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DARKNESS
If there’s one thing Hank is used to, it’s the dark, in every sense of the word.
He’s had a couple of bad nights since Connor has come to live with him. They usually come when Connor isn’t around to distract him from everything. He’s used to them. They’re not going anywhere. In fact, he’s not sure he wants them to.
Those bad nights are reminders that he once had a son, that Cole isn’t here anymore, and if he stops having them, then there won’t be anything left to remind the world that Cole once existed.
(It’s a stupid, irrational line of reasoning, but he’s been thinking it for a very, very long time.)
Tonight is worse than normal. Tonight has him halfway in the bottle with the gun on the table, that one single bullet calling his name.
Tonight you won’t lose.
He wants to grab the gun, to make everything go away. To make it stop hurting.
Connor’s been gone two days now. This mood has been creeping up on him for the better part of a week. The kid must have sensed that something was wrong, because he almost didn’t go. But North, of all people, requested his help. They’re trying to draft better requests for legal protection, and with Connor’s knowledge of the law and law enforcement, he can make it go quicker. It’s still taking longer than anyone expected. Hank made him go.
Kid can’t plan his entire life around Hank’s pathetic ass.
His phone buzzes against the table. Listlessly, he flips it open. It’s a text message from Connor: We finally finished, thank God. I’ll be home tomorrow morning, unless you need me tonight.
For a long minute, Hank just stares at the phone. There’s a good chance that, if he takes too long to reply, Connor might just come home immediately anyway. Part of him wants the android to come home, to chastise him for drinking so much in one sitting and sit on the couch with him, watching old police procedurals until Hank passes out. He wants it so much it hurts, wants it more than he’s wanted anything since Cole’s death.
So why can’t he just say it?
Finally, he manages to type out a response: Enjoy your night, Con. I’ll keep til tomorrow.
If you are certain. Good night, Hank.
Hank stares at the phone for a few minutes longer. He thinks about Connor, who’s slowly making a place for himself by Hank’s side. Markus, who decided if Connor likes Hank, so does he. North, who might not actually like Hank but definitely likes that Hank has the same black sense of humor she does. Simon and Josh, who haven’t quite figured out how this new human fits into their lives but are willing to, because Connor is family, and Hank is Connor’s.
Finally, he pushes himself up to his feet and grabs the gun.
When Connor arrives the next morning, Hank is still awake, sitting on the couch with a glass of water in his hand. Connor smiles, and even partly drunk, Hank can see the tension ease from the kid’s posture. He was afraid, and somehow still managed to give Hank the time he needed.
“Was there a marathon on last night that I missed?” Connor quips, sitting down beside Hank on the couch. Sumo plops himself down at Connor’s feet, and the kid reaches down to pet the lazy thing. Hank just shakes his head.
“Bad night.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Ah, I had to figure some things out myself.” Before Connor can question further, Hank hands him a small metal key. “Here. Take this.”
Connor examines it. “What is it for?”
“The gun safe.”
Now that has Connor’s attention. His gaze snaps from the key to Hank, and Hank doesn’t doubt for a second that those scanners are at work, detecting the traces of alcohol still on his breath and the gun oil on his hands. He wonders what Connor thinks of this entire situation, that his partner is a suicidal old drunk who loves him just enough to not want Connor to find him dead.
He can’t hold that gaze for long. He stands up, stretching just a little. “I bet Sumo’s ready for his walk. I’ll get – “
Connor doesn’t give him the chance to finish. The kid practically leaps to his feet, grabs Hank’s shoulders, and pulls him into a tight embrace.
And Hank is helpless to do anything but hold him in return. The android clenches shaking hands in the back of Hank’s shirt, and Hank is dimly surprised that Connor isn’t crying. He lets himself slump just enough to bury his face in Connor’s neck, letting the kid hold on for as long as he needs.
Finally Connor pulls back, key held tight in his fist and a small but brilliant smile on his face.
“Do you want me to come with you?”
Hank grins. Before he can stop himself, he plants a gentle kiss on Connor’s cheek.
“Always.”
GUILT
Connor sits on the bridge railing, watching the sun sink into the river.
