Authors Note: This is set straight after the episode Simon Says, so there are spoilers for that. And because I've watched the episodes in the production order, there are some spoilers for Unbound as well (and the Pilot). In the production order Unbound is 9 and Simon Says is 10.
Right, enough from me, let's get on with the feels. Also, if you like this I'm also working on a longer AH fic, so watch this space. (Don't own Almost Human!)
Dorian felt the harsh wind on his synthetic skin and instinctively pulled his jacket around him tighter. It wasn't that he could feel the cold, although his sensors told him it was 41 degrees Fahrenheit and that a storm was imminent, but it was a reaction that somehow he'd picked up from observing the humans he worked with. It had become one of a number of involuntary habits rather than a conscious decision and he marvelled at just how 'human' he was becoming.
He was stood on the stoop of the old warehouse conversion about to press the intercom when a lady he didn't recognise opened the door on her way out. She smiled at him congenially and he smiled back as they exchanged polite 'good morning's' and she held the door open for him to enter.
As he went inside and began up the wood and wrought iron 'original feature' staircase he thought about how impractical it was for someone with a physical disability to live on the roof of a building that had no elevator. Not that he'd ever mention it to John of course, who'd point out that he could still run track on that 'damned peg leg' of his. And then he'd probably have Dorian come with him on his next run just to prove it.
He got to the top of the staircase, to what John jokingly called his penthouse suite and knocked at the door, after a quick glance at the buzzer told him it had been disconnected. When there was no answer on the second knock he scanned the apartment. There was one heat signature inside and Dorian could tell by the signal coming from the figure's cell phone that it was him.
"John! It's Dorian!" He called, knowing full well the detective would have heard his loud knocking. "I'm not leaving until I speak to you." He threatened. When there was still no movement from inside he considered opening the door anyway, but first decided he'd try a different tactic. "John, please." He tried, his voice filled with raw emotion, "I really need to talk."
Within a minute the door opened. "Dorian what's wrong?"
Dorian felt a confusing mix of emotions, enough to almost overload his circuits. He felt guilty over how little it had taken to manipulate his friend but at the same time overwhelming gratitude that it had taken just a few words and a tone of voice to get the man come running to his aid. Or in this case hobbling.
John had only opened the door part way, but Dorian could tell from his posture that he was leaning on a pair of crutches rather than use his synthetic leg and that he was using the mostly closed door to hide the fact. He looked a mess. His hair was disheveled, he was unshaven and his eyes looked tired and red rimmed. Dorian realised with a pang that he looked like he'd been crying. It made him want to wrap the man in his strong arms and never let go.
He'd never seen this side of John before. Captain Maldonado had hinted that it was there when she'd pulled him aside once and asked him to look after the man. At the time Dorian hadn't quite understood, he'd replied that that was his job and of course he would, but he hadn't seen what she could see. John at the time to him was a surly, android-hating tough guy, he would never have imagined the depths of emotion the man had been hiding.
"Can I come in?" Dorian asked gently. He put his hand on the door, not pushing but firm, indicating to John that he was not going to take no for an answer. It was a trick that he'd seen John do on countless occasions when going to see reluctant witnesses and invariably it worked.
"I..." John began to bluster, but stopped himself. His shoulders slumped, he seemed defeated, and he stepped back to allow Dorian access.
Dorian smiled at him sadly and opened the door. John was already making his way, at speed, across the open plan apartment. "Give me a minute." He growled harshly. Dorian closed the door behind himself and watched his partner, his shoulders hunched as he swung himself away on his crutches and disappeared round the corner into the space that had been designated his bedroom.
