Title: Paths of the Past: Chapter Five
Author: Stormhawk
Rating: PG-13
Chapter Word Count: 1456
Notes: You might need tissues in this chapter. Just a warning.
Please read and Review.
The next night.
Cray walked into Stevie's darkened room. "Where are you Stevie?"
"She's up the street. You know that," a voice said scaring him out of his wits. He jumped five feet into the air before turning on the light. Stef was sitting cross-legged on the bed.
"I thought it was empty. You shouldn't sit in the dark and scare people like that."
"Sorry Cray. I was lost in thought and the dark doesn't really bother me."
"Yeah, you're an Agent."
"No, it makes this seem more like a bad dream that we can wake up from."
He looked at the thing she was holding in her hands, "What's that?"
"It's a teddy, it's the first thing he ever required for her. He kept it, stuffed it into one of his desk drawers because he knew one day she'd be back and she'd want it."
"Why is this happening?"
"A whole bunch of technical reasons. But I'd prefer to blame fate."
"Do you mind if I sit down?"
"Sure, just don't make too much noise. I don't want anyone else to know I'm here."
"Before all this happened I never knew Agents were capable of feelings like these."
"Programs are people too."
"I've seen that graffiti. But it's not like you guys have the best reputation."
"We are who we are."
"And the image of you pointing a gun at my head still bothers me. You were going to blow my head off. I still want to pee my pants when Smith is around. But, this thing with Stevie...let's just say it's helping."
"That's another one, now we just have to convince your sister and the crew on the Exodus."
"No way, you will never convert Niq. She hates Agents, she will always hate Agents."
"Why?"
"They killed her boyfriend. He was in a different city though." He paused, "I want Stevie back."
"That is going to be her choice."
*****
Smith was pacing in his office again, feeling as though he was going crazy. It had been more than forty-eight hours and there was no sign of change. She was still crashing at the house of criminals.
He opened the file again and scanned over the facts that he already knew by heart. Jessica had been an exceptionally self-destructive teenager. She consumed dangerous levels of drugs and alcohol; she had been comatose three times.
Two of those three times her fellow 'Crashers' as they called themselves had rushed her to the nearest emergency room, the third time she had been brought back by a shot of adrenaline that one of her companions had been going to use to get a temporary high.
As a street person she had been a perfect candidate for the experiment, everyone thought she was dead and there was no one searching for her.
It had been by chance that she had been assigned to him. He knew, in somewhere that was deeper than any level of his programming, that she was meant to be his child. It didn't matter that she had been born another person, Stevie was his.
And now her soul was lost to another, who couldn't care less whether she lived or died.
That jolted him. Suicide. Street persons often committed suicide, especially unstable youths such as Jessica.
And as long as there was even a shred of hope that she would come back he would not let anything happen to her.
He sat at his desk, and required a bug to her location. He watched on his computer as it crawled toward her and slipped into her wrist as she was sleeping. She sat up and scratched her wrist, having taken such a combination of abusive substances she hadn't noticed the pain of it. And there was nothing more than a scratch as evidence.
The bug would warn him if anything truly adverse were happening to her.
"What's happening?"
"Don't you knock?" he snapped at Stef.
"You don't."
"I want to be left alone."
"Well I don't want to leave you alone. And I don't want to be alone."
"Then go to the mansion and spend your time with Darth."
"No!" she snapped at him. "I've had enough of this. You are acting like you are the only one affected by this. Stevie is as close as sister to me and I want her back as much as you do. Maybe even more, I have lost enough people to lose another."
"But she is not your sister."
"And she doesn't share your DNA!"
She had expected open rage, to get punched in the face or at least for him to throw his computer across the room. Instead he looked up at her and spoke in a deadly calm tone. "If you don't get out of this room right now I am going to do something that you are going to regret."
He didn't even notice her shifting away.
He instantly regretted what he had said. He was just worried sick about Stevie that he had been clouded from everyone else.
He required her location and shifted.
"This is your fault Alexandria. This is all your fault." There was a pause, "junk, junk, competitive loan rates? No thanks. I may have already won? Junk..."
Smith walked into Stef' kitchen where she was sitting on the bench opposite a broken but familiar looking doll throwing junk mail into the bin.
"I thought you believed in people knocking."
"You would have shut the door in my face."
"You're not wrong there."
"Can we stop this please?"
"I didn't start it." She threw the last piece of junk mail at Alexandria who toppled and fell off the bench, the rest of her head smashing into small pieces. That was the last straw for Stef, she stopped fighting and let the tears run silently down her face.
