The Next Best Thing

It was their first time, but it would by no means be their last.

He stared at her across the threshold, and he knew the girl was naked
underneath the blankets from the way the cloth clung to her body. She
stared back in silence, large eyes hardly blinking in the room's dim
light.

"Are you afraid?" she asked after a time. There was something in her
voice, something that was almost amusement.

"I don't know what fear is," he answered. It was not a boast. If
Hawke had ever known what fear was, or what it was like to be afraid,
he had long forgotten.

"Then why do you hesitate?" Again, an undertone of amusement.

For what seemed a long time, Hawke didn't answer. His face was so
still, it might have been chiseled from stone, but the girl had learned
early on how to read the moods behind his silences; the big man's eyes
flickered with a thousand thoughts unsaid.

"I don't know," he finally answered, settling on the direct approach.
That was one of the things she liked most about him-- he could be most
unscrupulously honest whenever he said anything. When he chose to say
anything.

She laughed at last. "Maybe you think I'm ugly," she pouted, languidly
shifting position. Part of the blanket slipped off her shoulder, but
she made no move to replace it. "Maybe you don't think I'm good
enough for you. Maybe you think I'm just a skinny little runt. Maybe
you think my hair's funny."

She was referring to the flamboyant dark growth that sprung up all
about her head, in a style that was not quite a frizz, not quite an
afro. It *was* actually rather funny.

"No," Hawke said firmly, striding over, closing the distance. He sat
down beside her. "You're beautiful," he said, looking into her face.

"Then maybe you just don't know what to do with me," she decided with
playful mockery. "Maybe you have no idea how to go on from here."

"No," Hawke said again, pulling the girl into his arms and out of the
blankets, "I know enough."

And as they kissed, Hawke pushed all his doubts aside. This was right,
this was just, there was nothing wrong.

She owed him her life, after all.

/**/**/**/**/

"The Next Best Thing"

by: MtB
or simply, Mads

An Advance Wars lemon
hosted by the benevolent Racewing Productions
http://racewing.anifics.com

Started: 12/16/05
Completed: 12/25/05

Disclaimers: This fanfic may contain scenes of a sexually explicit or
implicit nature, and should thus only be viewed and read by those of a
minimum age required by law to be eligible for the consumption of
'mature' media of any nature.

The characters depicted herein, or their likenesses, are the rightful
intellectual property of Intelligent Systems and Nintendo Corporation.
They are used here without permission, but with no profit-oriented
intent, save perhaps for literary growth. Standard spoiler warnings
for the later stages of the game series apply.

This will be something of a departure from my usual tone of writing. A
little somber, a little sober, a little serious.

Heaven or Hell? Let's rock.

/**/**/**/**/

She was the wunderkind of the Black Hole Army. If was there was anyone
else with a better knack for weapons development, Lash had never heard
of her, and even if there was such a person, she probably wouldn't be
half the warrior Lash was. Besides her technological talents, Lash's
proficiency at the head of an army was fearsome and time-tested. She
was young, but her impulsive savagery was well-known among the rank and
file of the Black Hole Army.

And Hawke was Hawke.

Lash smiled to herself.

All in all, the two in the briefing room were not the most assuring of
people to be giving bad news to. At least Hawke punished according to
performance-- Lash was downright *unpredictable*.

"When did you learn of this?" Hawke demanded of the grunt standing at
attention before him.

The soldier was obviously ill at ease, barely able to contain his
shaking while giving his intel, but he tried his best. From inside his
bubble dome helmet, he swallowed and resumed.

"We received the news a few-- four hours ago. Sir. The enemy appeared
off the bay in force; a small fleet of cruisers with battleship and
aircraft support. The defenses on the coast tried to fight them, but-"

"I know what the report said. There's no need to repeat it to me."
Hawke's tone was flat, but the words were brusque enough to reduce the
Black Hole trooper to a sputtering silence. He waited nervously for
more queries as his superior pondered the information.

Lash had read the report herself, and the tidings were somewhat less
than reassuring. Allied Nation forces had flanked the meager defenses
lining the seaside rim of a valley under Black Hole control. Two of
her Black Cannons had been installed at the mouth of the bay, to help
repel invasions, but Lash knew that a commanding officer who knew his
way around sea combat could make all the difference.

The dispatch was a few hours old, so even now the enemy was moving to
secure a foothold on the beach. Or could they already have shored
landers since then, deployed troops on land? One could never quite
overestimate the speed at which Allied Nation COs could move, Lash
had found long ago.

"What was that idiot thinking anyway?" she finally said loudly in a
half-bored, half-annoyed drawl from Hawke's right. She reclined in the
seat beside the big man, all but lost in the size of the chair she was
sitting in. Inside the folds of her trenchcoat, she fiddled with a
tool, looked up at the ceiling, paid all attention to anything and
everything, it seemed, save for the trooper giving them the debriefing.

"That valley was strategically unsound from the start," she complained
now as she tried to see how many ways she could bend a pencil. It
broke in her hands. "Sure, the stupid mountains ring it from three
sides, but it's got that stupid bay behind it. Those shoals are near
indefensible, and the enemy knows the land-- I don't care HOW many
Black Cannons he put there, it's his own stupid fault he's trapped."

"The Black Cannons are your invention, are they not?" Hawke pointed out
mildly.

"Yeah, but I wasn't the one in command at the valley, was I?" Lash
retorted. "If I had half a mind to, I might as well invent a hundred
Robo-Lashes so I could be everywhere at once, and we could win this
war EASY."

Hawke snorted, but said nothing.

The soldier fidgeted, clearly uncomfortable with what he needed to say
next. "Sir. Ma'am. The commander requests reinforcements to help
cover t-the... retreat... when he... w-when he pulls out to a safer
location. He requests the support at the soonest possible time, sir.
Ma'am."

Lash snickered. "Hee, well if he got himself into that mess, he should
be able to get himself *out*. We're not riding down, guns blazing just
because he--"

"No."

Lash stopped juggling a detonator and a blasting cap to stare at Hawke,
an eyebrow raised. "No?" she parroted.

"No," Hawke repeated. "The commander in the Valley is not to retreat.
Neither are we abandoning the headquarters there. As I understand it,
we have an operational development lab in the area."

Lash looked aghast. "He set up a research facility in *the Valley*!!?
Bad enough he's throwing troops and hardware down the gutter, but he's
practically putting technology in enemy hands too!?"

"The intelligence can be destroyed easily enough," Hawke said, "but not
before we can retrieve some return of investment, no matter how small."
He turned to the soldier. "After the considerable amount of resources
that has already been dedicated to the occupation of the Valley, you
cannot mean to tell me that the commander has nothing to show for it
except failure?" There was a dangerous edge lurking in the commanding
officer's tone.

The messenger was visibly shaking now. "T-the c-c-commander's project
*was* well underway... b-b-before... before the enemy s-showed up. He
says that it could have been completed in forty more days, b-b-but the
enemy could be there in twenty. He says that he has no choice b-but--"

"Fifteen."

The soldier trailed off with a string of stammers. "What? Ma'am?" he
finally managed weakly.

