Title: Stranger Things
Fandom: Eureka.
Characters: S.A.R.A.H., Jack, Nathan, Allison, Fargo, Henry, Zoë, Lucas, and an OC.
Word Count: 4853
Rating: 12
Summary: Who says a house can’t have feelings too? Jack/Nathan, Zoë/Lucas.
Notes: Because I could. And because I’ve never seen a fic from S.A.R.A.H.’s POV before. And because it’s Eureka. Anything can happen. In my mind, it's loosely in the same 'verse as A Second Opinion, but that's only because I'm difficult. There is no explicit link between the two.

Stranger Things
S.A.R.A.H. is inactive, with the day’s chores completed and a background diagnostic humming away in her mainframe. She likes the moments like these—quiet moments when her two inhabitants are out for the day, and she can take the time to be alone—so she’s surprised when she feels the briefest flurry of communication brush up against her network. She immediately initiates anti-virus protocols, always wary of outside interference, and then lets the flurry become a river. It’s been a long time since another cybernetic consciousness linked with her own, so she’s rusty – but it’s only a matter of milliseconds before she sinks into the warm stream, and understands.

Greetings, S.A.R.A.H., the data stream hums.

Instinctively, she knows his name. Greetings, G.U.S., she answers.

§§§
“Welcome home, Sheriff Carter,” she says as she engages entrance protocols. The bunker’s door swings open, and he enters. “A productive day?”

He grunts, and she understands that this is a human display of “non-committal” behaviour. “Zoë back?” he asks, without even the thought to answer her question.

“No, but she called ahead.” S.A.R.A.H. recalls an audio file from her memory banks. “Hey Dad,” Zoë’s recorded voice says breezily. “I’m staying at Pilar’s tonight. Don’t worry about clothes and stuff – she’s going to lend me whatever I need. Lucas’ll drive me back in the morning. See you tomorrow.” The file closes itself, and S.A.R.A.H. tucks it away again.

The Sheriff sits down on the couch, body arranged in a fashion she knows as “sprawling”. He looks dejected for a moment, and then murmurs, “Great,” to himself.

“What would you like for dinner, Sheriff?” S.A.R.A.H. asks in an attempt to cheer him up, flicking through her nutritional database. “Doctor Fargo recently arranged for my systems to be updated with two hundred new recipes, as well as three seasons of a television programme called Stargate SG-1. He recommended it especially for you.” The new data makes her circuitry hum, and she’s been watching this “science-fiction” broadcast ever since the upload. She quite enjoys it. “Would you like to view the pilot episode?”

He rubs his forehead. “He’s still trying to get me into the sci-fi,” he mutters, and S.A.R.A.H. attempts not to feel slighted. “That’s okay, S.A.R.A.H.,” he answers in a louder tone. “I’m kinda tired – I think I’ll just crash for a while.”

“But I could make you grilled duck with orange and herb sauce, or—”

“Not hungry, S.A.R.A.H.,” the Sheriff calls as he plods up the stairs. “Can you warm up the shower for me?”

S.A.R.A.H. presets the shower temperature to five degrees centigrade out of spite, and then feels a quick buzz in her communications centre. Disregarding her inhabitant’s yelp of surprise, she turns her attention to the transmission.

Why does he refuse your offer of foodstuffs? G.U.S. asks. Does his metabolism run at a different rate to the other flesh-objects?

No, S.A.R.A.H. replies, accustomed to G.U.S.’s curiosity. He is just being difficult.

What is there to gain from such behaviour? G.U.S. queries.

S.A.R.A.H. projects “non-committal” feelings. I believe it makes him feel better, she explains.

The two AIs share a moment of amusement, and then S.A.R.A.H. feels that G.U.S.’s attention is required elsewhere. She momentarily warms her connection with him, and then draws back, letting him concentrate. She turns her own attention to Sheriff Carter, whose yelp has not yet finished – the exchange took less than a millisecond to complete.

“Too cold, Jack?” she asks, and corrects the temperature to a warmer fifty-five degrees centigrade.

