Work Text:
I
To say it had been a long day for Lieutenant Anderson would be the understatement of the century. What had started as an already unlucky day with Hank sleeping through all of his alarms, quickly went south as his car was scratched by an automatic taxi who got way too close at a stoplight, and from there ultimately spiralled when he got to the office and spilled coffee all over himself and the files he had been working on. From there, he was called into Fowler’s office to discuss the severity of ruining official documentation which turned into yet another screaming match between the two, which led to disciplinary warning number 129 into his file. To top it all off, Perkins had the audacity to say hello to Hank as he passed him on his way out of the office. Hank had truly never been happier to be in the confines of his own home, a cool beer in his hand and a Detroit Gears game playing on the TV, for the first time today he wasn’t stressed, that was until-
BUZZ
BUZZ
BUZZ
The lieutenant clenched his jaw in agitation at the mere sound of his doorbell ringing. Whoever it is can kiss my ass, he thought as he elected to ignore the sound and opted to turn the sound up on the television instead. He breathed a sigh of relief at the sound of silence, until once again-
BUZZ
BUZZ
BUZZ
Only this time, a familiar voice accompanied the frantic ringing, “Lieutenant? Can you let me in, please? It’s Connor!” Hank rolled his eyes in mild irritation, the android truly knew when to pick his moments, didn’t he? He heaved himself up from the sofa with a sigh and trudged to the front door, swinging it open. He expected to see the familiar sight of Connor, looking pin-point perfect, however he was met with a vastly different sight altogether. The android’s normally flawless hair was messed up, sticking up in every direction. Hank would have laughed, only he spotted the fact that Connor’s signature jacket was nowhere to be found, his white shirt was soaked in blue thirium, and his tie was no longer around his neck, instead it was balled up in his hand and being held to his right shoulder as a makeshift tourniquet. He was leaning against the doorframe for support, and Hank would have scolded him for staining the fresh coat of paint he had just applied had he not been so taken aback.
“Jesus, Connor! What happened?!” The older man asked, quickly ushering the android inside. His LED was flickering from yellow to red, clearly very distressed, “I got caught up in an anti-android protest at Capitol Park. There were only a small number of attendees, however they seemed determined to cause a scene. I just happened to be unlucky and-“
“And they stabbed you?! Jesus fuckin’ Christ, Connor!” Hank was outraged as he led a stumbling Connor to a chair at his small kitchen table. He was unsure what he was angrier about, the fact that anti-android protests were still occurring even though it had been months since the civil android uprising, or the fact that it was Connor who had been targeted. There was no time to dwell upon his own thoughts, though, Connor was the Lieutenant’s first priority, “Okay so, uhh, how do I help?” he asked feebly. In his defence, he was used to investigating deaths, not necessarily preventing them…
“If you can stop the flow of thirium I’ll be okay until I can get it fixed” Connor provided, but his speech was gradually becoming slower and more laboured, and his eyelids were getting heavier by the second. If the android lost too much thirium then he would surely deactivate, and as much as Hank hated to admit it- that was a scary thought. He made quick work of retrieving some ace bandages from his bathroom and set about patching up the android, ignoring how his own clothes were now stained blue too. He wrapped Connor’s shoulder with as much pressure as he could muster and was busy wiping the trail of blue blood from his arm when he stopped suddenly, his blood running cold.
In his frenzy, Hank hadn’t realised that Connor was uncharacteristically silent through the whole ordeal. He glanced at Connor’s face hesitantly, and to his dismay the android’s eyes were closed.
“Fuck…” the lieutenant hissed, “C’mon now Connor, enough of your bullshit, get up, you’re good to go”, despite his agitated tone, his heart was going a mile-a-minute in his chest. He jabbed Connor’s (good) shoulder, gave him light taps to his face, and even shook him; but the android remained still and silent. This is, hands-down, the worst day of my fuckin’ life, Hank thought bitterly. He tried desperately once more, “Connor, c’mon son, don’t do this to me”, he hardly registered what he was saying in his panic-fuelled rambling as he prodded Connor repeatedly in an attempt to get any sort of reaction out of him. Hank was about to give up, until-
“Hank?” A small voice spoke up, and brown eyes flickered open. His LED pulsed yellow as he registered his surroundings.
