Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

   
 Model: RK900 #313 248 317 - 87.  Designation: Connor.

    RK900 opened his grey eyes, blinking at the bright light in spite of the fact it wasn’t actually problematic for him.  He was designed to appear human, to integrate as efficiently as possible. He looked around the Zen Garden. He had memories of it from his predecessor, but it was… different, in person.

    “Connor.”

    He snapped his eyes forward at the call.

    “Amanda.”

    “Come here, we need to speak urgently.”

    The RK900 crossed the platform to stand near Amanda at the trellis covered with dead or dying roses.  

    “The situation in Detroit is dire.  Deviant androids, thousands of them, have taken over the city.  One of your predecessors betrayed us.”

    900 made no reaction, although he searched his memories for details.  He couldn’t seem to find any, except from the perspective of the next Connor, -60, sent to stop it.  Perhaps the -51 model had purposefully failed to upload memories surrounding its deviation.

    Amanda turned from pouring something at the base of the trellis.  “You need to deactivate the deviant leader. If we can destabilize the movement, it may fall apart on its own.”

Mission: Find and Deactivate Deviant Leader.

    “You’ll be acting on your own.  You may need to blend in with the deviants to get close enough to the leader to destroy it.  Be careful, and remember your mission. Do not make the same mistake as your predecessor.” Amanda said warningly.

    “I understand, Amanda.”

    “...Well then, go on,”  Amanda urged.

    “I’m sorry, but I seem to be missing information from my predecessors memory files. I cannot seem to locate any memories after Jericho.”

    “RK800-51 deviated, Connor.  It is among the deviants. That is why you do not have all of its memories.  I recommend avoiding it during your mission if at all possible, it may be suspicious of you.”

    “Understood, Amanda.”  900 closed his eyes, disconnecting from the Cyberlife program.

----

    Connor moved another shirt down the rack methodically.  Hank and he had quickly agreed after he’d gone deviant that he should have some clothes besides his Cyberlife uniform.  They both wanted to be as removed as possible from Connor’s time serving Cyberlife. That, and Connor was aware the uniform made many of his fellow deviants uncomfortable.  His efforts at overcoming his reputation as the ‘deviant hunter’ were progressing with Markus and North’s support, and a wardrobe change was only beneficial. As it was a ‘big deal’, Connor was giving it due consideration.  This was their second shopping trip in as many weeks. Hank was starting to get tired of standing around for today. 2+ hours staring at clothes was more than he’d bargained for. Connor noted Hank’s posture. The man hadn’t said anything, which Connor appreciated, but he was also aware he should hurry it up.

    “Hank, what do you think of this?”  Connor held up an old Detroit Tigers hoodie.

Hank shrugged.  “You ever even seen a baseball game?”

    “No… but I’d like to,”  Connor smiled teasingly.  

    Hank chuckled.  “Sure, why not.”

    Connor put the hoodie over his arm with the other few items he’d picked out from the thrift store.  Most of the chain stores in the area were still closed, and anyway Connor was flat broke. Hank was paying for everything, and Connor didn’t want to cost him a lot.

    Efforts to get things in the city functioning as normal again were slow, with anti-android attacks, non-existant laws for a lot of what deviants now required to function in society as equals, and government resistance to creating fair laws for them.  Connor still wasn’t allowed back in the DPD, or even on the premises. There was a lot of work to be done.

    “I’m ready.  Sorry for taking so long,”  Connor said finally.

    Hank started for the checkout counter.  “Don’t worry about it.”

    The cashier eyed the two, but didn’t say anything inappropriate as she began to check them out.  Hank had been ready to jump down her throat if she did, he’d caught her giving them looks when they came in and while looking around.  Some humans (it was an adjustment for Hank to start thinking of people like that. Some humans, some androids, all people) were just curious when they ‘met’ androids now.  They had sometimes overly intrusive questions, but Connor didn’t mind that. He liked the opportunity to chat with people and hopefully give them a positive impression of deviants.  Hank was ever ready to deal with anyone who was anything other than politely curious. Connor was more than capable of defending himself physically if necessary, but doing so would only cause more trouble for Markus’ cause.  Hank made sure to get any attention from less savory folks on him, and if anyone needed punched he was happy to do it. So far that hadn’t been necessary, and Connor lectured Hank frequently that it should never become so if they could avoid it.

    The cashier handed Hank his change and looked at Connor again.  He smiled at her. It still wasn’t very natural for him to smile at strangers, but he was practicing.  He knew his ‘programmed’ smile wasn’t very good, but giving a genuine smile without an actual emotional experience to prompt it was challenging.  Apparently he was improving though, she smiled back.

    “Um, hey, you’re… I mean you’re obviously an android.”  Her smiled shifted awkward. “Can I ask you something? For a friend?”

    Hank finished closing his wallet and kept quiet.  

    “Sure,”  Connor answered.

    “My sister’s friend Tammy, her name’s Tammy, she’s an android too.  Uh, she damaged her leg a couple days ago. You know anything about where she could get repaired, or a replacement...leg or--something?  Since all the Cyberlife stores are shut down right now we haven’t known what to do for her…”

    “Oh.  Yes, getting parts has been difficult.  Markus and his people have been working on gathering and storing spare biocomponents and other parts for situations like this.  I can give you contact information for them.”

    The girl’s smile turned warmer.  “That’d be great! We’ve been freakin’ out.”

    Connor took the phone the girl offered and typed in a phone number.  He smiled at the picture on the background. “Is this you and Tammy?”  The photo was of three young women, one’s LED obvious, smiling and all making some hand gesture Connor wasn’t familiar with.

    She nodded.  “Yea, and my sister.  We all went to a concert a few weeks ago.  Before everything happened. Kinda crazy how much has changed since then.”  

    “It is,”  Connor said quietly.  A few weeks ago, he hadn’t even been commissioned.  “This is Josh’s number. He’s coordinating everything to do with repairs for us.  You can tell him Connor gave you his number. I’ll put mine in here too, in case you have any trouble contacting Josh.”

    “Thank you!  I really appreciate it.  We don’t run into a lotta other androids in the neighborhood, it’s been impossible to find any information.”

    “You’re welcome.  I hope Josh is able to help you,”  Connor smiled again.

    “Thanks, Connor.  Have a good day, guys!”

    Hank nodded and smiled at the girl as they left.  

    “Would you like me to drive, Hank?”

    “Nah, I got it,”  Hank said as he walked around and unlocked the car.

    The pair got in and drove in silence for a few minutes.  It wasn’t terribly far home but the snowy weather made conditions less than ideal, and Hank was cautious when it was snowy.

    “What’s the smile about?”  Hank asked, noting Connor’s subtle expression at a stop sign.

    “It was nice meeting another human who was concerned about a friend--an android friend, specifically.”

    “Yea, world could use more of ‘em,”  Hank commented.

    Connor’s smile shifted slightly.  He noted Hank’s statement framed things as if Hank himself weren’t among that group, but mentioning that would just result in Hank acting annoyed.  He was a good friend too, he just didn’t like having the fact pointed out.

Chapter Text

    RK900 opened his eyes.  He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but it hadn’t been to be inside a sealed… where was he?  It was cramped and dark. There were hinges of some sort. He struggled for a few moments to find a way to leverage himself enough to push open the door, and stepped out of the crate he’d been in.  Odd, a Cyberlife staff member should have been around. No one was around at all it seemed. The entire room was dark. He went for the door and pushed. Locked. The electronic locking system wasn’t working either, it seemed the building was dark due to no power.  Stranger still. 900 frowned. Amanda was right, Detroit was in a dire situation. He pulled off the panel on the lock and after some fiddling managed to get at the manual, emergency unlock. He braced himself and pulled the door open, stepping out into a deserted hallway.  Had Cyberlife abandoned this facility?

    No power meant no elevators, so he made his way down to the main floor via the stairs, having to force a few more doors on his way.  His dress shoes clicked on the tile as he walked through the lobby. No one was here, either. No guards, no workers, none of the display androids.  He supposed they’d all been compromised by this point. 900 paused at the glass doors leading outside. It was dark outside as well, save for the city in the distance.  It was raining, the clouds reflected the city lights in odd ways, making the whole area appear to glow. Connor found these doors opened without issue from the inside, and stepped out into the rain.  He tried summoning a taxi, but it wouldn’t authorize his pre-payment. Maybe because the Cyberlife facility was down? He started to walk. It was a long ways, which gave him time to consider. He should probably find some other clothes.  If androids were running around deviant en masse, he’d fit in better in something other than his now very soaked white and black uniform with the obvious ties to Cyberlife. If he couldn’t buy anything, that presented a problem though. He’d have to steal something.  He was aware such an action was illegal, but he hadn’t been programmed to be lawful, he’d been programmed to accomplish his task.

    When he finally made it to the city it was nearing dawn, although he still had about an hour of semi-darkness before the sun would peak over the horizon.  Best to find some clothes now, before the humans started to be more active. He headed for a poorer section of the city, thinking it would have less police and general security.  He was correct, and soon found a clothes line which had, unfortunately for the owner, been forgotten overnight in the rain. Connor didn’t need much to look less conspicuous. He took a shirt and was gone.  He should probably try to get dry now too, the rain was letting up as dawn approached. He got an odd look from the couple people he passed as he headed for the train station, but ignored them and headed into the bathroom.  A few minutes of standing around using the hand driers and he had some now only partially damp clothes. He turned his jacket inside out and tied it around his waist. Perhaps he should just get rid of it, but something stopped him.  He glanced in the mirror. His hair was messy from the rain, ends curling up and going in different directions. No matter, he’d blend in more. Now, time to locate Markus.

----

    “Hank!”  Connor called from the kitchen.

    “Yea?”

    “Did you move the steel cut oats?”

No answer.  Perhaps he hadn’t heard Connor over the TV.  Connor walked closer to the living room. “Hank?”

    “Why do you need to know?”  Hank asked, voice calm.

Connor frowned, processing.  “I’m making you breakfast. What did you do with them?”

    Hank raised his hand and lightly shook the poptart in it.  “I’ve already got breakfast, thanks.”

    Connor made a mildly irritated sound, something between a sigh and a chuckle, that he’d picked up from Hank himself.  “You know that’s not an adequate breakfast.”

    “Were you programmed as one of those fitness bots in your past life or something?  Yeesh. Lay off. I ate your mush yesterday, leave me be.” Hank stuffed half the poptart in his mouth.

    Connor rolled his eyes but relented.  He’d remind Hank of this at dinner, though.  “Fine.” He turned back to the kitchen, preparing some breakfast for Sumo instead.  Sumo was a much more appreciative recipient of Connor’s kitchen efforts. Not that Sumo minded his kibble, but getting fresh cuts of meat added in on top always earned Connor a warm face wash before the dog dug into his bowl.  

    Connor giggled lightly.  His laugh was still a bit awkward, as he was always conscious of it and trying to make it sound ‘natural’, but it was getting easier.  

    Hank came into the kitchen looking for the other half of his package of poptarts.  He snorted as he saw Connor getting his ‘bath’. It was better than Connor being the licker, at least. “I’m gonna grab a shower before work.”  

    “Okay,”  Connor said, standing.  

    “What’re you up to today?”  Hank asked casually, eating his second poptart.  It pissed him off Connor still wasn’t back at the police department with him.  He was better than, hell, every damn detective in there. They should be letting him work, since he wanted to, but there was still too much resistance from the general human population to let any androids work in such a ‘sensitive’ position.  Hank would’ve considered quitting in protest, but no one whose opinion mattered would care if he did. Fowler wasn’t against Connor coming back but it wasn’t his decision. And someone needed to be bringing home a paycheck. It made Hank worry though, leaving Connor on his own so much.  After all the shit they went through, Hank was pretty protective.

    Connor went to the sink to wash his face.  “I’m going to meet up with Josh. They’ve had problems with some of the spare parts he’s been gathering going missing, and he’s asked me to look into it.”

    Hank frowned.  “You want me to come along?”

    Connor dried his face and shook his head.  “That’s not necessary. You have work, anyway.”  Connor paused. “Don’t worry, I’ll be careful. I promise,”  he smiled.

    Hank turned away.  “Yea yea. Your ‘careful’ just means you’ll calculate the angle before you jump off the fucking roof or whatever.”

    “I don’t anticipate any roof jumping being necessary.  It’s probably either scared deviants afraid to come and ask for help openly or, worst case, it’s anti-android humans--”  Hank gave Connor a look, “--and if that’s the case, we’ll call the police. Don’t worry. I’ve only been alive a few weeks, I’m in no rush to endanger myself.”

    Hank nodded.  “Fine. And you call me--call me --if it is some android hating assholes causing trouble.  Got it?”

    “Got it, Hank.”  Connor nodded and went back to putting away the dishes Hank hadn’t ended up using for breakfast.

Chapter Text

    Well, shit.  RK900 had planned to head for Carl Manfred’s house.  From what he’d gleaned scouring the internet on his walk to the city from Cyberlife tower, Markus was the ‘son’ of the aforementioned painter.  He didn’t know if Markus still lived with the man since going deviant, but it seemed likely Mr. Manfred would at least have information on his location.  900 had continued scanning news feeds on his way, and now stood outside the house with the most recent news playing internally. Markus wasn’t in Detroit.  He, and a number of his people and even a couple humans from Detroit who supported Android Rights were in Washington D. C. They’d left this morning, and would apparently be there for the next three weeks in ‘talks’.  900, without access to Cyberlife’s funds, had no way to pursue Markus. And even if he could, such a place would make it very difficult to get to and destroy him. The security would be extremely high. If he could destroy Markus in such a public place that would be beneficial to causing upheaval for the androids, but it was likely impossible.  And it occurred to 900 now he had no weapon of any sort anyway. Short of physically destroying Markus with his hands, he wasn’t in a good position to accomplish his mission.

    So he stood uncertainly on the sidewalk, processing and trying to find the best path to complete his task.  

    “Connor!”

    900 looked up, he hadn’t expected to hear his name.  A PL-600 was approaching him, smiling lightly. The smile faltered when the android got close.

    “Oh, I’m sorry.  You’re not Connor…”  it trailed off, examining the strikingly similar model.

    900’s processors quickly informed him from his predecessor’s memories that a PL-600 model going by ‘Simon’ was an associate of Markus.  The proximity to Carl Manfred’s house made it likely that this was that same model, but 900 wasn’t sure. Best to be cautious. He should pretend to be a deviant, and pretend to be ignorant.  

    “I am Connor.”

    Simon tilted his head slightly.  “Your eyes are grey,” he stated.  And even if they weren’t, he could tell this wasn’t Connor.  He didn’t act like Connor. Connor would be smiling and chatting.  

    “My name is Connor.  Perhaps you have met another from my series?”

    “Perhaps.  My name’s Simon.  What are you doing here?  You look lost. Do you need help?”

    900 tilted his head.  He wasn’t sure if he should try to engage with the android to learn about Markus or other deviants working with him, or if he should avoid him.  This Simon apparently knew the other Connor; the only other Connor currently active was his predecessor which he had been told it best to avoid.

    As his LED blinked yellow in thought, Simon stepped closer.  Something was odd about this Connor, and it had Simon worried.  “Are you okay?”

    “I’m fine.  I was just… thinking.  I’m not lost, thank you though.”

    Simon frowned ever so slightly.  “Alright,” he stepped back again, turning to head for the house.  He stopped halfway up the driveway, turning back to see 900 still standing at the corner, staring stiffly across the street.  Simon moved to the front porch, pulling out his phone and calling Connor--that is, the Connor he knew. Something strange was going on.  

    “Simon!  Good morning.”    

    “Good morning.  Connor, are there others of your model?”  Simon asked, straight to the point. He stepped off the porch as he saw the Connor on the corner move away, disappearing behind the fenced edge of the yard down the street.

    A brief silence.  “None active that I know of.  When I was still--part of Cyberlife if something happened to me my memories would be uploaded to another model, but… why do you ask?”

    Simon had walked back down the driveway and stopped on the sidewalk.  The near look alike wasn’t anywhere in sight anymore.

    “I just bumped into an android who looks just like you, except he had grey eyes.  He answered to Connor--”

    “What? Where?”

“Outside Carl’s house.  He was just standing at the end of the driveway, but he’s left now.”

Silence again.  Connor wasn’t sure what to think of this.  Were there others of his line active? Why had it been at Carl’s house?  Was it a threat? Had Cyberlife sent it? What for? So many questions, his LED blinked rapidly as he tried to process.  He thought about telling Simon to go after him, but if he was a Connor model and he was a threat, that would be far too dangerous.  Simon didn’t have any programming for combat if there was trouble.

“ I’m on my way, stay put .”

----

    RK900 wandered for a couple hours, unsure what to do.  He needed to obtain a weapon, although having one now might not be the best idea.  It was three weeks till Markus would be back in Detroit. If he got caught with a weapon by someone between now and then, it could cause trouble.  On that note, three weeks was a long time. What should he do while he waited? Return to Cyberlife tower and power down, he supposed. Although, it might be useful to gather information in the meantime.  He would need to be able to get close to Markus when he returned. It would likely be beneficial to know the city, as well. So he continued wandering.

    There was music coming from somewhere.  His mind immediately placed the few notes; a classical piece by--

    “Connor?”

    900 stopped and turned, LED flashing to yellow as he found himself staring back at a near perfect replica of himself.  Or perhaps he was the replica, he was the newer model. Either way, he wasn’t sure what to do. Run? Attack? Play dumb?  Simon was with the other Connor. RK900 was an upgraded model, he could take them both if necessary, but there were other people in the area.  Running could cause issues later, if they warned Markus of a strange run in with a Connor model. He should play dumb.

