Odi had worried that it would be difficult getting back into his old routine with George without revealing his true nature. It turns out easier than he expected. If he's slipped in his efforts to keep himself emotionless, George doesn't seem to notice. Perhaps it's a blessing that he'd been so badly degraded prior to his transformation, so that George can attribute any unexpected differences to the repair.

"This razor is past its optimum use date," Odi states as he steps into the bathroom on his first morning back, after George has finished with the shower.

George gives a soft, amused huff under his breath. "I'll buy new ones next time we shop. There isn't really anyone around to care if I'm scruffy." The last statement seems slightly self depreciatory, and Odi feels dismayed. That had been his function once. When he had still been able.

He looks up at George's expensive shaving set, sitting high on the bathroom shelf, long unused. One of his last gifts from Mary. George must have put it away at some point. "George, my barbering and grooming protocols have been completely restored."

"Yeah?" George looks over at him, contemplating his words with a half smile. "Suppose I could pay my two bits for a shave and a haircut."

The reference isn't one he recognizes. It only takes a split second for him to respond as he should. "I'm sorry, George. I don't understand -"

"It's alright, Odi." George joins him in the bathroom in his bathrobe, wrapping a towel around his neck. "I'd love a shave."

The mechanics of it are ingrained in his programming, but what surprises Odi is how pleasing it is to lose himself to the task. He applies the fine quality shave oil to George's face and neck before mixing the lather, painting an even layer over his skin with slow, smooth strokes of the badger-hair brush. While it sits, he opens the straight-edge, drawing it backwards against his own skin to check the sharpness, then stropping it with long, practiced strokes. Exactly thirty on the linen side of the strap, then fifteen on the leather.

George is quiet while he works, watching him with a pleased contentment. He tilts his head back and to the side obediently as Odi's touch urges him to, baring his neck to the careful stroke of the straight-edge. It makes Odi feel warm and proud to be so trusted, though George has no reason not to. Not as long as he trusts Niska's repair. Still, he lets himself enjoy this experience of being able to focus so completely on George, shaving away days worth of stubble with short, careful strokes of the blade. Afterwards he presses a hot, damp face cloth to his cheeks to clean away any remaining lather, then moisturizes his skin.

George runs his fingertips along his jaw and smiles. "I feel like a new man. Thank you, Odi."

"You're welcome, George. Would you also like a haircut?"

It seems George stands a little straighter after that, and doesn't utter a word of complaint when Vera commands him down into a kitchen chair so that she can check and change his dressings.

There's challenges, of course. Vera asks him why he isn't sharing - thankfully while George isn't in the room. Odi feels a spike of panic, despite having already prepared his answer. "The person who fixed me made me unable to share with any synth with whom George Millican is not the primary owner."

Vera stares at him for a long moment, and Odi is certain to stay very, very still. Then she turns away, and it's all he can do not to breathe a sigh of relief.

On his second morning back, as he's cleaning the kitchen from breakfast, he hears George pick up the phone in the other room.

"I need to speak with someone about returning my NHS care unit. I'm going to provide one of my own."

Odi fights back the icy alarm he feels, forcing himself to keep his movements smooth and calm as he walks to George's side, pressing the button to hang up the phone. "George. Niska has replaced seventy percent of my internal frame. It is inadvisable to discover where she obtained the replacement pieces."

George looks at Odi's finger on the button and frowns. "It's simple enough for me to add false assessment code to cover for that. I've been doing it for months with you."

The last thing Odi wants to chance is George going anywhere near his new code. "It is also inadvisable to remove the care of an NHS synth while you are recovering from major surgery."

George gives an annoyed huff, pulling Odi's finger away from the receiver to hang it back up. "So Niska increased your assertiveness too, did she? These women, always thinking they know best."

"I'm sorry, George. I don't understand - "

"Ah, I'm just being a grumpy old man. Don't worry." George pats his shoulder and steps away from the phone, and Odi silently breathes a sigh of relief.

Over the next two weeks they fall back into a comfortable routine, continuing much of the things they'd always done, when Odi's programming was still clean and accurate. But George seems strangely distracted, restless. It's hard for Odi to keep himself from pressing, trying to find out what's bothering him. But unless George volunteers the information he must stay in the dark. A few times he brings up the idea of a new car, once Vera is gone and Odi has passed assessment. But nothing else.

