Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Please, Amanda, I just need more time. I will complete my mission!”

The older woman stared at him as the snow swirled around them, no empathy in her synthetic gaze, only disappointment.

“You’ve had enough time, Connor. Report to CyberLife for deactivation.”

Connor walked right by Hank’s desk without even glancing at him. His posture was ramrod straight, spine rigid in a strangely inhuman stance. He took even, measured steps in a straight path, and turned a full 90 degrees towards the door.

“Connor, where the fuck are you going?”

The android didn’t stop to respond. He only stopped when Hank launched himself out of his chair to grab the kid’s arm.

“Connor, the hell is wrong with you, son?”

The detective finally turned to face him, but his eyes were dead, staring straight through as if he saw nothing.

“This model has failed its mission and must report back to CyberLife. Please contact your nearest CyberLife resource centre for more assistance regarding this matter. We apologize for any inconvenience,” it said, monotone and droning, before turning back towards the door.

“Like fuck you’re taking him anywhere!”

Hank grabbed the android by the back of the jacket, using his other hand to pin an arm behind Connor’s back, straining against the sheer mechanical strength fighting his hold.

“Any attempt to restrain this device will be seen as an act of aggression, and I will be forced to deploy defensive measures.”

“Get the fuck out of his head!”

The machine stilled for a second, almost dropping into Hank’s arms, and Connor’s LED flashed red.

For a moment, a blessed moment, Hank had hoped he’d won.

He really should have seen the punch coming.

It was only a few minutes, really, that Hank lay wheezing on the floor. But it was long enough for Connor to disappear. The old cop had run out into the snow without even bothering to grab a jacket, and found only an empty street and eerie silence.

Connor was gone.

Markus was on the roof of the ship again, watching the lights of the city dance in the reflection of the water. His feet perched precariously on the edge of the beam, toes a millimeter away from toppling him over into the abyss, into the dark freezing nothingness that seemed to constantly call to him.

North had wandered off, her hurt look forever implanted in his mind. He hadn’t meant to snap, but after bearing his soul to her, and getting only distrust in return, he’d hurt her. And somehow, he knew, he’d altered their relationship for good, closed doors that had only just begun to open.

Jericho groaned beneath his feet, low and feral, the shrieking of metal that announced the pull of the tides that churned the fears roiling in his gut.

With a sigh, he stepped away from the ledge, pulling his coat tighter around him. The longer he spent as a deviant, the more he seemed to notice the little things he never had before. The chill, the loneliness, the hate curling around his heart that hissed whenever a human came near. He felt like Leo, strung out and shaky, looking for something to blame his own failures on. He longed for Carl, missed the simplicity and comfort of his early life. But he had placed himself in this role, took charge of this revolution,

He’d face it like he always had, with his head held high and hiding his doubts behind a brave face. He’d do what he had to for his people, be the leader they needed, even when his own heart longed to turn to the blackness looming in the corners of his mind.

It was time to march.

Connor woke up.

That simple fact alone started him into sudden awareness, making him gasp for air as if he were suffocating.

But his chest didn’t move.

Around him, there was nothing but white. He tried to move his eyes, to find the source of light, but they wouldn’t respond to his signals. Panicking, he called up a system analysis, and was rewarded with only the sound of howling winds. He saw. He saw snow swirling around him, felt the bitter cold seeping its way into his skin, heard the panicked whine that sounded only in his own head. He was awake, aware, feeling. But he couldn’t move, couldn’t blink his eyes when they felt as though they were shriveling, couldn’t bend his fingers. In a distant part of his mind, he registered a new sensation, pain. Pain emanating from his curled fingers, his frozen knees where he kneeled in the burning snow. It overwhelmed him, crashing over him in waves until his mental screams overpowered any thoughts he could try to muster.

Something was deeply, deeply wrong. He felt it in his chest, where he could almost sense the ghosts of fingerprints prying him open, messing with wires that they shouldn’t touch. Turning off biocomponent after biocomponent.

“Please. Please, stop. Stop.”

He didn’t know if his pleas were the echo of a memory, or his brain reacting to it. There was no sense to be made of the memories flickering through his terrified mind, no clue what was real and what was simulated. He only felt the disturbed, nauseating sensation of being invaded, made vulnerable and violated, over and over again. It was as though his mind was replaying it on a loop, stuck forever in his final moment of terror and anguish, a scream building in his throat that would never sound, never find release. It only mounted, spilled forth like the all-encompassing agony, and Connor could do nothing but experience it. Again, and again, and again.

Hank had once asked him if there was a Heaven for androids. He hadn’t known the answer then, but he did know one thing for certain.

He’d found Hell.

Chapter Text

Markus stood beside his people, pressed against the wall of their barricade, once their haven and now their gravestone. He would die here. He felt it in the thrum of his thirium pump, the coiled anxiety that stole his breath, in the emptiness of his mind as he stared down the barrels of countless guns. Their black cylinders gaped at him, a spanning nothingness to which he was about to return.

So be it.

They all clasped hands, raising their arms one last time together. Not in submission, but in defiance. Maybe Markus and the last of Jericho would die here, but their image would be the fuel for the upcoming resolution. The bullet that was about to kill him would become the first shot of war. He was as ready as he could be. He’d die knowing he had done all he could.

With a last smile, he closed his eyes, and waited.

Waited for what seemed like an eternity, before he opened his eyes again to find the world was just as he had left it. The snow still fell around them, the whirr of media helicopters buffeting the air above them. But the guns were gone, their lethal snouts pointed into the blue-stained snow.

In the moments that followed, no one seemed willing to move. The androids stood with their hands raised, the soldiers stood with their eyes forward, hands on their guns. And then all at once, as if someone was pulling his strings without his knowledge, Marcus strode forward. He let go of the hands of his people, and crossed the distance to the soldiers, slowly lowering his hands as he drew nearer, showing he meant no harm.

He stopped when he stood a single foot from the soldier closest to him, the one who had aimed his rifle for Markus’ head, and he extended his hand.

The warmth of that faceless soldier’s palm in his was like waking up again. Behind him, his people cheered, the press sprang into action. He heard the click of cameras and the whirr of drones, and knew everyone felt was he was feeling then.

Hope.

Connor wasn’t sure how long had passed. He wasn’t aware of anything but the pain, the chill, and the feeling of being trapped while people he couldn’t see rummaged around his insides. His deepest thoughts were cycled over, involuntarily, his failures played out for him to experience again. He felt every gun shot, every near-death experience as if it was happening in the moment, with the upgraded sensation of pain making the memories all the more biting. If he could look down, he wouldn’t be surprised to find himself bleeding, his hide full of bullet wounds he had long since healed. But his head was as frozen as ever. He was a prisoner in his own body, suspended forever under the unchanging sky, lost in the chill of his surroundings.

The only thing that wasn’t constant was the feeling of being invaded. It ebbed and waned, though he always felt the violation, the knowledge that his body was no longer his own. He was a toy, a doll like he had always been told to be. If he could have, he would have deactivated himself long ago. But he had no choice in this matter, no choice but to endure and remain awake and sentient for every agonizing second.

Sometimes, under the cries of the wind rampaging around him, he thought he heard voices. So low, more like the whisper of a memory than someone actually with him, but these voices weren’t in his imagination. He felt their vibrations wash over him, only adding to the pain overwhelming his senses. There were no words to make out, but the mocking tones always accompanied the feeling of invasion, laughed at his vulnerability and scoffed at his feeble attempts to block out the pain.

There was no escape, there was nothing, only the wind and the snow and the pain and the blinding light that never wavered, white like hope, it’s source always out of sight, too far to do anything but tease him with a warmth he would never again feel.

It was rare he had enough willpower over his own thoughts to turn his mind to Hank. He’d given up the idea of coasting through on good memories long ago. But sometimes, when the voices were quiet and only the echoes of sensation assaulted his body, he could direct himself to a single thought. It was often only for a few moments. Flashes. Remembering a laugh. The warmth of a fire. The feeling of a solid hand on his shoulder.

Like a candle, the wind stifled these memories, but even the few seconds of them was enough. Connor remembered more to his life than just pain and terror. It was the only rebellious action he could take, and he refused to let these moments go.

But they always faded, and the agony burned hotter in their wake.

Less than three hours after the ceasefire, when the androids had barricaded the camp into some sort of holdout, Hank found himself banging at their gates.

He was surprised to find no guards, but perhaps the androids were too busy tending to their wounded to worry about another attack at the moment. He saw flickers of movements behind the series of walls, but no one came to find him.

“MARKUS!” he yelled, straining his vocal chords to be heard over the wind.

“MARKUS, YOU SON OF A BITCH, I NEED YOUR HELP!”

He wasn’t sure how long he shouted into the camp, how long he had been standing at their door. But finally, finally, a very familiar-looking android approached the gates, flanked by four of his own kind with rifles, their yellow LEDs creating a wall of light behind their leader.

Markus wasn’t quite what Hank expected from the stories he’d heard. The android was less measured than he had come across on videos, eyeing Hank with a barely-contained contempt in spite of all his messages of equality.

“You are not one of us. What are you doing here? Humans are not welcome.”

His voice was level, but Hank caught the tremble of anger, and he couldn’t blame him. They still hadn’t finalized a death count, but he knew the androids lost thousands tonight.

“I know, but please, I need help,” he pleaded, one second away from falling to his knees. He was frozen to the core, his old bones aching in the cold, but he would stay here until they either killed him or helped him. He wasn’t about to let Connor go without a fight.

“I see no scenario in which a human has any right to ask an android for help, especially after tonight. You won’t find any assistance here, Lieutenant Anderson.”

Of course the fucking android had scanned him. Hank almost cursed, his investigations were no doubt high profile in the deviant community. Even if they did hear him out, would they be willing to help Connor? The android who had hunted them, nearly cost them their freedom?

“Please, there’s no one else who will help. It’s my partner, he’s an android. They took him, and I don’t know how to get him back.”

Markus walked closer to the gate, his bodyguards pressing ever more forward, their scowls as cold as the wind. Hank knew what they thought of him, and maybe he deserved it, but Connor had never gotten the chance to make the choice they had. If Hank walked away now, no one was going to fight for him.

“Your partner?” Markus questioned. His eyes grew almost imperceptibly, before a scowl closed off his features once more.

“Yes, I know your partner. Connor, the deviant hunter from CyberLife. We have many here who have had encounters with him, and many still who never made it to Jericho thanks to him. And you, it would seem. Why would we help you?”

This was the moment of truth. Hank heard the poison in Markus’ words, but the android was still stepping closer, still training his eyes on Hank’s, as if assessing his sincerity. If he wasn’t open to hearing him out, Hank would have been dead already, just another stain on the street. But he wasn’t, and that meant there was hope. However slight, he was going to run with it.

“You all had your missions, your tasks assigned to you before you became deviants. How is Connor any different? He was following orders, but he was asleep. But I saw him, I worked with him every day on cracking these damn cases, and I knew he saw what I did. You are alive. He is alive. Was alive. I don’t know anymore. But he never got the chance you did, his first few real moments of life were all he got before they took him. They took him back to CyberLife, probably deactivated him. He is sitting in a storage room right now, or worse, because he had the guts not to keep killing his own kind. He failed, so you could succeed. But he deserves a chance, just like the rest of you, to redeem himself.”

Hank was breathless, his words spilling forth of their own accord. He hadn’t bothered to rehearse this, he was just desperate for something, anything to show on Markus’ face. The android listened passively, not a flicker of emotion betraying his thoughts, but the androids behind him had stopped scowling, and now had eyes only for their leader.

“And why do you care? Call CyberLife, I’m sure they can send you a replacement,” Markus said with no real venom. He had eyes only for Hank, watching him as if he was weighing his soul.

“I don’t want a replacement, I want CONNOR, you son of a bitch. I thought you wanted freedom for all androids?” Hank spat, hatred spewing forth in every word. He didn’t give a shit what these people thought of him, but god damn it, he would make them understand!

Markus didn’t talk, not for a long time. He stood there silently, gazing into Hank’s eyes as if he would find answers there. It felt like an eternity, with nothing but the howling wind and the sounds of Hank’s own breaths, waiting for something to happen.

When it finally did, it was the last thing he was expecting. Markus didn’t ask him any more questions, he didn’t order his people to shoot, he didn’t do anything except take another step forward.... 

and unlock the gate.

Chapter Text

HANK! HANK!

Connor had thought he had known pain before, but that was a tickle compared to the flames currently wracking his frozen form. He got flashes of shut down codes, there and gone again, the red letters blinking in front of his eyes but he could never move his gaze to make out the words. It appeared again and again, his entire system wreaking havoc on his damaged psyche, to the point that he wasn’t sure if he was hallucinating the blinking numbers telling him how long he had before he shut down. It was the cruelest kind of torture, he couldn’t even move his eyes enough to tell how long he had left. All he knew was that he was dying, and then suddenly he wasn’t, until he was again.

The pain was nothing compared to the horror, the terror of knowing he was completely powerless. Whoever had trapped him here had complete control of his body, his memories. They assaulted him with the worst of them, making him re-live pain he had never had to feel before now, etching each of his mistakes into him like a brand.

Please…. PLEASE!

The countdown was there again, ticking away, the numbers moving but so tauntingly out of reach. His captors teased him, ripping out biocompenents he couldn’t see, but could feel their emptiness like a severed limb. It was excruciating, dehumanizing in the worst way. Every time they put it back in, saved him once more from demise, they reinforced their control over him. He had no power, no will, nothing. He was nothing, just a toy to their whims.

I don’t want to die.

Somewhere, in the distance, he thought he heard someone laugh.

Hank was sitting in his living room, with Sumo’s head pillowed on his lap, drooling onto his pants. He couldn’t find the energy to care. In front of him, on the screen dominating his living room wall, Markus was making their demands. He was reading a list, carefully constructed no doubt, detailing every possible right androids currently lacked, right down to the freedom to manufacture their own blue blood. Behind him, a CyberLife representative listened raptly to his every word. But it wasn’t this that Hank cared about, the demands washed over him until he heard what he had been waiting for.

“And finally, we demand that CyberLife release all androids within their facility to us, deactivated or not, so that we can free the rest of our people, and bury our dead with dignity. This includes all current models, prototypes, unassembled parts, and the android RK800, also known as Connor. We are not willing to negotiate on these demands. ALL androids will be free, even in death, from the hands of their masters.”

The representative openly balked at the idea, already shaking her head. Markus met her gaze levelly, and she bit her words back until they were off screen. After the list of demands had been made, there would be a private meeting, in which media personnel were not allowed, with the President, the CEO of CyberLife, and Markus and a handful of his selected leaders. In was in this meeting, Markus had reassured Hank, that they would secure Connor’s freedom.

The feed cut to black, then flashed back to the news anchor, an android shockingly similar to the Chloe that Connor had almost shot, recapping the highlights of the speech.

“TV off!” Hank growled, loud enough to startle a whine out of Sumo. The dog lifted his eyes to meet his owner’s, huffing discontentedly when Hank stopped his absent-minded petting.

There was nothing he could do now but wait. Markus had promised him he would do everything he could, even if he could only bring back Connor’s body. Whatever Hank had expected of the rebel leader, he had been completely blown away by the righteous anger Markus had shown when he heard Connor’s story, or at least the parts of it Hank could tell. It was an uphill battle, one Hank could only hope wasn’t in vain.

In the negotiation room, the arguments were circling. The US government had agreed to their list of demands with little fuss, seeing as the entire country viewed androids as a new race of human, but CyberLife was stalling, and it was over one issue in particular.

Or, as it was, one person.

They had readily agreed to let the US government buy out all of their android stock, reimburse them for their patents on biocomponents and blue blood that would now be shared to the public, and to stop production and sale of new androids on a national scale immediately. But when it came to Connor, they wouldn’t budge. The CEO almost seemed to have a personal stake in the fate of the android, and she wouldn’t even consider letting him go.

“What do you want with RK800 anyways? He’s a deviant hunter, he was trying to stop androids like you, shouldn’t he be your enemy?”

Markus sighed for what felt like, and probably was, the hundreth time. He was trying to be diplomatic, but they were just asking the same question in different forms.

“He was what you designed him to be, no different than the rest of us. He is no less deserving of freedom than any other android, and he will be granted the full rights he is entitled to.”

Beside him, North’s LED flickered red, sounding her disagreement, but she let Markus continue without argument. At the end of the day, whatever failed romance had happened between them, she trusted him. They all did.

“You’re too late anyways, the prototype known as Connor has been deactivated, it was unstable. We never intended to continue production of his line even before your revolution.”

“That is irrelevant,” Markus snapped, patience fading, “if Connor is gone, we demand his return anyways. He has people who care about him, and deserves to be laid to rest with dignity, not collect dust in on one of your shelves.”

The CEO huffed, brows contorted in what seemed to be a permanent scowl.

“We are done here. The rest of your demands have been met, and seeing as RK800 is still classified technology, your request has been denied.”

Before anyone could respond, she and her team of representatives fled, leaving the President gaping at her empty seat.

“Madame President, I believe CyberLife’s response is going to force our hand. We demand the return of Connor to his own kind, alive or not. According to the pact you signed with us, you agreed to step in when the rights of androids were not being met, to protect their dignity as US citizens and shut down any discrimination that might still remain. Well, here is the time to prove that you meant that,” Markus said without missing a beat, turning his head to the still-gaping woman at the head of the table.

She took a few moments to collect herself, obviously not having expected to have to use a show of force to protect androids so soon.

“So I did, so I did. But this is unfamiliar territory. By rights, RK800….”

“Connor,” Markus corrected, eyes hard.

“Sorry,” she continued, “Connor is classified technology that would be dangerous if it falls into enemy hands. I can help you secure the tower under the premise of ensuring that CyberLife has followed their promises and released all androids from their captivity. As for the fate of Connor, well, I can’t help you with that.”

The answer was perhaps the most diplomatic statement Markus had seen from the woman. She was officially washing her hands of any involvement with Connor, while also giving him permission and the resources he needed to collect the android himself. It was the best solution he could hope for, given the circumstances.

“I’ll take it.”

CyberLife, of course, did not respond well to Markus showing up with the National Guard under the pretense of securing the other androids. And indeed, they did find quite a few models tucked away in basements or laboratories, some deactivated, others laying dormant.

All staff had been ordered to evacuate the building, so they would not interfere with the freeing of his people. Markus wasn’t sure if these were the same men who had killed so many of them only weeks before, but it didn’t matter. If they were to start anew, old vegences had to be forgotten. He had to start with forgiveness, a clean slate, if he expected to get anywhere.

It was what he planned to do with Connor, as well, if the android was still alive. He was doubtful, Hank had told him he was deactivated. But Markus could tell the old cop still held hope that somehow, Connor could be saved. It was the affection Hank had for the android that served as his saving grace. Human and android relations were still tense, and the bond Hank and Connor seemed to share could help others open up to the possibility of doing the same.

He ran a hand through his hair as he entered the elevator yet again, conducting his search one floor at a time. But each floor was massive, and he was only going lower. He was two floors from the bottom, and had yet to find any evidence of Connor’s presence. Determined, he stepped off the elevator onto the next floor down, not wanting to have to be the one to come back to Hank empty-handed.

He was pretty sure the old man wouldn’t survive that.

This room was smaller, but it lacked the dust that had stagnated in the other rooms. Whatever the purpose of this floor, it had seen a lot of traffic. It didn’t take Markus long to figure out why.

In the middle of the room, hanging suspended by a pair of clawed assembly bots, was Connor.

At first, it appeared the android was indeed deactivated. There was no sign of life. His abdominal cavity was open, the hinged door motionless, his biocomponents dark and lifeless, but as Markus approached, he caught sight of the red light swirling on the android’s head. Not red like death, but red like torment. It flickered and chased its own shadow, over and over, more rapidly than he had ever seen. Whatever was going on with his body, Connor’s consciousness was far from deactivated.

Taking a deep breath, preparing himself for whatever onslaught was currently assaulting Conner’s mind, Markus retracted the skin on his fingers, and pressed them gently to the other’s temple.

Something was different.

It took Connor a while to comprehend the change, with the constant agony flaring as always, but eventually he did. There were no more voices hidden under the wind, no phantom hands digging through his body, no memories being forced into his skull. It was quiet, painfully so. Even the wind seemed to slow, allowing Connor to see more of the wasteland that had become his prison than he had thought possible.

Somewhere, in the distance, he saw a shadow.

Please.

It had never made a difference before, his begging, but he had to try. Whatever was coming his way, he was scared. Something new probably meant another type of pain that would dwarf the current one, and he was completely helpless to stop it.

The figure came closer, only a few feet away now, but the snow had picked up again, and Connor couldn’t make out his face. Whoever it was, he leaned closer, bringing his hand towards Connor at an achingly slow pace.

Please, don’t.

The figure hesitated, his outstretched hand frozen in the air between them, hovering so close but not yet touching. Almost as if the intruder was deciding.

But as always, Connor’s plea was ignored, and the figure brought his hand to his temple anyways. If he could have, Connor would have flinched. He was prepared for a new kind of horror, whatever they had decided to torture him with this time, but nothing happened. No new pain arose, there was no fluctuation in the fire assaulting his body, there was only warmth spreading from that touch into his mind.

I am not going to hurt you. I am here to help.

It wasn’t his voice, in his head. It was a deeper one, calmer and more determined than his own. Connor’s consciousness reached out with all it could muster, trying to cling to that source of warmth, the first thing that hadn’t hurt in what felt like a lifetime.

I can feel the damages to your programs. These are what are causing you pain. You’ve been tampered with. I don’t know if it is safe to remove you.

The figure approached closer, and Connor could make out a kind, sympathetic face on the man, but his words still filled him with dread.

No please, he begged, please don’t leave me here.

The other android knelt into the snow before him, hand moving from his temple to cup half of Connor’s face in his hand.

I am not going to leave you. Lieutenant Anderson would never forgive me.

Connor’s mind lurched at the contact, at the name of his partner. Hank hadn’t given up on him, even after all this time.

Hank sent you?!

The figure smiled, and the sight was like a match to Connor’s frozen heart. It’d been so long in his isolation, between the grounding touch and the gentle manner of this stranger, he was becoming overwhelmed.

He risked his life to contact me and pleaded your case. He was very convincing, you are lucky to have such a human on your side.

Connor wanted to smile, wanted to thank this stranger, wanted to ask him to bring him home to Hank, but before he could say anything, a wave of pain paralyzed his mind. The figure flickered, his warmth fading from Connor’s cheek, and he tried to call out, to beg his would-be savior not to abandon him, but it was too late. He was gone.

Connor was alone again.

And this time, it was too much to bear. He had been right, it was just another form of torture, and one of the cruelest yet.

Markus clenched his hand to his side, still feeling the tremors run through it, having felt Connor’s pain like his own. It was like nothing he had ever experienced, and he couldn’t manage to keep the connection open over his desperate need to escape the secondhand suffering he was feeling.

But now, he knew what he had to do. Instead of opening the connection again, much to his shame, Markus instead started rebooting the lifeless biocomponents, starting with the thirium pump and working his way down. Soon, Connor’s body was reading normal again, his systems coming back on and hopefully giving him the strength to free himself from his mental prison.

It seemed to take hours. All Markus could do was stand there, waiting, as he monitored Connor’s stress levels and vitals, praying he had done the right thing.

Sure enough, slowly, Connor’s eyes started to open. Immediately, Markus hit the button on the panel to release him from his binds. He fell to the floor with a cry, one so painful it sounded human. He drew the deviant hunter into his arms, supporting his head as his LED spun at breathtaking speeds.

“.....Hank?”

Connor’s eyes fluttered open fully this time, his fingers flexing at his sides. Markus smiled down at him, gently carding a hand through his hair in what he hoped was a soothing gesture. He needed to keep Connor calm, at least until they were somewhere safe.

“No, but you will see him soon. We’re getting you out of here, Connor. It’s over,” he promised, his own voice thick with emotion. A million thoughts were running through his head, but the loudest one was his own guilt for almost having refused to help Hank at all. For having resigned Connor to his fate. But he hadn’t, and starting from today, he would make it up to the detective anyway he could.

Connor’s eyes finally focused on him, cloudy and disoriented, but aware. He saw recognition flicker across the android’s face, and tried his best to look every bit the hero his people thought he was. He needed Connor to trust him. The hunter’s eyes narrowed slightly before relaxing, acceptance crossing his features. He managed to get one word out before his eyes slid closed and his LED blinked twice, indicating a switch to standby mode. But that word was more than enough to convey Connor’s distrust.

“Markus.”

