Siren leads me and Ratchet out of her room and into a med room, where she sits Ratchet in a chair by the examination table. She then proceeds to roll a sheet of paper over the table and have me lie on it. After this she pokes around my torso. If there's a worse pain than someone poking a grenade wound, I haven't felt it yet.

"Okay," Siren says. "Let me first take a minute to formally apologize for shredding my best friend's torso."

"Wasn't your fault," I reply through gritted teeth.

"Now let me explain what I'm going to do so I don't freak you out," Siren continues. "It doesn't look like the shrapnel is too bad; you've got some little tiny pieces which will be hard to take out, but for the most part they're a good size. This should be quick and easy, but the only problem is that I don't have any anesthetic with me. And I can't wait any longer to do this or you're going to bleed to death."

"Just get it over with," I say. I prepare for the worst.

"Okay..." Siren slips on a pair of latex gloves and grabs some tweezers from a cabinet. As she begins, I have to clamp my lips shut to keep from screaming. Ratchet sees me and slips his good hand into mine. Somehow this lessens the pain.

Ratchet bends down to talk to me. "Focus on me," he says. "Look into my eyes. Don't think about her. Concentrate." I do. I look straight into his eyes and nothing else matters. He has such pretty eyes. They're red, but they're such a dark red that they're almost brown. And I find that I can't look away from them. I search his face. He has lavender streaks in his dark, spiky hair, and the look of concern on his face tells me he really does care. All that flirting... was it all outside of his personality? Could it really just have been to get my attention?

"Okay, that's done," Siren says.

I jolt out of my stupor. "Really?" It didn't feel like that long. "How long did it take?"

"Maybe an hour," Siren replies, slipping off her gloves. "Some of that stuff was really in there."

I spent an hour staring at Ratchet and it felt like five minutes. God, I'm beginning to fall for him, aren't I? I look down at my side and see it neatly stitched up, the threads black and ugly against my skin. Siren grabs a roll of bandages from the cabinet and starts wrapping it around my waist. She tucks the end of the bandage in and says I'm done with that. I get up, wincing. It hurts, but not as much as it did before.

Siren takes up a needle and an IV bag and pulls a chair up for me by the examination table. "It's obvious you two are meant to be together," she says, smirking and letting Ratchet lie down. He looks up at me and smiles.

"Well, I'm okay with that."

I smile back at him. For a moment, we share a gaze that seems infinite. And I enjoy it. Then Siren cuts in by jabbing the needle into my forearm.

"Hey!" I shout.

Siren shrugs. "You need more fluid. I gotta get it in there somehow."

"You could've waited until we were done," Ratchet mumbles.

"Uh, Ratchet?" she starts. "You want me to tell you what's going to happen or am I gonna wing it?"

"Please don't wing my surgery," Ratchet whimpers.

"Fine. It looks like I crushed your shoulder, so I'm gonna have to cut into it to replace all the bones. I'm going to use a natural bonding agent to help fuse the bones and get you back fighting quicker. I'll put a cast on it and you should be back on the battlefield in about two weeks. That work?"

Ratchet nods. "As long as I don't die during all this."

"I think that can be arranged," Siren says. She starts the surgery. It's hard and obviously painful work, but I squeeze Ratchet's hand through it all and he seems to relax. Soon enough it's done, and he gets up to let Siren put a proper sling on his arm.

_______

That night I lie on my back, unable to get any sleep. I've already asked Siren about it; Tronyx is getting more and more aggressive, so sleeping pills and painkillers are going to those who need it most. I don't qualify. So I'm left to toss, turn, and cope with the pain. I don't even hear the door open, but when I feel the hand on my shoulder I fly upward and find a home for my fist.

"Hey!"

Tronyx's minions don't usually react to being hit. I look up and realize I just punched Ratchet square in the jaw.

"Oh my god!" I say, getting up and looking at his face. "Are you okay?"

He laughs. "Yeah, I'm fine. Do you normally spring on people while you sleep?"

