Summary: Baird gets a haircut and a cup of tea from a pregnant woman. *Sequel to "Steel Rain" *

I've had this sitting on my hard drive for a while now after the positive reception that Sarah received from the last one. Man, I am so rusty at writing GoW stuff. I'm trying to get back into it (with Gear 3 on its way out) but it's been really difficult so I apologise in advance if the quality is substandard.

Again, it's not really a Baird/OC.

Calm before the Storm

"Another day of hidden thoughts to comprehend
Rules that break but never bend
Between us there's an easier way
There's a space in everything we see and do
There's a space you feel it too"

- Paul McLaney "Half a World Away"

Damon Baird wondered what on Sera he was doing sitting outside the Civilian Block of Jacinto City. He eyed the block-like structures with something close to contempt on his slightly scarred face. No matter which way he looked at them, the houses just looked like grey blocks of stone stack up on top of each other with a only a few windows and doors in each. They were sturdy enough but he hated them. So he was left wondering why he was willingly going into one. He ran a gloved palm over his face and took a few moments to gather his scattered thoughts. His anticipation had very little to do with the stone houses, rather a female residing within them.

Come on, man up. It's only Murphy.

Yeah. Right. Only Sarah Murphy.

His old childhood friend he had written off as dead and gone until only a month ago.

The blonde remembered the counter well (Cole called it fate, Baird called it bullshit) He had found her walking through the streets of Jacinto in the rain and given her a ride in his truck. When the female headed back to her apartment, Baird had thought it to be the last he would see of her pregnant ass again. Needless to say, Baird was shocked when the mother of three contacted him again through the COG and offered him haircuts if he needed them. The blonde mechanic had snubbed it off the typical Baird fashion he was proud of until he woke up in the barracks one day and realised his hair had gotten too long to gel up with watered down engine oil. He didn't entirely fancy letting one of the others gears near his hair. He liked his hair on his head where it belonged thank you very much.

Baird killed the engine of the truck and took the keys with him as he left. They were attached to a keyring that sported his old house key and a miniature screwdriver he used for getting into those hard to reach places that his gloved fingertips just couldn't reach. The blonde then proceeded to slam the door shut and walked towards the main blockade into the housing complex. Gears milled around all over the place, patrolling the perimeters and guarding the civilians like sheppards guarding a flock of sheep.

A gear stopped Baird at the large gate that lead into the first set of housing estates. "State your business here." He was brisk, sharp and probably only doing his job.

His voice annoyed the blonde and Baird wanted to hit him. Violence and temper tantrums didn't usually get him anywhere however.

So he settled for clenching his hands against the side of his thighs. He felt strange out of armour, less threatening even. Most people were not likely to tangle with him when he had his full suit of armour and sporting a Lancer. Today, he had neither. The blonde felt practically naked.

"I'm here to see Murphy." Baird made no attempt to hide his irk.

"Who? Sarah?" The second Gear gave Baird a once-over, seemingly trying to decide if the snappy blonde was telling the truth or not. Perhaps he thought it unlikely that the cheerful, mother-of-three could possibly be acquainted with the likes of him. Suspicious eyes took in everything from the scruffy, dirty blonde hair to the scuffed workman's boots, pants and jacket.

Baird scowled in obvious irritation, resisting the urge to tap his foot. He simply opted for burrowing inside his jacket a little more. "Yeah Sarah Murphy. We go way back. So can I go in? It's freezing out here."

The soldier waved him on forward through the gates and Baird couldn't move fast enough. It was like being in an airport being checked by customs officers. All that was missing was the metal detector and body searches. He stepped into the crowd of COG civilians and immediately got lost in the bustle. Everyone seemed like they knew exactly what they were doing and where they were going. Baird was sure he must have stuck out like a prostitutes rack.

It did not take the blonde long to find Sarah Murphy's small apartment, despite how similar everything looked. Sarah could apparently give good directions. Baird went up three floors on a rickety elevator that sounded as if it were about to give out. He had swiftly exited on level four and took a flight of stairs up to the final level of the stone flats. The mechanic gave a grimace and looked around in disgust. He found it hard to believe that Sarah resided in such a place. The wallpaper sagged and drooped lifelessly. Boxes upon boxes were stacked up on top of each other like messy building blocks. Paper was spread out across the floor beneath his feet and a COG poster had been decorated with some colourful and descriptive adjectives that weren't entirely untrue.

It was a far cry indeed from the modern and lavish home of the Murphys that he remembered so very well.

