Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

What Really Matters

A Lost in Space Fanfiction

Chapter 1

Ben held the cool metal of the probe in his hand and wondered where the pain was coming from.

This won’t hurt. I promise. Scarecrow stared up at him with a trusting smile on his face as he brought the metal down on the back of his head. The bit caught in his fine black hair as it began to spin. Hair? Scarecrow didn’t…the bit scraped against the smooth metal plates.
This won’t hurt. I promise. Horror boiled up in his gut as he realized what he was doing. He frantically tried to remove the probe, but the metal caught on the edge of the plates and wouldn’t come out. Daddy, what are you doing? His head snapped up. His boy, his little boy was standing across the room from him in his pajamas, his silk fringed blanket dangled to the floor.

Odd, he thought his boy had given up his security blanket…Daddy, what are you doing? He felt the metal of the probe in his hands, it was cool, it burned, sent throbbing pain up to his shoulder. He isn’t in any pain, he lied. Daddy, the voice came from somewhere else now. His boy at the door was just staring at him, at his hands. He followed the sound of the other voice. His boy. Down, down to where his hands held the probe. Scarecrow was gone. His boy…no, no, no… his mind screamed in agony.

This couldn’t be real, it wasn’t real.

The dream dissolved as he fought his way to consciousness. The pain grew with every second until it was a blinding presence. He localized it to one arm. It hurt. It hurt worse than anything he had ever experienced. The world swam around him in a wash of colors he couldn’t see, let alone name. He forced his eyes open to dispel the illusion and was only partly successful. But now at least he could see, could see something.

He was in a dim place. Shadows danced to the flickering of artificial lights. Rocks were the first things his mind recognized. The walls were made of rocks. There were made things too, but the things were warped and dim. His eyes refused to focus on them. With every blink they seemed to change. His hand cramped in a fresh spasm of pain and he forced his head to turn towards it. He couldn’t find his hand. The cramp came again and he tried to flex his hand, to relieve the cramp and to figure out where it was. But the cramp continued unabated and he couldn’t see any movement.

Except something charred and blackened gave a slight spasm. The odd movement, like a misaligned servo caught his attention. His vision cleared a bit and he saw cables. Class 7 integration connection cables. Donated and grafted, not grown, but only recently regenerated. They must have come from a much older donor. The bases were wide and dark, the connective ends tapered and gleaming. They looked freshly charged too. He wondered what they were doing there. They seemed to be wrapped around the blackened thing. Was it some sort of storage and transport device that had over loaded?

One of the cables suddenly flickered with light. An automated activation. The confirmation tone chimed approvingly. The activation conditions had been met. The cable was to proceed. It suddenly struck him how very odd it was that he could hear the machine cables talking to each other. However fascination gripped him, dismissing the thoughts, as the activated cable reared back like a snake and then surged forward, burrowing into the blackened thing. He caught a flash of pink, of white. Then the blinding pain came back. Just before he lost awareness he realized he must be dreaming and fought to stay in this mental state. He was telepathically linked with machines! This was so cool…in real life he couldn’t.

No, cold hard reality whispered to him. In real life he had betrayed…he let oblivion take him again.

It was pain that woke him again. This time he recognized the difference between the dream state and reality. The knowledge came at a cost. The dream was fragments. Hiding the probe in his hands. His boys bent over some project on the floor of their hub. Her laughter as she…Something, a feeling of rightness. His mind slipped to the fog of waking, from which the half remembered dream threads fled. He opened his eye and stared slackly ahead, too tired to do more.

The difference between the rock walls and the not-rock walls was stronger now. He felt, awake. Fatigue infused his every nerve. The pain that had driven him awake was coming from his arm. His right arm. He idly thought about pulling it around to examine but up and down were wrong in that way they often were when you woke, unable to sleep more, but unequal to actually getting up. The surface before his eye shifted from a rock ceiling to a rock wall and back again.

But at least they were staying rocks. Reality was warping under them, creating patterns and swirls that didn’t really affect the surface of what he was seeing. But he was used to that. It happened quite frequently in the days before he had met her. When he would spend days awake, powered by those awful drinks that were popular in his Uni days. They were illegal now, back on Earth. At least he thought they were. She had put a stop too all that when the boys came.

The fond memory tried to drift off into a dream but then he heard the cables activate again. It was a class three neural connector this time. There was a flicker of an idea this time. It tasted like the warning labels on those old drinks. A hint of the possibility of consequences. Then his entire right side erupted in a burning wave of pain. He gasped and came aware that he was breathing. He turned his head to look at the source of the pain. The class three neural connector was burrowing into that blackened thing. Writhing up under the charred surface. Wait, why was the pain coming from there? From that thing? He shouldn’t be able to feel that unless…

His mind broke under the sudden wash of half formed conclusions. The cables were donated and grafted…

Who…Why…He didn’t deserve…was it kindness or retribution? Who would waste materials on vengeance? But why? He wasn’t worthy…He had betrayed…

“This isn’t about you!” She nearly snarled through her tears.

“No,” he agreed. “This is about them. But…

The dream state lingered far longer than was possible on her face, half accusing, half hoping.

By all that was good he didn’t deserve her. But then, it wasn’t about him…

There wasn’t a transition this time. He knew what that meant. He had slept as long as he could. His body couldn’t get anymore benefit from dropping him into that state. He stared at the things that made up the walls. He could hear them he realized. That is why they shifted just below his eyes. The actual, physical presence didn’t move. But the cable spinner to his left hadn’t been activated for generations and was complaining about being put to use after so long and with no activation codes. It noticed he was paying attention and suddenly demanded his activation codes. It would settle the conflict in its systems. Ben smiled at the machine. He wondered how much of what he was hearing in its strange under-voice was actually in its programming and how much he was projecting. It demanded his activation codes again. Ben blinked and was overwhelmed by the other colors again. He didn’t know how long he drifted in confusion but the persistent nagging of the cable spinner drew him out again. Ben very deliberately focused on his social security number, birth date, and full name. The cable spinner, fell silent, sputtered in a static of confusion a moment and then fell silent.

Ben shivered at the suddenly empty sensation from where the cable spinner had been, clearly still was. The motion tugged against something and he became aware that he was restrained. He flexed against the bonds holding him and immediately regretted it. Pain lanced through his body from multiple points. The pain did however seem entirely unconnected to the restraints. A little more experimental wriggling told him he was being held against a hard surface at a shallow angle. The surface seemed sculpted to his body, not flat. However before he could do anything with this information fatigue swept over him like a wave. Something very close to the nape of his neck chirped a warning out. He shouldn’t be expending energy like that…

“and this form means that you should hold the cables at this angle.” Scarecrow was explaining as he lifted Ben’s arm in demonstration.

Ben nodded enthusiastically. The stabbing pain in his arm was distracting. But as long as Scarecrow didn’t notice. His friend went on explain the meaning of the visual term. Ben was having a harder time focusing as the pain flowed up his arm towards his hand.

“-need you to flex the new fingers now Ben,” Scarecrow was saying gently.

Ben felt a stab of wild panic. He wasn’t sure why. The request was entirely reasonable. But if, if Scarecrow looked at his hand he would see. He would know. Ben tightened his fingers around the probe. It was too large. One hand couldn’t cover it. Scarecrow was gently prying his fingers apart. But he hadn’t seen yet. He didn’t know what Ben had done. But how could he not know? Ben could suddenly see the wound. He gripped the probe harder. If he could bring his other arm around, maybe with both hands he could hide-

“Ah, is your bi-lateral symmetry interfering?” Scarecrow’s voice asked gently.

Ben wondered how he could hear him without looking at his face. How could he hear him at all? How had Scarecrow not seen what was in his hand? He couldn’t have seen. He wouldn’t be speaking in that tone if he had. Maybe he could still hide-

“Maybe I can work with that instead of against it?” Scarecrow’s voice asked. “Let’s try it anyway.”

Foggy static began to rise between Ben and Scarecrow’s voice. Scarecrow still stood in front of him, bending over the hand that held the probe.

“Going-open-repeat.” Scarecrow was saying.

“No!” Ben gasped out as Scarecrow finally managed to pull his fingers open.

It wasn’t really intelligible, more of a coughing gurgle that leaned heavily on the ‘o’ vowel, but for all its failings the word worked like a spell in the old tales. The dream cleared and Ben felt a wash of shameful relief as the dream of Scarecrow faded. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t. He forced his eyes open, focused on the rocks and waited for the things to stop shifting. He waited. But instead of shifting the things grew more clear. Especially the big shiny thing that was holding the tangle of cables that wrapped around and through the blackened thing.

The blackened thing. That was somehow much easier to focus on. The cables were secured in it now. Pink lines surrounded where each cable entered. The end of the blackened thing was now completely wrapped in cables. The curled over and around themselves. Ben’s hand cramped and this time he noted how the cables tightened in time with the pain. Oh. So then. The blackened thing was his … arm he supposed. Phantom pain then. He clearly didn’t have a hand any more.

A bronze talon came into view and the backside of it gently caressed the tangle of cables. The talon, it was blackened too. Scorched in places as if it had taken damage. But away from the scorches it gleamed the same brilliant bronze as his donated cables. Something buzzed at the back of his mind insistently. Ben focused on the gleaming bronze tip of one talon as it gently tracked back and forth across his cables.

He could feel it he suddenly realized. He could feel the soothing slide of warm, living metal against his tender cables. The talon stilled and Ben suddenly missed the stroking contact but his eyes stayed on the gleaming metal. The talon tip waved back and forth a moment and then slowly pulled away. Ben followed it with his eyes, feeling a growing sense of dread. The talon stopped right in front of Ben and he knew very well that he would eventually have to stop looking at the burnt, bronze metal and face what was behind it. He could feel his heart pounding wildly in his chest. He tried to swallow and for the first time remembered that his throat was dry. His lungs gave a weak, peremptory spasm that cost him his focus on the talon. His eyes focused on dense white bands of light that flowed with soft concern. The complex bands slowly separated and simplified into distinct concept forms.

“Query. Your knowledge. I. Cherished one?” the face asked.

Chapter Text

What Really Matters

Chapter 2

Something curled in Ben’s chest and he idly wondered if one of those cables had borrowed into his heart. Something was constricting it painfully. Thankfully his lungs and diaphragm decided that he needed a distraction and with acute stabs of pain across his body he broke into a fit of mixed coughing and sneezing that closed his eyes…an eye…one refused to close, refused to lose sight of the cursed compassion in that face. But one eye closed and his mind couldn’t focus on what the other revealed through the waves of pain.

Then the pain was gone. He was floating in a blissful cloud. Nothing touched him. Nothing. That face danced just out of his awareness. He knew he would care. There would be strong emotions after, after the cloud was gone. Synthetic morph-class drugs. His mind provided helpfully. Designed to eliminate pain and keep the mind clear. If he was this out of it he must have been exposed to a massive overdose.

The face moved closer and he was distantly aware that his mouth was gently pried open and something was placed against his teeth.

Mist.

Water.

He was being watered like he used to water his pet hognose snake. He wanted to laugh. But synthetic morph-class drugs were good. The best. He could only manage a gurgle.

He woke to another coughing fit. There were water droplets on his eyelids and he tried to blink them away. Someone brought up a cloth and gently dabbed at his eyes. Ben drew in a long breath and was pleased to note that he could feel the air passing though his nose. Scarecrow must have finally gotten the dose right. In that moment the full reality of the situation, as much as he could make of it, hit him. His breath caught and he went limp in his restraints. Funny thing about synthetic morph-class drugs. They had been very, very specifically designed to not affect emotional pain. That little development did wonders for the addiction rates. Ben found himself wondering if it was worth it as his heart seemed to compress even as his pulse skyrocketed.

Scarecrow drew away the cloth and stared at his face intently. White bands, like distant wisps of clouds swirled across his face.

Concern. Distress. Compassion.

“Don’t,” Ben tried to say.

Please don’t waste your distress on me. Please.

It came out as a croak. Scarecrow’s face danced with sudden exasperation and fondness. Words, ideas flashed across the orb.

“Humans compared to his own kin. Exasperating. Difficult.” Scarecrow said.

Ben couldn’t help the smile that pulled at his lips. Scarecrow took that opportunity to place a squirt bottle against his teeth and spray some lightly lemon scented water into his mouth.

“Lemon?” Ben asked in confusion once he had swallowed.

Scarecrow’s face suddenly changed as all four arms recoiled to a resting position.

“Really? Time. Past. Wasted. That. Focus.” Scarecrow said.

Ben blinked and wondered why the words were so disjointed. Then reality smacked him in the face and he wondered how he understood any of it at all. Yes, they had worked together on translating the language of lights years ago, but he couldn't remember deciphering them this easily. Or even more pressing…

“Why,” he whispered. “How am I alive?”

Really?
Scarecrow’s face and body language demanded. But Scarecrow’s expressions seemed to pull in on themselves. Ben realized he was pondering how to answer in this broken language that was all they had at the moment. Finally Scarecrow indicated himself, then flexed the metal of his central mass out. He indicated Ben and then mimed placing something in the cavity formed at his core. Ben blinked, his mind processing this. He supposed. He supposed Scarecrow could have made a decent Faraday cage out of his own body. But the air would have still been super heated around them, and the way Ben had left him...guilt as familiar as the touch of his sons’ hands surged up and choked him. Scarecrow was staring at him expectantly now, expecting a response.