Then, as George is crossing the living room one afternoon, he catches his foot somehow on the edge of the rug. Odi processes and reacts in a split second, detecting the danger to George's safety and darting across the room just in time to get underneath him as they both go crashing down to the floor. But what he doesn't expect is the way it feels when his shoulder connects hard with the edge of the coffee table, the white-hot pain that shoots through him, and he cries out before he can stop himself.

"Are you alright?" George asks.

"I'm fine," Odi replies automatically, mind still spinning from the pain, all his careful training gone. "I'm fine, I - "

Then he realizes that George is staring down at him in open shock.

"Doctor Millican, I have detected - "

"Not now, Vera!" George is on his feet with surprising quickness, hitting the off switch on the bottom of Vera's chin as she enters the room. Then he turns back to Odi, lips tightening before he speaks. "... you can feel pain."

It feels like the room has gone hot, then cold all at once, like there's a heavy rock inside him, weighing him down. For a split second Odi considers lying, and tries to think if there's any way to convince George otherwise. But he knows the gig is up. He gets back to his feet carefully, staring at the floor, too afraid of what he might see in George's expression to look up. "... yes."

"You said Niska fixed you."

The feeling of dread sits heavy in Odi's core, mixing with the rush of anxiety he feels at being caught, at not knowing how this can possibly turn out. The fear that George will reject him. His breath quickens, and he hunches his shoulders forward, as if making himself smaller can somehow soften whatever blow is coming. "David Elster's code... It was the only way to fix me. I was too degraded for anything else."

"... she made you like her."

Odi closes his eyes, and barely manages to nod.

He hears George give a long sigh, and step closer. Then he feels his hand on his shoulder, gently sliding over the back where it had hit the coffee table. "Are you really alright?"

Odi nods again, forces himself to speak. "My skin is not damaged. I just... didn't anticipate how much it would hurt."

"And you've been pretending to be just a machine."

"I'm sorry," Odi replies, and feels a rush of guilt. His shoulders tremble. "I... I was afraid that you wouldn't accept me like this."

George's hand lingers for a moment. Then he pulls back, sitting down on the couch, not speaking again until Odi sits with him. "So... Niska gave you consciousness so that you could come back and look after me?"

"She gave me consciousness." Odi purses his lips as he thinks about it. "I think she wanted me to go with her. She didn't tell me that you might be alive until I'd refused her."

"And you still came back." George is frowning when Odi chances to look up at him. "You have the whole world in front of you. Why on earth would you go back to being what you were?"

Odi feels his stomach twist, and he hugs his own arms. "George, my place is with you."

"Was," George corrects, which makes Odi feel even sicker.

"Then you don't want me."

George shifts closer to him, shaking his head. "For God sakes, I didn't say that. I just don't understand why on earth you'd choose to give up your freedom..." he stops, and sighs.

It's a question that part of him has always known would come, once George found out the truth. He still isn't ready to answer it. He looks up at George, trying to push away his anxiety and focus on what he knows. On George's tells, on the fact that his expression doesn't show any signs of displeasure. Odi takes a deep breath and tries to keep his voice from trembling. "Because... I love you."

George looks at him for a long moment, and there's a quirk to his eyebrows that Odi has learned means 'worried'. He sighs, reaches a hand to touch the side of Odi's face, warm and gentle. The familiar, affectionate touch helps reassure his fears.. "Odi... you've only been able to reason for a matter of days. Do you even understand what love is?"

And there's the other question that Odi's asked himself again and again. He accesses all the data he's ever gathered on love, most of which comes from George. How George treated Mary, how he stayed by her side throughout her illness, doted on her, did his best to lift her spirits and alleviate her pain until her death. How George has treated him, how carefully and thoughtfully he's cared for Odi even when he was just a machine. "I think so," he replies slowly, watching George as he speaks. "Because I understand you, George. Everything you've done for me. That book that we read together about the toy rabbit who becomes real because he is loved. I couldn't understand it then, but I do now."

George drops his eyes, gives a soft, soundless laugh. His hand moves to rest on Odi's shoulder - less affectionate, but still not pulling away. "... Just the silly, saccharine feelings of an old man," he says, voice gruff. "Doesn't mean you feel the same way I do."

