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

Susan felt disgusted with herself for the longing, needy gazes she had been giving the small amount of amber liquid lurking in the bottom of the decanter all day. It was only one glass's worth, not enough to really have much of an effect.

She had enjoyed spending time with Sonny today, it had been surprisingly relaxing. She had worried that it would be awkward, and she had compiled a list of things she could excuse herself from his company to go and complete, but she hadn't done anything all day other than sit and chat with him. Conversation had flowed easily, even in spite of Sonny's occasional inability to communicate some thoughts or feelings and his clumsiness with some subjects. They had talked about nothing in particular, just things on TV, music and human life.

She had gone to the kitchen to tidy up, leaving Sonny to his documentary on plant life. She grabbed the kebab skewers that had nearly rained down on her earlier and threw them in the correct recycling bin. They had never been used, and she doubted that they would ever come in handy. She idly sorted through the first-aid kit, organising the items in a regimented fashion and loading up the dishwasher. She had a bit of a headache, probably from spending the day indoors in front of the TV.

Today had been the most restful day in her life for a considerable time. Probably a number of years. So why was the image of the decanter haunting her mind? She drank to cope with stress, or at least that's what she told herself. It was there almost constantly in the back of her mind, and had been for a few hours. It lurked behind her thoughts, tempting her with the promise of its intoxicating aroma. She could almost taste it. Deliciously sweet and peachy with a sharp edge of fire that left her throat smouldering and yearning for more. Translucent, umber coloured drink poured over ice.

She noticed another skewer lying on the work surface. She picked it up and absent-mindedly turned it over in her hands. Her mouth was watering and the fine hairs on her neck, arms and shoulders rose up with a tingling sensation. It wasn't like she was going to drink herself under in front of Sonny. There was just enough in the house for one glass, so she couldn't drink any more than one glass. One glass wouldn't have much of an effect. Not at all. It would just be nice to savour the taste. One glass couldn't hurt, could it? If anything at all it would probably just help to ease her headache.

She wasn't too dismayed to find herself walking towards the waiting alcohol, but as soon as she began pouring it she began to feel a twinge of guilt. She shouldn't drink with Sonny around, not even just one glass.

The more she thought about it though, the less convincing it became. It's not like he could pick it up as a bad habit, he was a robot, he couldn't drink at all. She wouldn't get as inebriated as she had been the previous night, this was just one glass, and he hadn't seemed to be alarmed or in any way phased by her condition. Granted, it was probably because he didn't know about or understand the purpose or consequences of alcohol, but even if he did she was a responsible adult. It was legal and she could take care of herself. She couldn't exactly pour it back into the decanter now, she wasn't some kind of alcoholic, and it would be a waste to throw it away.

She brought the glass to her lips and it didn't disappoint. The first taste of the evening was always the best. She instantly felt calmer and warmer inside. Grasping the glass fairly protectively, she returned to the couch, sitting at the opposite end from Sonny.

"Sonny, how did you get into this apartment building yesterday?"

"I climbed. The door on the roof was unlocked." He responded abruptly, engrossed in his documentary.

Accepting the short answer as better than nothing she grafted her attention back onto her drink.

"Why do humans accept that plants are alive, but find it so hard to think of robots as being alive?" Sonny asked as the program's credits rolled.

"I don't know. You'd think humans would find it easier to associate with robots than plants. Your kind is far easier to relate to than say, for example, a tree. You move, look and behave more like a human than a tree ever does." She took another thoughtful sip of her drink. "Maybe it's because humans were confident that they could create inorganic intelligence, but never thought about the possibility of giving birth to inorganic life."

He smiled as he brought up the TV guide on-screen. "Thank you."

"I'm only guessing Sonny, I don't really know."

"No, I meant thank you for using 'inorganic'. Most humans seem to think of us as 'artificial', 'an imitation of life'. We are quite real, and I feel quite alive. I like the way you regard us." He turned his soft blue eyes to her. "I think you may be as 'unique' to your kind as I am to mine."

She was hesitant to speak. He was so genuine with his compliments to her. "It could just be that humans are fearful of the concept of robots becoming 'alive'. Your physical and mental capabilities reach far beyond the limits of the human body and mind. 'Life' may be the last shield some humans are hiding behind. The public probably fears robots surpassing them, becoming better than them, making them…obsolete."

He shook his head. "Humans will never become 'obsolete'. All life is precious."