Dorian chose to stand where he was and wait. For someone so private, there really was very little privacy in John's apartment. From where Dorian stood, in the kitchen, he could see right through to the living area and out of the huge glass windows that lead out to the rest of the roof and gave a stunning view of the bay beyond. John's bedroom was just another extension of that same room, barely hidden from Dorian's current view by a single wall and not hidden at all were he to follow his first instincts and wait for the man on his sofa. Dorian had only been in his partner's apartment a few times before but had come to realise such an unusual place said a lot about the man; it was old fashioned and quirky, with a beautiful view, which made Dorian think the detective had a romantic side hidden beneath that gruff exterior, but the openness also suggested he liked to be aware of his surroundings. The fact that John often used the fire escape that lead to the roof as his own personal staircase also hinted at this dislike of being enclosed. It occurred to Dorian to wonder if his partner had claustrophobia, although he'd never shown sign of it on any of their cases.
A minute later John returned and Dorian navigated around the discarded gym equipment and went to sit on the simple grey sofa. He'd ditched the crutches and had put his synthetic leg on, swapped his shorts for a pair jeans. Dorian glanced down at his bare feet, they really had done a good job of the synthetic, even as an expert he'd be hard pressed to tell that one had been built in a lab, a hologram over titanium and wiring. John's feet were beautiful, Dorian found himself thinking, before catching himself, clearing his throat and looking up. John was frowning down at him quizzically.
"You okay Dorian?" John asked, slumping down onto the sofa next to him, arms folded across his chest. He'd splashed some water on his face while he'd been getting changed and his face seemed brighter, still weary but the look he'd had a few minutes before was gone. Dorian saw now, better than ever, that his current expression was a mask, something the detective had gotten used to wearing. Dorian wondered what happened to him if he took the mask away, would he always look like the haggard and broken man who'd answered the door to him?
Before he could answer he was interrupted by a cold female voice announcing, "synthetic calibration failed. Charge at 23%." The voice was muffled by the denim. John ignored it but his hand reached down and began massaging his thigh absentmindedly. Dorian knew better than to comment on it.
"Erm, I wanted to apologise for yesterday." He began. "I know I wasn't exactly easy to work with, hopefully now I'm at Rudy's and not having to share charging rations with the MX's it shouldn't happen again."
"Are you kidding me?" John smiled but it didn't reach his eyes, not like it had yesterday. When they'd disarmed that girl's bomb and Dorian had pulled them both into a crushing hug he'd seen John's eyes sparkle, silly relieved grin plastered all over his face. It had made Dorian's circuits sing and he knew then he'd be trying to put that same look on his partner's face for the rest of his existence.
"You have to put up with my bitching and moaning all the time," John pointed out, "so what if you have an 'off' day once in a while?"
"It didn't worry you?" Dorian asked, genuinely concerned about the answer. As soon as he said the words he realised he probably didn't want to know. He knew it had worried everyone else, he'd seen the concerned expressions that Captain Maldonado had been shooting him whenever she'd seen him, had heard the non-too-subtle grumblings from Detective Paul about crazy androids going postal. But the answer he got wasn't what he'd been expecting.
"Well, yeah. You were having a bad day and then the thing with the guy from the bank didn't help. I was worried you were gonna spend all day blaming yourself. You know there was nothing more you could have done right?" John's hand left his thigh where he'd been absentmindedly rubbing circles over the surgical joint and he placed it on Dorian's shoulder comfortingly.
The response was so overwhelmingly touching that if Dorian had been able to cry he would have. "That's it?" He asked, "you were worried I was blaming myself? Not that I was going to go crazy and kill everyone?"
John looked genuinely taken aback. "Now I hope you're not taking notice of what that asshole Paul has to say, besides he thinks I'm far more likely to lose the plot and starting killing people than you."
Dorian nodded sadly, "I heard what he said to you in briefing. Low charge or not I think I would have punched him anyway. I just figured you would have preferred everyone not knowing I was making a scene on your behalf."
John sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, "you shouldn't let him get to you buddy."
"How? How is it he can say all his nasty comments and it doesn't get to you?" But as John looked up at him he realised he was wrong. "It does, doesn't it?"
John just shrugged in response.
"Man, I wanna kill him." Dorian said, quietly furious. "How dare he do that to you?"
"Because he thinks I'm responsible for the deaths of his friends." John pointed out sadly.