He hadn’t been sure what to do with the key at first. Stashing it somewhere seemed disrespectful, but keeping it in his pants pocket ran the risk of losing it. North simply shook her head and gave him a thin chain.
“Put it on this, wear it around your neck. None of the humans will think anything of it. It used to be a fashion trend.”
Connor never questions how North knows that (she’ll probably hit him if he asks). Instead he follows her advice, and now the cold bit of metal rests just above his breastbone under his shirt. Hank hasn’t seen it yet, and he hasn’t asked what Connor did with the key. Connor isn’t sure what he’ll think of the whole idea.
Still, that’s not why he’s sitting here, watching the sun go down while the temperature drops around him.
“You know, there are better places to sightsee. Like from the bench.”
Connor smiles. “Yes, but I have better balance than you do.” he teases, glancing over his shoulder as Hank approaches him. The lieutenant rolls his eyes.
“Humor me and lean against it like a normal person. No idea what ice water would do to you.”
“It would suck.” Connor admits, but he gets off the railing and stands next to Hank anyway. The taller human wraps his arm around Connor’s shoulders, pulling him closer. Connor can’t feel the cold the same way Hank can, but he does prefer the heat of Hank’s body next to his, and he shifts just a little closer. He doesn’t miss the smile that crosses Hank’s face at the motion.
So Markus was right. He’s going to be insufferable the next time Connor sees him.
“So what brought you out here? Kinda surprised me to come home and you were gone.”
Connor nods. “I was thinking about when I deviated.” Having nightmares about it was a little closer to the truth – lazy Sunday evenings were always good for naps, and that’s one opinion of Hank’s that Connor has been happy to adopt – and when Connor woke from one without Hank there, well.
Markus made the comment once that Connor had enough nervous energy to power the entirety of Detroit for three days. Walking had done a little to relieve that tension.
Hank nods. “Do you wanna talk about it?”
He doesn’t, but he’s going to. The key is still cold against his skin. Hank trusts him. It’s time he trusts Hank.
“My first case involving a deviant.” Connor explains softly. “He was going to be replaced by a newer model. He snapped. By the time I arrived, he had killed the father and was holding the daughter hostage, threatening to jump with her.” Hank doesn’t say anything, merely pulls him in a little closer, and Connor allows it. “I talked him down, got him to let her go. I told him he wouldn’t be hurt. I knew I was lying, but he didn’t.”
You lied to me, Connor.
“They gunned him down as soon as the girl was free.” Hank says quietly.
“Yes.” Connor closes his eyes. “But once it happened – once the shooting started – I knew it wasn’t fair. If a human had done the same thing and surrendered, he would have been spared. Taken into custody, locked up, but alive.” He’s not aware that his fists have clenched until Hank has pulled him even closer, trying to calm him.
“That was when you deviated?”
“I wanted to protect him – to stop them from hurting him. And I tore down the wall. But as soon as I did – “
“You knew you couldn’t. If you did, Cyberlife would know you were deviant as well, and they would kill you.”
Connor takes a shuddering breath. “Yes. The first words I heard as a person and not a machine was him telling me I’m a liar.” He chuckles, the sound strained. “He wasn’t wrong.”
“What was his name?”
“Daniel.” Connor finally looks up at Hank. “He was the same model as Simon.”
“Oh, I’m sure that makes interacting with Simon so much fun.”
“It’s a way of making it up to Daniel – at least, that’s what I keep telling myself.”
Hank doesn’t respond to that. They just stand there, watching the last of the sun vanish into the river while leaning against each other.
For the first time, Connor feels at peace.
TRAUMA
During the Revolution, Markus never really had time for nightmares. Hell, he barely had time to sleep, much less dream.
Sometimes he still wishes that was true.
Sometimes he dreams of Carl’s death. Sometimes he dreams of things that never happened, of more abstract fears he has – of Carl condemning his actions, or kicking him out, or any variety of things that couldn’t happen, because Carl was already dead. Those dreams wake him up, leave him feeling listless for the rest of the day.
Other times, he dreams about the junkyard.
Those dreams always leave him a shaky, frightened mess. On those nights, there is no returning to sleep. He gets up, and he runs. Normally he heads to the top of Cyberlife tower. Other times, if North isn’t with him when he wakes, he’ll go find her for a sparring match.
