Hey everyone! I'm back! Sorry it took so long. I've been busy all week, and I actually had a really hard time starting this chapter. But I did it! And I'm happy with how it came out (especially the flashback, which I was worried about). Thanks for all your great reviews on the last chapter!

Okay, so, for those of you worrying about Douglas (*looks at Ra'Zara The First*) don't worry, you'll find out what happened to him. Patience. I do have plans for Douglas as well.

Alright, so, let's get on with it! I don't own Lab Rats. Enjoy the first official chapter of I'm a Human.

* * * Chapter 1: Home * * *

Chase lay completely still, staring at the ceiling above him. The textured, creamy-white paint stared back at him. There was something about it that was so soothing. Maybe it was the color. White was pristine and calm, like freshly fallen snow. It didn't demand an entrance, but ushered in its beauty quietly. It was the color of everything good and pure in the world.

Since when had Chase gotten so philosophical? Thinking deeply about the meaning of colors . . . the bionic let out a breathy laugh and sat up. He glanced around the room yet again.

The red quilt on his bed matched the shag rug on the floor. A blue desk chair sat at the desk where a silvery computer was perched. In the corner was a bookshelf stacked high with all of Chase's favorite reads. Sunlight came in through the window above the desk, creating no need for the green lamp on Chase's nightstand.

Everything was perfect and in place, just like it should be. Funny to think that it had still been this way even when Chase had been gone. The room had remained the same, waiting patiently for his return.

Chase had been lying on his bed for a while, just thinking. It turned out that beds were actually great places for doing that. It almost made Chase wish he had grown up with one. No, sleeping standing up was much more natural to him.

Still, Chase had been thinking mostly about what Donald had told him just over an hour ago. The words had been as gentle as they could be, but they were still harsh in Chase's ears. He knew it was the truth, but he didn't want to hear it.

"I'm sorry, Chase. There's nothing I can do."

Chase held up his hand and for what seemed like the hundredth time in the past few days, studying the red lines running across his wrist. "As if the kids in school didn't have enough to tease me about," he muttered. He gingerly touched it with his left hand, but hissed and quickly drew back at the pain. This dreadful scar would be a permanent reminder that Chase would never again use super-speed or super-strength.

It had been only six days since the Davenports had gotten free – nearly a whole week. No one had talked much about what had happened in Alaska. Everyone moved slowly, mechanically, as if walking through a dream. Chase didn't think anyone dared to believe it was real.

After a whole week, however, they were starting to come around. Donald had examined Chase's bionics and determined that it was beyond his ability to fix. The chip was too damaged, he said. It's simply not possible, he said.

Right now Donald was examining Marcus. Chase had remembered his promise to his brother and asked the tech mogul to find a way to extend Marcus's life span. Whether it would work or not, Chase had no idea. But if anyone could fix Marcus, it would be Donald Davenport.

Finally Chase decided to head back downstairs. It had been nearly an hour since he had retreated to his room, and he was ready to find out what the rest of his family was up to – and if Donald had found a way to fix Marcus or not.

As Chase headed down the halls, he noticed the family pictures that had been put up. He grinned and slowed down to get a good look at them. Needless to say, the Davenports did not have many photos. At least, not many old ones. Most had been taken in the past year. Most, but not all.

There was a picture of a very young Donald, standing beside a science fair project. His rocket-ship had a first place ribbon pinned on it. The dark-haired preteen had a large smile on his face.

There was a picture of Tasha holding a very young – as in, a few days old – Leo. She wasn't looking into the camera, but she was smiling at her son as she cradled him in her arms. Leo looked surprisingly calm for a newborn. He stared back up at his mother with a fixed, fascinated gaze.

One of the final pictures in the long row was one that Chase knew well. He had studied a hundred times in his life. It was the picture that had given him hope for so long. It was framed now, but if you looked close you could still see the wrinkled edges where Chase had worn it away with his handling.

Adam, Bree, and Chase himself were smiling into the camera. It was the only picture of them taken before they escaped Douglas – well, for the first time. It would be the only childhood picture Chase would ever have. That was actually kind of sad.

As Chase moved down the hall, he found more recent pictures. Adam, Bree, and Chase on their first day of school. Tasha and Donald sitting on a picnic blanket in the park. Adam making faces at the fish in the aquarium. Bree in a dress she had worn to one of the school dances. Leo at his birthday party, blowing out the candles. And a picture very similar to the one of the young Donald. Only this time, it was a fifteen year old with spiky, light brown hair. Chase was standing in front of his science fair board, proudly displaying his first place ribbon.

