Copy, (An Astro Boy Story)

Chapter 9: Fighting A Losing Battle

Tenma's POV:

Bill Tenma sat at his computer, staring at the blue screen blankly, the document he had opened still blank. The whiteness of the page seemed to blind his tired eyes, and the little black line on the page kept blinking, beckoning him to get back to work. But for some reason, he couldn't seem to bring himself to. He felt drained, empty, like he wouldn't be able to lift a finger to get anything done to save his life. So all he did was sit there in his desk chair and stared. Stared at the computer. Stared at the blank screen. Stared at that forever reappearing and disappearing line, trying, trying his best not to let his mind wander. Not let it wander to who he dreaded it wandering too.

Astro.

Nope, nope, he wasn't going to allow himself to think about him. He wouldn't, he would not let himself torture him like that. Focus on the line. He told himself. Try to see if you can focus enough to get some work done. Yeah, that's it. Don't think of Astro...don't think about him...or his red boots...or his kind, humble smile...or the happiness on his face, or how his eyes light up when he sees you...

"Ugh!" Tenma groaned, throwing his head back and putting his face in his hands. He couldn't do it. He couldn't do it! He couldn't stop thinking about Astro! No matter what he did, his mind always came back to the little robot...and then the guilt began to worm its way in. The cold, unrelenting guilt.

The sound of a wheel rolling across the plush carpeted living room signaled the approach of Orrin. Tenma ignored him, closing his eyes and blocking out the sight of his blank holo-computer screen and empty, perfectly clean living room. With that fashionable coach that...that she had insisted they'd buy so long ago. That same plush, comfy coach that Toby had sat on just the other night. That Astro had sat on just hours before that. That she had sat on countless times. Smiling. Laughing. Alive. Real.

Tenma could barely suppress a sob that rose in his throat at the thought, and he felt tears growing in his eyes.

The sound of the wheel came to a sudden stop, and Tenma felt the presence of Orrin next to him. He knew he should open his eyes, but he didn't want to. He never wanted to. He wanted to stay like this forever and never, ever face his troubles. He wanted to sleep away his grief and guilt and pain that sprouted following the disappearance of Astro. He knew it was his fault. He had known it the moment he had peaked into Toby's room to find Astro gone and the window open. He just knew it. He knew that he shouldn't care, that Astro was just a robot. He wasn't human, and he wasn't Toby, he was never Toby, and he should just be happy that Toby was alive. But for some reason he wasn't content with that, and that feeling of guilt would not leave him. He wanted to sleep away his still fresh-as-ever pain from losing his darling Esmeralda. Oh, how he missed her. How he wished she was still there to comfort him, to hold his hand while he was upset and calm him down with her soothing, never wavering words. She was always so strong, so unwavering, no matter what happened. She always knew what to do. Tenma didn't. He never knew what to do, and it seemed like every choice he made always ended up backfiring in his face. He was horrible father. He had let Toby die and then had created Astro, just to kick him out, shut him off, reaccept him again, and then shun him. He didn't blame Astro for leaving. He would, if someone he loved had treated him that way. He was horrible.

"Sir?" Orrin's timid voice broke Tenma's depressing thoughts quietly, something that Tenma was almost thankful for. "Are you all right?"

Tenma sighed and opened his eyes, looking up at the shiny silver housebot and frowning slightly at the worry apparent on the robots face. "I'm fine Orrin," he said, trying to keep his voice from wavering. "Fine. Just...just tired."