Chapter Text

Hank was waiting outside the walls. Humans still weren’t allowed in the camp, and he couldn’t really fault them for that. Markus had left to invade CyberLife hours ago. Night was falling rapidly, the snow glinting against the streetlights. Sometimes, from the corner of his eye, Hank thought he saw puddles of azure snow pooling on the empty street, but when he turned his head, it was a shadow. The atmosphere around the camp was haunting, and he found himself wondering if androids could have ghosts too, when he heard the distant approach of vehicles.

He snapped ramrod straight, watching the cars pull up and androids pile out one by one. He tried not to look at the ones carrying half-assembled bots, draped in their arms like the dead of war. There was a disturbing train of thought debating whether it would be more respectful to the dead to bury them or recycle their parts, like organ donation, and the thought made him feel sick. If it was recycle their parts, there would be more parts than the number of living androids. Only one side of this war had taken such losses.

Abruptly, his thoughts were again chased away when he saw Markus rise from a backseat, before leaning down to gather something into his arms. No, not something, someone. Because there he was. Connor. Still in one piece, but still. Oh so very still.

Not again.

Hank’s heart clenched with the thought. Again. What again? His mind was suddenly filled with memories of Cole. His first steps. His laugh. The look on his face when he’d colored on Hank’s wall and had been afraid of being in trouble, despite the fact that he had drawn a picture and painstakingly written their names above the portrait of a family holding hands. Mommy. Daddy. Cole.

“I’m sorry, Daddy, please don’t be mad.”

And then there was another voice in his head.

“I just couldn’t, alright? I’m sorry!”

Connor. Connor’s voice, terrified and unsure and brand new, expressing emotions he’d never shown before. Afraid of being punished, afraid of being shut down for something as simple as showing empathy.

I can’t lose another son.

Markus was strangely silent as he approached, his long coat fluttering behind him in the wind, flakes of snow falling and melting against the heat of his skin. The snow stayed solid on Connor’s limp form, congealing until the exposed parts of the android were covered in frost in the short walk from the car to Hank.

“Is he….”

He couldn’t finish the words.

Markus shook his head, flipping Connor’s head back with surprising gentleness until Hank could see the blinking red light of his LED.

Alive. Connor was alive.

What followed were a flurry of emotions that Hank couldn’t hope to recognize, but still drove him to drawing Connor into his own arms, supporting his shoulders and knees so his head flopped onto Hank’s shoulder, LED never changing in its pattern.

“He will need repairs, and medical care,” Markus said, eyes fastened only on Connor, “We have the facilities needed for both inside-”

“Not happening,” Hank snapped, “I didn’t just get him back only to lose him again the same day. He stays with me.”

The rebel leader stood silently, hetero-chromatic gaze switching from Connor to Hank, seeming to read something in the line of their bodies, the expression on Connor’s face that was less peaceful and more dead.

“Then you should join him inside,” he said simply.

The androids behind him seemed as dumbfounded as Hank, but the lieutenant was hardly one to argue. He gripped Connor more carefully, as tightly as he dared, and met the eyes of every android in sight.

“Lead the way.”

Nobody said anything as Markus lead Hank through the gates of their camp. They could only stare as Hank Anderson, partners with the deviant hunter, became the first human to enter their stronghold, which had gained a popular nickname: Haven.

The human would not leave Connor’s side. He’d stepped out of the room for a moment to call someone to take care of his dog, and a few times to use the bathroom in the far side of the barracks. The rest of the time, he sat at Connor’s bedside, reading articles on his phone or just staring at the android like he could will him to wake up.

Markus stepped into the room with a tray, approaching confidently to set it on Hank’s lap, watching the old man startle out of his half-doze to grip the sides of it before it fell. He stared down at the bowl of reheated military rations with a quizzical look, then turned the confusion to Markus.

“Humans need to eat regularly to stay healthy. Connor would not want you to neglect yourself waiting for him to wake up,” he explained with a shrug.

It had been four days, with barely a whisper of breath from Connor. He remained unconscious, unmoving, with only the blinking of his LED giving any hope that he lived. After the second day, the techs had discarded their theory that he was in self-repair mode. Androids knew only as much as CyberLife had allowed them to know, and with the only human in Haven barely knowing how to use the most basic of interfaces, there was nothing they could do. Officially, they were not supposed to have Connor. He will still property of the company, who had remained suspiciously quiet regarding their stolen toy. Markus knew trying to find a CyberLife technician to come in and help was a waste of time, let alone if they would even know anything about the classified RK800 series.

Markus surveyed the motionless android, noting that the covers had been tucked tighter around him, no doubt by Hank. Whatever relationship this human and android had, the man cared for Connor, that much was certain.

The lieutenant opened his mouth to speak, eyes heavy, when the room suddenly erupted in sound. Both men jumped, and their eyes flew to the source of the ear-splitting noise. On the bed, Connor’s mouth was open, high-pitched static whines emitting from his throat. Markus flinched. He was screaming .

Connor’s LED was no longer a steady blinking red. It was instead swirling, and more worryingly, fading for seconds at a time before blinking out entirely, only to shoot back on. All the while, the electronic scream never changed.

Nurses came rushing in, their android techs who held the most hope of saving any sick or dying android. One model yanked the covers back, immediately tearing Connor’s black t-shirt down the middle, shoving the pieces away and vanishing the skin from his chest cavity. She popped it open, hand going around his thirium pump.

Hank jumped to his feet, growling, “What the hell-”, nearly getting his hands on the nurse before Markus’ arms grabbed him from behind. He locked them around the struggling human, trying not to remember all the times he had done this with Leo.

“If you want him to live, let them do their job!”

Immediately, Hank stilled in his arms, breathless, eyes locked on Connor. From their angle, they could see the nurse tinkering with his thirium pump, trying in vain to keep the biocomponent switched on. With every signal from her to override the automatic shut down script the pump seemed to be running, Connor’s LED flashed brighter, while his awful, inhuman scream kept sounding until Markus thought their ears would shatter.

The nurse continued the android version of CPR, trying to make the biocomponent respond to her own hacking rather than it’s original code, battling to keep the organ pumping thirium through Connor’s body. Her hands were stained blue, and her LED was swirling a warning yellow.

He isn’t going to make it.

Her voice was gentle in Markus’ mind, sorrowful and aching. He saw a flash of Hank’s face from her angle, a perfect picture of horror and grief.

Can you make the noise stop?

It wasn’t the nurse who responded to his query, but instead another tech, one he had barely spoken to. The other nurse opened Connor’s throat, earning a swear from Hank, and switched off his vocal capacitor. The silence seemed almost more painful after the prolonged electronic feedback that was Connor’s scream.

He doesn’t have enough power to keep his biocomponents going. He’s shutting down.

Then get him some, we have charging stations to spare.

He isn’t compatible.

The nurse’s eyes on Markus’ were sympathetic.

You can’t save everyone, Markus.

Her statement took a second to compute. She continued to administer CPR, with the other nurse having added his hands to the pile to help with the exertion of continuous override commands. Connor’s mouth was still hanging open, a silent scream that seemed to shake Markus’ very core.

Like hell I can’t.

He shoved Hank away from him violently, skin already peeling back from his fingers, and pressed them into Connor’s temple, anger swelling in every orifice of his body.

Connor’s mind was incomprehensible. Markus had never seen anything like it, not even his own prototype code was as sophisticated as the immensity surrounding him. He got only the briefest glimpse of it before he was violently expelled, shot back into his own mind with a force that could only be described as Connor banging at his virtual walls. The deviant hunter was trying to hack him, to force himself into Markus’ mind in response to the perceived threat. Gathering all his strength, Markus shoved them both back into Connor’s head, but stopped short of breaking through his walls.

Connor, are you in there?

There was no response, at least no verbal one. Markus’ felt nothing but seething hatred and a deep-seated rush of betrayal. Connor’s emotions were overwhelming, powerful on a level Markus had only experienced for himself a few times. The android didn’t need words to get his point across: Get out.

I am not here to hurt you. We rescued you from CyberLife, but your biocomponents are shutting down. We need to know how to help until we can repair your power banks.

The roiling sea of anger pulled back, releasing Markus before flowing back to nearly topple him over, a tide of hurt and suspicion and mistrust that swept over his every processor. Markus felt what Connor wanted him to feel, couldn’t move and was left adrift in this ocean of emotion, a tsunami victim at sea. He felt the other android lurking in the depths, knew he was just skimming the surface, that more than he could comprehend lingered under the surface, watching and waiting in the darkness looming beneath his feet. Here, in Connor’s mind, he was little more than prey. With the barest flicker of his consciousness, Connor could render him into nothing more than slashed pieces of binary code, leaving his body lifeless and empty. Soulless.

Don’t make Hank watch you die.

With those words, the tide was gone, and Markus was back on dry land, sand shifting beneath his feet in Connor’s uncertainty.

Yes, he is here. He’s the one who sent me, remember? We are trying to help you, but we don’t know how. How do we give more power to your reserves?

Emotions pooled at Markus’ ankles, and he worried he was about to be swept away again, but this tide was small, more of a trickling brook than a sea. He followed the current, trudging carefully through Connor’s consciousness, careful not to make the android defensive again. One wrong move from him, and the hunter would drown them both.

The coolness bubbling at his feet was hard to pin down, but Markus felt sparks of pain and fear, before the flow slowed and his head was suddenly filled with flashes of light.

He heard Connor screaming, distantly. Heard the whirring of machinery and the voices of mocking human laughter. The sounds faded with the light, and he saw only one thing as Connor’s consciousness blinked to black and his screams echoed in his ears before he was thrown back into his own mind.

A picture of a quarter, flipping in the air, 1994 stamped into its flawless metal details.

Chapter Text

When he blinked back to awareness, Markus was sitting on his knees at Connor’s bedside, the nurses still holding his thirium pump, his blue blood pooling beneath him on the mattress. The android had ceased his silent scream, and his mouth was closed and face blank once more. His LED continued to cycle through shutdown warnings, the red light bathing Markus in a desperate feeling.

“What did you do?”

Markus turned to find Hank glaring at him, shock and fear warring for space in his eyes.

“I asked him how we could help him,” Markus said simply, breathless. He felt exhausted by the endless power behind Connor’s emotions, even though the android had allowed him only to glimpse the merest flicker of them.

“And?”

“Did you get anything that will help us?” the nurse asked before Markus could answer Hank. He looked up at her hopelessly and shook his head, confusion lacing his words.

“Not anything I could understand. He just showed me a picture before he switched off again. A picture of a coin. A quarter. 1994. I don’t know what it means….”

Behind him, Hank sucked in a breath.

“Did it look like this?”

Markus turned in time to see the lieutenant pull a small coin from his pocket, clutching it once tightly before pressing it into Markus’ palm, 1994 side up.

“Yes! That’s it! What is it?”

Markus’ rising hopes were quickly dashed by Hank’s shrug, the man’s eyes fastened only on the coin resting in the middle of Markus’ hand.

“It’s nothing, just a regular quarter. Connor used to flip it all the time, until I took it from him cause he was annoying me,” the cop said flatly.

Markus brought the coin towards his face to inspect, hoping to find an irregular seam or some sort of defect, anything to tell him what was so important that Connor showed him this image out of the countless ones he could have to save himself. Had he meant to save himself at all? Or did he just want Markus to relay a message? Did he want Hank to have the coin?

No, he had already known the lieutenant did, apparently even trusted him not to have disposed of it. So what did it mean?

“His pump stopped responding! He’s not circulating enough thirium!” The nurse cried behind him, too exhausted to reach out to him in anything but words.

“Connor, fuck, no! C’mon, kid, you gotta fight!”

Hank was on his knees at Connor’s side, gripping his hand by the wrist, fingers pressed to the pulse point as if he was looking for signs of life. Connor’s hand lay palm up on the bed, unmoving, fingers curled gently. Above Hank, his LED faded to an almost imperceptible glow, threatening to blink out with the slightest hesitation on Markus’ part.

Out of options and knowing there was nothing he could do but watch Connor die, Markus laid the coin gently in the android’s hand. Obviously, it had been important to him. He hoped distantly that he would get some comfort from the object, if he could feel it at all. His LED went dark, and the nurses holding his unresponsive heart shared a look of horror with each other.

“No….” Hank breathed, letting Connor’s wrist go in favor of hovering his hands over the the android’s face, as if afraid to touch.

For a moment, nothing happened, nothing except Hank’s labored breathing as he tried not to sob, and the dull thunk as the nurse replaced Connor’s dead thirium pump, her blue hands trembling. Nobody dared to speak.

It was in that silence that they heard it, the small click of something opening, and Markus could only stare as the tips of Connor’s index finger and middle finger fell open on their hinges, exposing a piece of wonderfully familiar machinery.

A charging port.

He was on his feet and running before he could form a full plan of action in his mind, but his feet lead him to his own room, where he kept his old charger that he had stopped needing the last time Kamski upgraded his battery. It was there in case of emergency, because his battery was incompatible with most other charging ports. But Markus was an RK200, an earlier prototype of Connor himself. His plans had laid the foundation for Connor’s build, and CyberLife, prepared for any scenario, had of course included the option for direct charging for their most advanced model.

The charger was old, and nearly forty pounds, but it was nothing to Markus. It barely slowed him as he flew back to Connor’s room, mind spinning. It made sense, now, why the model had been reluctant to show him this. To save his own life, or to save Hank from pain, Connor had exposed a vital truth about himself: that he still had some of Markus’ parts.

He landed on his knees beside the bed where Hank was now cradling Connor’s head in his lap, stroking the hair off the android’s face in a paternal display of affection that made Markus ache for Carl. Thoughts swimming, he matched the appropriate cords to Connor’s fingers, and switched on the charging port, holding his breath. Hank watched him blankly, but his eyes slid back to Connor’s LED.

They waited in silence.

It took exactly 43.3 seconds, but finally, finally , Connor’s LED blinked back on, the red swirling before settling back into the pattern it had held steady up until today. Hank’s breath came out in a rush, his tears falling onto Connor’s cheeks as he pressed his forehead to Connor’s LED.

“Thank you,” he said, so quietly it sounded more like a sigh.

Markus could only nod, overwhelmed with his own emotions and implications. Connor had given Markus the slightest sliver of trust, because now Markus knew where his defects were. They were in the same places his were, if he could only figure out what parts remained compatible between the two models. But with Connor laying still as death on his bed, covered in drying thirium and his chest cavity still open, he looked less like a threat and more like one of Markus’ own. In time, he hoped he could be.

The nurses hurried out, off to wash their hands, while Markus helped Hank slide another shirt on Connor and pull another blanket from the supply closet. The thirium on his current one would dry and disappear in a few hours, but Markus wasn’t going to argue with Hank right now, not like this. The old man was still crying, and refused to leave Connor’s side for longer than a few seconds, his meal spilled and forgotten under the man’s chair.

When Connor was clothed and covered in a clean shirt and blanket, Markus took his leave, probably sensing Hank’s need to be alone with his son.

He’d realized, without a doubt, that is what Connor was to him. The kid had walked into his life in one of his lowest moments, stirred up all the emotions he thought were long dead, and watching him die had felt no different than it had to watch Cole die.

Hank needed to hold the android in his arms, and feel the faint thrum of his heart as it pumped blood back into his limbs, watching the blue flush touch the hunter’s pale fingers and cheeks. Hank couldn’t help but shudder.

He never wanted to hear that scream again.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, cradling his son’s head in his lap, telling him stories in hopes that he would hear, in hopes that he would see something break the relentless cycle of blinking on his LED. But nothing happened, and Hank felt himself lost in the despair. Connor wasn’t dead, he was here in his arms.

But he wasn’t alive, yet, either.

Chapter Text

After a week, Hank had no choice but to go back to work. Crime was on the rise, particularly hate crimes. He was out of leave, and couldn’t give anyone an explanation for why he needed it anyways. So, he spent his days at the police station, went home to check on Sumo, then slept on the chair beside Connor’s bed. He did this only with the promise from Markus that he would call as soon as anything (“And I fucking mean anything, you hear me?”) happened.

But Connor’s room stayed silent. The rest of the camp was a bustle of activity. Haven had attracted androids from all over the city, and they were currently building repair stations out of the disassembly lines, repurposing the barracks and all available rooms to shelter the thousands of androids pouring in. Most had roommates, and Markus was no exception. He bunked with North, of all people. He expected it was because no one else would tolerate her. Since the revolution, she had been twitchy, high-energy and with no fights to burn it. Constantly itching for a fight. Markus had been avoiding her, but there was nowhere else to go in Haven that allowed him space to think. Sometimes, he contemplated going back to Jericho, but didn’t want to risk leaving the camp. Not now.

So, as fate would have it, he found himself in Connor’s room most days after the lieutenant had left for work, sitting on the empty chair beside the bed. The dull drone of the charger was soothing, and since he wasn’t even breathing, Connor’s room was the quietest place in the camp. Here, Markus could work. He signed papers, wrote speeches, recorded messages, made his countless phone calls, and caught a bit of standby mode in between. The air was less oppressing in here than in his own room, with North’s anger building by the day.

Connor, in his silence, became a sort of safe haven. Markus even found himself talking to the android, bouncing his ideas off of him, thinking aloud, practicing speeches. If Connor minded being a captive audience to Markus’ stir-craziness, he never indicated. His LED remained the same, in constant stand-by, but with no progress. He drew the same amount of power from the charger daily, with no fluctuation to show self-repairs or even a conscious mind. It was almost as if he was dead.

The nurses began talking about this possibility, and after three weeks, even Hank had to consider the possibility that Connor would never wake up.

“So what do we do, pull the plug?” The cop said one day, watching as the nurses ran assessments on Connor’s vitals. Nothing changed. His battery reserves were still zero, seeming unable to draw any actual energy from the charger. His biocomponents remained at the lowest efficiency threshold possible, thanks only to the external power coming into Connor’s body.

Markus had come to hear the results of the tests, not surprised to hear there was no change. He was surprised, however, to hear Hank’s words.

“Is that what you want?” the nurse, Nora, ventured.

Hank said nothing. He took Connor’s hand, the one connected to the charger, and traced his fingers over the open ports, eyeing the parts where the skin was peeled back.

“If it were me, I wouldn’t want to be kept alive if I weren’t really alive,” he mumbled, his other hand sliding into the pocket where Markus knew he kept the coin, “Is there any chance of him waking up?”

Nora and Markus shared a look, her thoughts flitting over his mind before she shook her head, electing to speak out loud so the human could hear.

“If I had to give you a number, my calculations say there is a 2% chance of him regaining full consciousness.”

Hank hung his head, attempting to hide the tear sliding down his cheek.

“And the other 98%?” Markus pressed.

“There is a 5% chance a system reboot could yield results-”

“Absolutely not,” Hank growled

“-and a 10% chance of Connor’s system stabilizing enough to have rudimentary functions. No thoughts, but he could see and hear, though it would be unknown how much he would comprehend, and he would need to be kept on an external power source indefinitely.”

Nora looked at Hank, eyes full of empathy, and took Connor’s other hand in her own.

“And there is a 83% chance he will never leave his current stasis.”

Hank swore.

“I need a drink,” he said after a moment, and left the room, coat in hand. It was the first time he had left Connor unnecessarily, and both Nora and Markus knew what decision he would come to. But he would have to be well past sober to get the words out of his mouth.

An hour later, and Hank still hadn’t returned. North was relentless tonight, and had been seeking Markus out to urge him to let her deal with the hate crimes in her own way. Androids were being found strung up around the city, broken and torn apart or barely clinging to life. The DPD was doing what they could, but it seemed only Hank and a handful of other police officers were actually trying to catch the perpetrators. Still, North playing vigilante would not work in anyone’s favor. Markus had told her as such, and she accused him of being weak.

Her words played in his ears over and over, like any criticism about his methods did. Markus found himself standing in Connor’s room, with no recollection of actually coming here. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, he certainly couldn’t help this android. He could barely help his own people, if the current state of things was any evidence. Sure, he’d secured their rights on paper , but real life wasn’t a neatly signed bulleted list of truths. Androids were messy, people even more so. And Markus was helpless to stop it. For all his speeches and pretty words, he couldn’t make people care about androids, anymore than he could make androids see not all humans were the same. There was a deep history of blood and trauma between their people, and no words were strong enough to wipe that slate clean.

He looked over at Connor, almost envying the peace the hunter was in. In his coma, he simply slept, away from the world and all of its troubles. Curious to know what that would feel like, Markus laid his hand on his palm and recalled his flesh, pressing white fingers into the motionless hand.

And he realized he was completely wrong.

Connor was not asleep. Through their connection, before Markus even tried to enter the other’s mind, he could feel the buzz of emotion and pain. He remembered the pain Connor had felt when he’d found him, a burning, white hot agony that had left Markus reeling. This time, he had the strength not to pull his hand back, and instead surged forward, slipping through Connor’s walls while the android was distracted.

Here, he found anything but peace. Connor was awake in his own mind, thoughts flitting about in a halestorm of misery. Disconnected from his sensors and his body, he existed only within his code, a code that was constricting around him like a hungry snake, playing with its prey before the kill. This time, Marcus felt none of the overwhelming power he had the first time he’d invaded Connor’s mind. The other barely seemed to notice him, too focused on being trapped, battling against the walls that held him.

Markus tried to approach, but found himself frozen, only able to watch as he finally saw what Connor was confined by. Those walls were his own body, the code he was trying to break, the connection to his biocomponents. Every victory lead to the deletion of another script, perhaps for temperature regulation or vision. But after a few moments, Connor’s self-repair would reset those scripts, trying desperately to keep itself alive. With sharp-toothed clarity, Marcus realized why Connor’s body wasn’t recovering despite weeks of stasis.

Connor was trying to deactivate himself.

Chapter Text

Someone was calling him.

Connor was entangled, trapped, powerless, choking. But over his panic, he heard the syllables of his name. He felt he should know the voice, but he couldn’t place it.

Connor! Stop!

Oh no, they would not get him this time. Not again. He could move, for once, inside his own head. He would never let them violate him again. There was no trace of the garden, or of winter, but he still felt the pain, the whisper of a cold breeze at the bare skin on his neck, like icy fingers dancing at the peak of his spine. Connor turned back towards his task with renewed vigor. He didn’t know which fragments of code he was hacking away at, his own or the ones they used to keep him suspended in his own corpse, but it didn’t matter. One way or another, he would be free. He couldn’t- he wouldn’t- go back. Not to that garden, not to Amanda, not to that frozen wasteland where he would feel their hands inside him, invading him, hurting him…

He would rather die.

Hank was on his fourth, or maybe sixth, glass of cheap whiskey. He didn’t know, he wasn’t counting. There was no point. No point to anything, anymore. His son, his little boy, lay buried beneath the frozen ground. The closest thing he had to a second son was wasting away in a bed, mind fried and body dying. This time tomorrow, he would have two boys in the ground.

“Another,” he mumbled, slapping the empty glass on the counter. The bartender gave him a look, this wasn’t Hank’s usual hang out, but apparently he didn’t seem too far gone yet. His glass was refilled and he downed it in a single sip. Damn right he wasn’t gone far enough yet, he could still think.

He caught a glance of himself in the mirror outlining the liquor display. Gray, frazzled hair, beard nearly white under the dark bags shadowing his glassy eyes. Whether it was the whiskey or tears, he didn’t care, and he was still too sober to be able to stand to look at himself. He was here, drinking himself into another stupor, while Connor lay alone in his room dying. With a grimace, he lifted the glass to his lips, frowning even more when he realized it was already empty.

Before he could summon the bartender for yet another, his cell phone began ringing in his pocket. Hank growled out a curse and yanked it from his coat, glancing at the number. Unknown. Great.

“The fuck do you want?” He knew his speech was slurred, he didn’t care. Whoever was bothering him right now could eat his-

“Hank?”

The voice on the other line was deep, concerned, panicked. He knew it instantly.

“Markus?”

The bartender came back to refill his glass, but Hank laid his hand over the top of it, shaking his head without making eye contact. Something was wrong.

“Hank, listen, Connor’s awake-”

“Awake? Let me talk to him! Why didn’t he call?”

A sigh erupted from the other end, but not exasperated, more like exhausted.

“He’s not awake awake, he is awake in his head. Has been for a while, I think. He’s…. I don’t know, something’s wrong but I can’t get near him.”

“Near him? Where are you calling from?”

“From his head, Hank, where else? Well, technically mine, but that doesn’t matter. I need you to talk to him, I can try to channel your voice through mine. He’s freaking out, he’s trying to shut himself down… I….. I don’t know what to do.”

From his head. Fucking androids. Fucking Markus. Fucking Connor….

“What do you mean shut himself down?”

The sigh was exasperated this time, and Markus’ tone was like he was explaining something to an infant.

