Batou watched the oil snaking out of the broken bottles on the floor. His fists were clenched and he was still tense, ready to take a swing at the first person stupid enough to bother him. Finally, he pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit up, wishing that one day all that smoking might actually kill him.
He didn't even hear her come in.
"Batou. . ."
"This is the men's locker room," he growled, knowing a little thing like that wouldn't get her to leave. But he said it all the same, hoping for once that he could forget, that he didn't have to be the one thing he always wanted to be but was never sure he was: human.
"Doesn't bother me. Besides, no one's here. It's almost midnight, Batou."
"Major, I'm serious, dammit. Get the hell outta here." he tossed his finished cigarette onto the floor, careful to stay clear of the oil.
"Togusa was worried about you." She went on, ignoring him. "Do I need to worry about you too?"
"No," Batou said, in retrospect maybe a little too quickly.
"Too late. Was it the Tachikomas? Or your last case? Did something happen with Zaitsev? Togusa said you used to be a big fan of his. So. . ."
"I need a beer. There's a six pack in my locker."
She tossed him one a minute later, then opened a can herself.
"Look, Major, it's nothin'. You don't have to worry about it. Just the last case… Nevermind. Christ." He knew how stupid and unconvincing he sounded, but it was too late now.
He hated how she could make him talk like this. Sure, his last statement hadn't been too eloquent, but there was something about her still. . . Most of the time he wouldn't even admit to himself that he had an emotional side, and now here she was, sifting through all the feelings even he'd thought were long buried.
And there it was again, that damned feeling that shouldn't exist in his metal body, like burning and freezing, dying and, for once, really living.
Damn her.
"Batou. . ."
He looked up. She was still there, leaning against his locker and taking a long sip of her beer. But something was different. As she looked at him over the can, he saw that her eyes had softened. She looked upset, genuinely worried. The Major never showed emotion like that.
Suddenly, in one of those crazy fits of passion in which you have no idea what it is you're doing but are unable to stop it anyway, Batou stood and punched the front of the locker next to her head as hard as he could, leaving a fist-shaped dent in the metal.
"Hey, Batou, don't get all crazy on me now. Come on." She stood, tiny-looking under his shadow, but still so strong. She never flinched, not once.
And there was something he knew, something he could never pretend now that he didn't know. He felt as if he was dying, yet there was something in him that had never been happier. This was bad.
"Stop it. Please, Major, just stop before I do something stupid."
Something happened then, something neither of them would be able to explain later. They stood there, Batou's fist still halfway through the locker, but shaking now, and the Major's legs feeling less and less capable of keeping her upright. And at one random, inexplicable moment, the both looked at each other. It only lasted a moment, but something passed between them then, some secret knowledge that neither had been willing to let go of before. Something, had either one of them believed in fate they might have said that, something bound them together.
There were no words exchanged, no "I love you" 's, no promises.
And when it was over and Batou had retreated back to the bench he had been sitting at and his beer, Motoko spoke.
"Always, but also never," she said.
And then she left. Forever, but only for a moment.