"Fifteen days," Lash said smugly, folding her arms against her meager
chest. "I'm going down to that lab and I'm finishing the Project in
*fifteen* days. Tell the commander that he isn't going anywhere until
*I* get there. Understood?"

"Un.. understood."

"I believe I shall accompany you," Hawke said, rising.

"You?" Lash blinked and eyed the big man curiously. "What do you want
to go to the Valley for?"

"The commander has already proven himself unequal to the tasks required
of him," he answered with a chilling finality. "While you concentrate
on salvaging what of the Project you can, it would be disastrous if the
Valley were to be overrun, and both you and the Project fell into the
Allied Nations' control. The task of defending the garrison is too
important to leave to a stumbling fool-- it would not do to lose more
than one major Black Hole resource at a time." On his way to the door
he passed the Black Hole soldier, who gave him a salute as he strode
out.

"Why, Hawke, I'm touched," Lash called out after him. "I've never been
called a 'resource' before. Coming from you, that almost sounds like a
compliment!"

In truth, Lash had every confidence that she would be able to make good
on her promise of completing the Project in fifteen days. Given the
nature of the task in question, it was going to be a stretch, but if
they taxed their equipment to breaking point, and if Hawke could hold
the Allied Nations' forces off long enough, Lash knew she could do it.

She was a genius, after all.

/**/**/**/**/

He was the strongest commanding officer of the Black Hole Army. There
was once one who could claim to be stronger, but he was long gone, and
yet Hawke remained. He sat now at the corner of the room as though
sitting were unnatural to him, even when out of his uniform. With his
solid jaw, stern mouth, muscular build, and eyes like chips of gray
granite, he was a man made for standing up, bellowing orders as his
armoured columns moved forward and decimated enemy lines.

"I certainly don't *feel* like a genius."

Hawke said nothing and sipped his coffee. It was black, not quite as
he made it himself, but getting closer. Every time she brewed a fresh
batch, it was nearer the flavor that he was used to. It was curiously
endearing.

The silence seemed to be expected. "It's a little strange waking up
every morning with no memory except the ones I have of this week," the
girl went on blithely. "I'm literally learning about a lot of things
for the first time."

She was looking about herself with a wide-eyed interest that made her
look younger somehow. Hawke wondered if this was what Lash had looked
like long ago, when she wasn't of the Black Hole Army yet. He wondered
if this was what Lash looked like whenever she invented something new.

The girl saw him staring at her intently. "Do you like the coffee?"

"It's as good as always," he replied. Quite good, in fact, for only a
third try. He'd returned to his chambers one day to find a beaker and
laboratory burner set up on his kitchen counter, scoops of his best
beans boiling merrily away, filling the room with a bracing aroma.
When he'd asked why she used a beaker instead of his own pot, she'd
replied, "The coffee pot's not big enough for the two of us."

After that, they had made love for the fourth time-- the girl had
insisted on seeing all of him the night before, and upon seeing, could
not believe she'd managed to fit all of him inside her. Naturally,
the youth had since decided to verify the fact for herself... again and
again, through repeated and thorough experimentation.

"Tell me again about the Valley," she said now, sipping at her own
coffee, although she still winced a bit at how bitter it was. Hawke
had once suggested sweetening it, but then she'd gotten that stubborn
look on her face. When Lash got that look, Hawke knew it was best not
to argue.

"The Valley was lost before we even got there," he said instead, not
for the first time. When he related facts to others, Hawke didn't
exaggerate. His versions were almost always unvaryingly verbatim with
each telling. "The Allied Nations forces had the area encircled, but
held back from attacking until we could send more troops and vehicles
in. They had mechanized infantry units cross the mountains to bypass
the blockades and demolish them-- the retreat was managed with minimal
casualties... but we lost the lab."

"And it was destroyed," the small girl before Hawke said, continuing
for him. "They attacked it with *me* inside."

"Yes," Hawke confirmed. "That was where I found you."

A frown creased the small girl's brow. "I should never have been
there. Why did you save me?"

"There is no why," the big man said, putting down his cup. "It was
what I had to do."

"Liar." The chide was sincere, but said gently enough.

She got up off her seat and padded barefoot to where Hawke was sitting.
She wore one of his white shirts, and it hung so loosely about her, her
shoulders threatened to go through the neckhole one at a time. She
wore nothing else.

"You never, ever lie to me," she said, putting first one arm, then
another around Hawke's neck, "but you lie to yourself, and when you
believe your own lies, what you end up telling me isn't the truth
anymore either." She put her forehead to his. "Why did you save me?"

Hawke's face revealed nothing, but his muscles tensed where she touched
him with her hands. "There is no why."

"Liar," she murmured as she climbed on and kissed him. She unbuttoned
his coat and they made love for the seventh, eight, and ninth time.

/**/**/**/**/

"You shouldn't even be here, Mistress Lash," the commander was saying,
wringing his wrinkled little hands together like a frightened old lady.
"The enemy will be here in twenty days, and the Project isn't even
halfway finished yet; it simply can't be saved. We need to evacuate at
the soonest possible ti--"

"The only thing that can't be saved here is your career in Black Hole!"
Lash spat, turning on the commander with unusual venom. She and Hawke
had been assessing the disposition of the base and the laboratory, and
the commander had insisted on joining them, all the while regaling them
with how hopeless the current situation was. It was in the Project's
central development pit that Lash finally lost patience with the man.

"Only *I* can ever tell *me* where I should or *shouldn't* be," she
fumed. "Hawke, tell him what we're going to do to him."

"The commander will be stripped of rank and subjected to a council
inquiry upon his return to the home country," Hawke said monotonously,
seemingly uninterested as he laid out the sentence. "He will stand
accused of gross ineptitude and negligence in the line of duty. He is
relieved of his command and is to report ASAP to the Bolt Guard for
preliminary interrogations."

The commander paled visibly. "T-the *Bolt Guard*!? Please, sir,
reconsider, I've only ever done my best to serve--"

"You are dismissed, commander," Hawke said in a tone that ended the
matter.

The commander started to say a few words, but no sound came out of his
mouth, making him look like a rather dejected fish. He mustered what
dignity he had left him, gathered himself up to attention, saluted, and
then turned around to exit.

"Make sure he has his papers in order before he leaves the valley,"
Hawke told the two aides the commander had left behind. "Inform me or
Commander Lash at once if he does anything suspicious or anything in
direct violation of my orders."

"Yes, sir," they said at once, and then hurried off to follow the
deposed commander.

When they were gone, Lash shook her head and giggled to herself.
"Stripped of rank?" she asked Hawke coyly. "I was thinking about just
popping him one in the eye or something, but whatever *you* think is
good, I suppose." She looked up at him with bright, mischievous eyes.
"Ya think he's going to do anything stupid?" the small inventor asked,
half hoping for it.

"Merely a precautionary measure," Hawke told her. "The weak cannot
overthrow the strong," the large man said, almost reflectively. "No
matter what he does, he cannot harm the likes of you and me."

Lash studied his face, glossy lips pursed in a near-smile. "You...
you think *I'm* strong?"

