"What a day…" Detective John Kennex slumped into his seldom-used desk chair in his office at the department. He straightened his synthetic leg, and it squeaked loudly. The sound was painful. John would have to find some olive oil later, and spend a half hour or so trying to work the noise out of it. They had cleaned it up at the hospital, so at least he knew that the damned piece of machinery was working properly. He leaned back in the chair and looked out into the main part of the department's offices. It was near the end of the day, but the activity wasn't slowing down quite yet. People walked around the room, or sat at their desks and typed busily. John tried not to spend too much time here; he prefered to be out and moving around, knowing that he was being useful. This was probably the first time in weeks he had bothered to sit at his desk.

Earlier that day, he and Dorian had been involved in chasing a criminal through the streets. The chase had ended on a dock. John had thought the criminal was cornered, so he hadn't bothered to wait for Dorian. He wanted to show that he could do something on his own. It had been a stupid idea. The man he had been chasing had kicked John's feet out from under him, and tossed him off the side of the dock and into the cold water below. John had struggled to stay afloat, but his heavy synthetic leg had dragged him down. Daylight disappeared above him in a violent storm of white bubbles. Then everything was cold, dark, and quiet. John had closed his eyes and willed himself not to let the water in, but he would lose consciousness soon. It must have been seconds, but his entire life had flashed before his eyes. The next thing John knew was that an inhumanly strong arm had wrapped around his waist, and then he was being hoisted toward the surface. Dorian had tied a rope to the dock and jumped into the water to find him. John collapsed when they finally reached the air and the daylight, breathing hard and chilled to the bone, somewhere in the back of his mind still screaming in terror.

Dorian called an ambulance. There was a ride to the hospital, and John had been checked out by the doctors. Dorian left to have Rudy run a diagnostic and check for water damage. They had brought John to a room and told him to rest up for a while. John had left as soon as the coast was clear. He had spent enough time in the hospital already. The day wasn't over yet, so he went to the office. Besides, he wanted to see Dorian before he went home. After all, it was beginning to look like he owed the DRN his life. His life…had nearly been lost today because of his synthetic leg. If his body had been whole, he would have been fine. He would have floated like any other human being…

"...nex. Kennex. Stop staring into nowhere and talk to me, before I feel obligated to call a shrink." Captain Maldonado stood beside John's desk with a concerned expression. Worse, most of the office was staring was staring in his general direction. John mentally shook himself and faced the captain. "What is it?"

"I got a report from Dorian. Heard about what happened today," she said. John detected the faintest note of sympathy in her voice. He hoped he was the only one who noticed it.

"I won't make you go back to the hospital," Maldonado told him. John raised an eyebrow. "But..?"

"I want you to do me a favor." Maldonado didn't ask for favors often, so John knew that it wouldn't be something that was strictly part of work.

"What did you need?" he asked carefully.

"Your DRN partner requested separate quarters away from the MXs. I looked over his request, and his reasons appeared to make a lot of sense. Unfortunately I haven't figured out an arrangement for him quite yet. In the meantime, I would like you to take care of it."

"You want me to take Dorian home with me," John said reluctantly. "Until you find him somewhere else to crash."

"Yes, that is correct."

John thought about it for a few moments, as Maldonado stood by his desk and tapped her foot impatiently. How much did he want his privacy? In the end, it was the memory of Dorian's current digs, the MX basement, that finally decided him.

"Fine. For now."

Maldonado smiled pleasantly. "Good. You can pick him up from Rudy. I'll leave it up to you to tell him about the new arrangement."

John stood up, winced at the noises his leg was making, and went to find Dorian.

"Come on over! He's good as new, I promise." Rudy waved John over to the table in the center of his lab. Dorian lay still, eyes closed. "I had to temporarily put him to sleep in order to run the full diagnostic."

John nodded. His attention was on Dorian. He didn't think he had ever seen the DRN look so…lifeless? Not that he was, technically speaking, alive. But rarely was Detective Kennex reminded of that fact. Rudy checked the various readings from the computer screens, then produced the same device he had used to awaken Dorian the first time. He approached the table. John cleared his throat. "Umm…" he almost wished he hadn't spoken. Dorian and Rudy would probably say he was becoming sentimental. Rudy looked up from his work. "Yes, Detective?"

"I want to wake him up."

Rudy just grinned, a bit smugly, and passed over the device. "Once again, you can have the honor."

"Thanks," John muttered. He leaned over and touched the rod to Dorian's left ear. Dorian opened his eyes. Moved his fingers and toes. It was different from the abrupt way he had woken up the first time. This time Dorian moved slowly and carefully, checking himself over bit by bit. John was uncomfortably reminded of the first time he had gotten out of bed after his coma. At least Dorian still had all of his body parts.

John passed the rod back to Rudy, and Dorian's eyes followed the movement. "Getting sentimental, John?"