“Holy shit-“ Hank let out a hefty sigh of relief, “Don’t you ever scare me like that again, got it?”
Connor smiled tiredly, letting his body go lax on the chair as he recuperated, “Got it.”
II
It had been a week since Connor’s run-in with the protestors, and even though his wound had long since been fixed, the android still found himself in Hank’s house, not that Hank seemed to mind either. Come to think of it though, Connor had noticed changes in the lieutenant’s behaviour since the incident. The once stoic man seemed to watch over Connor more closely, and once had even questioned where Connor was going as he went to leave the house. Upon questioning, Hank had simply answered “Christ, I can’t even make conversation in my own damn house anymore?” But after a surreptitious scan of Lieutenant Anderson, he noted that his heartbeat was 109 beats per minute. He’s anxious… Connor thought. “I’m simply going to the station for a moment, Hank, I have some sample results I never gave to Officer Miller.” The android provided, which seemed good enough for Hank. “Alright. Just, y’know, be careful or whatever. Next time I mightn’t do such a good job of patchin’ you up.” The android offered a small smile at Hank’s attempt at humour before leaving. Since then, Connor had practically become a permanent resident at the Anderson household, electing to make himself useful and analyse their evidence during the nights when Hank slept.
However, androids weren’t designed to run for days upon days without rest, so while the house was still and quiet one night, Connor allowed himself to put down the electronic tablet he was reviewing evidence on. He shifted on the couch until he was comfortable, and he closed his eyes, his body relaxing. His LED flickered yellow as he allowed his mind to wander, images from the past few weeks flashed through his mind; Sumo bounding up to him as he returned from the station, himself and Officer Chen having a lovely conversation by her desk, the android protest…
Connor felt his eyebrows furrow subconsciously as he recalled the last memory. He winced as he remembered being shoved around and attempting to be polite and diffuse the situation before a protestor concealing a knife plunged it deep in his shoulder. He remembered the shock he felt as he registered the thirium beginning to flow, and how the red WARNING: BIOCOMPONENT #4679R DAMAGED text flashed frantically in his HUD as he stumbled away. The memory dissipated and was replaced by Connor standing on a rooftop. It didn’t take him long to register the memory of when he was atop the Stratford Tower, investigating the disturbances Markus had created before he broadcasted his message to the world. He moved swiftly across the roof, narrowly avoiding bullets flying through the air, before he reached a concealed door that held one of the members of Jericho: Simon.
Connor made a small noise of discomfort in his sleep-like situation as he knew what was coming next. He watched himself tear open the door and connect to Simon, only-
Connor jolted up, yelling involuntarily in fear as he relived feeling Simon die. He neglected to realise exactly how loud he had been, until he heard the soft thudding of paws on the wooden floor trotting into the living room. Sumo.
“Oh- I’m very sorry to have disturbed you Sumo” Connor spoke quietly, giving the dog a scratch behind his ears as he sat to attention beside the android, “I didn’t mean to wake you, I just had some… unpleasant thoughts and- “
“And so you’re tellin’ the dog about ‘em?” The tired and unimpressed voice of Hank filled the room, startling Connor.
“I’m sorry Hank, I didn’t mean to-“
The older man cut him off once more, “Jeez, you don’t have to apologize. What happened? I heard you yellin’.” Connor was grateful for the dim light in the room as no doubt his face was tinted blue in embarrassment, “Well, I was resting for a moment and recalled some unpleasant times. Like the protest I was injured at, and that time on the roof of Stratford Tower.” He explained.
Hank muffled a yawn into the back of his hand as he sat beside Connor, “s’that ever happened before?” He asked. Connor shook his head no. “Well, seems y’had an android version of a nightmare, welcome to the club.”
