Maelstrom Chapter 7.5

Marooned: Part D

Author's note: This story is part of a LONG series called Maelstrom. It is strictly Gen. 1 - sorry, but that was all that was out when I started writing back in the late 1980's. It began as a fan-publication so the first chapters are in the form of a comic book! If you have not read the nine original Maelstrom Comics and the preceding text stories, I strongly suggest you do. This is a complex universe. They can be found at http/ illmatar. deviantart. com (I have put double spaces between the URL here or FF . Net eats the link.) The comics and art which accompanies this series are there...and believe me I am a better artist than writer.

This chapter takes place between the comic issues #7 and #8.

Most chapters of this series contain strong language and violence. Rated M for adult themes! Really! Transformers characters belong to Hasbro. Critiques adored! This scene contains strong language, violence, trauma, and sex. Rated M for adult themes!

Transformers characters belong to Hasbro. Story and OC characters are mine. Critiques adored!

Continued from Marooned: Part C

Later, from somewhat of a safe distance, Lancer tried to get a confession out of Rodimus.

"What set you off?"

"Aren't you afraid you might 'set me off' again by asking?" Rodimus snapped. He had been stewing all evening. Not zoning out. Not staring into the past; actively, alertly stewing. He was watching the meat cook and he hadn't let a single strip burn, even though he liked it better that way.

" I paid the price for complacency. I figured I could handle One because he always attacks the same way basically. I won't assume that again," Lancer explained.

Rodimus frowned at her. "'One?' 'He?'"

Opps. She was forced to confess her numbering system.

"Oh that's just great. First I'm 'Hamburger Man' and now I'm a sequential lunatic."

"Hey. It helped me handle you, and you're getting better so give me a break," Lancer chuckled. This made her grab her ribs and hiss.

" I already gave you a break," Rodimus pointed out sourly. "So which am I now?"

Lancer cocked her head at him and smirked. " I dunno. I suppose it depends on whether you answer my question at all, and upon which way you chose to avoid it if you do. If you attack me again you'll either be One or Three depending on whether you see me or the Jabez when you do. If you go off and sulk you'll be Two. If you actually tell me what you've been thinking about all evening you'll still be Four, Four."

"You're making fun of me," Rodimus complained.

"Do you see anyone else around here to make fun of? What's a girl to do?" Lancer grinned with just a hint of fangs.

"What if I don't attack you or zone out on you, but decide not to answer you anyway?" Rodimus asked with a sneer.

"Oh that's easy. You'll still be Four, but you'll also be an asshole," Lancer informed him sagely. " I'm really looking forward to hearing whatever is worth this really long dodge though, so I'm not going to let it go because of the fight you're trying to pick with me. Don't get me wrong, we can fight if you want to, and then you can tell me about it when we're done."

He glared daggers at her.

She grinned at him.

He glared. She grinned.

He sighed and rolled his eyes.

" I'm not sure what I should tell you...I'm not sure about anything right now Lancer!" Rodimus confessed.

Her grin turned into a more compassionate smile. " It's OK. I promise not to hold any mistakes you make against you. I'm really just trying to understand so I don't set you off again Rodi," she said.

He flinched visibly.

"What? What did I do now?" she asked.

"You called me Rodi," he told her.

She shrugged and looked blank.

"My friends call me that," he said.

"And I'm not a friend. Sorry. I won't do it again," Lancer said.

"No...I didn't mean...Oh slag it!" Rodimus threw his hands up in frustration. " I don't know what the hell you are!"

" I am the woman who is just dying to hear what's on the other side of all this stalling," Lancer said. The grin was back.

"You are a bitch," Rodimus said definitively. When she raised her eyebrows but kept grinning he finally answered.

" I think there's a connection between my peoples' origin and the Jabez and it's really freaking me out."

" I knew this was gonna be good," Lancer said seriously. "What makes you even think that?"

"Your music crystal. It looks just like the Matrix! And the computers on the Maelstrom...they sound just like Vector Sigma! I shouldn't be telling you this...I don't know you. This should be classified if it's true," Rodimus said. " I'm sorry. I don't mean to be offensive, but..."

