Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Beta read by ZealousPineapple and Pallimimus. Without their ceaseless effort, grammar corrections and writing recommendations, this would not be the delicious treat that it is!

In the fog of memory, that borderland of crimson waves and cerulean skies, scenes and sights flash behind a lifeless gaze. She expected hints of comrades lost and battles won, but that wasn’t truly her life, was it? That was her war, the one she’d survived by cutting and carving until all unnecessary waste was removed. 

No, her life had begun a mere 1,531 days, 22 hours, 13 minutes, and 46 seconds prior. With an offer, an overly-protective Butler, and the girl that would become their daughter. 

Day -1, Later afternoon

The meeting place was an empty corner office on the 20th floor of a building that was half shell-companies, half trust-fund dumping ground. Her target entered through the ground floor and rode the elevator up, unaware that she was watching him through the top panel. She dropped down into the elevator as he turned the corner, still on the phone with her real employer.

She stayed five steps behind, far quieter than most believed a combat chassis could manage, and slipped into the office when he stopped to use the restroom. His chair creaked, valiantly managing to sustain her weight as her internal sensors warned that the stabilizers in her knees were in danger of giving out. Costly, but worth the yelp the toady let out when he arrived 10 minutes late to the meeting. It was the little things that made life worth enduring.

“You- that's my seat!”

“My apologies Mr. Thompson. There was no other chair.” Technically accurate, and he was too scared to do anything save slap the latest contract on the desk in front of her. Another job from Stewart, this one a long-term bodyguarding assignment. Pros: room, board, and guaranteed regular maintenance of her implants plus any upgrades she deemed necessary. Cons: the actual pay was pitiful, the assignment was in a remote location and she was expected to live on-site.

If she had a choice, she might have refused. But there was none, only a countdown to critical system failure that was in the dangerously low double digits. She had two weeks at most until something important melted, and a severe shortage in favors owed to cover the cost of repairs. The downside of her unwillingness to work for outright-abusive employers. And while Stewart was slightly less of a bastard than the rest of Eastside’s elite crust, the man knew how to keep a dog on a leash. Every single one of his prior contracts had offered maintenance at the beginning, then only as needed if she was damaged in the line of duty.

Drip fed survival, one signature at a time.

“When do I start?”

Day 0, mid-morning

The trip was twice as long as necessary due to the driver’s paranoia, which suited her just fine.

Her body felt wrong, an improvement in only the most technical sense. The slapdash maintenance given the night prior had fixed only the most significant issues and ancillary functions she couldn’t repair on her own time. As it was she was functional enough to walk, talk, and stand there menacingly, but little else. Barely acceptable in civilian environments, and absolutely lethal on the battlefield.

Repairing her fine motor control, fixing the dulled response times and unacceptable error in precise movements, would take dozens of hours with specialized equipment. Anyone with a proper set-up could do the work in half a day, but FAC-certified technicians not on active service were rarer than hypercubes and Stewart wouldn’t cover the cost unless the damage was done in protection of her charge.

So the longer she could sit there, twitching her fingers and adjusting the programming to account for discrepancies, the better for all involved.

Sadly the journey eventually ended, the car driving away as soon as her bags were removed from the trunk. As far as prisons went, she’d seen worse: a squat pre-fab box of concrete and steel, isolated from any surrounding structures by at least a kilometer of overgrown vegetation trimmed back just enough to allow for a small backyard. There were no windows on the first floor, few on the second and third, all blocked by sky-blue drapes. One of the drapes on the third floor fluttered slightly as she approached the front door, the steel-reinforced wood opening right before her hand turned the knob.

A guarded expression looked back in the muted light of the foyer, lukewarm welcome contrasting with a lethal promise in the depths of piercing teal eyes. Even from a distance the orbs were dull compared to the various gemstones embedded in the jewelry that accented her outfit. Sensors scanned the dark blue gown wrapped in silver chains paired with a high collar to cover her neck, bare arms wrapped in gossamer sleeves and a face partially concealed by a carefully placed cap and strands of silk black hair. All tastefully embroidered and fitted to promise much yet reveal very little.

Every instinct screamed danger: this was the lioness’s den, her mere presence a threat to the yet-unseen cub. A death she would not see coming, for the woman before her was nothing, and thus everything. Vulnerability, desire, enticement, rejection: all available with but the slightest shift of posture and presentation so that she might relax even a little, let the mother bear take another step closer.

Just enough for her to sink the knife in.

Sable felt herself relax for just a moment: this was someone she could trust to handle herself, and thus others, when the bloodshed began. Never with her back, but perhaps side by side. The subtle shift in posture was not missed, a single brow raising slightly as she was ushered inside and the door shut behind. The interior walls were wood paneled: warm browns giving a sense of homeliness, understandable given the orders that the young miss was not allowed to leave the compound.

“You must be S-9, I received word of your coming. I am Jelena, Lady Elvira’s Butler and caretaker. I look forward to working with you.” Hints of age concealed with cosmetics: weathered skin, stress lines in brow and eyes, others she couldn’t make out through the faceplate. All secondary compared to those bottomless teal eyes that stared daggers into her faceplate before abruptly shifting to the right. Sable followed, head turning slightly as she spied a hint of white on the stairs to the second floor a moment later. No photographs had been provided, but the description of  “12, white hair, and shy” certainly matched the reality of Elvira Spencer.

The young miss let out a slight noise upon being noticed, head poking out from around the corner.

“Are… are you the bodyguard? The one Jelena mentioned?” Soft skin, high-pitched voice, worry bright in pale gray eyes. Sable received a very slight nod from Jelena out of the corner of her sight line. Permission to initiate contact.

“Indeed I am, young miss. You can call me Sable.” Her voice, muffled and digitized by her speaker implant, shocked the young girl for a moment.

“The bodyguard… will live with us too? That means she’s family, right…?” This time the words were directed not at her, but Jelena, who slowly nodded after several moments. The young miss offered a hint of what was surely an adorable smile, gave a little bow, and scampered back up the stairs.

Sable made a hasty retreat to her assigned quarters, fleeing the daggers thrown by the dozens as Jelena’s glare intensified, burning bright enough to melt her to slag.

Day 7, early morning

The latest maintenance routine finished well before dawn. Technically there was more work she could do, but it was better to wait until the rest of her newly-requested equipment was delivered and installed in her quarters. Trying to adjust the more complex filaments by hand had never gone well. Thankfully the downstairs was soundproof, so there was no risk of waking anyone else even if she worked into the wee hours of the morning, as was her usual method.

So she could either walk the grounds again, finding holes in the surveillance feeds and optimal places to install defensive turrets… or she could have breakfast with the young miss and her Butler.

No sense in avoiding the inevitable. Perhaps she should try cooking as a parlay of sorts. It's what her commander would recommend, may the bastard have died before drowning in the floodwaters.

The kitchen was empty in the pre-dawn light. She’d not spent much time in the residence, but it was clear that Jelena ran a tight ship. Everything had its proper place, from the cleaning and maintenance drones that handled most of the housework to the carefully organized drawers of cookware and utensils. Sharp knives and polished silverware.

Now, what to make … glimpses of prior meals indicated the young miss took a light breakfast and tended to pick at her food. Something simple but with sweeter addons, as Jelena tended towards blander fare. Perhaps porridge with chopped fruit and some protein on the side. It took some searching, enough for light to start creeping into the kitchen, but she managed to find an unopened bag of oats tucked into one corner of the pantry and a half-pack of bacon in the freezer.

Order of operations.

Measure out the mixture: 2 cups of dried oats and twice as much water, though she substituted a quarter portion of milk for richness. Set that to boil, then get the coffee going: dark roast, one-and-a-half scoops for each cup since Jelena took it black as night. Separate the bacon to individual slices and start frying in a pan next to the still-warming pot. Now she just needed to-

“Fruits in the lower left drawer of the fridge, cutting board in the cabinet to your right.” A momentary pause in her movements, resisting the urge to turn and look at the woman staring at her from what sounded like the kitchen table. How… no, the liquid was close to boiling. More important things.

“Thank you. Should the bacon be a bit crispy, or burned?” Strawberries and bananas: her chopping skills weren’t the most precise, but close enough. Hopefully Elvira wouldn’t be too angry with her.

“Half and half, she prefers both.” Sable obeyed, removing the liquid for a moment to prevent the milk from boiling over, then slowly mixing in the oats. She tried stirring but her limbs refused such precise movements, a bit splattering over as-

“Let me take care of that, you handle the rest.” Jelena was there, smoothly snatching the pot and spoon from Sable’s hands without actually touching her. She relented, dividing time between moving the bacon around to ensure consistency and carving the fruit into bite-sized pieces as Jelena stirred the oatmeal until it thickened. Between the two of them the meal came together in under a quarter hour, her usual metrics as far as cooking went.

