Shadowmaru jolted online.

"What-?"

It took several seconds for his A.I. to defragment. Jumbled data wound like vines throughout his processor. He tracked the leak down to his memory banks, where it was quickly patched and diverted to subroutines for unpackaging.

This had happened before.

Shadowmaru checked his internal chronometer. Four minutes point twenty-seven seconds had passed since he'd slipped into idle. The ninja resisted the urge to pinch at the bridge of his nose and settled for a gusty exhale against his forearm instead.

"That's what stress will do to you," he said to no one.

He needed coffee.

Instead, Shadowmaru settled for straightening into a sit. He popped open his left hip compartment and carefully removed several pieces of the shattered armor pieces he'd stuck there earlier. His damaged arm was still sparking dully with every movement he made. The bare silver metal of his inner frame glinted beneath the webbed and fractured metal. It had reached a peculiar kind of 'soreness' by now, or at least, it was what a robot could imagine soreness to feel like. Shadowmaru stifled a grimace and leaned back to hold the injured limb before him.

Time to do something with myself before my mind starts wandering again. He'd rather not admit how afraid he was that it would.

"Is that what you are? Afraid?"

Normally he would wait until he returned to headquarters so that Toudou and his trusted team of engineers could see to his repairs. Even a cursory glance revealed that Shadowmaru would still have to do just that. The damage was too extensive in certain places for him to tend without some kind of equipment. Toudou did fine work... but perhaps he could help himself a little, too.

"Much better than wallowing in pity, anyway," he muttered to himself. He wanted to feel irritated but found he lacked the energy. His fuel levels were fine enough, but that wasn't why he felt weary. Shadowmaru doubted very much there was anything physically wrong with him (other than the obvious.)

It would be nice if it was, because then it - like this injury - could be fixed. Bam. Problem solved. No more burning, no more unknowns, no more heartache: just a well-oiled machine.

And I should be happy about that not being the case? Shadowmaru wanted to laugh. He found his grimace transforming into a wry smile instead when he shook his head. Miss Azuki...

What business does a machine have yearning, anyway? In real life, not some B-movie plot.

He placed a finger on his fractured wrist and jolted.

Gah!

Pain flared across his sensors. It was a white-hot stabbing that sizzled long after he'd jerked his hand away. He swore quietly and held his headband while he stared at the injury. At least he wasn't the source of this particular little problem.

Self-pity. Now there's an answer to nothing.

Wiser now, Shadowmaru reached out a second time. Frayed wiring glowed white beneath the shadow of his hand. He tenderly touched it again.

Yikes!

Pain refreshed itself in his sensors. He expected it, and bore the brunt with a hard set of his jaw and a creased brow. Upon releasing a pent-up hiss between his teeth, Shadowmaru proceeded to tenderly untangle some of the more sensitive circuits that had started to melt through their casing. Beyond the pain there was a sense of throbbing warmth. He kept one part of his A.I. focused on the feedback from his system, both indexing his internal temperature and other functions.

It was fascinating, in a way. Pain, that is. A part of him studied his own reactions curiously while his hand delicately worked against the broken frame of his arm.

Mindless drones feel none of this. They don't even seem to be aware when they're injured.

Although, when Kagerou's body had been taken...

Shadowmaru grimaced when a wire sparked between his digits. Its embers danced across the naked silver of his inner frame and flicked out against a shattered span of violet. A hurt not unlike hooked claws grinding into his frame crawled up the workings of his arm.

It wasn't all bad. Feeling was more than pain; with feeling came the ability to appreciate the warmth of sunlight, the last clinging droplets of rain and the feeling of clean air and grass. Feeling had permitted him memories of Kagerou and the moments they had shared: weapons glancing off each other, hard nudges and shoulder pats between two who might have been brothers. Even if machines like himself weren't truly alive, it was at least convincing enough, sometimes, for him to consider what it might be like otherwise.

I wonder what they feel? The ones who occupy my thoughts so...

...and my 'dreams'.

Shadowmaru frowned a fraction and picked a piece of shrapnel out of his elbow joint. Breach warnings flared across his A.I., temporarily blinding his thoughts white. His fingers flexed and became fists; actuators whined beneath the force.

Why are we drawn to such things as love?

