Chapter Text
“Congratulations, Reed,” Fowler says, dropping a badge onto Gavin’s desk. “You finally made lieutenant.”
The gold metal of the badge shines in the dim light of the precinct; half the lights are out to conserve power. The number on the badge isn’t his, causing a stone to settle deep inside him. “Did the old drunk finally bite it?”
“Hank deserted,” he says flatly, not a hint of surprise in his voice. “You’ve been gunning for a promotion for years and you’ve got the initiative we need for a leader. I’ll manage payroll. Our HR department’s all but dissolved, so address any situations yourself or send them to me if you think you’ll make shit worse. I’ll have a list of responsibilities emailed to you by lunch today. Patrols are already scheduled for the week, but keep an eye on them in case someone calls out or goes missing.”
It isn’t like Hank to leave the people he cares about. He must have finally hit his limit. “Whoever makes these must be out of business, huh,” Gavin says, picking up the badge. He’ll tape his own number to it later.
“Your info’s updated in the system, but I figured you ought to have physical recognition of your new role. Ben should be able to help if I’m not around, but the gist of it is I need you to keep people calm, on task, and alive.”
“Cool. Thanks, I guess. Speaking of payroll…”
“Your raise will go through as soon as I can get it. Take care, Lieutenant.” Fowler nods at him respectfully before returning to his office.
“Lieutenant,” Gavin mumbles to himself. It almost feels like an insult to be granted the title for something other than his own merit. He can live up to the expectations, but how he wishes things were normal, that this felt like a deserved step in his career rather than a burden. Regardless, he won’t turn it down. Keeping others alive is the reason he’s still here, after all.
A notification pops up on his screen showing text from a news release. “Detroit, MI: CyberLife’s Carnegie states typhon developments ‘troubling’ but there should be ‘no room for doubt’: New home defense technologies…”
He swipes it away. More sensors, more turrets, but what’s the point? Monsters like Connor are few and far between, even he can see that. It’s a waste to invest in technology like that rather than keeping the hordes at bay, especially when they’re much less violent.
The revelation that Connor’s been lying to him for so long should have made it angry. It did, but all he’s been feeling since then is numbness and an ache in his chest. He should report Connor and his family to the captain, get the military in there to stomp them out or CyberLife to bring them in for testing. He should warn everyone who may come in contact with them. Instead, he’s stuck turning his thoughts over in his head, pondering whether to delete Connor from his contacts like it was all just a breakup.
What if Connor’s right?
“Earth to Gavin.” Tina snaps her fingers in front of his face and he blinks. “Jesus, who pissed in your cereal? Thought you’d be happy about the promotion. Grats, by the way. Didn’t think I’d live to see the day.”
“Just pissed off Anderson left me all his half-finished projects. Who knows what I’m gonna need to clean up? At least we’re not mopping up his brains,” Gavin says. He flicks through a few files on his screen, items that Fowler has marked as in need of attention. From the looks of things, he needs to review everyone’s open cases. Thanks to everyone’s tendency to chat, he has an idea what most of them are about already.
“So you’ll be in charge of figuring out what toys we get next,” she says, taking a seat on the arm of his desk. “You’ve gotta let me know if we can finally get turrets on our cars.”
“You’ll be the first to know.” No more reports of fake humans on his feed or email. “Hey, Tina, question for you.”
“Shoot.”
“Let’s say, hypothetically, you know a murderer. Brutal, merciless, downright cold-blooded,” Gavin says. “But he hasn’t killed in a bit, and he’s actually saved lives, fighting against his own murderer buddies. Guys like that get a reduced sentence even when the victims’ families demand otherwise.” New email notification: Outstanding SWAT requests. He ignores it. “If he’s a killer by nature, he’s evil no matter what he does, right?”
Tina scrunches up her face. “There’s entire disciplines of philosophy that try to answer questions like that. If I were the family, I’d say yeah, he’s evil. If I were a judge, I’d weigh it against the law and his legal assistance. If he saved my life…” She shrugs, picking up his coffee mug and taking a sniff before sipping it. “This is hell, Gavin. Everyone expects to die in the next few years and that’s changed all of us. Our choices now define who we are at this stage in our lives, from the sacrifices of the people on the front lines to the money-hungry elites in their shiny tech towers. Or you can be practical about it: Why would you lock up a guy who’s got your back?”
“What if he hid the fact he was a murderer?”
“Did you tell him about your rap sheet?”
“It’s no worse than yours,” Gavin grumbles. He hates that she has a point—on all counts—and he hates that she probably knows he’s talking about Connor. It’s not like he’s ever had many friends.
