Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Copper 9 was quiet these days. Too quiet. It was peaceful. After that battle with Cyn, it was horrible; it took a long time to fix everything she had destroyed. The Dissassembly Drones and Uzi had to go through long programming to make sure that Cyn wasn't hiding somewhere in the cracks of their hardware. After a couple of years of working, it seemed like she had finally been eased. It was as if they had washed all the viruses and rotten things out of their heads and could finally live in peace.

All except for one drone.

Disassembly Drone J.

She used to be at the top of the company, the model soldier, rewarded with medals that clinked against her chest, reminders of how ‘valuable’ she was. She wore them like armor, proof she wasn't disposable like the rest. But now, looking back, she wasn't so sure any of it had been real. She remembered being given those medals and compliments, but she couldn't find any of the physical proof that she was of great value. Cyn had rewritten their memories, bending reality until obedience felt like pride. Maybe the medals had been nothing but rusted scrap, maybe the praise had been programming echoing in her head. She might have been celebrated, or she might have been mocked. It didn’t matter. Either way, she had danced to Cyn’s strings like the rest of them. And that made her furious.

The others hated her.

V checked on her sometimes, but always with that sharp scowl, like she was furious that J was still alive–but who wouldn't be, honestly? Uzi spat at her every chance she got, her hatred raw and unfiltered. And N… stupid and gullible N… still smiled at her. Still tried to fold her back into their little group, as if exile didn't mean anything.

She hated it. She hated the fact that those damn drones slept with the toasters like they were buddies. She hated that they still checked on her. She hated them. She HATED them.

This planet was poisoned. If she didn't leave, it would eat her alive.

The sound of footsteps crunched through the snow and broken metal outside, and J stiffened, optics narrowing. When the crunching of snow got closer, she didn't need to look up to know who it was.

V, Uzi, and N stood, watching the female drone work as if there was no tomorrow.

“Still playing mechanic?” V’s smirk was sharp, but her eyes flickered to J’s wrist with that subtle, infuriating check she always did–like she wanted to make sure J hadn’t fallen apart in the night.
“You really think you’re getting off this rock?”

“Better than rotting with the rest of you. Leave me alone.” J muttered, tightening the wrench.

Uzi scoffed, stepping forward. “Oh, please. You don't get to act like you’re better than anyone. You're the reason everything went to hell in the first place. I can't believe you joined up with that psycho of a drone just because you missed being on top of everyone.”

Uzi’s words hit like a blade between her ribs.

“Don’t,” J said, her voice low, tail flicking from side to side in an agitated manner.

V stopped Uzi from saying another word. Uzi looked annoyed but backed down with her head low.

“You don't get to act all hostile with us because we didn't choose you. You're acting selfish, J.”

J’s optics glitched with a twitch. She growled and landed on the ground in front of the trio in a very aggressive manner. The ground rumbled before them for a moment.

“You don’t know anything. None of you do. Just because I didn't want to join your little squad of joy and kissing those damn worker drones' asses doesn't mean I was selfish. You were selfish for leaving me for some… for some damn toasters!” Her voice slightly echoed through the cave.

Uzi opened her mouth to bark back some insult, but V cut in before her.

“Was it smart to team up with that little freak, J?” V stepped forward; she was close enough that J was just in an arm's reach. “Did you think you’d win? Did you think she’ll let you win with her? She's a monster. She would've discarded you like you were trash after all of this was done. Did you really want that? Did you truly want to be used and killed?”

J hissed and stepped forward as well, puffing out her chest like she was trying to intimidate V. Uzi and N were watching them argue like two cats. They would give each other glances when they thought it was getting too aggressive. N was ready to deploy his large blade from his arm if anything got out of hand.

“I can't believe you would choose Cyn over us. She messed with our brains, and she used Tessa’s body to trick us. Are you that fucking dense, J? In what world would someone choose that over their own friends?” V raised her voice to match J’s. They were loud, aggressive, and Uzi even saw J’s tail pointing at V at one point, getting ready to strike, or at least try to.

“Did you miss her? Did you miss Tessa? Because that's no excuse to turn on us.” V questioned her in a more softened but still furious voice.

Stop.

J’s optics glitched again, in a more angry and shocked way. She growled and bared her teeth before she spoke in a low and dangerous tone. “Don’t. Don’t you dare, V.”

“She's dead, J. Gone. We miss her as much as you do, but if you had any shred of loyalty to anyone else, you’d stop pretending she meant more than the rest of us.”

Stop it.

N finally stepped in, raised his hands, and tried to calm both of them down. “Hey, hey, let's not fight, guys. I’m sure she wouldn’t have wanted us to fight like this–”

STOP IT!

J’s temper snapped. She shoved him hard, sending him stumbling back and falling onto the snowy and metal-scape-covered ground. He shook his head before looking up with shock and a look similar to betrayal.

“N!” Uzi rushed to his side and held his shoulders before helping him up. She shot a glare at J before her monstrous-like tail became visible, and she got into a ready-to-fight position. V’s claws slide out in a hiss of metal, as well as jumping back to defend both Uzi and N. And quickly after, N readied his claws as well.

J’s optics burned with fury and sadness. “You never knew her! None of you did! None of you understood her like I did!” Her voice rose until it was a scream, raw enough to echo against the hollow crospes around them. “If I could, I’d have died like her, too!”

For a moment, no one moved. The only sound you could hear was the sound of J’s ragged breathing and the wind outside the humongous pile they were in, blowing against the walls.

And then J readied her wings and flew out of the area, leaving them staring after her. Leaving h̶e̶r̶ f̶r̶i̶e̶n̶d̶s those drones once again.

The wasteland stretched on forever, empty and cruel. Rusted towers leaned like broken teeth, shadows long and sharp under the dim sky. Her circuits hummed with static, a storm of anger she couldn’t quiet. Every wire in her body wanted to lash out, tear the world apart piece by piece, scream until her own voice shattered. She wanted to stop remembering. She wanted to bury the ache, the regret, the shame—anything that reminded her she had once been weak enough to care.

She hated sentimentality. Hated it like a disease. It made her soft. It made her vulnerable. And vulnerability… vulnerability was a weakness she could never forgive.

J stormed around the frozen, rusted vehicle, claws scraping metal in frustration. Her growl tore out of her throat, low and guttural. She tugged at her pigtails until they almost ripped. She just wanted it all to stop. To go away. To pretend it had never happened. She wanted the past—the lie of it, the safety of false glory, the medals she had once clutched like proof that she mattered. Anything but this gnawing emptiness that Cyn had left behind. At least then she hadn’t felt the sting of knowing she had betrayed everyone. At least then, she could have been proud. At least then, it wouldn’t hurt this much.

She spat on the ground, bitterness burning through her voice. How pathetic. How weak. How much of a coward she had become, chasing shadows of memory, letting herself feel, letting herself break. She hated it. Hated herself for it. She hated herself so much.

That was when she saw it.

On the horizon, cutting through the ruin like something alien, a ship loomed. Massive. Larger than the one she T̶e̶s̶s̶a Cyn had once ridden in together. Its hull gleamed unnaturally, lights pulsing like the heartbeat of something alive.

J froze, claws curling at her sides, every servo in her body trembling.

Ships didn’t land here. Not anymore. Not on this poisoned, broken world. And yet… she couldn’t stop moving. Something inside her pulled her forward, raw and insistent, like a memory clawing itself into her chest.

Her processors buzzed nervously, a static storm of fear and hope, twisting together. She remembered. She remembered Cyn, remembered the skin she had forced onto her own Tessa—every detail, every warmth stolen, every stolen laugh and cry burned into memory. The horror of it should have been enough to make her turn away, to run, to shut it all out. But it wasn’t. Because even after all of Cyn’s cruelty, after the betrayal and the lies and the choking, twisted imitation of Tessa, J’s heart—if her circuits could call it that—wanted to believe. Had to believe.

Despite herself, despite the knot of warning twisting in her core, she took a step forward. Then another. Her steps were slow at first, hesitant, like testing a current she wasn't sure she could survive. But some instinct–something buried deep in her code, buried in memory–drew her closer.

The ramp descended with a heavy clang, shaking the dust from the broken towers. Steam hissed and curled like smoke from a fire long dead. And then movement.

Something stepped out.

Tall. Human-shaped. Wrapped in a bulky space suit, the hiss of the oxygen tank punctuated each shallow breath. The visor gleamed, reflecting the jagged horizon, hiding everything… yet somehow revealing everything.

J stopped. Her claws dug into the scorched ground. Her optics flared and then dimmed as her processors locked for a heartbeat, unable to parse what she wanted to see.

A human. A living human. Here.

Was it really? What was it?

J did not know.

But she'll find out soon enough. 

Chapter Text

Cold.

So cold.

The junkyard was cold. Not the kind of cold that dulled metal, but the kind that crept into every seam, every wire, until J thought her processors might simply freeze solid. Rain hammered down in silver sheets, pattering against heaps of scrap drones and fractured parts. Dozens of dead optics were staring into J’s. They stared at her with hollow skulls, blank, accusing. She belonged among them. A pile of trash. A broken machine left to rot where no one would see. 

The Elliott family had thrown her out. Their words still buzzed through her core, harsher than the storm around her. 

“Unruly.”

“Malfunctioing.”

“Useless.”

Each insult repeated like corrupted code, looping endlessly, louder and louder until it nearly drowned out the static in her head. J curled against the wreckage, arms tight around her head and knees, trying to form warmth with what little she had. The metal of her frame rattled each time a shiver jolted through her. She pressed herself against the carcass of another drone, hoping for shelter, but the rain found her anyway. Water seeped into the cracks of her chassis, dripping into her joints, fizzing across damaged wiring until sparks stung her plating. 

Each movement was heavy, weighted with damp misery. She wanted to shut down, but her systems stubbornly clung to life. 

She tilted her head back toward the sky. Black cloud stretched endlessly overhead, suffocating the stars. Lighting flared once, stark and brilliant, illuminating the entire junkyard in white. For a moment, she saw herself reflected in the rain-slick metal around her: hunched, broken, pathetic. 

Her optics dimmed. If she could cry, she would have. Instead, her voice box only coughed static, a faint, pitiful crackle that vanished beneath the sound of the rain.

I just wanted to be good, she thought. I just wanted to be useful. I just wanted to be a good drone. 

But then–

A voice cut through the storm. Bright. Young. Human. “Oi! Anyone out here?” 

J’s optics flickered weakly, snapping open in surprise. The sound didn’t belong here. Not in this graveyard of rust and broken circuits. It was too alive, too warm. Through the haze of rain, a flow bobbed between the wreckage–soft, golden light weaving through the twisted heaps of drone parts. A flashlight beam swept across the mud, catching on jagged metal, on shattered optics, on the skeletal silhouettes of drones long since left to decay. 

Above the light, an umbrella tilted against the storm. Its edges flapped in the wind, dripping water in steady rivulets. The figure holding it waded carefully through the puddles, shoes splashing as she tested her footing among the unstable piles of scrap. 

J froze, staring. The human girl’s hair clung damp to her cheeks, dark strands plastered against her forehead where the rain had managed to sneak beneath the umbrella's protection. Her posture was cautious but determined, shoulders squared in a way that made her look braver than she probably felt. Her eyes, sharp even in the gloom, scanned each mound of broken drones with something curiously and pity–searching for something. Searching for someone. 

Tessa James Elliott. The daughter of the house. 

J’s chest rattled. Circuits spasmed with desperate effort. She tried to call out, tried to form even a single syllable, but her voice box only sputtered and hissed. The sound was faint static, pitiful against the roar of the storm. 

Panic surged through her. If she couldn’t speak–if she couldn’t make her see–the human girl would walk past. She would disappear. And J would be left here, silent, drowned in mud and memory. Forgotten. 

Her plastic and metal fingers scraped at the ground instead, dragging against a sheet of dented steel. The clang rang out sharp and unnatural in the night, a hollow sound that echoed across the junkyard. 

The flashlight jerked toward her.

The human stopped, eyes widening. Her breath hitched audibly over the storm. “Bloody hell–there’s someone here.” 

She stumbled forward at first, splashing through puddles with renewed urgency, then steadied herself and jogged toward the noise. The umbrella tilted instinctively over J as she dropped to her knees, her gown getting wet and muddy. 

J watched the human girl crouching in front of her, close enough now that the flashlight revealed every detail–her flushed cheeks, the way her hand trembled slightly as she adjusted her grip on the umbrella, the sharp flicker of relief softening her features. 

Tessa leaned closer, eyes scanning J’s battered form with wide-eyed shock. “You poor thing,” she breathed, the words muffled under the umbrella and the rain. “What did they do to ya?”

Her fingers hovered for a beat, then landed gently on J’s cracked plating. The touch was confident, almost clinical in its attention–not heavy, not frightened–just quick and sure, like someone who’d handled scrap more nights than shed slept. She ran a fingertip along her jagged seam, watched J’s joints with a bright, assessing eye.

