#john117

It had been months since you had heard from John. Life hadn’t been the same since you’d gone back to finish your last semester of your master degree. University used to excite you, but after having run around the galaxy with the UNSC, being in actual danger, you felt bored.

Your friends noticed the difference when suddenly you were unavailable to go to the mall, and more interested in visiting the firing range.

Your mother almost fainted when she learned you’d taken up a martial arts class in your spare time. Your grades weren’t suffering, so you didn’t exactly see the problem.

Your father had pestered you every day to submit your application to his company, but the only place you’d sent your application was the UNSC’s board of communications.

You were going to find John, and the rest of Blue Team. You couldn’t just submit to the life your parents wanted for you, even if you’d be monumentally disappointing them.

You were scrolling through your laptop in your little dormitory when you saw it. You’d been scrolling through emails for hours, each rejection letter making your heart sink further and further when you saw it.

“We would like to receive your application for our recently opened clerical assistant position.”

It wasn’t exactly what you wanted to be doing but there was one little phrase that caught your eye.

“Reporting to Spartan Lieutenant 104”

There was no way. Fred had found you? How in the world had he managed that? You took a quick glance over the email before following the provided link to submit your application and cover letter.

“You did what?” your father asked as you silently cut into your steak.

“I applied to the UNSC, and I got in. I’m leaving after the graduation ceremony,” you stated firmly.

“But what about the job your father lined up for you at his company! You’re just going to throw that away? I can’t imagine the UNSC is going to pay someone very much for communications work,” your mother rambled frantically as she set her fork down.

Family diners in your parent’s penthouse were always tense, but this was another ball park entirely.

“It’s clerical work actually,” you muttered.

“Yn! What are you thinking!” your mother asked.

I’m thinking there’s a very handsome space soldier up there waiting for me. I’m thinking I’m tired of being coddled at thirty two years old.

“It’s a good opportunity. Free travel, important connections-“

“It’s unsafe!”

“Nowhere is safe Mom!” You said, slamming your knife on the table. “I’m tired of pretending that Sydney is safe just because it makes you feel better to have me at arm's length,” you said, standing from your place at the table.

“You’re not going to survive out there, yn,” your father scoffed.

“Maybe I wouldn’t have before, but things are different now. I’m not changing my mind on this.”

Your parents didn’t come to your graduation ceremony. You noticed that their chairs were empty as you lined up to walk across the stage.

It left a bitter taste in your mouth. You were being punished for not doing what you were told. Despite having argued with them, you’d at least wanted them to attend.

You tried to smile for the pictures as you walked across the stage, but it didn’t feel real. After the ceremony you packed your suitcases and left your dorm for the shuttles.

What if John wasn’t waiting for you anymore? What if you got up there and he’d moved on entirely?

You felt your throat tighten as you neared the pickup and your legs began to shake.

Were you making a mistake? Could you still turn around? Your parents would never respect you if you did.

You shook your head, silencing these thoughts as you loaded onto the shuttle. This wasn’t just about John. You were doing this for yourself as well.

“Wasn’t she supposed to be here already?”

Fred didn’t bother answering the question, knowing full well that if he told John the cargo ship was running late he’d probably grab a rifle and a ship and go out looking for you himself.

Six months wasn’t a long time, but it was long enough to make the Master Chief miss you so much he could hardly breathe.

“She’ll get here when she gets here,” Fred said with a shrug as they waited in the cargo hold.

“She’ll probably be hungry, we should take her to the mess. She’s probably forgotten how to get there,” Kelly said, admittedly excited to see you again.

When the intercom finally announced the arrival of your ship, Blue Team sprung into action. John searched the faces of deboarding passengers for you, feeling a sense of panic until your smaller figure appeared, hauling two large suitcases.

He froze all of a sudden, willing his feet to move but unable to do so. He’d never felt this way before. Never had to hesitate, and yet he felt as if his stomach was doing summersaults.

Your eyes finally settled on him, and your feet halted.

Six months. Had anything changed?

You moved first, your hands abandoning their grip on your bags as you ran to him. Time seemed to catch up with the Spartan all of a sudden, and he barely registered that you had flung yourself towards him in time to bend forward and wrap his arms around your waist, hauling you in for a tight hug that squeezed the breath right out of you.

You buried your face in the Chief’s shoulder and sighed, the smell of gunpowder and cinnamon a sure sign that you were home.

“How’d you find me?” You murmured into his shoulder.

“Wasn’t that hard. Had some connections keeping an eye out for you. Ready to get back to work?”

He asked, setting you down as Fred and Kelly retrieved your bags. Linda gave you a firm pay on the shoulder in greeting.

This was exactly what you needed. Blue Team’s support, the promise of adventure on the horizon, and the Chief’s arms around you.

“As I’ll ever be,” you declared with a grin and the Spartan smiled softly at you. He had you back, and this time he wasn’t letting you go anywhere.

