#hey rex

          the pl unit isn’t advanced, nor was it created with the expectation that it would be damaged in any substantial way. simon’s hud doesn’t tell him of the damaged biocomponents in his throat as ethan’s hand grips under his chin and begins to slowly constrict around important thirium lines and connections. his vision falters, the feed glitching and filling with static that distorts the visage of once trusted companion - that makes ethan look something out of a horror film. he’s scared - terrified. simon doesn’t want to die - he doesn’t want to die but even more than that? he doesn’t want ethan to wake up and see what he’s done. 

         synthetic skin flickers as hands tremble where they cling to ethan’s wrist as the smaller android is lifted just high enough off the ground that he’s stood on tiptoes - desperately trying to loosen the iron grip on his neck. “pl–pleas–e—-” vocaliser stutters, voice failing - being halted by the grip ‘round synthetic throat. he’s not real. he can’t die. none of them can. simon can’t feel pain, nor was he designed with the ability to cry but he thinks this is what humans must feel when they want to cry - when they need to cry. this is fear and sadness and despair and betrayal all wrapped up in the knowledge that there’s nothing either of them can do to change the outcome of this. 

          the knowledge that ethan would snap his neck as soon as he was done with him, that simon would stand no chance against the rk unit’s strength. the knowledge that they’re both just puppets for the humans to play with. that simon was no more free from their creators and captors than ethan was here and now. thirium pump falters in his chest, pl unit’s grip tightening - twitching - against the hand ‘round his throat as it tightens and something snaps beneath that grip that shows no sign of loosening off. 

          a hand moves, finding the side of ethan’s face just as the pl600 is pinned back against something solid. everything jerks, speeding up and then grinding to a halt just as he’s slammed back against a metal wall and whatever sub systems simon has in place all scream at once that he’s going to shut down here. that he’s got maybe a minute left. that he’s going to join markus and josh and north as nothing more than empty husks where something used to reside. 

         so? he reaches out, makes a connection. forces an interface between himself and whatever is inside ethan’s head now. shows him everything. the fleeting touches, the long glances and intricate details in the rk unit’s face that tentative fingers have mapped. the way ethan’s voice would make something jump inside simon’s chest. the trust. the impicit trust and comfort that being around the larger android would bring. hushed words in silent corridors. the heat of being pressed close to the other. everything. he shows ethan everything. not because he wants to change his mind, not that he wants to try and change what’s happening here because simon’s realistic enough to know when something is too far gone and the damage to his chassis is beyond repair. he’s sure the damage to ethan’s internal systems is far beyond repair too. no, simon just wants ethan to know. 

          no matter what happens. he wants ethan to know. simon wants to remember what they had even if it’s the last thing he thinks off as ocean hues close and jaw sets and the pl unit steels himself against the inevitable snap. with one last message sent between their fragile link.