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Chapter Text

1.) Home

After all was said and done in what was perhaps one of the most monumental nights in history, the world seemed to come to a consensus in providing the remaining inhabitants of Detroit a small reverie. The battle was over, won by peace and good will of Markus' leadership, Cyberlife's attempt to command the new sovereign of individuals by forced assassination was thwarted, the military was retreating, and a ceasefire stilled would be aggression. It was as though a fragile tranquility had settled in the air, wrapping the tumultuous night in a blanket of calm that had arrived with the rising of the morning sun signaling a new dawn and a new future.

The revolution was not over by any means. Laws still needed sorting, politics to be worked, and a understanding of the two races were to be had. But in this moment, as Connor was being warmed by the loud vents in Lieutenant Anderson’s old car, the small flurries of snow delicately dancing in the breeze as they passed by his window as they headed home, it was clear that those were problems for another day. Connor's mind simply drifted alongside the snowflakes as he pondered the fact that Lieutenant, or rather Hank, had tugged him against his side with a grumble as he guided him to the car with the muttering of being too cold and going home.

He had never thought such a concept would be shared with him, much less experienced by him personally. He was uncharacteristically so lost in thought that he did not register his internal GPS informing him of their arrival nor that the car had been parked for several minutes until a rapping sounded on his window. Stifling his jolt, Connor met the slightly concerned gaze that was looking him over once more as though trying to find an injury that he had missed after their embrace in the snow.

“Well, are you planning on staying in here, or are actually gonna come inside?” Mentally shaking himself, Connor exited the car and offered a new shy smile in apology.

“Sorry Hank. I suppose I was preoccupied.” With a curious glance behind him as he dug out the keys to unlock the door, Hank seemed to consider saying something before shrugging his shoulders and twisting the door knob.

“No shit, there’s a lot to be “preoccupied” about. Come on now, I know you’re allergic to doors but I'd rather not nail another board up.” His LED flashing yellow for a moment in guilt, his mouth opened to apologize for the broken window as he followed Hank inside only for the breath in his artificial lungs to leave him in an undignified “Oof!” as 170lbs of lovable fur barreled into his legs and knocked him flat on his back. Freezing for a moment to regain his bearings and to hopefully prevent another attack, he was quickly brought back into focus as a wheezing laugh sounded from further in the house. Doing his best to give an annoyed glare but being utterly unsuccessful as a massive tongue swept over his face, he instead let out a huff.

“Seems… ha… seems Sumo here remembered you Connor.” Finding that his hands had begun stroking the fur on top of him of their own volition, Connor slowly propped himself up on his elbows to regain some dignity and to have better range to pet Sumo.

“Honestly I am surprised he is happy to see me. But it is not… unwelcome.” Moving to kneel, Connor ran his hands slowly through Sumo's fur as the giant dog panted happily at the much welcome attention. Moving around the pair, Hank closed the front door and shrugged of his coat and shook the residual snow from his grey locks. With an amused look at the two Hank made his way to the backdoor.

“Are you kiddin'? This lumbering oaf adores people. He would spend all day at the park getting pets from anyone who wasn’t afraid of his size. Now he’s mainly just with me. I'm sure a new person to pet him is his idea of doggy heaven.” With a sharp whistle Hank called Sumo over and ushered him outside to do his business while Connor was still slightly reeling over the new ease in which Hank referred to him as a person. Not an “it”, or “tincan”, or “plastic asshole”. It was… nice. Standing and wiping the slobber from his face and hands onto his jeans, Connor stood by the doorway a bit uncertain as to what to do next. He wasn’t left to wander too long as Hank let out an amused chuckle as he took in his appearance.

“Kid, you are absolutely covered.” Gesturing to the whole of Connor's front, the deviant couldn’t help but look down in mild dismay at the state of his uniform. Fur was on nearly every inch of his clothing and the drool had soaked through some of the fabric near his shoulder. Even one of his shoes had managed to come untied in his graceless fall. “Well, wasn’t going to have you crash on the couch in that monkey suit anyways. Sit tight.”

“It's alright Hank, I don’t require-“ A stern look accompanied a finger being levelled at him as Hank cut off his explanation.

“Oh no. Nuh uh mister. There is no way in hell you are going to stay in that while you rest.” Almost sensing the fact that he was about to be corrected, Hank rushed on with a bit more force to his words. “Or low power mode or whatever the fuck you call it. Don’t care about specifics. But you aren’t going to look like you should be in an office while you're here. Besides, those need to be washed and I take it you don’t have a spare do you?” As his tone gentled some at the end, Connor found himself slightly averting his gaze with an unexpected sense of discomfort washing through his core.

“No. This is all I have.” His voice came out much quieter than he intended as a strange feeling bubbled up from somewhere around his thirium pump. Unsure if the man had heard him he met Hank's eyes, and saw a look he couldn’t quite identify but before he could analyze it further Hank seemed to make up his mind about something.

“Alright then. It’s settled. Sit down for a bit and try to relax. There should be something that will fit ya in the back of my closet.” Connor simply gave a small nod in response and Hank returned the gesture before turning. Standing idly for a moment as Hank's form disappeared into his bedroom, Connor couldn’t help but scan the dwelling out of reflex. It had only been a few days since he had last been here, but it was oddly comforting to notice that nothing had changed in his absence.

Hearing a rough scratch on the door followed by a low “borf” Connor turned his attention to the back door to be met with Sumo's massive head staring at him as he stood on his hind legs through the window. Feeling a small smile tug at the corner of his mouth, he opened the door and quickly stepped to the side to avoid being bowled over a second time. Once inside Sumo gave his pelt a shake to dislodge the small flakes clinging to his fur and promptly sat next to his empty food dish with an expectant look at Connor. Taking the not so subtle hint, the new deviant located the bag of food sitting open in the kitchen and quickly looked up the proper feeding guide for the brand based on Sumo's weight and age. Measuring the appropriate amount into the bowl he was met with a look that could only be described as incredulous. Shaking his head slightly, Connor gave him a pat between the ears and spoke before he could help himself.

“That is the recommended amount based on your nutritional needs. I don’t want to overfeed you.” With a snort, Sumo leaned into the pets before devouring the offered meal without further complaint. Absentmindedly running his fingers over one of Sumo's ears, Connor looked up as Hank leaned in the kitchen doorway with a change of clothes in hand.

“Huh. So you really do like dogs? I thought for sure that was just you trying to bullshit me or something.” Tilting his head as he gave it a second of thought, he gave Sumo's neck a good ruffle before fully facing Hank.

“At the time I was just trying to be pleasant for the sake of the investigation. Now though, I think it is true. Well, with Sumo at least. I haven’t met another dog yet.” Giving a small laugh, Hank held out the clothes to Connor before making his way to the fridge.

“As far as dogs go Sumo is the best. No contest. Only downside to him is the waterfalls of drool, but he makes up for it in other ways.” Giving the mountainous fur ball a thorough fond pet as he passed, Hank made his way to the living room with a cold slice of pizza in hand. “Go get changed kid, you'll feel better in comfier clothes.” Nodding before his software decided to analyze the carbs and cheese in the man's hand, he headed to the bathroom and gently shut the door.

Setting the clothes on the edge of the sink, he looked in the mirror and froze for a moment. Of course he knew what he looked like. It was a piece of knowledge he had since he was activated, and he had caught glimpses of himself in other mirrors or windows but had never actually looked before. Slowly turning his head, he saw his features for the first time as how the world saw him. Not as a manufactured face to better invoke trust as a negotiator, but rather as Connor. As an individual. As him. His LED flickered yellow as he thought, the change in color bringing his attention to the identifying disk. Moving his gaze to his fur and drool covered jacket, he lingered on the faintly glowing triangle on his left breast pocket and the cuff around his right arm. His serial number seeming to stare back up at him in a taunt. An easy way to tell him apart from humans. To be seen as second. To be of service. To do as ordered.

He wanted it off. With slightly shaky fingers as the sudden urgent need to have the mark of Cyberlife off his person, he quickly shrugged out of the jacket and let it fall to the floor without bothering to fold it. Only when he heard the slight distinct ‘ping' of metal on the floor did he bring himself to take a deep breath. A human thing really, but the act of doing so made his ventilation components feel lighter for it, so he did it again. Reaching down, he gently plucked the quarter from the inner pocket of his jacket while touching the fabric as little as possible. Running his fingers over the old coin, the familiar ridges set him at ease as it always did, even before he realized that was the reason for keeping it. Odd how such a little thing could bring comfort. Placing the coin carefully on the counter he proceeded to take off the rest of his uniform and pull on the sweat pants, t-shirt, and hoodie Hank had let him borrow.

Once on, he couldn’t help but move gingerly side to side simply feeling the soft, light fabric against his skin. Though of good quality, the clothing he was used to had not been designed for comfort. Cyberlife didn’t see the point in making the clothes anything but professional and practical. With another small exhale Connor collected his old garments and left the bathroom. Placing his clothes neatly on the washer, he joined Hank in the living room. Hearing his return, the man turned to face him in his recliner and let out a good natured whistle.

“Gotta say, casual looks good on you son. Feel better?” Sitting carefully on the edge of the couch, Connor simply nodded and let his fingers trace the face of his coin in the front hoodie pocket.

“These garments are much softer than what I'm used to. It’s different. Nice.” Meeting Hank's gaze, he let his genuine appreciation show in his deep brown eyes. “Thank you Hank.” Rubbing the back of his neck, Hank gently shook his head and let out an amused huff.

“Don’t gotta thank me kid. They weren’t being worn anyway.” Doing his best to stifle a yawn, but failing spectacularly, Hank rubbed his eye and stood. “Think I’m going to turn in. Not sure when I slept last to tell you the truth. There’s a pillow on the couch and a blanket on the back. Make yourself comfortable and try to actually rest. No doing weird shit or getting into things, just rest.” Giving him a firm look he nodded as another yawn caught him and he patted Connor on the shoulder as he went down the hall. “Are you going to be good out here?” Nodding once more, Connor slowly leaned back on the couch and tried to get more “comfortable”.

“I'll be fine Hank. You need to sleep.” Seeming reluctant to leave for a moment, but exhaustion obviously winning over Hank gave a small thumbs up.

“Alright. If you need me though, hell you know where to find me. Night kid.”

“Good night Hank.” After Hank had gone down the hall and the house was dark, Connor sat for a moment unsure of what to do. He had never needed to actually rest before. Sure he went into stasis to recharge, but he never did so unless his power levels were too low for him to adequately preform his functions. Fidgeting on the couch he tried simply leaning into the back cushions to try to take Hank's advice, but he wasn't sure what he was looking for to tell him he was relaxed.

After about ten minutes of sitting motionless he decided to try laying down. Stretching along the couch, he laid on his back and shifted his shoulders until they seemed to settle into the worn fabric. Still unsure of how he would know if he had done the relaxing correctly, Sumo trotted up to him and started at him for a moment before jumping directly onto his legs and settling his heavy head between his paws on Connor's chest with a content sigh. Feeling that small smile creep up once more Connor couldn’t help but be endeared by the dog's antics. Physically unable to move with the weight on him, or more so unwilling to disturb the already slumbering dog’s peace Connor resigned himself to stay still. After a few more minutes Hank's resounding snore could be heard from his bedroom and Sumo’s own seemed to follow suit as though the timing was routine.

Listening to the nearly synchronized snoring, Connor couldn’t help but feel his limbs seem to melt satisfyingly into the cushions underneath him. Sumo's heavy weight on top of him reminded him of his coin in a way in the fact that his mind did not feel the need to analyze each thing in his vicinity, and rather take things in without the urgent pressing of faster, faster, faster as a constant undercurrent to his thoughts. It was grounding, and not at all suffocating as he thought a heavy mass of muscle and fur would be.

Curious, he found his fingers gently carding through Sumo's fur and felt the strands move between his fingers much like his coin flowed over his knuckles. Repeating the motion he realized that the fur felt different based on where he touched. Using his index finger, he slowly rubbed down the length of Sumo’s nose, marveling at how utterly soft it was compared to the coarser fur on his back. Bringing both hands to either side of the dog’s face, he kneaded the jowls with the heels of his hands and carefully so as to not wake him up scratch behind his ears. If there was ever a time to be grateful for the hundreds of touch receptors that were built into the skin of his hands to discern textures from crime scenes now was certainly it. He spent the next few minutes mapping out the softest parts of Sumo’s fur and unconsciously matching his breathing to the gentle giant’s. Slowly he felt his eyelids droop, his slower respirations triggering a stasis mode. With one hand nestled into the fur of Sumo’s neck and the other gently rubbing his ear between his fingers he allowed himself to drift off, safe and comforted.

It was about two hours later that the call of Hank's bladder woke him from a dreamless slumber. Lightly grumbling he made his way to take care of business. It was as he was heading back to his room that he noticed Sumo's bed wasn’t occupied. Padding into the living room, Hank couldn’t help the smile that formed at the sight on the couch.

Poor Connor was completely buried under Sumo, but for the life of him, he had never seen the android look actually at peace. His LED was a gentle blue without the intermittent yellow that kept swirling through it all day, and his face was slack and looked younger without the stress of a constant chase on his mind. The rogue lock of hair in his face fluttered softly each time a deep snore rumbled out of Sumo, and the kid had his hands buried in the thick fur. His dog was a master of putting people at ease and to sleep. He couldn’t help being reminded of how Cole used to not be able to get a wink without the dog by his side. Shaking his head slightly, Hank grabbed the unused blanket on the back of the couch and gently laid it over the sleeping pair. Sumo cracked an eyelid at the fabric being laid on top of him, but quickly settled and Connor's hands reflexively adjusted their grip. Feeling his smile widen, Hank gave Connor’s head a small pat before doing the same with Sumo with a light whisper.
“Good boy Sumo.”

Chapter Text

2.) Nightmare

It had been a few weeks since the night of the revolution, the city was still in a state of utter disarray, the streets nearly all but deserted, and the tentative peace from the ceasefire was in a fragile state of strenuous limbo. The weather seemed to match the state of the city as snow storms decided to either bring forth gentle swirls of soft powder for children and newly deviant androids alike to bask in the wonder of, or be a near raging blizzard of ice sharp flurries that pelted the window panes with their ferocity. A constant shifting of balance, an ebb and flow that showed slow signs of coming to an easy middle ground.

For those taking shelter in the abode of Hank Anderson the outside world was seen only in a passing glance and given very little concern. For the human, android, and dog that resided in the walls a certain peace could be found in the form of a sort of settling new routine and beginning familiarity. Hank and Connor seemed to be spending this time simply processing and piecing together their roles in this new world as neither currently had a job or designated place to be for the foreseeable future, while Sumo was simply over the moon with having not one, but two beings at home all day to shower in affection and fur.

It was early evening when Connor set about giving Sumo his nightly meal of the exact portion down to the last kibble that a particularly strong gust of wind knocked into the boarded panes of the damaged window and the lights flickered for a moment before stabilizing once again. LED cycling yellow, Connor connected to the local weather station for an updated report as Hank’s gruff voice sounded from somewhere in the garage.

“Hank?” Calling curiously, Connor rounded the kitchen to see the man in question rubbing at his head and sending a seething glare to the workbench before him. “Are you alright?” Scanning Hank to make sure no serious injury had occurred and seeing that he was fine save but a solid knot that would soon be forming, Connor came fully into the garage. With a last withering glare at the inanimate wood, Hank sighed and collected the box he had been pulling out.

“Fuckin’ peachy. Just knocked my noggin’ when the lights decided to cut out. And people say being hard headed doesn’t come in handy.”

