Reconnaissance

-Reconnaissance – (part2)

An Appleseed fanfic
Thanks to Masamune Shirow for my favorite pairing ever.

* * * * *


B R I A R E O S

One of the few perks to getting in after the rest of the team was that there was plenty of space in the back of the command truck for them to wedge in and sit down. The other scouts had returned to the march but they were able to ride high and dry the last mile into camp while being debriefed on what they’d seen. Briareos had no doubt that the officers would send another scout party back out to confirm what they had found. Even with Deunan too dead on her feet to speak with any of her usual energy, the tale of their battle sounded pretty crazy. Too damned stubborn to sit back and rest while he took care of the details, his woman had delivered a remarkably pithy summary for the astounded brass while he found himself delegated to ‘talking’ to the computers. It had taken all of a moment to upload the few encrypted files he’d been able to scalp before the tank had taken offense at his hacking and blown itself up.

Navigating from truck to muster, from muster to tent in the foggy darkness was easier perhaps for a cyborg than for the punchdrunk infantry around him. He didn’t waste energy on sympathy for the rank and file, concentrating instead on steering Deunan through the mob and to their bunk assignment with the least amount of fuss. Acres of tents on wooden platforms stretched around the side of the hill. The ring roads were lettered, the individual platforms numbered, forming a sort of rough grid system. His girl was too stubborn to be carried a second time, but she didn’t shake off the hand he kept on her shoulder as he herded her through the chaos towards their row. Ducking into the musty smelling space beneath the durable canvas, he sighed at the minimal accommodations. A cot was about as useless for him as a bicycle, neither being designed to hold the weight of his frame. At least he’d be able to roll out his sleeping mat on smooth plywood rather than gravel. There were spare blankets stacked on the edge of the folding table pressed into the back of the cramped space. Looking down at the water streaming off his arms, and at Deunan’s sodden appearance, he weighed their worth as towels rather than as bedding. Still the small bunk was dry, and relatively warm, they’d had worse.

Crouching down, he nudged the small heater into doing something more than just sitting uselessly in the corner. Deunan dropped her bag and sat on it with a wet sound, working on her bootlaces one foot at a time. Spared the nuisance of laces, he was able to release the clips on his own cleats and kick the heavy wearing plates off to the side where they wouldn’t get tripped over. Finding a clothesline in the tent’s kit box, he strung it up over the stove on the vain hope that _something_ they owned might be dry by morning. Briareos checked his internal chronometer and shook his head. It _was_ almost morning. If some stiff-necked staff sergeant came by before he sacked out and told him he was on patrol duty before noon, he was going to be pissed as hell. Shirt and pants he threw over the line, turning to Deunan to collect the same from her. She had anticipated him. Dropping a dripping mass of fabric into his hands, she wordlessly dug through her bag for a dryer under-layer to change into. Seeing her wet and nearly naked ought to have been a turn on, but being able to see more of her skin than he had in almost a month only made him realize just how much she’d put up with. His girl was down to muscle and bone. The small fluorescent light that allowed her to navigate their tent only made the hollows at the base of her throat and above her hips more pronounced, the shadows under her eyes darker.

“Take a cot?” He gestured that she could take her pick. Deunan picked up a blanket and toweled herself briskly with it before wrapping it around her body for warmth. Pulling the bedding off of the first cot, and then the second, she flipped the pair of narrow bunks flat and stacked them off to one side. Briareos shook his head as she ignored his advice and set herself to making them a pallet on the floor. A minor adjustment of his power supplies, and he didn’t really need a towel. Water evaporated slowly from his warming skin as he fished in his bag for his spare uniform, pulling it on as soon as he was dry enough to keep it from sticking. Not above doing something nice for his exhausted woman, he waited until she sat up from her work, resting on her knees, before sinking down behind her and wrapping his arms around her shoulders. Deunan gasped at the heat radiating from him and promptly leaned back against his chest, seeking to drape herself against his warmth.

“If you’re going to keep me company down on the floor, the least I can do is put up with your icy feet.” He nuzzled her damp hair as she limply rested against him. Sensing no complaint from his girl, Briareos scooped her up in his arms and settled them both against the floor, letting her curl up in a huddle against his side, and soak up the spare heat he was generating. Pulling the majority of the blankets over her as well, he tried to ignore the fact that he could feel her spine beneath his fingers.

*****

Briareos picked his way across camp, attentive to the nastier stretches of mud. Early morning after the rain made the whole area look particularly sorrowful. He was glad he had talked Deunan into staying near their tent. Better that she get a chance to sit and enjoy her coffee for once than force herself to pull together a presentable uniform from their still damp gear and join him for a follow-up meeting with the powers that be. Taking turns being called onto the carpet for what they did, or didn’t do, was part of what their partnership was all about.

Remembering how his girl had looked when she crawled out of bed earlier, he reminded himself that partners were supposed to take care of each other as well. She’d looked bad. Not sick – Deunan was too tough for that, even without the help of her nanomachines – but she wasn’t well either. Pale and thin, and bruised around the eyes with exhaustion, he wondered if he would have recognized her if she hadn’t smiled at him. The woman sharing his tent was about as far from the girl he knew as he’d ever seen. Something would have to be done, and soon, or she really would fall ill.