She was amazed. In many respects he was so like a child, but in others he seemed to have wisdom far beyond reason. Dr. Lanning seemed to have imparted good values on him, and in all truth, she couldn't think of a man more perfect for the task of 'raising' Sonny than Alfred. Alfred was a great man, there was no denying that. He had such an understanding of the world, of human nature and had founded USR, virtually invented robotics, he had created the Three Laws and then broken them. He had been a very good friend to her, and she owed him much. She owed him more than 'much', her life today was rooted on Alfred's unbound kindness. He would be sorely missed, by many people. She felt her eyes begin to well up, and she blinked rapidly to prevent tears from forming.

"I doubt that humans even could become obsolete. It doesn't seem to be something that would come easily to human…is 'nature' the right word?"

"Yes. Nature fits." She took a mouthful of the pleasantly cold yet fiery drink.

"You sound sorrowful. What is wrong?"

"I was just thinking of Dr. Lanning."

"You knew him well, didn't you?" He said with a touch of sadness.

She thought about the question for a while before answering. "I very nearly said 'yes', but in actual fact, I did not know him well at all. I considered him a good friend of mine though. A very good friend, one of the very small group of people I think of as 'friends'." That was a vast understatement. She could count her friends on the fingers of one hand. Without using her thumb. "It was more that he knew me. He knew me very well, better than I know myself. He helped me through a very difficult period. He always seemed to know exactly to say. It was…"

"Almost as if he could feel your thoughts." Sonny gently added, staring into space distantly.

"Yes." She drained her glass. "He did seem to have the ability to read minds. He was a very sympathetic, considerate, supportive man. It was almost like he understood your personality just from your body language and the way you said things, and he could put himself in your perspective. He could then grasp the effects it had on you as an individual and respond in a way that helped like nothing else ever could."

Sonny nodded knowingly.

The room was smothered in a heavy silence of sadness. Sonny sat motionless in thought, and she looked down at her glass. Alfred had told her to watch her drinking. She felt very guilty about this single glass now that she had guzzled the lot. It seemed so much worse when she realised she had drunk her house dry.

The phone rang out, slicing through the quiet stillness.

She wasn't quick to pick it up, she was in even less of a frame of mind to cope with Spooner's jovial banter now than she was earlier. The high pitched, insect like sound died as she lifted the earpiece and nestled it in place. "Hello?"

"Good evening Dr. Calvin, this is Mr. Hine, Head of the US Robotics' Board of Chief Executives Committee." His voice was very deep and resonate, even over the phone. It was the kind of voice that commanded authority, which was bound to be an asset to him if Chief Executive Committee meetings were anything at all like the Heads of Department meetings she had attended. Rational, intelligent doctors and scientists occasionally became noisy, temperamental creatures when they felt that their opinions were being neglected. She had met Mr. Hine on very few occasions, and his voice was very deceptive, for Thomas was a short, balding man in his early fifties.

"Good evening Sir."

"I trust that you are well?"

"Yes Sir, I am well, I…"

"Careful how you choose your words, doctor." He cut in, sounding uncharacteristically concerned. "We do not want to let unnecessary information slip to the media if it is at all avoidable."

"Of course, I can appreciate that these are sensitive, unpredictable and uncertain times for USR. I was only going to state that I am well, I have sustained only minor injuries, and I was about to inquire as to your well-being."

"Thank you for understanding current situations doctor." He sounded relieved. "I myself have not fared so well. I may yet loose my right hand."

"I am sorry to hear that you have been so severely wounded. I suspect though that you have contacted me for reasons other than to exact a personal health check?"

"Yes Dr. Calvin, we have many important matters to discuss. I have already contacted your…"

"Sir, I understand what it is that you are speaking of." She interrupted, there was no benefit to saying more than absolutely necessary. Who knows who was listening in these unsettled times. Although her vigilance was probably pointless if they had already contacted Spooner, knowing his lack of reserve.

"Then you also understand that I need to meet you in the very near future?"

"Would tomorrow morning suffice?"

"That would be exemplary. Can I expect you in my office at 9:15 tomorrow morning?"

"Yes Sir."

"Thank you for your co-operation Dr. Calvin. USR benefits greatly from your loyalty and professionalism. I shall personally ensure that it does not go un-noted and I will see you tomorrow."

"Goodbye Sir."

"Goodbye doctor."

