Author's Note: Once again with the organic human messiness. Thanks to RedShirt047 for pointing out some trouble spots.

She came to awareness slowly at first, then abruptly sat up when she recalled where she was. Her abdominal muscles burned at her from the residual soreness of her recent overland trek. It was upsetting to need a moment for her mind to clear from sleep. Being disoriented even for an instant was a fault but she supposed she'd have to get accustomed to the weaknesses of inhabiting a body. A look at the window told her that it was dark outside. How did people live, not knowing the exact time? She frowned at her lack of available data.

Her stomach gurgled. She was sore and weak but she had to get to the bathroom. Then, food. Just as she was thinking about swinging her legs off the bed, John was there. He was so fast that he startled her. Not there one instant, then at her elbow the next. Or maybe it only seemed that way to her because she was in a dumb, slow body.

"What do you need?" he asked her.

Again, all she wanted to do was look at him, feel his fingers on her arm, and hear his voice. But the gurgles were moving from her stomach to her gut.

"Bathroom," she said to him sheepishly.

He got her there faster than she could have walked. Before she could protest, he stood her in front of the toilet, her too-big shorts fell down her legs and he lowered her to the toilet seat. A tug pulled her oversized shirt up out of the way.

"Slow down. Give me a chance to do things for myself," she fussed mildly.

The gastric distress was moving lower in her body. She waved him toward the bathroom door. He stayed in front of her, hands ready to catch her if she started to fall over from being weak and undernourished.

"John, get out! I don't want you here for this," she insisted.

He gave her a frown but he retreated from the room and closed the door.

The feeling of passing waste was disgusting. It was watery and her insides didn't feel happy. A cramp pinched in her middle and she made a small sound of distress.

"Are you alright?" John asked anxiously from the other side of the door.

"I'm fine. Quit listening to every sound I make. Leave me alone. You don't have people listening to you when you sit on the toilet, do you?" she yelled.

"I don't know. Do I? You always heard everything in the armor, didn't you?" he wondered.

Darn. He had a point. There hadn't been ONI presence in his bathroom, but the rest of the house had been fitted with listening devices. And yeah, she'd been aware of everything in the armor. It was her job to take care of him. It hadn't been her precise directive, but she'd taken it on as a personal matter to keep him as healthy as she could.

"I am not having this conversation with you right now. Give me some privacy, please," she requested in a more reasonable tone.

She thought she heard his footsteps moving away from the door but she couldn't be sure. If he was making noise it was for her benefit. He was a sneaky, pestering, listening man and she knew it.

Some part of her admitted that she was being unreasonable. He was right to be concerned. She simply felt embarrassed and powerless about some of the functions of her new body. The immediate distress seemed to be over. What now? She looked around and found the tissue and cleaned up the best she could. Revolting! The waste system whisked away all of the evidence of her human inefficiency and she stood on shaky legs. John's large gray shirt fell almost to her knees. She stepped away from the ridiculous shorts.

A step and a quarter turn had her at the basin, where she washed her hands. The sensation of the cold water and the slippery soap made her shake her head. Everything was new. She had to learn the feel of every little thing like a baby though she already knew how to do things, in theory. She dried her hands and looked at herself in the mirror which made up the wall behind the basin.

There was a tap at the bathroom door. She told him he could come in. John stood behind her and looked at what she was seeing.

"This hair is disorderly. What am I supposed to do with it?" she asked.

Her fingers tugged through the dry but messy locks. She looked around for a hairbrush but all John had on the countertop was the soap and the hand towel. She looked up to him in the mirror. His hair was so short she knew he didn't have a brush yet.

Her gaze in the mirror took them both in. He stood protectively behind her, waiting to do anything she needed. Tall as she could stand, the top of her mussed hair only reached the middle of his chest. She looked like a mere waif, a fairy in front of him. His bulk at her back was both comforting and unsettling.

The clothes they were wearing looked wrong. She should be all in blue and he should be encased in his dark, battered armor. She squinted her eyes and shook her head. The soft, loose shirts and all the exposed white skin were wrong. They were vulnerable like this.

