Considering I'd decided to post a chapter every two weeks, this is a little late, as are my replies to your wonderful, wonderful reviews. I apologize for the tardiness but I've been ill (other than very busy, as usual). I'll try to answer your reviews now. :)

Title: "Infecten – stage 5 – Maturation 6/?"

Author: Nemesi.

Fandom: (MMBN)

Genre: Romance. Humour.

Word Count: 3282.

Characters/Pairings: Blues/Rockman; Netto, Enzan, Axl mainly. Others mentioned.

Rating: PG-13.

Disclaimer: , its characters, places and themes belong to Capcom, Shogakukan, ShoPro, TV Tokio, etc.. No copyright infringement is intended.

Warnings: Shounen-ai. Un-betaed. Navi-preg (and I claim ownership on this idea). OC.

A/N: In this stage, the disease fully develops into a chronic condition.

Summary: And Rock couldn't help but wonder, aghast, what had they done to his Blues?

Now, in a digital cell so similar to the one from the previous chapter you'd think we'd run out of funds and had to use the same set for two different scenes, one very familiar blue-clad Navi was opening his eyes on a ragged pallet, and shooting to a seating positing with a cry of alarm.

He put a hand to his thumping core, and called out "Blues…" a second time, feeling shock and guilt and sorrow and a fierce need for revenge well up inside him.

"I'm here."

The voice was like the stuff of dreams. It seemed both real and imagined at the same time, its presence almost too good to be true.

Rockman stumbled to his feet, heart in his throat. Swirling around, he saw Blues advance from the shadows near the gaping door. The red Navi held himself stiffly, like a wary animal, but was apparently undamaged.

"You… you're safe!" Rockman whispered around the lump in his throat.

Blues allowed himself a smile, then schooled his face in all haste.

"It's good to see you, too."

Rockman blinked, surprised that Blues was keeping his distance, hovering close to the door rather than come up to him. For a moment, Rockman felt, for lack of a nicer comparison, like a child whose candy had been stolen – the candy being, in this case, a hug or a kiss or anything else from the cuddling department from Blues.

He pouted for a second, then promptly berated himself. What had he been expecting? To be whisked off his feet (as usual, we might add)? To see the Red Navi drop on one knee in front of him and kiss his hand? Or better yet, to be hauled over Blues's shoulder (for the umpteenth time since they met) and carried to safety (or the closest cuddly spot, whichever came first)?

Silly Rockman.

Silly, silly Rockman.

But silly Rockman was determined to get some physical contact, anyway. And what Rockman wanted, silly or not, Rockman got. Period.

Smiling – and with his eyes a little wet – Rockman walked the distance between them and wrapped his arms around Blues's waist, feeling a small measure of comfort when Blues curled an arm around his shoulder, not relaxing into Rockman's touch, but not shying away from it either.

"I thought you'd been taken from me," Rockman admitted softly, feeling the familiar pinprick of tears in his eyes.

"You know I'm stronger than that."

A point Rockman couldn't deny, but it wasn't the words that worried him, and not even the tone, weary as it'd been.

It was the body language.

Blues was holding himself stiffly, poised like a trapped tiger that crouches in a corner, waiting for the hunter to deliver the killing shot. He was stiff, tense, guarded, his jaw set and his shoulders squared. In short, he was behaving as though he didn't trust Rockman, and expected to be backstabbed at any given moment.

Pushing himself a little away, Rockman tilted his head up to study Blues's face. His eyebrows furrowed together in worry; his look gained a searching, pleading edge that wasn't lost on his mate.

Grimacing slightly, Blues tightened his hold on Rockman. Sagging suddenly, he pulled Rockman closer to his chest, as though trying to set him there like a precious jewel.

"Sorry," he said roughly, not meeting Rockman's eyes. "I'm not being myself."

Rockman exhaled a long breath, rearranged himself comfortably against Blues's chest and listened to the quite thumping of his core.

"Did something happen…?"

Blues seemed to go stiff, then slackened, tightening his arms around Rockman in a possessive manner.

"…I'd rather not talk about it."

Rockman nodded wordlessly, understanding clear in his eyes. Something wasundoubtedlybothering Blues, and he wasn't ready to talk about it. Rockman took a silent vow to be there for him when that time came, and burrowed deeper inside Blues's embrace, ever the supporting boyfriend (companion? husband? Will you two PLEASE choose a term within the next century?).