Food was food, and she lacked the patience for anything more complicated.

The table was set as Elvira wandered in, face washed and eyes bright at the promise of breakfast. Jelena nursed a cup of steaming coffee as Sable watched, shoulders relaxing a fraction as Elvira dug in with gusto. First a few bites of the bland oatmeal, a subtle shake of her head, then a large portion of fruit was dumped in. A few more bites, but still dissatisfaction.

“Ah, right, let me get them for you.” Jelena stood and grabbed a can of various nuts from a nearby cabinet, Elvira adding a few to the mixture before letting out a pleased little hum. Apparently she needed some crunch in the mush. Jelena smiled, sipping at her coffee before snagging a few strips of burned bacon, eyes never leaving her charge. Then, in a move so synchronous it was almost disturbing, both turned and cocked an eyebrow at her. As if to say “aren’t you joining us?”

… might as well. What was there to lose? The seals released as her faceplace came loose, removed with one hand. A momentary pause, then Elvira turned to Jelena excitedly.

“You were right, she’s so pretty!”

Ah… she recovered and sat down, wooden chair groaning for a moment before the stabilizers in her legs adjusted for the weight. It only took her two tries to properly grip the spoon, fingers slightly trembling. As long as she ate slowly, it would be fine… probably. Didn’t help that the young-miss was all but gawking at her with wide, watchful eyes.

“El, it's rude to stare at strangers.” The truth, for she was indeed still an unknown in their home, stung just a little. Enough that she shook her head after another bite.

“It’s fine, I’m used to it. Most civilians never get to see an FAC combat unit up close. If you have any questions I can try to answer them.” She expected a rapid-fire barrage, but instead Elvira just blushed slightly, stammering a few times as she tried to hide her curiosity.

“Are, um…  are you a uh… a robot? Or a person? Or both?” Adorable.

“Depends on your definition and the particular unit. As of my last upgrade, I’m 27.4% artificial. Most major organs are still flesh and blood, but I have synthetic kidneys, stomach, and portions of my intestines. In addition I have enhanced muscle fibers throughout my body for strength and durability, and both my arms are fully cybernetic.” Widening of the eyes from Jelena, a mix of awe and slight confusion from Elvira. Right, probably too young to fully grasp the implications of all that. Or still half-asleep.

“I was born, same as you, but now I’m what's known as a Cyborg. Still human, but with a metal shell so I can keep you safe.” Good enough, given how her eyes brightened and she turned back to her meal. The look on Jelena’s face promised an interrogation at some point, likely to get a full understanding of her needs and capabilities, but not when the young miss was in earshot.

She spent the day on the roof, half-heartedly searching through various sight-lines while Elvira did her daily studies outside, Jelena never more than a few steps away. She declined the offer to join them for dinner, retreating to the basement and working on the programming for her hands. There had been too many errors while cutting up the fruit, she needed to further adjust things.

There was no room for mistakes, no-

“Do you plan on decorating?” Sable forced herself to turn slowly, staring at Jelena as she looked around the basement. Bare walls that lacked color or paneling, smooth concrete flooring with cobwebs in the corners, the majority of the floorspace empty. Part of it would be devoted to her maintenance equipment, likely the far corner not already occupied by a bed and dresser. Perhaps she’d install some exercise equipment in the remaining space, since it seemed like the young miss could use the activity…

Right, she’d been asked a question, and Jelena was staring at her intently. How to proceed?

“You move like someone with training.” When on the backfoot, don’t just defend and give ground. Come at them low and to the side, regain the momentum. Sable expected denial or obfuscation, but instead Jelena let out a gentle chuckle as she stared at her faceplate.

“When I first started working here, Elvira had a difficult time adjusting to my presence. Burdened by her Father’s fear and paranoia, she believed that going outside for even an instant would see her snatched up by faceless kidnappers. Constantly on the edge of panicking, terrified of her own shadow. Thus I learned to be deliberate in every gesture so as to avoid scaring her. Slow, steady, controlled at all times.”

“And the rest?” How disconcerting must it be, to speak to something with no face? To exchange words with a weapon wrapped in a humanoid shell? And yet Jelena’s eyes never faltered, clear and cold despite the hints of fear.

“As for the quiet, it's because she still doesn’t rest easily. Even with earplugs and a white noise machine she can hear a pin drop two floors down. That's why I put you in the basement.” Caring, contrite, hesitant. All indications of truth, except… Sable had worked with liars before, smiling braggarts and dead-eyed ghouls all capable of painting on a human expression.

Only time would truly tell.

Day 24, evening 

“I’m surprised you need to exercise.”

It was becoming a habit of Jelena’s to check on her once Elvira went to bed: they’d speak for a few minutes about her activities or things Sable had requested. Not every day, but enough. She ignored her for the moment, finishing her reps on the leg-press before returning it to standby mode and standing up. Teal roamed up and down her bare arms and legs, metal and flesh finally in sync as she toweled her chassis off.

“My muscles are enhanced with nanofiber composites, but it's more a multiplicative than an addon. If I don’t keep the base material in fighting fit, it risks diminishing returns.” That and her body needed to be able to endure the force her arms could put out, but Jelena didn’t need to know what.

“I see… Elvia requests your presence at breakfast tomorrow. After two weeks of waiting and researching, she has a long list of questions to ask you.” Cold, clear teal framed by shadow. A warning, or a threat?

“You can provide me with the list and I can answer, I promise to avoid any of the more gruesome details.” A hint of light in shadow, lips faintly tugging upward.

“Your arms no longer tremble, fingers no longer delay or disobey. What other reason do you have to avoid eating with us?” Few hairs remained on her neck, but they all stood on end. The most dangerous ones were always perceptive, holding information like knives until the chinks were exposed. With gentle voice and caring tone, her guard so easily lowered.

“You.” Another faint laugh, and a single step forward. Then another. Unidentifiable emotions swirling in teal and shadow, berift of warmth or amustment.

“Are you afraid of me, Sable?” She shouldn’t be: every sensor registered her as nothing more than a normal, middle aged woman. And yet her instincts were screaming. Another step: closer now, barely arms length away. Slow, deliberate. Measuring the distance.

Her hand was empty and yet Sable could feel the chill of the knife against her throat.

“I am.” Another step, almost touching, and then… warm. Arms gently wrapped around her, a source of comfort. Of support. When was the last time she had been hugged ?

“That you view one such as I as an object of fear…” The hold tightened even as Sable remained still, body warring between pushing and returning.

“Cruel. The world has wronged you. I am sorry to have made you worry, that my concern drove yours in turn.” Another moment and then she was released, Jelena taking several steps back and keeping her hands in full view. Treating Sable like a terrified animal caught in a trap…

Maybe she was.

Day 25, morning 

Dawn found her in the kitchen once more, bringing to bear all her mediocre cooking skills to craft a breakfast that tested the limits of her scraped-together culinary knowledge. Homemade pancakes, hash browns, fruit smoothies, and a small mountain of bacon and sausage links.

The prep work was most critical, as everything had to be ready before she even dared approach the stove. Each item had quick cook times, and to balance several at once would require all her finesse with spinning plates. So she spent half an hour shredding potatoes, chopping onions, and measuring out the long list of dry ingredients. Most of which went into the large bowl of pancake-batter-to-be, sifted to ensure proper blending. The fruit was chopped, added into the blender with enough liquids to ensure the mix was sweet and nutritious while going down smooth. The last on her list, as the noise would surely wake the young miss.

And then it was done, ready for… she’d stood on precipices before, but this felt different. Utterly inconsequential in the grand scheme of things, and yet… yet it mattered to her more than any pre-battle muster she’d ever done.

In. Out. Begin.

The stove was turned on, three of the four burners lit. Two skillets and a large frying pan. Half of the protein was laid out in the latter, the first of several timers turned. Next.

She mixed the potatoes, onion, flour and two eggs in a bowl, stirring carefully till they clumped nicely. She portioned out six roughly equivalent pieces, arranging them on the skillet when the oil began to sizzle. By now the protein was ready to turn, browned and in need of even heat. Next.

Hands carefully dug a well in the bowl of dry ingredients, metal stopping just short of touching the glass. Into the empty center she poured melted butter, egg, and milk, carefully stirring until the mixture was smooth as silk. Small puddles of batter were poured onto the free skillet. By now the hashbrowns needed turning. Next.