Ducking his head to avoid a low doorframe, he let himself into the prefabricated command hut and allowed the aide to point him to where the brass sat waiting. He could have set his watch by the precise timing of their obligatory small talk. Exactly three minutes of ‘I’m glad you’ve had a chance to settle in’ levels of official bullshit and the quartet of officers turned to their briefing reports as one, going through every line of Deunan’s already concise transcript and questioning him on the particulars. Size, weight, weapons, crew, they picked his brain for the better part of an hour in regards to his rain drenched memories of the tank’s capabilities. Briareos did the best he could to satisfy them, glad that it was him and not his girl getting grilled. He had no doubt that she’d been too close to the monstrous weapon’s platform to care about much of anything other than blowing the shit out of it. As he’d had the relative luxury of sitting back and snipping at it, he at least could provide a general overview of what he’d seen.

At length the officers had turned to the monitor on the wall beside him, bringing up the morning’s aerial photographs and asking him to outline the general layout of the town and wreckage. Chafing at the wasted time, he reiterated his story a third time, this time with appropriate pointers as to where they were and how the team deployed. When asked what the others were doing while he and Deunan had played cat-and-mouse with a hundred ton gun platform he’d answered the only way that was honest. He had no idea what the rest of the team had done. It had been too foggy to see much of anything. Wondering if he was royally screwing a teammate over with his report, he ventured to guess they were busy taking care of the other ground forces, but the officers on the other side of the briefing table neither confirmed nor denied it. He tried not to feel awkward at the handful of backhanded compliments the older officers paid him for being an especially talented civilian trained operative, and stood as three out of four men exited the room. Briareos wondered what the hard-asses would have said if he confessed that before his life in S.W.A.T. he had been on Interpol’s most wanted, but it was a childish whim and quickly squelched.

His battle group commander waved him back into his chair with a tired smile as soon as the door closed behind the higher ups. “That was very well done, officer Hecatonchires. I confess I thought your partner was exaggerating when she described the platform as over eighty tons, but looking at _that_,” he pointed at the screen. “I imagine it was at least an eight man crew, possibly it could have held twice that many fully loaded.”

“Its possible.” Briareos agreed cautiously. “Pretty unlikely though. It’d slow down to a crawl with that many cyborgs on board, especially with the ground as soft as it was.”

“And you and your partner took it down with six grenades and an EM mine?” His commander leaned back in his chair, “I don’t know whether you two are brilliant, or insane.”

“She would probably tell you we’re a little of both.” He shrugged. “We got lucky. They weren’t expecting anyone to take the offensive, and the rain provided and unexpected amount of cover for close work.”

“They were expecting you to do just what the others did. You were meant to be scouts, not a heavy ordinance strikeforce.” The major shook his head. “When you didn’t turn tail and run, they probably didn’t know _what_ to do.” Giving him a thoughtful look, the officer tapped his fingers on his desk. “So tell me, what is this camp’s single most outspoken pro-cyborg activist doing carrying around an EM pulse-mine in her pocket? Those are not standard issue for _our_ army. How the hell did she come by it?”

“Probably scalped it off a corpse, same way we get the rest of our decent weapons.” Briareos snorted. “Given that most of our opponents are either cybernetically enhanced or outright machines, it seemed a handy thing to hang on to.”

“You knew she had it all along?” His commander looked at him in amazement. “And you weren’t worried?”

“Lt. Knute sleeps with a loaded assault rifle under her pillow too.” He pointed out in reply. “She hasn’t shot me yet. A weapon is only as dangerous as the person holding it wants it to be. I’d prefer my partner hanging on to something like an EM mine over just about anyone else in camp. She at least knows how to handle them carefully.”

“I take it she’s resting this morning?” The major set aside his paperwork to lean forwards on his elbows. He smiled briefly as Briareos nodded. “That’s good. She looked pretty strung out when you both came in. Have her go to medical for a once over if she doesn’t improve by tomorrow. I won’t have the best duo in my command taken down by some obscure lung infection.”

Briareos didn’t bother to remind the man that Deunan had a full compliment of micromachine implants, a convenient legacy from her S.W.A.T. days. It didn’t do to get the idea in the officer’s head that she was more indestructible than she was. Her reputation for being able to walk off just about anything was already a little too prevalent for his liking. It was more than a little responsible for her current exhaustion, since she couldn’t or wouldn’t back down from taking on anything that _he_ volunteered for, as well as those missions she was ordered into. Trying to remind her that he was a cyborg, and therefore was supposed to have higher stamina had been singularly unsuccessful.

“You’ll tell her that I’m putting you both in for a pay grade increase.” The major continued. “I’m putting recommendations for promotion in your files as well, but I doubt that will happen any time soon. The pay increase is probably going to be pretty pitiful, but it’ll take effect at the end of the month. I figure it’s the least I can do. You’ve been working well above and beyond all expectations. With ten more teams like you two, this war would be over in a month.”