This was only the beginning. Chase found himself smiling at the idea of sharing many future memories with his family. Despite the lack of childhood photos, they could make up for it with all the exciting things they would do now. Hopefully. One thing Chase had learned about the future: it is entirely unpredictable.

Chase headed downstairs to find Tasha and Bree conversing at the counter while Adam and Leo sat on the couch playing video games. They hadn't gone back to school yet; they weren't quite ready. This was pretty much the same thing they had been doing the past week: attempting to do typical, everyday things to try and find that sense of normality again.

Bree smiled at her brother as she casually leaned her elbows on the counter. Tasha went to the fridge and started to look through it, presumably to find something to make for dinner. Adam and Leo began shouting at their game.

Chase walked across the room to Bree. She was still smiling, but there was a bit of tiredness and heartache lurking behind her happy expression. That was one of those covers for the scars they all had.

"What's up?" she asked. "Last time I saw you, you were heading upstairs like you didn't want to talk to anybody. Is something wrong?"

"No, I was just thinking," Chase sighed. "Donald said he couldn't fix my bionics."

"Aw, I'm sorry," Bree said in the best apologetic tone she could muster.

"Have Donald and Marcus come up yet?"

"Um, no, not yet. Chase, I'm still a bit uncomfortable with him being here."

"Trust me, Bree, he's changed. Some. Besides, if we absolutely need to, we can shut him off. Give him a chance. If my suspicions are correct, he won't have much time left, anyway."

"Okay," Bree agreed, but she didn't sound convinced.

"Do you guys want hamburgers or frozen pizzas for dinner?" Tasha called, her head still in the fridge.

"Pizza!" Adam shouted from across the room.

"Yeah!" Leo agreed loudly.

"Pizza's good," was Chase's response.

"Pepperoni, right?" Bree asked. "That sounds yummy."

"I guess it's unanimous," Tasha said. She closed the fridge and walked to the oven to preheat it.

"I'm going to head down to the lab and see Donald and Marcus," Chase announced.

"Knock yourself out," Bree muttered. Just then her phone dinged, and she pulled it out of her pocket excitedly. Chase knew he had lost Bree's attention entirely.

The elevator ride down was completely uneventful – though Chase would've been quite surprised if it was eventful. He was in an elevator, for goodness' sake! Not everything in his life needed to be an adventure! The only thing that happened was Chase wondering if Donald would be able to fix Marcus at all – though he had a feeling he knew the answer already.

The elevator dinged and Chase stepped out. Marcus was leaning on the cyberdesk while Donald typed a few things into it. Marcus looked a bit stronger now, though that might be partially due to the fact that Donald had created a capsule him a few days ago. Recharging had given Marcus a bit of his strength back, though not much.

"What's the diagnosis?" Chase asked as he walked into the lab and gained the attention of his brother and uncle.

"I think you already know," Marcus said bitterly, his eyes downcast.

"I really tried," Donald sighed. "His circuit boards have been completely fried. His system wasn't made to last this long, and the strain he put on it isn't helping." Chase noticed the way Marcus gripped the edge of the cyberdesk until his knuckles turned white. He stared blankly at the desk while Donald finished explaining. "He'll burn out in about a month."

"Burn out," Marcus said with a sharp laugh. "Your nice way of saying 'die.' Don't try to soften it. And besides, it's less than a month. Less."

"About," Donald corrected.

"Which means less."

Marcus still hadn't looked up. His facial expression hadn't changed at all. Donald caught Chase's eye and he shrugged.

"I really hate having to be the bearer of bad news twice in one day," the tech mogul said.

"It's fine," Chase assured him. "It's not like we didn't know these things already."

For a few seconds there was silence. Marcus didn't move. His gaze was hard. Marcus was an android; he wasn't supposed to have emotions. Yet here he was, as upset as any human would be if they were told they only had a month left to live.

"Marcus–" Chase began, approaching his brother.

"You happy?" Marcus shouted, swinging around wildly. "I'm finally going to die! Isn't that what you've been waiting for your whole life?"

"No, actually, I was just starting to like you." It was meant to come off as a joke, but Marcus was not smiling.

"I'm going upstairs to my room," Marcus growled, storming out of the lab. Like the bionics, Marcus had been given a bedroom where he could be alone when he wanted.

"Are violent mood swings typical for a dying robot?" Chase asked, walking closer to his uncle.

