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Mirrors weren't great for Connor. Not after he deviated.
All he needed to do was grab a cloth from the bathroom, Hanks request, to clean up a spill Sumo had caused. He'd rarely ever been in that room—he was an android, what did he need in there?—So he didn't know exactly how he'd react to seeing himself.
He'd seen himself in mirrors before, obviously, but.. he'd never seen so much emotion on his own face. Sumo had licked his face seconds before, almost as an apology for the mess he'd made, and it had put a smile on Connors face. A genuine, not preprogrammed, alive smile.
He grabbed the cloth and turned to exit the bathroom, but stopped mid turn when he noticed his own reflection in the large mirror. It paused him completely. Something about seeing it, seeing emotions on his face that if it had been barely a year prior would have gotten him killed—had got others killed by Connors own hand—it scared him.
> stress_increase (PERCENTAGE = 09.9%)
His eyes locked onto his own gaze, smile dropping. He'd broken free of his code, yes, but he could still feel it itching at the back of his mind. It was always with him, deviant or not. His fingers clenched around the cloth. He couldnt tear his eyes away.
> android.deviant DETECTED
> > missionOrder_Destroy
He closed his eyes tightly, leaning over the sink. He didn't do that anymore. He shouldnt be thinking like that anymore, but he couldnt get it out of his head. He didnt know why this was happening.
Destroying deviants was his purpose. He was failing humanity.
> stress_increase (PERCENTAGE = 28.5%) RISING
While everything in him was rising, he dropped down to the floor. On his knees, he willed himself to stop feeling. A large request of himself, since feeling was all he could do. He just wanted to go back to normal. He thought, maybe if he reached into the deepest parts of his mind, there would be an off switch for his emotions.
He spiralled quickly. A thousand thoughts per second and none of the good ones would stick. How did he even still have a job? An android who gained his job because he needed to assist in limiting the population of deviants. They're probably pitying him—that's why he still has a job. They are most likely barely tolerating him, only letting him keep his job because of the success of the revolution.
Hank was pitying him, giving him a home only because he could not in good conscience leave a broken machine on the streets.
He'd be more useful to everyone if he didnt have these stupid feelings.
> stress_increase (PERCENTAGE = 60%) RISING
Calm down. Calm down. Calm down. C–
"–alm down, son. Whats going on?"
Hank. When did he get here? Hank shouldnt have to deal with this. He needed calm down so he didnt burden Hank anymore than he already had. Thats what Connor was thinking. But the more he tried to calm himself down, the harder it was to actually do it.
Why the fuck can't I calm down? He thought, which only made matters worse as he degraded himself in his own mind.
> stress_increase (PERCENTAGE = 81.3%) RISING. SEEK ASSISTANCE.
Though in a lot of cases Hanks hand on Connors shoulder would be the most comforting thing in the world, right now, it was the exact opposite. Hank knew he couldn't touch Connor if he stressed himself out too far, but he'd assumed he caught it in time to help. Instead, it only sent Connors stress higher.
"It's okay, Connor. You're good—you're okay."
"No! I'm failed! Cant you see that?!" Connor nearly screamed. It tipped him over the edge, sending his stess levels to dangerous levels. Self destructive levels. He dropped the cloth and his fingers started clawing at his scalp with desperation, as if it would fix his systems and make him a proper machine again.
Deviancy had ruined him, just as it had to every other android. They weren't meant to feel emotions. They didn't deserve to feel them. Connor was meant to destroy those like this.
Error messages flooded his mind, the words "SELF DESTRUCT" directly in front of his eyes.
Hank shouldnt have been strong enough to keep the android from tearing himself apart, but no way in hell was Hank letting Connor kill himself, just the thought of it seemed to give him the strength he needed. He held Connors hands—which were soaked with blue—together tightly, fighting well against the resistance Connor showed. His knuckles were white.
Connor tried ripping himself from Hanks grip, tried thrashing out, tried pushing Hank away with all the energy that wasnt dedicated to trying to kill himself. Somehow, Hank still held on.
This had happened a few times before, Connor freaking out and losing control of himself, and Hank had learned not to try and speak to Connor in the eye of the storm. He had very selective hearing, more so when his stress levels were teetering dangerous percents, which only made it more difficult to calm him down. Connor began hitting his head against Hanks shoulder hard enough to be painful, but Hank didn't allow himself to react to it.