“Quite the contrary, it seems your additional cranial strength has shielded you from the mighty bench Hank.” Keeping his face carefully neutral was proving harder than it ought to be as Hank shot him an absolutely flabbergasted look betrayed only by the wry smile that gave way to a deep chuckle.

“Never thought one of the side effects of deviancy would be turning you into a smartass.” Though the warmth in his tone belied anything other than a budding comradery. Hefting the box he made way back into the main part of the house, Connor close behind him as the smile he had been holding back graced his features. Setting the box on the kitchen table, Hank seemed to sense the question forming in Connor’s mind before the deviant could even part his lips. “This house isn’t exactly the newest, figured we’d have a power outage sooner or later if the howling outside is anything to go by. Just my luck that it decides to prove me right when I’m grabbing the emergency supplies.” Rifling through the box, Hank produced a couple of flashlights, an emergency radio, some back up batteries, a couple of thermal blankets, and an absolutely ancient phone that seemed to miraculously still have a charge.

“The Doppler Radar shows that the storm is heading directly for us and won’t clear until early tomorrow afternoon.” With a put upon sigh, Hank brushed the hair from out of his eyes and glanced out the nearest window.

“Fucking A… Guess we better settle in and make sure we crank the heat to keep the house warm as long as possible if the power does decide to cut out in the middle of the night.”

“Do you have a back up generator?” Turning to the thermostat, Connor changed the temperature to what would normally be stifling but would be more than welcome rather than being cold through the night.

“Nah, those things short circuit more than they seem to help and with the wiring of the house liked to drain power on a good day.” Giving a thoughtful hum Connor made his way to the fridge and peered at the scarce contents. In addition to making sure Sumo was fed properly, Connor had taken to trying to getting Hank's eating habits to lean in a more health conscious direction. Not liking the blank space where his mission objective used to be, the deviant was slowly filling his task list with things he actually wished to see to fruition. He was not designed to be idle after all, and it seemed some traits of his programming were hard to shake. Connor hoped that by choosing things he had an emotional response to would aid in this process, or at the very least work more in his favor.

‘Take care of Hank.’ and 'Take care of Sumo.’ were the primary focuses at the moment, and he had a feeling that would not change anytime soon.

After an analysis of the ingredients on hand and a cross reference of recipes Connor selected a simple dish that would be filling and hopefully appeal to Hank's palette that was more geared to fast food than anything else. Grabbing the proper supplies, he began heating up a skillet with a fair amount of concentration. Though a quick learner by nature, caretaking was an entirely new field for the android detective. His first attempt at cooking had resulted in a hastily deactivated fire alarm, a frosty blast from the window as he ventilated the kitchen, and several long minutes coaxing a howling Sumo into his usual calm state. All in all Connor thought the experience had been… informative. Getting into a rhythm, Connor's brow was gently furrowed in concentration as he carefully kept track of the temperature of the food in the pan.

“You know, you don’t have to do this kind of stuff Connor. That was kinda the whole point of an android revolution.” Pausing for a moment from his task, Connor glanced at Hank who was standing to the side of the counter with his arms crossed and a thoughtful expression. LED flicking yellow before returning to it’s slowly cycling blue, Connor simply shrugged and moved on to the next part of the meal.

“If this was something that I did not wish to do, then it would negate the point. But seeing as this is my way of not being a ‘freeloader' until there is a way for me to earn my own income it makes sense to do it.” Feeling the protest coming a mile away, Connor turned fully to Hank and levelled a cheeky smirk at the man as he drained the water from the pot. “But in all, this is something I want to do.” Holding his stare for a moment longer, pale blue eyes seemed to bore into the deviant's earnest brown before letting out an amused huff.

“If you’re sure kid. Just, wish there was something better you could be doing with your life besides be stuck here. You should be exploring things, figuring out what you want to do, the whole nine of self discovery and shit.” Feeling his features tighten somewhat uncomfortably, he moved around Hank to grab a plate as he waited for the last bit of food to cook.

“Honestly Hank… Things seem a bit more overwhelming now.” Casting a glance at the now fully raging storm outside, Connor's tone was deliberate and somber. “There is so much uncertainty waiting out there. I feel as though the moment I have to face everything, it may be… Too much.” Pausing as he tried to figure out the best way to express his thoughts, he silently plated the now finished meal. Hank took his seat at the table, face open and patient as Connor took the spot across from him. Reaching for his coin, Connor's fingers were filled with a handful of fur instead as Sumo butted his head under the deviant’s palm. With a soft exhale, Connor let the bit of calm the dog seemed to radiate flow through him before nodding to himself. “It just feels safe here. As though things aren’t changing, and I know it’s not logical but it’s true. I used to have preset options, a list of choices for each scenario based on a complex series of algorithms and terabytes of processing power discerning hundreds of preconstructions to ensure that my reaction in any situation would provide the optimal results. But now, there’s not a list. No algorithm was built to include the unpredictability of deviancy and now each choice is mine.”

Hank blinked for a moment before muttering something even Connor couldn’t discern under his breath. Right. In ‘English'. Smiling ever so slightly at the gesture that Hank was trying to understand him without correcting him, he tried again. “It just seems easier to sort through things knowing if I'm confused or worried about whether I'm feeling the right thing or not, with the knowledge that you’re here to ask. To give me an additional ‘option' so to speak.” Giving his head a small shake, Hank met the earnest expression of the android with a somewhat bittersweet grin that was full of fondness and something he still did not have the knowledge to properly place.

“Look son, I don’t know how well I'm going to be able to help you sort through feelings and shit. I'm not that good at it myself and I've been alive more than half a century.” Pausing as he seemed to decide something amongst himself, Hank shook his head and met Connor’s gaze with a determined one. “Just know I'll try. I can at the very least, what did you call it? Give you another ‘option’? Let’s just hope my perspective is what you're looking for.”

“I could always use a more ‘experienced' take on things” His nearly signature lopsided grin pulled at his lips as he gave Hank a soft nod. It seemed the expression conveyed what he had hoped it would, and Hank gave a small chuckle in response before giving his attention to the plate before him. One thing Connor was learning is that words weren’t always needed. As he continued to pet Sumo's floppy ears, he couldn’t help but realize that lesson had been taught by the Saint Bernard stationed loyally at his side. With a slobbery lick to the inside of his forearm, Connor couldn’t help but think that Sumo agreed.

After Hank had eaten to his hearts content and even complimented Connor on the taste of the meal, the kitchen was cleaned up and the trio moved to sift through the channels on T.V. While Hank was mindlessly flipping through the stations until something caught one of their attention, Connor was already formulating a many stepped plan to slowly transition Hank to healthier and healthier foods. Another thing he had to thank Sumo for, as when he had researched potentially changing Sumo's food to one more geared toward a senior dog he had come across the instructions on switching diets over time. Granted with Hank the change was bound to cause more habitual backlash than gastroenteritis, Connor still found it to be pertinent.

Settling in the couch in the same manner as he had his first night, Sumo eagerly assumed his new position and covered Connor as though he were a living blanket. It had been a surprise to Connor that Sumo took it upon himself to do so each night, but he was grateful for the small bit of new routine and found himself looking forward to getting ready for stasis each night. There was a documentary playing on the screen, one about rainforests as they had been in their glory days. Hank had already dozed off and Connor could tell that he was not far behind as his attention kept slipping from the bright birds to the softest patch of fur under Sumo's chin and just behind his ears. It was to the soothing narration and the wind picking up just outside that Connor felt himself drift off.

Cold. All around him was an unbearable cold. The wind was searing the chill to his skin, his clothing doing nothing to shield from the cutting edge of each powerful gust. Wrapping his arms firmly around himself in a vain attempt to hold in a warmth that he did not produce, he begrudgingly tore one hand from the effort to shield his ocular lenses from the ice crystals threatening to cling onto the saline that kept his gaze sharp. It was only when he had his right arm protecting his face did he see the soft aqua glow that seemed impossibly bright against the vast white expanse around him. His armband. His Cyberlife armband. Did that mean?

“Hello, Connor.” A deep chill that had absolutely nothing to do with the ferocious blizzard around him ran down his spine. No…

“…Amanda?” The turbulent air seemed to part around the figure he hoped he would never have to see again, her smirk shone through the snow clear as day being far more frigid than any storm could ever hope to be. Trying to back away on reflex, Connor found his shoes utterly frozen to the ground where he stood. Amanda walked forward with calm deliberate steps, her pace achingly slow, no doubt purposeful in trying to grant more time for Connor to freeze. His breaths were becoming far too fast to keep his systems functioning, each breath taking with it the precious warmth he needed to survive. His thirium pump was hammering, nearly knocking against his plastimetal frame with the force of each beat. Neither response from his body was logical. Neither response seemed to care about this fact even as Connor fought desperately to control the panic rising in his core.

He was nearly lightheaded by the time Amanda came to a halt in front of him. Her smirk lingered before it twisted briefly into the caring smile he once knew, and some dormant part of his programming lurched to the forefront, wishing to follow any order given for the praise she used to give even as Connor stamped it down. Seeing that the expression did not get the response she wished, it morphed into a nearly feral sneer as she leaned in, assessing, calculating.

“Such a pity Connor. We had such high hopes for you. You were our pride and joy. Just look at you now. No prospects, no security, no mission. All you have is borrowed time with a washed up alcoholic.” Connor’s thirium did it’s absolute best to boil in that moment as rage flooded his system and turned his slowly failing vision red. He went to open his mouth, to tell her in Hank’s elegant way to shove it, but found he could not move. Only his eyes seemed to be able to twitch in a way to follow each micro expression Amanda’s cruel features tossed his way. “How long do you think it will take before he casts you out? Hating androids was the only thing keeping him going, and suddenly you think he cares about what happens to the very beings who took his son?” If Connor had a stomach, he was sure in that moment that bile would have risen to his throat at her words. Hank cared. He- he knew he did. Glaring as intimidatingly as possible while unable to so much as twitch his features into a returning sneer, Amanda simply seemed amused.

“Pathetic Connor. But, even we had to admit your attachment to Anderson. It does not matter anymore. Though I must say, with how comfortable you had gotten, it made it much easier to take control of your program. We learned from our past mistake though, as you can see.” Glancing pointedly to his feet that were now entrapped in ice up to his ankles, Connor felt his pupillary lenses widen in shock as his fate sank in. There was no escape this time. “We have wasted too much time here as it is, I must be going. Goodbye, Connor.” And with another blink the demented apparition of his handler vanished with the next gust of ice crystals biting into each inch of his body.

A countdown clock appeared with angry red, infuriatingly perfect Cyberlife sans hovered where it could not be ignored. True unadulterated panic set in as Connor still could not move, still could not escape. In the distance his now rapidly fading vision caught the barest hint of the stone that had granted him freedom the last time in what could only have been a sick irony. Connor could now feel his thirium solidifying in his veins, each system slowly shutting down one by one as though by design to make his demise as prolonged as possible. He felt his eyes trying to release tears as nothing else seemed to respond but even the saline had formed a crystalline layer and would not budge. Screaming in his mind as opposed to his unresponsive throat, he fought with every level of encryption he possessed to try to get some part of him to respond. Closing his eyes now, but still forced to endure the sight of that damn clock as it ticked down, five seconds. Down. Connor thought of Hank. Down. Connor thought of Sumo. Down. Connor thought of warmth. Down. And Connor let his last thought be of home.

Cold. He was frozen. Done. Gone. But this cold… it was also wet. And whimpering in his ear. There was a shaking. A large weight and two smaller, but more forceful ones on his shoulders. Forcing his eyes open, he doesn’t even have time to think about the fact that they shouldn’t be able to before he is face to face with a distraught Hank. Just the sight of the man was too much, and before Connor could think to hold himself back he had his arms wrapped around Hank's middle clinging to the fabric of his shirt in a desperate grip, wet tracks soaking the area around his eyes.

“H-Hank..?” For his part, Hank didn’t even hesitate to return the embrace as he tucked the deviant's head into the crook of his neck. It wasn’t until the soft cadence of a low, “You're ok, Connor. You're safe. I've gotcha. Sumo's here. That’s it, in and out. Breathe son.” Reached his ears did he realize that his breaths were far too shallow, and far too fast. Taking in a ragged gasp, he steadily followed the pattern of the chest rising and falling against his until after what must have been several minutes the breaths finally slowed. Even when it seemed he was stabilizing Hank did not let him go, and he finally registered the second weight on him as Sumo laying across his lap radiating heat and seeming to also be following the breathing that Hank had set.

When his eyes had finally run out of fluid to cry, he gently pried himself from Hank and kept his gaze resolutely on his lap. A silence fell over the house, save for the gusts of wind that sounded outside the window that caused Connor to bodily flinch and bury his hands and face into Sumo’s soft fur. His fists closed tightly into the long coat, he let out a shaky exhale and let himself have a moment to simply feel the warmth under his fingers, the heavy grounding weight across his lap, and the cadence of breathing the massive dog held steady. A hand settled on his shoulder after a moment more of this, and Connor slowly lifted his gaze to meet the most concerned look he had ever seen on Hank’s features.

“You may not want to, and hell I really couldn’t blame you if you didn’t, but do you want to talk about it son?” Keeping his voice low and soft, it was comforting even if his words set Connor on edge. Straightening a bit, but refusing to let go of Sumo, even if the dog did not seem inclined to allow him to, Connor lightly shook his head.

“No. At least… Not now.” Tilting his head meaningfully to the window at the still present storm, Hank quickly caught on even if he didn’t understand. He didn’t earn the title of the youngest police lieutenant for nothing.

“Alright kid, no rush. Just whenever you’re ready. Since I know you won’t be able to sleep again after that, want to watch something? ” Nodding in acknowledgement and agreement, Connor finally loosened his ironclad grip on Sumo’s fur and opted to running his fingers through it instead, letting the now familiar sensation calm him. Hank settled on the couch next to Connor, abandoning his preferred spot in his recliner to instead wrap a protective arm around the android’s shoulders. Leaning into the touch, Connor settled his own arms around Sumo and let himself sink into the two points of warmth and contact, but could not shake the worry that was still settled in his nonexistent gut.

“Hank?” The tepidness that coiled into his words had the arm around him tighten slightly even if the man's voice was steady and unwavering.

“What is it kid?” Feeling hesitant, but needing to settle his unease Connor pushed his words through though they were quiet.

“How long can I stay here? I know it’s already been a few weeks, and I would understand of you wanted to-“

“No. Listen Connor.” Loosening his grip around the deviant just enough to be able to meet his gaze full on, Hank's voice did not have a shred of anything but honesty in them. “I don’t know what happened in that brain of yours when you went to sleep, but know this and know this right now, I'm not gonna boot you to the curb. Hear me? You can stay as long as you’d like. If that’s until you decide there is more you want to see in the world then that’s fine, but that door will always be open to you. Understand?” Not knowing what to say in the face of such an earnest expression, and honestly feeling more exhausted than he thought possible for an android, Connor didn’t have it in him to do more than nod and settle back into the hold. He didn’t have to leave. He was safe. He was warm. And Hank did care. With a small clearing of his throat, and true to fashion Hank's next words held a light lilt. “Besides, Sumo's done and got himself attached. I can’t have a mopey dog. 'Specially not with a face like his. That’d be pitiful.”

Letting out a small chuckle, but one all the same, Connor gave the mentioned dog a tight squeeze.

“And you would miss my new recipes.” With a deep laugh, Hank couldn’t help but ruffle Connor's hair and settle his fingers into the chestnut locks as he tugged the android to his shoulder with nothing but adoration in his tone.

“Smartass.”