"No, it's just typical for Marcus," Donald replied, his tone half-joking yet half-serious. "Look, Chase, give him a break."

"Like he's ever given me one," Chase muttered quietly under his breath. Not quietly enough, apparently.

"You're still holding a grudge?"

"I don't want to! But I can't help but remember all the things he did to me."

"Douglas was just as hard on him, you know."

"Speaking of Douglas," Chase said, eager to change the subject, "should we still be worried about him?"

"I'm not sure," Donald said. He looked at Chase out of the corner of his eye, which meant he was suspicious about the subject change. "He hasn't bothered us . . . yet. We should probably stay on our toes. But you said you destroyed his Triton control device?"

"As far as I know. But you should probably remove the app from our systems – if possible – just to be safe."

"I'll look into that," Donald said. "Want to start now?"

"Sure," Chase replied with a shrug.

"Great. But oh, Chase? We're not done talking about Marcus."

There was a pause. "I know."

Endless training was endless. Yet somehow it did end . . . which was a paradox . . . whatever, Chase was making a point! And that point was that training went for a very long time. Normal kids complain when they have homework all evening. Yeah? Chase thought. Why don't you trade places with me? You'd never complain about homework again!

The door behind Chase opened, interrupting his ranting thoughts. He turned to see Marcus standing there. "Ugh, what do you want?" Chase said, turning back around to stare at the blank television in front of him.

"Gee, a 'hello' would be nice," Marcus said sarcastically. He walked over and stood beside the couch. "Um, you know, the TV works much better when you turn it on."

Chase just made a face. "Don't you and our dear father have some . . . weird . . . thing you should be doing together?" Okay, not the best insult ever, he'd admit. But it was all he could think of. He was tired.

"Actually, my training is done for the day," Marcus said matter-of-factly.

"Great for you," Chase muttered. "Now why are you talking to me again?"

Marcus just scowled. Then he looked down at his feet and scuffed them against the floor. "Um, you know it's my birthday, right?"

Chase frowned and wrinkled his brow. "Huh. Oh, oh yeah," he said.

"And I turn eight today," Marcus continued.

"What do you want, a 'happy birthday'?" Chase asked. "I've never said it before; why would I start now?"

"No," Marcus said, rolling his eyes. "I'm not expecting that. But . . . but I'm eight."

"And?"

"And . . . eight is half of sixteen."

"I know; super-genius!" Chase pointed to himself.

"What I'm trying to say is that I'm half-dead already!" Marcus shouted loudly. "Why don't you just make me spell it out for you, huh?"

"Oh," Chase said slowly, understanding what Marcus was getting at. "So, you're upset because you've already lived half your life. And you're coming to me why?"

"Who else am I supposed to go to?" Marcus said. He plopped down on the floor and crossed his legs. "Douglas? He just hits me every time I bring up the fact that I even have a life span. Adam or Bree? Well, I mean, it's the same as you. But Adam's . . . Adam, and Bree's a girl."

"What does Bree being a girl have to do with anything?" Chase asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"I dunno." Marcus shrugged. "Look, I just thought I'd try talking to you! But clearly that's not working."

Chase sighed loudly. "Okay, fine, what do you want to talk about?" he asked. He would talk to Marcus. It's not like there was anything else to do, anyway. But he would make it very clear that this was not something he was enjoying. If Marcus looked uncomfortable, Chase would consider his mission accomplished.

"I've just been thinking a lot," Marcus said, staring at the wall across from him. "I've already lived half my life and I've done nothing at all."

"Aww, Marcus, that's not true," Chase began. For a second a hint of a smile tugged at Marcus's mouth. "You've made enemies out of your siblings, you've been a complete jerk, and you've made everyone around you hate you."

Marcus just scowled more and folded his arms across his chest. "On TV they always talk about 'making your mark on the world,'" the android said. "How can I do that? I've never even been outside. And I'm already half-gone! Half my life has been completely wasted."

Chase was about to answer, but the door opened up again. The sound of loud bickering filled the room. Chase and Marcus turned to see Adam and Bree walk in.

"I did not!" Bree was insisting.

"Did to!" Adam shot back.

"No, I did not! You're just inhumanly bad at rock-paper-scissors."

"No, you cheated!"

"How would you even cheat at rock-paper-scissors?"

"Fine! Let's ask Chase!"

"Here we go again," Chase muttered. "Hey, I'm right here!"

Adam and Bree stormed up to couch, completely neglecting the fact that their younger android brother was sitting on the ground a few feet away. Both Adam and Bree began a barrage of words, each telling a very different side to the story. Chase blinked a few times and tried to understand them, but because they were talking at the same time it was difficult.

