Chapter Text
Fingertips tapping the phone screen. Tapping some more, faster. Then more aggressive. So forceful that one might think the screen would break any second now. The speed and force of the tapping could make one’s fingertips hurt like hell.
Many times it did. They’d be tender and ache. But they were nothing but the manifest of the anger and frustration directed to the phone with words that should not be ever heard aloud. The screen illuminated the tired man’s face as he squinted at the screen in the dark of his room, laying on his bed, letting out huffs of breath through his nose, like angered bull.
The tapping stops. Finally. A long sight escaped the lips, calmer, but not yet tired.
Gavin stares the screen for a moment, closes his eyes and purses his lips together, continuously tapping one certain key, balancing the phone on one hand, other finally resting on his stomach. But sleep deprivation and sweaty slippery hand don’t match and the phone lands corner first on the scar across Gavin’s nose, quickly earning pained grunt and ticket to the nearest wall. It wasn’t the first time, as the many dents in the wall tells, and definitely not the last it makes the flight, but never breaks. The detective rubs his face and eyes, sighing long and deep, rolls to his side, deciding to deal with the phone in the morning, after the “refreshing” sleep he could have before waking up and trying to set the sleeping schedule back to more proper hours.
*
Those blissful three hours turn to two and a half, two, one and a half... Great, another day with a pot of coffee dedicated only for Gavin. Maybe energy drink, too. Not the wisest choices, but why bother. Tina used to nag about it to him long enough, until giving up. But there was someone to pick up her job more relentlessly, more persistent, more frequently… Just thinking the sermon about healthy life choices made his blood boil. He has good eating habits, when he is not having the sleepless nights and shit load of work on his back that bothers him day and night, on and off duty. The latest object of his anger he was writing his furious text to, never to be sent, was none other than the one reminding him, that piece of plastic, judging him across the dividing screen between their tables. But he had to admit to himself, that his progress with cases had quickened, thanks to the android junk pile. Sighing one last time he pressed his head to his pillow, just laying there without the cover. The sleep claimed Gavin at last..
The weekend did make a difference. Gavin had actually slept more than six hours the night between Sunday and Monday, some naps during Saturday and Sunday. That should suffice for a while. At least, Gavin hopes so. The office is like it should be, bustling with officers, shifts changing and chatter of the officers all around him. Annoying, he thinks and heads straight to the break room, grabs a coffee to-go and takes his seat at his desk and flips the terminal on, logs in and is off to do some work. Great, a visit to a scene is in place first thing in the morning: a break-in to a private house, perp nowhere to be found and only a little bit of valuables missing. Gavin rubs his face in his hands and looks up. Nines (the damn junk pile) was already typing away on his terminal, doing oh-so-important stuff. Gavin grunts and rises, Nines’ eyes foll… Not following. Ignoring.
“Hey, dipshit, get up. Visit to a scene is required right the way”, he orders, not waiting for an answer and head to his car. Nines follows soon after and they head off.
Except they don’t talk, argue, banter, whatever at all on their way. Gavin shrugs it off as a small win over the doting android partner of his for the past three months. The whole revolution thing had put everything anew, the Cyberlife tower was picked clean and this trash can was there, strapped on wires, waiting to be awaken. Connor had explained it at some point, maybe he did even listen a little, as he recalled Connor saying something about giving the virus before the awakening, just to be sure the firewall was down and it could plant itself more securely in the RK900’s system, rendering his deviant hunter protocol useless, but nothing else. It had arrived a week later to the DPD, Connor and Hank almost begging Fowler to let the RK900 unit to join the forces, after all it was what he was made for. The Connor the Second had proved to be useful indeed for the force and in no time Fowler had assigned it as Gavin’s partner, to “enhance” his performance at the cases. Bullshit. He knew he wasn’t liked and this was just one way to say “fuck you”. It’ll replace him one day, no doubt.
