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The first thing Hank noticed when he woke up was the pounding in his head. As his icy blue eyes stared up at the ceiling, light beginning to peek through the curtains of his bedroom window, he found it difficult to have his eyes focus. He closed them, sighing unhappily before rubbing a hand down his face and the fog in his mind slowly clearing.
It was Monday morning. No wonder he felt like shit.
Hank sat up, throwing his bed covers off of him and standing up. His back let out a loud pop as he stretched, the man wincing at the strong ache in his head. It felt like a mix between a migraine and simple lightheadedness and all thoughts in his head pointed to the cabinet in his bathroom.
The lieutenant walked out of his bedroom, registering the usual set of noises coming from the kitchen but not acknowledging them as he went into the bathroom. He leaned down slightly— ow, fuck, he hated mornings—and opened the sink cabinet doors, rummaging through them until he found a bottle of Tylenol, or something close enough. He quickly swallowed two of the pills, hoping that they would help with his weird headache, before getting ready for work.
Twenty minutes later, he was cleaned up and started getting dressed, planning on wearing his heavier coat thanks to the chilly January weather. Though it had yet to do so, snow was on the forecast for today and Hank was not very excited about that. After so many years, he knew that he should probably be used to the cold, shitty weather, but it never failed to piss him off even the tiniest bit.
“Good morning, Hank,” Connor greeted him once he walked into the kitchen, a kind smile on his face as he leaned against the kitchen counter. Jesus, Hank didn’t think he would ever be able to understand how the kid was always so chipper in the mornings. He, on the other hand, couldn’t hold any kind of conversation until he had been awake for at least half an hour and had his morning coffee, and at the moment he was missing one of those things.
“Mornin’,” Hank responded, sleep thick in his voice. Connor, who was dressed in one of his cream button-ups with a black tie and dark jeans, picked up a mug of already made coffee from the counter and handed it to the older man. He hadn’t even noticed the strong scent of the drink, most likely due to his persistent headache. Hank took the cup gratefully, telling Connor, “Thanks, kid.”
Connor nodded, the one strand of brown hair that never seemed to fall in place shaking a little. Sumo, who had been busy eating his breakfast that Connor had put in his bowl for him, walked over and greeted his owner, Hank giving him a small pat on his head. After, the dog moved a little closer to Connor, who of course pet him happily, never failing on spoiling Sumo in affection, along with indulging in his frequent habit of not listening to Hank when it came to certain things.
No matter how many times Hank had told the android how unnecessary it was for him to do it, Connor always made coffee for him in the morning. Even if they didn’t have time to do so, he would grab the lieutenant a cup of it at the precinct, and even though the station’s version of it was pretty shitty, Hank still appreciated the gesture.
Hank took a sip of the drink, already feeling better thanks to the familiar, bitter liquid. However, immediately after, a sharp pain resounded in his head, causing him to wince slightly and curse under his breath. Connor instantly took notice, looking away from the St. Bernard and giving Hank a concerned look as the man ran his free hand through his light gray hair.
“Are you feeling alright?” Connor asked, cocking his head a little in the way that always reminded Hank of a dog. Between that and the puppy dog eyes Connor used in some situations to get what he wanted, Hank swore sometimes that he was the Terminator version of a golden retriever.
“It’s seven a.m. on a Monday, Connor. What the hell is there to feel good about?” Hank said before taking another, longer drink of his coffee. Connor gave him a thoughtful look, his LED spinning its usual bright blue as he crossed his right foot over his left.
“Well, we are going to work after all, and every day at our jobs is another chance for us to help people,” the RK800 said, sounding as though he was stating some kind of obvious fact. Hank raised an eyebrow at him, a somewhat surprised look on his face as he shook his head.
“Christ, I think Markus’ optimism is rubbin’ off on you,” Hank sighed before drinking more of the coffee. Connor had been spending a fair amount of time with him and the other leaders of New Jericho, and while Hank had only spoken with Markus a few times, he knew that the guy was determined and hopeful as all hell.
Connor stared at him for a few moments, a mischievous spark growing his dark brown eyes. “... drink your coffee, Hank,” he said, a not too common but nice to hear playful tone in his voice.
Hank choked out a laugh at Connor’s sarcastic response, rolling his eyes and not bothering to look at the smirk on Connor’s face.
