Archive of Our Own

The difference, to any outsider, would have been imperceptible.

Much like the Hutton's Vireo and the Ruby-crowned Kinglet — two species of birds that looked terribly similar — often mistaken for each other to the untrained eye, but not to Veritas Ratio, who could discern them easily through the patterns on their wings.

This Aventurine was the same; imperceptible to the untrained eye, but not to Ratio, who had carved a place in his heart in the shape of Aventurine's silhouette.

The man in front of him was not the Aventurine he knew, or held close to him.

~

It was subtle, at first: small mannerisms, minor details, imperfections in the reanimation. Ratio had been too overcome with relief to have wanted anything more — how could he have ever wanted anything more, when he had already lost Aventurine once? This was a miracle, a scientific, or rather, mechanical one, to have Aventurine alive and in front of him again — and too overjoyed to care.

It became glaringly obvious when the initial relief faded, and left him staring down the chasm of someone who bore Aventurine's face, but none of his personality or his little quirks and mannerisms; none of the things Ratio had once adored about him.

It began with a mission, as it always did; Aventurine? Aventurine suggested they leave before sunrise to get supplies, mainly for reserves, for the journey ahead.

"Ready to leave?" Aventurine? Aventurine asked, adjusting the coat Ratio had given him last night, tightening it around his shoulders.

Ratio faltered.

Aventurine never said that to him.

It was always "shall we go?" or "should we leave now? I want to try that new place down the street", always asking, never a confirmation or a prompt — leaving Ratio with choices, his decision to make, his call — Aventurine never phrased his sentences like that.

Ratio clenched his jaw.

A minor error in the computation, one to be resolved later — to amend, fix, refine — and ensure that his speech module modelled after Aventurine's original speech patterns were working, reprogrammed if necessary.

The man in front of him was not Aventurine.

Ratio swallowed around the lump around his throat.

"Let's go."

~

It was becoming noticeable, slowly; the way the replacement he carried himself, the way he looked at Ratio, the way he tilted his head, and it grated on Ratio's already exhaustion-frayed nerves.

"Ratio," the replacement Aventurine said, tilting his head a fraction of a degree too much to the right. "Got everything you need?"

Ratio's eye twitched.

Another error, another mistake, another fault.

"Yes," he said, not kindly, slinging the bag over his shoulder. "Let's go."

The replacement Aventurine frowned, his eyebrows knitting, before his lips pursed in confusion, tugging on Ratio's heart with how familiar it was, and how different it was.

Because Aventurine always pursed his lips first, knitted his eyebrows second, before tilting his head to the right when he was confused. Always in that order, without fail, because it was his habit, and the replacement could never replicate that, not even with the best programming that Ratio — with his vast knowledge and experience — could produce.

"You're acting strange, doctor," the replacement Aventurine said. "Grown tired of me already?"

I could never tire of you, Ratio wanted to say, desperately, anxiously, hopelessly, to the real Aventurine, the one that had curled up next to his body for warmth, his hair tickling against Ratio's neck, amidst softly, sleepily mumbled words under his breath, his arms loosely looping around Ratio's waist — unlike this one, whom he'd never heard take a breath. If I knew how long I had before I lost you–

"It's nothing," Ratio averted his eyes, away from the piercing red he knew had his heart rate, breathing rate all analysed, notarised and catalogued. "We should move, before they find us."

The replacement Aventurine stepped forward like he wanted to say something — and Ratio fought the urge to flinch away — before retracting his hand, and turning away, seemingly scalded (as if an android could feel, or be wounded by words that pierced its metallic, robotic mess of wires for a heart).

"Alright," the android said, resigned. "Whatever you want."

~

"Veritas," a familiar voice rang out, tantalisingly close. "Won't you open your eyes?"

Ratio blinked open, and felt pinpricks of tears along the corner of his eyes.

Vibrant pink and teal (not red, why would they be red?) eyes greeted his vision, full of life and mirth (of course, as they would be, why would they not?), curved upwards in a all-too-familiar smile on an all-too-familiar face.

