The Depths of Ours Sins (Durant)

[Faust, M.]

Ever since the operation Faust had been unusually quiet, she spent a considerable amount of time in the medical bay. Faust's wounds happened to be healing well or rather virtually healed, the mental wound inside however... They still bled. She secretly wrote several letters whilst keeping up with a busy schedule of physical exercise. Finally after numerous revisions, she decided to hand the letters over to Durant. She was glad her initial thoughts about him were wrong, he proved to be a great leader, an officer she would gladly follow into the depths of hell as Durant led the way.

Hell he even saved her life during one of her early operations with Oscar Company. Faust liked him, even though she would not admit that to anyone. After all as far as the company knew, she hated everyone.



The papers grew heavy in her hands, they were the letters to the parents and next of kin of the marines she got killed during the battle on the bridge. The letters were full of bitter words all directed at herself, all placed the blame squarely on her. Faust did not write that their deaths had been heroic, for they weren't. Their deaths were because of her incorrect command.

She doubted her ability to effectively lead any more marines, her track record as a leader justified her dark train of thought.



She buzzed his door, finding it closed. Faust's uniform happened to be near perfect, though a single button on her shirt was incorrectly buttoned, since her uniform tended to normally be class A, this was a sign of the trouble which lurked inside her.

The 'hour' was late, Faust buzzed again on the off chance the LT may be asleep. If she interrupted him during a secret liaison with another marine... Well the situation would be awkward and probably what might drive her to a section 8. No one wanted to see someone they respected interrupted like that.



She remembered the loss of the marines under her command all to clearly. The guilt, self doubt and loathing centre at herself drove deep into her heart. This was her fault, the letters confirmed it as did the bodies which once lay on a bridge. Dead, because of her.

She ran a hand through her blonde hair, she let it grow slightly longer than regulation. Faust would get it cut, eventually. She quite liked it being longer than it should be, it made her feel somewhat happy, though the word happy may be inappropriate. It provided her with a sense of something good in a world where she only regretted it.

[Durant, M.]

Lieutenant Durant sat hunched over the computer on his desk, staring at the screen with bloodshot eyes and a blank expression. Ever since the platoon had returned to the Vengeance, he had been swamped with a heavy load of paperwork, and had to find time to do it all while juggling a busy schedule during duty hours. Throughout the day he found himself too busy to really tackle it all, so he had to relegate the work to just before he retired for the night.

With a sigh, Michael pushed away from the desk and leaned back in his chair, the leather hissing underneath him. Closing his eyes, he brought his band up to his face and pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. The life of an officer never was quite what he had so foolishly imagined it to be prior to his commissioning. Michael was a warrior and had become an infantry officer because he wanted to fight and lead fellow warriors into battle; a noble cause in his eyes.

However, he had never guessed that ninety-five percent of his job would be executed off the battlefield. Since he joined the fleet he'd become exceptionally well versed in the art of writing reports, filing training schedules, and submitting requests for supplies and citations for his Marines; tasks that he found to be a wasteful use of his time. Instead of manning the helm of all training events scheduled for his platoon's Marines, he often found himself in his quarters handling office work, and had to delegate a lot of the duties he'd rather be doing to Staff Sergeant Cruz. Michael shook his head.

Opening his eyes, he glared at the computer screen, the intense light nearly blinding him in the dimly illuminated room. He sat there for what felt like an hour debating whether or not he wanted to finish the work he had started before hitting the rack or putting off until after morning chow. It's only a citation for a CAR for Ward, he thought. It isn't really a pressing concern.

He nodded silently and rolled his chair over to the desk. Durant punched in several commands, saving the citation onto the computer's hard drive, and shut it down. He glanced at his bed off in the corner of the room, the sight of it alone causing him to realize just how tired he really felt. It had been a long day, full of work that had kept him busy at the behest of Captain Flannigan. Now, finally, he could relax and fall asleep.

Just as he was about to stand up from behind the desk and make his way over to his bed, there was a chime from the console beside his door. He looked up at it, releasing a long, heavy sigh. Durant extended his arm across his desk, pressing a button positioned in the far left hand corner. "Come in," he called lethargically.

[Faust, M.]

Durant sounded exhausted, then again most sane people probably were tired if not utterly exhausted from the day at this point. Faust counted to five silently in her head, briefly finding it difficult to enter his room. However, after she reached five, she opened the door and calmly stepped in. "Lieutenant Durant sir." Faust started in the manner which she intended to continue. "I've finished writing the letters to the marines..." The words caught in her throat, it was not the first time Faust lost a marine. It was the first time she lost a marine because she made the wrong call in the heat of battle.

