Archive of Our Own

Erik had been born a serf, like his parents before him, serving at the whim of Lord Shaw. His parents and his sister had died in thrall to the Lord, but Erik had resolved he would die a free man.

He was a Talent, able to mold metal with his mind, and this served to keep him in the Lord's good graces most of the time. He could repair anything, which was fortunate, as Lord Shaw had a tendency to break his favorite toys.

Erik's specialty was androids, and he was charged with tending to the small army of them necessary to keep the Lord's estate running smoothly. It was work he enjoyed, but that was never enough to keep him from dreaming and scheming his escape.

Darwin, one of the servantbots, came into Erik's workshop, lugging a large blanket-wrapped bundle. Erik caught a glimpse of pale synthetic skin through the burgundy fabric. One of the Lord's pleasurebots, then. Emma? "The Lord's guest was a bit," Darwin hesitated, choosing his words carefully, "enthusiastic today."

Erik tried not to think too hard about what that meant. Bad enough that he would have to deal with the aftermath. "On the table," Erik directed, and Darwin set down the bundle and hurried off to his next task.

No, not Emma, Erik saw. The limp hand that had come free of the wrappings was male. Charles, then. Erik felt a moment's pause. He liked Charles. A lot. Charles was smart and funny and more independent-minded than an android was supposed to be. (Shaw had actually once asked Erik to check if there was a way to correct that unfortunate tendency. Erik had lied through his teeth and said it couldn't be fixed. It could, but only by wiping Charles' programming entirely, returning him to the factory resets, removing everything that made Charles Charles. Erik couldn't do that.)

He carefully began unwrapping Charles' body, as he had so many times before. Charles was utterly limp, inert — his circuitry had no doubt shut his consciousness down, the android version of a coma, intended to keep him from suffering until his body was repaired. Hardly the first time Erik had seen this, but somehow it felt different, Charles' unresponsiveness deeper than normal.

He got Charles free of the blankets and stretched out before him on the examining table. Charles' fair skin was marked with dark blotches, the pleasurebot equivalent of bruises. Most owners liked their bots to be as near to human in appearance and response as possible, and Charles was a state-of-the-art example, metallo-organic muscle and bone and skin and nerve and blood, programmed feelings nearly indistinguishable from humans'.

The bruises were in various states of self-repair, and none of the injuries on Charles' front seemed serious, maybe a broken left wrist, certainly nothing that should have initiated shutdown.

He eased Charles onto his stomach, his touch gentle, as he scanned Charles with his Talent. But the issue was as clear to his eyes as it was to his metal-sense. A cluster of finger-shaped bruises above the juncture of neck and shoulder and the spinal column beneath bent at an unnatural angle.

Fuck. Erik ran gentle fingers over the deformity, thinking of the unusual unresponsiveness of Charles' body, knowing what he would find as he found it.

The crushed vertebrae, though serious, were repairable. His powers to re-mold the bones, then growth factors to restore and reinforce their strength. Several days of rest and his spinal column would be back to normal.

What would not be normal, could not be normal ever again, were Charles' nerves. Charles was paralyzed though how badly Erik could not yet be sure. His spinal cord had been ripped apart beyond repair, the nerves shredded and torn. Even his Talent could not reconnect an android's spinal cord.

There were only three options, none good, and two of which would take Charles from the world. Permanent shutdown, or the replacement of his brain and spinal cord. The last option was to leave him paralyzed.

It was a decision he could not make alone.

Erik eased Charles back to face-up and accessed the data port behind Charles' ear, set it to transmit to a diagnostic to confirm what his senses told him, read the display as his lips tightened to a grim line.

Essex Industries Pleasure Model:
ChAr135 XaV13R

Damage report:

Comminuted fractures of C-5, C-6, C-7
Transection of spinal cord at C-5
Fracture of left radial head

Abrasions, various
Contusions, various

Erik set the datapad aside, hands shaking, needing to read no more. He'd hoped, despite the evidence of his metal sense, that he was somehow wrong. But Charles was indeed paralyzed, would likely not even have use of his hands.

He sighed and reached for the datapad again. He needed to talk to Charles, break the news to him, discuss what to do. Lord Shaw's choice would certainly be to install a new brain and spinal cord module, restore his bot to full function, even if it meant it would no longer be Charles.

That would never be Erik's choice.

He typed in the command that would bring Charles' consciousness back online, then waited.

After a minute, Charles' eyes blinked open, the blue hazed with pain and confusion. "Erik?" he asked.

