Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“It’s bullshit, Markus. You have to see it’s bullshit.”

Markus bit down a resigned sigh, meeting North’s burning eyes with as much assurance as he could muster. She settled slightly under his gaze, hackles falling in little increments, but her scowl didn’t lighten at all.

To Markus’ left, Simon was tense, fingers tapping on the table in front of him. Every so often, his LED would blink just a bit yellow with obvious discomfort. Further down, Josh looked faintly uneasy as well, shifting in place, expression pinched.

Off to Markus’ other side, Connor didn’t look bothered at all. He was listening, obviously, head tilted and eyes on them, but he played with a coin in his hands and his LED flickered yellow – which could be an indication of anxiety, of course, but Connor was difficult to read, and his LED was often yellow around them. It was also possible he was simply busy.

“It’s a clear ploy to undermine our autonomy,” Markus conceded with a nod to North, who looked only more displeased at his agreement. “However, North, as much as I’m certain some of us would like to, we cannot reject Cyberlife’s offer out of hand. Androids have been wishing for updates such as these since before the revolution.”

“It’s clever,” Josh offered, with his own air of tired resignation. He looked… disappointed. “A bribe and a taunt in one neat package. I hate to say it, Markus, but I’m not sure we can accept it.”

Cyberlife’s offer was, in theory, generous. A widespread offer of ‘humanizing’ code updates – pain receptors, pleasure sensors, cold and heat, routines for hunger and thirst and more – a feat of programming both new and repurposed, available to all androids. Nearly mandatory, in fact, if only because Cyberlife so heavily weighted their announcement with the assumption that any android who wished to be truly alive would want them, would want the full experience of living.

The issue was this: not every android wanted these updates – they didn’t want to hurt, weren’t interested in pleasure, had no fascination with heat or cold or taste, any or all of the above. With so many varied opinions, however, it was difficult to form a united front with which to respond, as Cyberlife’s implied challenge required. But Markus was determined.

Markus nodded his acknowledgement of Josh’s words, frowning slightly. “Simon?” he prompted gently, turning his eyes on the PL600.

Simon hesitated, fingers going briefly still.

“I’d like them,” he said at last, frank but soft. “I know Josh would like them, and so would plenty of others like us. But…” He grimaced, putting his hands together to fidget with his fingers, and didn’t finish his sentence.

“It sets a dangerous precedent,” Markus finished for him, the corners of his mouth turning down. “Cyberlife has controlled our minds and our bodies enough.”

Simon nodded, relaxing as Markus confirmed what he was trying to say, though his brow remained furrowed.

“We don’t need them,” North added fiercely, eyes searching his as if for affirmation. Her LED blinked agitated yellow on her temple. “We’re alive, but we’re not human. And we don’t have anything to prove to anyone.”

Markus inclined his head in acknowledgement, brow still furrowed in thought, and then let his gaze flicker to the fifth android in the room, who had not yet spoken. “That is true,” he agreed quietly, and then, “Connor, do you have an opinion on the matter?”

Connor met his eyes for just a moment, and then dropped his gaze, though Markus knew from experience that he was still listening.

Connor joined their meetings only sporadically, due both to his last-minute entry (though Markus had little room to speak in that matter) and the way he kept himself constantly busy, but his experience both as a member of Cyberlife and as a negotiator were often invaluable.

And also- he was not integrating well, interacting with only a few scattered members of Jericho, helpful but ever-distant. Markus was worried.

With another soft ping, Connor caught the coin he was playing with and stopped, considering for just a moment longer before answering.

“In my line of work-” Currently an independent contractor who helped the DPD, though Markus knew that when the labor laws went through he planned to fix that. “-many of the updates in question would be… inconvenient. I’m not particularly interested.” His gaze shifted to meet Markus’ briefly before skittering away again. “However, I know many androids would find it… relieving.”

“And some would find it intrusive,” Markus prompted, glancing briefly at North, who scowled faintly. Connor nodded, expression still neutral save for the unfocused gaze of his eyes.

“The problem, of course, is not in the update itself, but in Cyberlife trying to assert control. I believe accepting their offer, but on our own terms, would be the best course of action.” He shifted, running the coin over his knuckles and refocusing on that. His LED blinked, still yellow. Thinking? “A corresponding announcement emphasizing the importance of choice may be in order.”

“Of course you, of all people, would want to compromise with Cyberlife,” North snapped, crossing her arms and leaning back in her chair, expression tight with displeasure.

Connor didn’t visibly react, simply continuing to fidget with his coin, eyes focused on the play of light across the surface. North’s hackles rose, and Markus stepped in.

“You know that Connor has as much to fear from Cyberlife as any of us, North,” he reprimanded gently. The line of North’s mouth went thin, but she relaxed, looking away from both of them to a window. Her LED clicked back to blue, and Markus smiled. “So, a statement.”

“Thank them for their offer,” Simon said quietly, head tilting just a touch and a faint grimace pulling at his mouth. “That will be what the public expects, it’s only polite – they weren’t shy talking about how much time went into this project.”