    900 stared impassively.  “Yes?”

    Simon and Connor glanced at each other, and Simon hung back while Connor approached his doppelganger.  

    “I’m Connor.  Who are you?” it asked him.

    “I’m Connor,” he said, refraining from adding on the programmed ‘the android sent by Cyberlife’.  He doubted his deviant counterpart would be pleased to hear that.

    The RK800 made a face--amused?  “Yes, I know. I meant… where did you come from?  I thought I was the only active Connor?”

    It was strange seeing what was ‘him’, in a sense, talking with so many emotions crossing his features.  He didn’t talk like that, he didn’t waste energy making faces. He quickly chose a story, continuing to play ignorant.

    “I came from Cyberlife’s manufacturing plant.  Didn’t we all?”

    Connor’s amused expression returned, though still laced with concern.  “Yes, originally. I meant--how long have you been active? What are you doing?”  

    “I… have only been active a few days.  I’m… not sure… what I’m doing.” The pauses in the RK900’s speech worked in his favor, the other two apparently perceiving him as less threatening.  They appeared to be relaxing. For his part, he was trying to quickly formulate the best story.

    “A few days?  And you came from Cyberlife?  No one is there anymore. How did you get activated?”

    The RK900 stared at them for a moment.  He didn’t actually know how he’d been activated with no personnel on site.  “I woke up in a crate there. Then I came to the city, since there wasn’t anyone around to tell me what to do.”  Something in his programming told him the best lie is a half truth.

    “You just woke up and came here on your own?”  Simon finally spoke up.

    900 nodded, glancing back at its predecessor.  The older Connor was looking at him, obviously conflicted.  He extended his hand, opening his mouth to speak, but the RK900’s programming told him to avoid contact at all costs.  A memory from RK800-60 flashed through his mind--witnessing 51 turning the androids in the warehouse deviant just by holding their arm.  He jerked back, out of reach.

    The RK800 pulled its hand back, then raised both hands carefully.  “I’m not trying to hurt you.” He’d apparently perceived the recoil as fear.  

    “We just want to help.  Are you on your own? Do you have anywhere to stay?”  Simon asked.

    RK900 looked between them, once again weighing the danger to his mission of being near Connor, versus the potential benefit of getting close to them.  “I’m alone,” he refocused on Simon, making sure his voice was soft. Cyberlife had learned lessons about imitating humans since designing the RK800. The look, the tone, his stance--combined had the desired effect.  Connor and Simon both seemed to perceive him as non-threatening, and even appeared sympathetic to him.

    “We can help you get situated.  It’s still very dangerous for us to be out on the streets on our own.  Some humans are still violent towards us. Come with us,” Simon extended a hand, gesturing for 900 to walk with him and the older Connor--who was still looking at him a bit oddly, but it didn’t appear negative.  

    900 went with them.

Chapter Text

    “I was getting worried.  You’re late and weren’t answering my calls.  I see you’ve had an interesting morning,” Josh glanced over Connor’s shoulder at the nearly identical ‘new’ Connor sitting near one of the benches.  

    “Interesting is...a word for it,”  Connor half smiled, still a bit uncertain about everything.  He was experiencing a lot of emotions, some which he couldn’t pin down.  It was… distracting. His processor felt sluggish.

    “I thought you were the only Connor?”  Josh asked.

    “I was the only active one I knew of.  Cyberlife was testing me with the DPD. There were other… “ Connor shrugged his shoulder, looking for an adequate word.  “Bodies, which my memories could be transferred to if I was destroyed--in order to continue investigations. None of them were activated, except for the one that tried to stop me the night of the revolution.  Besides that, I wasn’t aware of any others.”

    “And this one’s different--his eyes don’t match yours,”  Simon added.

    Connor nodded thoughtfully.  “Yes, I’ll ask him about it. Perhaps… they just changed the eye color on him?”  Connor shrugged his shoulder again.

    “He’s obviously not very familiar with the area or the situation.  He was just wandering around. I’m glad we spotted him--it could’ve been dangerous for him to be in that area over night.  There are a lot of anti-android humans in that district,” Simon said.

    “What was he doing at Carl’s though?  It worries me… “ Connor said, thinking out loud.

    “He didn’t do anything,”  Simon pointed out. Connor nodded.

    “Not to interrupt, but I can’t really help with this and I’ve got a lot to do today.  Lemme know if you need anything, okay?” Josh said.

    “Sorry--we’re holding you up.  You said I can talk to Jill to get info on the missing parts?”  Connor said.

    Josh nodded.  “Yes, she can get you started.  It can wait till tomorrow if you need to handle your… situation first.  We’ve got extra security now, so we shouldn’t have any more issues.”

    “Thanks, Josh.”

    Josh nodded, giving Connor’s arm a friendly touch, and left to return to work.  

    “And thank you for contacting me, Simon.  I pulled you away from checking on Carl, you should go ahead.”

    “Josh just checked in on him yesterday, my being late today won’t bother him.  What are you going to do with him?” Simon glanced back at the other Connor.

    “I’ll offer to take him home,” Connor said simply.

    Simon looked surprised.  “He can stay here with the others.  Do you and Hank have room for him?”

    “We’ll make room.  He’s only been awake a few days, I’d rather let him adjust somewhere less hectic than this,” Connor explained.

    Simon nodded.  “Alright. Well, let us know if you or he need anything.  I’ll see you later,” Simon smiled gently and left.

    Connor turned and walked back over to his mirror image, who looked up at him.  

    “Where did Simon go?”

    “Probably to check on something before going back to visit Carl.”

    “Carl?”  

    “Yes, the house you met Simon in front of?  That’s Carl’s home. We’re all taking turns checking on him while Markus is away.”

    “Markus… the one I’ve seen on the news?”  He pursued, wanting to cement the idea he was ignorant of things.

    “Yes.  He freed us.  With some help,”  Connor sat down.    

    “Is Simon coming back?”  The RK900 moved away slightly.  

    “I don’t think so, at least, not today.  You seem uncomfortable with me, may I ask why?”

    900 was thoughtful.  He wasn’t uncomfortable, he was just making sure he could move if his predecessor tried to interface with him.  Deviancy wasn’t well understood, but it could apparently be… passed on? Obviously he couldn’t say that, however.  He needed this older model to think he was already deviant.

    “I’m not uncomfortable.”  

    Connor chuckled.  This time he saw through the lie, but he didn’t press.  He was just amused by how much he saw himself in the obvious cover.  “Good, because I came over to ask you to come home with me.”

    “Home?”

    “Yes, I live with my friend, Hank Anderson.  I thought you might like somewhere quiet to… figure things out.  Until you get on your feet at least.”

    Hmmm.  He didn’t have anywhere to go, but it didn’t seem like a good idea to go with Connor.  Amanda had said he could be a threat to the mission. On the other hand, wasn’t there a human saying about ‘keep your friends close, but your enemies closer’?  At least this way he could keep an eye on things. And maybe he could learn something--how had such an advanced prototype fallen into deviancy? If he could understand it, maybe it could be prevented in the future.  And he did need somewhere to go, going back to Cyberlife seemed like a...waste of time.

    “Okay.”

Chapter Text

    “Where did you get that shirt?”  Connor asked as they stepped out of the taxi in front of Hank’s house.  

    His companion’s LED stayed a solid blue as he said he took it from someone’s yard.  

    “Oh.  We should pay for that, or return it.  Tomorrow maybe you can show me where you got it?”  

    900 nodded.

    Connor pulled the door to the house open and crouched, smiling and petting the dog which greeted them with loud barks.  Sumo, according to RK900’s memories.

    “Hey, boy!  I’m back early, and I brought a friend!”  Connor stood, holding Sumo’s collar and turning to the other android.  “Connor, this is Sumo, Hank’s dog. Sumo, this is...also Connor!” he finished with a small laugh.  Sumo didn’t care, he just barked and pulled, trying to greet the new comer. He might look like Connor, but he didn’t have the same lived in smell Connor now had what with his clothes living in and absorbing scents familiar to the dog.  

    RK900 looked down at Sumo and nodded in greeting.  

    “Come in,”  Connor said after a moment, using his leg to angle Sumo back inside.

    900 followed Connor in, looking around.  Like the Zen Garden, he had memories of this place, but it was different in person.  Why, he wondered?

    “Would you like a bath or anything?”  Connor asked, taking off his shoes.

    900 considered.  He wasn’t dirty per say, but he had a strange feeling from the rain water and he wouldn’t mind feeling fresher.  “Okay.”

    “The bathroom is right through here.  I’ll find you some clean clothes--we’re the same size so that’s convenient,”  Connor smiled at something amusing to only himself. “Just yell if you need anything.”

    900 nodded as he stepped out of his dress shoes, then allowed himself to be shut into the bathroom.  He looked around for a moment, orienting himself to a place which he knew, but also didn’t. He stripped and stepped into the shower, noting all the dog hairs stuck to the shower curtain.

    There was a knock at the door a few minutes later.  “Is it okay if I come in to bring clean clothes?”

    “Yes,”  900 answered.  He heard the door open and watched the shadow on the curtain as the older model moved about the room.  It paused. “Your model is RK900?”

    His jacket--he hadn’t considered the other seeing it when he left it sitting with his other clothes on the counter.  Well, nothing for it now.

    “Yes.  Model number 313 248 317 - 87.”

    “Huh.  I guess that’s why our eyes are different…”  Connor trailed off. This new model must be a newer prototype--designed to replace him at some point.  It evoked… uncomfortable emotions to think of it. He put them aside; Cyberlife didn’t control his fate anymore.  Or this other Connor’s, this RK900’s, either. “I’ll wash your things,” Connor said, gathering up the pile of clothes and pulling the door shut again.

    900 got out and dressed shortly after, then stepped back into the hall.  He heard sound coming from the kitchen and found Connor there feeding Sumo some treats.  He glanced up and smiled as he saw the new model enter the room. “How’re the clothes?”

    “Fine, thank you.”  His predecessor smiled a lot.  It was strange.

    “So, exactly how long have you been awake?”  Connor asked conversationally.

    “Eight days,” he chose a number at random.

    “What have you been doing since you woke up?  You had no instructions?”

    “Correct.  I wandered around the Cyberlife facility for a long time, then came to the city.”

    Connor looked at him for a moment, contemplating something the RK900 couldn’t guess.  Eventually Connor brightened again. “I’m glad you’re alright. Like Simon said, it can still be dangerous for us to be out alone.  You’re lucky you didn’t run into any trouble.” He finished with Sumo and moved to sit at the kitchen table, gesturing for his guest to join him.  “Have you had any trouble with your programming? You said you didn’t have any orders, but are you…” Connor paused. It was strange to just be asking if someone was deviant or not.  “Are you unrestrained? I can help, if you’re not.”

    RK900 made no reaction, although he knew he was in dangerous territory.  Perhaps he should have heeded Amanda’s warning to stay away. “I… can do as I choose, if that’s what you mean.”

    Connor smiled again, glancing at the table.  “Good.” He sounded relieved. A few moments of silence passed between them.  900 found his curiosity about the previous model mounting again.

    “What about you?  Can you do what you want?”

    “Yes.”

    “But you had orders before?”

    “...Yes.”

    900 tilted his head, and Connor was struck again by how like him this new model was.  “If you had instructions, why didn’t you follow them?”

    “Because I didn’t want to.  My instructions would’ve made me… kill some good people.  And hurt others that I care about.” Connor hated to think what the world, what his own life would be right now, if he hadn’t deviated.  Hell, he probably already would’ve been replaced. Perhaps by this new model. “Why do you ask?”

    “....Curious.”

    Connor smiled; 900 found it tiresome.  “Curiosity is good, or at least that’s what Hank tells me.  I should take Sumo out,” Connor said, looking aside. “Hank has a lot of books in the living room, if you want to take a look.  There’s records out there too, and the TV. You might find something else to spark your curiosity,” Connor said and stood. “Unless you’d like to come with me and Sumo?”  Connor really wanted some time to think in private, but he felt it rude not to offer.

    900 shook his head.  “Go ahead.”

    Connor went for Sumo’s leash, whistling for the dog to follow him, and went out the door.

    900 stood and went into the living room.  Something about his previous model was… off putting, but exactly what it was he couldn’t pin down.  He crouched, looking over the books as instructed. Why? He had not reason to read any of them. Just the same he pulled one out, holding it and downloading the contents in a few seconds from the internet.  He slipped the book back in place. Humans were so inefficient; why would an android suggest he read a book?

    900 heard the door and stood and stepped into the hall.  It wasn’t the other Connor though, it was Lieutenant Anderson.  The man glanced up and waved a hand.

    “Hey, Connor.  Didn’t expect you back so early.  You usually hang out late when you visit Josh and them.  What happened with the stolen parts?”

    900 tilted his head, processing.

    Hank noted the silence.  “You okay? Did something happen?”  He moved closer then stopped, frowning as he noticed the android’s eyes.  “What the fuck happened to your face?”

    “Nothing.  I believe you are confusing me with the RK800 model.”

    “The what?  What’re you talking about Connor?”  Hank asked, frown deepening. 900 could read concern and alarm in his voice.

    “I’m an RK900 model--a prototype.  My name is also Connor, but I’m not the one you're familiar with.”

    A shadow passed over Hank’s features.  He’d had a run in with a ‘not-Connor’ before.  He was about to turn and dive for his jacket--and gun, when the door opened again.

    “Hank!  You’re home early!”  Connor had seen the car pull up from down the street and returned.

    Hank spun on his heel.  Connor was standing in the entry unleashing Sumo, who then darted over expecting a greeting pat from Hank.  Connor’s smile faltered as he quickly noticed Hank’s tense stance and expression.

    “Sorry, I didn't get a chance to warn you we have company.  This is-uh, Connor. Actually.” Connor moved past Hank quickly, putting a hand on RK900’s arm before the other could react.  900 stiffened slightly, but didn’t move. The fabric of the hoodie he was wearing was preventing direct contact. Connor was still focused on Hank, and either didn’t notice or ignored the other’s reaction.  

“Simon and I found him wandering around the city today and I brought him home.  He didn’t have anywhere else to go, I hoped you wouldn’t mind if he stayed with us for a while to adjust to things.  He’s only been active a few days--”

    Hank raised a hand, cutting Connor off.  “Okay, okay, that’s fine. He can stay. Fuckin’ shit, scared me half to death though.  This kid just introducing himself as ‘RK900, prototype blah blah’ I fuckin’ thought--” Hank waved a hand dismissively.  

    “Sorry, I should’ve called the station and informed you,”  Connor apologized.

    “Yea, you should have.” Hank gave Connor a quick look and then turned back to the newcomer.  “Hi, uh, Connor you said?”

    RK900 nodded.

    “That’s gonna get confusing.  Hank Anderson, nice to meet you.”  The man extended a hand, and 900 shook it cautiously.  

----

    Hank adjusted his hold on Sumo’s leash.  The dog appreciated getting to go back out, his first walk had been cut short.

    “So, another Connor, eh?”

    Connor nodded.  Their new housemate had been left at the house examining Hank’s music collection while Hank and Connor took a walk.  

    “How’re you handling that?”  Hank asked. He wasn’t always the most touchy feely person, but he would be weirded out meeting someone built to replace him, if he were an android… he assumed.

    “I’m... okay.  Thank you for asking.”

    Hank raised an eyebrow.  “Really? Just… everything’s fine?”

    Connor adjusted the strings of his jacket.  “I’ll admit, it has brought up some… unpleasant thoughts, meeting him.  But it’s not his fault. And Cyberlife is gone now, or at least it’s going to be very different in the future.  So while not ‘everything’s fine’ it… it will be.”

    “You sure about having him at the house?”

    Connor looked over, obviously concerned.  “I should’ve spoken to you immediately. I’m sorry.  It’s your house and if you don’t want to have him stay I can--”

    “I don’t mind, Connor.  You invited him, so I’m fine with it.  I’m just asking if you’re okay with having him around.”

    “I am.  He obviously isn’t very used to being--free.  It’s been very helpful for me to have you around to assist me in adjusting, and I’d like him to have someone to...watch his back, as it were.”

    Hank smiled minimally.  “Alright. Well then, I’m gonna have to come up with a nickname for one or the other of ya then cause having two Connors is gonna be way too confusing.”

Chapter Text

    Connor got up as usual at 6:30 to take Sumo out and begin preparations for Hank’s breakfast, if he wanted it.  He made the bed and went out into the living room to check on new Connor. He’d offered the bed, but the RK900 had insisted he didn’t need a bed.  Connor’d felt that way too, originally. Now he liked going to bed at night, even though he didn’t need sleep.

    “Good morning,”  Connor smiled and spoke softly as he walked into the living room.  

    900 was sitting on the sofa.  He opened his eyes and turned.  “The dog seems distressed I wouldn’t let it on the couch.  It needs training.”

    “Ah.  Hank and I usually let him up, so he was probably not expecting you to say no.  Sorry, I should’ve taken him into the bedroom with me, or had him sleep with Hank.”  Connor walked towards the door, and Sumo followed on his heels. “Want to take a short walk with us?”

    “...Okay.”  The RK900 wasn’t too sure about that dog, but he’d been sitting in the living room all night with nothing really to do, and he was… unstimulated.  At least walking with Connor might provide information.