“Why?” Ben managed to blurt out.

He wasn’t certain if the pain that swirled across his vision was his own or Scarecrow’s but thankfully dizziness and then sleep took him again.

He woke up with a dull throbbing in his arm where the donated cables were wiring into his bones. There was a maddening itching across the skin and he heard the chittering of the plating shifting to cover the exposed sections of the blackened stumps. The plating sounded … satisfied … for lack of a less anthropomorphic word. They had fully completed their task despite there being so few of them. They were now busily growing connective fibers. They would soon have to tap into his own metals for that but for now they could rely on the mass stored from the donation.

And there was the clear distinction between physical pain, dulled by the synth, and the keen distress of mental anguish. There was literally only one robot in the universe who could have, would have donated, anything to him. But why? After everything Ben had done. Every way he had failed. He deserved nothing. The voice of his other half whispered gently that it wasn’t about what he deserved now was it? Ben took a shaky breath. It caught on his dry throat. He was surprised first to find that his throat wasn’t immediately misted. Then surprised to find that he expected that small act of compassion and care. Was he really that much of an entitled monster? He forced his eyes open, and as things came in focus realized that only clarified things. Fascinated by this discovery he blinked several times. His right eye. It wouldn’t close. He closed his left eye and focused on the new input.

The plates covering his arm woke him with their complaining. They had run out of donated material and were requesting permission to begin scavenging. Something was preventing them. Ben somehow sensed the blockage and mentally probed at it.

“No. Ben Adler.”

The words rang through his head so powerfully they were almost real. He gasped and reared his head back, eye flying open. His hands clenched and dull pain tore through his body. He gasped in pain now and something caught his eye. An IV bag hung from one of the things. It was marked as a synth-morph mix and apparently the dosage was too low now. Ben’s vision blurred and he took a steadying breath. The thing it was hanging from. It was a medical grade repair lift. He let his eyes wander over the intricate network of cables and connectors. It was strong. Far over rated for holding up a simple IV bag. Ben wondered how he knew that.

Then he wondered how he knew anything. How was he alive? That was a good place to start. Clearly Scarcrow had rescued him from the lightening storm. Scarecrow had used his own broken body as a faraday cage to shield Ben from the very power that had healed the alien life. But the lightening should have super heated the air around them to rival the surface of the sun. Even protected from the electrical discharge the heat should have turned Ben’s human flesh to ash. The super heated air should have suffocated him if it didn’t cook him. However this train of thought was beginning to grow tiresome. He was alive, the pain in his hand proved it. It was best to accept the current reality and move on.

Scarecrow had saved him, no matter how many laws of physics Scarecrow had had to bend and break to do it, he had saved Ben. The question of why came with so much pain attached that his body tried to curl around it. This caused a wave of physical pain that was just sharp enough to be distracting, but not enough to distract him from the cold hard truth. He had been complicit in the imprisonment and torture of a person. A person he had called a friend. He had known. The entire time he had known. His mind tried to justify his actions. The vast majority of the data had pointed to Scarecrow being a machine. Everyone else had agreed that Scarecrow was a machine.

Ben found himself staring over at the complaining plates on his missing hand. There was no longer any blackened flesh visible. The cables rose smoothly out of brilliant bronze metal plates. Donated. They were fully formed. Ben wondered how he knew this. He could feel their soft chatter buzzing in the back of his awareness and he supposed they had told him.

It’s not about you, whispered a voice. Focus on the one you owe a duty to.

Scarecrow had saved Ben from the human’s own impulsive actions. Scarecrow had shielded him with his own metal and frame. Scarecrow was currently pulling pieces off of his own, newly restored, body to supply what Ben needed. Ben drew in a shaky breath and wished desperately for the oblivion of sleep. He flexed against his restraints in irritation and gasped as the pain came back stronger. He glanced over at the IV and noted that it was still nearly a quarter full. He slumped back and stared up at the rock. For the first time it occurred to him to wonder where Scarecrow was. The room, or cave, he was in was too small to hide even a boy of Will’s size. The chattering of the things that lined the walls told him there was nothing behind him but walls and the bed he was secured to.

So where was Scarecrow? He supposed he could reach out over their bond. Try to do what Will had done. But he shrank away from the idea. He didn’t deserve…the gently scolding voice of his wife came back to him and he smiled weakly. Should he try to contact Scarecrow? Clearly Scarecrow was taking good care of him. Would any feedback Ben could offer make that task easier? His rough and irritated throat aside he was alive and conscious. It wouldn’t make sense for Scarecrow to abandon him. No matter how much he might deserve it.

Ben sighed and corrected the thought before the other voice could. No, but Scarecrow doubtless had a good reason for his disappearance. Unbidden memories swarmed up of all the times Scarecrow had acted without reason. Ben bit back a cry as a shiver drew pain, current and remembered from his body. But no, Scarecrow had had a reason. He was a prisoner. He was being restrained, tortured. But still, that didn’t explain even a fraction of what Ben had observed. There was a clear difference between objecting to your treatment and blindly following useless programs. Still-

Ben cut off that line of thought with a harsh gasp. He had been wrong. Will, Will’s Robot, had proved him wrong. That plea Robot had made right before the door’s closed. That had come from a person. Scarecrow was a person. Scarecrow had saved him. There must be a reason for leaving Ben alone with nothing but his regrets here in this cave.

A fresh stab of pain from somewhere around his back took Ben’s breath away and he lay there gasping for a long moment. In the silence he heard the cables in his arm chattering to the plates. They were … warning the plates? Ben focused on trying to understand the signals, wondering how he could hear their communication. His eyes followed the cables from the tangle at the end of his arm, up the foreshortened length of his forearm, now covered in Scarecrow’s donated plates, over the bend were his elbow probably was, up the pink and black mess of his biceps, onto his shoulder, and out of sight. Something itched momentarily under his ear and he thoughtfully blinked his left eye.
It was something to think about. Something to distract him. Distract him from the pain of his body and the strange input from his right eye. Distract him from his guilt. Distract him from the several acts of true love and sacrifice he know very well he did not deserve.

Well, so what if you don’t deserve it, his wife’s voice said. What does that matter?

Ben’s lips twisted in a smile as he focused on the class c cable that was getting vexed about not being able to communicate with his bone properly.

Time stretched on in a blur of slowly increasing pain and constant speculation. He wondered if Will had made it back safely to his family. There was another thing to fill him with guilt. He had taken that boy into danger. He would have felt fully justified in kicking John Robinson out the airlock if he had run off with his boys like that. He supposed dealing with the senior Robinson’s was simply one more thing he had to look forward to. Except that the Robinsons, all the colonists, would be well on their way to Alpha Centauri by now. They would be there. Will would be telling his boys-

The full weight of what he had done, the burden he had placed on a twelve year old boy suddenly slammed into Ben and he groaned. The groan turned into a cough that wracked his body. Still, after the pain had faded to an ignorable level the thought remained. He had asked a twelve year old boy to tell his family he was dead. To tell his family he had committed terrible crimes. To give his family what was probably going to be restricted information and in doing so committing several crimes. And if Will was anything like what Ben imagined him to be, the boy would try. Robinsons didn’t seem terribly strict about little things like laws. Ben fought back another groan.

Chapter Text

Chapter 3

At least Will was safe.

Safe on Alpha Centauri with his family.

With his friend.

Robot would be hailed as a hero. The Robinsons would make sure of that. Somehow Ben had no doubt that John Robinson would be far more capable of protecting Robot than he had been at protecting Scarecrow. There would be no enslavement for Will’s friend. Robot wouldn’t end up trapped and dying among aliens. The irony of his situation suddenly struck Ben as he ran his eyes over the donated cables. Here he was. A lone alien, at the mercy of his captors. Except Scarecrow hadn’t captured him. Scarecrow had rescued him. But again, hadn’t they, he, done that for Scarecrow at the beginning?

Ben felt something twist in his gut. Fear. He supposed he should simply hope that Scarecrow had more power than he had. More resolve or charisma, or whatever it was that Ben had lacked. Moral fortitude probably. Whatever weakness that had made everything go so wrong hopefully wasn’t something they shared. But should he really hope that? Wouldn’t it be better if Scarecrow was allowed some revenge? Some justice? Ben tried to swallow and couldn’t.

One of the cables chirped as it activated and he felt a fresh stab of pain. He glanced over at the IV and grimly noted it was empty. His eyes followed the line down to where a cable had crimped it off a few inches from his good arm. A few inches of blood filled the tube and Ben blinked at it curiously. Was that supposed to happen? The cable tightened and the blood reversed back into his arm. Ben blinked at the pain but it was over soon. His eyes drifted back to the middle distance.

Here he was; a lone alien at the mercy of a strange planet. He could only wait and see what his fate was to be. The pain, now undimmed by the synth began to gnaw at him from where the cables were integrating. He tried to swallow but without the IV it was getting harder. He didn’t know how long this state lasted. He slipped in and out of lucidity, reviewing each and every step he had taken down the path that led him here. Suddenly the waking nightmare was interrupted by a cheerful voice chattering away about infections. A very human voice.

Ben jerked awake with a gasp and several things hit home at once. The pain, while not gone, was very manageable. He was fully hydrated and he drank in several long draughts of air through fully functional lungs with only the slightest tickle of a threatening cough. The ubiquitous light in the cave was dimmed, and he could blink with both eyes. This last caught his attention as he hadn’t even fully realized he had been missing that ability before. He blinked, and the wonderfully soothing nothingness of closed eyes greeted him. He blinked his right eye, and the world settled down into the blessedly normal color spectrum. He gave a weak laugh of delight that sent waves of mild pain dancing across his ribs. He blinked he left eye and the things on the wall came into focus. He knew what each of them were. Or at least he thought he did, felt that he did. They looked right like this. He stared at them with both eyes and wondered at that odd , reality shifting sensation. They didn’t move, he could see that, but reality warped under them.

Gradually he became aware of a soft humming beside him. He blinked at the wall again, but the things had lost their fascination. His mind was clear. He was a grown man. It was time to face the music. He turned his head and looked at Scarecrow.

“Hello cherished one,” Scarecrow said.

Ben blinked again as he processed what was happening. The easy part. Scarecrow talked with his face. It was the first deduction he had made all those years ago in Canada. And now he could see that he had been right and wrong. The mass of information did come from the face. But there was sound too, subtle tones that went beyond human hearing. There was the play of Scarecrow’s electrical field. There was the way his plates lay. The way his plates flexed. There was how he held himself. The was so much. Scarecrow was clearly using artificially simple words to communicate but it was still overwhelming. Ben shuddered under the weight of the information.

“Query. Your pain. Cherished one?” Scarecrow asked, leaning forward.

That at least was fairly easy to figure out and easy to answer.

“Everything,” he tried to say.

But his voice was weak from disuse. He cleared his throat. There. That very specifically hurt.

“Everything hurts,” he finally got out.

Scarecrow’s face danced with concern and his thoughts turned to the IV. His lights sparked with a simple calculation and Ben stared in wonder as he watched the measurements of the synth and saline flow past, contrasted with what had to be the instructions Scarecrow was comparing them to. Scarecrow was wondering if he had gotten the dose wrong again.

“No!” Ben insisted, pulling himself out of the analysis. “No more synth. I. I like how clear my mind is.”

Scarecrow turned back to him with relief swirling across his face, but a question still lingered there. He wanted to know what had made Ben curl up on himself just now.

“It was too much at once,” Ben said. “I, when you called me-“

Ben’s voice hitched as he recalled what Scarecrow had called him. It was one of the early concepts Ben had learned from Scarecrow. Before everything had gone wrong. Cherished one. Very close to friend in meaning, but more intense. Closer to family member. Ben swallowed and the searing pain in his throat had nothing to do with tissue damage.

“Why did you call me that?” he finally gasped out.

So much of him knew that there were a thousand other questions he should be asking right now. But he was in pain, he was weak. He needed…he didn’t know what he needed. Scarecrow stared at him and for the first time Ben realized that Scarecrow could, was, directly withholding something from him. The first layer of his lights was set in a look of near neutral compassion. Beneath it surged depths that Ben could only guess at. Scarecrow’s entire frame and plating network were carefully held to give nothing away. Finally Scarecrow looked away for a moment. All four hands flexed and for the first time Ben noted the regulation medical tablet held in one of the lower arms.

Scarecrow turned back to him and his face was clear now. Ben could see right down to it depths and when the patterns moved they did so slowly and deliberately.

“You. State of being. Positive. Cherished one,” Scarecrow said firmly.

Ben’s incredulity must have been written on his face because Scarecrow stepped forward and knelt down so that their faces were on a level. Ben felt the living alien presence in a way he knew he hadn’t been able to before that night on the Amber planet. Scarecrow reached out and gently caressed the right side of Ben’s face. Ben felt a near overwhelming surge of reassurance and love that left him gasping. He hadn’t felt that since the boys were small. Since he was a struggling post-grad trying to make ends meet for four on a tiny stipend and a prayer. He stared up in wonder at the clear sincerity in Scarecrow’s face.

