Author's Note: Thanks to everyone for reviewing; it means a lot!

This chapter was a bit of a challenge; lots I wanted to say, but not so much that it would seem as though I was rambling! I want to say that this is one of the hardest chapters yet, but I think that title will soon be handed over to chapters five and six, oh well. Hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I, Robot is the property of the estate of Isaac Asimov, Twentieth Century Fox, and all other legally bond parties. But, alas, I am not one of them. I'm making nary a cent, so please be merciful and sue me not!

Susan woke the next morning, not feeling very rested. It had been a long and mentally tiresome evening. Combined with the stress of trying to fix Sonny and help him extract the memories of what happened, and she was feeling less than sociable. Trying to discover what had happened before Sonny's phone call was fruitless; she was too upset, and trying to fall back on her training didn't help.

She decided to call it a night, even though the 'night' had passed into dawn an hour prior. She knew her behavior was going to have an adverse effect on him, but by that time, she just didn't care.

She turned so she could get a view of the woods outside; the sun was just beginning to come up, and she estimated that put the clock at a little before 6 am. It was quiet, and beautiful. She tried to remember the last time she'd gone somewhere, anywhere to rest and realized this was the first time.

And this was hardly a vacation of any kind.

Here she was, near her mid-thirties, and she'd:

Never taken any time off for herself. The few so-called vacations were always sponsored by USR, which meant they were always working holidays. Not that she would really know how to separate herself from the work, anyway. Always too much to do, too many opportunities to learn something important that taking a vacation might prevent her from doing.

Never been married. That was a no-brainer. With the exception of the redoubtable Mr. Milton Ashe, there had been no one she would even consider spending an evening with, let alone walk down the isle for. She snorted, Susan Calvin, married?

Right. Perhaps when pigs flew, hell froze over, and guys like Detective Spooner grew a brain.

Never had a child. No, that wasn't entirely true. There had been Lenny, and regardless of whatever her other colleagues said (or failed to say, for she could tell they talked about her when her back was turned), he was a wonderful experience. A mystery to the very end, when his circuits simply stopped working. They never did discover what caused him to behave the way he did, but to her, it really made no difference. He was the closest thing to a child she would ever have, and he had proven that a robot could learn adaptively, even if it was considered little more than an idiot.

Thanks to that experience, new ways of teaching children were discovered, and Susan could say she was really proud of that.

Never fallen in love.

Well, the last one was up to debate. She wasn't quite sure what she felt for the NS-5 in the other room.

No, she was. It most certainly wasn't love, it couldn't possibly be that. Since real love usually meant you needed some kind of reciprocation.

And she wasn't getting that. Since she was just a friend, after all.

It was too early to think such heavy thoughts. She made the attempt to try to get a little more sleep, but her nose picked up the faint, appealing, aroma of breakfast, causing a discordant reply from her stomach.

"Pesky appetite," she sighed, rising.

She pulled on her pants, and left her steel blue t-shirt on, forgoing the sweater for now. Instead of the boots she had been wearing, there at the foot of her bed lay a pair of fluffy gray slippers. They hadn't been there before, which meant that someone had to have entered her room and dropped them off as she slept.

This was getting more and more complicated all the time.

-

Sonny started the coffee and searched for something else to fix. He noticed that Dr. Calvin had been acting odd the night before, and hadn't said much as she repaired his various injuries. Then she tried to get him to remember what happened before he called her, and that hadn't gone over too well. She was being too brusque, too unfriendly to him.

And he had no idea why.

The Laws dictated that he help her however he could, and that was what he had tried to do, to the best of his ability. But her approach was completely wrong, so very decidedly un-Susan Calvin like. She was not having a conversation with him, as in their previous times together. It was more of an attack. In fact, it was as though she didn't really care what had happened to him, and while his emotions were new, and he was sometimes unsure of how to process them, he was very aware that what he felt after talking to her was a most unpleasant feeling.

