The Biker Mice from Mars and all related titles, logos, images, and merchandise are the property of their respective copyright holders, not me. I make no profit by the publishing of this work. The characters Modo and Throttle are creations of Rick Ungar. The character Roxanne (Roxy) Virginia Lee is the creation of MouseyWithMoxy.

Tomorrows

"Would you just sit down?" Roxanne pleaded, annoyance edging in her voice. Her tiny hands were balled in fists on her hips. She had pulled herself to her full height, still dwarfed by the giant in front of her. Leaning forward, shoulders set and lips pursed, she glared up into his one unpatched, inhuman eye.

Modo recognized that look, the one she always wore when her patience was wearing thin with him or one of his brothers. It reminded him very much of a few school teachers he had endured as a child, though they were significantly more imposing than this little woman. Yet she, more than a foot shorter (38cm) than him, commanded more presence than any human he had met. He could no more refuse that look from her than from his own mama.

Still, he protested. "Miss Roxy, Mam, I'm fine and ready to go."

"Then let me take a look. There is no way I am going to let you ride off into a fight until I know your arm is functioning at one hundred and ten percent."

She pulled an empty crate from under the work table and swept herself onto it; then physically grabbed his right arm and tried to lift it to the table.

He resisted the movement, tugging it downwards, which threw her off balance for a moment. His grin told her he was playing, but the usual humor they shared was strained by her frayed nerves. She responded with an arched brow and silence.

A ripple of unease passed over his face as he lifted his cold, boxy arm onto the table. With a flick of his fur and flesh left hand, he opened the access panel.

Roxanne looked into his face and smiled triumphantly. With that simple act all discomfort vanished. He returned the look, his ever-visible incisors even more present as his lips lifted across his broad snout. Even his large, mouse-like ears perked up a bit, as did the antenna, as she dropped her sour expression.

Turning to examine his internal components, tool in hand, she began her tender ritual of checking wires and gears, hydraulic lines and artificial veins and arteries. She tried to distract him from the artificial appendage with conversation – they reviewed detailed battle plans, discussed the temperament of his bike... the weather... – but thoughts of tomorrow overwhelmed them both, and the small talk died away.

As silence descended, Roxanne's mind began to fill the void with aching memories while she continued checking the circuits...

"Why did I let them do this to me Roxy?" he groaned as tremors of pain lanced through his leg.

She looked up at him and rolled her eyes. "Because you are a Green Beret, Thomas. Because you refused to be stopped by some damned land mine and–"

"Watch your mouth!" He commanded.

"Watch your own, bro." She shot back with a wicked smile. "It was you and your buddies who taught me to swear, remember?"

He sputtered for a moment, searching for a defense, but found none. She giggled as she returned to the circuit .

"Wiggle your toe"...

"Wiggle your thumb." She commanded Modo gently.

The two machines and the two souls were too similar not to conger memories. Every time she worked on his arm, they came back. She was determined not to let them get to her this time.

Modo complied, and the minute hydraulics within his hand slid perfectly to flex and bend the carefully-fitted steel joints.

"You certainly faired better than usual in that last fight." She said, visually following the weave of tubes and wire to his elbow. "Are those carbon fiber components working any better than the steel ones?"

"They sure are." he drawled, stretching out his legs, "I still can't thank you enough for doin' that for me."

"Then stop for Heaven's sake!" She chided, beaming at him. "I promise, you have thanked me quite thoroughly, now quit it."

"No, really sis. I couldn't be here today without your help."

"Okay, okay. Now stop gushing." Tears welled beneath her eyes. She refused to cry until after her brother's plane was out of sight.

A gnawing pain was growing in the pit of her stomach. A prickly thought danced across her mind. Suddenly, her life seemed little more than an accumulation of horrible tomorrows.

Another laps of silence passed. Modo's smile dimmed as the dark thoughts began to surface in her face.

"Roxanne, are you worried about tomorrow?"

"I'm not worried!" she exclaimed, with a bit too much zeal. "You guys are the best, fighters in the galaxy, and I've been waiting for this since the day I found out what that alien monster was planning to do to my planet! What is there to worry about?"

"Tom, wait!" she pleaded, knowing it would be in vain. Unbidden tears rolled down her cheeks. "Please, don't' go back there. Please!"

"Oh, Roxy. I've got to." he said, scooping his fifteen-year-old baby sister into a fierce hug. "You know I can't back out on my contract. Besides," he knelt down, on his metal knee, making eye contact, "I need to face those people again. I can't turn my back on all the work we've done there. I've got to help finish this."

Oh God...

She was lying, and suspected that Modo new it.

Quickly, she snapped the panel back into place. "That should do it." she chimed, her voice fairly squeaking with false lightness. "Throttle said he wanted to talk to you after we finished." She lied again. "I think he's still in the kitchen."

Modo eyed her for a moment. She was a terrible liar, but he played along all the same. "Alright. I'm hungry anyway." He stretched languorously before rising back to his feet.

Roxanne diverted her sight to the floor and was grateful, once again, for his exceptional height. It put her face below his range of vision, so long as she did not look up. Her eyes were glistening at the corners.

As he turned towards the kitchen door, a sudden impulse struck him. While the thought its self was enough to startle, the fact that he acted upon it baffled him.

He turned on his heal, put his hands on her shoulders and kissed her on the forehead.

Thomas stepped back. Resting his hands on her shoulders, he bent his head and kissed his sister's forehead in a silent goodbye.

She shuddered. One muffled sob escaped.br /Without another word, or even a glance, he turned again and strode through the door.

The soldier turned smartly on his heal and strode down the boarding ramp.

"Oh dear God," she begged silently, dropping into the chair where he had sat. "No more... not again. You've got-to bring him back!"

. . .

Fin

. . .

MouseyWithMoxy '07