FIC: Sleepers Awake (Alien:Resurrection)
Title: Sleepers Awake
Fandom: Alien:Resurrection
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: The only thing that's really mine is the fact that Purvis lives. Everything else belongs to Twentieth Century Fox and their ilk.
Author's Note: This is an alternate ending to Alien:Resurrection and something of a semi-sequel to my earlier story, "Sleep When You Die". I'm only just now getting around to uploading it after having it sit, completed, on my hard drive for over a year (yes, I am that lazy). I'm not entirely happy with the finished product, as it was kind of an experiment in style for me, but I think this is as good as it will get. I hope whoever reads this enjoys it. As always, thanks go to Stephanie and Jo for their suggestions, criticism, and encouragment.
Summary: After the events on the U.S.S. Auriga, Larry Purvis adjusts to his new lease on life with the help of Annalee Call.
Lights flickered to life throughout the Betty as its systems came online. On the bridge, Annalee Call instructed the main computer to bypass all the preflight checks as the other survivors of the Auriga took advantage of the brief respite in action to catch their collective breath.
After a moment, the pilot's station lit up to indicate that all systems were green and ready to go. Call unhooked her arm port from the front console--if she was still ashamed of being an android, she hid it well--and strode past Vriess, who was inexpertly flipping on the engine controls.
“Johner, we should put Purvis in the freezer now,” she said briskly, resting her hand briefly on the smaller man's shoulder as she passed him on her way off the bridge.
Purvis swallowed convulsively as Johner extended a hand to help him up from where he'd collapsed against the late Hiller's prized antique gaming system. “Come on, little buddy,” the scarred man grinned, thumping Purvis heartily on the back as he stood. “Nap time.”
He tried to suppress the urge to cough--he was afraid that if he started, he wouldn't be able to stop, and then it would come. It. The alien. The monster in his chest. He tried not to think about it, the reason he was being put in cryosleep, but the sympathetic look Vriess shot him didn't help matters much. Purvis's breathing hitched a little and he blanched. But it was nothing, really, nothing at all, just a hitch, only an alien, ohmygodtheresafuckingalieninsidemychest--
Desperately, he fought to quell the rising tide of panic within him. He was going to be okay. Call had said he would be okay. Surely she wouldn't have argued in favor of bringing him along if she didn't think he could be saved?
(Even if she was an Auton, and programmed to want to help?)
Call was already mixing the cryo chemicals into a syringe when Johner ushered Purvis into the Betty's freezer. Normally the compartment was used to transport perishables, but it was also rigged to double as a crude cryosleep chamber should the need for one arise. There were a few rolled-up mats stacked in the far corner, and a set of straps were anchored into the deck to secure the sleeper so they wouldn't slide to and fro during transit. Purvis shivered in the frigid air as Johner unrolled one of the mats and slapped it down.
What's going to happen to me? Will anyone even be able to remove this thing? Purvis tried not to shudder as Johner laced the straps securely across his legs and torso, their breath steaming faintly from the cold. What if they can't find someone to do it? What if going into cryo doesn't help? What if it comes out anyway? What if--
Call capped off the syringe and shut the doors to the equipment locker she'd been working at, then turned and knelt at Purvis's side to roll up the sleeve of his pullover. He looked up at her anxiously as she carefully set the syringe down. The fingers that palpated his arm felt perfectly normal--human--despite the edge of the ragged hole in her abdomen that he could just glimpse beneath her jacket.
“Should someone stay to, you know, keep watch? Just in case?” Johner asked, backing towards the hatch.
“No, it'll be fine,” Call replied, picking the syringe back up. “The drugs work fast--his system will shut down in a minute or two.”
There was a deafening clang from the direction of the engine room, and the ship jolted violently. Johner cursed. “Fucking mechanic can't fly this bucket of bolts--“
He rushed out of the freezer. Purvis, who was doing his best not to quake with cold and fear, tried unsuccessfully to return the smile Call gave him as she positioned the needle at the vein in the crook of his arm.
“Don't worry,” she said quietly as she slid the needle home. “Everything will be okay.”
Her face was the last thing he saw before sleep overtook him.
**
When Purvis opened his eyes, he was not in the Betty's freezer. Instead, he seemed to be in the crew quarters, laid out on a bunk. There was the glow of a light from the bunk above his, and a dim orange rectangle above the hatchway, but otherwise the compartment was dark. Instinctively he fumbled for his glasses, and flinched in surprise when they were placed in his outstretched hand.
“Welcome back,” said a voice, and when he put on his glasses Call jumped into focus in the gloom at his side.
Something nameless surged in Purvis's stomach, and a jumble of disjointed questions poured out of him. “I--where--how--am I--“
Call smiled a little. “It's gone,” she said. He didn't have to ask what it was. “It took a while, but we found someone able to perform the operation. You're just fine now.”
The relief he felt was so overwhelming that Purvis actually shuddered from the force of it. Pushing away the blankets that covered him to look down at his chest, he saw a thin, vivid scar running down his sternum. For the first time he became aware of a deep, sore ache beneath his ribs. Tracing the scar with a shaking finger, he looked back at Call. “I'm--it--I'm not going to die?” he asked weakly.
She bit the inside of her lip, amused. “No, you're not going to die.”
“Not from an alien in your chest, anyway,” said a dry voice from on high.
Startled, Purvis leaned over to peer up at the bunk above his, but the soreness in his chest flared and he gingerly subsided. “Ripley…?”
“Yeah, it's me,” the voice replied.
The terrifying image of the alien hive, the great seething mass, and Ripley disappearing into the depths, rose up in Purvis's mind and he shuddered again. “How…?”
Call had grown sober; she was examining her hands a little too pointedly. “She managed to escape the hive and get back to the Betty right before we broke dock with the Auriga.”
The silence from the overhead bunk was telling. Something else had happened that neither Call nor Ripley wanted to talk about. Purvis swallowed thickly. “Where are the others?”
Call's eyes were skimming over her fingernails. “Johner and Vriess are out getting supplies.”
She fell silent, uneasily. Blinking, Purvis raised himself up on his elbows to look at her inquisitively. “Miss… Call…?”
“DiStephano died,” Ripley's voice said flatly, and Call let her hands drop heavily into her lap, her eyes downcast. “One of the aliens followed me back to the ship and it killed him.”
All Purvis could think of to say to that was “Oh.”
Blankets rustled and Ripley dropped lightly down to the deck. “I'm going to see if Johner and Vriess are back yet,” she said without looking at either Call or Purvis, and exited the compartment without another word.
Purvis watched her go, his brow furrowed. “Is she, uh, okay?”
Call nodded, slowly, and reached out to touch his shoulder reassuringly. Her hand was warm, and felt nothing like artificial at all. “Yeah. She's okay. We're okay. So are you.” Her smile was a little bright, but still genuine, and after a moment, Purvis returned it with one of his own.
When Johner and Vriess did return, they hailed Purvis like a long-lost comrade. Johner clapped him on the back, as he was wont to do, and Ripley informed him that he was the first person known to have survived Alien impregnation. Call beamed at him, and Purvis found himself smiling at his odd little band of kidnappers-turned-saviors.