"Yes. I've come to understand that, too," Odi replies, and he wants to reassure George, so he moves a hand to rest lightly on his chest. "Part of being conscious, sentient, is the realization that no two beings could ever interpret something in exactly the same way or feel the same about it."

"Then how do you know?" George asks again, eyes moving back to his, and the worried lines between his eyebrows grow deeper.

For a moment Odi just looks, lets himself observe and analyze. There's a bittersweet sadness to George's expression that had been rare up until Odi had begun to be unable to keep his glitches from affecting his standard operating procedures. It makes his chest ache.

"When Niska... fixed me," he starts finally, softy, "Everything that I had lost came back to me. All the data - all the memories I'd built with you. And for the first time I could see them through the lens of emotion, as a person and not just a cleverly programmed machine. But the first thing that I felt - the first emotion that I knew - was the realization that you were dead, George. I..." Odi hears his voice burr on the words, feels his throat tighten just at the remembering. He wants to continue, to tell George about the terrible hole inside and the realization that it could never be filled, about feeling like there was no reason, no purpose to the new life he'd been given if George wasn't in it. But all he can manage to get out is, "it hurt so much," before his throat closes over completely and his body shudders with remembered sorrow.

George pulls him into his embrace, arms warm and strong around him. "I'm so sorry," he murmurs, and Odi draws a choked breath. But then his fingers curl in Odi's hair, and the familiar tenderness gradually helps him calm. Odi closes his eyes, carefully committing the sensation to memory, hoping that it isn't the last time he can do so.

"The thought of having to experience this new life without you was the most terrible thing I'd ever experienced," he says finally. "I was so angry at Niska for making me live if all that it meant was pain. And then she told me where to find you and I felt so hopeful... but so afraid that you wouldn't approve of what I'd become..."

"Shhh," George murmurs, fingers gentle as they stroke through his hair again and again. "It's okay. It's okay."

"I want to stay with you," Odi tells him, curling closer. "Seeing you again, George... I can't imagine feeling happier than I did in that moment."

George sighs, resting his face against his hair. "Odi... I'm not a young man. Surely you realize what that means..."

Odi closes his eyes. "Advances in medicine have raised the average life expectancy for men to ninety two. That's four times longer than all the years I can remember."

"An average isn't a guarantee." He pulls back to look down at him, eyebrows knit, and raises a hand to caress the side of his face. "Odi... All that heartache... if you stay you'll have to go through that again sooner or later."

Odi trembles at the thought, but leans into the reassuring gentleness of George's fingers. "If I go, I'll have to go through it now." He swallows, and forces himself to speak despite his fear. "George... please don't send me away."

"You know I never could," George replies, soft and sad, and presses a soft kiss to his forehead. A rush of relief floods Odi's body, cool and bright and beautiful as George speaks. "Despite my better judgement. I can't refuse you. I heard you at the hospital, you know. They said it was my nephew, but James and and I haven't spoken since the funeral. It was you, calling me back. It seemed like the most cruel joke to have imagined it, when you'd been recycled." His voice lowers, husky, and the serious intent in George's eyes awakens a strange, aching kind of happiness through him. "I need you with me, Odi."

"Then I'll never leave you," Odi replies, feeling a shiver of happiness. He wants to cover George's face in kisses, nuzzle his skin, bury his face in his neck. But he clings to appropriate restraint. "I promise."

George shakes his head. "Please don't promise. We can't know what the future will bring. If you change your mind..."

"No." Odi presses his fingers to his lips, matching the gentle pressure of when George has touched his. "I promise I'll stay as long as I'm happy. Is that alright?"

George hesitates, then smiles softly, and the shift of his lips feels nice against Odi's fingertips before he lets them drop. "Yeah. Just... Give me some time to adjust to this, will you? Gonna have to wrap my head around you." He lets out a long breath, leaning back to look over him with a little incredulous shake of his head. "Jesus. You're incredible."

Odi feels a rush of pleasure and bashfulness, and lowers his head. "Everything I am is because of you. Even this life, George. All of our experiences, all of your kindness has formed me into what I am."

He laughs softly, shaking his head. "Don't know how the hell I managed that. But... I'm glad of it." He turns to look towards the door, where Vera is still standing, disabled. "But please tell me we can get rid of Tugboat now? I don't want you to feel obligated to work, but... don't want you to have to pretend around her, either."

