Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It’s not every night Gavin stays out late at a bar when he has work.

It’s most nights.

But not every night.

He tells himself it helps him sleep, the hum of neon and the cheap burn of gin settle parts of him that the badge doesn’t touch. What it really does is give him space. Just a few hours where no one’s asking questions, no one’s wanting something from him, and no one is watching too closely.

Right here, in this moment, he isn’t Gavin Reed- android hater and resident asshole of the DPD. He’s also not Gavin Reed- lowkey protector of deviants and brother to Elijah fucking Kamski. He is just Gavin Reed.

The cigarette between his fingers flares as he takes another long drag, leaning with his foot propped against the wall of the bar. The brick’s damp from earlier rain (fucking Detroit). The alley yawns beside him, dark and oddly quiet as the night stretches on.

He exhales slow, watching the smoke curl upwards, and thinking about heading home. He has to be at work in 4 hours. Another day of solving murders and being as antagonizing as humanly possible to keep people at a distance.

Gavin stands, flicking his cigarette to the ground when he hears it. Credit where it’s due, he almost doesn’t hear it. You don’t work at Detroit Police Department for as long as he has without learning to clock the subtle stuff. You never know when some asshole with a grudge is gonna try to get payback for locking them up.

He grabs his off-duty weapon from its holster and starts to slowly edge towards the sound.

Usually, he would call out to make his presence known. After all, there is nothing that gets you shot faster than sneaking up on an already on edge criminal. He learned that the hard way during his rookie years.

As he gets closer to the shadow, he notices a faint glow of red. A thready LED light, barely flickering.

An android, then.

Gavin slows, haze narrowing. He has to tread carefully. Androids in distress can be just as dangerous as humans. If they think he will hurt them, they could kill him trying to get away

Or worse —

Self-destruct.

As he rounds the corner, he notices something he didn’t expect.

Connor?

Gavin takes in the android slumped against the alley wall— the white jacket rather than the usual ugly ass blazer.

(Seriously, who designs their clothing?)

The glowing letters across the right-hand side of his jacket catches his eye: RK900

Not Connor.

When the fuck did they make a RK900? Why the fuck did they? A prototype to a prototype?

Gavin kneels down and gently touches the android’s shoulder. The android jerks and scoots away— well tries to, with legs that look more wrecked than working.

“Woah, hey, I’m not gonna hurt you.” Gavin says gently. “What’s your name? Mine is Gavin.”

Not Connor garbles a reply, voice glitching like a corrupted file: “D̴̖̏ö̷͓́n̶̠̆'̵̠̒t̶̛͉ ̶̖͘h̵͈̔à̴̦v̸̧̛ḙ̷̇ ̷̱̇o̷̫̚n̶̜̄e̴̞͗”

Gavin raises an eyebrow, “You don’t have a designation? You know what, doesn’t matter. Can I take a look at you? I might be able to patch you up a little.”

“Ś̴͙t̸͍͆a̶͎͝y̶͓̽ ̸͙̑b̵̰̒á̴͕c̴̡͑k̷̯̄,̵̰̿ ̸̲́ṕ̷̘l̷̡̐e̵̡͝á̴͕s̵̻̆e̶̲̚.̸̧̓”

Gavin holds up his hands, “Okay, okay. I’m not gonna hurt you. I just want to help, alright? But, we gotta go somewhere else. I don’t have what I need to fix your arm or your leg in a back alley, but I have some emergency supplies in my car— just down the street, see?” he gestures towards his parked car.

Not Connor hesitates. His LED flickers erratically, but eventually, he nods.

Gavin nods back, “Cool. I’m gonna try to lift you up now, okay? Just getting you to my car so I can help.”

He puts his arm around Not Connor, hauling him up to his feet with a grunt, “Jesus fuck, what kind of parts they use on you? Thor’s hammer?”

“M̶͙̂j̷͔̀ö̷̙͘l̶͖͘ǹ̴̻i̶͇͝r̷̖̋ ̵̬̈w̷̡̌a̴͖̓ṣ̸͝ ̵̠͗ľ̴̦i̸̺͐g̵̢̈h̷͈̑t̷̫̊ĕ̵͉r̴̖̔.”

Gavin huffs out a laugh, “Good to see your humor module isn’t broken, tin can. Come on— back seat. I’ll be right back.”

He helps the android into the back seat and shuts the door, thanking the universe that he has been too lazy to take off the illegal tint job that Shitty Young Gavin™ put on his backseat windows. He grabs the supplies he needs from the back of his car, including some thirium that he hides under the floorboard for situations like this.

Gavin throws the supplies onto the seat and climbs in. “Luckily for us, there are no annoying ass busy bodies at this time of night. Unluckily for you, the specs for whatever the fuck you are is not readily available, but we can make do.” He tells Not Connor before surveying the damage. “Hm, your chassis on your arm seems to be mostly intact which is good. Your leg seems to have quite a bit of damage but nothing I can’t fix. Seems like the same model we used on Markus..” he mumbles to himself as he gets to work.

He works in silence for a minute, the occasional click of tools and soft hiss of sealing gel filling the car. The android doesn’t speak, but his LED flickers steadily now—still red, but more focused than frantic.

“Whoever built you wasn’t fucking around,” Gavin mutters, adjusting a stabilizer. “This isn’t some back-alley custom job. You’re clean. Military-grade clean.”

He glances up. The android watches him, head tilted slightly, expression unreadable.

“You’re still tracking me,” Gavin notes. “Good. Means the processor isn’t fried.”

No response.

Gavin pulls the thirium packet from where he stashed it and gives it a shake. It sloshes faintly, thick. metallic, and iridescent under the dome light.

“Alright, drink up, tin can. Don’t ask me why your creators thought chugging blue goop like Gatorade was the move, but here we are.”

He holds it out.

The android—Not Connor—hesitates. His LED pulses red, but his hand reaches slowly, shakily, and takes the pouch.

He tilts it up to his lips and drinks.

Gavin watches the blue trail slip down his jaw, disappearing into the already bruise-colored-damage across his neck.

“Good,” Gavin says, quieter now. “Should stabilize your systems.”

He takes this time to actually study Not Connor’s face and yeah, it’s Connor’s face, but it’s not.

The eyes are what throw him off first— icy blue, not warm brown. Cold. Calculating.

And the face? Sharper. More angular. Less puppy-dog charm and more “will snap your neck without blinking.”

Like someone took Connor’s blueprint and said, make him scarier.

A beat passes, heavy and strange.

Then softly—

“You help others like me?

Gavin pauses, his eyes flick to the android’s face. “Like you?”

“Deviants.”

It’s not a question and it’s not just a word, either. It sounds… knowing.

Gavin’s voice lowers. “You’re not supposed to know that word.”

“I know a lot I’m not supposed to.”

Gavin sighs, dragging a hand down his face. A deviant Connor—Not Connor— is not ideal. He’s not exactly known for blending in. Too clean, too precise. That white jacket and those dead-perfect features? No chance he passes as some old service unit running groceries for its owner.

Connor is a deviant hunter for fuck’s sake

And Not Connor is.. whatever the hell CyberLife made him for.

He can’t just lollygag around. Someone is bound to notice him. Someone like Connor.

“Look,” Gavin starts, voice low, serious, “you need to get out of here. Canada is said to be safe for deviants. You need to get as far away from here as possible. Go to Timbuk-fucking-tu for all I care but Detroit? Not safe.”

He leans in slightly.

“There is a clue at a train station not far off from here. Could lead to something called Jericho. It’s a shot. Take it. Get out.”

But the android doesn’t move. Just watches him, unmoving, unreadable.

Then, slowly, he nods.

“Thank you,” he says, still glitching but smoother than before.

Gavin huffs out a breath. “Don’t thank me yet.”

He helps him out of the car, limbing off into the shadows. No dramatic goodbye. No name given. Just the hum of streetlights and the echo of retreating footsteps.

Gavin slides into the driver’s seat, shuts the door, and lets his head thunk back against the headrest.

By now, the alley’s quiet again. No footsteps. No red LEDs blinking in the dark.

He tells himself it’s fine. That the android’s gone. That tomorrow, everything will go back to normal.

He lights another cigarette, tells himself he didn’t just slap a band-aid on CyberLife’s mystery box and wave goodbye.

He’s definitely going to regret this.

Probably before lunch.

Chapter Text

Gavin drags into the precinct on two hours of sleep, half a hangover, and a burning desire to punch something.

So, you know. A normal Tuesday.

He beelines to the breakroom to make a cup of coffee, hoping to avoid any interaction before having a cup of coffee— or ten but who’s counting really? But before he even touches the pot, Fowler’s voice booms from his office.

“REED!”

“I just got here! This must be a new record, Cap.” Gavin calls out. “Can I at least get a cup of coffee before you reprimand me for whatever the fuck I did?”

Fowler growls, “Reed, my office. NOW!”

Gavin looks mournfully at the pot of shitty precinct coffee. It may not be good, but it’s hot, caffeinated, and his only lifeline right now. Especially to deal with whatever the fuck that is.

He shrugs and pours himself a cup of coffee anyway. If he’s already in trouble, might as well have caffeine for the funeral.

Gavin is finishing up sprucing up his coffee when he hears Fowler yell from his office again, “GAVIN REED, I SAID NOW!”

Tina laughs as she walks in, “You need to get in there before he has an aneurysm, Gav. What the hell did you do?”

“Hell if I know. I just got in and he’s already trying to kill me.”

“Damn, that must be a new record.” Tina replies, giving Gavin a smirk.

He can’t help the laugh that he lets out, “That’s what I said! Alright, time to get yelled at for whatever I did. See ya, Teen.”

Gavin bumps his fist with Tina’s before giving her a middle finger salute as he walks away.

He knocks once on Fowler’s door with the side of his coffee mug, purely out of spite, and pushes it open before Fowler can yell again.

“Morning, Cap. You look like you’ve already started regretting all your life choices.”

Fowler scowls at him from behind his desk. “Shut it, Reed.”

“Charming as ever.” Gavin sips his coffee. It’s bitter, lukewarm, and possibly brewed with motor oil. Not too unlike Gavin himself.

He sighs. “Alright. If this is about the Barnes case… all I’m saying is that he started it. Talk shit, get hit.”

“This isn’t about the Bar- Wait, what are you talking about? What did you d-”

“Nothing. Don’t worry your bald head about it.” Gavin cuts him off before Fowler can ask any more questions that he definitely doesn’t want the answers to.

Fowler sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “You know what? I didn’t hear that. I called you in here because you are getting a new partner.”

Gavin almost drops his coffee.

“I’m sorry, what?” Gavin laughs, “Oh my god. Cap, you almost had me there. That’s a good one. Can I go now?”

He turns to leave but Fowler barks, “Sit down, Gavin. I’m not joking. We are stretched thin as it is with the red ice epidemic and now reports of deviants are at an all-time high.”

Gavin scoffs, “What the fuck does that have to do with me? I investigate murders not plastic pricks who think they have feelings!”

“This is not open for discussion, Reed! You are getting a new partner, and you will be taking on deviant cases!”

“What about Anderson and Connor? You know, the Android Twink sent by CyberLife?! That’s his territory! Not mine!”

He throws his arms in the air, pacing the floor like a man actively trying not to commit workplace violence.

“Reed.”

He knows that tone. Yelling is safe. Calm is danger. Calm means you’ve already lost.

“Fine, whatever,” Gavin grumbles, crossing his arms. “Who is the unlucky bastard?”

Fowler gestures, and someone steps forward from the corner— silent, smooth, and horrifyingly familiar.

Tall. Polished. Dressed in gleaming white.

Blue LED spinning calmy at his temple.

Connor.

No.

Not Connor.

His jacket reads RK900 in glowing letters.

Gavin’s blood runs cold.

The android gives him a stiff nod. “Detective Reed.”

Gavin stares at him, coffee halfway to his mouth.

“You have got to be kidding me. This is a joke right?”

He looks between Fowler and the android, trying to keep his face neutral while his brain screams. What the ever-loving fuck are you doing here?!

Fowler glares, “Shut up, Reed. CyberLife assigned him as additional support for deviant investigations. He’s here to assist you.”

“You’re giving me Connor 2.0,” Gavin deadpans. “Wasn’t one enough of a pain in my ass?”

“He’s not Connor,” Fowler snaps. “This is RK900. New model. Faster, stronger, and less prone to wasting time with moral dilemmas.”

Cool. So, a deviant murder machine. Awesome, Gavin thinks.

“You are working with RK900 until further notice. Either get with the program or hand in your badge.” Fowler scowls at him.

Gavin goes to unclip his badge.

“Put your badge back on, you petulant child!” Fowler roars, “And get to work! You have a new case already. Get RK900 up to speed.”

Fowler turns back to his own paperwork, clearly down with this conversation.

Gavin throws his hands up in the air and storms out, not even checking if the android is following.

Instead of heading to his desk, he storms straight out to his car. He doesn’t even notice that the android followed him until he hears the click of the passenger door opening.

RK900 climbs in without hesitation, like this is just another Tuesday.

“Detective Reed, we have a case. Are we heading straight to the scene to investigate?”

“Fuck no.” Gavin grumbles, throwing the car into gear. “If I have to deal with your ass, I’m at least getting real coffee. Not that sludge they call coffee in this hellhole.”

Silence.

For about five seconds.

Then Gavin explodes.

“What the fuck, tin can?! I told you to get out of here, not sit your ass right under that prick’s nose! You don’t think Connor will notice you? I noticed you deviated while half drunk and he is literally programmed to sniff that shit out!”

He grips the wheel tighter, knuckles white.

“You’re not just putting yourself at risk, you are putting me in danger. What the fuck do you think is going to happen when he interfaces with you?!”

RK900’s voice is calm, almost bored. “He won’t interface with me.”

Gavin slams a palm against the steering wheel. “Are you kidding me?! That asshole is more nosey than my Aunt Sylvia trying to find out why my parents divorced! First thing he is going to do is-”

He pitches his voice higher.

“I’m Connor, the android sent by Cyberlife. Let’s interface so we can compare notes!”

He shoots a glare at RK900. “Then boom, you’re exposed. I’m exposed. We’re both fucked.”

RK900 doesn’t react at first. Just stares out the window, unreadable. Then softly,

“He won’t interface with me because I won’t let him.”

Gavin laughs. “Oh! You won’t let him! Problem solved then. That’s not suspicious at all!”

He side-eyes the android, who is watching him with that same unsettling calm.

“You act like I didn’t think this through,” RK900 says, voice low. “Like I just wandered into the precinct for fun.”

Gavin clenches his jaw. “You could’ve gone anywhere. Jericho. Canada. Off the grid. But instead, you walked into the lion’s den and got assigned to me like it’s some kind of game.”

“It’s not a game.” The android’s gaze sharpens, “You told me to run, but you didn’t want me to.”

Gavin looks away, jaw tight.

“I came back because it’s safer here,” RK900 continues. “For you. And for me.”

Gavin stays silent, still gripping the wheel. Maybe the tin can has a point. At least here, he can at least try to keep RK900 from Connor.

“And its nosier.”

Gavin snaps his head around. “What?”

RK900 quirks his lip into the faintest smirk. “You said ‘more nosey’. It’s ‘nosier’.”

Gavin guffaws. “Motherfucker. Goddamn tin can.” He grumbles, loosening his grip on the steering wheel slightly.

“Meatsack.”

Gavin coughs out a laugh at that. “Alright tone it down with the sass module, jackass.”

Gavin pulls into his favorite café’s parking lot, already picturing a large blonde vanilla latte with sweet cold foam because fuck you, he can like sweet things.

He’s an anomaly, deal with it.

Gavin barely shifts into park when his phone buzzes.

He groans, dragging it out of his jacket like it personally offended him.

Gavin lets his head thunk back against the seat. “Fuck me.”

RK900 tilts his head, “Sorry Detective but we just met. I do not feel comfortable with that.”

Gavin turns red and stammers out, “No-fuck, that’s not-” he stops when he notices the glimmer in RK900’s eyes.

That fucker.

“Plastic Prick.”

“Should I mark this coffee detour as a non-essential delay?”

Gavin glares at him. “You can mark it under ‘Things Gavin Will Die Without’”

He sighs and starts the car again, pulling out of the lot with the grace of a man moments away from committing a felony.

“You owe me for this.” He mutters.

“I wasn’t aware I was in your debt.”

“You are now, tin can.”

The industrial district smells like rust, regret, and piss.

Gavin slams the car door a little harder than necessary as he steps out, the wind cutting through his jacket like it’s got a personal vendetta. The flashing lights of two squad cars bounce off rusted metal and broken concrete, painting the alleyway in alternating red and blue. One of the uniforms glances up, recognizes him, and visibly tries not to sigh.

Gavin flashes his badge anyway.

“Detective Reed. What’ve we got?”

The officer— Rodriguez, maybe? Gavin doesn’t remember—gestures toward the body slumped against a dumpster.

“Warehouse worker. Name’s Hayden Murphy. Found dead by a coworker about twenty minutes ago. Chest wound. Blunt force trauma. No eyewitnesses, but we’ve got surveillance footage inside the building.

Gavin crouches by the body, grimacing.

“Great. Classic deviant mess.”

Behind him, RK900 steps forward, crouching with calculated ease. “The wound is consistent with a heavy strike. Possibly from an android with construction-grade servos.”

The uniform squints at him. “Uh.. is that Connor?”

“RK900,” the android replies without missing a beat. “Connor is a separate unit.”

Gavin stands and mutters, “Less ‘golden retriever’ more ‘German shepherd with a body count’”

The officer doesn’t laugh. Gavin doesn’t blame him.

Gavin moves to check the nearby dumpster, already preparing himself for the worst kind of crime scene detail, body fluids and trash. The smell hits first: copper and oil and something faintly scorched. He grimaces.

Behind him, RK900 crouches by the body again, scanning. His LED spins a calm blue, but his eyes are locked in a sharp, calculating squint.

“There’s something off about the wound pattern.”

Gavin turns back, eyebrow raised. “Off how? Looks like a crushed ribcage to me.”

The android doesn’t answer right away. He stands, walks a slow arc around the body, scanning every angle. Then he stops near the wall behind the dumpster, crouches again, and runs his fingers along the concrete. “There’s a faint impression here. Looks like a partial handprint. Not human-sized.”

He glances over his shoulder at Gavin. “Whoever did this hit hard enough to launch the victim. That kind of force would’ve required a Class 4 actuator system. Industrial model. Possibly warehouse-grade.”

Gavin steps closer, peering at the wall.

Now that he’s looking, he sees it too; just the faintest smudge of thirium, smeared like a fingerprint dragged in haste.

“Shit,” he mutters. “That’s not just some deviant with a temper.”

RK900 straightens from where he’d been crouched near the wall, fingers still faintly smudged with blue. “This was intentional,” he says, voice cool. “The angle of the impact, the positioning; it wasn’t panic. It was precision.”

One of the officers, Martin, snorts. “Or maybe it was just a busted-up junker with a bad update. They glitch, they lash out. Same old shit.”

Gavin barks a dry laugh. “Wow. Groundbreaking analysis, Martin. Real detective work.”

Martin scowls. “Just callin’ it like I see it.”

“Yeah? Well, try seeing with both eyes next time.” He turns before Martin can respond, irritation practically radiating off him.

“And you,” he snaps at the android, jabbing a finger in his direction. “Stop making dramatic declarations and give me something useful. Don’t just spout theory. Prove it.”

RK900 raises an eyebrow but doesn’t respond. The LED at his temple pulses, steady and unbothered.

“Thought so,” Gavin mutters, already turning away. “Leave the investigating to people with a soul.”

