Realistic Chapter 8
Title: Realistic - Chapter 8/14
Author: theartoffic
Type: LOTR RPS AU
Pairing: Orlando/Elijah
Rating: Adult
Summary: In the 21st century Artificial Intelligence is still in its infancy, some scientists toy with the idea of creating robots that look, and act, and think like human beings; in the future they are going to succeed. Realistics look real, feel real, and, at a glance, cannot be distinguished from the ones who made them. They are the result of hundreds of years of AI evolution, they are beautiful, perfect, and expensive, but to society at large they are not real. This is the story of one such Realistic.
A/N: Complete and will be posted as each chapter is beta'd. Previous chapters can be found by the tag :)
Beta: the amazing lisabellex <3
The American Heritage Science Dictionary
artificial intelligence
The ability of a computer or other machine to perform actions thought to require intelligence. Among these actions are logical deduction and inference, creativity, the ability to make decisions based on past experience or insufficient or conflicting information, and the ability to understand spoken language.
.... or the ability to love.
Banner: the lovely aranel80
Four days pass before Orlando’s long-distance coaxing finally urges him out the door; that, and the fact that he can’t take being cooped up in the house alone anymore. He is keenly aware of the irony in his current situation; he has always wanted to be able to come and go as he pleased, dreamed of it in his own fashion, but now that he finally has the opportunity, the permission, he is afraid.
But he promised Orlando that he'd go, so he rings for a car and waits nervously by the door. Three times he almost calls back to cancel, but the car arrives before he actually follows through and he’s not about to send the driver back and have them think that he’s trouble.
"How are you today, sir?" the driver inquires pleasantly as Elijah steps out the door.
Sir. The driver doesn't know. It gives him a secret thrill. "Fine, thank you."
"Are you ready to go, sir?" The driver grips the open door as a subtle cue.
Elijah realizes he's still standing on the front step. He closes his hand around the little plastic card and smiles. "Yes."
*
It is late afternoon, still sunny and warm, when he is dropped off at his destination, and the streets are filled with people, rushing past him like a river, barely sparing him a glance as he stares up at the store fronts. He has no idea where to begin.
He wanders up the street, looking in the windows, immediately dismissing those that remind him of his previous owners - those with tailored suits or dark colors. He may not know what he likes, but he knows what he doesn't.
An eclectic-looking clothing store catches his eye, the colors in the windows and the loud music booming through the open door. It’s a trendy place, he thinks, Daniel might have shopped here, but none of his other owners; there's not a distinguished article of clothing in sight.
He stares at the racks upon racks of clothes, feeling lost. His previous owners always chose everything for him, dressed him to their predilections, and he has to wonder if he has any taste of his own.
“Help you find anything?”
Elijah turns at the query and then at the girl. She's young and just as brilliant as her surroundings, with a shock of multicolored hair and a bright purple ring in her lip.
"What? Never seen a pretty girl before?"
Even her eyebrows are colorful, he notices as she arches them, and the longer he stares the higher they go, until he realizes that she might be mistaking his curiosity for an insult. "Not one so colorful," he blurts; immediately he can see that he's made a mistake. "I mean, your hair." He's not making this any better. "I'm sorry, I just… It's pretty… your hair."
"You don't get out much, do you?" she asks dryly.
He shakes his head. Maybe he should just go. He could try this all again another day. "I just… I don’t know what to get. I don't… I'll just-”
She considers him silently for a moment, her eyes narrowing, and he's pretty sure she'll just walk away, but her lips press into a tight-lipped smile. “Are you shopping for you, or someone else?”
“Me,” he replies hopefully.
"Special occasion?"
He shakes his head. "I just need some new clothes. I don't have many and I have… no idea."
She takes pity on him then-- at least, he thinks she does, going by her grin. "Okay. All right. It is my job after all. What are you interested in?"
He glances around unsurely.
"How about this," she suggests, "what do you need?"
"I have a suit," he tells her. "And these," he nods to the khakis and dress shirt, but they came from the Company and he'd be more than happy to get rid of them.
"Oh, honey," she sighs, her nose wrinkling sympathetically, "looks like we've got some shopping to do. Come on, we'll see if we can't find something you'll like."
He follows her around the store until his arms are full of clothes, some he even selected himself.
“You’d better start trying this stuff on,” she says as she leads him toward the changing rooms in the back. “Feel free to come on out and show me if you want another opinion. I'd be more than happy to help.”
Elijah blushes when she winks at him.
“Are you... hitting on me?” he asks curiously. He’s witnessed this type of banter in movies, even some of Orli's, and he just wants to make sure he’s got it figured out.
She laughs, but it's not cruel. “Just trying to be helpful, sweetie,” she grins, dropping him another wink, as she snaps the curtains shut, closeting him in the small cubicle with the huge mound of clothes.
He tries them all on and finds it strange... staring at himself in the mirror and trying to decide what he likes. There is no one here to judge, no one to cluck dismissively and say ‘nah I hate it’ like Karl used to, or ‘I want you to wear this, Elijah’ like David had. There is just him, and he thinks this task may be beyond him.
But Orlando wants him to do this. Scratch that. Orlando’d like for him to do this. And he wants to, it’s just… hard. He stares at himself in his current ensemble, a pair of strategically worn and stylishly faded jeans, and a black t-shirt. The pants are comfortable and he thinks, possibly, they make him look all right.
Elijah opens the curtains and steps out of the little cubicle; he stands in the entrance of the dressing room and scans the store for the clerk.
She appears in the doorway, her vivid brows raised. “What’s the matter honey? Do you need another size or something?”
Elijah blushes, her arms are full of garments and he knows he really shouldn’t be bothering her.
She grins for some reason; he’s not exactly sure what to make of it because he’s not smiling, but it makes him comfortable enough to ask, “I was wondering what you think of these?”
She looks at him, judging him for a moment, then takes a quick peek around. “Turn around, honey,” she says with a sort of … well, wicked smile. Devious, maybe. He has never quite been able to classify it, mainly because he’s never dared to ask anyone what they were thinking when they smiled like that.
He turns around, chewing his bottom lip, and waits.
“How do they feel?” she asks, pauses for a moment, and then, “Are they comfortable?”
“Yes.”
"Well, they look good to me. Sexy."
He peeks over his shoulder, wondering why she drawled out the word 'good' the way she did; her brows shoot up, making him suspicious… like she’s been caught at something. Is she lying?
“Oh, hey, I didn’t- I didn’t mean anything by it, mister. I just-“ Elijah can see her blush and her eyes have gone round with worry.
“Please don’t say anything,” she whispers finally. "I mean, I was just answering your question. They look good. Really. I'm not just saying that because I work on commission."
Elijah just stands there, completely at a loss as to why she looks so nervous.
“I know this is just a crappy retail job, but I really need it. I didn’t mean to stare at your butt. I mean it was all just innocent, you know?”
Elijah blinks as the comprehension sinks in. “So, they make my butt look good?”
The girl looks almost petrified, and doesn’t answer.
“Please? I'd like to know.” He gives her what he hopes is a reassuring smile.
She laughs a little then, and nods. “Yeah, they look… really good on you. I don’t think you could put on much that wouldn't.”
Elijah’s brows furrow when she mashes her lips together and shakes her head.
“I better stop before I get in trouble," she sighs softly. "They look really good on you. Do you need anything else?”
Elijah shakes his head and retreats into the cubicle again. He doesn’t really understand what just transpired, but she did say the jeans look good and, as he stands there trying to check out his own ass, he decides to trust what she said and buy them.
He didn't realize it would take so long to select clothes; he spends almost as long trying to decide between all of the shirts, most of them pretty much the same thing - t-shirts in different colors- as he did trying them all on. The button-up style dress shirts that Karl would’ve liked stay in the pile, untouched.
He prefers the color of a couple of the t-shirts over the others and selects those; it’s a start at least, and folds and hangs the rest of the clothing into neat piles, leaving them on the bench as the sign indicates.
The first few items that he has ever chosen for himself, he holds almost reverently as he approaches the register.
“I need to see them, sir.” The checkout clerk, a young girl with a shock of orange hair - reminding him of the orange juice which he loves - wears a bit of an exasperated look as she stands there with her hand out.
“I love your hair,” he tells her, still staring at it.
She nods, once, and continues to stare at him. “I, um, still need to see the items, sir.”
“Oh, sorry,” he apologizes as he thrusts the garments at her, making her jump back a little and give him a wary look. He blushes furiously as he hands over the plastic card as payment, wishing he hadn't made such a scene, but she’s doesn’t seem to notice.
She thanks him, tells him to have a nice day, but it's strangely robotic. He wonders … but no, she wouldn't be.
When he walks out of the store, holding his purchases properly by the handle of the bag and not as if someone is out to rob him of them, he feels a sense of pride and accomplishment, but he’s also had enough for one day. He never thought that having to make so many decisions would be so… tiring. Well, 'tiring' isn’t exactly the right word for it-- he doesn't feel weary, but he needs a break.
He calls the car to take him home.
*
“I think she was probably checking out your ass,” Orli snickers when they speak next and he asks about the sales girl’s reaction.
“My ass?” Elijah echoes.
“Yeah. Can’t say as I blame her, really. Though, it does make me jealous, her being able to ogle you and me being stuck here.”
Elijah appreciates that Orlando makes it sound like it's a hardship, even when the entertainment programs are broadcasting that Orlando is apparently interested in his lovely new co-star.
“So, what’s next?” Orlando asks.
“Next?”
“Yeah, you did the clothing thing," Orlando pauses, or perhaps it's just the delay. "Lij?"
"Y-yes?"
He hears Orlando's soft laughter in his ear and rests his ear against the phone to catch it. “What about music?" Orlando suggests. "Or… you could look for some prints for the walls.'”
“Prints?”
“Art. You know, crap to hang on the walls. Whatever you want. You didn’t seem to be too fond of the bare walls.”
Elijah glances around. “It’s like you don’t even live here,” he muses.
“I wasn’t.” Orlando’s voice echoes from a billion miles away. “I was just… existing ‘til you came along.”
Elijah clings to those words. They’re good, right? They mean something, probably more to him than Orlando.
“Shit. They’re calling me back to the set, Lij, I'm going to have to go."
"But … what should I get?"