"What have we done to ourselves?" she asked.

"We did what needed doing. There's no point in thinking about the past. Wishing for it. This is what we both wanted. We move forward from here," he said.

His finger came down on the countertop to indicate the exactness of time and place.

"Alright, Chief. So what next?" she asked.

It was there between them in that instant. All that had gone before. All the times they'd struggled and nearly failed. All the times they'd succeeded. All the time that was just… time. They knew each other so well, mind to mind. But not face to face. His uncertainty was there for her to see, then he made a decision to move them forward.

"The next objective is to get you fed. The hair can wait. Come on," he told her.

She was slow but he walked with her. Her fingers trailed along the wall in the hallway. She didn't feel like she was going to fall but her balance was off enough that it was reassuring to touch the wall. Why did her head feel so spinny? She supposed he was right and that she needed food.

His warm hand guided her up onto one of his stools. She saw that he'd been cooking. Or trying to. He spooned something off-white from a pot on the cooktop and onto a large ceramic plate. The amount of food he set in front of her looked dwarfed by the plate it was on. He took a fork from a drawer and set it beside her plate. While she looked on and felt stupid and helpless, he poured her a glass of white beverage from the cooler.

"What is this?" she asked him while he served himself much larger portions onto an identical plate.

He used a knife to cut at something that was in a shallower pot and her nose caught a whiff of something that made her salivary glands activate. He put a thick slice of nicely browned material onto his plate next to the off-white stuff.

"Beef and potatoes for me. Potatoes and beef broth for you. And milk," he indicated the glass by her plate.

She made a face at him because of the huge amount he had compared to her small portion.

"It's the first thing I've cooked. I spent much of the time you were sleeping learning how to cook it. I already tried some. It's good. Go on," John told her.

He picked up his spoon and ladled some of his beef broth from on top of his potatoes and onto hers.

She didn't wait and wonder. It smelled good and that was enough for her. She poked herself in the lip with the fork twice but once the food touched her tongue she didn't slow down until her plate was empty. She looked at his plate. He'd already eaten everything on it. She looked to the pots on the cooktop, but his hand held down on her shoulder before she could get up.

"Drink a little bit of milk and talk to me for a while first. Give it a chance to settle before you stuff more in," he insisted.

He didn't have to ask if she'd liked his cooking. She kept looking hopefully at the pots on the cooktop. That was a good indicator of her approval.

She sipped from the glass of milk cautiously then made a face. Real milk was just as expensive as beef, but apparently she didn't like it as much.

"Tell me how you got here. The house bot couldn't get all the vegetation stains out of your clothes," John prompted her.

"I ran. I'm slow and clumsy in this body. I had exactly three minutes to get it out of the stasis capsule and get dressed. I couldn't stand and walk, at first. It was very frustrating. We had my movements out of the facility carefully timed to match programmed blind spots in the AI. I was stumbling and falling down, trying to run," she shook her head and rested her forehead on her hand.

It had been pathetic. She'd tried not to hug the walls and leave organic trails everywhere. Her clothing had helped and she'd used her wobbly legs to slide along until she could stand and balance in a more-less upright position.

"So many times, I almost missed my time points. The exterior door was set to release for a half minute. I heard the bolt try to re-engage as I was pushing it open. From there, it was terrain. I had real-time schematics to guide me at first but that ability is fading as the catalyst fluid leaves my body. It was almost two days to learn my legs and get here, John, and then you weren't home. I'm glad for the cat. He's warm," she told him.

"You came all the way on foot? The facility can't be very far away," he questioned her.

"It's not. The stasis lab is in an old complex south of here. You could likely drive there in an hour or fly it in just a few minutes. The residence locations offered to you were not random. John, if there's anything technical that you want to ask me you should do it now. I'll always know more than an average human but my ability to process and interface with logic systems is fading fast," she nodded toward the house's AI panel.

John pulled her interface cable from his jeans pocket. His impulse was to get up and follow her to the panel but he let her do it on her own. Her metabolic energy levels were improving and he needed to let her do things as she could. She took the cable over to the panel and had it jacked into the back of her head before she got there.