"To the marines from my fireteam who died as a result of my actions on the bridge." There, she finally managed to say it. She hoped she had not interrupted him in the midst of an important piece of work.
Though she was pleased to see no other female in the room because that would have really taken the cake on a day like today. Though Durant she suspected may only be human, yet she doubted he would let himself get caught inspecting the troops as it were. The rather inappropriate and distinctly off topic trail of thought managed to distract her briefly from the gnawing, relentless, ceaseless guilt that press ever against onwards against.

"I apologise if I disturb you sir but I wished to give these too you the moment I finished them." She left out the fact that it had been earlier today. Some things Faust was reluctant to do publicly. Though she suspected if word of this nightly visit got around, she would need to meet such people to discuss the truth. As in whatever the hell she made up to disguise this sorry state of affairs.


She was surprised by how even her tone sounded, despite that small victory, her face particularly her eyes showed the signs of the internal torment. Faust had not been sleeping well and even had been reported willingly going to the doctors instead of being sedated for a vaccine. No joke there, it was actually on her file, during training on her home world a new bacterial disease broke out on the planet. A vaccine was swiftly made and given to the indigenous population. After several bitten doctors and nurses, combined with the help of a drill instructor they succeeded in knocking her out so they could give it too her without losing a finger or three. Faust could not stand doctors, an issue which the therapist believed started from losing her mother.

[Durant, M.]

Durant stared expectantly at the door, waiting for it to open to reveal who had decided to pay him a visit just before lights out. He figured it was Staff Sergeant Cruz, who often made it a habit to show up to discuss matters involving the platoon to be brought up the following morning. When the door opened, he was surprised to find Corporal Faust stepping through his door. As she walked in, he was briefly reminded of the conversation he had with Flannigan in his office for some reason unknown to him, and his eyes trailed to the folder on his desk that contained the medical records of Private First Class Wilkas.

Michael considered asking Faust if she had heard anything, as he was aware that Wilkas spent a great deal of time in First Squad's berth since Corporal Davis had seemingly adopted the young Marine as a part of his fire team unofficially. That made Faust practically the woman's neighbor, and she was a female, which he found likely that the RTO would rather discuss such things with a woman over a man.

However, as he thought about it, he realized that it was a silly idea. Corporal Faust was not exactly the approachable type. There were plenty of other females in the platoon that Wilkas would have decided to talk to, and Corporal Faust was the least likely choice in the equation. The fiery German generally only cared about two things: killing aliens, and killing more aliens.

And she was damn proud of it.

Michael shook the thought from his mind as Faust came to stand before his desk. He looked up at her and noticed several things wrong with her in an instant. Since he had met the aggressive fraulein, he'd noted that she was always surprisingly well put together, even during moments of downtime. Her uniform was almost always immaculate and the way she carried herself - shoulders rolled back and back ramrod straight - was more than any drill master could ask for.

Those observations made the corporal's disposition all the more noticeable and alarming. Her shoulders were slouched, blouse not fully buttoned, and the expression plastered across her face was not anger nor stoicism, but remorse. Durant's brow arched in both concern and curiosity at the NCO, wondering what could be troubling her so terribly.

Of course, before she even opened her mouth, the epiphany arrived at his mind's front door. The bridge, he realized, looking away from her for a moment as he recalled what happened. First Squad had been maneuvering forward with Faust's Second Team at the helm, attempting to close with the remaining hostiles and neutralize them so that Second Platoon could dig in and relieve the Army of their duties there. However, in mid-movement, a pair of Covenant Hunters showed up to reinforce the nearly broken Covenant troops that were assaulting the human position.

Registered by the appearance of the Hunters, the Covenant pushed forward, and Faust's team was caught smack dab in the middle of a killing field that no one in their right senses would hope to find themselves in. Faust had limited options to pick from in reacting to the sudden change in the enemy's behavior; the best course of action would have been to hunker down in cover and hold the line, but Faust had not chosen that path. Instead she had ordered her team to retreat under heavy fire from both the Covenant infantry and the quickly approaching Hunters.

Her judgment call did not turn out in her favor. Her teammates were gunned down by plasma and needle fire and Private Robin, though she survived, had to be evacuated from the field to the CASH for what could have possibly been a fatal injury. The losses of her teammates must have weighed heavily upon her heart for her to be so disheveled and emotionally compromised. He had never seen her like this and, frankly, wasn't quite sure what to say to her either.

