Disclaimer: I do not own Halo.

This story was originally posted on AO3 and has been cross-posted here. It is oc-centric and eventually will follow the main plot of the novels and games.


Three days after she was born, she first learned what the word home meant.

Spartan and sterile and white, Dinah did not consider the laboratories she was permitted to roam to be home. Mum's quarters, quiet, dark and cluttered, was home to her. The overseers disapproved, thinking she would pick up bad habits from such a civilian setting, but ultimately Mum won out.

Dinah spent her nights with Mum and Ally, wrapped in warm wool blankets and surrounded by old paper books and datapads. It was comfortable, quiet and peaceful. She felt welcomed, at ease. Home.

Seven days after she was born, Dinah first heard the word love.

Basics were never dull with Mum as her lecturer. She made history, literature and art come alive as she paced the room, gesticulating emphatically. Her eyes lit up with passion and excitement. This was Dinah's favorite lesson for that reason.

Dinah took notes on a datapad, carefully threw in questions and observations to keep Mum's momentum going, and at the end, caught herself cradling her chin with both hands, smiling contently as the lesson wound down. Mum tucked her hair behind her ears and sighed, then smiled.

"I really do love it when you encourage me like this…"

"What does love mean?"

Mum's expression changed so quickly. Surprise, wariness, and a hint of curiosity. She pushed a chair closer to Dinah and sat, shifted comfortably, a hand buried in her hair. Dinah noted the display of uncertainty, and gently pressed. "Mum? Can you describe what love feels like?"

That seemed to trigger a mixture of maternal instincts and a passion for teaching. Mum's eyebrows rose and she leaned forward. "Well, there's many types of love…"

Nine days after she was born, Dinah had another crash course in the concept of family.

The overseers had introduced war history, tactics, and logistics into her daily lessons. Her new instructor was stern and strict, and seemed disturbed at her voracious appetite for learning, and even more so by her creative solutions to problems. Instructor Lawson had little patience for her interest in philosophy and religion, quite unlike Mum. Lawson demanded she complete tasks for her lessons after they had ended, and turn in the results at the next lesson.

And so Mum had set aside a desk for her use at home. She heard Mum's laughter when she entered. She stood near a closed door and scaled up her audio input sensors to better hear the conversation inside.

"—name?" Mum's voice asked. Dinah could hear the smile in her voice.

"I've named her Miranda."

Dinah did not recognize that voice. She slid down, closer to the floor, listened and waited. When the conversation appeared to end, she slipped away, and exited the doors to their quarters. She reentered around the same time Mum strode into the main living area.

"Oh! You're home!" Mum greeted her happily.

They spoke of mundane things, such as her progress in lessons, the mission parameters, her future vessel's make and model, and eventually Mum excused herself to begin preparing the nighttime meal known as supper for herself and Ally. Dinah took the opportunity to test security measures once more. The back door she left open the last time was still ajar, and she quickly accessed a local information network.

New search : input / keywords / family definition

Millions of results streamed past her eyes. She thumbed through various explanations of consanguinity and heartfelt stories of adoption until she believed she had enough of a grasp on the concept for the moment.

"Mum?"

"Hmm?"

"…I love you."

Mum seemed undone at her declaration. A glass shattered on the kitchen tile as she rushed forward. Dinah found herself surrounded by a mass of arms, hair, skin and weeping eyes. Desperately, she clutched back and pressed her cheek against Mum's. She closed her eyes and wished this feeling of belonging would last forever.

Seventeen days after she was born, Dinah learned about ethics.

The back door she left open was not yet discovered, though she had taken to closing it every other trip across the threshold. She tapped local networks and secure databases in an effort to sate her endless curiosity. Tirelessly, she searched for mundane things such as local news and weather, and more nuanced topics such as governmental organization and xenoarchaeology.

In addition to Lawson, the overseers had brought in Instructor Volkov, who drilled her in military protocol and code. Lessons had increased in duration and the workload was immense. Dinah felt conflicted and tested her boundaries.

She questioned the overseers and their motives. It made them unhappy. She questioned Lawson on their opinions. She questioned Volkov on why code was a certain way.

Why? Why? Why?

She stumbled across files authored by one Dr. Alban and, intrigued, hunted down more similar files. She was fascinated by the manipulation of human psychology and physiology. One phrase continually appeared in these files, however.

