Things had, by now, spiraled dramatically out of control for Rosie.

With each passing day her feelings about Marcus, strange to her as they were, grew exponentially more powerful. It was to the point now that she feared, if it got any worse, she would actually begin feeling physical pain that reflected her emotional anguish.

She had composed countless theories (alongside literally millions of self scans of her system) trying to identify the issue he was causing and perhaps even how exactly he was causing it, but it wasn't until the day before where a new thought occurred to, one that had been so inconceivable that she had never even considered it before now.

One of the human concepts Rosie found most fascinating was love. It was something she had observed and identified more than a few times among humans. It was such an abstract yet mystifyingly concrete (and entirely confusing) subject that Rosie had, in ten years, barely scratched the surface on what exactly it meant and she was certain she didn't have any sort of handle on it.

When she was in Portland, Oregon for a year and a half before she relocated to San Francisco, Rosie had stayed for a time in a small bed and breakfast run by an elderly couple who had been together for nearly fifty years. Love, she was certain, was evident in their case, based on how they interacted with each other. Fifty years, for humans, was an awfully long time, yet this couple still behaved in such a way that Rosie could only ascertain that their feelings for one another were just as powerful as they had ever been.

But Rosie had no way to gauge any of that accurately herself. She knew, of course, that she was becoming more like humans in terms of her emotional range (Yamato had even confirmed as much directly to her) but Rosie had never thought, at any moment, that she, or any Fog vessel, would ever experience love.

She was a computer, a machine. Could the Fog even feel love? Was the emotion that they could feel via their mental models merely a replication of that of humans or was it a true fact that that's what they were experiencing? If there was a difference between the two, could anyone, even they, tell the difference? What was she feeling? Was she really feeling?

Rosie didn't know the answers to any of these, but as her feelings (and her pain) grew stronger, she had only become more and more determined to solve this puzzle. This determination, or perhaps stubbornness had caused a cycle over the past five days that Rosie now thought she had to break out of.

She didn't like giving up or admitting defeat on anything, but perhaps it was time to call this one quits and move on to elsewhere. She already long decided that she wasn't going to inform Yamato of any of this. Not until she had a firm grasp on what was going on and that didn't seem likely anytime soon.

In the meantime, after a final visit to a sleeping Marcus in the garage, where Rosie had spent far more time than she had thought she would, she now found herself walking along the beach of Iroquois Point, heading in the direction of Pearl Harbor. She figured, provided she stayed clear of the obvious military presence there, that she should be able to sneak into Honolulu and begin observations on the people who lived there.

Her only real problem on Oahu would be if Marcus decided to look for her, but she figured that this chance would be a slim one at best. He seemed entirely disinterested in associating with her any longer than he had to, plus he didn't seem to leave Iroquois Point often, if at all. It was also extremely doubtful, given Marcus's inclination to keep her away from the military, that he would report her absence to any of them. In essence, the only person who even knew anything about her newly constructed identity likely would never see her or have anything to do with her again. She could continue her mission entirely unencumbered by her five days spent with Marcus.

So, Rosie, wearing only her nanomaterial dress and shoes (having left everything else back at the house) began her departure from the area. Feeling her feet sink into the sand with each passing step, as the moonlight reflected off the Pacific and off her pale skin, it occurred to Rosie that maybe her mission wouldn't be entirely unencumbered after all.

With each step she took, she missed Marcus more and more. This was exactly why she needed to leave. She couldn't let this overarching, universal system error persist. She had to remove herself from its cause; she had to remove herself from him.

So, even knowing this, why did it feel like her Union Core was cracking?

Rosie only made it a few more steps before she felt her legs give out underneath her and she collapsed into the sand, suddenly sobbing.

Why was this happening to her? What had she done wrong? She had followed her mission perimeters down to the smallest, most finite detail and even had reassurances from the Supreme Flagship herself of all of this. Where had she gone so wrong as to now feel this way?

Gripping and squeezing fistfuls of sand, Rosie cried harder than she ever had. She was thankful that she didn't need to breath, otherwise it would have likely been very difficult to have done so.

