Title: subsist on the light

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Denise Levertov

Warnings: modern-day AU

Pairings: Phillip/Aurora, Stefan/Leah

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 700

Point of view: third

Prompts: Any (except supernatural), Any robot/any, how does a robot fall in love? ; any fairy tale, any, robot AU

It is a long, protracted, absolutely perfect argument that finally allows her to attend university. The humans she calls her parents are worried but her father ensures that the paperwork is flawless and her mother takes her shopping for everything a freshman would need.

She herself is nervous but she's read every academic article on students, watched all the films and television shows, devoured several hundred fiction and nonfiction texts. (There is so much time available humans cannot utilize due to their need for sleep.)

She had been created because her parents could not have a child. Once she'd attained a certain level of self-awareness, she'd wondered why they didn't just adopt a human child. Or employ a surrogate. She has never asked.

She has always looked the same: a blonde human girl of around 18 years, tall and thin, pale, with blue eyes identical to her 'mother's. Her cheekbones are her 'father's. They crafted her to resemble them the way a biological child was most likely to. She was designed to go through all the stages of development, which is why she was surprised that her parents never expected her to attend university.

She loves to learn. She loves to watch people. She loves to play with dogs and pet cats and ride horses. She loves dancing in the rain.

Do you understand what 'love' is? her mother asked her once. Her father never seemed to hesitate in treating her the way she's learned humans treat their daughters. Her mother sometimes did. Perhaps because they had been unable to hold her when she was younger? Physically, she's always been the same size. Mentally, emotionally - emotionally? she'd heard her mother yell once. it's wires and plastic, Stefan! It is not a child.

She is more than wires and plastic, though; she has synthetic flesh, yes, but a heart that beats. She is a perfect facsimile of a human woman of 18.

Love, she thinks, gazing around the center of campus, where students are hurrying to and fro, talking with companions, stretching out on the grass. As far as her research has determined, not even humans fully understand 'love', though they bandy the term around constantly.

"Excuse me," a pleasant, mid-range male voice calls from behind her. "Can I help you find something?"

Smiling, she turns.

…

"She's dreaming," they tell him, escorting him from the room where she's tucked under blankets. "Everything will be fine, sir," they promise. Her parents, her aunts, her friends - none of them meet his eyes.

He goes home. Curls up on her side of the bed. Prays.

.

He visits every day, whenever he's not working. Researches long into the night, reading medical journals and wikipediaing anything he doesn't understand. It's... a lot. She was always the smart one.

It doesn't make sense, any of it, and she keeps on dreaming. They don't have the money for this, but her parents are rich and they pay for most of it. They swear everything will be fine.

He only sees them in the hall outside her room, sometimes. Her kindest aunt takes him out to dinner but most of her family stays distant. It's fine.

Everything is fine. Will be fine.

I love you, she told him once. And you love me. That's all we need.

.

It rains the day her parents convince him to pull the plug.

She doesn't fade away.

.

It rains the morning he wakes up to her sitting beside him, as bright and beautiful as the day they met on the quad. She'd been wide-eyed and excited about everything, explaining she'd been very sheltered all her life. He'd escorted her around campus, delighting in her delight. He'd never met anyone like her.

"You're awake," he murmurs, sure that he's dreaming.

Her eyes are bluer than he remembers. Her hands are cold on his skin. Her bones creak when she moves, which isn't right.

"Love," she whispers, "I need to tell you something."