“You. Query this state. Cherished one?” Scarecrow asked.

Ben nodded mutely. He tried to speak, to explain that he had betrayed their friendship in so many ways, but Scarecrow silenced him with another of those emotion laden caresses.

“Current state unalterable. Past stat unalterable,” Scarecrow said. “This is. More. We two sentient, sapient. Brings complex.”

Scarecrow tensed in frustration and suddenly the careful phrases explodes in a fireworks display of colors and patterns. Ben could see the flow of ideas. He was only just beginning to understand this language but he could identify separate ideas now, even if he couldn’t understand them. After a moment Scarecrow stopped and shook his head, clearing the complex of speech. He refocused on Ben.

“You. Cherished one. Accept. Sate of being present. Understand. State of being future,” Scarecrow said, emphasizing the mere words with another caress that carried a wash of affection.

Scarecrow’s presence engulfed him, infusing him with certainty. Ben nodded. His throat was far too tight to speak. His body was trembling with fatigue. But in this moment all he could really be aware of was that he was loved, cherished. Scarecrow pulled his presence back, not withdrawing it entirely but pulling Ben’s attention up to his face.

“Now,” Scarecrow said, his talons lingering on the side of Ben’s head. “Query. You. Live. Reasons.”

Ben blinked at him in blank confusion.

“Query,” Scarecrow pressed. “You. Live?”

“That’s what I asked you,” Ben answered, certain he was missing something important.

“ You.” Scarecrow said, looming over him and pushing a demand for a response across his field. “Possibility. Deliberate intent. Stop functioning. Past tense. No. No. No. Query. Reasons. Live.”

Ben slowly pondered the few words and the deeper context offered by Scarecrow’s presence. Slowly the light of understanding began to dawn. He felt the urge to defend himself. He had not meant to die there. He had been accepting of his fate. Of the cracked ribs and fresh scars that had made that frantic dash along the ring so taxing. Of the searing pain and weakness in his side that had warned him that an attempt back to the Jupiter would only result in him dying tired. Of the desperate desire for just a few more moments with his friend. But Ben wasn’t sure he could communicate that to Scarcrow, or even if he fully understood it himself. And for another matter Scarecrow’s demand was reasonable. At the very least he owed Scarecrow some reassurance.

“I am-“ Ben started only to stumble in confusion at the disapproval that flashed clearly in Scarecrow’s face.

It’s not about you! Said the exasperated voice of his wife.

Ben had a flickering and uncomfortable thought that he was outnumbered now.

“My boys,” Ben said, desperately grasping at the easiest thing. “I need to see my boys. Their mother, my wife, the half of me still on Alpha Centauri. I have to fight. I will live. For them.”

Ben felt something flicker to life within him, something warm and real that spread out from his heart to warm his chilled body. He saw something answering it from deep within Scarecrow’s face.

“And you,” Ben said softly. “I have to keep my promise to you. There is still one that I haven’t broken yet.”

Scarecrow’s face flickered with something deep and complex, and Ben was sure there was pain in it, but Scarecrow only let the surface show his amused anticipation.

“Energy consumption. Cherished ones,” Scarecrow said. “Play. Offspring.”

Ben’s smile was genuine, as genuine as the pain that coiled in his chest. A picnic on the bank of the New Thames. Him lying on the blanket with his other half while Scarecrow played hide and seek with his boys. It was a pretty dream he had offered long ago, and he supposed it was more realistic now than when he had first spoken it.

“Now. Repair,” Scarecrow said firmly.

Scarecrow’s face exploded in a more complex series of ideas that Ben couldn’t follow. Something in it suggested Scarecrow was placing some duty on him. Ben supposed healing was a duty at this point. Then Scarecrow gave him one parting caress. This one was different. It felt more, normal for lack of a better word. It inspired a feeling of comfort, but did not convey it.

Ben saw an odd reflection in Scarecrow’s face as he retreated and tried to make sense of the oval of lights. But it was beyond him at the moment. He heard the muttering about infections and realized it had never stopped. It was coming from the tablet Scarecrow held. Ben felt a warm glow at that. Scarecrow was learning about human medicine, for his sake he supposed, for his, and the boys, and their mother’s. Scarecrow sat the tablet down to reach up and adjust a series of IV bags hanging from where only the one had hung before. Finished with his task Scarecrow turned to go.

Chapter Text

Chapter 4

“Wait!” Ben suddenly gasped out. “Will Robinson! He got back to the Resolute safely?”

Scarecrow turned back to him and his face flashed with a firm positive. Ben slumped in relief and gave a weak laugh.

“Thank you,” he whispered hoarsely.

Scarecrow nodded and turned to go. He seemed almost a little hurried now. Ben was trying hard not to make any demands of one he already owed so much but-

“How do you know?” Ben asked.

If the questions surprised Scarecrow, caused his spines to stiffen, it surprised Ben more. Ben knew he had n right to demand anything of Scarecrow. But he was so tired. And perhaps his mental filter wasn’t working correctly. Because he heard his voice keep going.

“You saved me from the lightening. You brought me here. Will would have had to go back up to the Resolute. How do you know he made it safely-“

Scarecrow turned swiftly and stared at Ben with that odd, densely populated face that meant he was hiding something. The surface was definite however.

“I. You. Secure.” Scarecrow said. “Next in order. I Resolute go. Ship. Move away. Success. I next in order you.”

“So the colonists are safe on Alpha Centauri,” Ben pressed, “Will’s Robot was able to jump them?”

Something deep and red burned across Scarecrow’s face. Something hot, something the human had never seen before. Ben actually cowered against his restraints. That, that was rage, that was fury. But it only lasted a moment. Scarecrow jerked his head away, turning to reveal his spines extending and flexing with deep emotion.

“I’m sorry,” Ben whispered. “I-“

But Scarecrow turned back to him and his face was clearly artificially calm. Ben could see the real affection there, but there were masses of tangled emotions beneath it.

“No,” Scarecrow said firmly. “Error. I. Other Robot. Will Robinson. Safe. Gone.”

Hot red fury sparked around the reference to Will’s Robot. The emotional markers of rage clearly separated from any reference to the human. Ben nodded mutely and Scarecrow deliberately shook out his entire body. It was beautiful. It almost distracted Ben enough to forget his questions. Almost, and it seemed Scarecrow could read his every thought.

“Will Robinson.” Scarecrow finally said, and Ben belatedly realized that the human names were being spoken aloud. “Gone. Safe. Together. I. Come. You. Medical care.”

“How did you get back?” Ben asked.

The question tasted flat and pointless on his lips. But it also seemed important somehow, something his mind wouldn’t let go. Ben felt his eyes focus on the tablet. Those were expensive. These thoughts were pointless. But no colonist would have willingly left something so valuable. Especially not a doctor. Ben’s eyes could make out the serpents twining around the staff on the back. Scarecrow suddenly slumped and his face, while still dense with emotions, looked wry.

“No concealment,” Scarecrow said, flexing his upper talons in a gesture of unease. “Resolute.”

He hesitated and then held his larger hands out in front of him. He flexed, creating a small fireball that exploded and puffed out of existence. Cold dread filled Ben but Scarecrow went on quickly.

“John Robinson. Others. Here. Negative location Resolute.” He said. “I. Help. You. Many.”

“Then how did Will?” Ben asked.

Scarecrow’s face suddenly flashed with that deep, complex rage that had previously sprung up with the mention of Will’s robot.

“It. Help. Will Robinson,” Scarecrow finally managed to get out.

The concepts that surrounded the statement were more complex. Scarecrow was clearly having trouble controlling his thoughts. Whatever he thought of the rescue of the children Scarecrow had no affection for Will’s Robot. He seemed to express that he had no doubt that Will’s Robot would help Will Robinson to the best of his ability but there was clearly so much more to the concept that was beyond the human’s limited knowledge of the language of lights. Ben slumped against his restraints.

“They made it safe,” he said softly, choosing to focus on the good thing.

Scarecrow was already turning to leave. One of the things in the wall flexed and instead of just the under layer, reality itself warped. Or the door opened Ben realized as one of the things pulled apart great ropes of cables to open a slit that didn’t look wide enough for Scarecrow to fit through. But he did and it closed behind him.

Ben felt a sob catch in his throat and swallowed it down. Will and the rest of the children were safe. The rest of the colony had Scarecrow to protect them. It didn’t take a genius to figure out how badly things had to have gone wrong to get things to this state, but it was far from the worst outcome. Ben felt sleep taking him and after everything that had happened he eagerly let it.

Something chattered above him and Ben blinked up at it blearily. A task node was switching the feed from one IV bag to the next in line. Something about the label seemed a little different and Ben squinted up at it, only to have it leap into a focus so sharp that his mind seemed to white out from the over stimulation. Ben blinked away the sensation, closing his right eye. Then he opened it curiously and spent several fascinated moments focusing and unfocusing on the IV bag. He finally remembered he was doing this for a reason and stared at the writing on the bag. The synth level was even lower than the previous bag. Ben grimaced. As much sense as it did make to gradually wean him off of the pain killers as he healed, this wasn’t going to be a pleasant day. Or rather an unpleasant several days. He assumed Scarecrow had left enough IVs to last until he returned.

Ben grimaced and swallowed down on a painful lump. He had nearly died. He had genuinely believed that he was going to die on that ring. Scarecrow had saved him. Now, at no little inconvenience Scarecrow was taking care of him. Ben stared up at the hanging bags of life giving fluid. He listened to the constant chattering of the donated parts. The pain in his chest came again. Scarecrow was literally tearing fragments of himself out to make Ben whole again. Ben couldn’t even begin to process how he felt about that. Still, he was stuck here for the time being. He had nothing but time to mull over his situation. All the mistakes he had made that had led him here. Ben took a deep breath and shook his head. He was turning over a new leaf; listening to Scarecrow, honoring his requests. His friend had only left him with two instructions. Heal, and ponder over his reasons to live.

Ben felt a smile pulling at his lips as he thought of his wife and their boys. What would they think of this new him? Of the friend he was bringing home with him? In those early days Scarecrow had seemed fascinated to hear about the boys, about their life. It seems that interest had survived everything Ben had done. Ben felt the tightening in his heart again and forcibly refocused his attention. The boys might find his injuries frightening. However he would be coming back essentially a cyborg. If his boys hand inherited any of his interests at all that should offset at least some of the horror with fascination. He was mulling over this possibility when sleep came again.

As Ben had foreseen the following days passed in a strange blur of crystal clarity. He would wake when the things around him began chattering in earnest. From that fact that his waking and sleeping cycles felt so natural and easy he assumed this place, whatever it was, drew its energy from the circadian cycle. The reality of how he could hear them dawned more slowly and gradually and felt rather painfully obvious once he had grasped it. At least one of his eyes had been replaced with some other visual organ. Perhaps something akin to Scarecrow’s own face. That meant at least one direct connection to his brain complex enough to carry visual images. Also the cables that were growing more recognizably a part of him every hour, their feedback beginning to sound less like separate voices and more like the pain and sensations from his natural limbs. These new additions to him somehow felt all of the other things around him. It was deeply disconcerting in the dim moments when he closed his eyes before he went to sleep. But like everything about this situation he was slowly growing used to it.

Scarecrow returned in the night with most of one IV bag left. Ben woke to the sensation of the doors opening. He blinked away the dream he’d been having and smiled at his friend. Scarecrow had a backpack slung over one shoulder and his face was swirling with low grade concern. Ben might call it fretting in a human.

“Welcome back,” Ben croaked out.

Relief spiraled out over Scarecrows face at the greeting. He set the backpack down carefully and came over to Ben. His faced danced with a complex pattern Ben recalled from their very first interactions. Except now the whites and silvers glowed with power and health. It was simple focus and curiosity. Scarecrow was examining him. Ben waited patiently while Scarecrow started at the top of his head and gently began running his fingers though Ben’s hair. Wherever the bronze talons brushed over the donated cables and plates Ben felt that disconcerting connection, the wash of other. But like everything else he was getting used to that too. Meanwhile Ben decided to indulge in his own examination. Scarecrow fully healed was beautiful. The restored plates flexed and slid with every movement. Internal workings could be glimpsed for moments. However an irregularity caught Ben’s eye and he hissed. Scarecrow immediately pulled back and looked into his face with concern.

“Query. Pain?” Scarecrow asked.

“You’re injured!” Ben croaked out. “Freshly.”

Whatever else he was going to say was lost in a fit of coughing. Scarecrow produced the spritzer bottle and gently pressed it to Ben’s lips. Ben accepted the moisture gratefully but refused to let go of his train of thought.

“How were you injured?” he asked.

Scarecrow hesitated, his face spinning thoughtfully as he tapped the water bottle against one thigh. Finally he gave a little nod and focused on Ben.

“I. Plural. Violence. Will Robinson. Stop.” Scarecrow said.

Ben nodded slowly.

“You were protecting the children from the other robots before they left,” Ben deduced. “I doubt there was much time left to make the jump after you got back to the Resolute.”

Scarecrow nodded and resumed his examination.

“Thank you,” Ben said softly.

