Chapter Text
"Dr. E Shaw." Even with the softness of her voice, Daniels' words echo through the strange hall while she reads something aloud. The name alone causes Eliza to snap her attention to the two standing a few feet ahead of her. Walter very quickly pipes up, apparently recognizing the name.
"Elizabeth Shaw. She was the chief science officer of the Prometheus. Twenty years ago. Weyland Industries." Walter lifts what looks to be the aged remains of a suit helmet from a collecting puddle of water.
"The ship that disappeared? This isn't a Weyland ship." Dani clarifies with him and as the other woman comes trudging up from the rear, jaw locked and eyes glued to the dog tag hanging from the ceiling. 'It couldn't be possible. They were entire galaxy systems away, and this certainly wasn't the Prometheus.' "Dr. Shaw. How did she end up all the way out here?"
Suddenly her gaze turns downward to where Daniels has reached into a small pool of collecting water and scooped another object out of it. "Can I see that?" Eliza asks in an unsure voice, unsteady hand reaching out for the square item to be passed over to her. The instant she has it in her hand she begins slowly turning it over, almost scared to look at the image encased in glass. It's one she had seen hundreds of times before in an album her grandmother gave her access to once she was old enough. She had been so distracted fidgeting with the frame that she didn't notice her two other crewmates staring at her as the realization dawned on them. Walter is the first to speak, of course. Be it because he was comfortable making conversation with Eliza or that he didn't want to force Daniels to ask the distressing question herself. One which held far too many implications for any of them to feel easy discussing.
"Eliza Shaw... Elizabeth Shaw. It's too much to be a coincidence. She was your mother, wasn't she?" The redhead stops shifting the picture in her hand and instead holds it up in the light for all three to inspect. Her expression is hard to read, hell, even she didn't know what she was feeling then and there. The two individuals in the photo smile brightly at the camera, a small pink bundle in Shaw's arms, all so blissfully unaware of what the future held for them.
"I was barely out of diapers by the time they left. I couldn't understand why they left, didn't for a really long time. Eventually I sort of accepted that I would never know who my parents were." She speaks with a solemness that neither had heard from her before and it alarmed Walter but he did nothing to voice his worry. Swallowing hard, she props the frame up against a rock so that it stands up properly before taking a few steps away. "Yet by some twist of fate, our little colony ship happens across whatever this place is, and somehow she was here too."
The two still wordlessly stare at her and another heavy sigh leaves her. "Before you ask, no I didn't join Covenant in some weird way to be closer to them. I'm here because I'm doing a job- because I couldn't stand to be alone on that planet anymore, surrounded by what-ifs." Finally Dani is the first to move, her arms embracing Eliza in a close but not squeezing hug. She returns it of course, allowing her eyes to fall shut and her own hand to slide up and down Daniels' back beneath her pack. She wasn't the only one to be grieving or to have lost somebody close to her out here.
For a brief moment she allows herself to hope that maybe her mother was still here, but she is quick to stamp that thought process out. She guessed that deep down somewhere she always hoped that somehow her mother would have been able to survive for this long, however the slow piling of Elizabeth's possessions was crushing that final shred of hope. These things hadn't been touched in years and were clearly long forgotten. Even if she was here once, despite the hospitable living conditions and presence of some food, she knew the likelihood of finding her mother alive was slim to none.
"Eliza? Eliza? Are you okay?" The woman is snapped from her memory in an instant and blinks a few times, taking in her surroundings once again. She had curled up on a sofa in the recreational area of the ship with her knees pulled up to her chest. A cocktail sits neatly on a coaster on the table to her left, otherwise untouched and the ice mostly melted as proof of just how long she had been sitting there. She hadn't had a proper drink since they buried Branson and even then she considered that as more of a farewell toast than a joyous drink shared between colleagues. But as much as she wanted to get lost in the fuzzy stupidity of downing a few drinks, she just couldn't bring herself to do it all alone. It was a sad prospect.
"Hey Walt, yeah- yeah I'm good sorry. Can I help you with something?"
"Have you been sleeping?" She removes the toothpick from her glass and slides the speared cherry off of it. Savoring in the tart morsel that had slowly become more sweet the longer it sat in the juice and alcohol, she was very clearly stalling her response.
"Sometimes? A few hours at a time if I'm lucky. I dunno."
"Why is it that you're having troubles?" Walter opts to sit down next to her, not close enough so that their legs touch but she can still feel the cushions sinking with his weight.
Eliza sits on the question far longer than she should. She knew the answer; she just didn’t want to admit it, to herself or to Walter. Eventually she turns to properly face him, brows knit together in worry and lips downturned in a frown. "I'm- I'm scared Walt. That if I close my eyes for too long, they'll get me. And then I-" Her sentence trails off as she stares off into an unoccupied space of the room, imagining the horrors she would have endured if David had any more time with her back on Planet 4.
