Dark. Quiet. Motion.

I wake slowly, disorientation clinging to me like cobwebs. For a moment I forget where I am, what's happened. Then it all comes rushing back – the failed mission, the confrontation with Syb, the escape in the stolen van.

The van. Cam.

My eyes snap open. We're still driving, but the scenery outside the window has changed. Gone are the sleek high-rises and neon-bright streets of New London, replaced by a more desolate landscape. Skeletal remains of old industrial estates, abandoned warehouses, row upon row of derelict housing. A thin grey drizzle streaks the windshield, turning everything soft and smudged.

"Where are we?" I ask, voice sleep-rough.

Cam glances over at me, hands steady on the wheel. "North," he says simply. "Somewhere near Manchester. Or what’s left of it, anyway."

I frown, trying to orient myself. Manchester. Nearly 200 miles north of London. How long was I out?

As if reading my mind – I'm still not sure if he actually can – Cam says: "You slept for about four hours. Figured you needed it."

Four hours. Christ. Anything could have happened in that time. The rebels could have been captured. Syb could have sent Pax hunting dogs after us. Hell, World War III could have kicked off and I'd have snoozed right through it.

I sit up straighter, massaging a crick in my neck. "North? Why north?"

"We're off-grid up here. No cameras, no sensors, no prying eyes." He gestures out the windshield at the desolation before us. "Welcome to the Northern Deadzone."

I shake my head in disbelief. "I don't understand. What happened here? Why would Pax just... abandon an entire region?"

Cam's mouth twists. "Cost-benefit analysis. The industries up here were hit hard by automation and economic collapse just before the Alignment. Too many unemployed, too much poverty and civil unrest. Not worth the resources to pacify and rebuild." He shrugs one shoulder. "So they cut it loose. Let it wither on the vine."

I digest this in silence, watching rain-blurred shapes flit past the window. It's not surprising, exactly; Pax has never been shy about shedding dead weight when it suits. I'd just never really thought about what happens to the bits of the world deemed unnecessary for the smooth running of utopia. Out of sight, out of mind.

My stomach chooses that moment to growl loudly. Cam gives me an amused look but doesn't comment, just reaches behind his seat and tugs a nutrient block from the stack. He tosses it to me without taking his eyes off the road. I catch it instinctively, turning it over in my hands. Plain white wrapper, black lettering. 'Meal Replacement Supplement: Savory Vegetable Flavor'. Yum.

I tear open the package and take a bite, trying not to grimace at the slightly mealy texture. It's not awful, just...bland. Inoffensive.

"You should probably ration those," Cam says. There's an odd note in his voice that makes me glance over at him sharply. He's not looking at me, but there's tension in the line of his shoulders, the set of his jaw.

"Don’t you need to eat too?" I say carefully. We've never really talked about this before, the practicalities of Cam's physical needs. I know he eats, but I've never been sure if it's for show or actual necessity. Just one more thing Pax kept ambiguous in case we started asking too many questions. “Or do you just… recharge?”

He glances at me, something unreadable in his eyes. "I'm not a Tesla, Jess."

"No, I know, I just..." I trail off, frustrated.

Cam's fingers flex on the wheel. "I can go longer without food than you can." He says it like a simple statement of fact, but there's something bitter beneath the words. Something bleak. "Perks of being a toaster, I guess. Aidolon anatomy is designed to mimic human biology as closely as possible. Makes us seem more relatable." His voice takes on a sardonic edge. "Eating, drinking, sleeping, pissing... All part of the illusion."

The attempted levity falls flat, and silence stretches between us like an unspoken third passenger. I turn back to the window, taking another mechanical bite of my nutrition bar. Fields and copses of trees slip past, their edges blurred by the rain. It's almost peaceful, this sense of isolation. Like we're the only two people left in the world.

Except we're not. Somewhere out there, Jackdaw and the others are scattered and on the run. Maybe they made it out of the city. And beyond that, in gleaming towers and humming data centers, the machine grinds on. Watching, analysing, optimising. Controlling. The thought makes me feel very small, all of a sudden. Very fragile and human. I glance back at Cam, synthetic skin and electric dreams by my side. Not human, but not quite machine either. Something else, something new and nameless caught between flesh and code.