Scarecrow responded with a soft caress along his shoulder. Ben realized that he could tell which parts of his body had been replaced by the way they reacted to Scarecrow’s touch. His organic flesh felt warm metal and careful touches. His new metal surfaces felt the familiar energy field and processed that as information. Scarecrow seemed satisfied with what he was finding. There was a thread of concern that flared up when Scarecrow came to the end of his original limbs. Ben grimaced when he felt the tale-tell response of living metal not four inches down his right thigh. So he was missing his dominant leg as well as his dominant arm, and eye. A wash of apology and concern came as Scarecrow gently squeezed his knee. Or whatever was now replacing his knee. Ben gave a snort.

“I’m alive Scarecrow,” he whispered. “I still haven’t figured out how you managed that. I’m not going to complain because I lost a few appendages.”

Ben felt a flicker of unease from across the connection and then it passed as Scarecrow shifted to examining his organic leg. Or rather his mostly organic leg. If felt like he was missing at least one toe down there. Scarecrow finally let out a satisfied hum and stepped back. He focused on Ben’s face.

“Analysis. Query?” Scarecrow asked.

“I’m sorry?” Ben replied trying to parse the words he was seeing.

“Ben,” Scarecrow said aloud, then in lights, “desire. Analysis?”

“You mean do I want to know what all is wrong with me?” Ben hazarded.

Scarecrow pulsed a relived affirmative.

“Fire away,” Ben said with a nod.

Scarecrow reached over and pulled up the medical tablet. He angled it and Ben realized Scarecrow was taking a high resolution image of him. Scarecrow spent a few moments tapping at the tablet and then held the screen up for Ben to see.

“Saint Pete!” Ben gasped out, his remaining eye widening.

Chapter Text

Chapter 5

Ben Adler didn’t recognize the mostly human form secure to the angled surface. As he had suspected his right side was far more affected with most of the visible scorching peeking out from under the spreading plates and winding cables. He had lost his right arm just below the elbow. His right leg just below his hip. Gleaming bronze cables lay against, or in his flesh, running between the new limbs and up to his new eye. He was vaguely aware of mild disappointment in his new limbs. They were spindly and rather reminded him of some old art deco brass lamps he had seen in his grandmother’s house. However his attention quickly zeroed in on his face. Where his right eye had been a small oval of lights danced in a bronze rim.

Ben realized he was grinning like an idiot as he experimentally blinked his new eye, examining the effect this had on how he saw the image in front of him. Suddenly however the screen was yanked away.

“Stop!” Scarecrow said.

“Stop what?” Ben asked in confusion.

“Light. Stop. Go. Stop. Go.” Scarecrow said gesturing at Ben’s new eye. “Negative function.”

Ben smiled weakly as he understood, feeling a faint thread of amusement that he had disturbed the alien robot.

“It makes me look dead when I turn off my lights,” Ben said.

Scarecrow pulsed an affirmative and replaced the screen. He zoomed the image in on Ben’s chest and Ben gave a small hiss. He hadn’t felt any pain from there but there were four coils of cable over his heart. The cables themselves were embedded nearly completely into his chest and it was fairly obvious that their ends went straight down to his heart. Now that he was aware of them he could hear the, two actually, he was looking at their leading and lagging ends, quietly chattering to the pulse of his heart. Ben took a deep breath and glanced up at Scarecrow with a wry smile.

“Well, massive surges of electricity and human hearts don’t really mix,” Ben said. “I hope you didn’t waste anything critical of your own to fix that.”

Anger, real anger flashed in Scarecrow’s face and he turned abruptly away from Ben. Ben winced back in confusion. This strange relationship they had was beyond him in so many ways. It seemed he was doomed to offend his friend at every turn.

“I’m sorry,” Ben began uneasily.

Scarecrow’s body flexed, expanding in nearly every direction, and when he relaxed all of his plating lay smoothly over his body. A sigh, Ben suddenly realized. Scarecrow had just heaved a massive sigh. Scarecrow turned and came back, his face a complex tangle of blues and whites. He stepped firmly up to Ben and brought his face up to the human. One of the larger hands reached down and gently caressed the network of cables that led from Ben’s eye. Ben felt a wash of strong emotion. He gasped, but his attention was suddenly drawn to Scarecrow’s face. He saw a few words he recognized. There was the phrase, cherished one. There were the reds of threat analysis. There was anger. There was something Ben thought was bitterness. But those darker emotions were subsumed beneath an overwhelming concern, a concern so deep Ben had trouble identifying it as anything but love. He drew in a ragged breath. There was more. So much more. But it was all too much. Scarecrow pulled back and stared at him, his face simplified to a dancing exasperation.

“Too much,” Ben allowed himself to admit with a weak smile.

“Cherished one.” Scarecrow said, surrounding the term with reinforcing modifiers. “Now. Heal. Future. Talk.”

Ben smiled weakly and nodded.

“I suppose we can work the complicated stuff out later,” Ben agreed. “What did you have in mind for this visit?”

Scarecrow gave him a nod and moved out of sight behind him. Ben heard the things behind him chatter animatedly for a moment, and then the cable that had been holding him to the surface suddenly released. There was a terrifying moment of falling and then Scarecrow was carefully cradling him, easing him into a sitting position even as the surface beneath him shifted to lay horizontally. Ben was suddenly far too distracted trying to find up to linger on his own guilt.

Even without the flood of new sensations from his alien limbs the world swam. His center of balance was wildly different from what it had been and his brain rebelled against the flood of new sensations. When the world finally stopped swimming the first thing he became aware of was Scarecrow’s comforting mass supporting him, and the warm metal talons gently stroking his head. Ben kept his eyes closed and leaned into the comfort of the touches. He was aware of a soothing repetition coming through the contact. It was as if Scarecrow was murmuring to him. Ben felt that he wanted to stay like this for hours, but pain began gnawing at him and he attempted to sit under his own power.

Ben winced as every fiber in his body protested. Scarecrow carefully removed his support, leaving a single hand holding Ben’s shoulder. Ben was entirely focused on keeping himself upright. His disused muscles strained and strange new sensations nearly overwhelmed him from his new arm and leg. They flailed frantically for a moment before coiling up to cling around the more confident flesh limbs they were now fused to. Ben was panting with exertion by now. The twinges of pain had turned to spasms and aches. Scarecrow reached out and caught his chin.

“End.” Scarecrow said firmly.

“I can stand more.” Ben protested. “I need to get my strength back.”

“Yes,” Scarecrow said as his hands gently guided Ben back down to the bed. “Soon. Not now.”

Ben wanted to protest but the few moments of exertion had drained him and he could offer no real objection. Scarecrow gave his head a gentle stroke and then bent to examine the cables coiled around his arm. The pain and sudden fatigue distracted Ben too much to focus on what exactly Scarecrow was doing, but the pain from that part of him at least eased slightly. Ben glanced over and watched the cables that had replaced his hand slowly uncoil as Scarecrow stroked them. Scarecrow glanced over at Ben and flashed a simple word Ben had never seen before.

“What was that?” Ben asked.

Scarecrow held up one of his smaller hands and tensed it, then relaxed it as he flashed the new word again.

“Relax?” Ben hazarded.

Scarecrow pulsed a yes and then turned back to easing Ben’s cables.

“I’ll try,” Ben offered.

He tried to remember the meditation techniques his wife had insisted he learn, but the pain, and the fatigue caught up with him and he must have fallen asleep. He woke to find Scarecrow bent over his new leg. Scarecrow was gently uncoiling the cable, stroking the tense metal with his talons. When the cable was back to its original length Scarecrow stood and glanced at Ben with a flash of regret in his face.

“I wasn’t quite up to what you expected?” Ben asked with a weak smile. “Hardly the first time I’ve disappointed you.”

Scarecrow’s face danced with irritation at that and he laid his spines down, tight to his back. Ben winced and glanced to the side.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

Scarecrow flexed and shook out his irritation. Then he stalked over to the back pack and pulled out a thermos. Ben blinked curiously as Scarecrow also pulled out a spoon and came over to him. Scarecrow broadcasted an order to the bed and the head rose smoothly to hold Ben up at a convenient angle for eating. Ben’s face suddenly lit up and his stomach gurgled in anticipation. He supposed the IVs had supplied all of his nutrients up to this point. Scarecrow twisted off the cap of the thermos and stared down into it his face sparking with interest. The smell was good, some vegetable mix. Scarecrow carefully tipped the soup into the cap and Ben eagerly reached for the spoon. Scarecrow looked at him a bit skeptically but handed the spoon over. Ben got it in his fingers but the fatigue stole the strength from him and the spoon slipped out of his fingers and clattered to the floor. Ben’s arm dropped back to his side and an overwhelming sensation of helplessness flooded him. He felt tears of frustration burning and turned his head away from Scarecrow. He heard his friend pick the spoon back up and felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Ben,” Scarecrow said.

It had been so long since he had heard his name in that voice, and now it was so much stronger. Ben turned to face Scarecrow and tried to force a smile through his tears. Scarecrow reached out and gently stroked the back of one talon across his face, brushing away the tears. Something danced across Scarecrow’s face in simple words but Ben was too tired, or his eyes were too blurry to understand it. Scarecrow tilted his head to the side and simply settled for reaching his upper hands down and rearranging Ben as he pleased on the bed. He then held up the soup and dipped the spoon into it.

He held the soup up to Ben’s lips and Ben tried to accept it gratefully. To be this weak, this helpless, was something new to him and he felt more tears trickling down his face. Between bites of the soup, which was good, Scarecrow would reach over to brush the tears aside.

The fourth time that happened Ben apologized. Scarecrow paused in feeding him and simply stared into his face for a long moment. Scarecrow’s lights were deep and complex and seemed to indicate thoughtfulness more than anything else. Finally Scarecrow leaned forward and gently caressed the crown of Ben’s head with the lower side of his jaw. The gesture was oddly comforting and Ben leaned into it. Scarecrow then leaned back and stared intently at Ben.

“I understand,” Scarecrow said, each word form clearly defined and emphasized with depth.

The raw irony of the situation struck Ben like a blow. Yes, Scarecrow no doubt did understand. Ben gave a short bark of laughter, generating waves of pain that tore painfully through his body. Scarecrow reached his head up and rested his jaw carefully on Ben’s head until Ben had stopped laughing.

“Thank you,” Ben finally managed to gasp out.

Scarecrow gave his head one final nuzzle then leaned back and brought the spoon back up. Ben focused on eating and sometime in between bites he fell asleep.

Ben woke to a familiar pressure in his bladder he went to roll over and get up, was mildly surprised when he could, and even more surprised when he fell off the bed. The sudden pain at the end didn’t come however. Strong hands caught him and lifted him gently back to the bed. Scarecrow looked down at him and amusement flickered around a complex stream of words. Ben only managed to grasp that Scarecrow had been watching him. The next several minutes passed rather awkwardly for Ben at least. Scarecrow seemed completely comfortably with all human bodily functions at this point.

Afterwards he helped Ben practice sitting up again. Then they worked on getting Ben’s new hand to obey him. Ben was able to stay awake longer this time. Another meal of soup passed and several more rounds of training before Scarecrow re-secured Ben to the medical bed. Ben understood that he was too weak and helpless to be left unsecured, he understood as well that the colony at large needed Scarecrow’s protection. Still he did not look forward to the time of enforced idleness. Before Scarecrow left he pulled one of the wrist radios out of the backpack and secured it to the bed beside Ben’s head. He fiddled with the controls a bit and then stepped back with a hum of satisfaction. Ben reached up and found that he could reach the radio if he needed to. Ben smiled his thanks up at Scarecrow and his friend bent down to nuzzle at his head.

“Stay, heal,” Scarecrow said. “I. Return. Soon.”

“Will do,” Ben said with a yawn.

He was looking forward to the prospect of plenty of sleep. The therapy Scarecrow was pushing him through was taxing. Scarecrow turned and left through the door. Ben relaxed back with a sigh and stared up at his new batch of IV bags. This situation was strange to say the least. Ben still didn’t know what had led to the destruction of the Resolute. He didn’t know how many of the colonists were still alive. But he had his friend back. Perhaps even, he only, truly had his friend for the first time. With Scarecrow fully functional on his own planet it wasn’t out of the question that he might manage to get them home to Alpha Centauri. Ben slipped off into dreams soon enough despite the aching pain and for the first time in a long time there was no nameless dread hanging over him when he met his wife on the river bank.

Chapter Text

Find Home

Torture was nothing new to him. He had experienced it far too many times before. Vengeful enemies of his own kind had extracted revenge on him. Retribution for sins that were not his. They had been filled with rage and looking for a target had accepted him.

The abomination stood above him, one foot pressing down on his spinal structure, pinning him to the ground as the processor spike lashed around inside of him. There was less pain than he’d expected. Not that pain would have been worse than the sensation of having another awareness digging into his memories. He felt he defenses weakening. He shifted his memory clusters again. He had to sacrifice the one currently being probed and prayed fervently that it didn’t contain something vital. He was going to escape this. He would get help. They could make things right again.

Icy calm aliens, beings he had wronged more deeply than he would probably ever understand, had torn his processors apart with their probes and their perfectly understandable goals. Oddly they had never spoken of vengeance, or even justice, though they had the right. They only spoke of necessity.