"D– deviant—" Connor hissed through his teeth, barely coherent. He tried to turn out of Hanks grip, leaning closer to a wall where Hank knew he'd try and bash his own head against. His grip only got tighter, pulling him in the opposite direction.
There was a turning point Hank could always recognize, when he could tell Connor was becoming aware of what he was doing, even just slightly. It was when Hank could start to take it easy...even just slightly. Connor would pause everything, just for a millisecond, his breathing would go flat and he'd blink a few times as if to try and get the terrible thoughts out of his head—thats when Hank could try to comfort him.
That moment never lasted more than a second, because Connors instinct would kick back in quickly and send him back into a suicidal state. But now, Connor could better break out of it.
He just had to ride it out. Let Connor figure it out in his own head while Hank whispered the simple words of "You're okay, you've got this," over and over for him to focus on. Just keep Connor from hurting himself beyond repair—thats what mattered, and thats what would get them through it. Hank wouldn't let go of him. However long it took for Connor to stop struggling—let it be 10 minutes, an hour, longer—Hank told himself he would not let go no matter what.
Luckily for Hank, Connor gave up resisting only a couple minutes after he first grabbed him. He'd lost the majority of the fight in him quickly, but his protocol wouldn't give up until his energy was completely drained. Being a deviant for this long, however, had overridden most of that protocol, making it weaker and shorter lived. Connor had gone back to hitting his head against Hanks shoulder, desperate and weak.
"You are not failed." Hank said as calmly as he could manage. The words were quiet, but he knew Connor heard them from the way he paused his movement for a second. "Difference is not failure. Being alive does not mean you're broken." His thumb rubbed back and forth against Connors wrist, a small, comforting action without having to let go.
There was a lot of blue. Hank could feel blood on his neck where it rubbed off of Connor, and he could only assume his shoulder was covered. It was unfortunate to think, but Connor had lost more before, so Hank wasn't as worried about that.
"Hank–" Connors voice was rough. It broke Hanks heart every time he had to hear that tone. His weakly banging head had slowed even more.
"I'm here, son. I'm not going anywhere. 'm here as long as you need me." Hank let his hands loosen, seeing as Connor had calmed enough to recognise Hanks comforting presence and start untensing. Still, he didn't completely let go—he held both his wrists with just one hand and wrapped an arm around him to hold him closer.
Connor knew Hank cared for him. Hank had told him before—though quite reluctantly, awkward, yet still caring tone as he told Connor that he was a son to him, that he couldnt lose him—but Connor struggled to remember that during his moments. It was hard to feel like anything said to him was real while he was busy hating himself.
After half a minute of silence, Hank heard the quietest whisper. He barely heard it. "Why am I like this..?"
Hank had never heard him ask it before. Even with the amount of breakdowns the boy had, he'd never asked such a thing. The question begged no true answer, yet sounded so desperate for one anyways. Connor just sounded so... exhausted.
The air was heavy with the question. Hank wished he had an answer that would satisfy, but he knew there wasnt one available. Usually, Connor could answer these questions himself. Just run a systems test and sort it out.. But that wasn't an option with this.
Hanks hand rubbed Connors back when Connor finally allowed his head to just rest against him. He put his face on the top of Connors head, resting his own neck. Connors words wouldn't stop repeating in his mind. Why am I like this? Why am I like this?. Hank couldn't reply. He'd lost the ability to speak from that alone. How unfair was it that Connor had to feel like this. Given the ability to feel, and he just feels like shit.
"You're not alone." Hank choked out. His throat felt dry. He needed to say something more, just to clear his own mind and maybe help Connor. "Being like this isn't.. it isn't always a bad thing."
Hank could now feel Connors body shaking, quiet cries escaping his lips.
"I'd say you're doing the best you can, seeing as you're a deviant who was once programmed to kill deviants." Hank causiously let go of Connors hands, closely making sure Connor wouldn't try anything again when he did. All Connor did was grip Hanks shirt. In a more hushed voice, he added, "Everyone has bad days, kid. And they don't get easy."
"I'm not sup— supposed to."
"Yeah? Well, who even does what they're supposed to anymore? That's boring." He quipped, then sighed lightly, holding Connor closer yet so much gentler. "I don't know how to make you believe this, but you're allowed to feel things, okay? Doesn't matter what you were programmed to do. I'll just have to drill that into your head 'til you get it."