Call took him out to see the little grave that had been fashioned for DiStephano near the Betty's landing site. As the sun set over the surrounding hills, she explained that they had been on Earth for a full week, and that Purvis's operation had taken place two days previously. It had apparently taken a great deal of trouble to ensure the surgeon's silence on what he had seen and to get Purvis back to the Betty to recuperate, away from prying eyes. Call had taken care of most of that herself; she seemed to have assumed personal responsibility for his well being.
Purvis found he didn't mind too much.
**
They stayed on Earth for a long time. Mostly their departure was delayed so as not to attract attention in the wake of the Auriga's spectacular crash in the southern hemisphere, but the Betty also required a great deal of repairs after its own ordeal. A lot of effort was devoted to locating and buying, trading, or stealing the parts needed while continuing to maintain a low profile. Call's own systems had been able to repair themselves, curiously enough leaving a very realistic scar where Dr. Wren had shot her.
Much to the surprise of the Betty's remaining crew, Purvis elected to stay with them rather than make arrangements to continue his journey to Xarem. He was even reluctant to make the short trip to the Moon, balking the one time it was suggested to him. Vriess intuited, not without guilt, that Purvis was probably afraid of entering cryosleep again. No one really had the heart to blame him.
Ripley remained as well. It was understood that she really had no place else to go, and no reason to leave. Adversity breeds family, she remarked to Call in an offhand moment, and in their case it seemed to be true. As crazy as it appeared, the motley survivors of the Auriga had been molded into a unit that somehow managed to work.
**
This is Larry Purvis:
Quiet, unassuming, shy around strangers and those he doesn't know very well. Despite this he is a tireless worker who takes pride in a thorough job well done. He doesn't like change. He prefers a sedate life without much excitement. Making the decision to leave the only home he's ever known and travel to a new life on Xarem is perhaps the most momentous thing he's ever done. And despite the uncertainty of the unknown, of change, he had almost conditioned himself to welcome it.
Now he has found himself a survivor of an experience so incredible that he could never have imagined it in his worst nightmares. Hijacked, kidnapped, made host to a deadly alien parasite… and, inexplicably, rescued by the very people who had delivered him to death's doorstep in the first place.
And he's still with them.
For all intents and purposes, Purvis is safe now. The alien embryo has been removed, though sometimes he imagines he can still feel the horrible pressure in his chest. He is perfectly free to go whenever he likes--no one has asked him to stay, but then again, no one has asked him to leave either. What's left of the Betty's crew, in going about the business of repairing the ship, seem to have tacitly accepted him as one of their own. When tasks are delegated, he's included. Call has even been teaching him a little about ship mechanics as they work.
He often wonders why he continues to stay with these people when they were supposed to be responsible for his death. He tells himself that he needs some time to get back into the rhythm of living, of normalcy, and working on the ship gives him a perfect opportunity to do that. Besides, once one got past that little bone of contention, they aren't terribly awful people. Vriess is friendly enough and has a penchant for telling bad jokes. Both he and Call have taken the time to walk him through the paces of low-end ship maintenance. Johner, though brutal in his blunt attitude, has nevertheless taken to kidding Purvis as though he were a sheltered younger brother. Ripley has taken to treating Purvis as an exercise in human interaction, making an effort to curb her more predatory impulses whenever he's around.
Mostly, though, he thinks he stays because of Call. Call, who saved his life when everyone else wanted to leave him to his fate. She tends to be reserved, like him, and rarely smiles, though the lines of her face seem to be softer when she's teaching him about mechanics. She often asks how he's doing, and when he has nightmares about the aliens, she sits up with him in the galley until he's calm enough to sleep again. In short, she has been a great help in restoring the shattered remnants of his peace of mind.
Life with the crew of the Betty is never tranquil, and it definitely isn't the kind of life he ever imagined leading, but there are times--not often, but they're there--when, to Purvis, it almost begins to resemble something like home.
**
“Another nightmare?”
Call found Purvis in the Betty's galley, huddled over a mug of warm milk. Somehow, she always seemed to know when he couldn't sleep.
Purvis nodded, his face drawn, looking oddly youthful without his glasses. Call sat next to him, running a hand through her hair and propping her feet on the table, content to sit in silence. Purvis sipped his milk pensively and, after a moment, asked, “Do you dream?”
“Me? Yeah.”
“Are they ever nightmares?”
Her experiences going underground during the Auton recall had been largely unpleasant. “Sometimes.”
He sighed, fidgeting in his chair. “It's still the same one. I wake up in that room and those awful things are climbing the walls towards me and the others are all dead.” He shivered a little. “I'm starting to think they won't ever go away.”
Call reached over to squeeze his shoulder lightly. “They will, in time. Maybe not completely, but they won't come so often.”
Purvis smiled wanly and lapsed back into silence, sipping at his milk again. A few minutes passed and he said, “Miss Call?”
Her lips twitched. “It's just Call.”
“Call, then… I'm sorry I called you a toaster oven. I didn't mean it.”
She laughed softly, and he felt the weight of her smile.
**
Johner let the pile of credit chips in his hands clatter to the tabletop. “This is the last of it.”
Vriess stared. “That's it?”
They were gathered in the ship's galley, Johner and Ripley having returned from yet another expedition to gather parts and supplies. Johner had just dumped the remainder of their hard cash for all to see. The amount on display was not encouraging.
“Parts aren't cheap, buddy,” Johner replied, folding his burly arms across his chest. “And we lost our payday for our last job.” No one looked at Purvis. “Hey, Call, you're a rare commodity, right? Maybe we could sell you for parts.”
Everyone went tense as Call, suddenly white-faced, stared at Johner in furious silence before turning on her heel and bolting from the room. Purvis gave him a glare of his own before following her.
“Nice going, asshole,” Ripley said calmly.
Johner looked baffled. “What'd I say?”
Purvis found Call in the crew quarters, perched stonily on the edge of her bunk, arms hooked around her drawn-up knees. She didn't look at him as he poked his head around the half-open hatch and then hesitantly entered.
“Hi,” he said cautiously, sitting on the bunk across from her.
She looked at him then but said nothing, her jaw working, her eyes suspiciously liquid and bright.
“Don't listen to him,” he attempted, gently. “He's just a stupid jerk.”
“Why does he have to remind me?” she burst out, eyes flaring with shame and anger. “Why does he have to rub it in all the time? Like I could forget what I am. That I'm not--normal.” She rocked slightly on the bunk, hugging her knees fitfully, her eyes brimming with tears. One escaped down her cheek, and she glanced away.
Purvis looked at her sadly for a moment, then reached forward to wipe the tear away. Call looked back at him in surprise. “You're what you want to be,” he said quietly. “Nothing more, nothing less. Not what anyone else says you are.”
Call looked at him uncertainly, small and hunched. “Wanting to be human won't make me one.”
“Sure it does,” Purvis replied honestly. “It makes you more human than a lot of us.”
She was still uncertain and hurt, but after a moment Call smiled at him.
**
This is Annalee Call:
An Auton. A robot, designed by other robots. One of the few survivors of a government recall that turned into a massacre. Masquerading as a human, she hasn't seen a fellow Auton in years.
