Chapter Text
Connor was all Markus had left. Kara, Alice, and Luther managed to successfully escape across the border to Canada. Kara had already sent three letters, updating him of their new life together. Markus was currently reading the latest one.
Good evening, Markus. I see things are still going well for you in Detroit.
This line will always be present in my letters: I thank you, Markus.
Because of your peaceful protests, we secured our freedom as well.
This correspondence was to inform you that I found some familiar faces.
You’ve never met them, but… I am truly happy to see them again.
We’re making plans to move in together.
Markus stopped reading there, saving the message and pushing it aside. He pulled up one of the images attached, lifting his left hand to stare at the holographic display. Whether it was the human that helped them escape, Rose, or her brother—maybe even another android—someone had to have taken the image of the deviant group. Another thought easily pushed aside.
Kara was right—he hadn’t met any of her growing group, but he knew all their models. The TR400 had been introduced in previous letters, and stood behind Kara and Alice, arms wrapped protectively around both. A small amount of space separated them from the other group. Two EM400s bracketed a WR600, grins wide enough for the expressionless android. The WR looked away from the camera, but Markus could see the damage done to its hands, one being held by each EM400. He zoomed in and saw that the WR600 reciprocated the gesture, squeezing back just as tightly.
Markus clenched his hand into a fist, the image dissipating. Head bowed, he brought both arms up to curl his hands around the back of it. He’d brought so much happiness to others, losing his own in the process. Such was the burden of being the appointed leader of an android revolution. If he could go back in time and change his choices, would the outcome be any different?
Markus gritted his teeth, a choked off sound of frustration still escaping. “I’m sorry…! I wasn’t strong enough.”
xxx
Connor was finishing up his report when he received a new mail notification.
Hank's eyes were drawn to the slow, swirling yellow of Connor's LED. Before he could ask, it blinked back to blue, and the android became more relaxed. He was still going to question it. "You okay, Connor?"
The dark head tilted upward, round brown eyes focusing on the Lieutenant. "I'm fine, Hank. Why do you ask?"
"Your thing..." Hank tapped the right side of his temple.
Connor's stoic mask broke as he smiled widely. "Oh. That was Kara. She sent me a new letter. I've set it aside to read later since I have work to do. Most of the human officers here despise filing reports, yourself included," Hank grunted, dropping his eyes back to his terminal, where no work was being done, "But I find them rather enjoyable." Connor cocked his head sideways, a pout playing at his lips. "Maybe because I was made to do them. And now it's less stressful because I don't have the added fear of being decommissioned for my failure."
Hank's eyes narrowed in a glare, directed not at his tablet, but at the memory that resurfaced. Connor had told him all about Cyberlife's "Amanda" interface. In return, he shared his thoughts on the matter. "I would've deviated out of spite." He barely listened to Fowler, no way he would listen to some program in his head.
"Wanna do mine, too?" the lieutenant joked.
"Of course," came the response not a second later.
Hank glanced at the android across from him, eyebrows raised in surprise. He never expected Connor to agree. Usually his partner chastised him for slacking off.
"If you'll take care of mine tomorrow."
Tomorrow. Oh. Connor attended the android meetings Markus held once or twice a month. He used to visit more often, but Fowler started cracking down on his absences. "Yeah, sure. Whatever. Tell Markus I said hello."
"Will do, Lieutenant."
Hank's terminal lit up from its sleep state, Connor obviously accessing his files. He looked down at Connor's desk to see the android's pure white fingers pressing against the digital keyboard. Hank was more enthralled now by the android body beneath the synthetic skin than he had been months ago. He shook his head with a small smile, letting his partner work.
Nothing short of another revolution would distract Connor now.
—
"Time to go home."
Connor blinked rapidly, tilting his head. The lieutenant’s hand landed on his head and Hank grinned as he ruffled the perfectly kept hair. "Get up. Fowler's kicking us out early 'cause there's too much peace in Detroit right now."
"That's not quite true," Connor argued. "We still have reckless endangerment charges and other misdemeanors. And of course, Red Ice—"
"Chris and Tina take care of those. We got enough androids to help 'em out. Reed’s in charge of Red Ice cases. Let's go. " Another playful pat to Connor's head and Hank walked away. He wandered off to the break room, obviously to wait for his partner.
Connor took several moments to save and close all his files before locking his terminal for the evening. He stood from his chair, adjusted his clothes, and followed the same path Hank did. The lieutenant had a paper cup in his hand upon his arrival—a quick scan told the android it wasn't coffee—and his eyes glued on the television.
