Beyond Repair (OLD: the new version MIGHT be posted shortly)

2: Houseguest

Bren felt tired, and the throbbing in his head hadn’t left yet. His trek to the city had begun well enough, but the metal imbedded in him seemed heavier by the minute. It was fortunate that he could find a mechanic willing to work for him.

A mechanic that basically said he wanted to kill you, Bren reminded himself. Water was running somewhere behind him. It eventually stopped and footsteps, the sound of thick boots, made their way towards him.

“Head up,” Jove’s voice ordered. Bren hadn’t realized he’d put it down. Looking up, his eyes widened in surprise. Jove had removed the rag and washed some of the grease off her face. Her cap was tucked into the back pocket of her men’s cargo pants, revealing soft, brown hair pinned back. A lock of it fell forward, brushing her chin. She had also removed the stiff vest, which revealed distinct curves beneath the loose tunic.

“You’re a girl,” Bren stated.

“Yes, I’m a girl,” Jove snapped. She held up a wet towel and forcefully held Bren’s head still. “Does that bother you, bionic?” He noticed how she spat the last word.

“You just didn’t look it, earlier,” he said, trying not to insult her.

“That was the point.” He winced as she scrubbed the dried blood off. “Most folks don’t like girl mechs. We’re better served in bars, whispering numbers into men’s ears, or serving their drinks in short skirts.”

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” Bren promised.

“Good,” was all she said, working her way around his wound. Twice she pushed the long sleeves of her tunic back before setting the towel down on the table and just pulling the tunic off. Bren shut his eyes automatically. “Don’t be such a wuss. I’m wearing a tank, too.”

“Right,” he muttered, opening his eyes. He could now see Jove’s broad shoulders revealed by the loose tank. He figured that they probably helped when she mimicked being a guy. He looked over her again, taking in the high cheekbones and smooth jawline and full lips. She was pretty, or probably was when she wasn’t glaring at him. He had the feeling, however, that most men were too afraid to mention that; he certainly was.

“What happened? The edges of this are jagged. It wasn’t a knife, or even your own stupid machinery.”

“I was in a crash.”

“Is that what made your bionics fritz?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Any more wounds that need tended?”

“I don’t think so.” She didn’t ask any more questions, but kept up with her cleaning. Once she was satisfied, she sprayed antibiotics into the wound. Bren winced again at the sting, not expecting it.

“Before I patch it, you should get a shower. You smell. I assume you have clothes in that bag of yours.

“I do,” he nodded. Taking a deep breath, he stood back up. The metal didn’t feel as heavy as before. Jove pointed him to the bathroom, telling that there was a clean towel in there and muttering about cleaning the blood off her dining table.

Strange woman, Bren thought as he turned the water on.

Jove scrubbed her table as clean as she could before calling Leslie. She knew that she would get voicemail; Leslie worked as a waitress at The Flirt until eight, which would be the time Jove usually got home.

“Hey, Leslie, it’s Jovie. I’m going to have to cancel dinner tonight. A project came up, sorry. Feel free to call and complain.”

She turned her mind back to the bionic in her bathroom. She never used that bathroom, so she didn’t fear him finding anything. It was just that she didn’t trust bionics. She didn’t like bionics. She would rather see him dead than heal his wounds.