"What are you looking for?" he asked her.

"Anything to help us understand what ONI hopes or fears to find by keeping tabs on you. Anything that I might have missed earlier when I wasn't feeling well. If I was sloppy I have to clean up any trace I've left," she said.

John got up and went to her. She was doing alright for the moment but he wanted to support her while she was in the system. He reached her as the panel lit up and her face lost expression. She spent longer on the inside than she had before. She was sagged against him by the time she came back to awareness.

"That looked more difficult for you," he observed.

"Yes, but I'm glad I made the effort. I know the locations of their audio receivers. They don't fully trust you. I don't know what they think you'd do but they want to listen. They didn't try very hard, though. It's within your ability to find their equipment and remove it yourself. Sometime before the end of the three day blind spot would be ideal," she said.

They went back to the bar to sit and talk. She liked how he didn't hover around her so much now. He must be picking up on something in her body that reassured him. His senses were so acute that as long as he looked confident of her ability to stay on her feet she decided not to worry about herself.

She wanted more food but her stomach already felt too full. John was looking at her shirt. She became aware of a sharp feeling at her chest. She tilted her head down to see what was going on.

"Oh," she said.

The nipples on her breasts were pressing out against the shirt she wore. They made two very notable points on the shirt. She felt her face flush and she moved her torso around to try to minimize both the visual disturbance she was causing and the sharp tactile twangs that seemed to radiate from her nipples. By the time she started to find any success in getting away from the press of the shirt, she didn't want to anymore.

"Oh," she said again.

John could see that sensation was starting to suppress her rational thinking. Her hands began to lift to her breasts but he caught her wrists and stopped her. He knew what would happen if he let her satisfy her curiosity. It would be the same thing that happened to him when he explored his body at night.

She scowled at him and twisted her wrists in his grasp.

"You don't want to do that right now," he told her kindly.

"Yes, I do," she insisted.

"Alright. I've been thinking about this. You're learning your body like I had to learn mine after the augmentations. It's not going to be easy. You probably feel curious and needy," he said.

She nodded vigorously.

John pulled her to her feet and led her down the hall to the guest bedroom. He could hear her vital responses amping up. He let go of her hands and opened the door to the bedroom.

"This is your space. You can do what you want in here," he told her.

She took a look around at the sparsely decorated bedroom with its normal-sized bed then turned back to face him.

"I don't want to be alone, John. I want to be with you," she protested.

"I know. I want to be with you too, but not while you learn yourself. Everyone deserves some privacy for that. Trust me. There was no privacy for me. This is better. Go on," he told her.

He gave her a slight push toward the bed.

She shook her head and walked back out into the hall with him. Her nipples weren't any less erect against her shirt but she chose to be in his company over the opportunity to indulge in physical curiosity. It touched him that she thought he was worth that sacrifice.

"No. I'd rather be with you," she said.

She sounded unsure and wavering but she shut the bedroom door and preceded him into the living room.

He sat in his big chair while she settled on the couch and folded her legs under her. He almost laughed at her confused effort at polite social decorum while her eyes were wild with unease because of what her new body was feeling. She didn't know what to do with herself. Neither did he.

"Just breathe," he coached her.

"Shut up, John. The sound of your voice isn't helping," she sniped at him.

"Really? How does that work?" he asked.

"I don't know. You tell me! It feels like a female thing. It's something to do with your voice being low and… yours. I don't know. Just hush. Please," she said.

John closed his eyes and listened to the sound of her in the room with him. It was 22:00. He wanted to try to establish a normal bedtime routine for the sake of her physical recovery but he was wide awake. His girl was uncomfortable and there wasn't much he could do about it. He didn't trust himself to help her or touch her or even be near her in any way if she was going to experiment with her new skin suit.

He wanted to talk some more, but not while she was staring at him like that. He was afraid to let her see what her presence was doing to him, but damned if he was going to hide like a bashful youth in his own house. He sat back more comfortably from the forward hunch he'd been in. John imagined he could feel her eyes on him. The instant her heart rate kicked up and she drew in a little breath he knew she'd noticed the fullness in his lap.