"But sometimes I forget you're the head honcho of a planetary government and military organization. I'm sorry. I don't think in terms of clearance and protocols. OK Mr. Prime. Forget I asked. We Maelstrom people are used to doing pretty much whatever the fuck we want, but we do understand the importance of secrets," Lancer said.

Rodimus just stared at her.

" It's OK," Lancer assured him. "You won't hurt my feelings. I told you, my friends don't even know my actual name. I would never betray you on purpose, but Conversion is absolutely a security risk. Even my parents think I ran away. I feel badly about that. I'd like to tell them that I'm alright and that they didn't do anything wrong, but the truth...the truth is unlikely to make them feel any better."

"The truth is you are marooned somewhere in the universe with an idiot Prime," Rodimus snarked with a weird hitch in his voice that just might have been a derisive laugh.

"You're not an idiot. Damaged goods at most Rodimus," Lancer said, wagging a finger at him.

" I am. I'm here worrying about security clearance. My top officers, even Optimus, are all clueless about the Jabez, the slave trade, and the Sponsors. We think of ourselves as players on a universal stage and we don't even know the game. If we get back, I think I need to bring these great minds together so you can tell them what's what. What the hell am I worried about? I...still...wish you had left me to die, but I know you could have killed me any time these last weeks. If I can trust you with my life a bit of a history is a problem? I'm an idiot."

"Well, maybe just a little," Lancer managed. She reeled a bit internally. The phrase " If we get back" coming from Mr. Death-wish was a bit of a shock. "Will you tell me what you're thinking about so I can help?"

So he told her. Some of the things he said were public knowledge, but a lot of the details were not. She knew, for instance, that the Matrix was an Autobot relic passed down from one leader to the next, but that it housed the memories of the previous leaders and had a sort of consciousness of its own was new. News outlets on Earth had always made it out to be some kind of symbol of office that also happened to work as a power-booster for the bearer. She knew even less about Vector Sigma, other than the one line she read growing up and learning her alien...err...biology. "Vector Sigma is the super computer on Cybertron that programs all Transformers upon activation, Autobots and Decepticons alike." That it was also alive and self-aware confused Lancer.

"Why does it do that?" she asked when Rodimus was done describing it.

"Do what?" Rodimus asked.

"Why does it program you all to be enemies? I don't know. It seems so stupid. You get activated and your enemies are already picked out for you. You don't even get a chance to just piss off people along the way and make them yourself. It just seems stupid for it to set you up for mutual destruction from the get go," Lancer said.

Rodimus shrugged and rubbed his temple. " I don't know. That's just the way it is."

"Uh-huh. The 'way it is' is the reason you guys can't get your shit together. What a fucking waste of energy, resources, LOTS of fucking time, and oh yeah...the very lives the damned thing is throwing together."

"Never thought of it that way," Rodimus mumbled. His skin transformed from pale to bleached.

Lancer cussed. "You know it's hard for me to believe that given how fucking smart you are."

"Smart? Really? Cause right now I can hardly think at all. You are giving me a migraine again."

"Good. Maybe if your head hurts you'll start to use it!" Lancer snarled.

He threw her a nasty glare and went to go lie down.

That night it wasn't One that attacked her, it was Three. He crept up behind her quite quietly. It was close – she almost didn't hear him. Only a faint cascade of sand down the slope she was sitting on alerted her. She whipped her head around and clobbered him with her braid before he could cut her. Knocked him clean out. This was good because the grin she caught on his face the instant before she clobbered him was pure sadistic glee. He had one of her needle-knives from her pack, and he was savvy or lucky enough to have picked one of the poisoned ones.

Next day.

" I am really so sorry," Rodimus tried again.

"Uh huh. Sorry you missed you mean," Lancer huffed. She was checking his wounds, both the old and the fresh. He had a lovely pattern of round bruises across his cheekbones where her steel beads had nailed him.

"No. I really don't know what came over me. It was like the Hate Plague all over again. I was watching myself do things I knew were wrong but I couldn't stop."