Orlando laughs again. "Surprise me, okay? I've got to go."
Elijah wants to protest, but knows he can't. "I miss you," he blurts.
"And I miss you. I’ll talk to you tomorrow."
*
The next morning Elijah sips a small glass of orange juice in the quiet kitchen and wonders what to do with himself. He considers Orli’s suggestion - Music.
Just like the clothes, he’s never had the opportunity to choose any for himself, always deferring to his owner's preference as he had to. Most of them listened in passing, in the car, or as it played in the background at parties. David had been the most avid listener, his taste tending toward Country music, a genre that Elijah realizes, only now, he’d actively learned to tune out. Something about the steel guitar and sappy lyrics just grated on him, but there had been other music, and other songs, that he liked.
He rings for another car and this time there’s not so much fretting as he waits. In fact, he finds that he is eager for this... adventure. That’s what this is, at least in his head.
When the car passes over Three Points Bridge he glances at 'the spot'. The location where he tried, and failed, to end it all is nothing more than a nondescript stretch of railing that would mean very little to anyone else.
And it’s funny, he thinks as it flashes by, how little time has passed and how different he feels. The sense of desperation he felt that night is foreign to him now - when he’s so excited, and nervous, about being out on his own. He knows that this is just a bandage, some temporary scar tissue; he knows it won’t last forever, it is just a little reprieve, but he’s going to enjoy it... for as long as it lasts.
By the time the car drops him off in front of the huge music store on Vine, he finds the nerves have gone and he’s just really excited. He has never even been inside a music store before, most people purchase their music via computer these days, but in the cities there are still great bastions like Tower Media, who sell to those who still enjoy the social interaction of being out with others when they shop, and receiving personal service; at least, that’s what it says in their advertisement.
There are three floors of listening, viewing, and preview stations. Some are little cubicles with a shelf and computer screen, some have couches and big comfy chairs and large, chunky headphones. He glances at the chairs, but he's too fidgety to sit, so he watches a young girl standing in one of the booths, trying to figure out what she’s doing.
“Help you, dude?”
Elijah turns to face the young man addressing him. On some level, he is aware that he probably doesn’t look much older than the boy with the spiked-up, sandy colored hair and rumpled Tower Media t-shirt, but he’s bemused at being called ‘dude’. No one’s ever called him 'dude' before, not even Dan, who was probably this boy's- no, not boy- young man's age - twenty-one or twenty-two perhaps.
“I just- I’m looking for some music.”
The young man grins, nodding as he swings his gaze around; Elijah thinks he does a fairly passable job of camouflaging the ‘duh’ look.
“Well, you're in the right place. My name’s Jason, and if I can recommend something just let me know.”
“Anything!” Elijah blurts as Jason turns to walk away. “Except Country. I-“ He pauses, wondering if he should say what he’s thinking, but... it’s how he feels, and recognizing that is exhilarating. “I hate Country.”
“Me too. God, do I hate having to rec’ Country music,” Jason returns with a laugh. “So what are you into?”
“Into?”
“What kind of music do you like?”
“I don’t really know,” Elijah shrugs. He feels a bit self-conscious, foolish, like the day before with the clerk in the clothing store.
“You don’t know?” Jason's brow quirks.
“No.”
“No offense but where have you been? In prison or something?”
“Kind of,” Elijah replies with an apologetic smile. Jason stares at him harder. “I just- I wasn’t allowed to listen to music much.”
“Oh...” Jason says faintly, nodding. “Well, then..." Jason pauses a moment. "So, you’ve never heard anything that you liked?”
Elijah thinks, scanning his files as quickly as possible - Dan’s music- he liked some of that, he scrounges for the name of the band- “Audioslave?”
Jason whistles. “They’re old, but good. So, you like heavier stuff then," he muses, looking around. “Come on.”
Elijah follows Jason to one of the listening stations and slips on the headphones Jason offers. He watches as Jason taps the screen, cycling through artists and songs, until suddenly there is music flooding his ears. It’s wonderful, heavy, moody; he closes his eyes and listens.
The preview clip ends far too soon. “I want that. More like that,” he says, peering at the name of the band on screen.
“Cool. You’re an easy customer.” Jason smiles, “Where’s your stick?”
Stick? “Sorry?”
“Your i-stick? To download your music?" Jason prompts.
“I don’t-“
“You don’t even have one of those? Man,” Jason sighs. "You really have been out of it." Elijah thinks there might be a little pity in Jason's blue eyes. “Do you want me to hook you up with one? You can’t get the music without it.”
Elijah nods and feels foolish. How could he not know this stuff? “Yeah, sure. Sorry.”
“For what?” Jason asks, motioning for him to follow him to another section of the store.
“For not knowing.”
Jason snorts laughter and smiles at him. “It’s no big deal, man. Happens everyday. It’s part of the human condition.”
“What is?” Elijah’s curious to hear what else he could do to make himself more... more human.
“You learn something new every day. Like today, for instance, I learned that I should not rely on my drunken roommates to set my alarm for me when I’ve passed out the night before. I was so late for work.” Jason smirks ruefully. “Or maybe I learned that I’m getting too old to be out partying all night. I should be more responsible, right?”
Elijah shrugs. He doesn’t know the answer to that query, or if it even requires one. But he says, “Thank you,” anyway, appreciating that Jason tried to make him feel less awkward.
Jason guides him over to a display rack and looks up at him with a grin. “No problem, man, it’s just my job.”
He wonders what Jason thinks he’s said 'thank you' for, but he doubts it’s the same reason.
They spend the next half hour discussing which i-stick he should get. It turns out to be the most expensive one, but only because it holds the most music- which Jason suggests is what he needs when he finds out that Elijah owns no music at all. This earns him another look of pity.
“Hey, Jace, it’s, um, time for your break, if you want it," another associate interrupts. "I can take over here," she offers.
“Wow. It’s after one,” Jason says with surprise, and rubs his stomach absentmindedly.
Jason looks at him thoughtfully. Elijah recognizes that look. It’s the what-am-I-going-to-do-with-you look, and he shifts uncomfortably.
“Say, are you hungry?”
Elijah waits for the girl to respond, until he realizes that Jason is speaking to him. “I- I’m not done with this.” He holds up the music stick and looks back at the booth where they were selecting music.
“That’s okay. Becky here can hold on to this stuff for now, and the play list we’ve been working on will stay stored on the machine until they’re dumped tonight. I was just gonna go grab something in the Food Court, if you want? No pressure, I just thought you might be hungry.”
Elijah bites his bottom lip. Can he? Should he? He wonders if Orlando would let him.
“It's no big. If you don’t want to I totally understand. I- I probably shouldn’t have even asked,” Jason adds hurriedly.
But he does want to. This is interesting and new. “No. I’d like to. Thank you.” Orlando would tell him to go if he wanted.
Jason’s smile looks like one of complete relief, and excitement. “Cool. All right, Beck, I'll be back in an hour.”
Becky gives them both a half-smile and takes the i-stick from him before walking back to the counter. Elijah can hear the supposedly hushed conversation she’s having with another girl in a Tower tee. ‘I didn’t even get a chance to ask him. See? He’s going to lunch with that guy. I told you he was gay.’
'I don't think so, Beck. Don't freak out about it.'
Becky protests that she's 'not freaking out' but he's moved too far out of range for him to hear anymore.
The Food Court turns out to be an open-air square of tables in the center of a huge open space, the natural light filtering in from skylights above, and numerous fast food places running along the edge. It's busy, the tables and queues crowded.
“I’m going to grab a slice, you want? Or you can get whatever you want and we could meet up at a table?” Jason suggests.
“No. Pizza’s good.” He knows he likes pizza, and won’t have to stand there forever trying to make sense of the menu, or trying to figure out what something may, or may not, taste like. He knows that he can order pizza confidently.
Jason orders two slices to his one, and has most of the first slice devoured before they even sit down.
“Sorry, man, hungry,” he apologizes as they sit. “Say, what’s your name anyway? You don’t come with a little name tag.”
Elijah swallows his bite of pizza, blushing furiously- he should’ve introduced himself when Jason did. “It's Elijah.”
The conversation stalls a bit while Jason works on his second slice until he seems to notice something peculiar. “You eat slow.”
Elijah’s never really noticed before, and Orlando’s never commented. “S-sorry.”
Jason shrugs and wipes his mouth. “Not anything to be sorry for. My mom would probably say you eat like a civilized human being.”
Elijah laughs at inadvertent irony. He might be civilized, but he’s certainly not human. He also doesn’t admit that it is probably because he doesn’t know what true hunger feels like. Sure, he has a desire to taste things, and sometimes it’s so strong that his mouth waters, but it’s not like he feels like he’s dying... or, what’s that phrase? Starving to death.
“So,” Jason says when his pizza has finally vanished. Elijah notes the way Jason is shifting uncomfortably, shredding his napkin into little strips with his fingers, peeking up at him every few seconds. Thoughts crowd into Elijah’s head, old fears- does he know what I am? Can he tell? Did I do something wrong?
“Um. So. Do you, ah, have a girlfriend?”
Elijah blinks stupidly; it’s almost as if he can’t even comprehend the question.
“Oh, hey, sorry. That’s probably just none of my business-“
“No. That’s okay it’s just- I’m not-“ Elijah pauses to regroup. “I have a boyfriend.”
“Shit. That figures.” Jason says and there’s a smile on his lips that Elijah just can’t make out; it’s kind of sad, but he’s still smiling which confuses Elijah further.
“What figures?” Elijah asks setting down the rest of his pizza and wiping the grease from his fingers.
“The cute ones are always taken,” Jason mumbles.
“Sorry?” Elijah asks, even though he’s heard. He’s leaning so far forward that his plastic tray slips and hits Jason’s, causing Jason to jump and reach to save his soda. “Sorry.” Elijah says again, though this time it’s an apology of another sort.
“Not a problem,” Jason smiles, studying him for a moment. “What I said was, all the cute ones are taken.”
Elijah blushes. Is this flirting?
“I’m sorry, man.” Jason raises his palms in a 'stop' motion. “I shouldn’t be hitting on you. You have a boyfriend.”
“You are?” It is!
