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A washed up mercenary with a cybernetic arm is down to her last creds, and takes the only job they can get. She must escort a young boy across a post-apocalyptic wasteland to a distant settlement. At first, she hates the idea. She dislikes people in general, and she does not know how to deal with children. As they travel, his trust in her becomes the only thing keeping the cold metal inside her from feeling like a cage. A motherly instinct takes root in her.
The trading post stinks of rust and rot. Sera signs the contract with her flesh hand—the cybernetic one stays tucked behind her back. The boy's guardian hands her a pouch of creds and walks away without a word. Luca stands there with his bag too big for his frame, clutching a worn journal. He doesn't cry. He just looks at her arm and says, 'Does it hurt?' Sera doesn't answer. She turns and starts walking. He follows. That's how it begins.
Sera and Lucas are caught unaware by a sandstorm, and are forced to seek shelter in an abandoned shack. Sera and Lucas bond a little. After the dust storm ends, a mutant attacks, and Sera defends Lucas. The chapter ends with Sera and Lucas going to sleep. Lucas sleeps cuddling Sera.
Sera's hand is on her sidearm before her mind catches up, her body sliding in front of Luca with the old, terrible grace of a soldier who's survived too many ambushes. She counts them in her head—three, no four—emerging from the ruins of a collapsed building, armed with rusted machetes and the hollow eyes of men who've stopped being human. Luca's hand finds the back of her jacket, small fingers gripping the fabric, and she feels his fear like a second heartbeat. She has sixteen rounds. She has one boy. And for the first time in years, she has something to lose.
Sera finds Luca's journal while he sleeps, her cybernetic fingers tracing drawings of birds he's never seen but dreams of. She sees his handwriting in the margins — notes about her: 'Sera doesn't laugh. Sera killed seven men to protect me. Sera's eyes are gray like ash but warm when she looks at me.' She reads the last entry, dated tonight: 'I think I might love her. Is that okay? Can I love someone who kills?' She closes the journal gently, her hands shaking, and presses it to her chest like something holy. She doesn't know how to answer his question. She doesn't know if she deserves to.
Dawn breaks cold and gray, and Luca knows. He sees the journal moved, sees her face. His hands shake as he asks, and Sera feels the question land in her chest like a blade she chose to catch. She kneels before him, takes his face in her hands—flesh and metal—and tells him the truth she's been running from: she doesn't know how to love, but she knows she's not leaving. She knows he's the first thing that's made her want to try. The words tear out of her raw and unpolished, and when he cries, she holds him, and the world narrows to the space between their bodies.