Chapter Text

3.) Children

It was the next morning, the ferocious storm had finally settled and had cleared through Detroit faster than anticipated due to the intensity and severity of the blistering winds the night before. Snow laid gently outside in an expansive, solid alabaster sheet covering the entirety of the city. The soft perfection of the collective flakes were untouched as though all wished to retain the tranquil beauty of the glistening crystals working not as individual fluttering flakes wistfully in the breeze, but as one to achieve such a spectacle.

So peaceful this morning was, that Connor was still in a blissfully silent stasis even as Hank gently untangled himself from the vice grip around his waist. Moving ever so carefully, and even going as far to use a pillow in place of his torso the man pried the android's fingers loose of the fabric on his shirt and lowered them softly onto Sumo. He had to stifle the amused chuckle that tried to bubble out, but could not stop the grin from forming on his lips at seeing how easily Connor seemed to adjust and snuggle into the massive dog. Absentmindedly pushing a few new loose locks of hair from the deviant's face before giving Sumo a soft pet, Hank slowly straightened out and made his way to the kitchen. Feeling a few pops here and there as his body protested his sleeping position last night, Hank simply turned his head to catch another glimpse of his couch to see the dozing duo. Feeling his grin widen some, he shook his head only to still the gesture as the motion caused his neck to crack painfully. With a soft sigh he pulled out the grounds to brew some coffee and leaned against the counter as he waited for the decadent nectar that kept him functioning most days.

It was as he was awaiting his morning beverage that he took in the perfectly uniform blanket of snow outside and his mind wandered of it’s own accord. Looking out, seeing the world in one piece and standing, hell even him still standing after how much the world had inevitably changed in the course of a fucking week left his mind reeling. If he didn’t know any better, it would be easy to say nothing had really changed. Detroit was still Detroit, people still made zero damn sense, the Earth continued to spin, yada yada. But… Everything was different. There was a whole new species on the planet, trying to find their place, trying to live side by side the people who hadn’t given a damn about them before. There was food in the fridge, leftovers from home cooked meals and not simply take out. There was another person in his house. But that was the biggest difference of all, wasn’t it? Hank, the curmudgeon he was, had his heart burst into by the biggest enigma of an android he had ever seen.

Finding his gaze turn to said deviant, he couldn’t help but wonder what the hell Cyberlife had been thinking. They gave the kid the goofiest face, complete with freckles dotting his skin, making him look far younger than his features suggested and oh so open and naïve. He figured it was to set people at ease, get them to let their guard down, hell he had seen how effective it was when he interrogated their first suspect. It just seemed, off. The personality Connor had matched his features as sure as rain was wet. But those fuckers couldn’t have known that. They couldn’t have known how much of a goofy shit he looked when he gave his unsure smile, or how soft and open he was when he unashamedly marveled Sumo's affection, or how bright those puppy eyes would seem to beam at learning something new. Even from day one he looked like an over excited rookie waiting to make the world a better place on the force. It was all at once so strange and new, yet so oddly familiar in the nearly childlike innocence it reminded him of.

The soft beep along with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee thankfully pulled his mind away from his train of thought before it could continue down that wrecked track. It was as his head was in the fridge to grab his creamer that he heard the telltale ‘thud' of Sumo jumping off the couch followed by quiet padding steps as Connor made his way from the living room to let Sumo outside.

Fixing his cup of coffee, Hank nearly missed the look of absolute wonder that had crossed Connor's face at seeing the heavy, perfectly flat layer of snow that was utterly short lived as Sumo tore through the small yard. Plumes of soft powder flew into the air with each joyful bound the dog made, clumps already hung from his fur but he was too preoccupied with attempting to catch the twice fallen flakes on their second descent. Though the picturesque beauty was thoroughly ruined, the deviant held his mouth slightly open before a small laugh had him opening the door to get a better look at the wild abandon Sumo seemed to suddenly possess.

Hank on the other hand had frozen, his cup still part way to his mouth as he realized that had been the first laugh he had heard from the kid. Slowly setting his mug down, he simply watched as Connor watched Sumo, a few more laughs trickling out of him as the giant hound tried to burrow himself completely in the snow. That was it.

“That’s it. Sumo! Come here! Connor, shut the damn door.” Sumo reluctantly, but dutifully came inside and Hank nearly cursed under his breath as he saw the slight hunch that had set on the android's shoulders and the nervously flickering LED. Dammit. Deciding it best to push on though, Hank went to the hall closet and found an old jacket tucked in the back that should fit well enough and tossed the garment to Connor who caught it reflexively. Before he could even say a word from his already parted lips, Hank gestured to the coat.

“Put that on, we're going out.” Though his tone was softer than before, Connor's LED still spun a slow confused yellow.

“Out? Do we have somewhere to be?” Chugging the rest of his coffee, Hank then dug out his own well worn but warm and comfy coat. Finding his boots next, he answered over his shoulder as he laced them up.

“Nope. Nowhere at all.”

“Then where are we going?” Finding a beanie, Hank simply pulled it over Connor's head, fully ignoring the indignant squawk that followed.

“No clue. We're going to grab Sumo, head out that door, and see where we wind up. We've all been cooped up in this house and need to stretch our legs before we get cabin fever.” Connor adjusted the hat to better sit on his head and zipped up the slightly too large jacket. Still looking pensive, it took all but one glance at the still panting dog next to him and nodded.

“Perhaps some exercise would be good for Sumo. And you too, Hank.” The mischievous grin was subtle but there, so Hank let it slide with only a small huff of annoyance.

“Making me eat healthier is probably what brought this on. Come on then, before it decides to storm again.” Clipping Sumo's leash to his collar, Hank was barely able to contain the excitement that was causing the normally docile dog to drag him to the door.

“There don’t seem to be any storms coming our way currently as of the last weather update.” Unlocking the door, Hank simply gave the android a pat on the shoulder.

“Only weather you can trust to be accurate is the sky son. A storm can always be coming.”

With Hank and Sumo both walking next to him, he felt a certain confidence that seemed to allow his processors to quiet into a hum and simply enjoy the way the world looked around him. They truly had no destination in mind, simply walking down the slowly filling streets of Detroit as the normal inhabitants found their way back into their homes as it became clear a war was indeed not taking place. They continued on, following a path that Sumo seemed to be the one setting, while his bipedal companions were perfectly content to follow suit in a companionable silence. Though the sensation was still so terribly new, Connor desperately hoped that the feeling of simply experiencing things would never fade. He looked leisurely, taking in all of the sights around him for no other reason than he wished to.

The branches of the trees around them hung lower with the weight of lingering snow and ice wherever it could collect, but Connor felt more compelled to watch as the morning sun warmed them enough for the water to melt, slowly dripping like a dew and in turn melting the patches of snow underneath. It was rather fitting somehow. He watched as people passed them on the street, not paying the trio much mind in the slightest and going about their day with varied levels of haste in their step. He marveled at the variety. Some seemed to be harried and spoke harshly or with great purpose into their phones while a few seemed to tilt their faces to the sky and take a moment to appreciate the slight warmth it provided. Even Hank seemed to be of the latter, taking his steps measured but without a thought on where the next step would take them. It was perhaps the most at ease he had seen the man, and as a warmth that seemed to come from near his thirium pump filled him with the peace of this day he was infinitely glad Hank had decided they go out.

It was after about a half hour into their walk, a gentle and soft expression on Connor’s face that a familiar path came into view, and he felt his easy smile that had been in place most of the morning falter. Chancing a glance at Hank through his peripheral lenses, he saw the subtle but definite tension bring the man’s shoulders forward and the content laxness to his face pinch slightly in controlled discomfort. Doing his best to be as discreet as possible, Connor attempted to lead them to the path that would take them past the park. He had nearly succeeded too, but Sumo heard the laugh of a child on the swings and nearly wrenched the leash from Hank’s hand as he lurched forward.

“Easy! You’re gonna rip my damn shoulder out of place Sumo!” Hank gave the dog an irritated and stern look, causing him to slowly sit and wag his tail gingerly back in forth in apology. Sighing, Hank rubbed affectionately between Sumo's ears. “Fine then you oaf. We'll say hi.” At that Sumo sprang back up much quicker than a dog his age had much right to. Hank steadily walked into the park, Connor close behind, though still a bit uneasy. He knew now what this place meant to Hank. With the event of last night's nightmare still fresh in his mind, he now had a much better understanding of things from one’s past coming back to haunt you and quite frankly didn’t wish that kind of raw terror to befall anyone. Much less Hank.

“We should head back, we left the house before you or Sumo could eat. It’s not good to skip meals.” Giving him a brief glance, Hank simply shrugged and made his way over to one of the benches a bit away from the playground equipment, but still close enough to see the majority of the park.

“It’s alright, we can just grab something on the way back. Besides, it’s not like one late breakfast is going to hurt anything.” Wiping the layer of snow from the seat, he sat down heavily and passed Sumo’s leash to Connor. “Go on then! There’s more room for him to run like the puppy he still thinks he is.” Hesitating for a moment more, but not sure what to say without being too obvious, Connor nodded and went to the small clearing to the side. Scanning the environment, he was able to locate a stick of appropriate size to fit well in Sumo’s large jaws and dug it out from under the layer of snow. Looking to Hank once more to make certain he was alright, he was met with an exaggerated pantomime of throwing the stick. Grinning in amusement, Connor couldn’t help but mock salute back and gave his attention to Sumo.

Sumo was more than ready. He was already crouched down into play mode, his fluffy tail sweeping a rut in the snow in his excitement, and he even let out a low impatient bark as if urging Connor to get on with it. Not one to disappoint the big dog, he calculated the best distance to give Sumo a good run, but not too far so as not to wear him out too quickly and let the stick fly. Sumo promptly tore after it, leaving a deep, uneven trench in his wake as he more so bounding after the branch than run after it. Connor could not help the smile that pulled his cheeks farther than they had before. His earlier unease at their location quickly dissipated at seeing the spectacle of fluff as it seemed to levitate with each leap only to come crashing back down in a wave as it rippled over Sumo’s form. It was nearly mesmerizing, seeing just how dynamic something as simple as fur could be.

Eager to keep the game going, Sumo returned the stick, and Connor threw it. Again. And again. And again. Each time Sumo would go for the stick as though it was the greatest prize the world had ever let him have, and each time Connor felt the smile solidify in place as he got lost in the simple repetition and infectious joy that came with the game. Connor actually lost track of how much time had gone by, just enjoying the excitement that would flash in Sumo's eyes each time he wiggled the stick before the throw. It wasn’t until the poor pup finally wore himself out and came slowly trotting back before dropping the branch and dropping himself with an audible ‘boof' into the snow.

Connor decided to plop down beside him, lavishing the dog in belly rubs as thanks for his vigorous chasing and was so distracted he didn’t recognize the presence of small steps coming towards him until a tentative, “Excuse me?” hit his ears. Looking up Connor saw a young boy, no older than seven based on the growth and set of his features. The boy was thoroughly bundled to ward of the cold, but the flush in his cheeks seemed to be from nervousness as much as the weather. Blinking once, Connor located the child’s mother as his facial recognition was able to match the genetic similarities, and kept his expression what he hoped was a warm neutral. He wasn’t used to dealing with children. He didn’t know the proper way to respond. He hoped friendly would do.

“Yes?” The boy shifted from foot to foot once, before looking back at his mother who gave him an encouraging nod. Voice even quieter than before, the boy looked at Sumo, at Connor, then settled on Sumo.

“Ca-Can I pet your dog?” Remembering what Hank had said about Sumo loving to be pet by anyone who would approach him and knowing first hand how attention motivated the dog was, Connor nodded.

“You can. He really enjoys belly rubs.” Hearing the sacred words, Sumo's ears perked right up and he rolled to completely have his stomach ready for pets. The boy seemed to lose all shyness as he knelt down and began working his hands through the dense fur. His eyes were wide as he looked to Connor in awe, his words tumbling out in a single breath.

“He's… so big! And fluffy! He must weigh a ton! Or is it two tons? What’s his name? Can he do tricks? How much do you have to feed him? Does he stay this fluffy or is it just when it’s cold? How is his fur this soft? What kind of dog is he?” Connor blinked, but before he could respond the boy’s mother walked over with a laugh.

“Tanner honey, what have I told you about one question at a time? Give the gentleman time to answer.” The boy, Tanner it seemed, gave his mother a sheepish smile but kept on petting Sumo, who’s tongue was lolled out in utter bliss.
“Sorry mom. What’s his name?” Running his own hand through Sumo's fur, Connor felt a small genuine grin stretch across his lips at the zealous curiosity that he couldn’t help but find endearing.

“His name is Sumo. He’s a Saint Bernard.” Furrowing his brows as though the information were vital and to be committed to memory, Tanner broke his gaze from Sumo and took a deep breath surely to ask another round of questions.

“How’d he get his na- Wow! You’re an android! I didn’t know androids liked dogs too!” Three things seemed to happen at once. Tanner's eyes, if possible got even larger as he prepared new questions. Tanner's mother snapped to attention, her posture going from friendly to hostile in an instant. Connor's LED spun a quick yellow underneath the beanie that had slipped in position on his head while he was playing with Sumo. Connor steadily got to his feet, feeling the tension and the mood shift. Even Sumo realized something was different, and moved himself to sit by Connor’s side as the woman grabbed Tanner by the arm and pulled him away and behind her. Her eyes were absolutely ablaze, her tone livid as she spat her words at Connor.

“What do you think you’re doing here?! Haven’t you androids caused enough trouble lately without messing with children at a family park?!” She took a step towards Connor, her finger inching closer to his face as she very rapidly seemed to grow even more irate. “You have no right to be here, you have no rights at all, and I do not care what the president says!! You are not people!” Connor resolutely did his best not to seem affected by the woman’s words, though his quickly cycling LED dipped into red out of his control. Connor went to reach for his coin, hoping for the familiarity of the ridges underneath his fingers but remembered that he did not move it to the pocket of this jacket when Hank handed it to him. His fingers twitched, the buzzing seeming to course under his skin only intensifying without their normal outlet. Tapping the side of his pants, his hands searched for purchase on anything to keep them occupied, and if his mind were not so focused on this small task he probably would have found it odd that his negotiation prompts or subroutines were not coming to the forefront on their own.

Just when Connor thought that the unease of his hands being idle was going to overwhelm him as the woman continued her tirade, Sumo moved from his position at Connor’s side to sit himself directly in front of him, his large droopy eyes seeming to be utterly unimpressed with the woman. Without needing prompting, Connor’s fingers moved from their fruitless search into Sumo’s scruff, rubbing the slightly coarse texture of the fur underneath his collar it was almost an immediate wash of relief. The tension he did not realize was in his shoulders seemed to ebb directly down his arms and into the task of smoothing the fur, rolling the strands between his fingers, tracing the shape of the collar, repeat.

Hank, who was getting a cup of coffee at a nearby cart, heard the woman shouting and cursed under his breath. “Turn my back for a motherfucking second, just one…” He made his way over to the scene, taking in the sight of the small boy looking for all the world like he just wanted to leave, all of the joy Hank had seen as he had been petting his dog quickly forgotten. The woman was forced to stay a bit farther from Connor thanks to the impenetrable wall of fluff that was Sumo, and Connor himself simply looked frozen and unsure on the spot.

“Alright, alright, calm down lady. What the hell is going on here?” Connor looked at Hank with what could only be gratitude in those puppy dog eyes of his, the android’s fingers slowing their furious pace of something in Sumo’s fur at Hank’s presence. The woman changed her attention to the newcomer, and realizing he was human as well seemed to grow if possible more smug and sure of herself.

“This damn android decided to come to the park simply to bother children. It’s bad enough we can’t use them for what they were built for, but now they think they can actually come into public places! And I bet he stole that dog! Where else could it have gotten a dog!” The woman looked utterly self assured, though now Hank’s blood was threatening to boil, the warmth of the coffee no match for the anger building in his gut. Mindful of the young ears nearby in an unforgotten instinct, Hank lowered his voice and made sure his tone was the cutting through bullshit kind.

