this is extinction roxas/namine, 351 words, pg
She kisses with her whole soul, offers up whatever semblance of a heart that she has left, every reworked valve and every stitch of regenerated scar tissue bared for the taking.

The West Wing of the ACSI-2X building is retina-recognition protected--one automated entrance scan and the doors slick open with a metallic hiss.

She is transported in through the cable networks built into the low ceilings. The thin black wires crossing like railway tracks above the heads of studious-looking people doing studious-looking things. She has been injected with chlorpromazine and perphenazine and fluphenazine, in triple-doses and in such high concentrations that would it be fatal to a human. (She's not, and they've long before rewritten her system so that they know to the hundredth of a millimeter how many phenothiazines they could shoot into her system before she flat-lined.)

Her cell is steel and the door is locked and bolted and when her cage comes to a stop she's so sedated she can barely think. She runs multiplication problems through her head, but the numbers slip away from her like quicksilver, bright flashes on an otherwise dull horizon. They shove her into a garish white room with him (she stumbles to her knees and doesn't get up) and then they're hastily stepping back behind the glass to observe, maniac gleams lighting up their black eyes.

She's delirious and half-dead, but through her haze she notices his eyes--eyes, blue as what she thinks the sky would look like, if she ever saw it (which she hasn't--she's only ever tried drawing it, but she thinks she's probably got the shade wrong). She feels his fingers stream through her hair and it feels foreign and different but not wrong, and then she feels the chip implant tugging her limbs into motion, static electricity pulsating through her veins from the base of her neck like a numbing wave, and so she curls shaking fingers into the fabric of his shirt and holds on tight.

She kisses with her whole soul, offers up whatever semblance of a heart that she has left, every reworked valve and every stitch of regenerated scar tissue bared for the taking. He palms her thin shoulders with cold hands and wishes he had something to offer to her, too.