"Oh it wasn't all wrong. You did a good job getting the knife without a sound but your foot slipped when you went to stab me. You were going to stab me, right? If you wanted to slit my throat you should have picked an edged blade or one of the wires," Lancer critiqued.

"This isn't funny you know. I almost killed you and you're giving me advise on it?!"

Lancer looked up from re-binding his checker board wound. "This thing is almost healed too. In another day or so it won't need a dressing." She restored his nerves and patted his hand.

He pulled away from her. "Come on Lancer! This is serious. Sometimes I think I'm not the only one around here with a death-wish."

She flinched a little and he was close enough to feel it as well as see it.

He stared at her and she chose to inspect the bruises on his face rather than meet his eyes. His hand snapped up and he grabbed her by the chin, forcing her to look at him.

His eyes flared green. Hers – white.

" It's true, isn't it?" Rodimus accused. He was angry at her for some reason.

"No. Well, sort of. No. I don't know. Does it count as a death wish if you just don't care or is that more of a death-doesn't-give-a-shit?"

"Lancer..."

"Rodimus? What do you want from me? I'm doing my best here and I know I suck at it, but it's all I've got! Do you seriously think I know what to do for you? You're sick. It's not your fault and I don't want to go all ballistic on you over it. I make jokes about it because I don't want to make you feel more guilty. OK? I want you to get better. I hope you make it. Even if you kill me I hope you make it."

"Lancer..."

"Look! I'm sorry. Claudia would have been able to help you. Or Silva if she was alive. Hell, even Talon might have been better. At least he's military trained and he's not as dumb as he wants us all to think." She rubbed her eyes. "Sorry. Sand."

"Sand. Sure. Look, I don't think you should train me anymore," Rodimus said. " I'm getting better and you're exhausted. It's not going to matter if you have a death-wish or not if I kill you...and I'll never forgive myself if I do."

"Fuck that. Fuck your fucking guilt. You listen here dipshit! You are a VICTIM...and I don't mean in the helpless 'now I'm wounded forever' kind of way. I just mean this crap was inflicted on you. You seem to think this guilt is somehow your sane response and I'm telling you it's just as much of a symptom of your sickness as the rest."

"Seems to me I've heard this saying on Earth...something about pots and kettles... hmmm."

"NOT the same situation Wiseass. The Jabez hurt you, hurt Goldbug, and drove you insane. They did not crawl into your mind and corrupt your soul. You can get better. You are already better. Nothing is going to fix me. I just want my life to balance out a bit on the good side before I finally lose it. Sometimes I wonder how bad it's going to be and wonder if I am doing the right thing breathing one more day. So if you kill me it's no big loss right? Don't worry about it. Just think of it as a good start before you get home and start taking on the bad guys again," Lancer grinned.

"A good start?! You've got to be kidding me. Lancer you're not a Decepticon! Or a Jabez! We're done training! We're done!" Rodimus exclaimed.

" It's so cute when you think you have a choice Honey. Today we start knife training. If you're going to play with my weapons I want to make sure you know which ones to slice with and which stab."

" I wasn't..." Rodimus paused, grew pale, and shook his head.

They got moving for the day, but he refused to talk to her through most of it...not even when she put a knife in his hand. He listened. He learned. He defended himself when she sparred with him, but he wouldn't attack. He also wouldn't answer her repeated demands to tell her what was wrong.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * That evening when they got done setting up camp she saw him staring off into space. Her eyes focused on his and saw green, not that dull blue he got when Two was dominant. Experimenting, she grab a small stone and threw it right at his face.

His hand blurred as he caught it.

"What The Fuck, Lancer?" Rodimus Prime growled.

"OOO! I taught you to swear like a proper human! I was just seeing if you were really zoned out or just stewing," she told him cheerfully.

"So if you'd been wrong I'd have taken a shot to the face?"

"Yup," she chirped.

"There is something very wrong with you," Rodimus informed her.

"You are finally catching on," she grinned.

"Well, you have my attention, which you obviously wanted, so I ask again. What the fuck?" Rodimus sighed.

"How many Decepticons have you killed?" she demanded.

