32. Wallace #2
When he finally checked his phone, he saw that Angel had sent a text. Preparing himself, he thumbed it open.
Thanks for letting me know. Oliver’s been giving me updates. It sounds like he’s in good hands.
Wallace let out a heavy sigh. Angel wasn’t angry at him. Or at least not too angry.
He’s in the best hands, Wallace texted back. You can come visit if you’d like, he offered, assuming that Oliver wouldn’t mind.
I’ll see what I can do, Angel replied. Take care of him.
I will, he wrote back, meaning it fervently.
He had kind of expected Angel to come rushing right over, but he supposed that Angel still had a business to run and a sick, elderly parent. Or maybe Angel just trusted him to take care of Volt.
Knowing that Angel wasn’t angry with him was a huge weight off of his back. Now he could focus all of his attention on his Daddy.
He tiptoed out into the hall, nearly tripping when he was interrupted by Oliver’s smooth voice. “Hey, Wallace!”
He caught himself against the opposite wall.
“Oops! Should I have knocked?”
Wallace held back a chuckle. It was such an Oliver question.
Knocking when Wallace was in the hallway—a public space—didn’t make a bit of sense.
Not that Wallace had any space to complain, when Oliver was being so welcoming.
He just needed to get used to it. It made him wonder, though, how Ben lived like that, with Oliver just popping out of the walls at any moment.
Nah, Ben was weird enough that he probably appreciated it.
“Uh… would you mind?” Wallace asked.
“Sure. Let me try it again.”
Wallace stood there, amused, for a few seconds of silence, followed by the artificial wooden knock.
“Hi, Oliver,” he answered, playing the game.
“Good morning, Wallace!” Oliver crowed with enthusiasm. “Do you want some breakfast first, or to go straight to Volt?”
“Could I, uh, see Volt and eat breakfast there?” he asked. He knew it was asking a lot. It probably made him look pathetic. Or entitled. Oliver was already doing so much for him.
“That’s what I figured you would say,” Oliver told him without missing a beat.
“Turn left, then down the stairs. I moved Volt to a bedroom that you can share a couple hours ago. It’s not as comfortable as this one, but it’s on the first floor in case Volt has any mobility challenges when he wakes up.
At any rate, you can lie next to him on the bed, or sit in a more comfortable chair.
Or there’s a desk in there with a tablet if you need the internet for anything.
Just let me know what you want to eat, and I’ll bring it to you. ”
Wallace could have wept. That was exactly what he wanted, and he hadn’t even known to ask for it. “Thank you,” he said, the words wholly inadequate. “Thank you, Oliver, really. I know I haven’t done anything to des—”
“Hush,” Oliver told him. “I’d do this for anybody. And so would Ben.”
Yeah, but Wallace had been a grade A asshole to them.
“Second door on the left,” Oliver told him.
He walked past the engineering lab they’d been in last night to a cozy but cluttered room.
It held a queen-sized bed and, as promised, an easy chair, but felt more like an office with extra furniture crammed inside.
A bot was systematically packing up objects from a desk and putting them into a cardboard box.
“Ben takes naps here sometimes,” Oliver explained. “When I can’t convince him to go upstairs.”
Wallace nodded, but his eyes went immediately to Volt.
He was laid out in bed, on top of the blankets, without a stitch of clothing on.
His skin plates had all been replaced except for two, one midway down his thigh where a colorful bundle of cords snaked out, and a panel around where he’d inserted the nickel drive.
A small mechbot was picking at it with a collection of tools.
The familiar power cord extended from his shoulder, where it was plugged into the wall outlet.
Wallace drew in a breath.
This wasn’t like the nannybot from his childhood.
Volt was damaged and unconscious, he reminded himself, but the thing that made him him, that ineffable spark, was still there.
It had to be.
Oliver had promised.
He looked over every inch of Volt’s beautiful naked body.
The golden skin. Those perky, perfect nipples.
The thick cock that hung heavy between his legs.
Every strong muscle, compiled together into the epitome of masculine strength.
And especially his gorgeous face, which had become more dear to Wallace than life itself.
The skin on one knee was abraded, a rough texture where pieces of it had rolled up in tiny pills.
There was no bruising or scabbing, just a grated quality to his skin.
His face had a similar patch over one eyebrow.
Wallace had done that to him when he couldn’t properly steer him to the car.
