by Wriness Chikaya
Chapter 4 - Crushing Pop Cans
The tossing, the turning at night. The smell of burning. Even the motions of the clock on the wall had begun to annoy Dot, to irk her in those tiresome ways so common when one is depressed.
She had hidden in Phong's egg-shaped room for nearly three minutes, thinking her thing over, turning thoughts over and over in her head until they came up just as ruddy and over-worked as her face and eyes.
The furniture was tacky, and had a look of a prior era, one of orange and shag carpets. But more importantly, it smelled of Phong.
She missed him much, like a child misses a parent. The simple things, though. Never the complex. She never totally realized until he was gone how much ground he did cover, even after he had 'retired' from being Command.Com. Dot lamented about how unfortunate it was that he had not had the chance to teach her gradually.
Perhaps it was best that way.
This stage did not last long, however, as Dot was a strong lady with a strong head on her shoulders. She soon grew tired of wallowing in self-pity, but still paining, did not exactly return to normal function. Bob took notice of this, as did everyone around her, though he was the first to speak.
"Dot?"
"Mm..." Dot hummed as she ran her gloved hands over the panel. She disliked touching the panel with her fingers now. It was always so cold.
"Dot," repeated Bob, more sternly this time.
"Mm..." came the same placid reply. She was shelling. Bob knew it.
"Dot, you have to speak."
"Do I, now," she replied absentmindedly.
"Yes, you do."
"Later..." she murmured.
"No, Dot. Now."
"Mm..."
Bob grew slightly angry. She wasn't listening to him. He ran his hand down her arm and grasped her tightly above her elbow. He always held her gently, as if he was afraid she would break. This hurt him, somehow.
He pulled her away from the panel gently, as if expecting her response to his touch as placid and docile as her responses to his words. To his minute surprise, he found her resistant.
"Dot, look at me."
This time she did not even honor him with a reply.
He rested his hands gently on her shoulders and pulled her away from the panel. It was difficult for her to resist this movement, and to avoid falling over she followed his hands' path.
"What do you want," she asked shortly. "I have work to do."
"I want to talk to you," he said. Looking deeply into her eyes, he felt his insides move, as if the part of him that was Glitch was trying to tell him something. All was not well, that was for sure.
"You're speaking with me right now, now would you please get what you have to say out already?"
"I'm not talking to you, Dot, I'm talking to this hideous shell of a woman that I dare to call my --" he stopped himself short.
"Your what?" Dot sneered.
Bob felt frustration well up inside him and bubble out his gullet as words. "My -- love." he choked.
Dot blinked.
"It means nothing to you, does it? Nothing, does it?" Bob felt his teeth clench, his hand ball up into a fist. He felt his arms begin to shake slightly, and his neck feel somehow like his head was a lead weight.
Dot remained totally speechless, staring into Bob's eyes blankly.
"You. Don't. Care." he choked, slightly. She just doesn't care... his head resounded the words.. doesn't care.. doesn't care.. like an endless echo that hurts your ears and then echoes some more.
He touched her cheek gently, trying not to cry. He was a Guardian, he was important and big and powerful he Must Not Cry. He must not, he commanded himself.
She opened her mouth, eyes darting to some random point off in the lower left-hand distance. No words came out.
"You didn't know, even. Did you."
Dot's eyes darted to the other side, her mouth remained open. "I.." came the small burp of a word. She couldn't even form the words, for one simple reason. That the viscous bubbly warm feeling in her chest was taking shape, slowly, like wax. And she never wanted to know what it was, because instinctively she knew it would take work.
Bob watched these thoughts, or their shadows, form inside her head. And on a whim, reached towards her, grasping her chin gently between his thumb and forefinger. He lifted her face gently towards his and kissed it, gently. A proper kiss.
Dot's eyes widened briefly, then closed, then opened again as Bob leaned out of the kiss. She eyed him strangely.
"... Get ... out?" she said, as if she didn't understand what she was saying.
"Dot, talk to me. Don't shove me away. Don't sit here and wallow in yourself, in your depression and words. They're just words, Dot. Just words."
Dot choked again. "Don't make me choose again, between things I don't understand and things I don't want to live through. Just let me do my own thing."
Bob eyed her quietly, for the first of what was to be many times. "Dot, you're not the Dot I know. I hope you get through this."
Dot brushed past Bob and clacked her way out of the office. Bob wasn't sure what to make of her movements, as the alarm bells in his head were going off nonstop, but he grabbed a zipboard from the corner of the room and followed her.
She walked slowly, and with determination, and Bob had trouble keeping up to her without reverting to the pace of a run. She grabbed a zipboard at the exit of the principal office and started to punch in codes to open the doors when Bob grabbed her arm again, tighter this time.
"Dot!"
"What, Bob? What?" Dot nearly screeched at him. He held her hand fast, away from the control panels.
"They're trying to kill you, Dot. It's dangerous out there."
"I don't care, Bob. If they're trying to eradicate who I am, then maybe there's a reason for it." Dot's eyes rolled about in her head, as if she was full of intoxicants. Bob's stability flickered for a moment, enough to let Dot lunge forward and punch the first button on the access panel before Bob steeled his grip again to keep her hand away from the panel.
"I won't let you out there, Dot! I don't want you dead! There's no reason for it. There's no way this could be normal. There's too many people going random. Going half-random.." Bob's voice trailed off.
Dot raised her head to meet Bob's gaze. She felt his hand loosen around her wrist, but she didn't finish punching in the code.
"I want you to promise me something, Dot. Please..." His voice trailed off into a mere breath.
Dot remained silent, staring deeply into his eyes.
"Promise me.. that you'll stay hiding .. wherever it is you've been hiding ... and don't come out until it's safe?" Bob's eyes had a pleading tint to them, as if something was reaching out from them and pulling Dot inside...
She blinked for a moment, and that horrible nightmare of being eaten alive by darkness returned, and, if only for a moment, it was enough to make her cringe.
There was a warmth, that billowed, no, poured forth from her being, and spilled on the floor about Bob. She didn't understand what it was, but it made her feel elated. The elation in this situation was kind of uncalled for, however.
She closed her eyes and pressed her palm against the wall, thinking. "Bob, I don't want to promise that. That's weak, and cowardly--"
"And most importantly, safe," Bob cut in.
A trace of frustration crossed Dot's face. She appeared ready to argue. Bob had other plans.
"Promise me."
Dot raised her eyes to his and felt them lock somehow. As if he'd reached inside her and held her emotions in complete check. The complex which ran her brain out of habit gave way to a giddy emotion built upon spontenaety. Before Dot knew what she'd said, Bob was gone and she had promised to stay inside the little egg-shaped room until the knight in shining armor had vanquished the evil.
It all seemed too surreal to be true.
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