"Killed?" he thought about it. " I killed some Sharkticons on Quintessa...I haven't killed any Decepticons though."

"Not even through orders to your team?"

"No...they're not that easy to kill you know," he insisted defensively.

"So you can kill Sharkticons, and you go after me with glee, but none of your traditional foes have died on your watch? What's wrong with this picture?" Lancer challenged.

Rodimus surged to his feet and glared at her. The pain in his head erupted behind his eyes...she could see it. His hands balled into fists that could crush her as easily as if he were still steel.

"You ready to attack me yet? Pick up you knife! Come on! You were ready to stab me yesterday!"

He flinched and shuddered, and shook his head before he could stop himself.

"My turn," Lancer said. "What the fuck is wrong Rodimus?"

" I wasn't..." he turned away from her and started shaking. Sinking to his knees he grabbed his head like he was trying to keep it from exploding.

She knelt down next to him and awkwardly rubbed his back. "You weren't what?"

He inhaled sharply. " I wasn't going to stab you. I wanted to do...things...to you." His eyes clipped slightly to the left to glance at her and then flicked away again. There were tears there...tears of horror and guilt.

"Things? What sorts of things?" Lancer whispered.

"You needle-knife...it looked sort of like a stylus. I was planning to...draw. On you. Designs. I could see them in my mind. Patterns between your scars. Killing you was part of it...you would have died...but not. Not right away. I was very into how beautiful it was going to be." The hand on his back slowed down for a second, but never stopped.

"You wanted to torture me?" Lancer asked. Her voice was steady.

"No. Well, yes, but the pain was sort of secondary. The designs...they were the important thing. By the Matrix...I can never go home!" Rodimus declared. " I can't...bring this back to them!"

"Rodimus, you'll get better," Lancer insisted. "You need to warn them, and you need to teach them to really fight. If the Jabez are planning to come for them, they can't just fluff along like they have been. For their sake...for the rest of the universe too. Believe me once they're Converts they won't pull their punches!"

" I'm afraid! I'm afraid of me! What will Optimus say? That I've let him down again? That I've become a monster who wants to draw bloody designs on a woman's body? You say your demon corrupted you? The Jabez have done the same to me!"

The hand on his back reached around his shoulders and held. She put her forehead on his other one and just rested it there for a minute or two.

Finally she heaved a long, stuttering sigh, and spoke.

"You're an idiot."

" I'm a psychopathic idiot," Rodimus corrected.

She punched him with her other hand without ever releasing her embrace.

"You see yourself completely backward do you know that?" She didn't look up but she felt him shake his head. "When you talk about the Jabez do you know what I hear about? I hear about Goldbug. You talk in your sleep about what they did to him. You talk to me about what they did to him. It's like you pay no attention at all to what they did to you. They tortured your mind Rodimus. They went after your body and his for sure, but they wanted to break your mind. You're worried about how crazy you are and I'm amazed how crazy you aren't."

"Lancer...I tried to murder you slowly," he reminded her.

"Not to mention creatively. It all sounds quite artistic by the way. Maybe we should get you something to paint with," she mused with a bit of a chuckle.

She felt him shrug and shake his head, mystified by her responses. She turned her head sideways and tried to pull him closer. She had to make him understand...she had to make him believe her.

"Rodimus...I've seen more Jabez handiwork than I ever want to recall. The people they Convert are the lucky ones. The ones they...play with... Yeah. You're a mess, but you're letting me touch you right now. Do you even remember your first night with me? How the least contact made you react? Most of the victims we 'save' never get past that. Not ever. We drop them off on their respective home-worlds and they spend the rest of their lives recoiling from any contact at all in whatever passes for an asylum in their culture. The few we find who are more like you, the fighters, they never get better either. They don't curl up and scream like most people do, they attack everything they can like rabid beasts. Forever. You spoke to me the first day, you're walking, you're helping me make camp, you're learning. You're fucking amazing," Lancer told him.

"But..."