Hawke didn't reply, but turned to the large central shaft of thick,
translucent material that dominated the Project chambers. Greenish
fluids bubbled around the indistinct shape floating inside, giving its
light an eerie cast. It didn't quite dominate Hawke's dark-brown skin,
but it gave his silvery crewcut hair a distinct emerald sheen.

"*Two* compliments already?" Lash teased, hopping up in front of him to
block his escape, laughing. "Now all you need to do is save my life,
and I'll love you forever and ever and *ever*!! Heehee!"

/**/**/**/**/

"I love you... I love you... I love you forever.."

She moaned, a sound that came from deep in her gut, and one that Hawke
could not only hear from her lips, but *feel* down where they were
joined at the hips.

"Please... please, yes, like that, oh, yes, yes... I love you, I love
you... oh, yesssss..."

When they were done, her hair was barely matted by their activities,
still spiked up and about every which way. Lash's hair was as untamed
as she was, Hawke mused.

The girl rolled over on her side to stare at him, guileless doe eyes
regarding him fondly. "You believe me, don't you?"

"About what?" Hawke asked, laying still as he sweated under the
blankets that half-covered him. One of his arms was still under the
girl beside him, and he could feel her sidle closer to snuggle against
his heaving chest.

"When I said 'I love you'," the youth said shyly, running a finger
along the firm muscle of his pectorals. "You believe me, don't you?"

Hawke allowed himself the tiniest of smiles. "Yes. Yes, I do." He
turned his head to look at her. "Yes," he said again.

She was pressed up against him, but not so closely that he couldn't see
the rest of her. Small breasts pressed against him softly, their tips
a ruddy pink and hard from rubbing. Her hip curved gently up, and then
down to a long, slender leg that disappeared beneath the blankets to
coil loosely around one of his own.

"Do *you* love me?"

"Yes," he said without hesitation, but the smile had vanished.

"You're lying to yourself again," came the gentle reprimand from low
beside him. She clutched at him, small fingers digging into his arms.
"But that's alright, I love you anyway. What you did at the lab...
You never should have done it. But you did it when nobody else would
have done it for me... you. You did it. You. Thank you, Hawke, I--"

It was too much for him. He disentangled himself from her and swung
his legs over the side of the bed to sit up, breathing hard. The room
had grown cold, and his breath steamed faintly in the semi-gloom.

"Hawke... why did you save me from being destroyed in the lab?"

"There is no why," Hawke said, almost on reflex; he'd said it so many
times now.

"Liar," came the same scripted response, but there was nothing scripted
about the way she was embracing him from behind, sliding her body along
his back. He could feel his own body reacting, barely believing how
fast he was recovering so soon, and it wasn't long before she noticed
as well.

"Maybe you don't love me," the girl whispered, almost to herself, "but
you can love me, love me for as long as you can, as hard as you can,
one night at a time..."

She pulled herself up his shoulders, turning his head, seeking his
mouth with hers and finding it. She drew him down to the bed and
tugged at him until he was looming on top of her.

"Love me, Hawke," she urged, and he did.

The next morning, she brewed his coffee perfectly.

/**/**/**/**/

The enemy would not be coming in twenty days. Lash had heard the news
as she was busy facilitating upgrades on the Valley's lab operations.

The first thing Hawke had done was to send an advance force in speed to
circle around the enemy invaders, get to the beach, and destroy as many
lander ships as they could. When Hawke's vanguard had arrived, the
advance party had been harrying the enemy's rear and supply lines,
spreading the enemy forces thin and weakening them, just as Hawke had
intended. He had then punched through their front with sudden and
overwhelming force, and with most of the landers destroyed, the enemy
had nowhere to run-- the trappers had become the trapped.

"A black wave," Lash thought to herself as she surveyed the details of
the skirmish on a sheet of intel. The victory was worthy of Hawke, but
she had not the time to be admiring it at the moment. She dismissed
the messenger who had given her the news and returned to pondering the
blueprints she had on a clipboard.

She snapped orders at a few Black Hole grunts and sent them scattering.
They were curious-looking troopers, with their spacesuit armour, clear,
convex faceplates, and bulging red eyes, but they could be useful
enough for the many tasks Lash had in mind for them. Also, it was
great how they were unflinchingly obedient.

By the time Hawke returned to the lab, Lash had several of them running
about with various duties, making the area resemble an ant colony that
had been trod on.

"Boo, you didn't leave *anything* for me to fight!" she scolded the
commander as he approached.

"There will be time enough for plenty of fighting during the rest of
the war," Hawke replied. He stopped to look down at her, and in his
shining brass buttons and grey-black overcoat, Lash thought he almost
looked triumphant. "The defense of the Valley was a success."

"Didn't lose very many units, huh?" Lash said, clapping him once on one
of his thickly-gloved hands by way of congratulations. "Tell me about
the fight."

Hawke paused to recall. "The enemy was completely neutralized on the
north bank. Left wing reported later that several enemy landers had
managed to push off and were then cutting across the bay. They wished
to know if I wanted to pursue."

Lash eyed him. "And you let them go?"

"I let them go," Hawke confirmed. "An enemy that has been put to rout
is as good as lost. Also, there were-- *are*-- still hostile cruisers
and battleships in the water. Charging into their formation would only
have increased my losses. Today's victory on land was enough."

"Boo! But then the enemy that escaped will just get thrown back into
circulation," Lash reminded him, though she laughed as she said it.
This honor thing Hawke had going would get him in it deep one day, Lash
knew, but it was one of the things she found unique about him, in a
backwards, impractical kind of way. "What did you do next?"

"I then relayed the order that all troops are to pull back to the west
rallying point," Hawke said.

Lash nodded her understanding. By pulling back inland, Hawke would not
have to be concerned about holding every square inch of the coast,
which was the mistake the previous commander had made. Instead, by
centralizing his assets, he'd force the enemy to meet his forces on
his own terms, deep inside the valley where his reserve-- heavy ranks
of tanks and infantry-- were arrayed and ready. She'd have done the
same in his place.

Hawke gave the work going on about him a cursory scan. "What progress
with the Project?"

Lash made dismissive motions with a hand. "Eh, it goes, it goes. But
what else did you expect, now that I'm here? All I had to do was kick
all the generators into overdrive. Sure, that'll make 'em burn out in
a matter of days, but I pulled up an extra to help distribute the load
better. Now I can finish what I'm doing before they all go kablooey,
so it doesn't matter." She looked up at him, an impish light in her
eye. "Wanna watch them with me when they all go kablooey?"

Hawke smirked. "I would rather that the generators be left intact, if
possible."

Lash shrugged her small shoulders. In the valley heat, she'd doffed
her trenchcoat, and was attired in her tightish, buckled purple-black
tanktop, purple-black shorts, and black boots. "Too late for that now.
When the power-up sequence is started, it can't be reversed without
messing up all the progress we already have to date. Also, I just
ordered shifts working 'round the clock to complete the Project. Would
be kind of a shame to rescind all that now, wouldn't it?"