"Lieutenant Durant, sir," Faust started, her voice totally lacking its usual stubborn confidence. "I finished writing the letters to the Marines..."

She trailed off and swallowed. Durant could tell this was difficult for her to confront, and she was having a hell of a time getting through it. The guilt and remorse were so coldly apparent in her voice that it caught him completely by surprise. The sound was so foreign to Faust's voice that he would not for a second have imagined it came from her lips had she not been standing right in front of him. "... To the Marines from my fire team who died as a result of my actions on the bridge."

Durant continued to stare up at the woman wordlessly, his mind working to come up with something meaningful to say. He had already written letters himself to the families of Baldwin and Harker and planned to submit them to PERSCOM for processing upon return to normal space. However, he couldn't just tell her that. She had put the effort in to write them herself and it obviously meant a great deal to her, or else she would not have taken the burden upon herself to do them.

"I apologize if I disturb you, sir, but I wished to give these to you the moment I finished them," she said. He nodded and glanced down at the data chip that contained the letters in her hand.

"No need to apologize, Corporal," he said. Durant gestured to the seat in front of his desk. "Please, take a seat."

Michael waited until she had seated herself before accepting the data chip from her and, with a deep breath, he began what would be a very impromptu counseling session. "How are you feeling, Corporal?"

[Faust, M.]

It was difficult for Faust to admit to everything she told Durant. Regardless of her pride, good marines died because of her own stupid actions. She got them killed and no amount of soul searching, guilt or talking would ever change that harsh fact. She was well aware of Durant studying her, after all she usually only displayed furious anger all directed at the Covenant.
"No need to apologize, Corporal," Faust disagreed with him there, but she found herself to be caught off guard by his offer of a seat. "Please, take a seat."

For want of a better thing to do, Faust did as he offered. She seated herself down forcing an uncertain smile onto her face. The Corporal handed over the data chip to him, the guilt did not ease nor the sense of her having failed them. Only the dead have seen the end of war and she could now add two more names to the long list of people she believed died because of her own actions.
"How are you feeling, Corporal?" She really should have predicted this question coming. After all if one stopped or at the very least paused to consider everything Faust happened to be doing lately, it was clear something might be off with her.

Michelle did not speak for a long tense moment, before she finally spoke. "Like the morning after shore leave only much worse." Faust clasped her hands together and placed them on her lap.
"I am sorry sir... I messed up." She added quietly. Faust lacked the skill with words to truly explain the extent of her own mental suffering. She sighed explosively. "You'll probably find out sooner or later but I took up counselling with one of the doctors." She shrugged her shoulders. "Well physictractic thing human person." Faust was all too aware she used the a random made up doctor position for it. "You know the one who has been on my case since I joined the company? Apparently I have unresolved anger issues." She looked down at her hands, which were wrapped tensely together. She relaxed her grip, leaving out the guilt and the potential source of her phobia of medical personal.
Durant could read all about those later, she was not about to mention why she was afraid of the doctors or even that she was.

[Durant, M.]

Durant scrutinized the woman before him, paying close attention to the subtleties of her actions to gauge her feelings and mental state. He knew exactly what was troubling her when he posed the question, but wasn't certain of how to tackle the issue yet. Michael knew how it felt to lose people under his command, but he imagined he coped with the losses much differently than Faust did, and he didn't blame himself for those losses.

The answer Faust offered to Durant left much to be desired. It seemed to him that she had avoided answering the question fully, and had only scratched the surface of what truly weighed on her mind. He continued to gaze upon her and said, "You know what I meant, Corporal."

A heavy, awkward silence passed between them for a long moment as she stared at her, studying her intensely. There was so much he imagined was happening inside that blonde head of hers and he yearned to know what she was thinking. The more he knew the easier it would be to help her through her problems. In essence, knowledge was power.

"You're thinking of what happened on the bridge, aren't you?" be asked, leaning forward ever-so-slightly. It was apparent to him that Faust would not make this easy on him, and thus he decided to steer the conversation in the direction he knew it needed to take. "You're thinking of Harker and Baldwin, yes?"

[Faust, M.]

Evidently Durant was not about to let her go until he managed to crack open what truly tormented her, what bothered her the most. Sure, in previous operations her orders resulted in the deaths of her fellow marines, but the bridge.. The bridge leaned towards something else. She made the wrong call under fire, but the words "It is better to make a wrong call than do nothing." Failed utterly to provide her with even a small measure of comfort.
She knew little could, would or should disguise the grim reality that two marines were dead directly because of her snap call on the bridge.