"It's you," Ratio whispered, swallowing around the lump of emotions in his throat; sharp and prickling. "It's really you?"

Aventurine blinked, before laughing, loud and amused (and how he ached to hear it again, selfishly), before brushing a hand carelessly across Ratio's eyes.

"Of course it's me," Aventurine tucked a loose strand of hair behind Ratio's ear, his fingertips brushing against the shell. "Why wouldn't it be?"

Ratio grabbed the hand slowly carding through his hair and pressed it against his cheek, his fingers trembling as he squeezed, feeling the warm give of human flesh, bone, and blood thrumming and pulsing through veins, alive, proof of life.

"I had a terrible dream," he murmured into the palm of Aventurine's hand. "I… I dreamt I lost you, and… and I couldn't bring you back."

He squeezed his eyes shut, hearing Aventurine's soft gasp before a tender kiss was pressed to his head; warm, familiar, familiar, warm, alive.

"Oh Veritas," he heard Aventurine mumble into his hair, his thumb brushing over Ratio's closed eyelids. "That sounds terrible."

"It was," Ratio confessed, his voice cracking at the end. "I… don't want to imagine a world without you."

He felt Aventurine exhale, warm arms wrapping around his shoulders as Aventurine settled into his embrace, warm, familiar, familiar, warm, cold, steel, aluminium, the low hum of electricity and moving parts.

Ratio gasped awake, his hand instinctively darting out to reach for the warm body that had imprinted itself by his side, flinching when his hand glanced against cold titanium instead.

He drew back from the frame next to him, tugging the thin blanket over his body, shifting away from the android, who had stirred awake from the sudden movement.

"What are you doing here," Ratio rasped, his voice hoarse from sleep. "I thought you were on the couch."

"Uncomfortable," the android rubbed at his eyes — like he needed to, Ratio thought bitterly, there was no mucin to be discharged from corneas that failed to exist on a robotic body — adjusting himself upwards into a sitting position on the bed. "I could feel the springs of the couch digging into my back."

Ratio drew in a sharp breath, annoyance a flickering, sparking fuse in his chest ready to implode.

Like it he could feel.

"Was it a bad dream?" It Aventurine asked, his voice soft, like how he'd used to speak to him in the middle of the night, when Ratio startled himself awake from the stress at work, or whatever project they had been working on together. "What's wrong, Veritas?"

Ratio recoiled, the action violent and sudden, causing the android Aventurine to draw back in alarm.

The dam broke, a torrent of barely-held back disgust and anger coursing through him.

"It's you," Ratio spat, his tone vehement. "Because you're not him, no matter how hard you try to act like him."

"Why," Ratio grabbed the android's shoulders, the bite of the cool metal startling against his own warm skin, rattling its his frame, shock flickering in its his eyes. "Why can't you just– be him, act like him– Why can't you be him?"

"I fixed you, I gave you all of his traits, every memory, everything I had left of him, and you just–" Ratio slammed his hands against the android's chest, watching as it he nearly slipped off the bed from the force of the push. "I don't want you!"

"You did this!" Aventurine snapped at him, pushing himself off the bed. "You did this to him!"

"I can't be him!" Aventurine's fists were clenched at his sides. "Have you ever thought about what he would've wanted? Or what I've ever wanted?"

Silence fell between the two of them like a heavy blanket, snuffing out all possible chance for life, as it had to the person that had left a wide, gaping hole in Ratio's chest, where his heart should have been.

"Get out." Ratio pointed at the door, his voice level — or as level as it could be, whilst his shoulders were trembling from the force of fighting back horrible, choked sobs.

"Veritas–"

"Get out," Ratio could barely lift his head to look it him in the eye. "Please, leave."

He did not lift his head either at the slam of the door, even as the sound echoed in the empty four walls of the room, and sank back into the cold bed made for two.

~

The android Aventurine had not spoken to him since that day, and Ratio had expected nothing less from someone with the same temperament as him — when they had their disagreements, Aventurine would give him the cold shoulder, and refuse to speak to him until Ratio initiated their conversations again, oftentimes with gifts and a mouthful of apologies spilling from his lips; sweet words of sincerity and expressed regret meant to appease and beg for forgiveness.