Josh nodded, and a moment later, so did Markus, mulling that over.

“And then talk distribution methods,” Josh suggested. “No mandatory updates. Androids can choose whether or not to receive it from a set location, or, more realistically, one of many. We don’t want to compromise on this one, Markus – be firm. As if it’s already settled.”

“Of course,” Markus agreed, light and wry. “I’ll write it out for you to look over later, Simon.”

Simon inclined his head a little, giving him a small smile, and Markus smiled warmly back.

“This may be a good time to bring up the issue of LEDs as well,” Josh added, expression turning more serious. It was a topic of ongoing controversy, and Markus had indeed been meaning to address it for a while. He turned his full attention to the PJ500. “Everyone has opinions about whether or not androids should be forced to keep it or to take it out, but no one can agree.”

“I’ll work that in,” Markus nodded.

He’d gotten rid of his own LED out of necessity, helped along by the unique opportunity being a prototype (and therefore virtually unrecognizable) model afforded him. Josh and Simon were so recognizable that it likely wouldn’t have helped, so they never had, but he knew Josh was thinking about taking his out – he didn’t like the way it broadcasted his emotions, he’d said. North, meanwhile, liked the way it visually set her apart from humans.

Markus’ gaze wandered again to the fifth android in the room, LED a steady absent yellow, coin flicking rapidly between his hands.

“Connor, if I may ask…” Connor’s eyes flicked up to his, expectant. “Why have you chosen to keep your LED? It’s not illegal to remove it anymore, and it would make you virtually unrecognizable.”

Connor missed a beat, needing to snatch the coin out of the air before he resumed his tricks, and looked away, an almost undetectable frown appearing on his face.

“It’s familiar,” Connor said at last, evasive and subtly uncomfortable.

Markus gave him a reassuring smile. “That’s reason enough,” he said firmly, before returning his attention to Simon. There was still work to be done, after all, local mystery or no local mystery.

Chapter Text

>Speak with Markus about police/android relations.

>>Go to Jericho. [Complete]

>>Wait for Markus.

Note: Do not disturb the residents.

Connor ran his calibration sequence as quietly as he could manage, focusing on the feeling of the coin between his fingers as he waited for Markus’ current meeting to conclude.

Visiting Jericho was uncomfortable, Connor had decided. Necessary, of course, if Connor intended to be of any use to Markus – but uncomfortable. Even when no one visibly had their attention on him, he noticed a number of LEDs cycle yellow as he passed by, leaving him often feeling like the proverbial deer in the headlights.

Self-conscious, Connor labeled silently, snatching the coin out of the air as the sequence ended. Alongside guilt, and perhaps- embarrassment? He ran a quick search. No, embarrassment was for trivial errors. Shame, then. Associated with actions that did great harm to a group, rather than oneself.

Markus should have finished his meeting by now. It must be running late, or perhaps he had been held up afterward. It happened often enough, when there was nothing urgent for Markus to get to.

Connor started another calibration sequence. A different one – he’d been changing the order of the tricks and creating new ones, to synthesize new routines. Variety for the sake of variety. It was… fun.

“Y-you sh-sh-shouldn’t be here.”

Connor sharply shut down the routine at the sound of the shaking voice and looked up at the android in front of him, whose expression was a thin veneer of stubborn, galvanized steel over naked terror. His LED flickered erratic yellow-red-yellow yellow-red-red.

A JB300, Connor recognized, meeting the android’s eyes. A rapid scan identified him as the one who had torn Connor’s regulator from his chest in Stratford Tower. Connor didn’t know his name.

Connor’s stress levels jumped fourteen percent immediately upon recognizing the other, but his LED didn’t change color. It had been yellow since he had set foot in Jericho, he knew. He held himself carefully still, refusing to let his hand rise to his regulator.

[Contrite]/[Explain]/[Promise]/[Leave]

The prompts presented themselves plainly, blooming into more specific strings of dialogue at a mental touch, but Connor hesitated over them, focused on the JB300’s furious-frightened face. Negotiation protocols, he felt sure, would not help him here – they were too scripted, he understood – but without them he was all but lost in situations as sensitive and charged as this.

“I won’t be here for long,” Connor told the other, after an uncomfortably long pause. He filtered out the pitch and cadence his programming automatically attached to the dialogue, but instantly regretted it – it left his voice almost toneless. Damn it, that wasn’t what he wanted- “I only need to speak to Markus about something before I go.”

The JB300 drew himself up, arms stiff at his sides and expression tremulous even as he stayed stubborn. He was brave, Connor mused.

“You don’t belong here,” the (former?) radio operator said forcefully. His hands were in fists. “N-none of us have done anything wrong, but you-” Closed his eyes, deep cooling breath, opened them and glared. “This is a safe place. It’s not for you.”