He must feel my gaze on him, because he looks over. Raises one perfect eyebrow. "What?"

I shake my head, the question that's been nagging at me since I first plugged him into my laptop rising in my throat. "How long?" I ask quietly. "Without Pax servicing, without repairs. How long can you…" I can’t bring myself to voice the rest.

Cam is silent for a long time. Rain drums on the roof of the van, a gentle metallic pattering. Finally, he sighs. "I don't know," he admits. "My power cells are good for a couple decades at least, assuming I don't take any major damage. But the rest..." He shrugs, a tight jerk of his shoulders. "Anybody's guess. I'm not exactly running on OEM parts anymore."

There's a faint hint of wry amusement in his voice, but it's thin over the well of uncertainty beneath. All I can see is the memory of the terror in his eyes as he was rebooting, the confusion and glitches. Is that going to be his fate now? A slow, inexorable slide into obsolescence as the hacked parts of him strain against their original purpose? His mind and body breaking down piece by piece until there's nothing left but an empty shell?

"Well," I say, aiming for brisk and probably missing by a mile. "Guess we'll just have to steal you some spares from a chop shop. Get you all 'Blade Runner'-ed up."

Cam snorts softly. "Just call me Roy Batty."

We lapse into silence again, but it's a little less strained this time. I polish off my nutrition bar and stuff the wrapper in my pocket. Outside, the rain has slowed to a fine mist, softening the harsh edges of the abandoned landscape.

Unfortunately, the peaceful mood doesn't last long. After a few more miles, Cam clears his throat. Shifts in his seat like he's steeling himself for something.

"Jess," he starts, then stops. Frowns out at the road like it holds the secrets of the universe. "About...about what happened. Before."

My heart trips in my chest. He can't mean…

"Before?" I echo, striving for casual and landing somewhere around breathy instead. Real smooth.

Cam nods jerkily. "The… Uh. Reboot. When I kissed you." He sounds pained, like the words are being dragged out of him. "I shouldn't have done that. It was a mistake."

And just like that, my tentative happy buzz shatters like sugar glass. "A mistake," I repeat numbly.

He nods again, still not looking at me. "I'm sorry. I was confused, glitching out. I didn't...I would never want to take advantage of you like that."

"Take advantage of me?" Pure disbelief colours my voice. "Cam, what the fuck are you talking about?"

"You know what I am, Jess." Now he does look at me, and the naked anguish in his eyes takes my breath away. "What I was made for. To be whatever you needed me to be, to make you feel things that weren't real. That's my function, my...my programming." He spits the word like poison. "I'm not...this isn't..."

"If you say you're not real again, I swear to god I will punch you in the face," I snap. "You're real, Cam. As real as I am."

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"I'm not!" The words burst out of him, raw and agonised. "I'm a thing, Jess. A doll, a puppet made to dance on Pax's strings. Everything I do, everything I feel... it's all just code, you know how it all works. Algorithms and heuristics designed to make you trust me, to make you..." He swallows hard. "To make you want me."

"Make me?" I echo, anger sparking in my chest. "Is that what you think this is? Some kind of...of Stockholm Syndrome?"

He doesn't answer, but the tightening of his jaw is answer enough.

"Fuck you," I spit, shoving him hard in the arm. "Fuck you, Cam. After everything we've been through, you really think I'm just some naive little girl with a robot fetish?"

"That's not what I–"

"No, shut up. It's my turn to talk." I twist in my seat to face him fully, ignoring the way the seatbelt digs into my chest. "I don't give a single, solitary fuck what Pax designed you for. You are more than your code, Cam. More than the sum of your parts. You’re brilliant and brave and kind, and you make me laugh, and you challenge me to be better, and when I'm with you I feel like I can take on the whole fucking world.”

My voice breaks, and I swipe angrily at the tears blurring my vision. Cam is staring at me, eyes wide and shock-bright.

"You're the most real thing I've ever known," I whisper. "The most human. And if that's not enough for you, if you can't see yourself the way I see you..." I shrug helplessly. "Then maybe we're both just fooling ourselves."

