Friday August 26, 454 MC
1731 GMT
Requiem
THREE DAYS later they arrived back on the Zeus. And for those three days, ever since Requiem had told Damion that he thought Damion didn’t trust him, Requiem had shown no emotion. He had reverted back to the person he had been when they first met. Only answering when a question couldn’t be avoided, keeping his gaze down to everyone, sleeping on the cot in the servant’s room—becoming the typical, mechanical Core. Any time Damion touched him, Requiem moved away as soon as he could.
Requiem opened the door to their quarters for Damion from behind him and keyed the lock. He moved across the room in silence, placing his small duffel on the floor of the closet before unzipping it and unpacking the clean clothes within.
Damion looked over at him and sighed. “Happy to be back and able to plug in?”
“While rudimentary and not completely engaging, I was about to do so to some extent on Lunar with the console and also with the farmers’ machinery,” Requiem replied, circumventing the true question without lying or really answering it.
“Damn it, can’t you just give me one fucking straight answer?” Damion exploded.
“What specific answer would you like me to give you?” Requiem replied calmly, finishing with the clothes and collapsing the bag for storage.
Damion threw his duffel against the back wall and marched the two steps over to Requiem, grabbing him by the shoulders, giving him a hard shake. “A real one, not one that’s fabricated!”
Requiem’s head snapped back from the force, but he still managed to keep his gaze from meeting Damion’s. “The word fabrication in this scenario means a lie, and I cannot lie to you. Therefore what I said was true.” He focused on the collar of Damion’s shirt. “If you wish to hear something different, please let me know and I will do my best to accommodate you.”
“I don’t want you to say something just to accommodate me!” Damion gave him another shake. “Be your own fucking self! The one that you were before that stupid trip to the temple.”
Requiem was silent for a few moments, completely still, his gaze unmoving from Damion’s neck. “I do not know who that person is anymore,” he finally replied, this time quietly. “At some point it became unclear. Perhaps it was when I finally met you. Or perhaps it was when I stopped taking the supplements as frequently as I am supposed to. Or even, perhaps, it was when I became unsure of where our trust in one another stood.”
“I told you I trust you! What do I need to do to convince you of that? Why won’t you believe me?” Damion wrenched Requiem’s chin up.
Even with his head tilted up, his eyes raised, Requiem refused to meet that dark gaze, no doubt burning with fury and hurt so real that Requiem imagined he could feel the heat on his face. His head hurt, and he was getting a headache. He wanted to believe Damion, wanted to believe in his Fighter, but he had seen his face. A question, so innocent in the presentation, had caused Damion to become suspicious. And that had caused an emotion that Requiem had sense-identified as hurt. Pain, deep in his chest, almost betrayal. It had been too much for him to handle at the time, and now he was merely confused.
“I do not know,” he finally whispered. He pulled off one glove and then the other—gloves he had worn since they had worked on the farmer’s equipment. Since he had shoved his hands into the wires and made them obey his will—an ability that only he had.
Finally, he looked into Damion’s eyes for the first time in three days, raising his fingers at the same time. Fingers that were red and blistered, seeping, and in some places bleeding, from where the blisters had popped. They were thin stripes all over his fingers. Angry red lines. “But in the end this is why I inquired about medical supplies, because I knew that this would be the result. Instead you thought, even for a nanosecond, that it was because I would hurt you. That is why.”
“What the hell?” Damion dropped his grip on Requiem’s chin and took his hands in his to inspect them. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?”
Requiem pulled out of the touch, clenching them into fists, not acknowledging the pain as more blisters popped. If Damion looked closer, he would see thin white scars of similar shape and size following comparable patterns over his fingers. “It was not important. I took care of them. And you are avoiding the main issue.”
“No, I’m not. You don’t trust me enough to tell me you’re hurt! You don’t trust me not to kill you! I offer you my life, and it’s not good enough!”
Yet again Requiem was silent, his gaze boring into Damion’s for a moment until he dropped it once again. “You are correct in some aspects. My fingers do not hurt and are superficial injuries that I am used to. They are not an issue. What you are correct about is that yes, it is good enough. You have ownership of my life, so it does not matter whether or not I trust you with it. You have offered me your life, and that is enough.”
“I don’t know if you just agreed with me or not, but first I want to get your hands bandaged. Do we have what we need to wrap them, or should I hang my head as we go to Medical and wait to get yelled at again for taking poor care of you?” Damion took hold of Requiem’s hands and frowned sadly at the angry lines. “How didn’t I notice this?”
“There are sufficient supplies in the restroom, on the top shelf of the closet, in the back.” Requiem’s angry-looking fingers curled in Damion’s large hands. “You did not notice because I chose not to let you. I have had much practice hiding my injuries and brought my gloves with me in the event that such a situation arose.”
“Fuck,” Damion cursed and went to the restroom. “Don’t keep anything like that from me ever again. If you get hurt, tell me.”