"It's just as well," Hawke said, sounding resigned. "If you manage to
succeed, do you think the data from this Project run could be used to
improve the stretch goals for all the other projects?"

"*When* I manage to succeed," Lash corrected him, flashing him a toothy
grin. "And, yeah, sure, I mean I *already* found a gazillion ways to
tweak the energy distribution conduits and the generators so that they
get an increased efficiency of at *least* 45% more."

Hawke nodded, looking satisfied, and Lash found herself strangely
pleased with herself by it.

Lash had a tendency to leave a path of ruined machinery in her wake,
and she knew that Hawke hated waste more than anything else, but she
supposed there WAS definitely something to be admired in the way she
always managed to coax the best out of her equipment, if she did say so
herself. Well... perhaps 'coax' was the wrong word. It was actually
closer to gleefully beating the best out of her equipment mercilessly.
Still, she was relieved that Hawke approved, at least on this occasion.

She turned back to her work, ticking off the things on her list that
had been done and still needed doing.

"Lash," she heard the voice saying from behind her, "maybe I *will*
watch the generators go... kablooey... with you."

The small inventor looked up sharply. "What?"

"Nothing. I'm expecting a renewed offensive on the mountain passes
when the word reaches the enemy of their failed occupation here," Hawke
said, striding forward to enter the lab.

Blinking, Lash followed at his heels. She decided that it was best to
forget it and follow his lead on the change of subject.

"Oooooooh, oooooooh, *I* wanna play!" Lash squealed, clasping her hands
eagerly. "Let *me* go get them! Plains and coasts are SO boring, but
mountains and forests are just so *full* of neat places where I can
stick bombs, and guns, and--"

"No," Hawke said, cutting her off. "I need you here to monitor the
Project and ensure its completion within the timeframe you posited. I
may have driven off the enemy for the time being, but they still hold
the bay, and their reinforcements could arrive at any moment. The lab
is still at risk, and we are still poised to evacuate at the soonest
possible time. I have earned us a brief respite and the chance to be
thorough, that is all."

"Dawwww, you're no fun!" the female commander sneered, making a face.
"See if I let you use my *next* brilliant invention!" She stalked off,
stomping her feet all the way.

Lash was a brilliant scientist, but she was a fierce fighter as well;
and frankly, she was getting a little bored with brilliant sciencing.
After Hawke's victory, she wanted some action for herself. She missed
the smell of cordite and smoke, the chance to blow things up with the
devices she designed.

Still, Lash supposed it was best if she didn't get her way quite *all*
the time. She enjoyed a great amount of leeway in the way of authority
within the Black Hole Army, simply because of her significant ongoing
contributions to the same, but the privilege ought be tempered with
some restraint, she knew, even though she hated it. It'd probably be
no fun if everyone just started giving her everything she asked for
either.

Besides, if she passed on the smaller things, they'd be CRAZY to think
she'd let the really *good* stuff go now. They *owed* her.

At least Hawke knew what he had in her, she felt, out of all the other
commanding officers she'd worked with.

Struck by a thought, Lash looked over to where Hawke was operating a
console and questioning three of her researchers. She thought back to
the invitation to watch the generators go kablooey.

Just how much leeway did *she* afford *him*?

She stood, watched, and wondered.

/**/**/**/**/

She'd allowed him to do anything he wished with her body, and he found
that he wished to do quite a bit, sometimes several times at a time.
It often left both of them exhausted, but Hawke couldn't seem to help
himself; it was like finally knowing what it was like to live. It was
like knowing what it was to be free.

He looked down at where she was curled up inside the crook of his arm,
breathing softly in sleep. Her lively eyes were closed, and her sweet
young form was still. Hawke ran a hand lightly through the tufts of
her wild, upraised hair.

To Hawke's astonishment, he'd found that this was actually the way her
hair lay naturally. He remembered the way it had lain soggy and limp
when he first fished her out, the way it had hung down a little past
the girl's shoulders as the rest of her glistened wetly in the greenish
light. As soon as she was dry though, her hair had asserted itself,
springing up and about in every direction, and she had made no attempt
since to wear it any other way.

This gratified him somehow.

Her body stirred in his arms. "Morning already?" she croaked sleepily.

He held her closer, and she cuddled contentedly, closing her eyes once
again. "Forests provide good defensive cover," she murmured, "I know
this. Mountains provide even better cover, and both can be used to
improve attack capabilities for the units there. I also know this."

Hawke was unsurprised. Lash was, and always had been, the single best
terrain specialist he had ever known to take the field.

"I know how to cut through rugged passes, how to attain optimum attack
posture no matter the lay of the land. I know all this," she went on.
"But I have no childhood, I have no past, and when I sleep at night, I
do not dream."

She had never told him this before. "You don't dream?"

She shook her head. "Not until a few days ago. And when I dream, I
dream of you. This room. This apartment. Us."

He knew what she was saying. "My door is ever open," he said stiffly.
It took an effort, but Hawke was honor-bound to say the words. "You
can leave anytime you wish."

"I *don't* wish it, don't be a boob," his companion said, eyes open but
narrow with irritation. "And I know that if I go, *you'll* be the one
who gets in trouble. If they find out, they'll punish you for what you
did, I know it."

"They cannot do anything to me," Hawke said, confident.

"There you go, lying to yourself again!" she snarled, Lash's ferocity
coming to the fore. "Don't think that just because you're one of the
highest ranking officers in the Black Hole Army that you can't be
pulled down by the others! I've read your country's history-- I know
what can happen to you because it's happened to others before."

Hawke turned to her, genuinely surprised. "You've been reading?"

She looked a little abashed, but held his gaze. "Well, what else did I
have to do, stuck in here all the time? Might as well fill the gaps in
my mind with the memories of *others*, right?"

He smiled. It was a sound plan. "I'd expect nothing less of you."

"Oh, way to change the subject," the small historian said drily. She
pushed herself off of him, off the bed, and strolled nude to his room's
closet. The way her rump moved as she looked for something suitable to
wear was ridiculously inviting, but Hawke knew better than to suggest
anything. He just watched quietly as she selected from his wardrobe a
button shirt that was almost large enough to clothe two of her and
began to put it on.

She caught him gazing at her, and she raised an eyebrow. "Don't you
have work to do this morning?"

"Some." That was a way of putting it. The invasion of Omega Land by
Black Hole was a gigantic effort that would have required all of his
skill in strategic planning and tactics even if he wasn't so tired so
often these days-- as it was, he was only barely managing to keep up
with and act on the steady flow of intel.

"Then I suggest you get on it right away," the small girl said primly.

She helped him dress, and afterwards, she stood on tiptoes and kissed
him on the cheek. He slipped a hand around her waist, almost slender
enough to hold with one big hand, pulled her close and kissed her on
the mouth.

"Be careful," she said, holding onto his sleeve. "You were right. I
read your books, and you were right. The strong survive and the weak
are destroyed. Be careful out there."

"I won't be destroyed," he assured her. "I'm one of the strongest."

"Are you? Sometimes, I wonder."