"Do I Sir?" She put more emphasis on sir than she originally intended to, the result which left her sounding moderately annoyed. All of this was difficult for Michelle to admit to, she preferred to keep her personal suffering locked away along with any other human emotion not related to anger.

For some odd reason it came across as slightly awkward when he stared at her during the long silence. The sought of stare in the disgusting romantic movies usually led to the couple making out in stomach churning passion. She knew however, Durant was attempting to see if he might yet be able to read her mind. After all it would give him a better idea of what currently tormented her.

With great difficult she managed to keep herself sitting still, instead of leaning closer towards him in order to answer. "I... I might be." She struggled to allow herself to admit the most terrible incident that occurred on that damnable bridge. When he asked about Harker and Baldwin, her eyes hardened, disguising the pain she felt. "Can I go sir?"

[Durant, M.]

Faust was uncomfortable. It didn't take an expert in body language to make that deduction. She sat there trying her hardest to hide her feelings on the matter. The façade was a thin veil that was transparent and cracked upon closer inspection. The harder she tried to keep her emotions a secret, the more apparent her discomfort became to him.

Michael rubbed his chin thoughtfully as she asked if she could leave. He had not finished what he anticipated to be a lengthy counseling session with the German hothead. There was much tormoil beneath the surface that he needed to draw out in the open so that he could extinguish the fires of guilt that burned inside her. He needed to plan ahead if he was to succeed; each move needed to be measured, like the execution of strategy in a protracted game of chess.

Faust was the opponent and their conversation would be the chess game.

Durant shook his head slowly, glancing at the door for a brief moment. "It would be irresponsible of me to allow you to walk out the door without first making some headway," he said, matter-of-fact. "You must understand when you leave my quarters that the deaths of Harker and Baldwin, while tragic, is not a burden of guilt for you to bare."

It sounded insensitive, he realized, but there was a reason for it. What had happened on the bridge was a twist of terrible misfortune for all involved. Hunters were an incredibly rare sight on the battlefield. There was no amount of training in the entire Milky Way that could perfectly prepare someone for encountering them in combat. Hunters, as a rule, struck fear in even the most experienced Marines in the Corps. Sergeant Stone had even exuded a touch of fright himself at the sight of the walking shock infantry.

A thought occurred to him, and he smiled inwardly. The solution to the problem was clear, and he was about to execute his master strategy in this chess game. Checkmate would be his soon enough.

"Corporal, do you do well in the simulators?" he asked despite the fact he knew the answer. His face was an unreadable mask as he interlocked his fingers and leaned on his desk with his elbows. He would play to Faust's combat prowess to achieve his ultimate goal.

[Faust, M.]

Unfortunately for Michelle Faust who hoped to make a speedy getaway, the LT did not give her the permission to leave. A small part of her mind considered getting up regardless and merely stalking out. However, permission was required because orders were orders and Durant did not provide her with the necessary leave either to do so. This failed to make her any more comfortable but at the very least he was not trying to take her to the medical bay on the ship. Faust would have kicked up one hell of a storm if he tried to make her do something as drastic as that.

She shook her head. "That is not what the Sargents' think." They had screamed at her in the aftermath of the disaster on the bridge. In Faust mind it was her fault, she should of given a different order, Hunters were no different to the average alien slightly tougher but not invincible. Good people died because she made the wrong call under fire, she was not prepared to allow herself to be rid of the guilt regardless of what Durant said.

Faust looked at him, confused by his sudden change of topic, she tried to read him her eyes scanning his body, searching his own eyes running up and down his form or at least the parts visible to her due to his desk hiding some of his form from sight. "Of course I do." Michelle quite enjoyed the simulators, almost as much as she enjoyed boxing practice. Though in the latter she usually tended to get over excited and some poor devil ended up with a broken nose or missing teeth.

Don't stand up to Faust in battle if one wished to avoid losing a few teeth was the lesson to be learned there. Michelle found herself oddly thinking about what the rest of the platoon might make of this behaviour, late night visits to the LT. They may see it as some joke like the rumoured liaisons between a female marine and Cruz. Of course she heard the rumours, a certain little bird told her about them. None wrongly suspected Faust which pleased her. The thought of her comrades thinking something similar might be occurring between her and the LT provided a small amount of amusement. It served also as a distraction from the troubles who lurked all to happily in her own mind.

[Durant, M.]

"That's not what the sergeants' think."