"Shut up with that shit. I'm not done yet. I'm not afraid of you. NO! Not a word! I'm not stupid Rodimus. You aren't completely better and you'll probably try to take it out on me again, because really, what else is there? I'm saying it's no surprise you want to hurt something. What IS a surprise is that you haven't tried it more often. Look where we are! Look at your only healer! I have no drugs to calm you, no pain killers to soothe you, and no training to help you cope. This place sucks and we have next to nothing to make it suck less. Most men would be going nuts even if they hadn't been tortured and you are getting better. You had a prefect opportunity to kill me the other night in the storm and you just sat there asking if you could help. You have some scary symptoms, but I'm not afraid of *you*. You Are Amazing."

"Lancer?"

"Yeah?"

"Call me Rodi, OK?"

"OK Rodi. You ready to actually attack me with that knife yet?" she asked, giving him one more squeeze.

He sighed and gave one short laugh. " I really hate you sometimes you know."

" I know. En garde silly Autobot! Your courage and loyalty amaze me. Your fighting skills not so much."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * More days walking and training led them to an area that finally had some flora they could consume. Granted, it was nothing more than shrubs with tough, tasteless roots and pulpy leaves, but at least they had some minerals and a bit more vitamin content. Lancer was relieved when the scanner came up positive for vitamin C especially. She had been privately wondering how long it took to develop rickets. The soil was still mostly sand though, and the wind still made them curse it.

As for the local critters, they were becoming plentiful enough that Lancer didn't kill every one she saw. It all looked lizard-like to her – herbivore and predator alike.

"They don't seem to mind the cold, and they're warm when you kill them," Rodimus pointed out. "So they aren't reptiles."

"Have you figured out what they are yet?"

"Nope."

"Great. Shut up and keep your eyes open. More of them might mean bigger packs of the hunters or perhaps just bigger hunters," she warned.

"Uh-huh."

"Right. Next pack we meet, you are using some of those lovely new knife skills to help," she informed him.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Early evening was a weird time on their lonely planet. The shadows were never all that strong in the wan sun, but towards dusk they grew ghostly with the silvery evening sky. Sometimes it was ethereal and sort of beautiful, but mostly Lancer made smart remarks about filming her next horror movie there.

This particular evening was one of the nicer ones, but neither was really appreciating it. The air had been growing fouler for the last hour or so, but now the wind had shifted and suddenly they were both miserable.

"What the hell is that REEK?" Lancer asked, gagging.

Rodimus held his nose and looked green. His eyes were watering. " Is there no way to turn your sense of smell down either?"

" I wish!" Lancer said. "Can you tell where it's coming from?"

Rodimus shook his head, unwilling to answer because it required inhaling. They both looked around more closely. Everything seemed pretty normal for this place. Lots of sand, a few random weeds, and a small pack of predators burrowing after lizards in the distance. They did notice however, when the wind shifted that way that the predators gave up their hunt and ran off.

"More intelligent than I thought," Lancer wheezed. "Hey you! I know it's awful but breath already! You're turning blue. Not your color!"

Rodimus inhaled...very cautiously. He held his breath again.

"You're nose will give up eventually! Stubborn ass. Breath! I'm climbing that big dune to get a look. It smells like a whole herd of something died. Come on."

They climbed, slipping a lot the whole way. Lancer chalked that up to nasal distraction as they were both expert dune climbers by this point. When they crested the summit it was only a bit higher than the rest of the desert behind them, but quite a bit higher than the smoother, greener plains on the other side.

"WHOO HOO!" Lancer cheered, raising both hands over her head. Off in the distance they saw larger "herds" of creatures grazing along the ground. "Awesome! We've made it to Kansas Toto!"

" I thought I was the Tin Man," Rodimus mused nasally. He still had his nosed pinched tight.

"Have you looked at yourself lately?" Lancer ribbed. To herself she thought, Was that a joke? I think that might have been a joke!

"Can we go?" he asked.

They started down the other slope. Lancer stepped off the top and felt her foot hit something hard under the surface. Before she could catch herself or warn Rodimus, he started down and lost his footing. Down he slid.