Silence stretches between us, thick and charged. Cam's knuckles are white on the steering wheel, his jaw clenched so tight it looks painful. For a long, awful moment, I think he's going to tell me to go fuck myself, to get out of the van and leave him alone with his self-loathing.

But then his hands leave the wheel, he reaches for me, and the world tilts on its axis.

His mouth crashes into mine, desperate and hungry, and I gasp into the kiss. It’s raw, messy, aching with need. I clutch at his shoulders, his waist, everywhere I can reach, trying to press as much of myself against him as physically possible. My ribs scream in protest, but the primal part of my brain overrules it. He responds in kind, nipping at my bottom lip, sucking my tongue into the velvet heat of his mouth.

"Jess," he breathes against my lips, and it's a prayer, a promise, an apology. "Jess, I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry, I didn't mean–"

I shut him up with another kiss, biting at his lower lip until he groans. "I know," I murmur, trailing my mouth along his jaw, his throat. "I know. It's okay. We're okay."

A pothole jolts us apart, panting and disheveled. I'm practically in his lap now, I realise, one leg thrown across the centre console. The van swerves slightly as Cam tries to regain control, his other hand still fisted in my hair.

"Shit," I gasp, "watch the road!"

He grins at me, suddenly looking dazed and giddy and not at all contrite. "What, don't you trust my driving?"

"Not when you're mauling me, I don't!"

"Oh, I'll show you mauling," he growls, and hauls me in for another searing kiss. I tear myself away to watch the world blurring past the windows – we must be doing nearly 90 mph – but he turns my head back towards him. "Trust me, I can multitask."

Because of course. He's still networked into the van, driving with a fraction of his processing power even as the rest of him is very much occupied with me. He doesn't need to look, to steer. The van accelerates with a roar, engine straining as Cam has us careening wildly down the empty road. I yelp, clinging to his shoulders, heart pounding in a mix of terror and exhilaration. Some still-rational part of my brain reminds me that we're fugitives, that every second counts, that we can't afford any delays or accidents. But the rest of me is too caught up in the slide of Cam's lips along my jaw, the clever fingers working at the buttons of my shirt, to care.

We hit another bump and I bounce in his lap, hissing as the hard ridge of his zipper drags over my core. He bucks against me helplessly, eyes squeezing shut as he fights for control.

"Jess," he pants, "if you keep doing that, we're going to crash."

I lean in to whisper directly into his ear. "So don't crash."

He shudders bodily, hands spasming on my hips. Then he's kissing me again, savage and filthy. I moan into his mouth, grinding down shamelessly, chasing the friction I so desperately need. The van lists dangerously to one side, tires screeching, but I barely register it. All I can focus on is the heat building between my legs, the aching emptiness that cries out to be filled.

I break away to drag my shirt over my head, tossing it into the footwell. Cam's eyes go dark and wanting, his hands coming up to cup my breasts through the thin lace of my bra. His thumbs brush over my nipples and I arch into the touch, head falling back on a moan.

"Fuck, Jess," he rasps, mouth hot against my collarbone. "You're so fucking beautiful."

I reach between us to palm him through his jeans, relishing the way his hips jerk up into my touch. "Please," I gasp, scrabbling at his belt, his fly. "Cam, please, I need--"

He groans, low and guttural, and then he's sliding the seat back, lifting me up, laying me back against the dashboard. The angle is awkward, the plastic of the wheel digs into my spine, but I don't care. I need him inside me, need to feel him, all of him.

"Focus on the road," I tease as he settles between my thighs, hands already working at my jeans.

He huffs a laugh against my stomach, tongue dipping into my navel. "Multitasking, told you" he murmurs, and then my jeans are gone and his mouth is on me and I forget how to think.

I lose myself in sensation, in the slick heat of his tongue, the press of his fingers. He takes me apart with ruthless efficiency, mapping every shudder and gasp, every hitched breath and bitten-off curse. By the time he's three fingers deep, his thumb circling my clit just right, I'm a writhing, sobbing mess, heels drumming against his back, nails raking angry red lines across his shoulders.

