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Connor had only started really thinking about it when Nines had reached on a higher shelf to grab a box of which there was evidence stored. Evidence stored for a case gone cold, but Captain Fowler had put them together for several cold cases and they had yet to fail. Connor noted that he couldn’t reach that high on his own and that Nines was built taller than he was.
There were lots of differences between him and Nines when Connor thought about it.
Appearance-wise, they were similar. They had the same general face, but Nines’ jaw was sharper, his nose longer, and his eyes lighter like ice. Plus, he maintained his hair in the same neat hairstyle that Connor used to wear and he dressed much more professionally than Connor did. So he supposed there were differences between them appearance-wise, but the way they clashed most wasn’t that.
The way they clashed most was in regard to emotions. Connor didn’t have difficulty admitting that he was emotional (as emotional as an Android programmed against it could get, anyway) and that Nines was… not. Nines often had trouble understanding why it was that Connor would get overwhelmed at an excessive workload when he could just do things individually, one by one, until they were done. Connor had struggled to look at things like that since he deviated, the onslaught of emotions that had been brought onto him overwhelming him. He was ashamed of the fact that he could handle less now than he could when he was still a machine.
At first glance, Connor found Nines’ apathetic disposition to be an advantage. He thought Nines was the lucky one and was better off not having to deal with emotions. Then, one day, it almost literally slapped him in the face, and he realized that Nines was much more emotional than he let on. Connor, even as attentive as he was, wasn’t able to notice Nines repressing his own emotions.
It was actually something really small that did it, too. Connor understood it all too well, though, knowing that the buildup of small things can turn into a large, unpleasant feeling. Connor didn’t even know the half of what Nines had been pushing down that made him break down the way he did, but what seemed to have pushed him over the edge was actually Captain Fowler.
Captain Fowler had expressed his disappointment that they weren’t getting anywhere on their current case. Connor had noticed that Nines had been working more slowly on it, but didn’t think to ask any questions. He didn’t want to come across as though he didn’t think Nines was doing a good enough job, because he was, so he kept his mouth shut. Captain Fowler didn’t have the same consideration, lacking any sort of hesitation to hound on Nines.
“This case has been cold for years,” Captain Fowler said exasperatedly. “I thought you of all people would be able to do a damn thing about it.”
“Captain Fowler, with all due respect, we are progressing, even if it isn’t at the pace that you-”
“I wasn’t talking to you,” Captain Fowler barked. Connor shrunk in on himself, opting to keep his mouth shut. He didn’t have to speak for Nines. He instead analyzed Captain Fowler’s body language, knowing that anger was a secondary emotion and that it was likely rooted in something else. While anger was the emotion he was projecting the most, Connor found that Captain Fowler really seemed tired, and scanning some paperwork that surrounded him in piles, he realized he was more so taking out his stress on Nines.
“I apologize that my work has been inadequate,” Nines finally spoke. “I will try to focus and find some answers in the evidence that we’ve gathered.
“Good,” Captain Fowler sighed. “Just… get out.”
When he gestured to the glass door of the office, neither of them hesitated. Nines seemed extremely tense, more so than he normally did. His shoulders were bunched up and his expression was entirely blank as they walked back into the evidence room. The second the door closed behind them, Connor heard Nines take in a shaky breath.
“Are you okay?” he asked, walking closer from where he had stood behind him. Nines was still tense, and Connor only then noticed he was shaking, too.
“Yes, I’m fine,” Nines answered, though the way he spoke the words said otherwise. Connor was caught off guard, an uncharacteristic show of emotion from Nines, but he couldn’t blame him after witnessing the way that Captain Fowler had berated him.
“No, Nines, be honest, please,” Connor urged, stepping in front of him now before he could busy himself with looking through the evidence box he’d taken down. “I can tell you that you’re not. Your LED is red and your stress level is at 87%.”
Nines’ LED flashed yellow before returning to red and Nines grimaced slightly, covering it with his hand as though Connor hadn’t seen it in the first place.
“I just…” Nines started, taking in a breath. “I wasn’t ready for that, I suppose.”
“I don’t think anyone could be ready for that,” Connor soothed, sighing gently as he remembered Captain Fowler’s harshness. “If it helps any, I don’t think Captain Fowler’s anger is caused by you, I think you just were unlucky enough to have it taken out on you.” He walked a pace closer to Nines, who sighed and sunk his head into Connor’s shoulder.
Connor was yet again surprised by Nines acting unlike himself, but he had no protests and wrapped his arms around Nines apprehensively. Nines seemed to melt into the contact entirely and Connor made a note to himself to give Nines more physical affection often.
“It’s okay,” Connor whispered and he felt Nines’ body wrack with a sob. He felt his Thirium pump tug as Nines cried into his shoulder. “You’re doing well, Nines, really. You’re doing so good.”
Nines cried harder, clutching into Connor’s shirt, and it made Connor realize Nines likely hardly ever heard those words because it was simply expected out of him to be good. Not something to be praised, but just how he was. The thought of that made Connor almost sad.
“You really are doing good, Nines, and you deserve to hear it,” Connor said gently. “I’m sorry that no one has told you that.” Connor rubbed his hand up and down Nines’ back comfortingly. Nines pulled away from their hug after a couple of minutes as his crying quieted.
“I’m sorry,” was the first thing that Nines said, his voice cutting out into something mechanical.
“Nines, it’s okay,” Connor reassured, meeting Nines' eyes and hoping his point got across to him. “You feel things, it’s normal, you don’t have to apologize for it.”
“But I should have more control over it, Connor,” Nines sighed, frustration clear in the way his eyebrows furrowed.
“Nines, I don’t know if anyone has told you this, but no one really has control,” Connor said, remembering the words Hank had told him months back when he experienced something similar to this.
Huh. Maybe he and Nines were more similar than he thought.
“But everyone seems like…” Nines trailed off, taking another deep breath.
“How someone seems is not guaranteed to be how they are,” Connor reminded him. “I understand how it can appear that way, but it’s okay to struggle, really. It doesn’t make you any worse than the next person.”
“I suppose not,” Nines accepted, and it went quiet for a few moments until Connor spoke again.
“And Nines?”
“Yes?” Nines seemed better, at least slightly, and Connor hoped that his attempt to comfort him had alleviated his stress. The yellow processing LED and 62% stress level essentially confirmed that he had helped and he felt relieved.
“You don’t have to pretend you aren’t phased by things,” Connor advised quietly, continuing to rub Nines back even though he wasn’t crying anymore. “Okay?”
“Okay,” Nines repeated, taking another deep breath and Connor felt reprieve when he watched Nines’ LED turn back to blue.
“We can just take it easy the rest of the day and we’ll be back on track tomorrow,” Connor said, already deciding for him before Nines could protest to the break that he clearly needed. Nines nodded slowly, giving in and hopefully knowing that it was best for him. Even when Nines had managed to get his expression back to something neutral and his LED stayed blue, the day had given Connor a lot to think about.
He and Nines were really more similar than he’d thought.