[He closes his eyes at the touch, leaning into it and finally moving his other hand down and wrapping that arm around her too.]
I don't either.
[And he opens his eyes and is being honest about it. Having her here is just reminding him why he fell for in the first place. Miranda's not a regret, them getting involved...anything involving her isn't. Just what he's done without her.]
[And she'll try to figure out a way to save them all. If she ever goes back, she has to save them all. Miranda, Jacob, her Spartans, all of them. They can't just die. She needs to accept it, but when she sees Jacob like this, she simply can't.
There's a long silence on her part, and if he doesn't say anything else, she'll take a deep breath and continue.]
We've already discussed the SPARTAN-II project. I don't know if you want to know more than what you already do.
[If it was a choice between him or Miranda, he'd make her save Miranda. He'll live his life, and he's old enough that he doesn't mind dying for his daughter. She needs a life, he doesn't.
Though he is happy with the silence, and when she mentions that he sighs and nods.]
Tell me, Catherine. I'd rather not get smacked in the face with it by anyone else.
[With a deep breath, she steps back to arm's length and looks up at him. There's no point in looking away, and she makes firm, fierce eye contact.]
The children. [She thinks she's going to lose him and she can't care. She broke every unspoken and spoken law for this, ethical, moral, written and otherwise. But they save humanity, and so she excuses the entire affair.]
We took them, replaced them with flash clones, and made them Spartans. You've seen John, you know how well it worked. I lost half of them, and I'll lose many more, or so it seems. Of course, you know how they operate. You've met some of them.
[A sigh.] And now I know someone else continued the work, though I don't know how. They always wanted more, and I was too picky for them, I'm sure.
[He looks at her, stares, honestly stares as she says that and can't seem to grasp it. It's difficult, to think he had a hand in all that to fight humans of all things. And there is a moment where he frowns, glares almost, and looks down, biting his lip.
What could he say to that? He knows how they are, how good they are, he can't imagine not having them with him at the Rubble let alone anywhere else. But still.]
Someone else, took other children, and replaced them and made more Spartans, without you. And you lost..and how did you lost them?
[He's having a hard time thinking that some of those kids he met, the ones he helped her find and observe, are dead. Gone.
In some ways he's sad about it, children dying before they get their start in life, while another part, the soldier, isn't. He's happy they didn't suffer the pain of plasma burns or worse.
So he just keeps his eyes off of her for the moment, trying to keep control of his emotions.]
They died, and your...and, they died being made ready to save us. That's your logic, isn't it?
[If only he knew what they went through. What pain they endured before death. If he knew what she knew, he'd never forgive her. He'd never forgive himself. It's better this way.]
Some of them, yes. Many of the others died in combat. John told me about them.
There is no logic to be applied. What happened, happened, and it happened for the betterment of all humanity.
[He doesn't know, he just knows they died for a reason. He'd never forgive himself, and if he ever did learn what went on there he wouldn't, but for now he can concentrate on the now.
He takes a breath in and lets it out slowly before answering.]
You got lucky in that regard, you realize that, right?
That the Covenant came, otherwise I'd be a lot more upset about this.
[That he can rationalize using children like that right now. She's lucky most of his anger is still at himself about Miranda's death that he's not raging at her about it.]
I know. I've spent half my life living with what I've done. I'm sorry that you have to, as well.
[With a deep breath, she drops her gaze, looks away, steps back. Her hands are back at her elbows in short order, and there's a dull sort of dead remorse in her eyes. Not that she'll let him see that.]
You know, I had a feeling you were bad news when I met you. Anyone involved with ONI usually is.
[No really, creepy mofos.]
I'll be fine, Catherine. Just, thank you for telling me yourself. [He looked at her as he said that, hard. He brought his hand up though to rub at it, wincing as even his bones ached after punching the wall earlier, one day he'd learn not to do that with that hand.] Don't hide things like that from me, not here.
[Bad news. She knows. She saw him catching on and she had him out of there faster than he could ask a single question. And now she's had to dump it on him, because god forbid he finds it out by any other means.
