She wanted to smirk at the groan of frustration she heard in his voice. She'd have to settle for giving a soft hum of contentment, since she didn't have lips. Not real ones, anyway.

"I … I can't believe …" he barely managed to get out before falling silent again. It seemed that he was having quite the struggle in formulating complete sentences right now; whether from rage, shock, or crippling anxiety, she hadn't the slightest. Not that it mattered; all that did would be how the rest of this meeting played out, hopefully to her advantage.

"As we speak, there are several media outlets currently covering the incident. Our spokesmen at Hammond are working on a statement right now, trying to save face for the company."

"It's because of them that we're in this situation in the first place!" he roared, slamming his fist into the desk he was currently leaning over. "I told you that a partnership like this would bite us in the ass-"

"And I told you," she reminded him, "that Thone was not the place to house a facility like this. Even under IMC control, it's nowhere near remote enough to be considered safe for our … tests. But you weren't willing to move our operations to a more recluse area-"

"And allow you free reign of the site?" he scoffed. "I like to think that our goals are at least somewhat humane. Not to mention that I don't want a case where Hammond can take advantage of the distance to seize control-"

"The facility would still be strictly under your ownership," she hastily assured him. "Believe me, Hammond and the IMC have enough bad publicity without our work sullying it. If they want to maintain an even remotely positive image in the eyes of the public, they'll stay as far away from taking credit for our advancements as possible. They'll supply the resources and funding, nothing more."

He clenched his jaw tightly, but he wasn't screaming anymore. She continued on, sensing a break in his resolve.

"Besides," she crooned as she approached closer, "you needn't worry about me. After all, don't the ends justify the means? Just because I enjoy my work doesn't mean it isn't beneficial; if it brings us any closer to ending the war, is it not worth it?"

She preyed on his softer side, the side that cared for the millions of lives affected by the feud between the Militia and IMC. She couldn't care less about the bloodshed, so long as it served her purposes.

Lowering his head, she watched him shut his eyes as he grimaced. "Damn it all. I know you're right, I just … of course it's worth it."

That didn't stop him from turning to her with distaste in his gaze. "You're a psychopath- you understand that right?"

"Irrelevant" she replied, brushing aside his complaint.

He sighed. "I'm assuming you've already worked things out with Hammond?"

"Of course, Rayme," she affirmed. "They already have a planet, one that's just about as far from 'on the grid' as can be. Typhon, I believe they said. They're conducting other research and expeditions there as well, projects that will require such a facility like ours for weapons, Titan, and vehicle manufacturing. My … particular form of weapons testing would be viable as well, though that would only be a relatively minor part."

He snorted derisively, the obvious mendacity not lost on him.

"They have the plans laid out, the resources for construction- we can begin building almost immediately. Construction would finish within 2 years, and it'd be functional six months before that. Then, when all this is over, all will know that Vinson Dynamics was a key player in helping to end the war."

She threw in that last line to cement the idea and eradicate any resistance left in his mind to the idea. She waited patiently for his response, watching as the conflict in his mind eventually resolved itself.

"Show me where I sign before I change my mind."

"Of course."

…

The kiss of life did not come gently; rather, it forced her back into existence with all the sensitivity and delicateness of a blunt instrument.

She jerked upwards, her body buckling as her cognitive processes became active once more. She tried to take a deep breath- but nothing happened.

Desperately, she tried to inhale and calm her mind which was screaming at her to get air. Once again, however, nothing happened. She felt like she was suffocating- and yet, she hadn't noticed her body triggering any of the usual symptoms that came with asphyxiation.

In fact, she didn't really feel anything. She was aware of her surroundings, she knew that she was lying down with her back pressed against the soft cotton of an infirmary cot- but she didn't truly feel it. It was more as though her body was making an observation and simply passing the information along to her brain.

She knew the temperature of the room, a cool 20 degrees celsius, but she didn't feel one way or another about it. She had no sense of warmth or cold, just an almost omniscient perception that made itself present in her mind.

And her sight- what happened to her eyes? She could see everything clearly, almost better than she could remember doing so; but her depth perception was almost entirely gone. No- it was still there, just different.

Simply looking at the ceiling, she couldn't guess how close or far away it was- but some kind of intrinsic radar in her told her exactly the distance. Her mind took the two streams of information, the planar ocular data and the raw sensory input of space, and weaved them together to provide her with a three-dimensional topography of whatever she looked at, allowing her a form of acute comprehension.

All of this happened in several seconds, and she was becoming overwhelmed with such a sensory overload. She looked around the room, searching for anything that could provide her comfort-

"Hey, it's alright. You're safe."

That voice, she recognized it. It had provided security to her on more than one occasion, and so it would do so again. Steadying her nerves, she turned her head slowly to look at who had spoken to her. It was a very familiar face- or rather lack of one- that awaited her.

Buck, she tried to say, but found that no words escaped her. Panic beginning to set in again, it was quelled as he held up a hand to stop her. "Don't say it- think it. Think about the words you want to say, and form them in your mind. Then try again.

She tried to follow his instructions to the best of her ability, feeling some kind of mental wall as she tried to picture the words. It didn't provide much resistance, just enough to block her if she didn't actively try to push it aside. Aware of its presence now, she made a second attempt.

"… Buck?"

She heard her own voice, but it caught her off-guard. Something about it was off, it sounded … tinny. Synthetic almost. Had her vocal cords been damaged?

He nodded, unaware of the thoughts running through her mind. "It's me, Amelia."

She hadn't heard him say her first name before- it was surprising, but a pleasant one. Something about the way he said it felt … right.

She quickly sat up, once again feeling like something was off. Her chest felt heavy, like she was trying to rise in a drunken or drowsy state. Medication maybe?

"Where … where … am?"

