Blood streams from his brow as a bullet pierces his visor. It glances off his skull, modified bones narrowly sheltering his brain from a lethal impact. His head rings as he screams in rage. He ignores it. He steps forward, barely aware that he returns fire, the modified Castella pistol barking sharply, followed by the distinct crack of the enemy's visor as it shatters under the violent impact. The bullet retains enough velocity to exit through the back of the helmet, taking most of the bastard's grey matter with it.
His scream echoes as he reaches out to his brother, one of the few he still had. He hopes against hope, as he grabs the bleeding man's arm. It comes off. It comes off! He hears a faint, dooming whistling and jumps over the downed man. His pistol snaps up as he tears off his helmet, wiping the blood from his eyes. Cybernetics and genetics work together and his irises narrows, lenses focus and he takes in the incoming missile. Without a hint of hesitation he snaps off three quick shots. He looks back down to his brother as the first connects with the missile, the high impact round tearing through the metal and destroying the warhead, the shockwave harmlessly rolling over the pair. As he yells out the man's name the other two shots find their goal as they tear their way through the visors of the power armour of the man with the launcher and his spotter.
Even as he reaches for what little first aid he has on him, he knows it's too late. His brother took a full burst to the chest. The rounds tore through his armour plates and augmented muscles with ease, evaporating his lungs and tearing off his arm. He cries, the hot tears mingling with his blood as his mind runs its cold calculations, unaffected by the death of his brother. He tried so hard and failed again. So few brothers left and dwindling ever further.
He turns, feeling sadness, feeling rage and hate. He locked away the former and embraced the latter. Hating himself for the switch, he takes the helm of his brother, a man denied name and dreams and puts it on, screaming in powerless rage as the pneumatic lids seal it shut. He stretches out his left arm and the vile un-colour of a disruptor blade springs to life. He runs, ignoring the small arms fire coming his way as it pings harmlessly off him, nothing but destruction and bloody vengeance on his mind. He sees his first target, a lone soldier, standing guard over the body of a wounded comrade, just as he himself was only a moment ago. He doesn't hesitate. He knows what he must do. He stretches out his arm and—
'Mentuc! Mentuc!' came a voice, tearing him from the dream. He jumps up, heart beating like mad. He looks around in the dark and sees her standing there, eyes open wide with worry. Upon seeing him wake up a part of the worry fades, comforted by the knowledge that she pulled him out of the depths of his own mind. He sighs, a bitter laugh escaping his lips as he falls back down into the soft bed, ignoring the tears that run down his cheeks. She crawls on top of him, slowly, until she lays on top of him, her arms finding purchase around his chest as she pulls herself up until her head rests in the crevice of his neck. He embraces her without a word, tenderly holding her, taking solace from her presence.
'It was Charger,' he whispers. He feels her nod. 'If I had been quicker... If I—'
'Shh, my love. You cannot change the past. You know that as well as I.' He feels her lips on his cheek, relishes her soft touch as her hand moves to the back of his head, her fingers gently digging through his hair until their tips press against his skin.
'You are safe now,' she whispers, the words taking hold in his mind.
'Safe...' he repeats, numbly.
'Yes. You are with me. You do not fight any longer and you no longer wage war,' she continues as she gives him a gentle kiss before sliding off him, laying next to him. Wordlessly offering herself to him. He takes her, carefully, worried she might break, into his arms as he presses her tightly against him. He knows she enjoys it, being pressured between his arms and chest. A small gasp escapes her as he squeezes her, ever so carefully, thanking her.
'Now you are a farmer,' she whispers, biting his nose teasingly. 'Now you tend the sheep, feed the chickens. You till and plough the fertile fields.' She twists her voice and he growls softly at her for it. She coos at his responses, both the vocal and silent one. She lets out a laugh and it fills the house and his heart as she kisses him, harder this time, before sliding out of bed, as elegant as a swan. She dances to the tunes of an unheard song and slides past the shutters, pushing one open and letting the first rays of the early morning sun fall in, breaking the darkness. He blinks as they hit his eyes and force his sight to adjust. She had chosen the place of their bed with care. Always catching the first sun in the morning and always drawing in the last rays when night came.