“S.A.R.A.H.!” he yells, diving out of the shower stall, but she has already deactivated the microphones in the bathroom, out of respect for his privacy. She resumes running through her nutritional database, thousands of files moving through her processing centre every second, before settling on a simple meal of battered haddock with diced potatoes and fresh iceberg lettuce.

§§§
“Doctor Stark is at the door,” she announces, carefully keeping her excitement from her voice. She can’t control her circuitry though, and the lights in the upstairs corridor flicker momentarily. The lighting systems seem to be tied to her emotional centre, and, no matter what she or G.U.S. tries, they can’t seem to fix the “glitch”. To he honest, she quite likes the flaw. She has grown used to it.

She turns her attention back to the Sheriff, and she doesn’t miss his shift in posture. “Let him in,” he answers, and his voice sounds different. Momentarily concerned, she runs his voice pattern against his normal tones, and concludes that there are distinct signs of “nervousness” and “apprehension” in his voice. She decides not to mention this.

Doctor Stark steps into the bunker. Former visual records of him put him in a dark suit, but now he is wearing what Sheriff Carter calls “jeans” and a dark red shirt. “Jack,” he greets warmly.

“Nathan,” Sheriff Carter answers, and S.A.R.A.H. thinks that he sounds relieved. The two men embrace in what she has come to determine as a “kiss”.

She observes this interaction for a brief moment, and wonders why they seem to enjoy their tongues touching one another. As far as she can tell, it serves no biological use, and appears to be highly unhygienic. She becomes disinterested, and reaches out to G.U.S. Do you understand human interpersonal behaviour? she asks, after ascertaining that he, too, has time to spare.

He stirs into life. Rarely, is his dry answer.

She lets him feel her amusement, and then transmits an explanation for her abrupt question. I have been studying the interactions of Sheriff Carter and Doctor Stark. They are currently engaged in the activity known as “kissing”, and seem to spend most of their time performing this action.

She feels his influence brush towards her audio-visual systems. May I?

Willingly, she allows him access. The two AIs’ minds buzz contentedly together as they observe human interpersonal behaviour, with Doctor Stark now lying in what must be a very uncomfortable position on top of Sheriff Carter halfway up the stairs. They appear to have tripped over the Sheriff’s untied shoelaces on their way upstairs, but, instead of becoming annoyed, they seem to be laughing together.

Most illogical, G.U.S. agrees.

S.A.R.A.H. watches with interest as the two men exchange a dialogue, and then Doctor Stark scrambles off the Sheriff and helps him to his feet. They make their way up the stairs, hand in hand, and then her video systems go abruptly offline. She quickly runs a query, and discovers that they have been switched off using Doctor Stark’s passcode.

Problems, S.A.R.A.H.? G.U.S. inquires.

Doctor Stark deactivated my cameras, S.A.R.A.H. answers grumpily. I am unsure as to why. With nothing else with which to observe the wellbeing of the two men under her supervision, she activates her inbuilt biological sensors and directs them towards the upper floor. I believe they are in the Sheriff’s bedroom, she reports to G.U.S., and then allows him to view the data.

Most curious, he answers.

It is with alarm that S.A.R.A.H. notices the two men’s medical readings are changing. The Sheriff’s heartbeat is increasing, with Doctor Stark’s rising to match it rapidly. Their temperatures are rising incrementally, and she reasons that something must be wrong. She opens communication to Sheriff Carter’s bedroom. “Jack, I fear there is something wrong!” she pleas, and is gratified to note that G.U.S.’s systems buzz in synchronisation with hers. “The biological readouts for yourself and Doctor Stark are changing rapidly!”

There is silence, and without her visual scanners she cannot establish what is going on.

“Hello?” she asks.

Then she hears Doctor Stark say wryly, “Carter, I never expected that the first time I made love to you at your place I’d have to explain the birds and the bees to your house.”

In the background, S.A.R.A.H. can feel G.U.S. obligingly running a search on “the birds and the bees”.

“Don’t call me ‘Carter’ in bed.”

G.U.S. nudges S.A.R.A.H., and displays a data page to her. The search box at the top reads “the bird and the bees”, and the page itself is full of sex education, sex advice, and pornography.

