[ as they had rummaged, they had happened upon the crates, and for a moment, simon had felt every last fiber in his body tense - ready to lunge for markus, to stop him from waking them up and recreating the situation that had spiraled so out of hand in detroit. there was nothing they could do, as battered and crippled as they were. the silent countdown in simon's field of view had gone warning-red, crisp and impassive as it counted down the last half-hour of his life, should they fail to reach the tools needed to repair themselves.
( it hurts, to look at the androids quietly awaiting their own return and likely destruction. what hurts more, is the thought of how markus would look at him, if he knew that simon would shut that door and turn his back on them without feeling guilt over the decision. ) knowing they were working on borrowed time, and every second lost to other goals was another second closer to their destruction. he knows markus's mind, when he reaches for the crook of his elbow and tugs on it - look away, it urges. it's then that he feels the guilt, for asking markus to let them go.
hours later, he doesn't speak of it, quietly tucked into a pool of shadow while his system rebooted and compensated for the new limb he was forced to scavenge from the depths of a well-insulated crate. compatible, even with his older, failing frame -- CX100, the improved-upon variation of his own model. companionable, equipped for adults as well as entirely capable of handling their children. the thought chills him, nauseates him, forcing him to discard his injured leg ( -- the old scars, wounds from Stratford on vivid display where wiring had been hastily repaired and heated metal used to cauterize the holes ) from the hip-joint down. his system had protested the loss, locked him out in stress while he swallowed down thirium.
eventually, it had collapsed entirely, dropping him into standby to recalibrate in a more stable environment. ]
Markus, [ he says, voice bleary and refractive as he rouses again, minutes later. hands moving to search for the new limb, for the hand-held repair tools in the depths of their stolen supplies. he drags it towards him and hunts for the battery-operated wiring kit. pulls out the two prongs and presses them together, soldering beads and sparks flying briefly: ] I need you.
[ your hands. your help.
he wishes north were here - he wishes he'd bothered to have her teach him how to retrofit a hip joint. she was always so much better at putting them back together. the side effect of knowing how to take someone apart, he supposed. ]
no subject
( it hurts, to look at the androids quietly awaiting their own return and likely destruction. what hurts more, is the thought of how markus would look at him, if he knew that simon would shut that door and turn his back on them without feeling guilt over the decision. ) knowing they were working on borrowed time, and every second lost to other goals was another second closer to their destruction. he knows markus's mind, when he reaches for the crook of his elbow and tugs on it - look away, it urges. it's then that he feels the guilt, for asking markus to let them go.
hours later, he doesn't speak of it, quietly tucked into a pool of shadow while his system rebooted and compensated for the new limb he was forced to scavenge from the depths of a well-insulated crate. compatible, even with his older, failing frame -- CX100, the improved-upon variation of his own model. companionable, equipped for adults as well as entirely capable of handling their children. the thought chills him, nauseates him, forcing him to discard his injured leg ( -- the old scars, wounds from Stratford on vivid display where wiring had been hastily repaired and heated metal used to cauterize the holes ) from the hip-joint down. his system had protested the loss, locked him out in stress while he swallowed down thirium.
eventually, it had collapsed entirely, dropping him into standby to recalibrate in a more stable environment. ]
Markus, [ he says, voice bleary and refractive as he rouses again, minutes later. hands moving to search for the new limb, for the hand-held repair tools in the depths of their stolen supplies. he drags it towards him and hunts for the battery-operated wiring kit. pulls out the two prongs and presses them together, soldering beads and sparks flying briefly: ] I need you.
[ your hands. your help.
he wishes north were here - he wishes he'd bothered to have her teach him how to retrofit a hip joint. she was always so much better at putting them back together. the side effect of knowing how to take someone apart, he supposed. ]