But as time went by, Connor the Second Nines, as loving named by Connor, had proved to be quite an asset. Gavin’s record of being part of solved cases had gone up, his workload got lesser and he actually could set his mind back on trying to get the damn promotion he was still denied, after so many years of working as a detective. He started to get more familiar with this deviant ‘deviant hunter’, witnessing his system getting more corrupted by the virus, making him more humane, his stoic personality softening a little, a crack of smile but still professional to the boot. They even gave the tin can a new jacket which it took with smile, abandoning his designed Cyberlife jacket. They were similar, but still, not bearing the oppressing sign of the evil company. Nines’ frame filled just fine the jacket. Gavin could admit, but not aloud, that he felt less hostile towards the androids, they those were helping everyone in need around the Detroit, androids and human alike. And Gavin was making mental note to act at least civil around them. Even Nines had started to grow on him, taking setback when they argued about the closure for the case, when Nines took Tina’s job to remind him of his bad habits and how to fix them, how to live his life and do his fucking job and all the jazz. All the anger and frustration tapped on the text message and later deleted. He coped with it, letting his fumes get out, actually not hurting anyone. Improvement.
They arrived to the scene, all going as it should: Nines going around the house, searching for the clues, taking samples, reconstructing the scene… Gavin made his on conclusions. The break-in was too clean. No signs of fumbling or breaking something. Who ever it was, knew what they were doing. What they were looking for. Nines’ light was swirling yellow as he did his job, piecing things together.
“I have concluded the break-in was performed by one of the owner’s relatives. They have a child, young adult, who has lived separated from the rest of the family. While the owners have been gone, it has been perfect opportunity to gather their remaining things, some extra and leave the country. There is a ticket bought under the child’s name not long ago to Canada. The Police is already informed of his whereabouts over the border and are handling the questioning and are in contact when they know more”, Nines explained in cold, professional tone and turned on his heels, making beeline for the car. Gavin shrugged and left amazed officer standing there, writing notes for the report of his own. Easy peasy, lemon squeeze, first case solved. Back to the station, a good long break after job well done and see what’s next. But the heavy air inside the car was something Gavin started to sense, but brushed it off, yet again. But the motionless, stick-in-the-arse pose of the android did feel more threatening than usual. Unnatural even. They make their way back to the station, go on with their work, not much talking other that something to do with the cases open. The hours fly by and another day is wrapped up. Nines stands up, bids Gavin farewell and makes his way to the other RK unit and Hank, talking in hushed voices. Gavin sneers and leaves the office behind. Gavin has unsettling feeling in his stomach. Great the sandwich he ate was little stale so it probably was making rounds in this intestines.
*
The next day, Gavin drags himself to work, as usual. Something yells in the back of his mind that something’s wrong about this day, call it the run-and-live instinct or whatever, but it felt like something was twisting around in his stomach. He repeated his actions like a mantra everyday; come to work, go to the desk, open terminal, put bag and jacket away, get coffee, go back to your seat, login and start working whatever there is, maybe go bother Tina or Chris for moment, glare at Hank and Connor, tell Nines to get him coffee or leave for a scene with him or…
“Geez, you prick!” he hissed, rubbing his shoulder, where the lieutenant Anderson had just, quite forcefully, bumped him as they passed each other. The same way Gavin USED to bump and push the both androids as he passed them, the seething anger still present in his attitude, now almost forgotten.
“Oh, did I happen to invade your precious space, you fucking wanker!?” Gavin had to step back, stare at the older man before, not seeing him so aggressive for such a long time. “Oh I fucking show you ‘precious space’ you fucking - -” Hank’s words died down as Connor, the RK800 unit, yanked at the older man’s arm, dragging him away before anything serious could happen, Gavin only partly hearing him, only picking up the same old line of ‘leave him alone’, a line Connor had used many times before. Connor had been one of the first to actually do it at the right time of late. Almost always when Gavin was utterly pissed about a case and chase gone wrong, stale coffee or after sleepless night. Gavin might have actually lowkey appreciate this gesture, but the whole shit show baffled him. WHy the hell would Hank suddenly just attack him? They’d been civil with each other, politely just avoiding the other to minimize the conflicts, like adult, smart people.
