Note: I usually don't follow official cannon, so if some things in this story don't match up to anything (mostly Elite culture, I usually mold it to my own shape), it's intended to be that way.

Ti Amo

Chapter I

Faaip De Oiad

Stone Gossard lolled his head to the side, his brain pumping like a heart juiced on steroids. He hadn't headache this bad since he had smashed his head on the ground, one winter in Maine, when slipping on the ice.

Maybe the fact that I had been smashed in the head with a plasma rifle had something to do with it, he thought in dark sarcasm. Stone Gossard, and his former squad mates had been sent on a mission to assassinate the Prophets of Truth and Mercy. Squad one had been saved by the Master Chief, according to tidbits he heard on the UNSC comlink. He didn't bother to contact them, he could only pick up, but not send transmissions. His radio had broken in a fire fight with some Elites and Brutes. Now he was locked in this prison cell, completely alone; his teammates murdered and the Covenant that were guarding the brig all went out to fight that civil war that had been cooked up by the Prophets. From what Stone heard, the Prophets had basically condemned the Elites from the Covenant, and now they were pissed and ready to kill every Covenant bastard that stood in their way. Stone half hoped that the Elites would decide to help humanity.

During his time in the cell, he finally saw that the Elites, pissed to begin with about some Honor Guard situation, semi-respected humans; he even struck up a discussion with one rookie Elite in blue armor. The Elite, to begin with, ranted to him, since the other Covies didn't want to hear it. About how he had originally wanted to be part of just the Sangheili military, and not the Covenant army; but his father had made him join the Covenant army. Since he had no choice in the matter, he was stuck as a Minor Domo. Only a few days after he joined High Charity, the Prophets assigned Brutes to become the Honor Guards after the Master Chief had assassinated Regret. Then he went on about how the Brutes strutted around High Charity like they owned the place, how the Elite Council threatened to resign, and ultimately the Prophets finally were fed up with the Elites and ordered genocide on their race. Then Stone said,

“Guess they're going to have to kill your brothers, your sisters, your mothers, your fathers, and glass your planet.” The Elite, Samos his name was, began,

“Hardly! Out of every race in the Covenant, we have the most planets, the most ships, the...” he trailed off when he had finally noticed Stone's dark look...and understood what he meant.

“Not so fun to be in a human's shoes, is it?” asked Stone, his eyes carrying an animalistic emptiness and rage that made Samos bow his head in shame. Then the commander of the group of Elites spoke up,

“We leave! The Flood have began infesting High Charity, there is nothing more we can do on it. We can only escape, then find out what happens against the Covenant.” The other Elites got ready to leave, but Samos looked back at Stone. Then he turned to his commander,

“Excellency-” he began, but the doors to the brig opened and two Brutes entered.

“In here!” yelled one. The Elites opened fire, taking the Brute down quickly sicne they were outnumbered, then proceeded out the brig. Samos turned back to Stone and said,

“I'll come back for you.” he then turned off the lights. “Stay in the shadows.” Then he left. Ten minutes passed and he never returned. Either Samos had wanted to give Stone false hope, was killed, or was forced to leave him behind. Either way, Stone figured he would either be killed by wandering Brutes, starvation, or the Flood would get him. Something he shivered at.

Stone reflected back on his life. He had been on Reach, but not gone to Halo. He fought with the remaining Spartans that resided on the half-glassed Reach. The majority of the Covenant fleet had chased after the Pillar of Autumn, but a generous amount had been left for what was left of Reach. He had escaped Reach, but not after one hundred percent of his friends and family. When he arrived at Earth, for the first time in his life, he was left alone with no contacts. He had strictly been a Reach man, the son of forefathers that colonized Reach and never left. Earth wasn't much different, but it wasn't home to say the least. That and the fact that his only home was a Marine base, his roommate some racist jackass that used the terms “nigger” and “spic” openly. The only good time Stone had with that skinhead was when he looked up the man's family on an ancestry website, and found that his great great great grandfather had a Hispanic mother and a black/Caucasian father. Then they got in a fist fight, resulting in Stone's broken nose, but the bastard's dislocated elbow joint.