John rolled his eyes a little and decided not to answer the question. "Are you ready to go?" he asked.

"Sure, John." Dorian slid off the table on John's side, and the detective inched to the side a little bit. One day he would have to tell Dorian about personal space. Instead he glanced looked around the room. "Do you have everything?"

Dorian picked up his coat from where it lay draped over Rudy's extra chair. "I do now-wait, since when do you care if I have everything?"

John ignored the question. "What about the department? Do you have any belongings there?"

"No, John, I don't. I haven't really had the opportunity to collect many personal belongings."

"Good." John headed for the exit, and Dorian ran after him.

"I'll, umm, see you both some time later then!" Rudy called after them.

"This is my travel charger," Dorian said, looking down at the coiled wires piled into the passenger seat of the car.

"Yeah. Captain Maldonado thinks you shouldn't have to live in the MX basement."

"She found me my own place?"

"No, this is more of a temporary arrangement."

"Oh."

John parked the car in his usual parking space and got out of the car. Dorian followed him. "John, isn't this your place? What about me? Please don't tell me that my temporary arrangement is sleeping in the car."

John made a face. This was so awkward. "Just come on already," he called, "and bring your charger."

They reached the door to John's apartment, and the detective stood aside to allow Dorian to pass through the door. Dorian paused. "John, are you saying that…"

"Yeah." John gave Dorian a gentle push into the apartment and closed the door behind them.

"Thank you, John," said Dorian, and he smiled in the warmest, happiest, friendliest way he could. John would never admit it, but that smile made him feel a lot better about himself. "I didn't volunteer to do this," he said guiltily. "Captain Maldonado asked."

Dorian shrugged. "You still didn't have to do it. That counts for something."

John shrugged and made his way into the kitchen. He started rummaging in the cupboards for something edible, hoping that he still had some instant noodles buried somewhere. He was oddly self-conscious, now that Dorian was going to be sharing his apartment. His leg squeaked some more, and John stopped searching for instant noodles and started looking for olive oil instead. It didn't help that he was feeling a bit lightheaded. The events of the day were coming back to him in technicolor, now that he was home and there was no urgent need to keep himself together. He swayed to one side and Dorian reached out to keep him upright. John was tired enough to actually let his partner carry him over to the couch.

"Go ahead and lie down, John," said Dorian. "I'll get settled in. Don't worry about it."

"I wouldn't," said John. He closed his eyes. He was drowning again, his synthetic leg pulling him down. The water was murky, but John thought he saw Dorian above him, dangling from a rope that led back to wherever the light was. But this time, John was falling faster than Dorian. There was no way he would be rescued, and he was running low on air. He couldn't wait for Dorian any longer. John gasped, ready for his lungs to fill with liquid-and woke up on his couch. Dorian had a hand on his shoulder and was shaking him.

"I'm awake," he mumbled, trying desperately to push the disturbing dream to the back of his mind. He was in his own apartment. Dorian was there. Dorian… John's hand shot out to grab Dorian's wrist. Dorian was surprised, but he stayed where he was and let John hang on to him. John pictured the dream again. His partner had been so far out of reach, but now John sped upward through the water until he reached him. He opened his eyes. Dorian was right there. He sighed in relief and loosened his grip on Dorian's wrist.

"John, what is it?" asked Dorian.

"Falling off the dock today. Sinking. If it weren't for you… I might still be down there."

Dorian shrugged. "I'm glad I got there in time."

John looked up at him. "Normally, people don't sink. It's a weakness. Somebody pushes me into the drink, and the next thing you know I'm dead."

"I know," said Dorian. "But John, it's one more risk. Every time you're chasing some criminal, every time you so much as cross the street, you're putting your life in danger."

"I guess… you could look at it that way."

"Yes, you could. I do. And people out there still need you, synthetic body parts or not."

"I guess so."

"No, you know so. I can't be wrong, John."

John managed to laugh at that. "Yeah, right. You have to be wrong sometimes. It's-"

"Human?"

"Not necessarily. I was going to say it happens to everyone."

Dorian laughed. "I think I'm going to like living here."

John scowled. "Don't get too comfortable." Dorian helped him to his feet. "Is that too comfortable?" he asked, pointing over at the kitchen.

"What the hell did you do to my microwave!?"

"I needed to install my charger in your apartment. The only other option was in your bedroom closet, but I thought you would be more comfortable if I was out here."

"Well, you're right about that. But how am I going to heat my food without a microwave?"

"Well, I made dinner."

"You made dinner? But you don't even eat."

"No, but you do. I would pay rent if the department paid me anything, but since they don't the least I can do is manage your meals."

"Do you even know how to cook? What did you make?"

"I can follow any recipe exactly, and I am confidant in my ability to create appetizing dishes."

"What did you make, Dorian?"

"I barbecued steak."

"...okay, I forgive you for destroying my destroying my microwave."

End