Gavin continued his journey to the break room to get his second fill of morning coffee. He sees Tina at one of the tables, ready to fill is morning quota of ‘bother Chris or Tina’. He’s not really bothering, just sharing some stupid shit with them, keeping the bond of years of partnership aloat. Gavin picks the filled cup and turns to walk to Tina, only to see her walking out of the room. Gavin’s gut twisted again, something wasn’t right. Either he was still asleep with weird dream going on or this was the ‘Avoid and bother Gavin’ day. He shrugged and left the break room behind. As Gavin got to the point he was back at his desk with the fresh cup of coffee, only to stop and stare at the new face at the conjoined desk. A kid, possibly no older than 25 years, has done police duty some time, still fresh faced, not yet bored of his job and ready to retire, sat where Gavin’s partner was supposed to be at this time of morning.
“Who the fuck are you? Why you sit at the desk?” Gavin sneered, standing in the middle before the two desks. The kid looked up and answered him without hesitation.
“They pointed me at this one. Said it was vacant just recently. Great luck I had, don’t have to put my stuff in some corner, just got transferred here from 8th precinct. Name’s Jackson, sir” the youngster stood up and extended his hand for a shake. Which the detective ignored completely and stared the guy from under his furrowed brows. He rounded to his own side and sat down, keeping the cup between his palms, the high temperature seeping through the cup against his skin making them sweaty. His gaze didn’t exactly focus on anything as he let out...
“...The phucking hell?”
*
“Hey, Fowler, what the shit is going on? Where the fuck is the tin can?” the detective demanded as the stormed to the captain’s office, slamming the door shut behind him. If glares could turn to daggers, Gavin’s face would be filled with them as he stopped to stand before the captain’s desk. “There’s some new punk on Nines’ desk, claiming it is vacant. Like hell it is,” Gavin spat. “..Or is it?” The twisting suddenly turned into crushing worry. Fowler sighed deeply, still glaring the detective.
“RK900 has requested to be transferred to other precinct as of tomorrow”, the captain answers. ‘What the fuck’ was very readable from Gavin’s face.
“Like, with what reason, exactly?” Gavin probed. Fowler got more sour, bearing his canines, answering from behind gritted teeth.
“PERSONAL reasons, Reed. Now out”.
Rude. But Gavin obeyed and left. Personal reasons his ass, like he was the fault. He had made and effort to actually get along with Nines, even with Connor. He had felt less hostile for good while now, after being saved by an android while he was evicted, selflessly getting in front of him as group of hooligans had attacked him, wounding the android so badly, it had died in Gavin’s arms. Another android had takes Gavin’s place, tear rolling down it’s face as it cradled the dead one in its arms. Gavin had felt a bang of guilt, seeing such human-like reaction and selfless sacrifice. He had left the scene as quickly as possible.
He returned to his desk, trying to process the happened; Nines leaving without saying anything. If Nines thought it’d be a pleasant surprise to Gavin suddenly be rid of the android partner, he’d been wrong. Oh so damn wrong. Momentarily Gavin felt… lost. The guilty feeling nagged him, prompting him to fish out his phone to send the tin can a text asking what the hell was he thinking… He. Gavin called Nines him, like Nines preferred, rather than ‘it’. Nines was deviant, had his own personality and quirks, his own being. Like all the other deviants. Getting back to the task at hand, halting it while letting the thoughts run through his head, and got his phone from his back pocket, unlocking it and going through his contacts.
That wasn’t even any task, only few and selected numbers on his phone, soon finding the right one, clicked it and it changed to the string of text messages sent between the two. He started his text, soon stopping. Above the new message was sent one. Couple days ago, middle of the night. A lengthy text message detailing how he’d mutilate the trash can that had caused him so much trouble and how he’d just bury him somewhere no one would find him, along other awful things he had let out in his frustration that night, old damned feelings he let out of him, finally forgetting and letting go of them. He had been angry and sleep-deprived. But how in the hell he’d had sent that text. He never did press the send button.