“Can ya speak?” The girl asked with a gentle voice and a soft look in her eyes.

J tried speaking, but the only thing that rang out was static and screeching. The girl winced and giggled a bit. She then glanced down and ran her fingers along J’s broken and wet chassis, examining it, assessing it. 

“Right… voice box is knackered,” she said, voice running through a checklist as she worked. “Optics are dim but holding. Joints are stiff–rain’s gotten into the wiring, hasn’t it? You've been out here a while, yeah?” Her accent curled the words into something vivid and alive. “Rubbish lot to be tossed in.”

J stared up at her, unable to answer. Her optics fluttered–tiny blinks like begging. Every flicker was a plea: don’t leave me out here.

The girl's mouth thinned for a second as she took that in, then she offered a half-grin that barely reached her eyes but did the job. “Hey, don't worry. You're not scrap, are ya? Not while I’m here.” She shifted the umbrella so the rain hit the metal rim instead of J’s shoulders, her body angled to shield her. The flashlight beam swept over the wet mud and dented metal, then landed on the shadow of the mansion in the distance–a reminder of where she’d come from and where she was going to take this broken thing. 

She straightened, voice softening. “Names Tessa James Elliott,” she said, almost shy now, as if telling her own name somehow comforted the drone before her. “And yer coming with me.”

Her arms slid under J’s arms with a grunt–small, not unawkward; she was no professional porter, but she was stronger than she looked.

“Crikey, you’re heavier than you seem,” she chuckled, breath fogging the visor of her umbrella in a little puff. “But I’ve got ya. Lean on me, mate.”

J let herself be hauled up. The lift was rough–jolts through her chassis as Tessa adjusted her grip–but it was steady, purposeful. For the first time in too long, warmth pressed against her plating; the steady thump of a human pulse, the faint scent of wet fabric and perfume, the tilt of a shoulder under an umbrella. Her processors picked up the pattern: steady hands, even breath, a heartbeat that didn’t judge.

Relief hit first like the slow thaw of frozen oil. Gratidute came next, small and fierce, a bright current that ticked through her circuits. Attachment followed–sudden, deep, like a latch catching. Not because orders told her to decide she was useful. But because a girl with an umbrella had stopped and seen her among the dead and reached out. 

Tessa murmured as they moved, light and oddly conversational even in the rain. “You stay right with me, yeah? We’ll get you patched up. I promise.” 

J, who had no voice to promise back, pressed her shoulder into Tessa’s side and let herself be carried. The umbrella bobbed; rain ran in tiny rivers down the ribs and splattered off. For a dizzy, fragile second, while the water slid away and the flashlight beam carved a safe path through the scarp, J believed she had been found by someone who would keep her. 

The memory splintered. 

The rain, the warmth of an umbrella and arms, the fragile safety in Tessa’s arms–all of it shattered into now. 

The landscape was dead, dust-chocked and black beneath a sky of dark clouds. J stalked low in the ruins, her optics narrowing on the shimmer of movement. A lone figure moved across the cracked ground, the beam of its device sweeping along the snow and the rusty metals. The thing crackled and hummed–familiar JCJenson make. J’s plating rattled softly as she stalked closer, claws scraping the crumbling debris. The figure was wrapped in a pressurized suit, the glass of the helmet fogged faintly with each breath inside. 

JCJenson.

Her processors hissed with alarm. Illusion. It had to be another cruel trick of Cyn’s. She’d seen too many phantoms in the wasteland, too many memories sharpened into weapons against her. Her optics burned with suspicion. 

Then, without hesitation, she growled.

Her visor blazed–a harsh yellow X flashing into the darkness as her systems shifted. With a roar of pistons, she lunged. The ground split under her landing, snow and metal exploding upward as she leveled her arm-gun straight at the figure's head.

Her voice was flat, cold, and professional. The soldier they had built her to be. That Cyn had built her to be. “Identify. Now.”

The figure froze, the scanning device clattering to the ground. The helmet jerked toward her, a flinch–fear.

Then–

A voice crackled through the comms. Not static, not machine–human. A familiar voice. No… It can’t be…

Female. Young but older than memory. “J?”

The sound cut through her like a blade. J stiffened, her optics flickering with raw static. No. It couldn’t be. Humans were gone–burned out, buried in the grave of their own making. Any voice now was only Cyn’s trickery. 

Her tone dropped into a louder, scarier growl, weapon steady. “Identify. Now.” 

The voice faltered, shocked, almost laughing from the helmet's speaker. “What? J, it's me. It's Tessa! Oh my god, it's you, you’re alive!”

J’s optics flared into her rounded eyes, but then cut back to their jagged yellow X. The growl deepened, vibrating her frame. “Lies. Cyn wore you. Your skin. Your face.” Her weapon inched closer, barrel brushing the glass dome of the helmet. “She hissed beneath your voice. I remember. You're not her. You can’t be her.”

But the figure lifted both hands, palms open, trembling in the faint glow of the ship's floodlights and J’s yellow visor. “No, listen–listen to me, girl, I’m not Cyn. I’m real! I got out–I survived that massacre. I’ve been searching for someone, anyone. I didn’t think I’d find you out here. Are V and N here as well? What's happening? Why do you look so big and different now?”

For a flicker, the air thinned around J. Her processors surged with head, error codes rattling in her HUD. The way she said it. The rhythm. The accent curling around her words.

Exactly. Like. Tessa.

Her barrel trembled against the glass. “Stop.” Her voice fractured, breaking through the professional mask for a heartbeat. “Stop sounding like her.” 

The woman–Tessa–leaned closer, urgency in her tone. “Because it is me! Don’t you remember? Don't ya remember any of it? I took ya in. You and the rest of those dags. J, don’t you remember me? What happened to you?”

The words burned. They tore through memory and logic like wildfire, ripping open wounds J had welded shut. She wanted–oh, her core ached–to believe. To sink into that memory, to cling to the girl who had once shielded her, who had read stories to her, who had adored her.

But the world was not so kind. Cyn was clever. Cyn knew how to make ghosts sing. Cyn knew every little thing to get J under her control.

Her voice hardened again. “You're not her. You can’t be. She’s dead. I saw her. I saw Cyn wear her, twist her voice.” Her gun clicked on the glass of the helmet. “You're just another phantom.”

Tessa staggered back half a step, shock and a little bit of fear cutting through her tone. “Dead? You think I’m… J, I’m here!” Her hands fumbled at the suit’s latches, panicked. “I can prove it–just–just come inside the ship. The air out here will kill me in a matter of seconds if I unseal this, but once we're in, I’ll take it off, you’ll see. You’ll see it's me.” 

The plea rattled through J’s frame, pressing against the cracks in her armor where trust used to live. She could almost see it–the ship’s glow, the masks coming off, the face that had smiled at her in the back of the manor. 

Her hand-gun shook. Her systems screamed with conflict.

Then, with a low snarl, she shoved the woman’s outstretched hand away. The slap of metal on glave echoed sharply in the stillness.

“Stay back,” J snapped. Her optics glitched between the large X and hollowed round eyes. “I won’t fall for it again. Never again.” 

And with a sudden flare of her wings, she launched skyward, tearing away from the ship, from the voice, from the ache clawing in her core. The woman’s cries echoed faintly through the comms until distance cut them off.

J landed in the hollow skeleton of a nearby building, the walls crumbling, human bones and worker drone corpses lying in the snow. Her legs buckled, dropping her to the floor. Her hands dug into the concrete, claws leaving deep gouges as she shook. Static filled her ears, ragged bursts of sound like sobs she couldn’t make. 

It had been her voice. Ecstasy. Every syllable wrapped in warmth and desperation. The only difference–the only reason she hadn’t given in–was the absence of that faint hiss, that mechanical undertone Cyn could never fully hide.

Her systems spiraled into panic. Error codes screamed red across her visor. She rocked forward, head bowed, optics glitching hard. “It sounded like her.” The words hissed out of her voice box, broken and ragged. “It was her.” 

But Cyn always found a way to make hope a weapon.

J curled in on herself, wings wrapping around her weakly, acting like a shield from the world. She couldn’t trust. She wouldn’t even if it meant tearing herself apart. 

Chapter Text

The room was small. Smaller than a big disassembly drone could handle. Purple and black paint spread across Uzi’s room in patterns of all sorts, and black posters–band logos, torn anime art, a sticker that had a battery that was crossed out–papered the walls in a messy collage. Purple LEDs spread across the corners and edges of the ceiling. Two chipped mugs clinked against a crate-turned-table; one held a tangle of spare parts, the other was filled with black, pink, and purple markers and pens. N lounged cross-legged on the ground, and he was drawing something. A dog? A cow? Whatever it was, he was drawing it with joy. He was even wearing one of Uzi’s oversized shirts that had an image of a purple heart on it. He was content there. 

Uzi sprawled on the top bunk like a freaky creature dwelling in a cave. She was throwing a ball up and down as it hit the ceiling a couple of times. She enjoyed hanging out with N. Being boyfriend and girlfriend was definitely fun and comforting for her. And for him as well. But Uzi seemed uneasy, annoyed, and a little angry. But when isn't she angry? She let out a loud scoff and began her rambling. 

“God, J’s been such an asshole lately,” Uzi threw the ball once again before propping her chin on the mattress rail and smiling with one corner of her mouth, half amused, half venomous. “Lucky I didn’t blow off half her body this time. Would’ve spared us the drama though…” 

N laughs, the sound small and watery, like someone trying to keep a candle alight in the wind. “Shes–” he starts, then he swallows. For a beat, he watches the lava lamp wobble and finds the words. “She used to be… different. Back at the mansion, she was–” He searches for the right words again and finally settles on it with an inhale. “She was the best. She worked so hard that she made herself into something nobody could ignore. Ever since Tessa found us–me and V–We both tried to be better because J wanted to be the best. She wanted the top. She was the top.” 

Uzi made a face and muttered, “Classic control freak move. Cling to the top and the throne will cling to you back.” 

“She wasn't doing it to be cruel, at least I don’t think she was,” N said, eyes distant and head low, his strokes with the crayons were slower now, more timid. “She did it because she thought… if she was useful enough, Tessa would keep her. That she’d be safe. It was ambition for status, but it was also for survival.” 

Uzi snorted, then dropped down off the mattress in a mock-melodramatic flop and crossed the room to sit closer to N. Despite the theatrics, the corner of her mouth softened; it was subtle, but Uzi was feeling a bit of remorse. But she'd never admit it. “Okay, fine, that’s… kind of sad, actually. But it’s still no excuse to go all traitor on us and try to team up with Cyn.”

N nodded, agreeing with her. He scooted closer to Uzi as he continued to tell his story. “We all thought she was… someone steady. Strong. I heard stories from V,  when Tessa found J in the junkyard–” He shook his head. “That was the start. They changed each other, V said. J wanted to be the top because she wanted to stay. She wanted to be seen.” 

Uzi lifted an eyebrow. “Do you mean ‘seen’ like normal people? Or seen like, ‘admired from afar with the correct amount of worship’?” 

N laughed, a small falling sound that made his shoulders move like someone trying to hold in too much. “Seen, like… loved? Like someone noticing you exist for reasons other than orders. Tessa made J feel more like more than a tool.” 

Uzi made a soft noise, the kind that might have been a scoff but came out tender. “Huh.”

There was a long pause. Uzi watched N’s hands. He wasn’t drawing anymore; he was just scribbling in the corner aimlessly. She reached out impulsively and booped his knee with a finger. “Stop being such a sap,” she grumbled, but her tone had no bite.

N smiled, and it was all warmth. “I’m not saying J was perfect, even though it really did seem like it sometimes,” He chuckled softly. “She could be a jerk. She pushed people. She needed to be in control because she was terrified of being useless.”

As he said the word ‘useless,’ his optics flickered a dim yellow; he seemed to be recalling the times when J would refer to him as useless and call him a moron bot. But he swallowed it down and continued talking. “But… seeing what happened to Tessa–” His voice caught. For a second, the room filled with the weight of memory too big for words. “When Cyn wore Tessa. I still–” He closed his eyes. “I always thought Tessa was a great friend to me. She loved me–loved us… And she was the mother-type, you know? Seeing that–Cyn in her face–was like watching the person who kept me safe become the monster that took our home.” 

Uzi’s expression changed — the chaotic mask slipped, revealing something softer. She scooted even closer to him, leaning on him after a while. “Gross. That’s–yeah. Terrifying. Purely theatrical nightmare fuel. I hate it.”

N laughed, thin and helpless, like he always did. “I can’t… I can’t be mad at J. The way she thinks–she's not… she’s broken by it. She fights like she’s trying to fix something that can’t be fixed. She bites at herself–” he paused, looking ashamed of the image. “J used to do this thing where if she did something bad, even did a small mistake. She would chew on herself.” He lowered his head so his hair could block his visor. 

“V and I would catch her sometimes, but she’d always tell us to mind our business. Tessa would always fix her up afterward, though. She’d try asking her what she did, and J would always tell her that she got her fingers caught in the meat grinder in the kitchen when she was cleaning it.” He let out a small, empty laugh as he glanced at Uzi, who was now staring at him with wide and hollow eyes. 

