((Again I nod to Deine Lakaien. This time the song my chapter heading comes from is Nightmare. It sounds like I feel when I look out of the window into the snow.

And yes, I do know a car dealer that will bring your car to your house free of charge after a service or some such. It didn't occur to me that this isn't exactly common until later. Then again, I always say I live in a Gallic village for a reason. In fact, many reasons.

There's a reference to the Cult of Personality quest in Mankind Divided in there. During that quest I already knew this fic would happen, that the quest would be mentioned, and in what way.))


Chapter 7

Moonlight on Maidenhair

When they reached Abigail's house again, Millicent or one of her employees had brought her car back and parked it in front of it. At first it had confused Adam that they had left it at the dealer, but apparently this was how it worked in the middle of nowhere. The key was in the letterbox and Francis brought it inside.

They ran into Fabian, who was about to leave. Francis snapped at him to wait, sealed the house by MANES, and rushed to his sister, while Adam tried to make awkward small talk with a complete stranger, who had just been locked in by his visibly angry in-law. He was a social worker, it turned out, and he seemed nice enough. He also seemed rather sad. When Francis returned, looking harassed but not too angry, and led the other man off by the elbow, Adam took the hint and retreated upstairs.

'Welcome home, Adam,' the MANES greeted him.

'Hi,' he said automatically. 'What can you tell me about the Aberdeen police station? Do you know anything about its security?'

'Only that it is not in the Lemures network.'

'Dare I ask what that stands for?'

'It is not an acronym. It is the shared network of all MANES instances worldwide.'

'Oh God. Pritchard has created an AI monster with a hive mind.'

'That is a crude way to say it and not entirely correct.'

'How many … instances of you are out there?'

'That information is classified and only known to the Creator.'

'You've existed back in Detroit, haven't you? In Francis's apartment. It's okay, he told me. You're no longer running there, are you?'

'An outdated version of this security system did exist there. It was turned off and improved since then.'

'Did you already talk there?'

'I was already a fully-fledged AI, capable of processing spoken commands and verbal output, but my programming did not include conversation beyond that which is necessary.'

'Good.' Adam had been wondering if Pritchard had been lonely enough to write a talking AI for himself. He was relieved that wasn't the case. 'So why did he write you this way here?'

'I believe it was to provide a source of comfort to the owner of this house.'

'He gave you his personality to cheer up Abigail. The man is full of surprises.' He tilted his head. 'Do you think he could hack you?'

'Yes, if your question is if he could successfully attack an instance of the MANES that he does not own. He may not be able to cause anything other than a lockdown, however.'

'Can anyone do that? Avoid a lockdown?'

'According to the Creator, there are people who might.'

'Well, good to know there's a chance someone will rescue us while you sing Daisy.' Adam sighed. 'I'll go look for information about the police archive's security. I don't suppose you can help me there?'

'I was not programmed to report law infringements to the authorities, but I cannot commit them myself, either. Please do as you see fit. If you require assistance, maybe the Creator can provide it.'

'We'll see. Thanks, MANES.'

Ϡ

Frank had never fallen asleep quickly. Being in a foreign place didn't make it easier. And what Adam had said at the restaurant – and by now his brain had processed that yes, he'd heard right – didn't help either. Frustrated, Frank gave up and walked to the window. It was snowing. Hand hovering over the pack of cigarettes on the window sill, he watched, mesmerised. He opened the window and reached out, watching snowflakes melt on the back of his hand.

And for once it wasn't the fact that Abi would strangle him that he grabbed the pack and walked outside after shutting the window again. It had been raining during the day, but now it had cooled down enough for thick snowflakes to slowly drift down from the sky.

It wasn't as if it never snowed in Detroit, but there it took about five minutes for it to turn into a brown sludge. Here, however … Frank lit a cigarette and ambled through Abigail's generous garden. He wondered what it would look like in the summer. He wondered if he'd be here to see it or if whatever circumstances chased him on and away.

The snow swallowed all sound, so Frank hadn't heard Adam come out. He saw him leaning forwards on the gate when he was about to go back inside, staring out into the village that was only visible because of the snow casting back what little light was there. 'Can't sleep?' Frank asked.

'I was still awake. Voluntarily. Heard you walking around and decided to take a look at snow that's actually white. Not that I didn't have any in the GARM facility.'

Frank snorted. 'I heard about that. You didn't leave anything out in Prague, did you?'

'What's that supposed to mean?'

Frank leaned on the fence next to Adam, close enough for their shoulders to touch. Adam didn't move away. 'You don't remember, do you? You contacted me. Briefly. You weren't exactly yourself, stammering about all-encompassing love and some great man called Richard.'

'Oh God. Please tell me I didn't say anything embarrassing.'

'You didn't say much that made sense at all, Jensen. I asked if you were drunk, you denied and told me you'd gone to see the great man Richard. I yelled at you to get the hell out, and apparently you did.' Frank looked at him. 'I didn't make contact after that, it was pretty clear you weren't in your right mind. Maybe I should have called back. Maybe I should have … I don't even know.'

'Is there something you're trying to say, Francis?' Adam looked at him. 'I think so.' He lowered his voice. 'I hope so.'

Frank stood frozen on Adam's side, staring at the snow on the other side of the fence. His heart was racing, thoughts he'd thought he'd killed long ago coming back up, only to be chased by the fears that had stifled them for so long. He was too broken, had been alone too long, had become too mistrusting, too frightened.

'Francis. Tell me to back off and I will.'

Frank realised his left hand was locked around his arm so hard it hurt. 'God,' he choked out. He looked at Adam. 'Fabian is staying,' he said. He saw the disappointment on Adam's face and went on talking. 'It's … I told Abi that if she thinks he's sincere, it doesn't matter if it's a bit later than she wanted and … that I understand. Fabian gave me a sip from a freshly imported Ron Zacapa Centenario. That's probably why I'm saying all this, because I'm a horrible light-weight. Seriously, two shots would all but knock me out. And he thanked me. Thanked me, Adam. For helping.' Adam was watching him, disappointment giving way to mild confusion, which was much better. 'What I'm saying is, maybe I'm not as … callous and deadened as I wanted to be.' He stood straight and poked Adam in the chest with his forefinger. 'And you have made me an offer in that restaurant. I'm collecting that right now. Go on.'

Adam didn't miss a beat. Wordlessly, he pulled Frank into his arms and held him close. And whatever dark voice had told Frank that this would never be possible lapsed into silence and he let himself fall. He pressed his face into Adam's neck and inhaled his scent like he'd wanted to for longer than he was prepared to admit, returned the embrace and felt free and confident and young.