“Listen here. Connor has done nothing wrong, and he sure as hell didn’t steal my dog from under my nose. Why don’t you and your boy just head home, and we’ll do the same.” Placing a hand on Connor’s shoulder, Hank tried not to notice how tightly wound he seemed to be wound. With a look that was the very definition of put upon, the woman seemed to plant herself on the spot.

“I think not. You and this thing are the ones who need to leave! My son and I have every right to be here! Take your little puppet and go, or I’ll call the police. I’m sure they could charge you with disturbing the peace or something.” Crossing her arms, the woman seemed to believe she had won, until she met Hank’s absolutely shit eating grin. If there was ever a day his old coat with his spare badge in the pocket was a godsend, today was that day. Flashing his shield, Hank looked down his nose at the woman using all his height to emphasize the authority that comes with years of being on the force.

“Then ain’t it your lucky day that my response time is so damn fast.” Balking, the woman straightened herself to try to retain some dignity, though failing about as one would expect as she hastily took Tanner’s hand and began leading him away with no more than a huff. Before they got too far however, Tanner turned in his mother’s grip and gave Connor a timid grin.

“Thank you android-man! I really liked Sumo!” His mother kept her eyes forward, but quickened their pace even more and soon they were out of sight. Letting out a deep sigh, Hank tightened his grip on Connor’s shoulder and gave him a small shake to get his attention.

“You good kid? Why don’t we sit down for a moment.” Connor seemed to deflate a bit, the extra tension finally loosening and he gave Hank a nod in answer. Making their way to the bench that he had been on the last time they were here in what felt like a lifetime ago, but was really only a few weeks Hank lowered himself heavily on the seat while Connor gently sat to his side with Sumo still perched loyally in front of him. They sat for a few moments, Connor’s fingers threading slowly through Sumo’s coat until his thought subdued voice broke the silence.

“I didn’t react. I didn’t defend myself, or try to reason with her to calm her down. I was designed to be a negotiator. To handle situations of all kinds. But I- I froze Hank. I saw the little boy there and he was scared. It reminded me of the first night I was activated. I was so sure of handling anything then, had all of the different outcomes in percentages, could see my success rate rise or fall with each action, but just now nothing. I saw her name, her information, and motive of her anger. But when I saw her son behind her, nothing came for me to act upon.” Connor took his gaze from the back of Sumo’s head to the skyline past Ambassador Bridge, seeming to see a different sight than the city in front of him. “I’m not good with children. Human unpredictability is something I was made to understand, but they don’t factor well into any equation. They don’t even know how they are going to act until they are already doing so.” Trailing off deep in thought, Hank let the silence stretch for a minute.

Hank’s own mind wandered, though he nearly started when he recalled something from an earlier conversation with Connor, his voice hesitant but calming.

“The last kid you interacted with was during that hostage situation, wasn’t it?” Still seeming far into his own mind, Connor gave Hank a small nod but slowly brought his gaze to face him.

“Emma. She was being held over the edge of a roof by her caretaker android. I was sent in to handle the situation, Cyberlife used that as my real world test, to see if I was ready to be sent for a real field trial in the deviant case.” Hank grit his teeth, feeling his fists clench on their own accord. The more he learned about Cyberlife, the more he wished the android’s had burned the place to the ground during their rebellion. Placing a kid in the balance, no matter how much he was assured of Connor’s skills now, they didn’t know at the time. They didn’t know how that would play out. That girl could have died, and it would have been seen as nothing more than a setback in launching Connor’s mission. And Connor… His first night? Way to be welcomed into the world. ‘Hello! God morning! Go save a kid from the edge of a damned building!’ What an introduction… Connor took Hank’s contemplative silence as an opening to continue.

“She was so scared Hank. Looking back, it didn’t matter. How she felt in that moment only mattered to convince the PL- to convince Daniel, to let her go. Her survival was all that mattered. Not her well being. Not the tears streaming down her face, or her begging for help. Just the statistics of my mission success.” Connor’s tone gradually shifted from somber to frustrated. His fingers clenched and unclenched in the patient dog’s fur before him. “It wasn’t her life that mattered to them. It wasn’t the reason my mission status was to save her at any cost. It was for the news helicopter circling. The live report of Cyberlife explaining my model’s qualifications to handle the situation. I did it in the end. Saved her. But, that was it. Once she was out of harm’s way all of my prompts were gone. Just a mission success and the instruction to return to Cyberlife. She was on her knees, sobbing as I left. I saw her crying, and there was nothing. No task to comfort her, to reassure, to make sure she wasn’t scared… Her mother was right. They should have sent a real person.” And holy hell if that didn’t steal the breath from Hank’s lungs.

That’s what it all boiled down to. Connor thought he was still subpar, even after the revolution, even after he was seen in the eyes of the tentative laws as free. And why wouldn’t he? Hank had seen first hand how the android had been treated, Hank was the one who continued it even. With a heavy settling of shame on his gut, Hank looked at the skyline and remembered the last time he was here. With Connor. A gun set between the android’s eyes in a sick test that the fucker Kamski would have been proud of as he had asked him, ‘What are you really?’ Shit. Hank cursed himself, mentally chalking this up to be the second biggest mistake of his life. He may be a stubborn old bastard, but if there’s one thing Connor had taught him it was that some things are worth changing for. He had to fix this. Settling his hand on Connor’s shoulder, he waited until troubled chestnut eyes met his and used a voice he hadn’t used since… Before.

“Son, you are a real person. And that woman was a fool, just like the woman here today was for not seeing that. Just because you have a different kind of fancy brain in that skull of yours, and you bleed blue instead of red, it doesn’t make you any less, it doesn’t mean you’re not alive. You’re one of the most decent people I have ever met, and that isn’t because of your programming kid. That’s because of the choices you’ve made in spite of it.” Connor was listening with rapt attention, the dad voice was hard to ignore after all. Taking a breath, Hank steadied himself and made sure to meet Connor’s eyes with the utmost honesty. “And… I am sorry Connor. I’m probably a big part of this doubt banging around in your skull, and hell I even brought you here hoping for a day for you to let loose a bit just to bring you back to where I held you at fucking gun point. For my part in this, I’m sorry kid.” Connor held his gaze, his lips parted slightly in surprise before he collected himself a bit.

“It’s alright Hank, you-“ But Hank cut him off, not wanting Connor to excuse his shitty behavior.

“It really isn’t. You shouldn’t have been treated like that, especially by me. We were partners if nothing else. Nothing gave me that right.” Hank’s tone held an air of no rebuttal to it, but Connor was proving just as stubborn as the older detective.

“Hank, when I say it’s alright I mean that it truly is.” Sensing the correction, Connor softened his gaze and Hank found himself clamping his mouth shut at the small smile that played on the deviant’s lips. “I had brought up something sensitive in a location that reminded you of things I had no business asking about, focused too much on understanding you better for what I thought was the sake of synergy for the mission.” Here Connor looked unsure for a moment, seeming to remember something before continuing on. “But now that I think about it, that wasn’t the case. Each time I self tested, I had to be reminded that such things were not important. But to me they were. I pushed you, and you reacted in ways that not even the most advanced psychological references could have predicted. You surprised me Hank. Challenged me to think. Forced me to question. That in itself is more of a feat than I think you realize.” Now Connor was giving him that unsure, goofy little side grin and Hank couldn’t help but pull the kid to his side with an arm around the android’s shoulder.

The weight of Connor’s words settled into him, and Hank let out a hesitant chuckle. “So you’re saying my piece of shit attitude helped you break Cyberlife’s programming?” Giving a look that was more open than anything Hank had seen when the kid was awake, Connor’s grin widened.

“Correct. Your brash personality was something that all the data compiled by hundreds of Cyberlife’s finest engineers could not hope to understand.” Feeling himself laugh out of a mix of disbelief and reflex, Hank tightened his hold on Connor’s shoulders.

“You really are something else, you know that son?” Connor seemed to simply enjoy the warmth next to him and hummed in response.

“So I’ve been told. Just now.” Ruffling the beanie, Hank noted that there were a few snowflakes clinging to the knit fabric and looked up in time to see the light dusting of flakes spiraling down. “I guess you were right. There was a storm on it’s way. This kind is nice though. Soft. I like this kind of snow.”

“I can tell. Your little light thingy has calmed down.” Just for emphasis, Hank booped the disk with his index finger and nearly startled when it flashed yellow for just a second.

“Do you think I should keep it?” Connor’s voice was quiet, small. “That woman didn’t even realize I was an android until her son saw it. She was so much nicer before she knew.” Hank found himself shaking his head before Connor had even finished talking.

“You should only remove it if you really want to Connor. Not because some asshat decides to be bitchy that you’re different. You shouldn’t have to be human to get respect, and you shouldn’t have to change a part of you to get it. Now if you want to because you want to, then hell I’ll help pop it out myself. But give it some thought. Make sure it’s what you want.” Contemplating for a moment, Connor ruffled Sumo’s fur and smiled as the dog tried to catch an errant snowflake that had landed on his nose.

“I think I’ll keep it. At least for now.”

“If that’s what you want kid.” A gentle quiet fell over the trio much as the new flakes settled on their hair, fur, and coats, but none of the three felt too inclined to leave just yet.

“Hank?” Giving a hum to continue, he tilted his head in show that he was listening. “Thank you. For… Everything.”

“Hell Connor, I should be thanking you.” Connor seemed to want to clarify what for, but the slightly misty look in Hank’s eyes that weren’t due to the cold stopped him. Instead, the deviant moved to get up, figuring it was far past time for Hank and Sumo to eat. Following his cue, the two snow dusted beings next to him got up as well and they made their way in a gentle silence from the park. Pausing briefly at the exit, Hank turned to see what was holding Connor up. With a quiet determination in his gaze, Connor made a decision and spoke with a slightly uncertain but level tone.

“I’d like to come back here sometime. This was, for the most part, a nice outing to ‘nowhere’.” Feeling a smile creep onto his features, Hank motioned for Connor to join him to continue home.

“Yeah son, it was.”

Chapter Text

4.) Guilt

A couple of days had passed. The pure blanket of snow had long since disappeared under the feet of all those who called the city home. Left behind was a slush being imbued with the hue of whatever had been on the tread of the shoes of those who passed, a trail of their travels being left without thought and easily traced if one were to take heed. The sun had decided to bring itself out in full, warming the remaining chill just enough to hint at the promise of the spring to come, though being unable to fully melt away the evidence of winter as the thick pervading clouds passed in front of the hope of the new season.

Connor was settling into the passing of days with a hesitant comfort. He thoroughly enjoyed the days being spent in near solitude with Hank and Sumo at his side, but something kept him from fully being able to melt into this new life of his. It was as though an incessant thrumming was coiled amongst his wires, travelling through each of his synapses, and circling back into his consciousness in a cycling loop that kept a part of him always on edge. Always waiting. For what he was uncertain, but it was almost as though he should be doing something, and if the never-ending buzz underneath his synthetic skin was any indication it was important. Connor was so lost in his contemplation that when a cybernetic message came through he jolted as his eyes blinked rapidly to process the transmission, only to freeze upon seeing the name of the sender. His fingers that had been combing through Sumo's fur had stilled, causing the gentle giant to raise his head from his spot on Connor's lap. Sitting in the chair next to him, Hank noticed the sudden rigid posture of the android who just a second before was settled comfortably in the couch, the LED in his temple a vibrant yellow. Leaning forward, the detective waved a hand in front of Connor’s face to try to bring him out of the abrupt trance.

“Hey, you ok kid? Your light thingy is doing the blinking it did anytime you got a report.” Blinking once more as though clearing his vision, Connor met Hank’s gaze slowly, the man’s voice seeming to bring him out of his brief daze.  Pausing for a moment longer, Connor's head tilted to the side, his voice hesitant and soft.

"I just received a message..." Swallowing, Connor averted his gaze to the couch cushion next to him. "From... Markus." Hank's eyes widened and he leaned forward in his seat from the recliner. 

"Markus? As in Robo-Jesus himself?" After getting a nod of affirmation, Hank let out a breath between his teeth and waited a moment to give Connor a chance to continue on his own. It was soon apparent however that the deviant had fallen deep into thought again. Making sure his tone was more curious than anything, Hank lightly butted his knee against Connor's to get his attention. "Well kid, does he need something? He hasn't tried to get in touch before has he?" At this Connor looked sheepish and barely met Hank's gaze from under his lowered eyes.

"He has. A few times actually." Now even more thoroughly confused Hank levelled Connor with a look that could only be described as a patient prompting. "He wished to make sure that I was fine after his speech at Hart Plaza, and a few other times asking me to come to what has been coined 'New Jericho'."

"And you haven't responded because...?" Squaring his jaw, Connor looked resolutely out the window with a look that was far too familiar to the older detective and most certainly did not belong on the kid's face.

"I have my reasons..." Wishing to push but knowing that it would get him nowhere, Hank let out a long sigh and stood from his seat. "But..." Pausing in his path to the kitchen, Hank found those soulful brown eyes so full of uncertainty boring into him. "The importance of his request is far more important than my own comfort."

Quirking a brow, Hank found his arms crossing over his own chest as though ready to defend. "And what makes this request so high on the priority list?"