“Don’t even tell me you’ve been that sheltered.” Jason sounds amused. “I shouldn’t be, though. I could get fired if you reported me. Inappropriate behavior,” Jason mocks, his fingers making air-quotes. “It’s just that... you seem different... like you’re nice. Maybe it’s because you’re polite. I dunno.”
Elijah can see that Jason’s blushing, and rubbing at the back of his neck, and Elijah can’t think of a single thing to say. He’s so used to being wanted for what he is, that he can’t imagine someone wanting him for who he is.
Jason sighs. “I guess it shouldn’t surprise me- that you have a boyfriend.”
“W-why?”
“All the good ones are taken," Jason smirks. "My mom keeps joking that I’d better start saving my money so that someday I can buy myself a Realistic.”
Elijah keeps his face neutral as he asks the question that’s burning inside him, “Would you? Buy yourself a Realistic?”
Jason laughs and scuffs a spot on the floor with the toe of his trainers. “Nah. I think they’re creepy. I think the idea of it is creepy. Besides, I wouldn’t want someone who did everything I said, and liked everything I liked, that would be boring.”
Elijah considers this silently. “What if… What if they thought for themselves?”
Jason’s eyebrow quirks, and he shrugs after a minute. “I dunno. I- I just can’t imagine it. I mean they’re robots. They’re programmed. I just don’t see how it could happen.
Elijah knows, but he simply smiles and says nothing.
“Would you? Ever want one, that is?” Jason asks.
Elijah shakes his head vehemently. "No. They're slaves and they don't even know it."
Jason snorts softly and nods. "Yeah, definitely no robot-lovers for me. Unless my hand falls off. I might think about it then."
Elijah knows Jason is joking, it's in his wink.
“Shit. Break’s over,” Jason sighs as he glances at his watch. “Listen, I hope I didn’t offend you or anything… asking about your personal life. It was just worth a shot, you know?”
“You didn’t,” Elijah assures with a smile. He follows Jason's cue and rises, disposing of his garbage in the bin. “It was … kind of nice of you to say.”
It’s like being on the inside for once.
Jason smiles as they head back to the store. “I’ll say this much. If that boyfriend of yours ever starts treating you like shit… come find me, okay? I’ll be working here until college is finished," Jason grins, "or I get fired for showing up late.”
Elijah knows that will never happen. Orlando has been good to him, and when it's over he'll be returned to the Company, but it's nice to be offered.
He prepares to leave the store with more than a thousand credits’ worth of music downloaded onto his stick, and Jason with a sizeable commission coming to him.
“Really hope I get to see you again sometime. Though I doubt it’ll be anytime soon,” Jason says with a nod toward his bag.
“You never know,” Elijah responds enigmatically, leaving it open, leaving it like he expects real people do, before walking away.
*
It takes him the rest of the week to listen to it all, categorize it and make his own play-lists. He separates out his favorites, the stuff he absolutely can’t wait to share with Orli, then listens to it all again.
“You were dancing?”
Elijah can hear Orlando chuckle.
“Mmmhmm. In my boxers.” Elijah says hoping for another snicker, which he gets.
“I can’t wait to see that.”
I can’t either, he thinks but keeps it to himself.
“How-how’s it going with Veronica?” Not that he doesn’t know; not that the gossip doesn’t filter daily through the television. He hasn't mentioned Jason but it's eating at him.
“Fine. I think she’s in love with being in love.”
Orlando’s reply is cryptic at best, and Elijah doesn’t really understand understand the tone of Orlando’s voice. Is that irritation or infatuation?
“Lij? You still there?”
“Yeah,” he answers glumly looking up at the bare walls.
“I don’t feel the same way about her. You know that, right?” Orlando asks, his voice faintly pleading.
But he doesn’t.
”The clerk at the music store hit on me,” he blurts out. He’s not even sure why except there’s something tight and hot, like a pressure in side him, and he’s hoping that the words will relieve it. They don’t.
“Hit on you? Like, he asked you out on a date or something?”
“He would’ve, I think, but I told him I had a boyfriend.”
“You make it sound like it’s a bad thing.” Orlando’s voice sounds a little strained. “Did you want to, Elijah?”
“No. It was … it was just nice. He thought I was real, you know? He said he thought I was nice. I’m sorry.” Oh, he’s fucked this up but good.
“Did you want to be with him? Over me?” Orlando’s voice sounds hollow and the delay is making a very frustrating conversation even more so.
Elijah considers his answer, because Orlando’s asked him to, and because part of him has been trying to figure out the answer, too.
In theory, it wouldn't really matter which one of then he spends time with, because the ending will always be the same. He cannot go with them when they die. And Jason was attractive, in his own way. But with Orlando…
Elijah thinks about that kiss, that first, electrifying kiss and every exhilarating one since, and he knows that there is no way he way he’d have that with Jason. He doesn’t know how, or why, but he knows it.
“Lij?”
“I want to be with you.”
He hears the long pause and waits, a little expectantly, for the outrage to pour through the phone. He waits for Orlando to tell him he’s not to leave the house, that he belongs to Orlando, any number of ugly things. It’s a heavy, pregnant pause and Elijah just wishes Orlando would get it over with already.
“Orli? Are you there?” Are you speed dialing The Company?
“Yeah, I’m here. I just... I’ve got to go now and I-“
”I didn’t mean to make you worry that I'd do anything. Because I wouldn't.” Elijah’s fingertips tingle- he can’t even get away with a half-true lie, not even for a second. It's because… he might have.
“We’ll talk about this later.”
“I won’t go out, if you don’t want me too.”
“I think…I think I can trust you, can’t I?”
“Yes.” Elijah nearly drops the phone. His hand is numb.
“You’re lying to me aren’t you?”
“Yes,” his reply gusts out of him
“Why?”
“Because I- I need to make sure you’re happy.”
“You don’t have to make sure I’m anything. It’s your life. I want you to do what makes you happy. You’re not a thing I can control-“
“But I am,” Elijah says quietly into the phone. And maybe that’s the problem here. He’s not supposed to have a thought or opinion of his own, yet Orlando’s setting him free. “I need you to tell me how you want me to be.”
“I can’t, Lij. I want you to be you. Even if that means you want somebody else."
Elijah clutches the phone to his ear and the vacuum of the line mimics the emptiness he feels inside. He doesn’t want that. He doesn’t really want Jason or anyone else. Just Orlando. The only thing he thinks he ever wanted was the opportunity… just to know that he could.
“Orli? I’m sorry. I don’t… I don’t want anyone else. I shouldn’t have brought it up. I just, it’s just that … I hate being here by myself.”
The silence as he waits for Orlando’s reply is nearly too much. He almost begins to wonder if Orlando hung up, but the call still shows as being connected.
“I know, Lij." Orlando's tone is so apologetic. "It won’t be much longer and I’ll be home, okay? I know this is hard on you. It's hard on me too. But I don’t want you to stop going out. I don’t want you to stop being you just because you think I won’t like it. I’m different from all the rest, Lij, someday you’ll see. I promise. I’ve got to go. I fucking wish I didn’t…”
Me too.
"I promise. You'll see. I'll make this all up to you and more."
"You don't have to promise me anything, Orli."
"Yeah. I do. I'll call you soon," Orlando says in a rush. Elijah stares at the phone, this time the call shows clearly that it's been disconnected. He should have never gone out, never admitted what he'd done, but he had to be honest. He just hopes Orlando meant what he said, and that he's not mad.
*
Tara calls him one Saturday morning and asks if he’d like to go to a street fair.
“What’s that?” he asks. He can't see what a street fair has to do with a wedding, but he hadn't expected to be tasting cakes the previous Wednesday, either.
“Well, this one is an art show," she explains patiently. "There will be potters and painters and all different kinds of things; the city blocks off the street so you can walk through it and browse for art. It’s really cool. Oh and they have this popcorn that's so good! It’s kinda sweet and salty-- it’s just the best. You’ll love it.”
“Are you trying to bribe me with food?” he teases, smiling into the phone, sensing that she’s laying it on a bit thick. Elijah’s learned that when Tara wants something she uses bribery. She's very good at getting what she wants.
“Yeah,” she replies sheepishly. “I want to go and Ron is soooo not into these things. He says they’re boring and I don’t want to go by myself. I thought you might like it better than sitting home all day.”
“What makes you think I was planning to sit home all day?” he challenges, even though he most definitely was. He watches the dust motes dance in the beams of early morning light spilling in through the kitchen window.
“You- Oh, hey, I’m sorry, Elijah. I just -"
“I’m kidding, Tara," he cuts her off brightly.
“You little bugger! You’re going to pay for that! I’ll be by to pick you up in half an hour.”
"But I didn't say I'd go!" he protests.
"I told you you'd pay! Payment is joining me for a day at the street fair! Thirty minutes!" she crows gleefully before hanging up on him.
*
The fair is more than he expected - tent after tent filled with all kinds of art. He’s drawn to one artist’s abstracts in particular. He doesn’t know why-- maybe it’s their almost fluid-looking design, or the colors: deep teals and purples with hints of gold and vermeil.
“You like those, don’t you?” Tara asks, linking her arm with his in one of her familiar, friendly gestures. It’s such a little thing, but it fills him with joy.
“Yeah, they’re pretty cool. Do you think Orli would like them?”
“Sure! I think he'd like anything you like."
“Maybe I should-“
“Don’t wait, Elijah! If you like them, get them- otherwise they’ll be sold.
“And I don't ever do anything twice, so those pieces are one of a kind,” the artist adds in a soft voice, with a welcoming smile. "No pressure, just letting you know."
Elijah returns his smile, and thinks of the austere walls at home. Not just Orli’s home, his too, and he'd love to add his own little stamp.
“They're lovely. I’ll take them.”
"All right, I'll wrap them for you."
Those two paintings turn out to be just the beginning. He picks out a watercolor scene of the ocean as it once was: bright and blue and beautiful, and then two framed batik fish in vivid colors. He's considering another piece, yet another fish scene, when Tara reminds him he's already got quite a fish-themed collection going; not that he needs the reminder, it’s just that he needs her willpower, apparently.
“Geez, Lij, why don’t you just buy an aquarium. I know the fish to stock it are insanely expensive but it seems like it’d be worth the investment.”
“A what?” he asks as they sit on a little bench so Tara can rest her feet and he can try the popcorn she just purchased.