Briareos was glad that he didn’t still have his human face, because he doubted he’d have been able to keep from grimacing at that unwanted compliment. Ten more of him? Ten more of Deunan? Even if they worked themselves to death, they wouldn’t make the slightest dent in the war. The memory of L.A. in flames after the bombing runs was still fresh in his mind. The city hadn’t stood a chance of holding ground against the wave of aircraft that had come in over the harbor. They’d lost a third of the police force all in one afternoon, either from the initial explosions, or in fighting the fires and riots that had come after. Having gratitude from the military for being a good soldier felt like the worst kind of selling out. Getting mad about it wouldn’t change the fact that he’d been drafted into the army just like every other able bodied man and woman in the police not required to assist with the evacuation. It didn’t mean he had to like it though.

“If you really want to thank us for cleaning out the trap, there is _something_ I would really appreciate.” Briareos surprised himself by speaking up.

His girl was rubbing off on him perhaps. Usually he found effusive praise from his superiors to be either uncomfortable or uncalled for. Tired, filthy, and in a real camp for the first time in months, he found himself stooping to use it for leverage. Needs must as the devil drives, he told himself. If they were going to pretend to be grateful for his murdering people in the name of their causes, the least they could do was provide a little blood money for his trouble. There were some things that he was flat-out tired of living with for months on end without complaint, and he had Deunan to consider as well.

His commander looked at him in surprise. “Is there? I’m afraid we’re short on… just about everything. But if it’s in my power to grant, it’s yours.”

“A trailer.”

“A what?” The officer blinked, not following.

Briareos shrugged, already feeling stupid for asking. It was too late to back out now without garnering an even stranger look. Undoubtedly the officer had been expecting demands for new weapons, armor, or parts. Not that he’d have said no, if there were any available, but what he was really hoping for was something a bit more intangible. “Those little VIP cabins. This camp has twenty of them, doesn’t it? For brass that comes through, or civilian liaisons?”

“Yes.” His commander blinked again. “You want to be assigned one of the prefab units for your in-camp bunk space? That’s not a short order, lieutenant. Not even _I_ get one of those. They’re meant for long-term base commanders and the like. Not grunts like us. Besides, it’d be a little _cramped_ for you… wouldn’t it?”

“I’ll manage.” Briareos demurred. “If it’s clean, dry, and quiet, I’ll put up with a tight fit. You said ‘anything’. Well, I want trailer, for at least a few days. And double-ration tickets for myself and my partner would be great as well. Swing both of those, and we’d count ourselves pretty well rewarded for any service above-and-beyond recently. If the trailer’s not available, I’ll take the rations and an upgraded tent. Keep the pay raise, we’ll take it in time off instead. Lt. Knute needs at least two days rest before she’ll be fit for action again preferably a week. So if you excuse me I’m going to go tie her down so that she gets it.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” The major looked at him as if he’d grown a second head as he stood and saluted, making his exit.

Briareos didn’t bother to ask whether the man would do as he wanted, opting to quit while he was ahead. It was one thing to tell the upper officers their business in regards to how to interpret findings from patrol or combat, he knew he had pushed his luck in telling the man how to do his job in camp. Still, he wasn’t above crossing his fingers as he cut back across camp to where he and Deunan had been assigned tent space. She was right where he’d left her. Her mug dangled from limp fingers as she sat on the edge of the tent’s raised wooden platform; head in hand. Briareos sat wordlessly beside her and pulled her shoulders until she leaned into his lap. His girl put up little resistance, eyes drifting closed as she sank against him and pillowed her head on his thigh. No sense getting her hopes up, he told himself as he petted her hair, sympathizing with her exhaustion. They had shift in two hours, unless the brass were especially thoughtful and rearranged the schedule before then. He resolved to let her cat nap until then.

****

He found her, after yet another morning meeting, in the commissary. Deunan was bartering with a tired looking woman at the inventory counter for toothbrushes of all things. Briareos silently wondered if his girl had finally gone off the deep-end as he saw her trade away a flask of perfectly good brandy and a seemingly never-used shock-stick for a fist full of the mundane kit supplies. His curiosity was piqued a little further at the more obscure items the clerk put on the counter. A canister of compressed air and a canister of spray-graphite were not exactly items of everyday use for most people.

“Planning on doing some small engine repair, little missy?” He inquired as she tucked her acquisitions away.

Deunan grinned up at him in wan pleasure. “Something like that. Where’ve you been this morning?”

“Talking with the staff sergeant about a change of digs.” He stuffed his hands in his pocket, feeling the crinkle of the ration coupons. It was a good thing he’d gotten them. His woman wasn’t any less thin despite their return to camp. He didn’t like how gaunt her face had gotten. They’d been pushing hard for the past month, and the supply chain had broken down completely more than once. Deunan was too slim and too high energy to go skipping many meals with out it directly impacting her body fat. She needed feeding up with real food and some proper rest in a bed, before they went back out into the field. Luckily, fate had put his way the ideal means for doing both. “You up for a bit of relocating?”

“We’re not staying with the team?” Deunan raised an eyebrow at him as they strolled through the camp, correctly supposing he had pulled in a favor or two. “What have you got in the works, handsome?”

