A/N: This chapter features snooping John, and maybe Artemis is having a Feelings? What's going on with her mind?

P.S. I'm sorry if it seems rather short, but it was a filler chapter. And we all know that those are just as important as the more lengthy ones!

Who was this Spartan, and why did she know his name?

Unease settled into the Master Chief's gut, and he kept his helmet tipped downwards, so that it was easier for him to quietly observe the wounded Spartan he'd picked up from the battlefield.

Her armour was so confusing. It looked like his Mark Five had, but there were notable differences. And the colour scheme... why was she grey and teal? It didn't make any sense. It was as bad as the brightly-coloured armour sets the Covenant wore. On top of that, her visor was tinted blue.

Where had she come from? The last he'd checked, he was the only Spartan on this installation. Unless another UNSC ship had been towed along in the assault carrier's wake. He did vaguely recall seeing another frigate hanging in the sky near the In Amber Clad. Maybe that vessel had pursued the Prophet of Regret as well. Or they were there to provide back up to Commander Keyes.

Too many unknowns.

And he immensely disliked unknowns.

«Something bothering you, Chief?» Cortana asked over their private COM.

«This Spartan. I don't know where she came from, or how she knows my name. And her armour is not standard MJOLNIR. It looks so different.»

«I'll see what I can find out. It might take a few.» The cool presence in his mind retreated, and the Spartan eyed the medics warily for a moment. He could tell they kind of wanted more space, but they were too intimidated by him to directly ask him. And some ancient, unknown instinct rose up within him, telling him to stay close to this injured stranger.

The one thing that concerned him the most was how she knew his name. That was something that only his fellow Spartans, Doctor Halsey, and Chief Mendez knew of. Most of his Spartans were dead. Doctor Halsey was... well, he wasn't sure where she'd gone. And Chief Mendez was supposedly training a new batch of Spartan-IIs, but that assignment had been from years back. John had never seen any new ilk like him since then.

This stranger certainly was not one of them. It was in her mannerisms. If Chief Mendez had her trained as a Spartan-II, she would have had a much different bearing. She was definitely a Spartan, no mistaking that. No denying that proud bearing. But there were differences, marked ones.

He noted then, that the medics had finished prepping the Spartan, and had backed away, talking to themselves and consulting their datapads. His gaze dropped towards the injured woman, and carefully, he peeled her helmet off, placing it on the floor beside her. He took a few moments to simply observe, taking in her features, seeing what he could see.

She was very young, that much John could tell in the first glance. A lot younger than him – perhaps half his age, although at this point, he couldn't really remember exactly how old he was. If he had to hazard a guess, he would say that she was in her early twenties, or perhaps even late teens. And that made him wonder just how young she'd been sent onto the battlefield. He and his comrades were fighting at fifteen, but she certainly did not have the air of only four or so years' worth of battle experience about her. She seemed... wiser, somehow. More like she'd been fighting for at least six years, if not seven or even eight.

The next thing he noticed, was that she was inexplicably, achingly familiar. The oval shape of her face, the freckles smattered across her nose and cheeks, even the set of her jaw. It all seemed so familiar. He couldn't place it just yet, but there was something about her that seemed awfully recognizable. Maybe he'd seen her somewhere before, and he just could not recall where. That idea seemed the most logical.

"Who are you?" The words were no more than a breath ghosted out of his mouth, but they would echo in his mind for days afterward, as would the image of her face.

Of course, there was no answer.

John leaned away and up, and gave a quick shake of his head. Right after that, the familiar, icy feeling of Cortana slid back into his mind, signalling her return. He kept his hands busy while he spoke to her, checking his assault rifle, and making sure he had enough ammunition for it.

«Did you find anything?»

«She's part of a team of Spartans attached to another frigate, the UNSC Stalwart Dawn. It is, as its name suggests, a Stalwart-class light frigate; I'd say the lead ship of the class, too. They followed us here from New Mombasa. I can't work out where they were before that. They've made too many random jumps, and cleared their NAV data quite recently. Which is curious – it begs the question—»

«Cortana,» John intervened gently, sliding home a new magazine for his AR, and maglocking it into place on his back once more. «Focus. The Spartans. Who are they? And more importantly, who is she?» He nodded to the wounded soldier laying on the floor in front of him.