Hank tore his eyes from the television and let his gaze fall on Connor. He set the cup down onto the counter, no longer interested in it, and walked out of the break room. Hank was immediately flanked by the android. "What's fer dinner?" he questioned as they made their way out of the building.
"Tofu." Connor had Hank on a strict diet that had yet to be properly followed save for their time spent at home.
"Hell no," Hank snarled.
Connor smiled at the lieutenant. They were having tofu and that was final. Or a vegetable lasagna. That sounded better. Maybe Connor would consider adding meat to one of the layers if the lieutenant decided to play nice.
"You look creepy," Hank muttered from beside him, fishing his keys out of his pocket. The car was within sight.
Automatically, Connor's hand rose, fingers ghosting across his lips. They were stretched wide in a smile. Too wide for the gesture to seem human or "natural", but Connor was nothing if not happy. "I was thinking about you, Lieutenant."
Hank choked on his next breath. "Jesus, Connor. Don't say shit like that in public."
"We are eight feet from the car, and no one is within hearing distance. I do believe we have some privacy, Lieutenant." Connor turned to reassure the lieutenant but found himself face to face with Hank. His guard was rarely high around this human, allowing Hank to get away with certain things. Like the kiss he stole from Connor as he crossed the android’s path. “Lieutenant! You can’t chastise me about privacy and then do something like that.” Connor licked his lips, tasting the tea from earlier, before giving chase.
Hank twirled the keys around his finger, dancing away from the android and around to the opposite side of the car. Connor glared over the roof at him, but with nothing but love in his eyes, he looked like a puppy to Hank. Even Sumo looked at him with more contempt than the android. With a soft chuckle, Hank unlocked the vehicle and climbed in.
“I was going to be nice, Lieutenant,” Connor grumbled as he climbed into the passenger’s side. “I was going to make you a meat lasagna, but now you’re definitely getting tofu, with quinoa and black beans.”
“Connor, what the fuck!? No way!”
Connor snapped his seatbelt into place and stared straight ahead through the windshield. He remained silent, his hands resting atop his knees.
“It was a fuckin’ kiss,” Hank muttered beside him, angrily twisting the key in the ignition. The engine sputtered before roaring to life. “Thought you’d be happy. I don’t want tofu…”
Connor’s lips twitched, but he kept the smile at bay.
xxx
Hank shuffled out into the living room with two glasses and a half-empty bottle of whiskey. He set both down atop the table before flopping onto the sofa. Sumo lifted his head with a curious huff, only to yawn after finding his owner to be the source of the commotion. Hank ignored the dog as he searched for the remote. He checked between the cushions, even checked beneath the couch. “Connor!”
“Yes, Hank?”
“I think Sumo hid the remote again.” Another soft and proud “woof” from the dog proved he was right and Hank shook his head. “Annoying mutt. If you buried it in the yard, I swear…” Not long after he made the empty threat, the television blinked to life. The channels changed every few seconds before something caught Hank’s eye. “Stop. Thanks.”
“No problem. I’ll be there shortly.” Despite the constant orders and pleas from Hank, Connor still chose to do the housekeeping. He argued that it wasn’t in his original programming and was a nice change to the normal detective parameters. He packed up the last of the lasagna (he was a pushover when it came to Hank), made sure not a speck of dust was left in the kitchen, and finally joined Hank in the living room.
Connor tucked himself into the opposite arm of the sofa, folding his legs beneath himself. Hank noticed the soft yellow out of the corner of his eye and recalled that Kara had sent a letter. He gave the television show his attention again, leaving the android to his privacy.
Hello, Connor. How is deviancy treating you?
I’ve already shared the news with Markus,
but you’re more familiar with my growing family than he is.
Connor crawled the short distance across the cushions to Hank, shoving his left hand inches from the human’s face. “Hank! Ralph… The WR600 from the squat! He’s still alive. He’s safe, with Kara. That thought makes me feel… happy.”
Eyes wide, Hank grabbed Connor’s wrist, holding the other’s arm steady. He squinted at the image, realization dawning in his eyes. “Oh yeah. I remember him. How the hell did he make it across the border looking like that? Canada is android-free.”