“Tell me again why I wore heels to this?” she moans and flexes her ankles.
“I don’t really know."
Tara laughs in the bright sunlight and it’s a completely delightful sound. “It was a rhetorical question, babe. I’m just saying that I think I was pretty stupid for wearing these shoes when I knew we were going to be doing a lot of walking.”
Elijah eyes her shoes and thinks that is a valid, albeit belated observation, though he’s wise enough to keep his mouth shut.
He focuses on the popcorn instead; it’s just as she said it’d be- sweet and salty and very, very good. “I’m glad you asked me to come today.”
She shrugs and smiles and shades her eyes against the sun. “I thought you'd appreciate getting out and doing something other than wedding-related stuff.”
"I didn't mind tasting the cakes," he admits. He knows she's just bringing him along because Orlando asked her to. He hasn’t done anything more than accompany her on various appointments.
She grins as she scoops up a handful of popcorn. “Just wait until we visit the caterer." She waggles her brows. "Ron doesn't know what he's missing."
Elijah suspects Ron does. Standing around watching her debate between black tuxes and charcoal gray tuxes is something he wouldn't mind never having to sit through again.
"I think that you should invest in an aquarium. You seem to be fascinated with fish," she comments, nodding toward the bags of wrapped artwork at his feet.
“Real fish?”
“Is there any other kind?” she laughs.
“The kind like me, I guess,” he replies in answer, thinking of the screensaver back at the Company. Those trapped little virtual fish.
“There are no fish like you, silly,” she says softly. “So, do you want to check out some aquariums?”
There’s nothing like me, he thinks and imagines one of those little virtual fish simply disappearing off the screen, making its escape, never to return. The thought makes him smile.
“Yeah. I do,” he smiles. And he'll get a little blue fish, just like the one on the screen.
*
Tara's simple suggestion, and his assent, eventually leads to the purchase of one huge tank and a multitude of fish.
“Fuck, this thing is heavy!” Ron gasps as he helps Elijah heave the tank onto the top of Orlando’s stately looking sideboard. “How’d you get this here anyway?”
“The store delivered it.”
“Oh.” Ron says as they center it. Not that that's hard, it takes up the entire surface. "Why didn't you have them set it up for you?"
"I wasn't sure where I was going to put it."
"I can see why-it's freaking huge." The three of them stand back and survey it. “This is going to look pretty cool once you get it all set up.”
“I think so.” Elijah runs his fingers over the glass. “I bought sand, and rocks, and a kit to emulate the lost city of Atlantis.”
”And a pirate ship. Don’t forget that,” Tara pipes up as she drops onto the couch and props her feet on the coffee table.
“Will that take long?” Ron says.
“Oh, I think Elijah’s going to be at this all night,” Tara sighs. Elijah smiles as she drops her head back and closes her eyes. “He’s worn me out, Ron."
"It was your idea," Elijah reminds. She simply moans at him in response.
"You must've tired her out. She can't even argue with you." Ron looks impressed.
Elijah laughs. "I think it's going to take a while to do. I have to put the stuff in and fill the tank and get the water ready."
"Do you need Ron to help you with that?" Tara grins.
"But you always know how to do everything," Ron replies with a saccharine sweetness that Elijah just knows is a joke.
She cracks one eye and blows a half-hearted raspberry at him.
"I think I'll be all right," Elijah assures.
“How about you give us a call when you get it set up?” Ron asks as he walks to the couch and pulls Tara to her feet with gentle, encouraging words.
“Yeah,” Tara agrees with a yawn.
"We'll bring dinner and have a show." Ron nods toward the tank.
“Okay,” Elijah agrees.
“I’m beat, honey,” Tara mumbles as she rests her chin on Ron's arm and closes her eyes.
“All right, let's go.” Ron gives her shoulder a squeeze, but he stops mid-turn, forcing her to open her eyes. “Wait. I just wanted to say thank you to Elijah here, because it seems that when you’re shopping with someone who’s spending money, you don’t feel the need to.”
Tara makes a sound like pfttttt and swats Ron playfully.
“Give us a call, okay? The number is in Orli’s speed dial, I know because I put it there myself.”
Elijah nods and smiles as he walks them to the door. "You're always looking after him."
"Maybe now I won't have to work so hard at it," she whispers as she drops a kiss on his cheek. "Goodnight."
*
Elijah stands before the phone, shifting nervously from foot to foot, before he picks up the handset. He has never made a personal phone call before. He’s answered the phone, he's called for cars and to make dinner reservations; he has seen every one of his owners make a call, but he has never made a call for himself. He has never had anyone to call - today is a banner day.
He doesn’t have far to scroll on the menu, there’s only one number programmed into this new phone. He hesitates before hitting the send button. What if they were just being nice? What if they didn’t really want him to call? He could debate that all day.
He hits the send key.
“Hello?”
“Tara? It’s Elijah.” This feels so strange, but exciting, or it will be... if she sounds happy to hear from him.
“Hey, Lij!" He smiles, relieved by the tone of her voice. "Ron and I were just talking about you. We were wondering if you got the aquarium set up? Ron was afraid it might’ve fallen on you.”
Elijah can hear Ron in the background distinctly denying this.
He grins into the phone. “Yeah, it’s done. Except the pirate ship. I didn't realize it was a model I had to build first." He’s saved a spot for it though.
“But you’re ready for us to come see it? I think Ron’s extra excited because it’s an excuse for him to order pizza. I don’t let him have it very much. I want to make sure he’ll fit in his tux,” she says laughingly. Elijah can hear Ron grumbling about this fact in the background, and it makes him smile even more. “So, what do you like on your pizza?”
Elijah’s had exactly three slices of pizza- one cheese, one all dressed, and one with just pepperoni, but he knows which of those he’d rather have- it’s a choice- his own. “Everything. I like mine all dressed.”
“Oh, Ron is going to love you, honey,” she chuckles. “Give us an hour, okay?”
“Sure.”
He’s not going anywhere.
*
“That is … really fucking impressive,” Ron marvels as he walks up to the huge tank.
Elijah smiles proudly. He worked on it four in the morning but now it is full of brightly colored fish, the replica of an imagined Atlantis, a starfish, seaweed, and a huge piece of driftwood with holes for the fish to swim through.
“What do you think Orli’s going to say?” Ron asks as he leans forward to investigate everything.
Elijah worries his bottom lip. “I hope he likes it. Do you think I shouldn’t have done this?”
“Oh, hey, I didn't mean to make you think he wouldn't.” Ron gives him a worried little smile. “I think it’s cool. I mean, it could be that you liked stuffed bunnies -“
“What’s that, honey?” Tara interrupts her fiancé, an edge audible in her voice.
“Nothing.” Ron puts his hands up. Elijah doesn’t miss Ron's pleading eye-dart, but he isn't sure what to make of it.
“Are you saying you don’t like my collection of stuffed bunnies?”
That’s what the look was for. Elijah slinks out of their way, leaving Ron to smooth things over, and busies himself filling glasses with ice and soda. He is quite fond of the way the carbonation feels on his tongue.
“Hey, what are these?” Ron asks of the still wrapped pieces of art leaning against the wall.
“The paintings and things I bought at the art fair," he replies.
"You're going to have to hang those soon, Orli will be back before you know it."
"Not soon enough," Elijah confesses but he can't repress the eager grin that spreads across his face at the thought. It’s been too long - eight weeks! Two whole months. Orlando has apologized over and over for the delay. There was a fire on one of the key sets and filming was stalled while they rebuilt. Elijah has done his best to be understanding.
"Five days," Tara smiles at him. "Not long."
"Yeah," he agrees, but that's not true when there are millions of miles still between him and Orlando.
“You mind if I put the game on?” Ron asks, waving the remote at him. Elijah smiles and shakes his head.
The game in question turns out to be basketball, which he likes to watch, mostly because he likes the frenetic back and forth. He sits on the couch with Tara, doling out the pizza, when Veronica’s name catches his attention. Whenever Veronica’s name is uttered it’s invariably followed by Orlando’s and this time is no exception.
Be sure to catch tonight’s Access Entertainment where we catch up with Veronica James on the set as her latest film wraps. We asked her to give us all the dirty details on her hot and heavy relationship with co-star Orlando Bloom. Join us as Veronica reveals all! You won’t want to miss it! the voiceover exhorts gleefully.
“Tell me you’re not watching that crap?” Tara says softly, knocking his knee with her own.
"What?" Ron asks, looking over at them.
"I wasn't talking to you Lord of the Recliner." She waves Ron off with a shooing motion and he turns back to the television without any protest. “You know it’s all just gossip on their part and an act on his, right?”
Elijah nods his head, but doesn’t look at her. He tries to hide the fact that he’s pressing his fingertips into the palms of his hand, trying to ignore the numbness that flares with his lie.
“The movie company has what they want. They're happy now, or happier, at least. That’s all it’s for,” she says as she rests her chin on his shoulder and rubs his back in small, slow circles. “He’d really rather be here with you. And I would know.”
When he turns to look at her, trying desperately to think of a response that isn’t a lie and will appease her, he finds her making a face - her eyes are crossed and her tongue is sticking out the side of her mouth, and he … laughs. “What are you doing?”
“Just that, honey. Just wanted to see you smile.”
And it’s in that moment that he finally understands what friends are for, and why they’re so important.
“Thanks, Tara. Thank you for being my friend.”
“Well of course, sweetie! Why wouldn’t I be?”
Elijah smiles at her. She wouldn't understand. He doesn’t bother to tell her that no one ever had been before, or wanted to. They didn't think he was real enough to deserve it.
She gives him a squeeze on the shoulder before taking a bit of her pizza while he continues to smile at her.
“What? What is it? Do I have pizza on my face?” she asks as she snags a napkin and starts wiping her mouth.
“No.” Elijah shakes his head and her brow arches suspiciously. “What? What is it then?”
Elijah shrugs, and shakes his head a little. He’s just happy. There really isn’t any way to tell her the depth of it, or the why of it. It’s just feeling everything all at once- the new clothes and new music, the fish that he picked out himself and the clerk at the record store hitting on him. It’s them being here for him, but most of all it's Orlando. Because without Orlando he wouldn't have any of this.
"Nothing," he answers softly, giving her a smile. "I just wish it was Friday."