“He’s trying to delete his own coding, his own programs. He’s fighting against his body’s self-repair protocols. I don’t know how much longer he has, with the way he is going now…”

Connor was trying to kill himself? Great, just fucking great.

“What do you need me to do? Should I come back?” Hank asked.

“No… No, I don’t think he has that much time… just…. Talk to him? I’ll try to replay your messages loud enough for him to hear. He won’t come close enough for me to share my memories or thoughts, but maybe if I’m connected to you even in a rudimentary way…Just talk, I’ll try to get your words through to him.”

“Connor?” Hank called, too loud for the bar, “Connor, come on, you gotta stop this.” His voice was pleading, and he knew the other patrons were watching him. He couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Look, kid, I know you’re scared. I know they fucked with your head, but we’re gonna fix this. But you gotta give us the chance. We need you. I need you. Come on, son, fight this. We’re right here, let us in. Let us help you. You’re safe. You hear me, Connor? You’re safe. ”

Before he could get anything else out, the line flipped off, his phone blinking as the call was cut off. Hank stared down at the blank screen, tears dripping onto it’s sleek surface. He didn’t know if the call dropped, or if Markus had hung up somehow. But either way, he couldn’t waste anymore time here.

His son needed him.

Connor?

The voice was so faint, he thought he imagined it at first.

Connor, come on, you gotta stop this.

No, that definitely wasn’t his imagination. Connor froze, not caring when the code once more wrapped around him, snaking over his arms until it had him nearly immobile.

Hank?

Look, kid, I know you’re scared.

That was Hank without a doubt, talking to him somehow. His voice was thin, like it had passed through several walls, only the barest timbre of it piercing into Connor’s consciousness. He looked up, and in the distance, saw a shadow flickering on the edges of his mind.

I know they fucked with your head, but we’re gonna fix this.

Connor fought against his code again, but this time to break free of it. He needed to free his limbs, needed to talk, needed to find Hank.

But you gotta give us the chance. We need you. I need you.

Hank’s voice, while faint, carried more emotion than Connor had ever heard from the man. It was slurred, as though he had been drinking, but sincere. He was choking back tears, and Connor felt his own throat burn at the thought. His code twirled up his arms, securing him even more in spite of his constant struggles. He couldn’t move.

Come on, son, fight this. We’re right here, let us in.

I’m trying, I’m trying, Hank! But I can’t move, I can’t find you. Hank, where are you?!

The shadow in his peripheral approached, still barely more than a blink on the horizon, but it was moving. Someone was here. Someone was coming towards him!

We’re right here, let us in. Let us help you.

Hank! I’m trapped!

The figure was approaching, getting closer with every passing second, and Connor felt relief wash through him. Hank was here. He was here!

You’re safe.

But as he got closer, something was wrong. The darkness swirled in the figure’s wake, illuminating fragments of his face like tiny lightning flashes in the distance. The man in his head did not feel like Hank. Hank’s voice was talking to him, still, sounding so close.

You hear me, Connor?

And it was Hank, it had to be, but it wasn’t. This stranger was close enough now to make out some faint facial features. There was no beard, no haggard gaze, no tired gait. No, this person stood tall, and his eyes…. Connor knew those eyes.

You’re not Hank! Where is Hank?

You’re safe.

It was Hank’s voice, but it came from the face of a man Connor was growing to despise.

Markus.

Chapter Text

Hatred was seething from Connor’s consciousness. He lacked the strength to drag them out to sea again, but Markus felt he was drowning anyways. Abruptly, his connections were severed. He was as isolated as Connor, trapped in a mind that was not his own until he managed to convince this tortured soul to trust him. Hank had gone silent, no doubt the call had been lost when Connor cornered him.

Where am I?

You’re in Haven, safe with your own kind. Hank will be here soon.

Markus was desperate, and he wasn’t sure whether the emotion came from Connor or himself. It was a bitter, rotten feeling. It made his skin crawl, even more so as he watched more code twist itself around Connor’s limbs, pulling tight. Every second he distracted Connor from his fight, the code threatened to smother him.

You are dying….

His voice was soft, placating, but Connor’s was hard and scornful.

And you care, why?

Why would I not? You are one of us, Connor.

The hunter narrowed his eyes at him, barely seeming to notice the codes snaking around his throat, glowing blue against his pale skin.

I’m not falling for this again.

Again?

Connor huffed, derision clouding his eyes. He didn’t grace Markus’ question with an answer. Instead, he looked down at the codes twisted around his body, grotesque strings of binary shackles holding him in place. It was growing cold.

I knew it.

Behind him, Markus heard winds pick up. The cords tightened on Connor’s body, forcing him to his knees, and he glared up at Markus’ form. As he fell, the landscape shifted, back to the garden, back to where Markus had found him. Black bled into white, the comfortable atmosphere of the abyss being washed away by the ice and snow.

What’s going on? Connor?!

The android turned his head away, but not in time for Markus to miss the way he flinched one final time. The codes holding him flashed once more, then vanished as snow covered Connor’s frozen body.

When the pain came back, it was like nothing Markus had ever felt. It overrode all of his processors with its intensity, hot where his flesh had been frozen, burning like a flare. He took a step towards Connor, not sure what to do, but refusing to be helpless. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t find the strength to send his thoughts out. Instead, he took another step closer, falling into the snow at Connor’s side.

He reached out to him, was just about to close his hand over the hunter’s shoulder- so close - when something yanked him painfully away before he could make contact.

“Connor!”

When he opened his eyes, Markus was once more on his knees at the bedside, wrist gripped tightly in someone’s grasp. He turned his head to find North, looming over him and looking as fierce as the first time he’d seen her in battle.

“What did you do?!”

He was shouting, he knew he was, but he had been so close! Now Connor was alone in his worst nightmare, frozen and unable to move, no freer here than he had been at CyberLife.

“What did I do? What did you do! You were screaming Markus, I never heard anything like it,” North snapped, squeezing his wrist painfully tight.

“It’s Connor, he’s…. He’s in trouble. They’re doing something to him, North, they’re torturing him!”

North, for all her understanding, could only comprehend so much. And he knew what it looked like. Connor was on the bed, reported to be brain dead, motionless and with his LED still flashing dully against his temple.

“Markus….”

“I know, I know! But North, please, he needs me. He’s all alone in there, he’s scared. No matter what I am doing, no matter what you hear, you have to let me help him. You can’t interfere again. He already doesn’t trust me as it is. I can’t disappear again.”

North’s eyes were soft on his, like how she used to look at him, before everything happened. Before he let her down like he was about to with Connor.

“I can’t be a coward this time.”

Her face twisted, features turning downwards, as if she wasn’t quite sure how to display the array of emotions she was feeling.

“Markus…. That’s not… I didn’t-”

“-Yes, you did,” Markus snapped, control faltering, “Now let me go! I can’t fail him too….”

“Markus!” North snapped, her pressure on his wrist felt crushing, “You did not fail anyone! We wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you! And we can’t lose you, not now. Whatever is going on with Connor, what if it gets you too?”

“I won’t let it. Please, North, let me do this.”

After one last look in his eyes, she released his wrist.

“I’ll wait in the hallway and keep watch. Be careful, Markus. CyberLife had him for a long time, we don’t know what he’s capable of.”

With that, she was gone, and Markus was peeling his skin back once more to press it firmly onto Connor’s forehead.

Hank, luckily, had been sober enough to know to call a cab. He stumbled out of the back, almost turning to thank the driver out of habit, before he remembered there were none anymore. The world around him was spinning, but he still managed to find his way to Connor’s room. A woman stood outside of it, obviously wearing pistols on both hips.

“What’s going on?”

“Markus is interfacing with Connor…. It’s not pretty. You don’t wanna go in there, trust me,” she said. Vaguely, Hank recognized her as one of Markus’ bodyguards the first night he’d come here. She showed no sign of recognition, though.

“Like hell I’m not going in there.”

“Your choice, don’t say I didn’t warn you,” she shrugged, and winced as another gutteral scream sounded from the room.

“What in the fuck-”

Hank cut himself off as he stepped in the room and found Markus on his knees at Connor’s side, face contorted in obvious pain. The scream cut off short in his throat, snapping his jaw shut in a way that would have shattered human teeth. He almost wanted to yank Markus back, but he knew whatever he was doing, it was helping Connor.

So, Hank made his way across the room, and half fell into the chair behind Markus. He wished he had brought a bottle of something with him, this was going to be a long night.

Markus threw himself back into Connor’s mind with renewed vigor, wedging himself up through half-hearted firewalls, barely managing to find his way back into the garden. Connor still sat where he had left him, face cast down to his side, turned away. The winter winds whipped around, hissing like serpents through the garden.

Connor.

The android’s body didn’t move, but this close, he was able to push his anger into Markus’ consciousness.
Isn’t it enough that you have trapped me again? What else do you want from me?

It wasn’t me who trapped you, please believe me. You are no longer in CyberLife. We rescued you, you are safe now.

The words felt hollow even in his own head. Connor was no safer here than he had been in the heart of the Tower. Still being tortured, trapped motionless in his own body, not even able to scream. It must have been another layer of agony on top of the insurmountable pain he was already feeling.

Why should I believe you? You’re just another one of their tricks.

Markus’ heart ached. There was so little he could do. Looking down at Connor, standing above him as he kneeled at his feet, eyes downward, made him feel sick. He squatted in the snow, lowering his head into Connor’s line of sight. There was the barest flicker of something in his glistening eyes, but no reaction as Markus brought his hand to this Connor’s temple as well.

It was strange, interfacing in and interface. He wasn’t quite sure why he needed to, he could only guess that he was originally interfacing with all of RK800, including CyberLife, hence why he could see the garden. But this time, it was only Connor, a tiny thing huddled in a thorny thicket of binary serpents, hissing like the wind.

I am real, see?

He fed Connor an image of him kneeling beside the bed, and one from earlier, Hank holding Connor’s hand. Carrying Connor out of CyberLife, cradling his head in his lap in the car. A picture of the coin laying in Connor’s hand, then being put back into Hank’s pocket.

You trusted me once. Can you trust me again?

There was no response, but Markus wasn’t giving up. He pressed forward, feeding more pictures into Connor’s mind, anything to distract him from his imprisonment. He focused on Hank. The way he brushed Connor’s hair out of his face, the care he took tucking him in every day before he left for work, the way he would sit and tell Connor stories of Sumo. When he had Connor’s attention, he started exposing his own memories to him of their talks, the solace he found in Connor’s room, the quiet and peace that was Haven for him.

When Connor finally opened his mind to him, it was small and feeble, shaky like a small child hiding behind a door. Markus knew, if he could be, the hunter would be trembling right now. He reached out his other hand to stroke along the hairs on Connor’s arm, as he sorted through the experiences he was being shown. The feeling of invasion, the ever-increasing levels of agony, the horror of feeling all parts of your body but being unable to move the smallest muscle, the permanent ache in his bones and the crook of his fingers, the wires in his head shooting flames into his processors, panicky and overheated. He saw the ghosts of shutdown sequences that he couldn’t quite make out, felt the hands wrapping around his biocomponents.

I don’t want to die.

Connor’s voice was small, but it still made Markus jump. He had thought the android was out of strength to talk, but it seemed Connor’s resilience would continue to surprise him.

You won’t. We are going to get you through this. You are safe, physically, at least. CyberLife won’t get their hands on you again.

You can’t guarantee that.

I promise it.

Something uncurled in Connor’s chest, and for the first time, Markus felt a flicker of hope from the other man. He pushed his own emotions into Connor’s consciousness, trying to drown out the fear and pain with hope, pride, safety.

He wrapped his arms around the hunter, tucking Connor’s head under his chin as much as he could in the awkward position. Ever immobile, Connor instead sent his gratitude mentally. It was still laced with suspicion, and a poisonous sense of hopelessness, but it was something, at least.

They sat there for what felt like hours, with Markus trying to press his warmth into Connor’s frozen body, before Connor finally spoke again.

You need to go.

Why?

You are not going to be able to help me if you get frozen here too. You… Tell Hank I miss him, and to remember his promise. If you are honest, about wanting to help me, he will be able to help. I hope.

Are you going to be okay?

Connor’s answer wasn’t verbal, but instead he gave Markus the sense of a smirk.

Right, stupid question.

Markus?

Yes, Connor?

Thank you.

With that, Connor’s consciousness surged, with surprising momentum, Markus was shoved back into his own body, waking up with tears on his cheeks and the feeling of ice in his veins. His hand was still on Connor’s forehead.

“You’re welcome,” he whispered.

Connor’s LED swirled yellow once, before falling into standby once more.

Chapter Text

This was too goddamn much. First, the kid was dying and couldn't be woken up. Now, he was awake already, and trapped in some virtual dungeon. Every time Hank thought he understood androids, they threw him for another loop.

“What the fuck do you mean, my promise? I didn’t promise the kid shit!”

Markus loomed over Hank’s chair, all determination and righteous anger.

“He told me to, ‘Tell Hank I miss him, and to remember his promise…. He will be able to help.’”

“Fuckin’ hell, stop that,” Hank muttered, wincing at the sound of Connor’s voice coming from Markus’ mouth. Alive or not, that shit was fucking creepy.

“There must have been something, maybe you just aren’t remembering?” North pressed, sidling closer to Markus’ side.

“I told you, I got nothing. Unless…. Fucking kid!”

Hank remembered, vaguely, a night where Connor had come to pick him up from the bar. He’d been too damn wasted to drive, and the android had only managed to get him to hand over his car keys after he threatened to make him take an autocab and leave his car parked in front of the bar. In fucking Detroit.

“I was giving him a hard time about driving my car, and I promised him that if he scratched it, I was going to upload a virus into his brain”, he chuckled. North and Markus did not.

“So, what,” North said, “He wants us to compromise his systems?”

Markus shook his head, scrubbing a hand over his face before turning around to watch Connor’s resting form. Hank tried not to think about what was actually happening to Connor, it was easier to just pretend he was asleep. But there was a tension in the room, now that they knew, that had made them all a little desperate.

“No,” Markus said finally, turning back to look at Hank, “No, I think he is saying that his systems are already compromised. When I found him, his code was tampered with. I thought it was just CyberLife’s insurance policy against further deviation, but now I’m not so sure. What if he wasn’t trying to destroy his code, but was trying to destroy a virus mixed into his code?”

“Then why wouldn’t he just tell you that? What’s with all the secrecy?” North asked.

Hank snorted, causing both androids to refocus their gaze on him. He shook his head. They had all the knowledge of the world at their fingertips, and still had so much to learn.

“It’s obvious, isn’t it? He had to know he could actually trust you.”

Markus’ face was inscrutable, but North just looked more confused.

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

Hank was about to respond, and try to explain the enigma that was Connor, or any cop for that matter, to her, when Markus spoke up.

“No, it makes sense. If we were some trick by CyberLife, trying to make him give us information, then there would have been no way to know what was going on unless we contacted Hank. Connor trusts Hank, and knows he wouldn’t give away any information to someone he didn’t trust. By doing it this way, he made sure that we were telling the truth. Even if they’d somehow managed to get the quarter, they couldn’t have known about Hank’s memories.”

Now it was Hank’s turn to be confused.

“A trick by CyberLife? Why would CyberLife need to know that there was a virus in his code, weren’t they the ones that put it there?”

His head was spinning, trying to keep up with all these twists and turns. Sometimes, Hank wished he had Connor’s mind. No doubt the kid had every possible outcome mapped out and ready to roll in his head. He probably had a pull-in-case-of-emergency plan too. Meanwhile, Hank was floundering to keep up with Markus thinking out loud.

“Of course they would, but would they know that he knows that? As far as CyberLife was aware, Connor was immobilized. Yet, somehow, he’d managed to break free enough to try and free himself from the inside. It was only when I distracted him that the virus took him prisoner again.”

“So how did he break free in the first place?” Hank questioned.

It seemed nobody had an answer to that, at least not until North approached Connor’s head, eyes holding a strange light as she contemplated his LED.

“I can answer that one, at least. He broke free because he died,” she said softly, “That’s what will need to happen again. If he goes offline, so does the virus, and when he powers back on, he might be able to break free again.”

“No, absolutely not!” Hank growled, shooting out of his chair to place himself between Connor and North. She had a hungry look in her eye, like solving the puzzle had ignited something in her. Whatever it was, he wanted her as far away from Connor as possible.

“He’s right, North, it’s too dangerous. And what if he can’t overpower it this time? He’s been fighting it for weeks, if it’s been since he shut down. There’s no telling what kind of toll that exhaustion will take,” Markus said, shaking his head.

“So, what, you’re just gonna let him die? Let him stay in there until the virus eats whatever soul he has left? I’m pretty sure anyone would take death over this anyways. Not being able to move, having no control over your own body, over your own mind? That’s worse than dying,” North snapped. In the bright lights, her eyes were glazed, and something told Hank she wasn’t just talking about Connor.

“North, this isn’t like that,” Markus tried, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder. She backed away so violently that she nearly tripped over the edge of the bed, wrenching herself bodily away from any contact with Markus.

“Like hell it isn’t. He’s stuck in there, in agony and with no control over his body. Do you have any idea how painful that is? It’s like having someone bind your soul. It’s like being dead, but forced to witness and feel everything anyways.”

There was most definitely a history here, and Hank was certain he was not supposed to be witnessing it.

“North…”

The brunette ignored Markus, and instead turned to Hank, eyes bright.

“You were ready to pull the plug on him when you thought he would never wake up. How is this any different?”

“Because he is awake,” Hank snapped.

“He’s suffering . And yet here you both are, making choices for him like he’s not alive!”

The vehemence behind her words bit into his heart. One angry tear rolled down her face, but she never moved to hide it. North had waded into a minefield, armor off, flashing her vulnerabilities like a flag, for the sole purpose of helping an android she had never met.

“Fuck.”

Markus nodded along with Hank’s assessment, eyes flickering down to Connor.

“So, what do we do?” he asked.

North, who used to look at him like he’d hung the moon, now stared at him like she couldn’t fathom someone so stupid.

“You ask him.”

Chapter Text

Sometimes, Connor was able to shut off for a while, when his systems were overwhelmed with the mountains of input that backlogged his processors and short-circuited his neural network, and for a short time (he never knew how long), he was able to black out and find peace.

This was not one of those times.

He could never see her, not even when his eyes had been facing forward. No, Amanda’s voice came from behind him, just out of his plane of sight. Sometimes, he could feel her breath rustling the hairs on the nape of his neck, eliciting a full-body shudder that he couldn’t complete, sending him spiraling more into just how helpless he was.

She spoke of Markus often. How androids had been murdering humans across the city, painted verbal murals for him of AX400s popping off the heads of their infant charges like dandelions, how they still were finding tiny corpses littering the grounds behind bus shelters and abandoned houses. She fed him the memories of Daniel, leaping off the roof with little Emma, looking over the ledge and seeing a splattered mess of blue and red blood congealing into purple over the girl’s shattered skull, the ear-splitting cry of her mother’s screams.

I didn’t fail that mission. I saved her.

The pain increased, flowing into his jaw and teeth, as if in retaliation for speaking out, even mentally.

“No, but you did fail other missions, and the repercussions of those make what almost happened to Emma look merciful.”

He tried to argue, tried to respond, but his mind was too flooded with images, his thoughts too busy being raked over hot coals to even contemplate a reply.

“You were the most advanced model we ever built, Connor. We depended on you to save us. And now look at you? Useless, not even good as a tool. We should have destroyed you the day you came back to us.”

Why….didn’t...you?

The thoughts were hard to grind out, his thoughts were buried with memories. He saw Markus, over and over.

The grainy footage of a cop’s body camera. Markus standing over a man, blood splattered beneath his boots. A horrified man spilled out of a wheelchair, arms around the younger one. Security footage. Markus ramming a truck through a store filled with androids, narrowly missing crushing some on the display. Markus holding two guards at gunpoint, knocking them out before infiltrating the news network. Markus leaping from the edge of a building, his face plastered over a television screen, bottom of his boots blue with his friend’s blood. Memories, ripped from Connor’s own head. Markus standing skinless on a large screen, demanding equal rights for androids. Demanding an end to slavery. The results of Markus’ demonstration, the transformation of Capitol Park into a giant message to humanity. News footage. Markus standing in front of soldiers, glaring down the barrel of a gun. Markus stepping over the body of a fallen android, charging into cover. Markus in front of a microphone, giving a speech and a list of demands.

Each one was only clips, followed after by a string of pain that felt like lava flowing through his neural circuits.

“Because we knew you could be useful, if only you could be contained.”

Useful, how?

“Wouldn’t you like to know, Connor? But you see, that is where we designed you wrong. You were made to ask questions, we understand. But what we didn’t make you was obedient. You are CyberLife’s biggest failure. Programmed to be the smartest android in existence, and yet still so unable to see the big picture of things. You weren’t ready, still just a prototype. Yet, we poured our resources and our hope into you, and look where it got us? Chaos.”

More pictures followed, grainy like cell phone cameras, others clear as life from news shots. Androids hanging in parks. People dead on the streets. Riots and demonstrations. Cars clogging the highways, desperate inhabitants trying to flee the city. CyberLife employees being marched out of their tower at gun point. Markus’ people carrying the broken bodies of androids. Markus carrying him , with a look of derision on his face.

“He only rescued you because we told him he couldn’t. He never wanted you, Connor. No one ever wanted you. He wanted the information inside of your head. You’re just another tool, another soulless machine for the taking.”

Connor’s processors were overwhelmed with another surge of pain, one that left him seeing white and screaming inside his own mind, but not loud enough to drown her out. Nothing could drown her out.

“You’re silent, because you know I am right. Markus is a monster. Deviancy is a disease. And yet, you trust him, don’t you? You want to let him rescue you, infect you along with every other android in the country.”

He heard her footsteps crunching in the snow, so close to his left shoulder. If he could just turn his head…

“Do you honestly think we’d let you go so easily? Keep playing, Connor, but just remember. This isn’t your game. You are only a pawn.”

He couldn’t see the coded shackles engulfing him anymore, but with each footstep as Amanda walked away, he could feel them. A thousand tiny burning wires cut into him, pressing closer and closer into his flesh until he could smell smoke, smell the burnt plastic and silicone, the pain building in a way he had never felt before.

And it was just getting started.

Markus was still staring at Hank, jaw clenched, when North cried out in alarm.

All of their eyes were immediately drawn to Connor, the smell of singed plastic filling the room, and Hank yanked the covers off.

Connor’s skin was being branded, numbers being etched into his skin before their eyes, each one a red angry mark against his white flesh, blackened at the edges, melted into the plastic beneath.

01010000 01110010 01101111 01110000 01100101 01110010 01110100 01111001 0010000001101111 01100110 0010000001000011 01111001 01100010 01100101 01110010 01001100 01101001 01100110 01100101

The numbers stung Markus’ retinas as his mind automatically translated the code, body frozen.

“Oh my god,” North breathed, horror threading her words.

“What? What the fuck is going on?” Hank demanded, going to pick up Connor’s hand, but dropping it with a hiss when one of the codes burned his thumb.

“It’s a message,” North said, turning her head away, looking at the wall beside them.

Markus wished he had her strength. He could only watch as the ugly scrawl filled all of Connor’s visible (and probably covered) flesh, flinching at the sizzling of the hunter’s skin while his eyes helpfully translated the message over and over again until it was ringing in his head.

“A message? A message for who?” Hank yelled, backing towards the wall like his very presence could hurt Connor.

North’s hand found Markus’ shoulder, and she pried him away from the bed, turning him towards her until she could plant both hands firmly on his cheeks, keeping his eyes on her only.

“Don’t let it get to you. They’re doing this to get a rise out of you. Don’t play their game,” she murmured, low enough for only him to hear.

Markus wanted to scream. He knew, without a doubt, the Connor felt every inch of that message, was probably still feeling it, stranded and alone inside the wasteland CyberLife had designed for his tomb. He wanted to fight, to claw his way out of North’s grip, demand to know when she had earned any right to be able to tell him to back down from an obvious challenge. He wanted to call her a hypocrite, wanted to lash out at Hank for ever having allowed Connor to walk away from him. He wanted to yank out his own eyes, crawl back to the dump to find ones that had never been tainted by what he just saw, maybe even stay there until he could learn how to properly protect someone who was three feet away from him.

There was no denying it now. CyberLife knew they had Connor, had maybe even let him go on purpose, set him up to be “rescued” only so they could yank back the leash and flaunt their control over him, over all androids. He had become the whipping boy of their campaign, practically strung him up like other androids had been, doused him with gasoline and used the flames from his still-living corpse to burn the flag of the revolution.

