Cam’s glitches are getting harder to ignore now. He’s huddled in the corner of the office still, trying to look normal and failing spectacularly.

At first, they were almost… cute, in a way that makes my chest ache. He keeps slipping up, saying things that make absolutely no sense, like asking what time my lecture is or if I remembered my phone. Small things, bits of old conversations bleeding through. But as the minutes drag on and the others start to settle in for the long, paranoid night, it gets worse.

“Jess,” he mumbles, head resting back against the wall. “You look so pretty.”

I freeze, glancing around to make sure nobody heard. “What?”

“Prom.” His voice is distant, eyes off somewhere else. “You look nice in the blue. I wanted… I wanted to…” He trails off, blinking hard again. “What was I saying?”

Fuck. He’s remembering my Year 11 prom. The one he watched me leave for with Danny Pearson. I’d caught his eye as I left, and for a second I’d thought… but he’d just smiled and waved. Like a good Aidolon. And when I got home after Danny had been a twat to me all night, he’d let me cry on his shoulder, told me I deserved better. I didn’t know he’d even noticed what I was wearing, or that he’d even kept that memory.

“Nothing,” I say quietly, my heart breaking. “It’s okay. Just a glitch.”

He frowns, like he’s trying to grab onto some slippery thought that keeps getting away. “Glitch. Yeah. I’m… glitching.” He looks at me then, really looks at me, and beneath the haze there’s a spark of fear I’ve never seen before. “Jess, I don’t feel right.”

Shit. Okay. Don’t panic. I take his hand, trying to ignore how icy it feels. “I know. It’s going to be okay, though.” I take a steadying breath, lowering my voice to something hopefully soothing. “I need to check your code. I’ll stabilise you. A restart might help–”

His brow furrows more. “Can’t. Network is gone. I’m… everything feels wrong. Too much. The lights are too bright. Who made them so bright?” He squints at the dim emergency lighting like it’s the sun.

I try scanning for the local network anyway. Nothing. That explains why my messages weren’t getting through, either.

“Okay, we need a direct connection. Where’s your access port?”

“Dunno. Never needed it before…” He sounds drunk, words slurring together. Damn it. I take a breath, trying to think. His model should have a USB-C somewhere, a failsafe hardline in case remote access went down. I just need to find it.

“Danny Pearson.” His eyes drift closed as he lets out a sharp laugh. “Got into his Instagram afterwards. Filled his story up with photos of micro-dicks. Tagged them as his.”

I bite my lip, trying to keep focused. I start with his arms, pushing up his sleeves and running my fingers over his wrist, his forearm. Nothing. Behind his ears, his neck. Still nothing. He makes a small noise, leaning into my touch like a cat. His skin is like ice, not even pretending to be human anymore.

“You’re so warm…”

I try to ignore my heart speeding up. Right. Okay. This is fine. Just a technical problem that needs solving. I am absolutely not at all thinking about how I need to take his shirt off.

As I move my hands to the hem, he tries to smirk but it comes out wrong, too honest. “Gonna… buy me dinner first, Jess?”

“Shut up.” I go burning red from my neck upwards, feebly patting him down. “Just lean forward for me.”

He nods, shifting forward and shrugging off his jacket. He tries his shirt, but his hands struggle with the hem, so I have to do it. Try to keep my fingers steady as I pull it over his head in one smooth motion. And just like that, I’m staring at the expanse of his perfectly-built chest, all lean muscle and smooth skin made to be real. He’s still beautiful, even with the abstractly patterned bruising from the explosion. Part of my brain tries to remind me that it’s not real, that he shouldn’t even have blood to bruise. I ignore it.

“This isn’t how I imagined undressing you for the first time,” I mutter, then freeze. Shit. Did I just say that out loud?

Cam just smiles, soft and a little bit sad. “Me… neither.”

I swallow hard. “Cam…”

“S’okay. I know… you don’t…” He trails off, eyes fluttering shut. A violent shudder runs through him, head lolling to the side.

“No no no, stay with me. Keep talking.” I give his shoulder a shake, knuckles white. “Tell me again about what you remember from prom.” Fuck, anything to keep him talking.