"It'll be here before you know it," she winks.
Tbc…
Author: theartoffic
Type: LOTR RPS AU
Pairing: Orlando/Elijah
Rating: Adult
Summary: In the 21st century Artificial Intelligence is still in its infancy, some scientists toy with the idea of creating robots that look, and act, and think like human beings; in the future they are going to succeed. Realistics look real, feel real, and, at a glance, cannot be distinguished from the ones who made them. They are the result of hundreds of years of AI evolution, they are beautiful, perfect, and expensive, but to society at large they are not real. This is the story of one such Realistic.
A/N: Complete and will be posted as each chapter is beta'd. Previous chapters can be found by the tag :)
Beta: the amazing lisabellex <3
The American Heritage Science Dictionary
artificial intelligence
The ability of a computer or other machine to perform actions thought to require intelligence. Among these actions are logical deduction and inference, creativity, the ability to make decisions based on past experience or insufficient or conflicting information, and the ability to understand spoken language.
.... or the ability to love.
Banner: the lovely aranel80
Four days pass before Orlando’s long-distance coaxing finally urges him out the door; that, and the fact that he can’t take being cooped up in the house alone anymore. He is keenly aware of the irony in his current situation; he has always wanted to be able to come and go as he pleased, dreamed of it in his own fashion, but now that he finally has the opportunity, the permission, he is afraid.
But he promised Orlando that he'd go, so he rings for a car and waits nervously by the door. Three times he almost calls back to cancel, but the car arrives before he actually follows through and he’s not about to send the driver back and have them think that he’s trouble.
"How are you today, sir?" the driver inquires pleasantly as Elijah steps out the door.
Sir. The driver doesn't know. It gives him a secret thrill. "Fine, thank you."
"Are you ready to go, sir?" The driver grips the open door as a subtle cue.
Elijah realizes he's still standing on the front step. He closes his hand around the little plastic card and smiles. "Yes."
*
It is late afternoon, still sunny and warm, when he is dropped off at his destination, and the streets are filled with people, rushing past him like a river, barely sparing him a glance as he stares up at the store fronts. He has no idea where to begin.
He wanders up the street, looking in the windows, immediately dismissing those that remind him of his previous owners - those with tailored suits or dark colors. He may not know what he likes, but he knows what he doesn't.
An eclectic-looking clothing store catches his eye, the colors in the windows and the loud music booming through the open door. It’s a trendy place, he thinks, Daniel might have shopped here, but none of his other owners; there's not a distinguished article of clothing in sight.
He stares at the racks upon racks of clothes, feeling lost. His previous owners always chose everything for him, dressed him to their predilections, and he has to wonder if he has any taste of his own.
“Help you find anything?”
Elijah turns at the query and then at the girl. She's young and just as brilliant as her surroundings, with a shock of multicolored hair and a bright purple ring in her lip.
"What? Never seen a pretty girl before?"
Even her eyebrows are colorful, he notices as she arches them, and the longer he stares the higher they go, until he realizes that she might be mistaking his curiosity for an insult. "Not one so colorful," he blurts; immediately he can see that he's made a mistake. "I mean, your hair." He's not making this any better. "I'm sorry, I just… It's pretty… your hair."
"You don't get out much, do you?" she asks dryly.
He shakes his head. Maybe he should just go. He could try this all again another day. "I just… I don’t know what to get. I don't… I'll just-”
She considers him silently for a moment, her eyes narrowing, and he's pretty sure she'll just walk away, but her lips press into a tight-lipped smile. “Are you shopping for you, or someone else?”
“Me,” he replies hopefully.
"Special occasion?"
He shakes his head. "I just need some new clothes. I don't have many and I have… no idea."
She takes pity on him then-- at least, he thinks she does, going by her grin. "Okay. All right. It is my job after all. What are you interested in?"
He glances around unsurely.
"How about this," she suggests, "what do you need?"
"I have a suit," he tells her. "And these," he nods to the khakis and dress shirt, but they came from the Company and he'd be more than happy to get rid of them.
"Oh, honey," she sighs, her nose wrinkling sympathetically, "looks like we've got some shopping to do. Come on, we'll see if we can't find something you'll like."
He follows her around the store until his arms are full of clothes, some he even selected himself.
“You’d better start trying this stuff on,” she says as she leads him toward the changing rooms in the back. “Feel free to come on out and show me if you want another opinion. I'd be more than happy to help.”
Elijah blushes when she winks at him.
“Are you... hitting on me?” he asks curiously. He’s witnessed this type of banter in movies, even some of Orli's, and he just wants to make sure he’s got it figured out.
She laughs, but it's not cruel. “Just trying to be helpful, sweetie,” she grins, dropping him another wink, as she snaps the curtains shut, closeting him in the small cubicle with the huge mound of clothes.
He tries them all on and finds it strange... staring at himself in the mirror and trying to decide what he likes. There is no one here to judge, no one to cluck dismissively and say ‘nah I hate it’ like Karl used to, or ‘I want you to wear this, Elijah’ like David had. There is just him, and he thinks this task may be beyond him.
But Orlando wants him to do this. Scratch that. Orlando’d like for him to do this. And he wants to, it’s just… hard. He stares at himself in his current ensemble, a pair of strategically worn and stylishly faded jeans, and a black t-shirt. The pants are comfortable and he thinks, possibly, they make him look all right.
Elijah opens the curtains and steps out of the little cubicle; he stands in the entrance of the dressing room and scans the store for the clerk.
She appears in the doorway, her vivid brows raised. “What’s the matter honey? Do you need another size or something?”
Elijah blushes, her arms are full of garments and he knows he really shouldn’t be bothering her.
She grins for some reason; he’s not exactly sure what to make of it because he’s not smiling, but it makes him comfortable enough to ask, “I was wondering what you think of these?”
She looks at him, judging him for a moment, then takes a quick peek around. “Turn around, honey,” she says with a sort of … well, wicked smile. Devious, maybe. He has never quite been able to classify it, mainly because he’s never dared to ask anyone what they were thinking when they smiled like that.
He turns around, chewing his bottom lip, and waits.
“How do they feel?” she asks, pauses for a moment, and then, “Are they comfortable?”
“Yes.”
"Well, they look good to me. Sexy."
He peeks over his shoulder, wondering why she drawled out the word 'good' the way she did; her brows shoot up, making him suspicious… like she’s been caught at something. Is she lying?
“Oh, hey, I didn’t- I didn’t mean anything by it, mister. I just-“ Elijah can see her blush and her eyes have gone round with worry.
“Please don’t say anything,” she whispers finally. "I mean, I was just answering your question. They look good. Really. I'm not just saying that because I work on commission."
Elijah just stands there, completely at a loss as to why she looks so nervous.
“I know this is just a crappy retail job, but I really need it. I didn’t mean to stare at your butt. I mean it was all just innocent, you know?”
Elijah blinks as the comprehension sinks in. “So, they make my butt look good?”
The girl looks almost petrified, and doesn’t answer.
“Please? I'd like to know.” He gives her what he hopes is a reassuring smile.
She laughs a little then, and nods. “Yeah, they look… really good on you. I don’t think you could put on much that wouldn't.”
Elijah’s brows furrow when she mashes her lips together and shakes her head.
“I better stop before I get in trouble," she sighs softly. "They look really good on you. Do you need anything else?”
Elijah shakes his head and retreats into the cubicle again. He doesn’t really understand what just transpired, but she did say the jeans look good and, as he stands there trying to check out his own ass, he decides to trust what she said and buy them.
He didn't realize it would take so long to select clothes; he spends almost as long trying to decide between all of the shirts, most of them pretty much the same thing - t-shirts in different colors- as he did trying them all on. The button-up style dress shirts that Karl would’ve liked stay in the pile, untouched.
He prefers the color of a couple of the t-shirts over the others and selects those; it’s a start at least, and folds and hangs the rest of the clothing into neat piles, leaving them on the bench as the sign indicates.
The first few items that he has ever chosen for himself, he holds almost reverently as he approaches the register.
“I need to see them, sir.” The checkout clerk, a young girl with a shock of orange hair - reminding him of the orange juice which he loves - wears a bit of an exasperated look as she stands there with her hand out.
“I love your hair,” he tells her, still staring at it.
She nods, once, and continues to stare at him. “I, um, still need to see the items, sir.”
“Oh, sorry,” he apologizes as he thrusts the garments at her, making her jump back a little and give him a wary look. He blushes furiously as he hands over the plastic card as payment, wishing he hadn't made such a scene, but she’s doesn’t seem to notice.
She thanks him, tells him to have a nice day, but it's strangely robotic. He wonders … but no, she wouldn't be.
When he walks out of the store, holding his purchases properly by the handle of the bag and not as if someone is out to rob him of them, he feels a sense of pride and accomplishment, but he’s also had enough for one day. He never thought that having to make so many decisions would be so… tiring. Well, 'tiring' isn’t exactly the right word for it-- he doesn't feel weary, but he needs a break.
He calls the car to take him home.
*
“I think she was probably checking out your ass,” Orli snickers when they speak next and he asks about the sales girl’s reaction.
“My ass?” Elijah echoes.
“Yeah. Can’t say as I blame her, really. Though, it does make me jealous, her being able to ogle you and me being stuck here.”
Elijah appreciates that Orlando makes it sound like it's a hardship, even when the entertainment programs are broadcasting that Orlando is apparently interested in his lovely new co-star.
“So, what’s next?” Orlando asks.
“Next?”
“Yeah, you did the clothing thing," Orlando pauses, or perhaps it's just the delay. "Lij?"
"Y-yes?"
He hears Orlando's soft laughter in his ear and rests his ear against the phone to catch it. “What about music?" Orlando suggests. "Or… you could look for some prints for the walls.'”
“Prints?”
“Art. You know, crap to hang on the walls. Whatever you want. You didn’t seem to be too fond of the bare walls.”
Elijah glances around. “It’s like you don’t even live here,” he muses.
“I wasn’t.” Orlando’s voice echoes from a billion miles away. “I was just… existing ‘til you came along.”
Elijah clings to those words. They’re good, right? They mean something, probably more to him than Orlando.
“Shit. They’re calling me back to the set, Lij, I'm going to have to go."
"But … what should I get?"
Orlando laughs again. "Surprise me, okay? I've got to go."