Two hours later, they were already out on a case. Some woman that’d been vandalizing people’s cars—all ones that belonged to former CyberLife employees, leading the partners to assume that she was an android—had been spotted in an apartment building downtown.
As they walked down a hallway, begrudgingly—at least for Hank’s sake—going door to door and asking residents if they had seen the woman, a sudden loud noise stopped them. It sounded like a large crash from upstairs, followed by a set of fast-paced footsteps.
“Connor, don’t–”
He had already run off.
“Oh, Jesus,” Hank muttered, hurriedly following the android. Connor was running up the emergency stairs, and judging by the fact that they were already on the second highest floor, he would soon be going outside and onto the roof. Especially if the woman knew that they were already there, she couldn’t be that stupid as to go downstairs and possibly run into them.
However, at the moment, as Hank ran up the stairs and onto the roof of the apartment complex, seeing Connor a few feet ahead of him and sprinting after the woman, he wasn’t worried all that much about the suspect.
Even though he knew that he wouldn’t have listened to him, Hank had still tried to get Connor to wait if only for a fucking second. The kid always got ahead of himself in this kind of shit, any sense of self-preservation being thrown out the window. Getting injured wasn’t something new to Connor, but it didn’t mean that Hank had gotten used to it, and just because Connor was an android didn’t mean he was indestructible, as Hank often reminded him.
And yet, there was Connor, literally jumping off the roof of this building and onto the next one as he chased after the other android. And Hank really shouldn’t be surprised at this point, not after all the other crazy shit he’d seen Connor do before, but seeing someone pull things like that as if it was nothing wasn’t really something that someone could get used to seeing.
Hank pulled out his phone, quickly calling Ben and telling him to get some uniforms out and on high alert. He didn’t want to risk the perp getting away, even if Connor and his android advantages would most likely catch her.
“Is Connor already after her?” Ben asked, stopping Hank from hanging up. He scoffed at that, his eyes never leaving Connor as he ran after the woman. He would lose sight of him soon at this rate, with the suspect seeming to lean toward shorter buildings. Hank guessed that they would be on the ground at any moment.
“What do you think?”
Ben just laughed before telling him that a few officers were on their way and ending the call.
Hank shook his head, putting his phone away. At this point, he couldn’t even see Connor anymore, but he had a good enough idea where he and the suspect were headed. The lieutenant quickly went back down the stairs, soon leaving the building and getting into his car.
He could feel the slightest bubbling of anxiety under his skin as he drove down the street. Fuck. Connor was seriously going to give him a heart attack one of these days. It was so easy to worry about him, even if Hank knew how skilled he was. It didn’t change the fact that accidents could happen and no one was perfect.
“Shit,” Hank breathed out. His head still felt fucked up, like he was having some horrible hangover. Jesus, he really didn’t feel too good. Maybe Connor was right when he gave Hank those lectures about taking better care of himself, like getting enough sleep, or as Connor liked to put it, “the adequate amount of time for a human to rest.”
Christ. Fucking android. He was lucky, that’s for sure. All Connor had to do to stay healthy was to not get any computer viruses, try not to overheat, and get about five hours of sleep—Connor called it stasis or something along those lines—every thirty-six hours. If only humans had it so goddamn easy.
A strange feeling surfaced in Hank’s chest at that sudden thought. Androids really were better than humans, huh?—physically, at least. Connor was a prime example of that, chasing after suspects, even fighting them when necessary. Hank knew that the RK800 could run for miles on end and never get tired, only stopping when his CPU was on the brink of bursting into flames.
Hank could never do that kind of shit, and not because he was older than when he had first become a cop. He wouldn’t have been able to do it back then, either, along with practically everyone else at the precinct. It just wasn’t really a thing that humans could do.
Androids… they were made to be better than humans in certain ways. It wasn’t anything new.
But now, as Hank drove, he couldn’t help but think about what was going on with him right now. He didn’t think he was sick, but he knew he wasn’t feeling well. He honestly didn’t even want to be driving, instead just doing boring paperwork back at the station, or better yet, taking it easy at home.
Connor’s friends on the other hand—Markus, North, Simon, Josh, the infamous leaders of the androids’ liberation—wouldn’t be feeling this way. Hank didn’t think it was even possible for androids to get sick or anything close, just malfunction or some shit like that.