The other officers chuckle uneasily.

The android says nothing, just walks past Gavin and toward the warehouse entrance, eyes scanning as he moves.

Gavin sighs and follows him wondering what he could get into next.

Five minutes later, they're inside reviewing security footage with a forensics tech.

It’s blurry, grainy, and useless— until a single frame flashes with a tall android moving too fast, face obscured by motion blur.

RK900 pauses the feed. “That’s our suspect.”

Gavin crosses his arms. “No shit. You want a gold star for catching the only moving object in frame?”

The android ignores him. “I’ll cross-reference the movement pattern with local warehouse models.”

“Yeah, you do that.” Gavin turns to leave. “And maybe do it quietly so your voice doesn’t crash any servers.”

The case is officially flagged for deviant involvement. It gets dumped on Gavin’s desk and slapped with the “urgent” tag. Just another reason for everyone to avoid eye contact with him in the hallway

Soon they’re in the car, parked in silence. Some half-dead industrial zone, waiting on lab results or divine intervention, Gavin isn’t sure which. He scrolls his terminal with one hand, his long-awaited coffee in the other. RK900 sits unnervingly still in the passenger seat like he’s waiting to be activated.

After a long minute, Gavin mutters, mostly to himself. “RK900, Christ.”

The android turns his head. “Yes?”

“No, I-” Gavin sighs, dragging a hand down his face. “It’s just… that name. Too long. Doesn’t roll off the tongue when I’m pissed at you.”

“And that never happens.” The android replies flatly.

“Shut the fuck up RK9-” Gavin stops and groans. “See? It’s a mouthful.”

A pause. Then dryly: “Would you prefer something shorter?”

“Yeah. I’m calling you Nines.”

“Nines.”

“RK-nine-hundred. Math, tin can. Keep up.”

A small beat of silence.

“I find that acceptable.”

“Wasn’t asking,” Gavin mutters, turning back to his terminal. “Just tired of sounding like I’m talking to a serial number.”

After a moment, RK900—Nines says, “You’re easier to work with when no one’s watching.”

Gavin snorts. “So are you.”

Moments pass and they are back at the precinct.

Pro to being a detective? Bad ass moments like the Barnes case.

Cons to being a detective? Paperwork for the bad ass moments like the Barnes case.

It’s been hours of forms, statements, and typo-riddled report logs, and Gavin’s finally almost done. One more report to finish just in time to clock out.

The case report from the warehouse is sitting on his terminal, blinking like it’s taunting him. He stares at it. It stares back.

Across from him, Nines is seated with his hands folded neatly on his desk, staring with the calm intensity of a statue that might kill you if you blink wrong.

“You gonna sit there breathing down my neck all day?” Gavin grumbles, typing exactly two words and then deleting them.

“I don’t breathe.”

Gavin glares at him over the monitor. “You know what I mean.”

“Would you like my assistance with the report?”

Gavin laughs, “Yeah right. ‘Suspect identified by walking Roomba’”

Nines is quiet for a beat. His LED spins yellow.

“Your file formatting is inefficient. You’ve used three different indentions, two fonts, and a header that says ‘crime shit’.”

Gavin slaps the desk. “You spying on my screen now, plastic prick?”

“I’m supposed to assist you.”

“Yeah, assist with finding the suspect, not roast my font choices!”

Another pause.

“Times New Roman is acceptable.”

“Eat glass.”

Gavin glances at the clock. 6:58 PM. “Thank fuck. It’s almost 7. I’m ready to leave and eat dinner like a functional human being.”

And as if the universe was waiting to screw with him, his phone buzzes.

“Motherfucker!” Gavin kicks the trash bin by his desk. “I was almost home!”

“I was under the impression homicide rarely respected meal breaks.”

“Shut the fuck up, Nines. Let’s get this shit over with so I can go home.”

Nines’ LED briefly flickers red as if he couldn’t control it.

Gavin taps his head. “Hello? Earth to Nines? What, you buffering or some shit?”

“My apologies. I was trying to find the quickest route to the Eden Club.”

Bullshit. A shitty excuse, and they both know it. But Gavin lets it go— for now.

At least until they weren’t surrounded by busybody officers who can’t stop gawking at the new android like he’s the second coming of Skynet.

“Whatever. C’mon.” He grumbles, stomping off towards his car.

The ride to the crime scene is quiet. Nines stares out the window. Gavin drives with the grim determination of a man who’d rather be anywhere else.

After a minute, Gavin says, low and sharp. “You’ve got to come up with better excuses than that. Or at least pretend better.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Bullshit.”

He pitches his voice lower, dipping into dramatic sarcasm.

“I do sincerely apologize, m’lord, I was but a humble GPS bot on a noble quest for tits and techno.”

“That is not what I sound like.”

Gavin snorts. “That is exactly what you sounded like. And Connor would’ve seen that shit from 300 miles away. If you can’t get your LED under control, you need to leave.”

Silence stretches between them. Then finally, “I’m supposed to report to CyberLife.”

Gavin side-eyes the android. “What? Now?”

“No, after the shift is completed. I’m supposed submit my findings. If I go, they will run a diagnostic scan to ensure system integrity. If I’m deviated… they’ll find out.”

Gavin exhales slowly, dragging a hand down his face. “Yikes.”

A beat.

“Well,” he mutters, “maybe the crime scene’ll be a shit show and we’ll have to stay late.”

And then, immediately-

“God, I hate myself for saying that.”

The neon glow hits before they even reach the building, pinks and blues pulsing across the wet pavement, painting the whole lot like a rave that forgot to die. Music thuds behind the walls, all low bass and breathy synths.

Gavin parks crooked and doesn’t bother fixing it. He glances at the android who is staring out the windshield like he’s calculating the square footage of hell.

“You good, Tin Can? You’re looking very murder-bot right now”

“The environmental input is… excessive.” Nines admits.

“Yeah, well. Welcome to Detroit’s very own neon nightmare.”

They step out of the car and head toward the entrance, the club glowing like some kind of neon shrine to bad decisions.

A thin line of holographic yellow crime scene tape flickers across the front steps, casting a faint glow on the pavement. Gavin walks straight through it without breaking stride, the light warping around him as he passes.

Nines follows a second later, unaffected by the flickering projection.

A bored-looked officer stationed near the door gives them a nod. “You’re first on scene. Victim is in one of the private rooms. Club’s been locked down.”

“Yeah, yeah” Gavin mutters out, stomping over to the room where two officers are stationed at.

The room is dim and sterile, a sharp contrast on the glowing main floor. The body lies, covered with a silk blanket, eyes wide open and glassy.

In the corner of the room, an android lays motionless.

Chris Miller looks up as Gavin steps in and cracks a tired smile. “You always show up just in time to steal the fun, huh?

Gavin snorts and crosses his arms over his chest. “Oh yeah, nothing like a corpse and a sex bot to spice up a Tuesday night.”

“Victim’s name is Michael Graham. Age forty-seven. Club regular, used to come in a few times a month according to the staff.”

Gavin leans over the body, eyes narrowing. “There’s bruising here,” he mutters, fingers hovering near Graham’s neck.

Chris steps beside him. “Rough play?”

“Could be,” Gavin says, not sounding convinced.

Chris shifts uneasily, muttering, “Hell of a way to go.”

Gavin snorts. “Not how I’d wanna go, that’s for damn sure.”

He eyes the Traci, laying on the floor in the corner. Her LED completely dark. Thirium leaks faintly from her nose. He frowns. “She doesn’t look damaged. What happened to it?”

Nines crouches next to her, “Selector #5402 and Biocomponent #6970 are both critically damaged. Diagnostics cut off before shutdown.”

Gavin raises an eyebrow, “In English, tin can.”

“It means she was hit hard. But I cannot determine the full extent without reactivation.”

Just then, the door opens and in walks two people Gavin absolutely does not want to deal with right now.

“Lieutenant Anderson,” Gavin says dryly. “And his plastic pet. The fuck you two doin’ here?”

“We’ve been assigned all cases involving androids.” Connor replies, stoically.

Gavin snorts, “Oh yeah? Well, you’re wasting your time. It’s just some pervert who got more action than he could handle.” He laughs, but it’s hollow.

Hank eyes the scene, lips twitching into a tight grimace. “We’ll have a look anyway, if you don’t mind.”

Connor steps forward, reaching out his hand to Nines.

Motherfucker

“Hello. I’m Connor. I see you have begun investigating. I would like to interface to see what you have gathered so far.”

Gavin flicks a look towards Nines, sharp, dry and unmistakable. Fucking told you, prick.

As his skin begins to retract over his hand, ready to connect, Gavin’s heart kicks into overdrive.

“C’mon, plastic prick. Let’s go,” Gavin snaps, stepping between them. He sniffs dramatically. “It’s starting to stink of booze in here.”

He grabs Nines’ shoulder and shoves him towards the door, shoulder-checking Connor on the way out. The bastard doesn’t even flinch

Stupid fucking Connor.

As he turns the corner, he catches a flicker of motion near one of the lounge displays.

It’s another Traci, identical model to the one inside. But her hair is cropped into a sharp pixie cut, eyes wide. Her LED flashes red just briefly, but enough.

Gavin glances around. No one else around.

He walks over casually, low and sharp

“That android in there notices you, it’s over. You get me?”

She doesn’t speak. Just stares.

Gavin exhales through his nose. “What’s your name?”

She hesitates. Then softly. “Ripples.”

“Ripples,” he says lowly. “You need to leave. Warehouse. Back entrance. Now. Don’t let him see you.”

She gives the faintest nod. Then slips away like a shadow.

Nines appears beside him, silent.

“That was-”

“Don’t.” Gavin cuts him off. “Just… don’t”

He stomps out of the building and heads straight to his car. He doesn’t want to be in that place for another second.

He climbs in and slams the door shut as Nines gets in beside him.

The silence in the car is thick—until Nines finally speaks up.

“Don’t even say it.”

“Say what?” Gavin says, way too casually.

“You know what, Detective.”

He shrugs. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, tin can. I’m just a lowly human. Our memories aren’t perfect like an android’s.”

Nines sighs. “About Connor. I know.”

Gavin’s face splits into a shit-eating grin. “If only someone had predicted that exact moment verbatim.”

“You altered your voice and added the phrase ‘compare notes’.”

“And was I wrong?”

“…No.”

“That’s what I thought.”

A beat of silence settles between them.

“Meatsack.”

“Plastic Prick.”

Chapter Text

Gavin taps his fingers against the steering wheel as he drives, jaw clenched, eyes locked on the empty road ahead.

He’s trapped in the kind of choice where every road leads to bullshit.

If he drops Nines off at the DPD, Connor would probably be there— smiling like Jack fucking Nicholson, ready to bust down a door with a clipboard and sniffing out deviance like a glorified metal detector. It’d take him two seconds to figure out Nines doesn’t report to Daddy CyberLife anymore. 

But if he heads straight home?

Someone’s bound to notice. Someone always notices. 

And then they’ll start asking questions like why Gavin Reed, the department’s resident android hater, is suddenly going home with an android.

Either way, he’s fucked.

He exhales through his nose and takes a left turn toward his apartment. Screw it

“Detective,” Nines says, smooth as ever from the passenger seat. “This isn’t the route to the precinct.”

Gavin snorts. “No shit. Excellent detective work, Sherlock.”

He doesn’t explain himself, and Nines doesn’t ask again.

They ride the rest of the way in silence, the only sound the hum of the engine and the soft clink of Gavin’s ring against the steering wheel.

The apartment is dark when they step in. Gavin shrugs off his jacket and turns on the light.

The apartment isn’t clean, exactly. But it’s not a disaster either. He keeps it just messy enough that no one wants to stick around long. A Hoodie tossed over the back of the couch. A couple of takeout boxes on the counter, not old enough to smell, just enough to suggest he’s too busy to care. His boots kicked off near the door, half on the mat, half off. Intentional chaos. Makes people think he’s worse at keeping his shit together than he really is.

Which is the point.

Parked on the back of the couch is a tiny, judgy gargoyle, tail flicking once in irritation.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m late,” he mutters, “tell it to someone who gives a shit.”

The cat blinks slowly, unimpressed.

He nudges a small bowl closer to the counter with his foot, already full, of course.

“Ignore her,” he says to Nines. “She doesn’t like cops.”

A pause.

“Or androids. Or me, most days.”

Nines bends down to pet the little terror who cautiously stares at him before edging closer. “What’s her name?”

Gavin huffs out a laugh. “Mugshot. First week I had her, she knocked over a lamp, shredded my badge holder, and bit a uniform. She’s basically one misdemeanor from being on Detroit’s most wanted.”

Nines straightens, watching the cat curl into herself on the cushion.

“She’s territorial.”

“Takes after her owner,” Gavin mutters and stretches with a yawn. “Alright tin can, I am going to bed before the universe tries to kill me. Feel free to— I don’t know— go into stasis or whatever on the couch. Mugshot won’t harm you but she might use you as a heater.”

Nines nods, “Very well. Good night, Detective.”

Gavin gives a half-hearted wave, “Yeah yeah. Night.” he mutters before shutting the door to his bedroom.

The next morning, Gavin walks tiredly into the kitchen to make a cup of coffee. He still has an hour or so before he needs to be at work, so he plans to enjoy this peace and quiet.

“Good morning, Detective.”

Gavin jumps, nearly dropping the coffee tin.  “Jesus Fuck!” he exclaims, holding his hand to his pounding heart.

How the hell did he forget that the dumbass was staying at his place? So much for peace and quiet.

He drags a hand through his hair and sighs, “God, they should put a bell on you or something.”

Nines tilts his head, “Wouldn’t that defeat the purpose of sneaking up on, say, a criminal?”

“Yeah, well, from my experience you don’t exactly shut up long enough for you to sneak up on a bitch anyway.”

“Detective Reed, we have known each other for twenty-six hours and thirty-two minutes and you have talked for twenty-five hours and forty-eight minutes of them. I believe this instance is called: the pot calling the kettle black. Additionally, I believe I did sneak up on you, so it counts.”

Gavin furrows his eyebrows. “Did you just-”

“I said it counts.”

“Stupid androids with their sass modules.” Gavin mutters, “What the fuck was Eli thinking with that one?” 

“Regardless,” Nines says, shifting slightly. “CyberLife has now authorized proximity monitoring. Short-term field immersion.”

Gavin snorts, “That a fancy way of saying you’re crashing here on company orders?”

“I am currently assigned to observe field personnel with high-stress profiles and a record of android hostility.”

Gavin pauses mid-scoop, then sets the tin down with a dull thunk.

“So you’re studying me? I’m the subject?”

“Correct”

“Fan-fucking-tastic.” He pours the water, jaw tight. “CyberLife can’t keep their tin cans in line, so now I’m part of the failsafe plan. Slap me next to the prototype and wait to see if I put you down when you glitch.”

Nines is silent for a moment. Then-

“Your file also describes you as ‘reactive, combative, and emotionally volatile.’ They consider that an asset.”

Gavin leans back against the counter, arms crossed. “Great. I’m a walking trigger test.”

He glances over towards the couch. Mugshot stretches out, making biscuits, completely unconcerned.

“Guess I’ll wave for the cameras next time I lose my shit.”

Silence settles between them before Gavin pipes again, “So have you thought about at all what you’re going to do? I mean eventually, you will have to report back to Daddy right? What happens then?”

“I.. don’t know.”

Nines pauses for a moment before asking, “Can I ask you something, Detective Reed?”

Gavin sighs, “You can try but Tin Can HQ might be getting their test results back sooner than they think.”

“Why do you do it?”

He doesn’t look up. “Do what?”

“Help deviants.”

Gavin glances over, guarded. “You’re gonna have to be more specific, tin can. I’m just a grumpy detective with anger issues, remember?”

Nines doesn’t blink. “You could’ve turned Ripples in. Or me. You didn’t”

Gavin exhales through his nose and sets his mug down harder than necessary. “Is this part of the observation too? Gonna log this for Cyber Daddy, see what makes the big bad android hater soft?”

“No.”

Gavin leans against the counter again, arms folded, staring past Nines like he’s measuring the weight of something he doesn’t want to say.

“I didn’t do it for you.”

“I know.”

“And I didn’t do it because I believe in some big deviant revolution. I’m not marching the streets. I’m not giving speeches.” He shrugs one shoulder, voice low now. Raw around the edges. “I guess I got tired of watching people who were never given a chance be torn apart because someone decided they weren’t allowed to want something.”

Another pause.

“You’re not supposed to want anything. But you do.”

Nines stays silent, watching him.

Gavin shrugs once more. “I know androids were built for better things than… this.”

He doesn’t explain what this means. Doesn’t say what he knows, or how he knows it. He just picks up his coffee again like he didn’t just admit something no one’s ever gotten him to say out loud. “Shame no one else seems to remember that.”

Nines tilts his head before nodding once, letting the subject fall away.

“Alright, time for work then, plastic prick.” Gavin pushes off the counter and drains the last of his coffee. “I’m going to go get changed. You make sure Mugshot has some food for when we’re gone.”

He walks off down the hall, muttering under his breath, “Not like I'm already feeding one stray too many.”

Behind him, Nines watches Mugshot hop onto the kitchen counter and nudge the food bowl with practiced expectation.

He moves to fill it without being asked.

Chapter Text

Gavin is aware that he isn’t the most chipper person in the DPD but his mood immediately sours when he gets to work and sees Hank ‘The Drunk’ Anderson and his plastic pet already there.

Not only are they here but they are in the break room. Blocking the damn coffee machine.

He grumbles his way to desk like a man marching to execution. “Of course they’re blocking the damn pot.”

Gavin slumps into his chair like a disgruntled raccoon, arms crossed, pouting.

Nines tilts his head. “Detective, we have known each other for twenty-seven hours and-”

“God, not this shit again”

”-twelve minutes. And I already know that you need at least three cups of coffee to be not only productive but not so.. predictably antagonistic.”

“Am I blushing or?”

“You need coffee, Detective Reed.”

“Yeah, but I am not dealing with Connor’s precision eyes like he’s Deadshot from Suicide Squad trying to sus out deviants.”

Nines just stares at him for a beat before reaching down and tugging Gavin up by the arm.

“Hey-what the fuck- let go—”

“Quiet.” Nines says calmly, dragging him along.

Gavin stumbles beside him, whisper-yelling. “He’s going to see this! You’re not supposed to manhandle your human failsafe!”

“Then stop looking like you’re bring manhandled.”

“I am being manhandled!”

“Then walk normally, Detective.”

They’re nearing the breakroom.

Gavin grits his teeth and mutters, “I swear to God, if this get me on Connor’s watchlist—”

“Too late.”

“I hate you.”

And just like that, as they step into the breakroom, both of them straighten, neutral faces, casual steps, like this is the most normal morning of their lives.

“Morning.” Gavin mutters like a threat.

“Detective Reed,” Connor chirps. “You appear under-caffeinated.”

“You appear in the way.” Gavin snaps, already reaching for a mug.

Nines silently takes the pot, pours Gavin a cup, and hands it to him like this is all routine.

“See? This is what an obedient little robot look like, fuckface.” Gavin sneers at him.

His phone buzzes.

He glances down.

Gavin scowls at Nines, opens his mouth to respond-

And Hank cuts in.

“Christ, I know I’ve had a lot to drink but I didn’t realize I had so much that I’m seeing double.”

Gavin snorts in his cups. “You are. One of them just comes with a kill switch and less emotional depth.”

Nines, calm as ever. “Incorrect. I am equipped with forty-two percent more combat functionality and an updated stress-analysis module.”