Baird pushed aside his discomfort and scouted down the corridor, his foots quick on the dirty flooring. He counted down each dented door until he stopped outside one that had the number "14" stencilled on the wood in Sarah's neat, black print. There was a little sign tapped to the door, advertising some kind of time schedule. Baird leaned in and examined it closer. It took him a few moments to realise that Sarah was running something of a unisex hairdressers. The thought of a Stylist trying to work during War Time made the blonde snort in amusement. Despite everything that had happened, his childhood friend was still such a vain bitch. He took comfort in knowing that at least he was not the only person left on Sera that actually gave a damn about his appearance.

The man straightened up and rapped on the door with his knuckles. Thin scars ran across the front of Baird's usually gloved hands, the white dents noticeable in the Imulsion powered lighting. Baird suddenly wished he had worn his gloves after all. Sarah would likely give him a lecture and leave his ears ringing for days.

"Hello. You're right on time."

Baird jerked up from his mental ravine. His curly haired, pregnant friend stared at him from across the threshold with that perfect, orthopaedic smile of hers. Her mousy brown hair was much longer than he had first anticipated. The locks weren't hanging in damp curls this time but tied back. She wore an apron around her belly that sported several battered looking combs, a pair of miniature scissors, a few bulldog clips and a spray bottle. The arsenal of a hairdresser. "Are you going to stand there or are you going to come in?"

The blonde gave a smirk and pointed to the sign on the door. "You actually work? Figured you wouldn't have any time considering you're breeding the next army in there," Baird remarked and pretended to examine the sign again with mock concentration.

"It keeps my mind of things." Sarah paused, confused by Baird's behaviour. "What are you doing?"

"Seeing how much you charge for hand jobs." Attack.

Sarah gave a snort of amusement and rolled those brown eyes. They were not an exotic shade like hazel or chocolate but rather a deep greying brown that put Baird in mind of dried mud. They had a pretty shape and always looked alive when she was mad about something. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't slam the door in your face?" Counter-attack.

"Because I'll just break it down. Then you'll be without a door." Parry.

"You know, that smugness of yours is a terribly attractive quality." Counter-attack

"Thank you. It was either smugness or dye my hair. Smugness is easier to maintain to be honest." Block.

Sarah's brown eyes darted to his scruffy blonde hair that was in dire need of a cut. "Your hair needs dyed again. I can see the roots growing in."

"Well, you know I have been so busy lately what with the war and all that I haven't had a chance to pencil myself in with my local stylist." Attack.

"God you're so rude." Block.

"You're rude." Counter-attack.

The female tutted at him, looking clearly disapproving. "Well, you'd better come in then. The COG would take forever to fix the door if you broke it down."

"About time. You have any idea how cold it is out here?" Baird said, rubbing his bare hands together. He wished he had worn gloves after all.

"Not cold enough apparently," she fired back before stepping inside to let the blonde into her apartment. Baird entered, rubbed his boots against the doormat then cast a critical eye over the dwelling that Sarah called her home. It was not the worst accommodation that he had ever laid his blue eyed gaze upon. Though it was highly spacious, it was empty and quite barren. The sparsely adorned lobby was connected to two bedrooms, one for Sarah and one for her children. Another corridor to left lead off to a small kitchen that was barely big enough for two people while a third lead towards a tiny bathroom that Baird would have bleached several times before he would consider using. The living room doubled as a dining room and held a table and four chairs, a beat up coffee table and a very old bookcase. Instead of books, it housed first-aid kits, torches and several blankets.

Practical, useful items.

It was a very stark contrast to the home she had lived in long ago.

"It's a bit of a dump," Baird remarked even though he knew full well that some families lived in COG built community shelters and did not have a home. Farm women were kept well apparently.

"It's no worse than what you live in," she remarked as she lead him through the narrow hallways. Baird unwillingly found himself looking around and listening for the pitter-patter of tiny feet against threadbare carpet or for the high pitched squeal of a child. Her apartment was oddly quiet and the only sound that he could hear was the occassional humming of Ravens flying overhead.

Instead, Baird took the bulls by the horn. "So where's the next army?"

Sarah looked at him and raised an eyebrow. "They are at school just now. Don't worry, Some gears will escort them home."

The blonde shoved his hands in his pockets as he entered what he assumed was the lounge. One of the kitchen chairs had been set up on top of a few sheets of yellowed newspaper. "I wasn't worried about your brats. I just like to know where my enemies are. I don't like being ambushed," Baird replied quickly. For Sarah to assume that he was worried about her children was unthinkable. That just would not do. He was Damon Baird after all. He had a reputation of being a surly bastard to uphold.