The first batch of protein was burned but not blackened, carefully put in a warmer to ensure it stayed hot. Flip the first batch of pancakes, take off half the hash browns and turn the beat down a but. Watch, move, flip, re-

Something latched onto her side: small, warm, sleepy, with a crop of messy white hair. Muffled words that sounded like “crispier” ensured she kept the second batch of hash browns on until they were close to black, removing them after the rest of the protein and pancakes had finished. Elvira clung to her side all the while, almost falling asleep at one point until Sable jostled her. Far too quickly everything was done, and all that was left was to set the… smoothies. She’d forgotten the!-

*whirrrrrrrrrrrr*

Jelena stood at the far end of the kitchen, adding a bit more pineapple juice to the already blended red-and-purple mix before pressing down on the start button. The drinks were done by the time the table was set, Elvira tugging her reinforced chair close enough the young miss could poke at her hand in between hoovering up bites of breakfast. Jelena said not a word, face serene even as her eyes smiled warm and wide.

That was the morning Sable discovered that phantom sensations could bring joy as well as agony, lessons learned with the help of a small, warm hand nestled in her own.

Chapter Text

Beta read by ZealousPineapple and Pallimimus. Without their ceaseless effort, grammar corrections and writing recommendations, this would not be the delicious treat that it is!

Every moment, every faint inhalation by systems somehow functional despite total core collapse, was an agony. Vivid, sharp. Slicing her mind to ribbons. The pain was so totalizing, an absolute beyond comprehension, it was almost happening to someone else… or perhaps She was someone else? The unconnected remnants of whatever had been Sable, a soul in the process of exiting the machine that had contained her for so long.  

Before the betrayal. Before her desperate destruction, a futile attempt to save the only person capable of stopping Her. And if Chief failed… Sable had to save the only person Elvira would have left after Jelena… 

For the chance that her daughter would one day smile again? Sable would happily return to her shell, bear endless agony. Exist as nothing save a silent, broken scream until the world itself turned to ash. 

Day 71, evening 

Salt. Great, heaping, tongue-curdling levels of salt. Muffled somewhat by the chocolate chips and cinnamon mixed into the otherwise perfectly-baked cookies. But still awful. Not that she could say anything, given how Elvira was looking at her with a wide, hopeful smile. Instead she gave a nod. 

“Pretty good for your first attempt.” A giggle of joy, then a matching bite before Sable could stop her. A moment, two… it may have been Elvira looking at her, but in that moment she wore Jelana’s face. A cold disappointment so complete, so encompassing, that it conjured wretchedness even in an orphan like her. Elvira held her gaze for several moments before turning away and leaving the room, headed towards the stairs to the second floor. Jelena looked at her back, took a bite of the same half-eaten cookie. 

“Awful.” 

Sable fled to the basement before she could see the frozen wastes of her gaze, threw herself into hours of maintenance she wouldn’t need for months at least. It mattered not, for pale gray lurked in the back of her mind. The weight of condemnation building till it stilled her hands halfway through a complex realignment of the pseudo-muscle fibers in her hand. If her tear ducts still functioned, she might have wept, insane as the thought was. 

This was just another job, it shouldn’t-

“Why did you lie?” She whirled around, one arm flopping uselessly and almost knocking over the laptop that contained her repair software. Elvira stood at the bottom of the stairs, scared but resolute. Eyes wide as she looked at the exposed wiring of Sable’s arm and chest. 

“I… I didn’t want you to feel disappointed.” Sable turned back towards her table slowly, deliberately. The sudden, jerky movements had made her hand’s alignment worse and she couldn’t leave the repairs for later. 

It also just so happened to make sure her back was to Elvira while they talked. 

“So you hurt me instead? Deceive me, break my trust?” The high-pitched, hesitant tone of a young girl. Yet the weight behind each word, the gravity of intent. A politician’s daughter indeed. 

“It's just cookies, Elvira. It doesn’t matter.” The steps towards her stopped. 

“... yes it does.” Quiet, then forceful. “Yes it Does. Jelena said it does. Jelena said the small things matter most, that what you do when ‘it doesn’t matter’ shows what you will do when it matters a whole lot.” There was nothing Sable could say to that, no words to justify or excuse, not when faced with an ironclad belief so whole-heartedly embraced. 

“...I’m sorry for lying, Elvira.”

“Jelena said you have to look someone in the eye when apologizing so they can tell you aren’t lying.” Well, she certainly couldn’t argue with that. Sable chuckled, detached her faceplate, and turned. On the surface Elvira was even colder than during dinner, but there were hints of red and wetness at the corners of her eyes. Shit. 

Not enough. She stood, dropped to one knee in front of her. A momentary pause, gray eyes searching her own, then a nod. A hand outstretched, halfway between. 

“My father hired you to protect me. I want a contract as well.” Hesitance, but also resolution. The little miss was deadly serious. And if that wasn’t enough, on the edge of the stairs leading up to the first floor, the shadows deepened. A hint of teal, glistening in the darkness. 

“Name your terms, Elvira Spencer.” 

“Never lie to me, no matter what.” 

“I am so sorry for lying to you, Elvira. It won’t happen again… anything else?” A momentary pause of bemusement that practically screamed ‘I didn’t think I’d get this far.’ But she recovered quickly enough, charging forward with renewed vigor. 

“I want you to teach me how to fight!” No sooner was the last word past her lips than Sable felt a surge of bloodlust aimed for her throat, there and gone in a single instant as shadows deepened and teal brightened. Message received. 

“I think Jelena would sell me for scrap if I agreed to that… but I do think you should learn some basic manner of self defense, in case the worst happens. I’ll talk with her about it.” Another flare of light and shadow, then a relenting as Jelena’s face briefly appeared at the top of the stairs. At this point Sable would consider that conversation a success if she left with all her limbs intact. 

“Ok… oh, do you know how to play games? Jelena’s awful at them!” For a moment the wave of terror receded, replaced with indignation as Jelena glared at her charge, the young miss still totally unaware. Sable forced her face to remain passive as she grabbed Elvira’s hand, halting her desperate digging of their shared grave. 

“Your father hired me to be your bodyguard, to take care of you. I’d be doing a bad job if I didn’t acquiesce to your requests, whether they be now or in the future.” A blindingly bright smile, gleaming white amongst the gloom when paired with a firm grip that shook her hand up and down. 

“Pleased to be doing business with you Sable… do you think you can sneak me back to my room without Jelena hearing?” Her brief flash of hope was immediately dashed as Jelena dropped the pretense, marching down the stairs with solid steps, her face a mask of barely restrained anger. Elvira went from calm and controlled to trembling in a moment, knowing it would be weeks before she was allowed to have dessert again. Sable signed, returning the faceplate and resigning herself to a long night of repair work with ringing ears. 

Time to take their lumps. 

Day 73, early morning

“Absolutely not.” Turns out the third time was Not the charm, for the venom in Jelena’s eyes only intensified. Giving it a day for tempers to cool had clearly failed. Sable turned the stove off and moved the last of the omelets to her own plate while Jelena set the table. 

“But what if something happens to-” 

“You were hired to Ensure her safety. To stop anyone from getting within 5 km of this compound, much less close enough to put their filthy hands on Elvira.” Left unsaid was the explicit threat that Sable’s body would be buried in a shallow grave next to whoever was fool enough to touch Jelena’s most precious. She would have tried another angle but Elvira entered the kitchen in search of breakfast and that killed the conversation stone dead. 

The difference in Elvira’s caretaker was like night and day, the Butler acting perfectly prim, polite and proper so long as the young miss was within earshot. Attentive without hovering, caring with enough space to avoid smothering, supportive when Elvira stumbled and enthused when she succeeded. The young miss was never allowed to slack but nor was she pushed beyond her measure, whether it be in studies or free time. 

Every word and act carefully considered to ensure Elvira’s development was as all encompassing as possible. And given how she hung on Jelena’s every word, it was certainly succeeding. 

It was only when her cub went to bed that the claws came out and the ferocious mother bear emerged. Jelena never raised her voice, never adopted an aggressive posture or spoke a word of threat. Yet Sable could see her death writ behind teal eyes burning with devotion. Perhaps unsurprising given they had been together for so long… or it was driven by the cruelty of Elvira’s situation. 

She’d been there for over two months and the name “David Spencer” or the title of “Father” hadn’t been mentioned once. 

She was shaken out of her thoughts by Elvira tugging on her sleeve so they could eat breakfast, her musings simmering beneath the surface as the day proceeded through the usual motions. Elvira studied in the morning with Jelena’s guidance, broke for lunch, and then studied again in the afternoon while Sable observed the security systems and walked the perimeter. She came back a few hours short of supper to find Elvira napping on the table outside, Jelena moving the books away before draping a quilt across her shoulders. 

Then a hand was extended towards her. 

Sable approached slowly, silently, and took it. Jelena drew her arm closer, traced letters in the metal of her hand. 

“Can you bring her inside without waking her?” 

There should have been no sensory feedback, just a register of pressure… and yet. 