Durant leaned back in his seat and mulled over that quip for a long time. He knew exactly who she was referring to despite her use of the plural sense. Sergeant Stone, her gruff and no-nonsense squad leader, whom had seen more combat in his many years of service than literally the entire company collectively. Captain Flannigan himself, whom had been in almost just as long as the grizzled NCO, could not even make the claim that he had seen as much action as Stone.

The Lieutenant sighed, understanding that the point he needed to convey to his subordinates would not be an easy one to drive home. Sergeant Stone was an enigma to the enlisted personnel of the platoon. He was by no means a personable or forthcoming person, and thus very few people in the platoon knew much about him and his past. Fortunately for Durant, he understood the nature of the beast, and realized the ulterior motive behind the actions of the NCO.

Corporal Faust was an outstanding Marine and a capable warrior. While some of the platoon may have doubted her leadership abilities in light of her less than sunny disposition, any of the NCOs under his command had said nothing but good things about her, Stone included. It was very difficult to draw any form of opinion out of the old codger, but surprisingly, he had been rather forthcoming in his views on Faust. He found her to be a very capable fire team leader and was glad to have her in his squad.

Obviously those weren't his exact words. Thomas Jeremiah Stone was a man of few words, especially when they happened to be positive ones, but Durant was able to read between the lines during the brief conversation he'd had with the E-5. Michael knew that the only reason why Stone would berate the young team leader is because he expected better of her and knew she would take his words to heart.

"Corporal," Durant started, pausing to choose his words carefully, "Sergeant Stone does not think any less of you for what happened. Take a moment to consider you were in the midst of a hasty advance on the Covenant when, suddenly, a pair of Hunters showed up. Hunters. The aliens responsible for singlehandedly eviscerating entire platoons of Marines with little to no effort at all. You made a call in the heat of the moment. It didn't work out as you had planned, but the fact remains you made a call when, alternatively, you could very well have frozen in place, stricken by fear."

He leaned forward, not breaking eye contact. "That alone says a lot about you not only as a person, but as a leader. Stone is tough on you because he knows that you will take it to heart. He knows that you think highly of him and his opinion, and he wants you to be the very best team leader you can be because one day, you might fill his shoes. He does not, in any manner, consider you a failure. I can assure you that he has made mistakes in his career that have likely been costly. There isn't an infantry leader in the Marine Corps that hasn't suffered the sting of loss."

He let the words simmer for a moment before shifting gears. Faust had confirmed what he had already known. She had excellent scores in the simulators, and beyond that, so did her team. Corporal Faust excelled in combat training, just as she excelled in the field of battle. I am fortunate have warriors of her caliber under my command, he missed, feeling blessed by the gods themselves for such fortune.

"You have proven capable in the simulators time and time again," he said, smiling. "There isn't a sim that I can think of that you haven't passed with flying colors. But, you must remember, while the simulators home your combat skills, they are no substitute for real combat, and honestly, there is no real comparison. Just because you excel in training does not mean you will in real combat. Combat is messy, chaotic, and imperfect. There is no perfect simulation that can put you in that type of situation. If you fail in a sim, you can do if over again. There are no respawns in combat. No do-overs."

"The deaths of Baldwin and Harker is not your fault," he said sternly. "On that bridge, you had two options: dig in and take cover, or retreat. Neither option guaranteed survival for any of you. You were living an imperfect situation where the cards were stacked against you. You made a call and people died, yes, but people could have died either way. You and I have no control over the future. We cannot influence events. The past is the past. All you can do is learn from it and move forward."

A thought occurred to him, and it provided him the best way to conclude his spiel in the most impactful of ways. "This can either make you or break you, Corporal. The choice is in your hands. Are you going to let what happened on the bridge make you, or break you? You decide."

[Faust, M.]

"I made the wrong call." Faust objected swiftly, if she had ordered her marines to take cover instead of falling back perhaps she would have save their lives instead of getting two marines killed. The deaths of those soldiers lay heavily on her mind, it did not help with the words she received after the fight for the bridge. She did not enjoy losing people, but dying happened to be an unfortunate part of war. 
She disagreed with what Durant had to say about what Stone said about her or rather Stone believing in her. It sure did not feel that way. 

There was a difference between a simulation and a real battle. If marines died in a sim, they usually came back once it ended, in a real battle death is real, no one can come back from it. At least not yet. "Yes it is, their deaths are my fault." She retorted to Durant's declaration that the deaths she caused were not her fault. 
"I am not fit to be in command." Michelle replied grimly. "I don't see how I can get past these deaths which I caused... I do not deserve the chance to get past them." 

Michelle fell quiet for a moment, finding something far more interesting in her hands than to continue looking at her LT. 