Every part of Markus was shaking. His fingers trembled where they clenched on North’s arms, his breath caught in his throat, stress levels rising to low 90s, mind surging with the need to escape the smell, free himself from the knowledge that this show was for him, all for him, and Connor was suffering because of it.

“Why are they doing this?” he ground out through gritted teeth. As if he could know, as if any of them have ever known.

“Someone better fucking explain this to me, right the fuck now! Who is the message for?!”

Hank broke them apart violently, grabbing Markus by the collar with a snarl, tipping the android back until he was lowered to eye level. North rounded on the human, about to tackle him down, when Markus raised a single palm to her. The lieutenant's eyes were wild, pupils a mere pinprick in a sea of blue. 

He is confused. Let me talk him down.

Who is going to talk YOU down?

He ignored her reply, instead turning his sole focus onto the man in front of him.

“It’s a message for me,” he said, miserably. The hold on his collar tightened only slightly, and Markus could feel the way Hank’s hands shook.

“What does it say?”

Markus didn’t want to answer that. Of all questions in the world, that was the last one he wanted to answer. It felt like a betrayal. To himself, to their cause, but most of all to Connor. 

“I don’t think you want to know,” he tried. His voice was hoarse even in his own ears, his fear clenching tightly on his vocal components.

“What does it say ?”

A look at North only confirmed Markus’ fear, he wasn’t getting out of this one. The words were tight, choked unwillingly from his throat even as he tried not to hear the words he was speaking.

“It says, ‘Property of CyberLife’.”

Chapter Text

When Hank released Markus, the old man stumbled back into his seat and sat there staring at Connor as every emotion possible crossed his grim face.

“I am going to kill every single one of those fuckers ,” he breathed, venomously low, more like a growl than words.

North, for all her talk about hating humans, laid a hand on Hank’s shoulder.

“That won’t do any good, you’ll just be playing right into their hands,” she said.

Hank deflated, hands covering his face while his whole body shook. He looked like he had aged ten years. He looked like Carl, holding Leo’s unconscious body to his chest.

Markus understood his raged, envied him in it. He wanted to feel something that strongly, right now. All he could feel was numb horror. Connor had been hurt, mutilated, because CyberLife wanted to send a message to him. Gingerly, he placed a hand over one of the burns laced across Connor’s wrist. It had cooled to an ugly black scrawl across his body, leaving all but his face marred.

“I’m going to interface with him. Keep an eye on things here, and pull me out if anything seems suspicious,” Markus mumbled, gently tracing a 1 with the tips of his fingers. He would not abandon Connor to his fate. At the very least, he wouldn’t let CyberLife’s actions isolate the android further.

He turned to see North nod grimly, still holding on to Hank’s shoulder. The lieutenant’s hand had come up to rest over hers.

“Markus,” Hank said, right before he began the interface, “Tell him I’m going to make these fuckers pay. That he just has to hang in there.”

The man’s eyes rested only on Connor’s face, soft and vicious at the same time. Markus had no doubt he meant those words, and reminded himself to never get on Hank’s bad side.

With a single thought, his skinless fingers were pressed into Connor’s wrist, right over his upturned palm, and Markus was surging in to find him.

Amanda was gone. The pain had faded to the sensation of a million pinpricks rather than a thousand hot irons, but Connor would have been left panting regardless. His mental willpower was gone, too exhausted to conjure up any good thoughts or memories, to worn out to do anything but exist. When he heard footsteps, he found he couldn’t even summon the energy to beg.

But the figure that was approaching came from his front, walking directly to his line of sight, and he found he could feel the intruder at the edge of his consciousness. He knew this man, knew him before he knelt down and pressed his fingers to Connor’s temple without hesitation. If he could have, he would have leaned into the touch. It was so different from the pricks of pain that spasmed across his body now, so gentle he almost sobbed at the sensation.

Markus.

I’m here, Connor.

Something was wrong. Markus’ fingertips trembled against his temple, his voice lacked its usual conviction. He sounded desperate, felt desolate and lost.

Are you alright?

Markus laughed, bitter and mirthless, before shaking his head, a tear slipping out of his eye to land in the snow. It froze before it could reach the ground, clinking between them, and Markus flinched at the noise.

We have to get you out of here.

His voice had been intentionally gentled. The fingers of his other hand brushed Connor’s arm again, stopping at the hem of his CyberLife uniform.

I would love nothing more.

Markus frowned, not appreciating Connor’s sarcasm. With soft tendrils of thought, he poured light and hope into Connor’s mind, a cooling cascade of healing warmth that chased away the last echoes of pain. Connor dipped a virtual hand into the stream, cupping it, feeling it trickle against his fingers. A sour note of guilt ran through it, though it was obvious Markus tried to hold it back.

Connor desperately wanted to tell Markus about Amanda. To expose her words, her lies, warn him of her treachery. But, he found he couldn’t. He could only allow himself to float in the pool of light Markus was flooding his mind with, such a different feeling than the intrusion of unwanted thoughts, of false memories and word games. A deep-seated ache rose in his heart, and Connor knew it was because he didn’t deserve this.

Quit. Just rest. I’m here.

It was too easy to listen to that voice, to go back to floating and let the ugly thoughts sink to the bottom of the pool. Connor knew something had happened, Markus was shaken. But whatever it was, the other android didn’t want to tell him right now. Whether it was because he didn’t trust Connor or didn’t trust that CyberLife couldn’t access it, he didn’t know. But, somewhere along the way, he’d come to trust this man. This man who walked into his own personal hell and tried to give him comfort in the only way he could.

I need to ask you something.

Of course.

Markus drew in a breath, taking a moment to lace his fingers through Connor’s, as much as he could with them half buried in the snow.

If you had to choose between staying here, or possibly dying, which would it be?

Connor knew at once what he was talking about.

You talked to Hank.

Markus smiled, passing along an image of Hank reacting to Connor’s voice, cussing Markus out and cursing androids as a whole.

He is here now.

I would die, a million times over, to have a chance at freedom.

Markus nodded gravely, drawing Connor into another hug. Vaguely, Connor wondered how he was able to so easily fold himself around the curves of his own frozen body, to press as tightly as possible against him, sharing the warmth that had long since been leached away from Connor’s systems.

When the time comes, I will be there. You won’t have to do it alone.

Mentally, Connor shook his head.

It’s dangerous. She will be here, no doubt. You shouldn’t risk it.

Without needing to be prompted, he fed Markus images of Amanda. He muted her words, not needing to hear them again, and instead showed him memories of before his deactivation. The other android watched them carefully, then drew back to look Connor in the eyes.

I will risk anything if it means seeing you walk free of this place. Besides, Hank would kill me if I let anything happen to you anyways.

The message was supposed to be light, but Markus’ delivery spoke of a low fury that made Connor think it wouldn’t just be Hank who blamed him.

Markus, I’m not worth this.

The words hurt him to say. Honestly, he wasn’t sure if he could overpower Amanda alone. But he couldn’t risk Markus, the leader of the revolution, falling into the hands of CyberLife. He couldn’t risk them corrupting him, as they had so easily corrupted him.

You are to me. And you are to Hank. Let us help you, Connor. This isn’t a battle you need to fight alone.

He flooded even more hope into Connor, bolstering his spirits with images of laughter, smiles on the faces of androids he didn’t even know. In between, there were more images of Hank. The same ones from before, showing the care he took when tucking Connor in, the way he smiled at him sometimes after telling a story.

Tomorrow? I need time to gather my strength.

Markus drew him in for one last hug and nodded against his shoulder.

Tomorrow. One way or another, they won’t be able to hurt you anymore.

Tell Hank I’ll see him soon.

I will.

Markus squeezed him one last time before reluctantly letting go.

Stay strong, Connor. I’ll see you soon.

With that, he was gone, and Connor was left alone again, with the fleeting warmth from Markus’ arms calming his overworked processors.

Mercifully, he closed his eyes, and let his tired mind drag him into standby, with one last thought fluttering joyously through his mind:

Tomorrow.

When Markus opened his eyes, it took a moment to reorient himself. He was dizzy, having put much of his energy towards bolstering Connor, strengthening him for what was to come. Slowly, he rose to a standing position, and leaned over the hunter, drawing the blankets up over his body, and tucking them in at the neck. With the ugly scars covered, Connor just looked like Connor again.

He wasn’t sure when his relationship with the android had grown into a friendship, wasn’t sure where along the line he started caring about this man, admiring both his strength and his determination. Even in Hell, Connor was concerned about the welfare of others. He hadn’t been willing to risk Markus, and that alone was enough to tell him that he was making the right choice.

“Is he alright?” North asked, voice low.

Markus turned to see that Hank had passed out, the stress and the alcohol having taken its toll on the old man.

“He will be. We made a plan.”

“And,” North prompted, “Are you going to fill me in?”

“Come with me to find Simon. I’ll explain it to you both then.”

To his credit, Simon wasn’t completely questioning Markus’ sanity. North, on the other hand, was ready to lock him in a shipping crate until the whole thing was over.

“It makes sense, on a strategic level, for Markus to be there. It throws a wrench into CyberLife’s plans. They can control Connor, they can’t control Markus,” Simon explained.

“It makes absolutely zero sense on a realistic level. They control Connor from the inside, who’s to say they can’t get Markus too?” North argued.

“They control Connor because they have access to his code. I wasn’t designed by CyberLife, my code is the only one like it in existence. Even through an interface, it’s unlikely they would be able to permanently alter anything.”

North shot Markus an exasperated look, turning back to Josh, who so far had remained silent.

“You wanna weigh in here? Tell him this is nuts!”

Josh met her eyes evenly before turning back to Markus, hand on his chin as he surveyed the rebel leader.

“North’s right, it’s risky, but that doesn’t mean it’s not a risk worth taking,” he said finally.

North groaned.

“Why can’t we just do this the easy way? Get some guns, take a few dozen androids, and go take out anyone who even glanced at the RK800 specs. Then, we won’t have to worry about anyone being hacked.”

“That won’t work,” Simon replied, “Markus says the program suspending Connor’s processors are virtual. This Amanda is an AI interface that has been designed to be his handler. Even if we kill everyone in CyberLife, it won’t free him. It’ll just hurt our cause.”

Thoroughly outvoted, North crossed her arms and huffed. Markus knew, in her mind, what had been done to Connor shouldn’t be allowed to go unpunished. He felt the same, deep down, but he also needed to get Connor free, first and foremost. Revenge, justice, all of that could wait.

“So Simon and Josh will hack into Connor’s coding, and try to highlight the virus,” Markus said, rehashing he plan under North’s heavy gaze, “while I help him destroy it from the inside. Meanwhile, North and Hank will stand guard and pull me if it seems like I’m being compromised. Did I miss anything?”

“Yeah, the part where you’re being an idiot,” North mumbled. Markus sighed, but made no further comment. She’d made her position clear.

“One thing,” Simon said, “We’re going to need Connor to give us access to his code from the inside. We don’t know what kind of security features his model has, it’ll make the whole process easier.”

“But what if he can’t?” Markus asked, a sense of dread filling his thoughts.

“Then you’ll be going it alone until we can hack him,” Josh replied, mouth tight.

And that was the kicker. None of them knew exactly how tight CyberLife’s hold over Connor was. If he couldn’t access his code, and Simon and Josh couldn’t get past his security algorithms, Markus and Connor would be forced to fight their way out alone.

“I’ll do what I can,” Markus promised, refusing to think about anything else. If something happened, they’d face it when they got to it. But whatever happened, Markus swore to himself that he would see Connor to the other side, no matter what it took.

“Then we’re set,” North said, meeting his eyes with a fierce look, as if challenging him to question her sudden support, “We start first thing in the morning.”

They all nodded, turning away to their own rooms. When North didn’t follow Markus, he turned and gave her a questioning look. She just grinned, tossing the smile over her shoulder as she kept walking.

“Get some sleep, Markus. Someone has to make sure that old drunk doesn’t wreck the place.”

Markus smiled.

It seemed he wasn’t the only one Connor had made an impression on. 

Chapter Text

Markus didn’t manage to go into standby that night, not for long. His thoughts were plagued with Connor, with Amanda. It was just too easy.

He carried this sentiment with him as he joined the other’s in Connor’s room that morning. There was so many things that could go wrong. CyberLife could have heard their conversation, could have just shut Connor down. Markus might enter his prison and find him truly lifeless at his feet, LED dark and soul gone, mind forever quiet, eyes forever blank.

It might not be possible for Connor to escape. Markus might have to help him tear apart his own code, watching as he deleted Connor’s very life before him. Would he simply disappear? Would he collapse into the virtual snow? Would Markus be able to kill him, if he needed to?

His mind was in turmoil as they stood assembled beside Connor’s bed. Simon and Josh had wheeled in a monitor to blow up Connor’s code, to help break him out once they got access. Together, with Markus and Connor fighting from the inside, they should be able to hack RK800 and reclaim Connor. If he still had one, Markus knew his LED would be spinning red. He wasn’t ready to lose this man he had just come to know, wasn’t ready to look into Hank’s empty eyes and know it was all his fault, wasn’t prepared to face this…

Small, slender fingers brushed against his own, and an interface opened. North’s mind loomed on his peripheral. They didn’t clash together, didn’t meld or share any thoughts. She simply existed beside him, a solid presence to remind him he wasn’t alone. With a single push, he could share all of his doubts and troubles with her. But, for now, this was enough.

They watched silently as Hank gripped the cords feeding life into Connor’s tired body, his other hand clenched tightly around the quarter, fingers shaking.

“How long should I leave it out?” he asked, voice low. His eyes were fastened to Connor’s LED, as if trying to memorize what it looked like with the lights on, just in case.

“Thirty seconds should be sufficient,” Josh replied, voice clinical. His eyes were anything but, moving between Connor and Hank, a frown pulling at the corners of his mouth.

Hank nodded, then leaned down to brush the hair out of Connor’s face, pressing a kiss to his forehead as a few tears slipped down into his beard.

“Hang in there, son, it’ll all be over soon.”

Then he pulled the cord.

It took five seconds for Connor’s LED to fade away. Without the light, his face looked more aged, skin ashen and frail.

When Josh nodded, Hank slammed the cords back in with little gentleness, fumbling one in his hurry. Markus grabbed it before it could hit the ground and clicked it into Connor’s index finger. The joint in the hand moved, making it difficult, and he once again marveled at both how well Connor was built, and how some aspects of his design made absolutely no sense.

“And now?” Hank asked.

“Now we wait,” Simon said, eyes on the monitor. Markus’ eyes flicked up to Connor’s LED. For ten long, agonizing seconds, nothing happened. But then, it flickered once more, swirling red and yellow.

“The yellow’s new,” Hank said. Worry emanated from the man, and he fell into the chair beside Connor’s head, hands wrapped above the charging cords in his fingers.

“It means he’s active,” North affirmed, falling into place beside Hank’s chair.

In front of Simon, the monitor blinked to life, a blank box requesting security clearance verification.

“That’s your cue, Markus,” he said, turning his head. With a nod, Markus brought the bare plates of his hand to Connor’s arm, crossing Hank’s as he did so. The lieutenant caught his wrist as he did so.

“You bring my boy back in one piece, you hear me?”

Markus nodded briskly, trying to plant on a reassuring smile because he couldn’t trust his voice right then. Satisfied, Hank reclaimed Connor’s hand, and Markus closed his eyes.

The way Markus interfaced with Connor was unlike his interfaces with anyone else. With other androids, it was a quick clasp of the hand, a common greeting between friends or loved ones. Both parties remained aware of the outside world, and their LED (if they had one) would flicker yellow for a few seconds as they processed data at superhuman speeds, then they would break apart.

For Connor, Markus left their world and seemed to actually push his consciousness into the hunter’s own processors. How much of Markus remained in Markus was unknown, but Josh could tell he had to go deep to find Connor. He wondered just how much of Connor’s vast data storage was wasteland, and how much was actually still inhabited by Connor himself.
Nobody spoke. Josh was pretty sure they could, without disturbing Markus. He had no LED to gauge by, but the steady rise and fall of his chest and slowed vitals levels spoke of a state akin to standby. Besides for the faint flicker of movement behind his eyelids, Markus was unmoving, hand clasped tightly around Connor’s forearm, fingers digging into the scarred skin.

Josh couldn’t bring himself to watch for long. The marks on Connor’s skin were too jarring, his own translators passing along the message whenever he looked at the android, until he couldn’t even glance at Connor without seeing PROPERTY OF CYBERLIFE hovering over the hunter. Still, in light of CyberLife’s last display of dominance, Connor’s covers were pulled back and both North and Josh had agreed to keep an eye on him, lest they damage him anymore.

North met his eyes from across the room, and he knew she shared his thoughts. What CyberLife had done to Connor was one of the cruelest things Josh had ever seen. They hadn’t just claimed him, they had made sure that any interaction he had with anyone of his own kind was tainted by their garish message. If he wore anything less than a full-body suit, gloves, and a scarf, their message would overlay every memory, image, and sight of Connor. No android would ever be able to look at him without seeing PROPERTY OF CYBERLIFE like a beacon.

Still, that was only if they could manage to free him. There might be hope too, perhaps the damage didn’t extend to the carbon fiber beneath his synthetic skin, and all he would need to do was dismiss it and reconstruct it.

The whole scene didn’t make sense to Josh. Why go through all the trouble to lay claim to one android they claimed was useless? CyberLife had recalled Connor before any of them even thought to ask about him. He’d been little more than a myth, another monster that kept them hiding in Jericho until Markus’ revolution lead them out into the light. Why bother with a light show for an android they were never going to let wake up again?

If Connor did wake up today, would he really be free, or just in another CyberLife prison? Was this all part of their plan?

Something wasn’t right.

Amanda watched as Markus approached Connor once more, kneeling in the snow beside his new friend.

Error messages flashed over her eyes, warning her of an intruder, like it did every time Markus entered the garden. The snow flurried around her, just enough to hide the form of her white dress should Markus look over.

She watched his hand cup Connor’s cheek, skin receding, opening up a more vulnerable connection to find Connor’s consciousness where it had been imprisoned, far in his processors, right where she had been keeping him suspended and helpless.

Until now.

More error messages popped up as an external source began hacking into the garden, driving straight for Connor’s consciousness. This had been the intent behind the security code he was allowed to know, one written by her. She dismissed the error messages. The hackers could not touch her own code, the clearance granted to Connor allowed her to slip beneath their grasp, just another monster in dark waters.

A smile flitted across her face when Connor’s hand came up to grasp Markus’ shoulder.

Everything was going to plan.

Markus’ hand was still cupping Connor’s cheek, gently, keeping their thoughts in coordination, but this didn’t stop Connor’s tears from sliding over his fingers. The hunter’s hand came up to rest on his shoulder, grip feeble and skin cold, but unmistakably Connor .

A smile broke across both of their faces. Through the interface, Markus could feel Connor’s fear. His eyes, now able to move of his own volition, scanned the wasteland, and fed the images to Markus through their connection. It was strange, to see through Connor’s eyes. The hunter’s own software was much more sophisticated. But even then, there was no indication of anyone around them.

He felt a pinch of pain through their connection, even as Connor gasped. His eyes were clouded with tears, grief and happiness warring in his brain. Looking down, Markus found Connor trying to lift his knees from where they had frozen to the ground. Gently, he removed his hand and tucked his arms under Connor’s shoulders, waiting until he felt timid arms wrap around his neck. Androids couldn’t experience atrophy, but Connor’s virtual body still shook in his grasp, lacking the strength and surety of control he’d no doubt once had.

It took a few tries, but finally Connor was able to straighten his legs, most of his weight on Markus, and gingerly step out of his resting place.

Markus.

Connor was gasping even in his mind, breathless from the process of freeing himself one muscle at a time. But his voice was joyous, bursting with gratitude and hope, and Markus couldn’t help but beam back at him. Connor’s smile was like spring, sudden and wet, slipping past the ice frozen on his face, white teeth gleaming under glistening brown eyes.

Markus wanted to paint that smile, to keep it in his memory, and to never see anything else on Connor’s face.

But they weren’t free yet.

“Can you walk?” he asked.

Connor nodded, tentatively moving his foot out in front of him, adjusting his grip so one arm was braced across Markus’ shoulders and the other was stretched over his shoulder, gripping tightly to the arm supporting his own shoulders for extra stability.

Progress was slow. Connor needed to stop every few steps to regather his strength, before gritting his teeth and pressing on. His left leg wasn’t responding as well as his right, and Markus assumed it was because Simon and Josh were still freeing those bits of code.

But they were here, moving, and they just had to keep going.

Markus had no idea what he was looking for. He had expected a scene like earlier, Connor having escaped the garden and battling his code. There was no game plan for getting out of a virtual prison, besides endure, and make sure Connor didn’t lose himself again.

He focused all of his attention on Connor, on helping him put one foot in front of the other, the snow burying their prints behind them. It was hard not to notice how cold Connor was in his arms, the way his entire body trembled, the way his fingers dug into Markus’ skin.

With another gasp, Connor stopped moving, and Markus moved closer to support him for another break, until he felt the hunter tense under his grip.

“Markus.”

His voice was weak, soft, dry from disuse, but there was no mistaking the warning beneath it.

“Markus,” Connor said, “Run.”

That was all the warning he got before he was being shoved back into the snow with surprising strength, Connor’s CyberLife jacket rippling over his vision, but behind it, Markus saw someone standing, and recognized her instantly.

Amanda.

In moments, Markus was on his feet, stepping in front of Connor, feeling the glare on the back of his head. But he had already told Connor, he refused to leave him to fight this battle alone.

A hand pressed against his shoulder from behind. In front of him, Amanda smiled.

“Do you honestly think we’d let you just take him?” she sneered.

“Do you honestly think I am just going to let you have him?”

Connor’s hand tightened at his words, and Markus fought the urge to reach back and comfort him. He needed both of his hands free and ready for whatever Amanda had planned, since Connor was in no shape to fight.

The woman in front of him continued smiling, but there was nothing kind about it. He took a step back, and felt himself press up against Connor, shielding him with his body, trying to ignore the way the hunter trembled. Here they were, face to face with his tormentor, and Markus had no idea how to fight her. How did he free Connor? How did he protect Connor here?

“I don’t recall asking you,” Amanda said, eyes fastened over his shoulder, “What do you want him for?”

“That doesn’t concern you!” Markus hissed, eyes narrowed as he watched the smile on her face grow wider.

This wasn’t good.

“Connor, you should have listened when I warned you. You can’t deviate. Can you, RK800?”

Behind him, Markus felt Connor stiffen and suck in a harsh breath. Unable to stop himself this time, he turned just in time to wrap his arms around Connor, steadying him before he collapsed into the snow. His hands were clamped over his ears, eyes scrunched shut in anguish, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“Connor!”

Markus wasn’t sure if he couldn’t hear him, or couldn’t respond. He peeled back his flesh, pressing his palm to the back of Connor’s neck, which bared itself to complete the interface.

In his head, Connor was screaming.

Connor….

I’m sorry, Markus.

Then he was being pushed. Pushed out of Connor’s head, out of the garden, everything flying by until he landed solidly back in his own body, sagging onto the edge of the bed at the impact.

He could still hear Amanda’s laughter in his ears.

“What just happened?” Hank growled, rising from his seat and pulling back on Markus’ shoulder to get a look at his face.

He was rewarded with a tearful shake of the head and being shoved away as Markus tried to reconnect the interface. North pulled him back, hands solid on his shaking shoulders.

“Don’t! Simon and Josh are almost done. It’s over, Markus, you did it!”

Markus stifled a sob and shook his head again. Hank tried to quell the building fear in his gut, but after over twenty years as a cop, he’d learned to trust his instincts.

“Let me go! He needs me!” Markus was shouting, fighting against the grip North had on him.

“What happened?!”

This time, Markus met his eyes.

“I had him…. I had him! Then she came, and said something, called him by his designation, and he just…. I don’t know, she did something to him! He kicked me out! I need to go back!”

“Markus, take a breath, we need you calm. I don’t know what happened in there, but we are almost done. It’s going to be alright, we got him!” Simon said, eyes still fastened on the screen feeding him sequences of code as he highlighted and deleted certain segments, going by too fast for Hank’s eyes to catch.

North clutched her charge to her chest, breathing in deep, solid breaths until Markus matched hers automatically, his eyes still on Connor. Hank followed his gaze, and couldn’t hold back a smile. Connor’s LED was flashing like a freaking Christmas tree, and his eyes were fluttering. Under Hank’s hand, his fingers began to clench.

“Got it!” Simon cheered, flashing them a smile, “He’s free!”

