CHAPTER EIGHT
The tips of her fingers trace the now familiar linear scars on the young woman's forearms. The clone closes her eyes, at the sight of goosebumps instantly forming there, despite Call remaining motionless in her bed, her facial features incredibly distended.
*.*
One week earlier
"Ripley, you're tickling me", Call admonishes her with little belief, her eyes closed and voice sleepy, scratching the tip of her nose.
Ripley chuckles in amusement, backing away from her so that the airflow of her breath doesn't end up right on her neck. The young woman immediately regrets her protest and snuggles back against her.
The movie they decided to watch together turned out to be so boring that they dozed off long before the end credits, lulled by the whistling wind that creeps through the cracks on the old window and from under the door of what was once a simple prison cell, big enough to hold two bunk beds and house four wretches, or murderers, or gang members, or who knows who else, but it still was a cell.
*.*
When they offered her that arrangement, the cell was in pitiful condition, to say the least. But she hadn't blinked an eye. The cots were narrow and short for someone her size, but she had been 'born' and 'raised' sleeping on the cold, bare floor of a damn science ship of which she was only one of the main attractions. It was still a good leap in quality.
Back at the Base, after her adventure in Venezuela with Call, however, the woman returned to her accommodation, looking at it with new eyes and seeing potential. In the following weeks, she made it her own, restoring it, using the scraps with which the occupants of the structure had set up the most important areas of the Base, the common areas and the laboratories.
She got rid of the two rusty double cots and the shabby metal cabinet, completely stripping the place bare, except for the worn-out washbasin and the toilet, which she managed to replace with two less disgusting items.
She'd had to do some serious reverse engineering work, considering the fact that her knowledge of plumbing was practically zero. But after several expletives and half a flooded room, she had managed to do it, even if, at the end of the job, she had risked screwing it all up by stupidly hurting her hand. It had been this close, that the blood didn't drip on the only fucking decent tap she had managed to get.
Over the next few days, with the enthusiastic help of Call and her skills, she'd put up a wall to divide the bathroom from the rest of the room, the drain on the floor had allowed them to install a shower as well. They'd even decided to add a couple of outside pipes so they could connect a second sink, in the small space the android had suggested she make into a kitchen.
By the time they'd gotten around to considering work on the one window and the door, however, they realized that the existing materials weren't right for the job.
Ripley would have to move away and scout around the ruins of some ghost town to find sturdier, similarly sized windows and doors for her needs, and although the space wasn't much, she wanted to get a bed that was a little wider, she wanted to be comfortable, at least in her own place.
"We''ll start molding the titanium nanorobots, tomorrow. Then we should assemble circuits and see if they work-"
"Okay, I'll go by myself", Ripley had cut her off, slightly regretting not being able to have her company, but looking forward to finishing the work.
"Ripley, you can't go off on your own!", the young woman had protested, putting away the tools she had borrowed.
"Call, we've been over this, it's not like I need a babysitter!", the hybrid had rolled her eyes.
"That's not what I'm talking about! You only have two arms. It's ridiculous to keep a vehicle busy to only half fill it", the android had reasoned. She knew it was a good point, but it wasn't the only reason that had made her argue.
"What if something happened to you? I wouldn't know about it and…", she didn't even know how to continue, but that thought bothered her. She had lowered her gaze, for a moment fearful of what she had just expressed, but she had recovered, before the woman knew what to retort.
"Come on, I'd love to go with you! Can't you just wait a few more days?", and she had looked at her in that way all her own that made her stomach squirm pleasantly, forcing her to accept the proposed compromise without so much as a word of protest. Damn her!
In the end, it had taken them weeks to find some decent fixtures to bring back to the Base, and among the ones they'd found on various trips, they'd set aside a double-glazed window and a heavy wooden door, but they still hadn't had time or the means to install them.
*.*
She loves it, going on a scouting trip. With Call. Even if it's risky. At the Base there's always a need for new resources and there aren't many people willing to travel thousands of miles looking for food, machinery, medicines, fertilizers and seeds for the garden set up on the roof of the former prison.
They, on the other hand, live those days as if they were taking a vacation. Often made up of exhausting efforts to seek, dismantle, transport and load, but still a vacation. It's true, sometimes they had to go to places where there was very little to see, but they often look for destinations that can also offer them a bit of fun.