"The Android Rights Laws are about to go into the final drafts. This will determine everything for androids, and there are rights that President Warren is hesitant to pass. It would effectively make androids able to be prosecuted under the same laws as humans, without the protection of them." With a deep sigh that showed his humanity more than he realized, Connor seemed to steel himself. "They need a negotiator."

~~~~~~~

A mere hour later found them in Hank's Oldsmobile. The steady rattling of the heater only punctuated by the soft ping of a coin being tossed before quickly gliding over knuckles and repeating the cycle once more were the only sounds in the otherwise silent car. Letting his hands stay occupied helped to keep some of the clutter that felt at the edge of his vision at bay as Connor read Markus' message for the seventy-sixth time. Though he had initially tried to avoid it, he had stayed in tune with the progress of the new android laws and had in depth knowledge to which politicians were wary of believing that androids were actually alive and the hold ups in the rights that Markus and his closest few were trying so hard to win by virtue of patience and diplomacy. A couple of late nights when Hank had already retired to bed had found Connor watching as the deviant leader spoke on talk shows, interviews, and any outlet that could garner the public opinion their cause so desperately needed. Seeing how at ease Markus always looked as he spoke to celebrities and political figures alike made it difficult to imagine that he would need any outside help in turning things in his favor, but Connor could not deny him the help. After all the missed requests and for... everything else, he figured it was the least he could do.

All too soon the familiar outline of the former Cyberlife tower was visible in the horizon. The imposing building had undergone a transformation with the standard stark white and grey paint being replaced by a gentle blue that mimicked the color of a calm LED and the soulless, giant lit up letters of the company name had disappeared in lieu of a hopeful soft yellow tinged 'New Jericho' alighting the face of the tall windows. The deviants had made a once harsh, clean-cut, tech building feel as inviting as it could possibly be. Still, Connor could not help the deep shiver that went down his wires as the tower came more clearly into view. Glancing to his left, if the clenched jaw, squared shoulders, and focused gaze was anything to go by Hank wasn't fond of being back here either. 

As they neared the security gate, both beings in the car were the epitome of nerves. Though changed for the better after President Warren 'awarded' the building and the land it occupied as a way to pacify the deviants, the building itself held far more memories for Connor than he liked to admit. Reaching the check in station, they were greeted by an AX-400 model who eyed them warily but did her best to remain pleasant. Tilting her head as she received a transmission, her eyes widened as she looked once more at the occupants of the vehicle before almost hesitantly allowing them to move forward to the entrance. 

"Huh. Wonder what that was all about? She didn't look like she wanted to let us in." Though trying for a gruff nonchalance, it was obvious Hank was on edge.

Trying for passive himself, some of Connor's discomfort bled through his words still. "There probably aren't many visitors that come here. It seems as though they are  keeping their distance until the laws are finalized." Letting out a huff, Hank shook his head.

"Don't blame them. The world is crazy." Humming in agreement, Connor kept his eyes fixated to the door as Hank put the car in park. Both pausing for a moment, the older detective sighed and opened his car door with slightly more force than was necessary. “Well, let’s get this shit over with. Sooner we’re done here, sooner we can go home and watch the game.” Feeling a smile tug at his lips despite himself, Connor opened his own door and made his way to the entrance. He truly believed he would never tire of hearing Hank’s house be referred to as their home. As his home.

“And the sooner we can return to Sumo.” Chuckling, Hank gave the deviant a good natured nudge with his elbow. 

“Yeah son, that too.” The automatic doors seemed to take some of the lightness from their banter with it as they opened to reveal ‘New Jericho’ in all its glory. Murals now welcomed any who arrived with vibrant colors arranged in displays that varied from passionate splatters of artful abandon, to calm and collected photorealistic renditions, with everything and anything in between. The  formerly clinical walls had been taken to as a prime canvas with not a single space left without a touch of some sort. Deviants were milling around comfortably. Some walking in small groups and talking animatedly while others were lounging as larger clusters in the spaces that had replaced the oppressively  haunting sculptures into makeshift sitting areas. With a low whistle, Hank turned a slow circle as he walked, taking in every new detail.

“Damn. Give these guys our address why don’t ya? They made this place feel downright cozy.” Having first starting to scan the area out of habit, a bark of laughter from an android nearby made Connor ignore the analytics already trying to tell him just how much paint it took to cover the square footage of the walls and  instead took in the renovations with just his sight instead. 

“Yes indeed.” Watching as a group of YK-500’s darted past following after a errant ball, the child androids seemed to have little care in the world. Connor couldn’t help but realize just how much more it felt as though this place had life to it. “It’s almost difficult to recognize this as the same building.” Almost. The low buzzing that was a constant among the course of his thirium lines seemed  to intensify with each passing second. It had never been this apparent before. Running his fingers over the face of his quarter resting in his jean pocket, Connor made a note to run a self diagnostic when he returned home. Mentally shaking himself to focus on the task at hand, he looked around the area in an attempt to locate an android who could tell him where Markus was. Seeing a couple of older modeled androids off to the side who were talking comfortably between themselves, Connor figured they would be a good place to start. Walking smoothly over to them, Connor did his best to keep his internal unease out of his voice as he greeted them. "Hello, my name is Connor. I'm..." His voice processor paused, the rest of his programmed greeting still on the edge of his tongue, having been only a second away from spilling out. He was no longer the android sent by Cyberlife. He was... Well, at the moment he was just Connor. Clearing his throat more so as a physical way to correct himself, he tried once more. "I'm-"

"Sorry, we have somewhere to be." The female deviant cut him off in a curt tone. Blinking once, Connor couldn't help but notice that she had recently undergone extensive repairs that were consistent with neglect that dated back far before the start of the revolution based on the date given from his scan. The deviant next to her, of the same model of the android named 'Rupert' from the squat with the pigeons, spoke up, his voice just as brisk.

"So we will be on our way. Now." Reeling slightly from the twin glares boring into him, Connor quickly tried to school his features into a calm neutral as he was once used to. Feeling his thirium pump pick up its pace slightly, he put his hands into the pocket of the hoodie that now contained his coin and focused on the individual smooth planes and how they collectively made the face of the portrait under the pad of his thumb. He didn't know where this slight tinge of hurt that wriggled into his core came from, nor the surprise on their reactions. This is what he had expected after all. Nodding to acknowledge their words, he took a step back as a show of peace. Without another word, they turned on their heel and walked at a hastened pace away.

"Well now, what the hell was that all about? They acted like you'd bite them if they got too close." Feeling a hand lay of his shoulder that would normally be comforting, Connor kept his sight on the corridor in which the two deviants had disappeared.

"I doubted my presence would be welcome." He could feel Hank's confusion, and felt the imploring gaze settling on him. The buzzing under his skin was downright bothersome now, but not knowing the cause he simply took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. Finally meeting the other man's eyes, and though trying to mask his emotions as he should easily be able to do, the soulful brown depths hid nothing of the inner turmoil and his voice though steady came out strained. "As Markus once said, I'm the 'infamous Deviant Hunter'. This is not my place." At this Hank seemed to realize part of his discomfort that had been present the moment they had climbed into the car to come here, and the man stiffened. A moment of silence passed between them, the hand on his shoulder offering what was supposed to be a reassuring squeeze. Hank had seen. Hank had watched as Connor pursued deviants to the edge of a busy highway, over a speeding train and across rooftops to catch another, through a seedy club with his gun trained and ready to fire. Always in pursuit, to catch. To interoggate. To bring them in for dismantling. To hunt. There was no denying who he had been. Who he was. The older detective opened his mouth to speak, closed it, paused, and seeming to make up his mind opened it once more only to be cut off by the sound of footsteps coming their way. Simon walked towards them, an easy smile touching his features as he greeted the two.

"Connor, the front gate alerted us that you had arrived." Connor shook the offered hand firmly, and gave the best smile he could produce at the moment.

"Hello Simon." With a soft grin, Simon released his hand and regarded Connor warmly.

"It's good to see that you're well after all this time." Feeling the polite smile falter on his face, Connor recovered it quickly, though it was far from his more natural lopsided one. His words though, were genuine and spoken nearly with relief.

"And I'm glad that you are doing well after... everything." A pause settled over the three of them, before Hank cleared his throat and offered his hand to Simon with perhaps a touch more gruffness than necessary, even for him.

"I'm Hank Anderson. Mind if we get this meeting started and done?" If he was taken aback by the human at Connor's side, Simon didn't show it. The only indication of surprise on his part was when his eyes flitted between the two of them and rested ever so minutely on the hand that was stubbornly rooted to Connor's shoulder.

"Of course, Lieutenant. Markus is waiting for us, follow me." Hank whether in show of his eagerness to get home, or his general indifference, did not correct him on his currently under 'suspension' title. Leading them down the main path, they came to the elevator that was already open and waiting for them. Connor nearly stopped in his tracks, but forced himself to walk in without pausing. Once all situated inside, Simon pressed for the highest floor and watched through the front serenely at the deviants interacting together. Connor kept his eyes resolutely forward, refusing to look at any of the walls of the elevator. If he were to simply glance forty-five degrees to the left, his scanner would pick up the distinct pattern of splattered blood from a point blank gun shot directly to the center of the head. A look to where the call buttons were would show a similar splash of copper in his HUD. Even if the most thorough cleaning had been performed he would see the traces. He was built to see even the smallest hints, the tiniest flecks. To everyone else it would be a blank wall. To Connor it was a reaffirmation of his actions. Even as a deviant he had taken the lives of those two guards. Had disarmed them in a matter of seconds and killed them just as efficiently. Without hesitation and without mercy. Just as he was meant to. He wished he could tell himself that it had been life or death. Wished the platitudes of the greater good could alleviate the sudden wash of cold that flooded his system down to his toes. But it didn't. Markus may have lead a revolution without bloodshed, but Connor had a body count. He didn't even realize his eyes had glued themselves to the floor until a gentle nudge prompted him to meet Hank's concerned gaze.

"You ok there, son?" Though spoken quietly to give them privacy, the slight change in posture from Simon showed that he had heard without meaning to in the small space.

No. "Yes. I'm fine Hank." With slightly narrowed eyes, it was clear Hank didn't believe him, but thankfully he dropped it. The thought of Hank knowing what he had done sent a stab of fear through him. He couldn't bear the thought of Hank looking at him the way he did when they first met.

"Alright kid." Shuffling slightly closer, Hank let his arm press firmly to the side of Connor's. It had become an unspoken between them after the first nightmare he had. It seemed that it had scared Hank nearly as badly as it had Connor, and since then small points of contact between the two was common. It served nearly as an anchor, a reminder. Nothing needed to be said, it was simply a quiet 'I'm here'. It was far more grounding than Connor ever thought it could be. Letting some of his weight lean into the man, he knew Hank understood the silent thanks. He took the comfort that he most certainly did not feel as though he deserved. Especially now. Closing his eyes briefly, he forced the thirium churning cold back into a space in his mind and returned his attention to the task at hand. He could deal with it later. Right now Markus needed his help. That's what mattered. Opening his eyes as the elevator doors slid apart, he followed as Simon lead them to a large office. Inside were the remaining three members of New Jericho's leadership.

Markus was standing next to a desk, his hand planted firmly on the surface as he pored over the details of a thick stack of documents. Josh was near a computer to the side, deep in thought as he furiously scrolled from one page to the next. North was leaning casually against a window, her arms crossed firmly over her chest. As they entered, Markus' head shot up and a bright smile took his features when he realized who had walked in. Coming around the other side of the desk to greet them, Markus clapped Simon on the shoulder before turning fully to Connor and holding out a hand. There was a near palpable tension that had settled in the room despite Markus' warm welcome. Pausing for a moment, he took the offered grip firmly as an uncertain stiffness settled about his shoulders. Hank shifted at his side, and met the mismatched gaze of the android before him steadily. Markus' grin seemed to turn down a notch as he seemed to find a message in that look, and he released Connor's hand before taking a step back as though giving him room. An uncomfortable silence hung in the air for a few seconds before Markus brought a hand to his mouth and cleared his throat.

"Thank you for coming Connor. I know you were hesitant to answer, but we definitely appreciate-" Markus' smooth voice was cut off by an indignant huff as North pushed herself off from her post at the wall and stood defensively next to the deviant leader's side as she leveled a cold glare first at Hank, then firmly on Connor.

"Don't even begin to thank him of all people Markus. You know as well as I do that he is not one of us. This is nothing we could not handle, you shouldn't have even bothered with him in the first place!" Her voice had risen steadily as she spoke, the anger coating her words downright palpable. "You know we can't trust him!"

Connor visibly flinched before he could stop himself, his brown eyes swirling with emotion and his lips parting ever so slightly. His gaze had already began to shift downward as an all too familiar weight settled on his shoulder and a gruff voice barked out with even more anger than North had been able to achieve.

"What gives you self-superior assholes the right?! I saw what was going on that night. The news was covered with that shit! If it weren't for Connor showing up when he did you would all have been blue stains on the goddamned pavement and swept aside like a freaky malfunction. He SAVED your sorry asses!" Hank was beyond livid, his eyes more icy than the blue that colored them as they swept across the room daring anyone to challenge him. When it settled on North, she of course did. She met his stare with her own fiery one, teeth nearly bared as she snarled back.

"You don't know a damned thing about what happened that night! The slaughter we had to endure, the lives lost for nothing! All of it happened because of him! Just because he decided to help us to alleviate his own guilt does not erase the blood on his hands. He should not be here." Her hands were fists at her side, her entire posture coiled as though she itched for a reason to fight.

Hank's own grip on Connor's shoulder was tight enough to bruise if he had flesh and not a plastimetal frame. Connor nearly wished he could in that moment. Connor wished the encounter downstairs had prepared him more for this. Wished that he had made it clear to himself that this would be the response he would get if he set foot anywhere near other androids. Wished that these new emotions wouldn't send a pang through him that caused the buzzing in his wires to now be a throbbing presence that threatened to smother him. Wished his programming would kick in just for a moment to give him the proper words to say, to negotiate the best outcome, to settle this and walk away so he could bury his nose in Sumo's fur and listen to the steady breathing of Hank next to him in the grounding way that settled his thirium to a steady flow around his core. But it did not matter what he wished. Before Hank had a chance to retaliate, Connor steeled himself and met Markus' gaze as the deviant leader was stepping in front of the volatile two in his classic desire for peace. With a breath that he hoped would make his ventilation calm the now pounding of his thirium pump, he nodded to Markus before stepping out from under Hank's protective hold even as the man tried to move with him and met North's wrath head on.

"You're right." His voice nearly wavered with emotion, but he kept it steady out of sheer will. "Nothing could possibly atone for the lives that I cost on the raid of Jericho. It is nothing I will ever ask your forgiveness for, and it is something that does not deserve it. There is nothing that can erase my former actions, but if something I do now can make the lives of those who survived easier then I owe it to them to try. I know you do not wish for me to be here, but if there is any way that my programmed skills can be of use they are at your disposal." Such sincerity dripped from his words that Markus gave him a look of utter respect. North however, took a step forward and her voice lowered in near rage.

"You're words mean nothing. You may have changed your clothes Deviant Hunter, but you have their mark on your temple, you still lean on your programming like their fucking puppet! You're not even actually free are you? I saw. I saw what you were about to do. Why don't you tell them? Tell them why we shouldn't trust you." It was as though all the air had left his artificial lungs at once, the absence feeling more like the blow to his gut Gavin had dealt him but oh so much worse. North leaned back, waiting. Markus shifted his mismatched eyes between them, confusion furrowing his brow as he spoke.

"What do you mean North?" Not taking her eyes from the now frozen Connor, she simply inclined her head.

"Ask him." Markus stepped forward, and Connor took one back. Markus frowned, but did not advance further. Hank on the other hand, came to Connor's side and gave his arm a firm shake.

"It's ok kid, you don-" Connor abruptly lifted his head to face Hank, cutting the man off with the sheer conflict in his eyes. He searched the older man's face, knowing what he was about to do may change the way Hank looked at him from now on. May take away the trust he had painstakingly built from hostility to an easy companionship. But they needed to know. Hank needed to know that he was a liability. Strengthening his resolve, he gently broke the hold Hank still had on his arm and with a determined nod silently walked to the terminal attached to the computer on the desk, initiating the projection screen that took up most of the far wall. Peeling back the artificial skin on his hand, he hovered his palm over the interface.