Elijah wants to protest, but knows he can't. "I miss you," he blurts.
"And I miss you. I’ll talk to you tomorrow."
*
The next morning Elijah sips a small glass of orange juice in the quiet kitchen and wonders what to do with himself. He considers Orli’s suggestion - Music.
Just like the clothes, he’s never had the opportunity to choose any for himself, always deferring to his owner's preference as he had to. Most of them listened in passing, in the car, or as it played in the background at parties. David had been the most avid listener, his taste tending toward Country music, a genre that Elijah realizes, only now, he’d actively learned to tune out. Something about the steel guitar and sappy lyrics just grated on him, but there had been other music, and other songs, that he liked.
He rings for another car and this time there’s not so much fretting as he waits. In fact, he finds that he is eager for this... adventure. That’s what this is, at least in his head.
When the car passes over Three Points Bridge he glances at 'the spot'. The location where he tried, and failed, to end it all is nothing more than a nondescript stretch of railing that would mean very little to anyone else.
And it’s funny, he thinks as it flashes by, how little time has passed and how different he feels. The sense of desperation he felt that night is foreign to him now - when he’s so excited, and nervous, about being out on his own. He knows that this is just a bandage, some temporary scar tissue; he knows it won’t last forever, it is just a little reprieve, but he’s going to enjoy it... for as long as it lasts.
By the time the car drops him off in front of the huge music store on Vine, he finds the nerves have gone and he’s just really excited. He has never even been inside a music store before, most people purchase their music via computer these days, but in the cities there are still great bastions like Tower Media, who sell to those who still enjoy the social interaction of being out with others when they shop, and receiving personal service; at least, that’s what it says in their advertisement.
There are three floors of listening, viewing, and preview stations. Some are little cubicles with a shelf and computer screen, some have couches and big comfy chairs and large, chunky headphones. He glances at the chairs, but he's too fidgety to sit, so he watches a young girl standing in one of the booths, trying to figure out what she’s doing.
“Help you, dude?”
Elijah turns to face the young man addressing him. On some level, he is aware that he probably doesn’t look much older than the boy with the spiked-up, sandy colored hair and rumpled Tower Media t-shirt, but he’s bemused at being called ‘dude’. No one’s ever called him 'dude' before, not even Dan, who was probably this boy's- no, not boy- young man's age - twenty-one or twenty-two perhaps.
“I just- I’m looking for some music.”
The young man grins, nodding as he swings his gaze around; Elijah thinks he does a fairly passable job of camouflaging the ‘duh’ look.
“Well, you're in the right place. My name’s Jason, and if I can recommend something just let me know.”
“Anything!” Elijah blurts as Jason turns to walk away. “Except Country. I-“ He pauses, wondering if he should say what he’s thinking, but... it’s how he feels, and recognizing that is exhilarating. “I hate Country.”
“Me too. God, do I hate having to rec’ Country music,” Jason returns with a laugh. “So what are you into?”
“Into?”
“What kind of music do you like?”
“I don’t really know,” Elijah shrugs. He feels a bit self-conscious, foolish, like the day before with the clerk in the clothing store.
“You don’t know?” Jason's brow quirks.
“No.”
“No offense but where have you been? In prison or something?”
“Kind of,” Elijah replies with an apologetic smile. Jason stares at him harder. “I just- I wasn’t allowed to listen to music much.”
“Oh...” Jason says faintly, nodding. “Well, then..." Jason pauses a moment. "So, you’ve never heard anything that you liked?”
Elijah thinks, scanning his files as quickly as possible - Dan’s music- he liked some of that, he scrounges for the name of the band- “Audioslave?”
Jason whistles. “They’re old, but good. So, you like heavier stuff then," he muses, looking around. “Come on.”
Elijah follows Jason to one of the listening stations and slips on the headphones Jason offers. He watches as Jason taps the screen, cycling through artists and songs, until suddenly there is music flooding his ears. It’s wonderful, heavy, moody; he closes his eyes and listens.
The preview clip ends far too soon. “I want that. More like that,” he says, peering at the name of the band on screen.
“Cool. You’re an easy customer.” Jason smiles, “Where’s your stick?”
Stick? “Sorry?”
“Your i-stick? To download your music?" Jason prompts.
“I don’t-“
“You don’t even have one of those? Man,” Jason sighs. "You really have been out of it." Elijah thinks there might be a little pity in Jason's blue eyes. “Do you want me to hook you up with one? You can’t get the music without it.”
Elijah nods and feels foolish. How could he not know this stuff? “Yeah, sure. Sorry.”
“For what?” Jason asks, motioning for him to follow him to another section of the store.
“For not knowing.”
Jason snorts laughter and smiles at him. “It’s no big deal, man. Happens everyday. It’s part of the human condition.”
“What is?” Elijah’s curious to hear what else he could do to make himself more... more human.
“You learn something new every day. Like today, for instance, I learned that I should not rely on my drunken roommates to set my alarm for me when I’ve passed out the night before. I was so late for work.” Jason smirks ruefully. “Or maybe I learned that I’m getting too old to be out partying all night. I should be more responsible, right?”
Elijah shrugs. He doesn’t know the answer to that query, or if it even requires one. But he says, “Thank you,” anyway, appreciating that Jason tried to make him feel less awkward.
Jason guides him over to a display rack and looks up at him with a grin. “No problem, man, it’s just my job.”
He wonders what Jason thinks he’s said 'thank you' for, but he doubts it’s the same reason.
They spend the next half hour discussing which i-stick he should get. It turns out to be the most expensive one, but only because it holds the most music- which Jason suggests is what he needs when he finds out that Elijah owns no music at all. This earns him another look of pity.
“Hey, Jace, it’s, um, time for your break, if you want it," another associate interrupts. "I can take over here," she offers.
“Wow. It’s after one,” Jason says with surprise, and rubs his stomach absentmindedly.
Jason looks at him thoughtfully. Elijah recognizes that look. It’s the what-am-I-going-to-do-with-you look, and he shifts uncomfortably.
“Say, are you hungry?”
Elijah waits for the girl to respond, until he realizes that Jason is speaking to him. “I- I’m not done with this.” He holds up the music stick and looks back at the booth where they were selecting music.
“That’s okay. Becky here can hold on to this stuff for now, and the play list we’ve been working on will stay stored on the machine until they’re dumped tonight. I was just gonna go grab something in the Food Court, if you want? No pressure, I just thought you might be hungry.”
Elijah bites his bottom lip. Can he? Should he? He wonders if Orlando would let him.
“It's no big. If you don’t want to I totally understand. I- I probably shouldn’t have even asked,” Jason adds hurriedly.
But he does want to. This is interesting and new. “No. I’d like to. Thank you.” Orlando would tell him to go if he wanted.
Jason’s smile looks like one of complete relief, and excitement. “Cool. All right, Beck, I'll be back in an hour.”
Becky gives them both a half-smile and takes the i-stick from him before walking back to the counter. Elijah can hear the supposedly hushed conversation she’s having with another girl in a Tower tee. ‘I didn’t even get a chance to ask him. See? He’s going to lunch with that guy. I told you he was gay.’
'I don't think so, Beck. Don't freak out about it.'
Becky protests that she's 'not freaking out' but he's moved too far out of range for him to hear anymore.
The Food Court turns out to be an open-air square of tables in the center of a huge open space, the natural light filtering in from skylights above, and numerous fast food places running along the edge. It's busy, the tables and queues crowded.
“I’m going to grab a slice, you want? Or you can get whatever you want and we could meet up at a table?” Jason suggests.
“No. Pizza’s good.” He knows he likes pizza, and won’t have to stand there forever trying to make sense of the menu, or trying to figure out what something may, or may not, taste like. He knows that he can order pizza confidently.
Jason orders two slices to his one, and has most of the first slice devoured before they even sit down.
“Sorry, man, hungry,” he apologizes as they sit. “Say, what’s your name anyway? You don’t come with a little name tag.”
Elijah swallows his bite of pizza, blushing furiously- he should’ve introduced himself when Jason did. “It's Elijah.”
The conversation stalls a bit while Jason works on his second slice until he seems to notice something peculiar. “You eat slow.”
Elijah’s never really noticed before, and Orlando’s never commented. “S-sorry.”
Jason shrugs and wipes his mouth. “Not anything to be sorry for. My mom would probably say you eat like a civilized human being.”
Elijah laughs at inadvertent irony. He might be civilized, but he’s certainly not human. He also doesn’t admit that it is probably because he doesn’t know what true hunger feels like. Sure, he has a desire to taste things, and sometimes it’s so strong that his mouth waters, but it’s not like he feels like he’s dying... or, what’s that phrase? Starving to death.
“So,” Jason says when his pizza has finally vanished. Elijah notes the way Jason is shifting uncomfortably, shredding his napkin into little strips with his fingers, peeking up at him every few seconds. Thoughts crowd into Elijah’s head, old fears- does he know what I am? Can he tell? Did I do something wrong?
“Um. So. Do you, ah, have a girlfriend?”
Elijah blinks stupidly; it’s almost as if he can’t even comprehend the question.
“Oh, hey, sorry. That’s probably just none of my business-“
“No. That’s okay it’s just- I’m not-“ Elijah pauses to regroup. “I have a boyfriend.”
“Shit. That figures.” Jason says and there’s a smile on his lips that Elijah just can’t make out; it’s kind of sad, but he’s still smiling which confuses Elijah further.
“What figures?” Elijah asks setting down the rest of his pizza and wiping the grease from his fingers.
“The cute ones are always taken,” Jason mumbles.
“Sorry?” Elijah asks, even though he’s heard. He’s leaning so far forward that his plastic tray slips and hits Jason’s, causing Jason to jump and reach to save his soda. “Sorry.” Elijah says again, though this time it’s an apology of another sort.
“Not a problem,” Jason smiles, studying him for a moment. “What I said was, all the cute ones are taken.”
Elijah blushes. Is this flirting?
“I’m sorry, man.” Jason raises his palms in a 'stop' motion. “I shouldn’t be hitting on you. You have a boyfriend.”
“You are?” It is!
“Don’t even tell me you’ve been that sheltered.” Jason sounds amused. “I shouldn’t be, though. I could get fired if you reported me. Inappropriate behavior,” Jason mocks, his fingers making air-quotes. “It’s just that... you seem different... like you’re nice. Maybe it’s because you’re polite. I dunno.”