Like about twenty days earlier, when they ended up in the area that used to be Arizona, once. At the sight of the Grand Canyon and the other wonders of that vast area, the Petrified Forest, Monument Valley, the Painted Desert... they hadn't been able to help but extend their excursion by a couple of days, feeling thrilled, partly because of the enchanting landscapes, partly because of the story they'd told on the radio to justify their delay in getting back.
"I feel like I did when I used to pick up my little sisters in the park behind their school and take them with me without our parents' permission!", Call had exclaimed giggling, her eyes bright in contrast, right after finishing the radio call to the Base.
Ripley had approached her protectively, wiping away the only tear she'd allowed to escape, and she'd sniffled and assured her she was fine, but then she'd taken refuge in her warm embrace and let herself rock warmly.
And the vision of the sunrise over the edge of the cliff at the Horseshoe Bend, had turned into something more than just a moment of shared wonder.
Who knows, maybe it was the silence around them, maybe it was the setting, maybe it was the whole thing, including the previous months, but Ripley found herself thinking about how romantic that moment was and suddenly she found herself wanting to loosen the grip of her arms on her, to be able to look into her eyes, slowly approach her face and kiss her with all the feelings she felt inside at that very moment. She had even closed her eyes imagining the scene, taking in the pleasant ache that had blossomed in her chest.
Eventually she had sighed, realizing the fact that Call was in a vulnerable state. It would have felt to her like taking advantage of the situation and of her. Especially since, she told herself, she had no idea what might be going through the young woman's strange and adorable little head.
So she had confined herself to gently placing a kiss in her hair, where she had then laid a cheek, still cradling her within her embrace.
But something, on that moment, had definitely woken up inside her. She had become aware that Call was no longer just the dearest friend she had ever known.
That's why, when Dani had dumped her, she had felt partly relieved.
That's why, when Call had justified herself for not wanting to date Dinesh anymore because he was boring and pompous, in her own words, she hadn't been sorry at all...
Okay, maybe she had been relieved more than she wanted to admit to herself, even in that occasion.
She couldn't deny the evidence that her behavior towards Call hadn't changed from that time on, because it had. Maybe even from before and without her realizing it. But certainly, from that time on, she had willingly put her own spin on it.
Just as her attention to her friend's attitudes toward her had changed. It wasn't really a matter of testing the waters, but of letting things flow as they came and finding out where they would lead. And as time went on, her doubts about where they were leading thinned more and more.
After everything she had witnessed aboard the Auriga, with the baggage of foggy memories of losses from a lifetime ago, the part of her that wished she hadn't wasted time, because life can be very short, was almost constantly fighting to get the upper hand. At some times it was harder than at others.
But by clinging to the thought that the small strides they were making each day were so damn unique and enjoyable that they deserved to be experienced without rushing things, Ripley had always managed not to do anything she might regret later.
For although many small clues allowed her to feel that Call was getting closer to her as well, other small clues also suggested that the young woman was not yet ready to consciously consider the possibility of 'being enough for someone other than an Auton,' her own words.
Even though it was a conversation that dated back to when she'd just dumped Dinesh, Ripley's blood had boiled in her veins and she'd wanted to shake her when she'd answered her like that after she'd asked if she'd ever considered trying to date someone other than an Auton.
However, she had stayed silent, wondering, not for the first time, how she could break through that belief that was so ingrained in the young woman's mind.
*.*
"I don't feel like going back to my bunk. Jacob snores, Samantha talks in her sleep, and she's not going to get the glitch fixed because she says it makes her feel more human, and Tim doesn't do anything but... never mind!", Call whines, slipping listlessly to the bed's edge and pushing away the picture of the young roommate who, heedless of the others' presence, spends his nights... shaking her head. No, she just doesn't want to think about it!
"So, just don't go, just stay", her friend replies under her breath, holding her gently and adjusting the covers better on both of them, glad that those complaints give her a chance to have her a little longer.
It's Friday, they don't work the next day, and they've been spending the weekend together for weeks now, so why not? It might even become a habit. Boy, would she want it to become so!
"Why don't you get your own place?", the clone asks, fluffing the pillow they share.
"Yeah. Maybe I should. I liked it at first, but now, I have to admit, it's starting to weigh on me, all this sharing space", the young woman agrees.
Also because, she realized that for some time now, she also feels the need for some privacy for certain 'experiments'! Of course, spending an entire night in... definitely not! But... well...
"There are still several free rooms in this block, and now that we've practiced with this one, setting up another cell will be a piece of cake!", the clone comments smiling, already excited by the idea itself.