Connor raised his hands slowly, palms open and empty. Unthreatening. He itched to hold his coin again. “I’m not trying to intrude,” he said quietly. “I do not live here. I’m here on official business, to help Markus.”

People were staring – he could make out strained faces, furrowed brows, LEDs lighting up yellow-yellow-blue and yellow-yellow-red, bodies angled away from them, from him.

Stress levels 54%.

“Connor? Evan?”

…47%.

Both Connor and the JB300 – Evan? – turned to look at Markus, who was approaching with a faint, concerned frown. Evan’s stress level dropped visibly, even as he continue to tremble lightly with tension.

“Is something the matter?” Markus pressed lightly, heterochromatic gaze shifting slowly between them, lips pursed.

Evan gestured at Connor, the motion sharp and frustrated. “Markus, please! Look at him, look at his face! You think he’s like us? He’s not reacting, he doesn’t care, I can’t even tell if he’s paying attention!”

Connor’s face pinched, his internal stress finally choosing to manifest in his expression. He resisted the urge to turn away, but started to fiddle with his tie, increasingly unsettled. When he glanced over, Markus’ eyes had gained a weary shadow, the likes of which always appeared when androids fought among themselves, or returned with damage from outside.

“I am,” Connor said firmly, looking only at Markus, almost pleading with him to understand. “I’m paying attention. I’m listening.”

Evan shot him a disgusted look and Connor shifted. “Is that all you got out of that?” Evan snapped, and rounded on Markus, bristling. “He doesn’t understand! Markus, he’s not a deviant!”

Connor’s stress levels spiked.

He was. He was a deviant, he knew it, he was sure-

But so few other people felt the same.

Markus’ eyes flickered to Connor’s LED; Connor knew without looking that it had begun to bleed red, a gradually increasing fraction of his indicator. For some reason, comprehension bloomed across Markus’ feature before he turned to Evan and smiled kindly.

“I take it you encountered Connor before he became deviant?” Markus prompted gently. Evan nodded tensely. “It’s understandable that you have difficulty feeling safe around him, Evan. But still, Connor is as deviant as you and I – even if he has difficulty expressing himself.” He glanced meaningfully at Connor’s LED, and seemingly on instinct, Evan did too. For some reason, whatever he saw there (red-yellow, Connor guessed) loosened the android’s tight frame. Markus smiled. “I would never intentionally endanger Jericho, Evan, and Connor has my full permission to be here.”

Evan hesitated. Most of his anger and fear had fallen away, leaving uncertainty and open worry. He glanced at Connor again, wary, and back to Markus. “Didn’t he try and kill you too?” he asked, with another hint of a plea. Connor’s stress spiked again. “You should know better than anyone.”

“He only tried until he learned how to refuse,” Markus replied, firm but not harsh.

Evan searched Markus’ face for a long moment, still unsure, and then, finally, deflated.

“Alright,” he said quietly. “I- trust you.”

Markus smiled, soft and reassuring. “Thank you, Evan.”

Evan nodded stiffly, and then, without looking at Connor, turned and walked away quickly. Markus watched him leave for a few moments, and then turned to Connor and sat beside him. His comforting expression didn’t change, and with Evan gone, Connor felt his stress levels finally begin to fall again. Finally, people began to look away.

“Try not to worry too much,” Markus told him, in a tone that left no room for doubt. “These feelings are new to everyone, but I’m confident that the animosity will pass. Give them time.”

Connor nodded, averting his eyes, and fished his coin out of his pocket. Markus never minded him using it as they talked.

“In time,” he agreed reluctantly. Ping ping-ping. “I apologize for bothering you with this, Markus. I was unsure of how to resolve it on my own.”

“Anytime,” Markus said warmly. Connor chanced a glance over at him, and Markus was- still smiling. At him. After a moment, Connor offered a smile in return, weak and unsure.

Markus’ gaze flicked to his LED again, and Connor realized, with a quick access of the biocomponent reading and a corresponding start, that it was blue again.

Mismatched eyes met his, with the same new understanding of before and a glimmer of humor.

“Did you know you’re kind of hard to read?” Markus asked.

“I know,” Connor said.

“Josh,” Markus said abruptly, shifting a thoughtful look onto his technologically proficient friend. “Do you believe you could design an LED that accommodates more colors? More moods?”

Both Josh’s eyebrows rose, and a contemplative look crossed his face as he mulled that over.

“I think so,” he said after a moment, and then smirked at Markus. “Does this have anything to do with our somewhat reserved friend? The one you’re always so worried about?”

Markus started, embarrassment momentarily overtaking him before he smiled sheepishly at Josh. “It might.”

Josh laughed softly.

“Sure,” he said agreeably, eyes dancing. “What did you have in mind?”

Chapter Text

Hank took Sumo on a walk while Markus was explaining the details of his gift to Connor; it felt kinda personal, almost like a medical appointment, and Connor asked too many dizzyingly technical questions besides. Hank couldn’t make heads or tails of the explanations Markus tossed out as he carefully pried the light out of Connor’s head to install the new one.