And Aventurine had always given in, eventually — he had always been soft-hearted, weak to the sight of Ratio pleading with him, peppering kisses along the back of his hand and over his fingers, murmured words of remorse against his skin and forlorn eyes that made Aventurine's heart ache.

It was different now, because this… cohesive yet jumbled mess of metal and wires in front of him was not the Aventurine he once knew, but rather a pale imitation; a mockery, a poor substitute, a masquerader, someone wearing his skin to deceive, lie, fool and delude him into thinking Aventurine had returned to him as he was, with no inconsistencies or faults in his character.

And as much as Ratio wished to believe, or foolishly dare hope that this ordeal was a cosmic mix-up from the universe to put him through his own version of trials and tribulations, Aventurine would never return to him — not whole, never fully his.

The android Aventurine was sitting in the corner of the room across him in sullen silence, as he had been for the past two days, refusing to talk to Ratio, or even look in his general direction.

His battery was running low, Ratio noted, as he saw the android Aventurine nod off briefly, a flicker of red flashing around him before he jerked awake again, exhaustion clearly written in the lines of his slouched back and hunched shoulders. They had gone too long without a proper rest stop, and the need for a quick recharge — both mental and physical — was evident.

He walked over, careful to keep his footsteps audible so as to not startle the dozing android.

"Aventurine," Ratio reached out to tap Aventurine's shoulder, drawing back when the android flinched violently at the touch. "You should–"

He faltered, taken aback by the sheer hostility and resentment glimmering in his eyes, just beneath the surface, akin to molten coals in a furnace, pushed to their limit for the purpose of others.

"Don't," Aventurine hissed at him. "Don't bother."

"Your battery is evidently running low," Ratio tried. "We should get you charged before we–"

"We?" Aventurine echoed, his tone bitter. "When has this ever been about anyone other than you?"

Ratio bit his lip, his heart twinging painfully in his chest at his words; uttered resentment from a face that he had only ever associated with softness and sharp wit, rarely ever irritation aimed — of all people — at him.

Aventurine scoffed at his silence, wrapping the coat tighter around himself, weariness seeping out in the way he curled closer into himself, shrinking to be as small as physically possible, to shield himself from Ratio's harshness, selfishness and dissatisfaction.

It reminded Ratio, painfully, of how Aventurine would — in the middle of the night as they lay together, when he thought Ratio was asleep — shrink away from him, curled up with his knees to his chest, his shoulders trembling slightly as he tried to muffle his sobs, softly murmuring words to himself that Ratio just barely caught hints of: "Big Sis", "Mama", and a hesitant "Papa".

Ratio only ever knew as much as Aventurine would tell him, and to hear Aventurine mourn his family in silence while he could do nothing about it weighed heavily on his heart, even now. To see the same shielding, hiding away behaviour replicated in front of his eyes and knowing he was the cause of it made his heart clench in his chest, coupled with a sinking sense of guilt and remorse.

"I'm sorry," Ratio said, his voice heavy, as Aventurine turned his head to look at him from the corner of his eye. "I… was foolish, and I… should've paid more attention to how you felt, having been brought along against your will."

"I was selfish," Ratio continued, his eyes downcast. "Putting my own wants and goals before your needs and your feelings, and for that, I apologise."

Aventurine narrowed his eyes at him, before scowling, turning back to stare blankly at the light rainfall outside their shelter.

Ratio took a step closer.

"May I change your batteries?" he asked softly. "It's a long road ahead."

Aventurine paused, before giving a small nod in confirmation, allowing Ratio to step closer.

He knelt by the spot on the floor just behind Aventurine, reaching into his coat pocket for a pair of batteries and a thin screwdriver, frowning slightly as Aventurine held his hair up, the loose strands of hair from his fringe fluttering and obscuring the screws spanning across his nape.

