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The lead Hank and Connor were following was promising. An empty warehouse, the perfect hideout for a killer.
Expect this wasn’t a simple homicide case. No, it was part of something even bigger. An underground red ice ring that kidnapped and killed androids in order to steal their thirium. Thirium was a major ingredient of red ice, after all.
The person they were tracking down was one of the main kidnappers, the one who took androids from homes and brought them to the ring. Maybe only a supply man, but with all of the information they had, they needed this person.
Despite the importance… Hank wasn’t happy to bring Connor along with him.
“Don’t like this.” Hank muttered, gun held low, pushing open the creaky door to the warehouse. “Don’t like this at all. You shouldn’t be here, Con.”
“I’m perfectly safe.”
“This whole operation… is set up to kidnap and kill androids. You’re a target.”
“They’ve killed humans, too. If anything, you shouldn’t be here either. But we’re police officers. It’s our job.”
“Fuck the job if it means you’re in danger.”
Connor opened his mouth to respond, before snapping it shut again. A noise. His scanners had picked it up. It was too quiet to be detected by the human ear… it was too far away. It sounded like someone breathing.
He held a finger to his lips, pointing forwards. It wasn’t great to move on ahead in the open space, but with no option for cover that was the only way they could go in order to advance to the next room.
“Behind me…” Hank ordered as he reached the door, hand on the metal handle, about to turn it, when—
Connor had a horrible feeling that this was a trap.
He turned around, and saw the man right behind them. A trap indeed. The man, the one they’d been looking for—he had a gun in his hand. It had fired already, he hadn’t noticed that, somehow. The bullet coming straight for him. It would hit his temple, he’d fall down to the ground without another thought, and—
And yet he was still thinking. Something had pushed him to the ground, but it wasn’t the impact of the bullet. He could feel the warmth of blood soaking into his shirt, but…
But it wasn’t his.
He looked down and saw that Hank was lying on top of him.
No, no, no…
Ignoring the sounds of officers storming the building, arresting the man, finally—he turned over Hank. Breathed a sigh of relief to see that the bullet hadn’t gone in his head.
It had hit somewhere, though. He looked him over and saw it was embedded in his leg.
Not immediately fatal, but humans had a lot of important arteries. A common misconception about bullet wounds was that, as long as they didn’t hit any vital organs, you’d be fine. No, the human body didn’t work like that.
Hank was losing a lot of blood.
“Hank? Hank!”
The man groaned, but couldn’t respond coherently. His eyes were half open, glazed, his lips becoming pale.
“Hank! Fuck! We need a medic over here! MEDIC!”
Footsteps rushed over. He mumbled under his breath, bringing his hands to clasp Hank’s.
“You’re gonna be okay, you’re gonna be okay, you’re gonna be okay…”
They pulled Hank away from him, carting him onto a stretcher. He didn’t move, staring at the blood on his hands. Soaked on his shirt.
It should have been his blood.
“You’re gonna be okay.”
************************************
Connor registered moving, or being moved, but wasn’t really there when it happened. One moment he was sitting on the floor of the warehouse… the next he was on a hospital chair. Plastic and clunky, uncomfortable. Hank would probably complain about his back if he were to sit on one, and Connor would tease him for being old…
Hank wasn’t there to complain.
All he remembered was being told to wait. Mr Anderson was going into surgery now. They needed to stop the bleeding.
There was so much blood.
Connor had wiped it off on his trousers. Someone—a nurse—had come by with a cloth. He’d taken it and put it in his pocket.
Where was Hank? What was taking so long?
Surgery took time, his brain reminded him.
Hank’s dead, his heart shouted. He’d be lonely without Hank.
He closed his eyes. Whiled away the time researching bullet wounds and surgery. The chances of survival if it nicked an artery. The chances of survival if he lost too much blood.
By the time the doctor came in he was shaking, LED pulsing red.
“Are you with Mr Anderson?”
“He likes to be called Hank.”
The doctor nodded. “Are you with Hank?”
“Yes.” The doctor sounded too nice. Comforting.
Hank was dead.
“Well, he was in the woods for a while there. We managed to stop the bleeding and it nicked an artery—”
Chances of survival are low.