Sarah tossed him a smile, that exact smile she used to throw him in school when he said something snide to her. It was if she was not bothered by his bad attitude in the slightest – and she probably wasn't. Baird scowled deeply and made a quick mental note to dig harder at her in the future. "I have done a good job raising my children. You'll see that when you meet them. Now settle down and sit in that chair," Sarah chided, as if he were one of her many offspring. The gear threw her a filthy look but sat down in the chair. It creaked in protest but managed to hold his weight. Baird was somewhat impressed. Not many bog-standard kitchen chairs could handle two hundred pounds worth of mass and muscle.

"Do you want some tea?" Sarah asked.

Baird stared at her like she had grown a second head. He swallowed, trying to remember the last time he had a cup of tea. He had lost count. "Have you got any?"

"Yup. They treat Farm women pretty well. We get good rations, tea bags and even little cartons of heat treated milk."

It was harder than he thought not to drool. "Then hell fucking yes I want some tea. I would feed my mother to a Brumak for a good cup of tea if the bitch wasn't already dead."

The pregnant woman smiled in that oh-so-superior way, an expression that had donned his own face countless times. Baird was not surprised. She probably learnt it from him. "Okay. I'll be right back." Sarah then swaggered out of the living room and disappeared into the kitchen. Baird listened to the sound of a kettle boiling and the clattering of the cutlery. It was an honest, old sound that he liked much more than gunfire or screams. He waited in the living room, drumming his fingers against the armrests. For tea, he could be patient. It was just one of those things that couldn't be rushed.

A few minutes later, Sarah appeared back with a mug of steaming tea. She handed it to him with a grin, her face expectant.

Baird eyed her carefully then looked back to the battered, slightly chipped mug. "You haven't poisoned this have you?"

An eyebrow hiked up Sarah's forehead. "And waste a tea bag? God no."

The mechanic snorted then raised his cup to his mouth. The first sip was like heaven. It was better than a hot shower after a firefight. It was better than sex. He marvelled at the fact that Sarah still remembered how to make his tea – milk with two sugars and strong enough to put more hairs on his chest. He took another swig, savouring the taste fully. A contented groan escaped the mechanic that he did not bother to hide.

"So is that okay?"

Baird looked over his cup at her and scowled. Apparently, he had to spell it out for her. "What do you think?"

"I think that I can still make your tea the way you like it after ten years," Sarah replied with a smirk. She shifted around behind him, her movements graceful for a pregnant woman. Baird almost split his tea when he felt the female suddenly slid her fingers between his locks. It had certainly been a while since he had felt that sensation. "So, how much do you want off?" the female asked as she toyed with the dirty blonde locks. Her fingers ran across his skin very gently, ghosting his scalp in an entirely professional manner. Despite himself, the blonde gave an involuntary shiver. He caught himself and snorted. Since when had he been into Necrophilia? The fact that a woman whom he had thought was dead was somehow managing to "flick his switch" left him feeling distinctly creeped out.

Baird grimaced. Obviously, he needed to get laid. And quickly.

"Not too much. I don't think I'd suit the skin-head Hoffman look," he answered, taking another sip of his hot tea.

Sarah gave a little twinkle of a laugh. "No, I don't think you would. You're far too vain for that," she teased, tapping the top of his scrubbing brush haired head with her comb.

Baird grinned and squared his broad shoulders. "Hey, if I'm going to die out there then I at least want to be the best looking corpse around."

The female combed his hair for a bit, arranging it this way and that. "You've got so much hair Baird. Do you some kind of fertiliser shampoo on it?"

"You make my hair sound like it is some out of control weed," he remarked, taking another swig of his hot beverage.

"Isn't it?"

"Out of control? Yes, but a weed? No."

Baird heard the female let out another one of her girlish laughs. It was an oddly comforting sound and didn't really annoy him unlike some women. He considered her for a moment. Possibly his lack of distaste towards her was because Sarah was pushy or mouthy or tried to get the better of him all the time. She simply matched his wits and had done for years.

"Well before I can start, these will need to come off," Sarah said, touching the weathered strap of his engineer's goggles and jerking Baird from his mental ravine.

"My goggles? But I can't be seen without them," the blonde insisted, which was true enough. For the fifteen years that Damon Baird had been part of the COG army, he had worn the blue lensed goggles religiously. The mechanic even wore them when he slept. The small, unassuming piece of eyewear had become his icon, his identity. They set him apart from everyone else. Even in the seclusion of Sarah's home, he truly detested the thought of taking them off. He just felt wrong without them plastered to his forehead.