"Here," Ratio's voice was soft as he tucked the stray, flying locks of Aventurine's hair behind his ear. "For you."

He slid the gilded laurel pin across the soft waves of blond that he had once kissed tenderly under countless hazy, moonlit nights, clipping them back, his fingers lingering ever-so-slightly against his jaw before pulling away.

Aventurine shivered at the touch, a slight tinge of pink colouring his cheeks as the fingers holding his hair up trembled.

Ratio brushed away the blond hairs that curled around his nape, unscrewing the panel on his nape, his fingers applying a gentle pressure as they prised the hatch open, revealing two batteries nestled within. He thumbed along the batteries, feeling Aventurine shiver under him, a twitch in his shoulder and a small, stifled gasp.

"Quit dallying," Aventurine mumbled. "Be quick about it."

"I don't want to hurt you," Ratio argued, sliding the batteries out and replacing them swiftly, hearing Aventurine make a small noise as he pushed them into place. "We've done this plenty of times; there is no rush."

Aventurine opened his mouth to protest before stiffening and letting out a soft moan as Ratio screwed the panel shut, shuddering as he did.

"All done." Ratio dusted his hands, pocketing the batteries and the screwdriver, watching as Aventurine released his grip on his hair, letting them fall back into place.

"I was going to say," Aventurine tucked a loose strand of hair back into place. "I wouldn't know how long you usually take to replace my batteries because you only do it while I'm asleep."

Ratio's lips twitched in amusement at the comment, drawing in a breath when Aventurine turned around to face him.

In that moment, as he turned around, Ratio saw a flickering image of his Aventurine, alive and well, smiling back at him, before his vision cleared, leaving him with the reality in front of him: an android who bore his face.

"We should get going," Ratio said, averting his eyes. "We've stayed here for too long."

Aventurine shrugged, pulling the hood of his coat over his head and stepping out of the building before Ratio caught sight of a blur of grey headed towards him, aimed at his head.

"Aventurine!"

Ratio lunged forward, knocking Aventurine down to the floor before a sharp pain lanced through his shoulder, radiating outwards, the slow spread of numbness and the growing dampness registering to him belatedly as he stared at the patch of red over his sleeve.

"Veritas," Aventurine mumbled from the floor, Ratio's body still shielding him. "You're bleeding."

"Flesh wound," Ratio ground out, wincing under his breath as he shifted off of Aventurine. "I'll be fine."

"You're bleeding," Aventurine said again, scanning their surroundings, grimacing at the roaming android patrolling the area, ready to fire, and pulling Ratio back into the building by his uninjured arm and propping him against the wall. "Let me see it."

Ratio shrugged off his own coat, wincing as he flexed, a gush of warm blood spilling and darkening the fabric, trickling down his arm in crimson rivulets.

Aventurine drew in a breath, wincing at the sight, prodding gingerly at the wound and pursing his lips when his finger drew away stained red.

"It looks bad," Aventurine admitted, his eyes scanning the entry wound. "But not fatal. I think… antibiotics, and cleaning the wound, but–"

"Is there an exit wound?" Ratio felt blindly around his shoulder, biting down on his lower lip when his fingers met bloodied flesh. "If there's an exit wound, there's a real– hiss– problem then."

Aventurine's hand reached behind Ratio's shoulder, searching for an exit wound, shaking his head and Ratio let out a sigh of relief.

"It's alright," he reassured Aventurine, who looked as if he were about to implode from worry. "There's an… infirmary — underground I believe — with a physician who should be able to mend the injuries. But, for now, I need you to bandage the wound and apply pressure; I have supplies in my bag."

"But–"

"I'll help," Ratio said, his breathing laboured. "I need you to remain calm, and listen to me, Aventurine."

"Okay," Aventurine's voice was shaky. "Tell me what to do."

And Ratio instructed, patiently, even as his breathing became ragged, and his features pinched from pain as Aventurine applied pressure against the wound and bandaged it, wrapping gauze around the point of impact, softly murmured apologies for hurting him.