“Just a little something I like to call R&R.” He produced one of the coupons from his pocket and waved it in front of her nose, enjoying the chance to surprise her with good news for a change. Her eyes lit up as soon as she realized what he held. Reflexes still plenty quick despite her exhausted appearance, Deunan snatched the chit from his fingers studying it with genuine pleasure.

“You’re serious?” She stared at him speculatively. “This is for me?”

“And a real bed, for a change. Although I may have to demand that you share it.” He made a show of rolling his shoulders. “I may be made of metal, but I don’t find sleeping on the ground _that_ comfortable.”

“You got me a bed?” Deunan continued to stare at him, smile playing at the corner of her lips. “To what do I owe this windfall?”

“You’ve noone to blame but yourself.” He ruffled her hair. “The brass seem to think you’re worth the money if you’re going to go single-handedly blowing up tanks.”

“Funny.” His girl looked away, “I remember having some help at the time.”

“Like I said. I’m going to demand at least one night in that bed.” Briareos ruffled her hair again. “But today I’m all for watching you eat your bodyweight in food and passing out.”

“Look that good, do I?” Deunan smiled grimly. “You don’t have to worry about me, old man. I know I’ve lost some weight, but I’ll get it back soon enough. Personally, what I’d kill for is a proper shower with towels and soap, but there’s fat chance of getting that around here.”

“Ye of little faith.” He settled in front of their tent, packing what they’d spread around to personalize the space. It took pathetically little effort to fit everything he owned back into his carryall. “Come and see for yourself what your thoughtful and compassionate partner has scrounged for you!”

“You’re not pulling my leg?” Deunan set her bag down to stare at him in earnest, too stunned to follow his example. “You’ve found me a shower?”

“With towels, no less. You’ll have to provide your own soap, but you just bought some, didn’t you?” He looked up at her, realizing for the first time that her hair was not only windblown and disheveled after days of trekking, but actually the wrong color, almost grey. Soot, he reminded himself, from the tank. She’d been living with sooty hair and rain-mildewed clothes for two days since their insane little skirmish. No wonder why the shower was more tempting than the food.

He could have kicked himself for not thinking of it sooner. Being a cyborg, the worst he had to worry about in waiting for his turn to use the pitiful communal ‘wash house’ was the audible hiss of the dust in his gears. Most of the obvious shit wiped off of his skin with little effort, leaving him tidy looking, if not fresh feeling. Deunan had been patiently waiting her turn for a chance under the sad dribble the camp called a shower since their arrival. The expression on her face made him acutely uncomfortable. She looked almost as if she might cry.

“Pack.” He told her firmly. “Double-rations means that you also get a double daily water allowance. You can scrub as long as you want while I go stand in line and get us something decadent for dinner.”

“Yeah. Ok.” She blinked, turning to inspect their little tent, biting her lip. “Ok. Give me five minutes.”

******

It was hard to remind himself on his return that he had altruistic reasons for demanding the executive quarters. He forgot all about the annoyance of standing in line and the hassle of getting the transfer together as soon as he saw Deunan puttering around outside their trailer. Standing like an idiot, arms full of dinner, he could only gape in surprise at the sight of his woman hanging out various bits of laundry on a line strung between their trailer and the next. Scrubbed pink, golden blonde, and wearing nothing more than one of his dress shirts belted at her waist, she looked sexier than he’d seen her in months. Almost a year, he realized as he counted backwards. He forced himself to stop staring at her legs, and moved to help her as she fumbled with his spare pair of pants. “You were supposed to be selfishly showering with that water ration, little woman. Not doing our laundry.”

“I showered.” She protested with a grin, standing back to inspect her handiwork. “But I also I wanted something clean to wear afterwards, so I bought half fresh, half recycled water. Enough of the good stuff for a double scrub for me, and plenty left over of the regular besides.”

Deunan eyed him thoughtfully, clearly taking in the travel stains and wrinkles on the uniform he was wearing. “What you have on is the only thing left to scrub. Remind me to strip you later?”

“That a promise?” He teased, handing over the boxes of high-grade rations he’d acquired. “Here, this ought to last you a meal or two.” She whisked his forage into the tiny building to investigate as he carefully kicked the mud from his cleats. With her looking good enough to shock the senses, he was reminded of how grimy he felt. It was almost criminal to enter the tidy little trailer as dusty as he was.

“Where’d you get the clothespins from anyway?” He wondered aloud as he eased through the door and navigated to their table. God, when had a table and chairs become a luxury for him? He sat down with a happy sigh, reminding himself of the trappings of civilization, as modest as they were.

Deunan was humming to herself as she produced plates and cups from the cupboards and set herself to cutting the apples into sections. Popping the first slice into her mouth, she set the rest of the plate in front of him with a wink. “Borrowed’em from Marty next door, nice woman, a bit of a technology-nut though. She runs the communications center.”

“You’re already meeting the neighbors?” He shook his head in amazement. “Don’t get too cozy, we aren’t permanent residents, you know.”

Deunan made a face. “Yeah. Apparently this is one of the ‘guest’ cottages, she tells me. When she saw me doing laundry she thought that I was someone’s ‘extra perk’ and gave me an earful. I explained to her that it was the first chance I’d had to scrub my uniform in a month. Then she felt bad and lent me the pins…” Leering at him as she dished up rice and a double helping of stew for each of them, she couldn’t help but tease. “Am I your ‘extra perk’, handsome?”

