#reverse bechdel test where the only time these two men really talk its about cortana

[ur-promethean]

halo infinite meta :) spoilers for end of the game... fernando and the master chief have some meaningful conversations, against the master chief’s best efforts

At some point in the evening, when Fernando was spending his time embedded in a Wasp unit, tinkering with its onboard computer, he spied the Master Chief step onto the landing platform, sight upon him, and walk in his direction.

The motion of it - like most of the Chief’s movements - was eerily precise, leading Fernando to feel as if he were a recently locked-on target of some destructive orbital weapon, with only seconds left to come to peace with whatever it was that he believed in. It was a combination of things, he thought: the impassive, golden visor, the full suit of MJOLNIR power armor, the slew of firearms draped over him. The crisp, rigid, military formality combined with a fluid smoothness. Like the other instances where Fernando found himself the subject of the Chief’s focus, he couldn’t help spending a few seconds wondering if he needed to run or not.

He had little time to guess. In only a few steps, the Spartan was standing beside the Wasp unit, somehow still taller than Fernando could manage while sitting in the cockpit. Resembling a statue more than anything alive.

“Esparza,” the Master Chief rumbled.

Fernando watched his warped reflection dance across the Chief’s visor and swallowed nervously.  

“Yes?” he said.

A hand the size of Fernando’s face presented itself. The Master Chief stood silently, until Fernando took the hint, and cautiously offered his own. The Chief’s fingers loosened - silver flashed - then, into his waiting palm, dropped a holobank.

“That’s not…” Fernando started to say, before words failed him entirely. He eagerly brought the device closer and examined it for damage. Thumbing the power button, a glowing, warm vision of his partner and daughter fizzled to life, and the tinny recording began, no worse for wear. It was a miracle.

Fernando breathed a sigh of relief, and pressed the holobank to his chest. “I can’t believe it,” he said softly. “I thought that Elite destroyed this, after he… right. You found it, then?”

“Yes,” the Chief said plainly.

“And you brought it back. For me.” Fernando beamed. “I didn’t know you to be so sentimental, Spartan. But I’m glad for it. Thank you, Chief. Really.”

The helmet tilted fractionally. A nod. After a moment, the vision of himself in the Spartan’s visor peeled away, as the Spartan turned and went to leave. Fernando wondered if something else was worth saying, and came up empty. It was too late, anyway - the Chief had descended down the ramp from the landing platform, and was gone again. Utterly silent.

///

It was during one of their long conversations, when the Weapon was able to ask all the questions the Chief was incapable of answering, that Fernando managed to wrest the details of the Silent Auditorium from her.

He learned, then, that after they won against the Harbinger, the Weapon and the Master Chief had recovered a message from Cortana. The Weapon confessed to Fernando the secret of the hour: that the Chief’s former AI was already dead, and that something about the message itself had resulted in a long bout of moody silence that felt more charged than usual.

Combined with the Chief’s odd speech about failure, and his muted reactions to anything related to Cortana, Fernando felt decently miffed.

“I thought that was a good thing,” he said, perplexed. “Wasn’t that what we wanted to happen? Wasn’t that what you were supposed to help do?”

“Well, yeah,” the Weapon said. She shrugged. “But, hey, good luck reading that guy.”

On the third day of working in the same space as a miserable Spartan, Fernando decided that another kind of conversation was necessary. He approached the Master Chief - who was unloading requisition items from a Pelican’s cargo hold - and stood on the ramp, effectively blocking the Spartan’s exit. 

Or, trying to. If the Chief wanted out, it would take a lot more than just him to slow him.

If he could even slow him.

“Tell me,” Fernando ordered, “about Cortana.”

The Master Chief stared at him, holding an ammunition crate that would have taken three Marines to move, and did not quickly answer. His visor caught the setting sun behind them and appeared as if ignited.

“What?” he said.

“Cortana. Tell me about her.”

Another beat. Eternity dwindled past, and eventually the Spartan set the crate down, his visor losing none of its intensity. “What... about her?” the Chief said.

Fernando quietly noted the other man’s tone - guarded, but not in a way that implied offense. Just wariness. Without waiting to entertain doubt, Fernando attempted to rally.

“Just, tell me about a time you thought of her, recently,” he said. “Tell me a story.”

The Chief shook his head. “I need to offload these supplies before dark,” he said tightly. “This can wait, Esparza.”

“No, no,” Fernando argued, waving his hand as though to brush him away. “Don’t give me that. Just tell me something that made you think of her. You’ve seen my past, so… give me this, okay? Please?”

Because it sounds like you need it, he thought.

God, the visor was like staring down the barrel of a gun that could kill him a thousand ways. Fernando spent another eternity in the sights of it before the Spartan bothered to speak - softer now, as if to contain the conversation within the Pelican’s hold. As if there was anyone around to hear them.

“There’s a lake,” the Chief said. “Near Hotel Base.”

Fernando exhaled. 

“… A lake,” he said flatly.

The Chief nodded once. “Cortana always had something to say about the geography. When I see the lake, I wonder what she would have noticed about it. That’s it.”

“That is the last time you thought of her? When was that?”

There came another pause, as if getting this far had caused a great deal of effort from the Master Chief.

“… On the way here,” he said.

“I see. Well? How do you feel about that?”

“I don’t know.” The Chief paused. “It’s not bad.”

Smiling, Fernando relaxed slightly. “I don’t know whether I should be mad at you or not,” he said, “but I am starting to suspect that, after everything, you don’t hate her.”

“… No.”

“If you’ll forgive me, that was kind of a little test. I had my suspicions.”

The Chief did not respond.

“The Weapon told me that she was important to you. I guess I knew that, too. Can I tell you something?”

“… Yes.”

“I heard about that message she left you. If I had to guess, I think you know it’s time to move on. And, I think you feel guilt.”

Once again, the Chief did not answer.

“I’ll tell you this, too: it’s normal to feel that way. You might feel like you’re leaving her behind, so you’ll feel heavy. Weighed down. But, one way or another, you'll end up bringing her with you. One day, you won’t think of her so often. That’s normal, too. But, she is never completely gone. She goes with you. I hope you can find peace in that, at least.”

“Maybe,” the Spartan said quietly.

“Thanks for telling me,” Fernando said at length. “I can’t claim to understand what you two were… but, I know this isn’t easy for you, Spartan. I can see that much. But I hope it helped.”

“It did.”

Fernando smiled. “Good. Finish what you’re doing, and get some rest for once. I’ll see you in the ay-em, big guy.”

“Okay.”

The Spartan went to pick up the ammunition crate again, then abruptly stopped, and looked at him, pinning Fernando in place. With the sun having already set behind them, the Chief’s visor was rendered a deep pool of glittering amber - the intensity dimmed, only somewhat.

“Yes?” Fernando said curiously.

“It was a river,” the Chief said. “By Hotel Base. It was a river once. Maybe two.”

“Oh? What makes you say that?”

“The level of erosion around it. The water’s shallow. A lot of gravel and sediment.”

Fernando blinked. 

“… You’re probably right,” he said.

The comment was met with silence. The Spartan stared at him a half-second longer, then hefted the crate in his arms, and moved soundlessly past Fernando, and down the ramp. Depositing the crate near the weapons lockers, the Spartan then walked away from the landing zone, saying nothing. He did not look back.