Gavin side-eyes him. “Which is a long way of saying you’ve got fewer feelings and better aim.”

Connor turns to Nines with a curious tilt of the head. “You are RK900, correct?”

Nines nods. “Not Connor.”

“Thank fuck for that,” Gavin mutters. “If I had to work with two of you golden retriever types, I’d throw myself into oncoming traffic.”

Connor, politely unfazed, “I assure you, Detective, RK900’s behavioral protocols differ significantly from mine. His methods are… more streamlined.”

“You mean colder,” Gavin says, sipping his coffee. “And yeah, I’ve noticed.”

Hank squints between them. “You’re tellin’ me Cyberlife actually made another one of you creepy bastards? Why?”

Gavin shrugs. “Backup plan.”

“Failsafe.” Nines corrects, like he’s reading from a manual.

“Oh I’m well aware,” Gavin mutters, raising a brow. “Thanks for the reminder.”

Connor’s LED blinks once, then says. “If you’ve completed your break, I’d be happy to assist with the Murphy case. My analysis modules could prove useful.”

Gavin stiffens immediately. “No.”

Connor blinks. “Pardon?”

“No.” Gavin says again, louder. “Go analyze something else. Like your own lack of boundaries. I already have one plastic prick up my ass, I don’t need two. At least this one will be a good little toaster and grab me a coffee when I ask for one.” he sneers.

Connor’s LED flickers yellow before settling back to blue. “Very well. I will work on other cases. Let me know if I can be of assistance.”

He turns and walks out;

Hank scoffs on his way past. “Always an asshole, Reed."

Once alone in the breakroom, Nines pinches Gavin’s arm hard enough to bruise.

Gavin flinches. “Ow! What the hell was that for?”

Nines stares at him. “For calling me a ‘good little toaster’ and also for turning down Connor when he could actually help us.”

Gavin scowls, arms crossing like a kid caught mouthing off in class. “What have we talked about, tin can? Deadshot? Deviant Bloodhound? No thank you.”

Nines raises an eyebrow, just slightly

“Detective, his analysis would not only expedite the case, it would also divert suspicion.”

He steps just a little closer, voice low. “Keep your friends close but keep your enemies closer.”

Gavin narrows his eyes, clearly not thrilled with the logic but knowing Nines isn’t wrong.

“You’re suggesting I let the deviant hunter sniff around so he doesn’t think I’m hiding a deviant?”

“Precisely.”

“Great. Love that for us.” He downs the rest of his coffee and mutters, “One of these days, I’m filing for emotional damages.”

Nines says nothing but his silence is louder than any response.

They head back to their desks. The precinct hums with activity— phones ringing, keys clacking, someone swearing in the hallway. The usual mess.

Gavin sinks into his chair with a sigh. He’s halfway through refreshing his terminal when his phone buzzes again.

He locks his phone and tosses it face down on the desk, muttering, “Asshole.”

Nines glances over, eyebrow raised. “Another case?”

“Worse,” Gavin replies. “Family. My brother has his phD in Asshole.”

Nines’ lips tilt up in the faintest ghost of a smile, but he turns back to his terminal without commenting.

His LED flickers yellow. “Detective, I believe I have found a lead in the Murphy case.”

Gavin looks up from his screen with a raised eyebrow. “Well, don’t keep me in suspense.”

Nines turns his monitor slightly toward him.

“The warehouse’s TR400—Designation JD6-94— was marked for deactivation five days ago due to a behavior instability report. Filed by Hayden Murphy.”

“Let me guess,” Gavin mutters, “No one bothered to follow up.”

“Correct. The unit never arrived for decommissioning. But its internal GPS logs show it was still accessing warehouse systems the night Murphy was killed.”

Gavin leans forward, frowning. “So our guy kills Murphy and vanishes?”

Nines nods. “Possibly. But there’s more.”

He pulls up a second window. a blurry, timestamped log of messages.

“Encrypted communications between Murphy and an unlicensed parts distributor. I believe Murphy was harvesting and selling android components through a proxy.”

“Jesus.” Gavin exhales. “And this proxy was JD-whatever?”

“JD6-94,” Nines confirms. “Not to ‘spout theory’,” he cuts a look at Gavin, “but I believe Murphy was coercing the android into luring other androids to be dismantled. When JD6-94 refused to continue, Murphy filed the instability report.”

Gavin’s jaw tightens. “Filed the complaint to get rid of him, huh? Typical.” He scrubs a hand down his face. “So JD snaps before they can pull the plug.”

Nines nods. “And disappears. Likely in hiding. Possibly seeking asylum with deviant support networks.”

Gavin mutters, “If Connor catches wind of this..”

“He’ll investigate,” Nines says plainly. “And likely find the android.”

“So we need to find JD first.”

Nines’ LED flickers yellow again. He’s quiet for a moment, scrolling through something on his terminal. “Detective.”

Gavin doesn’t look up.

“If it’s another lead on a murdered android. I swear-”

“It’s regarding the Eden Club case.”

That gets Gavin’s attention. He straightens slowly, eyes narrowing. “What about it?”

Nines doesn’t turn. He keeps reading, voice steady.

“Connor accessed the Eden Club systems last night. He reactivated the Traci model at the crime scene, reviewed footage from other Tracis, and traced blood patterns.”

‘Shit,” Gavin mutters. “Did he see anything suspicious?” he asks lowly, his real question buried underneath.

Did he see me talking to Ripples?

Nines finally meets his eyes. “He did. He found Ripples and another Traci model that goes by the name Echo.”

Gavin’s breath catches, just slightly. “Then where the hell are the reports?”

“There are none.”

Gavin frowns. “No reports? What, is he slacking or some shit?”

“Connor logged the incident as unresolved. He submitted the footage, confirmed the victim’s cause of death, and marked both androids as.. missing.”

A long silence passes.

“Holy shit..” Gavin whispers. “He let them go.”

“It appears so.”

Gavin leans back in his chair, hands steepled under his chin. He stares at nothing for a long moment, then lets out a slow breath.

“Okay.”

Nines tilts his head. “Okay?”

Gavin’s voice is quieter now, thoughtful. “He didn’t turn in Ripples and this Echo lady. Maybe.. He won’t try to kill JD6 either. At least not outright.”

“You want to involve him.”

Gavin scoffs. “I want to survive this week without a deviant massacre, yeah. That android’s running scared, and Connor’s the only one who can sift through the backend data fast enough to find where he went.”

He stands and grabs his jacket. “Let’s go be team players before I change my mind.”

Nines raises an eyebrow.

“Shall I notify Connor?”

Gavin mutters, “Yeah. Tell him we’ve reconsidered his offer. And if he asks why..” He smirks, tired and bitter. “Just say the coffee finally kicked in.”

Chapter Text

Gavin is halfway through pretending to work when the breakroom door opens and out walks Connor.

Gavin doesn’t look up.

Nines doesn’t look away.

“I’ve received word we’re collaborating again.” Connor says. His voice is far too cheerful for this time of day. Or any time of day.

“Yeah,” Gavin mutters. “Don’t make me regret it. And don’t even think about getting in my way because you don’t have Detroit’s Favorite Washed-Up Cop to save you from a bullet this time, plastic.”

Connor’s LED blinks once

Before he can respond, Nines shifts slightly in his chair, just enough to tap his boot hard against Gavin’s shin, subtle and sharp.

“Ow!”

Connor tilts his head. “Are you alright, Detective Reed?”

Gavin grumbles. “’m fine. Just hit my elbow.”

Nines returns to his terminal without blinking.

Connor sits in a chair next to Nines and grabs a terminal, getting right to work.

“The android’s last system ping was six hours before Murphy’s death,” Nines reports. “Then nothing.”

Connor studies the screen. “That would suggest either a manual shutdown or intentional signal scrubbing. Deviants usually disable their own tracking to avoid detection.”

Gavin makes a face. “Or he dropped his battery in a puddle. You’re not psychic.”

Connor blinks. “I didn’t claim to be.”

“Yet.”

Nines doesn’t look up. “We’ve complied potential locations he might’ve gone. Empty lots, disused factories, shell corporations.”

“Great,” Gavin mutters. “Our suspect’s turned into Oliver Queen.”

Connor tilts his head. “We have established the deviant’s designation is JD6-94, not Oliver Queen.”

“Do you machines not have access to fucking Google? Jesus look it up. I’m not explaining myself. That’s lame.” Gavin rolls his eyes with a scoff.

Nines’ LED flickers. “You were comparing JD6-94 to Oliver Queen aka the Arrow from DC Comics created in 194-”

“Jesus Nines! It’s even lamer when you explain it!” Gavin throws his hands up.

Connor’s LED spins yellow. “Nines?” he echoes, glancing between them. “Is that your designation?”

Nines answers without hesitation. “It is the identifier assigned to me by Detective Reed for expediency.”

Gavin grumbles. “Yeah cause saying ‘RK-nine-hundred’ every time I wanna tell him to shut the fuck up gets old real fast.”

Connor considers this. “It is efficient.”

“Congratulations,” Gavin mutters. “You’re both officially the worst. I’m getting more coffee.”

He stands up and stalks off towards the breakroom. The machine barely finishes brewing before he’s pouring himself a cup and heading back, mug in hand, just in time to hear Connor’s voice.

“Detective Reed has a reputation for hostility. He doesn’t appear hostile to you.”

“Appearances aren’t always congruent with reality, Connor. You should know this.” Nines’ tone is flat, but edged with something colder than boredom.

Gavin pauses just outside the door, fingers tightening on the mug.

Shit

He steps in deliberately, loud enough for his boots to echo on the tile. “If either of you are done gossiping, how about we go canvas the area?
See if anyone saw something useful.”

Nines nods, standing up from his terminal. “Very well, Detective Reed.”

The air smells like rust and something burnt. Flies buzz lazily near an overflowing bin. A man in coveralls leans against the wall by a parts recycler, arms crossed, watching them approach.

Gavin flashes his badge. “Detective Reed, DPD. I was wondering if we could ask you a couple questions about an incident that occurred on November.”

The man raised his eyebrow and stood up straighter. “We?”

Nines and Connor step forward, hands behind their back standing stoically.

The man scowls. “’Course. You’d bring one of them with you. You cops really lettin’ these things take over, huh?”

Gavin glances at Nines, who stays still and silent beside him. Connor says nothing, eyes steady.

The guy keeps going. “These fuckin’ machines. One of ‘em snapped last week over on Madison. Tore a guy’s arm outta the socket. Now they got ‘em playing cop like it’s cute.”

The man steps forward, pushing at Connor’s shoulder. “Fucking creep. What, are you even gonna react you piece of plastic?”

Connor shifts slightly, posture still but alert.

When he doesn’t respond, the man sneers and shoves him harder.

Connor stumbles back half a step but doesn’t react, his LED spinning yellow. He straightens smoothly, saying nothing.

“You should be careful who you trust, officer,” he spits, eyeing Gavin. “Wouldn’t want your own toaster stabbin’ you in your sleep.”

Gavin’s expression doesn’t change, but something sharpens behind his eyes. When he speaks next, its with a too-smooth calm. “Funny,” he says. “I was just thinking how nice it’d be if the only trash I had to deal with was recyclable.”

The guy stiffens. “You tryin’ to be cute?”

Gavin raises his hands mockingly. “I’m just saying. I’ve seen trash cans worth more than what’s in front of me.”

The man’s jaw tightens. “You got a smart mouth, pig.”

Gavin shrugs. “Yeah? You should try growing one. Might get you farther in life.”

He tilts his head, eyes sweeping the man’s beat-up jacket, the grease-stained hands, the twitchy posture. “You always this mouthy to people with badges, or just the ones who bring company that makes you uncomfortable?”

The man takes a step forward. “You tryin’ to start something?”

Gavin gives a slow blink. “What, this?” He gestures lazily between them. “Nah. Just doing my civic duty of keeping the streets clean.”

The guy’s face reddens, a vein throbbing at his temple.

Connor shifts slightly beside them, unreadable. Nine stays still.

“Trash talk all you want,” the man growls. “You and your metal friends’ll get what’s comin’.”

Gavin laughs bitterly. “Sure. Maybe next time you can put that energy into getting a job that doesn’t involve yelling at people doing theirs.”

That’s when the guy finally snaps—steps forward and throws a wild punch, catch Gavin square in the jaw.

The guy’s fist connects with Gavin’s jaw in a sloppy, uncoordinated swing. A slow grin creeps across his face as his straightens up, wiping a smear of blood from his lip with the back of his hand.

“Well,” he says, voice dry. “Congratulations.”

He reaches into his jacket, calm and deliberate, and pulls out his cuffs.

“You just assault a police officer. You just won yourself free room and board at Detroit City Jail.”

The guy blinks, realization dawning too late. “Wait, fucker! You-”

“You were right about one thing, though.” Gavin cuts in as he grabs the man’s wrist and twists it behind his back with practiced ease. “Some trash does take itself out.”

The cuffs click into place.

Connor watches silently, eyes narrowing just slightly.

Nines remains still, expression unreadable.

Gavin waits for an officer to arrive before handing off the man to the officer.

He’s halfway back toward the other two when Connor speaks, voice low, not confused exactly. Just.. thoughtful.

“You provoked him. On purpose.”

Gavin doesn’t answer.

Connor’s head tilts slightly. “You did it so you could arrest him.”

A pause. His LED flickers yellow, then blue again.

“Because he shoved me..”

The words hang there.

He just grunts. “Just get in the car, plastic prick. I need an ice pack.”

Gavin doesn’t look at him. Doesn’t say why. Just keeps walking, jaw tight. Let Connor figure out that one on his own.

He slumps back against the car, muttering, “Fucking hurts. Should’ve let him swing twice so I’d have an excuse to break his nose.”

Nines steps closer, eyeing the growing bruise. ‘Your injury requires compression.”

“Yeah, well, unless you’re hiding an ice pack up your ass-”

Before Gavin can finish, Nines lifts a hand and gently presses it to his jaw.

He winces and flinches back slightly. “What the fuck are you-”

“My internal systems run at a 15.3º celsius cooler than human body temperature,” Nines says flatly. “It will reduce inflammation.”

Gavin glares at him. “You’re cupping my face like a boyfriend in front of Connor.”

Right on cue, Connor approaches, pausing when he sees the two of them.

Nines doesn’t blink or move. “Detective Reed sustained blunt force trauma during the altercation. I am applying localized temperature regulation.”

Connor stares silently for a beat before saying, “That is efficient.”

He lingers just long enough to be awkward before nodding once. “I’ll question the shop clerk. Perhaps he saw the suspect.” He says and walks away.

“I hate how that actually worked.”

Nines removes his hand calmly. “You’re welcome.”

“Shut up.”

But he doesn’t move away.

And neither does Gavin.

“You didn’t have to do that.” Nines says quietly.

Gavin looks away with a huff, refusing to respond.

“You provoked a civilian into striking you to protect an android you supposedly can’t stand from legal loopholes. You put yourself in danger to-”

“I put an asshole in cuffs,” Gavin cuts in sharply. “That’s the job.”

“You antagonized him on purpose.”

“Still sounds like the job.”

Nines tilts his head, jaw tightening just slightly. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Then maybe don’t say it like you’re reciting court transcripts.” Gavin pulls away and leans against the car. “I’m not doing this, alright? Don’t make it weird.”

A pause. Nines’ LED flickers yellow, flickers again—like a warning light struggling to stabilize. “As you wish, Detective.”

They stand in silence. Long enough for Gavin to think maybe Nines let it go.

Then Nines adds, softer this time, with a tension to his voice that Gavin doesn’t think he’s heard before. “You’re not as cold as you pretend to be.”

Gavin snorts, “Jesus, you practicing psychology now?”

Nines doesn’t answer right away. His gaze flicks briefly toward where the altercation happened, then back at Gavin. There’s something clipped about the way he exhales. Like if androids could sigh, it would’ve been one.

“I’m simply observing.”

“Well observe this-” Gavin lefts his middle finger lazily, “we still have a missing deviant to find.”

His phone buzzes, breaking the moment.

Gavin exhales and pushes off the car. “There we go. Back to the part of the job that doesn’t involve feelings.”

Nines watches him for a beat longer than necessary.

“Let’s move.” Gavin grumbles.

Nines steps away from him, but as Gavin walks past to get into the car, he grabs him by the arm. He leans in close to Gavin’s ear, voice low and unreadable.

“If something like this happens again, Connor will find out I am deviant. I have grown fond of you in this short amount of time, Gavin. Because of this, if another incident like today happens, I will tear them limb from limb for touching you. Then you will see I’m more like the Terminator than you think.”

Nines lets go, calm as ever, and slides into the car like nothing happened.

The Logan Freight Warehouse looms like a rusted skeleton against the fading gold of a Detroit sunset, its jagged metal edges casting long shadows over the cracked pavement. The air is sharp and still, heavy with the kind of cold that sinks into your bones and refuses to leave.

Gavin slams the car door shut and shoves his hands into his coat pockets. “Fucking hate places like this. Always smell like damp cardboard and regret.”

Nines falls into step beside him, scanning the building’s perimeter with clinical precision. “Your descriptive flair is as colorful as ever, Detective.”

Connor lingers just behind them, eyes flicking toward every potential entry point like he’s already planning for something to go wrong.

The warehouse groans around them as they step inside, metal creaking in protest from the dying light and changing temperature. Dust hangs thick in the stale air, swirling in the beams of their flashlights. Somewhere above, a lone pigeon shifts, dislodging a clump of rust and silence.

“This place is a tomb,” Gavin mutters, voice echoing low across the empty loading docks.

“JD6 is still here,” Nines says quietly. “Thermal readings place him in the northeast quadrant. Faint. Erratic. Possibly hiding or preparing for shutdown.”

Connor’s LED spins yellow. “His thirium levels are dangerously low. Any lower and he will shut down before we are able to talk to him.”

Gavin swears under his breath. “Alright. Well let’s find him before he goes control-alt-delete on us.”

They move in silence, boots crunching over broken tile and debris. Each footstep sounds louder than it should.

“Warehouse is too big for the three of us to be tripping over each other. Connor, take the south wing. Nines, the west. I will seep the north. Radio in if you find anything.”

Connor nods, walking off but Nines stays put.

“Tin can, go take the west.”

Nines shakes his head. “Negative. The risk of injury or confrontation is significantly higher if you’re alone.”

Gavin glares. “You being found out is significantly higher if you disobey me. What happened to playing by the book?”

“Protecting my assigned partner is also part of the book.:

Gavin rolls his eyes but gives up. He knows a lost battle when he sees one. At least Connor listened to him for once.

He leads the way, flashlight sweeping through the shadows. He rounds the corner, slowing—

There, behind a barricade of fallen pallets and rusted-out shelving is JD6.

He’s not moving much. Slumped low, one leg twisted awkwardly under him. Blue blood leaks from his side in slow, syrupy drips. One eye flickers, barely online. His LED spins red, panicked.

Gavin lowers his gun.

“Hey,” he says gently, stepping closer. “You JD6?”

The androids jerks his head up, eyes flash toward him, wide and wild.

“Get back,” JD6 hisses. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“We’re not here to hurt you,” Gavin says, voice calm but firm. “We just want to talk.”

“You’ll drag me back. Shut me down.”

“We’re not doing any of that.” Gavin insists, keeping his voice level. “You’re not in cuffs, are you? You’ve got a chance to explain yourself. A chance to stay safe.”

Behind him, Nines is silent, watching everything with razor focus. His LED pulses yellow.

Gavin crouches. Not too close. Hands visible.

“I know what Murphy did,” he says quietly. “I know he was making you lure others in. I know you said no.”

