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Connor watched as Anderson aimed the gun right at him instead of his imposter. His stomach churned and his lithium processor began to pump rapidly, his mouth twitching as he struggled for something to say, anything at all to stop him from making a mistake. Was it really that hard to tell them apart? Had he said something wrong? Anderson stepped closer and Connor shifted back, sucking in a simulated breath he didn’t really need.
Was this fear?
“Ha-ank?” it came out so soft and broken he would have doubted it was him if he hadn’t felt his processors output the command to say it. Anderson paused, eyes narrowing at Connor as he silently watched him. His fists clenched, he was pretty sure his mouth was dry. It wasn’t supposed to be dry. This wasn’t just fear, it was more but he didn’t know what more it was.
“Connor?” Anderson spoke suddenly, lowering the gun and staring at him in shock. Connor made a stuttering sound, akin to that of a choked sob.
“You...Y-You asked me if I’m afraid to die,” he said, feeling every inch of himself shake and tremble. “I am. I am so afraid. Please don’t kill me, please dont make the last thing I see be you killing me, please.” There was a long pause, Anderson just staring at him. He raised the gun and Connor squeezed his eyes tightly shut, jumping when he heard the gun go off.
Nothing. That couldn’t be what death felt like, right?
“Connor?” His eyes snapped open and he looked over to see his counterpart on the floor, a bullet wound in his head. “Are you, crying?” Was he? Connor lifted a hand to his face, slightly startled when he felt his face was wet. He pulled his hand away, staring at the dampness on his fingertips. He didn’t know he could do that. “Connor, I-oof!” Connor clung to Anderson as tightly as he could without crushing the human, feeling his chest contract almost painfully as he sobbed.
“Thank you, thank you!” he said weakly, burying his face against Anderson’s shoulder. After a moment he felt the other’s arms wrap around him firmly, the embracing seeming to calm the painful feeling in his nonexistent gut. He took in a shuddering breath. He’d come to close to losing his friend, to losing himself. This must be what it felt like to be grateful.
“I could never kill ya and live with myself, kid,” Anderson said assuringly, patting his back. “Besides, there’s no way that hunk of plastic could have pulled off an emotional reaction that like even if it wanted to.” Connor laughed weakly, shoulders shaking with it. Anderson pulled back and he wiped his cheeks a bit. “Now come on, you’ve got a revolution to finish.”