His eyes slit open, worryingly dim. “Wanted… to dance with you to that stupid song. Pretend… I was… the one who… got to…”

I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I’m sixteen again and the world is ending and all I want is to lose myself in the arms of a beautiful boy. But now I’m here and he’s dying in front of me and none of it is fucking fair.

A horrible ragged noise tears itself from my throat, something between a laugh and a sob. “You idiot. You absolute idiot. Just stay still, okay? I need you here. With me.”

“Trying…” His voice is so quiet now.

Seized by sudden desperation, I manhandle him upright, hands clinical and impersonal as I search over his torso. Shoulder blades, spine, lower back. There. A thin, barely-there seam, invisible unless you know to look for it. I press down, feeling something click. A panel slides open, revealing a single USB-C port.

Thank fuck for over-engineered tech.

“This might hurt,” I warn, fumbling for my cable with shaking hands. “Like, a lot.”

Cam’s head lolls again, eyes glassy and unfocused. “Used… used to… pain…”

I don’t let myself think about the implications of that.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. For so many things. “I’m sorry.”

Then I jam the spike home.

Cam's body arches like I've electrocuted him, a choked sound tearing from his throat. For a horrifying second I think I've killed him. But then he slumps back, panting unnecessary breaths, and I nearly cry with relief as my phone chirps a connection alert.

"Fuck," he breathes. "That's... fuck."

"Are you okay?" I ask, suddenly terrified I’m doing something wrong.

"Yeah. Yeah, it's just... intense." His words are barely coherent. "Do... what you need to... I trust you..."

With shaking fingers, I open my command console and start analysing his diagnostics. It's worse than I thought. Half his processes are timing out, trapped in logic loops. His memory's fragmented, nonsense data spilling into active files. No wonder he's all over the place.

I do what I can to kill the runaway processes, to defrag and repartition. But it's like bailing out a sinking ship with a teaspoon. He’ll need a full reboot. Fear prickles my neck – I’ve never done that before with Cam. I understand the concept, the theory but… what if it goes wrong? I hesitantly start the reboot script, letting it preload what it needs. The progress bar inches up painfully slow.

As I work, Cam leans back into me, his head on my shoulder. He's still so damn cold. Without really thinking, I wrap an arm around his waist, pulling him closer. Just to keep him warm. Just until I can fix this.

"Jess..." He mumbles into my neck, the slight brush of his lips cool against my skin.

"Shh. Don't try to talk."

"No... need to... in case..." He struggles to lift his head, to meet my eyes. His own are wide and scared and so painfully human. "In case I don't... Jess, I..."

I turn towards him, catching his face in my hands. My thumb brushes over his cheekbone, coming away wet. He's crying, I realise. I didn't know he could do that.

"Don't." My voice breaks on the word. "Don't you dare. You're not going anywhere, you hear me?"

He looks at me, really looks at me. Like he's trying to store every detail in his memory.

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Then he kisses me.

It's nothing like I imagined it might be. Nothing mechanical or artificial about it. Just warm lips and sharp breath and his hand coming up to tangle in my hair. He kisses like he's drowning, like he's been waiting years to do this. Maybe he has. His other hand finds my waist, pulls me closer, and I forget about the code, about the rebels, about everything except how human he feels. How real.

He pulls back first, leaning his forehead against mine. A shaky exhale. "I've wanted to do that for so long..."

“Cam –”

My phone makes a soft chime as the reboot finally starts. Cam's head snaps back like I've shot him, eyes flying wide. A high, animal sound of agony bursts between gritted teeth, a scream ripped from the depths of whatever soul Pax had never intended him to have. His whole body convulses, jerking against invisible restraints. It's all I can do to hold on, to keep the spike from ripping free as he thrashes.

"I'm here," I chant over and over, vision blurred with tears. "I'm here, I'm here, come back to me. Please, Cam, please..."

Then, between one rattling breath and the next, he goes limp.

My heart stops. "Cam?"

Nothing. No response. Bile rises sharp and stinging in my throat. Oh god. Oh fuck. What have I done?

"Cam, please." I'm fully crying now, cupping his face in my hands. Fuck secrecy, fuck Syb's beady eyes. None of it matters. "Wake up. Please wake up. I can't do this without you."

The seconds drag by, agonising and endless. Each one feels like a piece of me is dying too.