"Good," Ratio gritted out, feeling cold sweat bead across his forehead and run down the side of his face. "Now, we need to leave."

"You are in no condition to–" Aventurine started, pausing when he saw Ratio's expression. "Fine."

Ratio braced a hand against the wall, leaning heavily against it as he got up on his feet, stumbling slightly before Aventurine caught him and slung his uninjured arm across his shoulder.

"It shouldn't be far," Ratio supplied, helpfully. "About thirty minutes if we're quick."

Aventurine's glare shut him up immediately.

~

The both of them had been stumbling around the labyrinth of abandoned buildings — brutalist architecture Ratio would have appreciated more if he had not been stuck living there for several months — for the past thirty minutes, trudging through water-stained and musty hallways and corridors, ducking past corners, careful to remain out of eyeshot of cameras and patrolling androids, finally coming face-to-face with a dilapidated, blue door.

A faded placard drooped against the door, prompting Ratio to dust it off, revealing the words: Dream's Repose: Helical Replication Facility.

"Helical replication?" Aventurine echoed. "What are they doing in there?"

"Helical, from the word 'helix', similar to the shape of the molecule containing hereditary information," Ratio explained, moving off of Aventurine to lean against the wall instead. "Replication is essential for the repair of damaged…" he trailed off, his vision blacking out temporarily. "Essential for the repair of damaged tissue."

"Veritas," Aventurine shook his good shoulder. "Does the physician know you, or–?"

The door swung open, a slender woman with a lab coat hanging open to reveal a simple teal dress, her eyes scanning and assessing the both of them before speaking.

"Veritas Ratio?" she arched an eyebrow at Aventurine. "And your friend?"

"Aventurine," Ratio said, pushing himself off the wall into a standing position. "I… think I require medical assistance."

He stepped forward, before his vision blurred again, the world around him swaying and dissolving into a mess of pixilated blues and greys, before going dark, a sharp exclamation of concern the last thing he heard before feeling his cheek make contact with the dusty concrete floor.

"Veritas!"

~

"You idiot."

Ratio forced open his eyes, squinting at the harsh overhead lights, the sharp, acrid smell of antiseptic and bleach assaulting his senses, causing him to gag slightly.

Aventurine was sitting across him, arms crossed over his chest and scowling at him, the gilded laurel pin had gifted him knocked slightly askew in his hair. His coat was hanging over the chair behind him, alongside Ratio's items.

"You were right," Aventurine said, a frown still on his face. "It wasn't fatal, and the doctor was able to fix the wound. It'll be a while before you regain full use of your arm again–"

A screen of red blinked into existence in front of Aventurine, flashing warning signs before he swatted at them annoyedly, dissipating them.

"How long was I out?" Ratio's voice was hoarse from disuse, scratching painfully at his throat.

"About three days," Aventurine replied, rubbing at his eyes. "They operated on you immediately, and you didn't wake from the anaesthesia, so I thought…"

He trailed off, averting his gaze away from Ratio to stare at the half-wilted potted plant by his table.

Ratio blinked once, then twice.

"You were worried?"

"Yes," Aventurine met his gaze, the crimson eyes he had once held so much disdain for, now a familiar and comforting sight. "I was, as one would be, having a gunshot wound victim pass out in front of them."

"I said I'd be fine," Ratio argued back weakly. "I had a maximum of three days before infection would–"

"Veritas," Aventurine cut him off. "You took a bullet for me."

Ratio swallowed.

"I did."

"You didn't have to," Aventurine said, his expression unreadable. "I would've survived it; it's a simple procedure, to re-input me into another android."

"I didn't want to lose you," Ratio said, his words hanging heavily in the air. "I can't… afford to lose you again."

He closed his eyes, feeling a heaviness build up within his sinuses — the familiar feeling of being close to tears, one only experienced late at night, when he was sure no one was watching, or listening — before he heard soft footsteps and was enveloped in a tight hug, cushioned within a familiar presence, familiar scent, familiar company, familiar voice whispered into his ear, meant for him, and him only.

"It's a long road ahead. You should rest."