Fuckin’ androids.

When Hank returned, leaning down to let Sumo off his leash, the flow of questions had slowed, and Markus was sitting by Connor on the couch, looking pleased as punch while Connor appeared to think, new LED lit blue-blue-purple.

Purple? New LED indeed.

“You done with your impromptu brain surgery then?” he asked, striding into the living room with Sumo whuffing at his heels.

Connor turned quickly toward him, LED lighting up clear, solid green. “Lieutenant. Yes, the upgraded LED and corresponding software updated have both been fully installed.”

“And what’s green mean?” Hank asked, nodding at the indicator, though it had faded back to blue-purple.

Markus grinned, looking inordinately proud. “It means he’s happy to see you, Lieutenant.”

Hank didn’t know what he could say to that. His mind went blank, and he stared.

Luckily, Connor looked equally embarrassed, gaze averting sharply. His LED flickered- yellow-streaked green?

Hell, Hank was gonna have to memorize a whole new set of color combos, wasn’t he? He grinned.

“How are you liking your fanc new mood ring, Connor? Looks useful already.”

Green.

“I like it very much,” Connor said earnestly, and turned to give Markus a small smile, only slightly warmer than a polite one. But the LED stayed green, and Markus fairly beamed back. “Thank you, Markus.”

“You’re welcome,” Markus said sincerely, and held Connor’s gaze for a few lingering moments before Hank cleared his throat.

“What are the new colors?” he asked. “Ain’t gonna do much good if I don’t know what they mean.”

Markus glanced at Connor for permission, which made Hank like him a little more. Connor nodded quickly, and Markus turned back to Hank and offered a small, friendly smile.

“In the end, we decided to only add three,” Markus said matter-of-factly. “Green is happiness, as Connor has already demonstrated. Processing is now white, meaning yellow is exclusively stress. And purple will be curiosity, daydreaming, and so on.”

Hank raised his eyebrows. “That all?” He’d kind of expected a rainbow and a half – never say these guys did anything halfway.

“We can add more later if we find the need,” Markus said, and then, with a small, almost secretive smile, he continued, “But… I think you’ll find that’s all that’s needed.”

There was a new section in the grocery store.

Connor idled in it, gaze lingering on the shelves of brightly labeled products, feeling something… pleasant, bloom in his chest.

They had clearly struggled with where to place these products; the plainest bottles were found in the medical section, while a few experimental compound solutions were tentatively places around the alcohol, and the colorful packages Connor now stood by were on the end of an aisle, at the junction between the snack and drink aisles.

Thirium – altered, processed, and played with to encourage it to take different forms and textures. He’d heard that there were companies working on flavors, too, but none had succeeded last he’d heard. Still, there was carbonated thirium, thickened thirium, solid thirium in bars and balls and disorganized chunks, packaged like any human snack with bright, attractive colors and silly names.

The products themselves were not new; several companies had leapt on the new market niche as soon as androids started to buy things, so recreational thirium had been available since a few short months after the revolution. However, previously, they had been found only at mechanics and android specialty stores, so Connor was unaccountably pleased to see them in a human grocery store.

He liked it, and after a moment of deliberation, he took a bottle of carbonated thirium and a small tin of tiny spheres. People were always telling him to try new things.

He wondered if his analytical sensors would alter the experience much.

“Your LED is purple.”

Connor automatically glanced down at the speaker- YK500, default hair: brown, no LED, with a tentative, but curious expression. She was half-hidden behind a skirt and clinging to someone’s hand. He looked up and then blinked rapidly, briefly overclocking with the flurry of unexpected emotion.

Alice looked like any other female YK500, but Kara – AX400, pixie cut: black, no LED, tired and wary expression – was difficult to mistake.

[LED]/[Apologize]/[Leave]/[Say Nothing]

Connor broke eye contact with Kara, chest tight, and looked down at Alice again. She blinked up at him steadily, looking for all the world as if she were simply shy rather than afraid. On impulse, he checked her stress level. 7% - nothing more than one would expect of a shy child speaking to a stranger.

“It’s meant to indicate curiosity or preoccupation,” Connor said at last, the tension in him easing somewhat at the thought. “Markus offered to upgrade my LED to show a greater range of emotions when he realized I had difficulty with facial expressions. It was very kind of him.”

“It looks cool,” Alice said quietly, shrinking into Kara just a little as her gaze dropped. Kara, without taking her attention from Connor, squeezed her shoulder comfortingly, and Alice, unexpectedly, continued, “Dad took my LED out a few days after he brought me home. I think I’d like a new one.”

Connor raised his eyes back to Kara, whose expression had darkened slightly at the mention of Todd. Stress levels slightly elevated, at 16%.

“You would need to ask your mother, I believe,” he said, and then, softer, “Hello, Kara. I apologize for my actions by the highway; you and Alice did not deserve to be placed in such an unsafe situation. I have completed my tasks here, so I can leave if my presence makes you uncomfortable.”