She snuggles closer to Call's body, looping an arm around her waist, as if scared that she'll try to pull away, and lulled by her slow, steady breathing, it isn't long before she drifts off to sleep, completely absorbed in the feeling of holding her close all night long.
Call, on the other hand, struggles to get to sleep. Why the fuck did these thoughts have to come to her mind right now? But the answer is more than clear in the emotions and sensations that the contact with Ripley's body, her breath on her neck, are causing her. Even in areas of her body that only a few weeks before she had trouble perceiving as her own, and that she had always stupidly wondered what they could ever be used for. Well, technically she knew, let's be clear! But really, she'd never needed them, and had never known what to do with them! Now she had some ideas!
What a makeover she has made since they came back from Auyantepui! 'DMT has done wonders, on yo,,'s he had once told her, hearing back that she had contributed too. She doesn't know if that's true, but she knows that if she told her, Ripley means it, and that's enough to make her feel an unusual surge of pride, for herself and for her, every time she thinks about it.
Lately, though, another kind of change has caught her attention and strengthened her emotions about her friend. Ripley has mellowed further.
At first, she had thought it was a natural consequence for what she had experienced with the compound discovered in her blood, which turned out to be a derivative of dimethyltryptamine, but one with a unique structure, and which oddly enough her pineal gland kept secreting, albeit in smaller and smaller amounts, as time passed.
"R-DMT?"
"It stands for Ripley-DiMethylTryptamine."
"No kidding!"
"Well, why not? After all, you only make it yourself, right?"
But after spending several evenings at the tavern with her and other mutual friends, she had noticed that Ripley didn't act like that with everyone.
Certain attentions, certain sweetnesses, were reserved only and only for her, and often, only and only when they were alone. She could hardly deny that she didn't like this. She certainly couldn't deny that lately she, too, had begun to treat her with a certain... exclusivity?
Ripley's breath comes back tickling the base of her neck and she's thinking it's driving her crazy! And she doesn't want to pull away, so she clings to her even tighter, holing up almost inside her chest, and for the first time in almost fifty-five years, she feels it.
The feeling like being 'home'.
*.*
Four weeks earlier
"When's your birthday?", Ripley asks leaning into her, as Call styles her hair into the soft braid, as is now their routine, before setting out to cook together, on the evening they've carved out to spend some time together, since they've sorted things out between them.
"Ripley, I don't have a birthday, you know", she huffs in a seemingly amused tone, to mask some surprise, mixed with embarrassment, that the question caused her.
"Call, I'm sure your family celebrated you, in some way", the clone retorts in a soft tone, turning to look at her, full of expectation.
She can imagine her friend having reluctance, to remember that time in her life, given how it turned out. But Ripley would do anything to get her through the pain of her past.
"April twenty-sixth, the day they took me from the factory", the android replies in a dull voice, after a long sigh.
It's early April now. Ripley vows to think of something nice for that day.
"What day was it, when you found me in that cell?", she then asks, to distract her from the painful memory of her family.
"The tenth of August", Call replies, sketching a smile, at the memory of their first, weird meeting.
"You'd better remember then", the woman warned her, drawing her to herself and kissing her soundly on a cheek.
*.*
The fragrance of the coffee brings her back to the present, she looks up and smiles, to thank Dani, as she takes the cup she is offering her.
She watches the woman approach her unconscious friend, examining her with a professional and attentive attitude. Ripley mentally thanks her for all that attention, even though she knows the scientist would treat anyone with the same care.
"How long will it take?", she asks, seized with impatience.
The woman walks over to the machine Call is hooked up to, watching with a focused gaze as the reddish fluid flows toward it.
"I reckon you'll have to wait until her body and the nanorobots have totally cleansed her lymphatic system of your blood", she replies slowly. "When I found her, the color was deeper", she notes, pointing to the machine. "Now it's lighter, it looks diluted", she adds, to make her participate. "I suppose when it's completely white, it will come around", she finally declares.
"It's his birthday today", Ripley says, smiling in the direction of the young woman. Even the complexion of her face is no longer as bright as it was when she entered the room. No matter how long it takes, they will still celebrate someway.
After nearly two weeks of rehearsing without her knowledge, she's finally managed to achieve a near-perfect result and can't wait to sink two candles into that mini brownie for two that now rests in the small refrigerator in her quarters.