Sable nodded, carefully bundling the quilt and girl in her grasp, Elvira’s head resting against the clothing-clad frame of her chassis. Carefully, so very carefully, she stepped inside. Jelena directed her up the stairs to the third floor, turned a handle and opened an unmarked door. All in silence so totalizing a pin-drop would ring loud as a sonic boom. 

The young miss’s room was a mess of bright colors and stuffed animals, the floor clear save for stacks of books tucked in every corner. Sable gently laid her upon the bed, Jelena smoothing out the blankets and a few errant strands of hair before softly stroking Elvira’s face. 

She knew then, past all obfuscations. Absolute truth, writ in eye and hand. Carved into every fiber of Jelena’s being. Love. Love for her child, stronger than any parent Sable had ever met. 

Day 95, late evening 

“-I hate this house. I Hate being stuck here. I HATE YOU!” The screams echoed from the open door of her basement abode, and by the time Sable emerged to survey the damage it was all over. Elvira had fled, though not far given she could faintly hear the sounds of sobbing from the floor above. Jelena remained seated at the kitchen table, head in her hands. 

“... would it help if I went to her, stayed with you, or went back to my room?” The silence stretched, a minute passing, two, three. Right as she was about to turn around-

“Here, for now. Could you make some coffee… please?” Not broken, not yet. But one more good shove would do it. Few things were more corrosive than the anger of a teenager convinced they were right, and unfortunately for Jelena Elvira did have a reason for her rage. She was, in every sense of the word, a prisoner of her father’s paranoia. Doubly unfortunately, Sable had more experience sewing back on severed toes then she did dealing with tantrums. 

But that wasn’t an excuse to flee, so into the minefield she went. 

“...If you need something stronger, I have a few things.” Hands fell slowly, eyes considering her for several moments. 

“No. Alcohol would only lead to me doing something very stupid. Where-”

“Beneath a section of concrete that weighs more than you, in a safe with the same kind of locks FAC uses on armories for anti-mania weapons.” A brow rose, questioning. “It's to keep you out, not her.” 

“Ppfft. Ha. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.” She laughed uncontrollably for several moments, manic and emptying, then stopped just as suddenly. Back beneath the competent Butler mask Sable knew so well.

“I don’t drink. Not anymore. I need pills that Stewart won’t pay for to process anything stronger than heavily watered down beer. Coffee is about as much as I can manage, and even that causes problems when I overindulge” Now it was Sable’s turn to raise a brow, then realize the gesture was useless unless she took her faceplate off. It snapped free as she considered her options. Normally Jelena wasn’t open with her, and pushing felt wrong, but… well, she was curious. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” A war for several moments, Jelena struggling with the emotions of it all. 

“...tell me why a former FAC operative such as yourself has to do her own maintenance while employed by someone like Stewart. Your upkeep is expensive but not That expensive, and the FAC owes him favors by the barrowfull.” Ah, a trade. Not unfamiliar to her, and as usual she had to pay up front. Fair enough. 

“On paper, I was discharged due to family complications, which was rather shocking considering I’m an orphan.” 

“Of course. What actually happened?” 

“Not much of a story. There was a commanding officer, some Jacknal backwash, who I failed to adequately protect while on patrol due to certain ‘proclivities’ he took with the trainees. His family was less than pleased and had me drummed out of the FAC. Technically an ‘honorable discharge’ to save face, but mine lacked the pension and maintenance guarantees. Stewart took advantage of my situation.” A rough grunt in answer, all venom and bitterness. 

“Of course, a schemer in all aspects… today is El’s birthday. Her thirteenth. She’s written to him every other day for the last year. Begging him to show up, to throw her a birthday party, to let her go to high school with the other kids her age.” Now it was her turn to breathe in sharply, eyes going towards the stairs while Jelena made them both a cup of coffee. 

“What did he say?” 

“Nothing.” A pause, a look, a pleased little hum at the anger Jelena found in Sable’s eyes. A cup raised mockingly. “He said nothing. No response, not even a card. Same as the last three years.” Calm. She had to be calm or ceramic shards and dark brown liquid would get everywhere, and Jelena didn’t need another mess to clean up tonight. 

“What can I do?” On the surface, a question in regards to Elvira’s health and well-being. But Jelena read deeper, knew what she was really asking. Even in her rage Sable wasn’t willing to murder her employer, but kidnapping was certainly a feasible option given she was in peak operating condition. 

“... Elvira will want someone to tuck her in, and I doubt she’ll want to see me right now. Don’t be surprised if she asks you for a story.” Jelena downed her cup of coffee, rose to make another. For a moment the moonlight pierced the clouds at just the right angle to filter through a nearby window, coloring the Butler in a silvery glow. And though it was no doubt a trick of the light, Sable swore she could see countless silver threads winding through the gloom. 

Or perhaps that was simply moonlight reflecting off the gems and bangles that decorated Jelena’s sides, framing her bare back at the perfect angle for Sable to relish the sight. Jelena kept herself fit thanks to being responsible for most of the housework that the mindless drones couldn’t manage, much less taking care of Elvira. It meant Sable could see the movement of muscles as she went about making a cup of coffee: every subtle shift and flexing, the ripples across broad contours and weathered skin, hints of stress and scars she couldn’t quite make out in the half-light. 

Then she turned back around, teal orbs pinning her in place. Jelena knew she was staring, had felt her wandering gaze, and allowed it. Welcomed it. 

One blink, two, and such truths were once more obscured by silky shadow. 

“Go, Sable. There’s some reading I’ve meant to catch up on for El’s lesson plans.” Sable took the dismissal for what it was, heading up the stairs towards Elvira’s room. It was only when outside the door that she could hear the sobbing, mixed with broken words and cries. She opened the door slowly, hinges creaking at the last moment. 

Elvira’s head rose from the bed as she entered the room, red-rimmed eyes dead in an instant. Emotion faded, tears halted like a faucet had been turned off. Dear Goddess, what had this child been thorough to be capable of such a thing at this age. 

“Tell Jelana I’m fine, Sable. My father is an important and busy man. I have no doubt he will come to see me next year.” …what could you do, what could you say, when told such a thing? Sable had seen more light and life in the eyes of orphans weeping over the corpse of their parents. A brave front. And yet she trembled, held together with duct tape and spit. 

So, Sable did what she felt was right. Walk forward, kneel down, and guide Elvira into the crook of her shoulder. A hold that wasn't, for she couldn't trust her limbs to avoid harming the young miss, yet it mattered not in Elvira's current state. Surprised, stunned, and then a half-hearted resistance of protests and pushes that collapsed within moments. Beneath that grief was an anger, bright and burning, and it was upon her that Elvira vented her pain. Broken sobs mixed with digging nails into any hold Elvira could make in Sable's remaining flesh. 

She bore it easily, happily, eyes dry and stance steady, till Elvira fell silent.

“...I’m sorry, Sable. Can you help me into bed?” Exhausted beyond measure, the poor thing. In moments she was under the blankets, carefully wrapped. Sable made to leave, but Elvira’s hold on her hand was iron. 

“Stay… please. At least until I fall asleep.” Sable nodded, standing there until Elvira’s grip grew limp, breathing shallow and stable. Warm, light, gentle. She could feel the blood racing in arms lost long ago, phantom memory of others. Friends, siblings, comrades. She didn’t regret the choice, the trade of limbs for lives, and yet…

She shut the door, silently returning to the first floor. Jelena was splayed out on the couch, a pillow beneath her head but no other coverings. Why would she… exhaustion or self-punishment, it didn’t matter. She could fix it, so she would. It was easy to grab the sheets and quilt from her own bed, drape them across Jelena's shivering form. 

She wouldn’t be sleeping anyway. 

A long night of programming followed, endless iterations to adjust the minute control of her hands and arms down to the most exacting response. She couldn’t, wouldn’t trust herself to hold another until mind and metal were perfectly aligned. Dawn broke as she returned to prior alignment, another avenue ending in ruin. Her tools, her limbs, were things of slaughter. Forging swords into plowshares could not be done in a day… or 24, apparently.  

Exhausted, she turned towards the shower in hopes of some clarity before breakfast. Pausing only when her eyes noted the neat pile of fabric on her bed. Sheets and quilt both.

Chapter Text

Beta read by ZealousPineapple and Pallimimus. Without their ceaseless support, encouragement, grammar corrections and writing recommendations, this may never have gotten out at all! Thank you both so very, very much!

It felt like she was floating, carried on waves of sand and sky, pushed and pulled to horizons unknown. Blurs and whispers, near yet indistinct as the agony grew worse. All muffled by the sound of twisting metal and bloody screams.

Day 137, evening 

“Congratulations, contestants! After completing four intermediate tracks, the final positions are… Elvira in First Place, Sable in third,” said cyborg groaning for the fifth time that hour, head sinking back into the couch as Elvira cheered and Jelena clapped politely from the nearby recliner of the first floor living room. A room which sported some new additions, like a shiny new games console Elvira had not-so-subtly been eying whenever ads popped up on screen during her allotted internet browsing time.

