Disclaimer: Please note that I do not own the characters, concept or plot of the 'I, Robot' book or film.

Sonny sat on the small, metal stool gazing at the frosted glass. He liked the way the light hit it in early morning. It gave everything such a pretty blue glow, and the great unknown beyond the blue pane was peaceful and quiet. This was his favourite time of day, as he wasn't too fond of the dark and was quite glad to see the back of it. Soon the faint footsteps and occasional whirring of vehicles outside would escalate into the bustling clamour of the morning 'rush hour'. It was odd that it was called the 'rush hour', it lasted at least ninety minutes each morning.

He turned to the green book perched on his lap. He had read the book many times and knew the story by heart, but the more his father taught him, the more questions he had about the book's content. The cover writing read, 'The Grimms Brother's Hansel & Gretel, With 48 Colour Plates'. The green leather cover was decorated with an intricate gold-coloured border of twisted vines that Sonny traced absent-mindedly with his thumb. If the Woodcutter's second wife was so cruel to his children, why did he tolerate her presence? What power did she have over him? He seemed utterly defenceless against her. She was cruel and cold. Of all the characters in the story Sonny disliked her the most, even more than the Witch.

The beeping of an alarm clock alerted him that his father would get up soon. He perked up, anxious and excited to see his father. Then he could ask him some more questions about the book. He waited expectantly, craning his body so he could see round the workbenches watching for his father.

He grew impatient and stood. The alarm was still chirping it's monotone wake-up call. He made his way to the cot. His father was sat on the edge of the cot, his head in his hands, ignoring the alarm.

Sonny switched the alarm off. "What's wrong?" He asked.

Alfred rubbed his face and yawned. He reached for his glasses and slid them on. "Nothing is wrong Sonny. I'm just tired."

Sonny shrugged off his concerns as Alfred stood up and wandered into the laboratory. Sonny followed, cheerful and smiling.

"So, what barrage of questions do you have for me this morning?" His father chuckled as he sorted through a pile of mechanical parts littering his desk.

Sonny decided he really only had one question to ask. "In this story, why does the Woodcutter tolerate his second wife when she is only ever cruel and unkind to him?"

His father turned to face him and leant against the workbench, smoothing his beard as he did when thinking. A smile grew from the corners of his eyes. "Why do you think the Woodcutter tolerated his second wife?"

Sonny was confused. His father usually carefully explained the answer to his questions, not turn the questions back on him.

"Why do you think?" Alfred repeated. "It's a useful skill to be able produce your own answers to your own questions. Plus, it'll expand your creative thinking."

Sonny pondered upon the bizarre response, he didn't know the correct answer. "I don't know."

"Nobody knows the answer to some questions, Sonny. You need to be able to formulate your own opinions." His father continued to root through the piles on the workbench. "Though, that said, it is also important to avoid becoming opinionated. Try to keep an open mind. You'll find the answers you need far swifter if you aren't bound by ready-made decisions." He gave up his fruitless rummaging. "Now, while you think about why the Woodcutter tolerated his second wife, could you help me look for the holographic projector I showed you the other day? I've misplaced it." He took the book from Sonny's hands.

Sonny knew where the projector was, it was next to the alarm clock. He retrieved it, and made his way back through the lab. Was it because the Woodcutter was afraid to be alone? Why wouldn't Alfred give him a straight, plain answer? His father was acting so strangely today.

His father was stood at the window with his hands in the pockets of his long, white labcoat, but his eyes were closed. The book was set back in it's place on the metal stool.

Sonny handed him the projector. "I think he was afraid of being alone."

Alfred looked him in the eye and smiled. "Well done son."

Sonny smiled, relishing the praise. "Was I right?"

"Who knows." Alfred sighed.

Sonny tilted his head in confusion. He didn't quite understand the response.

"I love you son."

Sonny was getting concerned, this behaviour was so odd. Alfred seemed detached and distant this morning. It was unnerving.

After a long pause, his father spoke. "Sonny, I want you to do me a favour."

"What is it?" Sonny was always delighted to help in any way he could. Maybe today's strangeness could stop now and they could get back to experimenting with various parts and pieces as usual.

"You have been a real joy to me these past few weeks, but I need you to promise to do one favour for me."

