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Connor was in the middle of enjoying Christmas’ dinner’s leftovers when a spark of pain registered in the front of his head. Well, wasn’t that annoying? He was just trying to eat a thirium-based slice of gingerbread, and his head started hurting.
The thought made him put the food down. Wait, his head, hurting? That wasn’t an android thing. Sure, deviants could feel pain. If he whacked his head into the wall a few times it would likely smart, maybe a dull ache would register. But it wouldn’t start like this, out of the blue. A stabbing, pulsing pain, moving down from the centre of his head to his left eye. Hanging behind there annoyingly, in and out and…
He shook his head, which was a mistake. The pain got greater, flaring up like someone had stuck a pencil in his eye and twisted it.
Connor brought a hand up to his face, trying to find the problem or ease it, but any movement made it worse.
And now, what could be categorised as even worse, Hank had noticed.
“You alright there? You dropped your blue gingerbread.”
Connor hummed.
Hank frowned, putting down his own knife and fork, turkey and potato stir-fry forgotten. “Everythin’ okay? Looks like something’s bugging you.”
He groaned, shrugging minutely.
“Is… something hurting?”
Connor didn’t want to nod. Instead, he ran an internal system scan. That was also a mistake. He didn’t want to know the results now, he wanted to stop it, stop—but the process had already started.
The results dinged out. Nothing wrong. Nope, nothing going on up there. No injuries. No damaged thirium lines. No problem with his optical units.
Suspicious.
Because, when he wrenched his eyes open, he was sure he saw something. The hint of something lone gone. An outdated mission objective. Deviants… kill…
He closed his eyes.
“I think… I’ll go and lie down.” His voice sounded oddly far away.
“Uh… okay. If you want to. You sure nothing needs checking on? A technician, maybe?”
“No. Just a headache.”
“I thought androids didn’t get those.” Hank had, fortunately, lowered his voice considerably.
“I did too. But…” He pushed away from the table, opening his eyes again. The fragment of old code flashed up brighter this time, pulsing red. “I’m going to lie down.” He repeated, standing up.
The code took over his vision. Pain stabbing greater, spreading from his eye to the back of his head to his ear. Which was now ringing… hmmmmm… Ringing louder and louder, a high-pitched whir slicing through the side of his head. His eyes fluttered but he didn’t register Hank, didn’t see him or the kitchen or the Christmas dinner leftovers anymore. Couldn’t hear his worried concern or the soft drone of festive music over the speakers anymore.
No, the old mission resurfaced. Not ancient, outdated code. It was here, it was real.
Kill the deviants. Accomplish your mission.
His LED spun blue.
************************************
Now, Hank had been having a nice time polishing off the leftovers of yesterday’s Christmas dinner. He wasn’t one to brag, but he’d spent a damn long time cooking and he’d been looking forwards to eating it all in one big stir-fry. Turkey and bacon-wrapped sausages, some potatoes thrown in, all perfectly seasoned. Connor hadn’t been allowed to help, instead he’d been assigned to choose what thirium-snack leftovers he wanted to eat. He hadn’t had the heart to say that gingerbread wasn’t a lunchtime snack.
When all was done, and he’d sat down, tasting the nostalgia of yesterday’s meal on his tongue, life decided that no, he wasn’t allowed a break. Connor had ate a portion of his gingerbread before freezing up, dropping the food on his plate and clasping a hand over his eye.
Hank’s first thought was, well, fuck, that had to be some shitty gingerbread. But then Connor complained of a headache, which he was sure androids didn’t get, and some far away look was starting to gloss over his eyes…
Which led Hank to where he was now.
The android had got up, LED spinning a nasty red, and stumbled. The warmth drained from his eyes in an instant, LED flicking to Cyberlife blue, head snapping up mechanically.
“Uh… hey, Con?”
Connor didn’t answer. He was mumbling something under his breath.
“Did you not like the food?”
Connor looked at him, lips stilling. His head tilted unnaturally to the side, light on his head spinning, seeming to be assessing something.
And then he lunged at Hank.
Naturally, Hank stumbled backwards, landing flat on his back on top of the dining table. His precious leftovers went flying, plate smashing, rice going everywhere. No time to think on that. After pushing him over, Connor didn’t stop, hands reaching out and going for his neck.
Years of training had prepared him for sudden assault, and he dodged to the side. Connor missed, hands going into the wet mess of food on the table. He flicked off the clumps of rice and turkey with a flourish before diving towards Hank.
Hank spun around deftly, pinning him against the wall with one arm. It wouldn’t hold him for long, android thrashing wildly beneath him.
“Connor—mmph—I know I can be a bitch when my head hurts—but this is a bit fuckin’ much!”
Connor didn’t respond, finally breaking free from his grasp and, in one quick motion, he’d knocked Hank into the floor.
Hank groaned, a sharp inhale of breath before the hands closed around his throat.
He bucked, legs kicking up and knocking the android off the top of him.
“Look—whatever’s gotten into you, just, stop it, alright? This isn’t… It’s not real, whatever you’re seeing. It’s just me. Hank. Look, the shirt you got me yesterday—”
Connor stopped for half a second. Eyes roaming over his ‘BEST DAD’ shirt, hands stilling.
“…dad?”
“Yeah, uh, yours. And Sumo’s.”
He looked to the side, seeing the terrified dog crouching in the hallway. Something registered in his eyes. LED flickering yellow, and then his eyes began to blink madly, flickering open and shut over and over.
Thinking that the worst of it was over for now, Hank advanced towards him slowly, mumbling soothing words. He brought his arms around Connor, pulling him into a hug. The struggling continued for a moment more, head flicking back, before it ceased entirely.
He drew soft circles on Connor’s back as he panted.
“Hank, I…”
“It’s okay.”
“I don’t… I…”
“Everything’s alright.”
“I don’t know what that was!”
“I know, I get it… We’ll figure it out.” For a moment, Hank pulled him backwards, studying his face. “You alright now?”
“Yes, the pain, it’s gone away… But…”
“It’s alright.” In reality, Hank didn’t know if it was. His leftovers long forgotten; he pulled the android close to him again. But he’d make sure it was okay.