Shameless post for my fanfic; only two chapters in but still chugging away at it!
More centered around Space Jockeys/Weyland corp. but the David/Shaw theme is a very strong undercurrent. While I originally said this was to be more platonic than romantic, I’m considering upping up the latter (although I’m trying to figure out how without making it rushed?)
anyhow, happy reading
They had been on the alien ship for a month now. It still felt wrong to Elizabeth. Fascinating, beautiful, but wrong. She was the only living creature beside an android on this ship of death heading on what they presumed to be a suicide mission. It made her feel uneasy, but there was an excitement that lingered in the air. Freedom.
It didn’t come from her of course, it came from David, if that was possible. Could an android give off that sort of emotional vibe? She supposed she should stop questioning everything about him, but does someone who searches for knowledge ever really stop questioning? This was all about questioning, after all. Questions and answers had brought her here, to this.
“You look uneasy… Elizabeth.” David stood in the doorway of the cabins and Elizabeth jolted. He could always creep up on her like that and it was frightening and pervasive. She knew he couldn’t help it. She thought so at least. She looked up and suddenly the blonde android stood in front of her as she sat on the edge of her bed. He knelt down to her level and resumed his pleasant features. “It is a symptom of shock. It is perfectly normal.” He reassured her gently. She nodded quickly and looked away.
“I miss your dreams.” He smiled, his eyes softening. Elizabeth slowly turned her head to look at him. He looked so entranced by her and that made her uneasy. Was that in his programming? “You look uncomfortable.” He observed impassively. What could she tell him? That he looked predatory and innocent all at once? That she feared for her life around him? That she found him equally entrancing from the looks he gave to her?
“They weren’t yours to look at. They were mine, they were intimate.” She explained as gently as she could. She lowered her head to look down at her lap, but with David’s close proximity, she could watch the rise and fall of his chest. He didn’t even need to breathe. This was for her benefit, supposedly, even though she had toted his disembodied head with her and then gruelingly put him back together herself.
Then his hand was on her cheek and she felt how exactly warm it was. It felt so normal, and her heart clenched at what normal was in the middle of space, lost. She gasped, and David hushed her gently, guiding her face to look up at his. She could feel his thumb gently move across her cheek, lulling her. She didn’t understand, and she was sure her face conveyed that easily.
“Humans crave and desire intimacy, Doctor Elizabeth Shaw.”
Prometheus, pre-movie. David watches Shaw dream. Warning: potentially disturbing themes and content.
For two hundred and fourteen days, David had been alone. “Alone” was a curious word: it seemed to hold such ugly connotations for humans. Boredom, emptiness. Rather than a state of lack, David viewed this uninterrupted time of reflection as a gift. He was accustomed to being treated like an accessory, a tool, an appliance to make the lives of others easier. This was the first time since his creation that he had been left to his own thoughts and activities without someone else constantly controlling his actions. There was no one to monitor him, no orders to take. He was, temporarily, free.
He could watch films for days on end without interruption. He could ride his bicycle through the abandoned corridors of the darkened vessel. In the recreation hall, he could sink shots over his shoulder without looking—there was no one to remind him to hamper the actions that came naturally to him so he would not seem superhuman or unreal. He could recite poetry to himself without pausing for breath, faking hesitations.