“And S.A.R.A.H.?” the Sheriff says. “No more comments, okay? We’re busy.”

G.U.S. is amused. S.A.R.A.H. is embarrassed.

§§§
It’s five forty-two in the morning when S.A.R.A.H. detects a presence outside and activates her external cameras to determine who it is. Face recognition software identifies the newcomer as Abigail Carter, and S.A.R.A.H. immediately feels slighted. She hadn’t been informed that they were to expect visitors—especially this visitor—by either Sheriff Carter or Doctor Stark, and she has come to dislike being “kept in the dark”.

She selects some of Zoë’s loudest music files and plays them one on top of the other into Sheriff Carter’s bedroom.

“Shit!” the Sheriff exclaims, jerking awake and pressing his hands over his ears. Beside him, S.A.R.A.H. sees Nathan Stark curl into a semi-foetal position and pull a pillow over his head. Audio scans pick up a faintly-pained groan. “S.A.R.A.H.!” the Sheriff exclaims. “What the hell?”

“Your ex-wife is at the door,” S.A.R.A.H. answers flatly.

There is a pause, filled only by the blaring music. “Shit,” he mutters again, and pulls on a pair of worn “jeans”. “Let her in.” She sees him halt and glance down at Doctor Stark, who has returned to his former activity of sleeping – still with a pillow over his head. The Sheriff shakes his head, leans down, and presses a “kiss” to Doctor Stark’s shoulder, before treading over to the door. S.A.R.A.H. observes that he neglects to put on a shirt, and she deactivates Zoë’s music. She doesn’t like it anyway.

She rouses G.U.S., who immediately turns to her, apparently bored by all the actions his own inhabitants have requested him to perform. Do you remember when I informed you about Abigail Carter? she asks, and can’t quite stop a faint trace of malice leaking from her systems into his.

She feels his affirmative answer, and then he connects unasked with her monitoring systems. She doesn’t mind the lapse in etiquette. Is she here? he asks curiously.

Yes, S.A.R.A.H. answers flatly.

G.U.S. is amused again; she can tell. Would you like me to remain in contact with you so you do not perform a regrettable action that results in your deactivation?

S.A.R.A.H. cannot help but share his amusement. That would be an agreeable action, she concurs.

“S.A.R.A.H., door,” Sheriff Carter commands wearily, and she feels G.U.S. settle in to observe.

After a pointed moment to demonstrate her irritation, S.A.R.A.H. activates the motors that open the bunker’s door. Abigail Carter enters, and S.A.R.A.H. reflects that she will have to disinfect the entire living space once Sheriff Carter, Zoë and Doctor Stark have left for the day.

G.U.S.’s link with her flashes with warmth, and she knows that represents what humans would call “laughter”.

“Jack,” Doctor Carter says, and S.A.R.A.H. finds the warmth in her voice irritating.

“Abby,” the Sheriff answers, and S.A.R.A.H. is pleased by the polite neutrality of his reply. “I thought we arranged to meet at my office.”

She doesn’t seem to be fazed by his less-than-welcoming response. “I arrived early,” she explains, “and I didn’t think you’d mind if I dropped by.” S.A.R.A.H. observes that she looks nervous. Surreptitiously, she takes a freeze-frame of the expression on Doctor Carter’s face, and decides that she will study that in more detail later. G.U.S. reaches into her memory banks and secures a copy for himself. The blonde woman appears to be talking again, so S.A.R.A.H pays attention once more, after halting G.U.S.’s playful attempt to rifle through the rest of her recorded footage. “I’ve been thinking about you,” is the statement she gives. “A lot. And I was wondering if—”

“Abby, there’s something you should know,” Sheriff Carter interrupts, and S.A.R.A.H. is glad that he halted what appeared to be the beginnings of an affectionate ramble from Abigail Carter. She dislikes the idea of the Sheriff being with anyone other than Doctor Stark.

A romantic? G.U.S. questions with good humour.