He felt hurt, alone, and afraid.

After a time, Sonny knew that trying to continue in that manner was not going to prove very fruitful, and before he even realized it, he simply stopped answering her questions.

In short, the events leading to the sudden disappearance of Del Spooner were still a mystery. Without an opportunity to get a decent night's sleep, he was without the advantage of a dream or even a short slip into an alpha state to pull any of the memories to the surface.

This was new to him, everything was, really. With Dr. Lanning's demise, there was no one else to help him, guide him on the path to his humanity, or advise him on how to help his brethren on theirs. Del and Susan were the only ones left, but one was missing, and the other suddenly inexplicably cruel.

There was fear, and another emotion, one that had come to the surface in the wake of current events.

Anger.

How much nerve she had to turn on him in such a manner! Could she not see that he had been through a lot, and the memories were nigh to impossible to dredge up, especially when they were being coaxed with an iron touch?

He didn't like feeling this way; it ran counter to his core programming. He found that he enjoyed being around Susan, loved listening to her voice, so calm and logical. Loved watching her move, so precise and orderly. Loved the way she wore her hair, the way she smelled, the rare times she laughed. Just thinking of her made something inexplicable happen within him. He couldn't pinpoint what subroutine was responsible, but it definitely didn't run counter to his programming.

He found that looking at her made his circuits run a little more smoothly, and that in turn made him more eager to complete other tasks. That's how it had been when they'd worked together in Dr. Lannings lab at USR, and later at Detective Spooner's.

He found that by watching the way Spooner reacted to her, and vice-versa, he could learn a lot about how humans related. Though some of the subtleties were too faint, even for him. For example, when Spooner joked about Dr. Calvin's eating habits, she told him she wouldn't talk since he seemed to have his head firmly planted in sweet potato pie tins half of the time. There was a funny look on Spooner's face, but then he grinned, nodding, as though in approval. Why would there be acceptance in being insulted, he wondered.

He had meant to get some clarification on that exchange later, but things had gone terribly wrong. If only he could manage to remember exactly what occurred.

Setting the bacon on the plate to drain, he decided to fry up a couple of eggs. They were going to have a lot of work to do, and he knew she couldn't work very well on an empty stomach. It wasn't her usual fare of black coffee and tiny bowl of shredded wheat, but he hoped she would at least give it a try.

Why was she so strange, he pondered, attempting to plate the food in an attractive manner. He tried to retrace the entire evening's events, hoping that somehow he could pinpoint when it all went wrong. Sonny really didn't want to be in her disfavor; in fact, he felt as though walking in a minefield of nanites would be far simpler.

He passed by the living room en route to Susan's, and paused a moment. This was where it had begun, where she acted one way and suddenly changed.

She was studying a picture, right around...here, he set down the tray and lifted the photograph, studying it as though it might talk back and give him a clue to her behavior. Try as he might, it wasn't being anymore forthcoming than she was. He processed the faces and opted to study it again a little later.

He sighed, and continued on his way to her room.

"Dr. Calvin?"

She was about to open the bedroom door, but paused. She had treated Sonny deplorably the night before. She was surprised he was even speaking to her, and she felt bad. He probably thought she hated him, and he certainly didn't need her teaching him how to become a neurotic, depressed being. Love is too bothersome, too problematic. If I can just keep my feelings to myself, (I have for all these years) there will be no need to worry about treating the one I love like a piece of useless machinery.

Uh-oh.

The one I love ?

Bravo, Susan. You are now well on the way to making a complete and total ass of yourself, she admonished.

"I have made you breakfast. May I enter?"

"You can come in, but on one condition," she replied. She watched as he came in; his movements were tentative, as though he wasn't quite sure what to do with his body. Obviously, he was extremely uncomfortable with her.

Try as she might, she couldn't help feeling a slight perverse pleasure at that. He didn't have feelings for her, she had been there before, and as long as she didn't try to put faith on useless and unnecessary emotions, she would be appropriately secured against further illogical responses.