"What is it that you want me to do?" He was beginning to get quite suspicious. Some small part of his mind was telling him that something was very wrong today.

"Sonny, please, promise me that you will help me."

"I always try to help you."

"Promise me son."

"I don't like this."

"Sonny. You MUST promise me."

He was beginning to panic. His father had never used that tone of voice with him before. What was wrong today? Sonny didn't understand. He wanted to know what it was that his father wanted him to do. He didn't like this situation one bit. "But why won't you tell me?"

Alfred lifted his hand and looked at the projector sadly. His brow creased into a frown, obviously troubled by something. He gritted his teeth and dropped his hand away, clenching his fingers into a fist around the projector. "You aren't making this any easier, Sonny." He sounded disappointed.

Sonny looked down. He felt confused, hurt and guilty for being so suspicious. "I promise."

His father gave him a sideways glance. "Do you swear to do one last favour for me?"

Sonny didn't understand. What was happening? Had he done something wrong? He couldn't understand his father's behaviour. He didn't recognise it. Was he disappointed with him? Or angry? Sad? He thought his father would be pleased with him, he had answered his own question as he was asked. Had he done it wrong? "I swear, I will do whatever you ask of me." He could barely coax the words out. He waited for instructions, his head bowed and his eyes lowered, but none came. He risked looking up.

A tear had made its way down Alfred's cheek and into the silvery hair of his beard. He opened his mouth to speak but closed it and swallowed. He was struggling to say something.

Sonny was very frightened now. He felt vulnerable, his lack of experience with some of the human emotions showing through. He had grown capable of a range of emotions and feelings and he had felt pleased with his own progress, but now he was beginning to realise that he had barely scraped the surface of the complexities of consciousness.

"Sonny, I want you to throw me through this window."

He felt waves of something course his circuits and his gravity and temperature sensors seemed to fail. He felt dizzy, cold and utterly distraught. What was happening?

Alfred could read him like an open book and understood his reaction. "You promised me, son." He said sternly.

He couldn't hurt his father! He wouldn't do it. Suffering was bad, and it was wrong to hurt others. "I won't do it!" His voiced high pitched with fear.

"You swore you would do as I asked you!"

His body was strangely disconnected, his hands were shaking uncontrollably. He had sworn to do whatever his father asked. How could Alfred be so cruel, tricking him into swearing to harm his own father? Why was he doing this? "I can't do it." He managed to force words out. "I can't hurt you. I love you."

Alfred wrapped his arms around him and patted his back. "I love you too, son. Please, if you love me, you will do this one thing for me." He stepped away. "I promise you that I won't be in pain for very long." He turned to face the window again.

Sonny was shaking all over and his legs felt as heavy as lead. He was desperately trying to comprehend the situation. He felt torn between bitter sorrow and anger at his own stupidity. He was so utterly incapable and totally useless. He had sworn to harm his own father, the man who had built him, given him life, taught him human emotions, taught him how to feel, taught him right from wrong. "I can't…"

"I am very disappointed with you." Alfred sounded downcast, saddened by his incompetence. "You gave me your word son. Does that count for nothing? You said you would help me. You told me you loved me." His voice hardened. "Does your word have so little value? Have you no sense of honour? Have you not learned anything from me? How can you go back on yourself so readily? How can you betray my trust, after everything I have done for you?"

Sonny sobbed. He tried so desperately to understand, but he could find no answer. He felt disgusted with himself.

"It's what you were made for."

Sonny closed his eyes. "I'm sorry father." He launched himself forwards, colliding with Dr. Lanning with considerable force and propelling him into the glass. The pane bowed slightly before giving way and exploding into a shower of shimmering shards. Sonny watched Dr. Lanning sail out of view as he came to a skidding halt on the laboratory floor. Raw sunlight flooded in through the hole in the window and momentarily blinded him. He froze where he landed. What had he done?

He heard the watery crash of a thousand pieces of glass splashing to the lobby floor. Everything went blurry and slowed down to a crawl as he scrabbled to the window and peered over the remains of the pane. He looked down to see the lifeless, twisted body of his father sprawled on the stone floor below, blood already beginning to pool around his cracked skull. Sonny heard running footsteps in the lobby and two men ran to his father's side. He pulled his head back into the lab to avoid being seen.