*.*
Six weeks earlier
"I should have seen this coming. Yeah, you're definitely a chocolate cake kind of girl!", she teases her over a slice of excellent apple pie at the tavern.
"You're not?", Call retorts, raising an eyebrow curiously.
"Nah, I'm too badass for sweet things", she jokes. It doesn't take her long to change her mind, though. The forkful of brownie she steals from her plate is just fine, especially with a sprinkle of chili on top.
Especially as she watches the heavenly expression printed on the young woman's face as she eats it. Damn her! And her heart skips a beat. Maybe even two or three.
"So what's your favorite food?", her friend asks her, curious, before taking another bite of dessert.
Ripley thinks about it for a long time, shrugging her shoulders. I mean, it's not like she has much to compare it to, although at the Base they manage to find different dishes and enough raw materials to arrange a good variety of dishes. But with all the effort she can muster, she's torn between pizza and spicy chicken. In the end she decides for the chicken, but only because it's rarer to eat it.
*.*
"Yeah, the guys told me to keep me free for Sunday night, you threw her a party at Stephen's down at the diner", the scientist replies with a strained smile. "She'll be fine, you'll see", she speaks from across the bed, stuffing her hands into her lab coat pockets.
Then she walks away with slow steps, reiterating to her friend to call her if needed and reassuring her with a firm grip on her shoulder as she walks past her.
*.*
The sun has long since set, but the room is lit at irregular intervals by lightning from an approaching thunderstorm.
Ripley strolls nervously with her arms crossed, checking every bit of the liquid, now light pink, that is Call's blood mixed with her own.
-Call's blood mixed with hers-, that definition has something extraordinarily intimate about it.
Raging waves hurtle over the island's cliffs, the splashes caused are blown away by a rushing wind, blowing icy from the north and leaving an opaque, almost greasy, powdery patina on the window panes.
"You don't sound very zen tonight", a squeaky, unexpected voice makes her jump on the spot. A woman in her thirties smiles at her from the doorway.
"Hey, come on in!," it's nice to see a friendly face, and Ripley welcomes it.
"I bet you missed dinner, so Stephen and I thought we'd make you something", Samira approaches, handing her the still-warm wrapper.
"You guys are awesome! Thank you!", the clone hugs her gratefully, despite not really wanting to eat. "Word travels fast!", she comments without annoyance in her voice.
"Is she going to be okay?", the young woman asks, looking at the figure lying motionless on the medical bed.
"Oh, she'd better be!", Ripley exclaims, banishing a motion of awe with the playful joke. "Because I want to finish her off myself!", she adds in frustration.
"Of course, of course! How threatening!", Samira shakes her head, rolling her eyes.
*.*
She was intrigued, the first few times she had shown up at the diner, she had heard the rumors, about her only partly human nature.
Some people persisted in saying she was dangerous, just because she always kept to herself. She didn't want to believe those rumors, but something stopped her from approaching. Maybe it was because, with her attitude, it just seemed like she was telling everyone to stay the hell away.
After a few months, she started exchanging a few words, thanking and complimenting her for her work in the kitchen, and slowly they became genuine friends.
But when her brother had asked her what she was waiting for to ask her out, she'd snapped at him immediately, making him feel like a fool, asking him how he hadn't noticed that the woman only had eyes for Call.
And even after she'd started dating the head of the science department, Samira had still claimed that since her contact with Call had resumed, no one would have a chance with Ripley, she just didn't know it yet, that's all.
Neither of the two people directly involved, knew, actually.
*.*
"Eat something, and whatever, do some meditation, for Christ's sake! I've been here two minutes and you've already got me anxious!", she prods her, in an attempt to calm her down.
She sees her smiling with a vaguely exasperated expression, "I've got to get back downstairs, your coworkers are getting a little too loud tonight, I've got to go give my brother a hand before he has a panic attack!", she jokes, greeting her with a resounding pat on the shoulder.
"Thank you both!", Ripley greets her.
"Well, you owe me an extra bag of rice, Ripley, that spicy chicken sandwich isn't free!", Samira points out, making her laugh.
*.*
Two weeks earlier
"I don't think this is going to work, Ripley", Call has already changed her mind. She is skeptical when it comes to trying out certain techniques on herself, which she does not hesitate to recommend around. How did she ever think of suggesting such a thing?
But the sea is extraordinarily quiet, around the island, the sun is beginning to warm the atmosphere, and the idea of spending the last hours of Sunday like this, with Ripley, seemed essential to her.