"If it would provide you comfort, I wouldn't mind remaining in your cabin while you rest." Walter offers and she hopes- assumes- that he hasn't the slightest clue as to the implications of his proposition. Even if he was a synthetic that didn’t require sleep and she knew he’d only stay there to possibly watch her sleep, the idea should have at least creeped her out. But if he didn’t sleep, that meant he could look out for the non-existent threats she was so concerned about. Regardless, she was more than happy to accept the comfort of his company in the large, empty ship.
“Yeah… I’d like that.” She rises from her spot on the sofa and places her untouched glass in a nearby sink, promising herself to deal with it later when her mind is less clouded. There was no denying she needed sleep as she wanders almost aimlessly in the direction of her room, eyelids heavy and burning with weariness, Walter trailing so close behind as if he feared she would collapse from exhaustion along the way. They eventually do make it though and a few taps to the panel at the side of the door allows them both in. She’s so tired that she doesn’t hesitate to begin undressing from her casual clothes- throwing both her hoodie and shirt off before undoing the button and fly of her pants. It’s only when she hears somebody clearing their throat from behind her does she realize the synthetic had followed her to comfort her, not get a free show.
“Shit. Sorry, I spaced…ya’know.” Shaw can feel the heat rising to her face as she points to the bed, trying her best to draw attention away from her partially undressed state. “You can uh, lay down, if that’s okay?” As Walt climbs onto the middle of the large mattress, she strips out of her pants and replaces them with some more comfortable sleep shorts. The tank top she wore as an undershirt will have to work as sleepwear that night.
She soon follows after, drawing the sheets of the bed back for her to slip in next to the brunette. At first she wasn’t sure what to do with herself, however the way Walter holds his arms out is invitation enough to erase the hesitance from her mind. If he was willing and accepting of her wants- even in the smallest form of a gentle embrace- she wasn’t going to question the rights and wrongs of it all. After cuddling up to his left side her left arm hooks beneath his shoulder while her right one rests on top of his torso, lightly lying her head on his chest.
"You know..." Eliza stops herself for a moment, wondering if she really should be discussing this with Walter. Then again, who else was she going to talk to? The synthetic was her only companion until she decided to go back into cryostasis- if she ever decided to. With a deep sigh, she finally comes to the conclusion that there was nothing to lose. "Before all this, I used to blame the stars for taking my parents away from me. I always knew it was silly but..."
"Do you still blame the stars?" The android prompts when her thought trails off.
"No, not anymore. Now I know who's really responsible. Weyland. And David. Two men with fucking God complexes." She shakes her head the best she can while resting it against Walter's chest, not registering how her fist had balled into the fabric of his shirt until he places his own hand over it.
"Men? David was only a synthetic. Why call him a man?" Walter seems genuinely curious by her sentiment of calling his predecessor a man. Yet another sigh leaves her, this one more out of defeat than anything else. She was a bioengineer for god's sake. She knew the in's and outs of synthetics, had studied and been trained in everything they were and were not capable of. They shouldn't feel emotions, can't feel them. Maybe they could emulate and read them, but certainly they can't feel a thing? Yet, she wanted so badly to believe that they could. And that belief went against everything she knew.
Maybe it was the loneliness of space, or maybe the knowledge that she would be one of the only people left without a companion on Origae-6. Maybe it was all the time left alone with Walter, but she wanted so badly for her feelings to be returned. But maybe, just maybe, what she knew wasn’t the full truth- maybe it was incorrect.
"I- I don't believe it takes traditional flesh and blood to be alive. To show humanity- or a lack thereof I suppose. You still breathe, it may be artificially but my point stands. You still think, and act like humans do. Psychopathy isn't an innately human thing either, I’ve come to find." When she dared to spare a glance up at him, Walter appeared to be staring at the wall thoughtfully; however he said nothing. Perhaps he too was contemplating his own existence at her words, perhaps she genuinely shouldn’t be saying these things. Although once the words started, they just wouldn’t stop. “I honestly want you to be able to feel something. But at the same time feelings tend to cause more problems, so maybe I really don’t.”
Walter still doesn’t say anything and she lets out one final sigh, parting her lips to speak an apology. However she is stopped before she can utter the first syllable when she feels his arms around her give a gentle squeeze, caring and reassuring. Eliza rests her head back on his chest and allows herself to relax as she listens to the rhythmic beating of his synthetic heart, deciding she was just overthinking things. She was a bioengineer, not a philosopher.
“Good night, Walter.” A soft mumble into the fabric of his shirt, followed by another light squeeze from him. She calls out for the lights of the room to switch off, a soft underglow from somewhere in the room bathing them both in a dim blue light.
“Sleep well, Miss Shaw. I will be here when you wake.”
Walter POV
As she laid next to him, nestled up against his side with one arm draped across his torso and the warmth of her body mingling with his artificial heat, he actually felt comfortable. Needed. Wanted. Eliza's eyes had fluttered shut and her breathing steadied once their conversation concluded, an ease washing over her that he hadn’t seen since returning from Planet 4. Just hearing the way she spoke about synthetics gave him hope, even if it was just about one who had prevented her mother from coming back home to her. She thought more of them- of him- than most other humans even considered. She carried more kindness and humanity in herself than dozens of humans before her.