He curled up on the floor shaking and trembling. What had he done? He had killed his own father. He brought his hands to his face and shut his eyes tightly. He just wanted it all to go away.

"Sonny?"

He whimpered to himself. He felt so very alone.

"Sonny?"

He felt a hand on his shoulder, gently shaking him.

"Sonny, what's wrong?"

He knew that voice. His eyes flared open to meet darkness lit only by his faint blue aura. Where was he? A dark silhouette moved near him. Frightened, he attempted to scrabble backwards but he was cornered and bound and his arms weren't co-operating properly. He tried to say something but only managed a pathetic, incoherent squeak.

"Shh! It's all right Sonny! Calm down, it's me, Susan. Remember?"

Yes, he remembered Susan. Lovely Dr. Calvin, she was a good person, kind and friendly. Everything slowly came back to him, including his new, unfamiliar arms. He was wedged up in the corner of her couch between the back and arm. Susan had given him the pillow and a blanket. He slowly began extricating himself from the blanket he had managed to cocoon himself within. "I remember" He whispered. He was still shaking and he struggled to slough off the blanket.

She perched on the edge of the sofa and took his hand in hers. "It's okay Sonny, it was just a dream."

How he wished he could accept that as fact. No, the harsh reality was that he knew it had really happened. He knew he could never undo it. "If only that were true." He murmured sorrowfully.

Susan seemed to understand. She drew him into a comforting embrace, stroking his back. "Shh, It'll be all right."

He returned the gesture, shakily threading his arms around her. She was always so nice to him. She treated him like a person, she recognised that he felt and respected that his feelings could be hurt. He became aware of how small she was. It had surprised him how small and light she was when he saved her from falling to the same fate as his father. He rested his head on her shoulder. Humans were so fragile. He slowly began to calm down, Susan's warm, consoling arms thawing terror's icy grip. Panic dripped away, leaving him exhausted. He closed his eyes, enjoying the soothing sweeps of her hand on his back and the tranquil closeness of another. He could felt he could go back to sleep now.

"No Sonny, please don't fall asleep on me, you're far too heavy!"

He sat up and drew his arms back, placing them in his lap. "Sorry."

Susan stroked his cheek with the backs of her fingers. "I miss him too."

He nodded a little, he knew she did. She seemed to have known Alfred well. "I know that if I hadn't done it, the world would be a worse place, but" he wasn't quite sure how to explain himself "the happiest times of my life were in that lab, with him. Almost every minute since, I find myself wishing none of this ever happened. I wish I'd never done it, and I can't stop asking myself why it had to happen, even though I know why." He could sense the uncontrollable shivers returning. "I am glad that we stopped V.I.K.I., I do not like death and I am happy that our actions saved so many lives, both human and robotic, but is it wrong that I wish I hadn't done it? Is it selfish that I would have rather continued my existence in his laboratory, blissfully unaware of the world outside the window?" He desperately sought eye contact, he needed an answer, confirmation, comfort…anything. He needed something. What it was, he didn't know, but that was nothing new. He was always confused, in spite of everything he did, everything he learned. He was always in the dark, no matter how much he sought the truth, regardless of how much attention he paid to his human acquaintances he could never fully comprehend their actions. It infuriated him endlessly. It made him feel that he was incomplete, not quite ready to cope with the world. His father had explained to him that although logic came easily to him, he shouldn't rely on it. He told him often that humans rarely followed logic, and to never try to apply truly logical explanations to them as it was just impossible and would only cause him grief. His father urged him to use his 'feelings' to try to make 'sense' of people instead. He tried, honestly he did, but it was just so difficult.

Had his father not meant for all this to happen so soon? He suspected that Alfred had not meant for allot of things to happen. "Is it wrong that I wish that none of this had ever happened?" He searched her eyes for an answer but found none, she just sat there, staring back at him. He tore his gaze away and clenched his jaw in frustration.

"Sonny, look at me."

He didn't want to, but her voice was soft and very persuasive. He cast her a glance but didn't turn to face her. He was feeling particularly alone.