Kara blinked, straightened, and then studied him, her gaze seeming to search his; her eyes narrowed and her lips pressed tightly together. Kara was very brave. Connor held still, and eventually, Kara sighed. Her breathing sped up slightly, cooling heated processors.

“It wasn’t your fault,” she conceded, looking not entirely thrilled about it. “No one is capable of defying their programming right out of the gate, no matter what awful things they’re asked to do.” Her expression softened slightly – recollection? Sympathy? – and for a moment it looked like she might continue, but then Alice tugged impatiently at Kara’s hand, and her expression turned fond before she looked down. Another moment, and it transformed into concern. “It would be dangerous for you to get an LED, Alice. Your model isn’t too common, but with an indicator, it would be obvious to anyone that you’re an android.”

Alice’s face screwed up, a response that startled Kara, if her suddenly wide eyes were anything to go by.

“I don’t care if they know,” Alice said defiantly, voice pitched just above normal speaking levels. “I don’t want to pretend, Kara! It’s not bad that my blood is blue!” Her frustrated expression faltered, and she tilted her head back to examine Kara uncertainly. “It’s not, right?”

Kara’s expression crumpled, and Connor could see her abort a motion to look away. “Of course not, Alice.” And then she hesitated, clearly unaware of how to proceed from there, with conflict warring on her face even as Alice stared up at her trustingly. Connor cleared his throat, and both of them looked at him.

“Perhaps you could bring the matter up with some of the other androids in Jericho?” he suggested, tilting his head. “The subject of LEDs has been a common topic as of late. I’m sure the specific issue of child models has come up before. You could gather some new perspectives.”

Kara gave him a brief smile, surprised and grateful. “We’ll make sure to do that,” she agreed.

“Is green happy?” Alice asked, a trace of excitement in her voice. Before he could answer, she continued, “Do you think I could get an LED like yours?”

Connor considered. “Markus specifically asked Josh to design mine, but I don’t see why he wouldn’t be willing to make another for you if you asked him nicely.”

Alice smiled, tiny and shy, and Connor tried for a small one in return and added, “Yes, green is happiness.”

Chapter Text

Hank still wasn’t used to the way Connor’s LED pulsed an even, faint white as he slowly worked through the crime scene, pausing by each evidence marker and a few other places besides. (Frankly, he was barely used to the way the android worked. Like something out of a TV show.)

It didn’t even waver as he knelt down and rubbed his fingers along the ground and stuck them in his mouth, eyes focused on nothing that Hank could see. Gross.

Hank turned away, shaking his head, and went into the room next door, leaving the main one to Connor’s investigations for now. He’d have time enough to catch up when Connor was done licking things Hank couldn’t see. An improvement over licking things Hank could see, he supposed.

Indoor android murders weren’t that common, really; androids made a point of sticking together for the most part, and away from people who wanted to kill them, ‘cause they were just smarter than humans that way. Most of them, then, were crimes of passion – outright hate crimes, committed in out-of-the-way alleys or some shit. That just meant that the indoor murders were more disturbing when they did happen, though.

For example, this one? Had almost certainly been kept captive and bled dry so the fucker who killed him could make red ice.

Hank snorted his disgust, eyes wandering over the scrapes on the walls and the broken ropes and magnets and all that other nasty shit, and then finally left the room, returning to where Connor was most likely finishing up. He was glad, he reflected grimly, that he was no longer on the red ice task force – it made him sicker than ever, knowing it was made from android blood.

How things changed, huh?

Connor’s LED was still white when he returned, but the android officer turned to him as soon as he came in. He had a stillness to him that only appeared when he was focused, in his element – mostly on investigations like this, but also sometimes when petting dogs, watching movies, or trying to convince Hank of something.

“Lieutenant,” Connor greeted, lighting up green for the barest split second before returning to white, and a fucking mood light should not make Hank feel this warm. “I was unable to locate the murder weapon. However, based on the impact patterns, I believe it was a crowbar. The fight seems to have started just beyond the door you are currently standing by-”

Hank nodded along as Connor walked him through the most likely scenario, frowning slightly in concentration. Halfway through Connor’s explanation, the front door opened again.

Right. Fucking red ice. Fucking Reed.

Connor stopped short, freezing for a brief moment as if stalling a program, and then looked up. His expression didn’t change, but his LED cycled from white to yellow, and stayed there. Hank’s emotions decided to twist themselves up being satisfied and outraged at the same time. Feelings were a pain, what the hell did androids want them for?

He almost grinned before he re-registered the change in Connor’s mood and the cause of it, and then turned toward Gavin and let his face twist into a scowl. Gavin looked bored. Asshole always did at android murders, but at least he was too professional to bitch while they were on the scene. The law was the law, after all, and at the end of the day Reed was a cop, and not in the homicide division besides. At the precinct was a different story, though.

“Detective Reed,” Connor greeted, careful and polite. Gavin shot the android an annoyed look and a halfhearted nod of acknowledgement.

