Work Text:
Some things are easier to repair than to admit they were broken.
Some things just need someone stubborn enough to stay.
The first thing Wifies noticed was that Hummer had stopped talking.
It was not, by itself, unusual. Hummer could go quiet when he was concentrating, when he was listening, when he was annoyed, or when he simply had nothing worth saying. The ocean made silence easier, too. Sound disappeared quickly beneath the surface, swallowed by black water and distance, and after a while there was nothing left but the pressure of it and the occasional scrape of metal against stone.
But Hummer had been talking before.
He had been talking for most of the last twenty minutes, actually.
“I'm telling you,” his voice had crackled through the water, distorted but perfectly recognisable, “I've done this dozens of times.”
Wifies had watched him disappear beneath the surface.
“That's not reassuring.”
“Why not?”
“Because every time you say something is safe, it immediately becomes less safe.”
There had been a pause.
Then Hummer's voice, faint through the water: “That's unrelated.”
Wifies had almost laughed.
Now there was only the ocean.
He waited.
Nothing.
“Hummer?”
Still nothing.
Wifies pushed himself forward, peering through the murky water. He could make out the vague shape of Hummer below him, half-obscured by silt and the uneven light filtering down from above.
Hummer wasn't moving.
Not even a little.
For one second, Wifies simply stared.
Then he kicked downward.
His hand caught Hummer's shoulder.
“Hummer.”
No response.
He grabbed him with both hands and pulled.
Nothing.
“Hummer.”
The body in his hands was heavier than it had any right to be. Wifies had assumed that Hummer would probably be heavy. He had been correct. But there was a difference between knowing something was heavy and trying to drag a completely limp robot through several metres of ocean while your own lungs were beginning to burn.
Wifies kicked harder.
Hummer's head bumped against his shoulder.
The screen was black.
“Come on.”
He pulled again.
They broke the surface together.
Wifies sucked in air and immediately coughed. Salt water burned his throat. He kept one arm hooked around Hummer's chest while the other tried to keep them both above the waves.
“You absolute idiot.”
Hummer did not answer.
Wifies looked at the dark screen inches from his face.
“You said you were waterproof.”
Nothing.
“You said you've been in the ocean dozens of times.”
Nothing.
“You said it basically had no effect on you anymore.”
Still nothing.
Wifies tightened his grip.
“You better be alive.”
That, at least, made him feel stupid the second the words left his mouth.
Hummer wasn't alive, now was he?
Not technically.
But Wifies had never found the distinction particularly useful, because Hummer was the most alive and hopeful person Wifies had ever laid eyes upon.
He dragged him toward shore.
It took much longer than it should have.
By the time Wifies reached the shallows, his arms were shaking. He had to stop twice, planting his feet against the sand and pulling Hummer forward in increments because every attempt to move him at once nearly sent Wifies back under.
Hummer's boots scraped against the ocean floor.
His head lolled sideways.
Wifies stopped.
“Don't do that.”
He adjusted his grip beneath Hummer's arms.
“Seriously.”
The screen remained black.
“You're going to make me carry you all the way home, aren't you?”
Nothing.
“You're such an ass.”
He hauled him another metre.
Then another.
And another...
When they finally reached dry ground, Wifies fell backwards onto the sand, breathing hard. Hummer landed beside him with a heavy metallic thud.
For a moment neither of them moved.
Wifies stared at the sky.
Then he rolled over.
“Okay.”
He pushed himself onto his knees.
“Okay.”
His hands went to Hummer's shoulders.
“Let's see what you did.”
The screen flickered.
Wifies froze.
A thin white line appeared across the black glass.
It vanished.
Then, very faintly, Hummer's voice crackled through the speakers.
“...told you.”
Wifies stared at him.
“What?”
Static.
“Waterproof.”
Wifies closed his eyes.
“I hate you.”
“Mm.”
“You just shut down.”
“Temporary.”
“You stopped moving.”
“Still waterproof.”
“You were unconscious.”
“Didn't need consciousness.”
“That's not how being waterproof works.”
Hummer's screen flickered again.
“Seems like it is.”
Then his head went dark.
Wifies stared at him for a long moment.
“Oh, for God's sake.”
He stood.
Then immediately crouched again.
“Nope.”
He put his hands beneath Hummer's arms.
“You're not staying here.”