"What the...?" Lancer started when the whole dune exploded under her feet. She didn't fall so much as flew, launched into the air by something lifting itself out of the sand. She twisted like a cat in mid-air to land feet first and roll. The air was as impossible to breath or see through as one of the wind storms but this wasn't a storm. It was some kind of creature.

She heard it before she saw it, grumbling and groaning like an old tree in the blinding sand. The stench made her gag uncontrollably. Desperate to see what was there she tried using her powers to sense it's nervous system. It went on and on until it passed out of range. She found Rodimus that way too – very sensibly keeping low and backing away. Gravity gave her back her vision but it didn't help her process what she saw.

The body was roughly snake like with thick leg-like structures interspersed as far as she could see. It was at least a quarter of a mile long but it's back end was still buried in dune. The head rose above her like an obscene snake. Large nostrils and small eyes near the top of the skull, but at least three quarters of what she saw was teeth. Long, needle-like objects taller than she was. When its mouth was closed they formed an interlocking fence that reminded Lancer of baleen whales. When its mouth was open it was plain where the stench was coming from.

It had carcasses stuck in it teeth.

The head drew back and oriented on the closer prey - Rodimus. Lancer's sanity obliterated as quickly as her demonic horns erupted from her skull.

Screaming, she blasted at its face, only to see the bolt ricochet. It turned on her though and she screamed again – wordless, berserk, and well past any coherent thought. It followed. It struck. She went the only direction that didn't mean getting caught in those jaws – up. They clamped down on air while she landed on it's snout. It was pure instinct to aim at the brightest spot she saw in its nervous system. Her power formed a spear from her palm which she aimed at it's rudimentary eye into it's brain.

The thing didn't even squawk before it collapsed.

Lancer's demon was not so easily defeated. She kept attacking – blasting and clawing at the thing's face. Unsatiated, she jumped down and blasted it a few more times. The fists she made pierced her palms but when she went to claw her shoulders a pair of strong hands grabbed her from behind. What Lancer did with pressure points and clever leverage, Rodimus did by simple strength. He bound her arms across her body and brought them both to the ground, holding her in the same basket hold she'd used on him so many times.

"No...I won't let you hurt yourself," he said quietly in her ear. " It's over. You don't have anything left to fight right now. Come on...calm down."

She snarled, but she didn't try to bite him or blast him. Somehow that didn't surprise him.

He sat there with her long enough to learn that 1.) human noses do in fact get used to horrible stenches 2.) holding someone who didn't want to be held was harder than it looked and 3.) she deserved some kind of medal for doing this for him over and over. He rested his chin on her shoulder and waited.

Finally she gasped and stopped resisting. The horns faded and she turned her stunned eyes to look at him.

"Hi," he smiled. "You're back!"

"Are you crazy?!" she growled.

"Yup. Pretty sure we cleared that up already," he said.

"What if I'd tried to blast you?" she cried.

" I'd be dead, but I knew you wouldn't."

"You knew nothing of the sort! I can't think when I'm berserk Rodimus."

" I did know...and I have to say something to you," he said calmly.

"What is it you stupid, stupid, reckless, stupid Autobot?"

"Thank you," he whispered. "Thank you for saving my life. Thank you for holding me down...and for force feeding me. All of it. I don't...I don't want this...but I do appreciate that you've done so much for me. Also, death wish or no, I don't want to go that way." He nodded towards the steaming, stinking corpse across the battleground.

She didn't answer right away, but her taut muscles suddenly stopped resisting his hold.

Finally she just said, "Let me go."

He complied with some faint regret. Being the protector again felt...almost good.

Lancer, torn between being angry, grateful, and embarrassed, settled on the obscenely strange wildlife to avoid the whole thing.

"This thing is ridiculous! How does it chew?" she cried.

"Well, I've had some time to look at it and I'm pretty sure it doesn't. See that nasty pulpy thing you blew off after you killed it? That thing with the hooks on it? That's its tongue. I think our friend here just impales things on its teeth and keeps them there until it's hungry. Sort of a built in pantry. Then it just scrapes off bits as it goes with the tongue."