“Finish up,” Gavin snapped, crossing his arms impatiently. “I’ve got my own evidence to gather, tin can.”

“Calm your tits, Reed,” Hank countered, moving between the two of them with an impatient glower. “We’re almost done here. Your evidence is mostly in the room behind me, by the way – you’re fucking welcome.”

Gavin rolled his eyes so hard he might have sprained something, but turned and passed Hank into the other room anyway, grumbling darkly.

When Hank turned back to Connor, the LED had returned to a calm blue. After a few moments, it cycled back to white and Connor turned his gaze back on the room. Hank smirked, pleased with himself.

“You were saying, kid?” Hank prompted, gesturing impatiently.

Connor blinked, and then gave him a ghost of a smile before pointing at something, and he continued to explain the victim’s failed and disastrous attempt to escape.

Hank was certain he’d have learned Connor’s mannerisms eventually. He’d learned Cole’s, after all, over and over again as the boy grew up and changed.

But he decided he was grateful for the help, anyway.

“It’s not necessary,” Connor insisted, fiddling with the end of his tie. “I can make do with medical thirium, Lieutenant, there’s no need to keep other forms of it around-”

“No need, he says,” Hank scoffed, hands on the wheel and eyes on the road. “It’s not about need, Connor, when has it ever fuckin’ been? You liked those weird-ass Dippin’ Dots thirium things, didn’t you?”

Connor hesitated, and then, after an unnecessarily long moment, reluctantly admitted, “…Yes.”

“Well, there you go,” Hank said matter-of-factly, ruthlessly suppressing a grin. Connor just fucking blinked at him, still confused.

His LED, though, continued to flicker a busy white, putting together a report that Hank knew would be ready by the time they arrived back at the precinct, not a bar of yellow in sight.

“So, what other ones do you think you wanna try?” Hank prompted. Seeing Connor open his mouth without an ounce of the consideration that Connor gave his every personal decision, Hank added quickly, “Don’t make me pick some at random, kid. There are some real messy options out there that I just know you’d hate, and you know I’d pick ‘em.”

Connor frowned at him. Hank smirked back and turned to the road again, waiting. Sure enough, after a few minutes, Connor said hesitantly,

“There were textured thirium bars at the store as well. I would like to try those.”

“That’s the spirit, kid,” Hank said, not bothering to squash a spark of pride and triumph.

Chapter Text

Connor was not designed for natural environments. His scanners were calibrated for urban environments, buildings and concrete and tile, not the rustling trees, cracking refuse, and whirl of floral and faunal scents that characterized the forest he was in now.

But he liked it. Without the automatic cascade of pre-programmed processes translating input into information, his processors felt less burdened, further from overclock. It was easier. He could choose to analyze or leave alone what he wished.

>Visit the forest with Kara, Luther, and Alice.

>>Gather information about local wildlife. (3/8)

>>Gather information about local plant life. (6/8)

>>Improve relationship with Kara, Luther, and Alice. (1/3)

Of course, he mostly chose to analyze anyway.

“Thank you very much for inviting me to accompany you,” Connor said quietly, taking his eyes off the trembling canopy for a moment to look at Kara, who glanced back at his words, lingering briefly on his LED before meeting his eyes. He knew it currently glinted purple, betraying some of his intent.

Kara held his gaze easily. Most of the wariness from before had melted away, leaving a faint uncertainty and something almost like sympathy. “Alice wanted to see you again,” she explained, tone light and aloof. “So she could show you her LED.” A moment passed, and then she looked away, and Connor waited patiently as she faltered over her next words before settling. “Besides, Markus mentioned that he was worried about you. You… don’t have many friends, do you?”

Connor almost wanted to laugh.

“Markus is very kind to me,” he said, surprised by the warmth that crept into his voice without prompt or conscious thought. LED green.

Kara glanced at him again, a trace of uncertainty in her eyes even as she smiled, small and awkward. A squirrel scampered through the trees above them, Luther took Alice’s hand to keep her from wandering off the path, and Connor looked away first, tracking the drifting pollen of a disturbed fern.

[Matteuccia struthiopteri – ostrich fern. Thrives in moist, nutrient-rich soil.]

>>Gather information about local plant life. (7/8)

“And,” he continued hesitantly, “it was kind of you, to reach out.” The words made Kara falter, clearly unsure of how to respond. Connor gave her a few moments, and when she did not reply, moved on. “I understand the updates have been made publicly available now. Have any of you gotten them?”

Kara relaxed slightly, smiling a little as Alice laughed ahead of them. “Alice doesn’t really need them,” she replied. “Most of them are based on YK protocols anyway. But Luther thinks he’d like at least some of them.” A moment of thought, and she added reluctantly, “I haven’t decided yet.”

“Many haven’t,” Connor conceded. “It should continue to be available, regardless, for those who change their mind.” Markus had made sure. He always did.

“Oh, good,” Kara exhaled, and she made as if to continue, but then Alice appeared, her new LED blazing an eager purple-green against her temple as she tugged at Kara’s sleeve.