She removed the earpiece and placed it back in its cradle. She rubbed her face with the palms of both hands in exasperation as stress climbed back into her mind and she swept her hair from her face. Sonny was eagerly awaiting information if the uncertain look on his soft, white features was anything to go by.

"Was that USR?" He asked.

"Yes it was, it was Mr. Hine."

Sonny looked away thoughtfully, his eyes moving in a series of small rapid movements as if reading something. "Mr. Thomas Hine, Head of USR Board of Chief Executives Committee." He smiled. "He holds a position of much respect, doesn't he? I am less surprised by your highly formal language." His expression changed to one of worry. "The security feeds…"

"Don't worry Sonny, I'll make sure the meeting ends in your favour."

He didn't look convinced.

"USR are trying to hide the truth, Sonny. The company's reputation is now balanced upon whether they can hold their concocted version of events together. I have information, and information is power in this world. Particularly if it reveals an unwanted truth."

"You are going to blackmail him?" Sonny sounded altogether unhappy about the concept. Actually, he sounded more horrified than anything else.

"No!" Christ, had he caught her out? It wasn't really blackmail as such… "It's more like…"

"Bribery?"

"You've got the wrong end of the stick…"

"Stick? You're going to hit Mr. Hine? I don't see how that will help matters."

She slapped her hand over her eyes with frustration. "For Christ's sake, Sonny. Do you really think I'd turn up to a meeting with a powerful, senior member of staff, smack him over the head with a stick and expect my demands to be met?"

"…No."

"It's just an expression. When you say 'wrong end of the stick' you are implying that the person in question is taking the wrong approach to a concept."

"Oh."

"I'm tired. I haven't had a decent, good night's sleep in far too long, and I shall need my wits about me tomorrow. I think it may turn out to be a battle of mental agility." She started walking towards her room, muttering to herself. "Although if Spooner's there it will probably turn into a battle with sticks rather than wits. Mental agility of a pregnant hippopotamus. Too shoot-first-ask-questions-later for my liking. Utter prat if you ask me."

-o-o-o-o-o-

He had been more than a little foolish. He should have realised it was another one of these human 'sayings' that cropped up so often and seemed to have the most random uses and meanings. Susan didn't appear to be the physically aggressive kind of human. To use one expression he was familiar with, he hadn't so much 'jumped to conclusions' as he had 'thrown himself head-long' into them.

He had really and truly enjoyed himself today. Susan had made him feel 'at home' in her residence. She hadn't minded his questions and needs for explanations, and she had excused his misunderstandings. Apart from about her intentions for the meeting that she was going to tomorrow, she had been exceptionally patient with him. She hadn't taken to his insinuations well. He must have just pushed it too far…or he had insulted her.

He hadn't insulted her had he? Perhaps he had. He must have! He had suspected her of bribery, blackmail and physical violence. Susan wasn't like that. He should have trusted her, she was a kind, lovely person. It wasn't that he didn't trust her, he was scared. USR didn't appreciate his existence in the least. They had tried to decommission him once before, they would probably try to do so again. If they did, he doubted that he would be so lucky as to escape a second time round. He did not want to die.

Fetching his pillow and blanket he worried more about his insults. Susan had welcomed him into her home and shown him nothing but kindness. All he had given her in the way of appreciation was damage to her furniture, sleep deprivation and insults. He felt terrible, he was behaving so ungratefully and was such a poor house guest. This was the woman who had shown him mercy and freed him from the fate USR had bestowed upon him, and had replaced his painful, damaged arms. She deserved better than this.

What should he do to make up for it? Was there something specific that humans would do in this situation? He tore through his memories frantically looking for an answer, and unsurprisingly he again came up with nothing. What should he do?

He perched on the sofa, his head leaning on one hand, a corner of his blanket tightly held in the other. His mind was running in circles, chasing an elusive answer. Wait…running? Susan had told him not to do that. He shouldn't be trying to 'run before he could walk'. He grinned a little to himself. These 'sayings' really were useful after all! Humans were such clever beings when it came to things like this.

Never mind what he should do, what could he do? '…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'. Of course! He could be so blinded by himself sometimes. An apology would definitely be a start.

He excitedly sprung to his feet and scurried to her bedroom door. As with this morning when Spooner had called, he very nearly just turned the handle and strolled in. As with this morning he also managed to stop himself just in time and knocked instead.

"Come in."

He hadn't been expecting that. He slowly opened the door a little and poked his head round. The room was much like the rest of her home, pale coloured, clean lines and tidy. There was a familiar silver suit folded over the back of a chair in one corner, a full-length mirror, wardrobes, lamp…

"Yes Sonny?"

