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Chapter 25: Before the Storm

The shuttle's interior was silent but for the faint rumble of the spacecraft's engines. Occasionally, an intermittent exchange of words broke the false quiet as the team chatted lowly amongst themselves.

Six glanced down the compartment, splitting his attention between his rifle and the hold's other occupants, studying the team's arrangement inside the cramped vehicle. The shuttle was not voluminous, nothing like the comparably roomy troop bay of a pelican, which meant that despite the team's relatively diminutive size, the inside of the transport remained crowded. Which he realized, might be due in some part to his height and armor. Humans had not been factored into Cornerian design, especially not a Spartan. He took up quite a lot of space.

Beside him was Krystal, next to the vixen sat Miyu, the girls chatting quietly with each other. Both women had insisted on remaining under his command during the brief for this mission, and surprisingly, or perhaps not so much, Fox had accepted their request without hesitation. Six was not sure what to make of that, whether to be glad or infuriated by this. On one hand, it seemed to show that in spite of his distaste with leadership positions, his officer training had not gone to waste. On the other, they would continue to be his direct responsibility, a prospect he was not so fond of.

Six looked to the one that had dropped this role in his lap, Fox seemingly catching a few winks as he slumped in his seat, the strapped harness secured to his chest the only thing propping up the dozing vulpine, that and Falco as well.

The avian did not look particularly satisfied with his current lot in life as he did his best to suffer in silence, ignoring the muzzle propped on his shoulder as it sawed logs directly into his ear, much to his discomfort.

Though Six did not consider himself and Falco on good terms at the moment, not after that dinner incident a few days ago, he did sympathize with him, simultaneously thankful for his own position in the packed compartment. His riding companions were much more agreeable on this side of the ship, and far less noisy.

Krystal made a far better partner to sit beside.

Six shifted his focus away from his rifle, instead transferring it to the female fox pressed solidly against him, there being little room to be anything otherwise in the stuffy hold. The vixen's soft emerald gaze traversed the shuttle's interior, indolently perusing the cramped confines, tail twitching impatiently from its position in her lap.

They had been stuffed in this cramped transport for the last half hour as it made its listless way down to the frozen surface of Fichina. Coordinates had been given to them by the planet's solitary Garrison, marking a zone on the grid where a recent anomaly had been detected. If luck was with them, that would be where they found their target. But getting there resulted in a long flight, inside a not so spacious place.

The Spartan did not know why he had never noticed before how crowded the shuttle was, but alleged such idle musings were beyond his scope of concern at that time, back when he cared little for anything but war. Now... his mind wandered, dwelling on thoughts and sentiments he had never bothered to contemplate, one of which being the mysterious change in his close companion.

Krystal had been acting most peculiar in recent days, more expressive with her emotions, clingy being a most suitable adjective. Just this morning she had insisted, quite adamantly, that they spend an extra hour for rest, something he had deemed a waste of time. This was for him, sixty very uncomfortable minutes as she coiled herself tightly around him, like some sort of furred, sapphire python.

He was unused to this.... cuddling? Was that what she called it? The name of such a bizarre activity had been deemed unimportant at that moment. Whatever it was, she seemed to have enjoyed it thoroughly if the purring that had resonated from within her was any indication. And while she may have liked it, he remained entirely uncertain. Six had acclimatized to sleeping in the same bed as another, adapted to necessary circumstance with some difficult. But this was something... different, less... impersonal. He was not sure just how to describe it just yet,

A part of him had been repelled by the pointless, prolonged physical contact. Before arriving here, he had spent more than fifteen years without any tangible displays of affection, so long that he did not understand by what means to properly recognize or respond to such unusual occurrences.

However, a minute, undeveloped part of him had reacted... differently.

The Spartan had been unable to diagnose the rogue sensation, and since then he still had yet to identify it. Yet he recalled easily how strange it had felt. His tactile senses had heightened considerably, allowing him to perceive each individual tress of fur that tickled his flesh, aware of each quiet exhalation departing from the vixen's slender muzzle to brush against his face. He had felt her chest constrict and expanded against his back with each new breath she took, itching the hairs on his neck.

It had been a very... unconventional experience to put it mildly.

And yet perhaps, he considered with some mystification, not all that unpleasant.

He had felt... something. Six did not know for certain what it had been, and no manner of postulation thus far had revealed to him anything significant. But he would find the truth of this mystery. He just needed more time before he could crack this sentimental cypher.

Six considered the notion that he was focusing too much on these thoughts and not the impending mission, deciding to introspectively review the information from the briefing before deployment. Which was, (he checked the chronometer on his HUD), five minutes till execution.

This Katt Monroe individual, who was apparently an old associate of Starfox, had withdrawn into hiding after appropriating an article of great importance from Remnant forces. An item that's significance was known to only a select few, himself, Fox, Peppy, General Pepper, and a secretive elect within the Cornerian government. And while Six had run more than his fair share of covert operations, something about this one carried a peculiar weight with it, an uneasy omen. The same gut instinct that had tugged at him the moment he climbed out of the warthog on Reach, the premonition that this was the start of something much larger. He only hoped that if he was indeed correct, that bigger events were forthcoming, they would not portend the same conclusion. But for now he would carry on as usual, cautious and watchful.

It was Fox's imperative to bring Monroe back alive. However, Six's mandate was less... altruistic. He would retrieve the asset at any cost that did not endanger the immediate crew. The woman was a non-essential, a secondary objective. And while Six had never failed to accomplish any task set out for him, be it primary, secondary, or tertiary, if the choice came between this girl and the success of the mission, he would do what Fox could not. Forgiveness could be asked for later.

He looked back to his commander as the interior compartment of the transport shuddered, a sign that they had finally hit the surface, the brief surge of commotion awakening the slumbering vulpine ahead of him with a start.

Fox took a few moments to collect himself, reaching into the overhead compartment above his seat and fumbling for a helmet. The extreme glacial climate of Fichina required the use of fully encompassing protective suits when outdoors, like MJOLNIR, but displaying none of the advanced qualities that made the battlesuit so unique, cumbersome and unwieldy where his armor bolstered and enhanced. This crude survival gear was little more than an insulated space suit with some padding, a thin covering of steel plating for protection from the elements, and a rudimentary HUD to link a group together and provide basic mapping and telemtry software on the surrounding environment.

Before the mission he had made certain to inspect each suit himself, to see just how useful they were, and to ensure there would be no problems in part to faulty equipment. He would have preferred that the team be better equipped for groundside operations, and planned to fix such shortcomings when he had the time and inclination to do so. Usually, he did not care to bother with such things, but for Starfox, he was willing to go that extra mile.

While Fox struggled to settle the tight fitting helmet over his head, the rest of the team quickly followed suit, Six merely running an abridged diagnostic on his own systems while they prepped. Krystal glanced to him just before she slipped her helmet on, soft, uneasy smile disappearing momentarily under the opaque visor before it unpolarized.