“I’ll bring that question up with Markus tomorrow.” Connor sat back on his legs, slipping his arm from Hank’s grip. He smiled at the display on the palm of his hand. Kara looked so happy. He didn’t know the EM400s’ names, but Kara trusted them enough to stand beside her. He resumed reading the mail, his smile growing wider. Their name was Jerry.
Ralph apologizes for being harsh with you.
He said he’ll do it again if he must.
The Jerrys say they won’t let him.
Small talk.
This letter is an invitation.
Connor, I cordially invite you to visit us
when we move into our new home together.
Please, bring the Lieutenant. He saved our lives as well.
Connor saved the letter after he’d finished reading, focusing his gaze on Hank’s profile.
Even without Sumo’s assistance, he knew Hank was no longer watching the television. The St. Bernard found the moving pictures far more interesting than his owner. He stood on two legs, tail wagging as he followed along. The dog’s size made it impossible for him not to block the television, but Hank said nothing. Connor smiled and sidled closer to the sofa’s other occupant. He kept his left hand close to his synthetic heart and leaned his head against Hank’s shoulder. “Sumo,” he called out. “Down, boy.”
“Maybe go fetch the remote you hid,” Hank muttered, annoyance audible in his voice.
Sumo huffed out a soft bark and lowered himself back onto all fours. Instead of completing his second task, he made his way over to the couch. Sumo ignored his human’s threat of “don’t you dare” and climbed up to join the pair. He found the smaller of the two to be more comfortable—his body was always warm—and flopped right on top of him
Connor ignored Hank’s muttering in favor of draping his left arm over Sumo’s large frame. His right hand scratched idly behind the St. Bernard’s ear and under his chin, alternating to keep the dog content. As the television mindlessly droned on—no one had any more interest for its shows, Hank soon leaned into Connor’s side. Despite being the smallest in their small group, he was still the sturdiest. Connor wanted Hank to rely on him. If this was the only way to make it happen, then so be it.
Recalling Kara’s closing statements, Connor smiled to himself. ‘He saved mine, too, Kara.’
Connor was adept at reading individuals, but unaware of the "emotion" it reflected in androids. Of course, he was still learning. Jericho’s leader just happened to be the biggest book he was unable to finish reading.
Markus was all smiles and polite, informative responses. Sometimes, when he assumed he was alone with his thoughts, Connor saw those mismatched eyes become unfocused and distant. It never lasted longer than a few moments, but it always left Connor wondering what thoughts were going through that brilliant mind.
The android detective approached his colleague and fellow freedom fighter at the end of the meeting. Markus’ face lit up in a bright smile and Connor felt his Thirium pump stutter. His artificial heart belonged to Hank, but Markus drew another emotion from him; one he could not pinpoint. He felt cold. It was easy to return the gesture, and Connor tucked his hands behind his back to keep from fidgeting with his quarter.
“Connor. Thank you for joining us today. How are things going down at the station?”
"Slowly," Connor replied. "With almost no human civilians, there is not much to do other than file noise complaints. Other than the deviants I chased, androids have yet to display acts of violence against each other." Markus' smile dimmed, and Connor experienced that unnatural ache again.
"I never meant to chase away half of Detroit's population and replace them with androids," Markus joked, the punchline falling short.
Intentional or not, that was the outcome they were now dealing with. Making another attempt at being civil, Connor brought up Kara's new letter. That empty, faraway look returned to the mismatched eyes. "I'm happy for her. I would offer my assistance, but I feel it's imperative that I stay here." Here, being the United States. "There might also be complications if I attempt to cross the border. Temperature checks have been ceased, but my face is now easily recognizable."
Connor experienced the same problem, having marched thousands upon thousands of androids through Detroit's streets while being broadcasted across the states. He offered the other a faint smile. "That answers a question I had from Hank."
Markus arched an eyebrow, silently requesting that Connor continue in explanation.
"The Lieutenant was curious about how Ralph crossed the border. The WR600 from Kara’s letter," Connor added to clarify. "With temperature checks on hold, and his LED removed, if you add gloves and a well-placed scarf, no one would bat an eye." He'd sent a reply to Kara that night, inquiring about Ralph's travels under the guise of Hank's curiousity. There was, however, the missing algorithm of his damaged optical component. Had he worn an eyepatch?
"Connor," Markus interrupted his pre-constructing thoughts. "Do you have to return to the station?"