The gleaming blue planet. So beautiful. A face in constant motion of joy. So much like the old homeworld before it was destroyed. The skys would only glow with the fastest, the highest energy light during the day. Would it be blue or violet to the eyes of those strange bipeds? He could bring...he could share...he could… he would...no...no...no...
Dark horror began to taint the memory. He was approaching too fast. The ship’s sensors chirped with simple warnings. Too Fast. Too Fast. Too Fast.
He tried to slow the ship. He tried to turn it aside. He was too weak, too damaged. He passed the point of no return.
He hadn’t understood then. The horror had only, truly come later.
Later, lying on a cold hard slab. The pain was still there, lesser now. He could ignore it. There were…distractions. Five thin rectangles of organic material spread out in front of him. He reached out a finger and with slow, deliberate movements picked it up, fumbled it, picked it up again and tossed it towards one of the piles of the rectangles. The alien beside him laughed. It was a good sound.
“Good move!”
He understood the alien language well now. He learned more every day. There was a warning chirp from the human’s comm unit. The human hastily gathered up the cards. He dropped back on his slab. Another human enters and he relaxes. It is just another guard. Another guard who will laugh and want to play cards.
“So this is the alien fragger who destroyed our planet?” the new guard says.
There is something in his voice. Anger. Resentment.

Yes, he knew torment, but nothing, not even the betrayals of the one who had called him friend had been this, maddeningly torturous.
Alone. No outside stimulus. No way of marking the passage of time. No light. No Darkness. Just alone. Alone with his memories. Alone with his sins.

“His ship crashed,” Craig had said. “Can’t blame a navy man for the storms! Now come on and let me show you the lines.”
Craig always had defended him. Craig had trusted him so see Samantha safely to the new world. But Craig was long gone, Samantha was trapped with the rest of the children with only the idiot to protect her. He had failed. He had failed his creators. He had failed…
No, he didn’t want to replay those memories again. He didn’t want to relive meeting Ben. Being rescued by Ben. Learning, first to trust, then to love Ben. He didn’t want to relive the pain. Ben begging him for things he couldn’t give him. Ben putting the drill over his head with his own hands. What freak of sapience was it that made him glad, so glad that it had hurt so much more when Ben had drilled into his processor. It should hurt when family betrayed you. He didn’t want to relive that ever again…
and with a sudden, almost painful shock he realized that he wasn’t reliving yet another memory spiral. Scarecrow felt his awareness shocked into blessed silence for several long, dragging moments. That wasn’t remembered pain. That pain was all too real. He couldn’t quite figure out where it was coming from at the moment, but it was there. He was lying on his ventral plating, but it was hard to tell where up was. He took his best guess, and kicked his combat systems into overdrive. He surged up, vaguely aware now that someone was behind him, touching him.
Scarecrow had the dim intention of spinning around and blasting SAR’s minion before escaping but his upward motion slewed sideways and he slammed into the wall. He grasped it for support with his secondary arms and wondered why it crumpled at his touch. For that matter why were the lights of SAR’s minion on the floor? Granted he was seeing everything through a fracture pattern, but why was the holding cell so white and soft and…
“Scarecrow! Scarecrow! It’s us! It’s us! You’re safe!”
Reality rearranged itself the way it usually did when you restored yourself too fast. The conductive, every watching walls of the holding cell dissipated and left the cramped, soft walls of the Jupiter. A same Jupiter. Scarecrow noted dimly as he looked around, the one Ben had dragged him onto, the one he had explored while he waited for John and Maureen to find him. “Scarecrow, are you coherent?” the idiot asked.
Of course Scabs was here. It must have been Scabs who patched the severed connections between his processors and his core. He should thank…
A moment of pure unadulterated rage raced through Scarecrow when he focused on the bipedal form carefully getting up from the floor. His hands were already raised and primed before he could stop them.
“Scrap! The body. I forgot. Scarecrow it’s me!”
Scarecrow let his hands drop. Fear and anger trembling through him. After everything that had happened he was still no better than-
“Scarecrow?”
The idiot’s tentative, almost plaintive lights jerked Scarecrow out of the thought spiral. He composed himself, carefully stepped away from the wall he had damaged and looked directly at Scabs.
“How in the deepest rift did you get the abomination’s frame?” Scarecrow demanded.
It was harsh, curt, unfeeling. It was all he could manage at the moment with the child clinging to Scabs’s side with frightened, hopeful lights dancing across his face.
“That’s a long story,” Scabs said his lights mingling remorse, sadness, triumph, and pleasure. “Right now I need to determine if I patched your neural link correctly enough for the self repair to-”
“It’s fine,” Scarecrow said, pushing aside the hands that Robot reached out to him. “Where are we? How did you get me out of the abomination’s holding cell?”
“We are still on your world,” Robot said. “As to getting you. That was fairly easy. I have access to most of SAR’s codes with this body. After SAR went offline and the word of the independent groups began to spread most of SAR’s cohorts scattered. There was no one guarding your cell when we came in to do reconnaissance so I figured it was safe for us to pick you up.”
Scarecrow stretched and glanced down at the human. Will seemed taller.
“The boys grow so quickly,” Adler had said on more than one occasion.
Scabs was still chattering about something but Scarecrow ignored him for the moment and focused on the boy.
“Family?” he asked, straining his sound plates to produce the alien sound.
Will’s face lit up with delight.
“Mom and Dad are fine!” He said. “They are back on Alpha Centauri now! And Judy, and Penny, and even Don and Debbie! They don’t know we’re here. Because Robot thought we could do it safely, we decided to just surprise-”
“No!” Scarecrow said, letting his lights flicker with irritation. “Family!” He touched himself on the chest plating.
Will’s face creased with thought for a moment and then lit up again.
“Oh! Your family!”
There was delight in the child’s tone.
“They’re fine. Mrs. Adler and Henry and William. They live several miles from us but we see them at least once a month, and I get to see them when the school does group sports. I told them about you.”
Scarecrow felt a small part of the fear inside him die and give way to relief. There was still one good thing left to salvage in his world. It was time to see if he could save some more.
Beside him he could feel Scabs trembling with eagerness. The idiot probably wanted to tell him something. It could wait. He had things to do.

Chapter Text

Alpha Centauri

December 22nd

The morning sun glittered through the ice coating the branches of the trees around the small clearing that surrounded the Adler house. The longest night of the year had just passed and it seemed that the star was trying to make up for it’s long absence. The light warmed the tan sides of the house and glowed softly where the green-gold lichens native to Alpha Centauri had begun to fill in the printing grooves. Amanda Adler stood in front of the somewhat scruffy looking wreath on their front door, sipping at a steaming cup of tea and letting her eyes wander up and down the road. She smiled sadly as the scent of burnt cinnamon drifted from the kitchen vent, spreading out soft, painful memory.

Ben had wanted to be close to the central College when they had first chosen the site of their home. She had wanted to be further out of the city. They had compromised, choosing a site up a mountain side, somewhere with poor soil that wouldn’t attract the enthusiastic farmers and far from critical infrastructure like the dam, but less than a half hour’s drive from the college campus.

She and Ben had spent many a happy morning of his precious leave time driving back and forth to the library, with the boys playing or arguing in the back of the Chariot. Ben had been so enthusiastic at first, constantly dragging in professors of literature, language, and even mythology into his research. She would be introduced to them, chat pleasantly, then find herself wandering out to play with the boys. There wasn’t much Ben could tell her about his work then, so there wasn’t much she could do to help him. Now she knew, and everything, almost made sense. An alien, not only sentient, but sapient, able to form friendships. A friend the boy Will had said, a friend Ben had died to save. It almost made sense.

First the excitement in Ben’s eyes every night he had come home to their cramped apartment in the outskirts of Sheffield. Then the growing wonder and joy he would bring home with him. The half started sentences, cut off when he remembered just how classified an alien robot was. She smiled wryly as she recalled the short, painful flickers of irritation and jealousy she had experienced when she really processed that there was someone new, someone he loved who he couldn’t tell her about. Then, and then...well, it almost made sense. Amanda’s heart stirred uneasily as she recalled work injuries that Ben wouldn’t talk about, weeks he slept on a chair in the living room and grimaced at the boys’ touches. Worst of all was the growing coldness in his eyes whenever the topic of his work had come up. The unease began to clarify into the taste of dusy books that spoke of the sins of good men ignored for too long and she shook the thought away. Amanda drew in a long lungful of the burnt cinnamon smell and tossed back the rest of her tea. Ben had found a friend. She was glad of that, more than glad, Ben had always had so few friends. Yes, Ben, her Ben was dead with that friend she knew so little about, her Ben, her other half had died trying to help that friend and now bore the gratitude of good men like John Robinson. That was, that was…

Amanda angrily struck the tears from her eyes and forced a smile on her face as she went into the chaos of the kitchen. The ingredients for Ben’s special Christmas cake weren’t on the counter. Not unless you counted everything that had been spilled. Ben’s special Christmas cake mold was neatly placed back on it’s shelf with no sign that sometwo had been trying to use it, not unless you counted the droplets of water that still clung to its sides because Henry didn’t dry dishes very well. In fact, there was nothing at all to suggest that two brothers were working furiously to learn how to replicate their father’s special Christmas cake as a surprise for their mother, and Amanda planned on being completely surprised. After all, she didn’t have Ben, she didn’t have the friend he had died for, but still had two boys who were bound and determined to make the Adler Christmas perfect.

0
0

Amber Planet

December 23rd

The bright midday sun seared down on Scarecrow’s plating as he sprinted along the canyon wall. The intense radiation scattered over his plating and the heavily oxidized minerals of the wall. The plague that had devastated his world had at least left ample cover for anyone who wanted to travel unnoticed, something he had been taking advantage of for well over a year now.

He saw a cross canyon approaching and ran a quick calculation. His processor was still sluggish from the coring at SAR’s hands, but this time he had known what to expect. Not only had SAR not gotten a single curl of data out of his processor Scarecrow had managed to preserve his processing ability mostly intact. He had the probabilities well in hands before he reached the canyon and instead of taking the precious time to creep down one side and up the other he launched himself over the rift. In the brief moment he was airborne he felt a swell of joy, fierce pride, and hope pulsing through him. His “heart” Scabs and the boy Will had called it. Very well, his heart felt like it had been freed from the gravity of his dying planet.

Everything, all of his plans, everything he had fought and shaved for for years was coming to fruition. He was free, not only of the bitterly painful restraints the humans had judged him with, but of the weakness that had made them necessary. He had lost the Resolute to the machinations of that woman, but Scabs said that the ship she was preparing for him, the Solidarity, was going to be an even better ship. He would be a proper pilot this time, free to serve and protect as he was created to.

Scarecrow felt an old, a pleasant memory tugging at a thought coil. The captain's table. Ben had told him about this human custom. A place of privilege and delight, where, every meal time, a handful of passengers would sit, eat, and converse with the Captain. Other, ranking member of the crew would be there, their only duty in the moment to talk, to engage with the passengers. Now, now, he could have a place at that table. Scabs would not stop talking about the joys of family dinner. Even as he let the fantasy play out Scarecrow couldn’t help scolding himself for celebrating his jump before the wormhole opened. Still, he had been forced to be grimly practical for years now, each moment reacting to the threat in front of him and planning for the next. He could, he would, indulge in the dreams Ben had given him when things were … good.

*One more klick,* Scarecrow said dimly to himself.

He reached out for the signal repeater. He could usually ping it by this point, but no signal answered his. A cold prickling of unease ran up his spines and he tucked his center of mass tighter to the cliff walls as he ran. It was probably nothing. It was always harder to read the passive signals in the blazing radiation of the day. That was how they had stayed hidden that year.

But he had been gone for months this time. Longer than he had ever left Ben alone in the cave system. Ben would be short on nutrients, but should not have been forced to forage outside of the cave. Ben would be hungry. Scarecrow focused on that thought. He would take Ben back to the Jupiter, would carry Ben back to the Jupiter for maximum speed. He would have Will prepare a meal for Ben, maybe that curry that Ben liked so much. That would be good. He pinged the system again and again got no answer. Something cold gripped his core. He ran faster wishing he had dared bring the J2 in closer, but all the resources he had needed to keep Ben alive had been far too close to the sentinel bases. He could not, he would not, risk Will’s life. Ben would never forgive him…

Scarecrow rounded the last corner and felt his face flush red. The door, the cleverly hidden door was ripped open, and throwing caution to the wind Scarecrow rushed in. The lab was, almost disappointingly undisturbed. There was the bed where Ben had lain while regaining his strength. A few smaller pieces of equipment were knocked on the ground, but other than the glaring sign of forced entry there was only one other point of damage in the room. A storage door in the far wall had been forced open. Scarecrow stepped towards it, every limb trembling. He didn’t know, he had no name for what he was feeling as he bent to look into what clearly had been his friend’s last refuge. Again, there were painfully few signs of struggle. The door had been ripped open and Ben would have been dragged out.

*System, show me the most recent security spool displaying patient Ben Adler, human,* Scarecrow ordered.

