The Way By Moonlight

By: ChuckMeMondays

Disclaimer: I don't own Halo, the Chief, Cortana, or Dr Halsey. Space Marines didn't seem like a good investment at the time. And now I'm regretting it.

Summary: "The dream recurs, and each time, there's nothing he can do to stop it. Again and again and again and again. Every time he closes his eyes, all night long. Over and over. It's all he thinks about. Almost like he's the one going rampant."

"A dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world." -Oscar Wilde.

-Chapter 1: Rampant-

John has been having dreams.

In the dreams, Cortana is standing in front of him, and she's tall. And she's so solid. What's the word? Corporeal.

"Oh, I'm the strangest thing you've seen all day?"

His lips quirk, hidden in his helmet. Cortana.

"So how do we get out of here?"

"I'm not going with you this time."

"What?"

She split herself in two to save him.

He's not a man of many words, but this time he has trouble finding even three.

"No. That's not- We go together."

She sounds sad and resigned. He doesn't like it. He wants her to sass at him.

"I am not leaving you here."

And then, the way she says his name, it makes him think, maybe...

In a miracle, she reaches out a hand and touches him.

"I've waited so long to do that."

He's never been so ashamed. He can't meet her eyes.

"I was my job to take care of you."

But she's going to stay behind, anyway.

He says her name, asks her please. He wants to ask her if he can stay here with her, but he already knows what she would tell him. He wants to ask her to let him try, but he knows that if she says so, there isn't a way.

Futilely, he tells her, "Wait."

Her voice is a whisper as she fades into electric blue code and darkness.

He wakes, breathing erratic, staring into the darkness of his rack.

He misses her. Misses her more than he's ever allowed himself to miss anything or anyone, ever. It was a mistake to get attached, he thinks viciously to himself for a moment. Except that it wasn't. It was the best thing he ever did. He can't regret it. He can't regret her.

But there is one thing he does regret.

He's a fool, he thinks when he's looking at the stars that don't seem to shine the way they used to or at his plate as he sits alone in the mess, the food like ash in his mouth. He'd known how she felt. She hadn't even tried to hide it once her rampancy really started to set in. He remembers how her voice sounded.

"It worked. You did it. Just like you always do."

And he hadn't even told her that she did it, too. That they were a team. He hadn't even given her that much.

He could have reached for her. But he didn't.

He is a machine, he thinks at himself, a derisive expression on his normally stoic face. His humanity was quashed long ago.

"It's already done."

The dream recurs, and each time, there's nothing he can do to stop it. Again and again and again and again. Every time he closes his eyes, all night long. Over and over. It's all he thinks about. Almost like he's the one going rampant.

Then, one night, the dream changes.

"We were supposed to take care of each other. And we did."

Instead of pleading, he does what he should have done all along. He unlocks his helmet. Her inhumanly beautiful eyes look up at him. He gathers her into his arms and kisses her.

Every time, just as her hands reach up to him, he wakes up. He can feel the phantom of her lips icy cold on his, and he's alone.

"Welcome home, John."

He dreams the augmented dream again. And again. And again.

One night when he wakes up, Cortana pulled from him by cruel reality, and he makes himself a promise, though it doesn't make any sense: Next time.

John is tired. He hasn't been sleeping well. He can't remember being so exhausted in all his life. His armor has never felt so heavy. Or maybe that's just him. He feels weighed down, like an anchor is chained to his heart.

His walk to the med bay after the summons is slow and measured. He feels like he has to focus on every single step, every single breath to keep moving forward.

The doors swish open almost cheerily. He would be annoyed at them if it wasn't so fruitless. He scans the room and sees Doctor Halsey - who he hadn't known was aboard - speaking to a woman on a bed. He can't see the other woman's face, but she has bobbed hair so black it's almost blue and she's wearing a thin white hospital gown.

"Doctor," he says, getting Halsey's attention.

Both women look at him, the one on the bed turning her head.

He meets her eyes. He goes absolutely still. His vision tunnels. He stops breathing for a moment. No one says anything.

He takes a halting step forward and then stops again. He tries to speak, but the only thing he can get out is "C-".

The woman on the bed gives a shaky smile - one he's seen before.

"All right. This time around, I probably am the strangest thing you've seen all day."

If he had any doubt, it's gone when she speaks, her voice the same as the echo in his head night and day.

Anyone else would start hyperventilating. Instead, he reaches up to unlock his helmet as he strides to the side of her bed. He pulls the helmet from his head and drops it on the floor. It thumps heavily on the grey carpet and rolls away a few feet before coming to a halt against the metal legs of the bed with a soft clang, but he can't hear it. There's blood pounding in his ears. Her chest is rising and falling as she breathes. Breathes.

"What are you doing?" she asks.

He doesn't answer. He reaches for her. He places a hand on either side of her face, cupping it, bends at the waist, and lowers his face to hers.

He kisses her.

It's not at all smooth. He's never kissed a woman before. The last time he kissed anyone, it was his mother on the cheek and he was six years old.

But she doesn't seem to mind that he lacks technique. Probably because she doesn't have any, either. All he knows is that her mouth is warm and unbelievably soft. She raises one hand and loops it around the back of his head. Her fingers scratch at the short hair at the nape of his neck.

After another moment, he pulls back a few inches. He looks into her eyes, bright blue rimmed in navy, as they've always been.

"Cortana."

She smiles, eyes filled with tears even he can identify as happy.

"John."

He slides one hand to her shoulder and brushes her dark hair back behind her ear with the other. He doesn't think he's ever made so gentle a gesture in his life.

Then his grip on her shoulder tightens slightly. "Never again," he promises.

If she was anyone else, she'd have to ask what he meant. But she's her and she knows him. This smile is brilliant, her tone familiarly cheeky.

"Whatever you say, Chief."