Chapter Text
The bots were human for exactly two weeks and had settled into a routine.
(Somewhat, at least. Depending on the bot.)
This day, however, Chase had not shown up for breakfast. This was strange as Chase had usually stuck closely to the routine, even when inconvenient. (An example: He took up running, starting at exactly 5:15 every morning, regardless of the weather – Charlie had seen him running during a downpour and Chase was adamant that using an elliptical or a treadmill would not be a sufficient replacement.)
Charlie finished his breakfast and then went to check on Chase. He knocked on the door of the guest room that his partner occupied during this time.
“Do not come in!” Chase called, sounding surprisingly panicked.
“Is something wrong, Chase?” Charlie asked, worried.
“I believe I have acquired bubonic plague. Quarantining is recommended.”
Charlie almost laughed but covered it up with a cough. “What makes you believe you have bubonic plague, Chase?”
“My body temperature has exceeded the optimal level, I have a helm ache and strange sensations in my bowel.”
“Chase, do you think it`s possible it`s just a cold? Or flu? Or literally anything else besides the bubonic plague?”
“I have recently read a book in which a man infected with bubonic plague was sent to the city as a biological weapon. I believe this is all Doctor Morocco`s plan to finally defeat us.”
Charlie sighed and rubbed his face. “Chase, I promise you do not have bubonic plague. It`s a very rare disease, and it would be hard for Morocco to transmit it to you without infecting himself. Besides that, there are much easier ways to defeat us. Not to mention that Doctor Morocco is not a Doctor of Medicine. I don`t think he would do anything like that.”
There was a cough, then a long silence. “I really feel unwell.”
“Oh, Chase,” Charlie sighed. “Let me come in and we`ll see what can be done.”
“Are you absolutely positive I do not have bubonic plague?” Chase questioned.
“Yes, Chase. I promise you, if you do have bubonic plague, I will eat my shoes without salt.”
“I do not see how consuming footwear would help in the event of a catastrophic breakout of a Black Death.” A pause. “Could you put on that strange bird mask?”
“No, Chase, I won`t. I`m coming in now.” Charlie opened the door.
Chase was lying on the bed, covered with the blanket up to his chin. He was positioned as usual – on his back with his arms at his sides on the top of the blanket.
Charlie had spent a lot of time during the past two weeks wondering about the lives of the bots before they came to Earth, more often than before. They spend quite a lot of time in stasis so it could be argued their chronological age was not quite their real age. Compared to other bots who had been through the war that matured and aged them, they seemed much younger, much more inexperienced. Coupled with the added effect of being placed on a planet they weren`t quite familiar with – they really seemed like children to him sometimes. It made sense now that he and Chase got along so well – having three adult children he was familiar with working with them and unconsciously treated Chase that same way. That allowed Chase to show his expertise and use his experience in order to feel competent and respected, while still being able to rely on Charlie for guidance and support. He believed that was why Heatwave and Kade did not get along in the beginning – neither of them quite had the maturity to navigate their complex relationship.
He shook his head and turned his attention to the bot. He moved closer to the bed, placing the back of his palm on Chase`s forehead. It felt quite warm. “You are feverish,” he told him.
Chase suddenly went pale, a terrible sound coming from his throat and then –
Charlie really thought he was done with this.