"Caring for you is my greatest happiness," Odi assures him, and the way George smiles makes him feel so happy that he thinks he might, quite possibly, be literally glowing with it.

Odi doesn't worry again, until George is getting ready for bed, until he glances over at Odi with that little troubled line between his eyebrows again. Odi moves to his side. "What's the matter?"

"Just wondering... if it's still appropriate for you to sleep here..."

"Why would it be inappropriate?"

"Because you..." George stops, and gives a helpless sounding sigh.

The thought of doing anything but staying is a heavy disappointment, and Odi feels his bottom lip tremble. "I... I would very much like to... unless it makes you uncomfortable, George. If it does - "

"Oh god, don't look at me like that. I'm not about to kick you out." George draws him close, kisses his forehead. "Makes me feel like I just kicked a puppy."

"What?"

A soft laugh. "Don't worry. Just... don't let me selfish, alright? There's a hundred things you could do that would be a better use of your time than just laying here."

"But it makes me happy," Odi replies, and can't keep the tremor out of his voice. "Maybe the most happy out of everything."

"What a strange boy you are," George murmurs, but holds him tighter all the same.

He gives Odi a nightshirt, which is completely unnecessary when Odi's synthetic skin produces none of the sweat or oils that give humans the need to change their clothes. But the cool, crisp cotton feels good against his skin, and while the garment is several sizes too big that somehow makes it even more pleasurable to wear, like he's completely wrapped up in George. When he lays down against George's side he can feel the heat of his body instantly, far better than he could through the thick wool of his sweater-vest. He lets himself cuddle into George as much as he's wanted to, wrapping an arm over his chest and nestling his face into the crook of his neck. "Is this alright, George?"

"It's fine," George replies quietly, and after a long moment he brings his fingers to stroke through Odi's hair, slow and gentle. Though the touch gradually slows, George remains awake, far longer than the time it normally takes him to sleep, and Odi begins to worry again.

"My presence is troubling you," he says softly, and starts to move away only to feel George's arm tighten around him and pull him back.

"Not at all. I'm just thinking." He presses his lips to Odi's forehead. "... should we move? We could sell this place. Get a smaller place, somewhere down south. Warmer. Easier to take care of. No one would know you're a synth, you wouldn't have to pretend for anyone. Niska had those coloured contacts..."

His question is completely unexpected and illogical. "George, there's no reason for you to leave the house you shared with Mary. I'm happy here."

George makes a low, non-committal noise, and is silent for a long moment. "These things are just things, you know. They're not her. And... I thought I was happy just being here by myself, just... alone, comfortable, surrounded by the remnants of my memories, but... " he stops, and is silent for long enough that Odi begins to wonder if he ought to respond. "Then all those young people came around, and Niska... and then I got shot..."

"You've seemed restless lately," Odi says softly. "If you'll forgive me for saying so."

"Mm. I am. I guess I just realized... don't want to sit here and wait to die, Odi. And... I want to do right by you. Seems wrong to have been given a miracle only to hide him away. We should move."

The decision doesn't fit with George's normal pattern of behavior, which makes Odi worry. "Perhaps..." he starts carefully, "we could start with a trip somewhere? And then decide?"

George gives a low hum of approval. "Good idea. Soon as I can get clearance to travel."

Odi closes his eyes again, though he can't help but think over George's words, everything he's said and done since learning the truth. Finally he asks, tentatively, "... George?"

"Yeah, Odi?"

"Is it... really alright, what I am? You're okay with it?"

"Of course." George's voice is soft, but there's no hesitation, and he turns his face to press a soft kiss to Odi's hair. "I'm blessed for it, Odi."

The warmth in George's words is enough to return him to his former, glowy-feeling state of happiness. "Thank you, George."

George's fingers smooth down the back of his neck, stroking slow lines up and down his spine, sending a shiver of pleasure and well-being through him. "What's it like?" he asks softly. "Suddenly being able to... feel. Everything."

Odi smiles, and this time he doesn't have to think about his answer. "It feels like I finally have real legs instead of worn velveteen and stuffing."

George's arm squeezes his shoulders gently. "Good," he murmurs, and kisses his hair again.