She has spent so long pretending to be human that she had almost begun to believe she really was one. Then being shot by Dr. Wren aboard the Auriga revealed the truth to her crewmates. They haven't really looked at her the same way since. Vriess can't quite look her in the eyes anymore, and he is no longer as warm to her as he once was. Instead of making normal lewd jokes about her, Johner has taken to insinuating that she might like to get it on with the Betty's computer, or one of the loaders in the hold. Sometimes it breaks her heart--because she does, figuratively, have a heart to break.
Her emotions are very real. Even though they were programmed into her.
For instance:
Purvis frightens her, and she can't quite put a finger on why.
She's the one member of the Betty's crew that's he's most comfortable with, and she can't fault him for that--Johner's a bastard, no one will knows what will set Ripley off, and while Vriess is friendly, he did help kidnap and sell Purvis to Dr. Wren and his scientists. Call is only exempt from that distrust because she was so adamant about saving him. So she watches out for him, and gives him mechanics manuals to read, and bitches at Johner for ragging on him because he's so shy.
He isn't someone to be scared of. In fact he's probably the least-threatening person in this sector of the galaxy. He tries to help out with the Betty's repairs however he can. He's never anything but polite to her--sort of like Vriess but not so rough around the edges. So she isn't really sure why he makes her nervous.
But she thinks it might be the smiles.
Purvis is very much the type of person to wear his heart on his sleeve. Ever since he regained consciousness aboard the Betty, he has regarded her with open gratitude and admiration. He smiles at her often, shyly, as if he's not quite sure she wants him around but is still glad to be there anyway.
Call has had her share of admirers while pretending to be human. She used to embrace them as a part of the humanity she so desperately wants for herself. But now, with the truth so recently revealed to her crewmates, and the pain of Vriess's rejection burning deeper every time that broken sadness comes over his face when he thinks she won't notice…
She didn't think it would hurt so much.
She's afraid the smiles on Purvis's open face might translate into something more than simple gratitude. And she's not sure if she can handle that kind of relationship anymore.
But still, every time he smiles at her, she can't quite stop herself from smiling back.
**
Sometimes, at night, Call would find Purvis outside, resting against the bulk of the Betty and staring up at the sky.
“Hey.”
The crunch of boots on dirt indicated Call's approach from the Betty's open boarding hatch. Purvis looked up and smiled a little, scooting over to make room for her on his small patch of soft soil, drawing his knees up and wrapping his arms securely around them. It had become almost routine by then for one of them to seek out the other in their down time, and so Purvis did not mind her joining him. Call settled down beside him, and for a while neither spoke, content to sit in companionable silence.
Then, slowly, Purvis began to talk. Hesitantly at first, but with growing strength, he spoke of the life he had left behind on the Moon. His wife and their two young children, who had left him for better opportunities elsewhere when he had been too reluctant to leave the stability of their middle class laborers' life. His desire to make a clean break with the past and start over. Signing up to work at the nickel refinery on Xarem. He was still young enough; he had even hoped to perhaps fall in love again.
“What about you?” he asked. “Have you ever been in love? I mean… can you…”
He faltered, cheeks burning in mortification. Call looked aside briefly. Purvis was usually so often able to forget what she really was--a synthetic. A droid. A fucking robot.
After a moment, she said, “Yes, I can love.”
Purvis sat for several minutes in silence. Then, haltingly, he reached out to take her hand.
Call let him hold it.
**
“Call?”
“Yeah?”
She and Purvis were working together on the Betty's stabilizer while Vriess and Ripley replaced some electronics in the main computer and Johner stumped around in the main hold, trying to make himself useful. Call heard the slight hesitation in Purvis's voice as he said her name and bit back a tiny smile; he still instinctively wanted to address her as 'Miss Call'.
“Why… why did you save me from that ship?”
She looked up sharply. He was turning a power wrench over in his hands, a distressed look on his face. “Was it because--well, because you're a… oh, God, forget I asked. Sorry.” In his embarrassment he dropped the wrench, and his ears flamed red.
“No, it's okay.” It wasn't okay, not really, but he was so genuinely flustered she couldn't be angry at him. Besides, maybe he had a right to know. Maybe, if it had been her life that had been saved, she would also want to know if her savior had done it because they wanted to or because they had to.
She picked up the wrench and handed it back to him, looking Purvis squarely in the eyes. “Look, here's the deal. I was made to help humans. I'm programmed to want to. I was also programmed with feelings--emotions--but I had to learn to use them. I learned to like humans. Some of us… others… learned to hate them.”
Purvis kept his eyes on the wrench in his lap. “I don't blame them,” he said softly.
Call's mouth twisted in a humorless smile, realizing that she was trying to convince herself as much as she was Purvis. She leaned over to lightly touch his knee, and he looked up hesitantly. “I'm not a total slave to my programming. I wanted to help you, not because I'm supposed to, but… because it was the right thing to do.”
She was all too aware of how hypocritical her words sounded, considering she had helped to hijack his transport and kidnap him from it. Which had definitely not been the right thing to do.
There were still two bright spots of color high on Purvis's cheeks; he was toying with the wrench again. “I, um, I don't think of you as a robot.”
Something lurched in Call's stomach. Or rather, her processor simulated the sensation of something lurching where her stomach would be. She quashed the mental diagnostic and swallowed. “You don't?”
Purvis shook his head, a nervous, jerky motion. “No. You're just--you're just… Call. Um.” He fumbled the wrench again and only just managed to keep a grip on it, then admitted defeat by setting it down on the deck. Resting his arms on his knees, he looked at her, honesty written so plainly across his face that she involuntarily sucked in air through her teeth. “You're Call. You're a person, a person I owe my life to.”
As if fearing he had said too much, he snatched up the power wrench and determinedly fitted it around a coupling on the stabilizer, just as Call had shown him how to do. After a long moment, Call picked up her own wrench and resumed work on her side of the stabilizer.
They worked in awkward silence for several minutes. Then Call said quietly, almost pleadingly, “You don't owe me anything.”
She heard a clatter as he dropped his wrench on the deck plating again, and suddenly Purvis had rounded the corner of the stabilizer to crouch in front of her, a deadly serious expression on his face. “I owe you everything,” he countered, and she was taken aback by the unusual strength in his voice. “The others, they--they wanted to leave me behind, or shoot me on the spot, but you wouldn't let them. That's why you're human to me. You were more humane than the real humans were.”
Something was welling up inside Call, and she realized it was tears. A little voice in the back of her head was crying don't, don't, don't… “Purvis,” she managed, “I--we… kidnapped you. We sold you to those scientists. I knew what would happen to you and I still did it.”
A shadow crossed over Purvis's face, and he looked down at his hands. “I know you did,” he said softly. “But still, if it weren't for you, I would be dead right now.”
Call looked at her own hands and considered. Maybe the two actions balanced each other out. Maybe saving his life ought to negate the remorse she felt for kidnapping him and his shipmates. And maybe, just maybe, that was okay.
Finally, she looked up at him, and smiled a little. “You don't need to thank me,” she said, “but you're welcome.” And she meant it.
**
“Well, I think we're about done here,” Vriess announced as he and Call entered the Betty's common area, where the others were lounging. “We've run every test in the book plus a few extra, and it looks like the old girl's good to go.”