Out of all the times, that was the only good time Stone had since the loss of his home and family. Several Marines had attempted to become chummy with him, some girls had tried to hitch up with him even. After he declined every woman's request at a date, he was then rumored to be gay; and of course he was given shit about that. Truth was, Stone was just a miserable person, and he didn't have it in him to make the best of life. After lives he knew could be extinguished so easily, he couldn't bear to live happily when his family had suffered. All he knew was that he was going to kill Covenant until he was either dead, or the war was won. After that...he didn't know. But right now it seemed he was going to die on High Charity.

Stone felt terrible, like he was sick and dying. He had been in this cell for hours, with no food and his wounds weren't cleaned. He looked up with watery eyes, the air was a slight haze of green.

Flood, he stated mentally. Maybe his breathing that shit in and it getting in his open wounds was making him sick. Out of every way he could possibly die, he did not want to die Flood. But what choice did he have? He looked at the foot of his cell and saw a pistol lying near the bars. He crawled from the back of the cell, his body feeling slightly numb and week, and his head screaming with pain. He bit his lip and Picked up the weapon. He slid the clip out and looked in, it was empty. He sighed and threw the clip away, then pulled back the slide.

Would God tell me to do this? He thought when he saw a single bullet in the chamber. He eased the slide back into its original position and looked at the weapon. He had read the Bible, the Koran, and the Torah. They said suicide was bad news, but what were the odds of gun having only a single bullet left magically appearing at the foot of his cell. He was sure the gun had not been there before...he thought. He then coughed violently into his hand. When his fit was over he saw droplets of blood on his hand. He was never a religious man, but an agnostic that thought religion had some semi-truths to them, he had never been a praying man; but now he prayed that he wouldn't become Flood. If impossible miracles happened then God answered some prayers, but there were as many unanswered prayers as there were answered. He knew that God would either answer or not answer. He looked at the gun, wondering if his current prayer had a pre-answer, that this gun was the answer to his future prayer of not becoming infected. But suicide wasn't a good case, whether you were religious, agnostic, or atheist. So he sat there arguing with himself. The spores he was breathing in were maybe making him sick and/or killing him, or they could be in fact slowly turning him into a combat form. In which case, he'd shoot himself, no hesitation. He had always been miserable his whole life, but never suicidal. Stone coughed again, the blood droplets appearing in his hand again, his insides tied in a sailor's knot. He felt his stomach shudder, bubble, and contract. It felt like he was going to-

Stone doubled over all of a sudden and puked. Not a stream, but a burst, like spitting out water. It was orange, and thick, and was pretty hot too. Did anyone order butternut squash soup? Stone scooted away from the puddle of puke, sat in a corner and wiped his mouth. He looked at the gun again, noticed his vision was fuzzy, he felt dizzy, and sweat was accumulating on his face. Stone found it sort of hard to breathe, and took bigger breaths. He needed to rest his eyes. Stone closed his eyes and rested his throbbing head on the cool wall of the cell. He was out like a light, and it only seemed like a few seconds that he was asleep. Then Stone groggily awoke, feeling worse.

I can't take it, he thought bitterly. He brought the pistol to bear and pointed it at his temple. As he was about to pull the trigger someone said,

“No!” forcefully. Stone looked around in surprise, looking to see who had spoken. He looked outside the cell and saw no one.

What the fuck? He asked himself. He paused for thirty seconds, listening. The only thing he heard was the throbbing of his own brain.

The voice of God? Telling me to hang in there? If so, whatever, dude. He sighed, shaking his head. He was probably going crazy with this sickness and would start hallucinating angels. Stone sighed and closed his eyes again. It was a bit harder to sleep now, and he managed Stage N1 sleep before a scream pierced his the drowsy, half-awareness. He bolted up right and scanned the cell wildly with his weapon. Outside the brig he heard a Brute yell,

“Get over here you little runt!”

“Leave me alone!” yelled another voice. But it sounded like a child to Stone's surprise.