"Come on, get them off," Sarah pressed, her hands on her hips.

"I love it when you talk dirty," Baird replied with a wolfish grin.

The pregnant female apparently was unfazed by his comment. He should have known better. "Stop deflecting. Goggles off or you don't get this haircut. I can't work properly with them in the way."

Baird let out a heavy sigh as if it was the most inconvenient task imaginable. Clearly Sarah was not going to budge on the issue and if he wanted his haircut, he knew it was in his best interests to comply with her request. He just made a mental note to take his revenge later. Maybe he would bend her over the kitchen table and show her who was boss once she had finished with his hair. The thought brought a devious smile to his face as he reached up and hauled the goggles off his head. "I'm not taking these off because you asked by the way. I'm just worried you'll get all hormonal and stab me with your scissors. I hear you pregnant chicks can get all violent and shit," Baird remarked in the most scathing tone he could muster as he held out the goggles to the female.

Sarah responded just as he expected she would. She just laughed again as she stuffed the goggles into her apron before carrying on with her present task. "See why it's easy to just be pregnant. People just do what you say to avoid any headaches," she replied, spraying his hair lightly to moisten the blonde locks. Baird could hear the snip of her scissors above his head. Her fingers threaded through the abstraction that was his hair and soon enough, he could see little blonde hairs failing across his vision. "Those scissors better be fucking clean by the way. You're so dead if I get fleas or something," Baird threatened, just because he could.

The female responded by giving his blonde hair a playful tug. "I keep my equipment clean thank you very much," she answered as she straightened his head slightly.

Baird settled back in the chair, grumbling like an old dog. "I still can't believe that you're cutting hair for a living," he said, wiping away a piece of hair that fell on his face.

"I still can't believe you're still dying your hair blonde." Baird smirked to himself. Sarah was still as sharp and quick witted as he remembered. Being around so many gears that were severely lacking in the brain department made the blonde appreciate a quick mind.

"Ha. Funny. Really. How the fuck did you learn how to do stuff like this anyway? Before the war broke out, you were at Law School."

Sarah went quiet for a moment and all Baird could hear from the soft snipping of her little scissors. The blonde waited in a bout of uncharacteristic patience for the female to answer. "When Chairman Prescott ordered the Fortification Act, most women who didn't become soldiers or stranded went to the Farms..." Sarah trailed off, seemingly at a loss to describe it. Baird tensed and found his hands gripping the armrests of the kitchen chair. He raged over the Farms once again. No matter which way Prescott chose to dress it up, no amount of losses could justify went on there. When the blonde thought of his childhood friend being forced into such a situation, Baird felt himself swell with fury on her behalf. "So when I was there, some of the other woman taught me how to do a decent hair cut. It gave us something to do," the female eventually continued, her expression dark.

Baird swallowed the unwelcomed lump in his throat. "So you're not completely useless now?" he asked, trying to steer the conversation from dark terrain.

Apparently it worked for Sarah gave a smile. "Not not anymore. Anyway, you'd be surprised how many gears want a good haircut before shipping out. I cut Clay Carmine and his little brother Ben's hair a few days ago. Nice boys those two. Shame about Anthony," the female replied, carefully shortening the blonde locks between her fingers.

"Anthony Carmine got his brains blown out didn't he?" Baird replied nonchalantly. He had not been a part of Delta squad at that point in time but he knew of Anthony Carmine through Dom. He had been an eighteen or nineteen year old kid sniped off by a Locust having a good day.

Sarah gave a lock of hair another tug. This time, it pulled more sharply at the roots. Baird let out an indignant yelp that was more in surprise than pain. "Fuck! What was that for!" he snarled, feeling the sting on his scalp.

"Have more respect for the dead," she scolded, as if he was one of her children.

"They're dead. I doubt they really care if I have respect for them or not," he pointed out.

"How would you like it if people were disrespectful of you once you were dead?"

Baird rolled his eyes at Sarah's foolishness. He was fairly certain he would not give a damn. "Geez, what's gotten up your ass lately?" He grinned. "Apart from the all too obvious of course," the blonde added. He had little chance to relish at his oh-so-clever moment when the female twisted his blonde locks again sharply.

"Don't push it now. I'm holding the scissors remember?" Sarah threatened and she clipped them near his left ear for added effect.