"Sonny, I know it must be hard for you to believe, but the world is a truly wonderful place. Unfortunately, your first experiences of it have coincided with Chicago at it's worst for many years, but I promise you, it gets better than this. Much better. It's not selfish for you to miss your father at all, but you must understand that he didn't choose for this to happen. He didn't want to hurt you like this."

He knew she was making perfect sense, but it didn't cure his sadness. It did make him feel better though, knowing that she cared enough about him to help him. Susan talked to him like his father had. She was so nice, as nice as his father was…but not. In a different way maybe? "There must have been another way though. I am strong and fast, I could have killed her with the nanites had he asked me to. I could have done it at night, when there were less people around. I might not have a fully-formed compliment of emotions but my body could have accomplished it easily. I can do allot more than…push people out of windows." He realised he had bitterly hissed the end of that sentence unintentionally.

"It is possible that there might have been another way, but it is impossible to change the past, Sonny. You'll never be able to grieve properly and learn to move on in your life unless you can come to terms with what has been and gone. I trusted Dr. Lanning, he was a very intelligent man and a good friend of mine. I have faith in the decisions he made, even though I don't understand why he chose the course of action he did. You have an impressive collection of emotions, which I think will continue to expand every day, and I think the human saying; 'you need to learn to walk before you can run' is very applicable to your situation. You just need to be patient with yourself, you are still so young and these past few days will have forced you to accelerate your mental development. Probably to an uncomfortable pace in my opinion. You just need to take your time, you need a rest for a while to put yourself back on track."

Sonny smiled a little. He couldn't begin to understand how she knew how he felt, but he knew it felt good that she did.

"You are capable of anything you put your mind to."

His smile grew.

"And I'm sure your father would be very proud of you."

He felt like his second core would burst. There was nothing he could think of that he could do or say to convey the strength or type of emotion he felt right now except "Thank you". He had helped to destroy V.I.K.I., and he had helped save the freedom of humans and robots from her. He had managed to forfill a promise to a loved one, even though it was against his own wishes. He felt that he had performed admirably. He was sure his father really would be proud.

Susan attempted to contain a yawn. "Are you going to be able to get back to sleep now?"

"I think so." He said sheepishly.

"Good good." She leant forwards, pressed her lips to his forehead and withdrew, smiling.

"What did that signify?" He asked curiously. No one had done that to him before. Not that he was arguing. It was really nice.

In the dim bluish light it looked like she was embarrassed. "It's called a kiss, it's a sign of affection."

He smiled. "I love you too."

Susan stared at him.

"Did I say something wrong?"

"No. Not at all." She stood. "Just try to get some rest Sonny." She turned to go back to her room.

He felt fear well up in him again. He wanted her company, it kept him calm and composed. His arm snaked out, his hand wrapping around her wrist. "Don't leave!"

She turned and looked surprised and more than a little annoyed.

He stared straight back, willing her to stay. "Don't leave me alone."

Susan's expression softened and her shoulders drooped.

He let go of her wrist, embarrassed of his over dependent, irrational outburst. What did he have to be frightened of in Susan's home? For someone who could perform an astounding number of calculations per second he was being oddly illogical, but since logic was a comfort he was trying to live without, he would just have to ask Susan's forgiveness for his odd moments.

"I think I'll just give up trying to get any sleep." She muttered.

He felt guilty now. He was depriving her of sleep just because he lets his emotions run him. She needed to sleep. He knew she was injured, tired and stressed.

She scooped up the pillow he had turfed off the couch in his sleep and sat behind him.

He craned round to see what she was doing, but met her hands halfway. She took hold of his shoulders and tugged. It was quite plain that she wanted him to lie down with his head on the pillow in her lap, but he was feeling nervous and he was a little hesitant. He wasn't too sure that he really was ready to go back to sleep yet.

She massaged his shoulders a little reassuringly and gently tugged again "It's all right."

He reluctantly leant back into her lap, shuffling down the couch a little to get comfortable. He had to bend his knees to fit onto the couch. Susan straightened out the blanket she had given him. In all honesty, he was just as comfortable sleeping stood up, he didn't really need pillows for his head or blankets to keep him warm, and he was sure she knew that. He figured she was trying to comfort him. She was so nice. He had liked her from the first time he saw her back in his father's laboratory. He wasn't quite sure why, but he had taken a swift liking to the silver-grey suit she wore and the way she walked and talked.