Dorian looked at him, horrified. "Do you think you're responsible?"
The look John gave him almost broke his little metal heart. The mask had slipped again and in it's place was a visage of raw pain and fear.
"You do, don't you?" Dorian said, but it wasn't a question, not really. "Do you know how hypocritical you sound? You've just told me there was nothing I could have done for the loan manager, but you're quite willing to take on all the blame for the raid."
"They were my responsibility, you weren't there, you don't know..."
"I know you though John. You're the guy who runs at a homicidal robot rather than letting his 'bullet catcher' deal with it."
"You're not a bullet catcher." He muttered but Dorian didn't let him interrupt.
"You're the guy who instead of getting out of the blast zone with seconds to spare you roll up your sleeves and stick your fingers in the bomb! The guy who has frequently put his own life at risk with crazy, illegal medical procedures just so he can remember enough to take down a terrorist cell. They're the real people responsible John, InSyndicate, not you. I knew from the first day I met you that if there had been any way to save your team you would have sacrificed everything to do it."
John didn't say anything, just sat on the sofa with that same defeated expression. Dorian pulled him into a hug, fully expecting the gruff human to fight him off. He didn't though, he just sat there stiffly, Dorian could feel all his muscles tensed through his thin shirt. He pulled him in closer so that the detective's strong jaw rested on his shoulder and he could feel the man's heartbeat racing against his chest.
"How long have you been thinking that?" Dorian asked, "If Detective Paul has..."
John shook his head as he interrupted, "since the minute I woke up." He admitted quietly. He slipped his arm around Dorian's back and returned the hug with a quick squeeze before they released each other.
"Look, I am getting better." He said, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "You should ask Sandra, she's helped me more than... well let's just say I owe that woman everything."
"How can I help?" Dorian asked gently. It didn't get passed him that now they had separated he'd gone back to rubbing his leg.
"Just give me time. I'm getting there. Look, I know you wanted to move in here but sometimes I need my space. Sorry I gave you all that Trophy Room bullshit but you panicked me and I didn't want to admit to being a complete headcase."
"I would have understood, same way I understand now."
John sighed, "yeah I know you would D."
They fell into contemplative silence before John spoke again. When he did it was barely above a whisper, "I realised last night that I didn't want to die."
"I didn't know you did." Dorian could barely keep his voice steady, unsure if he was able to hear the rest.
"Don't worry, I never actually wanted to kill myself." John said carefully. "I just wasn't that bothered what happened to me. But last night, when I got that bomb deactivated, I was so relieved. I knew then that I did actually want to fight to survive, and not just so I could protect people, or rescue you, but for me." He laughed then, harshly, "would you think I was crazy if I told you I had a really good day yesterday?"
Dorian looked at his partner and thought about everything they'd gone through the day before. Dorian had determined it to be the worst day ever, first he'd been at low charge and so had been incredibly cranky all day, then they'd failed the bank employee and had to watch him explode while they looked on helpless. Sure, they'd saved the girl but the relief of that had been overtaken by horror when he'd found out the next victim was John. Dorian had almost short circuited in panic as they fought to save his best friend's life. If John thought that was a good day then maybe he really was crazier than Dorian had given him credit for.
"So if you had such a good day yesterday, why all this again today?" Dorian asked instead, keeping his observations about his partner's sanity to himself.
"I dunno." John shrugged, "I thought I was getting somewhere and then today it's like yesterday never happened and I wake up with this big black cloud hanging over me again. I'm aware of it, I try shaking it off, I know it's irrational but I can't shift it. It's suffocating."
He'd noted John was at his happiest when the adrenaline was flowing, but he was starting to realise it was perhaps more than that. John seemed to need adrenaline like junkies needed a fix. What if it was the only way he could feel alive? And so in theory the low mood the following day would be like withdrawal. This scared Dorian more than anything, would his partner go to greater and greater lengths to chase that high?
"All my reading on the subject suggests that that is to be expected. It doesn't mean it won't get better, just that it may take longer than you'd like."
