Up in the nursery of Walter Manor, seven-year-old Michelle Rosalind Reed smiled down proudly at her dollhouse. Petey had made it 'specially for her, and she and The Jon had just put all the dolls to bed after a long game of House. House was always fun to play with The Jon. He made everything exciting.
"What should we do next, The Jon?" Michelle asked, looking up when her friend didn't respond. "The Jon?" He wasn't in the room. The gold robot must have decided to play Hide and Seek and had forgotten to tell her. She would go look for him.
Upon stepping through the empty doorway to the nursery and into the hallway, Michelle discovered that she was no longer inside Walter Manor. She wasn't anywhere she could remember being before. She couldn't see The Jon. In fact, she couldn't see anything. The moment she had left the nursery, everything around her had turned pitch black. "The Jon?" the girl whispered, before calling out a little louder, "The Jon, where are you?"
"I'm over here, Michelle." The voice didn't sound quite like The Jon's, but it was close enough and Michelle was starting to get scared.
"Where are you?" she called out, groping the air in front of her but feeling nothing. "I can't see anything."
"Just follow the sound of my voice." So Michelle tried her best, walking in the direction she thought the continuing words from the voice were coming from, and soon she saw a small speck of light in the distance. She wasn't sure why, but it felt welcoming and inviting. Almost warm. She had to go to it.
"Is that where you are, The Jon?" Michelle asked. She hoped it was. She wanted to go see the light. It was like it was drawing her in.
"Yes it is. Go to the light, Michelle."
The girl kept walking, making sure she was heading straight towards the white dot. But it seemed that no matter how hard she tried, it just got farther and farther away. It would get bigger and Michelle would be sure that if she just took a dozen more steps she would be at it and then it would suddenly shoot away and she would be right back where she started. She could hear The Jon – if it even was The Jon – encouraging her in the background, but her own frustration was building.
"Where are you, The Jon?" Michelle wailed after the fourth time the light had escaped her. "I want to see you!" Just as she said those words, a chill ran down her spine and she felt hot breath down the back of her neck.
"Here I am," whispered a voice into Michelle's ear, and she screamed. A cold hand clamped down over her mouth – not the cool metal of the skin of her robot friends, but almost as if it were made of ice – and the girl felt herself being dragged backwards by an arm around her waist. The initial shock from the cold had silenced her screech, but it came back at full force when she heard sinister chuckling from whoever had a hold of her. Michelle didn't know who it was. All she knew was that he was cold and he hurt and he was bad and she wanted The Jon. Where was The Jon? She had been looking for him. Her mouth began to form his name, and she heard it mixed in with the wordless wails she had previously been making. The person behind her tightened his hand over her mouth, but still she made noise until that was all she could hear. Tears streamed down her face and suddenly she thought she could hear music, somewhere far away. Hadn't The Jon said something about how heaven was a place where everyone went and they were singing all day long? This must be it. She was dying. Maybe if she tried to concentrate on the song it would come faster.
"Michelle, ma belle…"
Wait. That wasn't just anyone singing.
"These are words that go together well, my Michelle."
That was The Jon singing.
"Michelle, ma belle…"
Was The Jon dead, too? Had he gotten to heaven before her?
"Sont les mots qui vont tres bien ensemble, tres bien ensemble."
No. This was different.
"I love you, I love you, I love you; that's all I want to say."
Michelle realized there was no hand over her mouth anymore and no arm wrapped around her waist. She was tucked into someone's arms, being slowly rocked back and forth as she continued sobbing.
"Until I find a way, I will say the only words I know that you'll understand."
It had all been a dream, and now The Jon was singing to her. Singing her back to sleep. Michelle felt her tears slow to a stop and she quieted as The Jon kept singing.
"Michelle, ma belle, sont les mots qui vont tres bien ensemble, tres bien ensemble."
The gold robot looked down at the girl in his arms, her brown curls in disarray and her purple nightgown wrinkled from being left on the floor during the day one too many times. She had fallen back asleep. As The Jon wiped the trails of tears off her face, he was suddenly struck with how… how human she looked. How small she was. She was so young, so vulnerable, and… The Jon smiled, a slow, soft smile that was rarely seen on his face. And she was his. Well, not really; she was a human, so she didn't belong to anyone, but they were best friends and he loved her and she loved him and that might change when she got older but for now she was all his. For now.
The Jon stood up, little Michelle still cradled in his arms. The last thing he remembered doing was putting her back into her bed and planting a soft kiss on her forehead. He didn't realize until the next morning that he had crawled into the bed next to Michelle and managed to fall asleep with her small body nestled against his.
"I need to, I need to, I need to, I need to make you see, oh, what you mean to me. Until I do I'm hoping you will know what I mean."