Chapter Text
Sunday, November 8th, 2:01 pm
Jericho Freighter
You're still clinging onto the lingering fragments of dizziness spinning through your head. It's pleasant, euphoric, something you had never felt before. It was almost like some gentle form of nausea, just sickening enough to push away the other negative emotions desperate to take over. You walk with a faint, not-exactly-there smile down the snow-covered paths of the docks, crossing the threshold into Jericho's loading bay with a sigh. A weight peels itself from your shoulders, and you let your head tilt gently back, your eyes flitting momentarily shut. Your bones begin to ache, and a sudden tiredness drags at your limbs, almost making you stagger.
"Are you alright?" North appears at your side, gently resting her hand on your arm. Her brows are furrowed, her amber eyes glittering with concern and grief. You snap from your sort of daze, turning to face her, and your smile gets just a little stronger, for her sake more than yours.
"Yeah," You nod your head, swallowing down the lump in your throat, "I'm exhausted." Now that you are safe at home, feeling the phantom-swaying of the ship, your lightheadedness dissipates and you feel like you want to cry. North doesn't notice the tiny way your voice falters, the light glitter in your eyes. Instead, she just gives your arm a gentle squeeze and hurries forwards to stand at Markus' side. You are left alone again, Josh sending you but a sorrowful glance before pressing on as well, and that loneliness is nearly pleasant if it didn't let your thoughts run rampant. The clipped sounds of shoes on metal felt like home, but your brain couldn't help but realize that there was one less set of footsteps than there had been a few hours earlier. You grit your teeth, and swallow hard again. You're strong, and there isn't a chance you're letting anyone see your hurting. You arrive at the heavy yellow airlock door that leads to the ships hold. Markus presses against the metal, swinging it open with a screech and stepping out the other side. All at once, every set of deviant eyes swivels to face you, and then noise explodes.
"They're back! Markus is back!" The first android to speak shouts the words loudly, and then anything else he wanted to say is swallowed up by shouts and hollers, cheering and chanting and congratulations that make your heart plummet. You force on a toothy grin, stepping out behind the others, Connor right on your tail. You couldn't make out any sentences, only catching small snippets of speech. You waited until everyone noticed that you were a group of five- not six, like when you had left.
"-watched it and it was amazing!"
"-the world knows now that-"
"-missing someone? What about-"
"Where's Simon? Is he-" That took significantly shorter than you had thought. Almost immediately, Simon's absence was noticed, and once one android pointed it out everybody knew. The lightness of the room dropped, heavier now, brimmed with panic and worry. The atmosphere shifted so suddenly it almost stole the breath from your lungs, and you had to fight to keep your chin up. The volume of the chatter only rose, now underlined with fear and dread. Everyone spoke over one another, so quickly that you couldn't make out what they were saying at all. It was all raw terror and morbid thoughts, until one android voiced what no one else wanted to. The words came out in a shout, loud, demanding attention and throwing the room into a sudden hush.
"Is he dead?!" Nobody spoke now. The tension all around you was threatening to snap. You wanted to shout out that no, Simon wasn't dead, he couldn't be dead, because you were too afraid for it to be admitted here and now. Once everyone knew that Simon had been left behind, you had to accept it. There wouldn't be room for denial any longer. Markus sucked in a breath of air, but not because he needed to breathe- he was an android, after all- instead, it was to puff his chest up, his shoulders rolling backwards and his chin raising. He emanated leadership in every sense of the word. He glanced over his shoulder, then took a slow step towards you, taking your hand tenderly in his.
"You should go and sleep. You look tired." You knew that, in reality, Markus was trying to save you from what was bound to come. You and Simon had always been seen as one unit. People knew that you and him were close. You smile, a sad, tired sight, and nod your head.
"Thank you, Markus." He lifts a hand, resting it momentarily on your shoulder before letting you turn away as he did the same. He faced his people again as your eyes began to sting, and you brushed past Connor and the others before tears could fall.