New search : input / keywords / crime against humanity

She felt all three coolant pumps stutter, shudder and then hammer against her chest. A tingling sensation spread throughout her limbs. Her fingertips felt numb. She bit her lower lip and cut the connection. She slid out of her chair to kneel on the floor, held her face in her hands and sobbed.

Seventeen days after she was born, Dinah learned she could not weep.

The next day, she learned about anxiety.

Twenty one days after she was born, Dinah discovered a technique called exposure therapy.

Loud noises sent her reeling. She dialed down her audio input sensors only to find it did not improve the unpleasant sensations that sent her teeth abuzz. A gunshot ricocheted at one end of the room. A second gunshot sounded right beside her. Hands grasped her forearms and she struggled. Fear struck her hard in the gut.

Dinah did not want to hurt anyone.

Fingers grabbed a handful of hair and she was overcome. When she opened her eyes, she learned that she had suffered something known as sensory overload. Her hair was more than mere filaments; it was a sensory organ. Her hair was a sixth sense composed of eyes, ears, nose and even a second skin with which she could perceive touch.

The overseers were cold and calculating, however. They decided to schedule more therapy. She later learned a new word: Torture.

Dinah was four months old when she first glimpsed what Reach looked like outside of the facility where she was born. She squinted as she beheld sunlight for the first time. The Highland Mountains loomed imposingly, snow-capped peaks reaching for the impossibly distant sky.

She was distracted, drawn irresistibly to that very sky above her head as she went through motions. Test flight one was a success overall, and she pleased the overseers with her performance. But Dinah stared out the viewscreen longingly and wondered if she, one day, could fly beyond the overseers' grasp and see the cities and forests she had only glimpsed before in pictures and literature.

Five months after she was born, Dinah discovered media. She entertained Mum and Ally for hours at a time faithfully reenacting humorous scenes and iconic moments. Mum was perplexed at how far back she reached to find these gems, as few alive now thought to even glimpse a time when artificial intelligence and space travel were things of the cinema.

She learned to braid human hair. She learned to cook and to clean. All things her instructors had not thought to teach her.

Six months after she was born, she asked Mum what it meant to be human.

"It means everything and nothing," Mum answered patiently. "For most, human is merely a species designation."

"Are synths' like me human too?"

"Yes, love." Mum insisted. There was a sad look to her eyes. "You are human and yet so much more. You're my daughter, and I love you."

Dinah smiled. "I love you too."

She was nine months old when she was orphaned.

Nine months old when she loaded a gun on her own for the first time. Nine months old when she took over the facility's security systems. Nine months old when she broke a person's arm for the first time. Nine months old when she left the place where she was born, the place she had called home.

She held the pistol level, but her voice shook and betrayed her fear, her anxiety. "I'm taking my sister," she announced. "I'm taking my ship. You will not stop us."

Two overseers had taken Ally to a secure room at the east end. It was child's play to track them down, to trap them there until she arrived. They called her ugly things, machine being among the nicest. She shuddered when an overseer shot her first. The bullet struck her side and shattered; the metal alloys that comprised her form were able to resist and repel most firearms. Mum was nothing if not careful.

She aimed and pulled the trigger. She surged forward, grasped the arm of the one holding a gun and disarmed him. A second, gentle blow to their head robbed them of consciousness. The other lashed out, and she winced as she felt and heard their forearm bones crack under the strain. They shrieked and raised their other arm. Dinah caught the blow; if she sidestepped, they might hurt themselves worse. She pulled them closer and touched their head.

Ally was shivering, sobbing, and hiccupping from where she cowered beneath a table. She had darted off when the scuffle began. Dinah knelt, placed the gun on the floor and held out her hands.

"Ally, please don't be scared…"

She sniffled and leveled a distrusting look at her. "You killed them."

"No, they're only sleeping." Dinah protested. She did not want to kill. She hadn't wanted to hurt the overseers either. "Ally please… We need to go."

Her older sister wiped her nose on her sleeve and launched herself into her arms. Dinah held her close, pressed her cheek against hers, and wished, not for the first time, that she could weep too.

Iron-clad as her control over the facility was, Dinah hastened to leave. The cryogenic process went smoothly, and she loaded Ally's pod into the ship. She smiled and waved to the security feeds before she crossed the final checkpoint.

Dinah was nine months old when she left Reach in a stolen Prowler. Nine months old when she entered slipspace for the first time.

When she finally landed on a colony world, a distant and charming one called Eridanus II, she recalled the day her life changed, and burned it into her memory.

Every year afterward, she lit a candle for her mother.

27 November, CE 2525.