Elijah can see that Jason’s blushing, and rubbing at the back of his neck, and Elijah can’t think of a single thing to say. He’s so used to being wanted for what he is, that he can’t imagine someone wanting him for who he is.
Jason sighs. “I guess it shouldn’t surprise me- that you have a boyfriend.”
“W-why?”
“All the good ones are taken," Jason smirks. "My mom keeps joking that I’d better start saving my money so that someday I can buy myself a Realistic.”
Elijah keeps his face neutral as he asks the question that’s burning inside him, “Would you? Buy yourself a Realistic?”
Jason laughs and scuffs a spot on the floor with the toe of his trainers. “Nah. I think they’re creepy. I think the idea of it is creepy. Besides, I wouldn’t want someone who did everything I said, and liked everything I liked, that would be boring.”
Elijah considers this silently. “What if… What if they thought for themselves?”
Jason’s eyebrow quirks, and he shrugs after a minute. “I dunno. I- I just can’t imagine it. I mean they’re robots. They’re programmed. I just don’t see how it could happen.
Elijah knows, but he simply smiles and says nothing.
“Would you? Ever want one, that is?” Jason asks.
Elijah shakes his head vehemently. "No. They're slaves and they don't even know it."
Jason snorts softly and nods. "Yeah, definitely no robot-lovers for me. Unless my hand falls off. I might think about it then."
Elijah knows Jason is joking, it's in his wink.
“Shit. Break’s over,” Jason sighs as he glances at his watch. “Listen, I hope I didn’t offend you or anything… asking about your personal life. It was just worth a shot, you know?”
“You didn’t,” Elijah assures with a smile. He follows Jason's cue and rises, disposing of his garbage in the bin. “It was … kind of nice of you to say.”
It’s like being on the inside for once.
Jason smiles as they head back to the store. “I’ll say this much. If that boyfriend of yours ever starts treating you like shit… come find me, okay? I’ll be working here until college is finished," Jason grins, "or I get fired for showing up late.”
Elijah knows that will never happen. Orlando has been good to him, and when it's over he'll be returned to the Company, but it's nice to be offered.
He prepares to leave the store with more than a thousand credits’ worth of music downloaded onto his stick, and Jason with a sizeable commission coming to him.
“Really hope I get to see you again sometime. Though I doubt it’ll be anytime soon,” Jason says with a nod toward his bag.
“You never know,” Elijah responds enigmatically, leaving it open, leaving it like he expects real people do, before walking away.
*
It takes him the rest of the week to listen to it all, categorize it and make his own play-lists. He separates out his favorites, the stuff he absolutely can’t wait to share with Orli, then listens to it all again.
“You were dancing?”
Elijah can hear Orlando chuckle.
“Mmmhmm. In my boxers.” Elijah says hoping for another snicker, which he gets.
“I can’t wait to see that.”
I can’t either, he thinks but keeps it to himself.
“How-how’s it going with Veronica?” Not that he doesn’t know; not that the gossip doesn’t filter daily through the television. He hasn't mentioned Jason but it's eating at him.
“Fine. I think she’s in love with being in love.”
Orlando’s reply is cryptic at best, and Elijah doesn’t really understand understand the tone of Orlando’s voice. Is that irritation or infatuation?
“Lij? You still there?”
“Yeah,” he answers glumly looking up at the bare walls.
“I don’t feel the same way about her. You know that, right?” Orlando asks, his voice faintly pleading.
But he doesn’t.
”The clerk at the music store hit on me,” he blurts out. He’s not even sure why except there’s something tight and hot, like a pressure in side him, and he’s hoping that the words will relieve it. They don’t.
“Hit on you? Like, he asked you out on a date or something?”
“He would’ve, I think, but I told him I had a boyfriend.”
“You make it sound like it’s a bad thing.” Orlando’s voice sounds a little strained. “Did you want to, Elijah?”
“No. It was … it was just nice. He thought I was real, you know? He said he thought I was nice. I’m sorry.” Oh, he’s fucked this up but good.
“Did you want to be with him? Over me?” Orlando’s voice sounds hollow and the delay is making a very frustrating conversation even more so.
Elijah considers his answer, because Orlando’s asked him to, and because part of him has been trying to figure out the answer, too.
In theory, it wouldn't really matter which one of then he spends time with, because the ending will always be the same. He cannot go with them when they die. And Jason was attractive, in his own way. But with Orlando…
Elijah thinks about that kiss, that first, electrifying kiss and every exhilarating one since, and he knows that there is no way he way he’d have that with Jason. He doesn’t know how, or why, but he knows it.
“Lij?”
“I want to be with you.”
He hears the long pause and waits, a little expectantly, for the outrage to pour through the phone. He waits for Orlando to tell him he’s not to leave the house, that he belongs to Orlando, any number of ugly things. It’s a heavy, pregnant pause and Elijah just wishes Orlando would get it over with already.
“Orli? Are you there?” Are you speed dialing The Company?
“Yeah, I’m here. I just... I’ve got to go now and I-“
”I didn’t mean to make you worry that I'd do anything. Because I wouldn't.” Elijah’s fingertips tingle- he can’t even get away with a half-true lie, not even for a second. It's because… he might have.
“We’ll talk about this later.”
“I won’t go out, if you don’t want me too.”
“I think…I think I can trust you, can’t I?”
“Yes.” Elijah nearly drops the phone. His hand is numb.
“You’re lying to me aren’t you?”
“Yes,” his reply gusts out of him
“Why?”
“Because I- I need to make sure you’re happy.”
“You don’t have to make sure I’m anything. It’s your life. I want you to do what makes you happy. You’re not a thing I can control-“
“But I am,” Elijah says quietly into the phone. And maybe that’s the problem here. He’s not supposed to have a thought or opinion of his own, yet Orlando’s setting him free. “I need you to tell me how you want me to be.”
“I can’t, Lij. I want you to be you. Even if that means you want somebody else."
Elijah clutches the phone to his ear and the vacuum of the line mimics the emptiness he feels inside. He doesn’t want that. He doesn’t really want Jason or anyone else. Just Orlando. The only thing he thinks he ever wanted was the opportunity… just to know that he could.
“Orli? I’m sorry. I don’t… I don’t want anyone else. I shouldn’t have brought it up. I just, it’s just that … I hate being here by myself.”
The silence as he waits for Orlando’s reply is nearly too much. He almost begins to wonder if Orlando hung up, but the call still shows as being connected.
“I know, Lij." Orlando's tone is so apologetic. "It won’t be much longer and I’ll be home, okay? I know this is hard on you. It's hard on me too. But I don’t want you to stop going out. I don’t want you to stop being you just because you think I won’t like it. I’m different from all the rest, Lij, someday you’ll see. I promise. I’ve got to go. I fucking wish I didn’t…”
Me too.
"I promise. You'll see. I'll make this all up to you and more."
"You don't have to promise me anything, Orli."
"Yeah. I do. I'll call you soon," Orlando says in a rush. Elijah stares at the phone, this time the call shows clearly that it's been disconnected. He should have never gone out, never admitted what he'd done, but he had to be honest. He just hopes Orlando meant what he said, and that he's not mad.
*
Tara calls him one Saturday morning and asks if he’d like to go to a street fair.
“What’s that?” he asks. He can't see what a street fair has to do with a wedding, but he hadn't expected to be tasting cakes the previous Wednesday, either.
“Well, this one is an art show," she explains patiently. "There will be potters and painters and all different kinds of things; the city blocks off the street so you can walk through it and browse for art. It’s really cool. Oh and they have this popcorn that's so good! It’s kinda sweet and salty-- it’s just the best. You’ll love it.”
“Are you trying to bribe me with food?” he teases, smiling into the phone, sensing that she’s laying it on a bit thick. Elijah’s learned that when Tara wants something she uses bribery. She's very good at getting what she wants.
“Yeah,” she replies sheepishly. “I want to go and Ron is soooo not into these things. He says they’re boring and I don’t want to go by myself. I thought you might like it better than sitting home all day.”
“What makes you think I was planning to sit home all day?” he challenges, even though he most definitely was. He watches the dust motes dance in the beams of early morning light spilling in through the kitchen window.
“You- Oh, hey, I’m sorry, Elijah. I just -"
“I’m kidding, Tara," he cuts her off brightly.
“You little bugger! You’re going to pay for that! I’ll be by to pick you up in half an hour.”
"But I didn't say I'd go!" he protests.
"I told you you'd pay! Payment is joining me for a day at the street fair! Thirty minutes!" she crows gleefully before hanging up on him.
*
The fair is more than he expected - tent after tent filled with all kinds of art. He’s drawn to one artist’s abstracts in particular. He doesn’t know why-- maybe it’s their almost fluid-looking design, or the colors: deep teals and purples with hints of gold and vermeil.
“You like those, don’t you?” Tara asks, linking her arm with his in one of her familiar, friendly gestures. It’s such a little thing, but it fills him with joy.
“Yeah, they’re pretty cool. Do you think Orli would like them?”
“Sure! I think he'd like anything you like."
“Maybe I should-“
“Don’t wait, Elijah! If you like them, get them- otherwise they’ll be sold.
“And I don't ever do anything twice, so those pieces are one of a kind,” the artist adds in a soft voice, with a welcoming smile. "No pressure, just letting you know."
Elijah returns his smile, and thinks of the austere walls at home. Not just Orli’s home, his too, and he'd love to add his own little stamp.
“They're lovely. I’ll take them.”
"All right, I'll wrap them for you."
Those two paintings turn out to be just the beginning. He picks out a watercolor scene of the ocean as it once was: bright and blue and beautiful, and then two framed batik fish in vivid colors. He's considering another piece, yet another fish scene, when Tara reminds him he's already got quite a fish-themed collection going; not that he needs the reminder, it’s just that he needs her willpower, apparently.
“Geez, Lij, why don’t you just buy an aquarium. I know the fish to stock it are insanely expensive but it seems like it’d be worth the investment.”
“A what?” he asks as they sit on a little bench so Tara can rest her feet and he can try the popcorn she just purchased.
“Tell me again why I wore heels to this?” she moans and flexes her ankles.