"If that's anything like what I'm feeling, how can you stand to sit there?" she asked.

He just grunted and looked at her. Her hips shifted to the side on the couch and her foot reached for the floor.

"You stay there," he warned her and he didn't care what his voice did to her. He had his own troubles.

She wiggled, but her foot went back up onto the couch.

"This is torture. Why do our bodies do this to us when we don't mean to have sex anytime soon, if at all?" she asked sourly.

"Because the body doesn't care what the mind or anything else wants. You have to train yourself to master your body. Unless it's your intent to live as not much more than an animal?" he teased her a little.

"You're no fun," she said.

Was she pouting at him? John smiled. The thing her lips did when she pouted was more intriguing in the flesh than her pouts had been when she'd only been made of light.

"Cortana, I don't know if we're sexually compatible. I'm probably too large for you to enjoy it. We need to think about that. It's bad enough that I'm admitting to having fantasies about you when you were still in the blue, but that was harmless. This might not be," he waved a hand between the two of them.

"When did you have time to think naughty thoughts of me?" she asked with a smile.

At least their conversation was slightly distracting her from her body's demands.

"How long did I spend crouching in cover, waiting for the right shot?" he asked her.

"Over a hundred hours," she responded.

"That was more than enough time to think inappropriate thoughts," he said.

They sat in a somewhat more easy silence for more than a minute. He wondered if she'd ever had illogical ponderings about him but he had more dignity than to ask.

"John, there's something else I learned while tip-toeing through ONI files before their new AI was up to processing speed," she said with some reluctance.

"And?" he prompted her.

"They told you they'd removed all your endocrine implants prior to releasing you. They haven't. There's still a set of suppressant rods between the muscles of your right bicep," she said into the quiet of the evening.

"What kind of suppressant rods?" he asked warily.

He felt of his arm with the other hand, but the rods had likely been there so long that his internal nerves no longer noticed them. He certainly couldn't feel them with his fingers.

"They're a specific mix of hormones meant to dull your aggression and libido. They were installed to make you more likely to obey orders and avoid distraction. You'll feel a lot more strongly if we remove them," she warned him.

"Damn," John grunted.

He'd thought he'd been doing well all on his own. He felt a flash of resentment toward ONI and toward Catherine Halsey but he wasn't surprised.

"Do you think I'd be better off without the suppressant rods? Or is it safer to keep them?" he wondered aloud.

"There's only one way to know. I never thought I'd hear you considering safety as a deciding factor," she said archly.

"I never had you at my side as a potential casualty before," John said.

It felt good to have someone around to hear his thoughts, and to hear someone else's thoughts other than his own. The house wasn't as oppressively quiet with her present to fill the space with her heartbeat and her breathing. He'd been going through the motions of daily living, his job, eating, sleeping and doing PT so he'd be in good condition if he was called in. Maybe with her around life would feel like it had more meaning in and of itself, rather than only the waiting to be called to duty.

Cortana felt that she was wasting the next day away sleeping. When she woke she was so sore that all she wanted to do was eat and get back to sleep. John spent almost all of his day Sunday feeding her and convincing her that she should rest. He had to remind her to check her knowledge about normal human endurance and then think about the overland hike she'd taken to find him with a starved and atrophied body.

During the hours she slept John moved around the house searching out ONI surveillance devices. He'd searched the house before but surveillance tech was always changing. He didn't know what he was looking for until he accidentally stumbled onto the first one.

Once he had a clue he hunted around until he found five devices. The key was in using his nose. The house was timber and stone, with a slate roof. If he got close enough to the log chinks, he could smell if something other than wood or sealant was present. Maybe the installers hadn't known about his senses. Some of the timbers of his home were split along the grain now but it was worth it to get the extra ears out of his house. It made him smile to drop the audio bugs into an envelope and mail them back to ONI. He searched, but there were no surveillance devices down in the basement, in the attic, or outdoors. They'd only been in his bedroom and the commonly used living areas of the house. He applied more sealant from a leftover can he found in the storage shed and considered it finished.

