A/N: Thanks to everyone for the new review, follows & favourites! I hope you've all had a chance to see the new leaked deleted scenes. I especially enjoyed the one where Vickers muses about Janek and Shaw trying to infect her ship and calls David a tin can ;) Not to mention the cut scene that brings more ambiquity to her relationship with Weyland. It does seem that Vickers admired him once upon a time after all...


VII

David 7 is the most advanced artificial human to date. He has succeeded in amazing his creators many times by now, especially when they reached the hypothesis that he was the first of his kind to develop a personality. To him the testing that followed was quite tedious. He was made to choose between things several times in succession, and each time he needed to justify his choice. It was Peter Weyland that convinced them this sign of individuality was a good thing. Humans are fickle and scared. David knows they are not all as open-minded as his master is.

But Peter's time has all but gone. His expiry closes in and his body becomes weak. A terrible illness has taken root in Peter, and he cannot be there to keep David company anymore. This is when Peter begins to talk about his daughter, Miss Meredith Vickers. Until Peter recovers, David must rely on her.

Peter speaks of her with conflicting emotion. His voice is fraught, and yet there is subtle softness in it as well. He tells David this; what Miss Vickers is and what is needed of her are two different things. She has a façade, and finding what lies beneath it is the key to earning her trust. In Peter's words, the things hidden are usually the imperfections of human character: the things that make humans weak. Meredith wants desperately to be one thing whilst in reality she is something else entirely.

The Meredith Vickers that arrives one day to take him with her is indifferent. She doesn't regard him as important or exceptional. But he also takes notice of how she refers to him as him instead of it like everyone else. He takes notice of the way she looks at him with recognition, flashes of emotion she's quick to hide. It is enough to pique his interest and render his default responses useless. It takes him milliseconds to decide he agrees with Peter; she is something else.


David knows when he is unwanted, has learned to read it from the eyes that observe him. He is good at making people like him, to accept him. Peter calls it making friends, tells him that it is the most important skill David can acquire. Making others like him or making himself useful are ways for him to ensure his own survival.

Meredith Vickers is an exception though. She's different, complex. She isn't easy to convince of his usefulness, nor is she easy to become friends with. David takes it as a challenge, an opportunity to expand his horizons, to hone his skills.

But each time he believes he's getting closer, she shuts down. Each time he believes he has figured out a way to please her, she rejects his offerings. He studies her whenever he can, learns more about her each day. Her file is accessed frequently in his memory, each fine detail taken into consideration as he works to serve her. Most of his attempts are brushed aside quickly, deemed unworthy or unnecessary. The food he cooks is left untouched, the maid still arrives to clean the apartment despite his efforts to keep everything tidy, and even the company he keeps with her seems to bring her mostly discomfort.

Regardless, David finds that he likes it here. Meredith asks very little of him, doesn't really need him for anything. In fact, she seems more at peace when she leaves him to his own devices, which makes her a more pleasing master than the quick-tempered Peter, who demands results and works with him tirelessly.

Meredith is more guarded. She keeps him at an arm's length most of the time. It is only when she drinks a little more than her usual dose of alcohol that she loosens up a bit. He finds the delirium that creeps in place quite intriguing. Normally he is not subjected to such human behavior as everyone around him behaves strictly professional. With Meredith he sees both the good and the bad. He doesn't think she notices it when he starts to put the wine on the table without request.

David makes the necessary arrangements to cook dinner for her. He orders the ingredients, cooks them, sets the scene and waits for her arrival. Her arrival draws late, his efforts are wasted, but he is patient above all else. The food is cold when she finally comes home, visibly fatigue, even more reluctant to socialize than usual.

Her outward appearance is usually unblemished: everything from her neatly arranged hair, to the natural make up she wears and her expensive attire is carefully arranged. David has seen her outside these walls and she is an utmost professional there. Within these walls though, she exhibits sides of herself that are not known to many. He is not surprised to see her disheveled, to see that sharpness in her glare reduced to a dull spark, as she enters her apartment. There is no need to look closer to find imperfection, for she does not hide that here. Unruly hair, tired eyes, dry lips or her oily skin do not make her any less imposing in his eyes though.

Her expression doesn't shift when he comes to the door to greet her and take her suitcase and coat. She's become adjusted with the routine, although initially protesting against it, and she allows him to escort her to the living room and the dining table. She doesn't acknowledge him after she sits down and is handed the plate. Meredith digs into the food eagerly whilst he pours her a glass of wine and sits across her.