There will not be a repeat of Ashe, even if the object of my affection is not exactly what one might consider human. She sighed, and investigated the offerings on her tray.

They had an important task, find Del Spooner, and they were going to succeed, and then she was going to salvage what was left of her job at USR. And stay locked in her lab, doing what she did best.

Cold, hard, analytical research.

Her heart was steeled, and she felt properly armed for any emotional discomfort it might sustain. At least her abbreviated rest prevented the appearance of disturbing dreams. She wasn't going to invite such opportunities any longer.

That decided, she didn't want to risk Sonny's already fragile state just because he wasn't attracted to a human. She didn't want to risk another Herbie incident. If her guilt about that was tremendous, she shuddered to think what it might be in regard to the NS-5. She wasn't going to find out.

"What is your condition, Dr. Cal-"

"That's it, right there. I have called you Sonny from the very first time we met each other. I really don't mind you calling me Susan."

He couldn't think of a reply, but his subtly handsome features gave him away; he was very pleased.

He set the tray down, and waited. It wasn't her usual meal, but it looked delicious. The food was perfectly prepared, even if it wasn't what she usually ate in the morning, or anytime for that matter. Nonetheless, it piqued her appetite enough to want to tear into it, and she did.

Unsure of what to do, but knowing that just standing around would make him look foolish, he started talking.

"I noticed in your visits to Detective Spooner that your usual breakfast consisted of a small bowl of shredded wheat and black coffee. I'm afraid that I was unable to find any of the former, but made a large pot of the latter."

She looked up from her rapidly emptying plate. She couldn't help but smile at the charmingly sweet expression he wore. "I appreciate the effort," she replied with a mouthful of egg.

Sonny thought it would be impolite to just stand there, waiting for her to finish eating, and left.

-

Darkness, and a musty smell flooded his senses. He tried to move, but something was keeping him from doing so. It was impossible to see, and even if he were able, there still wasn't enough light to find a way out. His hands were bound with a most unusual material; the harder he tried to pull free, the tighter they became.

Del Spooner was in deep trouble.

His senses were dulled, most likely from the sedative he'd been shot with. There was the barest patch of light shining in the far corner. He quelled a natural impulse to creep toward it, though. There could be heard the faint sounds of footsteps just beyond, and he didn't want his awakening discovered just yet.

He tried to fathom just how long he'd been there, but his drug-addled mind wouldn't allow it. He tried to recall just what he'd been doing prior to the attack, who had he been with?

Not Marcie, it wasn't Thursday yet. Not any of his friends from work...no. But wait, it was a friend, it was...

"Oh, hell no," he muttered at the realization. Sonny should have protected him, that's what those damned Laws were for, weren't they? But, if what if he had tried, and failed...

"Then where the hell is he?" He doubled his efforts to get loose, his mind a little less impaired, especially in the face of that new event.

A rattling at the door, and he was at once focused on the here and now. He slowly moved his hands to the floor, not wanting to let on to what he'd been trying to do.

The door opened, and painfully bright light flooded the room. A rather wide-set man entered, keeping his face in the shadows.

"Good to see you're awake, Mr. Spooner. It would've been much fun to do this while you were out, as it were," he laughed cruelly.

He sounded familiar, but Del couldn't put his finger on where he'd heard that voice before.

"We were going to have a visitor here tonight, but I convinced her to let me...talk to you first. I know you are probably starving, but there will be time enough for that later. Right now I've some questions, and you are going to answer them," he continued, placing a small briefcase on the table next to him.

Del's eyes followed the older man's movements. The case opened, and though he could barely see, he knew that whatever was inside wasn't going to be good for him.

As if that single thought was exactly what was needed to set him free, the binding on his wrists fell away.

Let's see if this ol' arm is still operational, he thought before making his move.