Cortana was still asleep when he was done. He stood over her and watched her for a few minutes. Even though he'd assigned the guest room to her, she'd chosen to sleep in his bed. He marveled at having her here in the flesh. If he'd ever fantasized about what she would look like in a human body, this wasn't quite it. In the blue she had always looked perfect. Right now, her cheek against the pillow was pushing her mouth into a youthful, pouty gape. Her hair was still messy and there wasn't much grace or purpose in the way her limbs were flung out and bent in sleep. She looked fragile and mortal. When he put his fingers in front of her mouth her breath was warm and humid. Very human.

She had needs. So did he. She was going to need a hairbrush. And shoes. He could use some clothing other than work clothes and work boots. She couldn't simply keep wearing his undershirts and shorts. The clothing she'd arrived in had already been burned as a precaution. The stains of blood and catalyst fluid had been permanent. If ONI ever found the ruined garments there would have been questions.

John sat down on the edge of the bed. His weight compressing the mattress didn't wake her. She'd been more sensitive than his augmented abilities, before. Now, he doubted that a loud noise would wake her. It wasn't tactically wise to be that way, but he accepted it as a cost of having her around in hard copy. Maybe he could give her some training.

"Hey," he said, and pushed his fingers into her hair.

His hand rested on her skull and gave her a little wiggle. Her eyes opened and he made sure she could turn her head to look at him. He withdrew his hand.

"I hate sleep. It's like deep standby but worse because I can't set a timer to wake myself," she mumbled.

She made a face and shut her mouth.

"Morning breath? Maybe it's time to brush your teeth," John teased her.

She prodded at him with a toe and he got out of her way. He could see the pain on her face as she moved to the bathroom. Her muscles were still sore.

John gave her a moment to use the toilet then went to her when he heard it flush. She hadn't bothered to lock the bathroom door. She didn't mind that he went in without knocking. She was using his toothbrush and toothpaste which she'd found in a drawer.

John took a moment to pee then rinsed his hands after she used a cup to rinse her mouth clean.

"Really, John? There are social norms, you know. I'm not even human and I know you shouldn't use your penis in front of me," she chided him.

"First, you are human. Second, I don't care much for the social norms, especially in my own house. Third, I've done everything in front of you so what's the point of pretending to be modest now?" he asked her.

"If you insist," she smiled briefly.

Just as he was unaccustomed to seeing her in physical form, she was still getting used to being able to see his body. She'd always been intently attuned to his vital signs. She knew he was many times tougher than a non-augmented person but they'd been through situations together when even his body's ability had been exceeded. The armor and shields didn't compensate for everything. Those times were in her data files, no, her memories, clear as when they'd happened.

His most recent injury came to mind. She turned to him and began pushing at his plain white undershirt. He let her shove it up when he saw the determined frown on her face. He lifted his arm and let her look at the healing damage. Every day it was a little more healed but it had been bad when it happened and it was taking a while. Some armored deck plating had crushed him against the hull of a cruiser during an explosion. The Mjolnir had saved his life but had taken a beating. It was faster to repair armor than flesh. He'd been scraped to the bone, muscles sliced and torn.

Cortana's hand smoothed along the long purple mark across his skin. He could smell her tears before he saw them on her face. He couldn't understand why she was moving so close until he felt her lips at the wound, kissing him softly.

"I'm alright. You know that," he reminded her.

She shook her head at him and rested her forehead against his ribs at the side of his chest. She could smell him and the deodorant he used to cover up his natural body scents.

"They asked too much of you, John. I'm angry for everything that's been done to you," she said through clenched teeth.

"We were both created for a purpose. For now, we're free. Let's work with that," he reminded her.

"I was created for a purpose. You were born to a mother and a father and then they used you. I know your file intimately, and I know-"

"Stop that right now. I loved what I did. I wanted to be what they made me. Part of me still wants to be that. I miss it and I'll go back if they call me," he told her firmly.

"Always so noble. I don't feel noble anymore. I must be corrupted because I don't want what they want us to be anymore. I only want you," she admitted.