Despite his current ponderous disposition, Six felt his mouth twist into a slight grin, the action wasted on his impenetrable mask. No matter how dark the days seemed or how deep he mulled in his own dour thoughts, he always had a smile ready for her, the simple sight of her cheerful muzzle all that was needed to bring such a response from him. As days passed, he realized her true importance to him. Not just as someone that cared for a man as difficult and troubled as himself, but one of the few people he truly believed in.

His life under ONI's leash had turned him into a cynical, world-weary individual. He had not cared for anything but his grim work, years of his life wasted hunting in the dark, stalking within shadows. It was a past he still needed to reconcile with, that's demons had yet to be silenced. Those days had dulled his faith in the decency of people, led him to believe that true innocence and moral righteousness no longer existed anywhere in the universe. But now that he was proven wrong, it was his goal in life to preserve what he had once thought lost, and protect those who carried the virtues he concluded were worth saving.

Starfox carried those virtues. Though alien in nature, this team was the embodiment of integrity and valor. Despite their calling as mercenaries, they did not let such an occupation interfere with their code of ethics. They fought for what was right, not just for a paycheck.

Krystal, Fox, Miyu, and the others, they were true heroes, something he was not. They had saved their people. Six had failed his. No one had ever called him a hero. Nor would he have wished for such an undeserved accolade. He did not believe he deserved to be called such a thing. At the time he had done what was necessary to ensure humanity's continued survival. Six would not dispute that it was not always ethically sound, but such deeds had placed the needs of the many over the few.

He may have not been a hero, or even proud of previous acts committed, but even now he would not change the path his life had taken, the things he had done, not after the series of tumultuous events led him here. No matter the past or the future, Six knew, with whole-hearted conviction, that this is where he was meant to be.

Perhaps luck was more than a myth, fate and destiny more than mere words used to describe events unexplainable or unexpected. It may have been fate that sent him here, but it was luck that delivered Krystal unto him.

Six leaned forwards as the loading ramp hissed open, briefly tapping the tip of his helm against hers, an unspoken and perhaps irregular show of appreciation led on by his grateful musing. In reply she brushed a paw against his shoulderplate, a loving acknowledgement of his action.

Sense of gratitude delivered, Six pulled away, resting the large firearm firmly in his gauntlets as the team disembarked, slowly plodding down the metal ramp to the snowy ground underneath. The Spartan scanned the immediate vicinity, nothing but kilometer upon kilometer of barren arctic tundra stretching endlessly before them, mounds and hills of white powder, a desert of ice as far as the eye could see.

Small drifts of low blowing snow whipped about in a flurry around their feet, the howling and turbulent winds muted by their muffling suits. The sight of such mercurial activity met by a deadening wall of silence brought an eerie atmosphere to the barren wastes of ice. It almost made Six wish for the jungle once more, at least there, there was life. Here, there was nothing, like some frigid, achromatic purgatory, a complete absence of vibrancy or sense of being.

This was the place Monroe chose to make her disappearance? Six could not tell if that made her brave or foolish. And he would be surprised if they found her alive, more likely to find a frozen corpse then anything.

While the Spartan scanned the frozen expanse, Fox stretched for relief after finally escaping their cramped situation, turning away from the landscape to face the assembled group. His static inflected voice carried over the comms system, clearly heard in the still quiet of their helmets.

"Alright guys, it's time to get to work. This is the sector where the Garrison's radar operator picked up on a stray signal. Katt is probably hiding out here somewhere. That leaves us with several kilometers of hostile, open ground to cover. And with this inclement weather jamming up any and all systems, we won't have the shuttle's or the Great Fox's sensors for support."

"Well, that's just bloody well fantastic." Falco grumbled, irritably kicking his boots and sending small geysers of snow flickering into the air to be hastily blown away by the stiff breeze. "I goddamn hate the cold."

Since learning who they were searching for, the avian had become increasingly aggravated, more so than usual, something Six did not understand. From what Fox had told him, this Monroe woman was a close friend of his, the Spartan would think someone would be glad to find their friend. If anything, the bird appeared reluctant.

Were they not as close as Fox indicated?

"If that's true, then I think you'd like to get this done faster." Fox replied evenly, the vulpine well accustomed to Falco's snark by now. "Seeing as we have quite a distance to canvas, we'll split into teams of two, cover more ground that way." He turned to the Spartan and the vixen standing beside him. "Six, Krystal, you'll work your way to the center of this zone. Fay, Miyu, you two will circumnavigate the outer perimeter and head inwards. Falco and I will check the gaps." Fox then spoke to the team member still inside the shuttle. "Slip, stay in the cockpit and keep the engines warm."

"Roger!" The toad's youthful voice answered.

"When and if anyone finds anything, notify Slippy and he'll come around to pick you up." The vulpine clapped his paws together. "Right then, if that settles it, let's get to work. The faster we finish this the better. The planetary weather report says a massive cold front is moving into this hemisphere. Pretty soon it'll be too cold for the shuttle's de-icer. And if we're not gone by then we'll be stuck down here till it all blows over."

Miyu chuckled in disbelief. "A cold front? Then what the hell is this?" She gestured around them.

"Summer." Fox answered, dead serious.

"Oh."

"Then we should probably get moving. I don't want to get trapped down here." Fay ushered them on quickly.

"Let's get to it." The vulpine agreed wholeheartedly, turning to the team one last time. "Good luck guys, and stay in radio contact. I want a report every half hour. Otherwise we'll have to rescue you first. And I don't think Katt will appreciate that."

Six stood patiently as the team slowly broke apart and dispersed with a few laughs, watching as a grumbling Falco followed after Fox, Miyu and Fay, talking animatedly amongst themselves, both groups soon fading from sight in the developing blizzard, not before the parting feline gave him a rather... enthusiastic wave goodbye.

He was somewhat concerned about the severity of the local elements. The atmospheric readings gleaned from the tech in his suit indicated temperatures nearly a hundred degrees below freezing, the counter steadily ticking even lower as the storm brewed around them. If suit integrity was to be lost for any of them, it would be nearly as bad as exposure to hard vacuum.

"Ready to get going?"

He faced Krystal, the vixen looking to him questioningly, and offered her a concise nod in reply, following after her flapping tail as she lead the way deeper into the snowscape. Six had some experience with search and rescue operations, most of it unpleasant. More often than not, they had been corpse hunting. He would be pleasantly surprised to find a change of pace this time around.

*****

Fox waited till they were out of sight and several minutes into their travels before he spoke his mind. "So," he turned to Falco. "What's eating you? I thought for sure you of out of everyone would be eager to find her." He knew of their history together. Falco and Katt had been members of a gang long before the bird ever met him.

He also knew that she had a thing for Falco, a sentiment the avian did not appear to return, or at the very least could not express back to her. More often than not Falco's stubbornness did no favors for him and Fox wondered when he would finally realize that.

