A/N: Thanks for all the new follows, reviews and favourites! I'm quite surprised there's this much interest in the pairing :)
Touch Everything, concerning Meredith's strength: So far she's been quite young in these chapters and unable to become independent. This will change as she matures, but at this point Peter is very much in charge of the show. Also I'm a bit skeptical about 'Strange Bedfellows' being the scene to make this pairing canon. Wouldn't object to it, but I'm not getting my hopes up, since the dvd is supposed to have more Vickers/Janek.
IV
Once safe within her apartment Meredith paces around, still in her expensive dress, seeking for ways to expel the hurt from her lungs. Why does her father always turn the smallest elation into the most cutting pain? Why does he rob her of all joy?
She leans over the sink, crying ugly tears with swollen lips, her cries reduced to loud whimpers that turn into violent growls. Unable to contain the emotions she keeps bottled up, Meredith cries and breaths in and out in a pathetic attempt to calm herself. The anxiety is overwhelming, all-encompassing, and she can't breathe, can't push the dread away.
She tears her hair free from the restrictive hair do, tossing the clip that held it still in the sink as she continues crying. Meredith is shaking now, almost undone by her anxiety. She fumbles into the bathroom, opens the door to her stash, the going-away gift of her former roommate. And when she forces the pills down her throat, just swallowing them gives her a sense of false serenity. She falls on the floor, leaning against the bathtub, listening as her breathing becomes normal again. The tears take longer to dry.
She remains like this for awhile: back against the bathtub, legs bent, face greeting the light above. The medical numb is starting to kick in, to remove this anxiety. She embraces this feeling; it is her sanctuary, her privilege.
Meredith doesn't think about the many glasses of wine she enjoyed on their family meal, or the sensation in her gut that tells her she may have taken too many pills in her eagerness to experience a comfortable numb; instead she takes a few more pills, swallowing them down like candy, sated with the knowledge that soon this heavy cloud will fade and she'll feel much, much better. Hasn't she already done anything for survival? Hasn't she been in this situation so many times?
The calm spreads across her body like a fever. The ties that held her down are cut, she is free. She can float here, just enough to stay above the surface when others would push her down. Meredith leans forward, pulls open the zipper of her dress and steps up to wriggle herself out of it. The dress falls at her feet, her slim figure protected only by her underwear now. She draws herself a warm bath, sitting on the edge of the bathtub, looking down at the water, needing its safety.
Once she is done, she removes the rest of her clothing and steps into the water. It is so comfortable here, she finds herself thinking. Exhaustion sneaks upon her, dried tears on her cheeks feel more and more distant by the minute, and she closes her eyes, slips into oblivion.
He steps inside, and the door creaks softly when he closes it. It is much too easy to gain entrance to her apartment, he realizes, and contemplates mentioning it to her upon finding her. David holds her purse in his hands like it is something invaluable. Peter deemed this impulse to return it foolish and chivalrous, but chose to entertain David's wish and allowed him to go to Meredith.
She did not answer the phone, or respond to his call when he hollered for her and knocked on the front door. David calls for her again, softly and warily. He remembers her timid face, how flustered with shame she was as she left, and believes this might make her desire solitude for now. David knows that all these details factor into his decision to come here, to ignore the proper thing to do just to get another glimpse at her.
He steps further into her apartment, each detail of the décor met with scrutiny. He sees the paintings, reads the names of the books, and advances into her living room. David has been protected from extreme human emotion, much like a child has been sheltered from unwanted influences, and yet having seen her like that, so visibly torn, he finds himself intrigued by her and the power Peter has over her. It is not unlike the power Peter holds over David. Alas, Meredith would not appreciate these notions of them being similar, seeing how little she thinks of David.
David walks further in quietly, and then, as if sensing it already, his pace quickens, and he reaches the bathroom door. He opens it, finding her in the tub, seemingly lifeless before his eyes. He doesn't hesitate when he lets go of the purse and moves to her side. David extends two fingers, placing them on her neck, sensing a weakening pulse. There is a moment of emptiness, the enigma he had sought to solve slipping from his reach.
Then there is a small feeling of unease inside him within seconds, the fault of failing his basic programming strengthening into a firm emotion.
David works the controls to drain the bathtub from water, and it begins to empty immediately. He reaches for the detergent on the sink, mixes it with water in a cup and then moves back to her side, lifting her naked body from the water, his arm wrapped around her as he places the cup on her lips and forces her to drink. At first there is no effect, but then she begins to writhe, to squirm, and he needs to steady her with both arms to keep her still.
The water is already at the depth of her ankles when she throws up, emptying her stomach as intended. He can tell she is in pain, for her weak hands reach to stroke her throat as she cackles and she struggles to swallow in spite of it.
David holds her still, the sleeves of his shirt wet from the water, clinging to his synthetic skin. He does not feel urgency; he is like a solid rock in the eye of the storm while she thrashes.
At first Meredith doesn't even register it's him.
Silence surrounds them, wraps them in its hold. When nothing comes out anymore, she leans backwards, weak in the aftermath, barely holding together. David holds her with both arms now, her head pressed to his chest. His sensors indicate that her heartbeat is settling down, and she appears comfortable in her current position for now. Her drowsy eyes flutter a bit, and she's still caught in a haze, clearly unable to process everything that goes on around them.
"Relax," he tells her with a sobering voice, "You are alright now."