“But he pulled through.”
Connor blinked.
“Is he dead?”
“No. No, he’s resting in the other room. You’re free to come and see him, but he’s not awake…” Then, after a moment, the doctor seemed to notice his distress. “He might look a little scary. There’s a lot of machines we need right now to help him, and…”
“I want to see him.”
“Okay. If that would help… Sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”
“Connor.”
The man smiled. “Alright, Connor. Come through with me.”
As they walked down the winding hospital hallways, the doctor looked towards him and asked, “I want you to know that your dad’s okay, alright, son?”
“I’m an android.” He replied.
The man frowned. “Oh. But the man mentioned a son…”
“He must be talking about someone else.”
Because what son almost got their father killed?
That thought hung in his mind as he sat down on the chair beside Hank’s bed (a little comfier, but he barely felt it). Hank had almost died because he was protecting Connor. Had thrown himself in a bullet meant for him.
Why had Hank done that? It was almost Christmas. Hank, despite his grumbling, wanted to see the holiday. Yes, together, but…
There was a Christmas tree in the hospital room, lights twinkling. Hank shouldn’t be here at Christmas.
He clenched and unclenched his fists. Hank shouldn’t have done that. He should have taken the hit.
And you’d be dead, a little voice reminded him.
He rolled his eyes. Hank could have been dead.
Hank saved him. Hank shouldn’t have.
“Why?” He asked Hank’s sleeping form. “Why did you do that? Why did you save me?”
Hank didn’t reply, but he could somehow hear his snarky response: Because you could’ve been killed!
“Why would you risk your life for a machine?”
A sound. The sound of bed clothes crinkling as Hank struggled to get up. Oh, shit, Connor thought. I’ve woken him up.
Misty blue eyes looked back out at him as he came to stand beside Hank’s bed. He held a hand on his arm to stop him from getting up too fast.
“m… C’nn’r?”
“Hank.”
He groaned, head dropping back onto the pillows. “Fuck… what’d I do?”
“You got shot.”
“Oh.” Then his eyes flew open, looking over Connor with such desperation he felt the anger from before starting to flare back up. “Are you ‘kay?”
“Yes. You stopped me from getting shot.”
“Right… I did right then…”
“No. You didn’t.”
“Wh’t?”
“You shouldn’t have risked your life. I… I’m not sounding ungrateful. But you could have died.”
“Y’h… s’ could’ve you.”
“I’m a machine, Hank.”
“You… my son!”
“What?”
Hank groaned, eyes shutting again. “Son… sh’t up.”
“Please, Hank… don’t risk your life for me again.”
Either from exhaustion or stubbornness not to listen to him anymore, Hank had drifted back off to sleep.
Connor groaned. He was glad Hank was fine. Hank had woken up. But he didn’t understand. Didn’t understand that this wasn’t okay! Sure, maybe he wanted to be Hank’s son… but if that meant the man putting himself in harm’s way?
He couldn’t sit in here anymore. Hank needed to rest, and maybe he was being selfish. He walked out of the room.
************************************
After leaving the hospital, Connor wasn’t really sure where to go. He did go back home briefly to feed Sumo and let him out, but he couldn’t stand staying in the house much longer. Staring at the place he’d moved into. Hank had let him. Hank, too selfless for his own good…
He was going to get himself killed.
So, bidding goodbye for now to Sumo, he stood outside the front door and sighed. Where would he go?
He wouldn’t dare contact his friends at New Jericho. They were busy enough as it was, especially with the slew of android kidnappings. Which would hopefully stop once they got to the bottom of the ring, that man now in custody…
Who he wanted to go down to the station and scream at. Why did he shoot Hank? Why was he a monster?
But he didn’t. He’d just lose his job, and Hank would be alone on the field once he recovered. No one to at least try and watch his back.
His finger hovered over a different number. Chloe. Who he’d met at Kamski’s place, who he hadn’t shot in the twisted mind game… Who, after the Revolution, he’d become friends with.
He dialled the number and she invited him over.
************************************
Kamski’s mansion didn’t feel so cold and uninviting anymore. After androids gained their freedom, some of the Chloe models moved out. Many got their own names. Those who felt they wanted to stay with Kamski, were given more freedom. Their own rooms, no longer having to wait on Kamski. The man had learnt his lesson.