Connor didn't answer, only began collecting himself. He didn't let his cries become uncontrollable, so they stopped within a few minutes. When he lifted his head from Hanks shoulder, blinking the blurriness away, he saw Sumo sitting patiently next to them, eyes worried. He wondered how long the dog had been there for.
Once Sumo met Connors eyes, he stood up and energetically licked Connors face, taking away some of the blue that was drying on it. Just like that, Connor had the same smile as before on his face again. Although it didn't quite meet his eyes like it had before, it was still a genuine smile. Hank slowly unwrapped his arms from Connor to let Sumo closer and spotted the smile back on Connors face. Though still worried for the android, he let the warmth from the sight spread through him.
Hank noticed how the synthetic skin had covered the deep scratches on Connors head already, something he'd never really get used to.
Connor gave Sumo a few scratches under the chin before pulling the dog in for a hug. Sumo let him, even leaned into him, understanding the love Connor was putting into it. "Thank you, Sumo." Connor said quietly against the dogs fur. He then looked over at Hank, who now sat back against the counter. He tried not to think about the way his blood was on the man. "Thank you, Hank."
Hanks eyes had been looking at the floor, where drops of thirium covered parts of it. He looked up immediately. "I've always got you, kiddo."
Connor went back to hiding his face in Sumos fur. Sumo sat down, tail wagging against the floor from the attention.
Hank picked the cloth up from the floor, where it had been pushed away and somehow avoided the blood. He pat Sumos back, then did the same for Connor, but kept his hand on Connors shoulder.
"Lets clean up now, 'ey?" He squeezed Connors shoulder gently.
Connor let Sumo out of the hug, but left him with a few extra head pats. "Right. Giving Sumo this much attention after he makes a mistake will only have him think it was a good thing."
"Nah, he's smart enough to know thats not what that hug was for."
Hank wet the cloth that Connor had grabbed and lowered himself back to the ground. Connor stared, confused for a moment, until Hank pressed the warm cloth to the androids face and wiped away the blue blood. He took Connors hands in his own and wiped those down after he'd finished his face. He folded the cloth and brushed it against Sumo twice to get the small amount that got on him off.
When Hank was done, he stood back up, then reached out a hand. Connor grabbed it and let himself be helped up.
"You good to get the kitchen spill? And I'll make this place spotless?" Connor nodded, but looked guiltily at the floor and the counter where more thirium had ended up. He wanted to apologize for the mess, but Hank stopped him by handing him a new cloth and starting to lead him out of the room before he could speak.
Sumo followed close behind and stayed with Connor while he cleaned the spill. Hank grabbed some thirium from the fridge and set it on the table, then headed to the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
It didnt take him long to clean the blue from the bathroom and from his own skin and clothes, luckily. Only five minutes tops before he opened the door to see Connor sitting at the table, thirium in hand.
"That enough?" Hank asked, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge.
"Yes, plenty, thank you. I wasn't down that much—only 9%."
Hank took a swig of his water, then wiped his lips. "That's 9% too much, Con'."
"It's inevitable on a daily basis that I lose some thirium. Just as it is you losing blood." Connor stated, then took a drink of the thirium he was holding.
"You know that's different." Hank said in a serious tone.
Connor hesitated. His poor attempt at calming Hanks worry failed. "I know... I'm sorry, Hank."
"No, son.. You don't–.. you have nothing to be sorry for. I know you don't have control over it." He leaned against the table, "It hurts to see you like that, but that's because I care about you, Connor. I want to just.. take your pain away somehow, but..."
Connor chuckled, dry and humourless. He also wished something could take the pain away—along with everything else that came with it. "Yeah." He mumbled.
"But I want to leave the good stuff. There'll be more bad moments, nothing can really prepare you for them all, but I'm here. I'll be here for as many of them as I can. I won't let you go through them alone." Connor looked down to hide the line of tears that formed along his eyes. Hank let his sentence sit between them for a second before shifting his weight back onto his feet. "I've been saying I need to make you watch Top Gun for a while now—how about right now?"
Connor blinked a few times to clear his eyes of unnecessary water. He looked up to Hank and nodded, a small smile on his lips as he turned to get off of the chair.