There was no mistaking it. Deckerd and Gunmax were not the first Brave Police units to get involved in the touchy-feely stuff - McCrane and Dumpson (and their respective lady friends) were evidence enough of that. The former were unique in that there was no skin involved, but what did that change? There was something there. Shadowmaru had recognized it, clear as day. Not doing his part in helping Deckerd and Gunmax move their relationship along would have been a disservice to them both, regardless of how conflicted he'd felt doing so. Yet after all this time, and all this confusing and muddled yearning on his own part for both of them, just what was he yearning for?

A touch? A glance? Some sliver of something that was the opposite of this unpleasant feeling when he poked himself and registered pain? If so, what was that feeling called, and what was it like?

Love?

It wasn't Shadowmaru's place to wonder what Deckerd and Gunmax felt when they felt each other, yet the unknowable - and unattainable - seemed to nip at his thoughts. He couldn't ask. Who could he ask? Those whose privacy he had already overstepped?

There was a saying about curiosity and cats... Perhaps there needed to be one about dogs.

Agh.

Another breach warning and flash of pain later and Shadowmaru found himself staring down at his arm. The uncomfortable feeling pulsed white static all the way to the sensors of his fingertips. He flexed his hand and felt the hot rush of sensation. Slowly, he relaxed, and watched trails of free-flowing fuel dry in his palm. The throbbing lessened. Now there was mostly warmth.

And what do they feel...

Slowly, he extended a finger. He used it to make a small, if gentle press against his uncurled palm. The feeling registered as... nothing special.

Hm.

He tried it again. He made it two fingers, then three, and felt his lips crease into a frown. He was sure there hadn't been that much damage to his sensornet - he should still be able to feel with his hands, and he could. It felt as well as it normally did.

What puzzled him was that when Deckerd or Gunmax touched one another, it seemed to do - well, more. There was something to it, Shadowmaru was sure. He understood why humans touched one another and why something modeled after them might do the same. He knew that it felt nice, or was supposed to, in a way that platonic touching didn't. There was a duality to it. His A.I. could almost make sense of it - almost.

Still frowning, Shadowmaru dragged one fingertip slowly downward. Nothing. He felt a twisting sensation in his mind (sadness) and then the urge to laugh.

Perhaps such things weren't meant for me.

He wondered if Gunmax would still be at the station when he returned. Deckerd stood more of a chance of being present than the wayward motorcycle detective did, although he also tended to be busier. If Shadowmaru was lucky neither would think much of his quick exit earlier.

If he was very lucky, they would both still be out as Power Joe had suggested, no doubt with each other and not minding his absence at all. Wrapped up in one another, maybe; laughing, exchanging jibes, or even those subtle, secretive touches they shared...

A dull heat flared in the back of Shadowmaru's consciousness. He startled and jerked the two fingers he hadn't realized he'd been tracing along his wound back from their movements. His optics focused on the marred tracks of violet and red. Several fans within him whirred; gears cinched, flicked uncertainly.

That had been... different.

Shadowmaru felt his jaw click tightly into place. He gazed at his hand a moment longer before pressing the digits back against his plating. In an effort to replicate the feeling, he trailed them over himself again.

It felt nice enough, but not like what he'd just experienced. His brow furrowed beneath shadow.

Them. Somehow it always came back to them. Shadowmaru flexed his fingers once under the weight of his own thoughts. These same thoughts bore down on him, shapeless and heavy and dark with unknowns. Then, he thought of them. He thought of them with each other, and tried again.

Warmth welled beneath his fingertips. His next vent sucked in sharply.

Of course.

While his movement became suddenly unsteady, his A.I. shifted into overdrive. Suddenly, his thoughts were Deckerd; suddenly, his thoughts were Gunmax; suddenly, he was seeing them, brief flashes, in mind and memory.

Gunmax smirks. Somewhere behind his visor, two elegantly slanted optics light in mirth. He's dangerous and cunning, but his face is kind, as is his heart.

Is this it?

Deckerd tilts his head at him. His usual air of authority has somehow lessened. In the quiet and the dark, he is open; earnest; warm, in a way Shadowmaru can feel without feeling with his hands.

This feeling...

A rumble from his chest jarred Shadowmaru back to reality. His armor burned. His internals twisted and slipped into erratic, labored rythms and slips of gears. He did not know how to describe it. His arm was pulsing; his hand had stilled.

He imagined Deckerd and Gunmax looking at him with fondness, and Gunmax's voice is wry when he says, "Well?"

Well?

"Are you just going to watch?"

I'm not sure.

The space between them evaporates. Gunmax's voice, rough and lilting, fills his audials when the biker leans in and curls fingers against the back of his helm. "Yeah?" he whispers.