Any other situation and she'd have offered to patch his hand up for him... But not today. She can't. In fact...]
That's all I have to say. [She glances at him, but then turns almost on heel to face the door.] I'll be leaving the container to you, and I'll stay in the room. No need for you to deal with this any more than you must.
[He's stunned that she would say that and walk away. That she would just think it all done and perfectly fine to walk away. After telling him Miranda's dead and...
No he just stares, ignoring the pain in his hand as he clenches it into a fist then straightens it out and reaches for her, frowning.]
No, take the container if you want, just let me know which you want more. Catherine, I'm not shoving you away. [He's just very confused and will need his space during the day but when is that new?] Don't do this.
If it wasn't for the Covenant, you'd think me just as much an irredeemable monster as Palmer did. Please admit at least that much. I don't wish to be pitied, nor do I wish to be coddled.
[A sigh.] And, starting now, I believe I deserve some space and time to come to terms with things myself. Do you really need me?
More than anything I'd like to pretend that none of this happened, but reality being what it is, and my damnable brain being what it is, I'm forced to logically examine the situation and be reminded of what I am and what I apparently will become. I'd like to say that running to your arms and crying and mourning is a good idea, but for me it isn't. I would be sitting there wondering if you truly forgive me for anything, or if I even want forgiveness.
I never wanted you to know.
[His words had just... made her retreat in on herself.]
[He sounds insulted she would suggest that with him.] And I don't pity. I know what it's like, I'd never do either.
And no I wouldn't think you some monster, why should I? You did what you thought was right. I can't fault you for that, even if I could never forgive myself for being involved, I could understand why you did it.
[He sighs at that, letting her go and going back to rubbing at his hand, face drawn.]
If you have to ask yourself that, Catherine, then you don't know me. [His voice is quiet, sad sounding as he walks by her for the door, a slight limp in his step. He's all of a sudden very much feeling his injuries, it's probably a mental thing but right now he doesn't care.] Have the container and the room, I'll be fine on my own.
I lied about something else. I always kept up with you, what you were doing.
[She sighs.]
I'm terrible at this. At handling any of this. I'm so used to not handling it.
[It's hard to admit that, as much as she deserved them, some of her harsher words got through. But now she could admit that there were feelings running deeper, feelings she'd have gladly ignored for the rest of her natural life if she could.
But he's here. And she needs him now, more than ever. Which is why she's fighting herself, not making sense, trying so hard to push him away for good while at the same time protesting because she needs him.]
Then you know about the Merriweather Lewis and my hand and leg.
[And how a board had to ground him for medical reasons, a shattered hand and plasma burns aren't easy to recover from and he still feels them.
But he keeps his back to her, rubbing his hand instead of his pipe and hunched over. He's hurt, in more ways then he'd like to admit and he's not going to push her, he'll never push her. He'll deal with this all on his own and let her have her space even if he wants her.
As much as he needs her, he'll never push.]
Take your time. What I said earlier is true, I can wait.
[For once, she truly is. She doesn't know how to deal with any of this, and she's never properly dealt with that dying business. It hasn't gotten any better, and now that she knows he went through something so terrible that it's classified, and that Miranda suffers, and that so many of her Spartans are gone, she can't handle it.
She retreats further back into the container, clearing her throat but not able to chase the shake from her voice. She'd been so calm and so clear and she has to be the robot she made herself into, the machine, science and logic. People die here. They come back. It's all an illusion, or something like it.
[He hears that shake in her voice and wants to turn around and pull her close and sob. To comfort her and maybe comfort himself and not break his hand punching walls. To delay that chat with Chief, to try and ignore his death, Miranda's death, Cortana's death and other things.
He's frustrated enough, angry enough, at her, at them, at this lack of talking to punch the door when he gets to it. He's starting to think he'll need someone to check it over at the feeling he gets after that punch but he shrugs it off, thankful he did that and doesn't yell.
He wants comfort, but he's not going to get that. She's already confirmed that.]