A month of arguing, pleading, begging, and puppy-dog eyes from both her and her erstwhile cyborg co-conspirator eventually wore down even Jelena’s resolve, though not without conditions. Elvira had to complete all her lessons and homework for the day, she could only play at night after dinner, and every single game had to be pre-approved. In addition, Jelena was un-surprisingly knowledgeable about how to look up the content of the games Elvira requested, banning most outright but offering a multitude of “acceptable compromises” in recompense.

Some of the “let’s-plays” they had reviewed together while going through the list were interesting enough that Sable put them on in the background of her less-active workouts. The sights and visuals meant little to her, but the streamer’s voices were soothing enough to pass the time to.

It had been easy enough to move the coffee table and hook up the newly ordered game station to the under-utilized widescreen television in the living room. Child's play, one might say. The same could charitably describe what had followed, though Sable was more inclined to honesty.

It had been a thrashing.

And not even one that she could blame on her hands: the controller sensitivity was low enough and her repairs far enough along that every flick of her wrist or push of a button happened exactly how she wanted.

Yet it mattered naught against the onslaught of Elvira’s mastery.

At first, Sable had chalked it up to her awfulness with racing games in general. Compared to what felt like directing a potato with wheels, Elvira effortlessly drove circles around her. The teenager’s drifts were a thing of beauty, cars effortlessly managing turns and corners that had Sable spinning out or colliding with the computer players.

So they’d moved onto fighting games. Her last experience with such games had been with arms of flesh, but whatever passed for robotic muscle-memory still knew the basics. Yet no matter how carefully she attacked or how flawless her sequence, it always ended with Elvira rocketing her off the edge of the stage with more than one life remaining.

It was only when they moved onto family-friendly shooting-style games that Sable finally glimpsed the true reason. Elvira’s dynamic vision and hand-eye coordination was… to call it impressive would be an insult. Sable knew FAC snipers who would sell what was left of their bodies for half the response time and accuracy that a 13-year old girl was using to handedly win a cartoony-style archery competition.

The sting of losing would have been bad enough, but in her arrogance Sable had made some… potentially unwise promises. One might even call them wagers.

“Double dessert. Double dessert for next month!” The cheer that rang out as Elvira snuggled into the couch, grinning widely and rolling around in the pillows. She caught Jelena’s eye for a moment, finding a mix of frustration and amusement, and did her best to mimic Elvira’s patented “pleading face”.

The resulting failure was colossal enough even her old CO would have winced. Not a trace of mercy to find in orbs of frozen teal.

“Elvira.” A voice like the smack of a schoolmistress’s book against a desk. Two spines rigid, two misbehaving students at attention. “You will get half of Sable’s share, anything more would be far too much sugar before bed. If I am feeling generous, I may even give her back the other half.”

A fair, reasonable compromise. Sable could tell because no one was happy with the arrangement. Still, Elvira’s mood did improve somewhat after an extra large bowl of ice cream and thrashing Sable in a few more games. Yet soon the clock eased towards bedtime and Elvira began to show her usual signs of exhaustion.

First came the yawns, then the rapid blinking of eyelids, and when her head hit the pillows shortly after 11 it was game over.

Out like a light.

No words need be said, no glances shared. Sable carefully, ever so carefully, slid her arms under Elvira’s gently dozing form as Jelena checked the locks and headed up the stairs. By the time she carried their charge to her room Jelena was waiting in her usual spot beside the bed. Elvira stirred briefly as she was deposited, but faded back to sleep as Jelena began her lullaby, gentle hands moving sheets and blankets to slip Elvira under the covers without waking her.

Permission had been granted some time ago, but to assist was… not something she was ready for quite yet. Instead she waited at the threshold, eyes never leaving the scene. Committing every detail to memory with a need she would only understand in hindsight.

The desperate flailings of a drowning woman with land on the edge of the horizon.

Day 164, late evening 

“5.98 newtons.” Sable obeyed, fingers gently squeezing the rubber-clad ball for several moments as Jelena observed the nearby computer screen. Her latest, and hopefully last, attempt. It had been exhausting enough to design all the various stress tests and measurements, much less having to re-do them after repeated failures.

Thankfully Jelena had agreed to proctor, if only so Sable didn’t have to stare at two screens at once.

“5.99… 10 of 10, all within the one one-hundredth tolerance. Whether excessive or exact, you do indeed have total control of your facilities.” Warmth in the tone, and not without reason. Elvira had been unsubtly trying to hold her hand whenever possible for almost a week, and only now could Sable safely do so.

Without fear of repeating the all too-vivid nightmares. Crushing that small, defenseless grip in bloodsoaked hands.

She stayed still as Jelena unhooked several of the cables from her side. A small fraction of the total, but enough to regain freedom of movement so she might handle the rest. It still felt… wrong, to let someone else handle the vulnerable bits of her body. But the weeks of testing had made some progress in getting over herself. Dr. Carter would call it a breakthrough, even cheer at the strides one of her “difficult cases” had made.

And if that didn’t deserve breaking out the good stuff, nothing did. Her hand instinctively fumbled for the faceplate before remembering she hadn’t worn it in weeks. There was no need to, not when it was just the three of them.

“Jelena, could you stand by the stairwell?” The butler compiled after a moment, eyes wary as Sable wandered to the unoccupied far corner and grabbed a hidden section of steel wire. Two tugs later the slab lifted, her free hand grabbing the buried locker and dragging it up. She entered the combination, body obscuring any potential sightline until the door opened and she confirmed nothing had been touched.

“Whiskey, bourbon or vodka, if it pleases you?” Jelena stared for a moment and then smirked, shaking her head as Sable grabbed one faintly dusty glass and the half-full bottle of 30-year Dismore bourbon.

“Enjoy it, Sable. You earned it.” As polite a non-refusal as she’d ever heard. Fair enough. The amber liquid filled the glass halfway before she stopped, returning bottle to locker and locker to its hole. The first sip kicked like a mule after so long without a drop of alcohol, but she pushed through and was rewarded with the smooth aftertaste that had heralded far too many foolish decisions.

Speaking of.

“You never answered my question.”

“Oh?”

“About why you can’t drink.” The butler still stood behind high walls, witnessing much and offering little in return. Yet Sable had learned in the months of working together: Jelana was less a hoarder of secrets. To get anything in return, she expected payment up front. Asking now, long after the initial deposit, didn’t guarantee an answer despite the interest accrued. She wouldn’t push… but it had to be lonely in a kingdom of one.

“Well remembered… The simple answer is Mania. Without hypercubes, repeated exposure can render the damage irreversible. I was lucky: most of my organs are functional enough for the rigors of daily life, but things like alcohol put too much stress on my liver.” A bitter brew of clinical tone and dead eyes, anger aimed toward all and none. Sable cocked her head at the answer.

“EMES, Extended Mania Exposure Syndrome?” A nod, so quick she might have missed it. “Affects veterans by the dozens. Difficult to treat, but not impossible... In more serious cases you need handfuls of pills just to function. Cases like yours?” Accusations bloomed in gleaming teal, sharped to lethal points in an instant. Sable held her hands up. “Just a guess based on prior conversations. I’m kept on the same leash of expensive maintenance, afterall.”

“... I get monthly injections to compensate. There are procedures to repair or wholesale replace the affected organs, but they’re far too expensive for anyone save Eastside’s upper crust or high-ranking FAC officers. Stewart has promised to pay for them if I successfully shepherd Elvira into adulthood and she meets his… qualifications. ” Rage, doubt, despair, and hope, there and gone in between blinks.

“Well, if you’re ever interested in making a foolish decision I have a few FAC contacts that can probably get those liver pills you need on the cheap. Plenty of veterans don't drink anymore but maintain prescriptions for those of us who do.” A quirk of the eyebrow, the faintest hint of a grin. Amusement in dark pools of bluish-green.

“Are you offering to buy me a drink, Ms. Sable?” The words alone were bad enough, but combined with the hint of heat and Sable was blushing worse than her first time at a queer bar. Sensing weakness Jelena went right for her throat, walking close enough she could smell the faint hint of poppy flowers in the air.

“In another time, another life, I might have even said yes. If you ever mustered up the courage to ask.” Dangerous, so very dangerous. Sable would, and had, done some Very foolish things to get the attention of women half as enticing as Jelena was at that moment. One more faint hint of a smile, eyes shining with inscrutable emotions, and then the butler departed.

Leaving Sable to sip her bourbon in silence.

Day 178, early morning

It happened during the morning meal prep.