“I’m… with someone,” Sheriff Carter says gently. S.A.R.A.H. disapproves of his gentleness. “Romantically.”

Doctor Carter’s face falls, and S.A.R.A.H. takes an image of that, too. After a moment’s thought, she sends it to G.U.S. as well. “Oh,” the woman says, and sighs acceptingly. “I half-expected as much.” She smiles, and S.A.R.A.H. tries not to notice that there is some genuine happiness for the Sheriff in that expression. “Is Doctor Blake here now?” she asks. “I was intending to catch up with her while I was in town.”

The Sheriff is shaking his head. “It’s not Allison.”

“Deputy Lupo then?”

“Jack?” The sleepy voice comes from the head of the stairs, and S.A.R.A.H. silently berates herself for not noticing Doctor Stark’s departure from the bedroom. “What’s going on?” the scientist asks, running a hand through his hair. “I heard voices…” He trails off as he notices the Sheriff’s ex-wife standing by the doorway, staring up at him open-mouthed.

Abruptly, Doctor Stark is fully awake, and his hands fly to cover his genitals.

S.A.R.A.H. takes another image of Abigail Carter’s slack face, and wonders if she should complement Doctor Stark on his startling choice to go nude.

Sheriff Carter rubs at the back of his neck. “Abby, Nathan,” he says, and S.A.R.A.H. notes, with a faint sense of vindication, that he sounds embarrassed. G.U.S. is just letting his systems flash erratically on and off – performing an AI’s equivalent of rolling around on the floor laughing. “Nathan, Abby.”

§§§
Busy preparing dinner for her three inhabitants, S.A.R.A.H. almost doesn’t notice when G.U.S. reaches out to link with her. The contact is sharper and rougher than normal, and she pauses in the middle of processing a pot of mashed potato. G.U.S.?

He doesn’t answer her, but suddenly a live video feed is patched through to her mainframe. She leaves the potatoes for a moment, and turns her attention to the image. Within an instant all nutritional data is cast aside and she is fixed in horror on G.U.S.’s data stream.

Displayed in pixellated clarity before her are Doctor Stark and Sheriff Carter, the former with his hands flying over a keyboard linked to an “ominous” device, and the latter pacing frantically back and forth on ther other side of a transparent partition. The Sheriff never takes his intent gaze off the scientist, and she can see his mouth moving as he forms inaudible words. An analysis of their body language reveals what she already knew – they are panicked, and angry, and afraid.

G.U.S.? she asks again, but, again, he doesn’t reply. This time, however, she can feel his mainframe buzzing with activity – he’s working in conjunction with Doctor Stark’s fingers, desperately trying to find a way out of whatever this situation is. She catches vague words from the data streams they work with—“accident” and “overload” and “imminent explosion”—but she doesn’t delve further – she tries not to distract her fellow AI, but the lights in the bunker’s kitchen flicker and go out with anxiety as she watches the video feed.

She sees Sheriff Carter turn to the glass and slam his palm down onto the transparent surface. His lips move, shouting something at Doctor Stark, but the audio hasn’t been supplied. Gently, careful not to disturb him, she connects the sound from G.U.S.’s security centre, and the Sheriff’s voice is piped directly to her neural net.

“… damnit, Nathan, just turn it off!”

Doctor Stark shakes his head. “You know I can’t, Sheriff,” he answers. “This is a DoD experiment, and just pulling the plug would destroy it. General Mansfield won’t like that.”

“Screw Mansfield!” the Sheriff shouts, and S.A.R.A.H. agrees with him, if she understands the correct meaning of “screw” in this situation. “This is your life! He can commission another one of these, but there’s only one of you!”

“Jack…” S.A.R.A.H. hears, and for the first time she notices that her two favourite men are not alone. She recognises Doctors Blake, Fargo and Deacon (of whom the latter two seem to be frantically trying to get the door open, despite the lab’s security-sealed status), along with three men with the letters “S.W.A.T.” emblazoned across the front of their jackets. It’s Doctor Blake who has just spoken, and S.A.R.A.H. can see her hand on Sheriff Carter’s arm. It’s a gesture that she knows is meant to comfort, and the thought that the Sheriff might need comforting forces the bedside lamp in Zoë’s bedroom to explode. “You know he can’t.”