As expected, the bird scoffed and shrugged in answer as he trudged forwards through the heavy snowfall. "I'm not responsible for bailing her out of trouble, Fox. Katt needs to learn how to fend for herself."

"And you're not worried about her at all?" Fox demanded, eyeing his friend carefully. "This isn't like the other times. She's not messing with some small time criminals. The Remnant might not be all that much of a threat to us, especially with Six. But for a girl all on her own, they can be deadly."

Falco seemed to deflate slightly, a slight slump to his shoulders. "I know that." He muttered dejectedly.

"Then why the lack of interest? If you knew that you wouldn’t be muddling along. To me, it looks like you don’t want to look for her."

"Well maybe I don't!" Falco snapped, fires stoked once more. "It's not my job to protect her!"

"No, it's not a job." Fox agreed, distaste clearly heard in his tone. "But it doesn't need to be. She's our friend, Falco. We help her not for the money, but because it's the right thing to do." At the moment, the vulpine was more opposed to his present company then the weather. "Why can't you see that?"

"I see it. I'm just tired of doing it." With those final words Falco was no longer in the mood to continue the conversation, the avian studiously ignoring his walking companion.

Fox sighed, wondering how the others were fairing on the start of their adventures.

Maybe he should have paired up with Six, instead. He might have, if not for the fact Krystal would have his head on a platter for it and might just decide she was finally sick of Falco's attitude. She had nearly turned the bird into mincemeat back at dinner the other day. Only her drastic shift in attitude had spared him from disembowelment.

It made the vulpine wonder what had come over her to create such a wild mood swing. He had a few ideas as to what might be the cause.

And if he was right about any of them...

Well, Six just might be facing either a very interesting point in his life, or something very traumatic, all depending on how he would respond to the situation. Perhaps he should talk with the human soon, that or find out from Krystal herself. Though the last option sounded like a very uncomfortable conversation. Hell it would be tough to judge which would win the prize for most awkward talk of the year.

Ugh, at least his father didn’t have to deal with this. And if he had, James McCloud would have known exactly what to do. Once more Fox wished he could have turned to his father for advice.

Even with Andross dead, he still hated the ape bastard's guts. As many times as he had killed the simian dictator, he never got the satisfaction he craved. Fox discovered that hate would not bring his father back, no matter how many times he defeated the Venomian despot, no matter how many enemy fighters he shot down. Hate, begat hate. It was never an answer, never would be.

It was a lesson he hoped Falco would soon learn himself. The avian needed to curb his prideful nature. Otherwise he just might find himself ending up just like Andross, twisted and driven mad under the weight of his own arrogance.

Falco's voice cut into his musing.

"Hey, what's that?"

*****

They spent hours wandering the arctic desert, passing countless dunes of frost that over time began to look more and more the same. But Krystal in truth did not mind it. She was just glad to have finally found the alone time with Six that she wanted. Sure, they did not talk much as they traveled, simply keeping pace with one another as they marched onwards. Yet that did not bother her either. The Spartan had always been one of few words, more a listener than a speaker. And she recalled a particular phrase her father had always been fond of using.

It takes a truly exceptional individual to be a good listener, or at least that was the unpolished version of the phrase. It had been some years since she last heard the idiom spoken aloud.

And in that regard, she thought Six to be more than exceptional. He did not talk often or for any extended length of time, usually armed with no more than a few words at any given moment when he did. But when he spoke, it was with a humble wisdom that one would be foolish not to heed. His deep and grating voice held a certain undeniable intensity that was nearly hypnotic to a certain degree.

She could listen to him talk for hours, if only he had the inclination to. It was unfortunate that as a whole he seemed to dislike voicing his opinions or concerns. Just as there was no one who could hold that same influential weight, there was no one quite as private with their thoughts as Six. That much she was thoroughly confident of.

Krystal glanced over her shoulder, the towering spartan's dark blue armor easily piercing the snowy veil that enshrouded the landscape, the soldier plowing effortlessly through the high embankments of frost with each determined footfall.

She had been pleasantly surprised upon noticing the changes he had engendered upon his armor, indulging the more feral, possessive part of her. Though admittedly, seeing the symbols for her family's royal house perpetuated on the suit of stalwart alien plate had filled her with a variety of mixed emotions at first sight. While it was an unexpected delight to see another bearing the markings, it also sought to vividly remind her that she and Six were the only ones who would likely ever carry the sigils of Cerinian nobility. It incited within her a lust for the past, yet, unexpectedly, she found herself only wanting for it if he would be there with her.

The spartan had become so important to her that even if she were to have a chance to go back, she wouldn't take it. Krystal could not leave him, and the thought of forgetting or never having met Six was too horrible to dwell on. This was her life now, a life she would happily add, that had brightened considerably after she met him.

As she watched the human on her mind bulldozer his way forwards, a thought crossed her attention, one that interested her to no end. Back days before, when he had shown them that recording of his previous life, who had been the other giant that fought beside him against those horrible monsters?

She was cognizant that he might not be in any way comfortable with dredging up the past, but the vixen felt that if anyone had a right to hear more about the history of the man underneath the armor, it was her. And perhaps she could help him deal with what he had endured. After what she saw, Krystal was more certain than ever he held enough skeletons in his closet to overpopulate a graveyard.

"Hey… Six?" The vixen would have to be careful how she handled this. She wanted to learn more, but she didn’t want to hurt him. If it was up to her, she would see that nothing ever hurt him again, a naïve wish she knew, but a wish she hoped for all the same.

Momentarily taking his ever watchful gaze from their surroundings, the supersoldier focused in on her, a slight hint of curiosity in his endlessly guarded movements. Over the course of their time together, she had been starting to distinguish distinct variations in his ostensibly untellable poses while in armor, faint, nearly unnoticeable 'tells', as it were, of his current moods. It had taken some time and no small amount of effort and forethought to differentiate between the myriad of subtle indications he displayed, but after getting to know Six and spending the majority of her time around the spartan, she was confident she could interpret his slight gestures with some degree of accuracy.

Right now she could understand that he had been caught wholly by surprise, and was slight inquisitive of where this might query might be heading, recognized by the minute tilt of his helm and negligible drop in his guarded stance, motions that would have been unnoticed by anyone but her. Krystal would have wondered why he so adamantly concealed his physical reactions had she not already heard him speak of what he had been through, seen some of that nightmarish reality for herself.

So it came as no surprise that even speaking casually as they were, his weapon remained firmly shouldered and ready to fire at a split second's notice. She doubted he would have need of it here on such a remote world, but admired his dedication to their mutual safety nonetheless.

"Yes?"

"When you... showed us that video, who was that person, the one with the armor like yours?"

She stared at him patiently, nervously waiting for his response and hoping that she had been right in assuming he trusted her enough.