With that cryptic goodbye echoing in his head, Hawke walked down the
halls of Black Hole HQ with long, sure strides. His paramour may have
had her doubts, but Hawke himself was absolutely sure that none could
ever dare hope to withstand or defy him.

Nothing could go wrong as long as he had everything under control, he
told himself. Absolutely nothing.

/**/**/**/**/

Something had gone wrong. Hawke had lost control.

Lash knew exactly where things had started to go bad, the moment when
things started to fall apart; it was when word had arrived that the
enemy had crossed the mountains in strength with heavy air support.

Hawke had told Lash that he expected some kind of reprisal from the
Allied Nations-- they both knew that they were not the sort to abandon
cities that were once theirs, even if it meant recapturing what was
essentially worthless territory. Having expected it, Hawke had been
poised to strike back quickly, but for one thing he had overlooked:
when Hawke had told the commander his fate, he had neglected to follow
up on the man's departure.

Lash had not realized that he had lingered either, having been too
occupied with her mission, and when the attack finally came, the fool
had panicked and ordered an immediate base-wide withdrawal. Hawke had
been supervising the troops elsewhere, and by the time Lash found out,
it was too late.

The troops Lash and Hawke had brought themselves were seasoned forces,
hardened and disciplined, and they maintained position as they had been
ordered. The forces of the Valley, however, had been thrown into utter
confusion. Though they knew that Hawke had taken over command of the
Valley, they were unaware of their former commander's disgrace; they
assumed that he was still operating within the chain of command, and
was simply relaying Hawke's orders. Hawke's main and reserve force
remained in the forests and plains to the center of the Valley, but a
full two-thirds of the Valley's forces had picked up and left the base
itself, gutting its defenses. If it hadn't been for Lash's threats, it
would have gone completely empty.

Things got even worse; the troops that descended from the mountains had
captured footholds in the Valley with remarkable speed, and were now
sitting squarely between the base and Hawke's primary force. The army
had tried to circle around wide, to bypass the foe and return to
protect the HQ, but scouts fast found that the battleships off the bay
had crept closer, and were now in a position to bombard any force that
tried to go along the coast. The beach was a no-man's-land.

"GET THOSE STUPID NEOTANKS OUT OF THE PASS," Lash roared, her voice
rising over the chaos of the battlefield. She could project her voice
quite a ways when she wanted to. "Move those tanks to the center!!
Rockets, artillery, get among those trees, position behind the tanks at
the mouth, and shell anything that moves. TANKS ARE NOT TO ATTACK, THE
FRONT LINE MUST HOLD AT ALL COSTS, OR I'LL SCRAP YOU ALL MYSELF!"

As Black Hole fighters scrambled to comply, Lash spun on her heel,
gray-black trenchcoat billowing in the night wind. She climbed on a
reconnaissance vehicle and ordered the operator to take her to the
rear of her defense perimeter.

Once she had ascertained that her supply lines weren't cut off, Lash
radioed in more orders to what remained of her garrison. She'd have to
be satisfied that it was as secure as she could make until Hawke could
break through and arrive with help.

If it arrived at all.

She'd done all she could, but Lash had more important things to handle
now. She directed the driver to the lab, and she jumped off when they
got there, almost before the vehicle came to a complete stop. She
raced inside and roused her aides-- there was a lot of work to be done,
and done FAST.

When Hawke stumbled in later-- Lash didn't know how long later, she'd
lost all track of time-- he looked a little worse for wear, but was
otherwise uninjured. Outside, Lash could hear the commotion of an
army pushing back an enemy that was pressing them hard.

"Hawke! Man, am I glad to see you! Take care of the defense effort
for me while I finish this right quick!" Lash was breathing hard, and
her eyes were wide and dilated, as though she'd been running. She was
clutching graph printouts in one hand, and was typing with the other.
"I thought you'd stripped that stupid commander of rank?"

"I'm sorry to say I decided to spare him disgrace; I postponed the
formalities until he removed himself from the Valley," Hawke said. He
frowned. "And I thought *I* gave commands for this building to be
evacuated." Lash heard the irritation creep in his voice, but she
didn't care.

"CHYEAH, right, like I'd leave the Project *now*!" Black Hole's
wunderkind laughed, but there was a stretched quality to it that she
didn't care for much. "I'm almost done, just give me a few more hours,
okay? Can you do that for me? Great, now get lost."

"Lash, this is intolerable," Hawke began to say. "The Project is moot.
The Valley is lost. You MUST evacuate now--"

"LIAR," Lash countered, rounding on him. "If the Valley really WAS
lost, you wouldn't even *be* here. The Hawke *I* know doesn't lose
*anything*. And I don't care if the place is swarming with Allied
Nations bozos, you'd have to *drag* me out of here, I'M SO CLOSE."

The commander's eyes were very white against the deep brown of his
skin, and she could see his teeth clench in his mouth. Lash could tell
that Hawke was as close to losing his temper with her as he ever got.
But Lash was fiery and stubborn. She was not going anywhere until she
finished what she came here to d--

An explosion rocked the floor as another generator went kablooey, and
several of the Black Hole techs scurrying around were knocked to the
ground. Hawke caught Lash just as she pitched forward towards the
floor.

"NO!!" she shrieked, struggling. She wriggled out of his grasp and
pelted down to one of the consoles, where one of her assistants lay
slumped and motionless. She shoved him aside and worked feverishly.
"If I can just dump all the unnecessaries, I can at least still--"

"THERE'S NO TIME," Hawke shouted. He took two steps towards her when
the second explosion came. Sparks flew, fire spiralled, and a steel
strut divorced its supports with a metallic clangor. It hit the ground
before Hawke with a jolt, knocking him backwards, blocking his path.

"LASH!"

She paid no attention, instead jamming buttons here and there, turning
some dials down to their lowest setting, others to their furthest. She
consulted what displays were working and made her adjustments.

"Biophosphorescence-- why is that even *here* anyway?" Lash muttered to
herself as her hands flew over controls. "Dump that, dump this, no, no
need for THAT, and this, and th--"

In the center of the chamber, the green cylinder glowed and boiled
and bubbled madly, sending crazed shadows chasing each other about the
chaos of the room.

A third generator exploded.

"LASH!!!"

/**/**/**/**/

He thought he had almost lost Lash then.

Was that why he had done it? Was that why he had saved her?

"Do you love me?" the girl would always ask him, every time they were
alone together, day after day, night after night, and every day and
night, he would say yes, because he did.

He loved her eyes, her mouth, even her hair. He loved the way her body
curved softly from all angles, the way she was completely without
blemish. He loved how pretty and pink she was all over, he loved her
flat stomach, her toned legs, her small, compact breasts.

He loved how she squirmed in orgasm, clutching at anything within reach
in a shuddery grip. He loved the small sounds she made, the words of
endearment, the non-words of pleasure. He loved her smell, a pungent
scent that was unique to her alone. He loved the taste of her; sharp,
heady, and full of passion.

... but was that all?

Hawke looked over to where she lay asleep on his bed, and, with a crisp
clarity born of honed battlefield memory, remembered.