«Right, sorry.» Even when speaking through their neural connection, Cortana still managed to sound apologetic. «They're called Noble Team, apparently falling under NAVSPECWEP's SPECWAR/Group Three. I've never heard of them before, and I've heard nothing about them being active currently. My best guess is that they were killed at wherever this team was last stationed. Sorry, rambling. They've been operating for quite a number of years, and there have been different incarnations of the team. This latest line-up consists of something called... Spartan-IIIs? That can't be right. And one Spartan-II, Chief Warrant Officer Jorge-052.»

The Master Chief felt a spike of familiarity run through him, as he learned the name of the lone Spartan-II on this Noble Team. Jorge. How long had it been since he'd seen the mountain of a man? Much, much longer than he'd last seen Blue Team, or Red Team. Perhaps around the last time he'd seen Kurt-051. Either way, he was glad to know that another one of his brothers-in-arms was alive, and still fighting the good fight. After Reach, he'd almost believed that he'd been the last Spartan left. But he'd found others, and while most of those had perished... here was another.

Cortana gently broke into his train of thought, continuing to state what she'd discovered about the frigate that had followed them from Earth, and the team of Spartans who apparently called it home. «The Spartan here... She is Lieutenant Artemis-B312. I attempted to dig around in UNSC databases for any information on her, but there's not a lot. I can't find much on that team at all, but the Lieutenant in particular eludes me. When we get back to Earth, I'll do some more digging there. What strikes my curiosity about what I do know about B312, the reports about her are rather intriguing. A small number of Army Troopers and ODSTs refer to her as the "Hero of New Alexandria". Which is rather interesting, as New Alexandria was a crown jewel city on the planet of Reach. Makes me wonder if perhaps this Noble Team – or at least, Spartan B312 – were stationed on Reach. That might explain the lack of Nav data aboard the Stalwart Dawn. »

John filed the information away for later, and tipped his helmet downwards so that he could study the wounded Spartan once more. That nagging feeling of familiarity didn't go away, and he wondered why her name hadn't rung any bells. Maybe he had seen her before, but he hadn't had the chance to get her name and Spartan tag. It made the most sense. After all, he'd encountered soldiers of all kinds, commanding many different men and women, and he hadn't always had the chance to catch their names. While he doubted that she or any of her team had ever served under him – save for Jorge – he did wonder if he'd met her before, a long time ago.

«Cortana... thanks.»

«It's what I'm here for, Chief.» Despite the brushing off of his thanks, he could still hear the warmth in her voice, and the corners of his lips twitched into something that could have once been the semblance of a smile.

Aboard the UNSC Stalwart Dawn, in Slipstream space, November 3rd, 2552

"You shouldn't be out of bed, Lieutenant! You could tear your stitches."

"To hell with that! I'm not staying put and you can't make me. Don't force my hand."

"Is that a threat? Just what would you do, Spartan?"

"Pull rank. You're a non-com and I'm an officer. I can tell you what to do. And if you still don't listen, then I'll have to call in the big guns."

"Alright, alright, alright, fine. Just take it easy with your injuries."

"Easy enough."

When Kat rounded the corner to the medical bay, she had been greeted with the sounds of two people yelling at one another. One of them was definitely Artemis, and the New Harmonian smirked at that oh-so-familiar stubborn streak of her sister's rearing its head. The other one must have been a doctor or a nurse, trying to get her to go back to bed. Artemis was right – the medical personnel couldn't keep her there if they tried. Unless they administered sedatives, but even then, the lone wolf would have put up a hell of a fight.

The Lieutenant came into view, looking entirely miffed in a set of standard Spartan fatigues, and the cryptanalyst stood with arms akimbo, amused. "I see you don't want to stay in the medbay." she said in lieu of greeting.

"Ugh." Artemis slapped a palm to her forehead, rolling her eyes. "Don't tell me you like it in there. The stench of cleanliness and the chemicals used to make it that way... the doctors and nurses... the beds that are clearly not built for Spartans..." She stifled a yawn, and rolled her eyes again. "I can practically hear my bed calling at this point in time. But first..." She took a step forward and wrapped her arms around Kat, a weary, whuffling sigh escaping her as she leaned into her sister-in-arms. "It's been so long since we've done this. And we've been on Noble together for, what, four months? That entire time we've never really had the chance."

