Thirty: Epilogue, Two Years Later

It was done.

John stood silently on the bridge of the Perfect Storm, looking down at the holographic display below him, showing the final pieces of the Ark's internal framework being dismantled, melted down, and compressed to maximum safe density for placement into Slipspace storage on board the MoonBlade, which was station-keeping at the edge of what had once been a debris field. Installation Zero-Four-Point-Two had fired, yes, but the dummy Ark - and the real one - had been built of sterner stuff than the Halo was capable of destroying. Instead, it had simply sheared off pieces and blasted itself apart.

He was contemplating the Halos and how they should be dealt with when Lautrec hailed for his attention. 'She's booting up now, Commander; I thought she'd like to see you when she first wakes up.'

[Thank you.] "Etra, if you would be so kind..."

"Of course, sir." The golden rings spun into existence around him and carried him away.

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The weight of her body was strange; not entirely foreign, just strange. She was used to having to compensate for the gravitational pull of the ships that housed her, but this was entirely different. The strangeness of it was nothing compared to the sensation of touch. She had felt before, yes, while inside her Spartan's mind (and what an experience that had been), but this was entirely different. She could feel the armored plates of her Spartan against her side, the strange cool heat of the plates themselves, the soft vibration of the ship's engines through the floor, and the gentle pressure and release against her side as John breathed.

Her eyelids felt like lead weights, but eventually she managed to find the proper code triggers to pull them open. Her vision was unfocused until she targeted a particular point, and the complicated cameras and lenses making up her eyes automatically focused on it, bringing John's face into view. He smiled gently and whispered, "Hello, love."

An automatic return smile tugged at her lips, and she forced her hands into motion, reaching up to brush her fingers against his five o'clock shadow and giggling at the slight tickling sensation against her fingertips. She traced her way down his cheekbones to his jawline and brushed a fingertip over the faint scar on his chin, tracing its way down beneath his armor along his throat; had he not been infected when his foe tried to decapitate him, he likely wouldn't have survived, but even with his incredible healing ability, it left a scar that he hadn't bothered to get rid of.

Cortana moved to a shallow mark across his forehead; a very narrow miss from a bullet that someone tried to put through his temple. It was rough beneath her fingers, just like the other one on his neck, and she furrowed her eyebrows at the curious sensation, making him raise a brow in askance. She shook her head, telling him it was nothing, and resumed her exploration; the detail the sensors all over her synthetic body could pick up was absolutely incredible, even picking up the tiny hairs on his face and the faintest of ridges on his forehead and between his eyebrows, brought on by many years of combat and scowling in exasperation at Venera and Kenera's antics -

Right before their "moment" was ruined by the Terrible Two themselves.

Something exploded somewhere below them, and the screams of fireworks drifted to them through the now-open door of the machine shop, making John sigh in exasperation, furrowing his brow and letting Cortana see how he had gotten so many lines. "C'mon," he grunted, pulling her to her feet, "We'd better go make sure they don't kill anyone on accident."

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[3194228714493 Seconds PC: Error 35702.38.493 - unregistered space-time distortion detected in 45Z-7925.]

[3194228714663 Seconds PC: Transmission received from 45Z-7925; translating and initiating playback.]

"...Invasion Fleet, you are cleared for departure to the Origin..."

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Total word count: 130,055

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I am, [I am searching for you]

Waiting, [I am coming]

First Night, [I am coming for you]

Last stand.

I am, [I am searching for you]

Waiting, [I am coming]

Come and [I am coming for you]

Catch me if you can.

If you ever cross a shadow in a wasted void,

You tell him I'm here waiting for the last cowboy.

-"The Last Cowboy," In This Moment (A Star-Crossed Wasteland)