see. That other feeling that Linda felt when John held her hand, he felt it to. The two of them shared a mutual bond, deeper than any of the other Spartans. Was that even possible? Could you even define a bond like that?

Linda saw John lean in towards her as he gently caressed her once again. She didn't fight it. She wasn't sure where this was going, but she wanted to see where it ended.

He leaned in and pressed his lips quickly onto hers. It wasn't what one could call a graceful kiss, or even a passionate kiss but it was intense as if John were trying to convey to her how sorry he was.

Linda froze, causing John to pull away. She moved her mouth to form the words she needed to convey to him what she wanted.

John moved in for another kiss as she still awkwardly tried to form her thoughts into words. As his lips touched hers again, she could feel the warmth of his kiss shoot right through her, right down to her feet. Linda, hesitantly leaned into him and kissed him back, curious about the sensation. They were both young and inexperienced, but the action came easy to Linda when she steeled into the feeling of John's rough, yet gentle hands on her, and the heat of his body pressed against hers. She began to get so caught up in the kiss that John pulled away to catch his breath. His face was covered in surprise. A faint smile traced both of their lips as they breathed rapidly in excitement and shock. Linda's hand gently reached up to trace the line of John's jaw. As she touched him a strange look grew in John's eyes. The look was a powerful mix between fear and desire. Linda answered his look by pulling him down by his collar to kiss her. Her lips pressed firmly against his in a manner that conveyed such expression and feeling that it was almost chaste. The weight of their kiss growing firmer and firmer Linda pushed John back against the hallway wall to be out of view of the cameras. She let her weight rest against him as she drove deeper into the embrace.

John gently pulled away. Linda could feel him trembling beneath her hands. She looked up into his blue eyes and realized the truth. John was always there, always in her thoughts, and she was always in his. Of course he couldn't bear to see her in pain. Linda knew she couldn't bear to see him in pain. Those lonely nights in the infirmary melted away when she looked up at him. Linda didn't know what she felt about John but right now she knew that this was right. She wrapped her arms around his chest and rested her head on him wearily. John rested his chin on her head and breathed in the smell of her hair. All the pent up aggression disappeared and was replaced was a sense of relief.

"Linda, I've wanted to tell you before…I just…" He was stopped by two long pale fingers touching his lips.

"It's okay John. Talking has never been our strong suit."

John smiled then, one of the rare true smiles that he ever blessed anyone to witness. He grabbed Linda's hand and gently held it. His large warm hand holding her cold thin one, just like old times.

"You mean the world to me." Linda said hesitantly but firmly. "And I don't regret anything that happened to me to bring me here, because it meant I got to know you."

silence overtook them as they rested against each other. They both knew their lives as soldiers took precedence, but this discovery would change both of their attitudes on what was important. They left with only a small promise to each other to meet again later that night. They didn't know what it meant for them going forward, but they knew for certain that they would never let go of each other again.