"I missed you too, sister." The cryptanalyst patted the lone wolf on the back as she returned the embrace. "And you know, you have a lot to fill me in on. Just...whenever you're ready, okay? Don't stress about telling me as soon as possible. I know ONI must have done a lot to you, because you've changed a lot, and then some."

"That's not even the half of it." Artemis said wryly, and gave a quick shake of her head. Warmth, sisterly love, words of advice. That was what she'd been missing for so long now. Well... part of it. The rest was something that she needed to figure out on her own. Something that she really needed to take her time with. Feelings were... complicated at best. And it was not always easy to navigate them, especially not alone.

Maybe someday, she would tell Kat the stirrings she had whenever she looked at—

Yeah, just quit while you're ahead. Don't go down that road. You don't want to. Not those sorts of feelings. You can't do that to anyone else. Not after what happened to Dante.

"...But, uh, thanks for giving me space to think about how I'm going to tell you. It's... not pretty." she said, instead, before drawing away, giving her older "sister" a quick smile. "Plus there's a lot of baggage to be unpacked, and it would be better to talk about it when we have the time to. You know. Middle of the War and all that."

"I understand. In the meantime... Come on. I know just the place where you can sleep comfortably. And I think the rest of the team will appreciate this, too..." Kat gently guided Artemis down the hallway, talking quietly to her as she went.

A Spartan cuddle pile. As Kat had so casually termed it.

Right.

Artemis wasn't sure how this was going to help her get to sleep better at all. She'd been isolated for so long that she'd almost forgotten what it was like to bunk with hundreds of other kids. She was sure the rest of the team would appreciate the gesture. They were used to it, and they'd probably missed bunking together in one big group.

But for her, it was strange. So strange, it was almost alien. And yet, at the same time, it was so utterly familiar her chest ached with longing. Longing to go back to the past. Longing to be part of the team. Longing to—

Damn it.

That was the second time today that she'd thought about her possible feelings for him. It was starting to get out of hand. She couldn't care for anyone else that way. Not after what ONI had made her do. Not with their threats hanging over her head. Not with the cold, harsh lesson: do not allow yourself to get close to anyone. Don't trust anyone except yourself, and except us.

And yet, it was too late... too late... too late for any of that.

Noble Team were her brothers and sister. They were her pack. She trusted them with her life. And she most definitely did not trust ONI. Not one single iota. Not after what they'd done to her. Not after what they'd made her do.

A heavy breath tumbled past the lone wolf's lips, and she shuffled to get comfortable next to Kat and Jorge. Her fellow Reach native was big, and warm... Emile had joked somewhat sarcastically that there was more of him to hug, and Artemis had to admit, she was inclined to agree. It was nice to be close to Jorge; he was the second person to accept her on the team after Kat, and he was her first new friend. She looked up to him like an older brother. Although things had been slightly rough after his sacrifice, and his rather surprising survival, they'd patched things up quickly enough. She fondly called him "brother bear", and he called her "little wolf". It was...nice.

Hmmmmh... it's really warm now... nice and cozy. I wouldn't need a blanket even if it were cold in this ship... maybe I will be able to get to sleep. Kat does know me better than I know my own self, sometimes. She wouldn't have suggested the idea if she wasn't sure it would work.

Crafty... sis...

Artemis rolled over and stirred awake...

...Only to find that her face was pressed into Carter's back, and one arm was draped across his flank.

What the fu—

Carefully, with creeping motions, she drew back and sat upright, hugging her knees to her chest, and staring at his still sleeping form. When the hell had that happened? Last she'd checked, Jorge had had an arm draped across her, and she was half-tangled up with Kat. Somehow, subconsciously, she'd moved over and wound up pressed against the Commander.

What is wrong with me?

Embarrassment flared up and heated her cheeks, and she quickly turned herself away and lay down once more, burying her face against Jorge's chest. Certainly better than with her nose pressed up against Carter's back, that was for sure. His broad, warm back, strong muscles relaxed under his t-shirt that was probably a little bit tight-fitting...

Get a hold of yourself! This isn't like you. You might've spent one night with him, but that was... that was... your mind needed that. This isn't that. This is foolishness. This is you allowing yourself to slip. You shouldn't get drawn in like that. Keep your distance.

Stay away from him... You don't want a repeat... You're never going back there... never going back... never going back... never going back... they won't take you again-!