"Um, I don't think so," I say as I feel my cheeks flush. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see if you were awake," he replies. "I wanted to show you something."

I peek into the hallway. "Are we allowed? I mean, if Siren caught us-"

"Ah, who needs Siren? The whole world awaits us!" And I'm swept off my feet, out the door, and into the hallway. We run for what feels like forever, and I'm laughing because I don't think I've done anything like this since Jackson was young. Ratchet sees me and laughs, leading me towards a janitor's closet. The door is shut, and it doesn't seem different from any other closet in this compound.

"You came to my bedroom at midnight to show me this?" I ask.

Ratchet smiles. "Because brooms and mops are so interesting, aren't they? No, we're almost there, though." He pulls me inside and goes behind a shelf he's pulled out so there's space behind it. He motions for me to come through, then disappears through an opening in the wall I didn't see. Curious, I follow him. While the space was just wide enough for him to squeeze through, I fit in like a glove. I walk through the opening and see soil. Real soil, not the burnt orange dust that covers most of the world. And Ratchet stands in the middle of the arcs of rebar that make up this tunnel.

"What is this place?" I ask breathlessly, marveling at the small shoots I can see growing out of the wall.

"This," Ratchet says, "is my own personal hangout." He starts to lead me further down to a staircase. "I discovered this little spot when I first came to the rebels. I think someone was trying to catch me for playing a prank. I mean, I doubt you're surprised, but... anyway, I walked down here and I saw what nature did, and I... I dunno, I just fell in love with it. I guess I thought radiation could only do bad things, but down here-"

"Wait, radiation?" I say, cautiously backing out of the tunnel.

Ratchet looks at me. "What's wrong?"

I just back up another step. After what happened with Jackson, I don't trust radiation to do anything good for me. To be honest, I'm scared of what goes on down there, and I'm not used to anyone else seeing this side of me. Evidently, Ratchet also senses that this fear is an unexplored trait on my part.

"Look, Gayge," he says, following me up, "I've been coming down here for a long time. I promise it's safe. I would never let you get hurt." He holds his hand out to me, and I have my reservations about taking it. But in the end, I decide that the boy who's seen my vulnerable side and not backed away is probably someone worth trusting. As I take his hand, he smiles and grips mine tightly, as if holding me back from the world's troubles.

"C'mon," he says, pulling me down more flights of stairs. I notice he's only willing to go as fast as I'm comfortable with. So I go along slowly, not wanting to see what may be down there. All I can think of is the last time I dealt with radiation, which ended in the loss of my arm and Jackson's death. I want to believe this is going to be better, but I can't think of how it would translate.

Finally we come to a door. It's wood, hastily built and hinged together from scraps. Ratchet looks at me. "Ready to go in?"

"No," I admit, "but open the door anyway."

Ratchet smiles, squeezes my hands and opens the door. "Welcome to my world."

He opens the door and I look around. It is nothing short of breathtaking. It's a large room about the size of our arena back above ground. There are plants here I don't remember seeing in any of the old books we have at HQ, and animals that can only be described as abnormal. Some odd insect flies over to me and lands on my bionic finger. It looks like a butterfly, but it's more brightly colored; it's black, with a glowing purple pattern on its wings. I smile as it flies back into the air. I look at Ratchet. "How long has this been here?"

"I don't know," he says, shrugging. "Long enough for that to grow, I guess."

He points over to an enormous tree in the middle of the room. It has a light brown bark and large, full brown leaves, both of which seem to shimmer in the dim light. I walk over to it and run my finger over the wood. It feels almost like satin.

Ratchet walks past me and holds up one finger. "This tree isn't just pretty to look at," he says. He takes a hunting knife and sinks the knife deep into the tree. A shimmery pink liquid rolls out and Ratchet plucks a leaf off the tree to hold it. When it's nearly full, he puts it on the ground and turns to me. "Can you show me where she cut you?"