She felt frustrated at her broken english, confused as to why she was having such difficulty speaking. But Buck didn't seem fazed in the slightest. "The Cardea, a medical vessel in the fourth Militia fleet. Same one that evacuated us from Thone a few days ago."

"Days?" she questioned, surprised at the time difference. Why had she been out so long? What had happened to her? All she remembered was fighting with Skids and-

Images flashed through her mind, along with the memory of painful sensations. Skids' hull, caved in around her. Sharp pieces and prongs of metal stabbing her in every direction, ripping apart her flesh-

He must have picked up that she was stressing out, because he waved again and diverted her attention to him. "Yes, a few days."

"What … happen?"

He said nothing for a moment, simply staring at her. Then he looked down at the floor, staring anywhere but at her. "The woman who held us captive came out to fight us personally. She crushed Skids' chassis with you still inside … it was bad."

At the mention of her Titan, another fear surfaced. "Skids! Is … okay?"

"I got his data core out," Buck reassured her, "though I'm still not sure how it didn't sustain more damage. He got lucky. You, on the other hand …"

He looked up, facing her directly again. "You were mangled, almost completely destroyed. When I grabbed you from the wreckage, I … I thought for a moment that I was retrieving a corpse. How you were still breathing, I can't even fathom." He looked down again, allowing the impact of the news to take its toll on her.

She accepted that, it aligned with her memories so far- but that left a new question. "That bad? Then how … I am … okay?"

Buck seemed to have a habit of pausing and falling silent before resuming in this conversation. She wasn't stupid- obviously something had happened that he didn't seem to want to talk about.

"Amelia," he said softly, "hold out your hand and place it against mine."

He held up his hand in the air, waiting for hers to meet with it. Tentatively, she did as she was told. As her arm reached out in front of her and joined with his, she saw now what he had been avoiding.

Her arm was metal, the digits angular and hard. There was no soft touch of human skin, no gentle contact of muscle; it was hard and foreign, a faint clicking occurring as their metal appendages tapped one another.

She remained silent, a flood of thoughts and emotions coursing through her. Instead of speaking, she simply looked to him for answers.

He did not relinquish his grip on her hand, but lowered it so that it came to rest on the edge of her cot. "The doctors gave up on you. They said that you were as good as dead, and that they couldn't spare resources on you. Even if you'd lived, your life would have been a living hell- unable to walk, talk, or anything without constant help and care. I … I couldn't accept that."

He let go of her hand, preparing for the outrage that was sure to follow when she learned of what he did. "I called in a favor to someone powerful. The same person who made me … me. They agreed to help, and when everything was said and done they gave us a ride back here."

He looked down again, unwilling to meet her gaze. "It's a delicate process, and it takes the mind several days to recover from being converted. I've been sitting here at your side, hoping against hope that the operation would take- but now that you're here, I don't know what to say. If I was to save you, I had no other choice. But looking back on it … maybe it wasn't my choice to make. I don't know if you'd rather I just let you die, or what- all I know is that you didn't choose this. "

She stared at him blankly. His voice became quiet as he continued.

"I understand if you're angry- no, furious- with me. Hell, I'd even understand if you want nothing more to do with me after this. I promise, you'll never see me again if that's what you ask of me- I just … I just needed you to understand why I did it."

He waited for the tirade of insults, the wave of fury she'd unleash on him, the horror in her voice as she asked him how he possibly could have done such a thing to her.

Instead, her hand found his and grasped it again.

He looked up to find her staring at him, her head tilted slightly to one side. "Why?"

The way she said it, so simple and innocent; it reminded him of the same way she'd spoken to him that night in the holding area as they'd fallen asleep.

Even if your body is dead, I know that your mind and heart are just as alive as they were before.

He couldn't help the surge of emotion he felt, and his resolve broke under the weight of his heart that he'd carried for weeks. "Why? How could I not try to save you? I fought with you, both in and out of the arena. I watched as you were nearly killed, I carried your body out of the rubble and- well, my body might be machine but my mind certainly isn't. You can't … you can't go through what we went through without … without growing to care for the other person."

Damn it, he'd never been good with words. He was a soldier, he killed things- that was his job. Even now, his body was just a highly tuned system of machinery made to be more adept at killing than he'd ever been before. Trying to express how he felt was a battle in and of itself, let alone when he was sure that the one he was confessing to hated him now-

She shook her head. "Meant … why would I … be mad?"

Now it was he who stared uncomprehendingly at her.

"Saved … me. When … everyone else … gave up. How could I … mad?" Her voice may have been choppy as she slowly earned how to speak again, but the tone was certainly full of warmth and not the harsh cruelty he'd been expecting. If she still had facial features, he had a feeling that she'd have been smiling at him.

"What was … other thing? Care … about me?"

He suddenly realized his misinterpretation of her question, 'why', and felt very awkward as he stood there looking down on her while she waited for an answer.

He emitted a synthetic sigh. "It's, uh … it's complicated."

She stared up at him, the blue light of her optics glowing in the dim lighting. He wasn't used to this kind of talk, and he fumbled over his words.

"You … you mean a lot to me. I haven't felt human in a long time, and- well, you-"

She squeezed his hand, interlocking her fingers with his.

He was effectively silenced by her action, and he looked down to their hands as though to visually confirm what he'd felt her do. Then he looked back at her again.

"Maybe we … can … make each other … feel human … together?" she asked, speaking slower to ensure that every word made its way out of her vocal processors clearly annunciated. The magnitude of what she was saying hit him like no bullet ever could.

"… I'd like that."

He turned and pulled the chair he'd been using earlier closer to the cot. Sitting down in it, he opted to place his left elbow on the side of the bed and rest his head against it as they each kept their gazes aligned with one another.

Their hands never parted.