“I confess, seeing you wearing _that_ I almost wondered the same thing.” He snorted in amusement, applying himself to his plate. “Looks considerably more fetching on you than on me.” He offered, catching her sour look. His woman smirked again, mollified by the compliment. Briareos pushed the remaining apple wedges towards her as she sat, encouraging her to have the rest. She tucked into her own plateful with a happy sigh.
Soon too busy eating to need further conversation, she devoured her portion and helped herself to a second plateful, pausing only to point to his empty dish in silent inquiry. He shook his head, full enough, content to let her lay into his remaining share.

Deunan ate quickly and methodically under his worried inspection. Where she had room inside for the oversized meal was anyone’s guess. He studied her hands and face as he toyed with a slice of apple. Wishing there was more he could do for her. Even with his oversized shirt concealing her arms and body, it was clear she was well below her usual fighting weight. Probably the rest of the army was just as bad. They’d all been skipping a few too many meals since crossing the mountains. Most of the guys he talked to were glad to be based inland. The fighting wasn’t as fierce away from the coast. In his opinion, the easier action just meant that was nothing worth fighting over in their region. It cost the enemy nothing to let them kill themselves with exposure out in the badlands.

Eventually they would have to break north, or south, he mused. They’d join up with the crews in Canada perhaps. Or they might make a push into the Mexican territories, down where the land was still fertile and the Pacific alliance didn’t have drones blanketing the coast. It wasn’t his decision. But if this unit didn’t move soon, he was seriously thinking about volunteering himself and Deunan for a transfer into a hotter combat zone just to get them into a slightly better situation. He didn’t foresee his girl complaining about the danger. Of the pair of them, she never seemed to worry about the risks involved with fighting in a war. It was almost impossible most days to make her recognize her own mortality. For the promise of regular meals and un-rationed water, she’d probably volunteer to airdrop herself on top of enemy lines wielding only a pointed stick.

“Penny for your thoughts?” The object of his speculation raised her eyebrows at him, wiping the last of the sauce off her plate with a finger. “You’re awfully quiet.”

“Just admiring the scenery.” He teased lightly.

She rolled her eyes at him in response, reclaiming his plate and stacking it under hers to set them both in the sink. Leaning against the counter, she stretched slowly, and sighed, looking well contented. “We have patrol tonight? Or are we really on leave for a while?”

“Forty eight hours, until our next duty assignment.” He leaned back in his chair, enjoying the chance to just sit and talk. “Then afternoon patrols daily for the next week. This we get to keep for two weeks, if we aren’t ousted in favor of someone with more stripes or stars than us.” Gesturing around their tiny little lodging with a finger he let her digest the happy news before sharing the less pleasant facts of life. “Premium-grade double-rations I was only able to wheedle for one week. But that’s just how it goes.”

Far from disappointed, Deunan grinned broadly. “More than a week of eating like this and I’ll become flabby and disgusting anyway. Another day and everything we own will be clean, and I’ll be able to squeeze in another shower… More than that will be pure decadence.” Tilting her head to the side, she studied him closely. “I can’t picture you wheedling though. What did you threaten them with?”

“A very unhappy cyborg?” He reached out to her, claiming her hand and tugging her towards his chair with a gentle yank. She obliged him with a huff. Standing she was taller than him, but not by all that much. He leaned against her shoulder, inhaling her clean scent as she readily draped her arms around his neck. “It’s good to remind them occasionally,” he turned his face to kiss the corner of her jaw. “That expertise like ours doesn’t come cheap.”

“Expertise like _yours_.” She corrected happily, “I’m selling ‘crazy,’ myself. It’s less work, and keeps the guys hoping to cop a feel on their toes.”

“We come as a set.” Briareos reminded her. “Partners, remember?”

She nodded, face pressed against the top of his head as she hugged him. He hugged her back, wishing that he wasn’t entirely coated in crap. Likely, he was making her grimy again just by touching her.

For the first time in months they had a surplus of food, shelter, and some genuine privacy. The last was the luxury he had missed the most. Their tent had just been too damned cramped, not to mention that they’d either been obliged to share it with random people, or had bivouacked so closely packed together that everyone heard everyone else’s business. Wanting to enjoy more than just cuddling with Deunan was more than counterbalanced by the knowledge that everyone else in hearing distance would be speculating about her afterwards. Hard enough for Deunan to be in the minority in a fighting unit, she didn’t need the bullshit that came with being seen as a sex-object too. He caught even the most straight-laced guys staring hungrily at her after a month or two away from civilization. There was no need to encourage trouble by flaunting the fact that they were together.

He didn’t like to think of himself as a misogynist, but he was grimly grateful that chance had brought her into his team already firmly established as ‘his girl’. A sad standard for the world they now lived in that it was safer for Deunan to be seen as belonging to a cyborg soldier, with all the attendant rumor and superstition about how he was probably a little unhinged as well as unstoppable, than for her to stand on her own. If he was still the flesh and blood he’d once been, Briareos suspected he’d have had some serious brawls on his hands in order to maintain his ‘claim’ on her. So far just threatening the more persistent of her pests had been enough, but every time he let her out of sight, he found himself worrying.