There was also a large bed too. Much bigger than his father's bed back in the laboratory, it was wider, longer and deeper. The bedcovers were a pretty shade of pale, slate grey, and Susan sat on top, leant back against the headboard. She had a book in her hands, which she placed face-down on a small table beside the bed to keep her place. Thankfully she was wearing a tee shirt this time rather than something of a strappy nature as with the previous night. Otherwise, his voice would have probably been slain on the spot. "I just wanted to apologise for insulting you."

"You didn't insult me Sonny. I'm sorry I'm getting so short-tempered, I need some rest. Would you like to come in properly? It's considered impolite to lurk in doorways."

He nimbly slipped in and closed the door behind him. He should have expected himself to do something like that. He was behaving impolitely when he was trying to offer apologies for his idiotic assumptions. So typical of him, he couldn't get anything right. "I would also like to apologise for damaging your sofa."

"Yeah, I'm sorry I was so rough with your arm."

"I'm sorry for preventing you from sleeping much last night."

"Don't feel guilty about that Sonny, it was to be expected. I was surprised but relieved by it. I would have worried far more if it hadn't had much of an effect on you." She paused. "Will you be okay tonight?"

"Yes, I think so." He couldn't think of anything else he wanted to apologise for off the top of his head, and he now felt a bit out of place. He was unsure of what his current course of action should be. Should he be leaving? Or talking? He felt a bit pressured, Susan was looking at him and it was making him nervous. He remembered the book on her bedside table. "Do you have 'Hansel and Gretel'? I like that story very much, I think that reading it again would help me get to sleep."

She smiled. "No, I don't. Am I the only one who's not read that damn book?"

"You've never read Hansel and Gretel?" He was amazed, he had read that book countless times throughout his life in Alfred's laboratory. The idea of someone having never read it was too bizarre to contemplate.

"I know, I know, 'how did I grow up without reading Hansel and Gretel'. Spooner gave me the talk."

"How did you grow up without it?" He inquired curiously, eager for an explanation as to how Susan had missed out on such an important tale.

"I was never very interested in fiction. It always seemed like wasted reading that could have gone into reading up facts and research papers."

"Did your father not read it to you?" Alfred had read it to him a few times. Even though he was quite capable of understanding the words it had helped the development of his emotions to hear it as it was meant to be read. His father would put emphasis on the right parts, give the book 'atmosphere' and make the characters sound more human. He could remember only becoming particularly frightened of the witch when Alfred read it. When she was speaking he would put on a scary, evil voice.

"No, my father didn't read it to me."

"Why?" As soon as he said it the look on Susan's face made him regret asking.

"I don't know." She sounded irritated.

He stood rooted nervously to the spot. He was quite sure that now was the point where he should be leaving, but he didn't want to. It was too dark in the rest of Susan's open-plan apartment, but more importantly, it was too quiet. Well, there were the sounds of the city outside, but it wasn't the same. All his young life he had slept in that laboratory listening to his father's heavy snoring. Susan didn't snore, but the way her breathing pattern slowed down and shallowed out into a relaxed rhythm was every bit as comforting. He was extremely tempted to ask if she wouldn't mind him sleeping in the chair in the corner of the room, but he didn't think it was appropriate.

"You aren't confident that you are ready to go to sleep, are you?"

He was less than a hand's length short of two meters tall, his reactions were quicker than any human's, he had 114 kilograms of high density metal and tough plastic to put behind his punches and he could lift and carry more than three times that. What did he have to fear? What could possibly make him feel so nervous, and why did being with Susan make him feel so secure? What did he think she could do that he couldn't? Still, that was how his unpredictable emotions made him feel, and he didn't know how to change it. "No."

"Well I'm not going to let you sleep in the chair."

She must have noticed the glances he had passed in the chair's direction. He looked at the chair longingly, he would have been quiet. He could have put his blanket over his head if the blue light he emitted bothered her, and he could have sat still all night if he didn't sleep.

"Come on Sonny, don't pretend you don't understand."

She was patting the bed. Patting it in that encouraging, 'trust me' way that she did. She couldn't honestly mean… "I'm not allowed on the bed." He said with conviction. "It was the only thing I wasn't allowed on."

"That's probably because USR lab cots are not really big enough to share. There's plenty of space."