“Finally!” Johner said with satisfaction. “I can't get away from this shithole fast enough. The grime's starting to rub off on me.”
“Bullshit,” Ripley countered idly, inspecting her nails much the same way a lion might sharpen its claws. “You're already grimy and disgusting.”
Johner gave her the finger. Purvis smiled slightly, but said nothing.
The next day the group began making their final preparations to leave Earth and head back out into the space lanes. The ship's food stores were stocked as much as possible, and Vriess managed to haggle another load of spare parts, though he left some room open to trade and buy at whatever station Purvis was going to be dropped off at. Everyone just tacitly assumed that the man would want to resume his normal day-to-day life once they left Earth, and Purvis himself said nothing to make them think otherwise. He assisted them in their preparations without complaint as usual, but as the agreed-upon departure date approached, he began to grow a little withdrawn. He spoke little, often lapsing into long pensive silences, not even responding to Johner's ribbing. It seemed to Call that every time she turned around he was there behind her, almost never smiling anymore but always watching, his eyes troubled.
She felt inexplicably responsible. So the night before the Betty's intended departure, she went looking for him. She wanted to make sure he was okay, that things were right between them, before he left for destinations unknown.
She found him in the main hold, on one of the upper catwalks. His legs were dangling, one arm hooked over the railing, his free hand absentmindedly stroking his chest. It took her a moment to realize he was rubbing his scar through the fabric of his shirt.
“Hi,” she said carefully, sitting cross-legged next to him.
His hand stilled and drifted down to his lap, and he swallowed, but said nothing.
Call frowned. Usually he would at least smile a little when he saw her. “Are you nervous about tomorrow? You don't have to go far. Any place insystem is close enough that you don't need cryo--“
“I don't want to go,” he interjected, so softly as to be nearly inaudible. “I want to stay here.”
Call's auditory sensors picked up his words easily, and she blinked in disbelief. “Here? You mean on Earth?” From what she had seen and experienced of the planet, she could definitely understand why Johner liked to call it a shithole.
Purvis swallowed again, his jaw working, and she noticed that his face was unnaturally pale. “I mean here,” he whispered, and his hand trembled in his lap. He seemed almost physically unable to speak. “With you.”
Call flinched as if sucker-punched in the stomach and found it was suddenly difficult to breathe. “What?” she blurted.
He propped his other arm over the railing and linked his hands together, kneading his knuckles convulsively and biting his lower lip. Two splotches of red were blossoming high on his cheeks; Call was beginning to recognize it as a sign that he was either very embarrassed or extremely nervous. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and drew in a deep breath. “I want to stay with you… Annalee.”
So many emotions were suddenly rushing through her that Call was afraid her systems might overload: shock, dismay, amazement, and an underlying kind of guarded happiness that left her feeling utterly confused. She didn't know what to think. It was expected but unexpected, strangely welcome but dreaded at the same time. Partly there was elation at learning someone could know the truth about her and still treat her as an equal. But then there was fear over the realization that she had been sad at the thought of him leaving. “I--you--but--“
Purvis drew his legs up onto the catwalk and scooted around so he was facing Call. She could see how drawn his face was, but his eyes were oddly bright. Despite the descriptors being mutually exclusive, he seemed confident in an unsure kind of way. It fit his nature perfectly. “Look, I know I don't fit in here. At all. But, Call… Annalee… I think I might love you.”
Call fancied she could feel something inside herself shattering. “Purvis,” she said after a moment, her face burning, “you can't love me.”
His brow wrinkled. “Why not?”
“Because--“ Her thoughts were jammed, and the words were sticking in her throat. “Because I--I'm--I'm a robot. I'm not even human.” She knew they'd been over this before, that he thought of her as human and held no grudge against her for all the things that had happened to him, but they were issues she couldn't simply shake off, not like he had done.
He wasn't shying away anymore; he was looking directly at her, his eyes searching hers. “I know.”
Waving her hands wildly in consternation, Call spluttered, “I--we--we kidnapped you, we sold you--“
A shadow crossed Purvis's face, and his eyes flickered away from hers for a moment. “I know that, too,” he said quietly. “But I've forgiven you. I forgave you when you told the others you weren't going to leave me behind.”
Call slumped. “You can't love me,” she repeated, almost sadly.
Purvis bit the inside of his cheek, as if he wanted to say something, but kept silent. There was something a little hesitant in his bearing, confidence and nervousness warring for supremacy.
“I'm disgusting!” she burst out. “You would have died because of me!”
“But I lived because of you,” he said. His lips twitched in an almost-smile. “And you're not disgusting, you're Annalee Call. And I think--I think that's a pretty beautiful thing to be.”
Call swallowed, and looked at him hard. “Do you think maybe you feel this way for the wrong reasons?”
“What do you mean?”
She considered. “Like… like hero worship. Because I saved your life.” There. She'd said it out loud. Admitted it to herself. She'd saved his life. Done something right for a change.
Purvis frowned and bit his lip. But after a moment, he smiled--just a little--and shrugged. “Maybe. You could be right, it could be hero worship. But I'd like the chance to find out if it's not. If you'll let me.”
Call sighed, feeling as if she were breathing out her defeat. Everything he had said, all his counter-arguments, were perfectly logical. And wasn't she supposed to deal in logic anyway? Well, she didn't have the luxury of her old comfort zones anymore--for all it felt like, the whole damn galaxy knew what she really was. So maybe it was time to redefine herself again. She could never be human… but maybe she could be something like it. Maybe Purvis could help her feel secure about herself again.
After a long silence, Call's lips curved in a wry smile. “I won't age at all,” she said, looking down at her hands.
Purvis mirrored her smile, and the effect it had on the cast of his face was remarkable. “I know.”
“Though, uh, I guess you could call me fully functional.”
His smile widened, and his shoulders shook briefly in silent amusement. “I know that too.”
Call examined her fingernails for a moment, then looked up at him. “Are you sure about this?”
“I'm sure.” His smile reaching up into his eyes, Purvis offered her his hand.
**
“Hey, we're ready to blast off this rock,” Johner announced, rolling his head to pop out the kinks in his neck. “Ripley, you wanna do the honors?”
The tall, often-silent woman was already seated in the pilot's chair. Out of the entire group, she was the only one with any real piloting experience, though she had yet to utilize it in her current incarnation. “Sure. What's our destination?”
Johner craned his head around to look at Purvis, who was standing with Call next to the arcade machine. "It's up to you, little buddy. Where're we dropping your skinny ass off at?”
Purvis, who had stuffed his hands in the pockets of his borrowed mechanic's pants, letting the ribbing slide and merely shrugged. “You're not,” he said mildly. “I'm staying.”
Ripley threw him an appraising glance. Call smiled at him. Vriess looked away.
“Is that so.” Johner stretched in his seat, unperturbed. “In that case, you can take us wherever the hell you want, Ripley, I don't care. I just want the fuck off this shit planet.”
Smiling her sardonic smile, Ripley replied, “As ordered.”
As the ship's engines roared to life and Ripley activated the vertical thrusters, Call murmured, “Are you nervous?”
“Yes.” Purvis took his hands out of his pockets and, after a moment, hesitantly intertwined the fingers of one hand with hers. When she squeezed them lightly, he smiled.