For her part, Deunan had done what she could to nip unwanted attention in the bud. Always capable of flaying a man to the bone with her sharp tongue, she’d given up most of her feminine habits on being drafted. She wore the same uniforms as the boys did, performed the same drills, wore her hair shorter than ever, and refrained from her usual flirting. She’d rapidly established her own reputation as ‘untouchable’ by breaking her first aggressive suitor’s arm. The second officer to make a move on her had found himself on the business end of her sidearm.

They’d somehow managed to pull it off so far. He played the part of jealous and humorless boyfriend. She took on the roll of fiercely loyal verging on psychotic girlfriend. And it had worked. Their regular circle of teammates had come to take it for granted that they were a pair, and stopped actively making trouble, even if they couldn’t entirely stop staring. It was only in camp that his worries came back full-force. There were thousands of people, from hundreds of teams, all mashed into close quarters. Sure there were more women around in general, but with the camp followers and officers mixing, someone was bound to mistake her for ‘available’ despite all their hard work.

Deunan was no innocent in need of protecting from the world, but gangs happened, and he didn’t want to see one happening to her. Given that they worked, ate, slept together whenever opportunity allowed, there hadn’t been too many chances for any nastiness to crop up. But not letting his guard down came at the price of more than one sleepless night next to her. No sense spoiling the carefully cultivated reputations they’d both developed just to satisfy libido? He wondered if Deunan felt the same way. They hadn’t really planned the last six months. The roles they’d assigned themselves just seemed to come naturally. Did she miss the sex as much as he did? Or did she prefer their relationship the way it had become?

He wished he’d talked to her about it sooner. Especially with his fingers now itching to pull his woman’s makeshift dress over her shoulders in order to reacquaint himself with every inch of her tempting skin. Strange to think the scent of soap would become such an aphrodisiac. Briareos kissed her neck. His subconscious was already happily fantasizing about her, clean and warm as she wrapped her legs around his waist. How long had it been since he’d last heard her begging him to screw her senseless? His hands slid lower on her back, enjoying the rare opportunity to just hold her, exploring the tight curves of her waist and hips. For her part, Deunan pressed her lips against his forehead in a gentle kiss, arms comfortably tight around his neck as she rested against him, turning her head slightly as she yawned.

He felt like a dick for even fantasizing about sex when she was still so obviously worn down. Telling his subconscious to knock it off, he forced himself to stop petting her thighs in favor of being a gentleman and keeping his fingers safely on the fabric of her ‘dress’. Stick to the plan, he told himself. He’d promised himself to see that she slept and ate properly for a few days. Sex had been only a nebulous agenda item at best. “Ready for bed?” He asked her, slowly sitting back, untangling from her arms.

“I was ready when I got up this morning.” She shifted closer, not yet willing to let him go completely. Reaching up, she flaked a bit of mud off his extendible and tisked as she flicked it to the floor. “I’ve forced myself to not do more than look at the mattress in there.” Deunan nodded towards the tiny bedroom at the other end of their lodging. “I knew if I so much as sat on it, I’d probably be done for the evening.”

“So you tired yourself out with laundry instead?” He challenged her irrational impulses. “I could have done that, you know.”

“Bah,” She dismissed. “You were doing the food-thing. Least I could do was toss some shirts in a bucket and scrub the worst of the crap out of them until you got back. Besides, the bed, I am glad to report, is plenty big for two, provided they don’t mind being cozy. So I figured I’d wait for you.”

“I’m barely fit for sleeping indoors, girl.” He laughed softly at her invitation. “There’ no way I’m muddying up you and the sheets after you’ve taken all the trouble to get yourself clean.”

“That’s why we’re going to take an hour and scrub you too, tin-man.” She kissed his forehead again. “I’ve taken the liberty of assembling a bit of a care-package for my favorite cyborg over the past few days. You landing this cabin was just the icing on the cake… I’ve been planning to take you someplace quiet and knock the mud off of you since we survived that damn tank.” Deunan rubbed her nose against his forehead playfully. “I figure, working on you together, we can get you looking almost like your old self before bedtime, easy. I saved the last of the day’s water ration for you. The dishes can keep until tomorrow.”

Briareos pulled back, staring at her in amazement. It took a moment to put two and two together. “The graphite was for me?”

“I figured it’d work just as well as oil, and since it’s dry in the first place, will be better for you, less muddy goop to wipe off of your motors. Although we still have some refined oil left from the last time we had a chance to give you a rough-once-over.” She gave him a thoughtful look. “Getting you clean is as much a health and safety thing as it is a luxury, handsome. If _I_ can hear your servos when you move, you’re probably audible a mile away to another cyborg.” She rubbed another bit of dirt off of his head. “Better to be careful, given that we can’t exactly get parts for you on a whim around here.”

“I’ll take care of myself.” He shook his head, more than a little humbled at her willingness to exert herself on his behalf when she was so obviously tapped out. “You go lay down.”

