No Man An Island
A Lost in Space Fanfiction
Thankfully the cargo net had needed mending, and he now sat on one of the few remaining storage lockers bent over the task. Not that John Robinson was every really at a loss for something to do. This patchwork colony was always needing the two strong arms and innumerable skills he had picked up in a lifetime of rough work. But so many of the other tasks he was needed for were public. The simple job of drilling holes in the tough material, lacing the wire through them, then heat crimping the wire shut could be done in the privacy of the Jupiter's garage.
The relative privacy he thought with a sigh as he heard feat on the ladder. He felt a dull flicker of relief as he heard the ladder whine in protest. He should really check the attachment points when he was done with this. The Jupiter's were strong, built to last generations, but they hadn't been made to take however many pounds the robots put on them. From the way the ladder was protesting it was either Robot or Scarecrow coming down. Neither of them would be likely to notice. Still he ducked his head as if examining the drill he was using to make the holes in the dense material. Some habits were hard to break.
The creaking of the ladder gave way to the heavy tread of Robot's footsteps as he crossed the garage towards the chariot. John heard the rear storage compartment open and something heavy clunked as it was placed there. There was a shuffling as Robot arranged whatever he was putting away. John wished he would hurry up. He swallowed hard and placed the drill bit over the next mark. The tool hummed to life with a far less satisfying sound than the rusty old machines he had taught Judy to use in the golden dust of the horse barn. The fond memory pulled a smile out of his lips, right before the drill penetrated the material, jolted through and took a small chunk of skin off of his knuckle.
John grunted and shook out his hand. The noises from the back of the chariot stopped and he heard the compartment close followed by footsteps approaching him. John gave a snort of irritation and waved his hand to show Robot how minor the injury was, to wave him away. It was really remarkable how nurturing Robot was. It was endearing. It was exactly the sort of example of controlled power that John wanted his children to grow up seeing. It was exactly what he couldn't stand at the moment.
The footsteps came to a stop just behind him and John bent over his task, the dry burning threatening to ruin the nice illusion he had been holding onto all day. A blue hand reached around and gently touched the bleeding knuckle and the way the light brightened on the work in his hands told John that Robot was bent over him, examining him. John swallowed again. His work worn hands worked the wire through the holes. If only Robot would leave.
The Jupiter was full of people who could use the comforting presence of the newest addition to the Robinson family. Don West was flat on his back under the pilot's console, already fourteen hours into his day, trying once again to coax small miracles out of the battered components. Don was ruminating over some perceived sin, heaven only knew what it was. John had taken a moment to try and pry it out of him, had shared a story about the time he had made some mistake on patrol in Afghanistan. They had laughed together over some small thing. Something only men who were striving to do better would understand. Don had seemed more relaxed when John had left him, but the kid needed all the encouragement he could get.
The blue hand at his side withdrew and John felt his breath hitch a little with relief. Robot would go now, his worry and curiosity satisfied. Those blue hands could be useful elsewhere.
Maureen could probably use another backrub. The one he had given her earlier was probably wearing off. She would still be bent over the table in the hub where he'd left her. As he heat crimped the wires shut he wondered what that particular crying fit had been about. She seemed to be having them more often lately. He had only asked what a particular diagram had meant and she had snapped at him something sarcastic and scientific. His startle must have shown on his face because she had immediately apologized, then collapsed into his chest to cry. Then the backrub of course.
Robot took two lumbering steps back and John was startled by the soft susurration of unfolding metal. John jerked up and glanced around frantically, his hand going for his knife, but as far as he could see they were alone in the garage. He shot a curious look at Robot and felt his gut unclench when he was only met with a dense white field of swirling light. He had never seen a face quite like that. He was used to a more star like pattern. This was more akin to dense high altitude clouds on a moonlit night.
John stared at Robot a moment longer. It was rare he got to see this form when they weren't in a life or death situation. Then the burning in his eyes reminded him what he was doing here. He gave Robot a weak smile and ducked his head back over his work. There was a soft shuffling behind him and the white light played over his hands again. Something tightened painfully in his chest at the quiet presence behind him and his vision began to blur.
John twitched hard suddenly as something brushed his ribcage but he didn't take his unfocused gaze off of the crisscrossed pattern of black straps in front of him. Slowly, gently Robot's lower arms encircled his waist. John tried to reach up and pat the hands...talons? In a comforting gesture but his arms suddenly felt heavy, weak. Instead Robot's two hands closed gently over his in a warm grasp. The second, large set of hands reached down and crossed lightly over his sternum. The moment stretched out for several heartbeats before John slowly lifted his other hand and placed it in their grip. Robot gave his hands a gentle squeeze and John returned it.
John's vision was completely blurred now and his pulse pounded in his sinuses. He took a ragged breath, meaning to say something, to assure robot he was fine. But Robot let his head dip and gently rubbed the side of his jaw against the crown of John's head in a gesture that felt all too human. Something in John broke and his words turned into a quiet, ragged sob. He was dimly aware that Robot pulled him close. That his back was pressed against the warm plating that shielded Robot's core. But the sensation that stuck out the most was when Robot carefully curled his neck down over John's head. The back of a human skull fit nicely, comfortably in the crook of an alien robot's neck apparently.
John felt his body wracked with the dry, quiet sobs that he so rarely allowed himself to indulge in. He had to be strong. Here, on this Jupiter, among the humans, he wasn't just a husband and a father. He was a warrior. The only man, or at least the highest ranking man, trained, practiced prepared to do violence for the colony. He couldn't afford to be weak. They needed him, needed his strength. Even when he was ready to break with the fear, the frustration, the fury that this strange new life filled him with. He understood all this both mentally and on a visceral, physical level.
Somehow, somehow he hadn't even thought about the fact that the equation didn't just include humans anymore. There was another pair, well, another two pairs really, of shoulders bearing the burden of the Robinson family. There was another warrior ready to defend their little village at all costs. John had spent so much time thinking of Robot as Will's friend, he had missed how much responsibility their-his friend had taken. Somehow, now, in this moment of weakness and blinding tears, he suddenly saw how much he had come to depend on the big guy.
John grasped the talons that held his hands as if they were a life line. The plating behind his back was firm and still. But Robot was gently moving his head at times, giving John's scalp a tender, sideways nuzzle. John wasn't sure how long he sat like that, cradled by arms capable of so much violence, feeling safe for a few blessed moments. But eventually his sobs turned to quiet gasps, and he felt his hands go limp in Robot's.
Robot lifted his head a moment, and then gave him one final nuzzle, before gently disengaging his hands and pulling them quietly away. John just breathed for a moment, letting the sudden chill caused by the removal of Robot's warmth clear his mind. It wasn't until he heard the ladder protesting again that he thought to turn and thank Robot. But as he watched the now humanoid form climb up, out of the garage the words wouldn't form.
What could he say? He still didn't know how much English Robot understood, and all the words he could think of felt flat and pointless next to what that touch had communicated. Robot wasn't looking back for a response. John pulled up memories of the times that he had comforted his brother officers in times of great distress. He wouldn't have wanted them to burden those near sacred moments with useless words. They hadn't. He wouldn't.
But at the last moment Robot did turn, and glanced back at him with a familiar figure-eight pattern dancing across his face. John felt a small but genuine smile pull at his lips and Robot ducked his head in a final nod before disappearing up the ladder.