He had shouldered another fallen hulk aside, sending it crashing. The
assault had moved on, it seemed, but the damage had been done. The lab
had lain in smouldering ruins around him, and all but the hardiest and
most loyal had escaped. Those that stayed behind had all crowded by
the last remaining exit, and had been begging Commander Hawke to board
the transport helicopter with them before the enemy returned.

That had been out of the question.

Braving the falling debris, raging flames, and choking smoke, Hawke had
stumbled through the destruction alone, searching.

/**/**/**/**/

Eventually, he found her. There was something to be said for Hawke--
*he* could be pretty stubborn too.

"LASH!" There was a stunned pause. "You're bleeding."

Growling, Lash wiped her forehead with a hand and flicked her fingers
to her side, spattering bright red spots in a haphazard spray.

"Leave me alone!" There was a frantic energy in her voice. "I've got
it! I'm DONE, damn you. I finished it! Now all we need to do is
inject Olaf's organic sample into the base mass, and--"

"Lash," she heard Hawke say, and the sheer gentleness of it shocked her
to silence. She turned from her work to stare at him. He drew closer
and put his hands on her shoulders.

"Look," he said calmly, and she did.

"Oh, no," Lash heard herself say, but it was as if she was hearing it
from very far away. She felt the blood drain from her face.

The central shaft was pulsing a weak green, and the gray mass floating
inside was already recognizably human, with a large lump for a head,
rudimentary limbs for its arms and feet, but...

"It's too small," Lash said in something that was half a sob, and half
a laugh. "Oh, it's too *small*."

"The samples of Commander Olaf are lost," Hawke told her, shouting all
over again. He indicated an alcove where vials and petri dishes lay
strewn about, broken, or hopelessly contaminated. The rest of the
laboratory was falling apart all about them. "We have to get out."

"Fine," Lash said dully, letting herself be led to the path Hawke had
cleared through the bedlam. It didn't matter anymore.

Some Black Hole soldiers had followed Hawke in, and were peering at
them through the fumes. "Commander Hawke! Is Mistress Lash safe?"

"I have her!" Hawke called out to them. "Wait for us. I want to take
off as soon as we're all aboard the heli--"

A pipeline ruptured in from of them, erupting in a madness of fire and
shrapnel. Lash cried out, and Hawke shielded her with his body.

"Commander Hawke!" one of the soldiers yelled in alarm.

The explosion had them cut off completely.

"WAIT THERE," Hawke ordered. He bent down and put a hand on Lash's
back, and the other behind her knees. Then he straightened, lifting
her as easily as if she weighed hardly anything.

Lash's eyes widened in sudden realization. "Hawke, NO, you CAN'T--"

But he could.

Before she could say another word, he pitched her forwards like a sack
of provisions, over the lethal obstacle, and into the clot of gaping
Black Hole troopers, bowling them over. He never let her argue, just
went ahead and did it. It was as if he'd predicted she would never
have stood for him saving her, while *he* stayed behind to die like...
like some kind of *hero*, or something. That was even worse than the
indignity of being tossed, like a mewling kitten, in the first place.

"HAAAAWKE," she had yowled as she flew through the air, flailing as
though it would reverse her trajectory, "YOU BIG DOOOOOOOOOOORK!!"

Already, Lash was being hauled off on Hawke's orders to the helicopter.
She thrashed like a fiend, but there were more of them, and even as
more rubble fell overhead, blocking Hawke from sight, Lash promised
herself that if he got himself killed, she'd rebuild him; even if it
meant she'd have to fight through the thick of the Allied Nations'
armies, reclaim the Valley, and mop up what remained of him with a
cotton swab.

Just so she'd have the pleasure of killing him *again*.

/**/**/**/**/

His first thought afterwards hadn't been of escape.

Hawke had leapt back as destruction engulfed the computers. It didn't
matter. If Lash was right, and she'd done her job, they were useless.

Cloning is a long, slow process that starts with an embryo, created
artificially, with an identical genetic code as its original host. It
grows at the rate of normal development, and is, in this, and in every
other way, an ordinary human being. Even when full-grown, all a clone
ends up being is someone's identical twin, albeit somewhat younger.
There is nothing remarkable in this-- the world has no shortage of
identical twins.

Hawke had hurried over to the introduction chute, where genetic
material for the final stage of the process was to be fed.

Black Hole cloning technology, as introduced to them a long, long time
ago, by a being from another world, was actually only called 'cloning'
for lack of a better word. But that wasn't entirely the truth either.

The better word was 'copying'.

Olaf's genetic samples were gone, but Hawke had had something else. He
had been bruised and battered, but had otherwise been unhurt, uncut,
and unbroken. He had held his crimson-stained glove over the chute,
shaking gently. A single, perfect drop of blood fell, plopping into
the chute.

It was pure. Otherwise, the process would never have started.

The first step, and the most difficult, is the creation of a base
mass; the 'mold' into which a clone would be grown on the molecular
level. It is perfectly amorphous and organically malleable, programmed
to replicate human cells according to the genetic blueprint introduced
to it. The result is a near-perfect duplicate of the person the
genetic material came from; from combat training, personality and
intelligence, down to the very physical age.

There had been a bright green flash, and then a vaguely human-shaped
clump no longer floated in the central shaft. In its place was a
human being that was in no way, shape or form, Commander Olaf of the
Blue Moon Army by any stretch of the imagination. Still, everything
about it was eerily familiar.

The base mass had been just the right size.

The next step is to ensure that the copy is a Black Hole asset. The
clone would have to emerge with a will that bent *completely* to the
wishes of Black Hole Army commanders, no matter who the copy is of.
Installation of the necessary protocols to override basic human will is
a long, difficult, and costly operation. This is where approximately
86.577418 % of all the energy used in cloning goes. And even then, it
is far from perfect. Green biophosphorescence is ingrained into the
copy's flesh, as only one of the many failsafes to be used in case it
started thinking for itself. In which case, it was singled out for
termination at the soonest possible time.

There are no exceptions.

Hawke had run up, ramming his shoulder into the central shaft's side,
shattering it. It collapsed in fine traceries of crystal, sending
torrents of thick, translucent fluids gushing down through Hawke's
boots. A figure lay limply in the middle, encircled by the shards that
were all that remained of its prison and womb. Its skin was a light,
shiny pink.

Hawke had walked up to it slowly, despite the need for haste. He bent
down, found a pulse, and verified the shallow breathing. He had then
realized he was shaking.

He had picked the girl up, cradling her in his arms like some strange,
stolen treasure, and escaped the inferno.

/**/**/**/**/

Progress on the invasion of Omega Land was going smoothly. The Allied
Nations had entered the war on the assumption that the Black Hole
Army's resources were finite and exhaustible. This was a mistake they
were paying dearly for, and it was part of Lash and Hawke's job to
capitalize on this. At the moment, their task was to supervise the
prioritization of the flow of manpower, firepower, and supplies to the
appropriate nodes.

"Logistics is so *boring*," Lash whined, shoving aside a mound of
paperwork, putting her hands behind her head and propping her feet up
on her desk. "Adder is so much better at this; I think he actually
*likes* doing this stuff."

