AN: I'm still not sure how I feel about Cortana being human. The science end of it is, well, rather science-fiction-y, and she's usually presented as human only for the benefit of getting it on with Chief. I've seen some good stories with her human, of course, but I'm still iffy on writing about it myself. Anyway, this is another one-shot to add to my growing collection, and how I'd believe she'd handle the transition if it did ever happen. Enjoy!

Out of Reach

She had nightmares again. She had them every night. In fact, she had no peaceful rest to her name yet, and the waking hours proved little better.

The biggest problem was that they almost never made sense. No logic, no natural flow or rhythm. Had she still the capability of doing so, she would've educated herself on the science of dreams with a simple flick of her processing power. Cortana had given psychology a passing glance before, mostly while she watched Chief sleep, but not enough to help her now, and now that everything had to be done manually, she couldn't bring herself to use the ship's intranet.

Not that Jung or Freud would know anything about her circumstances. Trans-humanism wasn't something most twentieth century psychologists concerned themselves with. Besides, she doubted her vague night terrors had much to do with sexual dissatisfaction or the collective human unconscious. She simply wasn't handling the transition well.

Halsey had said as much to her. Chemical imbalances, over-stimulation, different thought patterns played a role in how she felt—all were true, she knew. She had to get used to organic sensation and thought processes, so alien from her previous mind that she struggled to get through the day. There was simply too much to think about and react to, and not enough time to categorise, store, and analyse it all. At least not in the way she used to be able to. The human brain was far more unregulated. Half of the information she collected throughout the day was done unconsciously, and that loss of conscious knowledge made her feel sick.

Another unpleasant sensation you'll have to get used to.

All of this made for odd waking hours. She slept in random increments and couldn't keep track of shifts or the hour of day. Right now the clock said it was 0312, but even that left a degree of uncertainty—what second was it? Millisecond? If she tried to count it, she wouldn't be able to concentrate on anything else. She couldn't constantly monitor the clock. Time was everything, or at least it had been when she'd only had seven years of it. It was a difficult thing to let go of. Now, she couldn't track time, only lose it. At times minutes would pass in the mental space of an hour, and then a whole shift would go by in what felt like seconds.

She roamed the halls of Infinity. She probably looked awful, but Cortana hadn't found the strength to add personal grooming to her growing list of inconveniences yet. Going to the bathroom half a dozen times a day, eating, and brushing her teeth already ate up a vast amount of valuable time.

The crew had quickly gotten used to it. They seemed to sympathise, to a degree. A major shift in identity and self was something humans could relate to, at least. Even if that only scratched the surface. She mostly stayed on the infirmary deck, never far from a bed or toilet. She was still figuring out food portions and had eaten until she got sick a few times. Vomiting was immediately blacklisted as an experience she never wanted to repeat again.

Tonight though, she strayed from the med bays. She was in Spartan Town, looking for the one person who didn't seem to care what she looked like or how she acted. He simply observed and listened, a welcome respite from doctors and officers.

His door was not locked, but she knocked anyway. A social convention she had learned early on, even before her current state of existence. Humans liked their privacy, and she was beginning to appreciate that desire in a way she never had before.

It opened without a sound, startling her out of her own mind. Right. Focus.

"John?" she whispered, moving as silently as she could into his room. A wasted effort, since he could hear her own heart beating inside her chest, but she didn't want to disturb the less observant crew members in the adjacent bunks. "Are you asleep?"

"No." She saw the outline of a shadow move and heard the door close behind her. He turned on a lamp—mostly for her benefit, which awarded him with a small smile from her. The light cast his face in sharp relief, and lit his fair lashes and brows in a dim glow, highlighting the auburn tint in his hair. He was sitting in his bed, wearing off-duty sweats and a shirt. If he hadn't been sleeping, he'd been close to it.

"Sorry. I know it's late." She took another step into the room. "What were you doing?"

"Star-gazing." She managed to raise her brow in confusion, and he nodded his head to the space beside him in the bunk. "Sit down."

Cortana obediently shuffled to the bed. She had to brace her arms on either side of her to keep from rolling into his significant weight on the mattress, but he didn't seem to notice. Instead, he motioned to the overhang above his bed. She looked up, and for once recognised the sight without having to double-check with another source.

"Reach," she stated, and he nodded. The space above the bunk had a holographic display, and the image projected onto the overhang was the night sky of the militant planet. "Where did you get the image?"

"Roland gave it to me," he replied. He seemed to finally notice her wrinkled clothing and mussed hair, and a small crease formed between his brows. "What's wrong?"

She looked away from the stars. The sight was soothing, despite her knowledge that the sky now looked very different above the planet. "Just having trouble sleeping. I have a lot of bad dreams and it's... difficult, still." She curled her knees up to her chest and hugged her legs. Her shoulder bumped his, and she shivered from the warmth of him. The room was rather cool.

