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“Y’know, every time you died and came back, it made me think of Cole.” Hank’s attention was still pinned onto the photo of Cole, downcasted eyes that refused to meet Connor’s.
“I’d give anything to hold him again…” The grief that was laced in his voice made the Thirium inside him turn to lead, Connor feeling the weight of his sorrow in just a few words. He always knew Hank had self-destructive behaviors - evident by his history of excessive drinking and russian roulette - but standing here now, seeing the gun that could end his life with one pull of a trigger, Connor was made all the more aware how alive he felt.
“But humans don’t come back.” The Lieutenant let out a quiet exhale, flicking his eyes to Connor for a brief second before returning to stare at the revolver on the table.
HANK SURVIVAL PROBABILITY:
19%
Connor noticed his thirium pump picking up speed as he saw the statistic flicker in his vision. The success rate of Hank surviving the night was dangerously low, and with how his stress levels climbing steadily, it wasn’t going to last very long. His processors were frantically running through all the possible ways he could convince Hank, but all he could draw were blanks. He had to remain calm, had to remind himself that everything was going to be fine because he was going to stop at nothing to ensure Hank’s safety.
That didn’t erase the fact that Connor was running out of time.
“Hank, I-” Was Connor’s desperate attempt to coax Hank away from the gun before he was cut off by a bitter remark.
“Now leave me alone. Go on, complete you mission, since that’s all you care about.” He could see the sadness in Hank’s faded blue eyes, the color muted by so many years of pain and hurt, but a certain resolve still remained present in those eyes-- one that was determined to end his own suffering for once. It was true, that Connor used to only care about accomplishing his mission, but that was before seeing Hank at the edge of a rooftop and sprinting to save him by some sort of instinct not embedded in his programing, before seeing the two Tracis and hesitating to shoot, before Jericho, before meeting Markus and having him change the way he saw the world. Before Deviancy.
It was so much more different now, and Connor wished Hank would know how much he painfully cared for him now more than ever.
His LED was spinning yellow as he lost himself in his thoughts, gaze dropping onto the floor dejectedly. His relationship with Hank had been one built on shaky grounds, and it’s now of all times he imagined what it could’ve been like if they met on better terms. If he wasn’t an android and they were simply just human partners, working alongside each other case after case.
Was this what deviancy felt like? To wonder and dream about what could be when the cold, unforgiving facts that none of that could ever happen were laid right before him? To feel… disappointment and hurt when things don’t go the way it’s intended to?
“Get outta here!” A loud growl interrupted Connor from his train of thought, jerking his head upwards to see Hank’s scowling face. His feet didn’t seem to obey, rooting themselves in place because Connor knew what was going to happen once he stepped out the door into the cold.
“Did you hear me? I said get the fuck outta here!” It was without a doubt that Hank’s anger was starting to increase now, stress levels spiking an entire 10% the longer Connor stood there, worried blue eyes staring at him.
By impulse, his body moved closer to the table, snatching the photo from the table right in front of Hank.
“Hey! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Hank rose from his seat in an instant,the scraping of the wooden chair against the floorboards making Connor take a few steps back. For the first time, even before his deviancy, Connor felt scared .
“I’m sorry Lieutenant, this is for your own good.” He tucked the photo of Cole closer to himself, backing away with each advancing step Hank made. Connor wasn’t going to allow another life die by his hands, especially when it’s a death of someone that held some sort of significance to him that he’s yet to understand. Something inside him, beyond instructions, beyond his programming told him that he couldn’t just let Hank die.
“ I swear to fuck, you better give that back Connor if you know what’s good for you.” Hank was livid now, formerly glazed pupils now lit in fiery rage. A strange sense of satisfaction filled him when he managed to provoke such a reaction from Hank. Most often than not, Hank would settle with putting minimal effort while conversing with anyone, so seeing the old, washed-up police lieutenant act so alive was oddly refreshing.
“I can’t, Lieutenant.” Connor found himself feeling breathless as he spoke, fingers curled so tightly on the photo he’s afraid he might break it. Deviancy had made him realize he was drawing so many unnecessary breaths, yet still choosing to continue doing so. And wasn’t that what deviancy-- being alive-- was all about? The ability to make your own choice.
So Connor made his.
“I won’t allow it.” He could see how much more upset it made Hank, but Connor didn’t care. Anything to stop Hank from killing himself.
“Jesus christ, don’t you dare fuck with me Connor.” Hank hissed through his gritted teeth.
“ Give it back, now!” It was a lot louder this time,leaving no room for protest, but Connor was completely unfazed by it.
“No! Not until you calm down and put the gun away!”
Before Connor knew it, he was slammed against the wall, both of Hank’s hand a vice grip on the lapels of his jacket. He could see too clearly the fury in Hank’s face, eyebrows furrowed in intense rage in contrast to the icy blue glare that stared right into his own.
“ Since when did you start giving a shit, huh? Thought you weren’t a deviant, Connor! Guess it’ll make killing you easier, won’t it?” Hank shoved him roughly up the wall again, his face inches from Connor’s. His LED began glowing a fierce shade of red. Fear and panic was starting to rise inside him, conflicting thoughts bombarding his processors that made him feel so lost.
Connor knew he had despise androids since their very first meeting. But the more time he spent with Hank, the more he found out it was the contrary instead. In some instances, he seemed to even sympathized with the deviants. And in many more, Hank had shown signs of caring about Connor.
“ Why couldn’t you’ve just fucking left me alone!” Connor could detect the unsteady breaths that escaped Hank’s mouth, his frame beginning to shake in a mix of anguish and hatred. His voice was wavering, and in that moment, Connor knew his threats that were blanketed with burning emotions that both of them didn’t comprehend rang hollow.
The answer to Hank’s question came almost too naturally, falling from his mouth without much thought.
“Because I can’t let you die, Hank.”
“ And why do you fucking care?” Hank snarled back, and Connor could feel something swell in his chest that made him want to scream.
“Because humans don’t come back when they die!” The words were coated with so much emotion Connor never knew he had, thick and sincere and genuine- none at all part of his programing at the slightest. Connor blinked away the wetness that gathered in his eyes, pressing on even as the tears streamed down his cheeks
“Because whatever you may think of me, Hank, I do care. So much that it hurts.”
The former tightness in his chest gradually faded away, Hank carefully setting him back on the ground. The hostility presented on his face from before bled away, grip on Connor relaxing completely. There’s a moment of shared silence between the two of them, Hank’s weary eyes looking down at Connor with a twinkle of restored hope.
“Connor I- Fuck…” Connor felt two arms envelop his body before realizing he had been pulled into a hug, warm and comforting and everything he never thought he needed, letting himself enjoy this new sensation.He sank into his Hank’s hold, letting himself sob a little longer just so he can release all these pent up feelings he just found out about.
A soft blue light washed over his LED, Connor only pulling away when he finished crying. He almost forgot about the photo in his hand, still clutched firmly against his chest.
“Oh- I’m sorry about… all that, Lieutenant.” He handed over the frame, shooting an apologetic look at Hank.
“It’s alright. Can’t complain when it managed to save me from a bullet to my head.” Hank let out a half-hearted chuckle, and Connor felt the mood in the room lift considerably. Hank didn't spare the photo much of a glance before putting it back down on the nearby table and turning his full attention back to him instead.
HANK SURVIVAL PROBABILITY:
100%
“So, you’re a deviant now, huh?”
Everything was going to be alright, after all.