Smith held his hand above the doll; it repaired back to its original state like he had done all that time ago and it flew into his hand. He looked down at it with a small smile.
"I...I have no excuse for the way I have been acting. I've been too blind to see that you've only been trying to help me and I've pushed you so far away I'm surprised you want to even talk to me. I've been so worried about Stevie that I've forgotten that she's not the only one I care about." He placed Alexandria on the bench beside her. "I'm sorry Stef."
She reached out her arms to him he pulled her into a hug. As he held her, she knew things were ok between them again.
"I love you Angel Smith. Thank you for being here for me. Thank you for being my dad as well as hers." She choked through tears.
"I'm the one that should be thanking you," he said as he required a handkerchief and wiped the tears from her face. "I wouldn't be the person I am without you."
She took the handkerchief and blew her nose then required it away. She jumped off the counter and put Alexandria back in her spot. "I always wished you'd come back and fix her, looks like you finally did." She looked up at him, "So how do we get her back?"
"You know it might be impossible."
"Many things are supposedly impossible. Well?"
"There isn't a set of rules we can break this time, we just have to wait it out."
"Well, I would have to say that that sucks."
"Jones doesn't even know of anything technical that we can attempt."
She stared at him..."What did you just say?"
"Jones knows about Stevie."
"Did you tell him?"
"He's suspected all along. And he hasn't said anything."
"Well...that is a point of interest."
"Yes, it is."
"Do you know if Jessica remembers everything or is it just like an echo of her?"
"As far as I can tell, it is her without certain memories. And she doesn't remember the fire."
"Stevie saw that."
"I am worried about that. If she has that dream...and considering it's her memory, she may die from psychosomatic symptoms. Especially if she is on drugs at the time."
"You want a coffee? I need something to steady my nerves."
"Yes please."
They walked back to the kitchen and she pulled out two coffee cups out of the cupboard. "Why don't you just require them?"
"I never get to use my kitchen anymore," she said as she filled the kettle. A moment later they both had black coffees.
"Thank you," he mumbled.
"It's just coffee."
"I wasn't talking about the coffee. She'd still be out there without you."
"And I'd be dead without you, so let's call it even a dozen times over."
"Deal."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Author: Stormhawk
Rating: PG-13
Chapter Word Count: 1456
Notes: You might need tissues in this chapter. Just a warning.
Please read and Review.
The next night.
Cray walked into Stevie's darkened room. "Where are you Stevie?"
"She's up the street. You know that," a voice said scaring him out of his wits. He jumped five feet into the air before turning on the light. Stef was sitting cross-legged on the bed.
"I thought it was empty. You shouldn't sit in the dark and scare people like that."
"Sorry Cray. I was lost in thought and the dark doesn't really bother me."
"Yeah, you're an Agent."
"No, it makes this seem more like a bad dream that we can wake up from."
He looked at the thing she was holding in her hands, "What's that?"
"It's a teddy, it's the first thing he ever required for her. He kept it, stuffed it into one of his desk drawers because he knew one day she'd be back and she'd want it."
"Why is this happening?"
"A whole bunch of technical reasons. But I'd prefer to blame fate."
"Do you mind if I sit down?"
"Sure, just don't make too much noise. I don't want anyone else to know I'm here."
"Before all this happened I never knew Agents were capable of feelings like these."
"Programs are people too."
"I've seen that graffiti. But it's not like you guys have the best reputation."
"We are who we are."
"And the image of you pointing a gun at my head still bothers me. You were going to blow my head off. I still want to pee my pants when Smith is around. But, this thing with Stevie...let's just say it's helping."
"That's another one, now we just have to convince your sister and the crew on the Exodus."
"No way, you will never convert Niq. She hates Agents, she will always hate Agents."
"Why?"
"They killed her boyfriend. He was in a different city though." He paused, "I want Stevie back."
"That is going to be her choice."
*****
Smith was pacing in his office again, feeling as though he was going crazy. It had been more than forty-eight hours and there was no sign of change. She was still crashing at the house of criminals.
He opened the file again and scanned over the facts that he already knew by heart. Jessica had been an exceptionally self-destructive teenager. She consumed dangerous levels of drugs and alcohol; she had been comatose three times.
Two of those three times her fellow 'Crashers' as they called themselves had rushed her to the nearest emergency room, the third time she had been brought back by a shot of adrenaline that one of her companions had been going to use to get a temporary high.