I'll be fine, Catherine. [Though his voice clearly says he won't be.] Just take care of yourself, I'll be fine.
[Him saying it out loud just makes things worse. Of course he'll be fine, once he mourns the daughter he so dearly loved, the daughter who is still just a child to both of them and who now they know will be lost all too soon.
She loses everything.
Not Dr. Halsey. Catherine.
She steadies herself on a crate inside the container. Her voice is hoarse.]
[He can't help punching the door again because her admitting it is so much worse. It makes things real, it makes it so much worse to know that she's cracking and he can't lean on her.
But he can help her, can help her cope with it all and he turns to look at her, pain from his loss written all across his face and tears almost there in his eyes.
It takes him all but a moment to cave and carefully go back to her, that limp still there.]
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I don't either.
[And he opens his eyes and is being honest about it. Having her here is just reminding him why he fell for in the first place. Miranda's not a regret, them getting involved...anything involving her isn't. Just what he's done without her.]
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There's a long silence on her part, and if he doesn't say anything else, she'll take a deep breath and continue.]
We've already discussed the SPARTAN-II project. I don't know if you want to know more than what you already do.
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Though he is happy with the silence, and when she mentions that he sighs and nods.]
Tell me, Catherine. I'd rather not get smacked in the face with it by anyone else.
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The children. [She thinks she's going to lose him and she can't care. She broke every unspoken and spoken law for this, ethical, moral, written and otherwise. But they save humanity, and so she excuses the entire affair.]
We took them, replaced them with flash clones, and made them Spartans. You've seen John, you know how well it worked. I lost half of them, and I'll lose many more, or so it seems. Of course, you know how they operate. You've met some of them.
[A sigh.] And now I know someone else continued the work, though I don't know how. They always wanted more, and I was too picky for them, I'm sure.
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What could he say to that? He knows how they are, how good they are, he can't imagine not having them with him at the Rubble let alone anywhere else. But still.]
Someone else, took other children, and replaced them and made more Spartans, without you. And you lost..and how did you lost them?
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They died.
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[He's having a hard time thinking that some of those kids he met, the ones he helped her find and observe, are dead. Gone.
In some ways he's sad about it, children dying before they get their start in life, while another part, the soldier, isn't. He's happy they didn't suffer the pain of plasma burns or worse.
So he just keeps his eyes off of her for the moment, trying to keep control of his emotions.]
They died, and your...and, they died being made ready to save us. That's your logic, isn't it?
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Some of them, yes. Many of the others died in combat. John told me about them.
There is no logic to be applied. What happened, happened, and it happened for the betterment of all humanity.
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He takes a breath in and lets it out slowly before answering.]
You got lucky in that regard, you realize that, right?
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[She tries not to look moved.]
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[That he can rationalize using children like that right now. She's lucky most of his anger is still at himself about Miranda's death that he's not raging at her about it.]
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I know. I've spent half my life living with what I've done. I'm sorry that you have to, as well.
[With a deep breath, she drops her gaze, looks away, steps back. Her hands are back at her elbows in short order, and there's a dull sort of dead remorse in her eyes. Not that she'll let him see that.]
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You know, I had a feeling you were bad news when I met you. Anyone involved with ONI usually is.
[No really, creepy mofos.]
I'll be fine, Catherine. Just, thank you for telling me yourself. [He looked at her as he said that, hard. He brought his hand up though to rub at it, wincing as even his bones ached after punching the wall earlier, one day he'd learn not to do that with that hand.] Don't hide things like that from me, not here.
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[Bad news. She knows. She saw him catching on and she had him out of there faster than he could ask a single question. And now she's had to dump it on him, because god forbid he finds it out by any other means.
Any other situation and she'd have offered to patch his hand up for him... But not today. She can't. In fact...]
That's all I have to say. [She glances at him, but then turns almost on heel to face the door.] I'll be leaving the container to you, and I'll stay in the room. No need for you to deal with this any more than you must.
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No he just stares, ignoring the pain in his hand as he clenches it into a fist then straightens it out and reaches for her, frowning.]
