Chapter Text
"It’s a modified EMP."
Connor and Hank were bathed in the cool glow of the evidence room, looking up at a relatively blank wall. Under the almost clinical light, each scuff of soot or scorch mark was easy to make out on the device.
“And there were no others like it at any of the other disappearances.” Hanks' statement was gruff, tiredness grating at the edges as he rubbed at his temple.
After signing stupid paperwork and stopping just short of having to be escorted out the building, Hank had just gone straight home and went to sleep. His head had been killing him and anger was still itching at him so sleeping it off seemed the best course of action at the time while Connor had been chucked on nights.
Trying to make good choices now and all.
Being woken up with good and bad news pretty much set back any progress he had made at trying to settle his aggravation.
“But we now have reason to believe our suspect was going back to the scenes and collecting the modified EMP.”
Connor’s eyes had never left the crude expression of scrap once since putting it on one of the shelves. He practically had a perfect three dimensional model now simulated but even then he couldn’t draw his gaze away from the device. Hank had been sending glances at him the entire time but none of them managed to break through the single minded focus.
“How’d this suspect get into scenes police were actively keeping watch on? I don’t understand how no one has seen this guy until tonight. It’s been weeks. He can’t have been that stealthy.”
Hank folded his arms, squinting his eyes at the EMP. The only one they had in evidence and apparently there could have been one at each location.
“What happened anyway? Reed stormed into the office like he was about to burst a blood vessel. He practically had to get ordered to go home and try to get some sleep, patch up, eat, rest and all that.”
“It was me.”
Hank was back to glancing periodically at Connor, trying to catch his attention and failing once more. He let out a long sigh that then stretched into a yawn.
Gavin's attitude around the station has always been abrasive. His distaste for Connor in particular skyrocketed when he had been informed he might have to take on a certain Android partner. For Hank, it’s just felt like a headache put on top of a headache. Especially trying to help Connor navigate any rising emotions it might have brought.
“I know Gavin’s still an ass, but he’s-“
“No, Lieutenant. The suspect hadn’t been noticed before because it was me. An android with my face.” Connor paused, finally looking away from the EMP but only to look down at the floor. “I think 313 248 317-60 is back online.”
Despite the evidence room being silent before, the lack of noise felt thicker somehow. The older man felt as if he’d had the air sucked from his lungs as he looked at Connor’s expression not even twitch.
“Fuck off, Connor.”
The sudden harshness of how Hank said it made sure that Connor’s gaze wouldn’t be lifting from the floor anytime soon. Even when Hank reached over and grabbed the collar of his jacket, he still couldn’t bring himself to look at the man.
“Tell me some of Gavin’s twisted sense of humour has rubbed off on ya.” The hands that were gripping his collar had a subtle tremble to them as Hank searched Connor’s avoidant gaze. He hardly gave the android enough time to reply before pushing and turning away.
“I shot that son of a bitch. I had to watch your face die and hope I’d been right. Sixty is fucking dead!” He ranted into the empty room, pressing his knuckles to his eyes as he tried not to shout his frustrations too loudly. What had that dumb lady said? Four seconds in, four out? His voice sounded too much in this silent room.
“I saw that, and I don’t think you should give him a name, but I also saw him tonight. I faced him again. But I noted he was lacking an LED and his behaviour wasn’t the same as at Cyberlife tower.”
No matter what effect Connor had been going for, the statement didn’t ease the tension in the room or placate Hank in the slightest. The older man was running a hand down his face, trying to remember the stupid breathing exercises that didn’t stem any of the frustration and anxiety he felt now.
“I’m just going to go home, Connor. I suggest you come along too. For one, you’ve been wearing that stupid shirt for far too long and it’s been two days since you last slept-”
“Stasis-“
“Are you coming or not!” Hank was not in the mood to be corrected on such simple wording. He wanted to crack a beer open and pass out in his bed with Sumo pressed into his side. He wanted the night to stretch into blissful stillness he won’t remember in the morning, fixed with an Advil. He wanted to actually get a full night's sleep and he didn’t need Connor and his weird attachment to not being human right now.
But Connor couldn’t let this go. He needed to know how all this connected. He needed to know how this is the first piece of evidence in so long. How could this connect to the other cases and what other leads did this open? His face had been used to get away with this, he’s helped inadvertently cause all these problems. The assault charges looked like they weren’t sticking but Connor felt he couldn’t stop now. He didn’t have time, didn’t have the right.