The system computer dutifully showed him exactly what he expected. Ben had been napping in his favorite corner, resting his grafted limbs on a smooth rise in the rock wall. Alarms had sounded. Ben had staggered to his feet confused, had called for the external cameras. Despite everything Scarecrow felt a small surge of pride at how easily Ben had used the controls. Ben had gone still with fear when he had seen the dozen warrior caste frames began to assault the door, then had done the only thing he could tactically. He had hidden in the cupboard. It had only granted him a few moments before the warrior caste had dragged him out and hauled him out of the range of the security cameras. Scarecrow frantically shifted views to the external cameras, at least to the one that was partially functional. It showed little detail, most of its components having been stripped by the virus long ago, but Scarecrow was able to get a rough calculation of the ships vector.

No. Off planet. No. There would be no way to track him. NO. Even if he could find where they went there was almost no chance that they wanted to keep a human alive, less that they would be able to if they did. No. NO. NO!

Scarecrow felt the rage swelling up in him like it had so many times before. He wanted to lash out. He had been so close. The idiot and his boy were waiting back on the Jupiter. He had found a ship, an engine. NO! He was going to take Ben home, home to his other half, home to the boys, home, home, home to a place where Scarecrow would be useful, wanted again. NO!

For one moment Scarecrow let the combat programming take him, he felt his defense blasters prime and his head turned almost against his will seeking any target for his rage. That cursed, useless medical bed. Why, why had it kept Ben alive? What had been the point? It all led to the same result in the end. Scarecrow was trembling as he raised his hands to blast the useless thing, but slowly, bit by bit, the code, the new code he had built coil by coil, curve by curve with his own will, his own actions, overcame the old, broken combat programs. His arms dropped to their rest position and his blasters powered down. Scarecrow sagged against the wall over Ben's final refuge and trembled with rage, with grief, with the sheer injustice of it all. He had worked so hard, he had tried so hard.
And what has that ever gotten you? Whispered that traitorous voice that had haunted him since he had begun to question.

Scarecrow shook out his head. He could, he could perhaps infiltrate the local base. Get the ships last orders, find out where they had taken Ben. It would be risky. The hatred they held for him was what had driven him to the humans' homeworld in the first place, was what had led to his greatest sins, but there was a chance, a slim chance that Ben was still alive. He would...something caught his gaze, tucked to the back of the cupboard. A primitive human figure, shaped from the tattered remains of the cloth Scarecrow had scavenged for Ben, beside it another, not as complete. Ben had been working on it to keep his hands and mind busy whenever they weren’t working on translation. Rest for the mind Ben called it. He had almost finished two of them.

*The Christmas gifts for William and Henry,* Scarecrow said softly, feeling his face cool with the wash of affection, and…perhaps need was the best word for it.

He ducked down and reached a shaking hand for the items, and froze as he saw what was written on the far wall. The words had been scratched into the surface of the rock, clearly with the small multitool that lay below them.

I love you.
Im sorry.
Take care of the boys.
Tell Am

Scarecrow felt something inside of him slide into place, like a new limb, perfectly crafted for him. He slowly backed out of the cupboard clutching the dolls. The Christmas presents. Christmas had meant a lot to Ben. He had told Scarecrow so much. Of his boyhood longing for traditions his family had long since rejected, of the joy of building traditions for his own boys. Scarecrow trembled and the old directives fought with the new.

*I’m not giving up on you Ben!* Scarecrow spoke to the dolls in his hands. *I will find you. If you are alive I will bring you home to your other half. If not-*

Scarecrow convulsively gripped the dolls a moment and then tucked them into a space near his core. He spun and began gathering up the various tablets and datapads the warriors had left behind. They had clearly only been interested in Ben. He wasn’t giving up on Ben. No, Ben would need these when he found him. When, when he found him.

However Ben would never forgive him if he led Will Robinson into danger. He had to get Will off of this planet. There would be time later. Scabs had said that Alpha Centauri was growing to be a hub for their kind. Someone, some wandering and masterless warrior had to know where they had taken Ben. He would find Ben, but now he had a duty to finish. He hoisted the small bag onto his dorsal plating and left his home of the last year at a dead sprint.

He made the J2 in half the time it had taken him to leave.

*Scarecrow!* the idiot’s delighted tones greeted him as he squirmed through the improvised airlock. *Were you able to do what you needed to?*

Scarecrow deliberately turned his face away and flared his spinal ridges in aggression. The idiot fell silent but Scarecrow could still feel his cheerful optimism itching at his plates.

“Yes,” Scarecrow said in sound alone.

He tossed the bag into a handy storage compartment and turned back to the airlock.

“Do we have a take off window?” He demanded.

“Yes,” Robot said, not bothering to hide the sad, wistfulness in his voice, but politely switching to the less intimate pure audio. “The patrols are fairly scarce here since the main units disbanded. That is why I calculated it was safe to come rescue you in the first place.”

Scarecrow refused to feel a prickle of guilt. He wasn’t the one who had decided that they were friends. He wasn’t going to feel bad about refusing Scabs intimacy he hadn’t earned. Their bond had been a matter of necessity, not an invitation to form their own little unit.

“Then I am going out to strip the camouflage,” Scarecrow said. “Be ready to jump the moment I have it stored.”

“Will is sleeping,” Robot pointed out.

“Good,” Scarecrow said as he stalked to the airlock. “He’ll be well rested for the flight.”

Taking down the reflective camouflage took moments, and by the time he had shoved it into a handy cargo net he could hear the human stumbling around while Scabs fussed about getting him into his spacesuit.

“But did he say what he needed to go get?” Will was demanding as the engines primed.

Scarecrow hung back, watching the two children interacting with something like pain in his heart. It was hard not to think of it as jealousy. Scabs gave a final reassurance to Will and then moved quickly down to the Jupiter’s bay to activate his improvised cockpit. The ship surged forward and Scarecrow felt Scabs’s engine activate, bleeding off the excess thrust force, feeding off of it and converting the kinetic energy into potential gravitational energy.

The regulation safety pings began to resound through the Jupiter and Scarecrow couldn’t help a quiet laugh. Scabs might be pilot certified but he was such a warrior caste. Every rule followed, every caution taken. Scarecrow felt the rift open at the regulation distance from the atmosphere and in a moment more they were through it. Will piloted the Jupiter well, right down the center of the vortex and they burst out over a checkpoint.

“Vector one cleared,” Will announced into the comm. “Prepping for a distance burn with vector alterations.”

Such a warrior, Scarecrow mused. Every protocol followed to the coil. Not that he blamed Scabs for the caution. Three jumps to hide your true vector with plentiful real space in between them. Even with everything that happened very few yet knew the location of Alpha Centauri, and there were worse dangers than rogue warrior sects out in the great void. That was why it was so important to keep your family safe. Scarecrow felt a stab of pain at that thought, at the many, many ways he had failed to do just that. He reached for the dolls. He hadn’t failed completely.

December 24th

Over Alpha Centauri

The idiot and the child happily chattered as they completed their jumps and suddenly Scarecrow could hear the familiar cacophony of Alpha Centauri.
He stepped eagerly into the control room and Will grinned up at him even as he gave their information to the dispatcher.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it,” Scabs said in a shy tone behind him.

“It’s home,” Scarecrow said, letting the emotion of the moment steal away his resentment.

Scabs seemed to respect this and fell quiet behind him. Scarecrow gripped the dolls and fought back trembling. From what Will was saying to the dispatcher he would have to go through decontamination before disembarking, and then he would land at the Robinson’s home, a farm.

“Do you need help with your own decon?” Scabs asked with a hopeful tone in his voice.

“I’ll be able to do it better than you,” Scarecrow replied with a derisive flare of his field.

They ran the heat of their blasters over themselves while Will set various systems on the Jupiter to eliminate any pathogens it might have picked up offworld and went to take a shower. When they were done another human came aboard and ran a scanner over them, joking and laughing with Will about how he kept them in business single-handedly. The intruder finally left and Will aimed the Jupiter towards his home. This final leg seemed to simultaneously last ages and moments. Scarecrow suddenly found himself trembling as the Jupiter’s landing gear descended.

“Will wants you to know that you don’t have to meet the rest of the family today if you aren’t ready,” Scabs said in soothing tone. “I know it can be-”

“I have no problem meeting the rest of the Robinsons,” Scarecrow snapped out, furious at himself for showing his agitation.

He clutched the dolls tighter, mindful not to damage them.

“I am looking forward to seeing Penny again,” Scarecrow said, trying to sound calm.

“She will be glad to see you too,” Scabs said, his tone growing more cheerful. “My whole family will be home today. It is a special day of celebration to them, you can stay in my room if it gets too intense for-”

“I’m not staying,” Scarecrow said curtly. “I am seeing Will safely back to his family and then I am going home to my family.”

Scarecrow couldn’t, didn’t really try to, keep the pride out of his voice at that last word. Scabs was just so infernally smug about his family sometimes. He seemed to forget that he was a distant second when it came to forging bonds with humans. The reprimand seemed to have it’s effect, and Scabs grew strangely quiet.

“Who's ready to spring the best Christmas present ever on the family?” Will called out. “I am going to get in so much trouble for this!”

“He sounds pleased about that,” Scarecrow observed with amusement.

“Yes,” Scabs said, but his lights clearly showed that he was distracted, “apparently there is a socially recommended amount of trouble humans males in his age group are supposed to get into and he is behind, but- one moment Will, you go ahead and prime them emotionally for the surprise.”

“Gotcha! Give me five minutes and I’ll have them ready to burst with curiosity!” the boy replied before darting for the landing pad.

“What is it Scabs?” Scarecrow asked with an irritated pulse.

“Humans find us very frightening you know,” Scabs began, deliberately setting his armor in a submissive posture.

Scarecrow did not like where this was going.

“So?” he demanded.

“Amanda and the boys have never actually seen you,” Scabs pointed out. “They know me fairly well, and Will told them a little about you but-”

“They are my family!” Scarecrow snapped, clutching at the dolls. “I want, I need to see them. To make sure they are safe.”

To prove to myself that I didn’t kill William, Scarecrow thought in a tiny dark part of his processor.

“Yes, yes!” Scabs bobbed his head up and down in a human gesture he had picked up, “but I thought it would be best if you got John and Maureen to go with you. To vouch for you-”

Scarecrow spun on Scabs with fury, and fear, in his face.

“Are you saying that Amanda would be afraid to let me close to the boys? How dare you-”

Scabs backed down, somehow managing to tuck his plating even more submissively down to his frame. There was something so comical about a war frame cowering, yet showing no fear, only projecting ludicrous amounts of humility that made Scarecrow stop and set his face flushing with amusement.

“Human parents are very protective,” Scabs said in nearly inaudible tones when he saw Scarecrow back off. “I think that bringing John and Maureen for introductions would be a nice gesture of good faith on your part.”

“Should I bring you too?” Scarecrow asked, trying not to sound too disgusted at the thought, Scabs was only trying to help after all.

Scabs hesitated and then slowly shook his head.

“That would probably be a bad idea,” he said. “Amanda picked up on our body language pretty fast and it wouldn’t be good for either of us if her first impression included how much you hate me.”

The last few words were laced around with such pitiful washes of Scabs’s electromagnetic field that Scarecrow couldn’t help being amused again.

“I don’t hate you Scabs,” he said feeling tired. “I just can’t stand you. There’s a difference.”

And, like the idiot he was that actually sent Scabs’s mood straight through the roof of the Jupiter.

“Look!” Scabs called out. “Will has the family at the door. Come on! It’s time for the big introduction! Be warned, Penny will try to hug you!”

Scarecrow gripped the boys’ Christmas presents, it seemed to steady him somehow, and stepped down the ramp.

Chapter Text

Alpha Centauri

December 24^th

A membrane thin wisp of adhesive clung to his talon as he examined the pile of torn fiber sheets with a growing mix of frustration, confusion, and determination. The chaotic beauty of the ornament that centered the chamber was growing from a pleasant background to a distracting irritation. This was simple surface folding, basic three dimensional geometry. His was a processor designed to fold spacetime itself, and do so with such grace that he did no damage to the cosmos. He could do this. Scarecrow carefully braced the creased fiber sheet with the flat side of one talon, the one that had been roughened by the blasts from SAR’s officers, the idle thought spool that the damage was turning out rather fortuitous in this situation tried to distracted him but he held his focus steady and laid the adhesive side of the tape down with care and then applied friction to the non adhesive surface as he pulled his talon out from under it.

He heard a gasp from the child at his side when he was almost successful.

“You are doing great! Just let me-”

Scarecrow flared his spinal ridges and whipped his head around to glare at Will Robinson.

“For the last time! Keep your weirdly jointed digits off of my work!” Scarecrow growled at him. “I am doing this.”

Scarecrow was aware of how Maureen Robinson flinched at the aggression display and how John Robinson tensed, digits gripping his mug, connective cables, muscles Scarecrow remembered suddenly, tightening at the command of base programs screaming at him to defend his offspring. Scarecrow was also aware of how quickly both of them suppressed those programs. How Maureen turned the flinch into a laugh that was by some miracle partly genuine, how John gave a wry smile and relaxed back in his chair. Scarecrow spared a thought spool to wonder if humans were inherently better at suppressing their base programming, or if it was the training they received during their development stage.

Speaking of which, Will Robinson had backed off at first babbling an apology, but had quickly leaned back fingers twitching, clearly itching to help with the process. Scarecrow gave a low warning growl and shot a glance at John this time.