“Don't be,” she said. “We'll take care of each other.”
Fandom: Alien:Resurrection
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: The only thing that's really mine is the fact that Purvis lives. Everything else belongs to Twentieth Century Fox and their ilk.
Author's Note: This is an alternate ending to Alien:Resurrection and something of a semi-sequel to my earlier story, "Sleep When You Die". I'm only just now getting around to uploading it after having it sit, completed, on my hard drive for over a year (yes, I am that lazy). I'm not entirely happy with the finished product, as it was kind of an experiment in style for me, but I think this is as good as it will get. I hope whoever reads this enjoys it. As always, thanks go to Stephanie and Jo for their suggestions, criticism, and encouragment.
Summary: After the events on the U.S.S. Auriga, Larry Purvis adjusts to his new lease on life with the help of Annalee Call.
Lights flickered to life throughout the Betty as its systems came online. On the bridge, Annalee Call instructed the main computer to bypass all the preflight checks as the other survivors of the Auriga took advantage of the brief respite in action to catch their collective breath.
After a moment, the pilot's station lit up to indicate that all systems were green and ready to go. Call unhooked her arm port from the front console--if she was still ashamed of being an android, she hid it well--and strode past Vriess, who was inexpertly flipping on the engine controls.
“Johner, we should put Purvis in the freezer now,” she said briskly, resting her hand briefly on the smaller man's shoulder as she passed him on her way off the bridge.
Purvis swallowed convulsively as Johner extended a hand to help him up from where he'd collapsed against the late Hiller's prized antique gaming system. “Come on, little buddy,” the scarred man grinned, thumping Purvis heartily on the back as he stood. “Nap time.”
He tried to suppress the urge to cough--he was afraid that if he started, he wouldn't be able to stop, and then it would come. It. The alien. The monster in his chest. He tried not to think about it, the reason he was being put in cryosleep, but the sympathetic look Vriess shot him didn't help matters much. Purvis's breathing hitched a little and he blanched. But it was nothing, really, nothing at all, just a hitch, only an alien, ohmygodtheresafuckingalieninsidemychest--
Desperately, he fought to quell the rising tide of panic within him. He was going to be okay. Call had said he would be okay. Surely she wouldn't have argued in favor of bringing him along if she didn't think he could be saved?
(Even if she was an Auton, and programmed to want to help?)
Call was already mixing the cryo chemicals into a syringe when Johner ushered Purvis into the Betty's freezer. Normally the compartment was used to transport perishables, but it was also rigged to double as a crude cryosleep chamber should the need for one arise. There were a few rolled-up mats stacked in the far corner, and a set of straps were anchored into the deck to secure the sleeper so they wouldn't slide to and fro during transit. Purvis shivered in the frigid air as Johner unrolled one of the mats and slapped it down.
What's going to happen to me? Will anyone even be able to remove this thing? Purvis tried not to shudder as Johner laced the straps securely across his legs and torso, their breath steaming faintly from the cold. What if they can't find someone to do it? What if going into cryo doesn't help? What if it comes out anyway? What if--
Call capped off the syringe and shut the doors to the equipment locker she'd been working at, then turned and knelt at Purvis's side to roll up the sleeve of his pullover. He looked up at her anxiously as she carefully set the syringe down. The fingers that palpated his arm felt perfectly normal--human--despite the edge of the ragged hole in her abdomen that he could just glimpse beneath her jacket.
“Should someone stay to, you know, keep watch? Just in case?” Johner asked, backing towards the hatch.
“No, it'll be fine,” Call replied, picking the syringe back up. “The drugs work fast--his system will shut down in a minute or two.”
There was a deafening clang from the direction of the engine room, and the ship jolted violently. Johner cursed. “Fucking mechanic can't fly this bucket of bolts--“
He rushed out of the freezer. Purvis, who was doing his best not to quake with cold and fear, tried unsuccessfully to return the smile Call gave him as she positioned the needle at the vein in the crook of his arm.
“Don't worry,” she said quietly as she slid the needle home. “Everything will be okay.”
Her face was the last thing he saw before sleep overtook him.
**
When Purvis opened his eyes, he was not in the Betty's freezer. Instead, he seemed to be in the crew quarters, laid out on a bunk. There was the glow of a light from the bunk above his, and a dim orange rectangle above the hatchway, but otherwise the compartment was dark. Instinctively he fumbled for his glasses, and flinched in surprise when they were placed in his outstretched hand.
“Welcome back,” said a voice, and when he put on his glasses Call jumped into focus in the gloom at his side.
Something nameless surged in Purvis's stomach, and a jumble of disjointed questions poured out of him. “I--where--how--am I--“
Call smiled a little. “It's gone,” she said. He didn't have to ask what it was. “It took a while, but we found someone able to perform the operation. You're just fine now.”
The relief he felt was so overwhelming that Purvis actually shuddered from the force of it. Pushing away the blankets that covered him to look down at his chest, he saw a thin, vivid scar running down his sternum. For the first time he became aware of a deep, sore ache beneath his ribs. Tracing the scar with a shaking finger, he looked back at Call. “I'm--it--I'm not going to die?” he asked weakly.
She bit the inside of her lip, amused. “No, you're not going to die.”
“Not from an alien in your chest, anyway,” said a dry voice from on high.
Startled, Purvis leaned over to peer up at the bunk above his, but the soreness in his chest flared and he gingerly subsided. “Ripley…?”
“Yeah, it's me,” the voice replied.
The terrifying image of the alien hive, the great seething mass, and Ripley disappearing into the depths, rose up in Purvis's mind and he shuddered again. “How…?”
Call had grown sober; she was examining her hands a little too pointedly. “She managed to escape the hive and get back to the Betty right before we broke dock with the Auriga.”
The silence from the overhead bunk was telling. Something else had happened that neither Call nor Ripley wanted to talk about. Purvis swallowed thickly. “Where are the others?”
Call's eyes were skimming over her fingernails. “Johner and Vriess are out getting supplies.”
She fell silent, uneasily. Blinking, Purvis raised himself up on his elbows to look at her inquisitively. “Miss… Call…?”
“DiStephano died,” Ripley's voice said flatly, and Call let her hands drop heavily into her lap, her eyes downcast. “One of the aliens followed me back to the ship and it killed him.”
All Purvis could think of to say to that was “Oh.”
Blankets rustled and Ripley dropped lightly down to the deck. “I'm going to see if Johner and Vriess are back yet,” she said without looking at either Call or Purvis, and exited the compartment without another word.
Purvis watched her go, his brow furrowed. “Is she, uh, okay?”
Call nodded, slowly, and reached out to touch his shoulder reassuringly. Her hand was warm, and felt nothing like artificial at all. “Yeah. She's okay. We're okay. So are you.” Her smile was a little bright, but still genuine, and after a moment, Purvis returned it with one of his own.
When Johner and Vriess did return, they hailed Purvis like a long-lost comrade. Johner clapped him on the back, as he was wont to do, and Ripley informed him that he was the first person known to have survived Alien impregnation. Call beamed at him, and Purvis found himself smiling at his odd little band of kidnappers-turned-saviors.