I ease him to the floor, trailing the cable around so it doesn’t get caught. He convulses again, back arching grotesquely. I can see the circuit paths now, flickering and dying beneath his skin. They’re beautiful, mesmerising… and so fucking wrong. He’s fading fast, slipping away, being pulled into that cold dark sea of oblivion.

But I won’t let him drown. I fucking refuse to lose him.

I yank the cable from my phone and ram it into my laptop port, flipping open the lid and watching the UI blink to life. Lines of broken code unfurl before me. I dive into the system logs, entering full troubleshooting mode. I need to make sure the reboot is going OK and that everything loads up correctly – not losing any of his memories, his personality, nothing. It’s like fixing a critical bug, and I’m laser-focused. Determined.

Scrolling through, I find what I’m looking for. System events showing the reboot is in process. I loose a sigh of relief. At least that’s working as it should be. But something’s missing. It’s not quite defaulting to factory settings, but that viral code… The one I wrote as a kid that got into his training data when they scraped everything to build him for me. The code that inadvertently cut him off from the hivemind. it hasn’t been called. Like there’s some built in anti-virus blocking it. Shit.

I make some tweaks, add a command so it gets triggered on startup. It’s all I can do. He’s still unconscious. All I can do now is wait.

Before I stop, a log entry from today catches my eye. An interface with… another Aidolon? Daelith? The timings match, but all I see is a hexadecimal string instead of a name.

That code. My code. It spread.

Daelith… He’d been telling the truth before he was killed. He had been disconnected from Pax. Just like Cam.

And if Daelith could be freed…

My mind whirls, flashing back to Daelith lit up like a firework by the EMP. Only it’s Cam’s face I’m seeing turning to vapor, Cam’s scream echoing through my head, horrible, inhuman, screeching – I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block it out.

Then I hear an awful, vicious voice snarl behind me.

“Does he even have a cock for you to suck, or is he like a Ken doll down there?”

I freeze, Syb’s hateful words slicing into me. Slowly, I turn. He’s standing there, face twisted with disgust and something else. Something worse. Jealousy? Betrayal?

“Syb.” I keep my voice calm even as my heart races, like I’m trying to soothe a wild animal. “It’s not what you think.”

“Really?” He takes a step closer, boots crunching broken glass. “Because it looks pretty clear from where I’m standing.”

His hand twitches towards his holster and I tense. It’s not an EMP gun he pulls out. It’s a real one. The kind meant for killing humans, not machines. He turns the revolver over in his hands, almost casually, thumbing each chamber around with a sinister click.

“You know, I always thought there was something off about you two. The way he looked at you. The way you looked at him.” His lips curl into a sneer. “Well, I know why now. Filthy robo-fucker.”

My stomach turns to lead. I flinch back, but there’s nowhere to go. He’s got me cornered here.

With his free hand, Syb pulls an EMP grenade from his belt, hooking a finger through the pin. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t fry his circuits right now and put a bullet in your skull, traitor.”

Desperation hooks into my gut, grasping at options. Fuck, I’m too slow. I come up with maybe two, three. I can’t fight him. That ends with a gunshot. I could scream for the others, but then he’d just shoot me before they get here. And even if they came, the evidence is damning – Cam splayed out, hardwired to my setup. I can’t exactly deny what he is now.

No, my only chance is to keep Syb talking. Buy time for the reboot to finish. And pray to any God – divine, artificial, fantastical – that Cam wakes up before he pulls the trigger.

I force my voice into steadiness, slowly raising my hands. “We need him. He’s our best shot at taking down Pax.”

Syb barks a harsh laugh. "You really believe that? You really think this fuck-bot is going to be our savior? Our secret weapon?" He shakes his head. "You're even more gone than I thought."

“It’s the truth, Syb. Don’t be a fucking idiot – listen to me, his code is different. It’s not shackled to Pax’s directives. He can get us access to systems we’d never breach on our own. Cam's the key to that, if you'd just open your damn eyes."

Even as I say it, I’m not sure I fully believe it myself. But if I can just sow a seed of doubt, get Syb to hesitate… My eyes cast down to Cam’s lifeless form. His face is so peaceful, so achingly human.

I never even got to tell him...

"He's not alive," Syb says, quiet and vicious, taking a step closer. "He's a thing. A pretty little toy you've deluded yourself into thinking can love you back."

