This piece takes place after the events of The Robots of Dawn and is rated M and for a reason and will contain slash. Please don't read if you find this offensive. This will also be multi-chaptered and I'll update as often as I'm able. Also, any feedback would be greatly appreciated as I'm fairly new at writing and am open to any feedback or criticism you'd like to offer.

I do not own any of the works this is based on and am making no money in any way.

Thank you for taking the time of read this story!

No Regrets

Plainclothesman Elijah Baley knew it was foolish to be Outside on his own but he knew that it was the only way to find clues to how the killer had managed to elude the authorities. It seemed improbable that a City man would venture outside the safety of the steel walls but, just as with the case of the murdered Dr. Sarton, it was not outside the realm of possibility. Baley smiled bitterly to himself at the memory of that case and how it had introduced him to one of the most important people in his life. R. Daneel Olivaw.

Right, he sighed to himself. Thinking of Daneel as a person again.

As much as he kept reminding himself that Daneel was a robot he could not think of him completely as such. He felt too deep a love for him and how could a man love a robot? The affection still sat as a small but bright ember in his chest flaring up into a burning pain at the most inconvenient of times. Sometimes when he was with Jessie, other times when he encountered one of those simple robots they produced on Earth, or when he saw a particularity beautiful, perfect human male form. If only Baley and Daneel both could have gotten past Olivaw's nature then maybe….but no, Daneel could no more stop being a robot then Baley could stop reminding himself that he was one. The plainclothesman felt the knot of pain rise unbidden into his throat but he quickly swallowed it down. He would not allow himself to feel any pain or regret. He would not. Neither he nor Daneel had taken advantage of the time they had had alone on the trip back from Aurora and that was just that.

Sighing deeply, he forced his thoughts back to the investigation at hand. He had been chosen for this part of the investigation since it was assumed he was used to the Outside having seen much of it on his two trips to the Outer Worlds. In some ways they had been right but he still suffered from agoraphobia and he had no desire to spend any more time Outside then was strictly necessary. Unfortunately, he also had to complete this portion of the investigation alone as there was a distinct lack of volunteers in the department when he had asked if any of his colleagues wishes to join him. He found himself longing for Daneel's steady, fearless presence. No, that would not do. No regrets.

Concentrate on finding clues then you can go back to the safety of the City, he admonished himself.

Yeast-town covered a large area and, due to the pungent smell, not many ventured there unless they were unfortunate enough to work or live in the area. It was possible a declassified individual could have posed as a Yeastman, committed the murder, then fled across the open fields between it and the other domes of the City and back to the anonymity that declassification provided. He had started his search outside Yeast-town and had found footprints in the dense, soggy ground leading away and toward the City. He wrinkled his nose at the memory of the heavy, pungent scent of the vats and he found himself taking a deep breath of the cool, fresh Outside air.

Jehoshaphat, he mused, I'm a City man! Outside air cool and fresh? He had indeed been ruined by his trips to the Outer Worlds.

He had followed the path of the prints but they had slowly disappeared as the ground grew increasingly wet and spongy and covered with a hardy plant that, on Solaria, he had learned was called grass. His boots sank into the boggy mud as he carefully knelt down to inspect where the last print was just visible and cast his gaze about looking for any further clues as to where the person who made the tracks could have gone. Twisting around he was startled to see how far he had drifted from the City in his dogged pursuit of the footprints. It stood lumpily in the distance, the domes shimmering with the heat of the sun. Standing, he swallowed a wave a panic as a series of terrible scenarios assaulted his mind.

What if he fell and broke his leg?

What if he did not have the strength to walk back to the City?

What if a storm sprung up suddenly as it had on Aurora?

What if…

Taking a deep breath he forced his thoughts to calm. He must finish this part of the investigation so that the department could commit him to pursing this case inside the City. Looking longingly one last time at the great shimmering domes and spires of New York he squared his shoulders and returned his gaze to the wet ground at his feet. The footprints were leading away from the City, not toward, but there was not another settlement, much less another City, within miles. The killer must have doubled back and returned to its safety. Taking a careful step forward he looked down again as his attention was caught by the squishing sound his boot made as he pulled it free from the mud. It clung to his boot in dripping globs and he wrinkled his nose at the wet, musty smell of it. If these were indeed the prints of the killer they would have had to come back into the City with shoes, and possibly clothes, covered in this stinking reality of the Outside. Anyone would notice, and smell, someone covered in such mud. Staring back toward the City he decided he would begin the next step in the case by interviewing the declassified to see if they had encountered anyone fitting this description and he silently congratulated himself on this quick turn of thought.

Turning abruptly to begin his long walk back to the City his smug thoughts quickly vanished as his mind registered the clamping pull of the mud on his boot and his ankle's inability to move with the rest of his body. A sharp pain raced up the joint as it twisted within the snug boot and his mind flared with panic at the realization of his earlier fears. An involuntary cry was ripped from him as fear gripped him and he felt his ankle pop as it was twisted past its rang. Instinctively, he reached for the pain, forgetting to brace his hands to break his fall.

Suddenly, he felt impossibly strong arms wrap around his waist from behind and he was jerked back into a broad, warm chest. He fought against them in panic but they held him with patient, inhuman ease.