It dawned him. The phone fell on his face. Skin contact activates the button. His nose was on the way, just perfectly pointed towards the screen and the button. Fuck. He sprang up from his chair, grabbed his jacket, not minding his bag and took long strides towards the door, heading to his car. Not until he was starting it, he remembered he did not know exact address, just the general direction where to go. He took his phone out and dialed Tina’s number. It rang and rang. For a good while until Tina finally answered. If almost yelling ‘What do you want?’ was nowadays called answering the phone.
“Hey Rin-Tin-Tin, get me Nines address, ASAP,” Gavin spoke as he exited the premises. No answer. “Hey Rin-Tin-tin, chop cho - -”
“Don’t you fucking ‘chop chop’ me. Why you even need it? Gonna flip him off one final time?” So much venom in her voice.
“Ok, listen you… TINA, please. I need the address. I have done some shit. I know, don’t lose your mind over the fact I am willing to admit it, but this really is urgent”. Gavin felt slight panic climbing up his throat as the silence continued.
“...Fine. Sending it.”
“Thanks, Rin-Tin-Tin” Gavin said, the call disconnecting from Tina’s end.
Gavin arrived at the apartment complex, one renovated to accommodate the free androids that wanted to stay independent after the revolution. The rubble was long ago cleaned, the streets clean, somewhere bird singing as Gavin rose from his car. He scanned the area, spotting the house he was supposed to head inside to find Nines. As soon as possible. He took the climb of three staircases and found the room at the end of the corridor, knocking lightly. Nines would hear him very well without banging the door down. He knocked again but still no answer. Gavin strained his hearing, spotting light rustling behind the door. Good, Nines had not left yet.
“Hey, I know you are in there, robocop, open the door”. Not a sound, no one still answers the door. Gavin knocks, no BANGS the door with his fist. “Hey, seriously, NInes, open!” he raised his voice. He was about to repeat the action, but a heavy hand landed on his shoulder. Gavin looked over the hand, belonging to a sturdy looking android, possibly one taking care of the security of the house.
“I received a compliment about you, sir. I ask you nicely to remove yourself off the premises this instant” it, she, whatever said.
“Like hell I am going to remove myself. I have pressing issue to talk with the prick on the other side this damn door, so if you’d excuse me...”
Those hands now grabbed Gavin’s forearms, pulling them back slightly.
“Hey! Manhandling a police force here! Let go!” Gavi was making a scene. If it could just make Nines emerge from his flat…
“Please, do let him go. He will be leaving as soon as this ‘pressing matter’ has been discussed”. Nines stood at the doorway, clad in dress shirt like always, two top buttons undone, his Adam’s apple moving while he talked. The security android let Gavin go, face stern and leds blinking yellow as the two connected for quick discussion, most likely about Gavin’s presence and safety of Nines. The android left, leaving Gavin sparing quick glance after it.
“We have nothing to discuss so take and leave”. Gavin was dumb found by all the ice and venom in Nines’ voice. Like the dragon from that ages old show with those icey ‘walkers’ and lots of nudity and all other nasty stuff. Gavin swallowed. A piece of something was riding up his throat.
“Really, Nines. I came all the way here and you expect me to just walk away now?! Jerk”. That comment earned him Nines tracking back his flat and closing the door. ALmost closing, if Gavin had not stuck his foot between the door and the frame.
“Sorry! Ok, hey, grab your coat and let's go for a walk. I can’t do the fancy led shit so… I kinda want to talk to you in more private, ok?” Gavin tried to muster the most pleading look he could, without turning into the puppy eyes. Nines averted his gaze from Gavin and took his jacket, not the DPD one, but dark blue one and stepped outside. They went down and out without a word, Gavin spotting a sign towards the nearby park and signaled with a nod to the direction for NInes to follow.
About ten minutes passed while they walked in silence, Gavin tugging his freezing hands in his jacket pockets. He mustered all his remaining wit.
“So, I… I am fucking sorry, ok? About the text. You know, I wasn’t even supposed to send that to you at all really. I vent to the text message and then delete the shit for good, from the phone and my mind, ok?! A little mishap...”
“It does not change the fact you thought all of those things about me, MR. REED”, Nines cut him off. Cold chill ran up Gavin’s spine. They had gotten to the first name basis, Nines calling him REED was like and insult, salt to the wound.