The blonde opened his mouth to snarl back when Baird suddenly remembered what exactly Sarah was doing. Another snappy retort from him could result in an unsightly bald patch. Baird was not entirely sure he could live with that. He did not even to think about the humiliation that he have to suffer. "Fucking hormonal bitch," the mechanic grumbled. The female said nothing else as she cut away at his blonde hair. Silence enveloped the pair. It was always silence after a verbal skirmish, as if they needed to take time out to refuel for the next battle. Baird almost laughed at his own metaphor.

It really was not far from the truth.

Twenty minutes later and after several verbal bouts, Sarah finished off trimming the nape of his neck with a battered electric clipper that Baird was not entirely sure was safe to use. She ran a hand through his freshly sheared locks, dusting out the stray hair with her fingertips. "Here, what do you think? That okay?" Sarah handed the mechanic a small, slightly cracked mirror that had clearly seen better days. Baird held the circular mirror and inspected his image carefully. She had shorted the locks back down to an acceptable length but most of the dyed blonde tips had been cut out. On the whole, he was satisfied with the overall cut.

But the mechanic felt he was obligated to complain just for the sake of it. Sarah would expect nothing less and Baird was not one to disappoint. "You cut all my blonde out," he remarked purely out of spite, handing the pregnant woman back her battered mirror.

"Come back in a week. I might be able to get a hold of some peroxide that's safe to use to humans."

"A week? Really? You don't have any already?"

"Nope. It's not something I do very often. Most people aren't that vain," she replied, collecting up her tools and shoving them into her apron to wash later.

Sea green eyes rolled in their sockets. "Man, talk about unprofessional."

The pregnant female looked as if she wanted to hit him. Baird would not put it past her to bash him across the skull with a mirror. Instead, she opted for dropping his goggles onto his lap. "You're still so ungrateful," she remarked, brown eyes narrowed dangerously.

"And you're still a whore," Baird fired back, getting up from the old kitchen chair. He secured the goggles back home around his head. All was right in the world once again. Now if he could just do something about the Locust then things would have been perfect.

Sarah crossed her arms over her chest, emphasising her pregnant bulge. Like any man, Baird could admit freely that Sarah still looked good even with a belly full of COG-sanctioned baby. "You're one to talk."

"Hey! Remember we've been over this. I'll only accept the term 'Hero'" Baird remarked, holding out the empty mug to her.

"Double standards isn't in your dictionary is it?"

"Not at all." The mechanic looked to the sprinkling of blonde hairs that covered the floor and suddenly felt bald. "So what do I owe you anyway?"

The pregnant female smiled. "Don't worry about it."

"Fuck no, I don't want to be in debt to you. I need to pay you," he insisted.

Sarah shook her head. "You gave me that lift when it was raining. Now we're even."

Baird snorted. "Well, your loss bitch. Now, I gotta fuck off. I've only got like one shift off and I don't want to spend it here. People might get the wrong idea."

A smile pulled at Sarah's lips that Baird was not entirely sure he liked. "Yeah. You wouldn't want anyone to think you have a fetish for pregnant women."

"Well if I was on the market for a MILF then rest assured knowing that you would be first on my list."

"Oh charming."

Baird waved a hand. "I know. I'm just so fucking nice."

"Well I'd best see you off then."

"It would be the polite thing to do."

"I shouldn't really waste good manners on you. You really don't deserve it," Sarah replied but she led him through her debacle of an apartment anyway and back to the battered door that looked as if it could be caved in with a good, swift kick. Baird ran a hand through his freshly cut locks, feeling the length between his fingers. It was just the right length for him, not too short but not too long. Perfect for spiking up with watered down engine oil. Baird liked to look his best on the battlefield.

Sarah swung the door open for him. "Right, off you go then and fix crap like you always do."

"You sure I can't get a hand job while I'm here?" Baird said, cracking another grin.

The female gave him a small shove, her expression playful. "Maybe next time."

"Yeah, maybe."

Baird was not going to hold his breath as he left her apartment. Their entire friendship was made of maybes.

And it was just the way he liked it.

End

Man, their banter felt like it could go on forever. It was really difficult to end this piece. I reworked the ending two or three times until I was somewhat happy with it. As for Baird and his dyed blonde hair, I don't know about anyone else but it always looked to me like him character model had dyed hair. The tips were proper blonde but the roots were really, really dark. It looks like my brothers when he had the tips of his hair dyed blonde and him and Baird are so similar personality wise (They are even both have a huge love for mechanical engineering. Go figure.