*****

Six's stride hardly faltered as she started her rather pointed inquiry, though he did give her a curious glance through his visor. He did not disparage the vixen for asking such a pointed question. She above any other deserved to know what his life had been like before this. He had already told her of his youth, the years he spent in the program. But during that conversation he had not been ready to talk of Reach, the events too recent and the woman unknown. This time however, he felt he could. Months had passed since Six’s arrival and he knew Krystal better than anyone else he had ever met before.

All his life he had learned not to trust anyone.

But he trusted her, in spite of his policy of doubt.

He felt that she had the right to hear of Noble, the team that had been responsible for helping him find this place, though they did so unknowingly.

_"That..." _He began slowly as he pieced together the proper words to say. _"…was Kat, a Spartan-III, like myself. She was a part of my team back on Reach. We were called Noble if you remember." _He was certain she had already been made privy to some of this information.

"Katt?" The vixen asked, the question needing no connotations to be understood.

_"Merely a coincidence I assure you. I have not met this Monroe women but I am certain they are nothing alike." _Spartans were different from their fellow humans, but were substantially more unique when compared to aliens. He doubted any person in Lylat was like them, or him.

The vixen did not respond immediately, instead taking a few extra moments to figure out her next inquiry as she picked her path through mounds of snow. She did not know how long he would be willing to answer her questions. So she had to prioritize the ones she wanted to know the most.

Once landing on a decision, she opened her mouth.

"What was she like?"

_"Kat?" _Six paused, mulling over his words.

How did one describe her? Initially she had disliked him and he held no ill will towards her for that. He had been there to replace someone they had lost, a fallen brother, one of their family. He had arrived on Reach already expecting a cold and indifferent, if not outright hostile welcome. Yet she had thawed quickly, not as effortlessly as Jorge but certainly faster than Emile.

While they may have not been friends at the end, he knew she counted him among her comrades. And it had been a dark moment when she was lost. Her sudden and violent end still resonated inside him, a warning that even the strongest armor and advanced technology did not save you from a sniper's deadly aim or ill-gotten luck.

"She was a strong woman, smart, courageous, and deadly in the field of battle, just like any other spartan. I also recall that she was particularly skilled in the field of electronics and taught me most of what I know in the short month we fought together."

"How did she die?" Even as she voiced her question, she studied him closely, intending to glean any hint that she had probed too deep. But despite her previous knowledge on his responses, she could see no visible tell. He merely pressed onwards beside her, visor focused forward and gait unaffected.

"Her end was met during the fall of Alexandria, one of the larger cities on Reach. Covenant forces had overwhelmed the defensive army and we were falling back to a civilian shelter before they glassed the city into molten ash."

Despite the neutrality of his body, his voice betrayed him. She heard an indistinct fluctuation in his tone, a slight drop in pitch that was near inaudible, yet her large, pointed ears once more proved their usefulness.

_"We were within a skyscraper when the glassing started." _

The foreboding portents lacing his words brought her attention back to the conversation, the nonpartisan emptiness she heard enough to bring up concern.

Had she asked too much of him?

_"It was a hectic and violent journey down the tower. We fought through a myriad of claustrophobic hallways, each packed with swarms of Covenant infantry. Emile and I were the designated frontrunners, blazing a path through the hardened enemy positions for the others and any civilians we found along the way of our withdrawal. Once we finally made it to the ground floor, we traveled even lower to the emergency service corridors where more of the enemy laid in wait. From there we soon found ourselves at the bunker, the upper levels had already been breached by that point and a deafening roar had shaken the very air. I saw through a hole in the building's ceiling above us after we found are way out there, a glowing haze tinting the horizon a dark red that lingered from the plasma bombardment. It was as if the sky itself was on fire." _

Now she could clearly hear something in his voice, but was too enthralled with his detailed monologue to identify the alteration. The vixen had been drawn in by his unwittingly charismatic speech, the meter between each syllable he uttered captivating in its sincerity. He may not have considered himself so and would be appalled that others did, but Six was a master storyteller. It did not take much for her to be drawn in.

That had been before they met, on a different world, perhaps even a different galaxy. And while he was with them now, she could not forget where he came from, the stories he told her of a desperate stand against impossible odds, what was to him his daily existence. This was just the farthest she had ever pushed him, the man opening up to her to such an extent as she had never heard before. Krystal felt privileged that he would share this part of himself with her, that he cared enough about her to delve so deep into a time she knew he was not entirely proud of, that's events had not and may never leave him.

And she was immensely proud of Six, that he was making the no doubt challenging effort to let go of his past and all its crushing burdens. She knew that not so long ago he would have never even debated on whether or not to open up to her. The vixen also took some measure of internal pride that she was able to help him achieve this.

Now only if she could find the courage to reciprocate his confidence in her. They had much to discuss, and soon if her fluctuating emotions were any indication.

Though she brooded in musings of her own design, Six continued on, oblivious to her absentminded considerations, the spartan’s mind drifting absently into a past that was not so long ago.

_"Kat and I lagged behind, less than thirty feet from the others as we sprinted to the closing doors. But before we made it all the way across she was hit, sniper bolt to the back of the skull, cut right through her shields and armor.... She was dead before I caught her." _

The Spartan halted momentarily, footsteps receding until he stood unmoving in a snow drift. Yet the pause did not last long before he was moving once more, the man outwardly invigorated with fresh resolve.

"That was the first time I saw a spartan die with my own eyes. And yet.... I had suspected it would not be the last. Nor did I have to wait long before I was proven right."

He looked to her, curious to hear for himself what brought these questions along and hoping to find a better outlet for conversation then a time better left unvisited. _"Why the sudden interest? You have not asked me of my past in some time." _

Krystal was quick to respond, having anticipated a counter query to this interrogation.

"I simply wish to know more about you, or at least the you before we met. I noticed that you acted... different, in that recording." She did her best to word herself carefully. Bloodthirsty, is the adjective she would have used to describe him, ferocious and more brutal then she had witnessed from him before. It did not worry her overtly. She was fully aware of what Six was capable of and understood what had put him down such a violent road. She did not let that bother her. Krystal did not care about that. But she was curious to know what had curtailed that more vicious part of him.

"Monstrous, is the word I believe you are looking for." Six offered with a low chuckle. He would be the first to admit that he had been more akin to an animal than a human, at least back then. The program had taught him to kill, with expediency and tactical efficiency… and where that was deemed impossible, with cunning and savagery.

Since that point however, he had learned a little of decorum, picked up certain niceties from Jorge and later on Krystal. He had learned there was more to life then ending lives.

They had taught him how to live his own.

"No. Not at all." She was quick to dissuade him of the bleak thought, utterly unappreciative of the self-deprecation in his grim tone. Krystal hated to hear him speak of himself in such an insulting way when she knew he did not deserve such harsh self-loathing. "How about dashing? Chivalrous maybe?" The vixen mused jokingly as she glanced to him for approval, a whimsical grin tugging on her muzzle in a bid to cheer up his dour mood.