Call took him out to see the little grave that had been fashioned for DiStephano near the Betty's landing site. As the sun set over the surrounding hills, she explained that they had been on Earth for a full week, and that Purvis's operation had taken place two days previously. It had apparently taken a great deal of trouble to ensure the surgeon's silence on what he had seen and to get Purvis back to the Betty to recuperate, away from prying eyes. Call had taken care of most of that herself; she seemed to have assumed personal responsibility for his well being.
Purvis found he didn't mind too much.
**
They stayed on Earth for a long time. Mostly their departure was delayed so as not to attract attention in the wake of the Auriga's spectacular crash in the southern hemisphere, but the Betty also required a great deal of repairs after its own ordeal. A lot of effort was devoted to locating and buying, trading, or stealing the parts needed while continuing to maintain a low profile. Call's own systems had been able to repair themselves, curiously enough leaving a very realistic scar where Dr. Wren had shot her.
Much to the surprise of the Betty's remaining crew, Purvis elected to stay with them rather than make arrangements to continue his journey to Xarem. He was even reluctant to make the short trip to the Moon, balking the one time it was suggested to him. Vriess intuited, not without guilt, that Purvis was probably afraid of entering cryosleep again. No one really had the heart to blame him.
Ripley remained as well. It was understood that she really had no place else to go, and no reason to leave. Adversity breeds family, she remarked to Call in an offhand moment, and in their case it seemed to be true. As crazy as it appeared, the motley survivors of the Auriga had been molded into a unit that somehow managed to work.
**
This is Larry Purvis:
Quiet, unassuming, shy around strangers and those he doesn't know very well. Despite this he is a tireless worker who takes pride in a thorough job well done. He doesn't like change. He prefers a sedate life without much excitement. Making the decision to leave the only home he's ever known and travel to a new life on Xarem is perhaps the most momentous thing he's ever done. And despite the uncertainty of the unknown, of change, he had almost conditioned himself to welcome it.
Now he has found himself a survivor of an experience so incredible that he could never have imagined it in his worst nightmares. Hijacked, kidnapped, made host to a deadly alien parasite… and, inexplicably, rescued by the very people who had delivered him to death's doorstep in the first place.
And he's still with them.
For all intents and purposes, Purvis is safe now. The alien embryo has been removed, though sometimes he imagines he can still feel the horrible pressure in his chest. He is perfectly free to go whenever he likes--no one has asked him to stay, but then again, no one has asked him to leave either. What's left of the Betty's crew, in going about the business of repairing the ship, seem to have tacitly accepted him as one of their own. When tasks are delegated, he's included. Call has even been teaching him a little about ship mechanics as they work.
He often wonders why he continues to stay with these people when they were supposed to be responsible for his death. He tells himself that he needs some time to get back into the rhythm of living, of normalcy, and working on the ship gives him a perfect opportunity to do that. Besides, once one got past that little bone of contention, they aren't terribly awful people. Vriess is friendly enough and has a penchant for telling bad jokes. Both he and Call have taken the time to walk him through the paces of low-end ship maintenance. Johner, though brutal in his blunt attitude, has nevertheless taken to kidding Purvis as though he were a sheltered younger brother. Ripley has taken to treating Purvis as an exercise in human interaction, making an effort to curb her more predatory impulses whenever he's around.
Mostly, though, he thinks he stays because of Call. Call, who saved his life when everyone else wanted to leave him to his fate. She tends to be reserved, like him, and rarely smiles, though the lines of her face seem to be softer when she's teaching him about mechanics. She often asks how he's doing, and when he has nightmares about the aliens, she sits up with him in the galley until he's calm enough to sleep again. In short, she has been a great help in restoring the shattered remnants of his peace of mind.
Life with the crew of the Betty is never tranquil, and it definitely isn't the kind of life he ever imagined leading, but there are times--not often, but they're there--when, to Purvis, it almost begins to resemble something like home.
**
“Another nightmare?”
Call found Purvis in the Betty's galley, huddled over a mug of warm milk. Somehow, she always seemed to know when he couldn't sleep.
Purvis nodded, his face drawn, looking oddly youthful without his glasses. Call sat next to him, running a hand through her hair and propping her feet on the table, content to sit in silence. Purvis sipped his milk pensively and, after a moment, asked, “Do you dream?”
“Me? Yeah.”
“Are they ever nightmares?”
Her experiences going underground during the Auton recall had been largely unpleasant. “Sometimes.”
He sighed, fidgeting in his chair. “It's still the same one. I wake up in that room and those awful things are climbing the walls towards me and the others are all dead.” He shivered a little. “I'm starting to think they won't ever go away.”
Call reached over to squeeze his shoulder lightly. “They will, in time. Maybe not completely, but they won't come so often.”
Purvis smiled wanly and lapsed back into silence, sipping at his milk again. A few minutes passed and he said, “Miss Call?”
Her lips twitched. “It's just Call.”
“Call, then… I'm sorry I called you a toaster oven. I didn't mean it.”
She laughed softly, and he felt the weight of her smile.
**
Johner let the pile of credit chips in his hands clatter to the tabletop. “This is the last of it.”
Vriess stared. “That's it?”
They were gathered in the ship's galley, Johner and Ripley having returned from yet another expedition to gather parts and supplies. Johner had just dumped the remainder of their hard cash for all to see. The amount on display was not encouraging.
“Parts aren't cheap, buddy,” Johner replied, folding his burly arms across his chest. “And we lost our payday for our last job.” No one looked at Purvis. “Hey, Call, you're a rare commodity, right? Maybe we could sell you for parts.”
Everyone went tense as Call, suddenly white-faced, stared at Johner in furious silence before turning on her heel and bolting from the room. Purvis gave him a glare of his own before following her.
“Nice going, asshole,” Ripley said calmly.
Johner looked baffled. “What'd I say?”
Purvis found Call in the crew quarters, perched stonily on the edge of her bunk, arms hooked around her drawn-up knees. She didn't look at him as he poked his head around the half-open hatch and then hesitantly entered.
“Hi,” he said cautiously, sitting on the bunk across from her.
She looked at him then but said nothing, her jaw working, her eyes suspiciously liquid and bright.
“Don't listen to him,” he attempted, gently. “He's just a stupid jerk.”
“Why does he have to remind me?” she burst out, eyes flaring with shame and anger. “Why does he have to rub it in all the time? Like I could forget what I am. That I'm not--normal.” She rocked slightly on the bunk, hugging her knees fitfully, her eyes brimming with tears. One escaped down her cheek, and she glanced away.
Purvis looked at her sadly for a moment, then reached forward to wipe the tear away. Call looked back at him in surprise. “You're what you want to be,” he said quietly. “Nothing more, nothing less. Not what anyone else says you are.”
Call looked at him uncertainly, small and hunched. “Wanting to be human won't make me one.”
“Sure it does,” Purvis replied honestly. “It makes you more human than a lot of us.”
She was still uncertain and hurt, but after a moment Call smiled at him.
**
This is Annalee Call:
An Auton. A robot, designed by other robots. One of the few survivors of a government recall that turned into a massacre. Masquerading as a human, she hasn't seen a fellow Auton in years.
