"Whether or not this matter is about an old workmate really has nothing to do with you."

Cortana let out a laugh as she swung her legs to dangle over the computer terminal. Sometimes she found Spartan-117 far too infuriating. He was like a brother to her, and yet, he still seemed to find it hard to open up to what was essentially a part of him.

"You know, all this repression isn't going to work wonders on your stomach Chief..."

He looked up at her quizzically from the neatly folded clothes laid out on his bed. Cortana rolled her purple flashing eyes.

"Stomach ulcers. You humans are prone to getting them through stress. Remarkable creatures, you can actually dispose of yourself by being repressed. I don't know any other animal capable of doing so."

John ignored her, placing his military gear into his small bag, then proceeded to walk into the bathroom to pick up the few essential bits of kit he had felt was necessary to bring. Cortana took this cue of silence as meaning she could continue.

"You know I'm right. Talk to me Chief. We go way back, you know I'm part of you. I'm a girl; a computer generated one at that. This therefore renders my problem solving capabilities to being immense..."

--

It wasn't fair. Not only had John insulted her intelligence by attempting to reinstate her, she had thoroughly embarrassed herself through a childish and somewhat human fuelled kiss. She was a Spartan. Spartan's didn't kiss, and they certainly never showed emotion.

She blamed the psychotherapy administered to her as she was re-skinned.

It was the only explanation. A cocktail of painkillers, and hourly visits from a therapist were bound to wreak havoc on a usually composed mind. Even a composed Spartan mind.

Cairo space station though, his awards ceremony. Surely she could get to him before he left? She had to explain the agony her mind was going through. The human wanting and emotions that had flooded her brain whilst her Spartan barriers had been tamed by the flooding of drugs upon her.

It was all so wrong; she had always quietly observed and admired Spartan-117, her friend, John. Feelings that she had felt in that room had never overwhelmed her like they had at that crucial moment whereby she had expressed the long felt agonies in her heart. It was wrong, all wrong. John was a friend, a superior now. To express such love was wrong by all accounts of the military code, and especially the Spartan code.

--

"So, you had a breakdown of Spartan ways? That's all?"

John nodded solemnly, his gaze averted from Cortana completely.

"But Chief, that's to be expected at some stage. You're a Spartan, and a very good one at that, but underneath all of that, your base genetic code is still that of a human. Humans feel odd emotions; sometimes even I think I feel something... It happens to everyone Chief, not just yourself."

Zipping his bag up, Spartan-117 finally felt ready to face his companion.

"It was the drugs. She's just gone through a painful re-skinning. I'm a Spartan. I did nothing wrong, I was just there."

Cortana snorted. She found herself to be doing it more frequently these days than ever.

"Ha! Men. You're all the same, aren't you? Even the noble Spartans..."

John sat down and sighed as he waited for a berating argument with his computer programme familiar.

"She did nothing wrong Chief, other than show you how she felt. So you don't exactly feel the same way, so what? She'll get over it as soon as she becomes her Spartan self again."

John's eyes widened. Cortana had in a roundabout way agreed that Cassandra had not been acting herself in that moment of released passion he had shared with her. The only real problem that still stood was that he had reacted to that moment, and had found himself almost enjoying the comfortable atmosphere, a new closeness with an old friend. That was what was wrong here, himself.

"Does this have more to do with yourself, Chief?"

Cortana rested her hand between her almost transparent hands of data code. John shook his head.

"No. Not at all."

She smiled, John was so self assured about his Spartan self, but she was right, she knew she was. And the inkling she had that he did feel something for Cassandra wouldn't go away. Sometimes, she praised her feminine mind and computer soul.

"Yah-uh." She mock yawned. "Well Chief, a girl can only do so much you know. I think you should go see her... But then, when have you have ever listened to anyone else?"

She winked at him, hand on hip and left the data table as a stream of flickering blue lights. John sat staring at the empty table. Should he go? Or would he stay? He wasn't sure, but it couldn't hurt to at least talk to Cassandra's doctor. Things would be better once this was all forgotten, that he was sure of.