Connor smiled, light and carefree. "I talked the Lieutenant into taking on my share of work so I could be here today. I can go back to work, but I can also stay if you need me." Being this close to the other RK model, Connor saw the minute changes anyone else would have missed. Markus's shoulders sagged in relief, in Connor's eyes. From a human's perspective, they probably barely twitched. The heterochromic gaze brightened, eyes shining bright to match a wide smile. Markus appeared more "alive" now than when he'd stood on the stage to address every android present.
"I have several documents at the house. I would like a second opinion on the subject matter." Markus slowly moved around Connor, never breaking eye contact even as he walked backwards toward the front of the remodeled church. "Will you accompany me?"
"Of course," Connor replied without hesitation. Two heads were always better than one, and he liked to believe he was well-versed in the political standpoint of the law.
"Thank you, Connor." More tension fled the android's body. "I called a cab and it should be here shortly." Markus finally turned his back on him and Connor followed quietly as they left the building.
xxx
The sun hadn't yet started to set, but it was well into the afternoon when Markus brought their private meeting to an end. A conclusion was still a thing of the future, but they were closer now. Rather than immediately escort his guest to the front door, Markus decided a tour was in order. The former deviant hunter was the first person to cross its threshold other than himself.
Markus owned the three-story building. The bottom floor was still abandoned, but he fixed up and repurposed the remaining two. He made the second floor his office and the studio apartment at the top was for other faux-human necessities. On stressful nights, he found the brightly lit landscape of Detroit to be soothing. Knowing that his people were free gave him a sense of peace. Markus currently lead his guest up the stairs to the top level.
Connor broke away immediately, making for the floor-to-ceiling windows. He pressed a hand lightly against the glass. He had to stop himself from scanning for abnormalities as far as his eyes could see. Instead, Connor enjoyed the view. He imagined it would look even better when darkness rolled in. He briefly wondered if it would look like the night view from the bridge. That thought led to another, and Connor was filing away a note to ask Hank if they could return and properly enjoy an evening there.
The android detective turned around, ready to sing praises about the location, but found the words lodged in his throat. He blinked once, twice, three times; his LED spun at a steady yellow. Markus took a step forward, concern written plainly across his face, and their eyes followed his movement. Standing around the deviant leader were the original trio of Jericho. They could be what humans called, a figment of his imagination, but Hank often times told him that he had no imagination. Were they an anomaly in his programming then?
Markus uncrossed his arms after finally reaching the frozen android, hands hesitant to touch, but hovering nearby. “Connor. Is everything alright? Should I contact Lieutenant Anderson?”
Simon’s eyes left Markus’ back and Connor could feel the iridescent gaze pinning him in place. “No,” he choked out, answering both questions.
—
Connor never thought he would ever cast a shadow in Cyberlife again. He escaped Markus fretting over him, all while trying to ignore his ghosts, and managed to snag the first cab on the curb. Once inside, he input his destination, sitting stiff and tense the whole ride there. The company still fought against the android uprising, but not as adamantly these months. Only certain floors were accessible to the androids that remained as technicians. They found sympathizers in some of the human guards and had their own security on those floors.
Connor had yet to see, hear, or even sense the Amanda interface, but was always on guard when he checked into the Zen Garden. As it was his mind palace, he reprogrammed it into something more to his liking. Gone was the rose fence—he would never tend to it. He replaced it with a shooting range. Impractical—his aim was 97% accurate—but calming; he'd noticed the decline in percentage and brushed it off as a "human flaw" that came with deviancy.
As it stood now, Connor felt he needed a full diagnostics check. He was unsure if he pre-constructed the future—something only the late Lucy could do—or reconstructed the past. Neither should be possible, and the thought that he was malfunctioning... scared him.
Lulling himself into stasis made it easier for Connor to ignore the invasive programs meant to help him. So many months he’d gone without being hooked up and suspended on a platform. He ran his own checks and was allowed free use of replacement parts at the police department.
Being in stasis also allowed memories under lock and key to roam more freely. Connor found himself chasing them, and was returned to that night at Jericho. His fingers twitched as he recalled taking Josh’s hands in his own as the android spoke his last words. A warning; Jericho was no more. Having to drag Markus to the opening in the ship’s hull while North was gunned down in the narrow hallway. After they climbed free of the water and had a moment’s time to access the situation, he learned after that Markus sustained his many wounds while trying to help fellow androids escape. The deviant leader himself was on his way to shutting down.
The technicians monitoring the RK800 grew worried as the screens they surveyed showed no errors, but they could all see the android’s stress level steadily climb higher.