Blues put his chin on the crow of Rockman's head, gazing at a point somewhere behind and above Rockman, obviously lost in thought, his muscles corded and bulging hard.

There followed a few moments of silence, then Rockman stiffened and wrenched himself away from Blues, core racing.

"Axl! What happened to him? What-"

"He wasn't taken."

The words caused Rockman to sigh in relief, though the jaded tone bothered him. Without noticing, he gently began to rub Blues's arms, sliding his palms up and down, up and down the biceps, as though warming Blues's body might serve to melt his coldness.

"Roll-chan must've taken him away in time," he offered in a soft voice.

Blues turned his attention sharply towards him.

"Roll-chan, you say?" he began slowly, and the line of his jaw worked for a moment or two, as though he was deep in thought, or listening to something in the distance. He nodded, at last, and turned his attention back to the far wall. "That must be so."

Despite his best resolutions, Rockman's mouth began to tremble. Blues hadn't been so cold and wary of him in… no. He'd been thinking that Blues hadn't been this distant since the first few days of their acquaintance, but that wasn't true. Even back then, when Blues was denying himself, hiding his true colours and regarding Rockman as nothing more than a bothersome little kid, there hadn't been such a guarded intent in Blues's demeanour.

Actually, Blues was treating Rockman as though he wasn't… well, Rockman. But that was impossible, wasn't it? Why would Blues mistreat him, or doubt his identity? Unless their captors had done something to…?

Core thumping, systems grappling against the sick worry – what did they do to you, Blues? – Rockman pressed himself back against Blues, moulded their bodies together with the foolish hope to melt the wall that divided them.

Blues allowed the touch, suffered through it, but didn't return the gesture, still wary, still haughty and battle-ready. Rockman was fighting panic, now. Looking up, he put his hand on Blues's cheek, searched fruitlessly for his eyes through the visor, and felt alarms of all kinds go off inside his core.

"What is it? What's wrong? Blues…"

"…nothing. Nothing is wrong."

"Don't lie, Blues! Not to me…" Rockman implored.

Blues looked down at him, but the visor and the low light worked together to hid all traces of emotions on his face.

"…do you really want to know?"

"Of course! I don't know what they did to you, but I'm always here for you, Blues!"

"Rockman…"

"Tell me," he coaxed gently.

The soft, un-Rockman tone made Blues's mouth quirk at the edges, but the resulting look was too dark to be called a smile.

"I woke up long before you did, in another cell, and went looking for you…" He captured Rockman's hand with his own, and put a kiss in the middle of his palm.

Rockman, who should've been relieved by the gesture, flinched at it, going stiff with dread.

"As I searched this place, I stumbled upon our captors, and they told me something interesting—"

Blues continued to place soft kisses down Rockman's hand, to his wrist, along his arm, bending to nuzzle the tender curve at the inside of his elbow, nibbling gently at it.

"—if they took us, it's because we can procreate. They can't understand how that's possible, and offered me a bargain: if we replicate the miracle and give the child to them, I can go back to my Enzan-sama."

Rockman felt numb by now. He stared wide-eyed at Blues, fighting off a wave of nausea.

"—so I've been thinking—"

Softly, a purring caress against Rockman's ear, a hissing promise that made him go numb.

"—why don't we give them what they want, sweet Rockman?"

Blues tugged Rockman closer, harshly; and Rockman was pliant in his arms, not out of passion, but of betrayal.

Grinning approvingly, Blues sank his mouth in the crook of Rockman's neck, and bit down on the tender throat; one of his hands clamped painfully around Rockman's wrist, leaving bruises. The other slithered down Rockman's back, the nails digging painfully in his hip, clawing at the small of his back…

…and this is when the truth flared inside Rockman's brain. He pushed Blues off and sent him slamming against the wall. Leaping back, he went into a crouch, and pointed the business end of his buster at the red Navi.

"You…" he began slowly, shivering still, but with rage now. "…are not Blues."

Blues picked himself up from the floor, smirking a cold little smirk all the while.

"Aw, Rockman. Come on. Can't you take it when I'm a little bit harsher on you?"

"Shut up, whoever you are!"

"You know who I am…" Blues leered, stepping closer, arms opened enticingly.

Rockman aimed the buster higher.

"Oh, right. Of course I know. You…" his buster began to glow with energy "…are a fake."

Blues stopped moving, swaying a little on the spot. There was a moment of silence, then his smirk grew wider, and wider still, a dark, gaping cut, entirely too large for that beautiful face, and filled with fangs.