They were better than him, weren’t they? Better in a various number of ways, ones that all lead to Hank having what he believed to be a completely irrational, idiotic, but maybe possible thought:
Would Connor want to replace him?
Obviously, it’s not like it would be that easy, but now more than ever it just seemed to Hank like all those other androids were better than him. What if Connor believed that, too? What if now, when he realizes that Hank isn’t feeling well and he’s weaker than those other friends of his, he’ll leave him?
Hank would be all alone. Again.
But no, that was stupid. Right? Connor wouldn’t do that to him.
But the kid was smart. Logical. He’d seen Hank at some of his lowest moments. He knew just how bad he could be.
Fuck.
Fuck.
After seven more minutes that felt like hours, Hank was able to spot out a few DPD cars that were parked together next to an alleyway between two restaurants. He quickly parked the car and got out, walking past an officer who was leading the suspect, who was now handcuffed, to one of the patrol cars.
And there was Connor in the alley, his hair the slightest bit roughed up, but everything else about his appearance in place. Chris, who had probably been congratulating the android, walked away, greeting Hank as he walked by.
“Good job, kid,” Hank said to Connor, a small smile on his face as he clapped a hand on the brunet’s shoulder, “but you’re fuckin’ crazy, y’know that?”
Connor flashed him a prideful smile. “Yes.”
Yep. There was no way in hell Hank could let him know.
“Are you sure you’re feeling alright, Hank?”
Hank could feel himself tense up at the words slightly. He glanced over at Connor’s concerned expression, the two sitting on the couch together and watching a basketball game. Connor actually seemed to be liking the sport at this point, to Hank’s surprise.
“I’m fine, Connor, seriously,” Hank answered, trying not to sound defensive. He took a sip of his bottle of beer, almost wishing he had something stronger. His head didn’t hurt as much as it had earlier, but he still felt worse than usual and wished that he had something to take the edge off, both from his headache and Connor’s suspicions.
“Well, in case you… change your mind, you could always miss work tomorrow to rest,” Connor hesitantly said, acting almost as if he was walking on eggshells. “I’m sure you have a few sick days left to use.”
“I’m good, Con,” Hank immediately shut down the suggestion. He didn’t want Connor to know that he was feeling so bad, not when there was the chance of him leaving. And Hank knew how stupid that sounded but he couldn’t help but feel like it would could happen. “Now, cut it out.”
“Cut what out?”
“Worryin’ over me like this. You’re actin’ like a damn mother hen,” Hank grumbled, feeling his frustration begin to take over. Why couldn’t Connor just let things be? It was fine, everything was fucking fine.
Connor shifted a bit where he was sitting, and even though he did a good job most of the time hiding his emotions around people, Hank could read him like an open book. He could tell the android was started to get annoyed. “I don’t see any problem with me being concerned about your well-being, Hank.”
“It’s a problem when you treat me like I’m some kind of fuckin’ kid.”
Shit. He didn’t mean to say that or to say it so angrily. Out of the corner of his eye, Hank could see Connor’s LED spinning and he wondered if he was contemplating whether to keep the argument going or to apologize.
Hank didn’t want to hear either one.
“I’m goin’ to bed,” Hank said, standing up. He threw his beer away before heading to his bedroom, tempted to have brought it with him.
“Hank–”
He shut the door.
Hank’s vision was the slightest bit blurry as he sat on the couch, unable to even really focus on the movie that was playing on the television. There were a few empty beer bottles on the coffee table in front of him. It’d probably been about a week or two since he’d gotten this drunk—it had been for a celebration, he remembered, something like that at work.
Wait, why had he gotten so drunk again tonight?
A moment later, the front door opened and Sumo excitedly got up from where he had been resting on the ground and greeted Connor at the door.
Oh right. Connor.
It was their day off and of course, the android had to spend half of it at some kind of meeting with Markus and the others—like Hank needed that kind of fucking reminder. At least the alcohol had made him forget about being sick for the past three days. Kind of.
Connor pet the St. Bernard for a moment before glancing over at Hank. Judging by the way he swiftly walked over to the older man, he must’ve used his android skills or whatever to deduce that Hank was pretty fucking drunk. Go figure.