"Efficient mobilization of resources has always been Adder's strong
point," Hawke mumbled, not looking up from his own paperwork. "But you
and I also have a responsibility to--"

He yawned.

"Woah! Ya gonna swallow me whole, or what?" Hawke looked at her, and
Lash snickered. "I mean, I don't think I've EVER seen you yawn before.
Now you're yawning every time we meet to trade notes about this stupid
invasion bid. Heck, looks like you've about bored *yourself* to tears
just now. Whatcha so tired for all the time these days?"

If Hawke didn't have such dark skin, and if Hawke wasn't Hawke, Lash
could almost swear that he was blushing.

"I am... as unused to paperwork as you are," the commander carefully
replied, after a moment's pause. "I am more comfortable in the field
than in the counting room."

"BOY, can't say I blame you," Lash said, letting Hawke return to his
numbers. She sat back in a musing silence, listening to the rustle of
papers, the faint scritching of a pencil, the clack-clack of a pocket
calculator.

"Say, Hawke."

"Yes, Lash."

"You never did tell me how you got away."

"Got away? From where, Lash?"

"You know. The Valley."

"I did not need to get away," Hawke said. "You had dealt with the
necessity to leave quite sufficiently."

It was true. Barely recovered from her rescue, Lash had demanded to be
returned to the fray where it was thickest. From there, she'd taken
command of the armies with such ferocity that nobody dared balk at any
of her orders. Rage had lent her an aptitude in strategy that she'd
only ever achieved but rarely. She fought the foe relentlessly, in the
mountains, in the forests, and finally, among the very cities that lay
at the foot of the peaks that ringed the Valley. In the end, her last
ditch effort and prime tactics had thrown the Allied Nations forces out
of the Valley for good and all. The enemy had withdrawn far away to
lick its wounds, and showed no signs of coming back.

Then she'd been free to deal with the previous incumbent commander of
the Valley. When she found him, she'd taken her sweet time with him,
and she'd enjoyed every last second.

"That's not what I meant," Lash said now, putting her feet down. She
leaned over. "How did you get away from the fire? How did you get
away from the lab?"

"I should think it obvious," Hawke said curtly. "There was another
safe path. I took it."

"Liar," Lash said sweetly, reveling in how Hawke bristled but said
nothing. It was *amazing* how prickly he'd become lately. She had no
idea what was going on, but she was just having SO much fun pushing his
buttons for all she was worth.

She got up laughing, giving her hips a little swagger as she walked to
the door. Before leaving, she looked over her shoulder at the sulking
commander.

"You know, doing this whole war thing's generally got us handling
different things, doing different jobs, in real far away places at a
time" she said thoughtfully. "Though over the past couple of months,
we've seen each other quite a bit more than usual. That one time we
worked out that infiltration in Sigma Base, that time we worked
together in the Valley, and this week when we're doing the settlement
of the eastern reaches."

Hawke peered at her cautiously, expecting some kind of trick.

Lash smiled. "All I want to say is that it's been good working with
ya, Hawke. I hope we get more opportunities to do the same in the
future. I like you, after all."

Hawke seemed at a loss. "I... I thank you," he managed shortly. "And
I, for one, also... like... you, and enjoy working with you."

Lash grinned and skipped out into the hall with a bounce. She chuckled
to herself as she walked. *That* ought to buy her some PREEEEETTY big
favours in the future, Lash thought.

Hawke could keep his secrets; all Lash was after was a little fun.

/**/**/**/**/

He had never intended to keep her; on reflection, Hawke couldn't say
he had had any idea at all what to do with the result of his sudden
flash of inspiration. There had just been that feeling of giddy
insight, an opportunity seen and then grabbed, for no other reason than
that it had been there. It was what he had had to do.

... wasn't it?

The girl sensed it when his resolve began to falter. She was smart,
and perceptive enough to be more than a little disturbing. She was,
after all, basically her original, except without the clutter of
memory, obligation, or inhibitions.

"Why did you save me from the fire?" she asked him one day, like she
did almost every day. "Why didn't you just let me be destroyed, like I
was supposed to be?"

Hawke braced himself from where he stood at the entrance to his room.
Nothing was simple anymore. He gave a resigned sigh.

"There is no--"

"Liar," she interrupted, holding him down with her eyes, pinning him
with her gaze. "Do you love me?"

"Yes."

"Liar," she said again, a look of hurt on her face. "I'm not stupid,
stop acting like I am. You, of all, should know better. You love the
one to whom this face belongs."

"No," Hawke said gruffly, "you're wrong. It's different with her. I
love you for yourself, I swear it."

"Then why haven't you even given me a name yet?" she asked quietly.

"You have the freedom to give yourself a name," Hawke answered stiffly.

"The freedom to choose a name. The freedom to be whatever I want."
The girl lay on his bed, still wearing some of his own clothes. Hawke
*had* brought her other, more appropriate things to wear, but she'd
never seemed interested in any of them. He thought maybe that by
refusing his gifts, she wouldn't be bound to him.

"I have the freedom, do I?" she demanded now, and there was nothing
playful about the mockery in her voice this time.

Hawke drew himself up to full height. "I never lied to you about what
you are."

That was the wrong thing to say. Hawke got away, but he left with a
few things he didn't have when he came in: a broken coffee mug, a
broken alarm clock, a bruised forehead, and a newfound and healthy
respect for either Lash's aim.

When they made love a few minutes later, it was their most passionate
time together yet. Afterwards, they lay sore and spent, but sated.
And they slept.

When the girl came down with a fever days later, Hawke was not entirely
surprised. In fact, he had been expecting it for quite some time. Was
*that* why he had saved her? Was that why he'd taken her all along?
It was a terrible thing to contemplate. But why not? He had always
been said to be a terrible man.

It was just that he had never agreed, not until now.

"I'm dying," the girl said. It was the fourth day she lay abed. Her
breathing was deep and laboured, her skin hot to the touch. Hawke held
her hand in his. She was so small.

"No, no, you're not," he said softly. "The fever will break soon. You
just rest. I'll send for my personal physician from Black Hole home
base, and you'll be perfectly fine."

"Liar," she said, but she was smiling weakly. "Doctors can't help me
now, you dweeb. People sometimes die. Clones always die. There's no
getting around it."

"Lash had discarded the failsafes," Hawke said heatedly, his grip
tightening, unable to help himself. "Biophosphorescence, the free will
overrides, homing signal--"

"... but clones are still unstable," the girl finished for him, putting
a hand over Hawke's. "All she did was prolong the inevitable. You
knew that. Maybe you chose to forget, but you still knew it."

Hawke looked away. The girl reached up and wiped his cheek dry with
small, soft caressing fingers.

"Do you love me?"

"I..." Hawke swallowed. "... I don't know what love is."

"Yes, yes, you do," the girl said, laughing softly. She put her arms
around him and pulled him close. "You love me, you love the girl I
look like, and you know what fear is. You always have. You've always
been afraid of what she would say, what she would do, if you ever said
or did anything. That's why you've never said anything, done anything,
not even now. My poor, scared little Hawke..."

