Yes. [ He'd wanted to find somewhere secure and hunker down. He'd wanted to live. He'd wanted to die for something that mattered, to give his life for the fucking war-

Not a man chasing a ghost.

He scrapes his hand through his hair, listing until he's plastered against Locus' side. Broad and warm and solid and here. And real. ]

We were meant to have purpose. We were meant to be the start of a new sort of soldier. To act as a squad when Spartans couldn't make it out to clear the field.