“Oh…” Her voice had a new, softer pitch. She moved even closer to the point where she was now sitting in his large lap, pushing the drawings aside. She put a hand–tentative, rough-like–on N’s arm. “N–” she said, “that’s… robo-jesus. I never thought she’d…” She stopped, trying for bluster and failing. “She’s an idiot, but that’s fucked.”

N shrugged, the smallest gesture. He had an empty, almost sad smile as he spoke. “She doesn’t know how to handle her feelings. She pushes everyone away because she’s terrified. So I–” his voice dropped to a whisper, “I try to be steady for her. Like Tessa was. But it seems like she doesn't want anyone except Tessa.” 

Uzi snorted, then, softer: “You and your big heart. You’re a walking disaster of empathy. It’s almost embarrassing. You've got killer weapons and you can tear someone apart in a matter of seconds, and yet you’re a big goof instead.” 

He had finally turned toward her, looking at her with a softer yet brighter glow in his eyes. He let out a laugh before speaking, “I guess so, huh?” 

But then he looked at her solemnly again. “I don’t excuse what she’s done. She’s hurt people, sure. But she’s been hurt more. Cyn… seeing Cyn in Tessa’s face, that’s the sort of thing that snaps you inside out. It made us all into ghosts.”

Uzi rolled her eyes dramatically, but she held his face gently before placing a small kiss on his cheek. As she did that, his tail started thumping the ground over and over, like a happy dog. 

She giggled before leaning against his collarbone. “Okay, Golden Boy. I’ll be your funeral director of feelings. But she had better not push or hurt you again. Or I’ll actually have to use my railgun again.

They both laughed and N nuzzled her a bit. 

The world shifted from purple posters and warm tin cups to cold concrete and splintered beams. J’s breath–thin, mechanical–fogged in the gutted building as she crouched against a broken wall. The sound of their voice in that room oscillated and turned into an ache that pulsed through her circuits. N’s soft memory, Uzi’s rough love, the sound of drones still tried to keep her alive… It all pushed down on her like a hammer at a nail that would bend.

 She sat alone, the ruined floor biting into her knees. Her hands–synthetic, precise–went to her mouth without her meaning to. She bit down on her plastic fingers until pressure built and the brittle edges cracked. Black oil welled and smeared along the grooves of her teeth, cool and metallic against her tongue. It was a stupid, useless punishment, but it made the phantom of guilt feel tangible. 

She bit until the skin of the white plastic tips split and the bitter smell of burning ozone filled her nose. Her systems automatically rerouted, healing protocols, and knitting polymer and metal back together, smoothing the ragged tears with a tiny hiss and smoke fogging up at the fingers. The pain was always brief and electric–a reminder that she would self-repair now, that she could continue–but the act of tearing herself small and fixing herself smaller was catharsis. It made guilt into something mechanical she could control.

Her fingers bled black, and she tasted it, metallic and wrong. She pushed harder through the reflex of pain and relief. Her mouth filled with the bitter tang, and she spat oil and plastic crumbs onto the floor. The sound was obscene in the quiet. 

N’s words from Uzi’s room–“she pushes everyone away because she's terrified” –echoed with a crystal clarity now. She could feel the texture of being undesired, of being flung into the junk where rain could find and reode her. The memory of that night in the yard with Tessa was a thin filament in her chest, shining and fragile. And at the thought of Tessa, she bit harder into herself, growling and grunting like a wild beast. 

Over and over. Black oil spilled on the ground. She drew her knees up to her chest and let the tremor run through her. Her HUD registered high stress. Red warning. She let it remain there, a visible shame, a measure of how close she was to losing herself to the past. 

How utterly unprofessional and pathetic of me.

Chapter Text

J sat in the crumbling husk of the building, knees pulled up, head bowed against the buzzing hum in her processors. The world outside was silent but for the groaning of the buildings and the occasional whisper of the wind. But her mind was not silent. Not at all. Her claws tapped against her temple, again and again. She replayed the voice in her memory files. That voice.

Playback.

“J? …oh my god, J, it’s you!”

Her optics flickered. She muted the background noise, stripped the sound file down to just the vocal range, and analyzed it frame by frame. She compared it to another — an older clip buried deep in her corrupted storage. 

Playback.

“Oi! C’mon, gal, up you get. We gotta practice for that blasted dance, remember?

The tone was the same: same timbre, same subtle drawl, same sharp cadence. But there was something else. The recent one was heavier. Richer. Time-worn. Less a teenager’s crackling energy, more an adult’s steady warmth.

Older. More human. 

She then collected another memory file from her storage. This one was different, broken, and she wanted this one to be forgotten. It was Cyn. But she pushed through anyway. She hesitantly pressed the play button on this one and stripped the sound from the background, and she listened.

Playback.

“Don’t you remember me? It’s still me–It’s Tessa.”

Her body stiffened. That was wrong. Too smooth. Too deliberate. The words landed with a mechanical neatness, each syllable clipped like they’d been run through a filter. J’s processors flared red flags immediately–intonation patterns didn’t match natural variance, breath intervals were mathematically uniform. It was close–so painfully close–but there was no pulse in it. No stumbling. No sharp inhale before a laugh, no soft hiss when breath caught in the throat. 

It was fabricated. 

She replayed it again. And again. As much as she hated it, she refused to let even a millisecond slip without inspection. Her optics zoomed in, her audio analysis tools spitting data across her HUD. Still the same verdict; hollow, mimicry, nothing human stitched into it.

But oddly enough, J noticed something weird. The memory file itself was corrupted. Half of “Tessa’s” body and face blurred into static, eyes warping into blocks of noise. Each time J tried to stabilize the image, the software snarled back error codes, like the system itself didn’t want her to see. Like the truth was being hidden. Buried. Erased. 

“Faker,” J hissed, slamming her palm against the wall beside her. “Cheap… imitation. Always pretending. Always being a creep.” Her claws raked the floor, gouging deeper lines. It was strange; she had never focused like this on anything else before. Not to this extreme state. Not ever since the mansion.

Finally, she stood. Her processors whirred hot.

“If it’s Cyn, I’ll end it. I’ll tear that little freak apart, piece by piece. But if it’s…” Her voice caught. She didn’t let herself finish. She didn’t really know what she would do if it were really Tessa. So with a snarl, she readied her wings and locked onto the ship’s coordinates. 

The ship loomed in the distance like a terrifying creature, its hull creaking in the wind. The massive door groaned against the storm, its surface streaked with frost and snow. J marched up, her steps sharp and deliberate. 

She stared at the door for a bit before inhaling sharply. She raised a clawed fist and pounded against the cold, metal door. 

“GET OUT HERE NOW!” she shouted, her voice echoing across the frozen wasteland. “You’ve got one chance to prove yourself, you’re not a fraud–show yourself!” The wind carried her words away, but she kept pounding until the massive door hissed. With a groan, it cracked open, and it collapsed forward with a thunderous slam that shook the ground. Steam rolled out, fogging the air until J’s visor flickered against the distortion. 

A figure emerged after a while, panting. Suit hissing as it vented pressure. She staggered forward, helmet fogging up slightly as soon as she came in contact with the cold air.

“J… You came back.” The voice was breathless, cracking with relief. But it was definitely clear that she had rushed here. 

J’s entire system froze. That sound–slightly older, heavier, warmer–like velvet that had been pulled through sand. 

The figure straightened, lifting a gloved hand. “C’mon, can’t stay out here. I’m so glad you came back. But I can’t prove anythin’ out here with the air.”

J’s optics narrowed. “If you think I’m going to follow you into some trap–”

That figure laughed. A genuine, rolling laugh that scratched at her chest cavity. “Still stubborn, eh? Fair enough. But I ain’t draggin’ your arse in here without your permission, kay?”

The words tumbled out with ease that Cyn never had. An accent that wrapped around vowels, lazy but sharp. Real.

“Bloody hell, you’re still the same. Just… taller. Still kept the wig I got ya, huh?” She chuckled, letting out a small exhale afterwards. “Now come on, before you get scared and run off again.”

J scoffed then folded her arms, her visor glowing yellow. It reflected against the glass of the helmet “Tessa” was wearing. J couldn’t see anything; she couldn’t tell if she saw a real face or not. But she let out a small huff before looking behind the figure in the suit. “If you do anything strange–anything unprofessional–I’ll put an end to all of this.”

“Right, right. Wouldn’t expect anythin’ less from ya,” the woman teased, her tone laced with warmth. “Always the scary one, weren’t ya? Kept us all in line. Even me, sometimes.”

J stiffened. That was too specific. Too personal. The figure tilted her head, her helmet catching the glow of J’s optics. “So, you comin’, or are ya gonna keep makin’ threats at the doorway like a cranky landlord?”

The drone hesitated for a moment. The fog of her breathless panting on the glass–the sound of her lungs, the subtle rhythm of a pulse–none of it matched Cyn’s hollow mimicry. Still, her processors buzzed with suspicion. “...Fine,” She muttered finally. “But one wrong move, and I end this.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” The woman said lightly, turning back toward the glowing corridors of the ship. “Still all bark, eh? Hope you’re a bit more wag than bite these days.”

J bristled. “I don’t wag.” 

The woman laughed again, another genuine-sounding laugh. Bit by bit, J slowly started to hope. She hoped that this was Tessa. That this wasn’t another illusion or trick by Cyn. That this would be the end of her misery. 

The first door groaned shut behind them, sealing J into a narrow chamber of steel and humming vents. A low hiss filled the air. She tensed immediately, claws flexing, her visor flashing a wary warning-yellow as jets of pale mist burst from the walls. It rolled over her like fog, dry and thin, seeping into every seam of her plating. 

J’s gun arm twitched upward instinctively. “What is this?!” she barked, her voice sharp and on edge. 

“Decon,” Tessa said, as casual as if she were commenting on the weather. She raised her gloved hands to show they were empty. “It’s just to burn off anything nasty from outside. Don’t stress, mate–you’ll be right.”

J’s optics narrowed. She didn’t like being sprayed with unknown substances, didn’t like confined spaces, and didn’t like trusting anyone else to control a door mechanism. Her processors spun at a vicious pace, screaming for control–but then the second door slid open with a hiss, and light poured in. 

It was blinding. 

J stepped out and froze. The space before her stretched wide, but the ceiling was a bit too short for J. She had to lower her head a bit. A control room lined with glowing panels and massive screens. The walls were dark, matte steel, but the sheer brightness of the consoles seared her visor. She hissed low under her breath, adjusting filters until the glare dulled enough for her to see.

Screens pulsed with shifting data. Buttons blinked in rhythmic sequences. Beyond them, a hallway stretched, its walls lined with doors, each one humming with quiet life. J followed the woman down it, her claws ready for anything.

Room after room slides past. One filled with racks of neatly stacked clothing and suits. Another with tanks of water, shimmering with filtered light. Another with vegetation, reaching toward simulated sunlight. J slowed as they passed, staring. Her optics whirred softly.

Plants. Books. Labs. Devices.

She’d seen these things before. Yes–but always frozen solid, shattered, left behind in ruins. Always broken. Always dead. But here… they were alive. Functioning. Breathing. Her processors screamed louder. Cyn never had this. Cyn never traveled with anything but destruction, rot, and her twisted illusion. This ship was too… real. Too human.

And yet.

Tessa walked with strange ease, like this all belonged to her. Her boots echoed in the hall as she guided J to another chamber. The door slid open, revealing rows of pods stacked neatly against the walls, oxygen suits hanging in racks, devices clipped to metallic shelves. 

“Here we are,” Tessa said, voice light, almost playful. “Give me a sec.”

J stood rooted to the spot, visor a steady unreadable yellow. She watched every movement as Tessa began unfastening her gear. First, the oxygen tank–set down with a careful thud. Then she clipped the devices at her hips and chest, each removed with a smooth, practiced motion. J’s optics tracked every latch, every buckle, every motion of her gloved fingers. 

And then–the helmet. 

Tessa’s hands worked at the locks on either side. And with a sharp twist, the clasps hissed, releasing steam. A rush of exhaled air filled the chamber, the sound achingly human. J stiffened. 

The helmet came free with a flow, deliberate motion. Steam curled out, and beneath it– 

A face. 

Her face.

J’s optics widened, focusing and refocusing. Every detail recorded, cross-referenced, and analyzed against centuries-old files. Black hair, longer now, curling faintly with dampness. Soft, fluffy still, though touched with stray strands of gray. Hazel eyes–tried, older, weighted–but still burning vivid against the pale scars carved across her skin. A mark over her cheek, another through her brow. Details J didn’t recognize. Details that weren’t there before.

Her teeth flashed in a smile, and there it was–the gap. That ridiculous little imperfection J remembered from years ago. 

Her systems stuttered. Her internal logs whirred, splitting error codes as her processors spun. Too many matches. Too many inconsistencies. Too human. Too flawed. Too real. 