OOC: Sorry it is short

[Durant, M.]

Durant sat there for a moment, listening to her protests with much chagrin. It appeared to him that the German warrior was going to be as stubborn as ever. If he was to sway her, he needed to pull out all the stops on her. The methods in which to do so were many, but at the moment, his mind drew a blank.

Corporal Faust was a more delicate creature than outward appearances let on. Obviously the deaths of her teammates -- her subordinates -- weighed heavily upon her conscious. She was suffering from the incident internally, and the guilt would soon eat her alive. This was evidenced by her conclusion that she was unfit for command.

However, her sudden self-analysis had given him an idea unexpectedly, and he could barely contain the smile that threatened to purse his lips. "Faust, you see yourself unfit for command?" It was a rhetorical question.

The Lieutenant leaned forward again, maintaining eye contact unblinkingly. "Let's pretend for a moment that, had you taken cover, that your Marines weren't any less likely to perish under the onslaught of the Hunters and their allies. Let's forget about that whole scenario for a moment and focus on your sudden belief that you're unfit for command."

"Faust, if you are unfit for command because of the losses you suffered, than I am just as equally responsible, if not more. My responsibility as a platoon commander is to combat the enemy and take care of my own. Harker and Baldwin were as much my Marines as they are yours, and your failures are mine. So, since Harker and Baldwin were killed, do you think it appropriate I resign my commission? By your definition, I am unfit for command."

[Faust, M.]

With considerable difficult she managed to lift her head to look at her commanding officer. Reluctantly she nodded. "Yes sir I believe myself to be unfit for command." It hurt her to admit to such a thing, she took great pride in her martial skill or at least she used to. Michelle listened to Durant as he made uncomfortable unblinking eye contact with her. The sort of eye contact which in the movies usually led to someone kissing the other, something she thought to be entirely inappropriate.

She gave a single nod. "This is not the first time I have lost marines under my command but my aggressive nature makes me unfit to command because I place my comrades in arm in unnecessary or unavoidable danger." Faust attempted to explain to him. "You are a great commander Lieutenant Durant, one of the few officers I have served under who I have actually liked even if you do tend to be a bit religious at times." She found herself smiling suddenly. "I am the one at fault here not you."

The guilt of being personally responsible for the deaths of so many marines upon pressed down all too heavily on her concious. Faust preferred to keep her personal mental troubles to herself. Up until recently. Michelle had been initially reluctant to allow herself to grow close to the members of Oscar Company in the event that the marines who were part of it might be killed in battle. Not knowing them made it far easier on Faust to keep on living.

"I... I don't know how you do it Durant... I am... Ashamed as I let everyone down." Faust muttered quietly barely loud enough to be heard. "I don't get scared except from medical staff which you won't be getting me to see again any time soon." The corporal added as if Durant might be tempted to send her to or try to take her to see some medical professionals again. She loathed seeing them.

[Durant, M.]

"Yes, sir. I believe myself to be unfit for command."

Durant frowned, disappointed that his attempts thus far to convince his team leader of otherwise had failed. He realized as he sat there staring at her that he was running out of options and fast. Corporal Faust was a stubborn woman -- in some of the best and worst ways possible -- and he should have known that this was not going to be a cake walk. Faust would fight him until there was no more fight left in her.

Faust nodded at him. "This is not the first time I have lost Marines under my command; but, my aggressive nature makes me unfit for command because I place my comrades in arms in unnecessary or unavoidable danger."

Suddenly the Lieutenant had an epiphany. He realized that, this whole time, he had been approaching the issue the wrong way. If he was to succeed in changing the NCO's mind, he had to approach the topic from an entirely different angle, and he believed he knew how. It took all the strength he could muster to keep himself from cracking a smile and betraying his elation.

Michael did not jump to execute his new strategy just yet, taking the time to listen to everything that Faust had to say. He needed to have her full, undivided attention in order for this plan of his to work. The Lieutenant wracked his brain for the right words to use to bring about the accomplishment of his goal.

"Corporal, I am no stranger to loss, either," Durant said after the German's spiel, "since I assumed command of Second Platoon I have lost exactly sixteen Marines in combat. While this is not true for all of them, at least a quarter of those casualties were killed as a direct result of orders I issued."

He forced himself to sigh, and then continued. "However, you claim your aggressive nature is what results in casualties, yes? Do you recall that you pushed forward on the bridge under orders from Sergeant Stone, whom received his orders from me? You were not being aggressive of your own accord, but of mine."