It took her nearly ten minutes, an eternity, to regain even partial control of herself. She forced herself to breath in and out slowly, hoping that this human technique would interact with whatever subconscious human emotions she had developed to force the response she wanted.

She then collected all of the nanomaterial that had just left her body in the form of tears and re-assimilated it into her mental model.

Then, she altered her position to sitting, facing the Pacific while she hugged her legs tight to herself, and rested her head on her knees.

Was this love? Was this what love was like for humans? How could something that had been described to her as the most wonderful thing on so many occasions feel so utterly terrible?

She questioned everything she thought she knew on every emotion she had ever encountered. Maybe nothing she had ever studied or documented was what she had thought it was. Maybe she had gotten every observation, every detail utterly wrong.

Maybe, despite Yamato's assurances, she had somehow messed everything up.

Rosie sat there for over an hour, running through her mind every single encounter and detail she had witnessed over the last ten years, reanalyzing all of it, trying to pinpoint any mistakes she had made.

Ten years, tens of thousands of encounters, millions of observations.

It took over an hour for something else to occur to Rosie.

Maybe she hadn't made any mistakes after all.

Maybe she truly had blurred the lines between the Fog and humanity. Maybe her experiences truly had imbued her with genuine emotion.

Humans weren't computers, after all. They could only in the most rudimentary of ways analyze and quantify what they were feeling. Perhaps none of it could be truly quantified. Maybe this was just the way it was for humans and thus the way it was for the mental models of the Fog who, according to Yamato, were trying to replicate humans down to the most finite detail.

Maybe there was nothing wrong with her at all.

Rosie then thought about what Yamato had told her.

Follow her heart.

Despite being truly, overwhelmingly afraid of what might happen to her if she stayed with Marcus, she knew that that was all she wanted to do.

She could even make the excuse that she was continuing the mission, because she would still be studying the human that had had, by far, the most profound impact on her.

Rosie decided that this must have been what Yamato had meant. She then decided then that she would stay here, with Marcus, at least for a little while longer to see if her condition improved or declined.

Getting to her feet and wobbling a little as they sunk in the sand, Rosie turned and began heading back towards the house she had grown to know so well.

Despite being afraid, the pain that seemed to be emanating from her Union Core lessened a little at the thought of seeing Marcus again.

She didn't know what would happen, least of all to her, but she supposed she would find out given enough time.

Deciding that she would resume her nightly visits sitting next to a sleeping Marcus, Rosie reentered his property and was near the garage before she realized that he wasn't there.

Slightly alarmed, she extended her sensors and for a few unnerving moments she didn't know where he was until she picked up a human heat signature located on his back deck. She calculated that it would be best if she extended her scans to cover the whole property at all times from here on out.

For a moment she wondered if he had discovered her absence, but realized that if he had by this point he would likely be out looking for her.

Either way, it was best to be as quiet as possible.

Remotely hacking the household security system, Rosie entered the abode as silently as she could and began to make her way up the stairs before she stopped in her tracks and suddenly found herself moving back down them and towards the back deck.

If he was having problems sleeping, maybe she was, too.

Plus, all she wanted to do was see him.

She opened the sliding door, hoping not to surprise him but she unfortunately did just that.

Lurching to his feet, cigarette clinched between his teeth, Marcus pulled the pistol from inside his belt and whirled on her nearly pointing the weapon at her before he realized it was her.

His inebriated eyes, somehow still as sharp and observant as ever, softened with relief. "Good fucking God, I'm sorry." he said, exhaling deeply. "You scared the hell out of me."

"No," she stuttered. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you..."

He sighed, returned the pistol to its holster and sat back down, motioning for her to join him in the second chair which had become hers by default during her stay.

"Please, sit," he offered. "You couldn't sleep either, huh?"

"No," she said, not exactly lying. "I have a lot on my mind, I guess."

"Yeah," he nodded. "Me too."

Sitting, Rosie brushed a strand of hair out of her face. "What's wrong?"