She stared and stared, every inch of her programming screamed for classification. For control. For an answer. Is it her? Is it Cyn? Is it both? Her claws dug into the metal floor, scraping deep lines as her visor flickered. Suspicion held her rigid, but something else wormed in underneath–the smallest flicker of longing.

Her optics stayed locked on Tessa, scanning every scar, every freckle, every mole, like she could find the truth carved into her skin. Her protocols shouted to end this, to terminate the unknown. But her core… her core trembled.

And for the first time in centuries, J couldn’t decide which command to follow.

“Well, uh… ya like what ya see?” Tessa said, voice lifting into an awkward but still warm tone. She set the helmet on the desk beside her.

J stiffened further. Her processors whirred, analyzing her reactions. Do not respond. Do not engage. Maintain control. And yet, despite herself, she couldn’t ignore the tiny flicker in her chest–the recognition, the impossibly warm pull. Her visor flickered slightly as she took a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. 

“I… you can’t be real,” J finally muttered, her voice flat but sharp, each word clipped and precise. Her gun arm flexed almost imperceptibly, as if preparing for the worst. “You shouldn’t be. You died. Everyone saw it. Everyone saw that you…” J didn’t finish her words. But her visor flickered with a large X.

Tessa raised her hands, scared and slightly irritated. “J! Don’t–” But before she could say more, she let out a huff and lowered her hands. She then let out a small chuckle, she huffed softly, the sound warm, human. “J, you’re impossible, ya know that? I’m right here. Real as the air you’re breathin’. How much more proof do ya need?”

The large drone optics flashed, flickering back and forth to her round eyes and her X as her internal systems argued with themselves. Cannot trust. Cannot confirm. Too dangerous. She took a cautious step back, one clawed hand flexing over her weapon mount. Her body tensed, ready to strike a hint of deception, yet her processors couldn’t entirely override the pull–the memories, the warmth, the sound of that voice, that laugh.

Tessa tilted her head again, her smile softening. She could tell her drone was in distress. “Hey, hey… It’s okay. It’s me, J. I’m here.” She reached out slowly toward the zipper of her suit, unfastening it inch by inch with deliberate care, never rushing, never forcing, letting J observe every movement.

J followed the motion, analyzing, debating, and questioning. Could this be Cyn? Another illusion? A dream? She swallowed, chest tightening. Her gun arm hovered, but she lowered it ever so slightly, and she didn’t move it away. The warmth emanating from Tessa, the subtle pulse of life under her gloved hand–it was undeniable. Too real. 

“Here,” Tessa said gently, holding out her hand. She had finally taken the suit off; she was clothed in a long black bodysuit, but her feet and hands were not covered. She brushed against J’s claws first, tentative, and then pressed with warmth and substance. J froze. Something deep in her memory bank jolted–a flash of the mansion, Tessa kneeling in the rain–soaked junkyard, lifting her gently into her arms, the quiet comfort, the warmth, the care.

J’s system struggled to reconcile the past with the present. The warmth was there, so human, so alive. She blinked, momentarily disoriented, then finally switched from her gun hand to her normal hand, letting her fingers hover under Tessa’s, trembling. 

“You’re…” J whispered, low and rough, almost to herself. Her round eyes were now hollow as she blinked rapidly, processing, doubting, reprocessing. “It’s… you.”

Tessa’s grin widened, her cheeks flashing pink, her smile lines becoming visible. “Bout bloody time!” And without waiting for permission, she jumped forward, wrapping herself around J in a tight, urgent hug, squeezing her drone with the fierce affection she had carried across decades. 

J froze. Hands hovered just above Tessa, tense and still professional, unwilling to return the embrace fully, yet unable to pull away entirely. She stared, scanning, analyzing, memorizing, fighting every instinct to retreat. Her visor flickered slightly, recording subtle warmth, the pulse beneath Tessa’s glove, the unmistakable rhythm of life she had been denied for centuries. 

Tessa laughed softly as she rubbed J’s back. J was unfamiliar with that sensation; her hands flexed before they relaxed again. And after a long while, she finally clung back. Her large arms wrapped around the human with a tight embrace, almost like she was afraid that if she let go… she would disappear again. She let out a low whine, clinging tighter to the point where Tessa let out a grunt. 

“Whoa, girl! You uh–you’re crushing me, mate. Easy on the hug, I’m still breakable.”

J immediately listened to Tessa, but she didn’t let go. She held her firm but not to the point of pain. Tessa relaxed again, letting out a small sigh.

“Sorry, boss.”

Chapter Text

The music had been the first thing to die.

One moment, a gala orchestra filled the mansion halls with sweeping strings and polite laughter. Next, the only sound was glass shattering, steel claws rending, and screams dissolving into static.

Tessa managed to escape that room. She stumbled down the marble staircase, her black gown tearing as she tried to keep her footing. The chandeliers above swung violently, spraying prisms of light across the carnage below. Dozens of worker drones stormed the ballroom floor, their eyes blazing with harsh yellow X’s. Every guest crumbling like toys with their strings cut. 

“Stop! Stop, please–!”  someone shrieked, but the words were useless, Cyn’s control burned behind every movement, every strike. The drones weren’t themselves anymore.

 Tessa ran, slipping in the spreading red and black that coated the once-pristine floors. Her heart hammered like it was trying to break through her ribs, lungs tearing for breath. She ducked behind an overturned table, only to see her reflection in the spilled campagne pooling on the ground–her own face, pale and scared. She got two large cuts across her cheek. She had barely made it out, and her hand had been bitten off by Cyn in the process. 

It hurt. Bad.

Her scream ripped through the ballroom as Cyn’s jaws locked around her wrist. Flesh, tendon, bone–gone in an instant, torn like tissue. Blood sprayed down her arm as she fell back, but it was a good enough distraction for her to get away.

Her vision was hazy, tears blurring everything into streaks of red and gold. She pressed the stump against her chest, sobbing, body convulsing as she crawled toward the doors. 

In the corner of her vision, she saw them. Multiple glowing eyes, a form that looked like a centipede, and a spider combined. It was terrifying. They were watching her. Waiting. Cyn didn’t chase. She didn’t need to. The message was clear: Run. I’ll find you again.

Tessa dragged herself into the cold night, blood smearing across the marble, and the last thing she heard before running into the forest was the sound of Cyn’s mechanical laughter mingling with the sound of screams and glass breaking. 

Now she stood in a quiet ship, the silence almost deafening compared to that memory. J’s cold frame trembled against her as Tessa finally pulled back from their embrace. Her hazel eyes softened, tears threatening at the edges as her human hand cupped J’s face. The other–mechanical, sleek, and blackened chrome–hovered stiffly at her side, a constant reminder of the night she lost everything. 

“You’ve no idea how relieved I am,” she breathed, smile wobbling. “You look… You look incredible. Strong. Gorgeous, even.” 

J blinked at her, stiff as stone. Some small yellow blush lines appeared below J’s eyes. “Gorgeous?”

“Oi, don’t gimme that look,” Tessa teased, and before J could move, she started tracing her fingers across J’s form like she was reading her like Braille. Over the new reinforced arms, down to the plating of her chest, tapping at one claw near her elbow. “Strewth, they did a number on ya. What’s this? Looks like you could take someone’s head off with just a twitch. And these legs–blimey, no wonder you’re so bloody tall now. You’re built like a tank.”

J’s servos whined softly as she stood there frozen, protocols buzzing. Too close. Too much. But she’s warm. She’s real. Dont—don’t push her away yet.

Then Tessa leaned up and tapped the yellow bulbs on J’s head with her fingertip. “And these–what are these? Thermal vision? Night vision? Fancy headlights? They glow like fireflies, kind of pretty–” 

“Stop that,” J snapped, grabbing  Tessa’s wrist gently and pushing it back. Her voice grated like steel under tension, and yet she remained gentle in her undertones. “Those are my eyes.”

There was a beat of silence before Tessa’s expression lit up with shock, then a bubbling laugh. “Fair dinkum? Your eyes? Crikey, J, you should’ve led with that! No wonder you looked like you were about to slug me. Sorry, love.” She grinned sheepishly, holding up her hands in surrender. “Didn’t mean to poke ya where it hurts.”

The drone looked away, grunting, but the faintest static buzz flickered in her voice box–like a machine equivalent of a fluster. Her claws flexed at her sides, torn between making some space between them and… keeping Tessa close.

She’s warm. She’s real. How? How is she here? What is this? 

Tessa, oblivious or maybe just deliberately cheeky, leaned her head closer, her black hair brushing J’s shoulder. “You’ve changed so much,” she whispered, her grin softening into something tender. “But you’re still my J. I can see it as plain as day.” 

J’s voice faltered—not with sharpness, but with confusion. Vulnerability crept in. “What—” she paused, realizing the tremble in her voice and quickly steadying it. “What happened to you?”

Tessa went quiet for a moment. But then she laughed, light but strained, and stepped back as though to shake off the weight of J’s question. “What happened to me? Oh, you know, same old, same old. Got taller, got older, still cute though. But hey, where’s N and V gotten to? Do they look the same as you? Tall and badass lookin’?”

The Disassembly Drones' optics narrowed, her hands twitching. She didn’t move at first, didn’t blink, didn’t breathe. Then, slow and deliberate, she stepped forward, closing the space between them. Her voice rasped like a blade across stone.

“I asked you a question.”

The warmth in Tessa’s grin faltered. She looked at J for a long moment–her hazel eyes flicking across the sharp angles of the drone’s face, the dangerous tension in her gaze. Tessa sighed, her shoulders sinking, and she rubbed her temple with her robot hand. “You always were a stubborn little bugger, weren’t ya?” 

Her voice dropped, softer now, almost like she was terrified about talking about it. 

“I ain’t sure if you remember any of it. But… that night in the mansion. It was a slaughterhouse.” Her voice faltered as her hand twitched. “Cyn had the drones–inculing you n’ the others– dancing on strings, and every human inside was butchered in seconds. I ran–I did try and fight at one point, tried to play hero. But… it didn’t help anyone in the long run.” 

J stared at her; her tail swung back and forth slightly as she listened to Tessa talk. 

“I lost a hand to her teeth on the way out.” She flexed her mechanical fingers as if the phantom pain still lingered. “Crawled until my knees gave out, and when I thought it was over… I saw her. Those yellow eyes, burnin’ in the dark like a demon. She could’ve finished me right there. But she didn’t. She let me crawl away. No clue why, but I didn’t complain.”

J’s fingers dug into her palms; if she had put a little more pressure down, oil would be sweeping down her fingers. She forced her voice to stay level. “...And then?”

Tessa glanced at J with a guilty look on her face, almost as if she was ashamed she left her friends, her family behind in hell. She exhaled before speaking again, “I managed to wrap up my bloody wrist, I scraped by without dying of blood loss. But I ran far enough to find a JCJenson space station. You know how Father and Mother had one near the manor in case of anything like… that. It's almost like they knew it would turn out bad…” Tessa let out a dull and empty chuckle, glancing down at J’s tail swinging back and forth in confliction.

“I read bout those ships, I was fascinated by em’. There wasn’t anyone at the station either, just blood and oil, guess Cyn managed to get ahold of most Drones across the country. I managed to get one working, and it flew me off the planet. There are so many things inside this ship. Food, water, medical supplies, devices to defrost and burn things, almost everythin’.” 

She paused for a moment to have a moment of peace before returning to the memory. She glanced at the pods beside them, and one of the pods looked like it had been used. Her lips pressed into a thin line. “...It was my choice. When I turned 20, I stepped into that pod. I thought I’d sleep for… I don’t know. A month or so. Just enough to let the world pass me by so I didn’t have to feel it anymore.” Her voice cracked, and she steadied herself. “When I woke up, five decades had gone by. Ship’d landed on this frozen wasteland, systems half fried. And me? I don't even remember the moment I went in. Just the before, and then… this.”

J systems whirred violently inside her. Her optics darted from the pod to Tessa, suspicion and confusion twisting through her circuits. She took a step back, her frame taut with hostility. 

“So you just… slept?” she growled. “And conveniently woke up here without aging? Alone? You expect me to believe that??”

“I don’t expect you to believe anything, J.” Tessa shot back, but her voice was calm, almost pleading. She spread her hands, one flesh, one chrome. “I’m tellin’ you what I remember. That’s all I got. Maybe the pod scrambled my brain, maybe it’s hiding things from me. I dunno. But I know I’m here now. I know I’m real. And I know I’m glad I get to see you again, Jaybird.”

The drone flinched slightly. That nickname. That nickname from years ago, hearing it coming from her voice, almost melted her core. Everything didn’t add up; she saw Tessa be worn like a costume… or at least she remembers it. It's blurry, but she thinks she remembers her being worn like a suit. But J’s optics flickered, yellow glow sharp and restless. She took another step back, crossing her arms tight over her chest like a shield. “Sounds like a bunch of bullshit to me, boss.” 