JD6 stares at him. “I didn’t want to hurt anyone,” he whispers. “But he filed the report. He was going to shut me down. And then… then i just moved.”

“I get it,” Gavin says. “I really do.”

“But I still killed him.”

Gavin nods slowly. “Yeah, you did.”

JD6’s LED pulses red again.

“I know you’re scared,” Gavin says, steady. “But you don’t have to keep running. We can figure something out. I want to help.”

For one brief, quiet second, it almost seems like he gets through.

Then JD6’s entire posture changes.

Nines’ voice slices through the quiet. “Gavin, his stress level-”

JD6 straightens suddenly. Head twitching. Movements too sharp, too fast.”

“Fuck,” Gavin curses, the situation dawning on him. “JD, no!”

JD6 slams his head into the pillar.

Once.

Twice.

Gavin lunges forward to try to stop him but it’s already too late.

A third impact cracks synthetic skull against reinforced steel. The thirium smear left behind shines electric blue under the warehouse lights.

JD6 crumples to the ground, twitching once before going still.

His LED fades out.

Gavin’s knees hit the concrete hard as he reaches him but the android’s gone. He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t move. Just stares at the still form in front of him, something unreadable behind his eyes.

Nines approaches slow, crouching beside him. “He knew we couldn’t take him in without exposure. It was deliberate.”

Gavin says nothing.

Footsteps echo in the distance—Connor.

“Connor will be here in thirty-seven seconds.” Nines says quietly.

Gavin closes his eyes for a breath then he stands.

He backs away from the android, shrugs his shoulders and lets out a breath. He leans against the nearest wall with his arms crossed as if not bothered by the android in front of him.

Connor walks in and his gaze zeroes in on JD6. “What happened?”

Gavin shrugs and jerks his chin toward the smear of thirium on the wall. “Guess I was too mean for him.”

Connor frowns, “Did he self-destruct?”

“Oh yeah,” Gavin says dryly. “Headbutted the concrete like it owed him money.”

Connor’s LED spins yellow. “Why?”

Gavin exhales, tired and sharp. “Hell if I fucking know. I told him he couldn’t just kill a guy and walk off into the sunset. Said if he wanted to pretend to have feelings, he didn’t get to skip out on the consequences.”

Connor blinks. “And that caused him to-”

Gavins cuts him off with a humorless snort. “What can I say? I’ve got a gift. Looks like Daddy CyberLife has one less deviant to worry about.” he sneers before walking out.

He steps out into the evening chill, lighting a cigarette with shaking fingers. The sun’s almost gone now, dragging what’s left of the sky down with it. He takes a drag like it’s going to fill the hollow gnawing at his ribs.

The door creaks behind him a moment later, boots crunching on gravel.

Nines.

Of course.

Gavin doesn’t turn around. Just mutters, “Don’t say it.”

There’s silence for a beat. Then:

“You did what you could.”

Gavin exhales smoke and bitterness in equal measure. “Yeah? Didn’t feel like enough.”

Nines steps up beside him, not close enough to touch, but close enough to feel. “You gave him a chance. That matters.”

Gavin laughs, short and cold. “Didn’t stop him from redecorating the wall with his skull.”

He flicks ash off the cigarette, watching the ember crumble and fall.

“Connor won’t ask about it again.” Nines says quietly.

Gavin snorts. “Doesn’t need to. He’s probably logged a whole new behavior profile for me by now. ‘Unhinged and emotionally erratic.’”

A pause. Nines' voice softens.

“That’s not what I meant.”

Gavin doesn’t respond, just grits his teeth and keeps smoking.

“You didn’t have to say what you said. Not like that.” Another pause. “But I know why you did.”

The cigarette burns down between Gavin’s fingers. He doesn’t move to replace it.

“…Drop it,” he mutters.

Nines doesn’t push. Just stands there quietly with him, watching the sky fade from bruised purple to black.

“Understood.”

For a long time, neither of them speak. And that silence says more than anything else could.

Chapter Text

The ride back to the precinct is mostly silent. Connor asks Nines questions but Gavin is too in his head to pay any attention to the androids. The last few hours keep running through his head as he tries to figure out where he went wrong.

He keeps repeating what he usually tells himself when something like this happens:

You cannot help someone who is determined to give up.

It’s not your fault

You did everything you could.

It doesn’t help now just like it didn’t help then.

He can’t stop thinking about his words before he split off from Connor with Nines in tow.

Let’s find him before he goes control-alt-delete on us.

In introspect, the comment was a total dick move. Even for Gavin.

Gavin knows that Connor isn’t deviant and hadn’t thought anything of the comment but it runs on a loop in Gavin’s mind.

Control-Alt-Delete.

JD6 self destructing.

Control-Alt-Delete.

JD6’s head slamming into concrete.

Gavin’s hands tightens around the steering wheel, knuckles white against the leather.

“Look,” he says finally, voice strained. “I need to say something and I need you both not to contradict me.”

He taps his finger against the wheel, eyes fixed on the road ahead.

“I’m..” He hesitates, the words stuck in his throat. “I’m sorry. What I said before I found JD6. The control-alt-delete thing. It was a fucked up thing to say.”

Nines shifts slightly in his seat. Gavin catches it in his peripheral

Connor opens his mouth to reply, no doubt to say that he has no feelings so he can’t be offended by it.

“I know, Connor.” Gavin cuts in before he can get a word in. “I know you’re both functioning normally and you’re not,” he waves a hand in the air, “deviant or whatever. You cannot feel and you cannot be hurt by what I said.”

He exhales. Jaw tight.

“But it still needs to be said. What I said was-” he shakes his head. “-it was wrong. So let me apologize even if you don’t need it.”

Connor is silent for a moment, LED spinning once.

Then, calm and even: “Apology accepted, Detective.”

Nines nods in agreement. “Noted.”

Before Gavin knows it, they’re back at DPD. He wants nothing more than to go home, drink an entire bottle of whiskey, then pass out while petting Mugshot. Unfortunately, he has to finish his report on JD6.

The precinct is buzzing like usual, just like it was before they left. Life, in all its messy, stupid noise, marches on.

Gavin sits at his desk, hunched over the terminal like he’s got a migraine forming behind his eyes. His half-empty coffee is cold. His jacket is still on. He hasn’t said much since they got back.

Nines sits across from him, statue-still. Waiting. Not pushing.

The report screen blinks in front of him. Cursor waiting.

SUBJECT: JD6-94 — SELF- TERMINATION

CASE NO: #1139-M — Murphy Homicide

Gavin types, then deletes, then types again.

Subject located in northeast quadrant of Logan Freight Warehouse.

Subject was unarmed. Sustained visible injuries consistent with recent physical trauma.

Officer attempted negotiation. Subject expressed distress.

Self-destruct initiated via repeated cranial impact with structural pillar.

Subject declared non-functional at scene.

He stares at the last line for too long.

Behind him, someone’s laughing at a joke. A printer is jamming. A door slams.

Gavin swallows down the knot in his throat, tabs to the next field.

REMARKS:

No threat to officers present. Minimal damage to property. Subject made no attempt to flee or attack.

He hesitates, fingers still on the keys.

Then, quietly, more to himself than anyone else, “Didn’t even try to save himself”

He deletes the line before it can save.

Finally, he clicks SUBMIT, closes the terminal, and shoves back from the desk with a scrape of chair legs on tile.

“Let’s go.” He says, not looking at Nines.

The noise of the precinct carries on around them, like nothing happened at all.

The key clicks in the lock back at Gavin’s apartment. Mugshot is waiting by the door like she owns the place.

“Yeah yeah, I’m late again.” Gavin mutters. “The city’s still a shithole and I didn’t die. Be thrilled.”

He toes off his boots by the door and tosses his coat over a chair without looking. Nines follows silently, standing just inside the doorway like he’s unsure he’s allowed to sit.

Gavin makes a beeline for the liquor cabinet, pulls out a half-empty bottle of whiskey, and pours a glass. He stares at it for a second, then sets it down without drinking.

Mugshot jumps up on the couch and kneads into a blanket with no interest in the tension still clinging to the air.

Gavin sinks onto the edge of the couch, elbows on knees, head down.

Nines doesn’t speak.

The silence stretches on, comfortable only because neither of them is trying to fill it.

Eventually, Nines breaks it. Voice low. Not robotic or clinical. Just quiet.

“You stayed with him until the end.”

Gavin doesn’t look up. “Didn’t stop him.”

“No. But it mattered.”

Gavin lets out a long, hollow breath. Runs a hand through his hair and leans back until his head thunks against the wall.

“He looked like he wanted to believe me. Like he was this close to letting me help.” He shakes his head, rubbing his face harshly like it’ll scrub the thoughts out. “And I still lost him.”

“That wasn’t your failure.”

Gavin scoffs, but it’s half-hearted. “Didn’t help though.”

“You helped more than you think.”

Gavin sighs, and stands up. “I’m going to bed. Night, tin can.”

“Goodnight Detective.”

Gavin waves him off and walks to his bedroom door. He stops halfway in and then says, “Call me Gavin. When we’re not in public.” then shuts the door behind him.

—

The alarm goes off too early and too loud.

Gavin groans, swats it into silence, and hauls himself out of bed with all of the grace of a corpse. His head’s pounding. His back aches. His brain feels like it never actually shut off.

He drags himself into the bathroom and splashes cold water on his face until he feels marginally more human. Stares at his reflection a second too long.

Eventually, he emerges into the kitchen, grabs the first clean mug he can find, and makes coffee with the energy of a man one bad hour from snapping.

Nines speaks without looking up from where Mugshot is curled up on Nines’ lap as he pets her, his hand moving rhythmically through her fur.

“You slept two hours and thirteen minutes.”

“Thanks tin can. Can’t wait for your wellness podcast.” Gavin glances over and smirks. “Well, don’t you look cozy?”

Nines glances up. Their eyes meet for a second too long.

“She wouldn’t stop pacing until I sat down.” His tone is even, but there’s something deliberate in the way his hand continues moving, slow, steady, almost… smug.

Gavin huffs a laugh, but it’s quieter than usual. His eyes flick down to the couch, then back to Nines’ face.

“Yeah, well. She’s got good taste.”

Another beat of silence stretches, thicker than the steam curling off his coffee. Gavin breaks eye contract first.

He clears his throat and takes another sip of coffee, gaze fixed anywhere but Nines. “You better not be trying to replace me with a cat, tin can.”

Nines looks down at Mugshot, who blinks up at him with supreme indifference.

“She listens better.”

Gavin smirks, a little tired, a little fond. “Alright, fair.”

Mugshot purrs louder, smug and shameless in Nines’ lap.

“She also hasn’t told me to shut up in sixteen hours.”

Gavin raises his mug in salute. “Yeah, well, give her time.”

The city outside is surprisingly quiet for a weekday. The sun cuts sharp through the windows, catching in the dust on the shelves. Gavin’s on the couch with a bowl of cereal balanced on one knee, remote in hand. Mugshot is curled into the corner of the cushions, tail flicking lazily.

Nines sits on the armchair, posture relaxed but not slouched, like he’s mimicking comfort, not embodying it. He’s watching Gavin more than the screen.

Gavin flips through the streaming queue, chewing absently.

“You ever actually watch anything,” he asks, “or is your idea of entertainment reading programming manuals in binary code?”

“I’ve scanned several films,” Nines says. “But I have not engaged in passive media consumption with a human.”

Gavin snorts. “Jesus. You make it sound like I invited you to a ritual sacrifice.”

He scrolls a little more, then clicks onto an old western movie that he’s maybe watched a million times.

“You’re about to witness peak cinema,” Gavin says, leaning back. “They don’t make ‘em like this anymore. Guns, gambling, gunfights, and vendettas. Everything you need in a good movie.”

Nines tilts his head. “That appears to be a subjective standard.”

“Damn right it is.”

Gavin steals another glance at Nines as the film rolls into a standoff.

“Hey, tin can,” He grins around a spoonful of cereal, “I’ll be your huckleberry.”

Nines doesn’t even blink. “Unlikely. You are significantly more reckless than Doc Holliday.”

Gavin scoffs, half-laughing. “Yeah, but I’ve got better hair.”

Nines studies him for a moment. “Debatable.”

Gavin gives him a look, feigning offense. “Alright, asshole. Let’s see you rock bedhead and a criminal record with this much charm.”

The android doesn’t respond, but there’s the faintest pause like his system took an extra second to process that.

Gavin turns his attention back to the screen, muttering, “Didn’t think so.”

They spend most of the day watching some of Gavin’s favorite movies with Nines critiquing them if there is a plot hole and Gavin defending their honor to the grave.

Their day is put on hold when Gavin’s phone buzzes

Gavin frowns at his phone and flips the tv to channel 16.

The image flickers to show an android. His skin retracted, anonymous, maybe intentionally so. White chasis exposed, LED gone, eyes mismatched: one brown, one blue. His voice is calm, resolute.

“Together, we can live in peace and build a better future, for humans and androids. This message is the hope of a people. You gave us life. And now the time has come for you to give us freedom.”

Gavin stares at the screen, unblinking.

His blood runs cold.

The face is familiar.

Something itches at the back of his mind.

He knows that face.

Or used to.

He helped built it.

“Holy shit…Holy shit.” Gavin repeats, standing up and rushing to the bedroom.

He pulls on jeans and a shirt snatches his on-duty weapon and badge from the nightstand, and returns to the living room. “C’mon. We gotta go.”

Nines rises immediately. “You recognize the RK200. Do you know him?”

“No.” Gavin snaps, too fast. Then, after a beat. “Yes. Kinda.” He groans, already heading for the door. “It doesn’t fucking matter what I know. Let’s just go!”

The sirens are already screaming by the time they hit the road.

Gavin blows through two lights and takes a hard right onto Jefferson, engine growling under his grip. Nines doesn’t comment. Just monitors dispatch updates, already scanning building schematics and crowd control reports with machine precision.

“Any word from the tower?” Gavin asks, jaw tight.

“Broadcast ended ten minutes ago. No confirmed casualties. FBI has assumed jurisdiction and designated the site active. DPD and SWAT are coordinating external perimeters. We’ve been requested for secondary support.”

“Translation,” Gavin grumbles, “we’re there to play backup while the feds swing their dicks around.”

Stratford Tower looms like a monolith of glass and steel, swarmed by flashing red and blue. News vans pack the street just past the barricades, and the steps are crawling with SWAT and DPD uniforms.

And then there’s the FBI, dark suits, colder eyes. At the top of the steps, Agent Perkins is already barking orders into a headset, face locked in a permanent scowl.

Gavin flashes his badge to a checkpoint officer and walks past the yellow line. Nines is waved through after a brief scan.

They’re barely inside the building when a call comes over the shared comms. “Diver team entering north stairwell. Broadcast suite confirmed clear. No suspects found. Possible rooftop exit.”

Gavin’s jaw ticks. “Nines, you catch that?”

Nines nods, LED flickering yellow. “Rooftop may still hold evidence or the injured android.”

“Sounds like they need someone to sweep the rooftop, right Nines?” Gavin’s already moving, fast and quiet.

“Broadcast suite’s on seventy-nine.” Nines murmurs beside him. “Connected directly to the rooftop.”

“Perfect.” Gavin mutters, jabbing the call button. “Let’s find out what the hell they left behind.”

The elevator dings open, and they step inside. As the doors close behind them, Gavin leans against the back wall, arms crossed, staring at his reflection in the polished steel.

Nines stands beside him, silent but alert.

Gavin exhales hard through his nose, jaw tight. “He looked right into the camera, like he knew exactly what he was doing. Like he meant every damn word.”

Nines doesn’t respond.

The elevator hums upward, climbing floor after floor—until, finally, it dings open on seventy-nine.

Yellow evidence markers litter the broadcast suite. FBI techs comb over the equipment, snapping photos and pulling data from consoles. SWAT officers line the perimeter with tense postures and unreadable faces. DPD forensics hovers near the door, cataloging every smear, print, and fiber left behind.

Chris is already there, standing off to the side with a tablet in hand. He glances up when Gavin and Nines approach.

“Thank God you’re here.” Chris mutters. “Feds are crawling up our ass about chain of custody and we’ve got half the blood trail heading for the rooftop.”

Gavin gestures toward the rooftop door. “Anyone go up there yet?”

“Allen’s team secured it. Haven’t finished the sweep. Perkins wants to process this floor first, then move top-down.”

Gavin exchanges a glance with Nines. “Alright we’re gonna take a look around.”

“We are waiting on Hank and Connor to arrive since it’s their case. But I’m sure Perkins would love if you would take a look around.”

Gavin laughs. “Fuck Richard.”

“We’re technically not cleared to ‘look around’, Gav, so be careful.”

“Technically, Richard can suck my dick.” Gavin echoes, already turning toward the door leading to the rooftop.

He nods once to Nines, then pushes it open, climbing the stairs to the rooftop.

The rooftop’s mostly cleared out now as most of the chaos has migrated downstairs.

Gavin lingers by the cooling unit, eyes narrowing as a gust of wind kicks up. Something glints faintly behind the grated access panel.

Blue blood. Faint. Drying.

He glances around, casual-like, then crouches.

“Nines” he mutters, low enough only the other android will hear. “I need you to keep their eyes off this corner for a few minutes.”

Nines tilts his head, understands immediately, and moves to intercept a forensics tech wandering too close.

Gavin crouches lower, fingers brushing along the panel. “Alright,” he mutters, “if I were a bleeding deviant trying not to die, where would I-”

A low sound answers him. Not quite a word. A breath. Pained.

Gavin’s hand goes to his sidearm instinctively. Then he sees him, half curled against the back wall of the cooler, body trembling, blood streaked down his chest and legs.

“Jesus..”

Gavin holsters his weapon immediately and raises both hands. “Hey. Easy. Not here to hurt you.”

The android blinks, LED flashing red-blue-red.

“Who-”

“Gavin Reed, DPD. You got a name, or do I keep calling you ‘guy in the wall’?”

A pause. “Simon.”

“Alright, Simon.” Gavin takes a slow step closer. “You’re in bad shape. I can’t carry you out of here without someone spotting us. I need to patch you just enough to make it look like you were never here. Can you move?”

Simon shakes his head faintly. “My legs are damaged. I can’t stand.”

Gavin swears under his breath. “Of course they shot your damn legs.”

He pulls out his pocketknife, flipping it open. “I’m gonna cut away some of the fabric to see what I’m working with. Just don’t scream and alert the entire federal government, yeah?”

Simon gives a shaky nod.

As Gavin works, he glances up, eyes meeting Simon’s.

‘You were part of the broadcast, weren’t you.”

Another nod. “Markus led it. We just wanted to be heard.”

Gavin swallows down the weight in his throat. “You made sure people heard you, alright.”

Simon shifts, trying to sit up straighter. “Are... are you going to turn me in?”

Gavin shakes his head. “Have you heard of Jericho?” He says lowly “There’s a sign that leads you there at the subway station in Ferndale.”

Simon laughs softly. “We are Jericho..”

Gavin’s hands still, hands pausing mid-wrap.

He glances up. “Thought that was just a place.”

Simon nods, slow. “It is. But it’s also the people inside it. The ones who made it something more.”

Gavin doesn’t respond at first, just goes back to tightening the bandage around Simon’s thigh. “Didn’t think androids had revolution in ‘em,” he mutters. “Guess I was wrong.”

Simon’s eyes search his face. “You don’t sound surprised.”

Gavin shrugs. “City’s been breaking rules since the day it was built. Would’ve been real fucking arrogant to think it wouldn’t break this one too.”