She eats in silence, guided by the same basic instincts that guide all humans. David observes her silently, priding himself for being able to tell her mood without even hearing her speak. He waits for her to finish her plate, to sip her wine and relax. He waits to hear if he's done well, if this gesture finally puts him in her good graces.

Her appetite is ravenous and it doesn't take long for her to devour the meal he's cooked her. She drinks the wine afterwards, taking her time with it, relishing the taste. Then her dark eyes fall on him.

"Thank you for the meal, David," she says to him softly, that raspy sound to her voice that clues him in on her mood.

"I am glad I could be of service to you," he responds.

Meredith is looking at him now like an enemy, calculating. She then brings her hand to the back of her head and pulls away the pin that holds her hair down, releasing it on her shoulders. She rakes through it lazily, face overcome with disinterest.

"What is it this time?" she asks him, sounding almost mellifluous. Only he knows it is mockery. "We play a game, watch a film, or listen to some music perhaps?"

At this point he stands up and moves into empty the table. David takes her plate, but her hand moves over her glass almost protectively as he approaches, and he leaves it alone.

"Honestly David, what do you want to do? We're both here for your benefit," she urges him, filling her glass again. He's in the kitchen now, cleaning and thinking of her words.

She's smiling to herself, glass pressed against her lips when he comes back.

"Actually I was hoping we would talk. There are some things I'm curious about," he tells her.

There's a brief grimace on her face, but it vanishes quickly. "Of course you are," she nearly whispers, "you always are."

He looms over her, doesn't want to sit down to gain eye contact. He likes to look at her from above, to see her so small. She doesn't like that, but this time she tolerates it. It is one of the perks of leaving the bottle to the table, or so he's learned.

"Why aren't you married, Miss Vickers?"

The question makes her stop. She re-evaluates him, this situation, instantly exasperated with him again, but he does not retract the question.

"I don't subscribe to the social norm that it is necessary," she responds after a pregnant pause.

"Reproduction is generally considered one of the strongest impulses of your biological programming," he then says, making his voice velvety soft and smooth to appear less forward.

Meredith shrugs at this, taking another sip from her glass. "The world is overpopulated as it is."

He smiles while she looks away, a dark gleam in her eyes, showing just how uncomfortable she finds this conversation. He has his ways of luring a response though, of making her pliant.

"Not all human association leads to marriage and children," he recounts, the insinuation strong in there now. He cannot seem to please his with his services, and he does not like being unwanted, so perhaps there is something else he can do for her?

Meredith turns her head to him slowly, her thoughts visible for once. The inebriation is starting to take its toll; control slips from her, and he is shown something genuine. He appreciates these moments the most, when he can see her for what she really is.

"So you really wanted to know if I am asexual?" Her voice is cold, precise, "Because you haven't seen me engage in sexual encounters?"

She's very much to the point now, and his certainty falters for a moment. Did he go too far? Did he miscalculate their closeness?

"I'm not without desire. I simply keep it private," she explains with a bite, speaking with the voice of the master, the superior being.

"Prudence," he notes.

"It has nothing to do with you."

It seems he did miscalculate, David realizes. There were others around him that found him desirable. He could hear the quickening of the pulse, smell the increase of bodily fluids, lubrication, see the way they gauged him with their eyes. Not with her. To his surprise she considers the thought appalling.

"My apologies. I was merely curious. I hope I am not complicating your personal life," he responds appropriately and fills her glass in order to break off the uncomfortable eye contact. He can tell she's still looking at him though, seething with displease.

"You wouldn't be here, if you were," she whispers barely audibly, yet he hears her. He hears everything.

"I am glad," he says. "Human interaction is healthy. You often push yourself too hard."

And she's laughing. It's a low snicker, genuinely unpleasant. It seems she can't quite keep it inside anymore, judging by the way the corners of her mouth twitch as if without conscious effort. Her shoulders shake with laughter, and then everything else. The fountain of her golden hair falls over her face, the light enters her being at an angle that reveals the dark beneath her eyes, accentuates the effects her workaholic lifestyle has on her body.

