Chapter Text
Sonja slid a key into the keyhole of the worn-down door, pushing the door open. It creaked loudly as it did, eventually running into the wall behind it with a dull thud. He'd step inside, brushing off his shoes on the old carpet on the ground. There was some old blood stains on it from past endeavors.
None of the lights were on, but Sonja would fix that by reaching over to the wall to flip on a lightswitch. Two out of the three lights in the entryway had burnt-out bulbs, and the third one was barely hanging onto life. But it was enough to see some of the apartment behind the smaller android. It was fairly well-kept, but it was clear that the rest of the building being in shambles was starting to take a toll on the structure of the room itself.
Cracked walls, chipping paint, an unexplainable amount of dust everywhere, even in high-traffic areas. Nearly all of the drywall on one wall had fallen off. Looked like a shithole.
"Why are you still here?"
Sonja asked as he looked up at Charon, who stood outside the apartment.
"I WANTED TO MAKE SURE YOU ARRIVED TO YOUR... HOME SAFELY."
Charon didn't know the correct terminology for this dump. Maybe he was just too used to the neatness and cleanliness of the TVman base, and forgot that people could live in conditions like this, too.
"YOUR INJURY?"
He pointed out again, bringing his other concern back to light. Sonja glanced down to the damage to his arm, not seeming too disturbed by it.
"I HIGHLY RECOMMEND YOU SEE A PROFESSIONAL. ON THE CONTRARY, I CAN ASSIST YOU IF YOU DECIDE AGAINST THAT."
Charon informed Sonja, propping the edge of his boot against the door in an unnoticeable manner.
"I choose neither, if that's an option."
He replied gruffly, tugging his coat sleeve further over the oil-leaking injury to his arm.
"IT IS NOT."
The tall TVman replied, stepping further into the room. He'd step out of the way to let the door fall shut behind them, the old hinges creaking all the way.
"I AM NOT JUST A SOLDIER, I AM A GUARDIAN. YOU ARE A FELLOW FIGHTER KNOCKED ASTRAY, AND I WISH TO HELP YOU RECOVER."
Charon told Sonja. He didn't know the terminology for Sonja; ally, foe, or non-aligning. It was almost impossible to tell with the strange android before him. But Charon could guess, and he could still empathize with him no matter what he truly was.
Because, right now, he didn't see someone looking to kill or fight. This was a being barely clutching to life, the physical, mental, and emotional injuries of his slowly starting to take their toll on his weariness-etched mechanical body.
Part of Charon felt stupid for this. Ally or non-aligning would be okay; but if Sonja was an enemy, he wouldn't ever see this interaction between them the same. Another part of him felt that he wanted this either way, to give someone else the support that he had needed in his times of need, to try to prevent less of what had happened to him to happen to others.
Sonja bowed his head slightly, in the same way that he had times before. Uncertainty, Charon was able to remember. The man was entirely adverse to being in a social situation, even with just one person. But, to a degree, he could tolerate another's presence. And Charon hoped he could work with that.
Without saying another word, the shorter android would scuffle further into the apartment, turning to enter a side room. It had no door- as the door looked like it had been ripped of the wall at some point- and Charon was able to see inside.
It looked like the twisted mockery of what could be a bedroom, a stained mattress on the bare floor, an old dirty rug by what was once the door, and a half dozen empty beer bottles and a box of cigarettes laying cluttered to the wall next to the mattress.
Charon would lean in just enough to glance over at Sonja as the other android walked up to a table inside, grabbing a wrench out from one of the old tool boxes.
Sonja would shrug his overcoat off, seeing the full extent of how badly he had been leaking. His entire shirt sleeve was soaked through with oil, from the injury down. If it had been any warmer outside, he might've felt abnormal from the substantial loss. But it was so cold and rainy that he couldn't be bothered. Still, it was something that if he didn't do any repairs he'd be having complications later.
"YOU CAN'T POSSIBLY-"
Charon cut himself off as he watched Sonja dig the wrench into his own forearm, pulling out his own wires and tubing just enough to see what all was damaged.
Charon crossed his arms, glancing away for his own sake. That was unhinged. Nothing about Sonja really screamed stable and joyous, though.
"I've done this before."
Sonja said to Charon, his voice laced with some static. He'd slide a clamp onto the damaged tubing, avoiding pulling on the damaged rubber coating on the wires around them. Then, slipping his digits into the open gap of his joint, he'd skillfully undo the clasps of his chassis, pulling off one of the pieces of scarred steel that made up his forearm.
"YOU HAVE DONE THIS BEFORE."
Charon watched as Sonja found the other end to the tubing, clamping it shut as well.
"WHO WERE YOU, BEFORE?"
He'd lean against the door, turning himself to face Sonja, but still keeping his distance. The average robot on the battlefield couldn't complete self-maintenance to this degree.
"Human."
Sonja replied, a single word answer, but a truthful one at that. It made Charon think for a moment. The answer had arrived more quickly and honestly than he had anticipated, and it was quite... Unbelievable. Knowing how easily discomforted Sonja was, he didn't press any questions, and instead just let him talk if he wanted to.
"I was in the Polish military. I was a mechanic... Worked with guns."
Sonja gestured a knuckle loosely at the guns everywhere. Charon glanced over at them. He could see some scant signs of most of them having been refurbished.
"I've made bad choices since then. But I've had bad things happen to me as a result. So, maybe things are alright."
He'd add. Charon looked back to Sonja's arm, seeing that the other android was already fairly far into repairing one of the many wires that had been cut.
"NOT EVERY SIN DICTATES THE NEED FOR SUFFERING."
Charon said, but kept his tone rather loose.
"I... Deserved what came to me. Everything."
"LIKE WHAT?"
Sonja didn't reply for a long moment, pausing with his work.
"Look at me. I'm hollow."
He'd finally say, using a pair of pliers to cut down to size the piece of new wire he was fixing into himself.*
"IS THAT YOUR FAULT?"
Charon inquired. He had a feeling that a lot of Sonja's problems were outside of his control. From what he had observed so far, it seemed like a big amalgamation of mental illnesses. Even if the root cause of this wasn't in his mental state, it was a major contributor.
Charon understood Sonja's mannerisms far too well for his own comfort. It was like he had known Sonja for a while, but the telltale signs of mental instability were as clear as day. He had seen them in others, he had seen them in himself. But Sonja's condition seemed deteriorated far past any point he had ever been to.
Hollow was the only word he could use to describe himself... That hurt Charon more than he had expected it to. He sympathized with the stranger.
"Yes. It's my fault."
Sonja looked up at his reflection in the broken, age-toned mirror on the wall,
"I don't know what I did when I was born to deserve this life, but it was destined to me, so I must live it."
He said to Charon. The mirror looked like his own screen, cracked. His screen looked like himself, broken.