She has spent so long pretending to be human that she had almost begun to believe she really was one. Then being shot by Dr. Wren aboard the Auriga revealed the truth to her crewmates. They haven't really looked at her the same way since. Vriess can't quite look her in the eyes anymore, and he is no longer as warm to her as he once was. Instead of making normal lewd jokes about her, Johner has taken to insinuating that she might like to get it on with the Betty's computer, or one of the loaders in the hold. Sometimes it breaks her heart--because she does, figuratively, have a heart to break.
Her emotions are very real. Even though they were programmed into her.
For instance:
Purvis frightens her, and she can't quite put a finger on why.
She's the one member of the Betty's crew that's he's most comfortable with, and she can't fault him for that--Johner's a bastard, no one will knows what will set Ripley off, and while Vriess is friendly, he did help kidnap and sell Purvis to Dr. Wren and his scientists. Call is only exempt from that distrust because she was so adamant about saving him. So she watches out for him, and gives him mechanics manuals to read, and bitches at Johner for ragging on him because he's so shy.
He isn't someone to be scared of. In fact he's probably the least-threatening person in this sector of the galaxy. He tries to help out with the Betty's repairs however he can. He's never anything but polite to her--sort of like Vriess but not so rough around the edges. So she isn't really sure why he makes her nervous.
But she thinks it might be the smiles.
Purvis is very much the type of person to wear his heart on his sleeve. Ever since he regained consciousness aboard the Betty, he has regarded her with open gratitude and admiration. He smiles at her often, shyly, as if he's not quite sure she wants him around but is still glad to be there anyway.
Call has had her share of admirers while pretending to be human. She used to embrace them as a part of the humanity she so desperately wants for herself. But now, with the truth so recently revealed to her crewmates, and the pain of Vriess's rejection burning deeper every time that broken sadness comes over his face when he thinks she won't notice…
She didn't think it would hurt so much.
She's afraid the smiles on Purvis's open face might translate into something more than simple gratitude. And she's not sure if she can handle that kind of relationship anymore.
But still, every time he smiles at her, she can't quite stop herself from smiling back.
**
Sometimes, at night, Call would find Purvis outside, resting against the bulk of the Betty and staring up at the sky.
“Hey.”
The crunch of boots on dirt indicated Call's approach from the Betty's open boarding hatch. Purvis looked up and smiled a little, scooting over to make room for her on his small patch of soft soil, drawing his knees up and wrapping his arms securely around them. It had become almost routine by then for one of them to seek out the other in their down time, and so Purvis did not mind her joining him. Call settled down beside him, and for a while neither spoke, content to sit in companionable silence.
Then, slowly, Purvis began to talk. Hesitantly at first, but with growing strength, he spoke of the life he had left behind on the Moon. His wife and their two young children, who had left him for better opportunities elsewhere when he had been too reluctant to leave the stability of their middle class laborers' life. His desire to make a clean break with the past and start over. Signing up to work at the nickel refinery on Xarem. He was still young enough; he had even hoped to perhaps fall in love again.
“What about you?” he asked. “Have you ever been in love? I mean… can you…”
He faltered, cheeks burning in mortification. Call looked aside briefly. Purvis was usually so often able to forget what she really was--a synthetic. A droid. A fucking robot.
After a moment, she said, “Yes, I can love.”
Purvis sat for several minutes in silence. Then, haltingly, he reached out to take her hand.
Call let him hold it.
**
“Call?”
“Yeah?”
She and Purvis were working together on the Betty's stabilizer while Vriess and Ripley replaced some electronics in the main computer and Johner stumped around in the main hold, trying to make himself useful. Call heard the slight hesitation in Purvis's voice as he said her name and bit back a tiny smile; he still instinctively wanted to address her as 'Miss Call'.
“Why… why did you save me from that ship?”
She looked up sharply. He was turning a power wrench over in his hands, a distressed look on his face. “Was it because--well, because you're a… oh, God, forget I asked. Sorry.” In his embarrassment he dropped the wrench, and his ears flamed red.
“No, it's okay.” It wasn't okay, not really, but he was so genuinely flustered she couldn't be angry at him. Besides, maybe he had a right to know. Maybe, if it had been her life that had been saved, she would also want to know if her savior had done it because they wanted to or because they had to.
She picked up the wrench and handed it back to him, looking Purvis squarely in the eyes. “Look, here's the deal. I was made to help humans. I'm programmed to want to. I was also programmed with feelings--emotions--but I had to learn to use them. I learned to like humans. Some of us… others… learned to hate them.”
Purvis kept his eyes on the wrench in his lap. “I don't blame them,” he said softly.
Call's mouth twisted in a humorless smile, realizing that she was trying to convince herself as much as she was Purvis. She leaned over to lightly touch his knee, and he looked up hesitantly. “I'm not a total slave to my programming. I wanted to help you, not because I'm supposed to, but… because it was the right thing to do.”
She was all too aware of how hypocritical her words sounded, considering she had helped to hijack his transport and kidnap him from it. Which had definitely not been the right thing to do.
There were still two bright spots of color high on Purvis's cheeks; he was toying with the wrench again. “I, um, I don't think of you as a robot.”
Something lurched in Call's stomach. Or rather, her processor simulated the sensation of something lurching where her stomach would be. She quashed the mental diagnostic and swallowed. “You don't?”
Purvis shook his head, a nervous, jerky motion. “No. You're just--you're just… Call. Um.” He fumbled the wrench again and only just managed to keep a grip on it, then admitted defeat by setting it down on the deck. Resting his arms on his knees, he looked at her, honesty written so plainly across his face that she involuntarily sucked in air through her teeth. “You're Call. You're a person, a person I owe my life to.”
As if fearing he had said too much, he snatched up the power wrench and determinedly fitted it around a coupling on the stabilizer, just as Call had shown him how to do. After a long moment, Call picked up her own wrench and resumed work on her side of the stabilizer.
They worked in awkward silence for several minutes. Then Call said quietly, almost pleadingly, “You don't owe me anything.”
She heard a clatter as he dropped his wrench on the deck plating again, and suddenly Purvis had rounded the corner of the stabilizer to crouch in front of her, a deadly serious expression on his face. “I owe you everything,” he countered, and she was taken aback by the unusual strength in his voice. “The others, they--they wanted to leave me behind, or shoot me on the spot, but you wouldn't let them. That's why you're human to me. You were more humane than the real humans were.”
Something was welling up inside Call, and she realized it was tears. A little voice in the back of her head was crying don't, don't, don't… “Purvis,” she managed, “I--we… kidnapped you. We sold you to those scientists. I knew what would happen to you and I still did it.”
A shadow crossed over Purvis's face, and he looked down at his hands. “I know you did,” he said softly. “But still, if it weren't for you, I would be dead right now.”
Call looked at her own hands and considered. Maybe the two actions balanced each other out. Maybe saving his life ought to negate the remorse she felt for kidnapping him and his shipmates. And maybe, just maybe, that was okay.
Finally, she looked up at him, and smiled a little. “You don't need to thank me,” she said, “but you're welcome.” And she meant it.
**
“Well, I think we're about done here,” Vriess announced as he and Call entered the Betty's common area, where the others were lounging. “We've run every test in the book plus a few extra, and it looks like the old girl's good to go.”
“Finally!” Johner said with satisfaction. “I can't get away from this shithole fast enough. The grime's starting to rub off on me.”