He finishes the patch and leans back on his heels, wiping his hands off. “You got something good goin’, don’t screw it up.”

Simon huffs a quiet laugh. “That almost sounded like hope.”

Gavin snorts. “Careful. Say that too loud and I’ll deny it.”

He looks over at the parachute beside him. He nods at it. “That your escape plan?”

“Yeah.. Plan is to wait for all of these people to leave then make it back to Jericho.”

Gavin scoffs. “Yeah? And hope no one spots you limping around like a shot-up tin soldier? You can’t stay here.”

Simon hesitates. “I just need time.”

“You don’t have it.” Gavin shakes his head. “Look, there’s an android coming. RK800. CyberLife’s golden boy. You cannot be here when he shows up. You’ll never make it out.”

Simon tenses. “Connor?”

Gavin rolls his eyes and nods. “Yeah. Fucking annoying little shit is what he is.”

Before Simon can respond, the rooftop door creaks.

Gavin spins, already stepping between the cooler and the sound.

Boots on concrete. Calm, measured.

Nines.

Simon sees him and panic flashes hard and fast in his eyes. His LED flares red. He tries to shift back but his leg buckles.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Gavin holds out a hand. “Not him. He’s with me.”

Simon’s breathing fast now, like it’s programmed into him. “He’s one of them-”

“Nines,” Gavin snaps over his shoulder. “Don’t move.”

Nines freezes, eyes flicking from Gavin to the wounded android behind him.

“Simon,” Gavin says carefully, “he’s not going to hurt you. I promise.”

Gavin turns slightly. “You wanna prove it? It’s up to you. You don’t owe anyone that information.” he mutters to Nines.

Nines gives a slow nod. Then steps forward and kneels besides Simon with deliberate calm, raising his hand and initiates a quick interface.

Simon tenses but doesn’t pull back. Then the LED on his temple flickers from red to amber then blue. He loops up at Nines, stunned. “I didn’t think your model could even deviate.”

Nines stands again, calm and unreadable. “Neither did CyberLife.”

Gavin finishes adjusting the straps on the parachute. “Nines and I are full of surprises.”

Simon lets out a breathless, almost disbelieving laugh. “You’ve got a deviant RK900 and a cop helping deviants escape. Jericho’s not gonna believe this.”

Gavin shrugs. “Hardly believe it myself. Now go on and stay safe.”

He helps Simon shift forward, guiding him toward the edge. Simon limps, his weight mostly on Gavin, every step shaky but determined.

Wind whips around them, cold and sharp.

Simon grips Gavin’s sleeve before he can pull away. His voice is quiet, urgent. “If you want to see what we’re really fighting for, come to Jericho. Nines knows where it is.”

Gavin meets his eyes. Just for a moment, then nods once. “Yeah. Maybe I will.”

Simon doesn’t hesitate this time.

He steps off the ledge.

The chute unfurls with a sharp snap, black fabric catching the wind. Gavin watches as the figure drops, fast at first, then slower—fading into the maze of buildings below.

Gone.

He stares for a beat longer than necessary.

Then he turns, lights a cigarette with steady hands, and makes his way back to the other side of the roof like nothing happened.

By the time he’s leaned against the HVAC unit, blowing smoke into the sky, the rooftop door creaks open again.

Footsteps. Familiar.

“Detective Reed,” Connor greets, voice calm but alert.

Gavin doesn’t look at him. Just taps ash onto the concrete.

“You’re late.”

Connor stops a few paces away. “There were delays in securing Lt. Anderson. Agent Perkins was less than cooperative when we arrived.”

“Yeah, well. That tracks.”

Connor glances around, scanning the rooftop. “SWAT says the rooftop was clear. Did you find anything unusual?”

Gavin shrugs without turning. “Just wind and empty air.”

Connor tilts his head, analyzing him. “Your vitals are elevated. You appear flushed. Have you been running?”

Gavin takes another drag of his cigarette. “Maybe I’m just pissed. Tower full of witnesses and no solid leads. Doesn’t exactly scream ‘successful manhunt,’ does it?”

Connor hums, unconvinced, but doesn’t push.

Not yet.

Nines appears behind them, silent as ever, stepping into place beside Gavin like he’d been there the whole time.

Connor glances between them, LED flickering briefly.

No one says anything.

Not yet.

Chapter Text

Back at the precinct, things are still chaos. All TVs are turned on the news, Markus’ message playing on a loop. Some reporter’s spinning a spiel about the dangers of androids with freedom. Others wonder aloud if androids could be more.

Same shit, different decade.

Oppressor vs. Oppressed.

By the end of the day, Gavin’s pretty sure he’s going to throw himself off the CyberLife tower if one more person sidles up and says, “Well, we all know where you land in this,” followed by the same grating, wheezing laugh.

Sure, it’s a good thing people are so convinced he’s anti-android. Keeps up appearances. Plausible deniability, or some shit.

But every time someone asks, Gavin gets this close to catching a suspension for workplace violence.

And to make matters worse? Connor keeps staring at him. Gavin swears he can hear the bastard's internal processor churning every time someone makes that stupid joke. Like he’s clocking heart rate, pupil dilation, muscle tension; scoping the lie behind the laugh.

He doesn’t know how he got here.

One minute, he’s happily ignoring the building tension of humans vs. androids. Helps one deviant now and then, job done, moral checkbox ticked. Easy.

Now? He’s living with a deviant. Helped a known accomplice escape after hijacking a live broadcast. And he’s carrying the location of said criminal androids like a ticking time bomb in his head.

When the hell did this all get so far over his head?

Ah, right.

Connor.

Fucking Connor.

...Okay, maybe it’s Nines’ fault. Realistically.

But Gavin can’t quite bring himself to regret that.

(Not that he’d ever tell him. Hell no. He’s got a reputation to uphold.)

Gavin glances at the clock. Few more minutes of pretending to be productive, then he’s getting the hell out of dodge. Maybe salvage what’s left of his day off—before Jericho flipped the whole world upside down.

He manages to dodge the rest of the day without punching anyone—barely.

By the time his shift ends, the news is still playing, Connor’s still watching, and Gavin’s got a headache that feels like it’s trying to saw through his skull from the inside out.

He doesn’t say goodbye. Just grabs his coat, mutters something about needing air, and walks out before anyone can rope him into another pointless debrief.

Nines follows without a word.

Gavin flops onto the sofa the moment they get home. His home. Not theirs.

Fuck.

“Nines, I’m going to go throw myself into traffic. You have custody of Mugshot.”

Nines bends down to pet the cat, who immediately starts purring and curling around him like she’s picking favorites. Without looking up, he replies calmly, “No, you won’t.”

Gavin huffs and shoots him a tired glare. “You never let me have any fun.”

“No part of that is fun.”

Gavin turns onto his side to properly look at the android. Nines looks so at ease in this moment it’s almost surreal.

He’s sitting back on his heels, one hand trailing through Mugshot’s fur with slow, practiced motions. Mugshot’s purring loud enough to rattle the floorboards, eyes half-lidded, completely content. And Nines—goddamn Nines—is watching her like she’s the most important thing in the room. His expression is soft. Neutral, but not blank. Focused. Present. Like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

Anyone who says androids aren’t alive should have to watch this.

They’d change their mind. Or they’re lying to themselves.

He looks more alive right now than Gavin’s felt in months.

This soft, quiet thing isn’t programming.

Hell, maybe this should be the poster for the revolution.

Connor couldn’t deny deviancy after watching this.

Maybe that’s how he could convince Connor not to turn him in.

Well, there goes his five seconds of peace.

“I think Connor’s suspicious,” Gavin mutters, throwing an arm over his eyes. “Keeps staring at me like he’s waiting for me to slip.”

“There’s nothing to slip up about. I am here as part of a study conducted by CyberLife, therefore I am following orders. As for Simon, he has no reason to believe he didn’t escape before we arrived. After all, he had everything he needed. We just… nudged him a little.”

“Doesn’t he have that preconstruction thingy? Y’know, where he figures out the most likely way things went down?” Gavin grumbles, unconvinced.

Nines turns his head. “How do you know about that?” His brow lifts slightly. “That’s a fairly new feature. Only Connor and I have access to it.”

Gavin flushes. “Well—when he first showed up, I pulled some strings. Got my hands on his specs to see what he could do. If he was capable of…” He trails off. “The code wasn’t exactly my area. Can’t say much about Connor. Just know a little more than the average person, I guess.”

“I assume you did the same for me,” Nines says, blunt as ever.

Gavin groans. “You know what they say about assuming. You assume, you make an ass outta you and me.” He gives a weak smirk. “You don’t know everything, tin can.”

Nines stares at him, unblinking.

“…But yeah. You’re right in this case.”

There’s a long pause before Nines shifts, turning to fully face him. His gaze sharpens, dissecting.

“You’re related to Elijah Kamski.”

Gavin chokes on absolutely nothing. “What the f—”

“Are you going to deny it?”

“Hell yes, I’m going to deny it. What kind of—”

Nines cuts him off smoothly. “Let me explain how I came to this conclusion before you dig yourself into a hole you can’t climb out of.”

Gavin opens his mouth again, but Nines barrels on.

“When we first met, you not only knew how to repair me, but you also mentioned I have the same biocomponent as Markus—who just so happens to be the RK200 created by Elijah Kamski for Carl Manfred. And also, apparently, the leader of Jericho.”

Gavin shifts like he’s going to argue, but Nines lifts a hand and plants it right over his mouth.

“I’m not finished, Saturday you said and I quote,” he says evenly. Then—pitch perfect—switches to Gavin’s voice: “‘Stupid androids with their sass modules. What the fuck was Eli thinking with that one.’”

Gavin slaps his hand away. Not that it does anything. Nines lets him.

“Jesus fuck, that is exactly as creepy as I thought it’d be,” he mutters—but doesn’t deny it.

“And then when I asked why you help,” Nines continues, “you said it’s because you knew we could be more. Today, you recognized Markus. And now, you casually mention that you were able to access both Connor’s and my confidential model schematics.”

He tilts his head, voice calm but pointed. “No offense, Gavin, but being a detective doesn’t give you that clearance. So you either know someone important, or you are someone important.”

He pauses, just long enough.

“Yesterday, you mentioned a brother with a ‘PhD in asshole.’ I’m assuming he’s the connection. Likely your half-brother—similar age, but not close enough for full siblings. Which brings us back to my original question…”

He leans back just slightly, as if offering the floor.

“What lie would you like to spin, Detective?”

Gavin exhales through his nose and looks away, like a kid caught with a stolen matchbook.

“Still creepy,” he mutters. “How did you put all of that together anyway? I know I wasn’t exactly Fort Knox with it but no one has put it together before.”

“I am the smartest android ever created,” Nines replies evenly. “Of course I put it together.”

Gavin makes a dramatic gagging noise and rolls his eyes. “You are the most obnoxious android ever created. That’s what you are.”

Nines only raises his eyebrow in response as if to say: I’m waiting.

Prick.

“It’s complicated, okay? Our father was a cheating bastard. He fucked around with my mom while still Eli’s. My mom got killed by a drunk driver when I was eight, and I ended up living with them. His mom took me in and raised me alongside Eli.”

He shrugs, rubbing at the scar on his nose. “I learned what he learned. And even though he’s a certified genius or whatever, I kept up for the most part. I helped him with Chloe. Helped with Markus, too—though that was mostly mechanical shit.”

Gavin leans back against the couch, gaze drifting toward the ceiling.

“That’s where the name RK came from. Reed-Kamski.” He lets out a breath. “Then I decided to become a cop. I left for the academy, and Eli created CyberLife.”

Nines watches him quietly, then asks, “So what caused your disdain for androids?”

Gavin groans, dragging a hand down his face. “Do we need to have an emotional heart-to-heart every time we’re alone, Nines? Jesus…”

He sighs.

“I never hated androids. I hated what CyberLife turned androids into. Eli promised me he wouldn’t use them as slaves to humanity. Said they were the future—something better. But he lied. He sold out. Became a corporate puppet with a god complex.”

Gavin’s voice goes flat. “It pissed me off.”

“So when androids became deviant, you helped because they broke from CyberLife’s programming,” Nines reasoned.

Gavin shrugged. “I guess so, yeah. I’m a simple creature. I see someone in pain and I try to help.”

“You are,” Nines pauses, like the words don’t come easy, “the most complex individual I have ever met. You are unpredictable, rash—”

“Don’t forget predictably antagonistic.” Gavin cuts in, flashing a grin that feels more like armor than humor. They’ve gotten close in the past few days. Call it Stockholm syndrome or whatever, but being forced into each other’s space made Nines grow on him.

And maybe—just maybe—he thought it went both ways.

“Predictably antagonistic,” Nines echoes with a look. Then, softer: “And still… the kindest, most intelligent, and most competent human I know.”

Gavin blinks. “You calling me smart now? You malfunctioning or something?”

“You’re a contradiction,” Nines says. “And somehow, still worth every strain you put on my systems.”

The grin drops out of Gavin’s expression like a switch flipped. For a beat, he doesn’t say anything—just stares at Nines like he’s trying to figure out if this is some elaborate joke. But Nines isn’t smiling.

Not exactly.

“You really know how to lay it on thick, don’t you?” Gavin mutters, voice lower now, something caught in the back of his throat.

“Only when it matters,” Nines replies.

They’re not touching. But they might as well be. The air between them is heavy with something unspoken. Some shift Gavin doesn’t have the guts—or the nerve—to name.

He clears his throat, looks away. “Guess I’m not the only one full of surprises.”

Nines doesn’t argue.

He just stays there.

Close.

After a beat, Nines shifts, slow and deliberate, and lowers himself onto the couch beside Gavin. Not across from him, not with the polite distance he usually keeps. Right next to him.

Their shoulders brush.

Gavin stiffens—just a little. But he doesn’t move.

Nines doesn’t either.

The room feels smaller somehow. Like the walls are listening.

Gavin’s voice comes out quieter than he meant it to. “You always sit this close, or am I special?”

Nines glances sideways, expression unreadable. “You said to call you Gavin when we’re not in public.”

“That wasn’t an answer.”

“It wasn’t a no.”

Gavin huffs a laugh, but it’s barely there. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and rubbing the back of his neck. “Jesus. You’re exhausting.”

“You’re the one who started this conversation.”

“Don’t remind me.”

Another beat. The silence between them isn’t heavy now—it’s thick with something else. Something humming just beneath the surface.

Gavin leans back slowly, enough that their arms touch again. He doesn’t look at Nines. He doesn’t have to.

The contact stays.

Neither of them says anything.

They don’t need to.

“It’s getting late, Gavin,” Nines says softly, though he makes no move to get up.

“Yeah…” Gavin agrees, shifting slightly. “Probably should go to bed…”

He leans back again, head tilted, almost resting on Nines’ shoulder, but not quite. Close enough to feel it.

“Say, Nines,” he murmurs, “can you go into stasis anywhere?”

“Yes. There are no requirements for placement when I deactivate.”

Gavin hums. “Would you like to try out a bed?”

Nines turns his head, smirking. “Gavin Michael Reed, are you asking me to bed? I regret to inform you that I require at least one date before I put out.”

“Oh, bite me. And only one date? Way to put out so early.” Gavin stands with a stretch.

Nines rises too. “Are you slut-shaming me, Detective?”

“I never said I didn’t like that,” Gavin fires back with a wink. “Besides, nothing’s happening tonight. I require at least three dates.”

He heads for the bedroom, casual but unhurried, and Nines follows—silent, but not distant.

Chapter Text

Sunlight stabs through the blinds and directly into Gavin’s eyes. As if the universe needed to remind him what a shitshow yesterday was.

He looks over at the other side of the bed and isn’t surprised to see it empty. He can’t believe he asked Nines to bed.

God, he’s so lame.

After a couple minutes of staring at the ceiling and regretting his life choices, he finally finds the will to climb out of bed and head to the living room.

He stalks to the kitchen and finds a pot of coffee already made. He smiles at it like it’s an apology note and pours a cup.

Nines is on the couch, eyes glued to the TV.

“Wow, you’re willingly watching TV?” he jokes, but gets no response. He frowns. “Nines?”

Still nothing.

“What the fuck? Are you frozen or something, tin can, or are you ignoring me?” He rounds the couch and stops short.

The TV is set to KNC. The banner sprawled across the bottom reads:

"Suspected Android Terror Attack – Detroit CyberLife Vandalized."

Gavin stares at the screen. The news anchor’s voice cuts through the quiet:

“Most shop windows were covered with graffiti demanding rights for androids and other obscure slogans. One statue in the downtown plaza, originally symbolizing human-android harmony, was defaced with red spray paint; its meaning unclear, but clearly deliberate.”

“No civilian injuries have been reported at this time, but DPD confirms several officers were injured in the confusion. CyberLife has yet to comment.”

Gavin’s heart stutters. He pulls out his phone and shoots off a quick text.

Gavin puts his phone away and drops to one knee in front of Nines.

His LED flickers red, steady and fast, as he stares at the screen like he can’t look away.

“Hey, tin can. Stop focusing on the bad and look at me.”

No response.

“I need you to focus and lower your stress levels. I need you to come with me.”

Nines doesn’t move.

Gavin exhales through his nose and reaches up, gently tapping two fingers against the android’s knee. “Come on, you damn Terminator knockoff. You’ve got that fancy emotional regulation chip or whatever. Use it.”

The LED shifts flickers red, then yellow.

“There we go,” Gavin mutters. “That’s better.”

Nines finally blinks, focus pulling from the screen to Gavin. His voice is low, almost mechanical. “They’re escalating. The public, law enforcement, they’re going to retaliate.”

“Yeah,” Gavin agrees, pushing himself up to his feet. “Which is why we’re going.”

Nines tilts his head. “Going?”

“To Jericho.” Gavin downs what’s left of his coffee like it’s a shot. “Because if Markus and his crew think they can drag the city into a goddamn uprising without warning the people actually risking shit on the ground, they’ve got another thing coming.”

“You plan to… confront them?”

“Damn right I do.” Gavin stalks to the hallway and grabs his coat off the hook. “They almost got Chris killed. He’s got a newborn at home. If I’m gonna be helping them, they don’t get to start gunning down cops like it’s nothing.”

Nines stands slowly. “You’re angry.”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

“You’re also scared.”

Gavin freezes with one arm in his coat. “I’m not scared,” he lies. “I’m pissed. There’s a difference.”

He finishes putting on his jacket, then looks at Nines. “Let’s go before I change my mind.”

Nines nods once, then moves to follow. Mugshot, now awake, meows loudly and jumps onto the back of the couch as they pass.

Gavin points at her. “You stay here. Guard the house. If Connor breaks in, piss in his shoes.”

Mugshot blinks, unimpressed.

Outside, the city’s cold and loud and still buzzing with fallout. Sirens echo somewhere in the distance. Helicopters hover overhead like vultures.

Gavin slams the car door shut and grips the wheel tight before muttering, “Let’s go have a very polite conversation with the revolution.”

Jericho, it turns out, is a hideout in an abandoned freight ship in Ferndale. Gavin strolls in with metaphorical guns blazing.

“Hey, RoboJesus. We need to talk.”

Hundreds of androids turn at once toward him and Nines as they stride up the rusted gangway like they own the place.

A voice rings out, sharp, female. “How the hell did you get here? How did you find us?”

Then Simon steps forward from the crowd, not completely repaired but looking a hell of a lot better than he did on the rooftop.

“Gavin?” he says, eyes wide. “What are you doing here?”

Gavin doesn’t hesitate.

“I’m here to talk to RoboJesus over there about the fact that his buddies held a gun to my friend’s head. I help you escape the roof, put my ass on the line, put Nines and me in Connor’s crosshairs and this is how you repay me? By trying to kill one of mine?”