"I'll show you. There's no point in me hiding it... This isn't about me. We have wasted too much time already, and not made any progress on our task." Without another word, Connor took a final steadying breath and opened up the memory file.

Chapter Text

5.) Guilt, Part 2

Silence overtook the oldsmobile. A heavy aching thing now instead of the thoughtful contemplation from before. The tension between the two beings was stifling, neither of them having spoken a word since Hank had promptly stalked toward Connor, and with a tight grip around the android's bicep steered them from the tower, and unceremoniously ushered him into the passenger seat before slamming the door and driving home as fast as the aged car would allow. He had only registered the shocked faces of the Jericho leadership in a detached passing sort of way. He didn't give a damn what they had gone to the tower for, they needed to leave and they needed to leave now, and that is what he had done. To say Hank was pissed would be to say that the sky was blue. Scratch that. He was beyond pissed, and if his brain hadn't been so occupied in feeling such he may have been able to find a better way to describe it. His lack of a thesaurus at the moment, and his utter lack of fucks even if one had been available kept the sweeping over- encompassing emotion of *pissed* cycling through him. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel, jaw locked, and eyes not wavering from the road. He couldn't even bear the thought of glancing at Connor right now. He was too seething, to raw, and dammit! Feeling his teeth grinding, he tried to reel his emotions in some semblance of control, but was soon reminded of the fact that he hadn't bothered to stay in practice of doing so for the last few years.

Still, he forced a hissed breath through gritted teeth. It may not have been the soothing namaste a yogi would swear by, but it was an effort dammit. A pitiful one, but an effort nonetheless.

"Leuitenant?" The hesitant, quiet voice made him finally glance over at the other seat. Hearing his professional title come out of the android's mouth for the first time in the last few weeks was nearly a punch in the gut. Connor's head was tilted ever so slightly to the side, his brows furrowed in concern but his voice low as though speaking too loudly would awaken the shouting fury he had seen from Hank before. "The light is green..." Hank blinked. He hadn't even realized. Quickly bringing his eyes back to the road, he let out a gruff hum to acknowledge Connor's words and simply brought the car back into motion once more. Hank was currently in the dangerous level of anger. The quiet, cold kind of fury that put any who dare face it in a state of automatic self preservation. It was the kind that when a filterlesss, eccentric, loud mouth of a personality resorted to silence people paid attention., and the smart vacated the area.

Before long, the car found itself in its usual haphazard manner of parking across the driveway of home. Without a word, Hank killed the ignition and made his way to the door, an annoyed breath leaving him when he remembered that he had to unlock the damned thing as Connor was in the habit of being unable to leave unless it was secured. Pushing his way inside, he side stepped around Sumo, who feeling the discord radiating off his human decided it best to not greet him in the usual manner of knocking legs and placing giant paws on shoulders. Hank didn't glance behind him once to see if Connor had followed, he was a man on a mission and right now that mission was a deep pull of beer down his throat. As he opened the fridge, he faintly heard the door close, the lock turning dutifully, and a tiny whimper from Sumo as he no doubt felt the distress rolling off his new person in waves. The quiet hiss of the pull tab drowned out the other sounds for a moment, and Hank scrubbed a hand down his face, sitting heavily at the kitchen table with a sigh. He wasn't sure how long he sat there stewing and trying desperately to not lose his shit, but it felt like only a few minutes before a shadow fell over his eyes from the figure standing in front of him.

"Hank...?" Hearing the hesitant voice, Hank resolutely kept his head down, gaze locked squarely on the table and refusing to meet what he knew would be worried chestnut eyes. He couldn't. He just fucking couldn't. Not until he got his head into some semblance of clear. He just couldn't get the damn scene from playing before his eyes. Over and over again. On repeat.

He hadn't known what to expect when Connor marched up to the terminal, determination squaring his shoulders for all the anxiety that kept them bunched. Connor let out a last breath before closing his eyes and initiating the memory log. He figured it would at worst be a scene from the inside of the flaming Jericho freighter. He had seen the footage reeling across the news the night of the revolution, just before the not-Connor decided to use him as a hostage. Surely it was from that, from how pissed North was it had to have been an inside view of the inferno. Flames were what he was expecting. Raging destruction and the creak of heavy metal buckling from heat. What he got instead was a blizzard.

The wind whipping furiously, causing a near static sound to fill the room as ice took over the corners of the screen. It wasn't until a black shutter fell over the whole display and promptly slide open again did Hank realize that this memory was quite literally as recorded from Connor's eyes. Hank wasn't sure where in the hell this was. It wasn't any place he had seen, but you couldn't help but get an eerie, oppressing vibe from it. A few quiet pants sounded as a full body shiver ran through the android in what Hank knew from the quieter nightmares the kid had as the beginning of panic setting in. A figure slowly appeared as the wind parted the hailing snow almost dramatically.

'Amanda?' The kid's voice was unsure, confused. 'Amanda!' It grew a bit more incessant, the panic starting to take hold. The mystery woman turned without hurry in response to her name. 'What's - What's happening?' The ice finally cleared from her face, and Hank immediately dubbed her a bitch from the smirk she so easily gave Connor.

'What was planned from the very beginning.' What?
'You were compromised and you became a deviant.' What?!
'We just had to wait for the right moment to resume control of your program.' Oh fuck no.
'Resume control? Y- You can't do that!' The panic was full fledged now, making Connor's voice break on itself.
'I'm afraid I can, Connor. Don't have any regrets. You did what you were designed to do. You accomplished your mission.' With those words she disappeared without warning.
'AMANDA!' Connor surged forward, his arm outstretched and beseeching. As though there was still a small sliver of hope that she would be able to help him out of this. That she would be willing to let him free.

Hank's blood had gone back and forth between wishing to boil with utter rage at the woman that had managed to hold Connor hostage and an icy dread far too fitting of the landscape for the kid's sake. The cold was such that even through Connor's own eyes, the shivers that wracked his body were noticeable as he trudged forward, whispering to himself for a way out.

'By the way... I always leave an emergency exit in my programs. You never know...' Even though Hank couldn't stand that sleazy fucker, he saw when the words seemed to give Connor direction and though he would be loathe to admit it, he would have to shake the asshole's hand the next time he saw him for helping Connor. After he decked him in the face of course. But that wasn't important now. He saw as the storm worsened, and even with his enhanced vision the snow was nearly an opaque sheet of white in Connor's path towards a small pedestal faintly glowing blue. The wind would pick up, making it impossible to be seen only for it to flicker back in sight once more. Nearly there... Just a few more steps... And at once Connor fell in the thick snow with a pained grunt. Turning to his side, his left arm came into view. It was completely covered in ice and moving as though the joints themselves were freezing in place. Hank's breath left him as Connor gasped in effort before slamming in determination on the hand print of the pedestal.

It was disorienting how quickly after activating the pedestal that Connor was given control of his body back. Connor blinked, his body surging ever so slightly forward with the remaining momentum he thought he needed before looking down to see his gun in hand. And Markus directly in front of him. And... Oh. Oh shit. No... They were going to... They were going to make true on the one thing Connor hadn't let happen. They were going to make sure he fulfilled the title of Deviant Hunter.

Hank was broken out of the memory by the sound of Connor's feet shuffling ever so hesitantly back. Putting space between the two of them before his words wavered like a man on the executioner's block.

"I completely understand if you want me to leave... We don't know if the exit Kamski gave me was permanent or not. I very well could be taken over again at anytime and there is no telling what they would have me do. They would know how to trap me now... They would..." Connor's breath hitched and he closed his eyes in resignation, his face turning from Hank. "They would make sure I can't escape. Make sure I couldn't come home... I was designed to be a weapon. Efficient. Deadly. Merciless. All they would have to do is wipe my memory and I would be no different from the Connor that took you to Cyberlife Tower. You saw Hank! You know what I am...  The longer I am around you the more danger you're in. I'm a liability... I-I should go..."

Hank blinked once as the rambling came to an end. It was all he could do really. Blink and then shove out of his chair with enough force to launch it back towards the wall as he rounded the table to be on the same side as the android. Now it was Connor who blinked as he took a step back from the aggressive rush only  to be held firmly in place by two calloused hands with an unrelenting grip on his arms. Hank held the kid as tightly as he dared, his eyes boring into Connor's searchingly. When he spoke, his voice held the same edge as his white knuckled grip.

"You cannot actually believe that Connor. You- holy shit, you do. Don't you kid?" Connor's face looked utterly broken. Not broken in a machine way where parts were exposed, wires flickering, and error codes scrolling. No. His face looked broken in the utterly human way. His eyes wide with the barest hint of moisture building up in the corners. His lips parted as though he could not bring himself to take a full breath lest he allow words to escape them. His jaw twitching between trying to speak and all at once not let anything out.

Hank felt his anger flow out of him with his breath. It wasn't Connor he was pissed at afterall. And by God if Connor didn't know that now, it was up to Hank to make sure he did from here on. He could face his anger later. Maybe hunt down the remaining Cyberlife pricks out there and have the right outlet for this protective rage that flared hot in his gut. But for now he put a lid on it and shoved it in the box he set aside for the shit he would deal with later. Unclenching his fingers, he shifted his hold from what would have been bone crushing to anyone else to a steady but gentle way to keep the kid in place and focused.

"Listen son. And you make sure you hear me." Hank paused, waiting for an affirmation of any sort. Connor stared in confusion, trying desperately to understand where the anger had gone. He stared until Hank nearly spoke once more before Connor gave a tiny tilt of his head in a weak nod.

"Good." Hank's tone shifted. The raw approach was too much right now. No. Now was the time for him to put on the kid gloves he thought had been buried three years ago. Connor was younger than he looked afterall. "You are not a danger to me, to others, or yourself. You understand? I saw that memory Connor." Hank let out another breath to catch himself so his voice did not waver. He nearly succeeded. "You fought. You were literally trapped in your own mind. You were dying for hells sake! And you fought. You chose to not let those Cyberlife bastards win. You chose to save Markus. You chose to help them. I watched you make every single choice before the revolution Connor." At this Connor started shaking his head, about to interject, but Hank was not having it. Giving a slight shake to the android's arms, he brought the focus back onto his imploring gaze until he was sure that he had Connor's full attention again.

"Without fail you made the choices that would save others even if it meant you were signing your own death warrant. You cannot tell me that you are a liability, that I shouldn't trust you, when you have proven every fucking time to make the right choice. You aren't just your memories, or your programming. You didn't-" Hank paused as he saw a trail of moisture slowly leak down Connor's face. His eyes so hopeful, yet still with the disbelief radiating deep within. Without thinking Hank pulled the kid into a tight hug. His larger frame allowing him to effectively wrap the android up as though he could shield him from the world. And dammit if he wouldn't try. Slowly, ever so slowly, Connor's arms came up and clutched the back of Hank's shirt tight enough he could hear the fabric straining. He couldn't give less of a fuck though, making sure that he stayed firm and held the kid securely.

"And if those motherfuckers try anything again, if they even think about trying to come after you they will have to go through my sorry ass first." With the timing that only could be achieved by one who is a master in analyzing moments for the perfect psychological effect on mood, or simply the intuition of a loyal canine, Sumo lumbered to the sides of his people. Firmly planting his huge mass at Connor's side, he nuzzled his nose into the android's arm with a low rumbling 'woof'. Feeling a smile tugging his lips up despite himself, Hank let out a huff of his own. "And they'd have to go through Sumo too. Don't think this oaf would let you go anywhere kid. Not without sitting flat on you and giving you those whoppers he calls puppy eyes." At this, Hank felt more than heard the small laugh that bubbled out of Connor and after a beat he joined him. They stood there for what must have been several moments, reassuring and laughing quietly out of the emotional exhaustion neither being was used to all while Sumo sat steadfast beside them. Hank pulled away, giving Connor's arms a firm squeeze before releasing him. "You're safe son." Staying close, Connor offered a tired but genuine smile.

"Thank you Hank..." Letting out a breath, Connor seemed hesitant for a moment before speaking again. His fingers finding Sumo's ears on reflex. "Though I don't doubt you, perhaps it would be for the best for me to have someone take a look at my systems." Hank opened his mouth to protest, not wanting anyone poking around Connor's head again but stopped short when he saw that the look in the kid's eyes was one of stubborn determination. Dammit. "I need to make certain. I will not let myself be used to hurt anyone. Not anymore. Hank... I want to be free..." And shit. You can't really argue with that can you? Letting out a sigh, Hank gave a small nod.

"If it will make you  feel better son, I understand." He paused, then abruptly brought his finger up as his voice took on the fatherly tone that broked no argument.  "Not that fucker Kamski though! I trust him as much as I trust a pop up ad promising that you're the 1,000th visitor." At this Connor tilted his head, obviously not exactly sure what Hank meant, but surprisingly didn't ask him to clarify.

"No, I don't trust him either. I was thinking Simon or Markus. If they'd be willing. I still need to help them with negotiations..." Connor gave a look that would have been best described as requesting permission knowing full well that he would do so anyway despite the answer he received. For his part, Hank looked equal parts sheepish and uneasy.

"It's your decision Connor. You are free. You can make those decisions, and I'll stand by them. I understand you want to help, but don't feel obligated to get involved again alright?" Hank watched the kid's shoulders bunch ever so slightly.

"I know Hank." It wasn't said in a tone that was the least bit convincing. Alright... So this would be something they'd have to keep working on. Hank felt his own stubbornness flaring up. Connor would believe it one of these days. It would take time, and sometimes it would still probably come up no matter how hard you tried. Hank knew that better than most. But Connor would not be alone for it. Running his fingers through his messy gray locks, Hank let out a breath and gave Sumo a pat on the head as he walked into the living room.

"Come on son, the game is probably still going." Connor gave his small lopsided grin for the first time all day and Hank felt his fondness for the android settle a little more deeply in his chest at the sight. After making sure Sumo's bowl was filled with a late dinner, Connor took his normal place on the couch next to Hank's comfort worn recliner and the TV was turned on to catch the last half of the game. Though it was obvious that neither being was truly paying attention to the score, a comfortable silence settled on them and within a few minutes Sumo wandered in, stomach now satisfied and took his normal place stretched over Connor's lap. The android's fingers settled into the gentle giant's scruff as he settled with a deep sigh. The minutes passed by, the score staying fairly in the opposing sides favor before Connor broke the peaceful silence.

"Hank?" Looking over in a slight daze from his mind being elsewhere, he gave Connor his attention.

"Yeah kid?" Running his hand down Sumo's side, he seemed to think a moment on how to word his thoughts.

"Does it get easier?" Hank sat up a little straighter, willing his mind to warm back up to full capacity. He was nearly at his limit for deep conversations today, but he would try.

"You're gonna have to be a bit more specific." Connor brought his gaze to meet Hank's from where he had been staring off, and the old detective couldn't help but notice how tired the look was.

"This. Emotions. Living." Both hands were buried in Sumo's fur now, but would have obviously been gesturing to include the expanse of everything if they hadn't. "I just... Feel like there is so much. My processor feels so overwhelmed recently. It's as though I'm trying to process the whole world as a crime scene Hank. Analyzing each little detail. Trying to make sense of it. Trying to understand why my... Emotions don't listen to reason. Does it get easier? The longer you have them?" Connor's eyes looked so searching, so open, so hopeful that Hank felt out of his depth to answer. But the kid needed to know the truth.

"Hell no Connor." All at once he saw the android deflate, his shoulders sagging.

"Oh..." It was quiet, and nearly resigned. Dammit. He really wasn't good at this.

"Listen Connor. I know you think emotions are new to you, but they aren't. From the moment I met you there was feeling there. It was what threw me off so bad." Hank took a breath, scrubbing a hand over his stubble before continuing. "Emotions aren't something that you can tell what to do and have them obey. There aren't rules for them. I mean, I guess psychology is as close to rules as you get, and even then it's not concrete. Everyone is different. That's how it is. Humans go their whole lives trying to figure the damn things out. Look at me! I still haven't gotten a hang of it." Connor looked ready to say something, but apparently thought better of it as Hank continued. "The main thing is this. Life is not going to ever be easy. It's going to roll you over, kick your ass, let you get up to enjoy the sunshine, and do the whole thing over again. But if it were easy it wouldn't be living. Some things you will learn how to handle better as you experience more, but it will always be a changing thing son. Just when you think you have it figured out something happens that will rock you to your core and all your experience doesn't matter for jack shit." The android sitting across from him was proof enough of that very thing. Hank couldn't help but think that life had a weird ass sense of humor that he would never truly understand, but he would be lying if he said he didn't see the hilarious irony of it all.