“It would be best for me to stay and try fin-“
“What’s your power level at?” Hank's tone was clipped in that way where Connor knew he could only give an answer or the already touchy mood would plummet.
“My power levels are at 37%” Connor himself wasn’t ashamed of that answer. It was honest and he had a couple days left before being in danger of shutting down.
“After only three days.” The older man’s displeased reply made some doubt start to fester between his circuits. The android felt himself scratch mindlessly at his arm, harmlessly picking at a section of flawless skin.
“My power levels drained faster than usual tonight but I am still functioning.”
“Just get in the fucking car. Even Gavin fucking Reed has turned in to actually rest for once so get moving. It’s not like you can do anything right now when we still have virtually zero clues as to what’s going on here.”
not like you can do anything
Connor’s nail caught the edge of one of the panels on his forearm underneath the synthetic skin. It picked at like a scab that was impossible to peel off, catching under his nail again and again as his gaze settled once more to the ground.
He wanted to argue, to fight against Hank and stand here until he can find some sort of usable clue to continue the investigation. It would have been easy to get lost on this piece of evidence and to stick to his usual stubborn habits. Connor was willing to stand here for however long it took to find…something. Anything. It was what he did, what he was created to do.
Hearing the door to the evidence room click shut was what finally got Connor to look up and search for Hank’s face, but the older man was out of sight. There was another faint click sound but instead of coming from the door, it was a small chip of Connor's forearm panel finally giving way under his insistent nail.
If Connor was stubborn, so was Hank.
Connor found himself not even noticing the inconceivable injury. The skin design was still completely intact, but instead of perfectly sooth, there was now a minute indent where the panel had chipped. Instead, Connor rushed to catch up with Hank, letting the man drag him out of an abyss he hadn’t quite let himself fall into.
An abyss he wasn't even aware of within himself yet.
—-----------------------------------------------------
Connor admittedly felt better when he was back in the safe space of Hank’s home and had some more comfortable clothes on. It was like resetting in all the ways that wasn’t literal, giving himself time he didn’t really have.
Whatever mould that had found a way to worm underneath his chassis wasn’t messing with his alarm systems anymore and for now his head felt clear. Just for this moment. This simple moment where he was sat on the couch wearing an old, loose t-shirt and some sweats. Sumo was sat between his legs, heavy tail dragging against the wooden floor as he looked up at the android expectantly.
Connor’s fingers were curled in the long fur, swallowing his hands completely as he held onto the dog. Dark eyes met dog eyes as Connor stared unblinkingly at Sumo’s face and the dog just stared right on back.
Under his fingertips, Connor could feel so much soft fur. That fluffy warmth could also be felt in his chest too which confused him, but he decided it didn’t feel bad enough to stop this and investigate.
When Hank was spoiling Sumo with attention, the older man would ruffle the dog's fur, shake Sumo's face with mock aggression and generally work the dog up until he would flop on his back, tail hammering against the floor. But here Sumo sat calmly, seemingly just letting Connor bury his hands in the fur and just leaving them there.
It left a warm, still sensation within Connor as he felt every breath the dog took. His hands would move with the torso's expansion, knowing exactly how the air interacted with the lungs and the rest of the body. But Connor didn’t let his mind run on too long for once, instead allowing the sensation of being still and quiet, watching this dog who seemed to just love Connor even when he would just sit still with his hands gripping fur and a distant stare.
“Your shirt is all clean so you can go back to wearing that tomorrow, not that I mind you borrowing my shirts, just…yeah, thought you'd prefer your own.” Hank’s voice sounded from the kitchen, accompanied by the sound of clinking glass and the slamming of the refrigerator door. Connor didn’t know if he was meant to reply, he couldn’t help but feel like he really didn’t want to either. But that didn’t seem to be a problem as Hank continued his rambling while digging about the utensils, presumably looking for a bottle opener. Connor still couldn’t bring himself to say anything. “We really should get you some more normal clothes, took you long enough to stop sleeping like you were going to a work conference.”
The clock ticked past 04:26, the only noises in the house was the faint buzzing of electricals, Sumo panting and Hank shuffling in from the kitchen with a beer bottle in hand. Connor took in the warm glow from the singular lamp which was the only light source to illuminate the living room, curtains closed to block out the street lights outside.
There was so much Connor could do. There was so much he should do. But he found himself not moving an inch. Choosing nothing.
He was so stuck in this moment, this indecision, he didn't notice Hank stepping closer until there was a heavy hand in his hair that messed up the curls more.