He pulled.
Hummer did not move.
Wifies gritted his teeth.
“Come on.”
He pulled again.
Nothing.
“You weigh a fucking ton.”
He dragged him.
It was ugly.
There was no dignified way to haul a waterlogged robot across a beach. Wifies slipped twice. Once he nearly fell directly onto Hummer. The second time he managed to catch himself with one hand and scraped his palm against a rock.
He swore.
Hummer remained entirely unhelpful.
“You know,” Wifies said between breaths, “if you wake up later and complain about how I handled you, I'm leaving you outside.”
Silence.
“I'm serious.”
He dragged him another few feet.
“Actually, no. I'm putting you in the ocean again.”
Nothing.
“See how you like that.”
Nothing.
Wifies stopped.
He looked down.
The screen was still dark.
His expression changed before he could stop it.
“Hey.”
He reached out and tapped the side of Hummer's head.
“Hummer?”
Nothing.
Wifies swallowed.
“Come on.”
He started dragging again.
He didn't stop until they reached the house.
Getting Hummer through the door was worse.
Wifies had forgotten, somewhere between the beach and the path home, that doors were not designed for carrying a large unconscious robot and a person through them.
He had to angle Hummer sideways.
Then he had to lift one of his legs over the threshold.
Then Hummer's shoulder caught on the frame.
“You're kidding me.”
Wifies shoved.
Nothing.
He tried again.
“Come on.”
The metal scraped against the wood.
“You're not fitting through the door.”
No response.
“This is your fault.”
Wifies pushed harder.
Hummer finally came loose.
Both of them fell forward.
Wifies caught himself against the floor.
Hummer hit the ground beside him.
The resulting noise was loud enough that Wifies was certain something had broken.
He stayed there for a second.
Then he slowly lifted his head.
Silence.
Wifies sat back up.
He looked at Hummer.
“Right.”
He rubbed both hands over his face.
“Let's fix you.”
He had no idea how.
That became apparent almost immediately.
Wifies had never really worked with Hummer before. He had heard Hummer tell him enthusiastically about pieces of him removed, panels opened, cables exposed. He knew, broadly, where things went. He knew which parts were important and which parts Hummer would insist were important because he thought they looked cool.
He did not, however, know what to do when a robot had spent twenty minutes submerged in salt water.
That was a problem.
He crouched beside Hummer and examined the screen.
There was water beneath the glass.
Not much.
Enough.
A thin line of condensation had gathered along the inside edge of the display. The casing was wet all over, droplets collecting at the seams and running down toward his shoulders.
Wifies touched the side of the television.
Cold.
He withdrew his hand.
“Okay.”
He stood and went looking for tools.
It took him nearly ten minutes to find the screwdriver.
Another five minutes to find the smaller one.
He found a towel in the bathroom, another in the kitchen, and eventually came back with an old hair dryer that he was fairly certain had not worked properly in years.
He set everything on the floor beside Hummer.
Then he stared at him.
“You know,” Wifies said, “I'm beginning to think this is your fault.”
Hummer did not answer.
“I don't know why I expected you to.”
He sat down.
For a while, he did nothing.
The room was quiet except for the faint ticking sound coming from the old clock on the wall.
Wifies looked at Hummer's screen.
Black.
He reached out.
His fingertips rested against the glass.
“You're going to be okay.”
He said it quietly.
Not because Hummer could hear him.
Mostly because he needed to say it.
Then he picked up the screwdriver.
“All right.”
He started with the outer casing.
It came apart more easily than he'd expected.
That worried him.
“That's not good.”
He removed the first panel.
Water had gotten inside.
A lot of it.
Wifies stared.
“Oh.”
He leaned closer.
Wires were running beneath the panel, bundles of them, some thicker than others. Several connections were visibly wet. One had a faint greenish discolouration around the edge.
Salt.
Corrosion.
“Oh, Hummer.”
He put the screwdriver down.
For the first time since dragging him home, Wifies stopped thinking about how annoying this was going to be.
He thought about how easily it could have been worse.
He picked the screwdriver back up.
“Idiot.”
He removed another panel.
And another.
He took pictures as he went, because there was no universe in which he trusted himself to remember where everything belonged. He laid each screw carefully on the floor in little groups.
He wiped water away with the towel.
Then again.
Then again.
He used cotton swabs for the smaller spaces.