"No wonder it stinks," Lancer grumbled. "No wonder all the rest of the critters take off when they smell it too. Note to self...when in Rome..."

"Yeah," Rodimus agreed.

"Well at least two good things came of this," Lancer said.

"What?"

"We can make you your own set of knives and a decent set of leathers at last!"

"You have got to be kidding me!" Rodimus cried.

She wasn't. Luckily for him once they burned the rotten "larder" the air cleared up. The teeth and the skin proved very hard for her to cut even with an intense, concentrated laser, but she was pleased with that.

"These are strong! I may replace a few in my set too!" She cut most of the teeth near the tip but she cut two of them very near the base. "Help me get these into the pack," she said.

"What the hell for?" Rodimus wondered, even as they made the 4 yard long shards disappear into subspace. "They're way too long for weapons."

"For now," she nodded, looking smug. "But when we get you home they'll make you a nice set of swords."

Walking was getting easier with the flatter, more solid terrain. They started to see more diverse plants and animals too. The cold was noticeably less intense, and they even enjoyed a bit of rain.

As soon as the first drops fell Lancer set out all the water jugs, her cook pot, and stripped. The drizzle became a hard shower and the mutant was not about to complain. She hung her armor on an exposed bush and stood in the cold storm rubbing her skin as fast as she could. Rodimus was in no hurry to join her, but she glared at him until he moved. He did note that the water made channels of lighter colored skin through the dirt as it ran down his arms and legs. Rubbing helped, so he did. Lancer twisted her greyish braid and noted with disgust that the water coming off the tip was nearly black.

"Gross! Can you help me take this thing apart?" she asked.

He shrugged, shivering, and just did as he was told, which mostly meant gathering the various bits of metal and wire she kept handing him and putting them safely aside. She wrang, and cursed, and tried to comb her fingers through her hair to keep water flowing down and out.

Too soon, it was over.

"Damn! What I wouldn't give for some soap! I swear, the next time I have a chance to pack a pack I'm throwing in absolutely everything!"

"At least the run-off was sort of light gray by the end instead of black," Rodimus offered by way of condolences. He was hard to understand due to chattering teeth.

"At least we no longer look like chimney sweeps," she agreed. Then she looked at him and laughed. He'd forgotten to rub down his face and had streaks like clown's tears making stripes from cheeks to chin.

"You look like a zebra," she giggled.

"Fine. I'm a zebra. A freezing zebra! Can we get someplace warm please? I don't think your sand shelter trick is going to work here," Rodimus' voice had a hint of desperation.

"Well shit...and here I was thinking I would never miss the sand."

They found an area that was more rock than dirt quickly enough, but it didn't have much to offer other than a solid surface. There was very little substance to the shrubs in the area but they quickly gathered what they could find into a heap and threw in some sizable stones for good measure. Lancer heated the rocks until they glowed and the sticks caught fire. They laid their wet clothes out on the floor and she heated that area too to dry them. Her cloak and armor were pretty much water proof anyway so it wasn't long before she could dress and Rodi could huddle under her cloak again.

He still looked miserable and his skins were sodden so she heated the rocks he was sitting on.

"Thanks," he said, smiling gratefully.

Lancer didn't answer right away. She was stunned by how different he looked when he smiled. It wasn't until he lost the smile and turned to see what was wrong that she responded. "Anytime." It made her angry – the smile. Angry because it gave her a small glimpse of a person she would never get to meet. The person he'd been before the Jabez – that person was dead. It was his ghost that smiled at her. After everything she'd seen it was hard to imagine her hatred of the Jabez could get any worse, but apparently she had quite a limited imagination. They were so...so oblivious to the amazing things they destroyed with those creepy hands of theirs.

The assassin dug her nails into her palm and fought down her demon. She didn't want him to notice her mood.

Yeah...like that was going to happen.

"What's wrong?" Rodimus asked, staring into the fire.

"Nothing," she tried. "What makes you think something's wrong?"

He turned to meet her eyes. "You've got your hands clenched and your whole body says you're ready to hurt someone. I'm just wondering if it's going to be me."