Deckerd radiates assurance at his side. The Brave Detective's touch is firm, if kind; he reaches out while Gunmax speaks and meets Shadowmaru's gaze...

What am I doing?!

Shadowmaru dropped his arms and the imagination vanished.

He sat there for several seconds attempting to compose himself. He felt hot, but when he dug his uninjured hand into his temple and exhaled sharply, it no longer felt so pleasant. No.

It just felt like a lot of anger.

Look at yourself!

He shoved the remainder of his broken armor back into his side compartment and ignored the beleageared creak of joints when he pushed himself up. It was a sudden motion and left him almost unsteady. He wobbled. His hands were fists.

"Never again." He had no right. He had no right. Not as a comrade, not as a friend. Not as a machine.

Very slowly, his hands relaxed. And instead of heat, there was emptiness.

/-eyoo! This is Drillboy, still trying to see if you're out here, Shadowmaru! Come on, answer already!/

Shadowmaru's head jerked up at the sudden comm. A jet engine roared by overhead. Through the stray specks of foliage, he saw a fleck of orange and red meandering through the sky. How long had...

/I'm here,/ he transmitted and grimaced at the cling of static to his voice.

/Shadowmaru!/ Drillboy did a loop and made a delighted whooping sound. /I knew we'd find you!/

/What are you doing here?/

/Power Joe and I tracked your badge! When you never called back, we got worried... Hey, Power Joe, I found him!/

/Where is he?/ a third voice cut in. Power Joe's tone was clipped and unmistakable.

/Uhh - Hey Shadowmaru, where are you?/

/You don't even know,/ Power Joe bemoaned. /You can't say you've found him if you don't know where he is, Doriko! That's just common courtesy./

/I half found him!/

By this point Shadowmaru had already transformed. He rose above the trees as a jet. Above him, Drillboy pinwheeled in his own aerial mode and dived down to greet him.

/I'm fine,/ Shadowmaru transmitted to them both and despised how hollow it sounded. Fortunately, drilltanks were not known for their stellar sense of perception, so as long as he could outmaneuver Power Joe, then maybe he could be left alone.

/Oh?/ Drilboy said and beyond the internal sparking of severed wire, Shadowmaru felt something in him chill. Until Drillboy spun in a circle and shot off, anyway - which he did shortly after. /Hey, I see a bunch of cop cars over there.../ The soccer detective sounded curious. /Looks like some kind of building place./

Cop cars? Ah. The authorities must have arrived. /It's none of our business now./

/Aww./

/Tch. All this way for nothing,/ Power Joe grumbled from somewhere below them. The grind of his treads struck an odd cadence to the echo of his voice. /Can't you leave something for us for once?/

/It's not your place,/ Shadowmaru replied, and the words hurt, because they were really meant for him. /I'm better on my own./

/Yeah, well, you aren't on your own now, big shot./

Shadowmaru focused on a faraway gathering of grey clouds.

Just look at yourself.

/So... Are we headed back?/ Drillboy butted in. /Hey, I know! We could stop by the stadium-/

/Don't even think about it,/ Power Joe's reprimand was swift. /We're still on duty, so act like it./

/Hmph!/

Shadowmaru registered a few tiny, stray sparks that escaped the warped plating of his undercarriage. He watched them flicker and vanish in the air below them. The three Brave units peeled away from the mission site and bypassed waves of hills and fields to head toward the light of the city lost somewhere in the lingering overcast. Somewhere far in the distance was home.

/Hey Shadowmaru,/ Power Joe transmited. /Anyone ever tell you that you really know how to hang up on a robot?/

/I'm sorry,/ Shadowmaru replied, though the power shovel had sounded more bemused than offended. /I didn't mean to make you worry./

/I wasn't worried,/ Drillboy declared, obviously ignoring (or forgetting) what he'd said earlier.

/Of course./

/Yeah,/ Power Joe drawled. /And I guess you aren't orange, either./

To Shadowmaru's relief, the rest of the trip was silence (excepting Drillboy asking whether they could jet off and leave Power Joe behind because power shovels travelled sooooo slow.) In the moments of quiet, Shadowmaru could feel the broken bits inside him that ground like something raw; like little pieces that remembered feeling something more than hurt.

That feeling...

From somewhere below, a stray human officer's radio wave brushed against Shadowmaru's scanners. He picked up several voices made increasingly distant.

"How's it looking over there?"

"Looks like someone cleaned house."

"Who'd they send?"

"No idea..."