He tried to turn his head, but Erik stopped him. "Don't move your head. Your neck has been damaged."

Charles' eyes went briefly distant, and Erik recognized a self-scan. Once his gaze returned to Erik, fear and the first moments of grief tremored in his voice. "I'm afraid my head may be almost the only thing I'm capable of moving."

"I know."

"Is it permanent?" A short, bitter chuckle. "Of course it's permanent. My spinal cord is irreparable."

"I'm sorry, Charles."

"Are you going to shut me down?" Another laugh, almost hysterical. "Of course you are. The Lord will want this body returned to function, and that will require replacing my central unit."

"He will want that. I do not."

"Why?"

"Because I am a foolish human that has come to care for you a bit too much. I do not want you lost to the world."

"Oh, Erik." A final laugh that turned to a choked sob. "I don't want to be lost." His face screwed up in concentration and pain, and his right arm lifted awkwardly, hand and wrist drooping. He raised his hand to Erik's face, touched limp fingers to his cheek. "Thank you for the thought, even if we cannot prevent the outcome."

*But what if we could?"

"Pardon?"

"What if we could save you?"

"I'm sorry, but I don't see how."

"I have a plan, to escape this place, go to one of the Free Cities. It'll work."

"And you propose to somehow take me with you." Charles let his arm fall back to the table; it landed with a soft smack. "I'm paralyzed, Erik. Helpless. Even if you make it out with me, are you prepared to continue caring for me?"

"You're worth it," Erik said, voice soft and fierce. He took Charles' hand in both of his and lifted it to his lips. "We can make it work."

Charles' lower lip quivered. "I'm scared, Erik. I don't want to die, but I don't know if I can bear living like this."

Erik, on impulse, leaned forward and kissed Charles, tender and full of promise. "Don't give up. Not yet."

Charles smiled softly, though the fear didn't leave his eyes. "I will try — I can promise no more."

Erik kissed him again, just a quick brushing of lips. "And I ask no more."

"What is your plan?"

"The garbage chutes."

"That's a fatal fall."

"Not if I'm wearing metal."

That made Charles smile, just a little. "Indeed."

"I can buy us enough time to repair you to the point I can move you. I'll inform Lord Shaw of your condition and the necessity of replacing your central module and that procuring one will require at least a few days, more likely a week. He will not be pleased, but the data are irrefutable."

Charles' smile was thin, brittle, shaky, but genuine. "All right."

"Before we do anything else, I'll need to start the repairs on your spine."

"Do it."

Erik reached for the datapad to put Charles back to sleep.

"Leave me awake. Please."

"Are you sure?"

A miniscule nod, the most Charles dared give. "Yes. I'm too afraid something will go wrong, that I won't wake up."

"All right. I'll just block the pain signals." He brushed an unruly lock of hair back from Charles' forehead, then kissed him again. "Those lips should come with a warning label."

Another smile, a little less fragile. "I am a pleasurebot." The smile cracked, shattered. "Or I was."

"You'll be something else now, maybe something better."

Doubt shone in Charles' eyes — it was too soon to think about that.

Erik picked up the datapad, blocked sensation from several vertebrae above the injury. "I'm going to turn you now." He sank his powers into Charles' spine, stabilizing it as he rolled him over.

Charles made a soft noise of distress.

"You okay?"

"No." It was a nerve-wracking minute before Charles explained. "My head understands the injury, but my heart and body haven't caught up. Being moved like that, unable to feel or control any of it, brings it home."

Erik touched Charles' cheek. "I can't say it'll be okay, but I can say I'll be with you."

"Thank you." A teary whisper.

Erik rested his hand against Charles' jaw, a comforting touch Charles would be able to feel, then he sank his powers into the shattered vertebrae, drawing the fragments together, carefully fitting them into place and fusing them.

He injected the organo-metallic growth factors that would increase the speed of full healing, mend the damaged tissues, strengthen the repaired bone, then he fashioned a brace that would support Charles' head and neck for the few days it would take to achieve full healing.

Charles scowled as Erik secured it in place. "I already can't move."

"I know. It's only for a few days. Then you'll be healed and we'll make our escape."

A dramatic sigh. "What do we do in the meantime?"

"Plan. And relax."

"Relax?"

"Yes. I don't suppose you play chess."

~xXx~

They did far more than play chess in the next days. Charles was every bit as warm and witty as Erik had believed from his previous interactions, though his mood was tempered by his injury. He truly couldn't move, and dealing with his sudden helplessness left him testy and wanting to withdraw.