The look that Faust gave him told him she was about to protest. He raised his hand in a silencing gesture. Michael opened the drawer to his desk and pulled out a tiny silver chip. It was recorder chip for his helmet camera, which had been running the entire time they had been on the planet's surface.

Durant inserted the chip into the drive on his desk's computer and opened up the media player. He fast forwarded through the video footage until it reached the point just before he gave the order for the platoon to advance. Turning the screen to face Corporal Faust, he clicked the play button and sat back in his seat, letting the video play out.

On the screen Durant was staring down at the unconscious form of Private Robin, whom moments before had been thrown like a ragdoll from the detonation of a plasma grenade. He glanced over his shoulder. Then-Private Wilkas was hunkered down in cover alongside a pair of Army troopers as plasma fire hissed by overhead. "WILKAS! OVER HERE!" he heard himself scream through the computer's speakers.

A sudden string of poorly aimed plasma shots zipped by him, and he hunkered down towards the ground to make himself a smaller target. He turned and looked over in the direction of Sergeant Stone. "Stone! I want your teams to focus their fire on the Elites! Automatic riflemen are to lay rapid suppressive fire! Keep those heathens from advancing further!"

Durant ejected the chip and replaced it with another. This one was from the recorded perspective of Sergeant Stone. He fast-forwarded to the point just before he had issued his orders. Stone was in thick of the fighting, plasma fire incoming so thick that Durant imagined the NCO could have walked on it. "Omen Two-One ta Squad, be advised: Alpha are ta establish base of fire while Bravo 'n Charlie prepare for movement by fire. We gon' push these assholes back! Ya hear me?! Over."

The video continued to play, and Durant discovered that Stone had had a front row seat to witness what had happened to Private Robin. He moved to console Faust over the case of the wounded Robin, and then the Lieutenant's voice could be heard in the background. The grizzled NCO chose to respond over the radio. "This is Two-One, roger! Alpha, git that base of fire goin' NOW! Suppressin' fire right down the middle of these split-jawed bastards! Bravo, Charlie, add yer fire ta the mix 'n prep ta push up on my mark!"

Stone battled the Covenant for a few moments before the radio blared to life with static. "Two-One, execute push! Two-Two, suppressing fire! Cover Two-One's push!" The voice had belonged to Durant.

Stone's head bobbed up and down as he nodded on screen. "Two-One here, roger! First Squad, push forward!"

The Lieutenant stopped the video and ejected the chip. He stared at Corporal Faust for a long moment before deciding it was time to speak. "As you can see from the videos, you advanced on the Covenant position under my orders, which were relayed by Sergeant Stone."

He hated that he had had to force her to relive the events of the bridge, but he found it to be the only way that he was going to get through to her. Of course, Michael knew that the videos alone were not going to fully convince her. There needed to be more to change her mind. "Bare in mind at this point the Hunters had not shown up, and your team advanced alongside Skip's. The enemy's fire had lessened considerably thanks to the suppressive fires from Davis's team and Second Squad. You were in the perfect position to flank and destroy the enemy."

He looked away from Faust for a moment to peer into his desk drawer. In the back of the drawer was another chip, this one emblazoned with the UNSC insignia, and it was labeled "OCS - COMBAT FOOTAGE ARCHIVE." Durant retrieved the chip from the back of the drawer and inserted it into his computer.

"When the Hunters did show up, you panicked," Durant stated. His tone was neither accusatory or reprimanding. On the contrary it sounded very matter-of-fact. "This is a considered a very normal reaction. It is not every day that you see a twelve foot tall walking tank with the power to wipe out entire platoons singlehandedly. It is also worth noting that there were two of them approaching us. You were caught right smack dab in the middle of a Covenant counterattack."

The Lieutenant pointed at the screen. "This is archived combat footage of a Marine unit encountering Hunters for the first time in 2535. It was shown to my class in OCS as a training tool and learning device," he explained.

Michael pressed play.

Twelve Marines were visible on the screen moving along a gravel road. The squad was flanked by forest on either side of the road. There was a loud thump and the squad leader threw his fist in the air. The Marine with the helmet camera dropped to one knee, scanning to the right with his rifle.

Suddenly a loud CRACK! resonated through the air and a tree toppled over onto the road. A Hunter emerged from the forest onto the road, releasing a bloodcurdling roar at the group of humans. Several Marines screamed in surprise and shock, and the entire squad opened fire on it. The Hunter took a step towards the squad as hundreds of bullets ricocheted harmlessly off its thick, blue armor.