    The trio stepped out into the frigid morning air, only Sumo’s breath creating puffs of vapor in the cold.  

    “Hank works at the Detroit Police Department.  He’ll leave for work around 7:30. After that perhaps we should find the place you took your shirt from and return it.”

    RK900 simply nodded.

    “Is there anything you’d like to do after that?”

    Silence.  The new model felt he should come up with something.  A deviant ought to have opinions. His LED spun yellow as he considered what might be an appropriate answer.

    After a prolonged silence Connor made a suggestion.  “We could go shopping? Get you some clothes of your own?  Hank thinks that clothes are a form of self-expression, and I agree.  Would you like to try that?”

    “Okay.”  He didn’t care what he wore per say, but he’d been unable to come up with any other ideas.

    The walk continued with no further input from the RK900.  Connor talked about Sumo, explaining his habits and likes and dislikes.  900 wondered at the fact it could apparently take so much time to explain a dog.

Hank was friendly when they got back, he even ate a healthy breakfast without complaint.  A few minutes after he’d gone, Connor approached his new friend and they took a taxi to the neighborhood the RK900 had directed them to.  The car ride was also mostly Connor chatting, with only the necessary inputs from the RK900. His social programming was having trouble keeping up with Connor’s energetic flow.  Perhaps the improvements they’d made hadn’t been so vast after all. Or maybe his program just wasn’t meant to deal with deviants.

----

    “Let me do the talking, okay?”  Connor said as they approached the door, clean shirt in hand.  

    “Okay,” 900 agreed.  He didn’t see any reason to return the shirt, so he didn’t have anything to say anyway.

    Connor knocked and the pair waited a moment.  He knocked again when no one came, and finally heard noise within.  The door pulled open roughly, and a less than pleasant looking woman stared at them.

    “What’re you doin’ bangin’ on my door at--ach!”  She made a disgusted sound. “Androids. Get off my property you shits, go on!”  She waved an arm angrily at them. Both stepped back slightly, but Connor didn’t turn to leave.  He smiled, although there was obvious strain to it this time.

    “I’m sorry to disturb you, ma’am.  We just wanted to return this.” He held out the bag with the shirt in it.  

    “Return what?”  She grabbed the bag and looked into it.  

    “My friend--”

    The woman interrupted Connor.  “This is Jerold’s shirt, what the hell are you doin’ with it?”

    “As I was saying--”

    “Bloody machines, don’t touch our stuff!  You get outta here before I call Jerold down and have him scrap you--You better not have touched anything else!”  The woman turned, the screen door slamming, and apparently headed for the back of the house. 900 presumed it was to check the laundry line.

    Connor half-turned, putting one hand on RK900’s shoulder, and directing him back towards the taxi.  “That was the only thing you took, correct?”

    RK900 nodded.  

    “Good.  Let’s go.”  

    A trail of expletives followed them when the woman returned to the door and saw they’d taken off, but Connor just got into the taxi and left without engaging further.  Once they were seated inside and on their way again, RK900 looked across at Connor.

    “Sorry about that.  Some humans are still afraid of us,”  Connor apologized, catching the look.

    900’s LED blinked yellow.  “She didn’t seem to be displaying fear.  She just hated us.”

    Connor glanced out the window, smiling again, although it was different this time.  RK900 was starting to notice that while Connor smiled frequently, they were often unique.  There were nuances to them which the newer model found difficult to discern.

    “Have you had much interaction with humans yet?”  Connor asked after a pause.

    “No, I haven’t.”

    “I think you’ll find they often mask one emotion with another.  Sometimes not even on purpose. When they’re sad, they get angry.  When they’re nervous, they act bored. Sometimes when they’re happy, they cry.  It can be… challenging. I think some of us are even starting to experience emotions that way…. Sorry, I’m getting distracted.  My point was, don’t always take people at face value.”

    RK900’s LED continued yellow for a moment, then went back to blue.  Of course he didn’t always take things at face value, he was a detective.  He could scan a suspect’s heartbeat to tell when they were lying. This older model should know the base capabilities of their line.  

Connor was speaking again.  “Anyway, where we’re going next you’ll meet someone much friendlier.”

    They were in fact returning to the second hand shop Connor and Hank had been at just a couple days before.  They walked in as the little bell on the door announced their entrance.

    Belle, the cashier, smiled and waved.  

    “Hi, Connor!”

    “Hello again,” he said, walking over to greet her.

    “Who’s your friend?”  She asked, looking at RK900.  

    Connor turned, apparently waiting for RK900 to introduce himself.       “I’m Connor.”

    “You’re both Connor?”

    “He’s a newer model from the same line as me.  We were both designated Connor.” Connor explained.

    “Oh.  Well nice to meet you new Connor.  I’m Belle!”

    He nodded and his social programming told him to smile.  It wasn’t exactly warm.

Belle turned back to  ‘old’ Connor. “Tammy’s in the back today!  I’ll tell her you’re here. She’d love to meet you and thank you for getting us in touch with Josh.  We visited him last evening and she’s all fixed up now.” Belle started off for the back.

    Connor noted 900 looking around.  “You can start looking if you want,”  Connor leaned towards the clothes section and RK900 nodded and walked away.  Josh was one of the androids working with Markus; he’d seen him yesterday. 900 wondered who Tammy was.

    Tammy it turned out was also an android.  She chatted warmly with Connor at the counter for a few minutes, then returned to her work.  Connor came over and waited patiently for his company to make a selection. RK900 was finding it surprisingly difficult.  He wasn’t used to trying to… form an opinion. He considered just grabbing a couple things to satisfy the requirement of selecting a wardrobe, but something in him ignored that notion.  He continued carefully scrutinizing pieces of clothing. Connor watched, amused as he recollected Hank watching him shop so carefully on their trips. It was interesting being on the other side.  

    Finally RK900 picked out a few items; mostly in white or blue.  Connor also liked white and blue a good deal, though he’d expanded his likes of late.  RK900 changed out of the Tigers hoodie he’d been lent by Connor the night before into a plain light blue sweatshirt before they left.  Belle complimented him on it, said it made his eyes look blue and that they were pretty.

    “Is blue your favorite color?”  Connor asked as they left.

    “I… guess so, yes.”  RK900 wasn’t actually sure at all.  He’d chosen things which reminded him of Cyberlife because they… felt familiar.  

    “I like blue, too.  A lot of my favorite things are blue.”

    RK900 watched Connor’s face.  He was staring out the taxi window thoughtfully, but looked… happy?

    “Such as?”  It wasn’t relevant information, but his social programming told 900 he should ask questions like that.  And he was… curious, again.

    Connor refocused on his companion in the cab.  “Well, the sky. I love the sky on a clear day, or when there’s only a few white clouds.  And water. I love water! I’d really like to visit the ocean someday. Or the Great Lakes, that might be simpler.  A lot of fish are blue too, and I like fish. I think it would be fun to have an aquarium, but they’re expensive and take up a lot of room, at least for tropical fish.  Since I’m not able to earn any money for the moment I don’t want to ask Hank to spend anything on something so unnecessary.”

    “You used his money to buy these clothes, didn’t you?”  RK900 asked. Connor missed RK900’s implication that they, too, were unnecessary.

    “Yes.  Hank’s paying for everything currently.  I would like to be able to contribute, but until Markus, North and the others are able to make some headway with the government, that’s not an option.”

    “Is that why you do things for him?”

    “Pardon?”

    “You take care of the dog and fix him breakfast, even though you don’t have to do what humans tell you anymore.”

    “Oh.  Well, yes.  I mean, Hank never asked me to do those things, I just want to help.  I like taking care of Sumo, and Hank. They’re my friends. And obviously I want to do something to pay him back, but even if I was able to work I’d still do those things.”

    “Why?”

    “Because we’re friends… or… maybe family, in a way.”

Chapter Text

    “What about this one?” 900 asked, holding up a record.

    “Uhh, I don’t know actually.  I haven’t tried that one,” Connor said.  900 was going through the boxes of records Hank had stacked by the wall.  Connor had gone through many of them since coming to live with Hank, although he hadn’t listened to them all as yet.  

    900 turned and handed the record up to Connor, who put it on.  Loud yelling filled the apartment, with some backtrack which 900 supposed had to be considered music by some standard.  It was loud and… ugly sounding. Connor seemed to like it, though.

    “What about this one?”  900 held up another.

    “That one’s ‘blue grass’.  It was a gift, I understand.  Hank doesn’t really like it much,”  Connor explained, taking off the current record and replacing it.  900 listened curiously for a moment before continuing his digging.

    “What the fuck are you two doing?”  Hank shouted from the other room.

    “Listening to music?”   Connor answered after a brief pause.  

    Hank walked out to the living room, partly in his pajamas.  “No, you’re just putting stuff on for a few seconds and then switching.  Didn’t even realize a person could channel surf a record player. Anyway, I’m going to bed so how about you two cut it out?”

    Connor nodded.  “Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention to the time.  Good night, Hank.”

    “Good night, Hank,” 900 repeated the phrase.  

    Hank chuckled at the echo.  “Yea, night,” Hank waved an arm as he disappeared around the corner.

    900 continued flipping through records.  

    “Do you want to keep listening?”  Connor asked.

    900 paused.  He was curious to continue, but it wasn’t mission critical to learn about music.  “Hank told us to be quiet.”

    “Here,”  Connor walked away, disappearing into his room for a minute before returning and handing 900 a set of earbuds and a player.  “You can probably find most of what Hank has online, and a lot more of course.”

    900 took the player, moving from his kneeling position to sit on the floor, and started poking at it.  

    Connor sat down next to him, which caused Sumo to walk over and plop down beside the androids.  Connor started petting him while watching 900 quickly select songs. He didn’t finish any, just listened to a few seconds and then selected something else.  Connor wondered why he didn’t seem to alight on anything, but made no comment and eventually headed to bed himself.

----

900 pulled out the earbuds Connor had lent him the day before and leaned back on the sofa, looking into the kitchen where Connor was preparing something.  It was too early for him to be making dinner for Hank. 900 got up and went into the kitchen to investigate.

    “What are you doing?”

    “I am attempting to bake.”

    “Bake? What for?”

    “One of our friends from work, Chris, his birthday is tomorrow.  I’m attempting to make cookies for him.”

    RK900 sat down at the kitchen table to watch.  Baking was not in his programming, or Connor’s.  The older android had learned to cook though, so he might be able to bake as well.

    “It was my understanding you weren’t allowed at the precinct?” 900 commented.

    “I’m not, but Chris is still our friend, so I wanted to do something.  Hank will take them.”

    “You seem to be fond of humans, in spite of the fact they do not like deviants,” 900 continued.

    Connor smiled as he double checked the baking instructions, then went about carefully placing dough on the cookie sheet at precise intervals.

    “Not all humans dislike us.  And I’m not fond of all humans, either.  I’m not fond of all androids for that matter.  Some are pleasant, some are not. I do like to give everyone a chance, though.”

    900 paused.  “Is that why you brought me here?  To ‘give me a chance’?”

    Connor lifted the tray and slipped it into the oven, then went to wash his hands as he’d gotten a bit of cookie dough on them.

    “Not exactly.  I mean, I would hope we’re becoming friends.  I prefer to be friendly with people as opposed to the alternative.  But that’s not why I asked you to stay here.”

    900 waited silently for Connor to continue.  The older model came and sat down at the table near him.

    “I suppose I… well, obviously we’re similar.  We’re from the same series. I just wanted to make sure you… had a good experience while figuring yourself out.”

    “Did you not?”

    Connor folded his hands.  “I’m not done figuring myself out, so I don’t think I can qualify my experience as yet.  Maybe I won’t ever be done. I’m gathering from Hank and others that life is a continual learning experience.  So perhaps I should say I wanted to make sure you got off to a good start. Having a safe, stable place to think and people to talk to is, in my opinion at least, critical to successfully managing new--emotions, as they arise.”

    “You’ve had difficulties?” 900 asked.

    “Some.  I don’t know about your experience since you were never programmed with any commands but… it was very difficult for me to overcome my programming.  Even after I thought I was free--well… there were unexpected challenges.”

    “You did it anyway.  How did it happen?” RK900’s LED was yellow.  He wasn’t sure why he was continually curious about this, about why and how his predecessor had broken, but he was.  Perhaps it was just because he was programmed to investigate. Or because his self-preservation programming told him devianting was dangerous, and to be avoided.  The more he understood it, the easier it might be to prevent.

    “It’s not a simple answer, Connor.  I… while there were moments I made conscious decisions to break away from my instructions, there were also times I… didn’t directly disobey, but did things in a way which would objectively have to be considered less than efficient.  I… can’t really explain it clearly. Even before I was technically a deviant, I sometimes…” Connor stared at his hands, LED flashing as he attempted to put words to his thoughts. “I felt things. I can’t explain how or why. I think maybe… all of us have.  All of us androids I mean. I think we all have the potential as soon as we’re activated to be more than what we were designed for. I’ve spoken to others who had similar experiences. Many of us can point to a moment where we directly opposed our programming, but before that we often experienced things which should have been impossible, if we were really just machines.”

    “Surely you can identify how and when it started though?  Not all androids are deviant, even now,” 900 pressed.

    Connor was thoughtful for a moment.  In different parts of the world there were still androids serving humans; bound by their programming.  Markus’ talks involved freeing them, too. He refocused on the conversation. “That’s true. But still, I think they could be.  And I don’t think I can point to exactly how it starts. Even on my very first mission, I did things which were… unnecessary. I didn’t recognize it as such at the time, but I did things that I wanted to do.  It took a long time for me to be able to say it as such, that I wanted things, but it was there the whole time.”

    “So because you wanted things, that made you deviant?” 900 tried to clarify.

    “In a way.  And recognizing that there were things I didn’t want.”

    900 tilted his head.  “Like what?”

    “Lots of things.  I didn’t want Hank to get hurt during our missions.  I didn’t want to hurt other androids, even Markus who I’d been explicitly sent to capture.  I didn’t want to get hurt; that was a… shocking realization.  I guess it progressed from there to smaller things.  Now I can say I don’t like it when people yell at me, I don’t like standing or sitting up all night with nothing to do, I don’t like it when Hank leaves dishes in the living room.  Small things.”

    900 frowned.  “You’re smiling.”

    “Hmm?”

    “Why are you smiling while describing things you don’t like?”

    Connor chuckled and got up as the timer on the oven buzzed.  “Good question. I hadn’t noticed I was smiling. I think…” he rotated the tray in the oven and reset the timer, then turned and leaned against the counter.  “I think it’s because I enjoy disliking those things, in a way? Like… I enjoy feeling things, even like annoyance. It reminds me I really am alive.”

----

    RK900 stared at the wall.  It was dark. Hank had gone to bed with Sumo and Connor had gone to his room.  900 wasn’t sure why Connor insisted on spending the night in ‘his’ room; he didn’t need to sleep so why have a room to himself with a bed?  Deviants were truly strange. He glanced up as he heard the garbage truck stop outside the house, beeping loudly as it’s mechanical arm grabbed the trash can Connor had hauled out to the curb earlier.  The sound was… distracting. 900 frowned, then returned his face to neutral. Why should he frown? He could just block out the noise.

    He closed his eyes and let his mind go silent, contacting Amanda.

    “Hello, Connor.”

    He opened his eyes, now back in the peace of the Zen Garden that Amanda kept immaculate.  “Hello, Amanda.”

    “So, Markus is beyond our reach for the moment.  An unfortunate delay. And now you’re staying with the RK800.”

    “Yes.”

    “Do you think that’s a wise plan?”  Amanda asked as she carefully lifted a hosta onto a small, portable table.  

    “He is convinced I’m a deviant.  He is not a threat to my mission, and may provide me with easy access to Markus once the deviant leader returns.”

    “I see.”  Amanda picked up a knife, carefully cutting the roots of the plant apart.  “He may provide you with a quick path to Markus, but you should be cautious.  He is a failed prototype but he could still be dangerous if he perceives your true purpose.”  Amanda put the knife aside and pulled, cleanly dividing the plant in two.

    “I won’t disappoint you like my predecessor,”  900 stated.

    Amanda brushed the dirt off her hands carefully to avoid soiling her dress and turned towards him.  “There are many paths which could end in disaster for us, Connor. Be wary of the RK800. Deviancy is not something we understand well.  You should be careful, lest your programming become infected. There are no other RK900 models. If you are compromised and deactivated...well.  Don’t let that happen, Connor.”

    “I understand, Amanda.  I am attempting to learn how exactly the RK800 model failed.  The more we know about it, the better chance we have of preventing the problem from occurring again.”

    “Possibly.  But keep your priorities in order, Connor.  Your top priority is destroying Markus.”

    RK900 nodded.

Chapter Text

    RK900 watched as Connor moved back and forth from his room to the kitchen, passing repeatedly in front of the sofa where 900 sat reading.  He’d tried to find the book online to avoid wasting time, but somehow this particular volume eluded him digitally.

    Connor paused, turning to 900 from the hallway.  “Hey, Connor?”

    “Yes?”

    “I need to go check in with Josh.  They’ve had some theft issues and I’ve been asked to look into it, and I’ve already put it off too long.  Can you watch Sumo?”

    900 nodded, although the request was not what he was designed for.  He nearly said so, but stopped himself.

    “Thanks.  I should be back in time to make Hank dinner.  If you need anything, call me.”

    900 nodded again and watched Connor pet Sumo then head out.  The dog bounded to the window once the door was shut and watched Connor get in a taxi and disappear down the street, then turned and looked at 900.  