With her this close he couldn't help but tilt his head down just enough to breathe her in, his nose buried in her vibrant hair. She smelled of vanilla and honey- soft and mild, yet incredibly sweet. So much like herself. Walter didn't need to sleep so instead he contently laid there with her, inhaling the smell of her and occasionally stroking his hand up and down her back whenever she showed the potential to stir. He was here to comfort and protect her, from imaginary monsters or not, and that’s what he intended to do. Even if the true monster was resting right beside her all along.
“What is it that you are up to, Miss Shaw?” Walter’s voice disturbs Eliza from her haze and causes her to jump in her own skin. Hand clutching at her now racing heart, she turns from her position kneeling on the floor in her cabin to look at him. The redhead had been digging through her own belongings in search of some very vital tools- large canvas panels lean against one of the pale walls while both obviously well-used and brand new paint brushes are sprawled out across the top of her mattress.
She had forgotten she left the door open, a foolish choice with her constant weariness of those beasts somehow stowed away on the ship and lying in wait for an opportunity like this to finally strike. It had been a few days since that night Walter first spent by her side and the two had made a habit of it. Anytime Eliza found herself dozing off she would seek him out and drag him back to her room. Well, drag wasn’t exactly the proper term, he willingly followed her there. The synthetic would avert his gaze so that she could properly get into pajamas rather than wearing a slightly dressed-down version of her daily clothes, and would remain in bed until she woke. Nightmares were still commonplace. Only with Walter always nearby to soothe her panicked state when she suddenly jolts awake, whatever her dreams contained wouldn’t stick in her mind for long. Instead they would be replaced by the feeling of his steady hands stroking her back or his fingers carding through her hair, lulling her back to sleep.
She’d grown so comfortable that she actually began sleeping in again and would require Walt to wake her up so that they could both be productive. However today proved rather uneventful with Walter regularly checking in on the colonists and second-gen, and her busying herself with menial cleaning and systems checks on MU/TH/UR. So rather than stewing in her thoughts and memories, she decided to find something more enjoyable to occupy her mind.
“Hey, um, I was looking for my paints. I know I brought some on board, it’s just a matter of finding where they ended up stashed.” She turns back to her many opened drawers with a loud sigh, articles of clothing and other keepsakes obviously out of place from her rummaging. “I got this image stuck in my head, and usually if I can just get it out on the canvas it will go away. Oh! And they’re small bottles and tubes of color, not full-on canisters in case you’ve seen them.”
“I may have seen something along those lines in a storage unit near the med-bay. I can accompany you in retrieving them.” She shivers at the thought of the med-bay, the image of Lopé’s blood smeared across the floor and walls permanently ingrained in her mind. Though she tries her best to push it down in favor of following after Walter, hoping he was right in seeing her supplies there.
And just like that, she had been reunited with everything she needed to get her mind off the living nightmares they had all bore witness to. Walter helped her find a bright, open space to set up her easel and supplies. And with a little coaxing she had propped up a second one for him- ‘Even if you don’t touch it, I’ll leave this for you.’ she told him. She knew he couldn’t create anything on his own, and yet she still allowed herself to hope. To hope more for him, and to hope more for herself. The woman heard him shuffle the stool behind her, assuming he had just sat down to bask in her creative process but when she turned around to begin picking through the paint tubes she was pleasantly surprised to find some already opened. A hint of a smile curls onto her lips when she turns back to her own canvas.
“I’m finished.” Eliza whips around in her seat at Walter’s announcement. They had only been sitting there for maybe 45 minutes- she barely got her sketch done and began mixing the colors she planned to use, yet he was going to tell her that he had finished in that amount of time? She rises from her seat with a mix of intrigue and envy to see just what he had come up with in that short period of time, although what she does find on the canvas causes her jaw to drop.
“Walter, I- It’s-” For once she is at a complete loss for words. The figure in the painting restlessly pushes bright orange-red hair over her shoulder, the color contrasting against the teal color of the person’s shirt and their pale complexion. An obvious look of concentration adorns their face but is offset by her soft features- pursed, pink lips holding onto a paint brush and dark lashes stand out, as do the deep green of her eyes. It was her. Walter had chosen to depict her, and so effortlessly in brush strokes thick with paint. And it wasn’t a perfect replica of reality either- it was original. The beauty of the piece alone would cause her to cry, but also the fact that he had picked her of all things for some reason shocked her. “It’s absolutely stunning.” She has to clasp a hand over her own mouth to hide that she is biting her lip in an attempt to hold back to tears.
“A fine muse, I would say.” His words bring a bright flush to her cheeks, prompting her to avert her gaze from both the synthetic and the canvas in front of them. She returns to her seat, back turned to him and hopefully hiding the burning of her face and the fluttering of her heart in her chest. For a moment, she lets herself believe that they were all wrong about synthetics. There can be more to them than just servants meant to take orders and complete tasks. They could decide for themselves, they could feel.