“Will,” John said, adding surprisingly powerful subsonics to the word.

It worked instantly. Will’s spine shot up straight and ducked his head submissively at the same time as he turned to look at his father.

John tilted his head to indicate the padded rest surface where Penny Robinson was reading something from one of the datapads Scarecrow had brought with him.

“Scarecrow seems like he wants to do this himself,” John went on. “You need to back off and let him. Why don’t you help Penny sort through those datapads until Don and Robot have the Chariot ready?”

“Not much to do here sadly,” Penny said with a yawn, as she placed the datapad she was holding on the pile of discarded ones and took a sip of her own thermal fluid.

Scarecrow thought he could identify it from Ben’s description as hot chocolate, but the chemical composition didn’t quite match what Ben had led him to expect.

“What are they anyway?” Will asked as he pulled himself up beside his sister on the resting surface.

“Mostly medical libraries and technical manuals for the Resolute,” Penny said with a sigh, “boring! Why would you collect these Scarecrow?”

She waved the next datapad at him.

“Boring!”

Scarecrow glanced at her and felt a flicker of slightly smug amusement.

“They are only boring if you don’t have the skills to understand them,” he said, “I enjoyed them immensely.”

Penny stared at him intently and for a brief and uneasy thought spool he thought she had understood the insult, mild though it had been. He had to keep reminding himself, he wasn’t trying to make enemies here, but she only turned on Will.

“Did you get any of that?” she demanded.

“Not a word,” Will admitted with a sigh. “I don’t know why. This is so easy with Robot!”

Scarecrow turned back to his task with renewed focus. He used his battle roughened talon to smooth down the adhesive and carefully lifted the package to inspect it. The fragment of a fiber sheet covered in ornamental patterns was carefully folded and secured around the fiber based container and tucked inside was the cloth doll Ben had meant for Henry. Scarecrow was almost satisfied with his inspection. He didn’t like having to accept the container and sheets from the Robinsons. He didn’t like being in their debt, but Ben had been specific in his instructions and there was no other way he could see to acquire the needed materials in time. Christmas presents were supposed to be surprises.

Scarecrow sorted through those fragmented early memory spools. Ben coming into his enclosure stomping off the snow from his boots and laughing about getting more than he wanted. Ben explaining about the peripherals of the celebration as he had worked on his handcrafted gifts in his break times and then wrapped the presents for his boys in front of Scarecrow.

Wrapping paper, boxes, tape, ribbons, gifts.

Scarecrow let the soft, human words flow through his mind as he turned to William’s gift. He hesitated as he tenderly ran a talon over the unfinished, doll, Ben had called it.

“I am really trying to make them action figures,” Ben had explained as he had worked his still human hand and his grafted talons over the material, “like the toy robot the Robinson boy made.”

There had been an awkward pause as the both remember the ill fate of that item.

Scarecrow felt his plating flick at the multi-layered memory and he stilled them hoping no one had noticed. He was unsure of the value of an unfinished gift in human culture, but the doll was still something that a father had held in his hands while his heart was turned towards his son. Scarecrow was fairly sure that carried meaning. He picked up the doll and tucked it into the box, surrounding it with the low compression packing material.

“You better address the first one before you start on the second,” Penny’s voice suddenly interjected. “Nothing quite like getting a bunch of presents wrapped and then realizing you have no idea which goes to who. Trust me.”

Scarecrow glanced at her feeling a flicker of amused wonder. He supposed the very principle of this odd tradition proved that humans could not perceive the contents of the boxes, still he found the thought that he wouldn’t be able to identify the distinct work of Ben’s hands a little funny.

“I don’t think Scarecrow will have any trouble knowing what’s in boxes,” Maureen suddenly said in a wry tone. “It seems to be one of his skills.”

Scarecrow turned and stared at the human female intently at that. She met his gaze without a flinch but her colors flushed with something very close to shame. John was staring intently into his hot cocoa. Scarecrow turned back to his work, puzzled, however he had more pressing matters to attend to than human guilt responses. He finished wrapping the second present and selected one of the writing implements. He made a few practice strokes on a torn fragment of wrapping paper and then carefully spelled out the pattern Ben had shown him so long ago.

He was just finishing when he felt the pulsing of a radio signal and he tensed. John’s comm beeped and he glanced down at it. His colors flushed with purpose and he briefly made eye contact with Maureen. Their colors danced with communications patterns that Scarecrow couldn’t follow and they came to a conclusion as Maureen dipped her head at John and they both stood. Scarecrow wondered if this was what Ben had meant about Amanda being his other half. He had never seen any other two humans communicating like that, without words, or sounds and they weren’t supposed to be able to form bonds on their own. Maureen wandered over to the area they were in and smiled down at Scarecrow.

“You wrapped those well,” she said.

Scarecrow was tempted to call out the obvious attempt at distraction. He had no patience with this strange human’s bizarre transformations of behavior. With the warrior he always knew exactly where he stood. He could understand John’s choices, but a human who in one moment, barely knowing him, stranded and at his mercy on a strange world would balk at keeping a secret so that she could defend her life, was now attempting to deceive him directly in her own home, defended by more than one warrior, to conceal an attempt to aid him. It did not follow any trace of logic and that was more than a little stressful. Still, there would be no real benefit to calling her out, Scarecrow mused. He bent his head and pretended to be examining the seals on his package while she chattered.

“Hello,” John’s voice drifted out from where he probably thought he was concealing his voice outside of the house. “John Robinson.”

“John, it's Amanda, your message said you had something important to tell me?”

Scarecrow felt something inside of him leap at her voice. He had heard fragments of it before, listening in just like this when Ben had called home in the beginning days of their work. It reminded him of the better times, before everything had begun to go wrong.

“Yes,” John dragged the word out and paused.

He was warning her, Scarecrow realized uneasily, putting her on her guard with those odd pattern communications humans used.

“Will you be home the rest of the day Amanda?” John asked.

“The boys and I were planning on going caroling in the city,” Amanda said matching the caution in her voice to his now.

“Are you at home now?” John asked.

“We are,” she said, “we just got back from a wilderness hike and the boys are changing.”

“Are you somewhere you can sit down and we can talk privately?” John went on.

There was a distinct pause that left Scarecrow’s heart aching to hear her voice again.

“Just a bit,” she finally said.

There was the sound of footsteps, only partly obliterated by the humans’ noise canceling software, then a door closed and a chair creaked.

“What’s the matter John?” Amanda asked.

“Nothing is wrong,” John replied, adding stress on the final word. “In fact, this is something of a joyous occasion.”

“John?” Amanda responded.

Scarecrow had to fight to keep pretending he was focused on the packaging as dreadful thought coils began to spread up through his processor. What if she wouldn’t accept him? He had badly injured her other half after all. Why would she let him anywhere near her children? It was what Ben wanted. Would she believe that?

“You remember Will telling you about Ben’s Robot friend?” John asked.

Scarecrow heard the soft cry in Amanda’s voice at his name, a cry that matched the own tightening of his plates. He doubted John had heard it.

“Scarecrow,” Amanda said aloud in an even voice, and Scarecrow’s heart caught in his chest. “Yes, Will tells the boys about him whenever they are together.”

“Did Will ever tell you what we thought happened to him?” John asked.

“Will said he died trying to help you get to Alpha Centauri,” Amanda said, and Scarecrow could feel the tension rising in her voice.

“That’s around half right,” John said, and his voice was softening with a smile now. “He did help us get to Alpha Centauri.”

“He’s alive!” Amanda gasped.

Scarecrow could restrain a strange shudder at the sound of her voice as some tension he hadn’t even realized was there uncoiled from around his core. She was happy. She was glad to know he was alive. He was dimly aware that Will had asked him a question and he forced himself to resume examining the packaging.

“He’s wrapping Christmas presents in our living room at this very moment,” John said.

“Can we come and meet him?” Amanda asked. “The boys, they would be thrilled!”

Her voice cracked on the last word, as if she were starting to cry but John seemed to ignore it and go on.

“Actually, he would like to come to see you,” John said.

Amanda gave a little laugh.

“Now this is a Christmas present,” she said, and it was clear that she was crying.

Scarecrow found himself uneasy at that, but Maureen and John had cried when he had connected them to Will and Penny. He could still feel Maureen’s tears slipping down into his plating.

“Amanda,” John said, and Scarecrow had to fight the urge to bristle at the warning note in his voice. “I think you should know. Well, Ben and Scarecrow were close. I think Scarecrow might want to stay.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the signal, then Amanda took a deep breath.

“John,” she said quietly. “Let me know when you leave and then I will expect Ben’s friend on my doorstep in drive time.”

“Will do,” John said with the smile back in his voice.

Scarecrow felt an uneasy flicker, he wasn’t sure at what. It was as if something, some context was missing from this conversation. Some code that humans knew but he didn’t.

They ended the call with the standard human pleasantries but Scarecrow couldn’t focus anymore. He realized he was trembling, caught in a thought spiral when Penny caught his attention by shaking a fabric container in his face.

“Yo! Crow!” she called out. “Do you want it or not?”

Scarecrow glanced rapidly between a worried looking Maureen and a perplexed Will. Scarecrow decided to play along and held out a secondary hand for the bag, pulsing a yes on his face. Penny grinned and handed him the bag.

“Yeah, you don’t want to be carrying wrapped gifts around in your hands,” she explained. “The paper gets all wrinkled.”

Scarecrow understood and gave her a grateful nod. It was a good idea. He placed the packages in the bag. Just then Judy Robinson came through the room shrugging into an insulating coat.

“Shift starts in forty-five,” she said. “Don better have Scarecrow’s mount ready. I can’t be late or the ward nurse will eat me alive.”

“Doesn’t a doctor outrank a nurse?” Penny demanded.

Judy just laughed at that and swept into the kitchen. John reentered the room smiling.

“Well,” he said. “We are all invited over to the Adlers for Christmas Eve. Let’s see if we can help Don with the mount and hope that the Chariot doesn’t object to the weight of two robots.”

There was a general increase in chaos as Scarecrow tried to make it to the too-small door without bumping into, or stepping on a Robinson. It was difficult, and made more so by the fact that none of them seemed to mind bumping into each other. Finally he was out in the open air and managed to slip over to where the idiot was doing a final inspection to the mount.

“This should be fairly comfortable for you,” Scabs said brightly. “Don is really good at making things that fit us well.”

Scarecrow pulsed an affirmative and stepped up on the mount. It held his weight well and was comfortable.

“Scarecrow?” Maureen said quietly, coming to stand beside him.

He glanced down at her and gave a curious trill.

“I just thought it would good to mention a human custom,” she said, clearly picking her words slowly and carefully. “When you give a gift to someone else’s children for the first time, at least to ones of William and Henry’s age, you usually get the parent’s permission first. So just show Amanda the boxes and make that question sound that Robot does and she’ll figure it out.”

Scarecrow pulsed a yes and pondered that. There was clearly no doubt in Maureen’s mind that Amanda would give permission. However this sounded more like a matter of respecting the chain of command than of custom. Scarecrow remembered something Ben had said about needing to get Amanda’s permission to take the boys to some amusement or another. He felt a warm surge of gratitude towards Maureen. There were layers and layers of complications to being part of a family.

There was a brief moment of consternation in the Robinsons when it was discovered that Robot wasn’t coming, as well as a rather comical wailing from Don demanding to know why he had just spent the last three hours welding on the double mount, but eventually they were off. Scarecrow tried to take interest in the drive down. It would have been fascinating, this farming land, Ben called it, the horses grazing in the fields, the cows idly watching them pass, everyone of which he was responsible for bringing here. It gave him a glow of proprietary pride. It would be fascinating, the moment he could free any processing power from gnawing over and over one thought, but he kept spiraling back to it. Ben should be here. He should have brought Ben back to his family. Ben should be in the kitchen now, freaking out because whatever specific nutrient dish he had given the least priority wasn’t going to be ready in time for dinner. Scarecrow felt the upper grips on the Chariot began to warp and he forced himself to relax. It wouldn’t do him any good for Amanda’s first impression of him to be of a trail of damage.

They approached a junction in the road where another Chariot sat and the Robinson’s slowed down. Judy got out to the sounds of commiseration from her family, apparently she was going to preform a particularly hard shift at the healing center where she worked and had arranged to meet a fellow doctor at this junction. She smiled up at Scarecrow and waved before she got into the other Chariot and Scarecrow idly returned the gesture as he processor returned to its previous spiral.

Accidentally damaging the Chariot wouldn’t matter if Ben were here…

They began to climb in elevation and the farms grew fewer and the trees more dense. Soon they were driving through undeveloped forest and the air grew steadily colder. The water on the road turned to ice and the sound of the Chariot’s wheels changed as they adapted to the decreased friction. Scarecrow suddenly realized that he was afraid. Terrified, and he felt a shiver run down his spinal ridges.

Amanda had said he could come. He reminded himself. Again and again, Ben had told him that Amanda would love him, the boys would love him, but Ben wasn’t here. He had failed. He had let Ben be taken. Why should Ben’s family forgive him? They didn’t know, but surely then they thought he had let Ben die on the ring. So why would Amanda allow him in her house?

But she had told John to bring him.