“Don’t be silly.” Deunan scolded, stepping back to tug him out of his chair instead. “It’ll take hours if you do it yourself, and you’re bound to miss something! Don’t forget, my fingers are smaller than yours! Excellent for reaching hard to-clean spots… And besides…” She gave him a saucy look. “I’ve been wanting an excuse to get you naked and oiled up for months now.”

Briareos let himself be led outside and over to the relative privacy behind their trailer. With an argument like that, how could he refuse?

*****

With the tiny bathroom in their trailer unable to hold him, they were obliged to scrub and rinse him in sections. Deunan had thoughtfully hung her towels and clothes in a tight bunch, constructing a screen of fabric between them and their neighbors, should either cabin have nosy tenants. At first Briareos concentrated on his chest, and arms with a rag while Deunan tackled his back with a bristle brush. Then they’d tackled a leg a piece, somehow managing to avoid the blatant innuendo inherent in a girl polishing her robotic lover’s thighs. Finally they settled down at the picnic bench under the porch light as they both tackled the fine work, using the toothbrushes she’d thoughtfully bartered for.

Cleaning around the joints of his left hand, he wondered at what had to be a year’s worth of accumulated crap working loose to cover the bench. He’d be ten pounds lighter from shedding mud and caked oil alone by morning. Deunan finished his second foot with a satisfied sigh, splashing water over it to rinse off the last of the crumbs of dirt before deftly buffing it dry with her towel. Reaching first for the compressed air, she blasted a jet into the fine mechanics of his ankle and toe-plate motors. Focused on her chore, she swapped one canister for another, applying a generous coating of the dry lubricant into the mechanism. He wiggled his foot to spread the soothing substance evenly over the full range of the motors, feeling the improved responsiveness immediately.

“Whew.” She sat back. “I don’t know about you, baby, but I’m pooped. Working you over properly takes lot out of a girl.”

“Go to bed.” He pointed firmly at the trailer, ignoring what had to be deliberate double-entendre. “You’ve done enough. I can finish up from here.”

“Let me just get your head, idiot.” She smirked. “Then you can finish your hands while I take in the laundry, and we can _both_ go to bed.” Standing and stretching, she didn’t care that her ‘dress’ rode scandalously high on her thighs as she raised her arms above her head.

It was really too tempting to resist, Briareos told himself as he reached out unconsciously to caress the rarely exposed skin. She forbore to comment as he petted the side of her leg and then slid his hand up to catch her hip beneath her shirt, running a thoughtful finger along the line of her panties before pulling her into his lap. It’d take next to nothing to feel her bare skin against his, but he hesitated to undress her. How long had it been? He asked himself idly, stroking her back and thighs. How long since they’d been able to lounge around wearing next to nothing, enjoying each other’s company just for the hell of it? Probably about as long as the last time they’d had lazy mid-day sex, or likely even longer, not since LA.

Their crappy old apartment in the hills had been a palace by comparison to most of the places they’d been stationed since. Four good sized rooms? A full kitchen, a balcony, two parking spaces, no rationing, it had been just nice boring suburban existence. Briareos cuddled his girl closer; hanging on to the last piece remaining to him of what had once been a comfortable life. It’d likely be a long time before they’d have peace like that again. The whole world had gone mental with this latest round of fighting. Countries forgetting the pain of fifty years ago in favor of starting the whole mess all over again. It was a never-ending cycle.

Deunan took his woolgathering for acceptance of her agenda. Reaching up with deft fingers, she applied her toothbrush to the caked crap around the base of his extendibles, pursing her lips as she concentrated on the awkward angle. He forced himself to hold still under the gentle abuse, acknowledging that he’d have a hard time without a mirror or two, seeing what he was doing if he tried to clean himself.

“Pop your cranial plate and I’ll check underneath?” She flicked her toothbrush with her thumb, knocking the worst of the grit off of it. He did a he was told, feeling a little weird, even though it wasn’t the first time she’d seen him without the plates covering the top of his head. She worked her brush carefully around his lenses and into the pivots of his jaw as she thoroughly checked him over, only relenting when he couldn’t take the itching of the loose dirt anymore. “Don’t flinch.” Deunan angled the can of air to blow the worst of the crap out and to the side and gave him a long jet down first the right side of his face, then the left.

“Gah” he shook his head when she was done, the sensation not exactly uncomfortable, but definitely weird. She hopped off his lap and passed him the last of the water. He leaned sideways and poured the jug slowly over his head, rinsing whatever was left off into the sorry looking grass. She sprayed his face with air again as soon as he was done, Something in her preoccupied look making him wonder if she remembered that he was supposedly her boyfriend, not her motorcycle engine. She caught his chin when he might have flinched again, holding him still as she dried the machinery behind his eyes despite his grumbling. “Finished?” He asked grumpily as she set the can aside at last.

“Almost.” Deunan replied, unswayed by his complaining. Instead she picked up the graphite again, studying first the can, and then him, as if pondering how to achieve best results.

“You are no spraying that crap in my eyes, little girl.” He vowed firmly. “It’ll probably do horrible things to my lenses.”