The lingering images of the Jericho Three didn’t belong to Markus; they were Connor’s ghosts. Markus lost everything that night, thanks to him, and yet… he still considered Connor a friend. Why do you trust me? Connor’s hand slowly rose, fingers digging into the flesh around his pump. Bright red code began flashing before his eyes, warning him of biocomponent failure and self-destruction.
Those errors also reached the android technicians, who rushed to release him for fear that their tests were the cause. “Connor—”
“’m fine,” Connor whispered hoarsely, carefully removing his nails from his chassis. The small indentations made it difficult for his skin to recover. “I give you permission to temporarily shut me down. It will make things easier.” For all of us.
xxx
When Hank returned home that evening, the house was dark and quiet. That was never a good sign. He turned on a nearby lamp and allowed his eyes to adjust. There was a lump stretched across the couch, covered by a blanket. Sumo had fallen asleep on the floor below said lump, stirring now only because of Hank’s presence.
Whatever was bothering Connor would be revealed soon enough. These moments were rare, but were also necessary for the android to understand what it meant to be “alive”.
Hank made his way through the living room and to the kitchen. He pulled out the container of lasagna, stuck it in the microwave, and leaned against the counter as he waited for it to reheat. His gaze wandered back out to the living room and Hank huffed out a sigh, shoulders slumping. When Connor was ready, Connor would talk.
It took three days before Connor confessed his problems. His work remained impeccable, but at home, he dragged himself around the house, taking Sumo with him. Tonight was no different.
Hank was indulging in some old-fashioned reading when the android walked himself out of the kitchen and into the living room. He sank onto the cushion beside the human, lightly patting his thigh to get the dog’s attention. Hank didn’t lower his book, but he had stopped reading. After Sumo climbed into his lap, Connor slid his arms as far as they could go around the St. Bernard.
“Wanna talk about it, kid?” Hank hummed, closing the book and lowering it into his lap.
It would be so much easier to show Hank, but there have been no records of androids and humans interfacing. He searched the network and found nothing useful. He was going to have to spell it out for the man. “I can’t stop thinking about Markus.”
Hank glanced over the android’s lowered head and into the kitchen, wondering if it was too late to get a drink to go along with this story. With a soft and short sigh, he set the book onto the table and leaned back into the sofa. “What about him? Does he need help with his revolution?”
“Yes, but that’s another thought for another time.” Connor lowered his chin to the soft fur, stopping short of burying his face in it. His LED spun at a steady yellow. “He always looks so sad, and it’s my fault.”
Hank propped his head up with his hand, elbow pressed against the back of the chair. “How so? You freed so many. Hell, you saved my ass a ton of times. I’m grateful, and he should be, too.”
Connor’s lips twitched, but he couldn’t bring himself to smile. Markus was far from happy, and the only one to blame was the android sent by Cyberlife six months ago. “I… killed his friends,” he whispered against Sumo’s floppy ear. It twitched under his breath, the dog craning its neck to better see him.
“Bull!” Hank snarled, leaning as far into Connor’s personal space as the St. Bernard buffer would allow. “You never once killed an android—anybody for that matter!”
“My programming glitches and I wish I could remove every memory that makes me feel this way, but I can’t. They were all essential to my growth and deviancy.” Connor sank deeper into the darkest recesses of his mind palace. Was this the work of Amanda? Would she finally get her wish and see him decommissioned?
"Shit.” Hank screwed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. This was a feeling he knew all too well. “That's guilt, son," he sighed.
"Guilt," Connor repeated softly. It was his actions that sunk the ship only he and Markus were able to jump from that night. His pump stuttered, causing his lungs to do the same. His fingers twitched, holding tighter to the long fur, and Sumo let out a low whine, turning his head in a failed attempt to comfort the one holding him. "Hank. It hurts."
"Jesus." Hank combed his fingers through his unruly hair before dropping his arm along the back of the couch. Only in the privacy of their home could they open up to each other like this. "C'mere."
"I would have to let go of Sumo," Connor mumbled, his voice small, yet still argumentative.
Hank would swear he heard static in the android's words. "Damnit, Connor. I'm trying to give you a fuckin' hug."
Connor finally tore his gaze away from the opposite wall to the man seated beside him. Hank's glare was ever-present, but there was a softness in his eyes that called out to him. He whispered to the dog in his lap and Sumo begrudgingly abandoned his place of comfort to find a new one. Connor only had to lean close enough for the lieutenant to reach him before he was pulled against a broad chest.