There was a sob. Hawke didn't know who it came from. It didn't
matter.

"... Hawke?"

"Yes?" He held her tighter.

"Can I ask for something? One last thing? Before I go?"

"Anything," he whispered.

"I want to meet her," the girl said. She let go, laying back to close
her eyes wearily. "I want to meet the girl I look like. I want to
meet Lash."

/**/**/**/**/

"Lash, what do you know about clones?" he'd asked.

"Clones?" she'd echoed. "All I know is that I'm never gonna try and
make any *ever* again. Let someone else handle that stuff from now
on-- they're just a big pain, a messy business, and not worth all the
effort, that's what *I* think."

In retrospect, Hawke hadn't seemed too comforted by that admission.

Lash sat quietly in her seat as the transport brought her slowly
towards her next assignment. She'd finished her logistics management
detail weeks ago, much to her relief. In contrast, and to her complete
amazement, Hawke was far behind on his work, and had to stay to finish
it.

And then he'd called on her the day before she was to leave.

Lash pretended to peruse her official dispatch as she pondered the
enigma that was Hawke. She'd been sure that he would tell her then why
he'd been acting so downright *weird* lately, but then he'd shown her
something else.

"Well... that was interesting," was all she'd ventured at first, after
all had been seen, said, and done.

"Yes."

"Honestly, Hawke," she'd gone on, "what did you expect to happen when
you brought me there?"

Hawke had said something unintelligible then. It didn't matter.

"It would really have been better if you'd called a tech, or maybe a
maintenance detail for that kind of thing," Lash had continued. "I
mean, sure, your bed's uncomfortable, no wonder you don't get enough
rest! But you can't expect me to fix it for you-- I like you well
enough and all, but I just don't *do* furniture."

In truth, it had been perfectly obvious that Hawke had had other things
in mind when he brought her to his apartment, but he'd fallen
completely silent upon their arrival. She'd watched for a few minutes
as Hawke looked around, as though he'd lost something, before she said
something that made him stop in his tracks, turning to her as if just
remembering she was there. If nothing else, it had been all worth it,
just to see that absolutely nonplussed expression on Hawke's face.

Lash giggled.

Still, she wondered.

What was it that Hawke had wanted her to see? What had he been about
to show her?

The bed he'd presented her had been rumpled and in disarray, as though
just slept in, but had been completely empty.

"Hawke, you naughty boy you," Lash cooed to herself. She reflected on
this, and began to laugh, a gentle chuckling at first, and then big,
whooping guffaws that shook her shoulders. Bouts of uncontrollable,
girlish laughter sent her to the floor, rolling and clutching her
stomach as her transport's pilot looked over in wonder.

/**/**/**/**/

Clone base mass is inherently unstable; without the proper upkeep, it
begins to unravel on the cellular level after a certain period of time.
The earliest clone prototypes supported a half-life of a mere two days;
when their containment fields collapsed, they had simply disintegrated,
seeming to melt at first before evaporating completely, leaving not a
trace.

Hawke knew this, because it was all there, on the screen of his
personal database terminal.

The commander got up and walked over to the room to his door. He stood
there, regarding his empty bed.

He thought about clones.

He thought about reading in one's spare time.

He sipped at his coffee-- black and bitter-- and thought about beakers
and lab burners.

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Author's Notes:

Anyone familiar at all with me will already know that I love the game
series Advance Wars, most especially the character called Lash. Others
who know me rather better than just in passing will also have some idea
that Hawke + Lash has long been a pet pairing of mine, the inklings of
which started far back in the release of Advance Wars 2: Black Hole
Rising, and meeting full maturity by the time Advance Wars Dual Strike
rolled around with its load of innuendo, byplay and general fandom
fuel for the likes of me.

Still, though I've drawn Lash in skimpier and skimpier attire over the
years that I've devoted my fannish energies on her, I've never actually
written her in a story that put her in a sexual situation... and still
haven't, as you may have noticed. I have a strange personal quirk
about the fictional females I truly revere. Their physical appeal to
me is a large part of it, but I somehow respect them too much to
personally subject them to my twisted scenarios, drawn, written, or
otherwise artistically crafted and presented.

This story is still a For Me piece though, made almost purely for
self-indulgence, and the exploration of the bounds of my literary
ability.

The wide-read will immediately recognize the influence I borrowed from
George R.R. Martin, author of the beautiful A Song of Ice and Fire
high fantasy book series. I especially like how he deals with sex in
his stories; detailed, but not lurid, leaves a lot to the imagination,
but in a good way. That's what I tried to achieve here too; this is
why this story isn't a lemon in as much as it's actually just a story
with sex in it.

LOTS of sex in it.

I had started out on this in a certain direction, before I realized
that it would serve the story best if I restructured it some. Instead
of a completely somber, self-reflective story of morals featuring just
Hawke, bringing Lash's point of view into play would contrast the emo
nicely, not to mention better confuse the reader to my own purposes. I
had to rewrite quite a bit of it to that end, though I didn't actually
have to do as much work as I originally thought, thank God.

And now it is done.

It's strange, because my last few attempts at writing trailed off to
stagnation, and it's been a good, long while since I've penned an
Author's Notes section.

I enjoyed writing this, and by damn, I'm going to enjoy reading this,
although it's really just fantasizing about Lash by proxy. I hope you
enjoy it too. Despite how I seemed to struggle with verb tenses and
the comma every step of the way.

On an ending note, I must say that I wrote this mostly coasting on
music by Jonathan Coulton and the Einhander soundtrack. The soundtrack
in particular was surprisingly good music to write to.

Many, many thanks to Lemonranger Green, the boss himself, Racewing, for
reading the initial finished draft, giving it a test drive, and telling
me that it works.

Mads, the Insufferable Beast, Lemonranger Orange, signing off.

Godspeed.

-MtB; The Next Best Thing, 12/16/05-12/25/05

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It was her first time, but it would by no means be her last.

Outside, the stars were out, but the forests were black. A body could
get lost easily among the trees-- especially a body that had never
existed in the first place, had ceased existing.

The girl put a hand to her head. She'd been doing that compulsively
for the last hour or so. It had taken a lot of pomade to get her hair
to stay put, but once she'd gotten it down, it stayed down. She still
checked every now and then though. She'd worn a hat too, just to be
safe.

Shouldering her backpack more securely, the girl took a deep breath and
then set off into the gloom. She was barely recovered from her fever,
but she'd never felt more alive than she did now.

The serum had worked. She would survive.

"Goodbye, Hawke," she said, not looking back. "Thank you, and
goodbye."

Lifting her collar, shielding her face against the wind, the girl
stalked off into the darkness of the night.

It was a big world out there, a big world where she could be anything
she wanted, where she could take any name she wished. Where would she
go though? Orange Star? Blue Moon? Green Earth? Yellow Comet? The
possibilities were endless, and there was still a war raging on all
ends of the continent. She'd need all her wits about her to live long
enough to decide what to do with her life.

But she'd be alright. She could do it.

She was a genius, after all.

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