"How did you guess?"

"Blues…" Rockman began, furiously, "…my Blues isn't that cold! He isn't one that would bend his will to the demands of others like that. He wouldn't use me!"

The fake Blues threw back his head and laughed, his body shaking oddly, like a sheet rippling in the wind.

"Mh. It seems we got his personality wrong. He is so cold and unforgiving in public, so loyal to his precious little Net-Op. We had no reason to suspect he'd be any different in his private life."

Rockman bit his bottom lip before he could yell out that Blues was a wonderful Navi, a loyal and tender lover, a devoted father, and also the bravest, most passionate warrior he knew.

"He is," he summed up.

Fake Blues shook his head in amazement, expelling a hollow chuckle. The façade was starting to blur at the edges now, to waver, and Rockman thought he could see through the image of the fake Blues and into a poll of that horrible, churning slime.

"Well, good for us that your personality is so easy to replicate, then. We'll still get a newborn Navi to study."

Okay, stop.

Rockman stiffened again, eyes going wide.

That cheap copy wasn't implying that…

Fake Blues expelled an amused laugh, visor flashing oddly again, two dots of green light now visible underneath.

"Give the boy a prize! He figured it out! Yes," he purred, once his laughter had subsided. "A copy of you is with him at the moment, begging for reassurance, for comfort. Begging for his touch…"

Rockman's buster fizzled, lit up, burned.

It fired.

A few seconds later, Rockman barrelled out of the cell, the echo of Fake Blues's final shriek of pain lodged like a thorn in the middle of his forehead. He plastered himself against the opposite wall, feverish cheek to cold metal, gasping and shuddering and retching dry.

It took him a full five minutes to compose himself – cheap copy or not, the Navi he'd just deleted had had the likeness of Blues, his Blues, his love, Blues, Blues, where are you, what have they done to you, what have I done? Oh, Blues, Blues, Blues…

Once he'd gathered his wits, Rockman chose a random direction and began to walk, trailing his hand along the wall like a lost child.

Soon enough he was deep into a maze of corridors, peeking into dirty hexagonal cells in a futile attempt to find a clue on his whereabouts. As he looked up from one of such inspections, Rockman saw another Blues round a corner and run a few steps towards him. Upon seeing each other, both Navis stopped in their tracks, seemingly shocked, then leaped back into a crouch, weapons at the ready.

"Let me pass, and I won't delete you," Blues warned.

Rockman's face contracted with pain or sorrow, then steeled itself.

"You wish." He began to charge his buster, and took aim. "I don't know how many more of you I'll have to dispose of…" he shuddered. "But I'm not taking any risk."

Blues narrowed his eyes.

"I mean it," he warned, tone low. "I'll spare you if you retreat now. But if you hinder me, I won't hesitate to delete you."

Rockman's mouth trembled, imperceptibly so. That last phrase had been so uniquely Blues. The call of duty, shining strong yet clashing with the affection for Rockman in his voice.

This fake was much closer to the original than the other one, Rockman realized in silent dismay. It was perfect. He mightn't be able to fight him. Not to the finish.

"Good one," he praised, feigning cockiness. "But you're not getting away."

The agony in his eyes was heart-piercing. Blues raised his sword, looking equally as reluctant, as hurt, as Rockman felt. His mouth parted around a deeper breath, then his head was hung low, silver hair wavering against his back.

In the next instant, the two Navis had leaped at one another. Buster and blade met with a clash of metal and a shower of sparks; then the Navis leaped back, lips pulled back in a grimace, but unarmed.

They studied each other from their crouched position, then leaped again. Their weapons met again, but this time the two Navis held their ground, each trying to push the other off-balance.

Seeing an opening, Rockman risked a high-kick. Blues disengaged himself, ducking away, and swung his blade at Rockman, who leaped out of the way barely in time. Cringing, he went for a punch, and when his wrist was grabbed, just as he'd planned, he used Blues's own hold as leverage for another kick. Blues apparently saw it coming. He parried the blow easily, and spun out of the way, losing his grip on Rockman.

There was another clash and reel episode, the clang of their weapons echoing eerily in the vaulted hall. Rockman disengaged, then aimed a shot at Blues. But just before Rockman's buster could fire, Blues vanished, leaving Rockman lunging in the air at nothing. He felt Blues reappear right behind him and swivelled around to block his blade, but was shocked to see he had vanished again.