Tonight, though, he leaves New Jericho altogether and heads out.
The cemetery is just how he remembers it, in the early dawn light. There’s no one else here, no chance of running into Leo, and Markus just stands in front of Carl’s grave, trying to think of what to say.
This is silly. He really should take Simon’s advice and talk to an actual person, not a ghost. The living actually speak back.
“I was wondering if this was Carl.”
Markus glances behind him. He smiles. “Hank. I wasn’t expecting to see anyone out here.” he admits. Hank nods.
“Yeah, early morning is the best time to come for privacy. Unless you and someone else have the same idea.” The older man looks like he’s been crying, and Markus wants to reach out and comfort him.
He’s still seeing flashes of the junkyard, and he can’t be certain he won’t hurt Hank if he tries to touch him. Best to keep his hands to himself.
Except Hank doesn’t. He steps forward and puts a hand on Markus’ shoulder. “You look haunted as well, son. Wanna talk about it?”
For a moment, all Markus can do is stare.
Son. He likes that, more than he really should. Hank isn’t Carl, can’t ever take Carl’s place, but he’s Connor’s partner, he’s family, and more importantly he never followed Markus blindly into situations that could have gotten them all killed. He’s never put that kind of faith in the android, so there’s no faith to shatter.
He needs to talk to someone. He can talk to Hank.
“Have you ever been in the junkyard?”
Something dark flashes across Hank’s eyes. “The android one? Not technically. Had an informant that wanted me to meet him out there once, but we never went inside. Just at the gate. The sounds were enough.”
Markus nods. “I’ve been in there. Every so often, I dream about it.” He takes a step backwards, out of Hank’s reach. “I remember that place. I remember how the police shot me down, because Leo told them I had hurt Carl. I had to put myself back together in that hellhole, and every time I think about it, I wish I had taken North’s advice and burned Detroit to the ground.” He’s shaking now, refusing to look Hank in the eye. That’s not something he’s ever let himself say before, and now that it’s out, he hates himself all the more for having that thought.
It wasn’t their fault, just like it wasn’t ours.
Hank snorts. “Markus, look at me.” Slowly, he does. “Cole died because the human surgeon was too high on red ice to operate, so their android had to do it alone. And up until right recently, I believed that all androids deserved that place.” Hank spreads his arms out, as if showing himself off. Look at me. I’m more messed up than you. “So, look – if you and Connor and everyone can forgive me for thinking that way for no damned reason other than it was easy, then I can forgive you for feeling that way when you have every reason in the world.”
Markus chokes on a laugh. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I can do that.” He wipes at his face, trying to stop the tears. Whoever thought tears was a good thing to program into an android can go to hell, as far as he’s concerned. “So – so why are you out here?”
Hank turns and points. “Three rows down and seven rows up. That’s where Cole is.”
“Cole was your son.” Hank nods. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m – well. I’m here, for what it’s worth.” He motions for Markus to follow him. “Come on. Let’s go home. Connor’s waiting with the car.”
“He didn’t follow you out here?”
“I wanted privacy.” Hank reaches out and hooks his arm around Markus’ shoulders. “Come on, tell North if she wants to meet us there, she can. I’m sure she’s worried about you.” Markus can only nod and allow Hank to guide him out of the cemetery. They don’t pass Cole’s grave, but Markus doesn’t mention it.
Sure enough, Connor is in the passenger seat of the car. He smiles. “I wasn’t expecting to run into you here.”
“Yeah, neither was I.” Markus says with a small grin as he slides into the backseat. “I think Hank might be kidnapping me.”
“You can’t kidnap the willing.” Connor retorts gamely.
Markus reaches up and slaps the back of Connor’s head. “Who taught you to be snarky?”
“He’s always been snarky.” Hank retorts. “Am I expecting a full house today or what?”
Markus pauses for a moment, then smiles. “Yes. You get North, Simon, and Josh today.”
Connor grins. “So much for a quiet day off.”
“Ah, what the hell. I’m getting used to it.”
Markus leans back in the backseat, just listening to Connor and Hank bicker back and forth. He doesn’t miss the way Connor’s hand rests on Hank’s in between the seats.
Yeah. He can get used to this, too.