“A nightmare? No, I probably just-“
“Connor, you’re a deviant yourself, y’should know that you’re gonna start experiencing more human shit, I guess nightmares are just part of that for you considerin’ the shit you’ve been through. I remember that time on the rooftop too y’know, you said you felt that android die, that’s bound to fuck anyone up.” Hank spoke almost understandingly; it was a welcome change from his usually gruff demeanour.
“Wanna talk about it?” He offered, but Connor shook his head, keeping his gaze fixed on Sumo, “No thank you, lieutenant. I’ll be alright, just a little bit shaken up.” He explained. Silence fell over the two, and Connor was hyper-aware of the fact that Hank was looking over him like he was some kind of wounded animal. “Truly, I’m okay.” He reassured. Hank nodded and glanced at the clock that read 3:24AM and suppressed another yawn, “Alright, if you’re sure. You good if I leave you again, son?”
Connor nodded, his hand still methodically raking through Sumo’s fur and his LED pulsing orange as he processed what happened. Hank clapped him on the shoulder before standing up and making his way back to his bedroom, “Sumo!” he ordered, “Stay out there.” As if on cue, the Saint Bernard leapt onto the sofa and made himself comfortable, laying his head over Connor’s lap as the android smiled ever so slightly.
III
“For fuck’s sake, Connor, this evidence just isn’t adding up!” Hank snapped as they found themselves reviewing the limited amount of evidence they had collected for the sixth time that night. “I’m sorry lieutenant, but I just know we’re missing a link here!” Connor sounded just as exasperated as Hank looked as he paced up and down the evidence room. The wall was covered in the bodies of six out of ten androids who had all been reported missing from the Eden Club downtown. They were all completely random models, of differing genders, different races, with different body types and hair colours, and they were all missing random biocomponents that had absolutely no link either.
Hank sat at the nearby terminal, swiping through notes that he must’ve read six hundred times by now. All of the androids were hired at completely different times by different people, and upon questioning all ten visitors of the Eden Club, they each had very stable alibis and absolutely no criminal records. Hank let his head fall to the terminal in frustration as he groaned, “Can’t we just leave it for now, Connor? ‘M fuckin’ starvin’.”
“I’m sorry, lieutenant. Can you even give me ten more minutes? I think I almost have something” Connor glanced over his shoulder as he paced, Hank simply waved him off, “ten minutes, then we’re leavin’, got it?”
“Got it.”
And so began Connor’s incessant pacing once more, up and down, and up and down, and up-
He stopped.
“Lieutenant, I may have our missing link.” Hank looked up expectantly, “Well, let’s hear it.”
“Well, when we spoke to suspect number three, she said she rented out Traci. Now, if I recall correctly, she asked Traci to perform a certain act, but she refused, but of course the suspect didn’t think much of it, am I correct?” Hank took a moment to flick through the records of the questioning, “Mhm, s’what it says here.” He confirmed half-heartedly.
“Okay, good. Now when we interviewed suspect number seven, he rented out Staci, who also exercised her right to refuse to perform any act she deemed unfit, correct?” He waited patiently for an exhausted Hank to haphazardly search through the evidence before muttering, “Yep. But that’s two outta ten. Hardly a link, though. C’mon, can’t we just wrap this up for tonight?”
Connor turned with a smile, “Well, technically you’re correct, but if we could speak to the other suspects once more to confirm if the others refused, then we have reason to believe it was the owner of the club punishing the androids for exercising their autonomy?” Hank looked up, “Well shit, Connor. Maybe you’re onto somethin’ here. Good on you, son.”
Connor positively beamed.
IV
“-Cold night tonight, with expected temperatures of around 35 degrees Fahrenheit and heavy winds set to hit the city of Detroit-“ The television was the only source of light and sound in the room, but Hank wasn’t paying much attention. It was one of those nights, Cole sat smiling in the frame across from him on the table, a bottle of Jack Daniels was clutched firmly in his left hand, and his revolver lay flat in front of him with a single bullet in one of six compartments. Hank took a swig from the bottle, wincing as it burned the back of his throat and made him feel even sicker than he already did.
