"Jensen, you never did tell me who Michelle Walthers is, and why I had to assign security to her," Frank asked, looking up from his book. The computer tech had taken to spending a copious amount of time in Adam's apartment, nearly moving in as he left more and more of his things there. So it was not unusual for the two to engage in parallel activities, reading books next to each other in peaceful togetherness. After all, how many things could they really think of to do or sit and talk about? Pritchard had begun a habit of bringing take out over after he got off his shift, and falling asleep a few hours later on Adam's couch. The ex-cop had not dissuaded his partner, but had not openly welcomed the actions either.

Adam looked up from his own readings. "I guess it slipped my mind."

Frank waited for him to continue, but when he didn't, he prodded him more. "So, who is she?"

"Francis, I don't really want to talk about it right now," the security head's eyes drifted back towards his book.

"Look, if you're seeing someone else," Pritchard's heart squeezed as his jealousy-tinged words escaped, laying bare his raw fears, "then I want to know."

The brunette sighed, setting his book on the table. He gently took Frank's closest hand into his two metallic ones. "You're the only one I'm interested in, romantically, Francis. And I hope you know that I appreciate what you did for me. You risked your career, and I really do owe you an explanation. It's just not going to be pleasant to hear."

Worries assuaged, the raven-haired man relaxed his muscles, only just having realized that they had been tensed. "I guess I just keep waiting for the other shoe to drop and take you away from me."

The ex-SWAT held his partner's hand tighter. "Michelle Walthers saved my life when I was a baby. I was created through some sort of gene therapy, and was the only one that survived the experiments going on at White Helix Labs. My real parents apparently started a fire to save me, in which they died, but Michelle took me and gave me to the Jensens. According to the investigator Sarif hired, I was five. You'd think I'd have remembered something, but I grew up thinking the Jensens were my birth parents. I mean, I can remember other things from that age, how can I not remember my own birth parents? But Michelle's still alive, and I want to keep her that way. I owe her my life."

"Adam," Pritchard said softly, not quite sure what to say. "You were a child, and children need their parents. That need is so strong, it makes sense that you would forget, especially at that age."

"And, my God, people just kept wanting me for my genes. Even Megan, who I thought cared about me, just used me for them." Adam let go of the tech to bury his face in his hands. "It makes me not want to be who I am, sometimes. Radford's right, I'm just a freak. A monster. I can forget about it most of the time, but when I have to think about them at work or in a conversation, I just want to have a fucking lobotomy so I can forget everything."

Frank wrapped his arms around the cyborg. "I'm so sorry for bringing it up. And I'm so sorry that people have used you in such deceitful and disgusting ways."

Adam glanced up at his partner. "Pritchard, I don't think I could take it if you were just using me, too," his voice shook slightly as he spoke, his emotions painfully exposed.

"God, Jensen. Adam." The raven-haired man swallowed. "Adam, I would never do that. I couldn't."

"I'm sure my DNA is still pretty valuable. You could sell it and make a fortune."

Pritchard grasped the ex-cop's shoulders and looked him in the eye. "Listen to me, Adam. This is me you're talking to, and I..." he bit his lip nervously, "I...I, goddamnit, I love you, Adam. Even if you left me, I would never do anything to hurt you."

The cyborg pulled him into a tight embrace.