Author: Sandra Pascoe

Rating: FRAO for some issues raised in emails - fic is squeaky clean.

Bot: Peter Salter

Disclaimer: The character of Peter Salter belongs to the BBC.

Notes: Takes place directly after Peter emailed his response to the "Tweedy Chatters Collective" regarding some rather personal questions about the bots.

Original email: This is actually a question Peter. A topic came up for discussion in the chatroom. We were talking about the advantages of um...personal interaction with our bots. We noted the safety aspect i.e. no diseases or unwanted pregnancies then we wondered a bit more about the detail of the bots functionality. What we would like to know is....do bots ejaculate? Is there a wet spot issue or are they self cleaning? As not one of us is game to admit we asked in person, (and nobody was prepared to confess that they had personally checked this aspect) would you be able to email a general answer to either the group or visit the chatroom and tell us in person? Thank you for your attention. The Tweedy Chatters Collective

Peter's Reply: You do realise that Tweedy was with me when I read this email? And it sent him running, blushing to the lab? I don't know how he managed to explain it to Sandra but she appeared roaring with laughter. As you know, bots are indeed sterile - no problems there. And - yes - bots do ejaculate ....it wouldn't be much fun for us if we didn't. No self-cleaning - Sandra wanted it as realistic as possible. So, yes, there is a wet spot issue - why else do you think there are so many towels in the private room in the chatroom? Nobody was prepared to confess they had personally checked this? Ah ... I see. Are you ashamed of your bots? Are we not ... good enough? This is worrying ...depressing ...we're not really wanted ... not needed ...Goodbye...

 

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I was in the lab when Tweedy appeared - blushing and stammering his way through telling me about the email Peter had received. I had to laugh - typical of the Tweedies really. I wandered upstairs, still laughing, and asked Peter to put the necessary NC17 space in his reply. I thought no more of it and went back to the lab. Gold Blend Bot was almost ready and this was the most critical time in his development. Tweedy went to research, leaving me alone in the lab. A few minutes later, however, he came racing back.

"Come quickly," he said, "it's Peter."

Well, those four words were enough. I followed Tweedy upstairs to where Oliver was sitting on the couch next to Peter. I raised an eyebrow and Oliver quickly stood and walked over to me.

"What's happened?" I whispered, only able to see the back of Peter's head.

"He was doing something on the computer," Oliver whispered back. "It was the expression on his face when he turned it off that told me something wasn't right. He's not talking...he just sits there...gazing at nothing."

I frowned as I remembered something. "Oliver, he received an email from the Tweedies this morning. Quite a funny one I thought. He was going to reply to it...would you check it out?"

Oliver nodded and went across to the computer whilst I went over and sat next to Peter. Glancing over my shoulder I nodded reassuringly to Tweedy and he left us alone. I took a deep breath...not really knowing what to say.

"Peter," I said softly, reaching out to gently touch his shoulder, "what's wrong?"

To my surprise, Peter shifted across the sofa...out of my reach.

"Peter?"

"I want to be de-activated," he replied succinctly and I felt a sudden shock go through me. This could not be happening...not Peter...not again. I wanted to reach out and shake him...wanted to yell at him...scream at him...but it wouldn't have done any good. I swallowed my instinctive reactions and tried to concentrate on what would help Peter. I was suddenly aware of Oliver trying to attract my attention and, with a quick glance at Peter, who was gazing at the carpet, I got up and went over to where Oliver was sat at the computer. He pointed to an email from Peter to the Tweedies. Well, that said it all really. I sighed and Oliver grasped my hand, squeezing it softly.

"Go and talk to him," he said, "convince him."

I nodded and, with a final squeeze, Oliver let go of my hand and left the room. I turned to look at Peter once more. How the hell was I supposed to convince him? How could I prove just how much we...how much "I" needed him? I sat next to him again...this time not giving him any room to manoeuvre

"Why?" I asked, trying to keep my voice calm and even. Peter turned to glance at me.

"You know why," he replied, turning his attention to the carpet once more. "You read it."

"Yes, I read it. But why do you want to be de-activated?"

"You don't need me...no-one does. We're just...objects. Oh, we have our 'uses' alright...but at the end of the day we don't really matter."

"No, you're wrong. Have I ever treated you as an object? Have I ever thought that you don't matter?"

"No...but maybe you are being used as well."

I frowned at him...this little comment had completely lost me.

"Used? By whom? By you? By Tweedy, Oliver, James? Who?"

"No," he replied, "by the others...by those people that adopt bots...by those we meet at the Tweedy Club."

"No," I grinned, "you're totally wrong there...and trying to change the subject. It's not going to work, Peter."

A small smile flitted across his face before the gloom descended once more...but that smile gave me hope.

"Keep talking, Peter," I said, "I want to understand this."

"We're not really accepted, are we? I'm sort of on the outside...looking in. And I'm tired of it."

"Peter," I took a breath as I formulated my reply. This was it...make or break time. "The very fact that you received that email in the first place is proof positive of your acceptance."

Peter frowned at that, finally raising his eyes and looking directly at me.

"What do you mean?"

"If they were really interested in the reply to that question then they would have emailed me. I could have gone into the technicalities of it. They didn't...they emailed YOU instead. They're teasing you, Peter, trying to get a response out of you, trying to embarrass you. And you only do that to friends. Friends tease one another all the time...you know that. If you wanted proof that you've been accepted by the group then there it is...sitting in your inbox right now. I'll bet everything I have that some of them have already replied to your response...you've probably concerned a few people."

Peter looked skeptical and I mentally crossed my fingers.

"Come on," I continued, "let's go and check."

I stood up and walked over to Peter's computer, not bothering to check if he was following...somehow I knew he would. With my heart in my mouth, I sat down and logged into the group. I sighed with relief and pointed out Ruth's, Kat's and Donna's emails to Peter. He took my place at the computer and read them through. I put my hands on his shoulders and smiled as he didn't pull away.

"You see?" I said, "told you that you were needed. They accept you...they want you."

Peter tensed under my hands.

"And you?" He asked softly, "what about you? Do you really need me?"

"Peter," I turned him to face me. Kneeling on the floor, I put my hands on his thighs and looked him in the eyes. "Who did I turn over lab security to? You. Who do I go to the Club with most often? You. Who do I trust more than anyone? You." I smiled and then added, "and who do I test my chocolate sauce ideas with? You." Peter giggled slightly at that so I leaned forward and hugged him, wrapping my arms around him and holding him close. "I love you...and I need you, Peter," I said softly, feeling a surge of relief as Peter's arms went around me. He rested his head on my shoulder and sighed.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I...over-reacted. God, they're gonna think me a right prat."

I giggled slightly at that. "No," I said, keeping my voice low, "they'll understand. You don't have to worry about that."

"What are you going to tell them?" He asked and I pulled back, kissing him gently.

"Oh, I'll think of something."