He unplugged one connection and cleaned it carefully.
Another was harder.
“Come on.”
He adjusted the angle.
“Don't fight me.”
The connector came loose.
Wifies exhaled.
He had no idea if he was doing this correctly.
That was the worst part.
Under normal circumstances, if something like this were to happen, Hummer could probably tell him what to do.
If this were normal, Hummer would make some sarcastic remark when Wifies touched the wrong thing.
If this were normal, if something broke, there would be a voice telling him exactly how badly he'd broken it.
Now there was only silence.
Wifies wiped his hands on his trousers.
“I really need you to start talking again.”
He paused.
“Even if you're going to be annoying.”
The screen remained black.
Wifies looked away.
He kept working.
Hours passed strangely.
Wifies did not notice the first one.
He noticed the second because the light outside changed.
By the third, his knees hurt from sitting on the floor.
Hummer's head was open in front of him.
Wifies had never seen it quite like this.
The outer casing had been designed to make everything look simple, vintage but well-managed. From the outside, Hummer was a television with a body attached to it. Inside, he was layers upon layers of circuitry and components packed together with an efficiency that Wifies found vaguely offensive.
“Who designed you?”
No answer.
“Actually, don't tell me.”
He carefully cleaned another connection.
“I don't want to know.”
His hands were steadier now.
That was something.
He had stopped worrying about every movement.
Not completely.
Just enough to keep going.
He found more water beneath the lower panel.
He dried it.
Then he found another corroded connection.
“Fuck.”
He leaned back.
His eyes burned.
He rubbed them.
“You're such a pain.”
His voice cracked slightly.
He ignored it.
He reached for the replacement wire he'd scavenged from the small collection of parts he'd kept in a drawer.
He held it up.
“This one?”
Silence.
“Yeah, I know.”
He looked down.
“I don't know either.”
He worked.
At some point, he realised he was talking to Hummer continuously.
Not saying anything important.
Just talking.
He complained about the weather.
He complained about the ocean.
He complained about the fact that Hummer had apparently never learned the difference between being waterproof and being capable of surviving repeated exposure to salt water without consequences.
“You can't just keep doing that.”
He tightened a screw.
“You don't get to say you've done it before and assume that means it was a good idea.”
Another screw.
“That's not how anything works.”
He paused.
“You know that, right?”
Nothing.
“Probably not.”
He smiled despite himself.
It disappeared quickly.
Wifies looked at the black screen.
“You scared me.”
He hadn't meant to say that.
His hand stopped.
He stared at the floor.
“Just so you know.”
Silence.
He swallowed.
“You really scared me.”
His fingers tightened around the screwdriver.
“I thought—”
He stopped.
There was no reason to finish that train of thought.
He put the screwdriver down.
For a while, he just sat there.
Hummer's head rested against the folded towel Wifies had placed beneath it. The screen was dark. The room smelled faintly of salt and damp metal.
Wifies reached out and touched the edge of the casing.
“Don't do that again.”
Nothing.
“Please.”
He closed his eyes.
“Please don't.”
Then he picked up the screwdriver again.
It was nearly midnight when Wifies finally got to the last connection.
He knew because the clock had become impossible to ignore.
He was exhausted.
His back hurt.
His hands were dirty with grease and residue, and there was a small cut across one knuckle that he hadn't noticed until much later.
Hummer was still on the floor.
Still silent.
Wifies stared at the final wire.
He checked it twice.
Then a third time.
“Okay.”
He connected it.
Nothing happened.
Wifies waited.
Nothing.
He frowned.
“Come on.”
He checked the connection.
It was secure.
He checked another.
Then another.
Everything looked right.
“Come on.”
He pressed the power switch.
Nothing.
Wifies stared at the screen.
“No.”
He pressed it again.
Nothing.
“No, no, no.”
He leaned closer.
“You don't get to do this.”
Nothing.
“I spent hours on you.”
He pressed the switch again.
“You are not allowed to die because I didn't know what I was doing.”
The screen remained black.
Wifies sat back.
His breathing was suddenly too loud.
He stared at the floor.
“Please.”
Nothing.
His shoulders dropped.
He rubbed his face with both hands.
“Please.”
Still nothing.
Then—
A click.
Wifies froze.
The screen flickered.
Once.
Twice.