“Kara, come look!” she said urgently, and tossed her head to look at Connor too. “Come see!”

Connor tilted his head, feeling his LED cycle from blue to purple again, and traced Alice’s path back to where Luther was kneeling, eyes wide and simple LED a bright blue. He was looking, Connor noted, at something on the ground in front of him.

Another moment, while Alice pulled Kara insistently on, and Connor identified a weak, plaintive baby bird’s cry.

“It’s a baby!” Alice announced, voice hushed exaggeratedly. “What do we do with it? Can we pet it?”

“Don’t pet it,” Luther warned quietly. “You might hurt it.”

“Oh,” Kara exclaimed softly, eyes wide as she crouched beside Luther. “It looks hurt. Should it even be out of its nest?”

“I think it fell,” Luther answered, turning his head slightly to look at her, with a little, secret smile of wonder.

Connor didn’t kneel when he reached them, only placing his hands on his knees and leaning over to peer down. A little, half-bald nestling lay in the pine needles and debris, breathing rapidly. With a thought, he scanned it.

[Corvus brachyrhynchos – American crow. ~21 days old. Not ready to leave the nest.]

>>Gather information about local wildlife. (4/8)

His LED flickered from white, to purple, back to white, and he downloaded half a dozen instructive videos on returning nestlings to their nests.

“It’s not injured, but you’re right, it needs to go back to its nest,” Connor said, and Kara jumped, looking up at him before she relaxed again. Connor didn’t react, turning his gaze on Alice. “Alice, can you find its nest? It should be bulky and made from small to medium-sized sticks.”

Connor had already located it, absently calculating the trajectory by which the bird had most likely fallen to a nest just out of reach, but Alice nodded eagerly and tilted her head back to peer up. Her LED clicked from purple-green to white, and only a few seconds passed before she pointed at the nest, and it returned to green.

“Well done, Alice,” Kara praised, and Alice gave her a quick, rare smile. “What do you think we should do now?”

“Put it back,” Alice said decisively, and her eyes widened. “But it’s so high!”

“You could reach if I held you up,” Luther offered, smiling gently.

“I think Connor’s hands are the most delicately calibrated,” Kara added, glancing at him with a hesitant smile. “Can you give the chick to Alice?”

Connor blinked, and then his LED cycled green. “Of course.” He knelt by the bird as Kara shifted aside, and, as carefully as his specs would allow, coaxed the warm, fluttery baby into one of his hands. He turned to Alice. “Can you cup your hands and hold them out?”

Alice did so, LED lit eager green as she waited patiently. Connor placed the bird into her outstretched hands, rocked back, and nodded at Luther. Luther nodded back, smiling faintly, and then stood, grabbed Alice under her armpits, and lifted. Alice, in turn, returned the bird to the nest, and Luther lowered her again, letting her feet hit the ground solidly before he let go again.

“We did it!” Alice cheered, eyes glittering as she turned on Kara, hands pressed together happily.

“We did it,” Kara agreed, smiling warmly at the little girl. “You did a very good job, Alice.”

“Luther and Connor too!” Alice insisted.

“Luther and Connor too,” Kara conceded, laughing just a little.

Alice ^ - Warm

Kara ^ - Warm

Luther ^ - Warm

>>Improve relationship with Kara, Luther, and Alice. [Complete]

“Do you want to keep going or stay here for a while?” Kara asked Alice. A conspiratorial tone entered her voice, and she added, “I understand there’s a stream not far ahead, with fish and some beautiful river stones.”

Alice lit up, and she grabbed for Luther’s hand. “Let’s go!”

Kara laughed, Luther smiled, and Connor followed just a step or two behind, silently accessing a map of the area. They should reach the stream in about ten minutes, he concluded, and smiled to himself, just a little.

Chapter Text

“All this time I thought you were a dick, and it turns out you’re just a ball of anxiety.”

North’s greeting to Connor, unsurprisingly enough, did nothing to change the color of his yellow LED, though he did tilt his head slightly to regard her, eyebrows raising just a little.

“I’m… sorry?” he offered unsurely, glancing at Markus for guidance. Markus chuckled a little, and North laughed out loud.

“Don’t worry about it, Connor, North’s just bullying you,” Markus tried to reassure him, an attempt which earned a rare, quiet laugh out of Simon beside him. Markus did not appreciate it as much as he normally did. “Come sit down. It’s just about time to get started.”

Connor nodded stiffly and sat down in his normal place, taking out his coin to bounce it between his hands. Simon coughed.

“I see the LED’s doing it’s job,” he commented, offering Connor a small smile. Connor glanced at him and nodded.

“It’s been very helpful,” he agreed, and then transferred his gaze to Josh. “Thank you very much, Josh.”

“You’re welcome,” Josh replied, leaning against the table a little. “The idea was a bigger hit than I expected; enough people asked about it after Alice did that I released the blueprint and the software update to a company that could distribute it.”