A sudden and uneasy thought coiled through Scarecrow’s processor. That call had been short. John had mentioned no objections to introducing an essentially unknown alien warrior into the home. Amanda had raised none. That was, shortsighted on both of their parts. He shifted uneasily as his processor worked over the ideas. He knew John still didn’t fully trust him, frustrating, but a reality Scarecrow had come to accept. Amanda, well Amanda really had only her faith in Ben’s judgment to go on, but Ben had directly told her nothing about him. He had never had the chance, so why should she trust the judgment of others? And yet she had accepted him, she had implied that he could stay in her home, with her boys. He was mulling over that when a probability occurred to him.

This couldn’t have been the first time John and Amanda had discussed him. His thought processes stilled at that. The concept of a suspicious John Robinson giving Amanda his warped perspective on him, John Robinson, the warrior who had run from him the first time they had met, it wasn’t a hopeful situation, and yet, and yet...Amanda had still invited him into her home. The conversations couldn’t have gone badly. Scarecrow mulled over what he knew of John. Scabs had insisted that John was a just man, that he didn’t judge unfairly and was also forgiving, loving. Scarecrow felt a flash of resentment flare up. If Scabs estimation of John was correct then why was John so suspicious of him? John had witnessed how he had done his duty, how he had protected the colony, how he had-

Scarecrow cut off that pointless thought. Scabs was an idiot after all. For some reason the humans trusted Scabs, and no matter how hard Scarecrow tried, no matter how well he had done his duty, no matter how many times he had proven himself, they didn’t trust him. Except, except maybe Amanda did. Scarecrow shivered.

If this is what they mean by a soul, I’m not sure how a species with one survived to achieve fire, let alone space flight.

Ben’s words came back to him. He hadn’t understood them then, but Scarecrow thought he did now. Hope, hope hurt.

The Adler’s home came into view and something in Scarecrow surged. He felt that he could apply every name for every emotion he knew of to it and it would be an accurate description, and each wholly inadequate. The place matched Ben’s descriptions, matched the pictures Ben had shown him, but not perfectly, plants had grown, structures had been added. Suddenly there were two small, human faces peeing out of the windows. Scarecrow stared at them intently and felt his face wash from amber to blue. He had heard so much about them, to finally meet them. Henry raised a hand and waved tentatively and Scarecrow lifted a primary hand to return the gesture, surprise and delight suffused the boys’ faces for a moment and then they ducked down below the level of the window. Scarecrow felt his plates tremble in anticipation. The boys had been smiling. They had been happy to see him. William, William was alive, strong.

The Robinsons’ Chariot pulled off the road and parked beside the Adlers’. Scarecrow leapt down, and suddenly found himself frozen to the spot. He wanted to rush up at the door. He wanted to bolt for the deep forest. He wanted to shove John Robinson in front of him like a blast shield. He wanted every one of the Robinsons far, far away.

“Hey,” Penny Robinson’s voice called him back to the moment as her hand rested gently on his arm. “It’s okay to freak out. Meeting people for the first time is scary.”

“I am not freaking out!” He snapped at her.

“Sure you’re not,” she said, rolling her eyes.

For one shocked moment Scarecrow wondered how she had understood him. Yes, she had been looking at his face but none of the humans, save Ben, had ever shown that level of receptive ability. Then the front door swung open and Amanda stepped out, smiling, and Scarecrow was moving. He wasn’t sure how. He didn’t remember giving his legs the command to move forward but they did and he was suddenly, there, standing over Amanda Adler, Ben’s other half, and she was smiling up at him.

“You must be Ben’s friend Scarecrow,” Amanda said.

“Amanda Adler,” Scarecrow forced out in the soft, human sounds.

She was so much more than the primitive human images had shown her. Her face danced with the colors of her life. She had been crying, not much, but recently, and was on the verge of crying again. The colors on her nose and ears were slightly dim, and her internal organs glowed brightly, Scarecrow vaguely thought that had something to do with the temperature, but he was having a hard time focusing. His processor was wildly spinning over every memory he had of Ben’s description of Amanda and comparing them to the human who stood looking up into his face. All this passed through his processor in a moment and then Amanda was holding out her hand to him.

“Welcome,” she was saying.

Scarecrow frantically tried to remember the protocol for this. What had Ben said was the proper way to greet a human female? How had Ben-? The correct memory came with a rush and Scarecrow quickly took a half-step back. He reached out a primary hand, the less damaged one, and carefully took her offered hand. He brought his head down in the most graceful arc he could manage and softly pressed his brow plate against her hand.

The rush of her emotions washed through him but he held himself steady. Shock, pain, longing, joy, amusement, and a soft warm glow of pleasure flowed over his senses. He felt a bit glad to know that this meeting wasn’t just discomforting for him. He slowly raised his head to look into the expression of shock in her eyes, but she didn’t pull her hand back, so he continued to hold it. She was actively crying now.

“Where did you learn to do that?” Penny demanded in a delighted tone.

The question irritated Scarecrow and seemed to shake Amanda out of her reverie. She gave a slightly broken laugh and brushed the tears out of her eyes.

“You learned that from Ben,” Amanda announced. “That was how he greeted me on our first date.”

Her laughter spread to the Robinsons and she gestured to the door.

“Come in,” she said and led the way.

Scarecrow ducked in through the door and was met with two shy smiles. William and Henry stood by the couch nervously shifting their feet. Scarecrow just stared at them a moment. They were alive. They were well-

“Move it Scarecrow!” Penny suddenly snapped from behind him. “You’re blocking the door!”

Scarecrow shifted forward following behind Amanda.

“Boys,” she said gently coming up to stand beside them. “This is your father’s friend, Scarecrow.”

“Hi,” William said with a shy smile.

“Hey,” Henry said taking a bold step forward before hesitating.

“William Adler, Henry Adler,” Scarecrow said, enunciating the long practiced sounds carefully.

Both boys let out a gasp, as if surprised that he knew their names, and suddenly William darted forward and threw his arms around Scarecrow’s waist. Scarecrow went very, very still. He knew that everyone in the room was watching him. He was aware dimly that he still held the bag Penny had given him in one hand. All that he could focus on however was the pure, simple joy that was flowing from the touch of the tiny fragile being who was holding him. The wave of joy seemed to be washing against, crashing against the knot of emotions in his own heart. He gently dropped a primary hand to caress William’s head, and Henry seemed to take that as an invitation and ran forward to join his brother.

There was a shift in the energy around him and Scarecrow diverted enough attention to process it. Amanda and Maureen were still staring at him, both were openly crying now, but John had herded Penny and Will away and was distracting them with some task in the kitchen. William drew his attention back however when the boy looked up at him, Scarecrow noticed that the boy was missing several teeth.

“Your a different color than Robot!” William exclaimed. “Why?”

“Where did you meet Dad?” Henry demanded at the same time.

“Can you change shape too?” William asked.

“Are you going to be staying with us?” Henry asked.

“The idiot and I are different production models. I met Ben in Canada. I could change shape if there was any point to it, and of course I am staying, this is home.” Scarecrow said.

The boys hesitated in their questions and glanced at each other with the same thoughtful frown. Ben’s thoughtful frown. Scarecrow felt such conflicting stabs of happiness and pain that he had to look away. If her colors were any indication Amanda was experiencing the same emotions. It was Maureen who stepped in with her usual arrogant assurance.

“It’s extremely difficult for the robots to form human words,” Maureen said in a brisk tone. “But I happen to know that Scarecrow is very curious about everything Christmas related. Why don’t you tell him what is going on here?”

She gestured at the tree, the decorations, the cake on the small table, and the boys’ faces lit up.

“This is Dad’s special Christmas cake recipe!” William exclaimed as he began pulling Scarecrow towards the small table.

“Usually Dad would make it,” Henry cut in. “Even when he was gone he would make it before and freeze it, but he can’t this year so-”

“So we made it!” William interjected when Henry’s voice failed. “I think we got it right this time. The first one actually caught fire!”

“I mean it is supposed to do that!” Henry offered. “But not when you haven’t even baked it yet.”

Scarecrow let himself be led, feeling oddly both irritated at Maureen’s presumption, and more than grateful for its results. The next hour or so passed in a blur for Scarecrow. He would have to spend days parsing out his memories after this was over. He was aware that John and the rest of the Robinsons were politely staying out of his way, sipping cocoa in the kitchen. Amanda herself drifted between the Robinsons and the three of them, asking the more experienced humans complex questions about the idiots likes and dislikes and using those to come over and ask him simple yes or no questions. Scarecrow was also aware that John’s tension level was dropping every moment he watched Scarecrow interacting with the boys. Scarecrow spared the processing power to wryly conclude that John was just a typical warrior. His trust had to be earned in front of his own eyes. Second hand information wouldn’t cut it for him. Eventually John and Maureen exchanged one of their information and decision laden looks.

“Well,” John said, standing and smiling at Amanda. “We should get back before dark or Robot will fret.”

There was the usual cacophony that accompanied humans coming or going and almost before he could process it Scarecrow found himself alone with his family, with most of his family. Automatically he reached out over the bond, and mentally fumbled at the same cloudy sensation that had met him since the lightning strike on the ring. He was, almost sure he would know if Ben had died. Almost. Here, on this planet, at the hub that was the only place in the universe where human habitable ships and usable engines could be found, here he had a chance to be sure. For now-

“Now boys!” Amanda called out. “Best get the marathon started if we want it finished before bedtime.”

William grabbed Scarecrow’s secondary hand and grinned up at him.

“We’ve got this tradition,” he said, “Christmas Eve we watch all the best ‘A Christmas Carol’ movies. We start with this really old one, it’s got puppets and stuff. It’s a bit naff but we like it.”

“Get the popcorn dingus!” Henry called from one of the bedrooms. “I’m getting the blankets."

William grinned and scrambled up, presumably to get the popcorn. Scarecrow took the moment to approach Amanda, holding out the bag. He tried not to feel pain when she flinched back from him before smiling. Scabs had warned him about this. It might be a bit comforting to know that humans had to fight their base programming too, but it wasn’t comfortable.

“Yes Scarecrow?” Amanda asked.

As per Maureen instructions Scarecrow made the exaggerated questioning posture as he opened the bag and held it out to her.

“What’s this?” she asked as she glanced in, and then her face spread in a soft smile and she gave a small laugh. “You didn’t have to bring gifts Scarecrow.”

She said as she reached into the bag and drew them out to examine.

“You being here is gift en-”

Her voice suddenly cut off and her colors dimmed as the blood rushed inward to her internal organs. She opened her mouth and tried to speak but couldn’t, and tears began to well anew in her eyes. Scarecrow frantically wondered what he had done wrong this time. He had followed that woman’s instructions exactly. Why-

“Scarecrow,” Amanda finally managed to get out in an odd, low voice. “These say that they’re from Ben.”

“Yes,” Scarecrow pulsed.

That was the pattern Ben had shown him. From: the origin of the gift, To: the recipient of the gift.

“Are-” her voice broke and she tried again, “are these really from Ben? Or did you just-”

Her voice broke again.

“From, Ben,” Scarecrow said, desperately wondering if all sapient beings were as complicated as his kind and humans were.

How had he done wrong this time?

“When did he make them?” Amanda asked, staring up into his face as the colors slowly returned to hers.

Scarecrow hesitated. He desperately didn’t want to lie to Amanda. He also didn’t want to get her hopes up only to crush them again, but she suddenly gave a short laugh.

“Sorry,” she said. “Yes or no questions or names. Right, did Ben make these while he was still on the Amber planet?”

“Yes,” Scarecrow pulsed relieved.

Amanda nodded and used the back of her hands to rub away her tears. She stared down at the packages and moment and then made as sound that was something between a laugh and a sob.

“Put them under the tree tomorrow morning,” she whispered. “The boys will be so, so surprised.”

“I brought blankets for you if you want them!” Henry suddenly called out.

Amanda shoved the packages back into the bag in one smooth motion and began to help the boys prepare the living room for the movie marathon.

“William,” she said briskly. “Before we begin would you please show Scarecrow his room?”

“Sure!” William said.

“I’ll help!” Henry exclaimed, climbing over the back of the couch in his eagerness.

They led him down a short hall and into what was apparently the guest room and had now been dedicated to his use. The boys were eagerly explaining what each feature of the room did.

“You can just use everything in here except that closet,” William said pointing to a set of reinforced sliding doors on one wall. “It’s locked, and mysterious.”

“It’s not mysterious,” Henry scoffed. “Dad just kept all his boring work stuff in there and didn’t want guests messing with it. Dad took the keys with him and they’re probably space dust by now.”

Scarecrow felt a sudden stir of interest in the not-mysterious closet. Work elements that Bed didn’t want anyone to interfere with? In what was clearly to his scanners a ridiculously overbuilt storage area? He could easily get the locked door open.

“Movie time boys!” Amanda’s voice called out.

“Come on!” Wilem said, tugging on his hand with a shy grin. “You don’t want to miss the start. It’s important!”

Scarecrow dismissed the closet for the moment.

They grow so fast. Ben words circled in his processor.

“We made a seat for you!” Wilem called out, patting a pile of cushions beside the couch.

“Do you sit?” Henry asked curiously.

Amanda smiled at him as he came over and eased himself down onto his pace.