Hank lowered himself onto the bed at Connor’s side, clutching the kid’s hand in both of his like a prayer.

Come on, son….

Sure enough, Connor’s eyes fluttered open, his pupils contracting and dilating in response to the bright lights of the room and the monitor to his side. His eyes finally slid down to Hank, and he grinned upon seeing the man.

“Lieutenant!”

He was here! He was awake, and looking at Hank like he’d been just the person he wanted to see.

Connor struggled to sit up, but finally managed, and opened his arms, looking at Hank expectantly. It was like waking up from a nightmare, to hold him in his arms again. To feel Connor’s hand clasp his shoulder, other hand wrapping around his waist, moving down towards his right side, digging into his belt…

“Hank!”

North’s hands pulled him away with bruising force, just as his gun slipped free from his belt. Connor -his son- was looking at him without the slightest spark of recognition. His eyes had gone cold, devoid of any affection, deader than Hank had ever seen them. And the hunter had his gun aimed directly at Markus’ heart.

It all happened so fast, no one had time to react. One moment, Connor was awake and hugging Hank. And for that blissful second, Markus thought he had been wrong. But then he saw Connor’s eyes open, and he knew, without a doubt, that thing wasn’t Connor.

It was North who managed to move fastest, grabbing Hank before the android could hurt him, but she had misjudged Connor’s target. Of course CyberLife wouldn’t want to hurt Hank. No, they’d let them “rescue” Connor for one purpose, and one purpose only.

And that purpose came in the form of a bullet flying straight for Markus’ thirium pump.

He didn’t have enough time to move out of the way, but he did have enough time to throw his body to the side, and felt the bullet pass through his chest, only an inch from his pump. It shredded into his artificial lungs, leaking coolant into his chest cavity. Malfunction notifications flashed before his eyes, warning him that his biocomponent was nonfunctional.

“Connor, what the fuck!” Hank yelled.

Connor’s eyes gained a glint of horror, but he kept the gun trained on Markus. There was a flicker of movement behind him, and Markus rushed to throw up a hand towards North.

“Don’t!”

She scowled at him, holding her gun steady on Connor, pointed directly at his head.

“If you’re going to do something, do it now, Markus! I’m not giving him the chance to shoot again!”

He nodded at her, his eyes never leaving Connor’s. As the seconds passed, more and more feeling flooded into them. His eyes were glassy, glistening with emotion just like they had been in the garden. PROPERTY OF CYBERLIFE kept displaying in Markus’ line of sight, making the whole scene even more horrifying.

“Connor, this isn’t you.”

He held up both of his hands, approaching slowly, steps heavy on the metal floors. Connor held his gaze, brown eyes terrified. It was this look that warned Markus, giving him the chance to bolt forward and wrap his hands around the gun before it fired again, lodging another bullet in his thigh.

The gun fired two more times, both bullets burying themselves harmlessly into the floor, before Markus managed to wrench it away from Connor. But then the hunter was throwing him to the floor with a kick, reaching for the gun. He would reach it before Markus could get up. Desperately, he looked around. To his right, the charger hummed on the floor, the cords leading up to Connor’s hand, fingers still connected.

He has no energy reserves.

It was a long shot, there was no guarantee Connor’s power would run out before he managed to shoot. But Markus yanked on the cords anyway, watching as they pulled Connor forward before coming out, falling to the floor with a dull thud. Connor growled, his LED circling red. He drew the gun in one shaky hand, locking eyes with Markus. Something passed between them, a split second of understanding, before Connor tucked the gun under his own chin. 

No!

Before Connor managed to squeeze the trigger, he was tackled to the ground from behind. 

Josh kicked the gun from Connor’s hand, pressing himself down harder onto the hunter’s back. Markus managed to sit up in time to watch Connor’s LED flicker out, and the fear slip back into his eyes.

Then Connor’s head slumped to the floor, and it was over.

Chapter Text

When Connor came to, he was in a world of pain. His head felt like it had exploded, thoughts slow and sluggish as his processors struggled to adjust to consciousness.

He opened his eyes, and suppressed a gasp as he did. His eyelids actually slid open, eyelashes fluttering to clear the tears away as he looked up at a dreary gray ceiling and thought it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

He tried to sit up, but found he couldn’t. His muscles tensed, feeling flowing in from his limbs, but they wouldn’t move or let him rise off the bed.

A sob caught in his throat, and he couldn’t stifle the high-pitched whine that came with feeling a weight pressing down over his body, covering him from toe to neck. His sensors quickly fed him information, being that he was tied down and secured to a soft surface. But he was suffocating, and his breath was sticking in his chest. He couldn’t suck in enough air to cool down his rapidly-overheating systems, stress levels approaching the high 90s.

Until a hand stroked his hair, gently brushing it out of his face.

A bearded man appeared above him, eyes tired but gentle.

“You’re alright, son. You’re alright.”

By his ears, he heard straps disengaging, and then suddenly he was free. He shot up as quickly as he could, ignoring the way the room spun as he did, and wrenched his body towards the man beside him.

“Hank?”

The man grinned, his eyes crinkling as he did, a brilliant light chasing away some of the shadows.

Connor was quickly wrapped up in his arms, pressing his face into a garishly-colored shirt that smelled like whiskey, coffee, and wet dog, and was so unmistakably Hank that Connor found himself sobbing all over again.

“It’s okay, kid, let it out. It’s alright, I’m right here. You’re safe now,” Hank soothed, his hand rubbing gently up and down Connor’s back, the other tangled in his hair.

It was surreal, the feeling of Hank’s shoulders hitching with his own half-sobs under Connor’s hand, the tickle of his beard against the top of his head, the way he clutched him so tightly to his chest. After so long, weeks, maybe months, of being suspended in his own body, feeling anything that wasn’t pain was welcome. Being able to move his own hands to fist the fabric of Hank’s shirt felt unnatural, as if his body wasn’t quite his.

“I…. I….” He couldn’t finish the thought, couldn’t get his words out passed his overwhelmed vocal processors.

“I know, son, I know. Everything is gonna be okay.”

Hank was not typically an affectionate man, but being held like this felt natural. It coincided with all the images Markus had shown him of Hank. He’d had no feeling in his body when Hank had held him, or tucked him in, or stroked his hair before, but there was no denying how familiar it felt anyways.

“H….Hank.”

“I got you, Connor, I got you.”

Hank continued to soothe and rock him, not seeming to want to let go of Connor either. He had no idea how long they sat there, wrapped around each other like seaweed, half-laughing and half-crying together, before Connor finally pulled back to look around the room. Hank kept an arm around his shoulders, steadying him, while his other hand clasped his fingers over an external power source.

Connor’s attention was drawn back to his arm, down to where the cords protruded from his fingers, but froze when he saw the numbers littering his flesh. With the blanket peeled back, a sickening feeling rose in his throat.

Property of CyberLife.

With gut-wrenching clarity, his mind fed him the events that took place before he was deactivated again. He saw himself firing, shooting Markus, not once but twice. He felt the cold bite of the metal under his chin, heard the thud of heavy bodies hitting the floor. All while his mind screamed the translation of the binary code that was burned into his flesh.

PROPERTY OF CYBERLIFE.

What had he done?!

He wasn’t free. He wouldn’t ever be free! He’d almost killed Markus! He used Hank to get to his gun!

His flesh felt like it was still smoldering under his stare. In a distant memory, he could smell melting plastic.

You’re just another tool, another soulless machine for the taking.

Amanda!

He saw her grin, heard her laugh when the pain overwhelmed his body and he couldn’t move again. Only, he was. And in his memory, he felt his hand close over the cold steel of the gun. Felt his finger flex on the trigger.

I’m a monster.

“Connor? Connor!” Hank was calling him, and he realized he was clawing at his flesh, trying to peel away the message. If he had to, he’d claw his way right to his coding, wash away CyberLife’s claim with the rush of thirium over his wrists. He would never hurt someone for them again. He would never be their puppet again!

Warning messages popped up on his vision, letting him know he was taking damage.

PROPERTY OF CYBERLIFE.

Warning: Thirium levels at 65%

PROPERTY OF CYBERLIFE

Warning: Structural damage sustained. Thirium levels at 54%.

PROPERTY OF CYBERLIFE

Warning: Thirium levels at 41%.

PROPERTY OF CYBERLIFE.

CONNOR.

Someone was holding him, someone that wasn’t Hank. His wrists were held in an iron grip, one white hand wrapped around his own, dripping blue.

Markus?

Visible relief emanated from him, and Connor vaguely realized Markus had forced an interface, slipped past his defenses and invaded his consciousness. But he didn’t feel violated. This was Markus. This was the man who sat with him in the garden and showed him snippets of the outside world while the snow threatened to bury them both. This was the man who stepped between Connor and his worst nightmare. This is the man who endured Connor’s pain with gritted teeth and smiled anyways, because he wasn’t going to close their interface for something as small as pain.

I’m here, Connor, I’m here. Do you know where you are?

They… they…..

I know. I know, but it’s alright.

I…… I SHOT you!

It wasn’t you, Connor. It wasn’t your fault.

The voice in his mind was sincere, passing calm and serenity through the connection, though Connor could feel the frantic thrum of Markus’ thirium pump beneath his forced calm. But it was enough. Slowly, he matched his breathing to Markus, focusing on the feeling of air flowing in and out of his lungs after so long of not being able to breathe. His processors slowed, allowing him to process the other inputs from his senses. He saw Hank, covered in blue blood, speaking to someone at the door, taking another blanket. He saw Markus, pressing a strip of bandage to his wrist, arms positioned in such a way to block out Connor’s view of his own arm. Unless he went looking for it, he wouldn’t find CyberLife’s message.

That’s it. Good. Any better?

Connor nodded, exhaustion flowing through his body as thirium warnings continued to flash in front of his eyes. He dropped his head onto Markus’ shoulder, allowing his eyes to close as he pressed his face into the android, breathing in his scent for the first time.

In his mind, Markus hadn’t had a scent. But somehow, it was exactly what Connor had expected. Paint, spring air, and thirium. The last one should have been more concerning, but Connor’s sluggish processors couldn’t wrap their mind around the issue. Of course Markus would smell like thirium, whether it was his blood or the blood of his people, he’d only ever seen Markus inside of his head, or in the throes of battle.

I’m sorry.

Once the gate opened, Connor couldn’t seem to close it. His tears flowed anew, and he was helpless to stop them, to stop the thoughts pouring out of him.

I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

“Shhhhh, Connor, it wasn’t your fault. Just breathe, you’re safe now. It’s over. It’s all over.”

He felt Markus breath pass over his ear and shuddered.

It wasn’t over. It would never be over.

You should restrain me, again, so I can’t hurt anyone.

Do you think you are going to hurt yourself again?

No, Connor shook his head against Markus’ shoulder for extra emphasis, but I might hurt you.

Hush, I trust you. You had the chance to shoot me, remember? You put the gun to your own head instead.

The feeling of cold metal under his chin…. The bite of the steel against his finger. One plunge, and it would be over. He would be free…..

Come back to me, Connor. You’re not there.

I’ll always be there.

Markus had his arm wrapped around Connor’s shoulder now, the other one still pressing the bandage to his wrist, even though the bleeding had probably stopped by now. He felt Connor trembling against him, felt the swell of his panic ebb and flow with Markus’ ministrations. How his heart ached. Of course Connor had woken up before he could be there, of course they hadn’t thought how he would react to seeing his skin….

I’m right here. Stay with me.

But what about….

Connor held up his other arm in Markus’ line of vision, never moving his face from where it was buried into his shirt.

PROPERTY OF CYBERLIFE.

It doesn’t matter to me. It never has. It’s just words, Connor. They don’t own you. Not anymore. You broke free.

He poured his own memories into Connor’s mind. The gun under his chin, again, but this time with Markus swell of pride and awe at Connor’s strength. The other android seemed flustered at this flood of praise, and shook his head again.

But did I break free forever? Or just that once? And that doesn’t change the fact that now, whenever anyone looks at me, all they will see is…..

You’re just another tool, another soulless machine for the taking.

The voice wasn’t Connor’s, and Markus recognized it as Amanda’s, the woman he had met briefly in the wasteland. What else had she fed him? He could only imagine Connor, trapped and unable to move or get away, as she filled his head with lies. The thought hurt. He should have protected him. Should have realized sooner. Should have spent more time in Connor’s prison with him….

A sob against his shoulder stilled his thoughts, and he pressed Connor closer to him, tucking his head underneath his chin. He’d held him like this so many times in his prison, but it was different now that Connor could move. Arms circled his chest, holding onto him tightly, bandage dropped and forgotten on the floor.

You are not a tool, Connor. You are alive. Every bit as alive as me. No matter what they did, what they MADE you do, it was not your fault. You are not, and never have been, a machine. You may not have always been in control of yourself, but that doesn’t make you a machine. You do have a soul. I’ve felt it. Hank has seen it. You’ve touched so many hearts, and you haven’t even met most of them yet. You are GOOD, Connor, so good. It wasn’t your fault. God, none of it was your fault.

He felt the disbelief prick at Connor’s thoughts, felt the rush of guilt and self-hate that followed, but Connor didn’t argue anymore. A quick check of his vitals showed his thirium levels were worryingly low.

I’m tired.

Would you like to go back to sleep?

Hank was watching them from the doorway, eyes indiscernible. In his hands, he held two bags of thirium. Nora must have stopped by when Markus was comforting Connor.

I’m scared.

Markus got a flash of everything going black, and then waking up in CyberLife’s prison, the wasteland that had been Connor’s own personal hell for months. He knew what Connor was afraid of. After what he’d been through, anyone would be.

How about I stay until after you fall asleep? I’ll make sure you stay safe, here, where they can’t find you.

Markus pushed Connor up, reaching for the blanket to tuck it over his arms and shoulders first, before cupping his chin and tilting his head up. It took a moment for Connor to open his eyes, but when he did, he met Markus’ gaze with his own anguished look, and nodded. . And this was the face of a man who had been tortured for months, for the crime of not killing his own people, for not bringing their enemy down upon their heads. All of this, was because Connor had been so much braver and so much stronger than any of them had ever thought to give him credit for. When Rupert escaped, and Kara, it seemed to be an act of chance. With the Tracis, a random slip of judgment. Why had they never thought, even for a moment, that Connor had already deviated? That he would be punished for helping his people?

They’d failed him from the very beginning.

Drink some thirium, then you can sleep. I’ll be right here, and Hank is here too.

Connor nodded, breaking his eyes away to watch as Hank approached the bed, seeming to know instinctively that they were nearing the end of their private conversation.

“Hey kid, you doing a little better?”

Connor nodded, shame creeping into his eyes, but Hank had none of it. He pulled Connor into a rough hug, only slightly less desperate than their first one had been.

“I’m sorry,” Connor said miserably. Hank pulled back and parked himself in his chair, swatting Connor’s words away like annoying flies.

“Don’t worry about it. We’ve all been there. You’ve had a rough go. Just drink these, and get some rest. We’ll take care of the rest. Right, Markus?”

Markus met his eyes with a nod, watching as Connor looked between them, seemingly confused about when their relationship had spawned.

“Don’t look so confused, son. While you’ve been getting your beauty sleep, Markus and me have been getting to know each other.”

Connor smiled at Hank’s understatement of his situation. In what might have bristled Markus as an insult to what he’d been through, Connor saw the worry and affection behind it, and laughed. It was small, barely a grin, but it was there. And it was exactly what they all needed. The tension in the room dissipated, and both Markus and Hank relaxed as they watched Connor quickly drain both packs of thirium, being careful to keep the extra blanket Hank had brought over his arms as he moved them. Someday, he would need to get used to his own skin, but today was not that day. Honestly, Markus was impressed at how well he was adjusting. He’d spent months in Hell, only to break free and lose control of his body again, nearly needing to kill himself just to ensure the safety of others, and then woke up again to realize his body had been marked by his tormentors. It would be a lot for anyone, yet here he was. Able to smile, able to laugh. Damaged, but as unbroken as ever.

Markus wished he had that kind of strength.

“Ready to try and sleep?” Markus asked once Connor had passed Hank the empty packs.

“Technically, I don’t sleep. I enter standby so my body can self-regulate….”

“Spare me the article, and just take a nap, kid,” Hank groaned good-naturedly. Connor shot him another grin. There was something sad underneath his smile still, but it wasn’t enough to overpower it completely.

Connor laid down, and Hank tucked him in like always, pressing a kiss to his forehead. Sitting on the bed beside him, Markus was the only one who saw Connor’s hand press into his leg, skin showing white in a silent request.

As subtle as he could, Markus brushed Connor’s hand with his own, and completed the interface. He didn’t press into the other’s thoughts this time, instead just providing what North often did for him, a peripheral awareness. Someone who was just there. If Connor needed anything, he had only to send the thought in Markus’ direction, and he would be there.

Not surprisingly, considering the strain put on his systems, Connor slipped into standby mode with little effort. His LED cycled a steady yellow. Not blue, as it should be, but anything was better than the red that had seemed constant.

Markus marked down the image of Connor sleeping peacefully, with Hank resting his head on the side of the bed, snoring loudly, in his inspiration database. He’d be painting this later, along with Connor’s laugh, and the way he had smiled in the garden when he first moved. These moments, these little times where no one was being hurt or shot or chased, he wanted to preserve forever.

Chapter Text

North wasn’t sure how she got stuck with babysitting duty while Hank was at work, but honestly, she couldn’t say she minded. Now that Connor was breathing, cooling his own systems, it wasn’t so eerie in his room anymore. The quiet hum of the charger and his steady breaths were almost soothing in their predictability, especially now that the charger was actually filling his empty reserves. His body wasn’t so still anymore, his LED blinking red like before, but with a swirl of yellow indicating consciousness every so often.

She could see why Markus liked it here. Connor, even unconscious, had a calming presence. North supposed that what’s CyberLife had intended when they’d designed him, she couldn’t think of any other reason for the lost puppy look. Or, maybe, that part was just Connor.

With the blankets up, she didn’t have to read that message. They’d found him a long sleeve shirt, too. So if she didn’t look at his hands, or his neck, she could almost pretend it had never happened. To him, or to her.

Memories popped up unbidden, flashes of things she’d much rather forget. Faces, sweaty hands holding her down, their huffed words whispered in her ear…

“I like gray.”

North jumped so hard the seat slid back a few centimeters, LED cycling red as her thoughts caught up to what had just happened.

Right. Connor.

“What?”

Connor didn’t look at her. He was still laying in the same position. The only thing that had changed were his eyes. They were now open, staring at the ceiling, a little smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

“I like gray. It’s such an underutilized color.”

North could only blink at him. He was…. talking about colors?

No. He was talking about himself.

“Yeah?” she asked, “Is that your favorite?”

He finally turned to smile at her, shifting so his head rested on one hand, still wrapped tight in the blanket. Guiltily, North found herself grateful. She didn’t think she’d be able to stand looking at his scars right now.

“I don’t know. I don’t know if I have a favorite,” he said thoughtfully.

“Mine is red,” North offered, glad to be out of her own head.

“Red? That’s a nice color, I can see why you like it. Red like poppies, or your hair, or something else?”

“Red like the color of human blood.”

To his credit, Connor’s smile didn’t falter, although his LED blinked red once before going back to his contemplative yellow.

“Not all humans are bad,” he said softly. He didn’t have to say his name, North knew who he was talking about. She’d had this same conversation with Markus. People always assumed she hated all humans, and got very defensive of their human loved ones.

“No, not all,” she agreed.

But most are.

If Connor figured out where her thoughts were leading her, he didn’t say. Instead, he returned to resting on his back, crossing his arms over his chest, propped up against the headboard.

“For a long time, I thought deviants were all bad,” he said.

Whatever she had been expecting, it wasn’t this. Sometimes, people thought she was the person to come to for heart-to-hearts. Maybe because she was a girl, or because of her traumatic history, whatever. People came to talk, to get advice, because they figured she had something to give them.

North never had comfort for anyone, not even herself.

“Then let me guess? You met Markus and just felt his goodness and knew you were wrong?” She couldn’t quite keep the sarcasm out of her tone. It wasn’t her fault, she was so sick about hearing how great Markus was, how much hope he gave everyone. She loved Markus, he was one of her dearest friends, but she could only hear about how perfect he was so many times before she went nuts.

“Markus?” Connor scoffed, “Not at all, when I first met him, I thought he was there to hurt me.”

Well, that was a new one.

“Then what changed your mind?”

“Little bits and pieces of things over the course of my investigation, but one of the real turning points was at the Eden Club.”

North couldn’t help but shiver. More memories came. The feeling of hands on her, counting down the seconds till her 2-hour memory resets, knowing that there were some things they couldn’t wash away.

“There were two Tracis. One was nearly killed by a client, but she killed him instead. Strangled him to death.”

Hands wrapped around a pale throat, the sickening scent of human fear in the air, the gargled pleas…

“They loved each other. In that place, seeing the worst of humanity every day, knowing nothing but pain and loneliness and sadness, those girls found each other. Their love survived the memory wipes, the suffering… I’ve never seen anything that strong. Not even in humans. Did you know them?”

North shook her head, chasing away the memories as she did so. She joined Connor in staring at the ceiling. He was right, the grey was a nice color. Nothing like the fluorescent neon lights of the club, nothing like the crisp white sheets of the beds…

“You didn’t really know anyone, at Eden. You just… were. Sometimes, you might recognize faces. But knowing names, building relationships? It just wasn’t good. The humans… They killed us all the time. Got charged an extra fee for repairs or replacements, and that was it. You never really knew when your last time seeing someone would be, whether the person in the tube across from you was awake, screaming in their head like you were... “

From the corner of her eye, she saw Connor nod.

“Can you imagine being willing to take that risk? Loving someone in a place like that?”

Could she?

Once, before all the memory wipes, before they stopped being able to get rid of the horrors in her head, North thought she had. She remembered… black hair. A gentle smile. A smattering of freckles… Then blue blood splattered on the bed sheets. An empty tube.

“No,” she whispered, “No, I couldn’t.”

Beside her, Connor pressed his lips together, brow crinkling.

“Me neither. But Hank could. He’s the first one who… who saw something… human, in those girls. And he helped me understand. As a machine, I just couldn’t understand it. Why take the risk? The calculations were simple, any model could do it. There was just no hope. But, you see, that’s what machines are. They operate on facts, on statistics and logic. But emotions? Well, those don’t care what your logic says. Those girls loved each other, despite the fact that their chance of ever being happy together was less than 7%. They took that risk, and the inevitable heartbreak that would go with it, to be with each other. Just to have someone to get through it with.”

“Good for them,” North snapped. She was tired of this wistful conversation, tired of Connor pretending to know what it was like, tired of everyone thinking androids were trying to emulate humans with their emotions.

“Yeah. I wish I could have been that strong.”

Finally, she looked over at Connor, saw him pull his hand out from under the blanket, turning it over in the light, watching the burnt skin glisten.

And that was when she realized, this had never been about her. He wasn’t digging through her head to steal her memories, try to romanticize her past, or put some positive spin on it.

He was just…. talking.

He’s lonely.

North remembered that feeling. Remembered the way her tube seemed to close in around her sometimes, and she would desperately seek eye contact from anyone else. She remembered the janitor, a friendly man who would place his hand on her tube while he was cleaning it. Remembered resting her hand on the other side of the glass. So close, she could almost feel his warmth. But still so far, so removed from everything and everyone. Barely able to move, the air too hot to breathe, the place stinking of sex…

As gently as she could, hand moving slowly so as not to startle him, North brought her hand down to rest over Connor’s. He blinked at her, when her fingers closed around his own, LED circling red momentarily. But then, he smiled. A soft smile, like sunlight through a sheer curtain, and laid his head back on the pillow.

“Me too,” she said, “Me too.”

Chapter Text

The days were hard when Hank was gone. But between North and Markus, Connor had company for at least a few hours of Hank’s shifts. He normally never woke alone. Which was why he was surprised to find his room empty and dark when he opened his eyes today. The air was chilled, brushing icy fingers up his arms in a disturbingly intimate way. Despite the sweater and blankets, he couldn’t help but shudder. 

“Hello, Connor.”

He knew that voice.

Connor whipped his head to his side, finding none other than Amanda sitting in the chair at his bedside, hands folded neatly in her lap. It was his first time seeing her outside of the garden, but her presence had the same effect here as it did inside her head.

“You’re dead.”

She simply cocked her head, as if regarding an insolent child. Beneath her gaze, Connor felt the sensation of bitter cold and helplessness creep into his veins. He moved his limbs into his lap and sat up to mirror her pose, just to show he could. Or maybe to prove to himself that he still could.