Tessa was visibly offended; she narrowed her eyes before scoffing. “J, I’m tellin’ you all I know, all I remember. I don’t know what else ya want from me.” 

The silence stretched, heavy as iron. J’s claws tapped against her arm, planting, sharp clickings filling the air like a metronome for her spiraling thoughts. Her optics never left Tessa, scanning every twitch, every breath, every pulse that rippled through the woman's neck. Warm. Alive. Flawed. And yet her processors refused to calm down. 

Tessa finally broke it, exhaling hard through her nose and dragging a hand down her face. “You know, J, for once in your life you could just… I dunno. Say hi. Maybe even–god forbid–’nice to see ya, Tessa.’ But nah, instead I get the whole death-glare treatment.”

“I don’t glare,” J said flatly, voice filtered steel, “I observe.” 

“Right,” Tessa scoffed, throwing up her hands, “Well, cheers for observing me like I’m some bloody criminal. You think I went through hell and back, got my hand bitten off, survived a pod jump through 50 years of nothing just to trick you?? Fair dinkum, J, how paranoid can ya get?”

J’s screen flickered. She shifted her weight, shoulders tightening. “...Paranoid enough to still be alive.” 

Tessa blinked at that; her irritation seemed to have dulled. But then her lips curved into a small, tired smile. “Still got that sharp tongue, eh? Guess some things don’t change.” She reached out again, brushing her chrome fingers against J’s arm plate–light, barely a touch. “I don’t wanna fight after not seeing you for years, I just… I dunno. I didn’t think you would see me as… a monster of some sort.”

That hit J like a bullet to her chest. She stared at Tessa for a long moment before sighing. If this was Tessa, if this truly was the human that she had grown up with for years, who saved her, who helped her, who made her life feel like it was bearable. Then maybe she can lower her shield just this once. 

She took a step forward before her larger and metallic hand slid across Tessa’s warm forearm, examining the moles, the scars, everything. She glanced at Tessa before standing up straight and nodding. 

“Okay, boss. I believe you. I don’t know if I’ll regret it later on… but I believe you.”

Tessa’s eyes gleamed with joy and relief once again. J was impossible. She had to make sure that everything added up, that everything made sense in her mind. Tessa was just happy she didn’t run off again or try to shoot her. J then held out her hand in front of Tessa and straightened out her back.

“Welcome back, Tessa.” 

Chapter Text

The night was quiet, save for the distant grains of Copper-9’s crumbling structures and the crunch of Lizzy’s shiny boots against the frost-bitten ground. Her optics glowed bright pink in the gloom, bouncing between her phone screen and the reflections of her own selfies. Every few seconds, she’d giggle–short, shrill. Rehearsed–and tap out another message to whatever poor sap was on the other end.

V trailed beside her with a scowl that deepened every time Lizzy laughed at her phone instead of looking at her. Her claws flexed idly, scraping against her thigh plates, and her tail twitched like an irritated cat’s. She didn’t know why she agreed to this. No–she knew exactly why because Lizzy smelled like fresh oil and warm plating. Because Lizzy was alive. And because she liked how Lizzy acted when she dropped the typical popular girl act.

V’s optics shifted sideways, narrowing. Lizzy’s eyes reflected in the glass screen as she giggled at whatever conversation she was having. She wasn’t even looking at V.

“Wow,” V muttered, her tone flat but with that sharp, sarcastic edge she always carried. “Riveting company you are. Should I just third-wheel your phone all night?”

Lizzy gasped and looked up with mock offense, clutching the device to her chest like a wounded bird. “Excuse me, miss murder machine, but do you know how popular I am? Drones want updates, like, all the time. I have an image to maintain.” She winked, ponytail swishing as she went right back to typing. 

V’s lip twitched. Irritation–or maybe amusement. It was always hard to tell with her. She slowed her steps, let her claws flex once, then, without warning, stabbed straight through Lizzy’s phone with a metallic shriek. Sparks sputtered, the screen cracking in two under the pressure. 

The worker drone’s optics widened, hollow and large. “V!” she shrieked, yanking the now-broken device out of her claws. “That was–ugh–you jerk! Do you know how hard it is to get one of these fixed?!”

V tilted her head, grinning, a feral glint flashing in her eyes as she plucked the cracked phone back out of Lizzy’s hand and twirled it around her claw like it was a toy. “Maybe I just did you a favor. You’re prettier when you’re not staring at a screen.” She leaned in closer, her voice dropping into a taunt. “Besides, it’s more fun when you pout." 

Lizzy’s face flushed with static blush as she stomped her heel against the ground. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet,” V drawled, stepping closer, her claws tracing the outline of Lizzy’s cheek with dangerous precision, “you’re still here. Letting me still follow you around like a stalker.”

The worker drone's optics flickered again, lips parting for a retort, but all that came out was a nervous giggle. “You’re such a creep. A hot creep, but still.”

That was all the invitation V needed. Her grin widened, all sharp teeth and wicked promise. She leaned in, pressing her forehead close enough that Lizzy could feel the slight vibration of her systems. “You think I’m hot?” she purred. “Careful saying that, Liz. I might actually do something about it.”

Lizzy smirked, trying to mask the way her vents fluttered unevenly. “Maybe I want you to.”

For a moment, the air between them grew thick with something dangerous. V’s claws flexed against Lizzy’s waist; it was just enough pressure to remind her of what Dissessembly Drones were made for. V optics glowed brighter, hungry. And Lizzy–despite her bratty complaints–leaned into it, her eyes lowering, almost daring her. 

And then– 

V froze. 

Her posture snapped rigid, optics darting past Lizzy’s shoulder to the horizon. Something cut through the night, foreign and wrong–huge beams of light slicing across the smof-choked air.

Without a word, she shoved the broken into Lizzy’s pocket, grabbed her wrist, and yanked her forward. 

“Hey–hey! What the hell?!” Lizzy stumbled, boots scraping against the ground as V dragged her. “V, I was finally getting into the mood! You can’t just–” 

Wings snapped open with a metallic shudder, loud and sharp. In one violent motion, V scooped Lizzy against her chest and launched into the sky. Lizzy squealed, clutching at her shoulders.
“Ugh! You should’ve at least warned me before going full bat mode! My hair is going to be ruined!”

“Shut up,” V said, voice low and seething, optics locked on the growing glow ahead. They passed leaning towers and broken buildings. Below them, the wrecked landscape stretched endlessly, but the light cut through it like fire. A ship. Massive, metallic, untouched by the rot of Copper-9. 

V quickly landed in a building only 50 yards away from the ship. She didn’t let go of Lizzy, though; the worker drone squirmed below her. Complaining and pouting again.

And then, she smelt her–

V’s vents stuttered, a low growl slipping from her throat. She knew that smell. Familiar. Sharp.

J.

It burned in her nose, making her claws curl tighter around Lizzy’s waist. And that got Lizzy’s attention. She tilted her head, still pouting even if they were landed. “Why are you all scary looking now, huh?”

V didn’t respond. But she did grab the worker drones’ chin to turn her to face the ship. Lizzy was initially confused, unsure of what she was looking at. But then she saw the lights, then the ship. She let out a small gasp. She grabbed V’s large claws before looking up at her.

“What is that? A ship? Why’re the lights on?” She stared at the large vessel, her optics narrowed and focused on the lights.

V huffed hard enough that fog came out of her mouth. She growled before finally muttering under her breath, “What are you doing now, J?”

She growled low, wings beating once before she turned away, dragging Lizzy with her. Whatever this ship was, whoever brought it–if J was involved, it meant trouble.

It always meant trouble.

The room was warmer than J expected. Not just in temperature, but in atmosphere–soft light hummed from above, diffused and golden, casting everything in a kind of glow that felt… alien. The bed was too big, too soft, the kind of thing made for comfort, not survival. And at its side, a wide window framed the front of the ship, its thick glass fogged over by the toxic air and snow outside. No stars, no horizon–just a blur of frost and poison, pressing against the glass like an unwelcome reminder of where they were. 

Tessa flopped onto the bed with a groan, arms stretching high above her head, her joints cracking softly as she let out a satisfied sigh. “God, it feels good to stretch. Suit makes me feel like a bloody tin can.” She wiggled her toes, then flopped onto her back, hair spilling across the pillow like dark ink.

“You can sit, you know,” Tessa teased, patting the space beside her. “I won’t bite.”

J didn’t move. Her frame loomed above, optics scanning, processors buzzing loud enough she swore Tessa could hear them. Finally, she exhaled a static-laced sigh and knelt beside the bed instead, as if she couldn’t quite bring herself to sit with her boss. Not yet. 

“Always so bloody proper,” Tessa giggled, reaching out to ruffle J’s hair. The messy strands of synthetic fiber shifted under her fingers, and J stiffened immediately. She let out a low growl, but it wasn’t threatening. Shoulders squaring like she’d been touched in the middle of a battlefield.

The drone's eyes narrowed, flicking down Tessa’s arm, and for the first time, she really saw them–the scars. Not the fresh ones she’d already noticed, but the deep, old ones, carved in wrists and forearms, faintly silvery against her skin. J’s gaze locked on them, memory files slotting themselves into place: the sound of rattling chains, Tessa whispering through the dark about how her parents punished her when she “acted out.” J remembered being chained beside her, listening to her talk, her soft voice muffled by fear and defiance both.

Her claws twitched against the floor. She couldn’t look away.

Tessa tilted her head, hazel eyes narrowing as she caught the intensity of her drone’s stare. “Oi,” she snapped lightly, like a pebble thrown to break the trance.

J blinked, static rushing through her processors. She stuttered, scrambling for an explanation. “S-sorry, boss. I didn’t–”

Tessa rolled her eyes, but her smile stayed soft. “Don’t apologize, love. They’re just scars.” She sat up, propping herself on her elbows. “Each one’s a story. Some stupid, some painful, some… both.”

Before J could retreat, Tessa reached down, catching one of her large and cold hands. J froze, every motor stiff, as Tessa guided her clawed fingers across her skin. “Here,” she mumbled, dragging J’s hand slowly along her wrist. “Chains. You know that one.” Then higher, across her forearm. “Broken glass. Don’t ask,” She chuckled, then slid J’s hand across her ribs. “Worker drone clawed me, back at the manor.” 

The feed from J’s optics jittered, caught between confusion and a strange, magnetic pull. The warmth of her skin bled into her synthetic hand, a reminder that Tessa was alive, that she was real.

“And this one…” Tessa guided J’s fingers up to her cheek, brushing them over a faint scar that cut just beneath her eye. “Barb wire, almost got my eye plucked out.” She grinned, tilting her head so J’s fingers lingered–too long, too close. 

J’s systems sputtered as her claw brushed too far, too clumsy, grazing against Tessa’s lips. For one terrifying second, she just stared. At the curve of her mouth. At the impossible softness beneath her cold metal fingers. She traced her lips with her eyes tentatively, staring at her slightly pink flesh, her tooth gap, her mouth slightly open, her tongue—

She jerked back immediately, like she had touched fire, stumbling to her feet. “I I-I’m sorry! That was… unprofessional! Entirely out of line! I–I should be decommissioned–”

Tessa laughed, full and bright, the sound cutting through J’s panic like sunlight. She flopped back on the bed, covering her grin with her hand. “Bloody hell, J. Relax. You’re not gonna get fired for touchin’ my face! You ain’t even in a job for me to fire ya! Fair dinkum!”

J froze. Her optics darted down at her, searching for sarcasm, for trickery. But all she found was warmth. A chuckle. A grin that hadn’t changed.

Her lips twitched into the fainest, almost reluctant smirk.

But it vanished the second she turned her gaze toward the window.

The fog outside seemed to move, shifting under the pale glow of the ship’s exterior lights. And then–glimmers. Eyes. Three pairs of them, all glowing through the toxic haze.

Yellow and purple.

Her systems jolted. She knew those eyes.

Uzi. V. N.

Her fingers flexed, her optics narrowing, her whole frame rigid with conflict. Tessa noticed immediately, sitting up straighter, hazel eyes narrowing as she followed J’s gaze.

“What is it, girl? What’s wrong?”

J didn’t answer. Couldn’t

Because suddenly, the warmth of Tessa’s wasn’t the only thing in the room. The ghosts of her old squad were here, too. Watching, waiting. 

And J didn’t know which side she hated more. The possible trickery of “Tessa” or the annoying moron bots. 

Shit.

Chapter Text

The ship loomed in the toxic haze like a phantom, lights blinking fainly through the snow and fog. 

“Alright,” V muttered, arms crossed, her visor glowing sharp yellow as she tilted her head toward the massive structure. “I wasn’t kidding. I smell her. J’s stench is all over this thing.” She sneered slightly, like even saying J’s name tasted bitter. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

N hesitated, optics flickering. He tapped his fingers together nervously, the static in his chest buzzing louder than he’d like to admit. “I mean… maybe she just built it in her downtime?
His voice was hopeful, almost apologetic. “J was always… uh… a hard worker. Maybe this is her project? You know, her… thing.”