“Connor! Hello!” Kamski greeted him at the door. He was wearing a t-shirt with a joke about Star Wars on it, his hair in a messy bun. “Did you come to see Chloe?”
“Yes.”
“Great. Come in, come in… how are you doing?”
Connor stared at him, his LED still a perpetual red. Blood still dried to his clothes.
“Right, right. I can see. None of my business.” After closing the front door behind them, Kamski walked away. “But if you’d like a change of clothes, feel free to ask!”
Connor didn’t. Instead he made his way to Chloe’s room, and knocked on the door.
She smiled to see him. “Connor! Hello. Come in.” Ushering him inside, she placed her hand on the small of his back. “What on earth happened?”
He sat down on the edge of her bed and cried.
Immediately she brought her arms around him, pulling him into her side. Too fresh, it was obviously too fresh. She hoped Elijah hadn’t been too abrupt with him again, or she’d have to talk to him.
It didn’t last long, the story finally coming out in a flurry of words. Some parts were confusing to understand, what with the tears and the way they choked up his voice, but she got the gist.
“Hank got hurt?”
He nodded. “Shot.”
“Why are you saying that it’s your fault?”
“He got… got in the way.”
“Oh, Connor, he was pushing you out of the way.”
“Shouldn’t have.”
“You said the bullet was going to hit your head. You would have died.”
Connor was silent.
“Look… you know that Hank cares about you. You’ve talked about him a lot. What did you expect?”
“He could have died!”
“And you would have. He made the decision. Not the nicest one, but… the right one.”
Connor sighed. “But he shouldn’t have. Shouldn’t care that much…”
“Why? He sees you like a son, Connor.”
“He shouldn’t. Just a machine.”
Chloe shook her head, bringing her hands onto his shoulders, turning him to face her. “Don’t say that. You’re not allowed to say that anymore. You of all people know that we are alive.”
“Yeah, but, I…”
“You’re no exception, Connor. Would a machine have spared my life?”
“Would a deviant have taken the gun?”
“You know that wasn’t your fault. Elijah shouldn’t have done that. Look. You’re alive, and Hank sees you as his son. And you’ve told me you want to see him as your dad. So…”
“But what if that puts him in danger?”
“Whether you say it to him or not, he’ll always protect you, Connor. Maybe it’s better your feelings are out in the open.”
He sighed. “I… that makes sense. I wish it didn’t.”
“Well, I don’t make this stuff up. You two should be happy. And you should be proud of your dad.”
Connor chuckled. “Yeah, I… I am. Thanks, Chloe.”
“No problem, that’s what friends are for.”
He smiled, pulling her back into a gentle hug. Maybe things wouldn’t be so bad.
************************************
When he finally got back to the hospital, it was starting to go dark. But he knew exactly what he had to do. Walking through the hallways, he smiled to see the tinsel strung up. The decorations, the reminders of the season… Because they reminded him that Hank was alive to see it. And so was he.
Coming into the room, Hank was awake, sitting up in bed. Looking pissed.
“Connor.”
“Hank, I…”
“I’m a little less doped up on pain meds now, so I’m gonna tell you to sit down so I can sort out what you were saying before.”
Connor sat down immediately.
“I don’t remember it completely… but I do recall you thinking you should’ve fuckin’ took that bullet. That I shouldn’t have saved you.”
“Uh… can I say I don’t remember either?”
“Connor. You…”
“I’m sorry. I was being stupid. I was just so scared, scared that you might die, that… But I understand now. It’s because you care about me.”
“Of course, I fuckin’ do, stupid.”
“And I’m sorry I told you off for saving me. That was pretty shitty.”
“Hey, makes up for half the shit I pulled before the Revolution.”
“Fair. But… I just want you to know…” He fiddled with the sleeve of his shirt, words suddenly becoming very hard to force out. “That I, uh… I’m proud to be, your, uh… you son.”
Hank smiled. “Good. Better fuckin’ be, I took a bullet for you.”
“I don’t suppose you’re going to stop mentioning that.”
“No fucking way! Now come over here and hug me.”