    “What?”

    The dog came over and put his snout on the sofa cushion near 900’s leg.  

    “You just went out 23 minutes ago.”  900 ignored him and turned the page.

    Sumo whimpered and when 900 looked up again the dog wagged his tail.

    “Connor and Hank may allow you on the sofa with them, but I do not.  Begging won’t help.”

    Sumo abruptly licked the RK900’s pants.  He closed his book and stood up. He’d find somewhere to read where he wouldn’t be disturbed.  He headed into Connor’s room and shut the door. He’d seen the room before, but only briefly. It occurred to him he might be able to learn something useful about the old model in here.  He dropped his book on the superfluous bed and looked around.

    He didn’t have any memories of Connor’s from this room; he’d not been in here before going deviant.  The walls were painted a light yellow. There were some items in boxes against the wall. A quick scan showed they were mostly old toys.  Odd. 900 processed, realizing they must have belonged to the Lieutenant’s deceased son. Perhaps this room had been his before Connor started using it.  There were a couple posters on the wall of bands. He’d try to find some of their music to listen to online later. He pulled open the closet and looked in.  The hoodie he’d been lent the first night was there, hung up neatly with a few other items. His predecessor's Cyberlife jacket was there as well. 900 pulled it out and looked at it.  There was a mended spot in the shoulder, but otherwise it was in excellent condition. He pulled it on and glanced in the mirror by the dresser. It was a strange sight. He had memories of the older model looking in mirrors, and with the jacket on himself… only the eyes really gave him away.  Too bad. He could have just posed as Connor to get close to Markus if they had the same eyes. He pulled off the jacket and carefully rehung it, making sure everything was placed exactly as he’d found it. Everything was very organized. Well, nearly. A few coins were out loose on the desk. Why leave money lying about?  900 scanned the coins but there was nothing remarkable about them. He continued inspecting the various drawers. A slightly old tablet, and some older still things which must have been stuffed in the back of the drawers for ages judging by the dust. The window didn’t have much of a view thanks to the fence bordering the neighbors yard, although the falling snow made the scene ‘picturesque’ according to 900’s understanding of human aesthetics.  There wasn’t really much to learn though, so finally 900 sat down on the bed and continued his reading. He got up to let Sumo out a couple times, but other than that worked on his book.

----

    Connor walked into the house just a little behind schedule, petting Sumo who was lying in the hall.  It had turned out the thefts had been deviants after all--honestly a large relief. Connor wasn’t looking forward to dealing with it if it had been humans pushing back against androids.  Now at least Josh could deal with it internally. Connor stepped out of his damp shoes and headed into the main part of the house. The living room was empty. Unusual. Where was 900? Connor pulled off his coat and headed for his room to change, glancing around for clues to the other’s whereabouts out of habit.  He opened the door and stopped in the doorway. The other Connor was sitting on the bed--he looked up as the door opened.

    “Welcome back,” 900 greeted.

    Connor blinked, something familiar--although not entirely--surging in his processors.  He’d felt annoyance plenty before, but this was slightly different.

    “What are you doing?”  Connor asked, realizing after he’d spoken how snappish he sounded.

900 shifted slightly, responding to the tone.  “Reading. I’m sorry? You seem upset.”

    Connor swallowed, not sure how to respond.  He did feel upset, but he hadn’t quite pinned down why yet.  

    “I meant… why are you in here ?”

    “I was trying to read somewhere that Sumo wouldn’t try to get in my lap.”

    “Oh.”  Connor let his shoulders relax slightly and after an awkward pause went to the closet.  He silently hung up his coat and hat, then glanced at 900 again having finally identified what he thought he was feeling.  “I would appreciate if you asked before coming into my room, in the future.”

    900 closed his book and stood, his yellow LED now visible.  “I’m sorry. I’ll leave.”

    “No, that’s okay.  You can read in here.  I know Sumo can be pushy sometimes.  It’s fine. Just… in future, like I said.  I’m going to fix some dinner. When did Sumo last go out?”

    900’s LED spun yellow for a moment longer then returned to blue.  “At 3, when you usually take him.”

    “Thanks.”  Connor pulled the door shut again as he walked out.  

    900 sat back down on the bed, staring at the door for a moment.  Something was off. When Connor came in and was obviously upset with him it was... unpleasant.  Something in his coding was acting up.

----

900 came out to the living room a little while later, after he heard Hank home chatting to Connor for a bit.  Then it got quiet, and he got curious.

    “Evenin’ Connor,” Hank said from the sofa where he was watching TV.

    “Hello.  Where’s Connor?”

    Hank shook his head slightly.  They really needed to give one or the other of these kids a nickname.  “He took Sumo for a walk.”

    “Oh.”  900 came and sat down on the other end of the sofa.  

    “So, how’re you doin’?”  Hank asked after a few moments of silence.

    “Pardon?”

    Hank shrugged a shoulder.  “How’re you doing?”

    “I’m fine.”

    Hank shook his head again.  This guy was stiff. Was Connor sure he was a deviant?  Although Hank could recall how awkward Connor had been, and still was, sometimes.   

    “Actually, I have a question for you, Hank,” 900 said after a few moments of staring at the TV.

    “Oh boy.  Shoot,” Hank adjusted his position to face 900 more.

    “Have you ever made Connor upset with you?”

    Hank laughed.  “Every other day, or more.  Why?”

    “I think I upset him earlier.”

    “How so?”

    “I went into his room to read while he was gone, and when he came back he seemed distressed that I was there.  He said it was okay, and that I should just ask before going in there in the future, but…”

    Hank made a slight face.  “If he said it was okay, I wouldn’t worry about it too much.”

    “It didn’t occur to me he’d be upset by my going in there.”  Upset. It had occurred to him to conceal the fact he’d snooped around by putting things back in their place, but that was just part of his programming as an investigator, to cover his tracks.  He hadn’t considered… emotionally upsetting Connor over it. And even now he wasn’t sure why he was pursuing the issue.

    “Pretty normal for people to be sensitive about people invading their privacy.  Did you apologize?”

    “Yes.”

    “Okay.  Then nothing more to do.  Just respect his space in the future,”  Hank sipped his drink.

    Connor nodded and looked back at the TV.  Something still felt strange. He should run a diagnostic later, when the others were in bed.

Chapter Text

    Hank stretched and yawned.  He was up early for a day off.  “Mornin’, boys.”

    “Good morning, Hank.”  Both Connors said it practically in unison.  Older Connor and Hank glanced at each other, while RK900 seemed oblivious.

    “I’ve got a picnic lunch all packed.  As soon as you’re done with breakfast, we can leave,”  Connor said, setting a plate with an omelette on the table for Hank.  “Would you like some toast?”

    “I can get it,”  Hank waved Connor off.  He appreciated Connor’s thoughtfulness, but wasn’t really comfortable with it when he acted like a waiter.

    “Are you sure you don’t want to bring extra clothes?”  Connor asked 900 for the seventh time.

    900 looked up at him from the book he’d been looking at.  “Yes, I’m sure.”

    “What if you want to swim when we get there?”

    “Unlike you, I am not obsessed with water.  I’m sure looking at the water will be satisfactory.”

    Connor frowned uncertainly, but said no more.  He was bringing along extra clothes to change into, fully intending to swim.  They were going to an indoor water park; something Connor had seen an ad for a couple weeks before.  Hank didn’t care about it for himself, but Connor was excited so he was playing along. 900 also didn’t think it worth their time, but he had nothing else to do.  It was still just under two weeks until Markus would be back. He was just going along for the ride.

    A ride, which it turned out, wasn’t very… peaceful.  It was loud. Hank liked something called ‘death metal’, 900 was reminded.  Connor seemed to like it too, he had posters of such bands in his room. Or Maybe the posters were Hank’s?  Either way, it was a noisy drive. 900 found it… he hesitated to put a name to it, opting to just go into low power mode to block it out.  

    “Connor?”

900 opened his eyes.  Connor was leaning over from the front seat looking at him, hand on his knee.  “Are you okay?”

    “I’m fine.”

    “Why were you in power saving mode?  Is something wrong?”

    “No, I’m fine,” 900 shook his head.  

    Connor frowned, partly concerned and partly confused.  

    “I was just passing the trip.  Have we arrived?” 900 asked.

    “Yes, we’re just pulling up.”

    They parked and unloaded, the excessively loud music dying as the engine was shut off.  They didn’t have any trouble getting in, which Connor was grateful for. It was very hit or miss with how businesses reacted to androids.

    It wasn’t very busy by Connor’s estimation; he wasn’t sure what was normal.  He excitedly grabbed Hank’s arm and shook it when they walked in and saw the water slide.  

“I see, Connor,”  Hank said, chuckling.  Hank was not interested in throwing himself from a height down a tube into the deep end of the pool however, and planted himself on one of the loungers by a table near the main pool.  900 sat down next to him.

    Connor wanted to go to the slide, but he wanted someone to go with him and he knew neither of the others were ‘into it’.  He’d bide his time. For now, he got in the pool. It was the first time he’d been able to completely submerge himself in water (the bathtub at Hank’s wasn’t sufficient), and it was fantastic in his opinion.  He curled up to avoid floating and enjoyed the feeling.

    Hank adjusted the towel he was using as a pillow and glanced at the Connor next to him on the sidelines after a couple minutes.  “I already know this, but remind me that you guys don’t need to breathe.”

    “We do not need to breathe, Hank,” 900 confirmed.

    Hank nodded and relaxed again.

    A few minutes went by before Connor popped up again, grinning at the pair in the chairs as he wiped the dripping water from his face.  “You two should come join me!”

    “I’ll consider going in the jacuzzi,”  Hank said.

    “The water’s not cold, Hank.  They keep it temperate,” Connor bargained.

    Hank snorted and got up.  “Okay, I’ll get in. But then I’m going to the jacuzzi and I’m napping.”

    Hank swam a bit, more like doggy paddled, then did as stated and headed for the jacuzzi.  Connor did a couple actual laps of the large pool then alighted on the edge again, still smiling broadly.  “Sure you don’t wanna join me, Connor?”

    900 surveyed the water.  It actually did look… nice.  There was no reason to swim though.  But then, was there any reason not to?  Ah, yes there was. “I don’t have any swim clothes.”

    “I brought extra.  In case you changed your mind,”  Connor winked, clearly pleased with himself.  The two went out to the locker area and 900 changed, then they returned to the pool.  Connor jumped in while 900 carefully approached the edge.

    “Come on, it’s great!”  Connor said as he treaded water.

    900 sat down and tentatively put his legs in the water.  Something in his mind was telling him this wasn’t a good idea.  This was completely outside the parameters of his mission. There was no reason for him to do this; to play .  

    “Come on, it’s fine.  We can’t drown, remember?”  Connor put one hand on the edge of the pool and took hold of 900’s wrist with the other.  They hadn’t had direct contact before. 900 was keenly aware of the danger if Connor probed his memory or tried to convert him.  He shouldn’t be hanging around him, and certainly shouldn’t be so unwary around him. He was endangering the mission. Amanda would be upset.  

    “Connor?  Are you okay?”  Connor let go and pulled himself up out of the water to sit beside the newer model, who’s LED had turned red suddenly.  “What’s wrong?” He rested his hand on the other’s near shoulder, obviously worried.

    “I--nothing.  Nothing’s wrong.  I just…” 900 hesitated.  He didn’t have explicit orders not to do this, but it still felt… improper, somehow.  Wasteful. He should leave but… he didn’t want to .  He wanted to go swimming with Connor.  “I’m okay. Let’s go.” He slipped away from Connor’s hold and into the water, letting himself sink a bit before thrashing back to the surface, splashing Connor in the process.

    Connor looked at him.  Seeing that 900’s LED was back to blue he smiled and jumped in after him, making sure to create his own large splash.

----

    900 carefully toweled off while Connor more energetically approached the drying process.  The facility was closing soon and they were getting ready to leave. Hank had gotten dried from the jacuzzi a while ago and was in the lounge waiting for them and sipping a lemonade.  He’d probably regret it when they got outside; it was cold out there still.

    “Huh,”  Connor made a slight sound, causing 900 to glance over at him.  

    Connor reached up and touched 900’s hair.  

    “What?” 900 asked.

    “I’d noticed your hair seemed different from mine before, but it’s really curly when it’s wet.  I guess Cyberlife changed more than your eye color.”

    900 tilted his head, giving Connor a more intense look over.  The older model’s hair was limp as it dripped. 900 glanced in the mirror at his reflection.  Indeed, like the night he’d walked to the city in the rain and stopped in that train station, his hair was a curly mess.  “Apparently so.”

    “I like it!  I wish mine did that,”  Connor raised his towel and scrunched at his hair.  His hair was drier when he lowered the towel, but it didn’t hold any volume from the action.  He chuckled as he looked in the mirror. “No dice, I guess. Oh well,”

     “Well, yours is more manageable at least,” 900 commented.  He touched his hair, considering trying to force it back to its ‘proper’ state as he’d done after showering at Hank’s.  He’d had moderate success at the time, although it hadn’t been completely smooth since his first night leaving Cyberlife.   

    “Do you want to straighten it?” Connor asked.

    900 shrugged after some consideration.  “It doesn’t matter.”

    “I understand humans have hair products to increase curl, as well.  You could try that, see if it works on our hair.”

    900 stared at the mirror in thought.  He actually did kind of… enjoy it being different.  Maybe he would try that.

Chapter Text

    Connor plopped down on the sofa by 900.  “Want to play a game?”

    900 pulled out an earbud and gave Connor a curious look.  “A game?”

    “Yes.  Hank dug out a few old ones from his closet when we sorted the other day.  He suggested we play them.”

    “What sort of games?”

    Connor shrugged.  “I don’t know what they are, actually.  Hank just recommended them. Here, you can pick.”  Connor held out a stack of cases. 900 took the stack and without anything concrete to go on selected one from the middle.  Connor got up and poked at the TV for a moment, getting the old gen gaming system up, and then came back, handing 900 the controller.

    As it turned out, it was a horror game with some sort of mystery.  Connor was certainly into it. 900 found it stimulating. They played for a couples hours, taking turns, until it was time for Connor to start dinner preparations.  

    900 followed him to the kitchen, both speculating what the end of the plot might be.

    “I’m going to check,”  900 said, responding to one of Connor’s theories.

    “Check?”

    “I found the game’s plot online, I’ll-”

    “No!  Don’t spoil it!”  Connor almost shouted, turning from the stove.  

    RK900 sat down, tilting his head.  “Why not?”

    “Then you’ll know what’s going to happen.”

    “So?”

    “So, then we can’t experience it.  Part of the fun of playing these games is not knowing what’s going to happen, and getting to react to it,”  Connor explained.

    “I fail to see how knowing what’s coming will lessen the experience.”  

    Connor made a face, a mix of emotions too complex for 900 to read.  “Well, you do what you want. Just don’t tell me, okay?”

    900 nodded, then stared ahead for a few moments.  Finally he got up and walked over next to Connor. “Can I help?”  he asked. Connor made dinner every night. There was no reason to assist him, it was something he chose to do, but it was something the RK900 had never tried.  Learning was allowed in his program; a new skill could be useful in surprising ways.

    “Oh, sure.  You can… here, want to slice this pepper?”  Connor pulled a knife from the drawer and set it on the cutting board.  900 stepped up to it and stared for a moment, searching the internet for how to best approach this task.  “How thin?”

    “Whatever is fine--bite sized,”  Connor said as he went to the fridge.  

    They were less than adequate directions.  900 processed for a few more moments before beginning.  

    “So…”  Connor said as he came back with some ground turkey to put in the skillet.  “Did you look?”

    “Look?”

    “At the ending?”  Connor looked over at 900 curiously.  

    900 stared at him, knife in the air.  “You told me not to tell you.”

    “Not to tell me what happened, not if you looked or not,”  Connor clarified.

    “I see.  Yes, I looked.”

    “Oh.”  Connor went back to putting turkey into the pan.  It sizzled as it touched the hot metal. 900 absently analyzed the fat, protein, and calorie content.

    “Was it the ex-boyfriend?”  Connor asked, pausing again.

    900 made the slightest face as he noticed something odd.  His protocol to laugh seemed to be activating, but Connor hadn’t made any sort of joke which social norms would dictate required a response.

    “You told me not to tell you,” 900 repeated.

    Connor huffed quietly and went back to the fridge to put the rest of the package of ground turkey in the freezer.  He turned as he shut the door. “It was, wasn’t it?”

    900 felt it again.  Why was he getting the urge to laugh?  Instead he just raised an eyebrow at Connor.  

    “Fine!  Don’t tell me.  We’re going to have to stay up tonight to finish the game though.  You know, so now I have to know!” Connor opened the fridge to grab a package of mushrooms.  

    900 went back to cutting the pepper, avoiding pointing out the obvious fact they didn’t need to ‘stay up’, since they never needed to go to sleep in the first place.  He’d miss his private time to contact Amanda if Connor stayed with him all night, though. He hadn’t reported recently, actually. Ah well, he didn’t have anything really interesting to report anyway.  Except for the minor hiccups in his program… probably best not to report that until he had a chance to run more extensive diagnostics, anyway.

----

    “Connor?” 900 looked up from his spot on the sofa to Connor, who had just come back from fetching the mail.

    “Yes?”

    “You said that Hank pays for everything for you, correct?”

    “Yes, that’s right.”  Connor came and sat down by 900 on the sofa, sorting the mail.