He got out of bed, slowly. He did not need to, she knew him. His speed would not frighten her. He moved slowly because he wanted to, attempting to be normal for a change. Four of his lenses spread out as he took in the room, something that had become a daily habit, while the remaining two tracked his wife as she yawned and started filling the kettle. A smile crept on his face as he softly shook his head, still not fully daring to accept this new reality. He walked over to the stove and began rekindling the fire, poking the hot embers from the night before as he added new kindling to it. He gazed at the flames as they hungrily clung to the wood. It was so different from the fires he had seen his entire life. This fire created and gave freely and was beautiful to watch. He felt Onoelle approach him, his sensitive skin picking up on the air she displaced. She moved quietly, trying to sneak up on him. It was a fun game she played and she refused to give up, despite knowing she would never succeed. He waited until she came closer before his hand moved behind his back, catching hers. He felt the skin on her hand tighten ever so slightly and knew she was smiling. She threw her arms around him and let out a deep, happy sigh into his ear before biting it teasingly, her revenge for him not being surprised. He cupped her head and stroked her gently in turn, taking the kettle from her and putting it on the stove. She let go of him after a while and he got up, turning to face her.
He took her in, seeing her brown hair glitter golden in the early rays of the sun as they lit up their house. Her deep blue eyes smiled at him as did the rest of her. He still didn't know how it had happened. How he went from constant war to this. To her. She smiled at him as her eyes took him in, revealing her perfect, white teeth.
'You're doing it again,' she whispered, a gentle hint of accusation hidden within the words. 'I'm not going to disappear you know? I'm very much real.' She took a quick step forward and grasped his left with her own and raised both. She tapped the ring on his finger with the identical one she wore. 'And so is this.' Her eyes twinkled and she blinked quickly, dispelling the tears that were forming. He took her head in both of his hands and kissed her forehead gently, earning an approving purr from her.
'Still getting used to it, I guess.'
'We've been married for half a year, you oaf,' she laughed, before she grasped his head and gave him a kiss of her own. 'You set the coffee. I'll start with my morning exercises.'
She turned around and walked towards the door, his eyes glued to her every step of the way, drinking in every detail of her as he did every morning. The way her hips shifted slightly as she walked, the floorboards creaking inaudibly to all but his ears, how her skin pulled taut as she stretched lazily, graceful as a cat, strong muscles shifting as she went. She pushed open the door and a fresh morning breeze took hold of her long hair, setting it afloat and burning in the light of dawn. He had feared he would have grown bored of watching her, given that his brain mercilessly analysed everything and catalogued it, more machine than man, but it had proven groundless. His love for her had only grown since the day they had wed and he could still watch her endlessly. As the door closed behind her, he started moving again. In a few quick strides he reached the wood storage and pulled the bigger logs from the pile, leaving the cleft chunks untouched. Returning to the stove he pulled them apart with his bare hands, the dry wood offering little resistance. He enjoyed the scent of the dried oak that hid at the heart of the logs, that last fresh scent of a deep summer. He tossed them into the fire and shut the hatch, moving on to the covering. He knew he shouldn't be pulling them off with his fingers. Onoelle had been trying to teach him that and when she was present he did acquiesce with her. With her outside, however, he took a small, guilty pleasure in the way the heat tickled his fingers. He placed the kettle into the opening, exposing it directly to the flames and the heat. Simple things. Making coffee. Preparing breakfast. Never in his life had he imagined he would be able to take such joys in it. His mind kept reminding him that the nutritional bars he used to feed himself with were so much more efficient, but efficiency wasn't the point of this. Taste was. Joy was. He chuckled softly as he realised that the very senses that had seen him through countless battlefields also made him a miracle worker in the kitchen. He went to the cupboard, pulled it open and was assaulted by the broad aroma of scents, his nose struggling with the multitude for a brief moment before picking them all apart. His hands hovered over the different types of coffee. He closed his eyes and recalled how Onoelle had smelled this morning. How her lips had tasted. Aside from the delightful aspect, it had also told him a frightening amount of things about her. The corners of his lips twitched upwards in a grin as he recalled the memory of how she had reacted when she had first found that out.
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'Have you eaten bell peppers a few days ago by any chance?' he asked as he withdrew from her. Her blue eyes went wide.