"Well, it will be you if the weather clears enough to train later. I'm thinking of starting with the swords this evening." Weapons usually got his attention.

"What's wrong?" he asked again, a bit more forcefully.

"This place sucks. I'm just upset I wasn't thinking about shelter. I guess having an instant safe place to sleep this whole time made me complacent," she said. This was true – even if it wasn't why she was angry right now.

Rodimus' eyes narrowed suspiciously, but he didn't argue with her exactly. "Ah. So it's the place you want to beat with those fists. How's your energy level by the way?"

"A little low, but manageable. Why?"

"Because the next line of showers is coming and it's bringing lightning with it," he told her, pointing out the obvious.

"Oh. Well shit."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * She stripped again and ran.

Rodimus watched her run off to protect him from the on-coming assault. The rain started coming down hard again so he remembered to rub off his face. Then he pulled her cloak up over his head and inched closer to the steaming, cooling stones. The meager firewood was already sodden. He shivered and put his fingers in his ears at the first crack of thunder.

It would have been a good time to dwell on the misery of organic life but Lancer and her storm were putting on too good of a show. The first few bolts came down and were just absorbed. Then she started playing. Unlike the last storm, she was able to control what was happening easily enough to run through some of her training dances. She whirled and kicked imaginary opponents. When the storm struck her she sent it at her invisible enemies – sometimes in controlled blasts...sometimes in fine curtains of electricity that spread around her body like a cloak. Or like wings.

It was beautiful.

Beautiful enough to over-ride his desire to be dead? Nope...but enough to force him to acknowledge that not everything in life was total shit. He supposed that meant progress. Maybe she was right. Maybe his madness was something that he could heal from.

He watched her weightlessly flipping and rolling her way through her phantom opponents, only to strike them with blows he knew from personal experience felt like you'd been hit by a brute. Just beautiful.

By the time the storm passed he was less fascinated because the cold made itself oppressive. His feet and hands were bluish and pruned from the rain. The cloak had kept him mostly dry, but the wind had carried some of the rain past the edges to run down his back. Still, when she finally deemed it safe enough to return to him he was glad to see her smiling.

He smiled back at her. "That was awesome," he chattered.

Her smile died the instant she looked at him. "You are going to have hypothermia!" She dried herself and heated the stones back up in one reckless bolt. His clothes were still useless so she shook out her cloak, flash-dried it, and re-heated where he was sitting. "Move around while I dry stuff out!"

This proved painful. " I can barely move," he complained.

"Yeah, that's because you're cold. I'm so sorry Rodi! I couldn't come back any sooner."

"S'OK," he managed. He just wanted sleep.

"No it isn't! Crap, there's nothing to work with here. I'm just going to have to keep the stones warm until your skins dry out. If they dry out. We may have to replace them."

"We got all that new stuff from the stink beast. It'll be OK," he reminded her.

"Not if you freeze to death tonight it won't be. I'm really sorry Rodi." She wouldn't relax or stop apologizing until she had him surrounded on all sides by warm stones. "Go to sleep," she ordered. She could see his eyes closing on their own.

"OK," he mumbled. "Hey Lancer? You remember when you asked me who was missing me?"

"Yeah," she answered suspiciously.

"Who's missing you?"

"Seriously? What a stupid question Rodimus. I'm a mutant assassin with demonic tendencies. What kind of sicko would be attracted to that? He'd have to be crazy," she scoffed.

He stared at her a moment, and then he fell asleep.

She stayed up most of the night, seeing what she could salvage from his skins and keeping him warm. It was nearly morning when she lay down next to his circle, having heaped as many skins as she could save over his body. She was so far past exhausted she couldn't even see exhausted anymore.

When she woke up it was within the stone circle, buried in skins and her own cloak, and under his arm. She spent about three seconds feeling comfortable and drowsy. Then her eyes flared white and she slipped out as only an assassin could – fast but without waking him. Later, neither of them said a word about it but she was short-tempered and taciturn all morning. He watched her struggling to work the knots out of her hair and put the assorted hardware back into place.

Offering to help got him a wordless snarl and a show of fangs.

Continued in Marooned: Part E