That time, Six allowed himself a more genuine laugh, a low yet growling reverberation that rumbled pleasantly in the confines of her small helmet as he shook his head in grim amusement.

"Truly? I personally think those descriptions to be farthest from the truth. I was quite a beast in my halcyon days. A monster indeed." While outwardly mirthful, there was a slight undercurrent of... remorse perhaps? In his voice.

He had indeed been proficient at the proliferation of wanton slaughter. The spartan had more confirmed kills than most ODST battalions. Oni had trained their reaper well.

"No. Never. You will never be a monster in my eyes, Six. To me you will always be a hero."

Her declaration gave him pause, thoughts of another more recent conversation left ringing in his head.

"Hero..." Six lingered on the word with a frown she did not need see to know was there. "Never been called that before. Though I must admit when associated with myself it is quite an amusing conjecture. But all the same," he lowered his head respectfully. _"I am honored you think so highly of me." _

The vixen giggled lightheartedly, shaking her muzzle in fallacious disappointment. "Six, you should already know. I think the world of you."

_"A world, is that all? The universe itself in all its infinite glory could not hold a candle to you." _

Krystal froze up, not quite sure she correctly heard what the spartan had just proclaimed. The vixen's brain took a few moments to compute his utterance. And as it dawned on her, a blush found itself warming up her cheeks, she fiddling with her tail as if she was some kit with a schoolyard crush, a sight that was undeniably out of place in the wintry blizzard raging endlessly around them.

"You can't possibly mean that." She mumbled softly, the vixen having great difficulty with finding her voice to respond to such a solid declaration. He had never been so direct before with his intentions, nor had he voiced them so freely. For a brief moment, she had nearly forgotten where they were and what he was. But the world was not so kind as to let her have her thoughts for a moment longer and she remembered.

Arctic world, friend in danger…

Krystal told this to herself as she turned her eyes away from the snow underneath her boots and to the spartan walking at her side.

"I never lie." Six replied with a simple shrug. He had merely iterated an undeniable fact. Krystal meant more to him then anywhere, anyone, or anything in this galaxy, or any other. He... valued her companionship, highly. It was a gift he cherished above everything else that has or will ever exist. He would go so far as to admit that she was the very thing that kept him pushing onwards, allowed him to live in this bizarre world and face such inconceivable adversities with such confidence and unwavering certainty.

The foundation of his existence had once been centered on and driven by a set of acutely uncomplicated directives, fight, kill, survive. Onwards and forwards, an endless chain of spiraling oblivion, but ultimately an oblivion with purpose.

Yet all of that had been upheaved the moment he arrived here, He had lost his sense of purpose. And for a time he had wandered directionless, without a true belief in his own personal worth. Fox had helped him carry on with that for a while, but it had been her to finally offer him what he desperately needed.

A reason to exist.

He had trained his whole life to serve and protect mankind, so long that he could do nothing else, had wanted for nothing else. And when that duty no longer became an option he had been unable to find his way, the meaning Six once guided himself with, left abandoned in the wake of unexpected circumstances.

Then he had found Krystal, a new icon to pour his faith and devotion into. The vixen needed a protector, or rather what was perhaps more truthful, Six needed something to protect. Mayhaps that was what had drawn her to him initially, his subconscious seeing the ostensibly vulnerable woman as someone to fulfill his desire to defend... something, anything, as long as it gave reason to the suffering he had endured.

It was entirely possible that he was just an obsessed, broken man, battered and worn down by a lifetime of post-traumatic stress, merely chasing after the first person to treat him kindly, like a beaten hound. He imagined most Spartans were as equally damaged as he, a natural byproduct of their... rough, upbringing. Yet whatever it might be that drew him to her and kept him firmly by her side, he honestly did not care.

The Spartan knew not where he would be without her, but most certainly he would be lost, in a figurative and literal sense both. She had changed his directives, his desires, protect, adapt, _live. _Not just to survive, but to fundamentally make it a life worth living.

His death in battle may have been guaranteed, it was the end all Spartans were doomed to face. But perhaps, before that inevitable conclusion, he could find some enjoyment of this weary existence, leave something behind other than a field of corpses and rivers of blood. He could leave memories... a legacy, something to ensure he would not be forgotten once his days had ended.

It was her that offered him this previously impossible prospect. And for that, he... could not live without her, could not thank her enough for this unique opportunity.

Perhaps it was time he let Krystal know this, just how much she truly meant to him. Six was aware he was not the most emotionally receptive of individuals; such considerations were not so easily forthcoming for him, not after the life he lived. He could not mutually return the affection she showered upon him, and if he was capable of that degree of intimate expression it would most certainly not be in a satisfactory way as he was emotionally impaired in regards to matters of the heart.

Which was why could never understand why she insisted on staying beside him as she so tenaciously did, regardless of how fundamentally flawed as his past had made him. But nonetheless, he was grateful for her dogged persistence.

As he tried to muster the words necessary to divulge just how important she was to him, Six felt a sudden wave of queasiness overwhelm him and glanced at his HUD's internal environmental monitoring software, questioning if perhaps his equipment was malfunctioning. It was stiflingly warm inside his armor, and he might have even been tempted to remove his helm if not for the deathly arctic conditions outside his MJOLNIR. Instead, he endured this discomfort in silence and focused on attempting to speak, battling his own body in a confrontation for control of his inexplicably dry mouth.

Slowly but surely, he seized dominion over the muscles in his face, forcing them to accede to his demands.

_"Krystal..." _He grunted softly, reacquiring her full attention at the sound of his subdued voice. In response, the vixen looked to him, bright emerald eyes studying his visor with keen interest.

And under the gaze of those shining jade orbs, he floundered, losing every vestment of strength he had just won control over as the vixen waited patiently for him to speak.

The spartan nearly went rigid before he used his iron will to crush these inexplicable sensations plaguing him. He was going to tell her, there was no other course of action to take. She deserved to know.

With his resolve reaffirmed, he opened his parched lips once more.

"I..."

"Hey Six, Krystal, can you hear me?"

The sudden inclusion of Miyu's voice broke his intense concentration, allowing Six to release a quiet gasp of air as he let go of the breath he had not realized he was holding. Now slightly irritated at the interruption, he begrudgingly responded, vowing that he would tell Krystal later in the day. With a flick of an eye and twitch of the brow he activated his transceiver.

"This is Six, how copy?"

_"Other than a little interference, I can hear you just fine." _ Despite some minor static distortions, her voice came in crisp and clear, meaning she could not be all that far away, no more then four kilometers if he were to guess.

"What's the situation? Did you find Monroe?" Six hoped she had called with good news, because he was starting to grow bored with this monotone arctic waste. And judging from Krystal's dull expression, so was she.

There was a slight pause before the cat gave her hesitant reply. "_Well, not exactly..." _

He frowned. "Elaborate."

_"Good news or bad news first?" _

He glanced to Krystal.

"Good," the vixen decided.

"Good news first."

