A/N :

"It had the strength of a man, but the sensual touch of a woman. With its entire processing power harnessed to give pleasure beyond human measure. In its capriciousness it did not appear neutral.
This robot had read its Kama Sutra." - Studio Killers

On the third day Dr Elizabeth Shaw had plucked up enough courage to venture back into the navigational room. The ship was still grounded, the only capable pilot slumped lifelessly against a wall. His headless body was a milky mess of wires and hydraulic fluid, said missing appendage dumped carelessly on the bizarre console, still encased in the duffle bag she once carried him inside.

It had taken Dr Elizabeth Shaw three additional days to mend him, all the while existing on the meager rations she had taken from Meredith Vickers's life raft and barely any sleep. It was agony, leaning over David's lifeless corpse of a body splayed like a cadaver, soldering minute wires back together, while the staples that held her own stomach together felt as though they were tearing apart. She was sure her suit, which she dare not remove, was the only thing keeping her together as one.

She wasn't an engineer, had no idea how to mend such a complex construct as a David 8 synthetic, but in the end was proud of her accomplishment. David did seem genuinely appreciative, considering he had to coach her through each step. He didn't tempt fate by questioning her motive once she had finished on why she wanted to find her creators, nor why she trusted David to help her.

He supposed he already knew what her reasoning would be.

Faith.

David and Elizabeth switched roles and she once again became his patient, although this time willingly. He did have every intention of keeping his promise to her, truly, but she involuntarily flinched away from his hands when he unzipped her bloodstained suit, exposing her flesh to the cold chill of the room.

"The staples have torn. I can't imagine the pain you must be in."

"No. I suppose you couldn't."

He offered her a rag to bite into while he removed the offending patch-up job the miscalibrated med-pod had done. Goodness knows what else it had cut into, severed. She supposed she was lucky she hadn't yet bled out. The tone of David's voice seemed so sincere and genuine that she had to close her eyes to hold back a spill of tears.

The Engineers' vessel was a Titan of proportion, that was sure. It was huge - the vastness of its seemingly unending corridors, but also all the equipment therein.
They slept together, side by side in one of the bedded alcoves. David slept, not because androids need sleep, but because Elizabeth requested him to do so. She feared being alone, shrinking into herself like a small child, afraid of the darkness and the hollow emptiness aboard.

"David, do you get bored? Waiting for me to wake up?" She had asked him once before drifting off. He had turned, not expecting her question but answering it as efficiently as he could.
"Of course not, Elizabeth. I run through numerous statistical problems in my mind. This gives me a chance to 'focus' without distraction." He paused then, grinning slyly as if sharing an inside joke. "Why do you ask?"
She had grinned back, tired and drowsy, eyes heavy-lidded and sore.
"Pillow talk, I suppose."

After a moment of silence, David continued.

"Is it comforting?"
"Somewhat."
"Elaborate, please."
"I can hear you breathing. I can feel your warmth. If I close my eyes I can almost imagine you're real."

David pondered on that thought for a long time.