Blues charged at him from behind, using his superior speed to push the smaller Navi back. Each strike he delivered was blocked, but just barely. Sensing that he was about to the backed into a wall, Rockman gritted his teeth and shot, aiming at Blues's chest. The swordsnavi side-stepped and charged at Rockman's exposed flank.

His blade cut through Rockman's suit, but did little damage to the Blue Navi himself, who retaliated using Blues's own momentum against him. Spinning so that he was behind Blues, Rockman aimed a blow between his shoulder blades. Not one to be taken by surprise, Blues spun towards his opponent even as he reeled forward for the blow, and kicked him on his wounded side, smacking Rockman back against the wall.

The blue Navi twirled around, and brought his buster down on Blues's sword, sending the Red Navi momentarily off-balance. The blade grated against the wall, raining sparks. Rockman elbowed Blues in the chest, then aimed a punch to his chin.

Blues moved backwards, swinging at Rockman's head. This time, the blade grazed Rockman's neck, cutting through suit and skin. The small blue Navi dodged sideways and rolled away from the wall.

The two were crouching at a safe distance now; each studying the other for any possible weakness, each panting and gritting his teeth. There flashed something like admiration in their eyes, and something like pain, though not of the physical kind. Then they moved, and they did it as one.

Rockman held up his buster, firing a quick volley of plasma shots, just as Blues speeded towards him. It was smoke ammo that Rockman was using, and soon enough they both were surrounded by a thick, dark cloud.

It didn't seem to impair Blues in the slightest. He kept running, dodging each shot as though he could see them more clearly now that he could before, and finally reached the spot where he'd last seen Rockman. He swiped at the fog, but his charged blade met nothing.

Rockman wasn't there.

Not anymore.

Blues looked around himself in anger and confusion for a moment, then he felt it. He jerked his head up, just in time to see Rockman descend on him, buster glowing with energy.

It fired.

It hit.

Blues brought up his sword even as he fell, and it also met its target.

They both fell, and they both cried out in pain as they did.

When the smoke cleared, Blues was pinned underneath Rockman, his helmet cracked open where the plasma shot had singed it, and with the flaming tip of Rockman's buster an hairsbreadth away from his face.

Above him, Rockman was painting heavily, sporting a similar damage on his helmet, and with the glowing edge of Blues's sword grazing his neck with dangerous pressure.

There was a moment of stillness, then Rockman fell upon Blues with a cry, and Blues caught him, cradling him, rocking him.

"It's you! It's really you! Blues! Blues!"

"Rock…"

He pressed kisses to the blue helmet, the feverish forehead and cheek, until, suddenly, Rockman surged up and pushed their mouths together. Aligning, their cores began to flare with light and to pulsate in unison, which conveniently helped heal their superficial damage (ah, the wonders of digital partnership!).

Pulling back to catch his breath, Rockman offered a grin to his mate (they chose a term! Halleluiah!), squeezed him once, then leapt to his feet. Blues accepted Rockman's help up, and tangled their fingers together in a possessive manner.

"You had to fight a copy of me." It wasn't a question. Not after what had just happened.

Rockman's face darkened, and he looked down.

"And you had to deal with a copy of me."

He tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice, but failed. Blues tugged him close, not hugging him, but still offering comfort.

"Yes. And it wasn't pleasant."

Which Rockman correctly understood as: "He didn't fool me for one minute, and nothing happened, you jealous little thing."

Smiling, Rockman pecked Blues on the lips.

"Gosh, I missed you."

"Likewise." Blues smirked, before dipping his head to take a second, slower taste of the mouth that was so graciously being offered to him, and then Rockman was all over him in a perfect replica of the Gone-with-the-wind movie scene, you know, the one with the kiss and the sunset and the kiss and the… well, kiss, and since we don't really have a sunset handy at the moment, the only similarity here was in the, you guessed it, kiss.

Now, rules of decency demand that we move the camera discreetly away and give the Navis some well-deserved privacy.

…

…

…I'll be damned if I do that.

That kiss was long overdue, let me tell you.

Long.

Overdue.

And long lasting, too.

Hopefully, the audience might be inclined to forgive the author's indiscretion, as well as this suddenly bout of cuddliness that took our heroes in the middle of the enemy's stronghold. It might help their case telling you that, as Blues and Rockman kissed, their cores aligned once more, sharing whatever data they'd gathered since their abduction.

It might not look like much, but it was the first step to finding their way home. That it happened to be a rather pleasurable step was just a fortunate bonus…

- Scene 6 cleared.

NOW LOADING…