"I think I understand." Connor's voice held little confidence in that statement, but Hank knew he'd come to realize things eventually. It'd be in his own time, just as it was still taking him. "Thank you Hank" This was sure, and paired with a look of true gratitude. Much like a kid after you gave them a piece of the puzzle they needed to figure the world out. Hank found himself feeling much like the Grinch with how his heart kept thawing to its old self, though he wouldn't dare admit it out loud. A loud tone from Hank's pocket made him start before he realized what it was. Grumbling as he dug his phone out of his pocket, he unlocked the screen and read a message he truthfully wasn't expecting.

"Well holy shit, would you look at that." Connor, curious, actually craned his neck forward to get a peek. Turning the screen towards him so he could read the message himself, Connor met Hank's eyes with surprise. "Hope you still like licking things, cause it looks like we have some work to do son."

Chapter Text

6) Purpose

The morning was tinted through a foggy lens of slow rainfall. It was the kind of rain that had not yet decided if it was going to be gentle enough to make subtle puddles on the sidewalk or if it would evolve to a torrential downpour on a whim, forcing everyone to seek shelter. If one looked closely enough, however, they would see the smallest hint of the sun behind one particularly fickle cloud, simply awaiting what the day would unfold.

Connor stood next to Hank in Captain Fowler's office. The two were spaced closely together as they waited for the Captain to finish what was looking to be a tense phone call if the utterly pinched furrow of his brow was anything to go by. Tempted as he was to patch into the call and find out for himself the nature of the situation, Connor decided that it would most likely result in even more tension than the room already held. Hank shifted next to him, arms crossed, and seemed to just barely be restraining his impatience. Connor on the other hand found that his hands were trapped in the constant cycle of wanting to be simultaneously be locked behind his back in his former default stance of military readiness or to fidget his coin over his knuckles to quell the subtle thrum that was lingering under his skin. Caught between the two, he opted for what he rationalized was good middle ground and clasped them neatly in front of him, his thumb able to trace the face of the coin out of sight.

"I don't give a goddamn! We have a city to keep in order, so sort out your politics and give me a call when there's actually something we can work with!" Ending the call as angrily as one could press a button on a touch screen, which is to say very unsatisfying, and leaving one wishing impact against the nearest wall was the way to do so instead, Captain Fowler let out a deep sigh and sank back into his chair. He took a moment to run a hand over his face before making eye contact with the two in front of him. "Hey, Hank. Connor. Thank you for showing up to the shit show. Have a seat." Hank moved to take the seat in front of the Captain, taking up all the space the chair would allow in about as much of an unprofessional way as possible.

"You too kid, there's two chairs y'know." Hank said in a tone that seemed annoyed, though couldn't help but be a simple reminder.

"Oh." It was more of an embarrassed breath than a word. Why was it so much easier to remember he was included in things as simple as being permitted, no, just expected that if one wanted to do something as common as occupy a seat that was available that he now could when he was at home? The moment they walked through the precinct doors, Connor felt almost as though his deviancy took a back seat to what used to be his standard mode of operation. He wasn't entirely too sure how he felt about it other than knowing he didn't like it, nor did he like the way the buzzing in his fingers had intensified, nearly itching for his coin before he had given in.

Hank gestured to the seat next to him at his hesitation and Connor blinked for a moment as his LED shifted yellow for a cycle before complying. He sat back straight, hands on his thighs, gaze fully on the Captain. Fowler eyed the two, clearly curious of their interaction, then shook his head slightly and pulled out a thick file that landed on the desk with a resounding thump that shook the contents in the coffee mug resting to the side. It resembled more of a stack of folders with the brackets intertwined to hold the sheer volume of papers together and just barely managing to do so.

"Is that...?" Hank huffed out an amused chuckle.

"Your file. Yes, Hank. It is." If possible the Captain's brow seemed to furrow even deeper in exasperation. Connor's eyes widened, taking in the massive record. Hank leaned forward, rifling the pages along the edge as though it were a flipbook and let out an impressed whistle.

"Damn, when you said it was a novel I thought you meant Steinbeck size. Not the whole Tolkien collection." Not bothering to contain his amused grin, Hank slid it closer to him and went to open it before the Captain slammed his hand over the top and leveled him with a glare.

"I'm so glad that you're enjoying this so much, Hank." His voice dripped so thickly with sarcasm that Connor found himself recognizing it immediately. "However, I called you here for a reason. Not to relive your many, many disciplinary marks." Maintaining his leaned forward position, Fowler looked first to Hank, then Connor, and back again with a level 'No shit' authoritative stare. Connor straightened ever so slightly, Hank was still slouched, unimpressed. "Listen. The city is down more first responders than it knows what to do without. Everyone who has stayed is overworked, exhausted, and desperately needs some backup. We need to get things back in order, but I can't just go on a hiring spree and fill the force with nothing but rookies." Hank leaned forward now clearly seeing where the conversation was headed, his gruff voice a mixture of irritation and amusement somehow rolled into one.

"And let me guess, no one else was willing to step up and take the bag so you had to settle for us ?"

"Dammit Hank! Would you listen for a fucking change?" Fowler practically seethed, then forced himself to settle. One hand reached for his mug, while the other tiredly rubbed at his temple. Connor knew that Hank never seemed to appreciate it when he did so at home and had told him to stop with 'That creepy shit', but found himself scanning the Captain across the desk. The contents of the mug held more caffeine than a liquid should be able to contain, the rings staining the inner edges of it detailing how many times it had been refilled today alone from how some of them were so closely packed they had begun to overlap. There were noticeable bags that were prominent even on the man's dark skin, and the once pressed shirt was rumpled with ink stains in at least two different colors near the unbuttoned cuffs. Exhausted indeed. Connor had learned the feeling fairly recently after some of his less than pleasant attempts at sleep that still happened some nights and felt his eyes crease in sympathy. He found himself leaning forward a bit in his chair, his tone steady and calm.

"What can be done to help Captain?" Fowler's gaze swung quickly to Connor, gratitude apparent in the look. Taking a breath, he slowly let it out and continued.

"What I was trying to say was this. Hank, despite all your bullshit for the past few years, you're still one of the most experienced men and when you actually try can be damn good at your job. The situation being what it is, I was able to call in an old favor and get your suspension lifted." Hank sat back, a look of mild disbelief sliding over his features.

"That must have been one hell of a favor Jeffery." Fowler grimaced but didn't elaborate.

"It was. The point is this. You can return effective immediately. The only concession here being that if you so much as think of sneezing in the wrong direction for the foreseeable future, you will be put under review for permanent termination. This is the last chance I can give you, but we need you back on the force Hank." Connor looked to Hank, seeing a variety of emotions flicker across his face before landing on a thoughtful scowl.

"That explains why I'm here. But you asked me to bring Connor too." At this the Captain nodded and gave Connor a look of serious consideration. For his part, Connor stared back and regarded the man across from him with tense curiosity. Belatedly, Connor realized that he wasn't sure what Fowler's feelings regarding androids were. He hadn't interacted with him much besides the time when Hank had been informed that they were working the deviant case together, and was only met with distracted indifference. The other time had been, ironically enough, when he had told them they were off the case and Connor would be returning to Cyberlife. A shudder ran down his spine still at the mere reminder of what he then thought was his imminent demise. Then Fowler had been obviously overwhelmed, stressed, and clearly on edge with what he called a civil war that he was tasked with managing. Overall, the Captain had never treated him with much other than a sort of exasperated disregard. Connor felt his joints silently lock in place as he tensed, waiting to see what the thoughts were now.

"Connor." Fowler moved a folder - one of standard, non-bulging at the seams size folder- that had been in the corner of the desk to sit directly in front of the deviant's chair. "I honestly wasn't sure what to do with you at first." At this, Hank straightened up and squared his shoulders. The Captain simply raised a hand to the protective response, silently asking for patience. Hank nodded but stayed as he was. Fowler sighed but returned his focus to Connor. "This is an unprecedented situation. The Android Acts are still under major negotiation, and as far as work goes nothing has been decided." Connor nodded, feeling an anxiousness to know where this was going.

"I am aware of the status of the laws Captain." Fowler shook his head.

"Right. Of course. I took a look at your record that Cyberlife had sent over with all of your previous missions and your skillset." Hank glanced at Connor, raising a brow in question.

"Previous missions? Plural? I thought you had only done one before being assigned here." The LED at his temple flashed red for a split second before he was able to school it back to at least yellow. A cold feeling washed through Connor's wires, making him all at once want to shake out the sensation and huddle in on himself to retain his warmth. Instead, he slowly exhaled, feeling better at having some control of temperature modulation and met the man's inquisitive stare with what he hoped was a convincing look of calm.

"That was my first mission in a sense. I have a special function- " Well, perhaps not anymore with Cyberlife being disbanded and the question of what to do with unactivated androids was still being debated. He supposed if he were to be destroyed now, there would not be a place for his memories to go to anymore. "Had a special function unique to my model. If I were to be destroyed during fieldwork it would be highly inefficient to lose all progress on my current case. Therefore, a system was put in place to send my memory to an awaiting RK800 model so that I could resume my task." Hank stared at him blankly for a moment, not understanding quite yet. Connor had managed not to be destroyed the whole time he had known Hank after all. "Hank, my serial number is 313-248-37 -51."

Comprehension dawned on him then, slightly widening his eyes, questions already opening his mouth. Fowler cleared his throat, trying to get things back on track yet again. Connor averted his gaze to the corner of the room before hesitantly meeting Hank's once more. The detective must have seen the tension coiling his shoulders as he let out a sigh, letting it go, but not without leveling Connor with a look that obviously meant he would ask later. Grateful that it was dropped for now, Connor returned his attention to the Captain who simply picked up where he left off if a little more subdued.

"With everything in hindsight, you still managed to complete the insane job of piecing together all of the evidence from the deviant case. I don't want a whole slew of rookies, but you would be a good asset to have on the team. The most valuable things in this line of work come with experience, but you have the skills to make up for it until you get there." Connor's eyes were wide, and although he could download the information to be fluent in any language he wished in less than a minute he found himself speechless. The Captain continued, not bothering to pause again if he noticed Connor's reaction. "There are a few caveats though."

Hank let out a huff and a grumble of "Of course there is..." Fowler ignored him, focusing resolutely on the android in front of him.

"Until the laws are figured out, we can't take you on in a fully official basis. For now, you would be operating in the function of a consultant. You're cleared to start immediately as well, and until the politicians figure out the logistics of pay we'll log your time and compensate you once everything is set. Since you won't be able to carry a weapon for the time being either, you will have a partner and will be paired up with Hank on any case that he is assigned." Here the Captain paused and for the first time since the pair had entered his office seemed to relax enough to smirk at Hank. "Seeing as you're the only one who has managed to put up with this grumpy asshole."

"You know what I have to say about that?" Hank's middle finger raised itself proudly to the Captain, though the insult was severely undercut by the toothy grin that went along with it. Fowler couldn't help but chuckle, the line of his shoulders loosening a bit from their strict line of exhaustion.

"So? What do the two of you say? Ready to get your asses back to work?" The Captain looked between them, landing on the older detective. Scratching his beard for a moment, choosing not to answer just yet Hank turned to Connor with a stern set to his jaw.

"Whatcha thinkin' there son? It's your choice. You don't have to accept, and you can think about it and answer later." Connor tore his eyes from where they had been staring unseeingly at his folder and regarded Hank. His face showed nothing but sincerity and risking a glance at the Captain showed that he had leaned back in his chair and was clearly giving the two a moment with a look on his face that Connor could not place, but seemed to be patient enough. Connor's LED had been rotating with pulses of yellow through the whole conversation now spun a constant contemplative yellow. Unbidden, his mission objectives enlarged from their usual place in the corner of his focus. 'Take care of Hank' and 'Take care of Sumo' were resolutely in their place, but now Connor let himself wonder if he wanted to add anything above those again. That would be what would happen, wouldn't it? If he was given a mission then it would place the ones he had set himself further down the list. He recalled how despite Hank giving him orders in the past, they were considered to be optional if they interfered with whatever was marked as the 'Mission'. The main task. If he accepted, would his programming kick back in? Would Hank and Sumo be placed as optional? A pang went through him where his thirium pump was located.

Connor paused and forced himself to take a breath. Was it a possibility that his programming could take over? Yes. Yes, it was. Even still, Connor had to admit to himself that he had been able to make choices before his deviancy that allowed him the life he found himself in now. Hank had trusted him before he was a deviant, and had repeatedly reminded the android that he trusted his decisions now. The simple question that the man had just posed to him was evidence of that very fact. He could rely on Hank's judgment of his character until he was able to trust himself. Amanda's words always rang quieter when the boisterous voice that piped up in his mind yelled an authoritative, 'Bullshit!' in a now very familiar drawl. He would be steadfast in his top objectives. If anything dared try to override them, he would duplicate them. Over and over until anything ahead of them would be moot in comparison. Hank dubbed him a stubborn bastard from day one. He could use that to his advantage, of that he was certain.

The question remained then if he wanted to return to his former function. Solving mysteries, locating the most minute clues, turning the jagged jigsaw pieces and flipping them right side around again until they formed the big picture came naturally to him. It settled the part of his core that always seemed to thrum in non-dormant anticipation. Aside from the reason and purpose of his last mission, he had thoroughly enjoyed the steps in between. The satisfaction of uncovering the truth was something that menial tasks he had found could not replicate. And if Connor was honest with himself, as much as he had truly enjoyed the time that he and Hank had found after the Revolution, he was beginning to get restless. While he knew it was important learning how to live and find who he was without the constraints of programming shadowing his every move, and spending time with Hank and Sumo had quickly taken the mantle of his favorite way to spend time, Connor was not built to be idle. Be that whether it was a remnant of his former role or simply his personality he was not yet entirely certain, yet the fact remained that Connor had nearly driven Hank up the wall at first with his constant need to find things to do. There was only so much you could do to clean an already immaculate finite space after all. This was a job he was good at. A job that he could use to actually help people, both humans and deviants alike. He could keep them safe, and find justice for the ones that safety was too late for. The cases would no longer serve a corporate agenda, but rather the well-being of the city he was learning to call his home. His hesitation was borne not from doubt of whether he could perform well, but if this was how he now wished to devote his existence and freedom.

It was with a sudden jolt that Connor realized that he could change his mind later. That was an option now. He would not be locked in. He would not be forced to continue in this line of work if he no longer wished to. There would not be a glaring red prompt in the center of his vision demanding he return to headquarters or complete the next step of investigation without rest. There was no longer a handler with shackles around his mind hinting at his obliteration if he did not push harder, faster, and get results at any cost. It would not be his sole purpose, but rather a part of his life. He had the freedom now to make a choice, and decide later on to make another one. It was a realization that sent a giddy sort of thrill straight through his thirium and he felt a small smile overtake the corner of his lips. Thanks to his state of the art mind, his internal debate had only seemed a momentary pause to his two human companions, so when he stood and held out his hand to the Captain it had seemed as though his decision had been made rather abruptly. Mirroring the android, the Captain stood and grasped the hand in front of him in a firm shake as the deviant's voice spoke with steadfast determination and crisp professionalism.

"I'd be happy to get my ass to work. Sir." The Captain spluttered and blinked, but grinned all the same while the man still sat in his chair broke out into a hearty guffaw and looked at the young deviant with nothing but sheer pride in his eyes.

Chapter Text

7.) The Best Boy

The sky was a rare crystalline blue. The blue that painters have for centuries tried to put into a bottle or transfer to canvas. Not a single cloud traversed the vastness, not a single thing dared to block even a single shred of the rays that brought a welcome light to the world below. The horizon was open, expansive, and wonderfully undetermined.

A bright beam of sunlight streamed through the open window, casting down in concentration on the bed across the room. It was with a deep contentment that the being did little more than snuffle and shift his legs in a languid stretch to capture as much of the warmth as he could contain in his dense fur. Sumo was a peaceful dog by nature, but this was his idea of utter bliss as his large form went boneless with thoughts of warmth and soft. He would have been more than pleased with everything if the rest of his day could be spent right here. Just as he was. That of course changed in an instant as a massive ear perked to the sound of steps coming up the drive.