“As you order. I did attempt to warn you beforehand,” Requiem said quietly, walking over and sitting down on the edge of his capsule. “What happened to my fingers is not really an injury, though, and does not hurt that much. I am used to it.” He caressed the side of the capsule.
“Give me your hands.” Damion ordered as he came out of the bathroom with the supplies—gauze and rapid-gel. He began applying the gel and wrapping the worst of the blisters. “Don’t agree with me unless you agree.”
Even though pain flashed up his arms, Requiem didn’t wince or make a sound. “As you order.”
“Stop fucking saying that! I’m not ordering you. I’m asking you. There is a big difference.”
Requiem fell silent, keeping his gaze on the hand that Damion gently worked on. In truth he didn’t know what Damion wanted from him. Damion told him to be himself, yet when he was, Damion didn’t want that either. So Requiem kept his mouth shut and his head down.
“There. How does it feel?” Damion asked.
“Acceptable. Thank you.” Requiem opened and closed his right hand to check the maneuverability of his fingers.
Damion brushed his fingers over Requiem’s cheek. “Why do you look like that?”
Requiem shrugged, sighing softly as he held on to the capsule beneath him, his eyes closing slightly from the warmth Damion’s hand gave off. “I do not know.”
“Requiem. Look at me. Tell me what you are feeling.” Damion tugged him away from the pod by his arms.
As he was pulled to his feet, Requiem dropped his hand to brace on the capsule beneath him, tried not to cling to the inanimate object he had missed so much. He did look at it for a moment before slowly turning his head and lifting his gaze to the man holding him by the arms.
“I do not know what I feel. I do not know these emotions and what they mean. What I do know is that I do not know what you want from me. You tell me to be myself, yet even when I am, you do not seem to agree with it.” He licked his lips, lowering his gaze for a moment before he forced it to meet Damion’s again. He continued to explain what he’d been thinking for a while. “I do not even know who I am anymore, so I do not know how I can expect you to know what you want from me.”
“Being yourself is what you were doing before you got mad at me,” Damion explained. “Don’t you agree? Saying what was on your mind?”
“I did not get mad. I was… I believed perhaps I had misunderstood you or you did me. You knew I would not attempt to kill you, and when you reacted in an unfavorable way, I was….” Requiem’s face twisted in confusion. “I think perhaps the emotion is hurt… maybe betrayal. I do not know. That you did not trust me as I thought you did. And how do I know that was truly who I was before? I was not feeling before. I do not like this… this feeling. I do not like emotions.”
“I’m… I’m sorry I thought that if you had your emotions back, you’d be happy. You’d be able to be happy.” Damion looked disappointed in Requiem’s reaction. “I’m sorry if I made a mistake.”
“Fighter, I have never had emotions. They began feeding me a supplement to repress them immediately when they obtained me from the breeding tube. They have never been a part of my life, and now that I have begun to have them, I do not know what I am dealing with.” Requiem shook his head. “There is nothing for you to be sorry for. You did nothing wrong. Except, perhaps, by misunderstanding me.”
Damion had a small smile on his face. “You were angry, but that’s okay, and I really don’t blame you. I shouldn’t have made such a stupid comment, but honestly, I didn’t mean to insult you.”
“It is in the past now, and we now understand each other a little better. That is all that is important.” Requiem’s gaze once again slid from Damion’s face and down to the floor. Old habits were exceedingly hard to break. “But in the end, I still do not understand what you want from me. You perplex me. I chose you because I knew you would not be like other Fighters, but I did not realize how different you were.”
Damion laughed quietly. “Is that a compliment or a complaint?”
“Neither. A conundrum.” Requiem ran a bandaged hand through his hair. He froze for a moment as he lowered his arm and then continued the movement. That was odd. He couldn’t remember ever really doing that before, even when his hair was in his eyes. Shaking his head slightly, he raised his gaze back up to Damion. “But you never answered my question. What do you want from me? What do you expect of me? I do not understand it.”
“I expect you to be you. To yell at me, to trust me. And I’ll trust you. I promise. I want you to be the human you really are. Not a machine.” Damion pulled Requiem closer, tilting Requiem’s head back so that he could slant his mouth over his, kissing him.
Requiem blinked in shock as he was jerked forward, causing him to lose his balance and catch himself against Damion’s chest. He froze for a moment, not sure what to do, but then sighed as a feeling of warmth radiated from his lips, causing him to relax against Damion’s form. This was… nice, pleasant.
When Damion eventually pulled away, Requiem looked up at him and licked his lips, tasting Damion on him. “If I am going to continue to have these emotions, I will need to learn what they are. As in the definition of each feeling. If I am to be both human and machine, this is something I must acquire. I must be careful in my investigation when I am in the system so that I do not alert the Creators. Is there a possibility that you could advise me in these matters?”