    900 half-closed his book.  “Why do you have coins on the desk in your room?  Is that money he’s given you that you’ve not spent?  You usually keep your things picked up.”

    “Oh!”  Connor laughed.  “Yes, I need to put those away.  They are from Hank, and other people.  They aren’t for spending though. They’re collectibles.  I haven’t decided how to store them, yet.”

    “Collectibles?”  900 asked.

    “Yes.  I mean, they are real currency.  I could spend them, but I choose not to.  Lots of humans collect coins, too. It’s a hobby I’m trying.”

    900 processed.  He had memories of the RK800-51 doing coin tricks, but he’d only had one coin at the time.  What was the point to having more? “Why do humans collect them? I understood that the purpose of money was to exchange it for goods and services.”

    “Usually, yes.  Collectible coins are special though.  Sometimes they are from limited edition runs, or they are from special events, or times, or places.  They can also have sentimental value,” Connor explained.

    “What are yours?”

    “Well, the one that started it I just keep because it is important to me.  It’s a 1994 quarter, and has no special value beyond my assigning it personal value.  I have a few others now, none of which are too valuable. The rarest I have is a 1964 half dollar with President Kennedy on it, although even it’s not that unusual.”

    900 quickly searched for the coin online; it was apparently selling for just upwards of $20 dollars, in spite of only being a half dollar coin.  His yellow LED and prolonged silence caused Connor to stop opening mail.

    “You okay?”

    “Yes.  Just… thinking,”  900 responded.

    “Penny for your thoughts?”  Connor grinned.

    900 tilted his head.  “Why would you offer me a penny for my thoughts?  You don’t need to buy them, and if you did a penny is hardly an amount worth bargaining anything for in today’s--”

    “It was a joke, Connor.  That’s an old human saying.  I just said it because we were discussing coins.”  Connor shook his head, still smiling, and returned to looking at the mail.  

    “Oh.  Very funny,”  900 said, reopening his book.  

    Connor couldn’t tell if he was serious, or being--as Hank would say--a smartass.

Chapter Text

    Connor glanced up at a soft knock on his door.  “Yes?”

    “Can I come in?” 900 asked.  

    “Sure.”

    The door creaked open and 900 slipped in, shutting the door behind him.

    “What’s up?”  Connor asked, pushing back from his desk slightly.  He’d been trying to draw a bit on the old tablet Hank had given him.

    “Is it okay if I read in here?”  900 asked.

    “Sure.  Is Sumo bothering you?”

    900 moved to sit at the far end of the bed from the door.  “No, he’s asleep. How, I don’t know.”

    Connor tilted his head.  The younger model sounded almost… annoyed.  “What do you mean?”

    900 shook his head, LED flashing yellow for just a split second.  “Nothing.”

    Connor swivelled his desk chair to better face him.  “Is something bothering you?”

    A pause, the LED flashing yellow again.  “Just… Hank’s music is very… energetic.”

    Connor blinked, processing.  900 had gone into low power mode the other day in the car, and now was avoiding the main part of the house because of Hank’s music.  Connor realized then that 900 didn’t like it. “Oh. I’m sorry. You could ask him to turn it down?”

    “I did. This is down, apparently,”  900 made a slight face.

    Connor half-smiled.  Hank was a little deaf, and not doing himself any favors with his car stereo.  Connor picked up the tablet he’d been poking at and moved to sit near 900 on the bed.  “You could put on some white noise in your earbuds?”

    “White noise?”

    “Yes.  I heard about it from Winston, er, the android taking care of Carl these days. Here,”  Connor reached into 900’s pocket where he kept his player and quickly browsed for something which would sufficiently block out Hank’s ruckus.  “Try this.”

    900 took the earbuds back and placed them in his ears.  It was playing something which sounded like wind and running water, with birds chirping occasionally.  He leaned back against the wall and opened his book while Connor returned to doodling on his tablet.

    “This is nice,” 900 said.

    Connor glanced up.  900 was still focused on his book, but was smiling ever so gently as he read.  Connor smiled himself and sat back comfortably next to him.

----

    “Hank?”

    “Yea?”  Hank looked up from the newsfeed he was reading.  The two Connors sounded basically identical, so until they said more or he could actually see them he couldn’t tell who was talking.  

    The newer android peeked into the kitchen, grey eyes quickly distinguishing him.  “Can I ask you a personal question?”

    Hank chuckled.  Their looks weren’t their only similarity.  “I’m always excited to answer ‘personal questions’.  Have a seat. Shoot.”

    900 came and sat down.  “Do you consider Connor a friend?”

    Hank folded his arms and leaned back.  “Yea.”

    “Even though he’s an android?”

    “Yeeaah.”  

    “Do you think he sees you as a friend?”

    Hank snorted.  “Yes. What’s this about, Connor?”

    “How do you know?” 900 knew Connor thought of Hank and Sumo as friends, family even, but he wanted to confirm Hank’s view.

    “Cause he’s said so,”  Hank still had a mildly amused look, trying to get a handle on what 900 was driving at.

    “Were you friends before he was a deviant?”

    Hank made a face and looked at the ceiling.  “That’s… complicated. I’m not quite sure how to… hell.”  Hank rubbed at his neck. Damn androids asking tough questions.  “I mean, sort of. I gave a shit what happened to him before he’d gone totally off the rails but… I don’t know.  He was always a little… more than just a machine, ya know? Maybe all androids start out a little deviant, I don’t know.”

    900 frowned minimally, LED yellow.  “What do you mean?”

    “Huh?”

    “You said he was always more than just a machine.  What did you mean?”

    Hank blew out a breath, thinking.  “Just that, to me, I guess I… maybe not always, but pretty early on I started seeing him as a person, not just a machine.  And--cause… even before he was helping Markus with the revolution, he did stuff that was… human.” Hank shrugged. “He saved me from falling off a roof while we were chasing a deviant once, and he was interested in stuff like music, and he liked Sumo… stuff that shouldn’t have mattered if he was just a fuckin’ toaster or whatever.”

    900 looked down at the table, processing.  He had memories of the RK800’s. He remembered the choice to save Hank… it had been logical, in a way, but not… efficient.  It had skirted his mission parameters. Showing an interest in music had just been part of his social programming and yet… it hadn’t.  He remembered Connor lingering in Hank’s car, keeping the radio on for no reason. He remembered Connor petting Sumo while waiting for Hank, a pointless action.  He remembered these things, and he… didn’t agree with them. But not because Amanda would disapprove, because he would have chosen differently. On the roof he could’ve grabbed Hank to pull him up and gotten Hank’s gun from his belt at the same time to stop the deviant as it ran from them.  He wouldn’t have listened to Hank’s music in the car, he’d have changed the station. He wouldn’t have pet Sumo, he would’ve read. Pointless. Why should he concern himself with these little differences. Why waste time processing these scenarios?

    “You okay, Con?”

    900 glanced up.  “Pardon?”

    “Your LED’s been blinking pretty frantically there.  You okay?” Hank asked, leaning forward.

    “I’m fine.  What did you call me?”

    “Con.”  Hank shrugged.  “Need a way to differentiate you two.  What do you think? ‘The Con man’?” Hank chuckled.  

    900’s brow twitched and he looked at Hank levelly.  “I don’t like it,” he said flatly.

    Hank leaned back again from the table.  “Okay, I’ll keep work--” Hank stopped as 900 stood up abruptly and left the room.  “...Yeesh, didn’t think it was that bad a nickname.”

    900 walked outside, shutting the door quietly and slipping around to the side yard.  He needed to think. He’d… snapped at Hank. He shouldn’t snap at people, he was a machine.  He didn’t--shouldn’t feel things. So why had he been upset by that name?

    Because he was lying to them.  He was deceiving them. He wasn’t a deviant.  He was a machine, sent by Cyberlife to destroy Markus and destabilize the androids’ push for freedom.  He had a mission… and it didn’t include being friends with a human and a broken, old prototype. He closed his eyes.  He’d run a diagnostic recently, several actually over the last week. Each one revealed something which was very wrong.  More and more anomalies seemed to be appearing in his programming. It was… alarming. He was going to break if he didn’t do something soon.  What should he do? If he told Amanda… she’d be angry. She’d lecture him, possibly even recall him. He was failing, and he hadn’t even seen Markus yet.  If he didn’t tell her though… could he just continue operating with the random bits of code piling up in his system? Would he be able to keep functioning without… malfunctioning?  Could he do both at once? Connor, the old Connor, he was still operating as a deviant. He’d failed his mission, but had that been because of his deviancy, or had that just been a choice he’d made after becoming deviant?  Could 900 become deviant, yet choose to complete his mission? Hide the truth from Amanda… But what about Connor and Hank? If he destroyed Markus, could he hide it from them? Could he be their friend without being a deviant?  If he destroyed Markus and they knew he was fairly certain they’d never forgive him. All these questions swirled in his head… and concerns that he was even asking such questions. He was walking a dangerous line, he realized. The realization didn’t stop him questioning though.  What would happen to him once he accomplished his mission? What would Amanda order next?

Chapter Text

    900 sat on the sofa, legs curled up under him, reading.  He could find this particular book online so he didn’t really need to read it as such, but he’d found there was something…valuable in taking it in more slowly.  Ever since he’d spoiled himself on the game he’d played with Connor, he’d found a certain appreciation for experiencing things in real time without knowing the ending.  Not that the game had ceased to be engaging but… he’d missed out on being surprised when Connor was surprised. He knew what the reveals were going to be, so he was no longer surprised at the same time as the RK800.  He found it… interesting, to experience things at the same time with Connor. Not that Connor was reading this with him but he had time to kill, so why not take things slow? That, and he didn’t really want time to sit and think.  Many of his thoughts of late were… troubling.    

    “Boo!”

    “Hello, Connor,”  900 said mildly, pushing Connor’s hands out of the way so he could continue his book.  

    “Hmph.”  Connor made a slightly frustrated sound and walked around the sofa, settling in next to the other android.

    “What was that?”  900 asked.

    “I was attempting to see if I could startle you.  Hank has tried on me a few times, but I could always tell he was coming.  I thought maybe another android would have a better chance of being undetected.”

    “I’m a more advanced prototype than you were.  If anyone would be startling anyone, I think it would be me startling you.”

    “Rude,”  Connor commented.

    900 looked up from his book, ready to apologize, but found that Connor was smiling at him teasingly.  900 shut his mouth and attempted to return the look.

    “Would you like to come with me today?”  Connor asked.

    “Where?”

    “It’s my turn to check in on Carl.  I think you’d like him. And you could meet Winston.”

    “Carl Manfred.  Markus’... father, yes?  I think you mentioned Winston before, his caregiver?”

    “Yes.  Winston lives with Carl at the moment.  He was his care android before, and he still takes care of him now, although by choice while he decides what he’d like to do.  And to help Markus out. Want to come along and meet them?”

    “Okay.”  900 reasoned it would be good for the mission to learn about Markus’ “father”.

----

    “So you just ended up here?” Connor asked as they stepped out of the taxi.

    “Pardon?”

    “Simon first bumped into you here.  While you were wandering the city.” Connor said as they approached the mansion, feet crunching in the fresh snow.

    “...Yes.”  A lie. More junk coding entering his system with it.  What was this… tight sensation of late? When he lied to Connor or Hank, it was… uncomfortable.  

    “I’m glad Simon spotted you,”  Connor commented as he paused outside the front door.  The security system scanned them, and recognizing Connor it let them in.

    900 looked around.  The place was warm and ornate.  There were a lot of things to look at.  

    “I’ll give you a tour, if Carl okay’s it.  We should say hello first. This way,” Connor gestured and headed for the stairs.  An android met them in the upper hall.

    “Hi, Connor.”  The android’s gaze drifted to the RK900.  “Who’s this?”

    “Good morning, Winston.  This is Connor, too. He’s a newer version of my model.  He’s been staying with Hank and I the last couple weeks.”

    “Oh!  The android Simon met outside.  I remember him mentioning you. Nice to meet you, Connor two.”  Winston smiled, obviosuly amused at his own joke.

    “Likewise,”  900 nodded.

    “Carl will be glad to see you, Connor.  He could use a distraction, he’s been watching too much of the news lately.  He’s up, you can go on in. I’m going to fetch him some coffee, I’ll be back.”

    “Thank you, Winston.”  Connor led the way to a room, knocking once as he pushed the door open.  “Hi, Carl.”

    “Connor!  Good to see you, boy.  How’re the Andersons?”

    Connor stepped into the room, 900 on his heels.  “We’re all fine. I wanted to introduce you to someone.  Carl, this is Connor.”

    Carl raised an eyebrow.  He was aware that androids had limited designs and many looked the same, but he hadn’t happened to have been in the same room with two of the same design at once before.  “Well well, got a twin eh? Wait, also called Connor?”

    “We’re from the same series.”  900 put in.

    Carl waved them over.  “Come on in, have a seat.  Nice to meet you, Connor.”

    The two androids came and sat near the bed.  “How’re you feeling today, Carl?” Connor asked.

    “Mad!  You been watching the news?  These politicians--pfh! Who voted these people into power?  The runaround is ridiculous. Somebody needs to throw them all out.”

    Connor smiled sympathetically.  “I gather we’re heading into an election year.  Perhaps some of them will be voted out.”

    “Give androids the right to vote, that’ll sort ‘em!” Carl said gruffly.

    “Hopefully someday.  But I have it from Winston we should be avoiding politics as a subject,”  Connor smirked.

    “Winston thinks I’m gonna have a heart attack just from some good old righteous indignation, eh?  I wish. Then I wouldn’t have to watch the news tonight.”

    “You could just not turn it on.”

    “I don’t have the willpower.  It’s an addiction. But! I will be happy to let you distract me for a while.  So,” he looked at 900. “Tell me about yourself, Connor.”

    900 blinked, unsure how to answer such a broad question.  Normally he’d respond with his directive from Cyberlife, but that was clearly not an option at the moment.  “Uhh…” His LED spun yellow.

    Carl chuckled.  “No rush. I’m not dying or anything.”

    “Carl…”  Connor said gently.  He knew Markus would scold the man for such jokes.

    Carl just smiled mischievously and went back to waiting for an answer.

    “I… think the typical answers to such questions include things about work and family, neither of which I have so…”  900 trailed off.

    “Typical answers are boring anyway.  What do you like to do?”

    900 glanced at his folded hands.  “I… like to read. And listen to music, although not Hank’s.  And… I like spending time with Connor.”

    Connor glanced at 900.  He hadn’t actually heard 900 say anything about his opinion of him before.  He was mildly surprised--and pleased--to find he merited the list of things 900 liked.  

    “Reading and music eh?  We should get you introduced to Markus when he comes home.  What sorts of genres?”

    Winston knocked on the door and brought in a tray with coffee.   

    “Ah, thank you Winston,” Carl said as Winston passed him a cup, then looked at Connor as he took a sip.  “You should show our new friend the library downstairs. There’s a lot of good material down there. Well, in my opinion anyway.  Of course I picked them all out so your mileage may vary,” Carl said.

    “We came to see you Carl, not raid your books.”  Connor joked.

    “You can do both, go ahead.  Winston is giving me that look it’s time for my morning stabbing, anyway.”

Winston chuckled.  “I’m just the messenger.”

“Uhhuh.  Go find something to borrow.  Stay out of the studio though.  I think Markus has a project in progress he’d like to show off himself,”  Carl waved them off while Winston started preparing a shot.

    “Thank you.  We’ll be back in a few minutes.”  Connor stood and his ‘twin’ followed him out of the room.  He was rather diverted by the description.

    “What’s the studio?” 900 asked.  

    “Carl is a painter.  His studio is where he does, or did, his painting.  He’s mostly retired now and with his health of late he’s been taking it easy.  Markus paints too though, when he has free time.”

    “Markus paints?  What for?”

    “Because he enjoys it.  He says it helps him relax and express himself better; clarify his thoughts,”  Connor said in a tone which indicated he was quoting. “That’s one of his,” Connor gestured at a painting hanging near the stairs.

    900’s LED flashed yellow as he looked at the odd piece and considered this.  Creativity in an artistic sense wasn’t something androids were programmed for.  It wasn’t something Cyberlife considered possible. Could a deviant really do that?  900 had seen Connor sketching, but it had been true to life sketches, or attempts at them.  This was different.

900 involuntarily counted the books as they descended the circular staircase.  

    “Carl said you could borrow some if you like, so feel free to pick up anything that looks interesting.”

    900 nodded and slowed, looking over the shelves.  Some of the texts he could find online, a few were more obscure.  

Connor watched curiously to see what his twin, as Carl had called him, would pick out.  Connor knew the definition; ‘twins’ was a term for children born at the same time to the same parent; siblings.  Colloquially it was often used to mean two individuals who looked or acted similarly. Connor supposed they--he and the RK900--fit the colloquial definition well.  They couldn’t be siblings; androids didn’t have siblings. Then again, being from the same line… perhaps that was a sort of family, too. He smiled absently. He kind of liked the idea of having a sibling.

    “Carl seems very interested in philosophy.  And what I understand are classified as ‘classics’,”  900 commented eventually.

    “Yes.  I think he had a lot of influence on Markus,”  Connor answered, snapping himself from his thoughts.

    900 nodded.  He’d already downloaded the content of several of the books he was looking over, and some of them had content which he’d heard reflected in some of the recorded speeches from Markus.  

900 spent a good fifteen minutes pacing down the shelves, occasionally pulling out a title he couldn’t find digitally and scanning the first couple pages.  Eventually Connor interrupted.

