Chapter Text
Guts. Inside of it's guts. Inside her guts. The only one allowed in her guts.
The metal still hot from the mission, the fans still whirring trying to cool her down, over 400 tons of heaving metal trying to cool itself down and make sure nothing else goes wrong, 400 tons of metal and me.
Me. There inside her. Alone. Being rocked and tossed by the heaving, moving, metal that makes her. Working relentlessly as the deck hands clear the last of the fires dancing on her outer shell, her pilot still getting re-adjusted after the neural connection severed... poor thing, too few eyes and too much sensory input.
She crashed in not even 10 minuets ago. I still have lunch but that doesn't matter now. She matters now, she's here and still functional... barely.
Covered in oil, lubricant, coolant, grease, sweat, and grime, Godrick finally shows his face, my half eaten sandwich in his hand, he calls me but her desperation draws me in further then any siren song, she still needs me... me.
it's been 40 minuets now, Godrick left my food with one of the deck hands, but that doesn't matter, nothing the mess hall could make would let me feel as full as hearing her relax would, hearing her cool down, hearing her disengage from the combat mindset, hearing... her.
the colonel comes over eventually, a rugged man that understands the bond between a soldier and their gun, understands how the a good soldier tends more dutifully to their weapon then any lover. I've seen him still tend to his rifle, although we both know he'll never fire it again... the explosion made sure of that. The old man is the closest person in this forsaken base that understands me... and her.
The colonel knows better then to pull me from her, to force me to be born back into a world of social rules and expectations. Instead the only thing to penetrate my small world inside of her is his voice, and the reassurance that my lunch is counted as postponed since the moment she fell from the heavens again. Small blessings on that man, he understands that she is my gun. the pilot is just one of the many hands at the end of the long arm that is the mech corps.
finally...
finally my work is done, finally she can rest, that she deserves. The pilot deserves it too, I'll check on her after her debrief... Flesh my differ in needs from metal, but she's of a different mettle then any other, she's close enough for my magic to work on her... somewhat.
After a long 3 hours inside of her, I can look into her eyes again. her many, many eyes, and see her love for me in each one, the love she has for her mechanic.
time to finish my lunch.