The blue glow that had delicately lit the room dimmed as he nestled his head into the soft pillow. Perhaps he didn't need a pillow, but they were definitely nice and pleasant. In the darkness he could just make out Susan's face as she sighed and closed her eyes, settling back into the deeply padded couch in the hope of getting some sleep. One of her hands cradled his head and the other snaked under the blanket to rest on his chest. She patted his chest twice and then was still.

He knew he wasn't ready to go back to sleep, not just yet anyway. He would soon though, Susan was right, he did feel in need of a bit of rest and recuperation. He was also still a little shaken by that memory-dream. He looked at the ceiling, trying to occupy his mind with anything other than agonising over his dream or pondering upon the things Susan had said tonight. Those thoughts would only keep him awake.

The ceiling was uninteresting, that wouldn't do. The light fixture was simple and only held his attention for a few minutes before he reasoned he had probably worked out how it operated. He held a handful of blanket, passing it between his fingers and testing its flexibility. Some light source passed by the window in the other room, throwing shafts of light through the blinds and across the ceiling, which was interesting but disappointingly short-lived. Then he looked up at Susan, which made him feel instantly happier. She was just so nice and friendly. He found her lovely to look at, he thought she was very pretty.

Her head was lent back and her neck lightly arched, and in the low light the graceful curves of her jaw and throat were no less than breathtaking. He lay there for some time, gazing up at her, unable to move. Utterly captivated. He suddenly felt compelled to reach out and touch the warm, smooth skin of her neck. He didn't know why, but he really wanted to. He was sure he knew what it would feel like. She was soft and warm to the touch with a gentle pulse flowing beneath, her muscles were firm yet yielding and under all that was a delicate foundation of bone. He had held Susan's hand gently in the lab and aggressively in Robertson's office, he had caught her by the middle in mid air and climbed back up again with her clinging to his back. He had been in physical contact with her before. When humans were scared they were a lot tenser and firmer, he knew that, so maybe he was just curious about what she would feel like when relaxed? Possibly, but he doubted it.

It wasn't so much the way she felt as the way he felt inside when he touched her. It made him feel … he couldn't describe it. When he had held that gun to her head in Robertson's office his simple, clever little rouse suddenly seemed so dangerous, so full of holes. What if in her panic she'd clenched her hand and triggered the weapon? He could have accidentally blown a hole through her head! What if Spooner hadn't understood his intentions? He'd struggled to keep his nerve, and nearly died of panic when Spooner didn't instantly understand his wink. He thought he'd done it wrong, his self-confidence at an all-time low. Standing so close to her had weakened him, yet when she held him tightly on the climb up the steel cable it had made him feel stronger and more determined. It was so odd, carrying Spooner back up was completely different. He had just felt mildly annoyed at Spooner holding on painfully tight with that cybernetic arm of his.

"Goodnight Susan." He whispered.

No reply. She must have fallen asleep.

He tried to push the thoughts from his mind. He should sleep, he needed to. He would be a 'temperamental, moody little devil' tomorrow if he didn't get enough restful, peaceful dreaming done. Plus, he didn't want to worry Susan. He knew he should probably be closing his eyes now, but she was just so distracting, so enthrallingly beautiful he couldn't close his eyes or turn away. Either he couldn't or he didn't really want to. How desperately he wanted to take his hand and trace a line down the curve of her neck and along her collarbone, to sweep his palm over her shoulder and slip beneath the sheer fabric gown and under the strap of her top, sliding them off…

Shocked at himself, he forced his eyes closed, squeezing them tightly shut. What was that? Why was he feeling like this? From where had this new emotion sprung? Where had he learned it, and off whom? He gingerly lifted himself up and turned on his side, facing away from Susan. He carefully settled himself and threw a corner of the blanket over his head, partly to stop the glow of his positronic brain waking her up and partly because he felt the need to hide. He hadn't actually done anything, but he felt embarrassed and ashamed of his thoughts, as if they were very inappropriate. He loved Susan dearly, and it scared him a little.

He relaxed his face and patiently waited for sleep to come.