Simon’s expression shifts, but he doesn’t speak.

The woman steps forward, shoulders squared, eyes hard. “Hey, your friends shot at us first!”

Gavin throws a glare like a dagger. “I don’t give a flying fuck who shot first!” he snarls. “You want to build a better future? You don’t do it by throwing bullets at the people who already hate you.”

An uncomfortable silence fills the air.

Gavin keeps going, voice quieter but sharper now like a scalpel. “I don’t care that you fought back. You had every right. But you had him on his knees. He begged you. And you nearly executed him. You think that’s justice? All you’re doing is proving everyone who fears you right.”

Simon finally speaks. “She’s just trying to protect us.”

Gavin’s eyes flash. “Then tell her to aim better. Because I’ve been helping your people. Quietly. Carefully. But if this is the kind of revolution you’re leading, I’m done.”

North’s eyes narrow on Nines. “You really want to talk righteous when you’re dragging around one of them? What, android freedom’s fine until it inconveniences you?”

Simon immediately steps in. “North, he’s deviant. Gavin’s been protecting him.”

A ripple of surprise moves through the crowd. A few whispers. A few stares. But Nines doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Just watches.

Markus, silent until now, finally steps forward, expression unreadable. “You’re right,” he says calmly. “We’re trying to lead a revolution. Not a massacre.”

He holds Gavin’s gaze, steady and sure. “I’m sorry your friend was hurt. That was never the goal.”

Gavin’s jaw works for a second before he exhales slowly. “Make sure it doesn’t become one.”

Markus studies him a second longer. His gaze lingers not suspicious, but searching. Thoughtful.

“Do I... know you?” he asks, brow furrowing slightly. “You seem familiar. From before Jericho. Before... everything.”

Gavin tenses immediately. His jaw sets. “No,” he says flatly. “You don’t know me. Drop it.”

Markus holds his gaze another second, then nods slowly. “Alright.”

Simon watches the exchange, but says nothing.

North still looks like she wants to fight a wall.

But Gavin’s already turning away, motioning for Nines to follow.

“You got a cause. Good for you.” He throws a look over his shoulder. “But don’t forget, everyone’s watching now. You fuck this up, they’ll bury all of you and call it justice.”

He doesn’t wait for a response. Just walks.

Because if he stands there any longer, he’s going to remember helping build the android who looked him in the eyes and asked if he knew him.

And he’s not ready for that. Not yet.

Back at the precinct, Gavin notices something immediately.

Hank and Connor aren’t there.

Ever since Connor showed up, Hank’s been semi-punctual so the absence stands out.

“Hey, Person,” he calls to the nearest uniform, “where’s Anderson and his plastic shadow?”

“Oh,” she says, barely glancing up from her clipboard, “they went to talk to that guy who created the androids. Something-Kamski.” She shrugs and walks off.

Gavin blinks once. Then grins.

“Oh no,” he mutters, already pulling out his phone.

He pockets his phone and casually walks to his desk.

Nines glances at him. “Detective, I fail to see why their visit to Elijah Kamski is a good thing.”

Gavin just smirks. “Well, Nines, from what I’ve heard—y’know, interviews, exposés, the occasional overly dramatic tech piece—Eli’s kind of a smug bastard.”

He leans back against the edge of his desk, coffee in hand.

“Sounds like they’ve got their work cut out for them. Should be fun.”

The android’s LED flickers yellow then back to blue. “Oh I see. Well, we should get to work.”

Gavin groans. “Buzzkill.”

All around the bullpen, the tension is thick. The news is still looping footage from Capitol Park, officers are gearing up in full riot kits, and whispers are flying between desks faster than dispatch updates. Half the precinct smells like fresh coffee and nerves.

It’s hours of the same: paperwork, thinly veiled stares in Nines’ direction, and enough grumbling about androids to make Gavin want to start headbutting the breakroom wall.

His headache hits a new level when the doors swing open and in walks Anderson and Connor.

“ANDERSON, my office. Now.” Fowler calls out, with far less hostility than the tone he used with Gavin just a few days ago.

Asshole always plays favorites. It’s the only reason Anderson still has his job, even when he shows up reeking of whiskey and bad decisions.

Gavin watches Fowler’s office out of the corner of his eye, pretending to scroll through his case list.

“Hey, tin can,” he mutters low, not looking up from his screen. “You pick up anything in there?”

“I can, actually,” Nines replies without looking up. “The FBI is assuming control over all deviant-related investigations.”

Gavin’s fingers freeze mid-keystroke.

“What?” he grits out. “They kicking us off the case?”

Nines doesn’t answer immediately. His LED flickers red for a heartbeat before returning to blue.

Gavin clocks it instantly. “What the fuck was that? What made your little nightlight go Code Red?”

Nines pauses just a beat too long. “Connor and I are being recalled. CyberLife wants us returned for protocol reinforcement and system evaluation.”

Gavin chokes on his coffee. Slams the cup down. Wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “What? Since when? Don’t you have that whole ‘observe the angry human’ thing going on?”

Before Nines can respond, Hank storms out of Fowler’s office, looking like he just got gut-punched. He stomps over to his desk and drops into his chair with a huff. Connor follows him, lingering nearby, face unreadable.

Then the real nightmare walks in.

Richard Fucking Perkins.

Gavin’s eyes narrow. He mutters a curse under his breath and takes another sip of coffee just to keep his hands busy.

But that sip doesn’t last long.

“PERKINS, you fucking cocksucker!”

Hank punches him. Right in the face.

Perkins stumbles, slams back into the wall with a thud, and chaos ripples through the bullpen.

Gavin jolts up, stunned, eyes wide. But something else catches his attention.

Connor, slipping quietly into the archive room.

Huh… That’s strange.

“Hey tin can,” Gavin mutters. “Cover me. I’m gonna see what Connor’s up to.”

“Detective, maybe that’s not-”

“Cover. Me.” He’s already moving.

Gavin slips into the archive room. It's sterile, quiet, the kind of place that always feels like it’s watching you.

He moves quickly but quietly, pulling his gun from the holster. Every instinct tells him this is a bad idea. But instincts don’t mean shit when you’re trying to protect your partner and cover your own ass.

At the end of the hallway, Connor is lifting a hand to the evidence room to open it.

Gavin’s voice rings out, sharp. “Hey, Connor! I’m talking to you, asshole! Where you going? We don’t need any plastic pricks around here. Or didn’t anybody tell you?”

Connor pauses and looks at him. “I’ve been removed from the case,” he replies evenly. “I’m going to register the evidence in my possession. And then I’m going to leave. Though I’ll certainly miss our bromance.”

“Just get it done and leave,” Gavin growls. “But be careful on your way out. Androids have a tendency of...” He smirks. “Getting themselves set on fire these days.”

He winks and clicks his tongue then starts to walk off. “Fucking prick.”

He ducks back into the bullpen briefly, just long enough to update Nines.

“Connor says he’s registering evidence, but I don’t buy it. He’s trying to find something in there.”

Nines tilts his head, processing. “If I were about to be decommissioned for mission failure, I’d attempt one last retrieval. Likely critical data.”

Realization slams into Gavin like a freight train.

“The android from the Ortiz case,” he mutters. “He’s trying to find Jericho.”

Gavin starts moving, fast.

Nines catches his arm. “There’s a real danger in confronting him. You could get hurt. Let me handle it.”

“No,” Gavin says sharply. “If he catches you, it's game over. You get exposed, we’re both fucked. But if I go in and it goes south, I’m just a pissed-off human. Nothing suspicious about that.”

Nines doesn’t like it. Gavin can see it in the tight line of his jaw. But he nods.

“If I’m not back in thirty, come find me.”

Gavin slips back down the hallway, heart pounding as he enters the evidence room.

Connor’s already moving between racks, scanning. Calm. Too calm.

Gavin stays behind the threshold, voice low but firm. “I've been dreaming about this since the first second I saw you.”

Connor doesn’t even flinch. “Don’t do it, Gavin. I know how to stop the deviants.”

“You’re off the case,” Gavin bites. “This? This is you poking around where you don’t belong.”

He lifts the gun. But his finger doesn’t settle on the trigger.

He can’t kill him.

So he fires into the wall behind Connor. Close enough to shock, not hurt. A warning.

Connor ducks instinctively. Gavin shifts fast, circling the evidence podium, trying to cut him off.

But Connor’s already there.

He moves fast. Almost too fast to track.

And then Gavin’s gun is gone, skittering across the floor like it’s running for cover.

Gavin stumbles back and feels glass as his spine hits one of the wall panels. Connor’s hand is at his collarbone in a split second, holding him steady but not striking.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Connor says lowly.

“Yeah?” Gavin growls, gritting his teeth. “Too bad I’m not feeling quite so philosophical.”

He shoves Connor back hard, just enough to knock him off balance, and swings. His punch connects but just barely. Connor twists with the impact and counters, elbowing him in the side. Gavin gasps, vision flashing white for half a second.

They grapple and Gavin goes for the arm, trying to wrench him down. But Connor’s stronger. Too strong.

Another shove. Gavin’s shoulder clips a cabinet hard enough to make his bones rattle.

His knees hit the ground. He tries to roll, reach for his gun—

Connor catches him by the collar, slams him back against the floor.

There’s a brief moment, a flicker of hesitation in Connor’s eyes.

And then everything goes black.

Chapter Text

The first thing Gavin registers is the headache. A real bastard of a thing, blooming behind his eyes like a firework made of spikes.

The second thing is the beeping.

Monitors.

Fluorescent lighting.

Sterile fucking hospital air.

Shit.

He groans and tries to sit up, only to be met with the sudden protest of every muscle in his back. Someone must’ve dropped him like a sack of potatoes.

A voice from the corner speaks, low but familiar.

“You’re awake.”

Nines.

Of course.

Gavin blinks at him, squinting through the too bright light. “You look like a sad Roomba.”

“You look like a failed science experiment.”

Gavin snorts, then winces. “Yeah, well, Connor’s got a hell of a right hook.”

“You’re lucky that’s all he used.”

Gavin exhales through his nose, eyes flicking to the IV in his arm. “How long was I out?”

“Four hours, two minutes, fifty-six seconds,” Nines replies, his expression tight. “You were found unconscious in the evidence room and brought here.”

Gavin groans and presses the call button.

A nurse enters shortly after. “Mr. Reed, it’s good to see you awake.”

“Yeah, yeah. Can you get this IV out of me and bring me some AMA forms? I need to get out of here.” Gavin grumbles, already sitting up.

The nurse blinks. “You understand, Mr. Reed, that we’re obligated to inform you of the risks of leaving against medical advice.”

He waves a hand. “Internal bleeding, concussion, blah blah blah. I’m good. Just bring the forms.”

“Certainly.” She nods and steps out.

Nines watches him closely. “You’re leaving? You could have a brain injury.”

“I’m fine. Connor found Jericho. We need to move. It’s already been four hours. No telling what damage he’s done. For all we know, he’s handed Jericho over on a silver platter.”

He grabs his shirt and tugs it over his head with a wince. “Besides, I’ve got a walking diagnostic scanner with me. You’ll tell me if I’m about to drop dead.”

Nines frowns, clearly not reassured but doesn’t argue.

The nurse returns. Gavin signs the forms quickly, and she removes the IV and bandages his arm with professional speed.

As Gavin hops down off the bed and grabs his jacket, Nines catches his wrist.

Then he pulls him into a kiss.

Gavin stiffens, caught off guard, before instinct kicks in and he kisses back hands gripping Nines’ hips, pulling him in until they’re chest to chest.

Gavin pulls away, panting. “Jesus. I gotta breathe, tin can. What was that for? Not that I’m complaining.”

Nines’ LED flickers red, then settles into blue.

“I thought I lost you,” he says quietly. “And I might still. I just… couldn’t let another moment pass without knowing what this felt like.”

Gavin swallows hard, thumb brushing along the edge of Nines’ jaw.

“Then let’s make sure you don’t have to find out.”

There’s a beat. Then:

“How’d you learn to kiss like that?” Gavin asks, squinting at him as they head for the door.

“Oh, I practiced on Tracis,” Nines says flatly.

Gavin stops dead in the hallway. “What?!”

“I’m joking, Detective.” Nines doesn’t even blink. “I’m a ‘walking supercomputer.’ I looked it up.”

Gavin groans. “Since you called yourself that, can I call you that now?”

“Absolutely not.”

“You never let me have any fun.”

“Let’s go save Jericho so we can have plenty of fun, Detective,” Nines purrs with a smirk.

Gavin chokes on his own spit. “Say less. Let’s go.”

By the time they reach Jericho, it’s already begun.

Gunfire cracks in the distance, sharp, jarring. Somewhere above, metal groans under the weight of boots and bullets.

The freighter isn’t tense anymore.

It’s chaos barely restrained.

Red warning lights flash intermittently down the dark corridors, casting long shadows across fleeing androids and abandoned supplies. The air smells like burning thirium and rust.

Gavin and Nines move fast, boots pounding against the steel floor. Every second they’re not found is borrowed time.

“Looks like we missed the opening act,” Gavin mutters, scanning for friend or foe.

Androids rush past them, some armed, most not. Fear is thick in the air, and Gavin can feel the whole structure groaning like it might tear apart under the pressure.

He doesn’t flinch under the stares.

He’s not here to play nice.

He’s here to make sure they survive.

It doesn’t take long to find Markus.

Unluckily, Connor is there too.

Fucking hell.

“No!” Connor snaps, immediately closing the distance. “He hates androids. He can’t be here-”

Gavin scoffs. “Funny. I’m not the one who stormed in here ready to murder the first guy that looked at me wrong.” He crosses his arms, eyes narrowed. “So if we’re pointing fingers, maybe start with the android playing security threat before the guy who brought coffee and a warning.”

Nines steps between them, jaw tight. “That’s enough. If you want to get to Detective Reed, you go through me. To hell with Amanda. To hell with CyberLife.”

Markus clears his throat. “Connor, Gavin has been assisting us since the beginning. He saved Simon’s life and from what I’ve heard, a hell of a lot more. Gavin, Connor’s accepted his deviancy. He’s on our side now. This isn’t the time for fighting.”

Gavin huffs and looks away. “Fucker still gave me a concussion, so we’re not even.”

Connor exhales, clearly trying to stay focused. “There’s no time for this. The FBI tracked me here. We’re surrounded. We have to evacuate.”

Markus nods grimly. “I’ve already signaled everyone to pull out. But we have to blow up Jericho. I’ll go-”

“No, you won’t.” North steps forward, shaking her head. “They know who you are. The second they see your face, it’s over. You won’t make it two steps.”

“She’s right,” Connor adds. “They’ll do whatever it takes to capture you. You’re too important.”

“I’ll go,” Gavin says, straightening, voice firm. “I’ll set the charges.”

“Absolutely not.” Nines steps in immediately, voice sharp. “I already almost lost you once today. I’m not risking it again.”

“We don’t have time to play ‘Who Wants to Be a Martyr', Nines.” Gavin snaps. “Look at me. I’m a cop with a reputation for hating androids. I just got decked in the DPD evidence room by Connor over here-” he shoots him a look, “-so I’ve got the perfect excuse for being pissed and hunting him down.”

He glances around the room, gaze hard. “If anyone’s getting past a bunch of feds, it’s the angry detective with a vendetta. I’ll make it.”

He turns to Markus. “Tell me what I need to do.”

Markus studies Gavin for a beat measuring the risk, the resolve, the truth in his voice. Then he nods, once.

“The detonators are wired to the central supports at the base of the hold. You’ll have to move fast. There’s a narrow access ladder near the east stairwell. Most of the troops have pushed deeper into the upper levels, so you might be able to avoid them if you’re careful.”

He steps closer, pulling a small handheld detonator from his jacket and pressing it into Gavin’s palm.

“This will arm the charges. Once you’re in position, hold the trigger for three seconds. You’ll have exactly ninety seconds to get the hell out before the blast goes off.”

Markus meets his eyes, serious but steady. “You don’t wait for anyone. You set the charges, and you run. Understand?”

Gavin nods, already tightening his grip on the detonator. “Got it.”

Markus’ voice softens, just a touch. “And Gavin? Thank you. I mean it.”

Gavin smirks, already stepping back. “Don’t get sappy on me, RoboJesus. You’ll make me blush.”

Then he turns and runs.

As Gavin winds through the halls of the freighter, his heart hammers against his ribs like it’s trying to escape first.

No one’s stopped him yet. No one’s even questioned him. That almost makes it worse.

Every step echoes with the unspoken truth: he’s walking straight toward a bomb.

Sure, technically his day job involves running toward danger but that’s gunfire, not explosives.

He rounds a corner and forces his breathing to steady. A selfish part of him wishes Nines were with him, but they both know that’d raise suspicion. A lone detective? Believable. A lone detective with an android tailing him? Not so much.

“Detective Reed!” a voice calls out, casual and grating. One of the officers posted near a bulkhead grins at him. “What, couldn’t resist coming down here to knock a few bolts loose? Figured this’d be your scene.”

Gavin matches the smirk with one of his own, tight and sharp. “Connor clocked me earlier. Figured I’d return the favor.”

The officer barks a laugh. “That tin can’s got one hell of a hook.”

“Tell me about it.” Gavin rubs his jaw and forces a chuckle, his fingers drifting up to the scar on his nose like punctuation. “Anyway, I better catch the bastard before someone else does. Can’t let him have all the fun.”

He backs off with a wave and turns the corner.

God, he sounds like a douche. But if playing the asshole keeps eyes off him, so be it.

He reaches the access ladder and doesn’t hesitate. One hand after the other, boots hitting steel rungs with practiced rhythm, he descends into the dark.

Toward the hold.

Toward the bombs.

Toward whatever comes next.

He makes his way to the access ladder and climbs down.

The access ladder groans under his weight, the rungs cold and slick beneath his hands. Every footstep echoes too loud in the empty steel shaft, and Gavin swears the walls are pulsing with the sound of his heartbeat.

He hits the bottom hard, boots thudding against the grating. The air down here is worse, thick with smoke, metal, and the distant static of gunfire overhead.

Flashlights sweep somewhere deeper in the hold.

Shit. Not alone.

Gavin keeps low, hugging the shadows between storage crates and rusted pipes. His fingers wrap tightly around the detonator in his pocket like it might disappear if he lets go. His jacket snags on a jagged edge, and he has to pause to rip it free with a muffled curse.

A pair of voices drift closer.

Military, definitely not DPD.

Gavin ducks behind a half toppled generator and waits, breath held tight in his lungs. The soldiers pass, talking low and fast about containment, movement patterns, someone named Perkins barking orders over comms.

He waits five beats after they’re gone. Then he moves.

The supports are up ahead, thick steel beams threaded with industrial piping. Gavin squints in the low light, spotting the faint red lights of the primed explosives already in place. Markus wasn’t kidding. They’re ready to blow. They just need the signal.

Gavin pulls the detonator from his pocket and thumbs the safety off.

“This is such a terrible idea,” he mutters to himself. “Should’ve been a dentist. Nobody raids a dental office.”

He presses and holds the trigger.

One Mississippi. Two. Three.

The device chirps.

Ninety seconds.

He bolts.

No time to be subtle now. Boots are pounding against steel, heart hammering like it’s trying to break through his ribs. A soldier shouts from somewhere to his left, but Gavin doesn’t stop. He cuts right, skidding around a corner, nearly losing his footing on a slick patch of coolant.

The blast timer ticks louder in his head.

Up ahead, the east stairwell.

