The O-Course

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It's the first nice day in what seems like forever. Well it's the first non-cold, non-miserable day. The ground is still soft and wet and everything is ugly from months of snow-cover, but I am out without my coat and that is a big deal.

I'm stretching. At least, I think I'm stretching. I'm leaning on things and pulling on my foot and arms. Lunging and twisting like an idiot in the trampled grass. I see Dorian smiling at me, admiring me. I wonder if he knows I'm just stalling. I'm sure he knows, but he's not gonna say anything about it. He's all encouragement and smiles, and fucking sunshine.

I look at the police obstacle course in front of me with a disapproving glare. God, I don't want to do this. I'm sure I can't do this anyhow. I'm going to fall on my face or make an ass out of myself. That's why we are here on Easter Sunday, when everyone else is home or at church or visiting relatives. No one is watching me prove a point to Dorian, who has been hassling me about coming here since New Year's Eve when I resolved to start running the course every weekend for a year. If I had known the android took New Year's Resolutions so seriously, I wouldn't have promised so much!

"You ready, John?" he asks, smiling around the words with a childlike innocence that makes it harder for me to be annoyed. He claps his hands like a coach and then pats me on the back. "You can do it, man. I'll time you!"

Fuck, I don't want to be timed. Hey John, it only took 13 seconds for your synthetic leg to seize up, or for you to misjudge the location of your fake toes and face-plant into the mud. The angry voice in my head is mocking me again. I imagine all the things that could and probably will go wrong and feel my cheeks flush with heat.

Still, I'm not going to show this weakness. I nod at Dorian numbly and notice how sharp his eyes are as he looks at me. I don't want him to know that I have been putting this off for months because I'm afraid I can't do it anymore. I'm not the confident kid I was when I first joined the force. In those days, I would tear through this course like it was nothing. Now, well, I've changed. Parts of me are missing, the rest of me is getting old.

Dorian makes a show of saying, "On your mark, get set," and I make a point of starting before he can say "go."

The course starts off with one jogging lap around the outside of the course. This I can do with no problems at all. As I approach the first obstacle, I feel my stomach clench in anticipation. However, I fly through it without trouble. The leg Dorian gave me really does have better push-off and it responds to my signals so seamlessly.

I get through the foot-path, the walls, the climb course, the agility trainer, the strength bars, the crawl course, and the small tests in between. When it is over, I lean forward with my hands on my knees and breathe hard from the exertion. Dorian followed me through even though it did nothing for him. He doesn't crack a sweat and even managed to stay relatively clean. I look like shit. My knees, stomach, chest, and arms are caked with clay-like mud. I can feel the sweat and dirt on my face. It feels good. I didn't fuck up, I made it through.

I made it through. The words make my throat catch.

I feel Dorian's fingers land gently on the back of my neck, asking me if I'm okay.

I nod and stand up. I did it. I made it through. I feel my eyes prickle like I'm gonna fucking cry and I stare up at the light blue sky and blink back the emotion. No way, no fucking way and I going to break down over this. I know Dorian is watching so I crack out, "How was my time?" and cringe because my voice sounds like an old radio.

I feel his arm slip behind me and he pulls me into a hug. I experience a brief moment of panic then I remember we're out here alone. No one can see us. I drop my burning arms, aching from exhaustion, and then bring them up to cling to his ribs, resting my filthy forehead on his shoulder.

"I can still do it," I breathe the words out, my voice betrays me, shaky and barely there.

He crushes me to his chest even closer, his hands running up my sweaty shirt and I feel him smiling. "Of course, you can do it," he says, a little bit of shock in his voice, "you can do anything." He really means what he is saying and he looks so concerned. I should have shared my fears. "You did a great job, John."

Look, I've lived under the assumption that my synthetic parts made me weaker, less capable. It might seem like I'm being ridiculous over a bit of exercise, but I've avoided this place like the plague for the last three years. I think of everything else I've avoided and squeeze my eyes shut.

Dorian holds me, making no move to let me go while I compose myself. I breathe in his scent and lean into him with all my weight because he can take it. I lay my heart open to him yet again in this moment of weakness, knowing he'll cradle it and keep it.

Finally, I shake him off me, looking properly embarrassed with myself. I knock the dirt off of my clothes as we walk to the car, feeling his hands brush across my back to help. I shrug and count myself as presentable enough to head to the 'skirts for a cold beer and something deep fried.