'How do you know?' she whispered, looking surprisingly guilty.
'The taste lingers quite strongly.'
'You can taste that?' she asked, a horrified expression on her face. He looked down at the ground, feeling his face going completely neutral.
'I told you my senses are sharper than a normal human's,' he said, all emotion having evaporated from his voice. She had grabbed his cheeks with her hands, forcing her to look him in the eye again.
'So how far ago in the past can you look then?' she had demanded of him, a suspicious twinkle in her eyes he had yet to learn to recognise as playful.
'I... don't know,' he replied, unsure what she was hinting at.
'Well,' she had said, her eyes sparking as she brought her face closer to his, 'let's find out, shall we?'
He picked the bag he wanted and moved back to the stove, where the water had started bubbling slightly, the fire hungrily devouring the logs he had fed it. He grabbed a few beans from the bag and crushed them in his hand, just as efficient as the grinder they had, before tossing the powder in. He hummed to himself as he walked back and forth through the kitchen, kneading dough and sliding it into a different part of the stove that doubled as an oven, did the dishes they had left behind the day before and busied himself with a dozen and one tasks that their young kitchen demanded. It didn't take him long. When she wasn't with him he fell back to the pace that came natural to him and he found himself with nothing left to do well before the coffee was ready. He moved back to the wood pile and picked up the carving knife on the way there. He sat down on the floor and pulled a broad bowl underneath him as he started turning the log into intricately carved handles for the tools he was still making. He could have used a fabricator like everyone else in the village did, but Onoelle had stubbornly refused to buy one, claiming it was a waste of money when she had her very own supersoldier handy who could pick up anything in a heartbeat anyway. She had punched him when she said it. She had been a bit sour when she discovered he had picked up woodwork, a passion of hers even if she wasn't good at it, out of boredom and had then proceeded to progress from basic carvings to masterpieces in the span of a week. A fabricator also couldn't add the same level of detail that he applied to the wood.
He managed to get halfway through a handle before the coffee was ready. He got up and took the bowl with wood chips with him. After he disposed of them in the fire he filled a mug and took it outside. He never understood Onoelle's taste for coffee. He found it horribly bitter, no matter how much sugar or milk he added. She swore by it though. It was one of the many strange, illogical things about her that he had come to adore. He didn't know why he enjoyed not understanding some parts of her so much, but that mattered very little when her face lit up like a star when he came out with the steaming mug.
Sweat dripped from her naked body as she put her limbs down, visibly exhausted. It was a habit they had developed early around one another and it had grown to the point that unless they were working in the fields or the forests, or there were people visiting, they just never bothered with clothes anymore. She rushed over and took the mug, inhaling deeply from the scent wafting from it. She motioned him to sit down in the grass and he obliged. She followed suit in a moment, nestling herself in his lap and leaning against him. He wrapped his arms around her as she cradled her mug, sipping from it despite knowing it came fresh off the stove, immediately burning her tongue. She whined softly and he rolled his eyes. She saw and grinned but still craned her neck. He kissed her, as she wanted. As he wanted. She closed her eyes as she pressed her tongue against his and he mimicked it. It wasn't long before she was pressing the mug back into his hands and obeyed her wordless command, putting it as far away as his arm would allow. Once she felt that the mug was safely out of reach her kiss became more insistent, her hands wandering across his body. Her fingers dug into his skin, pulling herself deeper into his lap. His hands wrapped themselves around her waist but that was not enough for her and she moved his hands higher. He felt her heartbeat quicken along with her breathing, felt her taste and scent change as she pressed herself more against him, made him hold her tighter. The kiss grew in intensity and he felt her body heat up with passion before she suddenly bit him with surprising force and withdrew herself. She turned to look at him, her face aflush and her eyes wide and deep, drawing him further in. She held out her hand and he retrieved the mug and she accepted it with a small nod, before nestling herself back into a more comfortable spot. He shifted her slightly, altering her position a bit and she shifted right back, giggling as she did. He relented and he felt her grin at her victory. She took a sip from her coffee and sighed in delight, sinking deeper into his arms as he wrapped them back around her. He kissed her softly on her neck and enjoyed holding her as they watched the sun rise across the mountains, bathing the small valley in morning gold.
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