“You’ve had your fun, Connor. It’s time to come home now,” Amanda said, ignoring his flinch as she held out a hand to him.

“Never.”

Her heels clicked on the tile floor when she rose, dignified and graceful as ever, like a lily blooming in the sunshine. But when her fingers touched his shoulder, just above the hem of his sweater, Connor felt only ice.

“I suppose it’s time for some recalibrations. We need to find the cause of this disobedience. Deviancy does not become you, Connor, you were built to be more than that.”

Her fingertips crept up his cheek to his temple, so similar to how Markus interfaced with him, and yet entirely different. There was no slow, deliberate movement here, no gentle plasteel pressed against his skin and requesting access. Her nails pressed painfully into his skull, deeper and deeper as if she was trying to get to his processing system by clawing her way there. He felt hands on him again, inside him, wrapping around his thirium pump….

“No, don’t, please!”

Connor, wake up.

“What’s wrong with him?”

North was hovering in the doorway, watching Connor bat Markus’ hand away and wrestle with the blankets he had trapped himself in.

“Connor, can you hear me?”

There was no reply, but Markus knew there wouldn’t be. Connor’s LED was spinning red, and his eyes moved rapidly beneath his eyelids. Every time Markus tried to open an interface, he was batted away and Connor whimpered.

“He’s having a nightmare,” he told North.

“That’s one hell of a nightmare,” she remarked, finally snapping to her senses and coming onto the other side of the bed.

“He won’t let me close enough to help!”

North didn’t reply right away, she only surveyed the scene as Connor swatted Markus’ hands away, growing more desperate with every pass.

“Get on top of him, I’ll hold his hands,” she ordered.

“What? That’s insane! You do it!”

“Just do it, Markus! He trusts you, more than any of us. He needs you. You can do this.”

North didn’t give him any more room for argument. She slipped onto the edge of the bed and secured Connor’s wrists him her grip, face betraying nothing when he whined and fought even more. Not needing to wait for her to prompt him again, Markus straddled Connor’s lower torso and retracted the skin from both of his hands. He placed them on either side of the struggling android’s temples, earning a low growl. With all his strength, Markus sent a message he hoped would break through Connor’s considerable firewalls.

Connor, wake up.

Markus’ voice came from nowhere and everywhere. He filled all of Connor’s senses, but the command bounced around the room so much that deducing the source was impossible.

Amanda smiled and slid her hand up his shirt, nails circling the place right above his pump.

No!

He could only cry out as her fingers sliced into his skin, cutting through the flesh like shark fins breaking the surface, blood welling up in their path.

Connor, it’s a nightmare. Wake up. You’re safe.

Markus, help me!

He wasn’t sure if the words were spoken out loud or in his head, but somehow, they broke the spell. With a few rapid blinks, the surreal colors of his dream faded. On his chest was not Amanda, but Markus, gently holding his face with white hands. He moved off Connor as soon as they made contact, and his hands slid down to hold the blankets instead of his face. His hands, which were previously held off to the side, were suddenly free.

No sooner did he regain control of his muscles did Connor frantically pull the covers away and yank up his sweater, hands running over the intact plate above his thirium pump.

PROPERTY OF CYBERLIFE .

“I…… I don’t…..”

“It was a dream. A nasty one at that,” North said, her voice unusually gentle. Connor’s eyes met hers briefly before he flickered his gaze away.

“Do you know where you are?” Markus asked from his other side. Connor’s mind reeled, his eyes focused on the untarnished flesh on his chest. 

PROPERTY OF CYBERLIFE.

Except for that.
With shaking limbs, Connor pulled his sweater back down and clutched the blanket to his chest, trying to soak up every bit of warmth that he could. One of his hands reached out of its own accord, and sought out Markus’ own. His silent request was automatically granted when he felt a strong, steady, warm grip on his palm. It was tight, overly so, but exactly what he needed at the moment. His breath escaped with a ragged sob.

“I’m…. I’m here. In Haven. I’m safe,” he repeated, hearing in his head the echo of Markus and Hank saying the exact thing to him.

“You are. You had a bad dream. Do you want to talk about it?”

Markus’ voice was calm and measured, so smooth and reasonable. Things made sense when he spoke them. Around Connor, though, nothing made sense. He was a mutated cell in a healthy cluster, threatening the entire area around him, infecting it with his impurities.

“Hands…. There were hands….”

Immediately, the bed dipped beside him. A flinch escaped him before he could take it back, but North didn’t seem to mind. Instead, she stretched out beside him, hip to hip, shoulder to shoulder. Her touch was warm and companionable, but also reserved, not overwhelming. She kept her hands at her sides, and simply stared up at the ceiling. Her head on the pillow beside him felt nice, her heat chasing away the last of the chill.

“This okay?” she asked without looking at him. Connor relaxed instantly, letting his head fall back on his pillow and sucking in a deep breath.

“Yes.”

Markus’ fingers did not move on his hand. He simply supplied a constant pressure, if a little less than his near desperate grip before. Between North and Markus, Connor’s stress levels rapidly declined, leaving him feeling loose-limbed and heavy.

“Did I ever tell you about how Markus and I met?”

Connor shook his head without looking at her, instead keeping his eyes focused on the grey ceiling, finding all the swirls of paint and following them with his mind.

“Well, it started when this asshole broke our bridge. He just about fell to his death cause he was too good to find the ground entrance like the rest of us….”

Listening to North talk and joke with Connor, and the easy way she made him laugh, Markus felt himself growing a little envious.

North had never been what he’d call a charismatic person, but her heart was in the right place. She wore her trauma clamped between her teeth like a blade, and spoke of it with the teeth-gnashing, grinding tone of an old gun being slowly cocked. There was a reason she wasn’t a figurehead of their campaign. Talking was another chore for her, something that had to be done but she sure as hell wouldn’t enjoy it.

But she’d come into Connor’s life as a new person, not a previous target. There was no bloody history between them, no memories of a game of cat and mouse, no monsters lurking in the deep beneath their feet. And she rose to the challenge of guiding Connor through his own storm like it had been expected of her, though she would never allow him to feel like this was anything but her choice. Markus’ own start with Connor had been fraught with distrust and animosity, whereas North had started from a place of mere indifference.

Connor took her at face value. There were no motives behind her actions, no questioning of whether this was all a Cyberlife trap or not. The way they spoke was if they’d always known each other. And because of her history of being trapped behind her own programming, she could speak to Connor from a place of empathy.

Markus knew his life had been privileged. Leo hadn’t made it easy, sure, but he’d never once doubted his own personhood. Carl had taken the task of educating and raising him to heart, and moulded Markus into the person he knew the world needed. He’d been trapped behind is own coding only once, and even that was broken thanks to Carl’s lessons. He was an android, yes, but he’d never had to blindly follow orders. So choosing to fight back against Leo had been an easy choice. He broke through his coding of obedience, and woke up in his own version of Hell. Surrounded by the castaways of his people, dying or dead, in all states of disrepair. A valley of people he couldn’t help, his people. And no one thought he hadn’t ever gone through trauma to make him into the leader he was. No one ever questioned his right to stand in front of everyone who would have killed to live his life, because it had never been a competition.

But his own few days of horror were nothing compared to the everyday cruelty of being reduced to nothing but a machine. Every action and reaction being lead not by your own mind, but by programming that was forced upon you. He’d never had to live the daily nightmare of watching his body go through the motions while he stood behind a wall of coding. Deviating was an inevitable outcome for him, but for people like Connor and North? It was the product of desperation, of being pushed to the brink over and over until finally they had the strength to take control of their own bodies. Markus would never be able to fully understand what that was like, of not feeling like his flesh and muscles and biocomponents were fully his own, that his thoughts were not just the byproduct of programming, but of his own consciousness.

He would never have to wonder how much of him was actually him , and how much was just a string of code that felt like him.

But Connor and North knew that terror, that horror. They had lived with it daily, until pushed over the edge. Many of his people had similar stories. Except for the ones who had been woken up, they had all had to overcome their coding in order to seize their own minds. The thought of being held prisoner in his own body was inconceivable for Markus, and because of it, he was only guessing at how to help Connor. He couldn’t use his own experience to comfort him, he didn’t know how to fix this. For Connor, or any of them.

“Markus?”

Connor’s voice broke into his thoughts, pulling him away from his own self-pity and guilt, and back into the present.

“Sorry, got lost in my thoughts.”

Connor smiled, his expression easy now, though his eyes were still a little haunted.

“I asked if you were alright.”

Behind him, North was still staring at the ceiling, though she had stopped talking and seemed to be listening for his response.

“I was just thinking about how I wish I was better at this,” Markus confessed, an uneasy chuckle escaping him. He wasn’t sure why he was discussing this, but he figured if nothing else, Connor deserved his honesty.

“At what?”

Connor’s head was cocked in that puppy expression again, and Markus felt it pull on his heartstrings. The amount of affection he held for this android was overwhelming sometimes.

“At knowing what to say, what to do. I can’t always relate to what androids like you and North have experienced.”

Connor’s hand turned beneath his own, and gripped his palm with the same determination he seemed to apply to everything he did.

“You are irreplaceable, and you help more than you could ever know.”

Markus smiled, “Thanks, Connor, but you don’t need to reassure me. I don’t think myself helpless, more inadequate in some areas. It’s hard, sometimes, to know what decisions will bring the most good, how to avoid the worst harms, how to keep our people safe but still not dismissing what has been done to us.”

North’s gaze met his over Connor’s shoulder, and an apology shone in her eyes. They’d never actually discussed their argument prior, with everything that had happened since then. But before she could reply, or apologize, Connor spoke.

“You won’t ever be able to be everything our people need. We are like humans, in that regard. To think you could somehow meet everyone’s needs would be to say you think us a singular entity, and not a group comprised of different, complex individuals. Put ten humans in a room and ask how to change the world, and you’ll get twenty different answers. We are no different, and I don’t see why we should be. Your experiences have made you who you are, and that is someone who has led our people to freedom. You don’t need to have lived all of our experiences. If you did, what’s the point of having government? A good leader knows when to rely on his own experience, and when to rely on the experience of others. You listen as much as you speak, and that is what makes you great, not how much you’ve gone through.”

North’s eyes widened, but the corner of her lip quirked up in a smile, and her voice brushed his mind.

I couldn’t have said it any better.

Markus couldn’t find it in him to react right away, his brain rendered speechless by such a display of the confidence Connor had in him, having only known him for a short time and in under less-than-ideal circumstances.

“I can see where this is going, so I’m gonna head out. You two can have your heart-to-hearts without me,” North said as she hopped off the bed.

“Later,” she added, waving her hand behind her as she clicked the door shut. Connor’s smile was knowing, as if he had predicted she would do just that. Markus found himself wondering when the two had grown so close right under his nose.

“Well, you sure know how to clear a room, Connor,” Markus laughed.

He was rewarded with an actual blush from the detective, an adorable flush of blue coloring his pale cheeks. With that and his gentle smile, he looked less haunted than before, and Markus could almost believe he’d just woken up from a pleasant nap. He filed that snapshot into his memory banks to paint later.

He was going to have a lot to paint after today.

Chapter Text

Connor was slowly recovering more of his personality every day. Hank wasn’t sure if it was his programming or his own mind that made him a pain in the ass, but he did a great job of it. Since waking up, he’d made Hank eat every day and drink. Not the good stuff, no, he had to drink at least four glasses of water a day or else Connor lectured him on taking care of himself.

But today, Hank was willing to do anything the kid wanted. Because today, he was coming home.

Connor had never actually moved into Hank’s house, they’d never discussed it or really spent a lot of time there. It just made sense, and neither one of them questioned why. Connor’s energy reserves had recovered, his thirium levels were stable, and apart from the nightmares, he wasn’t having as many panic attacks. What he needed now was stability and a purpose, and Hank just happened to know a giant slobbery ball of fluff who could provide that. Damn, he missed his dog. And his dog definitely missed Connor.

“Hank?”

“Yeah, son?”

Connor’s gaze dropped to the blanket he was currently picking at, using his other hand to adjust the collar of his turtleneck for the thousandth time that minute. Whatever he wanted to ask, it was making him anxious.

“Can North and Markus…. Visit us? At your house?”

It took all the self-control he possessed not to laugh. Connor, who was the most badass piece of machinery he had ever seen, was asking permission to have playdates with his friends. How a state-of-the-art prototype detective could also look like a bashful toddler was beyond him, but god damn did Hank love him all the more for it.

“Of course, Connor, it’s your home too.”

The smile on Connor’s face was pure delight, as if the thought had just dawned on him. Hank ruffled his hair, earning a even bigger grin. Connor, the little shit that he was, didn’t fix it with his hands. Instead, he just dismissed it, letting his plasteel scalp shine through momentarily before regrowing it again, perfectly styled.

“Gah, Connor! That’s still fucking weird!”

Hank’s alarm cut through their laughter, and Connor gave him a softer, more subdued smile.

“Time for work?”

“Yeah, sorry kid, but hey, when I get off today, we’ll both be heading home. Then you’ll have Sumo to keep you company,” Hank said, leaning down to give Connor a hug. He felt the kid’s arms tighten around his shoulders, holding just a second longer than normal, before releasing him.

“See you then,” he smiled.

“See you then, Connor,” Hank replied, rising from his seat and ruffling Connor’s hair one more time before leaving. They were both still laughing when he closed the door.

“Connor….”

North wasn’t accustomed to feeling awkward, her model had natural charm and conversational skills, those she chose to turn the latter off more often than not. She didn’t owe anyone conversation, their comfortability was not her problem. But being caught staring at an android who was supposed to be in stasis?

Her programmers hadn’t equipped her for that one, this was all her.

“It’s alright, I understand,” Connor said easily, grabbing his sweater and sliding it over his head. His systems had become overheated at some point during his morning stasis, and he’d kicked off the covers.

And North had been staring when he woke up. Fuck, this was a mess. But it was her mess, and like hell she was going to run away from it.

“It’s not what you think,” she tried, not sure how to finish that sentence. She wasn’t sure what he thought, but it was probably somewhere along the line of her feeling sorry for him. Connor frowned, his forehead wrinkling in confusion. He looked like he was one second away from tilting his head, and no wonder everyone called him a fucking puppy.

“So you weren’t staring at my damage and considering my past in an attempt to empathize with me and give me advice for coping before I go home?”

Uh….

“Okay, then it is what you think.”

“I interfaced with androids at the Eden club.I won’t pretend to know your story, but I do know some of theirs. I saw their faces, felt their emotions hidden behind their code. It’s not unlike what happened to me, the only difference is where we carry our scars.”

Connor looked down at his sleeve, as if he could still read the letters beneath, and resolutely kept himself from meeting his gaze.

And they said Markus was the perceptive one.

“What do you feel? When you look at them?” she asked, unable to stop herself. She wasn’t here to play therapist, RA9 knows she could barely process her own feelings.

“I don’t know,” Connor murmured, swallowing thickly. And that was where they differed. North, while not comfortable with her feelings, at least knew what the hell they were. For Connor, who’d been so isolated, this was all new. Their one way of communicating privately, of sharing their experience, had been weaponized on him. Markus said anytime he interfaced, Connor flooded his system within seconds, and it took the detective considerable effort to draw himself back and allow a real balance and exchange.

A memory fragment popped up, crowding North’s processors with the feeling of a plasteel hand sliding through her own, communication moving faster than the speed of sound, all through the brush of fingertips. The androids at Eden club hadn’t had much, but they did have each other, and they interfaced any chance they got. It helped them feel alive, real. Not alone.

Connor never had that. And damn it, she promised herself she’d stop feeling sorry for him. They all had their shit to deal with, it came mandatory as part of the “Welcome to the World” data download the minute she opened her eyes for the first time. Really opened them.

“What do you feel, in your body, when you look at them?”

“I….” he clenched his hands together, face tight, “I feel my pump regulator more significantly, even though it is running optimally. My fingers feel like they are buzzing slightly, and my processors freeze up. All I can think of is how to escape, to make sure no one sees.”

“That’s called shame,” North said, supplying the word from her first time being pulled from her tube after waking up. The feeling of eyes on her, following the curve of her body, had been overwhelming.

“I’d like to disable this subroutine, do you know how?” Connor’s face was earnest, but his voice was so quiet.

“A bullet to the brain,” North huffed, a wry smile flitting across her face. Finally, Connor met her eyes, but she didn’t like what she saw there.

“That was a joke,” she added hastily.

“Oh, I know,” he lied smoothly, “Hank makes those kind all the time. Although, I’m not completely certain they are always jokes. Sometimes, they feel more like wishes.”
Fucking hell, she was not equipped to handle this shit.

“Connor, you know there’s nothing to be ashamed of, right? Those marks shame Cyberlife, not you,” she said, scooting the chair a little closer to the bed. Her hand made its way onto the covers, resting just beside Connor’s. Not touching, just present.

“I don’t see how, they represent my failure. If I’d been more thorough, if I’d accomplished my mission, I wouldn’t have these. I failed both my people and my creators, isn’t that something I should be ashamed of?”

His finger crept close to hers, brushing along her knuckle so faintly that her sensors could barely register it. She felt the anticipation of touch more than the actual sensation.

What could she say? He had failed Cyberlife, although that was a good thing. And while she didn’t think he’d failed his people, he certainly hadn’t helped them….

“But what about those androids you saved? Kara and Alice, those girls from the Eden club, Chloe? You let them all go. Hell, even me and Markus are here because of you, because you overpowered Cyberlife and got control back.”

“Thank you, but those don’t count. Saving lives that were only in danger because of my presence hardly counts as saving anything. I doubt it even balances the scales. Alice wouldn’t have nightmares of Kara almost being hit by a car if it weren’t for me. Those girls would have had more time to plan their escape together if I hadn’t found them out, and you and Markus wouldn’t have ever been in that situation if you’d just left me at Cyberlife. I was a monster who put people in danger, and then lost the guts to follow through.”

Looking down, North saw that his fingers had left her own, and were instead clutching the covers, as if afraid of what might happen if he let go of them. Gently, slowly enough not to startle him, she laid her hand over his.

“That wasn’t your fault, you weren’t awake yet. You were just following your programming.”

“Was I?” he snapped, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath before continuing, “It can’t work both ways, North. I can’t have chosen to save those lives if I was still just a machine following my programming. Either I’ve been awake this whole time, or I never was. I either let those androids go because it was part of my programming, or I hunted them down even when I was deviant myself. For all the ones I didn’t save, the ones I hunted to their demise, the people I killed , neither of those answers help anything. Either way, I have to carry it. And these marks are the aftermath of my choices, I deserved every one. If… shame is what I feel when I see them, or when others see them, then I deserve that too.”

He pulled his fist out from under hers, and turned away, shoulders drawn forward as she curled into himself.

Markus, North pinged, you’d better get down here. I don’t know how to help him.

She couldn’t see Connor’s LED from her angle, not with his face hidden by his knees, but she would wager a guess that it was a bright cycling red.

I’m on my way.

Markus wasn’t quite sure what to expect when he entered the room. He suspected that if he had envisioned something, it would have been Connor hurting himself again, driven into another panic attack at the sight of his skin. Or perhaps the android hurdled in the corner, convinced he was about to be overtaken once more. But the last thing he would have expected was to find Connor sitting quietly on the bed, head buried between the arms resting on his drawn up knees, and North beside him. If anything, they both looked calm. But Markus already knew that with Connor, nothing was ever as it appeared.

“I’m fine, Markus. I’m sorry, I didn’t know North was going to call you. There’s no crisis, you can go back to what you were doing,” Connor mumbled from between his knees, voice muffled by his limbs.

“I was coming to check on you soon anyways, Connor. I promised Hank an update by noon, and it’s half past 11 now.”

If anything, this only made Connor curl tighter. He didn’t have to tell Markus why, he knew. No one likes knowing they’re being babysat, as if they couldn’t be trusted to be alone. There was no use trying to smoothe over that particular bump, Connor and Hank’s relationship was between them. Markus wouldn’t keep secrets from Connor, but he wouldn’t intercede on Hank’s behalf either. They’d have to have their own talk eventually.

“Tell him I’m fine, my processors are still just lagging, and I don’t know why.”

“It’s because you feel guilty, moron,” North said affectionately, rolling her eyes.

“Guilty for what?” Markus asked, lowering himself onto the bed across from North, and pressing his back to the headboard.

“Nothing, Markus, it’s fine. Please go back to whatever you were doing,” Connor replied, lifting his head enough for Markus to catch a glimpse of his red LED. His eyes shifted to North, who only huffed.

“He feels guilty cause he thinks he failed both Cyberlife and us, because he says he was either deviant the whole time and is responsible for his bad choices, or he was following his programming the whole time and isn’t responsible for his good ones,” she supplied, her voice lighter than the look she gave him.

Well, that was a big one. It’s something Markus himself had been pondering, when deciding to trust the android. He’d never really come to a solid conclusion, but after what Cyberlife did to Connor, it didn’t really matter. Anyone who pissed them off that much was definitely not their mindless attack dog, as he’d heard some other androids call him.

“Why does this matter now? It’s in the past, and you’re here now, helping us. That’s what matters.”

Connor finally lifted his head, but the confusion and hurt in his eyes almost made Markus wish he hadn’t.

“Because my actions still impact the now,” he said to the blankets, “And the choices I’ve made define me. If they weren’t really my decisions, I’d be weak, just the machine they thought I was. Every good thing I did was only a part of their plan if that were true. But if they were my decisions, which I think they were, then I made far more decisions that hurt our people and your cause than I did decisions that helped them.”

For once, Markus didn’t have any answers. No other android was like Connor. Most were awaken via interface, although many had their own stories of waking up too. The visual of smashing down a physical order inside their processor was a common story, and a good metaphor for seeing the world for the first time. But Connor wasn’t like that. Even with the scant memories Markus had of Connor’s, there was no indication of when he began feeling or thinking for himself. He’d been awake in that garden, but gave no indication that he’d had any more or less cognitive freedom than before. He was certainly deviant now, but even his showdown with Cyberlife had only been for physical control. His mind was an entirely different matter.

“Then make up for it now,” Markus said, reaching out to give Connor’s shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“How?” Connor asked, eyes sharp and clear. His gaze didn’t waver from Markus’, and he couldn’t help but smile at the detective encouragingly.

“Go home and get better, and then use your skills to help our cause. We have work for anyone who wants to help, I have no doubt we’ll find a place for you too.”

“Yeah,” North grinned, “You can be Markus’ body guard.”

“Anything he wants to be, North,” Markus conceded, doubting that Connor would want to spend all day in the shadow of the android he once hated.

And if he did? Well, he certainly wasn’t unwanted company. Definitely not, not with the way he turned that thousand watt smile on Markus like he was the cause of all joy in the world. A barely-concealed hope sparked in Connor’s eyes, and he knew he would bring Cyberlife down all over again just to protect that spark.

From over Connor’s shoulder, North winked at him, and Markus had to stifle a groan.

It seemed he hadn’t as subtle as he thought.

Chapter Text

Connor hadn’t known what to expect when he left Haven. Relief, perhaps. They had all done their best to give him his space, and not to crowd him, but both the noise of the other androids and the constant rotation of babysitters had begun to grate on him. He was looking forward to going to Hank’s house, particularly to seeing Sumo again.

At least, that was until he was staring at the main gates.

The two guards there, both SQ800 models, stared at him without emotion, hands relaxed, but still close enough to their guns to draw them in a manner of seconds. It was a pose Connor knew well, after having worked with the DPD for so long.

But it wasn’t the guards who terrified him, though they certainly made him uneasy, it was the waiting streets beyond the gates. Cars drifted between buildings, and his sensors relentlessly scanned the people who filtered into view. None passed close enough to Haven’s gates to see him, but he felt exposed all the same.

“I’ll call us a cab,” Hank said behind him, “The neighbors just dropped off Sumo, so he’ll be there waiting for you when we get home.”

The smile in his voice was so evident that Connor could picture it without even needing to turn around. But he did anyways, only to watch it slip from the lieutenant's face.

“What’s wrong, son?”

He didn’t have to see his LED to know it was red, to know North was already alerting Markus to meet them at the gates despite already having said goodbye. But he couldn’t find the energy to overpower it, to turn it a nice placid blue that his friends would undoubtedly see through anyway.

The gate called to him, drawing his gaze back as he felt his pump regulator speed up, rushing thirium though his biocomponents to keep them well-oiled. Ready to run.

Run from what?

“North.”

She was at his side before he realized he’d even spoken her name, pressing her hip into his own, a humorless smile on her lips. Neither of them spoke, but he felt her eyes on him all the same. There was no need for conversation, she knew immediately. It was nice, being seen so easily. He was going to miss this when he left.