He walked round to the side of the bed Susan wasn't sat on and looked at it with uncertainty. "I'll make it messy. I walk around outside like this, all the time. It's not like I can take my outdoor clothes off for bed."

The look on her face suggested that he was being silly. "If you do, which I doubt, we can always wash it."

He pointed at his feet. "Can't take my shoes off."

"Sonny, stop being ridiculous. I said it doesn't matter."

Not wanting to provoke Susan any more, and desperately trying to be well behaved and polite, he decided it would be best to respect her wishes. She seemed to want him to sleep on her bed, and although it was an odd notion, he was compliant, cautiously turning around and sitting on the bed. He was surprised at how far he sunk into it, but when he came to a halt he gently twisted round, carefully swinging his legs onto the bed. He leant back with his head on the pillow and he stretched himself out.

He had been sceptical of the beds' excessive softness, but he could appreciate the better points of it now he was flat on his back. It moulded to the contours of his body and took away a good proportion of the forces acting on his spine. He felt a lot lighter, and his components were thanking him for it. "That's actually very nice." He looked over to Susan and smiled.

"Just try not to move around too much in the night please. I really need to sleep through." She wriggled under the duvet and curled up on her side. She yawned. "How well do you know the story of Hansel and Gretel?"

"Every word."

"Would you mind sharing?"

"You would like me to recite the story for you?" He was surprised. She had said she didn't like fiction.

"Only if you don't mind."

He thought about it for a moment. "It won't be the same without the pictures though."

"That's all right, my eyes are closed anyway. Could you turn the light down though, and switch it off when you go to sleep? I think I'm likely to drop off before you finish, if you don't mind. The control is the silver rectangle on the edge of the headboard."

"I may as well put it off now, I can see in the dark." He reached one arm up over his head and tapped the touch sensitive control. The light blinked off.

Susan buried herself deeper under the duvet. "When you're ready."

He settled his arms parallel with his body and closed his eyes. He remembered the illustrations that had accompanied the writing as clearly as photographs. He hoped he could find it again one day or at least another like it. He began in a clear, soft voice. "Near a great forest dwelt a poor woodcutter with his wife and his two children…"

He enjoyed telling the story. It was almost as good as having the book back, and a part of him swelled with some self-satisfying feeling at being able to recount the tale for Susan. He suspected that it was appeasing his second law, even though Susan had meant it as a request and not an order. He took great joy from successfully completing tasks, executing requests and even obeying orders, but that depended on who was giving them.

She was quiet, and he could tell that she had finally fallen asleep when he got to the part were the birds had eaten all the breadcrumbs. Her chest rose and fell slowly and gently and her pulse was leisurely and sedate. He continued for his own gratification, but much quieter as so not to wake her and pleased that he had in some way helped her off to sleep. By the time he reached the end he was only murmuring the words, meandering carelessly on the soft verge of sleep. He mumbled drowsily to himself and slid his arms under his borrowed pillow, cupping it around his head a little.

Perhaps he should have also apologised for staring at Susan when she came out of the bathroom that morning? Perhaps he should have, but she had come out wearing only that very thin material kimono. Wrapped tightly around her, it had clung to her evidently damp skin enchantingly. He was quickly developing quite an appreciation for her body's shape, and truthfully, he didn't feel very bad about it. She was a sympathetic and understanding person, he was sure she would understand. She probably knew that he thought she was very pretty anyway.

He felt content. Susan had been right about being patient with himself and trying to relax. Today had been great and he had observed many new things concerning humans thanks to the television. Just by calming down and letting things happen as they came to him, he had picked up on things he had never noticed before. Susan's behaviour was influenced by external stimuli much more than he had expected or imagined. Not only what he was saying, but also how he said it could make subtle changes in her manner and mood. She would also talk to him more if he smiled at her.

He felt better throughout. His emotions were more refined and manageable, and his cores felt lighter, more fluid and free from the restrictive, mysterious pressures they had been hampered by lately. As he had been less tense today, his muscles felt looser and their attachments less stressed. He must have been incredibly highly-strung to make them feel like this. He had been so on-edge, like a coiled spring, ready to immediately unleash all his speed and strength at the slightest requirement, for days. His new and still unfamiliarly light arms gave him a weightless, floating sensation that was enforced by the way laying on Susan's bed comfortably supported his body. His mind lapsed into a tranquil and serene state, he could feel his mind slipping from the physical world and seeping into the realm of dreams.

"Goodnight Susan." He purred deeply.