A burst of static crossed the display.
Then it went black again.
Wifies stopped breathing.
“Hummer?”
The screen flickered.
A pale line appeared.
It trembled.
Then the display lit up properly.
Hummer's face was back.
Not quite right.
The image was dim, and there were thin bands of static crawling across the lower edge, but it was there.
Wifies stared at it.
Hummer stared back.
For several seconds neither of them spoke.
Then Hummer's speaker crackled.
“...hey.”
Wifies laughed.
It came out badly.
Too sharp.
Too relieved.
He covered his face with one hand.
“Hey.”
“You look terrible.”
Wifies lowered his hand.
“You almost died.”
“Didn't.”
“You shut down.”
“Briefly.”
“You were completely unresponsive.”
“Still here.”
Wifies stared at him.
Hummer's display flickered.
“You fixed me.”
Wifies looked away.
“Mostly.”
“That's impressive.”
“Don't sound so surprised.”
“I'm not.”
“You are.”
“A little.”
Wifies laughed again.
This time it didn't hurt.
Hummer's screen settled.
“Thanks.”
Wifies stopped.
He looked at him.
Hummer's display was simple now. No smile. No joke. Just the familiar stripes of colour that were his face, dimly illuminated against the dark room.
“Yeah.”
Wifies reached out and wiped a remaining bead of water from the corner of the screen.
Hummer went still.
Wifies didn't seem to notice.
He wiped another.
“Still wet.”
“I'm aware.”
“Good.”
His fingers moved carefully over the edge of the casing.
“You need to stay dry.”
“I know.”
“No more ocean diving.”
“That's excessive.”
Wifies stopped.
“Hummer.”
“What?”
“No more ocean diving without proper precautions.”
Hummer was quiet.
“Fine.”
“Thank you.”
Wifies pulled the towel closer and started drying the remaining water from his shoulders.
Hummer watched him.
“You know,” he said, “I really was waterproof.”
Wifies stopped.
He slowly looked up.
Hummer's screen brightened by a fraction.
“Mostly.”
Wifies stared at him.
“You are unbelievable.”
“I survived.”
“You survived because I dragged you out.”
“Details.”
“I carried you home.”
“Dragged.”
“That's worse.”
“Probably.”
Wifies shook his head.
He went back to drying him.
After a moment, Hummer said more quietly, You could've left me.”
Wifies's hand stopped.
He looked at him.
“No.”
Hummer didn't answer.
Wifies continued drying the casing.
“I wouldn't have.”
“I know.”
“Then don't say it.”
“Okay.”
The room went quiet again.
Wifies's hand rested against the side of Hummer's head.
He hadn't meant to leave it there.
He should have moved it.
He didn't.
Hummer's display flickered softly.
Neither of them said anything.
Wifies eventually managed to get Hummer off the floor.
That took another argument.
“I can stand.”
“You couldn't stand three hours ago.”
“Different situation.”
“You're still glitching.”
“I'm fine.”
“You're leaning.”
“I'm standing.”
“You're standing diagonally.”
“That's still standing.”
Wifies sighed.
“Just let me help.”
Hummer paused.
Then he shifted his weight toward him.
Wifies caught his arm.
The movement was careful.
Almost instinctive.
Hummer was heavier than usual, his systems still sluggish from the water, and Wifies had to put most of his weight against him to keep him upright.
“Easy.”
“I'm fine.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because I am.”
“Sure.”
They made it to the couch.
Hummer sat down.
Wifies sat beside him.
For a moment, neither moved.
Then Hummer's head tilted.
“You stayed up all night?”
Wifies glanced at the clock.
“Apparently.”
“You should sleep.”
“So should you.”
“I don't sleep.”
“Exactly.”
Hummer was quiet.
“You worry too much.”
Wifies looked at him.
“You make it very easy.”
Hummer's screen flickered.
“Fair.”
Wifies leaned back before standing up again.
He was exhausted enough that the room seemed slightly unreal.
His eyes closed; he wasn't making it to his room now, was he?
Wifies barely managed to start walking before his legs gave up on him.
Hummer caught him.
“Easy.”
“I'm fine.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because I am.”
“Sure.”
Wifies tried to straighten.
He made it about halfway before his head dipped forward again.
Hummer's hand settled against his shoulder.
“Don't.”
Wifies blinked slowly.