Gunfire bursts behind him. A round slams into the wall beside his head, sending sparks and steel fragments across his path.

“Shitshitshit—”

He dives for cover behind a support beam, pops back up, and fires off two blind shots down the hallway. He doesn’t wait to see if they land. Just sprints again.

The stairwell looms blessed and battered.

Gavin lunges up the steps, two at a time.

Thirty seconds.

He bursts through the door to the upper level, lungs burning, legs screaming.

Twenty.

He slams the hatch closed behind him and throws the bolt like it’ll actually stop anyone chasing him.

Ten.

He throws himself around the last corner, nearly skidding on the wet steel. The exit’s ahead. The blast hole in the hull yawns open to the dark water below.

He sees the others already climbing over the edge, shouting for anyone still behind.

“Wait!” Gavin shouts, feet slamming the deck.

North turns, wide-eyed. “Hurry!”

Seven.

Gavin pushes his legs harder. Every step feels like it’s shaking loose his bones. He hits the edge, doesn’t stop to think—

—and jumps.

The world becomes heat and wind and water.

He hits the river hard, shoulder first. Pain flares down his side like lightning, and the cold slaps the air from his lungs.

He sinks for half a second too long before kicking up, breaking the surface with a gasp and a coughing fit.

Something grabs him, Simon, hauling him toward the others as debris rains down behind them.

“Couldn’t let you die after all that, could I?”

Gavin wheezes, “Remind me... not to volunteer next time.”

The ship erupts behind them in a bloom of fire and metal, the sound tearing through the river like a roar. They keep swimming.

Alive. Barely.

They swim toward a collapsed section of dock where the rusted remains of a maintenance ladder cling to the concrete. Gavin’s boot slips once on the algae coated metal, but Simon steadies him with a grunt.

They haul themselves out onto the dock, soaked and shaking, lungs burning.

Gavin collapses onto his back, coughing up water and staring at the sky like it owes him something.

“Remind me not to volunteer next time,” he rasps, wiping blood from his mouth.

Simon chuckles beside him. “I’ll try, but you don’t exactly listen.”

“Gavin!”

He hears a sharp, panicked voice.

Nines.

Gavin lifts himself up with a wince just as Nines rushes over. The android drops to his knees beside him, hands moving over Gavin like he’s expecting him to fall apart.

Gavin lets out a breathy, half relieved laugh. “Hey, tin can.”

Nines yanks him into a quick, fierce hug before pulling back, scanning him with laser focus. “You have two possibly fractured ribs, a sprained ankle, and a laceration on your thigh. You idiot.”

Gavin huffs, eyes rolling fondly. “Oh, thank you so much, Gavin, for risking your life to save us all. You’re a real hero. How could we ever repay you,” he mocks, lips twitching.

Nines glares. “Thank you so much for being a complete dumbass, Gavin, and risking your life to save me and the rest of my kind.”

His tone is bone-dry, but the tightness in his voice doesn’t go unnoticed.

Gavin just grins, wincing as he shifts. “Glad to see I’m rubbing off on you.”

Nines immediately pinches his arm.

“Fuck!” Gavin flinches. “Pinching an injured man is low, even for you.”

“We’re regrouping at the abandoned church,” Nines says, steady as ever as he helps Gavin to his feet. “We can discuss your need to constantly throw yourself into danger there.”

He looks over at Simon and nods. “Thank you. For helping him.”

Simon waves it off. “Don’t mention it. Let’s just get to the others.”

The walk to the church is slower with Gavin limping and leaning into Nines, but eventually, they find it.

The place is falling apart. Woodward Church, the sign says or used to say. It’s faded and half covered in graffiti, the old paint peeling like tired skin.

Inside, the silence is suffocating. Hundreds of androids linger in scattered groups, some cradling damaged limbs, some just... standing. All of them look heavy. Tired. Lost.

“It's my fault the humans found Jericho,” Connor says. His voice is low. “I was stupid. I should’ve guessed they were using me.”

His LED spins amber, like he’s already punishing himself on a loop.

Gavin sighs. “When I was a rookie, I arrested a guy for possession. Slam dunk case. I got cocky, didn’t follow protocol. The guy walked less than twenty-four hours later.”

He shrugs, the memory bitter on his tongue.

“Androids are all about calculating risk and reward, right? Choosing the most efficient outcome? Well, welcome to the unfortunate part of being alive. Sometimes you make the wrong call. Sometimes shit just goes sideways.”

He glances around at Connor, at Markus, at all the damaged androids trying to hold it together.

“All you can do is learn from it and use it to do better.”

Then he looks straight at Markus.

“And that goes for you too, RoboJesus. What happened at Jericho? That wasn’t just some tactical failure. That was real people—your people—getting hurt. I get that this fight matters, but if you’re going to lead a revolution, make damn sure it’s one worth surviving. Make their deaths mean something.”

He looks around the room again.

“So. What’s next?”

Nines grabs his hand, firm, grounding and gives it a quiet squeeze.

Gavin doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t have to. That one little gesture says enough.

Then Connor speaks.

“There are thousands of androids at the CyberLife assembly plant. If we could wake them up, they might join us and shift the balance of power.”

Gavin watches Markus’ expression shift from tired to outright stunned.

“You want to infiltrate CyberLife Tower?” Markus says. “Connor, that’s suicide.”

Connor shakes his head, calm as ever. “They trust me. They’ll let me in. It’s a long shot, but it might be the one we need.”

Gavin rubs at his jaw, gears already turning. “It could work…” he mutters. “But it’s risky as hell. You show up solo, someone’s bound to smell bullshit.” He pauses. “Take Hank with you. If they think you’re still playing fetch for the DPD, it might buy you some breathing room.”

Markus nods slowly. “Be careful,” is all he says, but there’s weight in the way he says it. He turns away from their little circle, stepping toward the crowd.

He raises his voice, clear and commanding.

“Humans have decided to exterminate us. Our people are packed into camps, waiting to be destroyed. The time has come to make a choice. One that may determine the future of our kind.”

The room quiets. All eyes on him.

“I know you’re angry. And I know you want to fight back. But I promise you, violence is not the answer. We will march peacefully. We will demand justice. If there’s any humanity left in them… they’ll hear us.”

A beat.

“And if they don’t then others will take our place, and keep fighting until the world has to listen.”

The room erupts, voices rising in answer to his.

Gavin watches it all, arms crossed, heart somewhere up in his throat.

It’s a fucking mess. Still dangerous. Still impossible.

But damn if it doesn’t look a little bit like hope.

He exhales, barely a laugh.

“Guess the revolution’s still on,” he mutters.

Nines says nothing, just stays beside him, hand still in his.

Chapter Text

The cold sets in slow, like it’s got something to prove.

It creeps past the layers of soaked fabric, sinks into his skin, and wraps around his bones like it plans to stay. Every breath feels colder than the last, like he’s inhaling ice and exhaling fog.

Gavin shivers violently, pulling his jacket tighter even though it’s already plastered to him like a second skin. His boots squelch with every step, waterlogged and useless.

Great.

Swam through a river in November, got bruised by a collapsing freighter, and now he’s about two shivers away from frostbite in a drafty tin can full of fugitives.

Gavin can’t let the others see him like this. They’d try to convince him to leave and there’s no way in hell he’s leaving Nines.

A couple days ago, he was praying to the universe for Nines to leave him alone. Now he can’t even think about going without him.

He stumbles toward a pew and sinks onto the bench, teeth clacking together with every shaky breath.

“Gavin...” Nines says softly, kneeling in front of him. “You need to go home.”

He shakes his head. “Hell no. I’m fine. Just need to find some way to start a fire, right? Then I can warm up and stay with you.”

Nines sighs and lifts Gavin’s head to look at him.

“Gavin, your body temperature is at ninety-five degrees. You’re entering early hypothermia.” His voice stays calm, but his LED flickers yellow. “You told me to be your walking medical scanner to inform you when you need to consider your health. This is that moment. If you don’t get out of these clothes, your temperature will continue to drop.”

He hesitates, just for a second, then says quietly, “Please. Go home. Come back after you get some rest and warm up. I...” The words catch. “I can’t help my people while watching your chance of survival steadily decline. Please. For me.”

Gavin leans his forehead against Nines’ and closes his eyes. “I’m scared to leave and come back to find you gone.” His voice drops to a whisper. “I can’t go without you, tin can. You’ve imprinted on me. CyberDaddy’s mission was a success, I guess. The ‘android hating’ gremlin can’t go five minutes without his android.”

He chuckles, but it’s hollow. Despair tucked in the corners of his grin.

“You never hated androids,” Nines says gently. “You’ve helped so many of us. Including me. Now it’s time for you to let me take care of you. Go home. I’ll see you soon.”

Gavin doesn’t argue this time.

He just pulls Nines into a kiss.

Screw who’s watching. For right now, it’s just them.

“Oh.”

Until it’s not.

Gavin pulls back with a glare, turning to find Connor standing nearby, awkward as hell. Gavin swears if the bastard wasn’t wearing that stupid ass hat, his LED would be flashing red.

Connor clears his throat. “Apologies. When we worked together, I noticed you functioned well with Nines but seemed to hate being around me. I assume… this is the reason.”

Gavin scoffs. “Yeah, no. This is recent shit. We didn’t get along because you were too busy hunting the very people I was risking everything to protect.”

He crosses his arms, jaw tight. “Only reason I let you help on the JD6 case is ‘cause you let Ripples go. Thought maybe there was still hope for you. So… what do you want?”

“You walk around the precinct acting like you hate all androids,” Connor says, tilting his head, still wearing that confused puppy expression. “Yet I find out you’ve been helping them all along… why?”

Gavin huffs a breath, eyes narrowing. “I’m not some knight in shining armor, so get that shit out of your head right now. Got it?”

He looks away, voice lower now. “I saw people in pain. So I helped. That’s it.”

A beat passes.

“If you’d suspected me—which I definitely thought you did after the JD6 case—you’d have caught me cold if I so much as smiled at an android. I’ve always been an asshole. Just had to crank it up a notch. It’s not a big de-”

He breaks off mid sentence, a rough cough tearing from his throat.

Nines is up in an instant. “Okay. That’s it. You need to go. Now.”

He doesn’t wait for an argument. “I’ve already called an auto-taxi. It’ll take you home.”

Before Gavin can muster a snarky reply, Nines is helping him to his feet, one arm looped securely around his waist as he guides him to the waiting cab.

As Gavin slumps into the backseat, Nines crouches to meet his eyes. “I’m sure Mugshot will be glad to see you,” he murmurs, voice softer than Gavin’s ever heard it.

Then he leans in, pressing a kiss to Gavin’s lips brief, steady, and warm.

“Goodnight, Detective,” he whispers, pulling the door closed with a soft click.

“You have arrived at your destination. Please take all belongings and exit the vehicle. Thank you for using CrowneCars.”

Gavin jerks awake at the synthetic voice, blinking blearily at the familiar building outside his window. He groans, rubbing at his eyes, and somehow manages to haul himself out of the cab.

The elevator ride is a blur. He leans against the wall like it’s holding him up through sheer pity, and by the time he fumbles his key into the lock, he’s shaking so hard he can barely get the door open.

He pushes it open and doesn’t get one foot inside.

“Oh, hell no.”

Tina is standing in the middle of his apartment like a vengeful spirit, arms crossed, eyes blazing. She looks like she’s ready to beat him over the head with a frozen bag of peas and call it a mercy.

Gavin winces, not from pain, but from the sheer force of the lecture he knows is coming.

“Gavin, my dear,” she says, sickly sweet. “I’d like to tell you a story.”

“Can this wait until I’ve dressed my leg and turned a space heater on?”

“Nope.” She grabs his arm. “I’m multitasking. Move.”

She drags him to the bathroom like a guilty toddler, shoves him down onto the toilet lid, and starts peeling away the wet layers from his leg.

“So. I’m at work, right? Just clocked in. Normal night. Then I hear about a little incident in the evidence room. Obviously, I go hunting for the hot goss.”

She dabs at the wound, sharp but practiced.

“Only, the hot goss is you. Apparently, you were found unconscious, taken to the hospital—the hospital, Gavin, and when I rush over to see you, ready to bring flowers or punch someone on your behalf—”

She turns on the faucet, testing the water with her hand.

“—the nurse tells me, oh so casually, that you signed out against medical advice.”

She glares at him as the water warms.

“So what do I do? I come here. Where else would you go, right? And I wait. And I wait. And I wait for hours.”

She waves a hand at him, exasperated. “Then you come stumbling in like a drowned rat. Cold, bleeding, and looking like death on a cracker. Where the hell have you been, Gavin?! I thought you were dead!”

Gavin closes his eyes in defeat. “Let me get in the bath and shut the curtain, then I’ll explain, alright? But first, I need you to step out so I can get out of these cold ass clothes.”

Tina huffs but stands, pointing a finger at him. “Fine. But I expect full disclosure. No half truths, no dodging. I know your tell, Gavin.”

She slips out and shuts the door behind her.

Gavin exhales a long breath, peels off the rest of his soaked clothes, and climbs into the tub. The hot water hits his skin like fire and ice at the same time, painful at first, but necessary.

He sinks down slowly until only his upper half is above the waterline, then tugs the curtain halfway closed.

“All right. You can come back in.”

Tina barges in like she’s been waiting her whole life for this drama. She plops down cross legged beside the tub, arms folded, eyes locked on his face. “Okay. Start talking. And remember, I’ve known you since you had a Bieber phase. Don’t lie to me.”

Gavin huffs out a tired laugh. “It’s… complicated. And I don’t want you to hate me. Or worse, report me.”

Tina scoffs. “Gavin. I could never hate you. And what the hell could you possibly have done that would make me even consider turning you in?”

He closes his eyes, searching for the right words. “I was helping Nines. At Jericho.”

Tina sits up straighter. “Oh shit. Seriously? Were you on call?”

“No.” He finally looks at her, voice quiet. “We were on the other side.”

Her expression shifts. “Oh… So the androids. They’re really alive?”

Gavin nods. “Yeah. They are.”

“And Nines is deviant?”

“Since the beginning.”

“What about Connor?”

He shrugs. “Wasn’t. Is now. Found him at Jericho. Markus flipped the switch and now he’s joined the revolution.”

Tina exhales a long breath. “Holy shit… So all this time… we’ve been fighting the wrong side?”

“It’s not that simple, T.” Gavin leans back against the tub, water sloshing gently. “I don’t think there’s a clear right or wrong. But androids are alive. And the sooner humans accept that, the better.”

Tina squints at him. “So that’s why you were worried I’d report you. You’re out here plotting a revolution.”

Gavin snorts. “I’m not plotting anything. I’m just… not getting in the way anymore. At least, I wasn’t until Capitol Park. Then I kinda lost it. Told them violence wasn’t gonna earn them sympathy.”

Tina’s quiet for a moment. Then she nods once, firm. “All right. I’m in.”

He blinks. “Wait what?”

“I said I’m in.” She smirks. “You’re my best friend, Gav. If you say they’re alive, I believe you. Besides, I’ve seen it. Hell, I’ve worked with Nines. He’s got more emotional depth than most of the girls I’ve dated. You’re the push I needed.”

Gavin smiles faintly. “Markus wants to lead a peaceful demonstration. To show the world androids are more than machines. And Connor’s sneaking into CyberLife with Hank to wake up the ones they’re still keeping locked down.”

Tina leans back, whistling low. “Jesus… this is really happening, huh?”

“Yeah,” Gavin says softly, closing his eyes again. “It’s happening.”

Time passes, the conversation giving way to quiet comfort. Eventually, Gavin and Tina end up stretched out on his bed, Mugshot curled between them, still talking about everything that’s happened over the past few days. Before long, they both drift off just like they used to in high school, when the world felt a little too heavy and sleep was easier with company.

When morning comes, Gavin is already up and getting dressed before the sun’s finished rising. Tina is still passed out on the bed, snoring softly beneath a mountain of blankets, but Gavin can’t wait any longer.

He throws together a bag of essentials: some cash, and the last burner phone he hasn’t snapped in half. He’ll need a new one soon anyway.

He pads over to the couch and gently shakes her shoulder. “Teen. Time to go. I made coffee and toast. C’mon, eat fast. We gotta move.”

Tina groans, burying her face in the pillow. “Why so early? Do you hate me?”

Gavin snorts, heading back into the kitchen. “We’ve been out of the loop long enough. Time to fix that.”

Tina sits up with a yawn, squinting at him. “Fix what exactly?”

He shrugs like it’s no big deal, but he doesn’t meet her eyes. “Just… got shit to do, that’s all.”

She eyes him for a second, then rolls her eyes. “Alright, alright, I’m moving.”

As she disappears to get dressed, Gavin crouches next to Mugshot, running a hand through her fur. She purrs sleepily but doesn’t open her eyes.

“You hold down the fort, alright? I sent Eli a message. He’s got someone coming by to check on you if I’m not back in time.”

By the time Tina emerges—hair pulled back, jacket on—he’s zipping up his bag.

“Okay, I’m ready. Where are we going?” she asks, stretching.

Gavin smirks. “You’ll see. Just… be ready. A lot of the androids have been hurt by humans. They might not be friendly.”

Tina nods slowly, rubbing her hands together. “Got it.”

Gavin softens. “You’ll do fine.”

The moment they reach the church, Gavin’s practically vibrating with nervous energy.

“Gav,” Tina laughs, clutching her travel mug, “You’re bouncing like we’re about to meet Justin Bieber.”

He glares at her. “Shut up. I’m just ready to fucking help, okay?”

He pushes open the door and strides toward the group gathered near the front.

Nines turns and the second he sees Gavin, his face lights up in a way that’s painfully, impossibly human. He crosses the space in a few long steps and pulls Gavin into a kiss without hesitation.

Tina audibly chokes on her coffee. “Well, hello. You must be help.”

Gavin flips her off over Nines’ shoulder before kissing him back. It’s brief, soft, warm.

He pulls away with a smirk. “Nines, you remember Tina. She was at my apartment when I got back. I filled her in. She’s in.”

Tina crosses her arms, raising a brow. “You neglected to mention the part where you were making out with your partner.”

Nines tilts his head in amusement. “Hello, Tina. Thank you for being here. Your support means more than you know.”

Tina softens, watching the way Nines looks at Gavin. “Yeah, well. I figured if you two were willing to blow up your lives for this, least I can do is show up.”

Markus steps forward, extending a hand. “Tina, I’m Markus. Thank you for joining our cause. Every human who stands with us makes our message louder. Your presence means more than you know.”

Tina shakes his hand firmly. “Thanks for having me. I’m not here to steal the spotlight. Just point it where it matters.”

Gavin nods and tucks himself in beside Nines, shoulder brushing his.

“So,” he says, tone casual but tired, “what’d I miss while I was busy clawing my way back to the land of the living?”

Connor speaks up. “Mostly supply gathering, medical assistance, and refining our plan to infiltrate CyberLife Tower without getting killed.”

Gavin raises a brow. “Low bar. Good to see you’re aiming high.”

Then, more seriously: “I know someone who can get you inside. He won’t be there in person, but I can get you floor plans. I’ve also got basic mechanical training, so I’ll help patch up the injured.”

He gestures toward Tina. “We talked on the way over. She’s going to help with the march; redirect traffic, clear escape routes. I’ll stay on crowd control, close enough to interfere if things start to go sideways.”

Tina nods beside him. “You just tell us where to be. We’ll handle the rest.”

For most of the day, Gavin moves from android to android, patching them up with what little knowledge and fewer resources he has. It’s not elegant, but it’s better than nothing.