As a street person she had been a perfect candidate for the experiment, everyone thought she was dead and there was no one searching for her.
It had been by chance that she had been assigned to him. He knew, in somewhere that was deeper than any level of his programming, that she was meant to be his child. It didn't matter that she had been born another person, Stevie was his.
And now her soul was lost to another, who couldn't care less whether she lived or died.
That jolted him. Suicide. Street persons often committed suicide, especially unstable youths such as Jessica.
And as long as there was even a shred of hope that she would come back he would not let anything happen to her.
He sat at his desk, and required a bug to her location. He watched on his computer as it crawled toward her and slipped into her wrist as she was sleeping. She sat up and scratched her wrist, having taken such a combination of abusive substances she hadn't noticed the pain of it. And there was nothing more than a scratch as evidence.
The bug would warn him if anything truly adverse were happening to her.
"What's happening?"
"Don't you knock?" he snapped at Stef.
"You don't."
"I want to be left alone."
"Well I don't want to leave you alone. And I don't want to be alone."
"Then go to the mansion and spend your time with Darth."
"No!" she snapped at him. "I've had enough of this. You are acting like you are the only one affected by this. Stevie is as close as sister to me and I want her back as much as you do. Maybe even more, I have lost enough people to lose another."
"But she is not your sister."
"And she doesn't share your DNA!"
She had expected open rage, to get punched in the face or at least for him to throw his computer across the room. Instead he looked up at her and spoke in a deadly calm tone. "If you don't get out of this room right now I am going to do something that you are going to regret."
He didn't even notice her shifting away.
He instantly regretted what he had said. He was just worried sick about Stevie that he had been clouded from everyone else.
He required her location and shifted.
"This is your fault Alexandria. This is all your fault." There was a pause, "junk, junk, competitive loan rates? No thanks. I may have already won? Junk..."
Smith walked into Stef' kitchen where she was sitting on the bench opposite a broken but familiar looking doll throwing junk mail into the bin.
"I thought you believed in people knocking."
"You would have shut the door in my face."
"You're not wrong there."
"Can we stop this please?"
"I didn't start it." She threw the last piece of junk mail at Alexandria who toppled and fell off the bench, the rest of her head smashing into small pieces. That was the last straw for Stef, she stopped fighting and let the tears run silently down her face.
Smith held his hand above the doll; it repaired back to its original state like he had done all that time ago and it flew into his hand. He looked down at it with a small smile.
"I...I have no excuse for the way I have been acting. I've been too blind to see that you've only been trying to help me and I've pushed you so far away I'm surprised you want to even talk to me. I've been so worried about Stevie that I've forgotten that she's not the only one I care about." He placed Alexandria on the bench beside her. "I'm sorry Stef."
She reached out her arms to him he pulled her into a hug. As he held her, she knew things were ok between them again.
"I love you Angel Smith. Thank you for being here for me. Thank you for being my dad as well as hers." She choked through tears.
"I'm the one that should be thanking you," he said as he required a handkerchief and wiped the tears from her face. "I wouldn't be the person I am without you."
She took the handkerchief and blew her nose then required it away. She jumped off the counter and put Alexandria back in her spot. "I always wished you'd come back and fix her, looks like you finally did." She looked up at him, "So how do we get her back?"
"You know it might be impossible."
"Many things are supposedly impossible. Well?"
"There isn't a set of rules we can break this time, we just have to wait it out."
"Well, I would have to say that that sucks."
"Jones doesn't even know of anything technical that we can attempt."
She stared at him..."What did you just say?"
"Jones knows about Stevie."
"Did you tell him?"
"He's suspected all along. And he hasn't said anything."
"Well...that is a point of interest."
"Yes, it is."
"Do you know if Jessica remembers everything or is it just like an echo of her?"
"As far as I can tell, it is her without certain memories. And she doesn't remember the fire."
"Stevie saw that."
"I am worried about that. If she has that dream...and considering it's her memory, she may die from psychosomatic symptoms. Especially if she is on drugs at the time."
"You want a coffee? I need something to steady my nerves."
"Yes please."
They walked back to the kitchen and she pulled out two coffee cups out of the cupboard. "Why don't you just require them?"
"I never get to use my kitchen anymore," she said as she filled the kettle. A moment later they both had black coffees.
"Thank you," he mumbled.
"It's just coffee."
"I wasn't talking about the coffee. She'd still be out there without you."
"And I'd be dead without you, so let's call it even a dozen times over."
"Deal."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~