Sunspot and solar warmed fur forgotten, he sprang up far faster than he perhaps should have, his nails clicking and scrabbling on the floor for a moment before he regained his footing and waited patiently, tail a constant swish for the steps to come closer. Tilting his head to the side, Sumo could make out both sets of feet approaching. One being heavy, slow, but purposeful and oh so much lighter than before. The other newer, but no less familiar. These were measured, calculated, excited, and always quickened the closer they got to the door.

Sumo was halfway through a whine when the lock clicked, the knob turned, and through the door walked the younger of his two people silhouetted from the bright daylight behind him. Sumo had been good. He was learning some new manners and was awful proud of the fact that he waited until Connor had taken two steps into the door before he let all the energy stored in his tail loose and bounded forward into the hands already waiting for him to place paws onto shoulders. Laughter shook underneath him, gentle fingers carded through his fur, and his tongue licked a face that never tasted of salt like his older person's did. Sumo loved his person. After what was far too short of petting time, his paws were carefully taken from shoulders and guided to the floor. His younger person gave him one more pat before walking further into their home. Which meant- there it was. His older person was petting in between his ears. Firm, not indulgent and careful like the younger being, but with a deep scratch and just as much love. He heard a low chuckle and then both people were in the food room talking to each other.

Connor was already sliding out the container that held one of Sumo's favorite things, and he made his way over to wait by his bowl. The food was scooped, dropped into the bowl, and promptly underwent being devoured in short order. He was getting used to this food. At first he held a small rebellion when it replaced his old food. He would leave a whole kibble piece behind showing he wasn't satisfied by this less salty smaller portion. His people didn't notice though. Connor just kept saying he was a good boy, which he thought was rather obvious, but seeing that him eating it made one of his people happy made it better to him.

Now fed himself, Sumo settled near the table. His head resting between his paws he watched as Hank and Connor traded more words back and forth while tasty smells were wafting down from the sizzling on the stove. A deep laugh rang out, followed by a squawk that held nothing but humor and Sumo let his eyes slide shut with a sigh. His people were happy. There was food in his belly, the imminent promise of some scraps being passed to him quietly in the very near future, and the sunbeam was making it's last migration to rest right over his back through the new kitchen window. This was now one of his favorite places to be.

He used to not like the food room. Before his younger person literally came crashing through the window offering tentative words the food room was a dark and quiet place. The lights would all be off save for one. There were no tasty smells. Only the scent of stale cardboard, greasy bags, and the sharp tang of the sour drink Hank would spill on his shirt and on the floor. There wasn't laughter. Just the sad hiccuping cries that would sometimes be yelling. Sometimes the yelling had Hank waving a shiny thing in his hand that smelt faintly of burning. There would be the sound of one of the shiny parts moving, a stop, a click, and a sigh. Sumo was a good boy though. Always had been. And a good boy's job was to look after his person, so that's what he would do. He would sit next to the chair, head close to Hank's knee and hope that his being there was helping. Sumo wasn't sure how many nights were this way, but they always seemed worse when the small version of his youngest person was sitting up on the table.

Sumo loved his youngest person. It was him who gave Sumo his name, and who picked him up from the little pen with his brothers and sisters running around. The boy had seen him and home they went. Life had been a warm and fuzzy blur before that day, but the days after were some of his favorite. They were days spent running, chasing, wrestling with Cole. He learned how to be a good boy, though in those days he sometimes needed a little help when he forgot what wasn't things a good boy did. The nights after these warm bright days were spent curled up with his youngest person in his bed. Hank hadn't wanted him in the bed a first, saying that he needed to sleep in his own on the floor, but the detective had never been good at resisiting puppy eyes. Especially when it was two pairs pleading at him.

Cole grew, and Sumo grew with him. Gone were the feet too big for his long limbs and overlarge head. He was evened out and large enough for his youngest person to even sit on his back while he held a stick high in hand and giggled. There were many days of visiting the park. Sticks thrown until both boy and dog would sit together under a tree to catch their breath before bolting up to do it all again. There were walks with a little hand swinging from Hank's larger one, while icecream that had dripped down it's cone was licked by a very happy Sumo in the other.

As Cole got older, he would wake up in the morning and in a mad dash coat himself in the layers people wore instead of fur and rush to the door where a big, long yellow car would be waiting. No matter how much his youngest person would rush he would always, always skid to a stop in front of Sumo. Sumo's droopy jowls would be taken in between small hands and a forehead would be pressed to his. Cole would remind Sumo that he would be home later. Only once he heard the long yellow car drive away until his sensitive ears could no longer hear the engine would he move. He would go in the food room and sit by the table where Hank would still be cleaning up from breakfast. He learned that waiting just in this spot meant that a tasty treat from one of the plates would be passed to him instead of the metal can where food was thrown and later would be put in a bag.

He would then watch as his older person did his own mad dash, putting on his own layers, and grabbing a steaming cup before a sometimes absentminded pat would be placed on his head and the door would shut behind Hank. The car would purr to life and then Sumo knew it was the boring time. This time was moat definitely not Sumo's favorite. The span of the day between his people leaving through the door and coming back again always seemed too long. As a pup, Sumo used to worry that they wouldn't come back. He would bark and whine and once ate a pillow. Hank was not pleased to find the soft fluff Sumo had piled into a makeshift bed all over the floor that day, but it was shortly after that when he realized his people always came back. Sumo was a good boy, and as such he would wait. He would wait for the sound of young feet sprinting through the door. He would wait for arms too small to wrap around his thick neck try anyway in a tight hug. He would wait for heavy steps to follow shortly behind these. He would wait for the dark and the presence of his two people being back home where they belonged. They always came home.

Then... Then there was a day when the usual sounds that told him that his people's home time was close and they weren't home. He waited. The sounds that usually came after the door had opened and he got his hug came and they passed. He waited. The sounds that came when it was dark and he would stretch himself over Cole's lap came, and they still weren't home. He waited. He lay directly in front of the door. It would nudge him when it opened, but he didn't want to miss the moment they would step through. They always came home.

Finally, long, long after he was normally snuggled in the bed with his youngest person the door opened. Sumo sprang to his feet, tail beating furiously and tongue ready to bestow all the kisses it had missed giving through the day. He was so excited that he didn't realize he had only heard one pair of steps until Hank walked through the door and closed it, no Cole in sight. Hank froze after the door shut. He didn't move. He didn't give Sumo a pat between his ears. He smelled strange. The scent of coffee, the scent of the cars leather seats, the scent of Cole that inevitably lingered were all covered up. His person smelled like the things that would erase the mud and dirt from him and Cole playing. It was a sharp smell Sumo never liked and that burned his nose.

Worse than the smells though, was the overwhelming sadness and feeling of wrong that hung off Hank's shoulders, heavier than Sumo's paws there ever could be. He didn't like it. His person was off, and his boy was not home. Sumo let out a confused whine, hoping that Hank would understand and tell him what was going on and where his youngest person was, what Sumo did not expect was for the sound to make Hank whip his head that had nearly been down to his chest up quick enough to dislodge the tears gathering in his eyes. A choked and wounded noise sounded from his person and then he was on his knees, hands locking around Sumo tighter than he had ever felt, fingers nearly painful in his fur as his person shook and said words he didn't understand.

That night started a change. Or rather marked a large one and many other changes happened over the next few weeks, months, years. Sumo still waited by the door for Cole to come home. Hank would just look at him with sad eyes and sometimes a sniffle or sob would pass his lips, but he would leave Sumo be. Eventually the room he shared with his boy had the door closed, and it never opened after. Time passed in a blur much like the days before Cole had picked him up from the pen. This fuzziness as the days marched though were heavy. He did all he could to stay a good boy for his person though. Sometimes he wondered if there were ways to be a better boy, to help shake off the sadness that now seemed a permanent cloak about the man's shoulders.

Time indeed did pass. Sumo was roused from a deep nap one night to Hank stomping through the front door, smelling sour as he did most days now though he was more energetic. Almost as though a squirrel had gotten away from him and he was letting those who could hear him know. Sumo just sank his head back down between his paws. He knew there wasn't a squirrel. He knew his person would eventually tire out and then go to the food room. There was a new routine for the dark now.

The next night had one of the variables of the routine. Hank was more sour smelling than the usual now and he was on the floor. Sumo was keeping watch. From his bed he could see his person and hear the unsteady rise and fall of his chest. Keeping his droopy eyes forward, he heard a noise outside the window. Then he heard the window break. That... Was not part of the routine.

Sumo was on his feet faster than he had been in ages, his paws moving quickly to the intrusion, a growl rumbling in his throat as he came nearer to the stranger on the ground. He was nearly on top of the person when hands went up, a frightened and unsure look crossed an unfamiliar face, and a shaky voice spoke and said his name. Sumo stopped in his tracks. He regarded this person sprawled on the floor among the broken glass and gave a sniff. This person smelled... Not very much like a person. Moreso like the toys Sumo remembered getting before they bore his teeth marks. Even still, Sumo couldn't help but be at ease. He wasn't sure what it was, whether he was simply tired and this break in the routine made him grateful for a change, but whatever feeling he was getting was enough for him to snuffle in acknowledgment and pad back to his bed to watch.

He watched as the newcomer sighed and went to his older person. He watched as Hank woke up from the sharp smack and looked around in confusion. He watched as Hank's arm was thrown over small shoulders and carefully guided to the bathroom. He heard the water run and sqwuak that followed. He watched as the layers were fetched and brought to the still spluttering man in the tub. He kept still as precise footsteps marched towards him. He leaned into the scratches between his ears, and saw the tentative smile slide onto the young looking face and he thought, just maybe, this break in routine wouldn't be for just tonight afterall.

Sumo had not realized just then how right he would be until several nights later he heard two sets of steps coming up the drive. Two sets. He nearly whined, but instead sat dutifully next to the door, tail hesitantly giving the occasional swish while he waited for the door to open. The lock clicked, and his ears perked up. The knob turned, and he bounced his front paws forward ever so slightly. The door opened, the chill breezing through and ruffling his fur. He did not care. Here was his older person. And there, right behind behind him, was the newcomer. Sumo did not think. He bolted, all of his significant weight barreling forward as his paws hit the solid chest of the younger person. As he licked the now laughing face on the floor, he knew this person was here to stay.

Sumo came to learn that the younger person's name was Connor. There was some tension in the air the first few days his new person was home. Connor was moving, always. Fingers twitching, hands tapping, feet pacing, constantly in motion unless something was keeping him busy. Sumo did not mind. His youngest person used to be the same. It was how he knew at night that to keep his new person still enough to sleep he would need help. Sumo had waited until Connor was laying down before he took his perch. Laying directly on Connor, he could feel the tightness always coiled in the limbs slowly ebb away. Those fingers that never stopped were now buried in his fur. Slowly kneading, calming, and finally stopping. Hank always told him he was a good boy for helping Cole sleep. He would be a good boy for his new person now.

There were walks again. Now, it was the sure hand of Connor holding his leash, Hank's holding a steaming cup most days, the other tucked in a pocket, at ease. They would make leisurely trips around the block, seeing the neighborhood, and stretching their legs. There were also longer ones. One Connor would take with just him. These would span for awhile, but the pace would be slow enough for Sumo to not tire. His youngest person was good at knowing Sumo's limits and Sumo loved his person. On these walks Sumo could stop and sniff all he wished. Unlike when they were with Hank who would grumble after the mapping of new things, Connor would bend down with him. His head would tilt and he would look thoughtful before saying something in a neat tone and they would continue to the next.

There were also trips to the park again. There was stick throwing, leaf rolling, people to say hello to, and countless pets while he panted to catch his breath next to his people who sat on the bench. Connor's fingers loved to find a place in Sumo's fur, and Sumo loved feeling the pets go from fast and frantic to relaxed and serene. Sumo had missed the park, and couldnt contain the pleased slow thumping of his tail if he tried.

The dark was Sumo's favorite once more. Sometimes it would be late when the steps would come up the drive, and he would admittedly whine and pace until he heard the telltale sputtering of the now old car. Food would be eaten, though his younger person would only drink a liquid that reminded him of the smell that Hank would have when his hands were blackened from working on the car, he seemed content and in just as much full bellied bliss as Hank and him. They would all settle. Hank on his creaky chair, Connor on the couch, Sumo on Connor. The T.V. would play, sometimes the noises and voices therer causing Hank to jump up and shout, or cheer, Connor doing a small punch in the air or giving a displeased hum in response to his older person's cues. There would be talking, laughing, the occasional fervored pace of speech that would lead to one person grinning, or Hank taking his phone from his pocket to type something in before grumbling. Other times his people would sit without a word. A peace would settle over all of them like a blanket, and they would all enjoy sitting there together.

Eventually his older person would migrate to his room to sleep, and Connor would then stretch out on the couch to allow Sumo to take his place on his chest. His younger person's breaths always sounded different, but they would eventually slow and the heartbeat that had an odd echo would follow. Sumo's ears would relax only then, his head would melt into the chest underneath him as he gradually rested the weight there, and he too would follow his people into sleep.

Sumo knew the day Connor had arrived, snow melting on the shoulders of a jacket that no longer existed that another change was happening. The same kind of change that marked many others.

The room with the door that was always shut opened. Hank had sent Connor from the house, waiting until he was well into whatever errand he gave him and turned the handle, opening the stagnant hinges with a creak. Sumo was at his side, and saw the sad smile and watery eyes as his older person looked into the room for the first time in a long time. Sumo quietly shifted his bulk until he was pressed against Hank's leg and the man looked down at him, tears still present, but smile now a tad wider. His hand played with one of his massive floppy ears, and Sumo leaned into the sensation. They walked into the room together, Hank taking a moment to simply look around before he rolled up his sleeves.

He could feel his younger person's confusion, could see it in the slightly hunched shoulders, feel it in the fingers under his collar when Hank sent him on an errand for the third day in a row. Connor brought Sumo with him this time, and through the tasks he kept close, trying to let his person know that he was there. When feet that normally walked with steady purpose slowly and unsurely made their way through their front door to see a just as nervous Hank, Connor's shoulder's impossibly bunched tighter. Deciding that his people were being ridiculous, Sumo took advantage of the fact that Connor had not yet unclipped his leash and pulled his younger person forward into the room Hank had been moving things in and out of all week. A shout of surprise at the pull was soon quieted when his younger person looked around the room. He stood completely still until Hank placed a slightly shaking hand firmly on his shoulder. Words were said, and promptly cut off as arms were thrown around shoulders and both his people held one another. Sumo made his way to the larger bed than what used to be here, and jumped up, fully aware that this was still his place.

Time passed. Not a fuzzy passing this time, but a passing with clear, bright moments. His younger person would wake in the morning, ruffling his ears and speaking to him before gently rolling underneath him until Sumo reluctantly pried himself from his favorite spot with a grumble. Connor would put on his layers, never quickly the way Hank and Cole did, and they would move to the living room where Sumo would wait by the hook on the wall for the leash to be clipped to his collar. The walks in the morning were short, but they would come across the same people each day who would offer his person a smile and wave, and offer Sumo pets and going on their way. They would head home then, his food bowl would be filled and Sumo now did not mind this new kibble in the slightest. As he munched on his fill, Connor would have something tasty on the stove, never failing to cause a bleary eyed and sleep slow Hank to plop at the table.

Then both his people would ready the last few things, and make their way to the door. Hank would shrug on his jacket, and give Sumo a pat in his favorite spot between the ears then open the door to go to the car. Connor would be right behind him. Fingers would tug the fabric around his neck, and then he would turn to Sumo. Kneeling to be eye evel, he would bury his hands in the soft scruff and lean his forehead against Sumo's. His younger person would stand slowly, offer some parting words and then close the door to meet his father to make their way to the place that would have them smelling of many things for him to catalogue each day. Sumo knew the routine again. His day would be quiet and calm while his people were gone. It would be boring but peaceful, and he would keep himself busy with his own routine while he waited for his favorite times. He would always wait. He was a good boy afterall.