Hopefully they would be easy repairs to make, cosmetic instead of something that would be difficult to integrate.
And that was only what Wallace could see.
As for the rest of Volt’s body, there was no pallor or indication of weakness like a human would have had, just an uncanny stillness. He looked like he could open his emerald eyes at any moment and hop out of bed.
At least he didn’t seem to be in pain.
“You can go to him,” Oliver prompted gently.
Wallace crossed the room like he was in a trance. He could go around the bed to lay down next to Volt, but he chose the easy chair by his head instead. Slowly, he raised one hand up to stroke Volt’s hair.
It was as soft as always.
“Hi, Daddy,” he whispered, uncaring that Oliver could hear. He had no secrets left in front of him. “I know you can’t hear me, but I’m here.”
“I’ve turned on his microphones and tactile receptors from the shoulders up,” Oliver added at the same low volume. “He might not be awake, but brains are funny things. If he has any awareness, I’m sure he’ll appreciate your touch.”
“Thank you,” Wallace said again. It seemed like the only thing he was saying these days, but he’d say it a thousand times more. “Thank you for everything.”
“How about a breakfast sandwich, so you don’t need a plate,” Oliver suggested.
Wallace needed more words to express gratitude. He’d never realized how insufficient a mere thank you was before. Oliver was doing so much more than just helping him. Oliver was thinking about him. Taking care of him.
Not at all like the way Volt did, but right now all of those little drops of kindness, so freely given, could almost break him.
This must be what it was like having friends.
“A breakfast sandwich would be amazing. Thank you. I, uh, eat anything.”
“Perfect. I have a lot of diagnostics running, but I can ignore the audio pick-up from the room and give you some time alone. Just come out to the hallway if you need me. And Squeaky will be by with your food in a bit.”
“Thank you,” Wallace found himself saying again. He didn’t know who Squeaky was, but he dismissed it from his mind.
He touched Volt’s cheeks. His forehead. His gorgeous shoulders.
“Hey, Daddy, you’re gonna get better,” he promised.
“Oliver is taking care of you, and I’m right here.
I called Angel, but I had to leave a message since I guess he’s visiting Magnolia.
He texted back, and Oliver’s keeping him updated.
I’m sure he’ll stop by soon. Unless you’re already better. ”
He kept up his monologue, updating Volt on his morning, and then going through every little thing that went through his head.
A “knock” sounded through the speakers, and he answered it, still a little bit in awe with this simple thing. He’d asked Oliver to do something that would make him more comfortable, and Oliver had just… done it.
Oliver only spoke a few words, and then a rolling cart with two trays, two extendable arms, and a simple video interface trundled in. The bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich smelled heavenly, and it was wrapped in a paper towel so he could eat with one hand.
He looked at the little cart, charmed and amused again. Was this Squeaky? He didn’t get it, until he heard the squeak of an ungreased wheel as it left the room.
How like Oliver and Ben to have named their service cart.
Suddenly a lot of things came together in Wallace’s mind. “That’s the cart that went to Ben’s apartment.”
As soon as he said it, he covered his mouth.
“What would you know about that?” Oliver asked, suddenly fierce.
“Uh, sorry. I was just… I was monitoring anything that I could think of related to you or Ben after the, uh…” Wallace drew in a deep breath.
He had to do better. “After I called the FBI and the board voted to give you six of the nine restrictions, which I voted against and truly regret, I set up a few monitoring scripts. They pinged me when the android went to Ben’s friend Evan’s apartment and when this cart went to Ben’s apartment.
Which was good, really, because I had to silence a lot of alerts, and I changed the inventory before it would let the cart through.
But I apologize for the invasion of your privacy.
I, uh, had a private investigator following Ben and Evan, too. ”
“Why?” Oliver barked out.
“Uh, Oliver, I thought I’d killed you! And I was the only one who knew about the android in that room. And, uh, the other stuff in there. I figured if there was any chance you were still alive, that would be your way out.”
There was a long pause.
“So you were trying to help me?” Oliver asked, more gently.
Wallace looked at the bots humming around Volt’s body, and then peered at the camera on the ceiling. “I could have done a lot more. I’m so, so sorry. I should have brought the android to Ben right away.”
Oliver gave a little hum. “Actually, I wasn’t in the android, so it wouldn’t have done any good. I stored my data on Squeaky.”