“I will start work early in the morning tomorrow, I have still some things to organize before moving closer to the precinct. Goodbye, MR. REED”.
The words stuck in Gavin’s throat, not coming out, leaving him open his mouth like a fish on land. Nines gave him few seconds to gather himself, but he was too slow and Nines turned on his heels and marched away, back towards the house. Gavin just stared. He fucking tried his best. He really did. The piece was back in his throat. The prickling sensation in his eyes mocked him for his failure to apologise properly, how he felt about the situation.
“I so fucki… I am so sorry...” he managed. To empty spot before him.
Gavin nurses his cup of coffee between his hands, standing alone in the break room. Usually either Chris or Tina or both keeping him company, but both of them were now ignoring and avoiding him the best they could. He watched the bustle in the office go on on the other side of the glass wall, someone coming in once in awhile, quickly taking what they needed and left, leaving Gavin there all by himself. He glanced toward his desk, noticing someone approaching the new guy, leaning in and saying something, making the new guy gather his stuff, all of it, logging out of the terminal and leaving after the other officer. Great. No one talked to him, avoided him all the time and now his “deskmate” was evicted from his close presence. Social isolation at it’s best.
*
Gavin’s break ends and he drags himself back to his desk, trying to ignore the heavy atmosphere and the angry stares he knows he receives behind his back. He tries to get something done before the whole day is over, the guilt pressing heavy in his chest. He did his best, he did what was right, at least this one time. And the end of his shift feels like lasting longer and longer, finally ending his suffering. He gathers his jacket and slings his bag over his shoulder and prepares to leave his desk, watching as Tina and Chris exit the premises before him, not waiting. He bites the insides of his cheek to stop sighting, stopping his breathing for a moment to gather the last ounces of self control he has left and leaves with quick strides. Outside he heads toward the cars and steps aside as Tina drives off past him, not looking or waving to him. He reaches his car and steps in, starts the motor and heads home.
Tossing, turning, the same old shit as always. The alarm clock wakes him from the stupor, headache creeping in like an old friend. Another day, another bullshit day ahead. Gavin gathers himself, gets to the bathroom to make himself little more presentable, pulls his regular clothes on and heads to the kitchen. Nothing in the fridge invites him to eat it, none of the fruits on the island entice him enough to grab one to-go. No breakfast then. Nothing new to him. He can go a few more hours without eating anything. The coffee maker is too much for his exhausted mind to work. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and makes his way to the door, grabs his jacket, keys and patch and is off to work. He is fine without talking to anyone for another day perhaps. Maybe.
The road to work seems to end faster than usual, his heart sinking lower and lower, the piece of something rising up his throat. He parks his car on his spot, gets off and heads inside. The office is filling with the morning shifts, last of the night shifts leaving for home. None of them look at Gavin, acknowledge his presence, like he was just foul batch of air. Nothing new to Gavin, just old wounds slowly ripping open little by little. He sits down in his chair, staring at the terminal as it opens, eyes focused only to it.
Not long after he started to go through the needed files, the office seems to get louder, Gavin trying his best to block the noises, bowing his head down to concentrate. It quiets down soon, but Gavin can just stare his hands idle on his keyboard. Something moves on the edge of his vision, but he does not bother to look up. Some poor soul just got too close. He can feel eyes on him again, shivers running up his spine. Gavin fights against the tremble he felt moving down his arms towards his fingertips, the cause of all this misery. Could they just stop glaring daggers at his back already…?
Something nudges his forearm and he only dares to glance the object set against it: a cup of coffee with drop of milk. (Hopefully little sugar too.) Something white moves past his terminal, slight rustling of clothes next to him, at the desk conjoined with his. He dares himself to look up from his hunched position, meeting the cool greys over the small dividing board. He could just break then and there, but he wont. He just closes his eyes, takes deep breath and takes the cup in his hands, tasting it. Already stirred, light tang of sugar on his tongue. He doesn’t feel the eyes on his back anymore. The heaviness of the air is leaving, making it easier to breathe.