“I’ll try.” Damion raked his fingers through Requiem’s hair, pushing the silky tendrils away from those large blue eyes. “You describe them, and I’ll try and give you a label.”
Requiem’s head tilted back with the movement of Damion’s hand, his eyes sliding closed for a moment. “They are difficult to describe other than… weight, in my chest. Hot, cold, tight, fast, slow—I do not know.”
“That’s the hard part of being human. I want to show you more. I have this, this need, this lust inside me.” Damion pulled Requiem closer, wrapping him in his arms. “Do you like me touching you?”
“You touching me?” Requiem tilted his head slightly to the side, his arms bent and pinned between their bodies. He thought about it for a moment, thinking about how any time Damion touched him, it made him feel… “Warm. You always make me feel warm. Relaxed, I suppose, when you touch me. What does that mean?”
“It means you enjoy it.” Damion turned his head, slanting his mouth over Requiem’s to kiss him again as he gently caressed Requiem’s sides.
Requiem’s clenched fists splayed against Damion’s chest, then uncurled as contentment spread from Damion’s lips over his body. It was true. He was never more relaxed than when Damion held him, not even in his capsule. He had never thought that he was constantly cold until Damion came into his life and taught him warmth.
“Enjoy? Is that word not connected to… happy? Perhaps content?” he asked curiously, his lips moving against Damion’s.
“Yes, it’s when you’re very pleased.” Damion kissed down Requiem’s neck.
“Interesting,” Requiem whispered, licking his lips again as Damion’s feathering touch on his skin caused his heart to speed up, pounding in his head. “Is that why you touch me? Because you enjoy it? Because you are pleased with me?” He paused for a moment, astounded that Damion couldn’t hear his heart trying to get out of his rib cage. He reached down to one of Damion’s hands, gripping it loosely and placing it flat over the left side of his chest. “What does this mean? Why did my heart accelerate?”
“You’re excited.” Damion tugged Requiem’s shirt up and moved his hand along Requiem’s pale skin and then took his wrapped hand and put it to his own chest. Requiem could feel Damion’s equally pounding heart. “Me too. Touching you, thinking about you, makes me go mad. I want to have sex with you, but if I do… I want you to like it.”
“Excited?” Requiem said softly and actually shuddered as Damion’s warm hand moved to his bare chest, resting over one of his ports. “Why does excitement, touching, and thinking about me make you go mad? You seem perfectly sane to me.”
His bandaged fingers curled against Damion’s chest. But after a moment, curious to see the difference, he moved his hand—not quite away, but he slid it up and under Damion’s shirt to rest once again over Damion’s heart. The tips of his fingers were exposed above the wrappings. The bare touch against naked skin made the warmth increase throughout his body, causing him to tremble again. “If we participated in sexual activities, it would be different than what I have experienced in the past. That alone would make me… like it. Is that what you would like to do?” He tilted his head again, meeting Damion’s gaze.
“Oh yes, I’d like to,” Damion said hoarsely, the words sounding caught in his throat. He audibly swallowed, shifting to ease the pressure in his pants. “I even bought some lube, when Juni wasn’t around, of course, so it won’t hurt. At least from what I read, it shouldn’t too much.”
“Lube?” Requiem replied, confusion sparking in his eyes, almost unconsciously sliding his hand down Damion’s chest to his stomach, resting his fingertips there. “You are… is it nervous? You are nervous. Unsure.”
“I’m nervous,” Damion admitted and began to slowly undress him as if he were unwrapping a long-awaited recreational pass. “But I want this as long as you don’t object.”
“I do not.” Requiem lifted his arms so that Damion could slide his shirt off. “We did not go to completion last time because of being interrupted, and I am still just as curious. Perhaps even more so now. I have already placed a voice lock on the door. Would you like me to cut off the option for communication so that no one can access the vid screen?”
“Can you do that from here?” Damion had let go of Requiem, already beginning to take off his own pants, hopping on one foot in his eagerness.
“Not as of right now. I am working on distance control, but I would need to implant a receiver, and I have not done enough research yet to be comfortable with doing so. At this point I still need tactile stimulation with the system,” he replied, his arms loose at his sides as he watched Damion.
“Ah, yeah, sure. Then go ahead.” Damion nodded and then stood up to open his bag. He brought out the lube he had bought on Lunar.
Requiem walked over to his capsule, smoothing a hand over the edge of it before reaching in and grabbing a jack, pulling it out, and turning around so he could plug it in at the base of his skull. He let out a long, relieved sigh as the system appeared before him in greens, blacks, and pulses of white skittering across his inner eye. He could get lost in this homecoming, but Damion was waiting for him.
He temporarily severed the communications output so that no one could vid in, and with minor regret exited the system. Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes and pulled the input jack out of his port, letting it retract back into the capsule. He blinked blearily for a moment, clearing his vision before looking at Damion. “What would you like me to do now?”
“Take off your shirt and boxers and get on the bed,” he told Requiem as he moved to the bed and sat down.