“Should I take Sumo through with me or do you want me to leave him here?” Whatever prior frustrations Hank had earlier were gone. His tone was gruff but calm, waiting for an answer with none of the previous impatience.
It was a simple question. Something so small and easy that it had to be manageable. Connor felt he could answer without choosing wrong, shorting a fuse or accidentally messing with the mould in his wires. And despite the choice being easy, small, simply a nod was all he could manage, words seemingly failing at this moment in time.
There was a hum from behind him and Hank ruffled Connor’s hair one more time before retracting his hand, nudging Connor’s temple with no real force as he stepped away.
“Try and actually get some sleep, stasis, whatever tonight, Connie.”
And as the man retreated down the hallway to his own bedroom, Connor felt himself giving in a little, twisting to recline along the couch. His legs hung over the arm rest by quite a bit but the android didn’t care, just patting his chest until Sumo got the hint and happily jumped up to lie down on Connor’s torso.
Connor still didn't know what to think, or what to do. There was a constant nagging thought that he had forgotten something, that something needed to be done right now and he just did not know what it was. But instead he let himself rest, just for tonight, reasoning to himself that if he got up now it would disturb Sumo. The dog was a comforting, crushing weight on his chest, radiating a heat that made the android forgo a blanket.
The impending wave of emotions would surely drown him in the morning but for now Connor let himself rest.
Which turned out to be a mistake.
A mistake to Connor at least. His systems had been oddly resistant in drawing out of stasis and Connor found the comforting weight on him before was now gone, taking the warmth along with it.
While the slimy feeling of corruption was still blessedly absent, Connor still ran his hands up and down his arms, as if fighting a chill he couldn’t feel.
[POWER LEVEL: 52%]
Not the most beneficial stasis, Connor couldn’t determine the source of the unease. He scanned the living room but there was nothing out of place. The house was quiet, almost completely to the point Connor had to strain to make out any noise in the entire building. It wasn’t hard to slip back into the space of being a detective that had something to investigate.
Which lasted all of a minute when he came across a post-it note stuck to the fridge with ink 91% fresher than the rest.
‘I’ll be back’
Written in a hurried scrawl and underlined twice, stuck front and centre to the door, the black writing stood out against the garish yellow paper. Connor found himself reaching out and peeling the note off the door, bringing it up to his face to examine even when it seemed obvious there was nothing else to glean from this.
Hank was away, and he would be back.
It hardly helped to settle Connor's thoughts that were slowly starting to pick up speed once more. So instead he decided to keep busy. He didn’t bother to change out of the clothes he was already wearing, setting off to inspect the entire house and look for…something.
The living room was exactly as it had been in the early morning with the exception of the lamp being turned off, sunlight now creeping underneath the blinds instead. The kitchen had minimal amount of dishes starting to collect in the sink and the cupboards might need to be rearranged soon, but otherwise held a lazy sort of neatness that was becoming a prominent theme within the house. The bathroom would need wiped down and the new beer bottle balancing on the edge of the bathtub would need to be removed and Sumo was spotted curled up on Hank's bed through the gap in the door.
But there was no prominent problem. Nothing was obviously wrong.
It was infuriating as Connor wandered the house, occasionally bringing himself to complete a task.
It was when he finally decided to change and was tugging on his shirt, readjusting his tie when Hank came back. The door handle hit the wall with enough force to rattle the door in its frame as the man stormed in and slammed it shut behind him.
“Lieutenant?”
“Don’t bother going to work today,” there was muttering and cursing, followed by something else slamming. “Legal shit, people’ll do anything to get back…months, it’s only been months.”
It felt like a chill had swept through the house, winter snow setting in despite the season passing.
“They're going to decide on a date, I know a lawyer who owes me some shit. Just-“ Hank cuts himself off as he appears in the living room with a bottle already in hand.
“It is currently 11:14, it is with your health in mind-“
“Connor, I swear to god. There are bigger things to worry about right now. They are going through with the assault charge. Do you understand what that means?”
Hank was stepping closer as he spoke, pointing at Connor as if each time could drill in his words. Connor did understand what that meant. He’d been thinking about it almost non stop for several days and even now he could feel a crawling sensation under his skin. He wanted to focus on something else, anything else, and Hank wasn’t letting that happen.
“I need to talk to Markus.”
Connor didn’t even bother finding a jacket, instead turning on his heels to make a straight shot for the door.
“Connor, wait. Con.”
The man didn’t get to say anything more before the door shut the rest of his words away.