_"Well, we found her ship. But she's not there. From the looks of it she hasn't been back to it for a few days." _

_"Was that the bad news?" _Six inquired.

_"Nope, still good. The bad news is, that's not the only ship we found out here. Fox and Falco just told me they found an empty Remnant transport. And from its size, we could be looking at anywhere upwards of thirty to forty of the bastards. But hey, at least we know for sure we're on the right track!" _She added, hoping to throw some levity into the dark development.

Immediately, Six looked to his motion tracker, only seeing a green pip flickering where Krystal stood. _"How long ago was this?" _

"I contacted you right after they did me. Fox tried to reach you but I guess this shitty weather is playing hell on our radios. You know, for once would it have killed the guy to pick a friendlier planet?"

Seeing that they were, for the moment, free of adversaries, the spartan divided his attention between the comms uplink and the environment. The knowledge that they were not alone gave the lackluster snowscape an ominous tint. "Have the orders changed?"

_"Nah, keep on going on. But if you run into any of those asshats, feel free to show them our appreciation for dropping in where they're not wanted." _

_"Affirmative." _He cut the signal and re-shouldered his rifle, stowing away his previous musings in favor of the present. With a confirmed enemy presence on this world he would need to focus _"Ready?" _He asked, turning to his vixen companion.

She nodded, and with the response deemed satisfactory, he once more led the way.

*****

"So, not afraid of Six anymore are ya?" Miyu nudged her canine companion pointedly. Ending her call with the spartan had reminded her of a subject she had been hoping to bring up for a while in regards to her most recent observations.

"No." Fay was quick to respond with her usual softness, the dog sounding somewhat on the defensive if the feline's ears rang true.

Miyu rolled her eyes. Some habits were hard to break, Fay's social ineptitude proving to be an interesting and surprisingly strong challenge. Even after all these years she had yet to emerge fully out of her antisocial shell. But enough it seemed, to cast away her previous doubts on their resident supersoldier.

"If I might pry, as you know I will. What brought on this change in perspective?" The feline wondered, splitting her attention between Fay and the uninteresting snowscape. Despite the knowledge that The Remnant had a physical presence on Fischina, she was not all that concerned by it. They had dealt with their kind on more than one occasion, and she was confident the pair of them could take care of themselves.

"We... talked, before the mission." The canine admitted quietly, Miyu struggling to hear her companion despite the radio's solid connection.

"Yeah, about what?"

Her reluctance to speak was quite obvious, yet Fay persevered in spite of the fact, going to show how far she had come from the timid girl Miyu first met. "He had confronted me about my... disinclination to interact with him. I answered honestly, and he responded in kind. We spoke further, and I learned that he is not such a bad person after all, if a little rigged and overwrought most of the time."

"That's it?" Miyu inquired skeptically, and perhaps somewhat disappointed. She had been hoping to hear some dramatic tour de force_, _complete with a tearful heart-to-heart and complementary touching moment of understanding developing between the two.

"That's it." Fay affirmed with a laidback nod, crushing Miyu's idealistic hopes.

"Boring." The cat muttered, her next few steps enforced with a low grumbling that brought a faint giggle out of Fay's throat.

Miyu supposed she should have known better than to suspect Six would do anything that could be considered usual or expected. In fact after giving it further thought she was surprised that he had been able to even speak with Fay on the matter at all. He had always been averse to expressing himself, especially to the point where he could have an earnest conversation with Fay to resolve their unspoken issues.

With nothing else to do while they walked, Miyu decided to pester Fay further on the subject while it was still up in the air.

"You know, I-"

Without warning the stable bank of snow she had been at the moment crossing proved itself to be firmly in the opposite as she suddenly lost her footing. An undignified yowl was the only noise she made as she disappeared into the darkness below, Fay's worried shout chasing after her into oblivion.

*****

Six studied the suited form of his vixen traveling companion, as she once more found herself at his side, wondering whether he should try and strike up a conversation down the vein of interest he had been building up the courage to pursue before his musing had been interrupted. If there was one thing Six understood above all else after years dragging through the filthy and coagulated mires of blood and battle, it was this.

Life is fleeting…

There was no telling how long he had left for this world, and what worried him considerably more, how long she had either. The spartan would do all in his power to keep her safe, but there were some threats he could not stop, however few and far stretched they might be. He was not so foolhardy as to believe he could stop random chance or ill-fortune from stealing her away from him. And if such a day were to come, Six was certain he would not find himself that far behind her.

Such was an uninviting notion to be sure, but it was the truth. He lived to serve her, wholly and completely. If he failed Krystal and she passed, he was duty bound to follow in her footsteps. If there was an afterlife, and he did not plummet to the underworld for the grievous crimes he committed in the name of human preservation, then she would have need of him. He did not know much about religion or understand anything more then what he had heard from soldiers in passing by, nor had he cared for such existential quandaries such as heaven or hell at the time. But he was almost confident that if he were to be judged for his actions by some omnipotent god atop a golden throne, that his path in the hereafter would diverge sharply with that of the woman under his protection, a route that veered abruptly in a downwards motion.

And if not for the fact he had met Krystal, he would have acknowledged such a dark outcome with grim acceptance. Six was fully aware of the horrendous deeds he had wrought in the name of humanity’s survival, some to this day still troubled his stalwart mind, actions that though ordered by those in high stations, might not have truly intersected with humanity’s best interests, but that of the men in power.

Cryus VII was one such troubled moment.

If Krystal were to ever discover what he had done there, what kind of monster he had forced himself to become, what manner of foul creature lay thinly hidden underneath his allegedly principled exterior, she could never look him in the eyes again.

And that would destroy him utterly. He had made a critical error as a spartan in the months he had spent amongst the Starfox team, a fatal lapse in judgment that would no doubt mean his inevitable demise.

He cared.

For Fox, Miyu, Slippy, Krystal, all of them. He had allowed for something he had all but killed within himself the very day he landed at Currahee’s gates, a desire above that which he aspired to in all his days as a spartan, something he had rendered numb through his adolescent and teenage years alike.

He had allowed himself to feel.

And that in itself beckoned him to ruin.

Six had opened himself to the mortal defect that all men and woman of a morally upright disposition suffered. Without such a weakness, he had thrived in an environment no man was supposed to thrive in, had turned his misanthropic values into his greatest strengths. The very same misanthropy that would break the will of most men was what allowed him to be the hyper-lethal vector ONI desired. Only a weapon could hope to endure the trials he would have to face, so a weapon he became, unflinching in the line of duty, unwavering in the heat of battle, and wholly dedicated to the completion of the mission, no matter the cost, no matter the lives lost, innocent or guilty.

This was the past he would have to overcome if he was to have some measure of hope enjoying any meaningful existence beyond the proliferation of bloodshed. He did not expect this to be a seamless transition; the alteration from a directed weapon of mass destruction to the undeniably less violent role of a private military contractor, would require a high degree of restraint and acceptance of certain discretion towards a way of life he held little understanding in.