That would mean she doesn’t care if Connor’s a killer. The follow-up question would be whether she thinks aliens can change their nature, but he can’t just ask her that.
He glances towards the holding cells. Hank found his own answer to that question. For all the grief Gavin gives him, he can’t deny the older man’s experience and instinct. Neither of them would be alive if it weren’t for that.
“So…” Tina sets down the empty mug and leans forward to peer at his screen. “Think you could put in a request for a Q-Beam?”
“Sure. One request for prototype military lasers, coming right up,” Gavin says, then nudges her off his desk and locks his monitor, grabbing his mug. “Coffee thieves, on the other hand, get old hunting rifles.”
“I learned from the best.” Tina punches his arm before they part ways, and then everything feels the same as it has been, except that Hank won’t be coming in late today.
He won’t ever come back, from the sounds of it, and Gavin only hopes that whatever he’s got planned, he doesn’t die a painful death.
“I cannot stay.”
Connor looks over from the counter where he’s fussing over Charlie and Julia as they investigate the small collection of hand lotions he’s gathered. He looks far more tired than any typhon ought to. “You, too?”
“I share your sadness at Sixty’s departure, but this is unrelated. This is… The military is too close, Connor. I cannot keep hiding like this,” Nines says earnestly. “We will need to move soon. To continue maintaining a human schedule would mean risking our lives at a level we previously have not. I can’t keep pretending and I can’t keep watching everyone walk out that door knowing it might be the last time I see them alive.” He takes a deep breath. “A vacation will do me some good. Canada, I think. I hear they have fewer scanners up there.”
“Are you sure? What about your work?” Connor leaves the two mimics, but Julia latches onto his shoulder, clinging as he walks over to Nines.
“It isn’t worth the risk,” Nines says. He pulls Connor into a hug. “I don’t suppose you’d consider leaving.”
Connor buries his head in Nines’ shoulder and shakes his head. “No. I have to stand by Markus and do whatever I can to save lives.”
“Because of Gavin?”
“Because it’s the right thing to do.” Connor squeezes him tight. “But I understand. You’ll be safe from both humans and nightmares, and I cannot complain about that.”
Nines runs his fingers through Connor’s hair and kisses his head. “I’ll miss you,” he says, unable to hide the way his voice chokes up.
“Just promise to visit sometime, alright? We’ll always be here for you.”
“Yes,” Nines says softly, “I’ll come back.”
He says goodbye to the two mimics, Charlie trying to cling to him as he leaves, and he looks back at Connor one last time before departing out the back door with nothing but his phone and his laptop bag.
Connor stands outside the front of Hank’s house like it’s going to give him any closure. The lights are off, car is gone, and—perhaps not so strange—the door is unlocked and cracked open. It’s only a shell of the home it once was.
The military has cleared out, chasing the nightmare elsewhere. Not even turrets remain. There’s only wisps of coral, causing the neighbors to leave or shut themselves in.
“Why didn’t you run?”
Connor sighs. “Why? I have the same right to exist here as you.”
“Because this is starting to feel like ground zero for War of the Worlds.” Gavin stands beside him. There’s a grim set to his face as he doesn’t make any attempt to smooth it over with sarcasm or a sneer. Two weapons are holstered at his belt.
The badge is new.
“So why’d you call me here? You’re suddenly concerned about my safety? Or you think my execution will make any difference?” Connor turns to face him fully. “The collective don’t care about me unless I interfere, so it won’t do anything except ensure there’s one less life in this world.”
“Listen, man,” Gavin says, “I don’t appreciate the lying or that you’re one of them, but the fact that you haven’t killed me despite having every chance to has to count for something.”
“Oh, that. Not that I helped you fight the nightmare and not that we’re friends.” Bitterness slip into his voice though he tries to keep the tone light.
“Point is, if you’re not gonna kill humans, maybe you’re worth keeping around. You know, as an informant or something. Help us learn more about these guys. And... Well, I’m still pissed off, but we could, you know, sort something out,” Gavin suggests.
Connor hates to ask, but he must: “How do I know you’re not going to hand me in to CyberLife?”
“If I’d wanted that, you’d be surrounded by now. You know as well as I do that you could take me out now, no fucking sweat. I’d rather have you on my side than not.” He shoves his hands in his pockets. “Funny thing is, I thought about how it’d feel to see you die, put down like all the other monsters, and I realized I never want that to happen. I wanted to hate you.”
“Don’t tell me Gavin Reed finally felt a positive emotion.”
“Life’s too damn short to pull shit like being petty or burying things under my pride and ego. If you’re as genuine as you claim you are, then I was wrong. You’re worth having in my life.” Gavin offers his hand, gazing right into Connor’s eyes.