“Don't what?”
“Move.”
There wasn't much force behind it. Hummer didn't need any.
Wifies was too tired to argue.
He let himself lean back.
Hummer shifted beside him, careful despite the sluggishness still running through his movements. One arm came around Wifies's shoulders, holding him upright when he started to sag again.
Wifies went still.
“What are you doing?”
“Keeping you from falling over.”
“I'm not falling over.”
“You're falling over.”
“I'm resting.”
“You're doing it badly.”
Wifies made a tired sound that might have been a laugh.
Then his eyes closed.
Hummer didn't say anything.
He just tightened his arm slightly around him.
Wifies's weight settled against his side.
For once, there was no argument about it.
Hummer's other hand came up, resting carefully against the back of Wifies's shoulder. His movements were still a little uneven, but he was gentle with them, as though he had suddenly become aware of just how exhausted the person beside him actually was.
Wifies's breathing slowed.
“You're warm,” he mumbled.
“I'm metal.”
“Still warm.”
“Okay.”
A pause.
“You can sleep.”
Wifies didn't answer.
His forehead had come to rest against Hummer's shoulder.
Hummer looked down at him.
His screen flickered once.
Then settled.
He stayed exactly where he was.
For all the hours Wifies had spent keeping him together, wiping water from his circuits, holding his head steady and refusing to let him shut down for good, Hummer didn't think he could do much in return.
So he held him.
Carefully.
Safely.
And when Wifies shifted in his sleep, Hummer adjusted his arm around him without waking him.
“I've got you,” he said quietly.
Wifies didn't hear.
That was fine.
He didn't move.
Wifies opened one eye.
Hummer was still sitting there.
“You coming?”
“Where?”
“Not the ocean.”
“Very funny.”
“I wasn't joking.”
Hummer stared at him.
Then his screen displayed the faintest approximation of a smile.
“Okay.”
Wifies stood.
He held out his hand.
Hummer looked at it.
Then at him.
He took it.
The next morning, Hummer was still broken.
Not badly.
Just enough that Wifies noticed.
The screen flickered when he moved too quickly. His left arm lagged behind the rest of him by half a second. His voice occasionally distorted at the end of sentences.
Wifies found him sitting at the kitchen table.
“You're not supposed to be moving around.”
“I'm not.”
“You're sitting.”
“Exactly.”
“You could've stayed on the couch.”
“Uncomfortable.”
“You have no right to complain.”
“I always have the right to complain.”
Wifies put a cup down in front of him out of habit.
Hummer looked at it.
“What is this?”
“Nothing.”
“You gave me nothing.”
“You're welcome.”
Hummer's screen displayed a line of static that might have been a laugh.
Wifies sat across from him.
For a while, they said nothing.
The morning light came through the window.
Hummer's screen caught it strangely.
Wifies watched the light move across the glass.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You were staring.”
“I wasn't.”
“You were.”
Wifies shrugged.
“Just checking.”
“Checking what?”
“That you're still there.”
Hummer didn't make a joke.
That was how Wifies knew he understood.
He looked down at the table.
“I'm still here.”
Wifies nodded.
“Good.”
Hummer's hand shifted slightly across the table.
His fingers stopped beside Wifies's.
Not touching.
Close enough.
Wifies looked at them.
Then he moved his hand the last few centimetres.
Their fingers touched.
Hummer didn't pull away.
Neither did Wifies.
They sat like that for a while.
No grand confession.
No explanation.
Just the quiet certainty that neither of them was going anywhere.
Eventually, Hummer spoke.
“I'm still waterproof.”
Wifies groaned.
“Oh my God.”
“I am.”
“You nearly fried yourself.”
“But I didn't.”
“Because I fixed you.”
“Exactly.”
Wifies narrowed his eyes.
“That isn't the point.”
“It is to me.”
Wifies looked at him for a long moment.
Then he smiled.
“Fine.”
He squeezed Hummer's hand.
“You're waterproof.”
Hummer's screen brightened.
“Thank you.”
“You're also banned from going into the ocean.”
“That's unreasonable.”
“You're banned.”
“For how long?”
Wifies thought about it.
“Forever.”
Hummer went silent.
Wifies smiled.
“You can survive that.”
Hummer's display flickered.
“Probably.”
And this time, when Wifies laughed, Hummer was there to hear it.