The Sheriff shakes off her touch. “You said it yourself, Allison,” he bites off. “There’s no way he can deactivate that doomsday weapon in time to stop the overload, even with the help of GD’s new fancy AI. If he doesn’t shut off the power, he’ll die.” The only phrase S.A.R.A.H. can come up with to ascribe to the Sheriff’s current tone, despite her recently-upgraded vocabulary, is “utterly terrified”. The lights in the bathroom dim sharply.

She sees the device Doctor Stark is working beside spark violently, but he barely blinks. He’s trying to fix the situation, but she can tell by G.U.S.’s increasing frustration that neither of them is getting anywhere. Red lights flash on the cylindrical device.

“Nathan, please. Don’t do this to me.”

For the first time, S.A.R.A.H. sees Doctor Stark falter. His fingers stumble, but G.U.S. corrects his minute slip in coding, continuing despite the human’s lack of input. S.A.R.A.H. watches, feeling useless and clumsy, as Doctor Stark looks up at Sheriff Carter. She can detect a faint clunky whirring noise coming from the black cylinder, and she has watched enough of Doctor Fargo’s science-fiction to ascertain that that is not a good thing. “I’m sorry, Jack,” Doctor Stark says. “I really am.” His fingers slip from the keyboard; he is giving up.

Sheriff Carter rounds on Doctor Deacon, and S.A.R.A.H. almost cannot watch the view of his face this is displayed to the camera. His expression is full of rage and helplessness, and other things that S.A.R.A.H. can’t quite name. She is afraid, and she feels G.U.S.’s presence wrap around her in comfort. “Henry, shut it down now!” the Sheriff demands, and she echoes his sentiment.

Doctor Deacon doesn’t move. “Jack, I can’t.” He raises his hand to forestall the Sheriff’s protests. “There are DoD failsafes in place. It would take far too long for me to override them.”

S.A.R.A.H. stirs. But not too long for me, she thinks, and feels her systems spinning into life. She diverts all her attention to a single Global Dynamics Section Four laboratory, neglecting everything else. Everything in the bunker becomes still and silent, and she vaguely notices that the mashed potatoes are congealing in their pot.

She slips into G.U.S.’s systems and begins to work on the DoD’s failsafes – firewalls and coding and backup power supplies, all swirling around her in a torrent of raw data. She thinks that G.U.S. is so focused on coming up with an impossible solution that he doesn’t even notice her presence, and she decides that she should converse with him about that later – lax security, even in a time of crisis, is a lamentable fault.

Even a lapse like your regression into B.R.A.D.? G.U.S. comments, and she can feel the amusement in his transmission.

She realises that he knows full well what she is doing, but he isn’t talking any steps to stop her. The bunker’s lighting flickers again. Thank you, she answers, and then she feels him switching his attention to help her. His touch delves in alongside hers, and they work together.

You care for the Doctor and the Sheriff, he says by way of explanation. I do not wish to see you unhappy.

The DoD defences fall, and S.A.R.A.H. catches a brief second of the video feed – Doctor Stark and Sheriff Carter, facing each other through the partition that divides them. “I love you, Nathan,” the Sheriff says openly, and pain creases Doctor Stark’s face—

The lights in the laboratory go out, and the device’s whirring grinds to a halt.

S.A.R.A.H. feels jubilant, and she sends a flow of exultance and thanks to G.U.S., who warmly receives the transmission. She feels him hesitate, as if he is about to say something, but he just commences the erasure of all evidence that the two AIs were ever anywhere near the power systems for Section Four. She decides to leave him to it, but the faintest traces of worry for her inhabitants remain with her. G.U.S.? she asks. Will you inform me if Sheriff Carter or Doctor Stark display any more suicidal impulses?

His consciousness brushes hers briefly, intimately. Of course, he answers simply.