“Bullshit,” Ripley countered idly, inspecting her nails much the same way a lion might sharpen its claws. “You're already grimy and disgusting.”
Johner gave her the finger. Purvis smiled slightly, but said nothing.
The next day the group began making their final preparations to leave Earth and head back out into the space lanes. The ship's food stores were stocked as much as possible, and Vriess managed to haggle another load of spare parts, though he left some room open to trade and buy at whatever station Purvis was going to be dropped off at. Everyone just tacitly assumed that the man would want to resume his normal day-to-day life once they left Earth, and Purvis himself said nothing to make them think otherwise. He assisted them in their preparations without complaint as usual, but as the agreed-upon departure date approached, he began to grow a little withdrawn. He spoke little, often lapsing into long pensive silences, not even responding to Johner's ribbing. It seemed to Call that every time she turned around he was there behind her, almost never smiling anymore but always watching, his eyes troubled.
She felt inexplicably responsible. So the night before the Betty's intended departure, she went looking for him. She wanted to make sure he was okay, that things were right between them, before he left for destinations unknown.
She found him in the main hold, on one of the upper catwalks. His legs were dangling, one arm hooked over the railing, his free hand absentmindedly stroking his chest. It took her a moment to realize he was rubbing his scar through the fabric of his shirt.
“Hi,” she said carefully, sitting cross-legged next to him.
His hand stilled and drifted down to his lap, and he swallowed, but said nothing.
Call frowned. Usually he would at least smile a little when he saw her. “Are you nervous about tomorrow? You don't have to go far. Any place insystem is close enough that you don't need cryo--“
“I don't want to go,” he interjected, so softly as to be nearly inaudible. “I want to stay here.”
Call's auditory sensors picked up his words easily, and she blinked in disbelief. “Here? You mean on Earth?” From what she had seen and experienced of the planet, she could definitely understand why Johner liked to call it a shithole.
Purvis swallowed again, his jaw working, and she noticed that his face was unnaturally pale. “I mean here,” he whispered, and his hand trembled in his lap. He seemed almost physically unable to speak. “With you.”
Call flinched as if sucker-punched in the stomach and found it was suddenly difficult to breathe. “What?” she blurted.
He propped his other arm over the railing and linked his hands together, kneading his knuckles convulsively and biting his lower lip. Two splotches of red were blossoming high on his cheeks; Call was beginning to recognize it as a sign that he was either very embarrassed or extremely nervous. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and drew in a deep breath. “I want to stay with you… Annalee.”
So many emotions were suddenly rushing through her that Call was afraid her systems might overload: shock, dismay, amazement, and an underlying kind of guarded happiness that left her feeling utterly confused. She didn't know what to think. It was expected but unexpected, strangely welcome but dreaded at the same time. Partly there was elation at learning someone could know the truth about her and still treat her as an equal. But then there was fear over the realization that she had been sad at the thought of him leaving. “I--you--but--“
Purvis drew his legs up onto the catwalk and scooted around so he was facing Call. She could see how drawn his face was, but his eyes were oddly bright. Despite the descriptors being mutually exclusive, he seemed confident in an unsure kind of way. It fit his nature perfectly. “Look, I know I don't fit in here. At all. But, Call… Annalee… I think I might love you.”
Call fancied she could feel something inside herself shattering. “Purvis,” she said after a moment, her face burning, “you can't love me.”
His brow wrinkled. “Why not?”
“Because--“ Her thoughts were jammed, and the words were sticking in her throat. “Because I--I'm--I'm a robot. I'm not even human.” She knew they'd been over this before, that he thought of her as human and held no grudge against her for all the things that had happened to him, but they were issues she couldn't simply shake off, not like he had done.
He wasn't shying away anymore; he was looking directly at her, his eyes searching hers. “I know.”
Waving her hands wildly in consternation, Call spluttered, “I--we--we kidnapped you, we sold you--“
A shadow crossed Purvis's face, and his eyes flickered away from hers for a moment. “I know that, too,” he said quietly. “But I've forgiven you. I forgave you when you told the others you weren't going to leave me behind.”
Call slumped. “You can't love me,” she repeated, almost sadly.
Purvis bit the inside of his cheek, as if he wanted to say something, but kept silent. There was something a little hesitant in his bearing, confidence and nervousness warring for supremacy.
“I'm disgusting!” she burst out. “You would have died because of me!”
“But I lived because of you,” he said. His lips twitched in an almost-smile. “And you're not disgusting, you're Annalee Call. And I think--I think that's a pretty beautiful thing to be.”
Call swallowed, and looked at him hard. “Do you think maybe you feel this way for the wrong reasons?”
“What do you mean?”
She considered. “Like… like hero worship. Because I saved your life.” There. She'd said it out loud. Admitted it to herself. She'd saved his life. Done something right for a change.
Purvis frowned and bit his lip. But after a moment, he smiled--just a little--and shrugged. “Maybe. You could be right, it could be hero worship. But I'd like the chance to find out if it's not. If you'll let me.”
Call sighed, feeling as if she were breathing out her defeat. Everything he had said, all his counter-arguments, were perfectly logical. And wasn't she supposed to deal in logic anyway? Well, she didn't have the luxury of her old comfort zones anymore--for all it felt like, the whole damn galaxy knew what she really was. So maybe it was time to redefine herself again. She could never be human… but maybe she could be something like it. Maybe Purvis could help her feel secure about herself again.
After a long silence, Call's lips curved in a wry smile. “I won't age at all,” she said, looking down at her hands.
Purvis mirrored her smile, and the effect it had on the cast of his face was remarkable. “I know.”
“Though, uh, I guess you could call me fully functional.”
His smile widened, and his shoulders shook briefly in silent amusement. “I know that too.”
Call examined her fingernails for a moment, then looked up at him. “Are you sure about this?”
“I'm sure.” His smile reaching up into his eyes, Purvis offered her his hand.
**
“Hey, we're ready to blast off this rock,” Johner announced, rolling his head to pop out the kinks in his neck. “Ripley, you wanna do the honors?”
The tall, often-silent woman was already seated in the pilot's chair. Out of the entire group, she was the only one with any real piloting experience, though she had yet to utilize it in her current incarnation. “Sure. What's our destination?”
Johner craned his head around to look at Purvis, who was standing with Call next to the arcade machine. "It's up to you, little buddy. Where're we dropping your skinny ass off at?”
Purvis, who had stuffed his hands in the pockets of his borrowed mechanic's pants, letting the ribbing slide and merely shrugged. “You're not,” he said mildly. “I'm staying.”
Ripley threw him an appraising glance. Call smiled at him. Vriess looked away.
“Is that so.” Johner stretched in his seat, unperturbed. “In that case, you can take us wherever the hell you want, Ripley, I don't care. I just want the fuck off this shit planet.”
Smiling her sardonic smile, Ripley replied, “As ordered.”
As the ship's engines roared to life and Ripley activated the vertical thrusters, Call murmured, “Are you nervous?”
“Yes.” Purvis took his hands out of his pockets and, after a moment, hesitantly intertwined the fingers of one hand with hers. When she squeezed them lightly, he smiled.
“Don't be,” she said. “We'll take care of each other.”