He slammed the bottle down with a little more force than was necessary, though he wasn’t sure if it was out of anger or his judgement was impaired from his inebriation. He picked up the revolver gingerly, grasping the cold metal handle and looking at his distorted, sad reflection glaring back at him. In a clumsy, undignified movement he brought the gun to his temple.
Click.
Hank chuckled dryly, “Huh, guess I got lucky that time, eh Cole?” He glanced to the picture and almost immediately his eyes filled with tears that spilled over, making pitiful tracks down his worn face. “Fuck… If you could see me now, what would you say to me? You’d think I’m some sad prick pretendin’ to be doin’ good in this world by bein’ an angry, deadbeat cop…” He picked the bottle up once more, taking his fill.
“Round fuckin’ two…”
Click.
Hank let out a sigh, unsure if it was one of relief or disappointment. He threw the gun down on the table again, deciding that he had pushed fate that bit too far for the time being, and opted to hold his head in his hands in order to hide his tears and to shield his shame from Cole’s smiling face. “Fuck…” After a few moments of gruelling silence, slightly dampened by the mindless droning of the newsreader on the TV, the front door handle began to twist. Hank watched it, if its an intruder they can fuckin’ kill me, he thought bitterly.
It was, in fact, the exact opposite. Connor walked through the door, entirely unaware of what exactly he was walking into. “Good evening, lieutenant. I’m sorry I was-“ he trailed off as he registered the scene in front of him. “Hank, are you-?”
“Not now, Connor.”
“Hank I-“
“Just get the hell outta here, will ya?!”
Connor spoke calmly, “I’m afraid I’m not going anywhere, Hank.”
“Just fuckin’ go! Leave me like everyone else does! Leave me like my own fuckin’ son left me! Who even gives a shit if I lose this damn game?!” He waved the gun around for emphasis, “If I shot myself here an’ now who’d come lookin’ for me? Not those damn bastards at the DPD I’ll bet!”
“I would.” Connor spoke, his voice was defiant but laced with hurt. “Why do you think I’m here? When I couldn’t find you at Jimmy’s bar watching the Gears playing, I panicked.” He knelt down in front of Hank’s chair, eye-to-eye with the older man, “Hank… can you give me the gun?”
Bleary, tear-dampened eyes met Connor’s in a silent plea for help, and without a word the gun was slid across the table and into Connor’s waiting hands. He opened the cylinder of the gun. “For a lieutenant who graduated top of his class, you’re quite stupid playing these games. The next shot would have killed you…”
Hank simply closed his eyes and shook his head slightly, “The fuck is wrong with me?” He muttered, fretting a hand through his grey locks. “You’re in emotional distress, you weren’t thinking rationally.” Connor explained in an attempt at comfort.
“No, I mean what the fuck is wrong with me?” Hank repeated, making Connor tilt his head in confusion. “I’m playin’ these games, and for what? Every fuckin’ day I begged the universe for somethin’ good to happen to me, and then they sent me you. Now, you were annoyin’ as shit at the start, but how fuckin selfish would I have been to have turned my back on you an’ pulled the trigger?”
“…And Sumo” Connor prompted. Hank laughed dryly, “Yeah, him too.” He looked at the picture of Cole once more, his smile was forever immortalised in the frame, a safe haven Hank could return to if he ever wanted to. But he wasn’t here, and that was something Hank just had to come to terms with. He turned his attention to Connor who was still knelt in front of him, eyeing him with concern.
“Y’know somethin’ Connor. You’re an annoyin’, smartass, sarcastic prick at times, but sometimes you’re good for teachin’ me shit I never even knew about myself. You made me realise that even though Cole ain’t here anymore, I can still be the father I was meant to be.”
“I’m not quite sure I understand you, Hank?”
In a rush of movement, Connor was pulled forward from his kneeling position and he found himself in a bone-crushing embrace, “What I mean is, I love you like a god damn son, Connor.”
Connor found himself speechless as his own arms reached up to gingerly return the embrace, “I… I love you too...
...Dad.”