Author's Note: OK well you guys caught me by surprise. I didn't know you like my story THAT much. ;) Thank you all so much for your support. This chapter is a bit longer but I think it's mostly dialogue. This is also what I call a "filler chapter" where there isn't anything too important going on, just the characters interacting so I hope you guys don't think it's boring. But I do have some questions for you readers. I'm worried that I'm not portraying Beck's character well. It is hard to put a character (who actually doesn't have that much facetime in his own show) into a situation where he's wounded and try to keep the personality intact. Am I doing a good or bad job? Does Beck seem like a different character with the same name or is he the actual Beck? Any helpful ideas to help me keep Beck's personality authentic? I also want to know how far you guys want me to take Beck and Syra's relationship. They could remain good friends and stay that way or I could set them on the track for boyfriend & girlfriend, a serious relationship. Or are you guys tired of Beck being shoved with other female OCs? Let me know your ideas. Love you all. -Marvel6

Everything is a one-colored blur as I step back into the apartment, eyes focused on the floor and body frame still shaky from the surprise of the previous moment. It'd been a long time since I'd thought about that past... about Paige. But that's mostly because I couldn't change it. Thinking about all of the friends I'd lost wouldn't bring them back so... I just chose not to. The future was more important now anyways. Especially when it was balanced above two major destinies along with the Renegade's fate.

Speaking of which...

My eyes flicked up at the thought of Beck when I remembered that he'd hidden himself away when Paige had come knocking at the door. Thanks to the pressure I'd been bombarded with in that situation I was not sure exactly where Beck had hidden himself away. My gaze settled on the closed doorway sitting in front of me. Apprehension fluttered in my chest when I realized that the Renegade had most likely just locked himself in my bedroom. It's not that I was nervous about having hidden a state fugitive in the room where I not only slept but kept my most personal items but... I most definitely was.

I slid open the door with a quick swipe of my hand. Before the telltale hiss had even completed it's sound I was already stepping through the door and looking for the signature spiky quiff of Beck's hair. I spotted him in the back right corner of my bedroom, sitting at my desk which is tucked into a corner on the wall opposite of my bed. But that was not the cause of the anger that suddenly flared in my chest. No, it was not where Beck had decided to sit but what he had in his hands that sent my chest into frenzy of hot sparks.

My drawing tablet.

I stomped through my bedroom, muscles tense and breaths coming fast. Beck looked up when he heard my quick approach. It looked like he was about to say something, probably going to ask who was at the door, but whatever it was was interrupted when I thrust my hand into his face, fingers outstretched for the electronic pad in his grasp.

"Hand it over," I demanded.

His brown eyes settle on my face curiously, probably not quite understanding my reaction. No one else did either. I see his gaze traveling over my features: my tightly pressed lips, the rigid set of my shoulders and intense look burning in my eyes, and guess that he has easily translated them to mean anger. But instead of handing over the pad a mischievous glint sparkles in his eyes and he tugs the pad closer to his body.

"Now wait a second," he says and my eyes widen in disbelief. "I want to know who drew these."

A picture snaps to life on the screen when Beck taps a button. I recognize it immediately. It was a picture of a young female program with silvery white hair pointing an activated disk at the screen, her gaze intense and daring. I'd drawn it two weeks ago, making it my most recent piece of work. Not that that mattered much.

"I did!" I exclaim, making a lunge for the electronic. I don't reach it. Beck swings the drawing pad to the side and out of my reach. His other arm rushes forward to hold me back when I make another jump for the tablet. I'm sure that any other day Beck would've been able to stop me easily. Heck, it probably would've been nothing to him. But not today. As soon as his arm connects with my shoulder a flash of pain sears the playful expression from his face. His arms drop to clasp his side and I snatch the electronic from his fingers without pity. I stand uncertainly for a second and then swiftly slide open a desk drawer and place my drawings safely within it, sealing them away from prying eyes.

Turning back around to face Beck I find him still occupied with his wound. His jaw is clenched and his hands pressed against the hidden scar as if that would suppress the pain. My anger fizzes out a little when the empathy programmed into my system takes over and urges me to care for the program in front of me. Sighing, I lean down and wrap a gentle arm around Beck's shoulders, slinging one of his over my own slim shoulders. Slowly rising to our feet I guide him out of my bedroom.

"Come one," I say "Let's get that checked out."