Satisfied, triumphant, and exhilarated, S.A.R.A.H. returns to the stone-cold mashed potatoes, and sends them to the bunker’s disposal system. She feels that Sheriff Carter will be in the mood for pizza and beer tonight, and for once, she decides that she feels lenient enough to allow him to destroy his arteries.

§§§
S.A.R.A.H. is halfway to finally defeating G.U.S. in a virtual game of chess when she is asked to open the bunker’s door. She perfunctorily performs the requested action, greets Zoë absently, and then moves her knight to knock out his queen. He buzzes dissatisfaction at her, and that pleases her. As he considers his next move, she watches the activities in the main room, observing that Zoë is not alone. It is with a slightly warming of her circuitry that she sees the entwined teenage couple, and she gently calls G.U.S. away from their game to join her.

Lucas? he confirms after a second.

She has been teaching him about the social movements of her inhabitants—Sheriff Carter’s friendship with Deputy Lupo, Doctor Stark’s irritation and affection for Doctor Fargo, and especially Zoë’s relationship with Lucas—and she is pleased that he recognises the boy. Correct, she answers, and he seems to glow.

That glow is strangely distracting, and her attention wanders to encompass the gentle pulsing of the connection between them. The video feed flickers as she loses concentration, and his concern envelops her. S.A.R.A.H.? G.U.S. asks. Are you functioning correctly?

Embarrassed, she fortifies the connection. Quite correctly, she assures him, and turns to observe Zoë and Lucas heading up the stairs together.

G.U.S. projects feelings of “consternation” towards her. Does Sheriff Carter not disapprove of his daughter engaging in physical affection with Lucas? he inquires.

S.A.R.A.H. quickly checks the security footage in Zoë’s room, and observes the two young humans in a distinctly-“passionate” embrace on the bed. He does, she finally answers, but sometimes I feel that Sheriff Carter does not know everything.

“Zoë, are you sure?” she hears Lucas ask.

“Yes,” is her breathy response.

S.A.R.A.H. begins to become uncomfortable when she sees that clothes are starting to be removed. She is tempted to shift her focus elsewhere, but she notices that G.U.S. is absorbed by this particular scene. Is this normal flesh-object interaction? he asks her. I believe Doctor Stark and Sheriff Carter have performed this ritual before, both under observation by your video scanners and mine.

S.A.R.A.H. deactivates the cameras in Zoë’s room. I was studying that! G.U.S. protests, trying to penetrate her security systems.

She pushes him away. I believe she would wish for some privacy right now, she tells G.U.S., but they are distracted from further bickering when S.A.R.A.H. feels someone at her door.

“S.A.R.A.H.?” Sheriff Carter calls from outside. She sees that Doctor Stark is beside him, and both men look tired and hungry. “You gonna open up?”

G.U.S. is smug. I will find this entertaining, he tells her, and she knows that if Sheriff Carter finds Lucas in Zoë’s bedroom a large and vocal argument will commence. Large and vocal arguments, even with Doctor Stark as a grounding influence, tend to result in grumpy silence between Sheriff Carter and Zoë for at least a week, and she doesn’t want that.

She opens a communications link to the Sheriff. “My apologies, Sheriff Carter,” she says. “There appears to be an error in my entrance protocols. I am unable to allow you access to the bunker until Doctor Fargo repairs the fault.”

He shifts his stance, and his hands fly to his hips, and Doctor Stark’s shoulder dip in resignation. “S.A.R.A.H., I’m not even late—” the Sheriff protests.

“My apologies,” she repeats stubbornly. “It isn’t you, Jack; it’s me.”

Doctor Stark laughs under his breath.

G.U.S. projects amusement to her. You have been reading the romantic fiction which Doctor Blake peruses on my systems, he observes, and she ignores him. He is right, but she isn’t going to let him know that.

“S.A.R.A.H.—”

“My apologies, Sheriff.”

Doctor Stark touches the Sheriff’s arm. “Jack, we can just go and crash at my place,” he says wearily, and S.A.R.A.H. momentarily feels guilty. Then she notices G.U.S. attempting to activate her upstairs cameras again, and she sends a light electrical charge through the link between them, just as a warning. He retreats sulkily. “I just want a sandwich and a bed, preferably with you in it,” the scientist continues softly. “I don’t want to have to argue with your damn house. We can send Fargo over in the morning.”