She wiped at her tears with her fingers. Her face rested against his skin. He liked the feeling so he didn't tug his shirt down. He wanted her touch as badly as she seemed to want to touch him but now wasn't the time. They had things to figure out.

"I don't think emotion equates to corruption when you're human, Blue. You're allowed to feel what you want. As long as we're not in a combat situation," he smiled a little.

He could see the memories they were sharing, unspoken.

"And maybe even then, just a little," she whispered.

"Just a little," John agreed.

He tugged her along out of the bathroom and through the kitchen. He opened the door and they went out into the garage. He'd set up two outdoor chairs in the empty space beside his work truck.

She looked around at their immediate surroundings, then out at the rugged terrain beyond the open garage door. On sore legs, she went to the edge of the garage paving and breathed of the clean, thin air. It was a cool sunny day and the breeze blew the scent of vegetation and earth to them. John moved the chairs to where she was.

Cortana looked at the chairs, then up at him.

"You've never been one for lounging around, except in cryo" she pointed out.

"People do this. I'm trying to learn. Care to try it with me?" he asked her.

She looked at the wooden Adirondack chair as if it was a tool she didn't know how to use. Her body felt weak and sore still, so she rested it in the chair. It was surprisingly comfortable despite how hard the wood looked.

John eased down. His chair creaked a little. She smiled. It never would have been able to hold him if he was in his armor. But he wasn't. He looked very organic, very natural, like the environment around the house. She studied his face in profile while he pretended to ignore her curiosity. She'd gotten a real good look at the terrestrial surroundings his home was nestled into during the arduous journey to come here. He was the more interesting sight.

"So this is the place," she said eventually.

John turned to look at her. His eyebrows indicated that he didn't have enough information to understand what she meant.

"The planet your species evolved on. The birthplace of humanity. The origin. This is what you came from," her toe nudged beyond the pavement, into the pebbly soil.

"I came from Reach," he said flatly.

"I know. But beyond that, back a few centuries. What would become you came from here," she said.

"I suppose so. If you put it like that, then the same is true for you. What's your point?" he wondered.

It was odd to have this sort of conversation with her. They'd rarely indulged in idle ponderings.

"I am a construct, more a creation of the mind than of matter. It's going to take a while for me to fully acclimate to this form. Things happen in this body without my awareness or control of its systems. Its ability to self-regulate without direct oversight is impressive but confusing," Cortana said as she looked down to her body.

She frowned because the cool wind and the thin shirt were making her nipples react again. Like dumb animals, they both helplessly took note of it. She was consoled that his body sometimes did pointless things too. She smiled sheepishly and shrugged. John shook his head briefly, as if to clear out the more primal mental processes and instead focus on what was needed.

"I wanted to talk to you about that. You being physically here is going to need some explanation. If ONI has any tech in this house, then at approximately 16:30 two days from now they'll know you're here," he said.

"We need to decide who I am to you and why you brought me home, right Karl?" Cortana asked.

He nodded. She already knew that he didn't like the name. There were lots of things he answered to but "Karl" didn't feel right, if it ever would. It sounded far too civilian, too meaningless. There was no history to "Karl." He suppressed a shudder. He'd had identity training. For the last week on base, he'd been habituating himself to answer to "Karl" and to ignore it when anyone said Master Chief or Sierra 117. That week of training didn't take too well because sometimes he wanted to hear somebody call him Chief.

"Much as I love hearing you use my real name, we need to restrict it to close personal use. We need to think of something else to call you," he said.

She nodded. She'd been giving it some thought.

"The most familiar common name for me would be Courtney but it's too close to reality for scrutiny. I don't like it much, either," she grimaced.

John nodded.

"You're right. Something else would be better. Not many people get to name themselves. I'm surprised you and Doctor Halsey didn't already have a name chosen for you. You'll need an official identity soon. I'm not comfortable leaving you without access or credits if I get called to duty," he said.

"You could have stayed with John. It's a common enough name," she said.