She had risen at the usual time, putting on the familiar pot of coffee before grabbing ingredients. Eggs and grains from their shelves in the pantry, meat from the lower shelf, fruit from the bottom left drawer. Jelena’s usual cup of coffee was put by her seat on the kitchen table, enough cream added to make it a dark brown instead of black. She would come in and begin setting the table while Sable cooked breakfast, the pair idly discussing the day's lesson plan and the night’s distraction.

A familiar sequence between the two of them, one of the many daily rituals of ho-

Hom-

Home. Her home.

She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Her arms ached. Stomach torn open. She could hear it though, clear as day.

The Red Moon was rising. Calling to her, after so long.

Gleaming white tiles topped with mangled steel and remnants of food. Granite countertops ripped apart like paper, chunks turned to powder as warning claxons screamed in unhearing ears. The frilly pink apron that Elvira had made for her in one of Jelena’s classes was torn asunder along with most of her clothing. The last shreds of her sanity stopped the screaming in her throat before it could wake the young miss from her slumber.

Not that it mattered. Sable wasn’t there anymore.

Exploding without and within, pierced by shrapnel and burning Mania. They had dared to hold when the waters rose before the time Paradeisos promised, and thus paid the price of arrogance. Maddened, screaming mortals torn apart by the unending horde. Fallen friends turned to foe in an instant, bodies desecrated by divine retribution for daring to step into evil’s domain.

One spike in the stomach, meant for her throat. Diverted by a hunk of meat half-gone past the elbow, belonging to the corpse she was still dragging through the red. Desperate violence done with guns scavenged from her fallen comrades. Bullets. Steel and blood and screaming. To stop, to stumble, was to die. Not human but a thing, running, Running, but nowhere was far enough to escape the Voices in her-

The hand on her face was warm. Dry for a moment, then soaked in her sweat. Not comforting, but directing. She looked and saw-

Teal. Bright, beautiful, perfect teal. It became all there was, all there ever would be.

Sleep.

She obeyed.

~ ~ ~ 

She woke, and hell followed. A brief moment of dull pain in her entire body, swiftly numbed by the screaming agony of her arms and torso. Not the muted system feedback of damage to false limbs, but the blood and sharpened steel of that night. When the medics had followed protocol, and removed the source of contamination before it could spread to the rest of her.

Slowly, very slowly, she opened her eyes. Lack of light filtering through the curtains put it late-evening, colors on the ceiling meant this was the living room. She could feel the familiar leather couch, and a weight on-

Her little lady let out a very undignified snort, head rolling away from the small pile of drool she left on Sable’s chest. Well, she wouldn’t be getting up anytime soon.

Jelena approached from the corner of her vision, shrouded in shadow and made of stern gazes. One hand held a glass of water with a bendy straw, letting her drink slowly but greedily. Lips still parched, but her throat no longer felt like dry sandpaper.

Now refreshed, she turned her head slightly, just enough to see Jelena’s face. No pity, for which she was eternally thankful, but the ice was little better. Like staring at a statue, carved in the likeness of the butler.

“How bad?” Whisper quiet, to avoid waking the young miss. Teal eyes stared down at her, swirling pools so deep no emotion could be discerned. Eventually the rapids settled, her decision made. Sable’s future balanced on the knife’s edge.

“Elvira believes you suffered a malfunction, hence why the damage was mostly contained to where you fell.” The demand was unspoken, but Sable heard it all the same.

“I… does Stewart share any official news on Mania-related events with you?” Hesitation, stretching seconds to minutes. Eventually, a shake of her head. Hiding something?

“No, but a city-wide Blue Rain event began an hour after you collapsed.” Warier now, worried that she was bringing contamination or Mania into the house. Near Elvira.

“Good. Is it still going?” Another nod, then worry as Sable began to move her hand towards Elvira. “Move her, please. I… I need to be sure.”

It took them almost 5 minutes to pry her sleeping form off of Sable, Jelena wrapping her in blankets on the couch while Sable slowly walked towards the back door. Every step was agony, but she couldn’t stop. She needed to know.

The rain felt cool on her skin. Soothing. Not the slightest hint of agony or rejection.

Jelena stared at her from the kitchen’s open door, disappearing briefly to get a towel and ushering her back inside after a moment. For the first time in maybe her entire life Sable was fussed over by a mother bear, the towel carefully drying her hair as another was deposited in her hands.

“It's around the time, near enough I suppose… seven years ago I was part of the FAC’s broken frontline. DisSea rose earlier than Paradeisos calculated, several days ahead of schedule. We weren’t prepared.” A wince broke the butler’s stony mask. Anyone who’d lived in DisCity long enough knew the rest of that story.

“So not a mania incident but an echo of one, resonance triggered by similar circumstances. Why didn’t you warn me?” The ice was returning, but those eyes were not yet frozen over. Awaiting the answer.

“Because this has never happened before. I have no idea why… no. I do know.” Sable took a breath. 

Another. One mo-

“Home.” 

A world in a word.

“Home.” 

An echo to match. 

Sable could almost taste the… understanding. Not pity, not compassion, but acknowledgement. Comparing scars. 

Her eyes slowly met Jelena’s, and found an offering. If she so desired, this once, the walls would come down. For a thing to be acknowledged and then buried, unless Sable was ever fool enough to bring light to a graveyard. 

“The closest I ever tasted was with my unit - my fellow soldiers and CO. To a one they died that day, some to keep me alive. Others I put down myself, to spare them worse. A few… a few I had to put down again, after something wearing their face got back up.” No hint, no echo of the morning's destruction. Just pain and exhaustion. 

Chest a void, arms twin lances of fire. A stone lacked blood like Sable lacked tears, but the sweat pooling in her eyes was close enough. 

She wanted a hug. To be held.

“...You are not the only one who lives thanks to the sacrifices of others.” A pause, a nod more to herself, and then Jelena’s arms rose in a mimic of months prior. This time the butler remained where she was, choice in Sable’s hands alone.

Her legs moved forward slowly, then all at once when past the threshold. Jelena followed her to the ground as she shook and shuddered, silently wailing into the fabric of Jelena’s dress.   

“Welcome home, Sable.” 

A kiss was pressed to the crown of her head, burning like a brand in the dark.

Chapter Text

Beta read by ZealousPineapple and Pallimimus. Without their ceaseless support, encouragement, grammar corrections and writing recommendations this would be half as good at best! Thank you both so very, very much!

Cold steel and jagged iron slicing her to ribbons in those brief, bright moments of agony between long periods of gray. Interspersed with the sounds of grinding metal and malfunctioning machines, near and far.

Clarity was fading. The pain was awful but the nothing was worse. She needed-

Color. Color in the monochrome. Blue, deep and true, framed by shining violence. The smell of blood, thick and cloying, restrained behind false smiles and bright red facades.

She knew not the person but the Beast that stalked her shadow. Shared it in her own. And bereft of anything save that truth, acted on the only remaining instinct.

Bite.

A crash. A laugh, piercing and amused. Another voice, mechanical and familiar. The latter spoke first.

“Another broken toy to play with?”

“Perhaps, but if I’m right, it will serve better as a gift for her. Afterall, she did lose the last one.”

A click, a pulse, and nothing came for her again.

Day 202, late afternoon 

Sable came to slowly, eyes remaining shut for several moments as she considered the situation. Her last memory was sitting on a couch in the living room, Elvira beside her. Both of them were surrounded by textbooks thick enough to serve as weapons in a pinch.

The young miss was reading through some history or another that Jelena had assigned her, one of the few subjects she struggled with. Understandably so, given the sheer volume of pro-DisCity propagandistic bullshit dumped into the text. Reading it was an awful slog, so she’d volunteered to scan through and provide a summary of the relevant details while Elvira did her chemistry assignment.

Based on the slightly-warm plush leather currently cradling her back, she was still sitting on the couch. She must have fallen asleep, though that didn’t explain the weight-

Oh.

Her eyes opened, confirming what her rest-addled brain had eventually realized. Elvira was indeed using her legs as a pillow, hair askew and drooling onto Sable’s pants as she wandered the land of dreams. Curled up into a little ball, face serene and without the usual faint worry lines. So peaceful. Safe and happy and perfect.

She only realized her hand was ruffling the girl’s hair after the third pass, and there was no force in the universe that could have made her stop. Some distant part of her knew why, a weak thing buried beneath locks and ever-decreasing layers of reinforced metal. Some day she would be forced to face that truth. But not yet. For now the only thing that mattered was making sure Elvira’s nap remained uninterrupted, no matter what gods or monsters dared to-

*snort*

Speak of the devil and all. Jelena had indeed wandered in from the kitchen, pausing at the threshold to stare at them, one hand covering her mouth to hold back… something. Given the look on her face it could either have been amusement, disbelief, or a hastily tampered down impulse to coo at the adorableness of it all, unlikely as the latter was. Slowly she approached, the silence of her steps a source of comfort after six months together, pausing just out of arms reach. Her mouth moved slowly, silently mouthing words.