"Today, we did a wonderful thing. But with good things come sacrifices." You shrink into yourself at the softness of his words, and move a little quicker. You couldn't hold up an unbroken facade for any longer. "Simon was a vital part of our infiltration, and he did wonderfully. Without him, I don't believe that we could have done it." You can't hold it in any longer. You break into a jog, a hand rising to plant itself over your mouth, tears running rivers down each side of your face as you squeeze your eyes shut. You are struck by a strong wave of grief, of realization, and as you are torn from your state of denial and thrown into heartbreak, you run for the quiet little room you had started to stay in with Connor. Only when the sound of Markus' voice has grown distant do you let your hand fall, allowing your quiet sobs to ring through the hallways around you. You arrive at the room, stumbling inside and falling down onto the cot in the far corner. Sunlight trickles in through the windows, framing you in gold. The sun outside shines so inappropriately bright for a time like this.
In the face of loss, you had always expected rain and storm. It feels wrong for the sun to be celebrating like this. The glowing rays were almost mocking you, mocking Simon. You let your face fall into your hands as you desperately try to regather yourself. Crying isn't okay. You can't be crying when there is so much to be done. The android revolution is in motion and here you are sobbing into your hands like a weakling. You aren't as strong as you tell yourself you are. What can you do to help free your people if you can't even handle the loss of Simon? You continue to berate yourself left and right, hating that you're so so weak and hating that you can't just suck it up and bottle your emotions like you usually do. You are so lost in your own thoughts that you fail to hear approaching footsteps. You notice seconds too late and hardly have time to even wipe the tears from your red eyes before Connor is peeking around the corner. His brows are furrowed, lips tugged down into a gentle frown, and you force on a smile, shoving the urge to keep crying aside and trying harder than ever before to seem okay. You're just fine. Swell.
"(Y/N)...?" Connor steps gently into the room. You suddenly feel like an absolute idiot- you're sitting here with you glistening eyes and the widest, fakest smile on your lips expecting to trick Connor into thinking you're alright. You really are an idiot. "Are you okay?" That's a stupid question, you want to say, but you don't because you're still clinging to the delusion that he'll fall for your trick. I'm not okay, you want to say, but instead you come up with,
"Yeah, j-just fine!" Reluctance scrawled itself across Connor's face. For a quick second you thought he would let you get away with this- it was obvious, more than obvious, actually, that he didn't believe a single word that you just said, but you thought that maybe he'd be too nervous to press you. His frown widened, and you almost let yourself celebrate him letting you off the hook before he wore an expression entirely alien to you. His frown hardened, his brows furrowing deeper, into something more stern than you thought possible for deviant Connor.
"Stand up." Connor's voice was even and strict, so strong that you stood without even thinking not to. The way his eyes glowed was almost threatening in a soft, almost motherly way. You could tell that in a few seconds he would begin to pressure you to talk to him, and you glanced at the door behind him. If you moved fast enough, you could probably get past him, couldn't you? Talking about your feelings was not your strong suit, and you wanted nothing else than to run away right now. He placed his hands on his hips, as if reading your mind, stepping to stand directly in front of your exit. "I can see that you're hurting, (Y/N). What's wrong?" You clamped your jaw shut tight, defiant, and sat back down on the cot. You wouldn't tell him. You wouldn't tell anyone. Your grief morphed into anger, such an easy transformation, and you hated it.
"Fuck off." The words feel like poison on your tongue, bitter, and you hated how ugly they felt. Connor's tilted his head, blinking coolly. He wasn't budging. "I'm fine. Just fine." You force your gaze away, glaring holes into the floor.
"It's obvious that you aren't, (Y/N), I want to help you." Connor's voice was unwavering, and the care that shone through it terrified you. You shrink into yourself, resisting the temptation to break down. Why did he make you feel so vulnerable and safe? Why did he make you want to talk to him? Just as you're about to give in, you force out,
"Leave me alone, okay? Just leave me the fuck alone." You sound so unbelievable tired, it makes you want to scream. You hear Connor let out a sigh, and then he crosses the room, taking a seat at your side. You continue to stare down at the floor, your hands planted firmly on the edge of the cot at your sides.
"(Y/N)..." Connor speaks softly now, such a drastic change from the firm worry from moments earlier. His hand moves to rest on top of yours, gently pulling it from it's place and enveloping it in his. "Do you want a hug? Physical affection is proven to release serotonin, and lower stress levels. I... I've never hugged anyone before, but I'd like to be here for you." You don't answer as he intertwines his fingers with yours. You can hear the gentle smile in his voice, but still don't answer, mouth shut tightly. If you try to say anything, anything at all, you'll break and spill your worries to him. You can't risk that. After a moment of your silence, he speaks again, and he sounds so, so sad it crumbles your heart. "Oh, that's alright. I can just... sit here, if you'd like. Or I can go." Your silence continues. You can't do this. He sighs again, gentle patting your hand with the one not locked in it's hold. "I'll be in the hold, if you-" You don't let him finish as you swivel, diving forwards and wrapping your arms around him. You bury your face into the front of his denim jacket, and he lets out a startled sound, taken aback by your actions. A sob breaks your body.