“Her thing?” V snapped, rounding on him. “Stop defending her, N. She’s not your best friend. She’s a controlling psycho traitor with a god complex.”

Uzi’s wings burst from her back with a fleshy snap, dripping shadows as they spread wide and jagged. She stepped forward, the glow of her visor sharp like a blade. “Whether J’s in there or not doesn’t matter. We need to figure out what this ship is. That’s priority.”

V smirked despite herself. “Finally, something we agree on.”

N sighed, shoulders slumping, but nodded reluctantly. “...Yeah. Okay.”

The three drones approached the ship cautiously, the snow crunching beneath them. The closer they got, the more the vessel hummed, as if it were alive. V dragged her claws along the hull, narrowing her eyes. It was a dark gray ship, but it appeared to be new. Very new. It had only landed here a couple of weeks ago. 

And then—

THUUUMMM.

A deafening clang echoed as the main door hissed and shuddered. The trio leapt back, visors flashing X’s in unison.

The door screeched open, steam pouring out. 

And standing in the middle, framed by fog and light, was J.

Her visor blazed yellow, her weapon drawn, her whole stance radiating cold fury. “Unbelievable.” Her voice cut through the air, venomous and rough. “The three of you, contaminating my peace with your… stupidity.” 

Her gun hummed to life, the sharp whine echoing. She let out a low growl. “Why are you here?”

Uzi snarled, stepping forward, wings flaring wider. “You tell us! What the hell is this, J? Since when do you get a ship?”

V scowled, folding her arms, visor narrowed. “Yeah, what little scheme are you running now?” This isn’t the J we know. You’re hiding something.”

N hung back, his visor scanning over J and the ship uneasily. He stared at her, at her stance, her words, her fury–but deep in his processors, he wondered. Maybe she wasn’t just hiding. Maybe she had a reason. His voice wavered, but he forced it out. “...She’s not… entirely wrong to want her own space. Maybe this is just her… I don't know… agenda. Doesn't mean it's entirely evil.”

“Correct, N,” J cut him off sharply, her voice turning smooth and professional, like she was giving a press briefing. “This doesn’t involve you, or our… ‘team.’ Consider it a private initiative. You’d be better off retreating to your pathetic little barracks before you compromise something beyond your comprehension.” 

The worker drone snarled. “Bite me! You’re not brushing us off like one of your coworkers, CEO psycho. Talk straight.”

J’s optics narrowed. She tilted her head toward N, her tone softening, manipulative. “Unlike these two idiots, you understand discretion, don’t you, N? You always knew how to follow orders. That loyalty made you valuable.” 

For a moment, N’s visor wavered, flickering uncertainly. His vents hissed, his claws twitching at his sides. But then J’s next words landed like a bullet:

“And yet… even with all that obedience, you still are useless. Even now. Just another pathetic traitor wasting my time.” 

N’s screen glitched–then snapped into an X. His whole frame shook as a guttural growl ripped from his throat. 

Uzi let out a laugh and shot a glare at J. J’s screen shifted too, her own visor turning into a sharp, glowing X as she stepped forward, claws flexed and gun raised. “Pathetic. All of you. Coming here, sniffing around like beggars. You think you can corner me? You couldn’t even corner your own failures and flaws.”

“Enough!” V barked, her claws gleaming as she spread them wide. Her voice cracked with both fury and fear. “You don’t have to do this, J. Just tell us what this ship is. Why you’re here.”

J’s growl deepened. She didn’t answer. She never did. Instead, she spat venom. “Because it's none of your business. And the more you pry, the shorter your miserable lifepans will be.”

Uzi snarled, slouching down like a feral beast. “Then maybe we’ll pry it out of your corpse.”

V tensed beside her, claws out, stance low. 

The air trembled with tension, every optic glowing sharp in the fog–ready to tear each other apart. Just as V was about to lunge at J, a voice echoed inside the ship.

“J!”

Everyone froze. 

J’s frame stiffened, her optics narrowing into slits. “Shit…” She muttered under her breath as she glanced behind her.

Out of the fog stepped Tessa, sealed in her suit, her movements weary but purposeful. “You can’t just run off without telling me where you’re going, you bugger. Nearly gave me a heart attack–” 

Her hazel eyes behind the glass caught the trio. She stopped. Stared. 

The three drones stood frozen in the snow.

Uzi’s screen glitched with confusion. “That… voice.” She recognized that voice. That voice that hid in that suit before it turned out to be Cyn. Her optics hollowed out.

N’s entire frame locked up. His visor flickered violently between lines, then dimmed like a screen about to shut off.

V narrowed her eyes, staring at all of them with weariness.

Tessa tilted her head. And then–she beamed.

“Oh my god!” she squealed, practically bouncing in place despite the weight of the suit. She grabbed J’s shoulders and shook her excitedly. “You didn’t tell me that V and N were here! This is incredible! Bloody hell, look at you lot!”

J’s faceplate remained blank, her eyes narrowed dangerously. She didn’t respond. 

N stared at the being in the suit. His eyes wide and hollowed, his claws turned back into his normal hands before he stumbled forward a step, his voice breaking. “T-Tessa… It’s… It’s you?”

Sweet N. So sad and so… pathetic.

Tessa’s grin widened under the glass, her gloved hand pressing against the helmet before holding her arms out and walking forward. “N! Sweetheart! You look so handsome! It’s me. It’s really me.”

He took a step–then another–visibly shaking, reaching out a trembling hand. But V grabbed him, yanking him back, her claws digging into his shoulder. 

At the same time, J shoved Tessa gently but firmly behind her, one arm out like a shield. 

Tessa was confused; she shot a glare at J before tugging at her sleeve. “J, what are you doing? They’re our friends–”

“No, they aren’t.” She muttered, voice deep and guttural. She held her arm out in case Tessa decided she would jump out again.

V’s voice broke out, furious and full of fear. “What the hell is this, J? Who is she? Why does she sound like Tessa?”

They all demanded her for answers. Tessa was tugging at her sleeve, asking why she was being so closed off with them. V and Uzi were yelling and demanding she’d tell them what was going on.

But J didn’t answer; she just glared at the drones in front of her. With fear. With hatred. With sadness. 

Chapter Text

The cold wasteland stretched endlessly, the air heavy with toxins, the silence broken only by the hum of the ship. The three drones stood tense before their open door, the glow of their optics cutting through the gloom.

And in that doorway–Tessa, wrapped in her suit, looking just as alive as the day they’d last seen her. Or though they had.

Her voice broke the silence, uncertain but firm. “Alright… I know you’re lookin’ at me like I’ve crawled outta the grave, but I’m tellin’ you–I’m real. I survived.” 

V’s laugh was bitter, sharp as glass. “No. Don’t give us that.” Her claws flexed, digging into the ice beneath. “We watched you die. We watched Cyn wear your skin.” 

Tessa stiffened, her stomach turning. She glanced sideways at J, who lingered at her side like a sentinel, visor cold and unreadable. “She… wore me? What kind of–” Her voice cracked with a mixture of disgust and horror. “Bloody hell…” She swallowed hard, turning back to them. “I remember J tellin’ me somethin’ of that sort. But that’s not what happened. I was there. I remember everything.”  

“Do you?” N asked quietly, visor flickering static as if his processors struggled with the memory. His tone was torn, halfway between hope and dread. “Because when I try to remember… it doesn’t add up. It’s all blurred. Glitched. Like someone took the reel and burned half the frames.”

“Exactly,” V snapped, spinning on him. “That’s Cyn. That’s what she does. You think she’d leave a clean memory? No, she wants us confused. And now–look. Perfect bait. Our dead boss, magically alive, just begging us to believe it.”

Uzi finally broke her silence with an exasperated groan, her wings twitching wide in frustration. “Okay, okay—pause. You two are arguing about some blurry, glitchy memory like ya found it on a broken computer, but all I see–” she jabbed a finger toward Tessa, “–is a human. A corpse. Cyn wore the corpse of a human; it was all rotten and all gross. I never really did know what Tessa looked like before Cyn, so explain to me why my memory isn’t all scrambled eggs like yours.”

That made all three of them falter. V’s jaws clenched, N’s visor dimmed in thought, and J’s grip on Tessa’s arm subtly tightened. 

Tessa took the hesitation as her chance. She stepped forward–only to be yanked stubtly back by J’s hand at her wrist. She glanced at her drone, confused, but J didn’t speak. She just stared at the trio with the posture of a CEO monitoring troublesome employees at a quarterly meeting.

The human voice, but she forced it out. “Listen–I don’t know why your memories are messed up. But I know what happened to me. Cyn bit off my hand. I crawled out of that mansion half-dead. I made it to a JCJenson space station. I fixed myself up. And then… It’s a hundred years later. Cold planet, toxic sky, and then–” her voice softened– “I found J again.”

N’s claws flexed nervously. “But if we saw Cyn wearing you–” 

“You think you saw,” Tessa corrected, her accent thickening, frustration bleeding through. “But maybe that wasn’t me. Maybe Cyn just made it look like me. You said it yourself–your memories are glitched. Why would they be  glitched if it was as simple as you reckon?”

For a long moment, no one spoke. The wind howled against the hull.

Finally, N’s voice trembled. “She’s… right. If it was that clear, why can’t we recall her face?” Why does it burn out every time I try?”

V snarled, though her voice was quieter now. “Because Cyn wanted it that way.”

Uzi folded her arms. “Or because you didn’t actually see what you think you saw. Don’t project your scrambled memories onto me–I just saw a dead body. And if I never saw Tessa alive, how the hell would I know if it matched?”

The weight of it settled on them all. Tessa’s brow furrowed. She glanced at J again, almost like asking for help, but J didn’t do anything. She just stared, grip still tight around Tessa’s wrist, possessive and protective at once.

So Tessa exhaled and did what came naturally–she tried to fix it. “Alright. If you don’t believe me, let me prove it. You’re still drones, yeah? If I can get into your processors, your memory cards, I can gander with them and pull those corrupted files out and study them. Maybe I can see what you can’t. Maybe then I’ll know what Cyn did to you.” 

N looked startled, even hopeful. “You’d… do that?” 

 But V immediately hissed. “Like hell. You think I’m letting some maybe-Cyn-masquerade go digging in my systems? That’s exactly how she gets in.” 

Tessa frowned, looking across the fog and snow at her drone. V was different now. She looked all paranoid and scared, like even breathing meant there was a chance of being taken out. She wasn’t the quiet and sweet drone she was back at the manor… or maybe she still was. Maybe she was just different. Tessa nodded slowly, then exhaled, “I get it. I do. But if you ever want answers, that’s the way to get ‘em.”

She tried to step closer, reaching toward N–only for J’s hand to clamp tighter, pulling her back more, pressing her back against J’s chest. The motion was smooth, businesslike, but unmistakably possessive. Tessa blinked up at her drone, confused and a little irritated that J won't let her step out of the frame of the door. She heard a low growl come out of J’s throat as fog puffed out of her drone's mouth. 

“J, what’re you–?”

J didn’t look down, didn’t answer. Her visor stayed locked on the trio like a laser. She was monitoring them, waiting for a slip, ready to strike. And every time N’s foot shifted closer, every time V’s weight leaned forward, J’s grip dragged Tessa back another inch.

The tension wound tighter, wire-thin and humming.

Finally, N took half a step forward, hand raised–not in threat, but desperation. “Tessa, please. If you’re really you, let us just–”

J moved. Not fast, not violent, but firm. Her arm swept Tessa fully behind her, her stance widening, her other hand curling into a fist at her side. The message was clear as glass.

Not. One. Step. Closer.

 N froze mid-motion, his visor static, flickering. His jaw clenched. “J…” he whispered, not a challenge, but a plea. 

J said nothing. Only tightened her stance, her silhouette cutting harshly against the ship’s light. 

V’s voice broke through, low and angry. “Look at her. She’s guarding that human like she’s her property. Typical traitor behaviour.” 

The human’s chest tightened. She tugged at J’s arm, trying to soften the barrier. “J, please. It’s alright. They’re not–”

For a long moment, J kept her silence, her screen growing faint. Her claws flexed once, then curled back in. But finally–finally–her voice cut through the cold like a knife. 

“You want to know why I don’t want any of you idiots coming close to her?” J’s tone was sharp, professional, and rehearsed. “Because she's mine.”

The trio froze. Even Tessa blinked, her head snapping toward her.

J pressed on, almost spitting words. “Because you three are liabilities. You drag disaster in your wake. Every mission with you ended in chaos. Every choice, collateral damage. And now you’re standing here–expecting me to just hand her over?” She pulled Tessa a fraction closer behind her, claws curling. “No. She’s mine. She doesn't need you, and I don’t trust you not to break her like you broke everything else.” 

The words hung in the frozen air like a blade.

Tessa’s eyes went wide, her breath catching as if J had just slapped her. V immediately snarled, visor flashing a large X. “Oh, that's rich,” V spat. “You think you’re better than us? You’re a screw-up like the rest of us. Don’t stand there acting like some corporate god when you’re just as broken, J.”