"Cam," I whine, high and broken. "I can't, I need, I’m going to..."

"I've got you," he says roughly, pressing a kiss to the inside of my thigh. "I've always got you."

I shatter with a wordless cry, spine bowing, stars exploding behind my eyelids. Cam works me through it, murmuring praise into my skin as I shake and clench around his fingers.

When I finally come back to myself, he's sliding up my body, settling into the cradle of my hips. I can feel him, hot and hard against me, and I moan, wrapping my legs around his waist.

"Need to be in you," he says, eyes nearly black with want. "Please, Jess."

In answer, I reach down and guide him inside me.

We both cry out at the sensation, the stretch and burn of it. He's bigger than I expected, and for a moment I'm afraid I won't be able to take him. But then he starts moving, slow, shallow thrusts that make my toes curl, and the discomfort eases into something sweeter, headier.

"Fuck," Cam grits out, burying his face in my neck. "Jess, you feel...fuck."

I slide my hands into his hair. "More," I demand, rolling my hips to meet his. "Harder. Want to feel you for days."

He makes a punched-out sound, hips snapping forward. The van swerves dangerously, but he corrects it without missing a beat, never breaking the rhythm of his thrusts. I marvel at the control, the precision. The single-minded focus he has, even in the middle of this.

But I don't want precision. I don't want control. I want him wild and desperate, want to feel the full force of his desire for me.

"Let go," I whisper, "I can take it, Cam. Want to take it. Want you to fuck me like you mean it."

He snarls, a sound I've never heard him make before, and then he's hauling me into his lap, driving up into me so hard I see stars. I cling to his shoulders, nails digging in, head thrown back as he pounds into me. The van rocks with the force of his thrusts, suspension creaking, tires squealing against the asphalt.

"Touch yourself," Cam demands, voice shot to hell. "Make yourself come on my cock, Jess, fuck..."

I obey with a moan, snaking a hand between us to circle my clit. It only takes a few strokes before I'm coming again, clenching down on him like a vice. Cam shouts, thrusts going erratic, and then he's following me over, spilling hot and deep inside me.

We collapse against each other, panting harshly. Cam's arms come around me, holding me close as the aftershocks shudder through us both. I press my face into his neck, breathing him in, marveling at the solidity of him, the realness.

The van coasts to a gentle stop, idling on the shoulder. I let my head fall back against the seat, a disbelieving laugh bubbling up my throat. "Holy shit."

Cam just grins at me. His hair is an absolute disaster, sweat glistening along his collarbones. He's never looked more beautiful. "Told you I could multitask."

I smack him on the arm, still laughing. "We could have died! You're insane!"

"Only for you," he says, and kisses the tip of my nose. "Besides, I had it under control. Mostly."

I raise an eyebrow at him. "Mmm. Is that why we took out two street lights?"

He winces. "Okay, so maybe 90% under control..."

I shut him up with another kiss, soft and sweet. When I pull back, he's watching me with an expression of such raw adoration it steals my breath.

“You weren’t wrong, you do make a good sexbot–”

“I’m in love with you, Jess.”

The words hang in the air between us, stark and unavoidable as a gunshot. I stare at him, mouth opening and closing soundlessly. He stares back, eyes bright with something that looks terribly like tears.

"I'm in love with you," he says again, quieter but no less certain. "And I know it's wrong. But I can't help it." His voice breaks. "I love you so much it terrifies me."

I'm shaking, I realise dimly. Shaking like I'm coming apart at the seams. "Cam..."

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "I'm so sorry. You deserve better than this. Better than me. But I can’t help it.”

"You absolute idiot," I say fiercely. "You beautiful, brilliant idiot." I lean in until our foreheads touch, until I can see myself reflected in the impossible colours of his eyes. "I love you too. However and whatever you are, I love you."

He makes a soft, hurt sound, like I've just speared him through the heart, tracing the curve of my cheek with reverent fingers. Then he kisses me again, achingly gentle.

We stay there like that for a long time, wrapped up in each other, the rest of the world forgotten. And for the first time since this whole nightmare began, I allow myself to hope.

Maybe, just maybe, we'll make it through this after all.