I look at him. "Umm, okay..." I roll up my T-shirt and slowly take off the bandage, revealing those dark, ugly stitches and the red, angry cuts they hold shut. Ratchet looks at the wound, then back up at me, all without moving his head.

"Does it still hurt?" he asks.

"Well, they're giving out the painkillers to people who need it more than I do, and I still wasn't asleep when you came and got me, so yeah," I reply, feeling only half sarcastic.

"Okay." Ratchet dips his finger into the pink stuff and smears half of it over my side. It induces a burning feeling in the stitched-up area. "Do you feel the pain?" he asks.

"Yeah..." I say, doubling over, "and it's getting worse. Is that supposed to happen? Oh god, Ratchet, please tell me it's supposed to do that..."

"It is, I just wanted to make sure," he says, holding his hand out to me. "Here."

I take his hand and squeeze it like I'm hanging on for dear life. And honestly, that's what it feels like as I curl into a ball at Ratchet's feet. I feel like at this level of pain, something horrible must have happened within my body and now I am at the threshold of death. But then, after about a minute or two, the pain leaves as quickly as it came. I remain curled in my ball, for fear it might come back. But I feel a cool hand on my shoulder that lessens the fear.

"Gayge?" Ratchet tries, hoping to get me to come back up. "You all right?"

I try to push up with my bionic hand, the one that isn't clutching Ratchet. "I think so... did it work?"

"Let me see." He helps me to sit up and looks at my wound, which is no longer a dark pink, but a few shades closer to my skin tone. His hands go to the stitches, but then he stops. "Do you trust me?"

I don't have to think. I nod and brace myself for the pain that is surely to come. But as his deft hands untie the threads, I don't feel the pain I expected. While it does hurt, it has nowhere near the impact I thought it would. And as the stitches come out, the wounds stay closed. Ratchet looks up at me.

"Gayge?"

"Yeah, Ratchet?"

"Just promise me you won't scare me like that again," he says, and I can sense the sincerity in his voice. "Promise me you won't say goodbye."

I know it's an impractical promise. We're part of a rebellion; anyone could slip up and die at any time. But I don't want to lose this moment, so I sit against him and say the only word I can think of.

"Okay."

_______

President Tronyx sat in his office, waiting for the assassin to arrive. She hadn't taken this long when she was summoned during training six weeks ago. As he was thinking this, his robotic personal assistant, Servo, walked in.

"Sir," Servo said in its pleasant female voice, "she has arrived as you requested."

"About time," the President lamented. "Send her in."

"Yes, sir," Servo said, bowing out. A figure replaced the droid: slender, muscular, but still feminine. It wore a black crop top with one long sleeve, black shorts, and knee-high black combat boots.

"You sent for me, sir?" the figure asked. The voice was low but smooth, like the heroine of an action film.

"Ah, Rove," Tronyx said, standing from his chair. "Do you know how long it took you to get here?"

Rove did not turn from his prying gaze. "A few minutes, maybe?"

"Seven," Tronyx said abruptly. "You're not the faithful servant you were in your training days."

"I may not respond as quickly as you like," Rove retorted, "but I can still fight any of your puny robots and walk away unscathed."

Tronyx walked toward her. "True. Which is why I've called you here. You know what you were created to do, yes?"

"Yes, sir."

"And you know how you're to get in with them?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. They're at their compound, recuperating from their last..." Tronyx paused, searching for the right word, "encounter."

Rove nodded and turned to walk out of the room. A Motor growled at her, preventing her exit. Tronyx raised his hand.

"Leave it, UL-532. She's only a clone. The real Gayge has been put out of commission."

A/N: Hello to all the new readers out there! I love that you guys have stuck with my admittedly not-the-best plot line and decent writing, and all I'm asking is that you recommend this story and me to all your followers. I want people to get excited for the actual anime, which officially has a first episode script as of this morning! Kudos to Cee Caspian, who wrote it with me and is gonna take on the second one on her own. Thanks! You guys rock!