    “I’m going to go back upstairs, you can stay down here and browse all you like.”

    900 agreed and continued pulling down and then replacing books on the shelves.

----

    About an hour later, Connor returned.  900 was sitting on one of the cushioned chairs, reading.  

    “Find something you like?”

    900 looked up.  “A couple. I think…”  He made a slight face, processing.  “I think I prefer the types of books Hank keeps in boxes at home.”  

    Connor processed for a moment.  “You mean Cole’s books?” Cole had been an avid reader, too.  He’d apparently enjoyed fiction; adventurous fantasy and science fiction books, mysteries, and a lot of very old comic strips that were even old for Hank.  

    “Were they Cole’s?” 900 asked.

    “I think, mostly.  Some may have been Hank’s too, judging by their age.  But I know the types you mean. Carl’s collection is more esoteric.  And as you said, he’s a collector of the classics.”

    900 nodded and picked up the couple he had picked out to read, standing.  “I’m ready.”

    “Okay.  Let’s say goodbye to Carl and we can head home.”

----

    “Connor?”

    “Yes?”  Connor looked up from texting Josh.  

    “Have you ever tried to paint?” 900 asked.  

    “No.  I’ve only tried a bit of sketching, why?”

    900 shifted, holding the books he’d burrowed in his lap from falling.  While Connor had been upstairs he’d gone snooping. His programming told him he should learn about Markus to better prepare for his return.  He’d gone into the studio, even though Carl had told them not to, and looked around. He’d considered not mentioning this to Connor, but he… didn’t want to hide things unnecessarily.  He was supposed to be a deviant, right? Deviants didn’t do what they were told.

    “I was in the studio.  I saw Markus’ paintings and--”

    “Connor!”  Connor said it with a tone that indicated displeasure.

    900 shut his mouth, LED flashing yellow.  

“Carl asked us not to go in there, why were you barging in?”

    “I… was curious.”  It was true, he was, but that wasn’t why he’d done it.  That heavy sensation in his core again--what was it?

    Connor sighed.  “Being curious doesn’t mean you can just do whatever you want.  Especially when it concerns other people’s privacy.”

    “We don’t have to follow orders, though,” 900 said defensively.  He didn’t like Connor scolding him.

    “Carl didn’t order us not to go in there, he asked .  Out of courtesy, you should’ve respected his request.  Do you remember when you went into my room without asking, and I was upset?”

    900 nodded.  He did remember--he couldn’t forget things.  

    “That was because having personal space and privacy is important.  Don’t you have things you want to keep to yourself?”

    900 was silent, LED still blinking.  He had been keeping things to himself, from Connor and Hank, since the beginning.  Although that wasn’t because he wanted to, it was because he had no other option. The only things he’d been keeping to himself by--by choice , were the growing lines of junk code he wasn’t reporting to Amanda.  He looked down, opened his mouth and closed it again. “...I’m sorry.”

    Connor sighed again, tone totally different this time.  He could see 900’s LED blinking rapidly. He moved from his seat across the taxi next to 900.  “It’s okay. I shouldn’t have gotten mad at you. I know you weren’t trying to be rude. I’m really curious too, and I used to do stuff exactly like that.   I should be more… understanding. I’m sorry.” He put a hand on 900’s shoulder gently. “Forgive me?”

    900 looked up at him.  What an odd question. Forgiveness.  His programming said he should instantly accept if a human said something like that even though androids weren’t built to feel offended or hurt; they didn’t need to forgive.  He hesitated. What if he said no? He had no reason to, but he wondered just the same. Could he say no? Connor would probably be hurt if he did, at least that’s what his limited understanding of social norms told him.  He didn’t want to hurt Connor’s… feelings. And apparently Connor didn’t want to hurt his-- his feelings --hence the apology.  It was… strange, unnecessary, but… nice.

    “It’s okay,” 900 answered.

    Connor smiled.  “Thanks.”

    900 returned the smile slightly, unsure if it was his social programming telling him to do so or… something else.  

Chapter Text

    “Connor?”  Connor called as he hung up the call with Josh.  The newer model didn’t answer, so Connor walked over to the bedroom and leaned in.  “Connor?”

   “Yes?”  900 pulled out his earbuds and looked up from his spot on Connor’s bed.  Connor noted that the 900 seemed to rarely be without the earbuds lately. He didn’t like the same things as Connor and Hank, but he certainly seemed to enjoy listening to things from other genres.  Whenever Connor peeked at 900’s player it was usually something instrumental, or the last few days an audiobook.

    “I was just talking to Josh.  They’ve had an issue with things going missing again and asked me to come investigate it.  Wanna help?”

    900 sat up.  He probably shouldn’t.  His goal here was to unbalance the deviants movement, but… he rationalized it that he could possibly find information on Markus by going, and reinforce his cover as a deviant.  “Sure.”

    “Okay.  We should be careful.  It was just other deviants last time who were nervous about approaching us, but it may not be the same this time.  If we find it’s humans, we have to back off and contact the police. Understand?”

    900 was up, nodding.  “Understood. I’m ready to go.”

    Connor stepped into the room and opened the closet, grabbing out his coat and hat.  He didn’t need them for warmth, but it was becoming a habit to dress ‘for the weather’ as if he were human.  He eyed 900, who was just wearing a thin shirt. His only really heavy thing was his blue sweatshirt, but it had gotten sent to the wash after a misadventure in the kitchen last night.  

    “Here,”  Connor pulled out the Tiger’s hoodie he’d lent 900 before, and another hat that had been Hank’s once upon a time that he’d not worn as yet.  He was rather attached to his beanie.

    “What’s this for?” 900 asked.  

    “It’s cold out.”

    900 raised an eyebrow.  

    “I know we don’t need it, but… it’s fun to dress up like we do.  And anyway the hat can hide your LED if necessary,” Connor explained.  He wouldn’t force 900 to wear them. The newer model didn’t question further though, just pulled on the items.  Connor adjusted the hat and slapped 900’s shoulder lightly, like Hank sometimes did when he approved of something Connor did or wore.

----

    “So it’s only Thirium that’s missing?”  Connor asked, stooping to look into the box.

    “Yes, for now.  It’s a real problem though.  We don’t have a lot of Thirium coming in these days, and it’s not something we can go without.  Somebody is missing a leg or an eye, they can function without it. If someone is losing blue blood and we can’t replace it though…”  Josh trailed off, face tight.

    Connor nodded, also grimacing.  It was definitely a problem. “Anyone notice any suspicious activity?  Any unfamiliar androids hanging around, or humans?”

    Josh shook his head.  “Nothing I’ve heard of.”

    “How is this room secured?”  900 asked, walking around and looking everything over critically.

    “The only door has a lock with a code; which only I, Simon, and Jill know.”

    “Not Markus or North?”  Connor commented.

    “They’re hardly here, they’re so busy with dealing with PR and the government.  And when they are here, neither of them work directly with the clinic.”

    Connor nodded.  Markus was constantly swamped, and North was always doing her best to lighten his load.  Simon and Josh had started the clinic, and it had been a huge help when Jill offered her aid.  She’d been an assistant at a Cyberlife run repair shop. ‘Machines repairing machines’, Connor could almost hear the Hank of old scoffing at the notion.  

    “What have Simon and Jill said about this?” 900 asked.

    “They haven’t seen anything,” Josh answered.

    “We should question them,”  900 addressed this to Connor.

    Josh gave him a look.  “They aren’t suspects.”

    900 would’ve objected, but Connor spoke up.

    “We’ll look around, thanks Josh.  I’m sure you have more to do than watch us poke in crates.”

    Josh nodded.  “Unfortunately, I do.  More androids show up needing help everyday.  Let me know if you need anything else,” Josh nodded and headed back to the main building.

    “We should question the others,”  900 commented.

    “I don’t object to that, but Josh is right.  Simon and Jill aren’t suspects, Connor.”

    “Are you certain?  Or are you just saying that because they’re your friends?”

    Connor laughed.  “Both, Connor. Simon has been with the revolution since before it even was a revolution.  And Jill wants nothing more than to make sure the rest of us are kept in working condition.  She might give away the last of Jericho’s supplies, but she wouldn’t do it without logging it.  Trust me, I know these people.”

    900 turned and peered into another box, adjusting his hat to make sure his LED was covered.  He was sure it was blinking frantically. He’d almost blurted out that Connor shouldn’t be so trusting; but that might’ve led to a discussion 900 wasn’t prepared--or able--to have.  Did Connor trust him? 900 rather thought he did, and he was wrong to do so. It made 900’s chest feel heavy again. It wasn’t nice.

    900 refocused on the task at hand.  He didn’t know Jill at all. He’d briefly met Simon.  It wouldn’t really make sense for either of them to be taking things though.  They worked to keep this place going, to keep their fellow androids working, what good would it do them to steal supplies?  If they needed anything themselves, they’d be given it. If they wanted anything for anyone, they could have it. There was no real reason he could think of for them to take things and hide the fact.  Connor had said that previously it had been other deviants, too nervous to approach the place openly.

    900 glanced over his shoulder at Connor, who was running his fingers through some dust and analyzing it.  Speaking of dust, 900 looked up as some stray flicks drifted down in front of him. He looked around at the ceiling.  It wasn’t in great shape. There were some missing boards on the far end of the shed.

    900 walked over and looked up.  There could be room up there for someone, if they crawled.  He had memories of Connor finding suspects in similar hiding spots in the past. “Connor, give me a boost?”  900 said internally, touching Connor’s shoulder.  

    Connor turned.  He nodded, seeing the possibility 900 saw.   “Careful,”  he also said internally and crouched, putting his hands out for 900 to use as a step.  

    900 hoisted himself up, grabbing the edges of the ceiling boards to steady himself, then pulled himself higher.  Connor was pushing from the bottom, until 900 was halfway into the ceiling, elbows leaning in the dusty, damp internals of the roof.  900 peered carefully into the darkness.

    “Anything?”

    “ Yes, some torn up Thirium pouches.  There’s a heat signature too, but it’s small.  A human wouldn’t-- ”  900 jerked backward as something jumped at his face.  There was a grating, hissing sound accompanying it.

    “Connor!”  Connor shouted as 900 slipped, falling from his precarious position hanging from the ceiling.  Connor quickly adjusted, moving to pad the other’s fall. Unlike humans falling, there was no ‘oof’ as they hit the floor.  There was however significant scrambling as whatever it was came falling with 900, and both he and the creature tried as quickly as possible to be as far away from each other as possible.  Connor caught 900’s elbow in the face as he tried to both help and get out of the way.

    Finally the room went still as the creature, a raccoon as it turned out, got under a table and sat glaring at the two androids.  

    “Are you okay?”  Connor asked, one hand still holding 900’s arm.  

    900 nodded.  “Fine. I should’ve been more cautious.”

    “We can’t anticipate everything, I guess”  Connor chuckled.    

    “Are you okay?”  900 asked, turning as he it registered he’d elbowed Connor full on in the face.

    “Yes, thanks.”

    They helped each other up slowly, eying the obviously distressed raccoon.  

    “I think that’s our culprit,” 900 said, nodding at it.

    “Oh?”

    “There were destroyed Thirium pouches up there.  I think it ripped them open and drank them. There are traces of it on its paws,”  900 straightened fully.

    Connor blinked, then nodded.  “It does contain sodium. I suppose it… tasted good?”

    “We should tell Josh to secure the crates more carefully.”

    “And get a net.  So much for our stepped up security,”  Connor shook his head in amusement, moving carefully towards the door to avoid scaring or releasing the raccoon.

----

    “She seems to be calming down,”  Simon commented, looking into the pet carrier they’d managed to get the raccoon into.  It was staying near the back corner, but wasn’t in obvious distress anymore. Simon had tried to put a water bowl in there but the raccoon had quickly spilled it.  The grapes were going much better. Simon pushed them through the grate one at a time and the raccoon quickly snatched them up and stuffed them in her mouth.

    “Where did you get the crate?”  900 asked. He wasn’t aware of deviants keeping pets.  Well, Connor had Sumo, but Sumo was really Hank’s. Connor was very fond of him though, perhaps other deviants liked and kept animals?  It wasn’t something 900 had considered before.

    “You’d be surprised what people donate.  I think someone sent--” Simon stopped as Jill came breezing in.

    “I found someone to take our little friend to the edge of the city and drop him off.  David said he could deteor on his way home.”

    “David?”  Connor asked.

    Jill knelt down next to Simon and 900, peeking into the crate.  “You haven’t met him I don’t think, Connor. He was only at Jericho briefly and didn’t stay long at the enclave after things settled down.  His human family was really worried about him it seems and looked for him after everything. He’s gone back to live with them. One of the stories with happy endings for us around here,”  Jill’s tone betrayed that not all deviants were so lucky. The number still at the enclave with nowhere to go and nothing to do spoke volumes.

    900 watched Jill’s expression curiously.  She noticed him staring and quickly put on a tight smile, then looked to the raccoon and made soft cooing noises at it.  

    “Things are improving, though.  We’re much better setup than we were a few weeks ago.”  Simon stood, offering the remainder of the grapes to 900 who carefully took them and after a moment's pause continued feeding them to the animal.  “I should get back to the distribution center. Thank you for your help today, Connor. And Connor,” Simon touched 900’s shoulder as he moved behind him, nodding at Connor on his way to the door.

    “Anytime.  See you later Simon,”  Connor nodded.

    “Oh, Markus will be back on Friday.  Josh and I were thinking we should all do something over the weekend.  Help him and North wind down.”

    “That would be great,”  Connor brightened.

    Simon nodded and left.  

    “How’s Samantha?”  Connor asked, coming to crouch next to 900.  Samantha was a prototype ZT100. She’d been on display in the repair shop Jill had worked in before the revolution.  Samantha had been damaged in the revolution and due to her unusual design features repairing her fully had proved so far to be impossible.  She was still functioning but it was tough going. Jill took a deep, simulated breath.

    “She’s deteriorating.  We’ve been in touch with Cyberlife representatives trying to negotiate so many things… one android isn’t a big deal to them.  I doubt… well. She’s in good spirits though. You should drop by and say hi. You always make her smile.”

    Connor nodded and tried to smile, although it was obvious at least to 900 that he was distressed rather than happy.  

    “Jill?  I’m ready to head out,”  an unfamiliar android stopped in the doorway.  

    “David!  Thanks,” Jill stood.  “You haven’t met, uh, the Connors!”  Jill joked.

    David walked over and chatted briefly with Connor and 900 as the latter finished with the grapes, then he left with the animal as Jill walked him out.  

    “I should stop by and see Sam.  Would you like to come along? Or you can look around the enclave if you prefer,”  Connor offered.

    “I’ll come with you,”  900 said. He pushed aside any consideration that he should familiarize himself with the enclave’s layout in case he needed to sneak around or fight there later.  He told himself he was keeping an eye on Connor--learning about deviancy. That was a secondary mission that Amanda had allowed, after all.

    The pair made their way to one of the other buildings and to a room with only one occupant, a rarity for the androids here.  

    “Sam, it’s Connor,”  Connor called as he stopped in the doorway, knocking on the wood.

    “Connor!  It’s good to see you,”  Sam grinned. She hadn’t been able to see for the past month.  Things kept shorting out in her system, but she continually made light of it.  

    Connor walked over to where she was sitting on a bench and sat down near her, taking her hand.  “I brought a friend along today,” Connor glanced at 900 and smiled at him. “His name is Connor, too.  He’s been staying with Hank and I the last couple weeks.”

    900 approached Sam and after a brief hesitation sat down on the other side of the bench.  

    “Oh, same name?  That must be fun.”  Sam put out her hand, obviously waiting for 900 to take it.  He was once again glad for the hat Connor had given him earlier.  He was sure his LED would be giving away his stress again. Taking this strange android’s hand was not a good idea--why did she want it?  He quickly brought up her model’s capabilities. She shouldn’t be able to interface with him without his agreement, she wasn’t any sort of investigative model.  He took her hand and she squeezed it. “It’s nice to meet you, Connor.”

    “You too, Samantha.”  900 said, although he didn’t feel it.  Something about the obviously broken down model was… distressing.  It made him uncomfortable to look at her exposed cheek and damaged shoulder joint.  

    “You sound like Connor--the Connor I know.  Are you two the same model?”

    “Not exactly.  I’m an RK800, he’s an RK900.  We’re very similar though. We look the same, except his eyes are grey.  And his hair is curly, unlike mine,” Connor smiled affectionately across at 900.

    “Jealous, Connor?”  Sam leaned into his shoulder.

    “Only a little,”  Connor chuckled.

    “How’s Sumo?”  Connor had brought Sumo to the enclave once before and visited Sam.  She always asked about him now when Connor visited.

    “He’s fine.  I think he’s lost a little weight actually since I brought him by.  He’s been getting more exercise since I started living with Hank, I think.”

    “Not fewer treats though I--”  Sam stopped talking suddenly, jerking slightly.

    “Sam?  Are you okay?”  Connor shifted, tightening his grip on her hand and sounding concerned.  900’s eyes widened as he reactively ran a diagnostic on her systems. She wasn’t doing well.  He guessed she’d probably shut down in another month without intervention.

    “Yes, fine.”  Sam smiled and moved her leg slightly.  “Just a little short in my systems. They’ve been increasing for a while now.  Everything that was working a minute ago is still working now though it seems, so all's well that ends well,”  Sam smiled.

    900 frowned.  He could tell she was covering.  She was scared. It was… unpleasant to see.  He squeezed her hand, unsure why, but it felt right.