John frowned, "All your reading on the subject?" He asked with an eyebrow raised.
"Of course. You know I have very limited experience with human emotion. I have tried to rectify that by reading extensively on the subject."
"You know the last thing I need is another psycho-analyst." John grumbled, suddenly sounding a lot more like his usual self.
"To be perfectly honest I started reading on the subject to assist me in understanding my own emotions. The reason we were decommissioned... the fault in our programming..."
John held up his hand to stop him, "There's no fault in your programming. The fault was with people who designed you to feel and then treated you as if you didn't."
Dorian smirked, "like the people who refer to DRN's as toasters?"
John smiled back, "But you're a 'happy' toaster. See, I acknowledge your feelings. And no happy toaster of mine is going to be treated like they're anything less than what they are. You know half the time I even forget you're not as much flesh and blood as I am."
"Synthetic calibration failed." John's leg chirped in agreement, "Charge at 20%."
"It's hurting you." Dorian could no longer keep quiet about it. "Is the pain worse when you're wearing it?"
"It's not always this bad. Worse when it's at low power, it's like the leg isn't quite talking to the rest of me properly. The solar flares meant I still had no power here last night, it didn't charge."
"You should put it on charge now." Dorian suggested.
"Later," John waved the idea away.
"It was on charge until I came to the door. You know you don't have to wear it for my benefit, especially if it's uncomfortable."
John shrugged, "Nah, I'd rather..."
"What?" Dorian interjected, "sit here in pain because you're worried that your robot is gonna think less of you if you don't? You know by now there's nothing you could do to make me think less of you." He asserted, getting dangerously close to admitting to more. "I wish you didn't feel like less of a person just because you need help from a synthetic." He said sadly.
"Dorian, I..." The android watched his partner as he failed to come up with a suitable counter argument. Dorian knew he was taking things too far as he placed a hand on John's right thigh, just above the surgical joint. He put his other hand on John's knee and gave him a look, asking permission to continue. He expected the detective to protest, but realised he was too exhausted to bother, or perhaps he just wanted to give in. Gripping the too tense muscles of John's thigh, he carefully disconnected the leg from it's socket and slid it carefully out of the leg of John's jeans.
He stood and went to put it on charge and when he came back he found John sprawled out on the sofa, head resting awkwardly far back on the too low backrest, eyes closed. "You know, I'm gonna have to get Rudy to reprogram you so that you have a concept of personal space." He muttered but without a hint of his usual annoyance.
Dorian studied the weary man in front of him, he seemed more relaxed now than Dorian had seen him in a long time, possibly ever. His usual frown was ironed out, making him look younger, giving Dorian a glimpse of the carefree man he'd once been. Captain Maldonado had told him stories, of a young and eager cop, a joker, but one who had always been willing to work hard and lend others a hand. He'd thanked the woman for allowing him an insight into who John had once been, had told her that he wished he'd had the chance to meet him back then, back before his whole world had been turned upside down and he'd been spat out the other side a broken man. Dorian was sure that he would have loved John then, it seemed that most people had, but the man before him now had such a dizzying blend of strength and vulnerability, anger and kindness that he was in awe of him. He'd known for a while he would follow the man before him into any situation, but he'd come to realise it was much more than that.
He wanted to tell him. The need to confess the strength of his emotions was almost overwhelming, and he knew if he'd still been at low charge then he wouldn't have been able to help himself. But he also knew that to do so would do irreparable damage to their friendship so he held his tongue. It was alright, he realised as he sank back into his space on the sofa, it would be enough for now to have the respect and the company of the man beside him, and maybe one day he'd be lucky enough to get more than just a glimpse of the man behind the mask.
The End
Another little reminder to let me know what you think, Almost Human fans are few and far between so if you've made it to the end, please review as you might be the only one who does. Also, I have a longer fic in the works in which I try an answer a few of the mysteries the series left us, so if there's anything you want me to work on, any burning questions that you've not found a fic to answer yet, let me know and I'll see what I can do. Thanks.