“Do you need me to save you?”

For a moment Sable considered answering seriously despite the gleam in the butler’s eye, but eventually she decided to play along.

“No, I’ll just remain trapped here forever.”

Another snort, eyes going soft as Elvira mumbled something incoherent and nuzzled further into Sable’s frame. For a while they just existed in comfortable silence, each staring at their dau- The Young Miss, though as the clock inched towards five Sable did in fact need to get started on dinner. And judging by the slight smirk Jelena was giving her, help would come at a price.

“Hah, fine. Please.”

The smirk sharpened, Jelena’s head cocking to one side as she stared down at Sable, a hint of heat and hunger in those piercing teal eyes.

“No.”

Ah, so she wanted her to beg. Welp, nothing for it then. Going down that road, even in jest, was not a path she was willing to pave today. Her hand moved from head to shoulder, but before she could so much as jostle Elvira she was stopped by Jelena. The butler hooked one one hand around Elvira’s shoulder, the other under her legs, and hoisted her up with a faint grunt of effort.

Impressive, even given how slight Elvira was for a girl her age. A good reminder that Jelena kept herself in shape, as if Sable needed another excuse to “observe” her form.

Then Elvira dropped a bomb on her peaceful world by sleepily muttering, “Dad, five more minutes”, her head rolling slightly to find a comfortable spot on Jelena’s shoulder. The world stopped along with their breathing, both adults still as statues while their teenager continued to peacefully doze. The only thought that made it through the blind panic of Sable’s brain was-

“Which of us was that meant for? She may have fallen asleep on my lap, but was she dreaming of her father? Or-”

“Elvira, sweetie, it's time to wake up. You need to finish today’s lessons and wash up before dinner.” The butler’s mask was flawless, as if the last minute was from a totally separate reality.

“Mmmm. Ok, Jelena. I’m awake.” Elvira’s head rose slowly, offering Sable a sleepy grin before she was slowly lowered to the ground, legs unsteady for a moment as she shook off the last dregs of her nap. Jelena took a moment to flash her a look of pure malice, eyes wide and overflowing with warning. Driven home by three whispered words.

“She said nothing.”

Sable nodded and rose, all but fleeing into the kitchen in search of Anything to occupy her hands. Handling prep for the roast would work at first but she needed something to fill the cook time in the oven. Thankfully there was a very full kitchen and lots of tupperware to fill with pre-chopped vegetables or snacks for the coming days.

It was fine. She absolutely wasn’t thinking about any of this. Wasn’t panicking about an acceleration far beyond her comfort level or the idea of nope nope nope she needed to focus on not ruining the knife’s edge on her fingers and-

“Sable.” She whirled, chest heaving, to find Jelena staring at her. As perfectly put together as the day they had met, walls up for all that her eyes were concerned.

“After I put Elvira to bed, I will want a drink. I expect two glasses paired with a bottle of something that burns and mixes well with fruit juice.” Then she just-

Turned around and left. No explanation, no nothing. Just…

Right. She was an adult with a job to do, and Jelena was expecting her to act the same. Professional front for the Young Miss, personal issues to the background. She could handle that, surely?... Right? The ensuing half-hour the roast spent in the oven provided the answer: yes, barely. As long as there was something to occupy her hands, a temporary problem during dinner solved by her knee maintaining a consistent beat beneath the table.

Elvira was her usual happy self at the dinner table, complaining about the day’s assignments and asking them both a bevy of follow-up questions regarding how her lessons connected to modern-day Dis-City. Jelena acted flawlessly, fielding every query that Sable couldn’t or didn’t want to discuss, subtly keeping the topics of conversation within Stewart’s “politically acceptable” bounds. Then came dessert, games, and bedtime.

As soon as Elvira went up the stairs Sable headed downward, concrete slab nearly flung across the floor and fingers a blur as she worked to… shit, three hours passed and she hadn’t even considered what fucking bottle to grab. Even Commander Benthal would smack his forehead at such an obvious fumble, and the rest of the unit would tease her for weeks until finally-

*smack*

There was no time for memory lane. She needed to grab… Vodka was something strong that mixed well with fruit juice, right? Jensen certainly drank enough Bloody Mary’s to imply as much, though was a Tomato a fruit or a-

*wham* 

The second self-inflicted blow proved enough. Body, not head. Bottle, glasses, put everything back and get the fuck in the kitchen. Turns out she didn’t have to worry, or rush, since it took Jelena another 15 minutes to make it back down. During which Sable probably wore a subtle rut into the floor with how fast her knee was tapping.

Irrelevant, compared to the look on the butler’s face. To the ignorant she was the very picture of control, but in the way of a mask held together with duct-tape beneath the surface. One stiff breeze away from a piece peeling off, the rest soon following as destruction rippled out from the epicenter. It was as exquisite as it was concerning, for normal women couldn’t achieve that level of self-control. To be exceptional in one area meant loss or weakness in another: tragic circumstances, harsh upbringing, flawed morals.

And tonight she might get a glimpse.

Jelena acknowledged her spread with a nod, grabbing a tall bottle of pomegranate juice from the fridge before sitting opposite her. One hand came up, and in a motion mimicking Sable’s removal of her faceplate Jelena… entered? Appeared? Revealed herself?

It was the same body, the same person, but… Sable couldn’t say she had ever seen Jelena smile before. Not like this. More ecstatic than a drug addict who’d just gotten their fix even as they despised the lack of control, the weakness.

…No. Not right.

Wide and welcoming, unrestrained joy like a double-edged blade. Bare and already dug deep into her own flesh, coated crimson. There not to hurt, but to keep the wound sealed less her life’s essence spill out onto the carpet.

Not quite.

A woman who’d gotten everything she wanted and hated every moment of it.

Almost… Close enough to understand what she was sitting across from, at least. Then it was gone, and the ever-dependable butler sat across from her once more. Back in the box, humanity caged by choice instead of cybernetics. What a pair they made.

“Glass.”

Sable slid one over silently, watched as Jelena took out a small medicine container, unmarked and sealed by what looked to be a 3D-printed cap with a syringe-like protrusion. She twisted, turned it upside down, and watched unblinking as a measure of liquid went into the cup, not a single drop spilled. The flow was cut-off by the cap, meaning it doubled as a measuring device.

Then one finger went into the cup.

“First knuckle.”

Sable obeyed, stopping the flow of Vodka just short to be safe, and while Jelena’s face near-imperceptibly twitched she said nothing, adding the pomegranate juice till the glass was three-quarters full and slamming the whole drink back in one go. College-style too, neck angled so she didn't even have to swallow, the alcohol rushing down so fast it probably didn’t even burn.

“Again. Don’t skimp.”

The process repeated, and this time she gestured for Sable to make her own, eyebrow raising when the cyborg poured about a shot's worth into her own glass and downed it. Tolerably awful, as all liquor was after such a long time without, but the pain certainly helped clear her mind for the moment.

“Is this one of those talks where I listen, or where you prod me to the right answer?”

“Yes.” A snort from her, another in answer, and then Jelena was reaching across to steal her glass. Sable let her, hand moving in a sideways motion when the vodka rose to half-way. A sip after Jelena handed the finished drink back told her the pomegranates took off the worst of the sting, replacing burn with bitter. 

“Before you worry, this is the liquid form of the pills we discussed. Three drinks is the limit. And this is the fourth time she’s called me ‘Dad’ in the last two years. Always when half-asleep. At first I thought she was dreaming of Stewart, but that was ruined two months ago when she muttered ‘Father, be nicer to Dad’ one morning.”

“Oh.” Someone with a hint of eloquence could have thought of something better, but in her defense what the fuck were you supposed to say to that.

“I don’t think she’s made the association consciously. Probably can’t, given how desperately she wishes Stewart would act like a real father. That and I’m… well…”

“Disciplined? Stern? A self-sacrificing provider who is Always there for her?” All qualities Sable had been told father-figures should exemplify, yet the words landed like lashes across Jelena’s back. She leaned forward, head burying in her hands, response muffled by flesh and fabric.

“A woman… I hop-thought she’d call me…” Ah, that was the crux of it, written in the silence between her words like stars in the sky. Elvira did indeed consider Jelena her parent, just not in the role the woman desired. Though that still didn’t explain the earlier agony, unless she’d…

Oh. Nope. That train of thought was firmly going in the ‘ignore under pain of death.’ part of her brain. Jelena’s past was no longer under consideration, ever.

“If this was a normal job I’d be recommending you quit to avoid getting entangled, but we no longer have that luxury. For the next few years at least this house, that girl, is our world. Since we’re already emotionally compromised, why not just… lean into it?” That got Jelena’s attention, head shifting so she could look at Sable while still nestled in her own arms.