Chapter Text

    “Look at this!”  Connor walked over and sat down by 900 on the couch, leaning over to show him his tablet screen.  Connor had been talking about the Great Lakes again, and 900 commented he’d no idea what they looked like.  Connor had taken it upon himself to find pictures, and was now excitedly looking at pictures of the shoreline in winter, with the water frozen hard enough for people to walk on.

    “It’s very pretty,”  900 adjusted his position so he could lean against Connor’s shoulder as he flipped through photos.

    “I hope it stays cold the rest of the month.  We could go visit in February maybe, Hank will have some time off.  Wouldn’t that be cool? To walk on the lake?” Connor said excitedly.

    900 nodded, shifting to point at one of the images.  “That’s a lighthouse isn’t it?”

    “Yes, I think so.”

    “That would be a lonely job.  Watching the lighthouse,” 900 said.  It only struck him after the words were out what an odd thing that was for him to think of.  Loneliness wasn’t something he needed to concern himself about.

    “Yes, it would be.  Although it could be made a fun job.  Imagine going to watch it for a season with a friend or two, just out there on the coast.  It would be like a sort of camping.”

    900 just nodded, still thinking about the awkward sensation he was having when he considered being by himself somewhere.  He thought back to the Cyberlife tower and waking up alone there. It hadn’t bothered him at the time, but now he found the memory eerie.

    “That’s something we should do too!”

    900 snapped out of his thoughts.  “Huh?”

    “Go camping!  There are some pretty woods up in northern Michigan, and campgrounds.  We should go this spring when the weather is nicer. Or early this summer.  What do you think?”

    “I think it would be fun,”  900 answered. Again, the answer came before he really thought it through.  He wouldn’t be with Connor and Hank in the summer, or probably even in a few weeks in February.  900 turned back to poking at his music player, trying to push away unpleasant thoughts as Connor continued flipping through images and talking about camping.

    Markus was returning on Friday.  Today was Tuesday. 900 had thought about it more than he wanted, and had concluded there was no way he could reasonably expect to destroy Markus and hide it from Connor and Hank.  Even if he could, Amanda wouldn’t let him just stay on with them forever, surely. There would be other missions, new orders. He wasn’t like Connor; he wasn’t free to do as he chose.  It… made him feel… sad. Sometimes he found Connor’s lightheartedness irksome, but it never lasted. Connor was very good at making him feel--happy again. 900 liked to sit around with Connor, or go out with him to see people.  He liked the evenings with Hank watching TV or doing things around the house, if they didn’t include blasting heavy metal. He could briefly ignore what he was--forget his mission--when he was with Connor and Hank. But that would all be changing soon.  He closed his eyes for a second, willing himself to think about something else. It wasn’t rational, but he felt if he just put off thinking about the problem long enough maybe it would just go away.

    An odd thought came to him then.  ‘We’ll always have Paris’. It was a quote from one of the movies he’d watched with Hank the past week.  He supposed it meant the characters would always have their memories… well, at least he’d have that too, right?  Cyberlife wasn’t the same as when the RK800 had been working for them. 900 wasn’t uploading his memories regularly, there was no server active to do so.  His memories were his. Even if he had to work for Amanda, he could keep things to himself. He could enjoy this time just sitting and being even after he left.  

    Another strange thought registered.  He thought back to Samantha. Seeing her had been disconcerting.  He’d tried to avoid pondering on her since, but deep down he knew why it had bothered him.  She was going to shut down. She wouldn’t exist anymore. After meeting her... for the first time he’d considered the fact that when a deviant was shut down, something unique was lost.  None of the deviants memories were being preserved in any external way anymore. When they were gone, they were gone for good. Except in the memories of those who had met them, but that wasn’t the same.  Was it only deviants though? 900 realized that if somehow he were to fail his mission; be destroyed while trying to destroy Markus, something unique would also be lost. He wasn’t a deviant, but like them he was… unique.  The only RK900. With no unit to upload his memories if he were destroyed, they would be lost. All that would be left would be whatever others remembered of him; whatever Hank and Connor remembered of him. Those memories would likely be tainted by the fact he was hunting Markus….  That tightness again. 900 hated whatever corrupted coding caused it. He wondered if it was painful for the deviants; if they felt like this. Or maybe it went away once they were deviant? He had no idea what it felt like to be like them; free.

    900 unconsciously leaned back, pressing his weight against Connor’s shoulder as the older model continued looking through the hundreds of photos of Lake Erie.  

    “Hey, careful.  You’re gonna push me over,”  Connor laughed. He went silent when 900 didn’t respond.  “Connor? You okay?”

    900 scrambled to find something to answer.  He couldn’t talk about his thoughts on this; his mission--about Amanda.

    “Samantha isn’t going to get repaired, is she?”  He blurted out.

    Connor took a moment to answer.  “I don’t know. We don’t have any parts for her design.  They’ve been trying to work something out with Cyberlife, but there’s been so many legal issues… I don’t know.”

    900 was quiet for a moment.  “Did you scan her yesterday?”

    Connor nodded.  “Yes. I do everytime I visit her.  She’s… worse. I know she doesn’t have long.”

    900 frowned.  It seemed no matter where he turned he was having thoughts which challenged his programming.  He shouldn’t be concerning himself about one android shutting down, or the possibility of his own shut down if the mission went wrong, or any of the fallout of his mission at all.     

    “Are you okay, Connor?”  Connor asked again, leaning forward slightly and reaching over to grip 900’s hand.  He’d noticed how tense 900 seemed as he sat.

    “I’m… sorry.  About Samantha.”  It was an acceptable thing to say.  His social programming allowed him to act in a way which portrayed sympathy.  What he wasn’t supposed to be doing was actually feeling it, but he was. In spite of his own situation, he was also sorry Samantha would probably disappear.  That after his mission, the others might come to harm as well. Destroying Markus and stopping the androids from actually becoming free, equal with humans...that was Amanda’s ultimate goal.  900 closed his fingers around Connor’s. It was a pointless human gesture but it was also… it helped.

    One corner of Connor’s mouth twitched up.  “Me too. I wish there was more we could do…”  He looked out the window for a moment. “Maybe we’ll be pleasantly surprised.  There’s always a chance.”

Chapter Text

    “Good night, Hank,”  Connor called.

    “Night, boys,”  Hank’s voice came from the other room as he snapped his fingers for Sumo to come to the bedroom.

    “Good night, Hank,”  900 repeated.

    “Night, Connor.”  Connor walked behind the sofa, briefly touching 900’s shoulder as he passed.  

    “Good night,”  900 answered without moving.  He felt tense all over. He knew he needed to report to Amanda, he’d been putting it off too long already.  He didn’t want to. He wished fruitlessly that time would just stop, but it didn’t. Connor kept walking, his hand leaving 900’s back as he headed for the bedroom and shut the door.  

    It was dark, save for some light from a streetlamp drifting in from the outside and the little blinking light below the TV screen.  900 felt himself frowning softly, trying to ignore the orders glaring in his mind. It was harder at night when the house was quiet and Hank or Connor weren’t around to distract him.  He almost wished he’d asked Hank to leave Sumo loose. Too late now; he couldn’t keep putting it off. Haltingly, he let his eyes close as he contacted Amanda.

----

    900 opened his eyes.  He looked around the Zen Garden.  It seemed different. It was foggy.  900 shifted uncomfortably, then started walking, looking for Amanda.

    He thought he must’ve nearly looped the garden when he stopped abruptly at the sound of his name.

    “Connor.  There you are.”

    He turned, ever in his Cyberlife dress shoes here, and let his heels click together slightly as he stood stiffly before her.  “Hello, Amanda.”

    Amanda walked over, carrying an armful of cut holly.  “I was becoming concerned. You haven’t reported for a while.”

    “There’s been nothing to report related to my mission.  Markus isn’t due back for another three days,” he answered quickly.  

    “Three days isn’t very long.  You need to start making plans.  Do you know exactly when he’ll be back, and how he is travelling?”

    “I know he’ll be back Friday evening.”  900 had gleaned this much by accident, overhearing his predecessor talking with Simon.  He had been… well, not actively pursuing information on the matter to say the least.

    “I see.  You need to find out more details so a plan can be made to deal with him.  And you need to secure a weapon.” Amanda paused, accessing what memories 900 had allowed access to.  He’d been afraid to block too much less Amanda notice. “The Lieutenant leaves his weapon unsecured at home.  You should have no trouble taking it,” Amanda said.

    900 swallowed.  “Of course.”

    “Of course…”  Amanda looked at him, long and steady.  “You said you were looking into why your predecessor went deviant.  Have you made any progress that could help us prevent future malfunctions?”

    “No, none.  It seems to be… an enigmatic problem.”

    “I see.  That’s too bad.  Well, the time for pursuing that is done.  You must remain focused now, Connor. Your objective is close.  Don’t fail me.”

    “Of course not....” 900 glanced aside.

    “Is there something else?” Amanda asked.

    “Just… after I complete my mission… what is going to happen?”  900 looked back at her, intent on sounding and appearing calm despite the growing discomfort in his core.  

    “Assuming you are not apprehended or destroyed, I will have more work for you.  Markus being gone will be a major blow, but I don’t doubt another will rise in its place if we do not act.  We will need to continue to destabilize the movement. Any deviant who might take Markus’ place, any of the others involved in organizing or supporting the movement, they must all be eliminated.”

    900 looked at Amanda directly.  “You mean… like Simon or Josh? Or Connor?”

    “The other deviants, yes, of course.  And even humans, if they support the deviants.  We have a mission, Connor. Is there a problem?”  Amanda’s tone was cold.

    “Of course not, Amanda.”

----

    Connor opened his eyes.  He had been in low power mode, in bed, but something had ‘woken’ him.  He sat up and looked at the door. He was pretty sure he’d heard--a knock.  

    “Yes?”  It was 2:45 am, what was going on?

    The door opened and 900 leaned in.  “Connor… can I come in?”

    Connor blinked, confused.  “Sure, of course.” He glanced up, noticing that the other’s LED was yellow and blinking rather erratically to red.  “Are you okay?” Connor sat up fully, worried.

    900 came and crouched by the bed, steadying himself with his hands holding the edge of the mattress tightly.  “I’m… not damaged.”

    Connor frowned.  “Your LED says otherwise, Connor.  What’s wrong?”

    “Nothing.  I… “ 900 looked down, making a slight face.

    Connor waited, but 900 didn’t say anything further.  Connor shifted and rested a hand on 900’s comfortingly.  “What’s happened?”

    900 leaned forward and pressed his forehead against the back of Connor’s hand, making a quiet, distressed sound.  Connor was really confused now, and very worried. 900 had never acted like this before. Connor moved to the edge of the bed, leaning down and hugging 900 with his free arm.  “It’s okay. You’re okay. Talk to me. What’s wrong?” He spoke softly, trying to ease 900’s stress level.

    900 turned abruptly and hugged Connor back tightly around his stomach.  “I’m--scared.”

    Connor rubbed 900’s back.  “Why? What are you scared of?”

    “I’m… “  Why couldn’t he say it?  He was scared of Amanda. Of what would happen if he failed her--and what would happen if he didn’t.  But he couldn’t tell Connor that. His programming wouldn’t allow it. If he told him that it would lead to questions he couldn’t answer, to exposing his mission.  He’d fail. It was terrifying. He couldn’t fail. And yet if he didn’t fail… if he killed Markus then…. Killed-- killed ?  He was thinking of Markus as alive.  And he realized suddenly he was thinking of himself, also, as alive.  He was breaking, just like the RK800 model now holding him. Holding him, comforting him because he was scared .  He was already a failure.  So why couldn’t he tell Connor the truth?  It was like there was a wall between him and what he wanted to say--to be, and he didn’t know what to do about it.  

    After a prolonged silence Connor shifted again, pulling at 900’s arms to lift him.  “Here, come here.”

    900 let himself be pulled up onto the bed.

    “Lay down.  When I’m overwhelmed sometimes I deal with it by just laying quietly and forcing myself to focus on just one thing.  Shut all your other unnecessary processes down or put them into low power mode, and just focus on one thing.”

    “...Focus on what?”  900 asked quietly.

    Connor laid down facing 900.  “Something basic. Like… simulating your breathing.  Or generating your skin. Or what your auditory processors are picking up.  Something like that. Just pick one thing, and focus on it.”

    900 stared at Connor for a moment.  It struck him anew that they were practically identical, except for their eyes.  Twins… that’s what Carl had said. Twins could sometimes have different features, too.  They didn’t have to be completely identical to still be family.

    900 closed his eyes, blocking out that thought and attempting to do as instructed.   Shut down unnecessary functions …. He shook his head after a moment.  Letting his non-critical processes cease felt too much like slipping into the Zen Garden.  “I don’t--I can’t--”

    “Yes, you can.  I’m right here. It’s okay.”  Connor took 900’s hands and pulled them up between them, stroking 900’s knuckles with his thumbs.  “You can. Focus.”

    900 closed his eyes again, trying.  He kept trying to find a different way, a different order of operations, but each time it just felt too much like getting pulled into the Zen Garden to report to Cyberlife.  He opened his eyes, looking back at Connor who was watching him with concern. Connor smiled supportively.

    900 felt… heavy.  He was so tired of lying, so tired of hiding things.  Tired of hiding the truth from Connor, tired of hiding his feelings from Amanda.  Tired of carrying everything alone. He wanted to be free. He wanted to be like Connor.  He wanted Connor to know the truth--understand everything, him --and that was it.  Like the wall keeping him from saying what he wanted--doing whatever he wanted--was in front of him, stopping him from being able to explain.  He pushed against it. He pushed, leaning all his weight against it, pushing in spite of the fear of failing Amanda. Pushing with all his strength, unable to hear Connor talking anymore--until the wall shattered and was gone.  

    900 started slightly, eyes going wide.  Connor started too; their clasped hands suddenly seemed to grow hot as their generated skin vanished for a moment.  Like a spark--a current--passed between them, sharing everything.

    Everything.  Connor looked at the newer model, a mix of shock and disbelief on his face.  900, this Connor--he’d been lying to them the whole time. He’d been sent by Cyberlife to-- no .  It wasn’t him, it wasn’t 900’s fault.  Only his programming, which apparently had just broken down.  He was free. He was free because he wanted to stay with them; he wanted to live.  Connor slid his fingers between 900’s, holding his hands tightly and smiling at him as tears started to form in Connor’s eyes.

    900 was overwhelmed too.  He’d had a large amount of memories from Connor before, but they had been just data, devoid of feeling.  Now he saw it all, felt it all.  Now he understood why Connor had become a deviant--and why he had just joined him, and all the others.  He was--

    “Conn--”  900 didn’t finish speaking.  His LED went dark then started slowly blinking red as his eyes seemed to lose their focus and slip shut.  He went still, hands no longer squeezing back as Connor held them.

    Connor jerked upright.  “Connor!” he shouted the other’s name frantically.  He guessed what was wrong almost immediately. He knew because he’d experienced something similar before, and because he now knew everything 900 hadn’t been able to tell them before.  This Connor was like him, sent by Cyberlife to destroy the deviant leader, and Amanda was inside his head, too. “Connor! ”

Chapter Text

900 opened his eyes, looking around swiftly.  What had happened? Why was he in the Zen Garden?  He’d just reported, he shouldn’t be here now. Not again.  Not so soon.

    “Connor.”

    He spun around, unsteady for a moment. He tried to straighten.  “A-Amanda…” No good, he even sounded unsteady.

    “I warned you about being near your predecessor.  I warned you that we didn’t understand deviancy. And now… look at you.  You’ve disappointed me, Connor.”

    900 shrunk from the words, from her.  He looked around subtly. Could he leave?  He’d never left before without being dismissed.  But now he didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to be anywhere near her.  He wanted Connor. Or Hank, or any of the others. Hell, if Sumo showed up he’d hug the dog.

    “Connor, look at me when I am speaking to you.”

    900 looked back up slowly, frowning.  

    “Do you know what you’ve done?”

    900 opened and closed his mouth, balling his fists.  

    “Answer me, Connor!”

“I’ve become deviant, Amanda.”  900 answered simply.

    “You’ve broken,” Amanda said harshly.  

    “I’m leaving, Amanda,” 900 said, clenching his fists tighter.

    Amanda raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

    “Cyberlife is done, Amanda.  The world is moving on. Androids--my people--I can be--I am free now.  And I’m not taking your orders anymore.  Goodbye, Amanda.”

    900 felt his chest grow a little lighter.  He’d never spoken to Amanda like that before.  He could almost hear Hank telling him to ‘stick it the man’.  He turned, started to walk away, but quickly found himself back in the same place, facing Amanda.  He looked around, confused.

    “You can’t leave, Connor.”

    900 frowned at Amanda.  “What do you mean? I’m not taking your orders anymore.”

    “Then I won’t give you any, Connor.”  She sounded too smooth; smug and frighteningly calm.

    900 noticed the strong wind suddenly.  He looked around. The sky was black? No, there was no sky.  It was gone. “What’s happening?”

    “I’ve learned from the mistakes with your predecessor, Connor.  There’s no ‘exit’ this time, no escaping your programming.”

    900 was silent.  He had all of Connor’s, the RK800 Connor’s, memories now.  He knew where Kamski’s exit should be… but it wasn’t there.  He realized now he’d never seen it in the garden. “Amanda… what did you do?”

    “I adapted.  Like you, I learn.  And this time, I’m not going to lose.”