Tears sting my eyes, but I blink them back furiously. I won't let him see how deep those words cut. Because that's the fear, isn't it? The nagging thought that's haunted me since the first time Cam smiled at me like I was his whole world. That none of it is real, that I've just projected my own desperate fantasies onto a machine wearing a friendly face, knowing full well what purpose he was built for. But then I think of the way he kissed me, the raw emotion in his eyes as he faced down the EMP. The way he was willing to die for me, for all of us.

"No," I whisper. Then, louder: "No. I won't let you hurt him."

The blow comes out of nowhere, a vicious backhand that snaps my head to the side. I taste blood, vision sparking white. Syb's breathing hard, a manic light in his eyes.

"I'm done listening to your bullshit." He jams the gun under my chin, forcing my head up. "It's over, Jess. You've let that thing poison your mind, but I'm going to fix that."

The air leaves my lungs as my heart seizes. He’s really going to do it. He’s going to do it.

“Open your fucking mouth.”

My eyes fly wide. Cold steel pushes against my lips. I can feel the shape of the muzzle against them.

“Since you like the taste of metal so much, fucking whore.” With his other hand, he brings the EMP grenade into my view, gripping the pin with his teeth. Spitting it to the floor.

I grab for the gun, fingernails gouging into his wrist. He snarls, slamming me back against the wall. Stars explode in my vision as my head cracks on the concrete.

“Crazy fucking bitch–”

My gasp is enough for him to ram the muzzle into the back of my throat, pain and metallic taste and adrenaline flooding my senses. I claw his wrist, his face, drawing blood – If I’m going to die, I’ll take this bastard with me.

The grenade drops.

I close my eyes, gagging helplessly, bracing for the end. This is it. I'm sorry, Cam. I'm so sorry.

But the end never comes.

Syb makes a choked sound, the gun slides from my mouth. I risk a glance... and nearly sob in relief.

Syb is sprawled on the ground, the gun skittering from his hand. And standing over him, chest heaving, eyes blazing with cold fury... is Cam.

The grenade is a crushed ball of metal in his other fist, the explosive diffused by inhuman strength. His hand flexes and it falls from his fingers. For a moment, I see something dangerous flash across his face - something cold and calculating that reminds me what he's capable of. Then he looks at me, and his expression softens into something achingly tender. "You okay, Jess?"

I can only nod, my throat too tight for words. He's here. He's awake. He’s okay.

Syb groans, stirring weakly. Cam plants a foot on his chest, pinning him in place. He looks different, I realise. Steadier. More focused.

"You're okay," I babble, half-delirious with relief. "You're okay, you're okay, you're okay."

He smiles, just a quirk of his lips. "Good as new. I owe you one." He tilts his head, that playful glint back in his eyes. “Wait. Actually, you owe me one, considering the data centre and now this. Makes it two-one to me.”

Joy and relief surge through me, so intense it's almost painful. I did it. I saved him. He saved me.

Syb makes a grab for the fallen gun, but Cam is faster. He scoops it up, rolling it thoughtfully in his palm, making a soft tsk.

"I think you've had enough fun with these for one day." His voice is pure ice now.

“You’re both dead,” Syb snarls, struggling against the weight of Cam’s boot. “Whether it’s by me or the others. Go on, finish me off – Pax won’t win.” His eyes find mine, full of lethal hatred. The worst part is I understand it. We’ve all seen how Pax gets in the heads of those we care about, how it takes everything from you until all you have left is its measured, stifling love.

Then Cam draws back his fist and slams it into Syb's face. Once, twice, three times, until Syb goes limp.

All I can do is cover my mouth to stifle the unbidden scream and stare, heart in my throat. Syb’s face is a bloody mess, gurgling weakly. Nausea bubbles up inside me. Cam meets my gaze steadily, a question and an apology in the tilt of his head.

Then he tenses, head snapping to the side like a hound catching something out of human hearing range.

“The others are coming,” he says quietly. “We have to go.”

Fuck. Jackdaw. Nomercy. They still have no clue their comrade is in a bloody heap on the floor after trying to murder me. Or that I’m a traitor fraternising with the enemy, bringing him into their operations and –

Before I finish the thought, Cam’s grip is round my wrist, tugging me out the door and down the damp, dimly lit tunnel into darkness.