"Shut up!" Chase shouted. "Why am I always your peacekeeper?"

"Because you're smart," Adam said like it was obvious.

"You're the only one not involved in this," Bree said. "You're unbiased."

"Well someone learned a new word today," Marcus said quietly.

Bree froze and turned to look at the android. Adam too looked down at Marcus. They both frowned and looked between Chase and Marcus.

"Uh, what's he doing here?" Bree asked.

"I live here too," Marcus said, clearly offended.

"No, you, here, in this room, with Chase," Bree said.

"Try making a complete sentence, sweetheart," Marcus said condescendingly.

"Adam, hold her," Chase instructed.

Adam obeyed, wrapping his arms around his sister's waist as she tried to lunge at Marcus. The android stood up and backed away, but he was – surprisingly – smiling.

"You know, this isn't even unusual," he said with a laugh. "Maybe I have done something with my life."

"What are you talking about? And let go of me, Adam!"

Adam gave a sly grin. "Not until you admit that you cheated at rock-paper-scissors!"

"Did not!" Bree whined in a high-pitched voice. "But I'll teach you how to braid strands of yarn if you let me go."

Adam seemed to think about it for a second. "Deal," he said, releasing his grip on his sister. She smiled up at him before turning back around to face Marcus.

"He's scared because he's half-dead," Chase said.

"What, is he a zombie or something?" Adam asked.

"No, Adam, he's eight years old today," Chase replied. "He dies when he's sixteen."

"Thanks for ripping that bandage off, Chase," Marcus said with a wince.

"We all know it; you just said it a few minutes ago," Chase protested.

"Why is him being eight so important?" Adam asked, furrowing his brow.

"You're so dense," Bree said. "Eight is half of sixteen!"

"He's already lived half his life," Chase added.

"Oh!" Adam exclaimed.

"And he's scared?" Bree asked.

"So what if I am?" Marcus sat back down on the floor. "Death is a frightening thing to think about."

"What even happens to a robot when they die?" Adam asked.

"That I don't want to think about at all," Marcus whispered.

"Look, Marcus," Bree said slowly, clearly pained to be helpful to Marcus in any way, "you're only eight. You've still got half of your life left. I mean, eight years is a long time! I've been alive for eight years too. I don't even remember some of it, but I know it's a long time."

"Yeah," Adam agreed. "Hey, you might be half-dead, but that means you're half-alive, right? Wait, did I do the math right on that one?"

"Surprisingly, yes," Bree told him.

"Thanks Adam," Marcus sighed. He stood up again and bowed his head. "You know, being told that you have only so much time left to live is everybody's worst nightmare. But I've known that from the start. People start thinking of things they want to do . . . making bucket lists, and stuff."

"Why you want to make a list about different buckets you want?" Adam scoffed. "That's just silly!"

Marcus raised an eyebrow but chose to ignore him. "I'll never even get to go outside. Thanks for trying to make me feel better. See you guys later." Marcus marched out of the room.

"I will never understand him," Bree said once he had gone. "He's our friend one minute and a traitor the next."

"Yeah," Chase agreed, "but he's also a terrified robot that only has eight years left to live."

"In some ways I feel bad for him," Adam added, "but part of me will be glad when he's gone. He's so complicated!"

"I agree," Chase said. "But you know what, we've been training all day, and we should spend our free time doing something other than talking about a dying robot. Why did you guys come in here again?"

Oh, how Chase would regret asking that question. Suddenly he found himself throw into a massive argument that had no clear solution. Before he knew it, he was a mediator in "The Great Rock-Paper-Scissors Debate of 2006."

How did you guys like it? That whole "Marcus's 8th birthday" thing was actually a last-minute decision. I was just going to have them talk about Marcus's eventual death. But I thought throwing in a birthday (especially the one that marked half of his life) would work even better. The "family pictures" in the regular part of the story was another last-minute thing. The more you know!

I'm not super happy about how the chapter ended (before the flashback), but oh well. I really couldn't figure out what else to do.

The rock-paper-scissors thing was actually inspired by something j. liz. 8 said to me in PM. She was speculating that perhaps Adam is "inhumanely bad" at rock-paper-scissors. I thought that would make for a funny little story. XD

How was the chapter? Five more chapters and an epilogue to go. Begin the countdown! Let me know what you thought of this chapter by leaving a review. That's always appreciated! See you all soon! :D