“You all must die!” Then the door to the brig opened and a small Elite stumbled in. It wore a purple dress lined with gold. It, now apparently a she, was about 4'11, had a gash on her hip that was bleeding freely, and brilliant silver eyes. Her facial features were more feminine and strangely beautiful even to the human eye. She looked at his cell and her eyes held shock when she saw him. Then a giant fist grabbed her by the scruff of the neck. She screamed in terror as she was lifted. Then the grinning Brute slammed her into the ground violently, making Stone flinch. When the Elite girl hit the ground she gave a small croak and huddled and a fetal position. The Brute chuckled.

“Poor thing,” he said sarcastically has he pointed his read plasma rifle at her. Stone, despite his hate for the aliens that killed his family, felt cold fury fill his insides when the Brute got ready to kill the girl.

“Hey asshole!” he yelled. The Brute looked up in surprise, not expecting to see any humans on High Charity. Stone quickly lifted the gun and aimed at the Brute's eye. Before the Brute could move, Stone fired off, the bullet piercing the Brute's eyes and in his brain, killing him instantly. The Brute crumpled to the ground next to the Elite girl, who yelped and crawled away. She then looked at Stone who sat down again, feeling unable to stand. She stared at him and he stared back. After a silence that lasted forty-five seconds, Stone said,

“Are you okay?” The Elite looked taken aback by that question, then nodded yes, still eying Stone warily. She slowly approached the cell door and knelt in front of it, just a few feet from Stone.

“Who...who are you?” she asked. Her voice still sounded Elite-ish, but sounded much more closer to a human female's voice.

“I'm Stone...Stone Gossard,” said Stone, who was surprised at how haggard his voice sounded. “What's your name?” he asked her.

“Sedena,” she told him. She broke his gaze shyly and blushed slightly.

“Can you let me out?” asked Stone. She stood and pressed the holopanel next to the cell door. The bars retracted into the roof and Stone tried to stand. He grabbed the wall for support and found his legs shaking beneath his body. Sedena watched him undecidedly. He staggered out of the cell and grabbed a weapons rack for support before he fell. It was then he noticed the weapons from his squad had been saved and put on the rack. He couldn't help but smile when he saw his custom BR55. His late Sergeant had given him and his squad permission to “up their arsenal”. The clip held about fifty bullets now, had three firing modes; semi-auto, burst fire, and full auto. The scope zoomed up an extra 4 times. He put it on his back, and regreted it as it seemed to take all his energy. He then took it off and slowly knelt down, then sat and leaned on the crate. Sedena came over and rested on both her knees.

“You look sick...Stone,” she told him.

“I feel sick,” Stone mumbled, closing his eyes again. “I'm too weak to do anything. When...and if I wake up, we can find away out of here.”

“I'm looking for my father. My mother was...killed by Brutes,” Sedena forced out. Stone looked at her, and saw she was starting to cry.

“So was mine,” he whispered. Sedena looked up and seemed...glad that someone knew the pain.

“I'm scared. The Flood took over the city...I don't know where my father or brother are,” she started to sob. Stone tentatively wrapped his arm around her shoulders. She didn't seem to mind, as she rested her head on his chest.

“What are their names?” he asked.

“My...father...I do not speak his name...but my brother is...Samos.”

“Samos?” he asked. She looked at him with hopeful eyes.

“You saw him?” she asked, eyes bright.

“I did...but it was a long time ago. Last time I saw him he went to fight...he said he'd set me free but never got to it,” Stone explained. Sedena started to look dismal again. Stone started to feel dismal. No matter what someone else on another side of war did to you, you always felt compassion and understanding for the innocent. He now wanted to pull through his sickness and help Sedena find her father and brother. He hoped they weren't dead...which was the first time he hoped an Elite(s) weren't dead. Not necessarily because he liked them, but for Sedena...well, he liked her so far. Sedena seemed to settle down and looked like she was dozing off on his chest. He wondered how old she was. Elites towered over humans, any human girl this height would be considered six, maybe eight.

“How old are you?” he asked her.

“...seven years,” she responded softly, she was definitely falling asleep. Stone sighed then closed his eyes again. The throbbing in his head abated ever so slightly, and then he drifted to sleep, but hoping when he awoke he would be strong enough to support both of them.