Even N’s visor flickered, his tone almost pleading. “J… you don’t mean that.” His claws fidgeted at his sides. “We’re your friends.”

“Friends?” J’s voice was venom wrapped in silk. “You all were never my friends. I don’t need friends. You’re a liability ledger waiting to be balanced. I’ve built my peace without all of you. I’m not going to let you idiots drag her into your chaos like you used to.”

The sting of it showed on N’s face–an ache that cut deeper than any blade. His visor dimmed, static crawling across his optics like tears unshed.

But before the silence could strangle the moment, Tessa yanked her hand free from J’s grip. She spun on her heel and glared up at the drone through her suit, her voice firm and hard. “J. Enough.”

J froze.

“You don’t own me.” Tessa’s accent thickened, sharp edges in her words. “I’m not yours to pull around like some bloody trophy. They–” she gestured at the drones, “–whether you like it or not, they were my team too. They were my friends as well. And if they’ve got questions, I’ll answer ‘em. So back off.”

For once, J’s confidence cracked. Her visor dimmed, optics narrowing to a tight glow. A sharp static hiss left her throat, and she looked down. But she didn’t grab Tessa again. Not this time.

N blinked, stunned, visor flickering wide. V just scoffed, though her lips tugged into a smirk at seeing someone actually shut J down. Tessa took a slow step forward, putting herself closer to N and V. J stood rigid behind her, every servo wound tight like a spring ready to snap.

“Look,” Tessa started, her voice softening now. “I get why you lot don't believe me. I’d think I was bonkers too if I were in your place. But you’ve gotta let me prove it. Out here, we can’t. The air’s poison, the cold’ll kill me, and I can’t exactly pull up screens and show you your memories in the middle of a frozen desert.” She gestured over her shoulder at the open ship door. “Inside’s different. I’ve got the tech, the pace. Let me show you, please.”

Uzi immediately let out a sharp scoff, wings twitching. “Yeah, no thanks. I’m not stepping into some creepy haunted human ship that reeks of Cyn’s vibes. Sounds like the setup to a murder.”

N hesitated, visor flickering uncertainly. He glanced at Tessa; her suit was different from when Cyn wore it. It was more chunky, and it had actually tubes and wires for oxygen. “But… what if she’s telling the truth?” His voice was quiet. “We’ve been wrong before.”

V frowned, chewing on it, her claws flexing restlessly. Finally, she let out a sharp exhale. “Fine.” She jabbed a finger at Tessa. “But on one condition. You let me keep my claws out. The second you–or her–” she jerked her chin at J, “–pull anything shady, Me and the rest are tearing through that ship from the inside out.” 

Tessa stared, glared at J, and then nodded. “Seems fair. Deal.”

J let out a small scoff, her screen pulsing like she was restraining herself from shouting. But she said nothing more.

The four of them stood in tense silence for a beat. Uzi still looked skeptical, arms crossed, eyes darting between all of them. N’s visor flickered with hope. V’s claws gleamed, ready to strike. And J… J just stood behind Tessa like a wall of sharpened steel, every movement screaming that she hated the plan. 

But she didn’t stop it. Not this time. 

After the decon spraying and the many doors, they finally got inside the ship. The inside of the ship was a cathedral of tech–long corridors of lights, screens blinking and examining the surface of the planet, cables snaking across the metal floors. Every footstep echoed. Tessa led them with confident strides, her gloved hand brushing against her suit. 

Behind her, J followed like a shadow made of sharpened steel. Her visor burned low and yellow, her hands locked behind her back like a CEO mid-inspection. She never once looked at Tessa. Her focus was pinned on N.

Every time N glanced over, J’s glowing optics met his with that unblinking glare–an animal warning disguised as corporate clam. His visor flickered nervously, static in his speakers. He just turned back toward Tessa, muttering to himself as if ignoring her might make the weight of her stare go away.

V noticed but didn’t comment, keeping her claws flexed and her eyes scanning the room. Uzi, on the other hand, trailed behind like a little gremlin. Occasionally, she would drag her claws along the walls just to make some eerie noise. She would touch anything she saw.

They entered a larger chamber at the back of the ship–rows of sleek monitors, humming and alive. Desks and wires were near the walls of the room; on them were papers and more monitors containing error messages and old test logs.

Tessa stopped in the center, turning to face them. “Alright,” she said, her voice steady but a little softer now. “Before we start, I need to show you that I’m truly me. So I’m going to take off my suit. Don’t freak out.”

Immediately, V straightened, her claws flexing. “That sounds like the kind of thing I should freak out about.”

N’s visor flickered between both of them–hope and fear both fighting for dominance. “Wait… You're…” 

Uzi rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. “Oh boy, here comes the big Scooby-Doo unmasking moment. Somebody cue the dramatic music.”

J didn’t move from her place at the door. She stood perfectly still, optics locked on Tessa like she was watching her take off that suit for the first time again.

The hiss of depressurization filled the room as Tessa undid the clasps at her collar. With a practiced motion, she peeled the suit away. Steam curled from its seals. Piece by piece, the heavy armor fell to the floor until she stood there–a little tan, scarred, older than they remembered. Her left arm was unmistakably cybernetic, the plates etched with years of use. Her hair was longer now. But the face–the eyes–they were Tessa’s. 

For a moment, nobody breathed.

It was a human. A real human.

“She…” N’s voice cracked. “She looks like–”

“Tessa. V muttered, her eyes hollowed out but guarded. Her claws retraced slowly, but her voice was still low and suspicious. “You look like her. Older. Broken down. But her.”

N made a sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh. Then he bolted forward, servos whirring, and threw his arms around her. He was almost crying, his visor stuttering with static. “Tessa!”

He felt the warmth of her body, which was different from when Cyn was mimicking her. That's all the proof he needed. The warmth of Tessa’s body.

Tessa staggered back from the impact but laughed, wrapping her one good arm around him and patting his head like an overgrown puppy. “Careful, you big goof,” she chuckled, tears pricking in her eyes. “You’ll dent my ribs.”

V hesitated, then slowly walked up. She tried to look stoic, but her voice cracked when she muttered, “Don’t… Don’t make me regret this.” She reached forward slowly, but then quickly pulled her into a hug as well. A small sob escaped her before she could stop it. And just like N, she was won over by the warmth of her body.

Tessa laughed–a real laugh, warm and human and trembling. “You’re even bigger now. I’m gonna get squashed flat at this rate,” she said, squeezed between the two giant drones.

“You two were easier to win over than J,” she teased, glancing at the door. 

All three of them glanced at J instinctively. J’s visor glared, a flow growl humming through her speakers. They all turned back to Tessa quickly.

Uzi sauntered up last, smirking. “Wow. Big dramatic reveal. Thought humans would look more buff and taller. At least in all those action animes I watched.”

Tessa’s eyes softened at the worker drone. She looked like the ones back at the manor. She let out a small laugh. “And whose this little cutie?”

“This is Uzi,” N said quickly, still holding onto her arm like his life depended on it. “She helped me and V. We’re all… friends now. And she's also my girlfriend.” Small blush lines appeared under his eyes as he let out a small chuckle.

V made a gagging noise, shaking her head. “Ugh. Every time he says it, I feel my processor glitch.”

Tessa blinked, then grinned widely. “Well, I’d be. You've got a girlfriend now? N, you absolute dork. Hi, sweetheart. Nice to meet ya.”

Uzi let out a small growl sound but waved at the human anyway, a small smile tugging at her face.

Tessa poked N in the chestplate, teasing, “Guess you grew up after all. I’ll have to interrogate ya bout this later.”

Behind them, J watched in silence. Her claws dug into her palms as she stared at the scene—anger, envy, regret flickering across her screen. She thought about the words she’d spat at them earlier, about Tessa’s sharp reply. For the first time in a long time, she felt small. She hated it.

After a while, Tessa pulled herself free from the hug-pile and wiped at her eyes. “Alright. Time to stop the reunion tour.” She gestured at the rows of pods and screens. “If you want the truth, plug in.”

V crossed her arms, still slightly weary. “You’re sure about this?”

“As sure as I can be.”

One by one, they connected their processors to the interfaces. The ship hummed louder, screens flickering with new data. A static shudder went through them as Tessa’s system linked up.

“It's gonna feel a bit weird,” she warned. “Might tickle. Or burn. Or both.”

And as soon as she logged in and started collecting data, it did what she said it would do. Static crawled over their bodies, into their cores. The screens bloomed with images–blurry memories, half-corrupted fragments. 

Tessa’s fingers flew over the console, her face tense. She scrolled through file after file, her cybernetic arm whirring. Finally, she reached files that were stored away, in the vault, out of fear.

It was the memories of Cyn.

She hesitated, then opened it.

The screen erupted with grotesque images–corrupted faes, skinned overlays, twisted flesh. Something was wearing someone. Not her. Not even close. A wave of nausea hit her so hard she had to grip the console and her cheek. Who knew that Cyn, the broken and polite little drone back at the manor, was capable of something like this? Or at least, whatever possessed her. Poor girl. She didn’t want any of this, Tessa reckoned.

“Oh my god…” she whispered, her face pale. 

It wasn’t Tessa getting worn. It wasn’t her at all. But it was the human corpse. It was disgusting. 

Chapter Text

Tessa stayed at the console, her eyes darting across the screens as they filled with disjointed lines of data–symbols she didn’t recognize, shifting like living static. Her hand trembled as she scrolled through the files faster, her heart hammering in her throat. Then the screen flickered once.

And it opened.

It wasn’t her face.

Flesh stretched too tight, eyes too wide, mouth half-torn in a smile that wasn’t human. It twitched. The image glitched, the skin ripping and reforming into different shapes–Cyn’s cold silver eyes appearing in flashes, overlaying her own. The audio came next: distorted, laughter, monotone voices, whispers of her Tessa’s own voice repeating words she didn’t remember saying.

“God..” she breathed out, barely able to get air through her throat. “That’s–That’s my voice. No, that's her. That’s Cyn.”

It caused her stomach to lurch. The image. That disgusting image. This wasn't her, but a corpse. A dead human being worn as a skin suit for Cyn. Is she some kind of monster? It almost caused Tessa's knees to buckle. But instead of falling on the ground, she sprinted out the door, clawing at the walls for balance. 

J jerked her head up the moment Tessa ran past her–the sound of her feet echoing down the corridor. When J turned, Uzi stood by the console, her eyes narrowed, fixated on the corpse playing across the screen. J stared at the screen before growling.

“Turn it off,” J snapped, already moving. “Now.”

Uzi didn’t respond. She just stared, jaw slack, as the image flickered–half-corpse, half-Cyn, a ghost stuck between machine and memory. The memory of that night, the night that she and her friends had to go up against…that. They almost died that night; they nearly were torn apart by Cyn. Her processors were replaying it over and over.

“Uzi!” J barked, sharper this time, her tail flickering from side to side.

Uzi blinked, letting out a scared ‘huh’ sound before realising what J said. She quickly shook her head, muttering something under her breath before slamming the kill switch and running over to her own friends lying with cords in their heads.

J didn’t wait for anything else. She turned and sprinted down the corridor, following the sound of heaving breaths.

When she found Tessa, she had been hunched over a wall panel that folded open to reveal a waste chute. The woman had been coughing violently, her skin pale under the lights, sweat dripping down her brow as she let out ragged breathing. Her hair clung to her face as she spat, the sound harsh in the humming of the ship.

J stopped a few paces away, watching. She didn’t know what to do. Her hands twitched at her sides, unsure if she should help or stand at attention. Every instinct warred between protocol and panic. 

Finally, she spoke–her voice coming out too formal, too stiff. “Boss–”

Tessa let out a small, breathless laugh mid-cough, wiping her mouth with the back of her trembling hand. “Don’t—don’t call me that right now, J,” she said weakly, voice cracking between laughs and gasps. “God, that–that was disgusting.”

J stepped closer. “I–I didn’t realize it would–”

“No one could’ve,” Tessa said, cutting her off. She pushed herself up against the wall, still shaking. “She’s… she’s terriyfinly smart, J. Smarter than any of us thought. She didn’t just copy me–she built herself through me. Making you lot think it was me. That’s why it didn’t show up after you guys got rid of her. Bloody hell…”

Tessa was right. Cyn was smart. She was manipulative and terrifying. If she couldn’t manipulate people emotionally, she would manipulate them physically. J still can’t remember what Cyn looked like. She wasn’t hooked up when Tessa was making the scans, and when she looked at the screens when N and V were getting their memories scanned, it looked the same as it did when J tried to imagine it. Glitched. Blurred. Like Cyn was trying to hide the truth. And she almost got away with it.

After J was thought, she noticed Tessa’s voice was drifting unfocused, the same way it used to get when she spiraled into thought. “Her structure’s recursive, self-wirting—modular—she probably spliced neural code with organo-syntehtic data loops–oh my god, that's how she did it. Using them to make it seem like I died, oh god–”

“Tessa.”

J’s voice softened for the first time.