Do you remember the first time someone held your hand? Whether it was your parent while you were riding your bike, or crossing the street, or whether it was as simple as reaching for their hand as a baby when you were still so new to the world… nothing could’ve prepared you for the time when he held your hand for the first time….

The first time he held your hand, it was due to the overwhelming amount of noise and people crowding around the two of you. You were at a huge gaming convention and had convinced him to come with, not knowing he didn’t do the best in large crowds. He had a near-death grip on your sleeve, but after getting separated for a brief moment, you had offered to let him hold your hand, but when he became uncomfortable you suggested that you hold onto his pinky. It wasn’t much, but it gave him a sense of comfort. And that was good enough for you.

The second time he held your hand was a little bit interesting, you’d been out with a few friends, unaware that he was incognito following you, until some guy at the restaurant you were at tried getting in your personal space, going as far as to grab your wrist. He’d walked over, seeming utterly calm as he quickly removed the man’s hand from your wrist, gently grasping your fingers in his hand as he looked over your wrist. Before glaring at the man with such intensity you swear the guy pissed himself.

“Keep your hands to yourself.” He’d growled, leaving you scarlet red and stuttering for the rest of the night.

The third time he’d held your hand was when the two of you had decided to watch a scary movie together…….. Needless to say, neither of you was a fan, but at the scariest part, you could feel a hand slip over the top of yours. Nimble, steady fingers gently intertwining with your own, you remember looking up to see him with a startled, frightened look on his face. So you turned the movie off and opted for stupid game shows, but even as the night wore on, his hand stayed atop yours.

The fourth time he’d held your hand was one of the only times you’d seen him desperate, you were going away for a week on vacation and he had nearly begged you not to leave. It’s not that he didn’t want you to leave, but he was worried that something would happen and he wouldn’t be able to protect you. He’d reached out as you’d turned to keep packing your bag, gently wrapping his large hand around most of your fingers. You’d felt as if your heart had stopped from shock as you turned to look back at him. Taking in his crestfallen expression,

“............ Promise me you’ll be careful.”

The fifth time he’d held your hand was when you’d talked him into going ice skating. Needless to say, you were SO jealous. How was he so good at it? He’d NEVER done anything like this, and yet he was totally showing off. You’d attempted to at least get out from around the edge of the ice but had nearly fallen, so your worried companion hand managed to catch you mid-fall. And all you could remember was how perfectly your hands fit in his as he pulled you along, your fingers delicately intertwined. That was also one of the first times you’d seen him smile. You both walked home that night, still holding onto each other’s hands. Both of you silently dreading having to let go.

The sixth time he held your hand had been after you’d both left a cute cafe, you’d left your gloves because it wasn’t supposed to be as cold, but you soon found yourself blowing on your hands, rubbing them together, doing anything to get them warm. Your companion took notice and stopped, turning to face you,

“Let me see….” He’d stated, you were confused by what he meant until he’d carefully reached down and covered your hands with his, the warmth from them instantly seeping into yours. Your face lit up a bright red as the rest of the way home, his large hand mainly covering yours, the other hand complaining about its lack of warmth as you had to stick it in your pocket.

The seventh time he’d held your hand, you had found him standing in a field full of stone markers, your companion dressed in his formal, decorative attire as he stared down at a marker. His expression was grim, and his heart grieved as he read the name once more.

“Senior Chief Petty Officer Franklin Mendez.”

He’d heard you before he saw you. He turned to see you walking over to him with a concerned, kind expression.

“He’d be proud of you….” You comforted as you gently rubbed his arm, your companion’s eyes fluttered closed as he looked away from you, but his pinky ever so lightly intertwined with yours as you stood there with him.

The eighth time he’d held your hand was during your first trip together, he had wanted you to see some of his favorite spots for a change, and it was like a kid in a candy shop. You were so curious, asking questions and getting distracted by the smallest of things. Your companion had eventually grabbed hold of your hand, stopping you from wandering off,

“Stay close to me……….. It’s easy to get lost and I…… just…. Stay close by.”

He’d never held your hand so tightly before. He must’ve been more nervous than he let on. His grip on your wrist was secure and unbreakable but not uncomfortable. From time to time, he’d squeeze your hand, just to make sure you were alright, to which you’d smile and squeeze his hand twice.

And it was after that night; you decided that his hand was the one you never wanted to let go of… as long as you could help it, you’d hold, caress and treasure the feeling of his hand in yours.

.

.

.

.

“Dove?..... Are you ready?”

“Coming, John.” You smiled as you grabbed your purse and headed out, leaving the book you’d been looking at open on your bed,

“Ready to go, handsome?” You asked as you grabbed your keys. John shook his head before smiling.

“I was ready before you, if I remember correctly.”

“Ehh details, who listens to those?” You teased as you closed the door behind you, giggling as you reached out for John’s hand, your fingers slotting perfectly against his as the two of you made your way down the street. It was then it hit you, as long as you could hold his hand…. No matter what, you’d be okay.

A cute piece for you all in celebration of the 20th anniversary of Halo.