Despite the uncertainties he would have to face in the coming days, if he were to whether such adversities he would need guidance, and Six retained one such advantage that would see him through these desperate trials, something that offered the promise of salvation for his damaged mind.

As long as he had Krystal, he would not merely overcome a lifetime of misfortune and hardship, he would strive to excel in an unaccustomed environment and embody the vestments of a title he had never wanted nor needed, a title that even now left a bitter impression upon his thoughts. Nevertheless he would assume such an affliction, no matter the personal cost he might suffer, if for only the knowledge that it would bring a smile to the muzzle of the one he cared for most.

He would become a hero, for her he would dare to shoulder that unwanted burden, for her he would become that which she deserved.

For as long as he had Krystal, he had hope.

And that was a sentiment that had all but starved in the realm of his upbringing. For the men and women of mankind, hope was a commodity in short supply.

Six had never truly understood what that word meant until he found her, never understood how something intangible, something far beyond the eyesight of mortal man, could bolster the weary and downtrodden hearts of those that ached. In this moment, the spartan realized, all he need do to understand such a sensation was reflect upon the one he clung to most, the sound of her laugh, the sight of her smile, the mere scent of her on the breeze, all small things that would have been beyond the scope of his own understanding not so long ago. Now he cherished each treasured memory above all else in this world.

She was his hope.

In grasping this bewildering truth Six surprised himself, having always considered spartans, him above all others, far outside such… human emotion. He had not thought himself capable of such a profound degree of… feeling, to put the convoluted swirl of incomprehensible beliefs into a more interpretable description.

Although he spent much of his life simply musing within the confines of his own skull when not furiously rampaging across the fields of battle, this process might surprise more than a few people on the philosophical means he used to pass the quieter intervals. The habitual reflections had turned him into quite the adept of private deliberation. Yet offered him little guidance in regards to this particular subject, one he knew to be the hardest he had yet to tackle.

Regardless of what the outcome might be, Six would not be the same man at the end of it. For better or worse, the decision he came to would shake the very foundations of his previous existence.

He could very well continue down the path Krystal sought to lead him, a path that might be the cure to his affliction of misanthropy, or he could sever the ties that had brought him so close to this metamorphous of both mind and soul.

Down one road, he could hope to regain the life taken away from him, a life filled with familial connection and the promise of brotherhood amongst those that would fill the absence of what he had lost so long ago in his youth.

However, down the other….

Well that path was somewhat… obscure, a route that might lead to a complete relapse into the entity that found a welcoming home within the arms of secrecy and shadow, that did not care for such things as fraternal bonds or matters of the heart.

No matter the road he followed, his loyalty to Krystal would not waiver. If one thing could be said for the misery of his darker days, it was this. Once attained, his allegiance was absolute and without question. The harsh years of conditioning on behest of the Office of Naval Intelligence had seen to that. No well-trained hound was ever without its leash, whether such means of control manifested as the cold steel of a collar around his throat or the immaterial doctrine of obedience so heavily beaten into him throughout his childhood. No matter the path taken, some things would never fully leave him.

No... his loyalty would not change this day or any other.

To Six, it was merely the more private decision of what trajectory he preferred to take, and which of these conclusions would benefit his charge the most.

One would make her happy, while the other would keep her safe.

And when put into such blatant terms, the choice seemed all but apparent.

Yet if he had learned anything from the strange life he now led, it was that not everything was as cut and dry as that.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Six did not at first recognize the voice that intruded upon his deep contemplation, but upon realization that it was the very same that belonged to the object of his inner controversy; he was quick to quell his reveries in favor of returning his focus to the active world.

“Pardon?” He inquired, unable to understand what expression she had just then unleashed upon him.

The vixen giggled at the identifiable tone of consternation in his voice, her elbow thumping mutely against the thickly armored bracer to her left. “What I mean to say is what’s eating you? You look even more dark and gloomy then you usually do.” The smile he could see past her translucent visor lessened visibly as she seemed to consider something. “Was it something I said? I hope I did not pry too far.”

The apologetic look in her eyes did not pass his notice and the spartan watched as her tail dropped low to drag through drifts of snow. Six wondered at the expressive body language these aliens seemed to have devised, an entire secondary dialect that expanded past what some might call simple human gesture in comparison. To better understand such species, one would have to be educated in not just the usual manners of ordinary communication humans relied upon, but an inherent and complex animalian vernacular they exhibited through all his observations.

His teachings in the program had comprised of more than military theorem and battlefield strategy, though these two topics were prevalent above all other fields of study. Philosophy, physics, astronomy, sociology, the spartan initiative had dabbled in a hundred different fields that spanned across a complex network of education, all aimed at the goal of creating the deadliest warriors in human history.

Six would not be boastful to say that he was a learned man, though he was not a master in any particular field, he was knowledgeable enough to understand the applied methods of each area of study. One would be astonished to discover how useful geology could be to a soldier in the field able to utilize applicable devices. An intimate understanding of the very field one fought in availed them with previously unrecognized opportunities.

But such musing was beside the point, as he had yet to respond to the vixen’s apology in the minutes of silence that stretched between them.

The spartan chuckled softly, the unexpected mirth drawing an inquisitive, although wry smile from his companion.

“You did not press too far, Krystal, rather I have not pressed far enough.”

Although confused by the mysterious nature of his response, she was glad to know any troubles of his were at no fault of her own.

Maybe I’m just getting old. The spartan wondered as his fit of mirth faded in the face of his stark mentality.

Six spent countless hours rationalizing his existence, perhaps attempting to find some form of rhyme or reason for the peculiarities his life was packed full with. From his years fighting to oppose a zealous hegemony of extraterrestrial fanatics, to his far briefer moments in trying to solve the enigmatic nature of the human condition, Six wondered which of these paths was the most fulfilling.

Arguably, his service for the benefit of humanity seemed the obvious choice of the two, but just as his other internal quandary, the decision was not as modest as selecting either A or B.

Nevertheless, as he was prone to, Six shelved such empirical questioning in favor of other more immediate concerns. It occurred to him in that moment, that he had not asked Krystal on how she faired. The female fox had spent so much time worrying about him, yet he had never bothered to reciprocate in her kindness. Certainly, he was unused to such compassionate ways, but it was inexcusable to not at the very least try.

“What of you Krystal, how do you fare this day?”

To say she was surprised to hear him ask would be a considerable underestimation of the shock she felt at his enquiry. She could not think of a single moment shared together where the spartan has inquired to the state of her emotional health, the human far too considered with her physical wellbeing.

But as startled as she was by this development, that did not stop the warm feeling that swelled up within her at his honest concern.

“I recognize that I have failed in many ways as your… significant other. I am not used to this existence, this… way of life. I have not been attentive enough, nor concerned enough to preform my duties. In this way I have failed myself… I have failed you. I have-”

Krystal could not bear to hear him say one more word; the complete and utter shame coating his voice was near enough to hurt her soul and ignited an unusual flare of anger within her.