"I can ask Halsey," he said immediately. "She'll have something for you."

She smiled again. His trust in the doctor was absolute, and she wondered if Catherine ever truly appreciated the loyalty she commanded with her Spartans. "No, no. I've had enough injections and appointments with her already. I just want some peace and quiet." Cortana paused, unsure how he'd take her next words. "Would you mind if… if I slept here tonight? With you?"

His face didn't change, but she watched the shift in his eyes. Her heart fell. Of course he would be uncomfortable with it. Why wouldn't he? What did you think would happen? He opened his mouth and she interrupted him before he agreed to it unwillingly.

She shook her head and unhooked her knees. "Nevermind. It's alright, Chief, I'll go somewhere else." He said nothing as she stood up and shut the light off. She was at the door when he finally spoke up.

"Cortana."

She turned. "It's okay. My feelings aren't hurt."

"I never said anything."

"You didn't have to."

Silence on his end for a long moment. She was about to open the door when he spoke again. "Come sit down."

"Chief, it's—"

"I want you to."

Bold words, Chief. There was a beat of silence as she pondered his response. "Okay," she whispered finally, her heart resting back in its rightful place in her chest. Chemical emotions were so damn severe sometimes.

She turned around and felt her way back to the bed. She heard his clothing rustle faintly and the bed creak as he laid down, and she slid into the slim bunk beside him.

Despite the narrow mattress, she managed not to touch him. She laid beside him, staring up at the blank surface over head. He'd shut off the display.

"Are you okay?" she whispered, not wanting to disrupt the quiet.

"I'm fine." She heard his head shift on the pillow. She felt the tenseness in his body beside her, the absolute stillness of his muscles. Cortana reached over and squeezed his hand, letting go quickly.

"Thank you," she murmured. He said nothing, but she felt the slightest of brushes against her knuckles from his index finger. She smiled, an involuntary action that made her feel better than she had in weeks. The body beside her relaxed in slow increments in the quiet of the dark, until she felt him relax fully next to her. Cortana took a step further and pulled the thin covers over her body, being careful not to accidentally brush against him. This invasion of space was clearly a big move for him, and she did her best not to overstep the boundaries. She doubted anyone besides Blue Team had ever gotten this close to him in a while, and she could still sense his wariness at how near she was.

"Did you want to stargaze some more?" she asked, and a moment later the ceiling lit up with the brilliant dots of a million stars.

She settled into her half of the bed. She needed significantly less space than he did, and curled up under the blanket while she watched the slow-moving stars. The image wasn't static; the stars made their slow march across the artificial sky, and occasionally she would glimpse a shooting star or stray cloud moving overhead. The trademark nebulaic aurora of Reach also shimmered in the simulated night, with the planet's two moons completing the scene. Wherever Roland had snatched this particular view from, it had been a damn good star chart. She'd have to thank him later for it.

The sound of John's soft breathing calmed her, and for once it was quiet. No whirring of equipment or bright lights on or doctors talking. It was quiet. Simple, soft quiet. Her lids drooped.

She was on the edge of sleep when he moved. His arm reached up and touched the stars, and to her surprise she watched him draw a line over the image with a finger, slowly forming a constellation.

"Decursus Lepores," Cortana murmured. "The Running Rabbits."

She sensed a small smile from him as he finished tracing the hind leg of the first bunny. "Kelly used to tell me that she was the one in front, the thin, faster one."

Cortana laughed. "And let me guess; you're the big one lagging behind?"

"She used the word fat, but yes."

She chuckled again. It felt good to laugh, but she knew what he was thinking. Even without looking at him, she could sense how he felt. Another, more abstract sense she was getting used to. She could boil it down to body language and chemical output through the skin, but it didn't feel scientific. It felt organic and mysterious, and she decided for once she liked the uncertainty.

"You miss them, don't you?"

His hand dropped back to the bed. "They're alive. That's enough."

She turned her head to look at him, even though she could barely see in the dim light cast by the stars above. "It's okay, you know. To miss them."

"I know." She could see the outline of his face, and the long lashes that flicked as he blinked a few times, his approximation of a mournful expression. She saw the whites of his eyes move, and suddenly pale, quiet blue eyes were looking at her. "I've got good company, though."

She gave him the brightest smile she could. She chanced a brush of their hands, and felt her throat constrict when he didn't shy away. "You really know how to make a girl feel special, Chief."

"I know," he said again, a try at humour that surprised and delighted her, and she laughed. She snuggled deeper into the blankets, letting her eyes flutter closed and concentrated on the wave of heat she felt coming off him, and fell asleep soundly for the first time.