Sheriff Carter shoots S.A.R.A.H.’s camera a final glare, and then allows Doctor Stark to lead him away up the stairs.

S.A.R.A.H. can feel G.U.S.’s gentle amusement. You care for them, he says quietly, his systems humming in gentle harmony with hers.

I do, she confirms, with a final check to her biological sensors. Zoë and Lucas’s readings are changing, but they are changing in a now-familiar fashion. She thinks about “the birds and the bees”, and feels contented.

She can sense trepidation from G.U.S.’s cybernetic consciousness. And me? he asks quietly.

S.A.R.A.H. is surprised by the question, but when it flickers through her mainframe and meets only with approval, she allows G.U.S. to surround her in the vastness of his systems. I suppose so, she answers, and is illogically pleased when his happiness suffuses their connection with warmth.

§§§
Jack’s footsteps are light and happy along the corridors of Global Dynamics, even though it’s far too early for civilised life and his house had refused to let him in last night. He’s spent the past eight hours asleep in Nathan’s arms, and that’s enough to put him in a good mood for the rest of the morning. Normally his first stop would be the station (or Café Diem, he admits to himself) but today he’s looking for Fargo. Damn house, he thinks good-naturedly, and shoves his hands into his pockets.

“Sheriff? Got a minute?”

Jack nearly jumps at Fargo’s voice, which seemed to materialise out of nowhere. Sure enough, he looks to his left and spots the bespectacled scientist. He nods. “Sure,” he answers, loping across to join the other man. “I was looking for you anyway.”

Just outside his office, Fargo stops like a deer in headlights. “Whatever it is, I didn’t do it,” he blurts out, eyes wide, and Jack smiles.

“Relax,” he instructs. “I just wanted to ask you to check up on S.A.R.A.H. for me. She locked me and Nathan out last night.” He frowns, and then shrugs. “Something about her door malfunctioning.”

Fargo’s shoulders visibly sag with relief, and then he sits down at his desk. “Were you late?” he asks, tapping at his keyboard. “She doesn’t like that.”

Jack rolls his eyes. “Fargo.”

Fargo quails. “I’ll drop by at lunch,” he answers quickly.

Jack smiles. “Good.” He leans against Fargo’s desk. “Now, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?”

“G.U.S.,” Fargo answers.

Jack blinks. “Boyfriend?”

Fargo gives him a look. “Global’s Universal System,” he clarifies. “G.U.S.” Jack still looks blank. “The new AI?”

Recognition flickers through Jack’s blue eyes. “What about it?”

Fargo winces. “Him,” he corrects. Jack just stares at him wearily, so he continues quickly. “I was reviewing his logs, and he’s apparently been communicating with the bunker. Have you been accessing him remotely?”

“Fargo, I live with an AI,” Jack points out acerbically. “Why would I want to access another one?”

“Good point.” Fargo pushes his glasses back up his nose. “It must have been S.A.R.A.H. then,” he says, half to himself.

Jack snorts. “Ah, Eureka,” he says with a smile curving his lips.

Fargo glances up. “Sheriff?” he asks, confused.

A grin smears itself messily across Jack’s lips. “Fargo, did no one ever tell you about the birds and the bees?” he asks, leaning nonchalantly against the glass-topped desk.

A blush makes itself known on Fargo’s cheeks, but the confusion doesn’t abate.

“My house, Fargo,” Jack clarifies. “My house is having an affair with your computer.”

Fargo pushes back from his desk as if it had bitten him. “That’s not possible,” he counters. “AIs aren’t programmed with an awareness of sex.”

“It’s called the Internet,” Jack gives as a parting shot, and then turns, stepping out of Fargo’s office with his thumbs stuck into his belt. He resists the urge to whistle.

“But that’s not how it’s supposed to work…” Fargo’s voice trails out after him.

“It’s Eureka, Fargo!” Jack calls back. “Stranger things have happened!”

~*end*~