“But it’s probably better for the motors than the usual oil you use.” She speculated. “Pity you can’t close your eyes…”

“Blame the doctor for not building in eyelids.” He grumbled again.

Deunan however was back to ignoring him. Frowning as she considered alternatives, she reached backwards and picked up his shirt from where it’d fallen. She promptly rejected the filthy fabric as inappropriate, looking down at her own shirt she shrugged prosaically. “Needs cleaning anyway.” Following her look he had to admit that his dress shirt was now a little worse for the wear, damped in places and grey with streaks of graphite, the material was due for a washing. He still didn’t expect her to strip it off without warning however. Deunan didn’t seem to think anything of it. Sitting in his lap in nothing but her underwear as she shook his shirt out, she made a very pretty picture, bruises and visible ribs aside. Being suddenly in close proximity to a lovely pair of pink-tipped breasts was more than a little distracting. Briareos almost forgot her sinister purpose as his thoughts happily derailed onto a more pleasant track.

“What are you doing?” He found himself promptly blinded as she blanketed eyes and nose with a cloth-covered hand. “Hey!”

“Hold your breath.” She advised as she sprayed graphite into the servos on the left side of his face. Ignoring his sputtering, she repeated the process with his other side and gave him a third spray up under his jaw for good measure. His nose was overwhelmed by the chalky smell of the spray and far more intriguing scent of Deunan lingering in the cloth. She wasn’t interested in being romantic however, once his face met with her approval, she slid off his legs and shifted to spray the back of his head.

‘God damn it, woman.” He felt his back left eye go blind as she shielded first one and then the other rear-facing eye from the mist of lubricant. “Do you mind?”

One squirt each to his extendibles and she circled him to inspect her results. Deunan used the corner of his shirt to wipe a few traces of lubricant away from his nose and chin. Cleaning her hands on his shirt, she wasn’t above giving him an ‘I told you so’ look as he coughed to clear his throat. Never body shy, Deunan was in no rush to conceal herself from his appreciative stare. Somehow the smudges of graphite still visible on her cheek and arms managed to make her own nudity both commonplace and also unbelievably sexy at the same time. Briareos cursed his immediate and powerful need to take the fabric from her hands and lean forward to taste the tempting peak of the closest nipple. But, he wasn’t over thirty for nothing. He could act mature and responsible when he ought to. It was physically painful to quell the impulse to drag her down and claim her out on their back porch like a horny teenager. He gritted his teeth and did it anyway. They had a perfectly good bed that could be put to use tomorrow after she’d gotten a good eight hours of rest, if she was in the mood. Until then he told himself that she was firmly off limits.

“All done.” She patted his cheek, seemingly oblivious to his distraction. “Feel free to suit-up.”

Briareos restored his cover-plates with a sigh of relief. He felt weirdly exposed without them. As uncomfortable as her manhandling had been, he noticed the lack of noise in his optics almost immediately. Able to focus and swivel his eyes without the fine particles of dirt grinding in the gears was a nice change. He took a moment to work all his joints and motors, seeing if the improvement was universal or if they’d missed spot. Now that the majority was working correctly it was easy to tell what was still acting up. He reclaimed the canned graphite and applied another squirt to his jaw, sighing in relief.

“You ok to finish?” Deunan pulled his shirt back over her shoulders, wearing it as a robe a she wiped her hands on it. “I’m going to pull down the laundry. Bring you a fresh pair of pants in a minute, alright?”

“Sure, go ahead.” He applied the lubricant to his knuckles, working his fingers to spread it around before doing the same for his wrist. It didn’t take long at all to finish the last few joints. Briareos packed up the various bits and brushes they’d used to set him straight, wondering if it was worth trying to keep them or whether they’d be better off given to someone in camp for other electronics maintenance. There was room in his pack, he decided for at least the toothbrushes and the spray lubricant. They had proven themselves to be pretty damned useful. Easy enough to shove the rest against the side of the cabin for the night and figure out what he wanted to do with it tomorrow.

Deunan reappeared with a generous armful of clothing just as he was tipping the bench up to shake the worst of the filth off. He promptly claimed the pile and nodded that she could get the door. Tomorrow he’d do the last few bits of scrubbing while she slept in, he resolved. It was uncanny to have her so far ahead of him in their usual chores. He had intended for their time off to be primarily him pampering her, not the other way around.

Dropping the bulk of the fabric on the tiny couch to deal with later, he retrieved a pair of boxers out of habit and pulled them on, giving his girl time to fuss in the bathroom. Seeing her make her way from sink to bed, he took it as his cue to follow, inching up onto the decent but not over-large bunk provided. Deunan let him settle into a curl behind her, spooning herself against his chest and legs as she relaxed. Once he was settled she turned in his arms, draping her knees over his thigh, curling herself up against his shoulder and neck. She had swapped her underwear for a loose t-shirt, not caring when it hiked up over her thighs, revealing the modest patch of dark golden hair between her legs. Briareos did his best to not think about how soft the skin around and under the tempting thatch was. Instead he resolved to enjoy feeling clean and fed for a change, and pulling a sheet over the both of them, resolutely concentrated on her breathing, hearing the subtle change from awake to asleep as the woman in his arms drifted off.