Carefully, I ease him onto the "examination table" and turn to get some of my medical supplies from where I'd left them on the counter. I wasn't too worried about this new attack being anything too serious. I already knew from previous experience that injuries like these were well-known to have such painful side effects as that when strained. But I figured it'd be best if I did a check-up again to be sure he hadn't stressed the new coding anyways. As I sorted through my equipment, setting the necessary pieces aside, I heard a weary sigh and was about to turn around when Beck muttered "I'm never going to be able to fight again, am I?"

A sad chill of sympathy froze my insides along with a spark of surprise. Where had that come from? "Of course you will, Beck," I say, swiveling to look at him.

"But... How will I be able to fight Recognizers when I can't even defend myself from you?!". His voice had been raising into a higher and higher pitch until he finally erupted into an almost yell. I tensed in response, more worried that someone would hear him and come to investigate than of Beck's outburst itself. After a moment Beck realized what he had done. His eyes softened with regret. Slowly he lowered his hands to the table. "Sorry," he muttered. "I didn't mean to yell. I just-"

I sigh. Grasping my tools I stride over to the "examination table and my patient that sat upon it. "It's alright, Beck." I set my tools onto the table. "I know you're stressed and... I know you're scared." His eyebrows draw together at that statement and he opens his mouth to object but this time I interrupt him. "You're scared that you're weak," I state. He pauses. "But you're not, Beck. The hit you took would've killed any lesser program. But you hung on."

I was hoping that these were the right things to say. I was a healer of the body, not the mind so hopefully my words were actually helping. But as I talked I began to wonder myself, why had Beck held on? Survival instincts were strong but strong enough to pull a program through an entire disk through their side? Or was there something else? Something... or someone that Beck had believed in had pulled him through that ordeal. That thought pulled at my mind and suddenly I once again began to wonder if there was something more to the Renegade's vandalism than some of us had originally believed.

"I know that I'm not the strongest opponent out there," I continue. "It's pretty obvious that I'm not even a close match to a Recognizer either." We both smile at that one. My mind flashes back to the night on the street at the mention of "Recognizers", when they had all been running about, looking for the criminal that found me. I shake the vision away, though I wondered how many more cycles that memory would continue to haunt me.

"I don't know," Beck begins, the sarcasm in his voice all too obvious. "You seemed pretty strong just a second ago when I had your drawing tablet in my hand."

I laugh nervously. "That's because I was determined. If you were at your full health I'm sure you could've stopped me with no effort at all."

"Yea but instead I nearly tore my side open all over again," Beck mutters bitterly.

"Not quite..." I say. I'm leaning in close to where his scar is now illuminated by the scanner in my hand. It casts a blue glow across his abdomen, highlighting the points of damage that crisscross across his side like a circuit board. "You see, here," I place my hand on his side, framing a section of coding lighter in color, "You stressed the new coding's structure. Nothing too serious. You've just got to be more careful otherwise it could spread..." I trace my finger up a small brighter trail of coding onto his chest. "And damage other codes..." It is right then when I realize what I am doing as well as the closeness of our skin. I glance up and catch his dark gaze focused on mine, only a few inches away. I rip my hand away and step back so fast that I startle Beck. I turn around to "put the tool back" but pause once I get to the counter.

"What's the matter?" I question myself angrily. "You've inspected patients before. Why are you getting shy with this one?! I stand there, flustered for a few moments. I glance back and find Beck watching me. My mind scrambled to come up with something, anything, to cover up the my reaction. "Um..." And then I had it.

"I have an idea," I state. "Since you're worried about not being able to fight because of your injury why don't we have our own little disk battles to keep you on your toes?"

Beck looks at me surprised. "You- you mean here? Now? How can we even do that?"

"We can have them on the roof," I decide, relieved that I had come up with a solution, and a rather good one at that. "It'll keep you in shape, help strengthen the new coding if we take it easy. And I bet that your level of disk battles when you're wounded is about equal to my level right now so I could actually learn something without getting derezzed."

Beck smiles and nods his head, excited. "Yea. That would- that would be great actually. Thank you."

I nod and glance down, embarrassed for some inexplicable reason. Glancing at the clock I say "We could probably go after my next shift if you wanted. You'd probably like to get out of here soon anyways."

He nods and then pauses after something occurs to him. "Oh yea, I forgot to ask: who was at the door?"