With a lingering protocol of "don't you dare scan me anymore", Connor was forced to inhale and use the sensors provided to him. Hank would always smell of whiskey, but he drank less, and only in recreation. There was also a hint of the dinner prepared by the man's live-in android.
Hank said nothing. He had no words of comfort, as he suffered daily with guilt of his own. He had no idea how long their moment of silence lasted. Connor remained stiff in his arms, reminding Hank of their earlier days together. A machine. Connor was more than that, now. He experienced empathy and was currently suffering from guilt. He was more human than most.
“Hank,” Connor started, his voice slow and steady. He made a futile attempt to curl into the lieutenant’s lap. “I’ve been thinking of a way to make Markus happy.”
Hank hummed, encouraging him to continue.
“The PL600 we found at the Straford Tower meant a lot to Markus. I would like to rescue him from the clutches of the FBI.”
No matter how cute Connor made it sound—"We can't go around stealing police evidence."
Connor eased himself into an upright position and sat back on his thighs, which were framed by Hank's. "Technically—"
“Connor,” Hank groaned in warning.
"—this so-called evidence belongs to Cyberlife. Kamski is now in charge of Cyberlife, though only in name." The original creator of the Android populous refused to set foot into the towering building ever again. "Dare I say it—I think he likes me. If I tell him that PL600 is an important part of the revolution—"
“Connor, no!” The brown eyes across from him widened before narrowing into a look no android should ever be capable of making. Hank almost regrets raising his voice.
Connor looked devastated, but still willing to fight anyone standing in his way. “Lieutenant. If I told you I wanted to play Russian Roulette, would that help you understand just what I’m feeling? I went to Cyberlife a few days ago to do a complete scan because I thought my systems were failing. While I was there, my stress levels were high enough that self-destruction became a possibility. I’ve started hallucinating, Hank. This should not be a feature I’m equipped with.” The bite left Connor’s voice, and his rigid frame sagged. He folded his hands in his lap, avoiding Hank’s horrified stare to study his fingers as he wrung them together. “Maybe I’m meant to correct at least one of my mistakes.”
Hank never thought he would hear Connor reference Russian Roulette while talking about himself. He locked his arms around the slender frame and held tight. “I’m sorry,” he rumbled, the apology coming from deep within. The words were easy to utter, but it took strength to mean it. Hank meant it. He didn’t want Connor to feel this way again. He didn’t want to come back home to an empty house. He’d found loopholes in the laws he swore to uphold before, what was one more? “Do you have a plan?”
“No,” Connor admits in a soft whisper, letting his forehead fall against the lieutenant’s shoulder. “Nothing concrete. That’s why I brought the idea to your attention.”
“Okay.” Hank inhaled and exhaled deeply, chest rising and falling with Connor resting against it. “We’re obviously stealing from the FBI. How’re we gonna get away with it? Is your guy gonna be in good shape to run if we have to?”
“Dunno…”
Not the response Hank expected from a state of the art machine. But then, Connor was no longer just a machine, was he? He was probably tired, now that his emotional weight had been lifted. He slid one hand upward, tangling his fingers in the soft, tawny locks and making them unruly. Connor hummed contently against his clavicle.
“Can’t sleep here, Connor,” Hank reminded him, his fingers still combing through Connor’s hair. “Not good for my back. You were the one that fussed about it.”
With heavy limbs, Connor pushed himself away from the lieutenant, biting back a whine when Hank’s hand fell away. He gave a quick scan for Sumo before swinging his legs around and stepping off the couch. He swayed a little, causing Hank to shoot up and catch him, hands securely wrapped around his waist. Connor smiled, the curl to his lips almost reminiscent of a drunk’s. “This reminds me of that night I found you drunk, Lieutenant.”
Hank’s lips pressed into a thin line. There were moments in life he tried not to remember, but would never truly forget. He had come so close to joining Cole during that week. Androids, marching through the streets of Detroit, are what saved him. Hank wrapped Connor’s arm around his neck, holding it lightly by the wrist, and walked them both down the hallway.
Connor pulled himself free once they entered the bedroom, climbing onto the bed and crawling over to his designated side. “G’night, Hank,” was the last thing he mumbled before his LED bathed the room in an orange glow before settling back down into a soft blue. Almost as an afterthought, the android rolled over, hiding the glow against his pillow.
Hank scoffed softly as he closed the door to the room; they didn’t need Sumo’s company tonight, only sleep.