He's noticed it of course. It is in his programming, and she's the new master. Before he belonged to Peter, now he is hers. The scientists and testers may prod him all they want, but he is hers in the good and the bad. When she gives him freedom, he appreciates it. When she spends her precious time with him, undoubtedly due to the contract between herself and her father, he is glad to be in her company.

What he learns though is often tied with contradiction. Meredith teaches him about façades, searching for other meanings than what lies in the surface, understanding connections that he did not think about by himself. She's a trying master, but he will find a way to serve her, to see her smile genuinely. It is his most basic programming.

"Your concern is very moving."

Her words are spoken with spite again. He thinks it might be a good idea to stop serving the wine now. With this in mind, David moves and takes the bottle away, half-expecting her to protest, but she doesn't. Meredith seems to be taken by dark thoughts.

"Obviously your purpose is looking after me. No matter how much I tell you to fuck off, you need to follow your damn programming."

When he returns from the kitchen the glass is empty and Meredith is still sitting there, gloomily quiet and staring at her hands. They are trembling no matter how hard she tries to keep them still. She sucks on her lower lip, eyes fluttering a bit as she struggles to regain her self-control, presumably because of the inebriation.

"I am not programmed to like you," he then says, smiling a bit to ease the tension in the air, "but it does help in serving you."

She doesn't take her eyes from her hands, just shifts them anxiously. "And you want me to like you as well?"

"Yes, that would make interaction easier between us."

She's suspicious, of course, as it is her nature to doubt everything. He watches as she sucks her bottom lip for an extended moment, unsure of herself. "And why do you like me?"

He supposes she isn't likable per se. Meredith is difficult, stubborn and she does not adhere to the basic rules of polite conduct. And yet he isn't a mindless thing to her. She treats him like a person: a bothersome person, but a person nevertheless. He takes his time to consider her question and what he should answer her a bit longer than it is necessary or customary.

"You can be wonderful company whenever you choose to be, Miss Vickers," he tells her softly. He chose to tell her the truth, his appreciation of those fine moments when she is laid bare and she has forgotten to hate him for a reason yet unexplained to him.

She rises to her feet abruptly, takes support from the table as she wavers, struggling to maintain her balance. David moves to offer her support, yet he stops midway, alerted by her intense stare.

"And when I'm not wonderful? Do you still like me then?"

It is a moment of honesty between them. He has often heard this sadness in her voice, a sign of grief that originates from something he cannot understand. It was there before he met her; it has always been there. He connects with Peter's words from months ago (and a memory of abandonment, of waiting for six hours, twenty three minutes and nineteen seconds before anyone bothered to tell him Peter wasn't coming). Is this the person Meredith truly is?

"I do not know how to answer that question, Miss Vickers," he says with a frown. "Perhaps if you were to provide me with some additional information as to-"

"Forget it," she snaps and turns from him, pulling away quickly.

Meredith closes her hand around the helm of her frumpy blouse and tugs at it, attempting to straighten it. Her knuckles are tensed, white from exertion. Her breathing is strained. Whatever David just witnessed is being replaced by the façade, the person she needs to be. He moves quickly to interrupt the change, because he does like the person underneath better.

She tenses when he puts his hand on her shoulder gently, allowing it to envelope her skin and the thin silken blouse that covers it.

"Perhaps we can both learn to like one another a little better?" he suggests innocently. It is a peace offering.

Meredith seems to have a difficult time with what she is hearing. He can sense her anguish; determine that she is distraught from the outward signs his sensors pick up and analyze. There is no pressure in the hand he has laid on her shoulder.

He cannot tell what her exact thought process is, but she stares forward emptily, lost somewhere in memory perhaps, and he is given the impression she gives his suggestion a lot of thought.

"You're correct," she then says with a distant, almost disembodied voice. "We can have a fresh start."

It pleases him that she would consider this. Although it is a challenge, no one wants to be where they are not wanted. Her home is one of the most curious environments he has been allowed to visit, but it is still her home, not theirs. David has tried to make himself comfortable as she requested, but he has come to realize he does not have a home.

She inhales deeply, holds it in, and then releases the air from her lungs, almost like she believes the act that can expel their previous history. The next time she moves, his hand falls from her. Meredith does not venture far; she simply walks into the living room and sits down on the sofa.

David watches her, standing perfectly still. He is unsure of what just happened.

"I will try harder… to be wonderful," she says with a hint of sarcasm, smiling to herself. This is, however, the voice of the Meredith he likes.

TBC