He feels her tense at this, gain a sense of place again. David releases her slowly as she begins to struggle, realizing only now that she is naked in his hold, bare unlike ever before. Her eyes are upon him quickly as she retreats, shaking with humiliation and anger. David only looks at her with more questions.
"I came to return your purse," he informs her casually. "And found you like this."
Shame is all over her, even if he isn't its source. She struggles to clear her throat, dispel the hurt that is lodged within it. Her attempt doesn't appear too successful.
"I will call for help now," he informs her, but she grabs his arm violently, desperate eyes pouring into his. Her grip would injure a human, but he can only register the pressure her fingers create as they press against his skin.
"No," she begs with her distorted voice, looking straight at him, her eyes wide.
He obeys, how could he not? She has been given command over him, the power to make him obey even the most difficult commands. But she does not command him, she begs, as if he could refuse her. At this, he cannot but help express puzzlement.
"Would it not be beneficial for your health?" he asks, still in her grip, eyes locked with hers. There is no doubt in his voice though; he knows it would be more beneficial, that he is right in suggesting this. David is certain of it, but he cannot act against her wishes unless they bring express harm to her.
"No one can know," she whispers at him, her grip faltering, eyes falling from his figure onto the floor. She's struggling to remain in control, aloof despite of the pain and humiliation. He doesn't leave her side though, remains at the exact spot where she stopped him.
And then she looks at him again with renewed faith. "Promise you won't tell."
"I will obey your command, Meredith," he says as if it is the simple truth that holds the universe together.
He senses her hand falling from his arm as she gives up fighting him and he takes hold of it gently, before placing it on the edge of the tub and taking a towel from a pile of them nearby with his spare hand. Then he opens the towel, motioning her to rise from the bathtub.
Her miserable eyes evaluate this, but she stands up anyway, lets him wrap her inside the towel and walk her from the bathroom. She appears dizzy, slightly disconnected from this moment. David helps her walk though, one arm steadying her while she moves onward with a hunch. The moment is definitely odd. He has never had to be there like this for another person, to care for them.
But the emotion is about something else as well, not just the act of nursing and caring. It is about control. Earlier she was in control. She talked down on him and determined the pace of their interactions. Now he guides her, tells her what to do. Seeing her like this is unexpected, but he rather likes this, being in control, as he rarely is anywhere else.
David makes her sit down and kneels before her, examining her eyes with his, studying her pupils. He touches her neck again to feel her pulse. Every touch is clinical; he treats her like anyone else, and yet Meredith looks unnerved by his touch. Her shifty eyes avoid his, and she holds the towel around her like a lifeline.
He doesn't ask her why, or offer her advice. He simply remains where he is for awhile, evaluating the situation.
"You require someone to watch over you. Do you have someone you can call?"
She shakes her head.
"Then I will stay."
She nods at this, holding the towel in place firmly, head turned from him. She's turned her gaze from him like a sulking child, he notes. He has observed humans for countless hours, seen their behavior in all sorts of situations in order to mimic it better, to understand it. He does not understand her though.
She appears a bit groggy again, clearly desires sleep, but sobers from this when he touches her chin, claiming her attention in an instant.
"I will observe your condition. Please feel safe in my care, Meredith," he says to reassure her.
She doesn't say anything. Her pulse is high, blood rushes across her body with haste, and he is certain that his kindness is something she never expected.
Once she is capable of walking again, he helps her to the bedroom. There is a silent truce between them, Meredith follows his command without objections, and it pleases him for he had expected resistance. But when he tucks her into bed, leaning over her recumbent figure as she stills, he places a kiss on her forehead, just as her father did.
He has seen it done many times, such expressions of affection, but has never engaged in anything of the kind himself, so for him the experience is nouveau, as Peter would say. His movement does not betray the hesitation that lasts whole seconds before he presses his lips on her skin, puckering them a bit, suddenly tasting her, feeling the way she presses into him almost subconsciously.
Did he just kiss her wrong? Peter's kiss was quicker, lighter, yet his took more time, his lips did not just graze her skin.
David retreats from her next, nostrils quavering from her smell, lips remembering her feel, his senses profoundly focused on her. Meredith doesn't react to the kiss visibly, just as she did not react to her father's. He expects her to comment for awhile, but when she does not, he retreats to a chair in her bedroom, sitting down as she sinks further into the bed, dead silent.
His good intentions, that not-quite filial kiss, hang in the air for awhile, accompanied by ghastly silence. David doesn't know if she thinks about it, but he does. It troubles him. He cannot say what compelled him to act that way, or why it feels important.
So he watches her as promised, and in order to distract himself he picks up a book from her bookshelf. David still occasionally glances at the sleeping form on the bed after she falls asleep, yet he becomes focused on his reading as well.
The book on his hands is an unexpected experience, something he hasn't come across at Weyland's private library before. It is La Vita Nuova by Dante Alighieri, a curious choice for a woman such as her. The book details the development of Dante's courtly love for a woman called Beatrice through narrative that connects his poems about love.
David reads about captive hearts until dawn, unable to grasp the obsession of a man who had only met the object of his affection once before he fell in love. He reads the poems the poet writes of his heart's desire, this flawless woman, whose every action was executed with utmost grace.
He guards her sleep, and takes the book with him in the morning with the solid intention of returning it one day when he has grasped its meaning. He never gets the chance to return it.
TBC