twenty-eighth jump;

[ataraxites]

CHARACTERS: Any and all.
LOCATION: Gravity Couches and beyond.
WARNINGS: Maybe some swearing, or even some violence, and more than likely some implied (and possibly explicit) nakedness.
SUMMARY: Another month, another jump, another round of new faces.
NOTES: It could just be the standard sensation of air on wet skin, but if you bother to check, you might notice the steam rising from your body, barely there and gone within a minute. By the time you get to the showers, it will be clear that it's not just taking you time to adjust. The room is cold — colder than usual, but no worse than the last jump. While it's nothing dangerous, it's certainly motivation to hurry through the usual routine and get dressed quickly.



It's getting closer.




YOUR EYES ARE OPEN.

KEEP LOOKING.

You wake up in darkness.

There's a breathing tube jammed down your trachea, and you're suspended in a tube of clear blue fluid. Upon registering your level of consciousness, the gravity couch drains the fluid surrounding you and retracts the breathing apparatus; the doors in front of you open, and you're deposited on the floor of a stark, sterile medical bay.

You are not alone.
There are others who have come before you, others who are awakening beside you. Some may be familiar to you, perhaps even friends. Others have much less amiable plans. Some are merely alien and inexplicable, but there are always those who might mean you harm.

After you catch your breath and your vision returns, you notice a number on the inside of your forearm. Maybe it's a familiar number. Maybe it means something. Maybe it's just a number. But the number—completely unique to you—is a tattoo, and it does not come off.

If you enter the room adjacent to the medbay, you will find a small locker with your number on it, surrounded by rows upon rows of identical lockers. Inside, you will find a few of your personal items, a communications device, and a ship's uniform in your exact size. The comms device is fully powered and connects directly to the ship's network; it's your only means of communication beyond physical conversation. Upon turning the device on, a neutral, automated voice will say, "Please take the blue lift to the passenger quarters." Any other attempts at communicating with the rest of the network are met only with static.

This is your welcome party.

Comments

[nuked]

[ If only he had a knife right now. He'd like something in his hands.

Empty hands didn't suit a soldier.

He keeps their distance short between the two of them. I'm not losing you again. He's already nearly lost her too many times--truly lost her once. He's not letting go of her this time if he can help it (and he will.) She briefs him and there is a rush of ease that floods through him. The information is meager at best, but knowing Cortana, there will be more where that came from if the proper questions are asked and their time is spent in all the right places. Looking for answers. ]

Futile.

[ Attempts have been made. Fine. ]

It'll be alright. Far as we are already.

[ That is what John has grown used to telling himself, telling others, telling her. He carefully bumps her shoulder with his own. ]

I just need a weapon.

[ Typical. ]

[overthought]

[just like old times. her arms tighten just a hair around his neck as she nods her head off to the showers, not really caring that they're both covered in goo and naked.

she has to dig around more, her curiosity has been replaced with drive to get answers so that they can get out of here. this isn't going to be another didact, or another halo, but it won't be the end to the both of them.]

Understood. First, showers. Then, lets see if they brought along your armor and some other weapons. Knowing your luck, there'll be something in there that might be able to help you.

[it doesn't matter if she's in the back of his head laying out objectives or if they're like this; this is how they operate and it's good - so good - to have a sense of normalcy.]

If not, I'll put you in contact with two departments on the ship that will be able to help you and that you can give your assistance. [A beat, almost biting her lip.]

I can't check your vitals, so we'll see if we can't sneak into medbay. Showers are right behind you, let's go.

[nuked]

My vitals are fine.

[ Everything is fine. It's all raw and ragged like a wound, the memory of her, floating in space devoid of her voice. It's the slowly snowballing sense of failure (I was supposed to take care of you) that despite what she'd told him of taking care of each other... he still felt as if he'd somehow missed the target, abandoned her.

Forget it.

She's here now.

He turns his head to find the area where a small line of people forms, filing in one by one. A shower would be good, he realizes, sliding fingers through his tacky, razed hair briefly, nodding. ]

Passenger run departments?

[ He moves with her gradually in the direction of the showers. ]

[overthought]

[her breath hitches for a moment, as if she's been running too fast and hit a wall. she wants to ask it, the "after everything" thing after the hard light protective barrier faded. her fingers trace a scar on his cheek, wondering if this was a new one that's become old or an old one that's been rather stubborn to fade.

cortana hides it by running her fingers through his very tacky hair before measuring it in her fingers even as they walk.]

Correct. Most are run by civilians and there is a very limited military presence here.

[a beat:] People who are from our universe are as follows: Spartan 006 [since there are other people around.], an AI by the name of Juliana, and at my count two from "Project Freelancer". Here's the kicker Chief, we're all from different points in time.

[nuked]

006... [ John's lips thin even more so at that. It'd been too long since he'd heard those numbers. Too far out. On their own. Juliana and these "Freelancers" however, were beyond his knowledge. ]

Since when did the UNSC make use of freelancers?

[ He raises a brow, partially out of curiosity, somewhat out of concern. ]

[overthought]

Is that an issue? [he doesn't need to tell her, but she's there if he needs to. she's learned what certain inflections or the way that he just puts an emphasis on even a syllable what he could mean.]

During the war, apparently. Surprising that neither of us would know about it, isn't it? [especially her.]

Come on, let's get you showered.

[nuked]

No. Just a surprise. [ Maybe a good one. Maybe a bad one. It's been too long, and usually when there are years between these sorts of things... it makes it difficult. His lips twist carefully, a subtle motion of thought as she mentions the war.

He would have known, wouldn't he?

They would have told him.

They would have told her for sure. We weren't gone that long. Four years... ]

Alright. Lead the way.

[ Like you always do. ]

[overthought]

ONI doesn't like surprises. [she says as she pulls him along, as if she has to lead him on some sort of dangerous quest. mostly, she's using him for balance (still haven't gotten those post jump wobbles out of her system), but mostly because she doesn't want to let him go.

what if it's a dream. what if the moment she lets go, she'll wake up cold and alone in the pods and whatever joy she felt on making it past the bridge was lost?]

Contact said that they were a little past the war. Not too far past that we wouldn't have known if they were new.

[nuked]

[ He doesn't shake her off. If anything, he keeps even closer to her, as if perhaps making a shield with his body for her, something to keep close to. The shakiness has, for the most part, worn off. He's sturdy on his own, and something like this isn't going to change that. ]

We'll investigate further. [ Later.

Which is not something he usually means, but they have... catching up. ]

How long have you been here?

[ It's hardly accusing. Where did you go? seems obvious. She "died."

No. Not "died."

Died. ]

[overthought]

[she feels bad that she's smiling, like she's betrayed him. but, at the same time, it's something unconscious because she knew that he'd come. he always comes when she needs him, and this time it was across universes and transcends even her own death.]

Don't worry, there's lots for you to do. [even as she turns on the water for him (as if he can't do something that simple without her).]

I've been here for four jumps. [...that's a long time to be undead, but she doesn't say it. she didn't expect this to be the after life. she looks at him, as if she knows what he wants to talk about -

that he wants to talk about that.]

At least it isn't Forerunner technology? [that brought her back to life.]