Tessa froze mid-ramble, glazing up at her. Her pupils trembled, her eyes glassy but alive. 

J hesitated, her fingers flexing before she said, quietly, “About earlier… the things I said to you. I—”

But Tessa just narrowed her eyes at her drone before sighing and standing up straight, brushing herself off. “It’s fine, J. That ain't the problem right now.”

J blinked, narrowing her eyes as well. “I think it is–”

“It isn’t.” Tessa forced a small grin and stretched her arms out, rolling her shoulders. “I understand what happened. I know you better than ya think. You were being protective. Or… possessive. Not that it’s new.” She glanced at her with a teasing glint that felt dimmed and fake. “But I’ll take it as you caring. Somewhere deep, deep, deep down in that CEO brain of yours.”

J optic’s twitched, her processors sputtering in quiet disbelief. “You’re joking.”

“Course I am,” Tessa said with a smirk, then patted J’s arm. “You’re wound tighter than my old lab cables. Loosen up, before your coolant leaks out yer brain.”

She sighed and started walking back toward the control room. 

J clenched her fists. “Boss–”

“Not now, J. We can talk bout this later…” Tessa’s tone shifted–not cold, but commanding. “I need to finish this before it gets worse. Those files–they’re not stable. If we don’t act fast, Cyn’s code could still be active somewhere in their processors.”

Her voice was calm again, but the tremor was still there beneath it—fear masked by intellect.

J stared at her human for a moment with narrowed and hollowed-out eyes. She then followed after her, muttering under her breath, “Shit…”

The chords unlatched with a sharp metallic hiss, the sound echoing across the control room. N and V jerked slightly as the feed disconnected, both of them blinking like they were surfacing from deep underwater. Their optics flickered–first static, then light. Uzi stood close by her drones, her finger tapping anxiously against her leg. 

Tessa exhaled, hands on the back of her neck, still visibly shaken. The brightness of the screen had burned spots into her eyes, but the worst of it was still in her head–the memory, the images, that voice. Cyn’s voice mixed with her own. She didn’t even realize she was muttering under her breath until J’s tail flicked near her, a silent reminder that the other were still watching. 

“Right…” Tessa cleared her throat, forcing a smile that didn't reach her eyes. “Thank you for letting me run scans on you lot. I promise that I’ll study it.” 

Uzi stared at the human with a scared yet weary expression before turning to face N and V. “We… need to get back to the colony. You’re processors need to rest, and files need to be cleaned out before they start eating themselves.”

N looked up at Tessa and then at Uzi, his visor flickering with a faint, dim yellow light. “Are you sure, Uzi? Tessa looks… kinda pale for a human. Maybe we should—”

Tessa waved him off, still smiling. “I’ve been through worse, mate. And the purple one is right, you lot gotta rest it off.”

Uzi looked at both of them like they were speaking a foreign language before shrugging and holding out her hands for V and N to hold onto. “If we’re done here… Tessa. can we go? I’ve got data to study.”

N chuckled under his breath. “Yeah, you two are right. We should rest.”

Tessa nodded and followed them into the narrow corridor, the faint hum of the ship reverberating through the walls. She paused by the main hatch leading to the exit. As the first door opened, she shut the inner door behind them, offering a tired smile and a small wave before unlocking the next one. With the inner door sealed, the main gate could now be safely opened without letting any of the toxic air inside. N cast a weary glance at J and Tessa, then began to walk. V and N walked ahead, Uzi trailing behind and muttering something about corrupted memories. 

J stood in the shadows near the ship’s inner door, her arms crossed as she watched the three drones disappear into the blinding white fog beyond the door. Her optics narrowed, her tail twitching behind her in restless motions. 

When she glanced at Tessa, she caught the faintest flicker of exhaustion in her expression—something deeply human, deeply breakable. Tessa pressed her hand against the wall behind the door, waiting for the external sensors to confirm the others were clear before sealing it.

Out on the frozen ridge, V walked fast, her wings twitching in agitation. The fog crawled around their plates like smoke. 

N hurried after her, his voice gentle but worried. “Hey, you okay? You’ve been quiet since we left.” 

V stopped, arms crossing, her claws digging in her sleeves. She let out a tired sigh before muttering, “I don't buy it.” 

“What?”

“That.” She turned her head back toward the faint glow of the ship. “Her. That whole thing. Tessa, Cyn, whatever she’s calling herself now–it's too convenient. Too easy. Humans don’t just crawl out of the past like that…”

N frowned and gave her a puzzled look. “V, I know it’s weird, but… but I thought you trusted her? You looked like you believed her… why don't you now?”

V stared into the fog with hollowed-out eyes. She let out a small scoff like a growl before turning to face the taller drone. “Because I saw her die. I don't know where you were, but J and I both were at the gala when we saw her die. I saw her. Cyn backed her into a corner, and then there was blood, N. And now she's standing there, smiling, touching everyone like nothing happened? No. I’m not that stupid.” Her voice cracked slightly, just barely, but enough for him to notice. 

She let out a small huff before standing up straighter. “I can’t go through that again. I can’t… I can’t watch something wear someone's skin again.”

N hesitated, his expression softening. “V…”

“She’s dangerous,” V said finally, her fangs bared and her tail flicking side to side with an anxious demeanor. “And J—she’s worse. I don’t know what she’s planning, but it’s not good. I need you and Uzi to stay away from them. Promise me that, N.” 

Her gaze dropped lower, as well as her voice. “Please…”

He wanted to argue. He wanted to tell her Tessa felt real, that she sounded like the same Tessa who had once cared about them. But the look in V’s eyes–terrified, tired, and worried–made the words die in his throat. He lowered his head, and with a nod, he finally spoke.

“I’ll… I’ll keep Uzi safe.”

V nodded once, her expression softening just a little. “Thank you, N.”

They walked in silence after that, the cold wind biting around them. 

Back on the ship, J stood at the door as Tessa keyed in the final command. The heavy metal slabs started to close with a hiss, sealing them inside once more. J didn’t speak. She just stared at the place where the others had been, her optics dim and unreadable. 

Tessa looked at her, her voice barely above a whisper. “Hey, you right?” 

The drone didn’t answer. 

Tessa tried again, “Are… ya gonna stay with me tonight?”

J didn't answer yet again. 

She just stood there, staring at the reflection of herself in the glass as her tail tapped on the ground over and over. 

The walk back to Tessa’s quarters was painfully quiet. The hum of the ship filled the void between them—steady, mechanical, alive in a way neither of them was at that moment. J trailed behind, her steps heavy but measured, her head low, and her tail dragging faintly across the metallic floor. Her visor dimmed, and her shoulders slumped, in contrast to her usually straight and professional posture.

Tessa led the way wordlessly, her mind still echoing with what she saw in the files—the warped mimicry of someone's face, the fragments of Cyn’s voice tangled with hers. She could still hear it if she thought too hard. The laughter, the distortion, the half-human gargle of something wearing skin.

When the door to her quarters slid open, she stepped inside and sat down on the edge of her bed. The room was warm compared to the rest of the ship—dimly lit by amber lights that hummed quietly, and scattered with tools, datapads, and the bed all messed up. It was the only place that still felt human.

J stopped in the doorway like a scolded child. Her frame seemed smaller now, her wings slightly slumped, her claws twitching at her sides.

“Are ya gonna stand there all night, or are ya gonna come in?” Tessa said softly, not meeting her gaze.

The drone paused briefly before finally entering. As she stepped inside, the door slid shut behind her. Her optics flickered briefly toward Tessa, then away again.

For a few moments, neither spoke. The silence wasn’t hostile–just heavy, like the air had congealed between them. Tessa then let out a long breath, rubbing at her temple. “You’ve been awfully quiet, J.” 

J’s claws flexed. “Didn’t think you’d want me to talk, Boss.”

Tessa let out a sigh before turning to face her drone, eyes narrowed slightly but not unkindly. “You were out of line today. With N, with V, and the kid. I get it–you were protecting me, but that’s not how you do it.”

J’s optics flickered a defensive red for a brief moment. “They were threatening you.”

“They were scared,” Tessa said, leaning forward. “And frankly, they had every right to be. If I believed that one of my friends had been dead and worn as a bloody skin suit, I’d be defensive and hostile too. But you can’t just snap and bare your fangs because someone doesn’t trust me yet.”

J’s jaw twitched. She looked away, her tail curling between one of her legs tightly.

Tessa continued, her voice firm but calm. “Whether you like it or not, N and V are our friends. We treat them with kindness and respect. That’s how we survive now. That's how we've always survived.”

J let out a low growl, half under breath, half meant to be heard. “You don’t understand.”

“Then make me understand,” Tessa said firmly.

J’s optics flickered. Her optics dimmed slightly as she looked down. “Half of the reason,” she muttered, “was because I didn’t want them to hurt you. You’re—” she hesitated, “whether you’re real or not, you’re the closest thing I have to her.” 

Tessa’s expression softened slightly, but she didn’t interrupt.

J looked down, her voice trembling faintly. “The second reason… is because I know you love them. N and V. You always did. And I know you say I’ll always be your… “number one gal”, but…” she clenched her claws, “I get jealous of them. I hate it, but it happens.”

Tessa exhaled quietly through her nose, listening and yet wanting to explain things to J.

J hesitated again. The next words caught in her throat. And the third reason…

Her claws dug faintly into her arms. Because when Cyn came, I betrayed them. I left them behind. I chose her. Because she reminded me of you. And I needed that. I still do.

But she couldn’t sit that. The thought of letting it out–of Tessa hearing that truth–made something coil in her chest. Shame. Fear. Disgust. Thank robo god that the memories she saw didn’t have J in them. But now. The only fear she has is V, N, and Uzi telling her about it.

It made J flinch.

Instead, she looked up sharply and muttered, “You don’t know anything, Tessa.”

Tessa blinked, brow furrowing. “...Excuse me?”

J stepped forward, that possessive edge bleeding back into her voice. She got up close and personal with Tessa. She loomed over the human on the bed, her tail shaking back and forth with anger and fear. “You don’t understand how dangerous this all is. I only want what’s best for you. I only want you safe.”

Tessa’s lips parted, and a flicker of irritation crossed her face. “J–”

“I mean it,” J pressed, her voice rising like an angry lion. “You can’t just–”

“Stop it,” Tessa snapped, standing suddenly. Both of their body touched, Tessa’s chest heaving widely against J’s hot and metal one. “Stop acting like my damn mother!”

J flinched, and then she droze. Her optics flared wide, and she stepped back an inch.

Tessa ran a hand through her hair, trying to keep her composure. “I don’t need someone to hover over me every second. I need you to trust me. To trust them. We can’t keep living like we're one step away from turning on each other.”

The drone’s expression hardened slightly, her claws flexing. “...You think they’ll ever trust me after what I’ve done?”

“Then you work for it,” Tessa said, calmer now, before sitting down again. “That’s how trust works, J. Ya earn it.”

J scowled, staring down at her with a frustrated and yet pitiful gaze. “You make it sound so easy.”

Tessa’s tone softened again, letting out a small sigh. “It’s not. But it’s all we got left.”

Her expression was softer now, calmer. Almost as if she trusted J now. She lifted her hand to J’s face. Her thumb brushed lightly against the cool metal of J’s jaw. “I’m sorry for shouting. We’ll figure this out together. Aight, J?”

J’s optics flickered uncertainly, her tail twitching once before lowering again. Her systems whirred faintly, something in her chest clicking as if resisting emotion.

Then she dropped to her knees with a soft breath. She lowered herself further until both knees hit the floor and rested her head gently against Tessa’s lap. The warmth of Tessa’s body radiated through the cold alloy of her frame. It was grounding, it was comforting. 

“I’m sorry,” J whispered, her voice low and trembling. Her hair covered her screen so Tessa couldn’t truly see what expression she wore. “I’m just… scared. I don’t want to lose you again.”

Tessa’s hand instinctively moved to her hair, brushing through the white strands. “You won’t. I’m right here, Jaybird.”

The drone's frame shivered again, a mechanical hum sluttering through her chest. If you knew what I did, you’d hate me, she thought as her hands slowly and with a tremble, held onto Tessa’s shorts. You’d never call me that again.

Tessa kept stroking her hair, her voice softening into something maternal. Then she began to hum–a quiet, familiar tune. J’s optics fluttered slightly. Her processors recognized it before her conscious mind did. The melody was low and old, human and haunting.

“...You used to sing that,” J muttered, voice almost breaking. “During the thunderstorms at the manor. I’d… I’d listen from the hall when I was cleaning. You’re voice was soft but… but it still reached the halls somehow…”

Tessa smiled faintly, still humming. “You’ve got a good memory, J.” 

When the tune faded, she added softly, “Good drone.” 

J’s optics dimmed as something inside her chest ached–not pain, not malfunction, but something closer to longing. She shut her optics slowly, letting the warmth of Tessa’s hand anchor her.

“...Good drone,” she echoed quietly, almost like a prayer.

I’m a good drone…