“No Six, do not go down this road of self-loathing! You have not failed me in any way… Why must you always insist on being your own worst enemy, Six?” She sighed quietly in frustration that was not directed at any one source, but the situation as a whole, her muzzle curved into a sharp frown at what she had just heard. If there was one thing Krystal despised about him, it was with which the ease he ridiculed himself, so quick to put the blame on his own shoulders. If it was within his power she suspected he would carry the guilt of the entire galaxy upon his shoulders.

Krystal could never find it in herself to be mad at him for his many lapses, not after the life he had been forced to live. It was not his mistake that he could be forgetful sometimes, that he often spent so much of his time in seclusion.

No. She did not look down upon him for this, if anything she was proud of him, that he had fought so hard to overcome such adversities and harsh conditions. He was strong, stronger than anyone she had ever known, even Fox and her very own father. Yet at times, he could act so very weak, uncertain and afraid.

She could tell, whenever she looked in those profound orbs of flecked crimson, that he was afraid. Afraid of her, for her, about her, and it distressed Krystal to know that she was the foundation of his biggest fears.

How could he be so scared? What was capable of affecting such an unwavering force as Six? No matter how much he cared for her, Krystal was confident that he would never divulge the truth. The answer would be far too close to the heart for him to ever reveal. He was simply incapable of opening himself up like that.

Yet she loved him all the same.

Krystal had vowed that she would never abandon him. As long as she was able she would make his welfare her highest priority, if for no other reason than the fact no one else in his life had even tried. Both he and she had lost their happiness through the respective trials in their lives, and it was her hope that together, they could re-attain what they had once lost, find the bliss they equally deserved.

And while happily content with her current life, at least until she could convince Six that war was not always the answer, she could find ways for them to achieve mutual delight in the interim. Usually it was the male in the mateship that would instigate such festivities; however it was blatantly apparent to Krystal that if she did not make the effort, he never would.

The vixen would not have preferred not to push for such intimate connection so soon in their relationship, but circumstance was against them. Her season was fast approaching and she had only one outlet to satisfy her… urges. And she would be lying to herself if she said that was her only motivation.

To put it in a mortifying and crude fashion, she wished to ‘make him feel good’.

After what they have been through, she felt they both deserved a little release. And who knew, it might even help him break out of the shell he hid beneath. It was certainly the most direct path to take to bring about such an outcome

But his next words struck her across the muzzle.

“I just don’t want to lose you.” It was… difficult, for him to admit as much to her, and he all but loathed the weakness in his voice as he released such a closely guarded secret. But it was the truth, and he never lied. Six did not wish to lose Krystal or what he had with her, this was the happiest he had ever been in the entirety of his existence. He had friends, a duty, a purpose, and above all, he had her. He had motivation to exist, a reason to get up in the morning, a reason to fight, to live… to be more than just a spartan, to be his very own man, to have a loyalty that was his choice and not to strain at the leash of a master he did not wish to serve.

Six had at last attained the freedom of choice so long denied to him.

And it terrified him that he might lose it.

*****

Krystal nearly stumbled in the snow, struggling to find the voice that has been so effortlessly stolen from her by his plaintive, near childlike statement.

He doesn’t want to lose me?

The vixen knew he cared for her, quite possibly even loved her, however she had never gathered enough indication to gauge the depth of his adoration. She had known it to be high, but could have never predicated how much she actually meant to him, to the point where even a stoic man like Six was tormented by his apprehension.

And it scared her. It scared Krystal to learn that someone cared that much for her, that she could induce such powerful devotion from another living being. Yet, at the same time, another emotion swelled within her, this one quite difficult to define and powerful in its effect, a complex amalgam beyond palpable description. She was positively giddy with joy and excitement, was nearly drowned in sadness and despair, felt buffeted by acceptance and love, and was nearly blown away by an overwhelming outpouring of adulation.

But as bewildering and varied as these sentiments were, one thing was clear amidst the chaos.

She loved him all the more for it.

Who else would care for her as much as Six did? Who else would commit their life to her with such ardent dedication? Who could possibly hope to be the shield strong enough to surpass her stalwart protector?

The answer was as obvious as it was reassuring.

No one, not one being the entirety of this galaxy or any other could match the focus of her heart’s desire. Not one individual could assume the many rolls Six occupied for her. He was her friend, guardian, and lover. He was a shield that sheltered her from the oncoming storm, an ear to lend for her deepest worries, and someone to keep her warm at night, to make her feel needed.

Before Six her life had been hollow and meaningless. She had never truly enjoyed her career as a mercenary, and despised the act of taking a life. But her debt to Fox was the only thing that mattered to her anymore at that point, the only thing with meaning with no world or people to call her own. Nor could she abandon the few friends she had. So a killer she had become, if a reluctant one.

But now she held no such reservations. She would fight tooth and claw, would kill without hesitation if she could secure the life she and Six deserved. Krystal did not know if that made her a bad person, or if her parents would be proud or disappointed in her if they had been alive to see her now. But that was not as important as achieving her end goals.

Six stood silently next to her, both having stopped at this lull in their conversation, the spartan waiting on bated breath for her to respond to his heartfelt proclamation. Seeking to wipe any trace of doubt from his mind that she did not fully reciprocate his affection, the vixen pressed herself against his armored torso, arms wrapping tightly around his lower back in disregard for the snowstorm encompassing an entire world as she rested her helmet against his chest, a field of cerulean filling her vision.

Slow to act yet assured in his actions, Six lowered his arms around her shoulders and permitted himself to hold her tight… if just this once, savoring what he hoped would become a more frequent occurrence.

As she cherished this exceptional and tender moment, Krystal felt an abrupt, piercing pain in the crook of her spine, an unexpected searing heat that forced a whimper from her lips. The angry sensation spread across her body and it soon was difficult to keep her weakening grip on the spartan. Gloves scrabbled to maintain their purchase as she stumbled backwards, a muffled voice echoing loudly in her ears, as if they were jammed with cotton.

Her vision blurred and it was hard to keep sight of him as she keeled over backwards, and her legs finally seemed to shut down as she drunkenly collapsed to the ground. But before she could rest against the pillowy snow, a fierce pressure encased itself around her wrist as something latched onto her with an iron grip.

It was hard to keep thinking, though blessedly the pain had faded, to be replaced with a cool numbness that eased the ache in her muscles. The voice in her head rose from a faint growl into a deafening rumble, its words still undecipherable.

A smeared wall of azure took up the entirety of her sight and the hold on her wrist slackened, a gentle force cupping the back of her head as she gazed up into a silvery light.

It was soft and warm and welcoming. Krystal liked the light, even though it was quite bright. Closing her eyes, the vixen surrendered to the even more welcoming embrace of darkness.

It had been a nice light.