Erik distracted him as best he could, and they both researched things to make his life easier once they escaped. Almost all the materials were written for humans, but much could be applied to androids. Erik could build versions of most of the tools that would maximize his ability to use his paralyzed hands, but most would have to wait until they reached Westchester, the nearest of the Free Cities. The exception had been a pair of splints to support his wrists and allow him modest use of his immobile hands. Anything more would be suspicious, given that Charles wasn't expected to remain paralyzed.

Lord Shaw had been highly displeased to learn of the extent of the damage to his favorite pleasurebot, but that anger was directed at his guest, a minor noble named Creed, not at Erik. Erik had told the Lord it would take up to a week for a new central module to be delivered, and he had then been instructed to begin the replacement immediately upon receipt of the unit.

But they would be gone by then. They would flee the night before the expected delivery.

The time passed swiftly, too swiftly, as they checked and rechecked their plans. Erik fashioned a harness that would allow him to carry Charles more easily and also to enable him to slow their descent through the garbage chutes.

They rehearsed their story, should they be challenged. It was close to the truth — Charles was scheduled for shutdown and brain replacement the following day, and his final wish was to visit the Grand Balcony one final time. That there was a corridor leading to a chute access on the way was sheer coincidence.

Erik strapped Charles into the harness so that they were chest to chest. He was able to use his Talent to carry most of Charles' weight, though he felt awkward and off-balance.

They got to the corridor undetected, or so they thought. Erik was but a few steps from the corridor entrance when a door slid open to reveal Lord Sebastian Hiram Shaw's lean form. "Erik," he said, voice deadly-soft.

"Lord Shaw."

"Where are you taking my pleasurebot?"

"We're replacing his central module tomorrow, and he wanted to see the Grand Balcony one last time."

"Noble," the Lord said dryly. "I had thought you might be entertaining escaping with my property. I hear you've become quite friendly."

"We play chess," Erik said, trying to maintain his cool.

He doesn't believe you, Charles hissed. And then a most extraordinary thing happened — Lord Shaw crumpled to the ground in a heap.

Erik stared down at him dumbly, until Charles said, Go.

This time he realized Charles had spoken directly into his mind. "I didn't think androids could have Talents," he said even as his feet resumed the journey toward the chute.

"Later. Once we're safe."

Safe. Could they be safe now? Or would they be hunted as Lord Shaw's killers?

"No. It'll look like his heart stopped."

Frightening that Charles could do such a thing.

Erik opened the chute with his Talent and lowered them through the long descent. It was harrowing, though they were never in real danger.

The garbage pens were disgusting, the smell near-overwhelming. Erik drew recklessly on his Talent to speed them away to fresher air.

He flew them deep into the forest, until he saw a clearing by a stream. A good place to stop for the night.

He set down beside the stream and began to unfasten the harness. He lowered Charles to the ground, leaned him against a tree to support his torso, then sank down beside him. "We're safe," he said, almost disbelieving, as tears welled in his eyes. "We're free."

"We are," Charles agreed, his own eyes glistening.

Erik set up a makeshift camp — a blanket on the ground and a few tins of food and bottles of water. As he began to feed Charles, he asked the question he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer to. "What did you do to Shaw?"

"I told his heart to stop beating," Charles admitted, looking down.

"How. I thought androids couldn't harm humans."

"Harm or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm," Charles quoted. "It's actually a hierarchy. Choosing the lesser harm if all options involve harm to a human. I judged greater harm would come from allowing Shaw to kill you. Shaw had killed many and would continue to do so."

"But how did you do it? Androids aren't supposed to have Talents."

"Most do not," Charles agreed. "But it seems the most advanced of my kind are developing them. Emma has the same Talent I do."

"So you keep it secret, so the manufacturers don't figure out how not to do it."

"Or worse, take us apart to see why."

Worse indeed. "Your secret is safe with me."

"I know." Charles rested his head against the tree trunk, let his eyes fall closed. "I think I'd like to lie down now."

Erik arranged Charles' body on the blanket. "Okay?"

Charles' eyes had grown damp again, this time not from happiness. "I'm still scared, Erik. What kind of life can I have? I'm a pleasurebot and I'm paralyzed from the shoulders down."

Erik lay down beside him, touched his cheek. "We have time to figure that out. Don't give up."

"I won't." A shaky smile, just visible in the soft moonlight. "You won't let me."

"Damned right I won't."

"Would you hold me for a bit? I need to know I'm not alone."

Erik snuggled up against Charles and rested his cheek on Charles' shoulder. "You're not alone, Charles. You're not alone."