A Time To Heal

Maria

Xenogears looked up as the gym's door slid open with its customary whine. Inefficient: properly lubricating the door (and the others in the colony) would save a considerable amount of power over the long-term. Icey scoffed at the idea: "It adds an ambiance to the place," he'd said. Ambiance. Right. Like the Cybrids would care if one day one of Fantasma's inefficiencies gave them an edge. Power leak from inefficient wiring? Sure, the sparking lights lent an "ambiance", but also put out a signature a sensor could pick up.

Efficiency, she told herself, disregarding the eternal noise and returning to her regimen. A slicestar spun once around her index finger, and she uncoiled her body in one swift movement. An instant later, the five-pointed blade was embedded to its full diameter in the mat on the opposite wall, right about where the last ten throws had landed.

Pairs were next: she retrieved two slicestars from her belt, gazed at the target, calculated, and fired. The two weapons met in midflight, spinning out of control after meeting with a loud clang, and shot off at irregular angles. She allowed herself a faint smile as the left one struck the still-quivering blade already in the target, and the right one spun off and sliced into the sleeve of the man who had just entered.

Razorback looked down, his eyes wide, as the blade wobbled back and forth, embedded in the sleeve under his arm. "What was that for?" he demanded.

"Practice," Xenogears said, with a lift of an eyebrow. Her blue eyes turned to calculate his presence, then returned to the stone bench where a new rack of slicestars awaited.

"Good shot," he muttered.

"I strive for efficiency," she returned. The lights flickered again and she glanced upward, irritated. "Unlike some." She sat on the bench, glanced at Razorback again. "Your purpose here?" Illogical, to take the long walk to the gym just to stand there in the doorway. Of course, the walk was almost as much exercise as she had ever seen him do in the gym anyway, so perhaps there was merit there.

"Came to see you."

Xenogears raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

Razorback's face reddened. It was a fascinating reaction, Xenogears decided, gazing at him levelly. "I was wondering," he said. "How you deal with what you did when you were a Cybrid--"

Xenogears tilted her head. "I do not need to deal with it. I was coerced into my actions and thus suffer no pangs of guilt. I resisted as much as humanly possible, more perhaps. My conscience is clear."

Razorback looked away. "I see..."

"I understand that the actions you took under Navarre were misused. You should be aware that such were not your fault. You were unaware how your inventions were to be used and also should suffer no feelings of guilt."

Razorback exploded. His face turned bloodred and his fists clenched, as if he were about to strike her. Xenogears inclined her head, unconcerned: if he attacked her, she would maul him in his rage-fogged state. Efficiently.

Xenogears listened to his rant, which lasted for several minutes. He made no move toward her, though he did reach out and slam a table with his fists. She regarded his bleeding hands for a moment, waiting for the rage to subside where she could safely treat his injuries.

She considered his outburst as he collapsed against the wall. It was a cry for help, though she doubted he would have admitted it. She had similar feelings when she escaped the Cybrids: the sense of fury with no target, of pain that could not be erased.

She had simply denied such feelings release, bottled them down in an icy shell, until they had disappeared. Or so she had thought.

Gazing at Razorback, sagged against the wall, his eyes haunted and filled with tears denied release, she felt tears in her own eyes. Inefficient, illogical, she told herself, wiping them away with one hand.

It was futile. Tears streamed down her face and she looked away quickly-- but not before Razorback focused on her, with a surprised expression. "Are you alright?" he said softly.

"NO!" she cried, ashamed of her outburst, knowing that her control was slipping-- or, more accurately, vanished entirely.

"You've never healed," Razorback said. "After all this time you have never allowed yourself to heal." He straightened, then, approached her.

Pointless, she thought. Emotions were useless, harmful. She had to push them aside, concentrate on her duty--

Razorback took her in his arms, cradled her head against his shoulder. Xenogears barely noticed, as she cried. He held her, speaking useless words of comfort, wasting his time in a most disgraceful fashion, a part of her mind said. But she was grateful nevertheless. "It's alright," he said. "Just let it out..."

She looked up at him, still crying, as a thought occured to her. "You think of yourself," she said brokenly. "You think of yourself as some kind of monster, but you're not."

"I am," he growled.

"No. A monster doesn't care. You do." Her blue eyes, reddened by tears, met his.

He gazed at her, and realized she was right. "Yes," he said. "I guess I do." Tenderly, he wiped the tears from her eyes, and kissed her...

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