The Hunter leveled its fuel rod cannon on four Marines from the squad and opened fire. A single green orb of energy shot through the air and landed in the center of the fire team. There was an explosion and cries of pain and terror as the Marines were blown apart and one, whom Durant surmised to be the fire team leader, was flash-vaporized. Immediately someone called for a retreat, and the entire squad broke ranks and ran.

In less than a minute the entire unit was dead, the cameraman included. The Hunter retreated into the forest after lingering over the dead for a moment, completely unharmed. Michael stopped the video and turned his attention to Faust. "That is what normally happens when we encounter Hunters," he told her coldly. "Those Marines, whom prior to this recording had taken on an entire company's worth of Covenant troops and survived, turned and ran when they realized they were not damaging the Hunter in the slightest, and they all died."

He paused, letting his words sink in for a moment. "You are not the first person to panic when coming across them, nor are you the first to lose Marines because of it. It does not make you any less of a leader and by no means makes you unfit for command. Even I had considered ordering a retreat when the Hunters arrived. Fighting them is almost guaranteed suicide."

Now was the time to drive the point home. "Harker and Baldwin died in the field of battle fighting the most dangerous enemy humanity as ever faced. There are no guarantees that any of us are going to survive in this war. They did not die because their fire team leader was overly aggresive. The idea to push forward was not yours, but mine. Therefore the blame does not fall upon you, but myself. Am I any less of a leader because of it? Am I unfit for command because a tactical mistake was made because I lacked the foresight to anticipate the Covenant would send Hunters into the bridge in an attempt to overwhelm us?"

"The answer is no," be said flatly, shaking his head. "And neither are you. Corporal, you are one of the best fire team leaders in my platoon, and we need you to continue to do what it is you do best. I can assure you that Sergeant Stone does not blame you for what happened or consider you unfit for command. If he did, you would not be a fire team leader anymore, and likely would have been transferred out of First Squad on his behest. To date, no such request has landed on my desk."

He wondered what the German FTL was thinking as he leaned back in his seat, smiling warmly at her. "I understand that coping with loss is never easy. You want to find someone to blame for what happened and thus came to blame yourself. But you mustn't do that. You are not to blame for what happened anymore than I am. We were in the midst of a precarious situation and the cards you were dealt were not what you had hoped for. They weren't what any of us could hope for. But, it happened. There is nothing you or I can do to change, so we must move on from it, and vow to do better next time."

[Faust, M.]

Faust listened to what Durant had to say, she began to open her mouth to speak but he swept on. Clearly the questions he asked were rhetorical, rather than the kind who needed an answer. Her actions on the bridge may have been to follow orders, however she felt the need to correct him on a few thing. Faust attempted to protest against but Durant held up his hand for silence. With clear difficult she did not speak, biting the bottom of her lip through frustration.

The next part Michelle hated, with him playing the video footage of the battle on the bridge. She did not want nor need to see a reminder of what she believed to be a failing of her's. It took all of Michelle's stubborn nature to resolutely watch and not storm out of the room slamming the door on the way out. As much as one could slam a sliding door. She'd find a way if it came to it.
She flinched seeing what happened to Robin, forcing herself to keep watching. Her gaze shifted to Durant for a fraction of a second shooting him a glare, wondering as to what purpose was this? If he wanted to torture her, just send her to the doctors. 

"But I don't panic." Faust objected, normally fear she beat up, stole its lunch money and shoved in a locker. Or at the very least that was how the Corporal usually appeared when it came to something she feared. Except doctors, the entire platoon knew how difficult she actually happened to be around them. He played another video. One who's terrible contents show twelve marines being slaughtered by a single hunter, those terrors usually came in pairs rather than alone. It threw her off as to why there would only be one of them in a battle. 
Such things were never going to bother the marines who were killed in prompt order by the hunter. 

Faust listened as Durant spoke again. She reluctantly supposed that he did have a point, any annoyingly strong and correct point. Suddenly a weird thought crossed mind almost random, out of the blue. Durant reminded her of her father back home, he often spoke to her after a fight whether she won or lost, though the latter tended to never be the case. The idea that Durant sounded similar felt so goofy to her and utterly out of context due to the conversation the pair of them had been having, she realised that now she had a thin smile on her face. 
"I'll do my best sir." She answered, finding herself in a desperate battle to prevent herself from laughing. Maybe it was all the stress of lately which she built up inside herself and now Durant removed a great deal of it. Unfortunately however, like a dam bursting her body seemed content to let it all out through laughter. Something which may be highly inappropriate and distinctly un-Faust.