“I don’t really know."
Tara laughs in the bright sunlight and it’s a completely delightful sound. “It was a rhetorical question, babe. I’m just saying that I think I was pretty stupid for wearing these shoes when I knew we were going to be doing a lot of walking.”
Elijah eyes her shoes and thinks that is a valid, albeit belated observation, though he’s wise enough to keep his mouth shut.
He focuses on the popcorn instead; it’s just as she said it’d be- sweet and salty and very, very good. “I’m glad you asked me to come today.”
She shrugs and smiles and shades her eyes against the sun. “I thought you'd appreciate getting out and doing something other than wedding-related stuff.”
"I didn't mind tasting the cakes," he admits. He knows she's just bringing him along because Orlando asked her to. He hasn’t done anything more than accompany her on various appointments.
She grins as she scoops up a handful of popcorn. “Just wait until we visit the caterer." She waggles her brows. "Ron doesn't know what he's missing."
Elijah suspects Ron does. Standing around watching her debate between black tuxes and charcoal gray tuxes is something he wouldn't mind never having to sit through again.
"I think that you should invest in an aquarium. You seem to be fascinated with fish," she comments, nodding toward the bags of wrapped artwork at his feet.
“Real fish?”
“Is there any other kind?” she laughs.
“The kind like me, I guess,” he replies in answer, thinking of the screensaver back at the Company. Those trapped little virtual fish.
“There are no fish like you, silly,” she says softly. “So, do you want to check out some aquariums?”
There’s nothing like me, he thinks and imagines one of those little virtual fish simply disappearing off the screen, making its escape, never to return. The thought makes him smile.
“Yeah. I do,” he smiles. And he'll get a little blue fish, just like the one on the screen.
*
Tara's simple suggestion, and his assent, eventually leads to the purchase of one huge tank and a multitude of fish.
“Fuck, this thing is heavy!” Ron gasps as he helps Elijah heave the tank onto the top of Orlando’s stately looking sideboard. “How’d you get this here anyway?”
“The store delivered it.”
“Oh.” Ron says as they center it. Not that that's hard, it takes up the entire surface. "Why didn't you have them set it up for you?"
"I wasn't sure where I was going to put it."
"I can see why-it's freaking huge." The three of them stand back and survey it. “This is going to look pretty cool once you get it all set up.”
“I think so.” Elijah runs his fingers over the glass. “I bought sand, and rocks, and a kit to emulate the lost city of Atlantis.”
”And a pirate ship. Don’t forget that,” Tara pipes up as she drops onto the couch and props her feet on the coffee table.
“Will that take long?” Ron says.
“Oh, I think Elijah’s going to be at this all night,” Tara sighs. Elijah smiles as she drops her head back and closes her eyes. “He’s worn me out, Ron."
"It was your idea," Elijah reminds. She simply moans at him in response.
"You must've tired her out. She can't even argue with you." Ron looks impressed.
Elijah laughs. "I think it's going to take a while to do. I have to put the stuff in and fill the tank and get the water ready."
"Do you need Ron to help you with that?" Tara grins.
"But you always know how to do everything," Ron replies with a saccharine sweetness that Elijah just knows is a joke.
She cracks one eye and blows a half-hearted raspberry at him.
"I think I'll be all right," Elijah assures.
“How about you give us a call when you get it set up?” Ron asks as he walks to the couch and pulls Tara to her feet with gentle, encouraging words.
“Yeah,” Tara agrees with a yawn.
"We'll bring dinner and have a show." Ron nods toward the tank.
“Okay,” Elijah agrees.
“I’m beat, honey,” Tara mumbles as she rests her chin on Ron's arm and closes her eyes.
“All right, let's go.” Ron gives her shoulder a squeeze, but he stops mid-turn, forcing her to open her eyes. “Wait. I just wanted to say thank you to Elijah here, because it seems that when you’re shopping with someone who’s spending money, you don’t feel the need to.”
Tara makes a sound like pfttttt and swats Ron playfully.
“Give us a call, okay? The number is in Orli’s speed dial, I know because I put it there myself.”
Elijah nods and smiles as he walks them to the door. "You're always looking after him."
"Maybe now I won't have to work so hard at it," she whispers as she drops a kiss on his cheek. "Goodnight."
*
Elijah stands before the phone, shifting nervously from foot to foot, before he picks up the handset. He has never made a personal phone call before. He’s answered the phone, he's called for cars and to make dinner reservations; he has seen every one of his owners make a call, but he has never made a call for himself. He has never had anyone to call - today is a banner day.
He doesn’t have far to scroll on the menu, there’s only one number programmed into this new phone. He hesitates before hitting the send button. What if they were just being nice? What if they didn’t really want him to call? He could debate that all day.
He hits the send key.
“Hello?”
“Tara? It’s Elijah.” This feels so strange, but exciting, or it will be... if she sounds happy to hear from him.
“Hey, Lij!" He smiles, relieved by the tone of her voice. "Ron and I were just talking about you. We were wondering if you got the aquarium set up? Ron was afraid it might’ve fallen on you.”
Elijah can hear Ron in the background distinctly denying this.
He grins into the phone. “Yeah, it’s done. Except the pirate ship. I didn't realize it was a model I had to build first." He’s saved a spot for it though.
“But you’re ready for us to come see it? I think Ron’s extra excited because it’s an excuse for him to order pizza. I don’t let him have it very much. I want to make sure he’ll fit in his tux,” she says laughingly. Elijah can hear Ron grumbling about this fact in the background, and it makes him smile even more. “So, what do you like on your pizza?”
Elijah’s had exactly three slices of pizza- one cheese, one all dressed, and one with just pepperoni, but he knows which of those he’d rather have- it’s a choice- his own. “Everything. I like mine all dressed.”
“Oh, Ron is going to love you, honey,” she chuckles. “Give us an hour, okay?”
“Sure.”
He’s not going anywhere.
*
“That is … really fucking impressive,” Ron marvels as he walks up to the huge tank.
Elijah smiles proudly. He worked on it four in the morning but now it is full of brightly colored fish, the replica of an imagined Atlantis, a starfish, seaweed, and a huge piece of driftwood with holes for the fish to swim through.
“What do you think Orli’s going to say?” Ron asks as he leans forward to investigate everything.
Elijah worries his bottom lip. “I hope he likes it. Do you think I shouldn’t have done this?”
“Oh, hey, I didn't mean to make you think he wouldn't.” Ron gives him a worried little smile. “I think it’s cool. I mean, it could be that you liked stuffed bunnies -“
“What’s that, honey?” Tara interrupts her fiancé, an edge audible in her voice.
“Nothing.” Ron puts his hands up. Elijah doesn’t miss Ron's pleading eye-dart, but he isn't sure what to make of it.
“Are you saying you don’t like my collection of stuffed bunnies?”
That’s what the look was for. Elijah slinks out of their way, leaving Ron to smooth things over, and busies himself filling glasses with ice and soda. He is quite fond of the way the carbonation feels on his tongue.
“Hey, what are these?” Ron asks of the still wrapped pieces of art leaning against the wall.
“The paintings and things I bought at the art fair," he replies.
"You're going to have to hang those soon, Orli will be back before you know it."
"Not soon enough," Elijah confesses but he can't repress the eager grin that spreads across his face at the thought. It’s been too long - eight weeks! Two whole months. Orlando has apologized over and over for the delay. There was a fire on one of the key sets and filming was stalled while they rebuilt. Elijah has done his best to be understanding.
"Five days," Tara smiles at him. "Not long."
"Yeah," he agrees, but that's not true when there are millions of miles still between him and Orlando.
“You mind if I put the game on?” Ron asks, waving the remote at him. Elijah smiles and shakes his head.
The game in question turns out to be basketball, which he likes to watch, mostly because he likes the frenetic back and forth. He sits on the couch with Tara, doling out the pizza, when Veronica’s name catches his attention. Whenever Veronica’s name is uttered it’s invariably followed by Orlando’s and this time is no exception.
Be sure to catch tonight’s Access Entertainment where we catch up with Veronica James on the set as her latest film wraps. We asked her to give us all the dirty details on her hot and heavy relationship with co-star Orlando Bloom. Join us as Veronica reveals all! You won’t want to miss it! the voiceover exhorts gleefully.
“Tell me you’re not watching that crap?” Tara says softly, knocking his knee with her own.
"What?" Ron asks, looking over at them.
"I wasn't talking to you Lord of the Recliner." She waves Ron off with a shooing motion and he turns back to the television without any protest. “You know it’s all just gossip on their part and an act on his, right?”
Elijah nods his head, but doesn’t look at her. He tries to hide the fact that he’s pressing his fingertips into the palms of his hand, trying to ignore the numbness that flares with his lie.
“The movie company has what they want. They're happy now, or happier, at least. That’s all it’s for,” she says as she rests her chin on his shoulder and rubs his back in small, slow circles. “He’d really rather be here with you. And I would know.”
When he turns to look at her, trying desperately to think of a response that isn’t a lie and will appease her, he finds her making a face - her eyes are crossed and her tongue is sticking out the side of her mouth, and he … laughs. “What are you doing?”
“Just that, honey. Just wanted to see you smile.”
And it’s in that moment that he finally understands what friends are for, and why they’re so important.
“Thanks, Tara. Thank you for being my friend.”
“Well of course, sweetie! Why wouldn’t I be?”
Elijah smiles at her. She wouldn't understand. He doesn’t bother to tell her that no one ever had been before, or wanted to. They didn't think he was real enough to deserve it.
She gives him a squeeze on the shoulder before taking a bit of her pizza while he continues to smile at her.
“What? What is it? Do I have pizza on my face?” she asks as she snags a napkin and starts wiping her mouth.
“No.” Elijah shakes his head and her brow arches suspiciously. “What? What is it then?”
Elijah shrugs, and shakes his head a little. He’s just happy. There really isn’t any way to tell her the depth of it, or the why of it. It’s just feeling everything all at once- the new clothes and new music, the fish that he picked out himself and the clerk at the record store hitting on him. It’s them being here for him, but most of all it's Orlando. Because without Orlando he wouldn't have any of this.
"Nothing," he answers softly, giving her a smile. "I just wish it was Friday."
"It'll be here before you know it," she winks.
Tbc…