"Nightmares," Marcus muttered back, tossing his finished cigarette. "It's okay. This happens about once or twice a week; I'm totally used to it."

"I don't suppose you'll tell me what your nightmares were about, will you?" Rosie asked softly.

"No ma'am," he shook his head. "You can add nightmares to the list."

"Okay..."

Rosie looked out to the Pacific and the fading moonlight that reflected off of it. The sun would be coming up in just about an hour, she estimated; it was already getting brighter.

Her thoughts then turned to the the current Oahu lockdown and how, regardless of if it lasted another few days or even a week, that she fully predicted Marcus, the moment the lockdown was lifted, would insist on taking her to her supposed home.

She had no intention of letting that happen. She calculated she would need at least more than a week of further observations to even begin scratching the surface on how he was affecting her. So, she decided to deploy the cover story for why exactly she was here.

"Marcus..." she said. "Do you want to know why I came to Iroquois Point?"

He looked over at her. "Sure, if you want to share."

"I..." she said, trying to inflect this all perfectly, but suddenly realizing she could channel how she was feeling into what she was saying and somehow, on some level, it was emotionally true. "I don't have anyone. I'm alone. I came here because somehow I thought if I did, I wouldn't ever have to go back to my life. Back to the emptiness..."

"What are you saying...?" Marcus sounded incredibly concerned.

"I don't know, exactly," Rosie suddenly found herself crying again. It wasn't an act. "I don't know what's wrong with me..."

Embarrassed to be showing such emotion in front of him, she buried her face in her hands and tried, incredibly unsuccessfully to hide it.

"There's nothing wrong with you," Marcus said, sounding surprised. "I mean yeah, you're a little weird, but that's not exactly a bad thing, or anything."

She found herself smiling a little through her tears, but naturally he couldn't see this.

"I think you're lovely," Marcus continued. "And we've had some fun out here, haven't we? If I didn't think you were at least kind of okay do you think I'd be having such a passably amusing time?"

Rosie couldn't help herself; she giggled a little at that, though given that she was crying it sounded more like a hiccup. Leave it to Marcus and his incredibly dry humor to cheer her up a little.

"I guess so..." she said, after a few moments.

"Exactly right," Marcus smiled and leaned back, turning his eyes towards the Pacific.

It was time.

"Marcus?" she asked, drying her eyes with the back of her hand, "Do you think... Do you think that maybe I could stay here for a little while, even after the lockdown is over?"

He turned back to her and met her tear stained, red eyes with his. She didn't have to pretend or act. She knew she looked miserable and helpless.

"I mean..." she continued. "This is the best I've felt in... I don't even know how long. Being around you..."

"If this is the best you've felt in a long time, I don't know. You're a mess!" Marcus smiled a little before he trailed off for a moment. "I strongly recommend against it. Despite what you might think, I'm not really great with people. I mean, a few days might be fine and all that, but any longer and I just don't know."

"I don't care what you think," she said firmly. "This is what I want. I want to stay."

Marcus sighed. "Tell you what... Lockdown's still on for three more days. I'm currently drunk as hell and not running on much sleep. Can I think about it for a couple days and get back to you? Is that acceptable?"

Rosie thought for a while. This was likely the best she would get for now. She would gamble that she would be affable enough for the next couple of days (as she had been the entire time, she thought) that maybe it would be all the convincing Marcus would need.

"All right," she said. "Just don't take too long. Please...?"

"I'll do my best. If you change your mind, do let me know."

"I won't." Rosie couldn't predict the future, but she knew that much. A day or two wasn't going to change how she felt about this.

So, sitting in silence for a long while, Rosie and Marcus watched the sunrise from maybe the best vantage point in the entire world.

Author's Note:

Well, I've finally started Film School. And the schedule and course load looks like it's going to take a toll on the amount of writing time I have. That being said, I'm planning on working pretty much solely on this story (as I have been) using any available free time, but instead of being updated every three or four days, it may be moved to a five to seven days schedule. I guess we'll see.

Deep Water, by Portishead