"Well, if you don't try, you don't know", Ripley retorts, challenging her. She smiles, watching her roll her eyes, exasperated. She leaps over the huge flat boulder and helps her to her feet, extending a hand.
"You know how this works, at least in theory. It's not about maintaining focus, it's about consciously breathing, using the breath to anchor yourself in the 'here and now', acknowledging thoughts when you realize they've distracted you from your anchor, and letting them flow as they come and go, without judging yourself by how many times it happens, just to know yourself better. To really be in touch with yourself"
"I preferred you before the frog incident", Call jokes half-heartedly, sitting down next to her.
"Oh, come on. We both know that's not true", Ripley had mocked her, chuckling. "You're just afraid it won't work for you, but I'm confident it will. It can't not work", she reassured her.
"How can you be so sure?", the young woman asks, slightly annoyed by her confidence.
"Because everyone has more or less intrusive thoughts, and I think I know what yours are", the hybrid replies promptly, ignoring the sour edge she caught in her tone.
"Enlighten me!", her request is only intended to delay the inevitable. And to think, she's shot herself in the foot!
Ripley thinks about it for a long time, undecided whether or not to answer her, strangely enough, Danielle's words come back to her, 'I can't tell you, you'll figure it out for yourself eventually'.
Sighing, feeling her heartbeat quicken, she takes a long look at her and smiles. When she can tell from that look that Call is no longer annoyed by her manner, she leans a little more toward her and catches her breath.
"Do you remember what you told me, when we faced off about my elusive behavior in the first few months?", she asks in a soft voice, smiling at the memory of that conversation.
"Bitchy, you mean", the young woman teases, raising an eyebrow sternly.
Ripley sighs and rolls her eyes, giving her the runaround. "Yeah, okay, bitchy", she confirms with a giggle. Damn her! She's adorable even when she's calling her a bitch, how the hell does she do that?
Call chuckles too, relaxing a little, remembering that much meaningful talk. "That you were a mess because you thought you were, and you never tried not to be"
"Yeah," Ripley snorts a smile at those words, too.
"Wait a minute! Are you telling me I'm a mess?", Ripley laughs again, in an attempt to push away the almost compelling need to hold her close, touched by her ability to joke around in a moment that was meant to be serious.
"No, you were never a mess. Damn you!", she replies, allowing her hand to briefly graze the sweet features of her face, then forcing her back to cling to the granite rock beneath them.
A faint blush colors the young woman's cheeks, and she forgets to breathe until she feels the beat of her heart thunder in her temples.
"It's just… you let your rationality hold you back, sometimes. By your beliefs that you're not enough", Call opens her mouth to retort, but Ripley gently places a finger on her lips, thus inviting her to let her finish.
"You don't lack anything, Call. You show it every time you act on instinct. You don't lack anything even when that little voice of yours steps in, but it makes you think you're short of something, and so you freeze, for fear that it's right. But this way, you're only making it right for real", for a moment, it crosses her mind to tell her more, hinting at what's going on between them, showing her how much is enough, for her, and she feels her heartbeats accelerate furiously once again.
And once again, Danielle's words come to her aid.
It wouldn't be fair, leave her to her own time, she'll get there, she tells herself. Her eyes fall on the scars Auyantepui's jaguar has left on her.
"But I'm sure that sooner or later, you'll be able to win over that little voice, maybe not today, maybe not even tomorrow", the tips of her trembling fingers gently graze those marks deliberately left like that, and she smiles with tenderness and admiration.
"But you'll get there eventually. You're too much of a badass to let your irrational mind get in the way", she winks at her playfully, bending the corners of her thin lips upwards, and lies back in the sun, crossing her hands under her head, to regain her usual confident attitude and distance herself from the urge she has to... -Stop it, Ripley!-
Though her eyes are closed, she senses Call's gaze on her, but she tries hard not to notice. She exhales a silent sigh of relief when she hears her lie down next to her.
"Then I'm such a mess", Call jokes, not quite knowing what else to reply. She knows Ripley is right. And she's been so gentle, in saying it. She feels incredibly loved, and respected. She feels… legitimized.
And as if Ripley has sensed her thoughts and feelings, she feels her long fingers slide over the skin of her hand then intertwine with her own. She squeezes them, afraid she'll let go too soon, but feels her relax and try to imitate her, conquering her fear.
"No you're not"