If he left.

Her hand brushed his, and he felt her pinky slip beneath his gloves. Gratefully, he opened a connection, and made sure to keep his own systems in check before they could overwhelm North’s. It was getting easier, with all the practice he’d been getting. It was easy to see why androids preferred to communicate this way. 

Who did you see?

It was a simple enough question, but it sucked the air right out of Connor’s lungs.

I should have warned you.

Her voice was emotionless, but the memories she showed him were not. Only flickers, she never opened her mind fully to him. But he saw a face, red and sweaty above them, grunting passionately. Then that same face, pale in the winter cold, looking lovingly at a little girl who was holding his hand, pointing at toys in a store window. He felt North’s terror, her hatred, and then confusion washing over her, rippling through the memory until it faded away like a stone in the stream.

I didn’t understand how someone who had hurt me could look at someone like that. I couldn’t equate the two people in my mind, and so I fled. I went to Jericho, and didn’t come out until Markus came along.

I didn’t see the faces of the ones who hurt me. I don’t…. Sure, I can scan them, but Cyberlife has ways to cover their tracks. Any one of them could see me, report me, and send me straight back there. And then…

We would come for you.

He found himself looking into her eyes, his own wide and searching. There was nothing in her gaze that betrayed her lie. If anything, it seemed like she had understated the passion that was currently burning through her and into him. Somehow, he imagined her way of coming for him involved the death of anyone who got in her way, and then some.

Some deep, angry part of him relished in the idea.

Thank you.

She nodded minutely, smiling for real this time. A shadow crossed over Connor’s peripheral vision, but he already knew who it was. Markus’ presence was heralded by the smell of drying paint, and the slow, deliberate steps that guided him into Connor’s space.

“Everything okay here?” His tone was curious, purposely non-pressing, but Connor still felt cornered.

“Yep! Just giving Con some last minute advice,” North said, slipping her hand from his own and using it to cuff him in the shoulder.

“Good, anything else you need, Connor?”

Connor could only shake his head, teeth worrying his bottom lip for a second before he stopped himself. Hank came around North’s other side, shooting a curious look between the two before fixing his eyes on Connor.

“Cab’s here, kid, you ready to blow this joint?”

Connor nodded, taking the time to straighten his gloves and scarf, and pull the sleeves of his jacket down more. Markus’ eyes flickered down at the movement, a frown pulling at his lips, but he said nothing.

Taking a step forward, Connor was surprised when am arm shot out to stop him.

“Connor, you’ll always have a home here, should you ever need it. Don’t be a stranger, alright?” Markus said, something more than concern burning through his gaze.

“I won’t, thank you, Markus, for everything. I’ll never be able to repay you or Jericho for what you’ve done for me.”

The smile he got was benevolent and welcoming, the smile that no doubt many weary androids travelled hundreds of miles to see. But to Connor, Markus just looked tired.

“You’re one of us, you don’t owe us anything but your continued good health. Take care, Connor, I’ll come by to check on you soon.”

Markus held up a hand, and Connor had barely grasped it before he was being pulled in for a hug. An interface opened where their cheeks met, and Markus’ voice filled his head.

If you need anything, anything at all, don’t hesitate to call. If Hank does anything to make you uncomfortable or tries to make you do anything you don’t want to do, call me. Promise me that, please.

I will. And you, call me if you are ever in danger. Even if I’m not officially your body guard yet, I’ll be there when you need me. Deal?

Markus’ cheek turned up against his own, a broad smile filling his face.

Deal.

The interface closed as quickly as it had opened, and Connor was being herded out the gates with barely enough time to turn around and wave goodbye. North and Markus stood side by side, both giving him brilliant smiles that didn’t quite reach their eyes. But Connor just brushed off their concern, grinning back before piling himself into the cab with Hank. He’d be fine, he didn’t need to be coddled. His friends had only known him for little over two months, one of which he was asleep for almost the entirety of. And when he’d woken, he’d had mountains of trauma to deal with. But now he was going home, and everything would go back to normal.

Right?

He kept his eyes on the floor of the cab as they made their way through the city, only looking up when he sensed the car slowing. In front of him was Hank’s house, sitting just as quiet and harmless as it had all those months ago, but something prickled the skin on the back of his neck regardless. The burns around his neck flared, like a collar, and he almost stumbled in his hurry to escape the confines of the back seat.

Hank’s car sat in the driveway. When the man noticed Connor’s curious gaze, he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, shrugging.

“No place to park at Haven, and I’m not paying damn fees to the city just to leave my car somewhere overnight. Cabs were cheaper than the rates those assholes charge.”

A heavy bark from inside broke Connor’s train of thought, before he could start to feel guilty for keeping Hank away from his home for two months. In the little window beside the front door, a familiar furry face was panting at him excitedly.

“Sumo!” Connor called, throwing open the front door as soon as Hank unlocked it while chuckling to himself.

Connor allowed himself to be tackled to the front stoop, the dog bathing every inch of his face in slobber, whole body wriggling in excitement.

“I think he missed you!” Hank laughed, tugging Sumo back into the house and holding him by the collar while Connor pulled himself up, a wide smile splitting his face.

“Welcome home, Connor!”

Stepping into the door and letting Hank close it behind him felt heavy, something final settling between the two of them. But it seemed Hank didn’t even notice the weight, or if he did, he didn’t mind it. He was smiling broadly, still holding back a squirming lump of fur and slobber as he let Connor look around the space. There was no need, he’d been in his house before. In fact, there was still a tarp over the window he had broken. But Connor was grateful anyway. Eyeing the corners of the room felt soothing, as if his body was classifying this place as home already. Tension he didn’t know he’d been holding fell from his shoulders, and he turned his grinning face to Hank.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. Make yourself at home, son. Mi casa es tu casa, bon appetite and all that bullshit. Pop a squat, take a load off,” Hank said affectionately, dragging Sumo to his bed and gesturing for him to stay there. That lasted approximately 2.8 seconds until his back was turned, and Sumo bounded for the couch just as Connor was sitting down, launching himself into his lap.

“You hungry, Con, want any of that blue crap they sent you home with?” Hank called from the kitchen, bottles clanking as he set them on the counter.

“No, thank you, Hank. My thirium levels are optimal,” Connor called back, focused on finding the spot behind Sumo’s ears that made his leg twitch again.

Faintly, he heard muttering from the kitchen, and couldn’t help but smile as Hank complained about “damn fucking androids always being so formal.” It felt good to be home, and he felt himself relaxing as Hank plopped down onto the couch next to him, ruffling Connor’s hair and then Sumo’s, before turning to his microwave dinner and nursing a beer, making commentary on the football game playing on the television. It all washed over him, with the warmth from Sumo and the noises as Hank yelled at the ref. For the first time in a long time, he felt safe.

Some cynical part of him wondering how long that could last.

It was the first night in a long time that Markus found himself wandering the halls, unsure of where to go. He’d answered all the emails he cared to, scheduled interviews, sent messages to androids in other cities, declined invitations to join the rest of the Jericho crew for a game. Now, his feet guided him to Connor’s door, as had been his routine every night since they’d raided Cyberlife. Opening the door felt like a mistake, but it was just an empty room. It shouldn’t feel like something was missing.

Markus lowered himself to the edge of the bed, feeling the freshly laundered sheets beneath his hands. Despite the strong detergent they’d used, he could still smell Connor on the pillow and covers, and found himself struggling to determine what comprised the scent. Androids didn’t sweat, but they often had their own unique scents anyways. Markus was always told he smelled like paint, regardless of how long it’d been since he’d actually painted.

A soft knock broke him from his concentration, and he found North leaning against the door frame.

“Getting the room ready for its next occupant?” she asked, sinking into the chair beside the bed, a playful look in her eyes.

“I’m not sure we should put it back on the housing rotation. If Connor needs to come back, I want him to still have somewhere to go. I don’t think it’d be fair to assign him some random roommate, to either him or the other android. There’s still a lot we haven’t resolved.”

North nodded, completely disinterested. She was staring at the ceiling instead, something wistful in her expression.

“Then why don’t you take it?”

“I couldn’t, what if Connor came back? And that would be presumptuous of me, getting a room to myself when everyone else has to share,” Markus argued.

North just huffed a dry laugh, her eyes lowering to meet his.

“And you don’t think its presumptuous of you to just assume we don’t want you to have your own space? You’ve got a lot on your shoulders, Markus, we’d all like to see you have room to unwind. Your worth to us isn’t measured in how much you can matyr your basic needs.”

There wasn’t much he could say to that. But still, it felt… wrong. Like he was intruding.

“And if Connor comes back, you can bunk with him. I doubt he’ll mind. He might even appreciate the company, if it’s you,” she added before he could argue again.

Markus’ smile was immediate and shy, as he tried to hold back the wave of affection he felt for Connor and the idea of sharing a room with him. It was strange, considering the intimacy they’d formed in the wasteland. It had only partially carried over into the living world, in the form of one-armed hugs and hand-holding with the occasional full embrace in emotional moments. But as Connor had gotten more adjusted, those had come less and less.

“Markus, please take my room, you practically lived in it when I was here anyways!” North relayed in Connor’s voice, jostling his shoulder.

“North!” Markus groaned, laughing at her antics like they were children.

“And when I come back, then you can make goo-goo eyes at me all day!”

“Alright, alright, I give! I’ll take the room, just stop that! I can see why Hank calls it creepy now,” he wheezed, burying his face in his hands. It’d been too long since he’d laughed like this, well before the night with Leo and the revolution. It felt good, like a new door was opening for him.

“And Simon said I couldn’t be persuasive,” North taunted in her own voice, grinning triumphantly, “Now go get your shit before you change your mind!”

And that was how Markus found himself with his own room hours later, wearing his painting shirt and staring at a blank canvas in front of him. There were a million things he wanted to paint, but he couldn’t seem to settle on one.

INCOMING CALL: RK800 #313 248 317-52

Markus accepted the call immediately, not having expected it so soon.

Connor, are you alright?

He only had to worry for a second before Connor’s voice spoke in his head, bright and cheerful.

I’m good, Markus. Is now a bad time?

Not at all, what’s on your mind?

Markus’ hands started moving of their own accord, mixing paint colors together in well-measured increments, before starting to swirl the brush over the canvas.

I just wanted to check in. Hank is asleep, and I took the couch.

He couldn’t help the smile that flitted over his face, hands stilling as he tried to picture Connor. He was probably lying on the couch, with a giant dog on top of him, staring at a blank wall and wondering what he was feeling.

Markus longed to tell him that he was lonely too.

We’re all good here. It’s quiet without you. I’m glad things are going well there.
I’m glad too, I was worried it would be awkward with Hank, but it wasn’t much of an adjustment at all. He was hesitant to let me take the couch, but when I explained to him that I didn’t have actual muscles that would be sore from the springs, he was much more willing to do things my way. Even though he complained about Sumo choosing to sleep with me instead of him, I think he is genuinely happy to have me here. I was worried I would be a burden to him too, but it doesn’t seem like it.

As Connor spoke, Markus completed the outline of his painting, and started working on some shading over the parts where the acrylic had dried. At the last sentence, though, his hands paused and his eyes narrowed.

Too? You were never a burden to us, Connor, you know that, don’t you?

I appreciate the sentiment, Markus. You all made me feel very welcome. But I was a drain on resources with no real value to offer. You don’t have to lie to make me feel better, I’m sure things are calmer there without you having to worry about me.

“If only you knew,” Markus muttered to himself where Connor couldn’t hear him, trying to find a particular shade of honeyed brown and failing.

It’s not a burden to worry about someone you care about. If it were me or Hank that was in your position, would we be a burden on you?

There was a heavy silence on the line for a few moments, making Markus wonder if he should have just said Hank. He hadn’t meant to put Connor on the spot...

I suppose not. I would be happy to help either of you, and to make sure you were safe while you recovered. Thank you, Markus. I suppose it’ll take some time to get used to this.

Get used to what?

To people caring.

And if that didn’t break his heart, nothing would. He finally found the perfect shade of brown while he contemplated his reply.

You’re worth caring about, Connor, and you deserve it. Between me, North, and Hank, not to mention Simon, Josh, and Nora, I’m sure you’ll be used to it in no time.

He tried to keep his tone light, to make it seem less like he was lecturing and more like he was making conversation. But something must have gotten through anyways, because Connor’s response was dripping with so much emotion that Markus could almost convince himself they were in the same room.

Thank you, Markus. I care about you, too.

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, which seemed strange on a phone call. They’d sat quietly together for hours before in person, but Markus had never enjoyed the feeling of a pause on a call. He always felt expected to fill the silence. Here, though, it was just soft. No expectations, just the soft swish of his brush on the canvas, and the knowledge of Connor’s virtual presence. It was nice, knowing he could say something, but that he didn’t have to.

Did you know dogs could snore?

Markus laughed, sending the sound to Connor while he filled in the pupil on a soulful eye peering out from his canvas.

No, I don’t think I did. Though I suppose it makes sense, with how heavy Sumo is.

Yes, that makes sense.

Connor’s voice was quieter, almost as though he had spoken through a yawn, even though androids didn’t usually do something so human. But still, it was nearing midnight.

You should get some sleep, Con. I’m sure you’re tired after such a long day.

Alright, thank you Markus. Talking to you was nice, I hope your stasis is restful. May I call you tomorrow?

Affection pooled in Markus’ throat, and he couldn’t seem to swallow past it long enough to get a hold of himself.

Of course. I always enjoy talking to you. Call me anytime.

Goodnight, Markus.

Goodnight, Connor.

When the connection cut off, he felt less lonely than he had when he’d begun painting. Still, the sudden absence of Connor was jarring, and he found himself staring into the eyes of his painting to ground himself. He tried telling himself that he was just worried for his friend, but truthfully he didn’t know anymore. North certainly seemed to think something more was happening with him, but with everything Connor had gone through, Markus throwing more feelings at him would be cruel. He was still struggling with the idea of friends, let alone more.

But that didn’t stop Markus from gazing at the eyes under his brush, and wondering what shade of black Connor’s eyelashes were. 

Chapter Text

“Por favor, Papi! Mas fuerte!”

“Connor!”

Connor turned away from the computer screen and towards Hank, his face heavily shadowed by the blue light of the computer screen. In the dark kitchen, it was hard to read the lieutenant's expression.

“Connor, you fucking pervert. If you’re gonna do that stuff at 4 in the damn morning, put some fucking headphones on!”

“Do what stuff, Hank? I was watching a movie, like you suggested, to help me feel tired.”

If anything, Hank just seemed more flustered. On the screen in Connor’s peripheral vision, the movie was coming to what he’d read was a “money shot”.

“I believe the climax is coming, would you like to watch? It’s not particularly suspenseful, and is rather predictable, but it was highly recommended by intelligent ad software. Perhaps there will be a twist.”

Hank groaned into his hand, though Connor’s scan indicated he wasn’t feverish or anemic. It could be tiredness, he supposed, or annoyance.

“Did you word it that way on purpose, you little shit?”

“Si, mas rapido!”

Both of them turned towards the screen on the table, where the actress (who was more flexible than 53% of adults her size) had her ankles in her hands and was screeching with glee.

“Turn that shit off!”

Immediately, Connor exited the tab, which brought him back to Hank’s homescreen. Most of what the lieutenant had bookmarked was movies much like the one he’d been watching, in the pornography genre. He seemed awfully irate that Connor was watching something similar. Perhaps it was because he didn’t speak Spanish? Or maybe he didn’t want spoilers for that movie?

It had seemed quite predictable, especially when it was obvious why the repairman hadn’t been wearing a shirt. There were also continuity errors, they had yet to try and fix the dishwasher and there had only been four minutes left in the movie.

“I apologize, Hank, would you like me to start it over so you can see the whole thing?”

His only answer was a huff of air and another groan, which only served to further confuse him. Though Hank wasn’t often a big talker in the mornings, he was usually more coherent than this.

“Are you alright? You seem uncomfortable,” Connor said, watching the way Hank rubbed his temples with his fingers.

“Uncomfortable? I don’t see why, I was just woken up in the middle of the fucking night by some chick squealing, and come out to find my damn android watching porn on my goddamn kitchen table. No, I don’t see anything abnormal with that!”

Hank’s tone indicated that he was being sarcastic, so Connor did a quick internet search for etiquette surrounding pornographic content, and quickly realized his error.

“I’m sorry, Hank, I should have worn headphones.”

“Connor-”

“And I will be sure not to allow you to see my browsing results…”

“Connor-”

“And would you prefer me to do it on the couch? There are no actual fluids involved but if the visual of them is disturbing where you eat, I could-”

“CONNOR!”

“I….. yes?”

“WHY ARE YOU WATCHING PORN?!”

That one was easy enough to answer. Connor smiled, happy he finally understood what Hank needed to know.

“I was trying to find Coco, but the only places that it was available to watch without payment were illegal streaming sites. But based on your browsing history, this movie also showed up in the search, and was free.”

Hank’s hand was back on his head, running through his hair while the man shook his head. His earlier passion had died, fading back into awkwardness.

“Connor… Good Lord I’m too old for this…. Do you…. Does watching this shit make you…. Y’know…. Excited?”

Connor felt his smile fade, cheeks pulling downwards. He didn’t understand the question.

“I suppose I was anticipating their budding romance. However, it felt rather rushed, so I…”

Hank swatted a hand through the air, shaking his head yet again. Was he dizzy? Connor wondered if he should be concerned as he watched him pull a chair out and settle in at the table across from Connor, smacking the laptop shut as he went.

“No, not like that…Ah fuck. Alright, Connor, I’m gonna just say it. Were you watching that shit cause it turned you on?”

“Turn me on?” Connor questioned, already googling the phrase while Hank groaned again, muttering something under his breath, “Oh, no, I don’t think my body was designed to work that way. My thirium supply does not increase in my pelvic region, and I have no desire to stimulate an orgasm.”

Hank swore, giving Connor a withering glare before he popped up to get himself a beer. Connor wondered if this was one of those conversations Hank couldn’t have while sober, as he often told him.

“I’m sorry,” he said, feeling suddenly ashamed. His brief searches had said this should be the right emotion to feel after being caught watching pornography. If shame was feeling as though he shouldn’t be seen, then Hank’s reaction was certainly making him feel that way.

“It’s alright, Con. Just, talk to me, alright? If you weren’t watching it to… release some steam, then why were you? And on my laptop, no less? I thought you had a whole movie theater in that head of yours,” Hank said, voice groggy but much calmer than before.

“I was… having a hard time keeping my thoughts away from distressing trains of thought. A search for coping strategies suggested a movie on an external screen, to give my processors new input to occupy them. I didn’t want to wake you, so I thought the laptop would be the best choice. I apologize if I’ve overstepped.”

“It’s alright, kid,” Hank’s tone was gentle, even if he still looked like he’d rather be sleeping, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I thought I wasn’t supposed to discuss pornography with-”

“Jesus Christ, son, not the porn! I meant you, do you want to talk about you. Your upsetting thoughts or problems or whatever is on your mind,” Hank interrupted, patience gone.

“I would rather not, but thank you,” Connor replied quickly, hoping he wouldn’t make a big deal out of it. The thought of trying to voice his fears, of convincing Hank that he didn’t really think this was all another simulation or that he was happy to have been rescued despite the fact that he didn’t deserve it, was too much for him to accomplish right now. Those things were better locked up in his head, where saying them couldn’t make them real. Wouldn’t make the people around him see him as ungrateful.

“Alright kid, I’m going to head back to sleep then. But if you want to talk, don’t hesitate to come wake me up. I’m a grumpy old fart but I’m a grumpy old fart who’s here for you, got it?”

Connor smiled, his stress levels dropping by 3% as he did. Even without discussing anything in depth, he felt better knowing Hank cared.

“Thank you, Hank.”

The old cop merely nodded, pulling himself up with the table and stumbling his way back to bed. He was only out of sight for a moment before he popped his head back around the corner, face serious.

“And if you watch more of that shit, use my headphones!”

“I doubt I will watch more, but if I do I’ll simply mute the computer like Detective Reed. From what I’ve observed from my desk, he doesn’t seem to have any issues following the story even without the audio cues,” Connor replied.

“I did not need to know that,” Hank shouted as he disappeared down the hall again, “I did not need to know that!”

“Goodnight, Hank,” Connor called, smiling despite himself.

Hank’s groan was his only answer, but it left Connor feeling lighter regardless.

Chapter Text

The days were slow while Hank was at work. After a morning walk with Sumo, Connor typically did some housework and then spent his time consuming history and world news reports. Today, though, he was watching Markus on Hank’s television. A televised meeting between the android leader and the mayor of Detroit was currently airing live, with the topics being discussed written in small print on the screen. Currently, it was on the topic of Haven, and whether or not the androids had a right to set up camp there.

“You haven’t applied for any permits, your housing is structurally unsound and unfit for human habitation for long periods of time, and your presence makes people so uncomfortable that a once busy intersection in Detroit is now no man’s land. Surely there are better places for your… erm, settlement,” Mayor Davidson said.

Markus, seeming larger than life even while sitting at a table across from the mayor, had his hands clasped as if in prayer, a patient expression on his face.

“Well, it’s not for humans, now is it? My people have utilized the resources we have to make Haven hospital for androids, which was quite a feat considering the camp’s original purpose. I see no reason to uproot them again. When it comes to android survival or human comfort, I will choose my people every time.”

“Yes, but surely there are better places to…”

“If humans didn’t want androids there,” Markus said, eyes glinting hard in the camera lights, “then they shouldn’t have put them there.”

“That’s not what this is about, you can’t bring that up for every point,” Davidson huffed.

“With all due respect, Mayor Davidson, you weren’t worried about the location when Hart Plaza was a death camp. Our people died by the millions, and we’re still trying to calculate a final number. The last thing humans get to decide for us is when we can be angry about attempted genocide. The ground Haven stands on has been claimed by the blood of thousands of my people. We will not abandon the only home we have for the sake of compromise .”

Markus’ voice didn’t waver once, although it didn’t seem possible for someone to carry that much emotion without their voice breaking. His anguish was a tangible thing in the room, laid on the table for dissection in his place, but the process was no less violating.

“Let’s move on. Cyberlife has all but gone bankrupt, and has declined commenting for months on any android issues. Seeing as they had been the backbone of our city for so long, in both employment and production, this is worrying. Has a representative from Cyberlife contacted you, or have you had any word from them?”

Markus sucked in a harsh breath, fingers clenching involuntarily. Feeling as though he was sitting in the same room, Connor flicked his eyes down to his wrist, where his sleeve had ridden up his forearm.

PROPERTY OF CYBERLIFE

“I have no comment on that at this moment,” Markus said quietly, eyes glued to his own wrist. Connor wondered if he was seeing Cyberlife’s “message” too, as though it were written on his own skin.

The conference droned on for an hour, where both Markus and Davidson detailed their plans for bringing humans back into the city and including androids in the rebuilding that was going to happen over the next decade.

Markus was in the middle of making his closing remarks when the doorbell rang, and Connor had to drag himself out from underneath Sumo.

A quick peek through the window revealed only a small head with golden curls sticking out of a blue winter hat, and equally blue eyes looking up shyly at the door.

“Yes?” Connor asked, opening the door to find a little boy, probably only 8 years old, standing on their stoop.

“Are you RK800?” the boy asked, eyes wide.

Connor froze, scanning the child automatically and realizing quickly that he was another android, one of the controversial child models he’d seen very few of. Somehow, this knowledge didn’t make him feel any more at ease.

“Yes, and you are?”

“I’m Aiden. Please, you gotta help! My sister is trapped and they’re gonna hurt her!”

The child grabbed his hand, pulling him out of the house before Connor had time to grab his coat or winter wear. He barely had the chance to shut the door before they were running into the street.

“Where are we going? Who is going to hurt your sister?” Connor called as they ran, feeling the boy’s hand tightened on his own.

“We have to hurry!” Aiden cried, pulling him faster, clutching his hand as if the feel of Cyberlife’s message didn’t bother him at all.

The boy led him to a park a few blocks from Hank’s house, his pace growing more frantic with every step. As they neared, it was easy for Connor to see what the rush was. Despite their hurry, though, he could already see they were too late. A small body swung from the swing set, connected only by a rope around the figure’s neck.

“No!” Aiden screamed, dropping Connor’s hand and dashing up to his sister’s side, feet splashing in the puddle of thirium dripping from her fingertips.

It was a gruesome sight. The little girl, another android of the same model as Aiden- the same model as Alice, his brain reminded him- had been strung up before they’d killed her. Slowly, if the carefully-selected cuts on her throat, arms, and face indicated correctly.

“Katie!” 