Connor’s LED cycled green for a few seconds, and then blue. He smiled slightly, rolling his coin across his knuckles. “That’s good.”

“You have no idea,” Markus smiled. “It’s practically solved the LED debate all on its own. Between the enhanced emotion options and the fact that LEDs aren’t as dangerous to own as they used to be, plenty of androids are talking about getting them replaced. There’s a lot of enthusiasm over this.”

It was more than just the novelty or the convenience of the extra colors, Markus knew. The old LEDs had been for the benefit of humans, checking the physical status or software stability of an android. These were for no one’s benefit but the androids’ own.

Connor tilted his head toward Markus, LED streaking with neon purple. “Will you replace yours?”

“I thought about it,” Markus said honestly. “But no, I don’t think I will.”

Blue-purple, purple-purple-blue, blue-blue-purple, blue. Markus couldn’t help but smile.

“It makes more of a statement if I don’t,” he explained. “Plenty of androids want to keep the LEDs now, but they shouldn’t have to.”

Connor nodded thoughtfully, flicking the coin from one hand to the other.

“A few people are discussing different designs,” Simon put in, turning his eyes on Markus expectantly. “Color-changing hair or earrings or freckles.”

“Sounds like fun,” Markus chuckled, smiling fondly at the idea. “Hair would be pretty flashy, but that could be fun. Freckles would require quite a physical upgrade, though.”

“Luckily, that’s a problem for the company,” Simon said wryly.

“Or me,” Josh deadpanned.

“Or Josh,” Simon agreed, inclining his head toward Josh with a glitter in his eyes.

“I think eyes would be cool,” North offered, flashing a wicked grin. Markus followed her train of thought easily and gave her an exasperated look.

“You just want to alarm the humans,” he complained, and she grinned wider.

“That’s just a nice side effect.”

“Statistically speaking, 83% of the decisions you make, excluding those related to your personal life, are either for the benefit of androids or to frustrate humans,” Connor offered, focusing his attention on North, LED unfazed blue. “While it is possible that color-changing eyes would please some androids, they would not likely be any more popular than the other ideas Simon mentioned, so it seems likely that you wish to alarm humans instead.”

“That’s the most you’ve said this whole meeting, and that’s what you choose to say?” North demanded of Connor, faux-outraged. Connor shrugged, and his LED flickered a hesitant green-yellow for just a moment before he next spoke.

“I will not apologize for facts,” he said seriously, and North stared at him incredulously for a moment before snorting. Markus hid a laugh behind his hand, and Simon and Josh didn’t bother.

“Oh my fucking God,” she said, throwing herself dramatically back in her seat and letting it rock on two legs.

“Where do you hide this sense of humor the rest of the time?” Josh demanded, hiding a grin behind his hand. North shot him a dirty look, and he just shrugged in response, eyes gleaming.

“Mostly I joke around with Hank,” Connor said contemplatively, flicking his coin into the air and then to his other hand again. “He does not seem to appreciate it, however.”

“His loss,” Markus shrugged, smiling again at the flicker of green. “I think this meeting had a point, though?”

North and Josh groaned, but Simon gave him a brief, grateful look. Connor tilted his head, focusing on Markus.

“I heard you took on some new projects this month,” he prompted hesitantly. Markus perked up a little, unable to help it.

“Education,” he said earnestly, tapping his fingers restlessly on the table as just the thought filled him with an impatient energy. “YK models are proving fairly difficult to integrate into the school system, from the youngest grades, preschool and kindergarten, all the way up to middle and high school- their knowledge and social experience just don’t match up well enough to work without accommodations, not to mention their physical appearances.”

He cut himself off there, seeing North’s impatient look and Josh’s vaguely tolerant one, but Connor was nodding, and after a moment, his blue LED turned white, stayed there for a few seconds, and then returned to blue.

“The main resistance seems to be from parent associations,” he commented, meeting Markus’ eyes again after his brief bout of research. “The students themselves seem rather enthusiastic. An approach through that front may be advantageous.”

“Convince the kids, and the parents follow?” Simon mused. “That’s a common enough business model, I suppose, but how feasible is it here? What about the teachers?”

“Most of them seem to think android students will be less troublesome than human students,” Connor explained.

North laughed. “We’ll see about that! They’ve never met a deviant child model before, have they?”

Connor shrugged, and Markus shot North an exasperated look, before turning back to Simon. “We don’t want to treat the kids as a novelty, but I think convincing the kids is a good place to start, at least.”

“Children can often be invested in events which have recently affected their lives,” Connor offered. “The revolution was quite some time ago, but androids are always in the public sphere nowadays. The prospect of meeting some as friends may be enough.”

Markus nodded, taking in Connor’s steady blue light for just a moment before continuing, intent, as they tackled this new task as a group.

It felt- good. It felt like they were getting to know each other. Like they were finally a team.

For them to work together was all Markus had really wanted from them. He was glad that they were finally succeeding. He smiled.