Precipitation in Centra almost invariably came in one of two forms: a foggy drizzle that delivered almost no moisture to the land and only served to reduce visibility to within a few meters, or a raging thunderstorm that deafened all present and delivered a deluge of water that the Centran landscapes couldn't absorb, flooding the region with standing water and mud.

Taiga had spent many nights out under each condition. If there was one thing he retained from his field days, it was that it was best to be inside when a Centran storm struck.

A gust of wind blew through the back door, and Taiga caught Lu shivering out of the corner of his eye. A small fire was crackling in the fireplace, but as yet it hadn't done much to warm the house; old and in such disrepair as it was, there were too many leaks and cracks to block successfully. Taiga had emptied the kitchen of bowls and pots and jars, and each one was standing in a different part of the living room catching the drops that came down through the ceiling. He had scrounged up an old, moth-bitten blanket from one of the closets, and Lu was huddling in it as best she could. She looked utterly miserable--a fact of which Taiga was not entirely unaware.

"...I'm sorry about all this," Taiga said, busying himself with whatever mundane task came to mind. "I know it can't be your idea of a vacation."

Lu shifted slightly, and the blanket rustled. "Not really," she agreed.

"I checked the pantry. There's a good stock of canned food I'd still trust to eat--mostly military-issue stuff. A week's worth, or more. I think I could fix this place up in that time--more or less."

"And then what? Forage? Live the rest of your life out here, off the fat of the land?" There was a soft, derisive noise. "A worthy goal, indeed."

Taiga bit his tongue, endeavoring to pay more attention to the jar he was placing than he actually needed to. "...Lesser Kay isn't too far from here," he said. "If you still thought... I mean, if you--" he shook his head, sliding the jar over so that each droplet from the ceiling fell directly through the center of its mouth. "...I could take you there," he said. "You could go back to Esthar."

Lu didn't seem as surprised by his offer as he would have expected. "Memory Lane wearing on your nerves?"

"I've caused you a lot of trouble," Taiga said. "You shouldn't have to stay here any longer."

"These last few days have just been one extended crisis of conscience for you, haven't they, 'borg?" Lu sounded amused. It was vaguely unsettling.

"I--"

"You want to do me a favor? You want to make things easier on me?" There was another rustle. "You can tell me what's really going on here."

Taiga shifted his weight, staring at the jar as water fell into it. "...I don't think you'd believe me if I did tell you," he said.

"Try me."

Taiga shrugged uneasily. "...I lived here for a while."

"And?"

"...I got caught."

"What's with this 'Seiken' person? You always talk about him, but--"

"He died."

Lu dropped the rest of her sentence.

"...it wasn't when I got caught," Taiga went on. "It was before that. One day he just started walking, and didn't come back. After a while I went out looking for him, and I found him lying up against a rock outcropping, dead. He--he had just taken his left breastplate, and pulled it off. And he was just sitting there, dead, staring at it--staring at his heart." He swallowed, hard. "...I think that was the first recorded cyborg suicide. ...he always was a sensationalist. ...one for the record books."

Lu was quiet.

Taiga stood up, shaking his head. "...there was something I was wondering about you, too," he said.

Lu breathed deeply. "Well--"

"But not now. I... don't feel so good." He gestured vaguely, well aware that she probably couldn't see it. "...I'm going outside for a bit. You know, I... always did kinda like the rain."

Lu groaned, closing her eyes as Taiga opened the front door and let himself out. It seemed as if every time the conversation took a step toward becoming civil, it turned unpleasant in some other way.

The door was slammed shut by the wind, and she jumped--and winced, as her bruise was jostled. The room returned to its earlier lull--dripping water, whistling wind, and crackling fire.

There was no clock in the room by which to measure the time, but it seemed as if the minutes were passing more slowly than usual. Lu pulled the blanket tighter around her, staring into the fire and endeavoring to lose herself in her own musings.

It was quite some time later when the first notes of concern began to manifest in her mind. At first she resolutely pushed them away, but soon it became apparent that they were not to be so easily ignored. The image was crystallizing in her mind of a cyborg, leaning up against a rock in the barren Centran waste, ribs and armor ripped away, heart exposed--

It was a totally irrational fear, and she knew it. Even so, the more she tried to ignore it, the more vivid the image got.

Finally, shaking her head, she stood up--gathering the blanket around her like a cloak, she made her way to the front door and pushed it open.

Darkness greeted her--darkness and wind. Gazing tentatively into the night, she wondered about the wisdom of going out.

"Taiga?" she called, hoping fervently for an answer.

"Lu!" Taiga sounded surprised to hear her--his voice came from somewhere in the front yard, but she wasn't sure exactly where.

"Are you--"

"Get back!" Taiga's voice spoke to a terrible urgency. "Get back in the house!"

"What is it?" Lu called, searching for Taiga's form in the deluge. "What's going on?"

Taiga was crouched behind the gate, staring into the grey distance. Everything in his posture screamed alert. "Something's out there," he hissed. "Something's coming through the rain!"