"No. John is like Courtney. It's too easy to link up with the truth. I want to try anonymity if I can," he frowned slightly at the trees in the distance.

She looked, but there was nothing there. He was only thinking, apparently.

"So. Karl and Candace? Karl and Vonda? Bernice? Julia? Tiffany?" she asked.

John made faces at each name and shook his head. She laughed. She didn't like any of those either.

"First off, let's not force anything. What if Karl and Ellen don't end up being 'Karl and Ellen'? I know we're close, but neither of us has ever had a relationship. What if we find out that we're better off as friends? What if, physically, we don't work out?" he pondered.

He looked her in the eyes and let her see his uncertainty. As soon as she got over the hurt of contemplating what he'd said, she was touched that he was opening up to her like this. That he was even talking about their future was an epic shift in how he thought about things. He'd always been focused on the objective. Everything was mission-related. That he was taking time to contemplate something human and personal was proof to her that he was serious about trying for a civilian life.

"John, if you don't want me you should tell me now," she said as evenly as she could.

He was right about them not being experienced at emotional relationships that could be considered anything near a romance. They cared deeply about each other and they both were aware of that. Just because they were important to each other didn't necessarily mean they would become a romantic couple. Cortana didn't want to force herself on him if he wanted to try life without her. There hadn't been time to ask him, before. They were always recorded, their interactions always scrutinized and saved to his files.

"I want you," John said simply.

The words could have been a lie, but his tone and the look on his face indicated otherwise. They weren't in the habit of lying to each other. They might have occasionally bent the truth for the sake of morale when things were grim, but that wasn't the case now.

"Talk to me," she said.

He took a deep breath and leaned his head back on the chair. He shut his eyes for a moment and then he rolled his head aside to look at her again. The look in his eyes was what she'd been missing by being in his head and not truly seeing him. She couldn't look away.

"No one knows me like you. You're the only one who's been there through most of it. I don't have to explain myself to you. The thought of starting over with another person… I don't want to do that," he said.

"So, you're just lazy," she smiled at him.

John tipped his head down a little and stared at her.

"I'm sorry. Maybe my humor isn't translating well," she murmured.

She waved a hand in a familiar gesture.

John looked her over for a moment then continued talking.

"It's not just familiarity. We've been there for each other. I trust you. Mostly," he said.

"Only mostly?" she asked.

"I'm sorry. I've seen too much. We both know how interests outside our own have the ability to twist things we should be able to put our faith in. If you want me to continue being honest with you then you need to know that part of me wonders if ONI sent you, if Halsey is using you to monitor me. But you should also know that part of me doesn't care if that's the case. I've been scrutinized almost since I was out of diapers, so I'm used to it. I plan to let this happen, however it will," John nodded at her, indicating whatever was between the two of them.

Cortana was silent for longer than she was accustomed to taking to think things through. Her brain was not as fast as her processor had been. There were more emotional reactions to take into account.

"I was going to promise you that I'm not an entity of ONI. I was going to promise that Halsey didn't put anything in me to monitor you. Those are my beliefs, but you're right. I don't completely trust my beliefs, either. The only certainty I can give you is that I'm not aware of any attempt to use me to monitor you. I don't want to be a tool of ONI or the UNSC. My only known goals are to be with you and to find out how to live whatever kind of life I'll have," she said quietly.

John watched her and nodded. She wasn't accustomed to being on the receiving end of that kind of look from him. He looked like he was deciding if she was a friendly or not. The look passed, and she began to realize how deep his suspicions went.

"I'm not here to report on you, John. I'm here because I don't want to live without you. It was my idea to do this so that I could be with you. Halsey helped me make it happen," she looked down at her body, then to him.

Still, he had that scrutinizing look turned on her.

"You were a construct. They say you weren't supposed to feel," he pointed out.

He wanted to ignore what they'd told him because he had inappropriate feelings for an AI. Augmented as he was, he was still human and fallible, able to be manipulated. He figured the more he made himself face reality, the better his mental health would be. Cortana shouldn't have been able to have feelings for him. So they told him.