No, take the container if you want, just let me know which you want more. Catherine, I'm not shoving you away. [He's just very confused and will need his space during the day but when is that new?] Don't do this.
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[She turns back.]
If it wasn't for the Covenant, you'd think me just as much an irredeemable monster as Palmer did. Please admit at least that much. I don't wish to be pitied, nor do I wish to be coddled.
[A sigh.] And, starting now, I believe I deserve some space and time to come to terms with things myself. Do you really need me?
More than anything I'd like to pretend that none of this happened, but reality being what it is, and my damnable brain being what it is, I'm forced to logically examine the situation and be reminded of what I am and what I apparently will become. I'd like to say that running to your arms and crying and mourning is a good idea, but for me it isn't. I would be sitting there wondering if you truly forgive me for anything, or if I even want forgiveness.
I never wanted you to know.
[His words had just... made her retreat in on herself.]
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[He sounds insulted she would suggest that with him.] And I don't pity. I know what it's like, I'd never do either.
And no I wouldn't think you some monster, why should I? You did what you thought was right. I can't fault you for that, even if I could never forgive myself for being involved, I could understand why you did it.
[He sighs at that, letting her go and going back to rubbing at his hand, face drawn.]
If you have to ask yourself that, Catherine, then you don't know me. [His voice is quiet, sad sounding as he walks by her for the door, a slight limp in his step. He's all of a sudden very much feeling his injuries, it's probably a mental thing but right now he doesn't care.] Have the container and the room, I'll be fine on my own.
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You're injured.
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Old injuries, nothing I can't live with. [He's giving her space, all the space she wants.]
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I lied about something else. I always kept up with you, what you were doing.
[She sighs.]
I'm terrible at this. At handling any of this. I'm so used to not handling it.
[It's hard to admit that, as much as she deserved them, some of her harsher words got through. But now she could admit that there were feelings running deeper, feelings she'd have gladly ignored for the rest of her natural life if she could.
But he's here. And she needs him now, more than ever. Which is why she's fighting herself, not making sense, trying so hard to push him away for good while at the same time protesting because she needs him.]
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Then you know about the Merriweather Lewis and my hand and leg.
[And how a board had to ground him for medical reasons, a shattered hand and plasma burns aren't easy to recover from and he still feels them.
But he keeps his back to her, rubbing his hand instead of his pipe and hunched over. He's hurt, in more ways then he'd like to admit and he's not going to push her, he'll never push her. He'll deal with this all on his own and let her have her space even if he wants her.
As much as he needs her, he'll never push.]
Take your time. What I said earlier is true, I can wait.
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[For once, she truly is. She doesn't know how to deal with any of this, and she's never properly dealt with that dying business. It hasn't gotten any better, and now that she knows he went through something so terrible that it's classified, and that Miranda suffers, and that so many of her Spartans are gone, she can't handle it.
She retreats further back into the container, clearing her throat but not able to chase the shake from her voice. She'd been so calm and so clear and she has to be the robot she made herself into, the machine, science and logic. People die here. They come back. It's all an illusion, or something like it.
Yes, that helps.]
Please... take care of yourself.
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He's frustrated enough, angry enough, at her, at them, at this lack of talking to punch the door when he gets to it. He's starting to think he'll need someone to check it over at the feeling he gets after that punch but he shrugs it off, thankful he did that and doesn't yell.
He wants comfort, but he's not going to get that. She's already confirmed that.]
I'll be fine, Catherine. [Though his voice clearly says he won't be.] Just take care of yourself, I'll be fine.
[If he says it out loud it'll be true, right?]
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She loses everything.
Not Dr. Halsey. Catherine.
She steadies herself on a crate inside the container. Her voice is hoarse.]
Jacob, I'm not fine.
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But he can help her, can help her cope with it all and he turns to look at her, pain from his loss written all across his face and tears almost there in his eyes.
It takes him all but a moment to cave and carefully go back to her, that limp still there.]
Then let me help, Catherine.
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