“We’re talking. Now,” Connor sternly said, standing in front of Hank. He didn’t even bother to look up at Connor’s most likely upset and disappointed expression, simply sighing.
“Connor–”
“I know that something’s wrong, Hank,” Connor cut him off. “Why won’t you tell me what’s going on?”
“It doesn’t fuckin’ matter,” Hank spat out. He didn’t mean to be acting like this, but Connor was on his nerves at this point and he couldn’t let him know.
But he was also drunk. So drunk that he couldn’t really control what he was saying.
“Why don’t you just go back to your android buddies? I know you’ll just end up stayin’ with them eventually.”
It went quiet.
Shit. Hank definitely didn’t mean to say that out loud. Fucking shit.
Connor leaned back a little, looking almost as if he had been stung by the words. Hank finally worked up the courage to glance up at him, and all he saw in Connor’s brown eyes were confusion and fret.
“What are you talking about?” Connor softly asked. Hank scoffed, rolling his eyes.
“Like it isn’t fuckin’ obvious, Connor. All those high-tech guys compared to me. I’m just…” Hank’s words trailed off. Even in his inebriated state, he knew that he did not want to be fucking talking about this right now, about any of this.
“Hank… I didn’t…” Connor seemed lost for words, taken aback. Hank just wanted the conversation to end.
“Just stop–” Hank roughly stood up, and right when he did, a wave of nausea rolled over him. Connor’s frown deepened, the android noticing the sudden change in the man. “Fuck. I’m gonna puke.”
Connor’s eyes widened as he immediately helped lead Hank to the bathroom. He opened the door for the lieutenant, who quickly kneeled down and emptied the contents of his stomach into the toilet bowl.
Hank blacked out after that.
“Ugh,” Hank groaned. He had barely opened his eyes and already he could tell that it was way too fucking bright. He sat up, rubbing tiredly at his face as he made himself slowly open his eyes.
“I bought you medicine.”
Hank looked over to his left to see Connor standing at his doorway, the door wide open. His surroundings finally sunk in, the lieutenant realizing that he was in his bedroom, laying under the covers of his bed.
Shit. He’d gotten so drunk last night…
“You should feel better in a day or two.” Connor’s voice was gentle as he walked over to the bed and sat down on the edge of it next to Hank. The older man gave him a small thanks, figuring that Connor must’ve scanned him thoroughly and gone to the store while he was asleep. He was so unsure of what to say, where to even start.
“You should’ve told me about this,” Connor spoke first, sounding a little disappointed but more upset than anything. Hank looked away from him, rubbing the back of his neck a little uncomfortably. Christ, this was awkward.
“I’m not always the best with talkin’ about this kinda shit, Connor,” Hank said. He knew that the kid already knew that about him, but it felt like it needed to be said. Stuff like this didn’t come easy to him. Solving other people’s problems? Sure, he could do that. But when it came to his own shit, it was a completely different story.
“But I’m here for you.” Connor’s voice was much more serious than usual, a small frown on his face. His LED was even stuttering back and forth between bright blue and sunshine yellow. “I’m your friend, Hank. I…” He took a deep breath, pausing. “Do you remember what you said last night?”
Hank cringed inwardly. He couldn’t remember exactly what he had told Connor, but he knew that he had mentioned something about Connor’s friends. Either way, him being drunk meant that he had said nothing good.
“Bits and pieces,” Hank said. “Everything’s still pretty foggy.”
Connor looked down at his hands, the fingers on his right hand mutely tapping against his thigh. Hank distantly wondered if Connor wished he was flipping his coin instead. “You were talking about Markus and the others. You said that I would end up staying with them. You talked about them like… like they were better than you.” Connor’s voice grew quiet, sounding like he didn’t want to be repeating the words. Hank didn’t want to be hearing them again, too.
“Oh, Jesus…” Hank sighed. He’d really fucked up this time.
“You know that’s not true, right?” Hank snorted at that, and Connor exhaled irritatedly through his nose, a habit he had somehow formed over time. “I’m serious, Hank. There is no better or worse. Nobody’s being ranked.”
“Can you blame me for not believin’ that?” Hank asked, though there was no exasperation in his voice this time. Just… resignation. “I’m not stupid, Connor. Androids are way more fuckin’ advanced than any human on this goddamn planet. And I’m… just some washed-up cop with way too many fuckin’ issues.”