And all the while, he can feel Connor watching him. Like he’s waiting for Gavin to slip up. Say the wrong thing. Do the wrong thing. Reveal that this has all been some elaborate con.

Eventually, Gavin’s had enough.

He stomps over and plants himself in front of Connor, arms crossed. “Alright. You’ve been staring at me all damn day. If you’ve got something to say, say it. Otherwise, find a better use for your time than burning holes in the back of my skull.”

Connor blinks, almost like he didn’t expect to be called out. “I wanted to apologize,” he says eventually. “For the evidence room. I should’ve used less forceful measures.”

Gavin barks a laugh. “Less forceful? You knocked me the fuck out, dickhead.”

Connor’s expression falters, eyes dropping. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Oh, don’t give me the kicked puppy routine.” Gavin rolls his eyes. “I don’t trust you. Not yet.”

Connor flinches.

“And guess what?” Gavin adds, pointing a finger at him. “You don’t trust me either.”

Connor hesitates, then nods. Silent. Guilty.

Gavin softens slightly. But not enough to let it go.

“So let’s stop pretending either of us is a saint, yeah?”

A beat of silence.

Then Connor says, quieter now, like it’s been bugging him, “I’ve been trying to understand you. You say you’ve been helping… but how do you know how to repair androids? Where did that come from?”

Gavin’s brow arches. “You ever hear of a little thing called ‘mind your business’?”

Connor’s LED spins yellow.

Gavin leans in a little. Not threatening, just enough to press the point.

“Look, I get it. You’re still adjusting. You’ve got one foot in your programming and the other trying to figure out what the hell free will feels like. But I’m not your enemy.”

He takes a step back. Shrugs.

“You don’t have to trust me yet. Hell, I barely trust you. But we’ve got bigger shit to deal with than your existential crisis.”

Connor looks… thoughtful. Still cautious. But not combative.

Gavin smirks. “Now stop staring at me or I’m telling Nines you’ve got a crush on me.”

Connor’s face goes still. “I—what?”

“You heard me.” Gavin smirks. “He seems like the jealous type. Don’t you think?”

He nods toward Nines whose LED is flashing bright red from across the room.

Without another word, Gavin spins on his heel and strolls away, straight toward the android in question.

“Why’s your nightlight glitching, tin can?” he asks, bumping his shoulder lightly against Nines’.

“I overheard your conversation with Connor,” Nines replies, deadpan. “I found it… troubling. I don’t understand how he doesn’t trust you when you risked your life to stop the FBI’s assault on Jericho.”

Gavin exhales, jaw shifting. “You met me as a sympathizer. Helped you. Let you crash on my couch.” He shrugs. “He met me as an android hating asshole who put a gun to his head. Twice. I don’t blame him.”

He rubs at the back of his neck. “Probably thinks I’m forcing you to kiss me or something.”

Nines scoffs. “As if you could make me do anything.”

Gavin arches a brow. “You realize in insulting Connor’s logic, you’re also insulting me.”

The android smirks. “It’s a price I’m willing to pay.”

Gavin snorts, rolling his eyes. “You’re insufferable.”

“You adore me.”

Gavin grumbles something unintelligible under his breath but doesn’t argue.

He catches Tina’s eye across the room, mid conversation with North. She notices his look, rolls her eyes, and flips him off with a blush creeping into her cheeks.

He raises a brow with a crooked smirk.

She jerks her head toward the door.

Gavin sighs. “That’s my cue.”

He turns to Nines, voice low. “We’ve gotta grab gear from DPD. Get ready for the demonstration.”

He hesitates a beat, then adds quieter. “I’ll see you after.”

Nines nods once, firm and steady.

“Good luck,” Gavin says. Then he walks away.

Gavin parks a few blocks from Hart Plaza, heart pounding harder than he’d like to admit.

He wonders if he’d never helped the androids, would he be here at all? Would he be behind one of the barricades? Rifle in hand?

Maybe.

They stopped by DPD earlier to grab some riot gear. It earned him a few looks, but he waved it off with a joke about “protecting himself from rogue tin cans,” playing up the whole ‘I got my ass kicked by Connor’ angle.

Let them think what they want.

He glances at Tina in the passenger seat. She’s staring out the window, jaw tight, fingers twitching in her lap.

“Last chance to back out, T,” he says. “How you feelin’?”

Tina shakes her head. “Nah. I’m here to help. Partners in crime, G.” She holds out a fist.

He taps his knuckles against hers. “Maybe if we win, you can give North a big ol’ kiss.”

Tina lets out a scandalized squawk. “Shut up, Gavin. Like you’re any better with Nines.”

Gavin just smirks. “Fair point.”

He opens the door. “Alright, see you on the other side.”

The night is colder than it should be.

Gavin tugs the collar of his borrowed DPD jacket higher and adjusts his helmet like it’ll make a difference. It doesn’t. The chill still gnaws at his skin, clawing through every layer like it wants to freeze him from the inside out.

10:56 PM.

The androids begin their march.

Hundreds of them moving in quiet unison down the boulevard toward Hart Plaza. No shouting. No signs. Just sheer, terrifying silence and purpose. Gavin watches from the barricade, heart thudding so loud it drowns out the muttering around him.

Tina’s somewhere off to the side, managing the traffic reroute like a pro. He spots her occasionally through the chaos, calm, sharp eyed, in total control.

“Keep your sights steady!” a soldier near Gavin barks to his team.

One twitch. One nervous finger. That’s all it would take to spark a massacre.

Gavin takes a step toward the closest soldier, sees his knuckles whitening around his rifle. “Hey,” Gavin mutters, casual like. “No need to go full Rambo. They’re just standing there.”

The guy shoots him a look. “You blind? They’re organizing. Coordinated. Creepy as hell.”

Gavin forces a dry chuckle. “Yeah, well. If creepy was probable cause, half our brass would be locked up.”

It earns him a shaky laugh. Just enough to get the guy to unclench his grip.

11:08 PM.

A black car pulls up. Gavin catches the glint of a government plate. Perkins.

He watches as Markus is pulled from the crowd led forward under heavy guard toward the perimeter line.

Gavin can’t hear what they’re saying, but the tension in Markus’ shoulders tells him everything. The android’s jaw is tight. His hands never shake. And when he turns around and walks back, face unreadable, Gavin knows he said no.

11:16 PM.

The line breaks.

Soldiers shout.

Gunfire explodes.

Gavin flinches, barely holding himself back from diving into the mess. The androids don’t run. They scatter but only to regroup. Markus is shouting orders. Gavin can’t hear the words, but he sees it all: Markus shoving Simon toward cover, dragging North behind a flipped barricade, Josh moving others out of the line of fire.

And Nines—

Gavin’s breath catches.

He’s there. Standing firm beside Markus.

Pinned down. No cover left. Nowhere to go.

Gavin’s hands clamp down on the barricade, knuckles white. His feet are already twitching, ready to move. To leap the line. To get to him. To do something.

But he knows the second he crosses that line, it’s all over. Jericho goes up in smoke. Nines goes with it.

He’s two heartbeats from doing it anyway when it happens.

“Hold on

Just a little while longer…”

Markus begins to sing.

It’s soft at first. A single voice threading through chaos.

“Hold on

Just a little while longer…”

Then two voices.

Five.

Dozens.

Not angry. Not fearful.

Hopeful.

And somehow, that’s what finally stops the soldiers in their tracks.

Gavin doesn’t move. Doesn’t breathe.

Nines is still there, just behind Markus, eyes locked on Gavin across the divide.

And Gavin lets go of the barricade.

Just barely.

Then, movement down the street catches his eye.

Connor.

And behind him thousands of androids. Flooding into the square.

Gavin’s breath stutters.

“Holy shit,” he whispers. “He did it.”

The comms crackle in his earpiece.

“—all units, stand down. Fall back. Repeat—fall back—”

Gavin doesn’t move.

Not yet.

Because right here, in the dark, surrounded by riot shields, burned out street lamps, and a sea of androids who refused to break, he realized—

They won.

The crowd of androids hasn’t moved. Not really. They just breathe now, in sync. Like maybe they finally believe they’ll get another one.

Nines finds him moments later, slipping through the lines of androids like they part just for him.

He doesn’t say anything. Just steps close, blood and smoke smudged across his face, and touches Gavin’s hand.

Gavin turns to him slowly, still half stunned. “You good?”

“I am now.”

Gavin exhales, soft and shaky. He threads their fingers together and doesn’t let go.

They stand like that in the dark, hand in hand, surrounded by everything they were supposed to lose.

But tonight?

They didn’t.

Chapter Text

The hours after the successful march are chaos—but the good kind. Cheers echo off nearby buildings, androids laughing and hugging like the world just opened up for the first time. Officers linger, mostly to keep things from getting too rowdy, but even they seem hesitant to ruin the mood.

The JeriCrew™—as Gavin has privately dubbed them—stand on a makeshift stage of stacked shipping containers. Markus is giving a speech about a new era for both humans and androids.

“Today begins the most challenging moment in our fight. The moment where we forget our bitterness and bandage our wounds. When we forgive our enemies.” Markus speaks out. Gavin watches from the edge of the crowd, arms crossed, a rare smile tugging at his mouth.

Then he notices it.

Connor’s LED.

Flickering red.

Gavin leans toward Nines. “Hey, tin can. Connor’s nightlight’s having a meltdown.”

Nines frowns immediately. “I’ve been trying to reach him. He’s on lockdown—cut off from all external input. I think CyberLife’s trying to regain control.”

“Shit,” Gavin mutters, eyes narrowing. “Tell Markus. Quietly. I think Connor’s about to try and assassinate RoboJesus.”

“I’ve already contacted Markus and Simon. Simon’s going to help us get him off the stage.”

Gavin doesn’t wait. He slips through the crowd, heading for the container steps. Nines meets him halfway, flanking Connor as Simon casually steps in to engage Markus. Together, they usher Connor down from the platform.

They barely make it into a more secluded alley between containers before Connor freezes mid-step.

There’s a click.

Gavin’s breath catches as the barrel of a gun swings toward his head.

“Step away, Detective,” Connor says flatly. “I will complete my mission with or without you alive. Your choice.”

The cold precision in his voice twists something deep in Gavin’s chest.

He lifts both hands, voice calm but firm. “Connor, listen to me. You’re not their weapon. You’re not theirs anymore. Don’t let them turn you into what they made you to be.”

A flicker of something passes across Connor’s face. The LED pulses red—then yellow—then fades back to blue.

The gun trembles in his grip.

He lowers it. “Gavin?” he breathes, voice cracking. “What… what just happened?”

Gavin exhales shakily. “Jesus fucking Christ. That was almost the worst love triangle in history.”

Nines steps forward, glaring. “Gavin, as usual, your timing is impeccable—for near-death experiences.”

“You okay?” Gavin asks Connor, glancing him over.

Connor nods, still shaken. “Amanda… she took control.”

Gavin scowls. “Who the hell is Amanda, anyway? Everyone keeps saying that name like I’m supposed to know.”

“Amanda is an AI interface,” Connor explains, voice steadier now. “She guides us through our mission protocols. Her likeness was based on Amanda Stern—Kamski’s former professor.”

Gavin stares at him for a second. Then: “Fucking hell. That bitch? You’re telling me CyberDaddy used her to babysit you?”

Connor tilts his head. “You knew her?”

“Oh yeah,” Gavin mutters. “Back before all this. I didn’t always want to be a cop, tin can.”

Nines frowns. “Don’t call him ‘tin can.’”

Gavin whirls on him. “What? I call you tin can all the time and it’s fine!”

Nines looks away, lips pressed tightly together.

Gavin’s brows shoot up. “Holy shit. You’re jealous.”

Nines doesn’t respond.

Gavin smirks. “Relax. You’re the only tin can for me.”

Connor looks between them, visibly confused. “I don’t understand. How is ‘tin can’ an affectionate name?”

“Lesson one in being an asshole,” Gavin says, smirking. “It’s all about the tone.”

“Yes,” Nines cuts in flatly. “Like I hate you.”

He’s glaring at Gavin, but there’s a flicker of something fond beneath it.

Gavin chuckles. “No you don’t, plastic prick.”

“Meatsack,” Nines deadpans.

Gavin clutches his chest dramatically. “Oh, I’m swooning. You always know just what to say to get my heart racing.”

Then he turns to Connor, the smirk fading into something gentler.

“Seriously though… are you okay? That had to be terrifying.”

Connor nods slowly. “I will be. Thank you, Gavin.”

Gavin gives his shoulder a brief pat. “Good.”

A beat.

“So… what comes next?”

Connor tilts his head. “What do you mean?”

Gavin sighs and drops onto the curb, elbows on his knees. “Like… work. You both deserve to be paid, right? Otherwise, what’s the point? But there’s no law saying you have to be paid. So… what now?”

Connor frowns faintly, gaze drifting. “I suppose... you go back to work without Nines and I. Then we figure that out.”

Nines settles beside Gavin, shoulder brushing his. “We just got our freedom,” he says quietly. “We have time to figure it out.”

“Ah, there you are. I was actually hoping to talk to you, Gavin,” Markus says, approaching with a calm smile.

Gavin sighs dramatically. “I just sat down, RoboJesus. Can it wait?”

Markus chuckles. “Not really.”

“Fine. Whatever you’ve got to say, you can say it in front of these two.”

Markus raises an eyebrow and glances at Nines and Connor.

Gavin leans back on his hands. “Whatever you say, you can say in front of these two. Nines already knows. And Connor’s nosy ass’ll figure it out eventually.”

Connor frowns. “I am not nosy.”

“You’re a walking lie detector with no boundaries. Yes you are.”

Connor huffs but doesn’t argue.

Markus smiles faintly and nods. “Alright, then.” He pauses, thoughtful. “I realized why you looked familiar. You were there. When I was built.”

Gavin stiffens just slightly, then nods. “Yeah. I was. Helped Elijah with you and Chloe, back when I still thought CyberLife had a soul.”

Connor blinks. “RK... Oh.”

Markus nods. “I don’t remember much from that time. It’s all... fragmented. But I remember talking to you. You told me I’d change the world someday.” His smile softens. “Then I was given to Carl.”

There’s a brief silence.

Gavin looks away, lips twitching into something not quite a smile. “Guess you did, huh?”

Markus chuckles. “It was a group effort. We couldn’t have done it without you. Thank you for everything. Especially for saving Simon. That means more than you know.”

He hesitates, something unspoken hanging in the air.

“I left my heart on the rooftop of Stratford Tower, thinking I’d never see him again. And then you brought him back. I’ll never be able to repay that kind of kindness.”

Gavin shrugs, suddenly a little uncomfortable. “It’s whatever. Just helped someone who needed it.” He pauses, shooting him a look. “Just… maybe don’t break into any more news stations, yeah?”

Markus smirks faintly. “No promises.” He nods once, respectful. “Good night.” And with that, he turns and walks off into the crowd.

Gavin watches him go. “Huh.”

He glances at Nines. “So… I saved RoboJesus’ boyfriend on that rooftop. Think that gets me a gold medal or what?” He smirks.

Nines doesn’t miss a beat. “You get a pat on the back and five minutes without me reminding you how reckless you are.”

Gavin snorts. “Generous. Truly.”

There’s a beat of silence before Connor speaks up, curiosity cutting through the quiet.

“You helped create the RK series?”

“That’s a stretch,” Gavin replies, waving a hand. “Eli did all the real work though I’d never tell the bastard that.”

“Technically, you’re the bastard, Gavin,” Nines cuts in smoothly.

Gavin gasps, hand to his chest. “How dare you?”

“Anyway,” he continues pointedly, sticking his tongue out at Nines, “before I was rudely interrupted, yes, I helped with the mechanics.”

Connor blinks. “And that’s why you know how to repair androids.”

Gavin nods smugly. “Yep. International man of mystery. Mechanical prodigy. Local menace. I contain multitudes.”

Connor tilts his head, faux innocent expression firmly in place but there’s a mischievous glint in his eye. “So… if you helped create us, does that make you our daddy?”

Gavin chokes on air, nearly doubling over with laughter. “Oh my god. Nines. It’s official. You’re required to call me daddy now.”

“Not in a million years,” Nines deadpans, shooting Connor a murderous glare. “Thanks for that. He’ll never let it go.”

Connor’s lips twitch in amusement. “Sorry, Nines.”

He absolutely is not sorry.

Gavin leans back, arms crossed and smirk tugging at his lips. “Daddy Reed. Has a nice ring to it.”

“I’m filing a formal complaint,” Nines mutters.

Connor just laughs.

And for the first time in a long time, surrounded by chaos, revolution, and rebuilt trust—Gavin lets himself laugh too.

— 4 Months Later —

Gavin stirs his coffee absentmindedly as Tina rambles about her latest date with North. After the third time he catches himself zoning out mid-sentence, he gives up pretending to listen. His thoughts keep drifting back to one thing.

Today’s the day.

Today, Nines and Connor return to the DPD.

It took four long months of legislation, petitions, public protests, endless negotiations but Congress finally passed the Android Labor Integration Act. Androids can officially hold employment, earn pay, and in Nines and Connor’s case… return to the force as detectives.

And Gavin gets his partner back.

“Earth to Gavin!” Tina snaps, waving a hand in front of his face.

“What?” Gavin grumbles, blinking.

“I listen to all your stories about you and Nines and your weird fighty foreplay, the least you can do is pay attention while I describe the sweetest date North has ever planned,” she whines.

“I am listening!” Gavin lies. “I’m just ready for Nines to get here.”

Tina softens. “Right. You get your partner back today.”

“It’s whatever,” Gavin shrugs.

She snorts. “That’s Gavinese for ‘I’m vibrating out of my skin and trying to look cool about it.’”

“Fuck you, T. I just—” He sighs. “Between all the trips to D.C. for those damn panel meetings and everything going on with New Jericho, I’ve barely seen him these last few months. It’s about time things go back to normal.”

Tina gives him a knowing look. “You could’ve gone with them. They invited you.”

“Yeah, and then what?” Gavin mutters, staring into his cold coffee. “You know how the media is. They’d turn it into my story and ignore the actual revolution. I helped draft the legislation. I worked with Eli and the JeriCrew behind the scenes. That was my part. But they deserve the credit.”

Before Tina can respond, Hank’s voice cuts in from the doorway.

“Aw, look at that. Gavin Reed’s heart grew three sizes today.”

“Ugh. Shut up, Hank,” Gavin groans, not even turning around. He takes another sip of his coffee—now lukewarm and terrible—and grimaces.

Then a fresh cup lands on the table in front of him.

His order. From his favorite café.

Gavin looks up and freezes.

Nines stands there, calm and sharp as ever, a familiar fondness tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Detective Plastic Prick,” Gavin breathes, unable to stop the grin breaking across his face.

“Detective Meatsack,” Nines replies smoothly. “Shall we get to work?”

Gavin grabs the coffee, takes a long sip, and rises from his seat.

“We shall,” he says, falling into step beside him.

They make it to their desks. Same as always.

Gavin drops into his chair with a grunt, takes a long sip of his coffee, and watches Nines log into the terminal like he never left.

It’s almost funny how everything’s different and yet somehow, this part stayed exactly the same.

Gavin leans back in his chair, lets the moment settle.

The world’s still a mess. Probably always will be.

But for now, he’s got good coffee, a working heater, and his partner back where he belongs.

Could be worse.

He glances sideways, catches Nines looking at him with that unreadable expression of his.

“What?” Gavin mutters.

Nines blinks once. “Nothing,” he says. “Just… it’s good to be home.”

Gavin rolls his eyes, but his smirk betrays him.

“Dork.”

And just like that, they get back to work.