There’s no hesitation when Connor takes his hand. Despite his faults, Gavin’s one of the very reasons Connor wants humanity to thrive. “If I’m going to teach you about typhon, you need to be willing to learn about the good as well as the bad. That means not denigrating me for what I am. I may be an exception to the norm, but I am no less typhon than the others.”
Gavin opens his mouth, then closes it, chewing his lip. “Deal,” he says. Connor suspects it will take a while for Gavin’s mindset to change, but that he’s willing to change at all is a step in the right direction. When Gavin lets go, he asks, “Where will you go?”
“When it comes down to it, living among human society is less important than doing what we can to end this war, and that has to happen through working with our own. We’ll stay at the edges of the city, away from the military and the new tech.” Connor looks back to Hank’s house and finds himself thankful that, unlike other similar scenes, Hank is alive. “I can’t promise that we’ll turn the tide, but any lives saved will be worth the effort. What about you?”
Gavin chuckles. “Good question. We haven’t changed the department enough to account for the invasion. Keeping people safe and stopping crime aren’t always the same thing. I’ve been given the opportunity to take us in a better direction. It’s a hell of a responsibility, but I’ve gotta take it.”
Connor nods. “You have my number.”
“Do I still have your heart?”
That startles a laugh out of him. “No,” he says by reflex, then mentally kicks himself. “I mean—Gavin, I don’t have a heart, not really. So long as you don’t tell me to leave again, though, you’ve got me.”
“Yeah.” Gavin grins softly. “I’d like that.”
Connor closes the distance between them and kisses him. There’s no resistance, only frantic reciprocation as Gavin tries to push too many emotions into the gesture, so human and so quickly becoming familiar for Connor.
“Keep yourself alive, hear me?” Gavin mumbles.
“And you. You’re in far more danger than I am.”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Connor squeezes Gavin in a tight hug before reluctantly stepping away. “Call me when you get home and we can talk more. My presence deters the smaller ones, but there’s some phantoms roaming near here who won’t show me the same respect.”
“Yeah. Tell me if you manage to get any progress on your ‘making typhon friendly’ thing. It’ll be nice to have some reason for hope,” Gavin says.
Connor salutes. “Will do, Lieutenant.”
He doesn’t know when he’ll see Gavin again, if he ever will at all, given the dangers they both face. As he watches Gavin return to his car, waiting for the other man to leave before departing himself, he feels the horrible mix of love and loss mingling inside of him. In another world, another reality, they could have lived a perfect life.
In another life, they may have never met, fated to follow different paths. Connor’s not sure which he would prefer.
All he knows is this life is the one he’s got and he has to make the most of it.
Nines has, since his conception, witnessed human vanity. The entirety of Talos I was decorated with sculptures and modern art, the architecture sleek and modern and plated with gold. The house he finds himself in now shares the same opulence, from the tiny, intricate fountain to the larger-than-life portrait staring down at him. It bears the weight of thousands of years of human culture and development leading to this era of creativity, but he cannot find himself to care for it when that same money and effort could have been an investment in human lives.
Still, he wills himself to accept it. He is a guest, after all, even if his host leaves him waiting for the better part of an hour.
One of the two doors before him opens. “Nines,” Chloe says cordially. She smiles like the perfect hostess. “Mr. Kamski will see you now.”
He walks through the doorway and its infrared scanner to find Elijah sitting at a desk in a well organized study. The far wall holds a host of weapons, from pistols to TranStar technology to firearms he’s never seen before, and two tables across the sprawling room have their tops cluttered with parts and schematics.
Elijah looks over from his computer as if his company is merely an afterthought. “So we finally meet,” he says, giving Nines an appraising look. “I trust you have some good news for me.”
Nines says nothing, approaching the desk and slipping his laptop out from its case. “You will find the recordings you need on here. I’ve done my best to translate information carried along the coral into something a human could comprehend. If any of it is beyond your grasp, I trust your assistant could help.”
“Chloe? No, she’s entirely lab-grown; she has far less to offer than you do.” Elijah’s gaze strays to the broad window, tinted to prevent anyone from looking in. Golden strands of coral float above the water outside. “Did you look into what I asked you to?”
Nines clasps his hands behind his back. “I know what the coral is for and the one that it is calling.”
“And?” Elijah prompts.
“Without the coral, the typhon cannot survive. It is how we connect and what provides much of our energy. None would even think of separating themselves from it.” He steels his heart, putting his emotions in a cage. “I know how to poison it.”
“And you know how to command others with it?”
Nines bows his head. “Yes,” he murmurs.
A slow grin spreads across Elijah’s face. “Get to work, then,” he says. “There is much to be done.”