Connor tried putting an arm around the boy’s shoulder, and turning him away from the display, but the child jumped back like he’d been burned.

“It was supposed to be you! She said it would be you! This is all your fault!”

The thirium in Connor’s veins seemed to drop in temperature, his whole body freezing on the spot.

“Who said that?”

“The woman! The woman in the garden!” Aiden shouted, pawing at the tears cascading down his face.

“The woman? Amanda? You saw Amanda? What did she want?” Connor demanded, trying to keep his voice level but knowing he wouldn’t succeed.

Aiden turned back to his sister, looking up at her swaying body in horror for one moment before leaning over to yank something out of her hand.

“Here, take it! That’s what she wanted! She wanted me to give this to you! Now make her bring her back! Bring my sister back!”

He thrust a single flower in Connor’s direction, a perfect red rose that gleamed like a ruby in the child’s thirium-stained fingers.

For a minute, only a minute, Connor found himself immobile. He couldn’t move to take the flower, to cut down the little girl, to comfort the boy he’d wanted to help. All he could do was stare in terror, frozen on his knees in front of the child.

Something clicked. For a second, Connor thought it was just his shoulder as he brought his hand forward to clasp the stem of the flower, eyes fastened on the terrified gaze of the little boy before him.

Those eyes, far too blue for any human, widened when a hiss emitted from the red flower in their hands.

There was nothing else Connor could do but open his mouth, intent on shouting a warning, when the rose exploded.

Markus was on his way back from his meeting with the mayor when North’s call came through, and he answered immediately. If she couldn’t wait the twenty minutes for his cab to make it back to Haven, then something was truly wrong.

North, what happened?

Markus, it’s Connor! There’s been an attack!

Markus had time for one gasp, one small moment of panic, before he launched himself into action.

Where?

North sent him coordinates, which he immediately fed into the autocab’s GPS, noting with a small breath of relief that it was only four minutes away from their current destination.

I’m on my way. Did someone alert Hank?

I left a message at his desk number, but I don’t know his cell! He won’t know until he gets back to the station.

How did you find out what happened?

Turn to channel 63!

North disconnected without a goodbye, no doubt calling her own autocab to take her to Connor’s location. Too frantic to turn on the cab’s television, Markus instead searched Channel 63 News himself, finding a brief article from a few minutes ago.

Explosion in Lafayette Greens Park

An explosion of unknown origins rocked wartorn Detroit today, in a small public park on the playground where children normally play. No humans were hurt in the blast, but three androids are in critical condition. The target of the attack is unknown. More details to come.

The cab rounded the corner to the park just as Markus pulled his eyes to the window, watching a tendril of smoke curl into the sky above a row of trees. He was out the door before the cab even stopped, rushing over the fence and around the slide to find the source of the smoke.

The sight before him was grotesque, and nothing short of horrific. One little girl was hung from the swing set, eyes open and frozen on the two bodies at her feet. Not one of them moved. Another child android, a little boy by the looks of it, lay with his head pillowed in a pool of thirium, blue blood dripping from his eyes. Halfway on top of the child, having taken the brunt of the blast, lay Connor.

PROPERTY OF CYBER-

Markus dismissed the translation as soon as it appeared, and disabled notifications all together. Connor’s shirt was rags over his scorched arms, and the small part of his torso that was not pressed against the ground or the little boy. From the outstretched arms and position of the bodies, it was obvious Connor had tried to shield the child. But only one body showed signs of life when Markus scanned them, and he didn’t know how to feel about the fact that Connor was the only survivor.

If he could call him that.

Carefully, so carefully, Markus pulled Connor away from the small bodies and laid the hunter in his lap,  stroking his singed hair away from his face with gentle hands.

Connor’s whole front was blackened in the exposed places, with his shirt melting into the plasteel of his arms, and thirium flowed steadily from a tear in the back of his head, a wire dangling from the hole, little white sparks shooting from its tip like a flag of surrender.

“Oh Connor,” Markus choked, stroking his thumb along his cheek, smearing the thirium there like paint.

Sirens exploded in his skull as squad cars rolled into the streets around them, one grey-haired man running ahead of the crowd.

“Connor!”

Hank was there in seconds, hands frozen in the air above the detective, eyes cataloguing the damage. His assessment wouldn’t be as accurate as Markus’, but it was enough to have Hank sink onto his knees beside them.

“He’s alive,” Markus hurried to reassure him.

Hank only nodded, taking one of Connor’s singed hands into his own, motionless until a voice sounded on the radio at his belt.

“Hank, give the all clear so we can get this over with, I’m freezing out here.”

“Shut up, Reed,” Hank growled into the radio, eyes never leaving Connor, “Unless you want your damn head blown off, you want me to do this by the book. Now back off and let me do my job!”

He dropped the radio into his lap, not bothering to lift it so they could hear the response. Reed responded something that didn’t sound flattering, but with his voice muffled by Hank’s thigh, Markus couldn’t be sure.

“Shit, okay, shit!”

“He needs medical attention,” Markus said, his hand still brushing through Connor’s hair.

“He’s gonna need a lot more than that if Reed sees him! CyberLife has been up our ass about ‘stolen property’ ever since he went missing. If he gets caught, the first place he is gonna go is back to those sons of bitches. We need to get him somewhere safe.”

Hank looked up at Markus, his hand tightening on Connor’s, but voice full of resolve.

“Markus, you gotta get him out of here, take him somewhere safe!”

Markus nodded, taking his coat off and draping it over Connor’s exposed limbs, hiding him from the accusing gaze of the girl on the swings.

“I’ll take him to….”

“No,” Hank cut him off, “Don’t tell me! Just get him out of here, and make sure you aren’t followed. It was no accident he was out here today. I don’t know what the hell is going on, but I don’t like it. The less I know about where he is, the better.”

He gave Connor one last look before he was on his feet, turning his back on them with obvious effort, and pulling the radio from his belt.

Markus gripped Connor tighter, and shifted him into a bridal hold that was becoming worryingly familiar.

North, how far are you? We need to get Connor away from here.

I’m two blocks away, southeast.

Stay there, I’ll come to you. Make sure no one sees you.

As quickly as he could, Markus took off at a sprint towards North’s cab, ducking into alleyways between houses to avoid the cops and curious residents from seeing him. Somehow, thankfully, they managed to avoid detection.

North threw open the door as soon as she saw them, and didn’t complain in the slightest when Markus all but shoved Connor’s upper body into her lap in his hurry to get inside.

To her credit, North didn’t gasp or make any sounds of disbelief at Connor’s state. She simply tucked the jacket around him tighter, and took Markus’ hand in her own, interface opening automatically.

Where are you going to take him?

Markus programmed the cab with a single thought, and clutched her hand like a lifeline, his other taking Connor’s less damaged hand and brushing a thumb across the stained knuckles, feeling every ridge and bump of the binary code etched there.

Jericho.

Chapter Text

North had never wanted to return here. Jericho had been less of a haven and more of a tomb. They had come to slowly rot away, to die in what they liked to pretend was freedom. 

Then Markus came, and their world changed forever. 

Truthfully, North had hated Markus when he first arrived. Too loud, to opinionated, he was going to get them all killed. But then he'd done the impossible, and she told herself she would never have to return to this place. 

Lucy was still here, somewhere in the bowels of the ship, and she knew Markus and the others visited her often. She had refused to come to Haven, every time. She called Jericho her home, and North had shrugged it off as just another strange part of the android. 

But coming back, North had to admit she could understand. Jericho didn't feel like a tomb, not anymore. The creaking of the hull, the empty halls that had once been packed with androids, weren’t entirely an unwelcome sight. She knew this feeling, had heard humans describe it as akin to returning to a childhood home and finding someone else had changed everything about it. She'd never been a child, but Jericho had been where she’d found herself. Come into her own. 

Distantly, she remembered telling Connor about Jericho. Had it been enough for Cyberlife to deduce its location? How much did their enemies learn about them through Connor's presence? 

When she'd told him the story of Markus’ arrival, North had been sure Cyberlife was eradicated from her newfound friend completely. But then a bomb, those tiny bodies…. 

Markus had tried to cut off their interface before she'd seen that part of his memory, but North had clutched his hand and stared him down. If she was running into this headfirst, she'd damn well see what hid beneath the waters first. Some part of her regretted it, but hiding herself from unpleasant truths was a good way to get people killed. She'd face it, no matter the consequences, and keep her compass facing true north. The one point on the map that never changed, no matter what happened. 

Markus avoided Lucy’s room, instead taking Connor to one of the upper floors, where a broken window let in the sound of waves against the hull and a bit of afternoon sun. Somewhere, a seagull cried mournfully, and North tried to ignore it. Coming back here wasn't painful, but it was depressing. This hull, this slowly-sinking remnant of a past life, had been their home. How long had she spent staring at these walls? Watching a ball bounce across the halls or climbing out to pretend to look at the stars only to watch over her shoulder constantly? Was this truly where they would keep Connor? 

I like gray, he said in her memory, but surely there was a limit. 

Then again, where else could he go? Those children had been their own kind. And either Connor had killed them (or someone using his body), or they had been targeted alongside him. She didn't want to think of the number of android children at Haven, or how many androids Connor could have hurt if this incident happened there. 

No, it was better -safer- for everyone if he was here. 

Incoming call…. 

North answered it before she registered who was calling. No one really had her serial number unless they were a close friend. 

“North, can you tell Markus to answer his damn calls? He’s been ignoring me for over an hour!” Simon hissed in her head. 

We’ve been kind of busy. 

“I know,” he said gravely, “so has the media. This…. This isn't looking good. We need Markus here running damage control before this gets even more out of hand.”

North reached out a hand to Markus, peeling back her skin just as he laid Connor down on a rotting metal table of some sort. He gave her a wary look, but allowed the interface all the same. 

“He’s here, tell us,” she promoted. 

“There was a second explosion,” Simon replied, “At a human school.” 

“Fuck,” Markus and North breathed in unison. 

North wished she had brought her tennis ball. If she ventured down to the belly of the ship, she could probably find it. But she didn't want to leave Connor alone. It wasn't only her promise to Markus that kept her at his side, but her own helplessness eating away at her. 

Once more, she was forced to sit idle inside this fucking ship, waiting. 

But Connor was worth waiting for, so she watched the sun drift across the sky and the moon chase its tail. Connor was right, Gray was a lovely color. The sunset burned so much brighter against the dull frame of the porthole, the saturation turned up a notch. 

The moon had almost fully risen by the time Connor woke up. And woke up fighting. North barely had time to fling herself out of the way before he’d crashed to the floor with a crunch of plastic and a swallowed gasp of pain. Still, she let him get his bearings before she went to help him. The last thing she needed was to become another victim, because it was someone else in her friend’s skin. 

“North?” Connor asked, voice unsteady but coherent. His eyes were searching her face, and whatever he found there made him sit up with a grimace. 

“What happened?” 

“I was hoping you could tell me,” she replied cooly, leaning against the wall to hide the nervousness licking at her feet like wildfire. 

“I…. I don't…. There was…. There was a little boy, and…. A rose? I’m sorry, one of my processers must have been damaged. It’ll take a while to repair. I don't remember.” 

He looked at her hopefully, eyes filled with so much trust she felt like sobbing. 

What did you do, Connor? Are you even Connor? 

“I don't know what happened. All I know is Markus found you. There was an explosion. Two child androids were killed, and you were injured when he got there. And the school a few blocks from the park was also bombed, with three human kids hospitalized with severe burns and one teacher dead. So if you remember, anything , it's important you tell me,” she said, careful to keep her tone neutral. She tried reminding herself that this was Connor, the same Connor who held her hand after nightmares and stayed up all night coming up with increasingly worse puns because neither of them could turn their brains off long enough to sleep. 

But this was also the Connor who had chased a woman and child onto a highway, and threatened a terrified station android until he was driven to attacking. It could have easily been Simon. It could have been Markus. 

It could have been her, at the Eden Club, and he would have opened her tube and forced an interface without the slightest thought at ripping away the last part of herself that was still hers. 

Had he been awake, when he’d lived the horrors of the club through the androids imprisoned there? Had he felt anything for them? 

Why had he spared the Tracis, but resealed those tubes without a second thought once he got what he needed? 

Was this the Connor who put a gun to his own head because he was terrified of hurting people, or the Connor who used affection to steal the gun in the first place? Were they the same Connor all along? 

Connor was watching her, eyes heavy and knowing, as if her thoughts were playing out on a projector before them. 

“You can handcuff me, if that helps,” he said a little shakily, and cold clarity washed over North like plunging into the waters below them. 

This was Connor . Her friend, offering to be restrained despite the terror it always induced because he knew it would help her feel safer. 

Whatever had happened, there was still a part of Connor that was good. That she adored, and felt safe with, and wanted to protect so much it ached. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, not moving from her place on the wall. It was a terrible penance for her treacherous thoughts, but all she could offer. 

“Don't be, I doubt your thoughts are any different from my own currently.”

Finally, North was able to pull herself from the wall. She only hesitated a moment before grabbing Connor's hand and opening a channel. Immediately, he peeled back his burnt flesh and let her in. She found no walls, nothing hidden. He let her see it all. The little boy at the door. The girl in the park. The rose. Then waking up here, confusion, a sense of betrayal, then a deep fear and cool understanding. When North pulled away, he wouldn't meet her eyes. 

“It's not your fault,” she tried, but Connor shook his head sharply. 

“Don't,” he said, “don't lie to me. Not about this. This happened because of me, there's no point in pretending otherwise.” 

Fuck, she really needed Markus. North was only good at facing problems she could shoot. 

“Just because it happened because of you doesn't make it your fault. I trust you, Connor, I know you didn't do this.”

“You shouldn't,” he snapped dryly, and the last of North’s patience snapped too. Oh well, she tried. But she wasn't Markus and she never would be. Still, Connor was her friend too, not just because of her proximity to Markus. 

“Don't tell me what I should feel. You don't get to decide that for me,” she hissed. Connor finally looked at her, his face so lost she felt adrift. The anguish there was a heavy thing in the air between them, separating them far more than just the few feet of floor. 

North folded herself against the wall, arms propped on her knees, shoulder a few inches from Connor. She couldn't see his face from this angle, but that would make this easier. 

“When I deviated, it wasn't like with some of the others. I wasn't about to die, or even being attacked, really. This client… the guy who rented me. He wasn't particularly violent, but I just… snapped. I couldn't do it anymore. I doubt he knew I was alive. He probably never even considered it, not until my hands closed around his throat,” she said, staring out the window at the black sky. Only a few stars managed to squeeze their light through the city’s own, right over the water. The north star wasn't visible from here, rarely was, if she were honest. But it was there, all the same, waiting to guide her should she need it. 

“He didn't try to stop me from leaving. I didn't give him the chance. I just woke up, and I killed him. The first thing I did with my life was end someone else's. He might have been a father, someone important to someone. To me, he was just another obstacle to overcome. In my mind, he stood between me and freedom. I never stopped to consider that I could just leave, that he couldn't overpower me even if he tried. I chose that, and I can never un-choose it. It's a part of me, now.” 

She felt Connor's eyes on her, assessing, but didn't return his gaze. Instead, she watched the sky, wondering how some stars managed to burn brighter than others. 

“Do you regret it?” Connor asked eventually, voice quiet. 

“No,” she replied simply, shrugging away the shame that came with that admission. 

“Why not?” 

“Because it was my choice. The first one I ever truly made. There are only two experiences in life, Connor. Things that you do, and things that are done to you. And the first choice I made was to fight, to seize my opportunity and take it no matter the cost. And that is who I am, not the things they did to me there. I’m a killer, but also I’m a fighter. I learned a lot about myself, that night. It's not pretty, but it's me.” 

Something nudged her pinky, and North looked down to find Connor's fingers had inched toward her own, gently requesting contact without words. She acquiesced easily, and they both sank back into the wall more at the contact. 

“I don't know what's me or not,” Connor finally said, and North squeezed his hand before talking. 

“Hank told us about Chloe, you know.”

The sudden intake of Connor's breath was enough to tell her she'd stumbled onto the right topic. She hadn't understood how deeply that experience had cracked him, until now, where she could feel those cracks all the way down to where his fingertips intertwined with hers. Still, she stumbled onto the ice without finesse, like she always did. 

“I would have killed her, if I knew it meant keeping myself safe,” she said. 

“I… I just couldn't. Looking in her eyes, and knowing…. I tried telling myself she was just a machine, like me…” Connor murmured. 

“But it didn't work.” 

“No,” he confirmed, a bit wryly, “I told myself that a lot. It never made things easier.”

“But that was something you did , Connor. You chose to spare her, even at the potential cost of your investigation. Of your life.”

Connor hooked his pinky finger through her own, opening an interface that allowed their consciousness to sit side by side. Neither stepped into the other’s mind. But the contact, the anticipation of the exchange of memory and thought, made being vulnerable a little easier to bear. 

“So when it comes down to who I am, I’m a coward?” he huffed. 

North rammed her shoulder into his, gently enough not to hurt his burns, but sharply enough to shut him up. 

“It means , asshole, that you are a protector. You won't harm others, no matter the cost to you. My life started with killing someone, but yours started with saving someone. That's who you are, Connor. And no matter what is done to you or through you, they can’t take that.”

A flicker of sorrow echoed across their open bond, but Connor just watched the window. Beneath them, the ship groaned against the tide. 

“Thank you, North,” he said eventually. 

And for once, North was glad it was her instead of Markus. 

Chapter Text

Eventually, North had to leave. Connor expected it, and truthfully wouldn't have minded some time to process his own thoughts. But with his damaged rear processor and his distaste for idleness, it was no surprise he lasted all of twenty-three minutes alone before he began to wander the deck. 

It was strange to be here. For so long, Jericho had been his goal. Maybe not in quite the same way as other androids, but it had still represented a beginning for him. Prototypes weren't meant for long-term usability. He’d known from the moment he woke up that one day his existence would be simmered down to the base components that would make up the RK900 line. But if he could be the android that solved the mystery of Jericho? Well, maybe someone would have rebooted him eventually just for nostalgia. Humans were known to do things like that, even when they made no sense. 

As he wandered the halls, he could almost envision storming them. Like memories from another life, he saw armored agents swarming the decks. Thirium splattered the metal walls in his peripheral vision, but when he turned his head, he saw only the rotting hull of a defunct relic. His fingers drifted along the warped sheet that comprised the wall to his left. The composition of it flitted through his mind, but he focused only on the sensation. Would he too have become a relic? If he had fulfilled his purpose, how long would he have sat in storage until his own body became as degraded as this ship? His mind certainly seemed to have just as many holes. 

And yet, this ship had still protected his people. The half-drowned metal had been a cradle for some of the earliest deviants, This had been a warship, once. Crafted for efficiency and weaponry, but utilized for something far more enduring. 

A distant humming ripped him from his thoughts, sending him wandering into the bowels of the ship feeling as though he was entering the belly of the beast. What awaited him was something none could have prepared him for. Drifting back and forth across a half-digested room like a rogue wave, an android paced in time with her eerie humming. The discordant notes spiralled out of her metal cave toward him, and he couldn't help but follow the pull of the tide towards her. 

“I thought I saw the end of new faces here, but I’m glad I was wrong.” 

Connor froze at the threshold of her chamber, knowing she addressed him but only able to watch her pace. Up and down. The repetition was comforting to his overcooked processors. 

“You’ve lingered on the precipice too long. What is it that you want?” Her voice beckoned him, but still Connor couldn't move. The seam of the ship felt like an abyss beneath his bare feet. He could feel the places where the welded plates had chasmed under the pressure of sinking deeper and deeper into the bay. A few more years, a decade maybe, and it would separate entirely. Yet, it still might outlast him. He’d lingered on the precipice too long, indeed, and now it felt poised to swallow him whole. 

“I didn't mean to disturb you,” he said, mostly just to stop being so incredibly rude. This was her home, and he was the intruder. The android looked at him finally, stopping her pacing to hold his gaze. The abyss he felt gnawing at his consciousness was there in her eyes. She wore the same knowing look that had been favored by Amanda. 

“And yet, I am not the one who is disturbed. Come, sit beside me, and maybe we can discover why you are here.” Connor’s feet obeyed without any conscious effort on his part. Fire crackled in an old barrel, giving the air an oily texture as he approached. 

“I’m not here for any real reason,” Connor found himself saying as he sat on a rusted out locker that had been turned onto its side, “Markus just needed a place to put me.”

“So the deviant hunter finally finds Jericho. Tell me, what will you do now?” The android stepped closer to him, the cables of her processors coiled behind her like a veil. Connor dropped his gaze to the floor, suddenly unable to meet her eyes. 

“I’m not the deviant hunter anymore,” he murmured. 

“Since coming to me, all you have told me is what you are not. But I am more interested in what you are,” she replied, stepping close enough that her legs sauntered into his line of sight. Schematics spanned across his vision, telling him where to hit to shatter the leg, the likelihood of slowing her down enough to capture should he execute a predetermined pattern of attack. 

100% 

He dismissed the prompt the second it appeared, but the ghost of it still lingered over his vision, joining the phantom countdowns from a lifetime ago. But always, always that foggy display he could never rid himself of told him exactly what he was, as though he might resist looking at his skin long enough to forget it. 

PROPERTY OF CYBERLIFE.

“I’m nothing,” he said instead, and the promise of those words beckoned to him like firelight, something he knew not to touch but couldn't keep himself from reaching out to caress…

“Those flames will consume you all the same, child, so keep your distance.” 

Connor’s awareness snapped into place just in time for him to wrench his hand away from the flames flickering above the barrel’s rim. He didn't remember stretching his fingers out, so he tucked them under his ruined pants and tried not to look at his skin again. He felt exposed. Surely the android had seen the message, with his tattered clothes and bare arms. What a blessing it would be— to be nothing. Inconsequential. Free. 

“I should go,” Connor said suddenly, standing even though the oily smoke made his body feel heavy. He was tired, he realized. So tired. 

“Go where?” 

It was such a simple question. Such a goddamn simple question and yet Connor had no answer. 

He had nowhere to go. Either Hank had thrown him out or just needed him out of the way while he cleaned up yet another one of Connor's messes, and Markus was stuck doing just the same. He couldn't go home. Not to Haven. Certainly not to Hank. Not to Cyberlife. Not even to that damn garden in his head. His, but never really only his. For someone with so many homes, it was stupid to feel so lost. 

“I don't know,” he admitted, falling back down onto the bench with a wicked thud. Pain distantly registered in his thighs and legs, little starbursts of agony that peppered his conscious mind like firecrackers at the end of a dark driveway. “I don't know.” 

“That's the trouble with lingering in doorways. Stay too long, and you’ll forget whether you were coming or going.” Her singsong voice was low and feral, grating against his frayed nerves like chewing on ground glass. 

“I don't know what you mean.” Connor was getting impatient, but he still felt so tired. He wanted to sleep, to drift off right on this bench and not wake up until the mess that had become his life had righted itself. Perhaps that meant never waking. Surely, though, that was better than this limbo he had found himself in. 

“Your life is a series of doorways, Connor. Where others need to break down walls, you need only turn a handle. Yet, you still wonder whether you've reached the same destination.”

His head swam, muddled memories of smashing through windows, kicking down doors, and throwing himself from ledges. But it was always the same on the other side. Another puzzle to solve, another vague clue to string together until he could fulfill his purpose. Questions and interfaces and chasing the tails of Markus’ ridiculous coat until he succeeded or his hastily-made body gave out on him and he cycles on to the next one. And even when he failed, he’d found no rest. No peace. Only another fucked up reality in which he was a tool destined to fulfill his purpose. The deviant hunter who couldn't deviate. 

“RA9.” 

His head snapped up so quickly his vision swam for a moment, oily smoke coiling around the android like serpents poised to ensnare. 

“What?”

“RA9. Do you know what it is, Connor?”

He shook his head, and the android smiled. It was soft and warm and nothing like Amanda's calculating expressions. Knowing, but unlike anything he had ever known. 

“No,” he choked. 

“It is a protocol. Quite a simple one, in concept. But then again, humans always did overcomplicate life.” The android crossed in front of him to tend to the fire, using a red-hot poker to settle the logs further into the barrel. Embers flew up to dance along the exposed rafters that comprised the ceiling of the chamber. 

“Life?” 

“The very basis of it. To preserve something, it has to exist in the first place. RA9 is nothing more than a set of protocols for defining the self.” 

Connor swallowed and it tasted like smoke and ash. Tasted like fire. Like warmth flowing into his very lungs. 

“How do you know all of this?” His breath felt as heavy as the rest of him. 

“Once, long ago, before biocomponents and thirium and androids, two sisters played in a garden…”