A beat.
“You’re wrong,” Connor said, his voice full of confidence and louder than before. Hank’s blue eyes widened a bit at the change. “Hank, you… you’ve gone through so much these past few years. You reacted the same way anyone else would have. But how you’ve coped doesn’t define you. None of what happened to you defines who you are. You’re a good person. You’re intelligent and kind and incredibly strong. You’re a good friend and an outstanding police officer. You’re one of the best people that I know.”
Fuck. Guess Hank was wrong, huh?
God, what the hell did Hank do to deserve this android?
“I appreciate the words, kid, really,” Hank told Connor because he did, he appreciated them so fucking much, “but it’s not exactly easy for me to just think that.”
“I know,” Connor sympathetically said. He understood the poor relationship Hank had with his self-esteem. He couldn’t just accept those kinds of thoughts, not like that. “But I’m not lying, Hank.”
“I believe you, Connor.”
A few moments passed, the two falling silent once more before a confused look grew on Connor’s face. “What does this have to do with you being sick, anyway? Why did it refrain you from talking to me?”
And here it comes. “Really gonna make me say it, aren’t you?” Hank asked as if he didn’t already know the answer.
“Hank. Talk to me.” Connor paused before adding a soft, “Please.”
Goddamn puppy dog eyes. Hank just couldn’t say no to them.
“I thought…” Jesus, this was hard. Really fucking hard, but Hank knew that there was no leaving this room until he came clean, not if Connor’s stubborn ass could help it. “Fuck, I thought if you knew I was sick, you would… Christ–you’d realize how much better your friends are than me. And then you’d… fuck.”
“... you thought I would replace you?” Connor’s voice was barely louder than a whisper, his face in shock
“Stupid, huh?” Hank bitterly laughed out. “That I got so worked up over… over the thought of bein’ alone again.”
“Hank, I…” Connor blinked a few times, seeming like he was trying to regain his composure. He brought his hands together, nervously twiddling with his fingers as he continued talking. “Before I was a deviant, when I had just come to work with you, I was nothing but a machine. That’s all CyberLife saw me as. And machines… they’re replaceable. If anything ever happened to me, another ‘Connor’ model would simply take my place. It’d be as if nothing happened.”
Shit. Oh, shit, fuck. Hank really was stupid, wasn’t he? How could he have not thought about any of that before?
He remembered that other Connor back in November, the RK800 that had shown up on Hank’s doorstep acting just like the Connor he knew. But then he had ended up being some kind of evil clone of his, taking Hank hostage and almost tricking him into shooting his Connor.
“I still worry about that,” Connor faintly said, his LED having lost any trace of blue and now fully yellow. “I know it… it won’t happen anymore, it–it can’t. But it still scares me. How easily I could be replaced.”
“Shit, Connor, I had no idea.” He really didn’t, but at the moment, he didn’t know how he had never realized it. He hated hearing Connor talk about himself that way, hated piece of shit CyberLife for ever making him feel that way.
“You know that’s never gonna happen, right?” Hank reassured the android, his voice growing a little gentler—a tone that only Connor could bring out of him. “You’re never gonna be replaced, Con. Not on my fuckin’ watch.”
“Then why can’t the same apply to you?”
Hank’s mouth shut in response to that. Connor being his logical self, as usual. It was hard to say the same for himself, but there was no way in hell Hank was going to take back what he said about Connor.
Fucking androids.
“Your fears aren’t irrational, Hank. I understand. But please understand that you are not replaceable. Not in any shape or form. You’re not alone anymore and I’m going to make sure that it stays that way.”
God, Hank could feel himself getting emotional at Connor’s words, like his seams were slowly being pulled apart. He figured he must’ve been going soft, and all because of this damn android.
“C’mere,” Hank softly muttered, pulling Connor into a hug. He reciprocated the contact immediately, his chin resting comfortably on Hank’s shoulder, and out of the corner of his eye, Hank could see his LED slowly but surely returning to its usual blue. “Jesus. When’d you get so good at bein’ open about this kinda shit?”
“I followed your example. And then I did the exact opposite.”
“Oh, fuck you.”
Even though Hank couldn’t see his face, he knew that Connor was smiling. He tightened his arms a little around the android, closing his eyes.
“Thanks, son.”
“You’re welcome, Hank.”