Work Text:
Simon finds him damaged.
He finds many damaged, whenever he goes out for the very very rare occasion of scavenging for supplies. The trips are often done solo, in the early hours of the morning where what few morning people who mingled outside wouldn’t suspect a blonde passerby in the middle of Detroit or were simply too preoccupied by rushing to work.
He finds many damaged. Often in dumpsters, in bins, the mouth of alleyways or the back of shops before they can be collected and disposed of properly in the junkyard. And rA9, he hates how he disrespects the dead by taking them apart.
(Because yes, they are dead. They were once alive, even if they never knew.)
But he opens his backpack and takes what he needs where he can find it. A working pump regulator, a new optical unit, a bottle of blue blood. They’re always so short of blue blood, with how many keep coming in. There’s more, now. One a month on average— he did the math. They’re coming more steadily. It’s hard to handle the new inflow, but that’s fine. Jericho was home to all, but especially the damaged ones.
Simon finds many damaged. But it never fails to stop him in his tracks, if only for a moment.
He’s sitting on the grass. So peaceful, so serene. A violent scorching mark against an otherwise picture perfect painting.
There’s... nobody around, he realises as his eyes surveyed the scene before him. The PL600 kneels next to the damaged android, deactivated and no doubt in a state of disrepair that he couldn’t recover from, not with the supplies he has. A delicate hand reaches out and traces his hairline, LED dead, synthetic skin just as broken as he looked.
He looked peaceful. If one can find this image of a gruesome attack peaceful.
But he’s never seen a model like him. Pale fingers slip away from that face, the dark skin and sharp features, eye shut with the other one nothing but a blank socket. Not a single trace of blue, though he knows it must’ve been because they had evaporated long before he arrived.
Poor thing. How long was he out here?
Simon scans him. Of course he does. He wasn’t sure what he could do, but there was always a chance that they could be saved. Here, in the middle of a vacant suburban area, he wanted nothing more than to just try. To let him help one more, just one more, even if it was in blind hope.
Biocomponent #8087q Optical unit - Incompatible
Biocomponent #6385y Leg biocomponent - Incompatible
Biocomponent #4904 Audio processor - Incompatible
Biocomponent #8451 Pump regulator - Compatible
A pause.
Simon ghosts his own hand over his chest for a moment before fear prickles through him at the idea. Guilt swarms in barely a second after- why should he have a chance to life when this other didn’t?
But he was beginning to do the math. The audio processor... he had a spare one in his bag, right now. Simon dug through it as he continued to think, fumbling to grant the man before him the ability to hear once more. The leg matches the component number with the android from the street behind the bakery, and though he can’t think of one with the eye just yet, he’s sure he can figure something out with time-
Click.
Simon takes dark hands into his own before he pulled the broken android with him and looks around. Left. Right. There was nobody. Fine.
Simon finds him damaged. But that’s okay, he thinks to himself before he cradles the body close to his chest and slips into an alleyway back the way he came.
Jericho was home for the damaged, after all.
Inspiration source: Artwork by Jen on Twitter (@RA9simon)