"I'm sorry," The words are painful to force out, your chest tightening, a wail climbing it's way up your throat. Guilt swarms you, and that mixes unpleasantly with your grief. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell at you, I just- I just-"
"It's okay, (Y/N), It's alright. I'm here for you." Connor wrapped his own arms around you right back. It was obvious that he really hadn't hugged anyone before; his arms locked around your waist just a little too tight, and his chin rested on your shoulder, face buried into your hair. The angle was awkward, your back already aching, but you honestly couldn't care less. As poor as it was, this was the best hug you had ever had in your life, in the moment you needed it most. "I don't understand loss, really, but... but I'm sorry. I know you loved Simon, and Simon loved you, and I can't even begin to imagine how all of this must feel." You let out a watery laugh at the odd way he spoke. He was hesitant to comfort you, unsure of what to say, and you were suddenly reminded that he was a new deviant, and that he must be so so confused with you while you're in this state. You let your walls fall down the rest of the way, your tears surging forwards with your trembling sobs. You don't know how long passes, you sitting there with your arms around him and his arms around you, but he doesn't let go until you're out of tears. You hiccup, your breath still shaky, but the sobs have gone now and you're regathering your thoughts. A good cry felt good- it has been... a long, long time since you've cried like that.
"Thank you," you say quietly, but don't yet move to pull away. You are embarrassed, though you know you shouldn't be. Connor lifts one hand to gently caress the back of your head.
"Of course, (Y/N). I know we haven't known each other for that long, but... you're my only real friend." You feel a weak smile tug at your lips, and you hug him even tighter. The two of you are silent, and that's just fine. Another whole minute passes before you manage to gather the courage to pull away, wiping at your eyes with your knuckles and giving Connor a quick glance. He's still looking at you, his eyes warm, his smile strong again, reassuring. You notice the absence of his LED, and gently reach out a quavering hand to top his right temple.
"I miss your blinker," You hum, and Connor tilts his head, taking a quick second to realize what you mean. When it dawns on him, his eyebrows raise, and his smile only grows, making the corners of his eyes crinkle gently. No one had ever said something that implied they liked Connor because he was an android. It was the thing people usually hated the most about him, and a warmth spread through his chest at the thought that you like it. The LED was the telltale sign that an android wasn't human- yet here you were, saying you missed it when it had only been gone for a few hours. Connor reaches into his pocket, pulling out the LED. It was a dull gray as of now, having no power to fuel it- you reached for it, glancing at him for permission first, and then took it from his hand after he nods his approval. You smile as you click the LED back into it's rightful place. All at once, it swirls blue, bright and happy once more. You trace it gently with your finger before pulling your hand away. "That's better." Connor couldn't wipe his smile off of his face if he tried. Moments before, he had felt sadness, and he hadn't liked it, but now, the happiness he felt made that all worthwhile.
"Are you feeling any better, or do I need to hug you again?" His tone told you that his statement was both a joke and a legitimate question, making you smile and let out a small laugh. You open your arms up, and Connor is quick to take up the offer, deciding that he likes hugs, especially when you are the one giving them to him. You embrace him once more, though this time it's less desperate, more thankful. It's a happy hug rather than a sad hug. "You're probably tired," Connor mumbles into your shoulder, pulling away from you but keeping his hands on your shoulders, "You should try to sleep." You huff out a breath and nod your head. Connor was right, you were exhausted. He stood from the cot, letting you lay down atop it, and grabbed the blanket from it's place folded at the foot of the bed. He laid the covers over you, placing his hand gently on your cheek before taking a few steps away to sit cross-legged on the floor by your bedside. "I'll stay here to make sure no one tries to wake you, okay?" You smile at him, a toothy grin, and nod your head. "Sleep well, (Y/N)."
"Thank you, Con." You let your eyes fall shut and you're out like a light.