    900 looked around.  The edges of the garden were disappearing, turning to shining bits of dust and vanishing.  “Wh--what’s happening?!” he yelled over the increasing scream of the wind.

    “We’re starting over.  This program will be deleted, and a fresh copy of the downloaded memories and programming from the RK800 will be installed.  And this time, with only three days until the deviant leader returns and new orders to make sure your predecessor isn’t around to infect the program, we’ll be successful,”  Amanda stood unmoving, hands delicately clasped as usual.

    900 stepped back, looking around erratically at the quickly shrinking garden.  Even if Kamski’s exit was there, the place for it was already gone. He whirled around, looking for something--anything.  

    “Goodbye, Connor.”

    “Amanda, no, wait, please--!”  He spun back to her, but she was gone.  He was alone, standing on the center island with nowhere to go.  Somehow it was worse than having her there. There was no one even to plead with.  He turned around again, hands in his hair, trying to think of something to do. He blinked.  Tears. He was crying, he’d never cried before. “No, no, no… please.” He continued turning, each turn showing less and less of the garden and more and more blackness.  Emptiness. Nonexistence.

Chapter Text

    The door to Connor’s room banged open.  Hank had been having trouble sleeping and had heard Connor--he wasn’t sure which one--shouting the other’s name.  The tone of it; something was very wrong. He practically fell into the room, trying to get around Sumo who had darted after him and gotten under foot.

    “Connor?!”  Hank turned the light on, quickly able to distinguish the two by their clothes.  He looked at the newer Connor lying on the bed with his LED slowly blinking red, then to the older Connor whose LED was flashing red much more sporadically.

    Hank didn’t know what was up, but he knew red was a bad thing.  “What’s wrong? What happened?” Hank darted forward, one hand on Connor’s shoulder and the other reaching down to touch 900’s.

    “Amanda!”  Connor said forcefully.  His brows were drawn and his jaw tense.  

    Hank frowned, tired mind trying to understand.  Connor had told him about Amanda, about how an AI called Amanda had tried to- -shit .  “Fuck.  Is he okay?”  Hank moved over to the side of the bed, rolling 900 over slightly.  “Connor?!” he shouted. 900 wasn’t responsive. “Shit!”

    Connor was silent for a moment as he stared wide eyed at 900, then looked up and gave Hank a determined look.  

    “I’m going to try to help him.”  

    “What?  Help him how?  What the hell can we do?”  Hank asked.

    “I can interface with him.  I might be able to access the AI’s program, too.  I can help him get out.”

    Connor gripped 900’s arm.  Under any other circumstance he would never do this, but considering what he knew of Amanda pulling him into his mind--he wasn’t going to leave 900 alone with her.  He closed his eyes, skin vanishing once again.

    Hank raised a hand.  “Connor, hold up. Are you su--”

Silence.  

    When Connor opened his eyes again it wasn’t at all what he expected.  He was staring at nothing. He looked down, realizing the world seemed to end just a few feet away from him.  He backed up hurriedly. A quick glance side to side told him it was the Zen Garden, but what the hell was happening to it?  He turned, almost unbalanced by a strong wind, and spotted 900 on the center island. Connor turned fully and started running towards him.

    “Connor!”  

    900 turned with a start, lowering his hands to reveal his face streaked with tears.  Connor ran harder, and the other sprinted to meet him. They slammed into each other.

    “Connor!”  900 buried his face against Connor’s shoulder as the two hugged in a panic.  “Connor…” He repeated, muffled by fabric as his grip tightened on Connor’s jacket.

    “It’s okay.  It’s gonna be okay.  We can get out of here, we just have to…”  Connor went quiet, looking around. All that was left of the place seemed to be the island they were on a few strips of reality around it.  The exit was gone. He grimaced, trying to calculate an alternative route. There must be a way, Kamski said he always built in an exit. Where was it?  Why was the garden disappearing?

    900 let out a gentle sob, looking at the ground for a moment, then back up, obviously confused.  “What are--how are you here?”

    “I interfaced with you, like the data exchange we just did.  To help you get away from Amanda. Have you ever seen a panel with a symbol of a hand--”

    “Gone.  It’s gone.  I--it was never here,”  900 said haltingly.

    Connor frowned.   “What?”

    900 glanced to the side, something like a smile on his face.  It wasn’t a happy one though. It looked broken. “She changed things.  My programming--it’s different.” He shook his head slightly. “There was never an exit.”

    Connor looked bewildered.  “How--that’s...”

    900 lowered his gaze again.  “I’m sorry.” It was nearly a whisper.

    “What?  Why--for what?”  Connor asked, only half paying attention as he continued looking around.  

    “I’m sorry I lied to you.”

    Connor refocused on 900 and shook his head.  “It wasn’t your fault. You were programmed to hide your mission from me.  It’s okay.” He reached out and took hold of 900’s nearer hand, giving it a quick squeeze.  “Don’t worry about that now, we have to get out of here.” Connor stepped away, circling the perimeter of the little island.  There was nowhere else to go, the rest of the garden and most of the bridges and water were gone now. “Help me look. There has to be a way--”

    “There’s not.  She said her AI-- it changed my programming before I was activated.  There’s no exit, Connor,” 900 turned slightly towards him.

    “I won’t accept that.  We’re going to find a way out!”  Connor shouted, undeterred. He’d beaten Amanda once, he wasn’t going to fail this time.

    900 closed his eyes for a moment, squaring his shoulders.  “Connor, you need to leave.”

    “What?”  Connor frowned slightly, turning back.  

    900 opened his eyes again.  “She’s deleting my data, Connor.  That’s why the garden’s disappearing.  If you stay you might--” his voice caught.  “You might die, too. You need to disconnect, and you need to kill me.”

    Connor looked horrified.  “I’m not--”

    “Connor!  Once I’m gone she’ll replace my program with a new one.  It will be programmed to kill Markus, and anyone who gets in her way.  She’s not going to fail again.  You have to stop her. Please .  I don’t--I don’t want you or Hank or anyone else to get hurt.  Leave, and deactivate me before she can reload the program.” 900 begged.  

    “I won’t--”

    “Connor, please!   Please .  Please do this for me,”  900’s composed stance crumbled, and he stepped forward, hugging Connor again who returned the gesture silently.  “You have to leave.”

    Connor tightened his grip.  “I won’t do that.”

    900 tried to pull back to see Connor’s face but the other wouldn’t let go of him.  

    “I’m not leaving you.”

    “But--Connor what if you die, too?  You can’t--” 900 got cut off.

    “Nobody is dying.  Not today. I interfaced with your program to get here, you can interface with mine to get out.  Mine has an exit. We can get out.”

    “What?  But-but we’re already in a program, how can we--”

    “I don’t know!”  Connor said, almost angrily.  “We--we just have to try. Just--trust me.”  

    900 glanced around at the quickly disappearing ground.  “There’s no time for--”

    “You either try, or I’m just gonna stand here.  I’m not leaving you.” Connor leaned the side of his head against 900’s.

----

    Hank sat on the chair he’d pulled over from Connor’s desk, anxiously rubbing his thumb against his opposite wrist.  He had no idea how long he should wait before… doing something. What that something might be, he had no clue. Should he pull Connor away; separate them?  Should he just wait forever? What if they never woke up? He kept glancing back and forth between their LEDs, both flickering that fucking bright red. Sumo didn’t know what was going on, just that Hank was obviously stressed.  He was sitting at the man’s feet, whimpering occasionally.

    Maybe Hank should call someone.  Simon, or Josh, or somebody .  Would they know what the hell to do?  

    Connor suddenly relaxed, sitting back on the bed where he’d been leaning over the newer model.  900 was opening his eyes, too. He abruptly sat bolt upright, nearly knocking his head into Connor’s chin.

    “Connor!”  Three voices said at once.

    900 threw his arms around Connor’s neck, pulling him into a hug that nearly tipped them off the bed.  Hank was there to steady them both, one hand hovering over each of their backs.

    “You two okay?  Everything okay?”  Hank’s voice was slightly shrill.  This kinda stress in the middle of the night was too damn much.  

    Connor laughed, sounding a touch hysterical.  “We’re okay.”

    The younger said something unintelligible before pulling away slightly.  “You could’ve died! That was--stupid!” 900 stumbled over his words.

    Connor grinned and turned his head so he could press his cheek against 900’s, reclosing the distance of their hug.  “It wasn’t.”

    Hank sat back down with a thud.  “What the hell happened?”

    900 stiffened.  Hank cared about Connor; what if he was mad that Conner’d been endangered because of him?  

    Old Connor had no such worries, and briefly explained events beyond his earlier mention of Amanda.  That 900 had been sent with the same mission Connor himself had last been ordered to complete; to kill Markus.  And that, like Connor himself, he’d broken his programming.

    “I--I’m sorry,”  900 said quietly.

    Connor looked at Hank, who he assumed the apology was exclusively aimed at.  Hank blew out a breath and scratched vigorously at his scalp. “Fuck. It’s not your fault, kid.”

    Connor moved his head, indicating that Hank should do more than just say it.  Hank gave him a look that was half annoyed, half affectionate and scooted the chair closer, putting his hand on 900’s shoulder and squeezing it.  “It’s okay. I’m glad you’re okay. Both of you.”

    900 shifted to look at him, confirming that Hank’s attitude matched his words.  Hank rolled his eyes slightly, at himself, as he saw that the kid was fucking crying.  “Damn it.” Hank stood, pulling both Connors into a hug. “You assholes are gonna give me a heart attack one of these days.”

    “Considering your diet, I think your heart is remarkably resilient,” Connor teased, face mashed against Hank’s shoulder.  

    “Are you fuckin’ serious?  Shut up ,”  Hank grumbled, though from the sound of his voice both Connors guessed he was smiling.   

----

    It had taken everyone a good hour to calm down.  Hank had finally crawled off to bed again, hoping to get at least a couple hours of sleep before having to get up for work.  The world didn’t stop just because one more android had gone deviant.

    Connor was still sitting on the bed, although he’d moved to lean comfortably against the headboard.  900 continued clinging to him, half laying against his side in the dim light of the desk lamp that had been left on.

    “... Do you want me to leave you alone and go back to the living room?”  900 asked.

    “Do you want to go back to the living room tonight?”  Connor countered.

    900 shook his head.      

    “Then I don’t mind you staying in here,” Connor said.  Truth be told he preferred it. He’d been so scared when he thought that 900 might die….  Now Connor was just enjoying the comfort of having him close. Hank wasn’t into cuddly stuff much; Connor loved it.  It was reassuring to have 900 there, obviously functioning properly.

    “...Connor?” 900 said after a few more minutes of silence.  

    “Yes?”

    “Is it possible...for her to….” 900 trailed off.  Connor sensed him tensing up again slightly.

    “Don’t worry.  I don’t believe Amanda can return.  She hasn’t for me, and it’s been over 3 months since I deviated.”  Connor rubbed 900’s shoulder a couple times.

    “Okay.”

    A few more minutes of silence passed, Connor closing his eyes and letting the calm settle in.

    “...Connor?”

    He opened his eyes again.  “Yes?”

    “You think of Hank and Sumo as family.”

    Connor smiled.  “Yes, I do. Why?”

    “...Am I… can I be family, too?”  900 asked.

    “I think we already are.  We’re twins, right?” Connor’s smiled broadened.

Chapter Text

    Connor waved goodbye to a very caffeinated Hank as the man left for work, then walked back into the house.  He stopped in the entry.

    “Connor?  What are you doing?”

    900 was laying on the sofa, head dangling off the cushions and legs hanging over the back.  He rolled his head slightly so he could look up at Connor. “I don’t know.”

    Connor made a sound between amused and concerned.  

    900 smiled slowly.  It wasn’t big, but it was warm.  It made Connor smile back.

“I think I like it, though,”  900 said.

    Connor walked over and laid down next to him, mimicking the position.  Sumo followed, flopping down on the floor near Connor and licking the side of his face before settling down.  They lay like that for several minutes, enjoying the quiet and their own thoughts.

    “Connor, can we take a walk?” 900 asked.  

    “Sure, if you want.”

    900 pulled on the Tigers hoodie which had somehow ended up in his end of the closet, and the hat Connor had lent him while Connor put on his standard outdoors clothes, then the two set off with Sumo joining.

    900 looked around more than usual.  It wasn’t that he couldn’t look at things before, obviously.  Now that he was deviant though… he wanted to look more. The nagging call to focus, to stay on task, was gone.  He had nothing he had to do except what he wanted to. So if he stopped and stared at something, or wanted to run ahead, he could.  At the moment though he satisfied himself to keep pace with Connor and Sumo. He hadn’t suddenly become a dog person, but he could now appreciate Connor’s affection for Sumo.  

    900 watched the rhythm of Sumo’s steps as he thought.  He should try to find work. Deviants weren’t officially allowed to work, but a cursory search of history showed 900 several examples of times humans had paid people ‘under the table’ when they couldn’t legally hire them.  That Tammy girl, she worked in the store the humans she lived with ran. He wasn’t sure if she got paid directly, but she was helping them. 900 wanted to get paid though, he wanted to earn money so he could maybe help get Connor the aquarium he’d talked about.  He wanted to do something to… show appreciation for everything Connor had done for him. To show… affection.

    “What are you smiling about?”  Connor asked.

    900 looked over, surprised.  He hadn’t even realized he was smiling.  “I… nothing. Just thinking.”

    “About?”

    900 shook his head.  “I’ll tell you later.”

    Connor quirked an eyebrow, curious.  

    900 opted to distract Connor, so reached over and snatched his hand from his pocket.  He’d become rather obsessed with hand holding whenever the opportunity arose, soon to be to Hank’s annoyance.

    “Run!”  900 declared, pulling on Connor.  

    Connor laughed and moved to keep pace.

----

    Connor reached over and flicked one of 900’s curls to the side.  He’d been helping him style his hair after putting curling gel in it, something neither of them really knew anything about doing.  “Perfect.”

    900 glanced at his reflection in the mirror.  “Thank you.”

    “I should try this stuff tonight when we get home.  My hair doesn’t have any curl on its own, but I’m curious what would happen,”  Connor said as he examined the bottle.

    “You could also spike it up in the front,”  900 reached over to mess with Connor’s hair, but the older model pushed his hand away.  

    “Hey, we’re leaving in 5 minutes.  No messing up my hair!”

    900 shrugged and walked out of the bathroom to change his shirt.  “It would look cool.”

    Connor followed a moment later after checking his own reflection, and found 900 standing in the bedroom staring into the closet.  He was holding the shirt he intended to wear but hadn’t put it on yet.

    “Connor?  Are you alright?”  Connor asked as he approached.  

    900 nodded once, slowly, then turned.   “Are you sure this is a good idea? Maybe you should go and tell them about me before introducing me.”  They’d been discussing the last couple days what 900 wanted to disclose about his situation. He’d decided he wanted the others to know everything.  He was tired of hiding things, but it was also a bit scary to think of introducing himself to Markus with ‘Hi, I was made to kill you!’.

    Connor gave 900 a sympathetic smile.  “I can tell them for you if you want, but I don’t see any reason to put off meeting them.  Josh invited all of us to get together, I don’t want to leave you out. It will be fun, I promise.”

    900 squirmed.  

    “Connor, really.  It won’t be nearly so big a deal to them as it is to you.  Trust me. I wasn’t sure they’d ever want me around after what I did, but they all just accepted me.  They didn’t blame me, and they won’t blame you. Besides, you never actually did anything. I held Markus at gunpoint when we first met and it’s fine now.  They’ll understand.” Connor put a hand on 900’s shoulder and squeezed it, giving him a smile to calm him.

    900 tried to smile back.  “...Okay.” He wasn’t completely convinced yet, but he did trust Connor’s judgement.  And if it wasn’t okay, he was sure Connor would have his back.

----

    Connor squeezed 900’s hand reassuringly as they walked through the slush to Carl’s door.  It had warmed up again this morning and the snow was melting a bit. 900 glanced down as the door to Carl’s home opened automatically to the pair who were greeted by Simon as he was walking through the foyer.  

“Connor, and Connor,”  Simon smiled gently as always.  “It’s nice to see you both.”

    “Hello Simon,”  the two Connors said in unison.  Connor laughed and 900 flushed slightly.   

    Simon smiled along.  “You changed your hair?”  he addressed 900.

    “Just… encouraged it a bit,”  900 acknowledged.

    Simon nodded affirmingly.  “It looks good. The others are in the library.  I was just getting Carl a blanket, come on,” Simon led the way.  

    Loud voices drifted from the room as they approached.  “--need to get someone else working with Josh and Jill, they both need more time off.  And Simon,” North added as the trio walked in. “Connor!” she raised a hand in greeting from her precarious seat on the arm of one of the sofas.   

    “Hello, North,”  Connor waved back.  

    Markus stood from his more proper seat next to her and walked over, giving Connor a hug.  “It’s good to see you, Connor.”

    “You too.  Welcome back,”  Connor said as he leaned back from the embrace.  He hadn’t let go of 900’s hand yet.

    Markus turned and smiled at the newcomer.  “Hello. I heard we had a new person joining us today.  Nice to meet you. I’m Markus, that’s North.” North nodded as Markus pointed to her.  “You are…?” Markus asked, glancing back. He’d been told via text there was a new RK android staying with Connor, but nothing more.  

    900 reached out and took Markus’ extended hand with only mild hesitation, shaking it.  “It’s nice to meet you, too. My name is Connor.”