“How so?”

“Elvira is our daughter.” A simple truth, yet it rang loud in the room, Jelena tensing for a moment before every muscle melted. Yet her eyes never left Sable’s own.

“Say it again.”

“Elvira is our daughter.” A nod, a demand to continue. “We don’t shy from that truth in private, and with her… well, we slowly start acting like it. Be more affectionate, go above and beyond. See how she reacts, and go from there.”

“Family in her heart, if not in her head. And when she gets older?”

“So long as Stewart is Speaker, she will always need someone by her side. Bodyguard, secretary, the title is meaningless so long as we are There.” Jelena said nothing, merely stood and walked behind her, headed towards the fridge for-

A hand in her hair, cold steel against the nape of her neck.

“How do I know?” Jelena’s voice was soft, light. Merciful, in a sense, because it told Sable that she would make it quick. Painless. Gentle, almost, like falling asleep.

Sable had not been so afraid in a Very long time. Logically there was no way for Jelena to break through the layers of armor around her neck with what felt like a butter knife, much less sever her reinforced spine. Yet somehow she knew.

This was the cliff’s edge.

“How do I know that you aren’t here to take her from me?”

“... Because if I was going to take her away, I’d bring you too. She needs you and… and I want you.” Between two blinks the grip relented, and then Jelena was in front of her. Death’s own herald clad in black, framed by silver and teal. Here to steal Sable’s soul away, to paradise or perdition she cared not.

Her gaze remained fixed on Jelena even as she felt it. The knife grazed against her cheek, jaw, neck. So little effort, to end her life.

“Would you kill for her?”

“As many as it takes.”

“Would you die for her?”

“Without hesitation or regret.”

“… would you live for her?”

“For as long as you’ll both have me.” It felt like prayer, a holy vow that would doom her to eternal damnation if ever broken. She meant every word and Jelena could tell, anger flaring in lifeless teal eyes. Sharp, sudden, desperate to spill blood despite it all.

Then she blinked once, twice, and looked away. The knife vanished.

“Damn you, Sable.” The moment ended, killing intent fading as Jelena downed her drink in one swift motion, collected her things, and headed upstairs.

Sable would like to say she sat at the table until the sun came up, drafting her resignation and planning how to extricate Elvira without a bloodbath. It would have been the smart, safe, sane decision. But instead she locked the basement door and took her pleasure to the memory of those lifeless teal eyes, the echo lingering even as sleep took her.

Day 223, afternoon

For the fifth time in as many days, Sable got a notification of “unexpected movement” from the automated security system that looked over every inch of the house’s exterior and surrounding landscape. And as she expected, she pulled up the corresponding video feed and was treated to several small animals caught in the grips of mating season. The company rep she’d contacted for an explanation claimed “erratic movements and heightened body temperatures outside of expected parameters” triggered the response.

All because the company making the bloody software was run by a conservative weirdo and the programmer’s hands were tied. Possibly a bullshit excuse to avoid accountability, but considering the things said owner proudly posted to social media, it was certainly within the realm of possibility. Another message popped up on her tablet as she shut down the surveillance feed, this one far more welcome.

“Sable, could you bring me a snack?” A message from Elvira, accompanied by several emojis of nuts and one of a banana. Then another. 

“Without telling Jelena.”

Ah, she’d definitely asked and been refused, so it was probably her… third snack of the day, if Sable had to guess. Jelena was indulgent to a point, but the young- their daughter had a bad habit of using extra treats as a motivator to power through her schooling. Far from the worst habit, but one Jelena was trying to break her of all the same. One of the few areas they sharply disagreed about: Elvira was already thin, so any excuse to get her to eat was to be celebrated, especially at her age. Puberty-induced growth-spurts needed fuel, and that meant Sable would feed Elvira as many snacks as she desired, so long as they were healthy.

Nuts and fruit qualified, so onto the plate they went.

Sneaking them over was easy, given that Jelena was napping in her room, and the memory of Elvira’s face lighting up was worth any number of possibly deserved tongue-lashings.

“Yay! Thank you, Sable!” In a flash she seized a handful of raw peanuts and began happily munching on them without…

“Uh, Elvira, aren’t you supposed to remove the shell first?” A moment's hesitation, then she finished chewing and swallowing, eyes downcast and dejected.

“Yes, but… I like the crunch. It's just so good.” Well that wouldn’t do. First, to understand, then to find a substitute.

“Good how? Do you enjoy the taste of the shells?” Woody texture if she remembered correctly, rough and slightly salty.

“A little bit, but I mostly mean the sound is just Good. It's crisp, clear. Like crunchy leaves.”

A lightbulb clicked inside Sable’s head, the puzzle pieces assembling. They needed to talk about this.

“... You can have half of the bowl as is, I’ll get to work on the rest.” And like that her daughter’s smile was back, the treat devoured over the next hour while she carved through her assignments with renewed vigor. Sable remained outside with her, providing the occasional bit of context or helping her answer a particularly challenging question, hand itching to reach out but knowing better than to distract her. The rest of the day went as all the others did, though when it came time for her and Jelena’s nightly chat she did have one topic to discuss.

Unexpected, however, was Jelena venturing down to the basement in the middle of her workout. Usually she waited at the kitchen table instead of making the trek with a freshly made decaf-espresso in one hand. Even more unusual was her shutting the door to the ground floor and lingering on the stairs, framed in shadow as Sable worked up a sweat. Though the piercing intensity of her stares certainly helped Sable get through the familiar routine, perhaps a little too much. Twice she had to slow down to avoid straining her legs.

Eventually her workout was finished, too slow and too soon all at once for it meant the show was ending, and she toweled off as Jelena fully entered the dim lighting of the basement. Intense was the word Sable would use to describe her in that moment. Gaze honed to a razor’s edge, roaming over musculature and cybernetics alike, noting every errant twitch of her form.

“You couldn’t keep your eyes off me during dinner.” Statement and accusation all in one. Subtlety was forever her greatest weakness.

A step closer.

“The signs have been there for a while, but I only figured it out today.”

Jelena matched her, now within arms reach.

“Is that so?” Featherlight, a cat’s curiosity upon discovering a new and interesting toy. Claws hidden, but there nonetheless.

“Something important that I should have realized long ago.”

Closer still, enough to feel the warmth of each other’s breath. The air was charged.

“And what exactly have you realized, Sable?” A finger lightly trailed along the edge of her chest, where metal met flesh, the butler’s eyes growing darker as heat pooled in the depths. And suddenly, like the fool she was, Sable realized there were other hints she’d failed to notice. Increasingly unsubtle ones, after their little talk those few weeks ago.

“It can wait, I-” The caress became a jab, light for all that it lingered at the base of her throat. Not enough to cut off her breath, yet.

“It cannot. Tell me what you realized this afternoon, what had you looking at me in such an interesting way during dinner.” Jelena’s other hand came to rest against the center of her chassis, pushing Sable dangerously close to overheating.

This was going to be the wrong answer and Jelena was going to fucking kill her.

“I think our daughter has a neurodevelopmental condition.” Surprise, silence, and then the moment shattered. Like glass struck by the hand of the goddess herself. Jelena’s hand moved, fingers tracing along the edge of her jaw, cheek, eyes. Tender, almost affectionate, without the slightest trace of their former heat.

“Obviously, Sable. I cannot tell you what exactly, for Stewart has forbidden so much as a mention of the subject or any of the necessary consultations, medications, anything of the sort to determine and manage. He possesses… opinions about such things. For now the best we can hope is to raise her without such prejudices and encourage her to seek guidance when she’s out from under his thumb.”

“O-oh.” Suddenly she felt so very foolish, enough that Jelena noticed and raised Sable’s chin slightly, for all that she was shorter by a head and then some.

“I didn’t tell you because I couldn’t know if you shared such opinions on this or… other topics, though I suppose we’re well past any worries about that.” Her hands found Jelena’s own, captured them in a gentle embrace, trapped between them both as she moved closer.

Seeking to rekindle the prior fire.

“No. So long as she is safe and happy, nothing else matters.” Jelena laughed, squeezing her hands for a moment, and then withdrew.

“Sable. The moment was there and then it was not. There will be more in time, but in the method and manner of my choosing.” Translation: my way or ge-... well don’t get fucked in this case, but fair enough.

“Of course.” She yearned to ask questions, qualifiers, if she should begin stockpiling toys or protection. But the look in Jelena’s eyes silenced such things.

“Good girl. For now, trust me. And goodnight.” A little heat returned to Jelena’s gaze, enough Sable would be thinking about it during her shower, and possibly in bed afterward. It had been a stressful day.

“Goodnight, Jelena.”