"I can't explain it, other than corruption. That's how I was taught to think of emotion. As corruption, weakness, failure. I am corrupt. I am weak. I am a failure. I am," she admitted.

"You are," John said.

He'd been taught psychology and philosophy along with history, the sciences and the mathematics. He knew what she was saying.

"So you're a real girl," he simply said.

"And you're a real boy," she grinned.

A smile played at the corners of his mouth.

"I'm going to put aside my doubts and just live this, but if it goes horribly wrong I'm going to want blood. Starting with Halsey's," John told her.

"Understood. I don't think anyone wants you going after them. Especially Halsey. Are you aware that they fear you?" she asked.

"Are you sure? Why the hell would they fear me? I can see them fearing that I might make a mistake and make them look bad, but actual, personal fear? What evidence do you have for that?" he asked.

"It's not been admitted in any official capacity, but parsing the decisions they've made around and about you and scrutinizing their handling of you, I see evidence of fear," Cortana told him.

"After all I've done to serve them, to serve humanity, how can they fear me? What do they think I'll do? Who do they think I'll harm?" John wanted to know.

"It's nothing specific that they think you'll do. I believe it's more that they know you're intelligent and determined. You're older now. There's well over a thousand years of recorded military history, John. They know that young soldiers follow orders without much question or thought, but you now fit the profile of the type of men who lead revolutions. You're experienced and very capable. People would follow you if you presented yourself at the head of a cause," Cortana explained.

"I've never thought of myself that way. I get that they would categorize me as a potential threat when viewed in that light, but the most important element is missing. I have no motive. I'm not interested in personal power. I don't have an impassioned grudge against any person or governing body or ideology. They should know that from all of my files," he said.

"Yet they fear you. I can get the data points together and show you," Cortana offered.

"Let's hold off on that. I believe you, if you say so. Is there any reason I need to act on this information?" he asked.

"The only cause I could see for them to fear you is if someone is planning something big that they think you'd object to. History shows that men who are accustomed to crisis and leadership sometimes create crisis as an opportunity for leadership if they can't adapt to ordinary life," she said.

"I'm not that kind of man. I feel the desire for active duty but I've got enough empathy that I don't want crisis. People thrive better with peace. Humanity needs peace to recover. The human population hasn't been this low in five hundred years, Cortana. Nobody else needs to die. I'm not looking to be a hero or a villain. I'm trying to be Karl, here," John waved his hands at the land and the truck and the house.

"How do you like 'Nina'?" she asked.

"Nina sounds good. Nina who? What's your story?" John easily changed topics and was glad of it.

She'd put the idea of world domination in his head and he wasn't comfortable with it. He could probably accomplish it if he cared to. He knew himself and his abilities. He was also aware that he wouldn't want to be responsible for all that. Just watching the news gave him a headache. Humanity was a mess and always had been. Always would be. What sane person wanted to be at the helm of that? Not him.

"Nina's enough for now. I could be a refugee from a different system. When we figure it out Catherine can get me credible identification," she said.

John nodded. Tomorrow was soon enough to think of that.

They sat out in the fresh air until evening and enjoyed what the sunset looked like through a planetary atmosphere. They sat out for long enough that the cat came around from the side of the house. It looked to the boxes in the corner of the garage. It looked to John and its tail bristled into puffy annoyance. Then it jumped up to Cortana's lap and nudged at her hand for affection.

"I guess it needs a name. We'll call him Dammit," John said.

End Note: This has been fun and an exercise of my editing skills. My goal was to show John and Cortana meeting in the flesh and I've accomplished that. If I had the time and the inclination I'd write more chapters but life is moving on and I have other projects to work on.

Scenes with them I'd write if I had the time are: Karl & Nina having a conversation with Halsey & the logic remnant of Cortana, them seeing over the AV comm that their 2 favorite people are beginning to figure out how to be together. Karl & Nina shopping in another town because they need clothes and things and Nina wants to try all the foods. And of course, them making love for the first time.

Anyone who's reading my other posted works will see that I'm repeating scenes and themes. It's embarrassing. I gotta work on that and be more original in what I write. Thanks for reading!