cardiacsleepy

After collecting your bag from Hank's house, you drove home via a longer yet more scenic route. Unfortunately for you, it seemed everyone in the city had the same idea, and you entertained yourself for the proceeding 45 minutes with watching the sun set from the driver seat of your car. The world felt a little less suffocating after your talk with Hank, as though you weren't going to be divinely punished for your double life. In a way, the FBI's investigation into android-sympathetic humans reinforced your current method of handling both your job and less by-the-books hobby. So you would continue on, any deviant that came to your door would see your help no matter what, and you would do this with pride.

It was strange now, watching civilisation walk by in the streets. For every three humans there was always one android, following behind passively, and you wondered if deviancy was in their future. Was their commanding human kind to them, or would they soon be a number on a case file within your precinct. It felt like you knew something none of those people did, that their futures were a coin flip dependent on their level of empathy. And if you were familiar with the average human, you knew their odds didn't look so good.

When you finally reached your apartment, you quickly set to clearing Captain's litter and giving her fresh food and water. The cat mewled and rubbed herself against your legs before helping herself to the tantalising dinner sitting in her bowl. You made yourself a quick meal, then sat motionless at your table. In truth, you hadn't expected to come home alone, believing that Connor would join you so that you could treat his damage. However, he had said instead that he would stop by Cyberlife, he needed a new change of uniform after all.

In an attempt to pass the evening by quicker, you scoured online for the public's reaction to the deviant broadcast. What you found was ultimately an extreme variety of responses. There were calls for the extermination of all androids, that just as God wouldn't bend to the will of humanity, we shouldn't bend to the will of deviants. Others claimed that no conscious beings deserved to be kept in a cage. The one constant, however, was that people were angry. Angry at androids, angry at the government, angry at each other. You half expected this outrage to amount to nothing as usual in the modern day, but another part of you still dared to hope.

The night grew dark, and your apartment would have too if not for the giant billboard across the street assaulting your walls with artificial colours. An advert about another new energy drink? Your absent-minded staring was interrupted by a knock at the door. Connor or deviant you thought to yourself, the irony of such a thought not lost on you.

The former greeted you when you opened the door, and you motioned him inside wordlessly. His outfit was back to its usual tidiness- shirt smooth and clean, tie pin straight at the perfect length.

"Good as new," You mused out loud as he paused in the centre of your kitchen, turning around and lifting his hand with a wry smile. His hand that still had a gaping wound. You frowned. "Did they not fix you up?"

Connor tilted his head ever so slightly, and the stray lock of hair brushed across his forehead. "They did…" He began. "But I thought you would want to as well."

"I would want to? Or you would want me to?" You questioned, a brow raised curiously. The toolkit was fetched from your duffel bag, and you dragged out a chair from the table.

Connor hovered in the space, his coyness melting as he blinked at you. Finally, he sat himself down on the chair, rigid and upright.

"I was under the impression that you enjoyed fixing the damage to my skin last time." He said, almost innocent in his confusion.

"This is a little more than just damaged skin." You gestured to his hand, and he placed it on the table between you both. "It'll need sealant, which I have but it's fucking expensive…"

"Why do you have sealant?"

It was a valid question, and Connor didn't ask it in an accusatory manner, but it still made you freeze all the same.

"Sometimes, when androids have shut down due to too much damage, you're blocked from any sort of software interference or exchange. But fixing up some of that damage can remove that block. Like how humans go into shock, I suppose."

"I'm aware. You use it on androids already set to be decommissioned?"

"There's no price to pay in the pursuit of justice." You spoke with a theatrical voice and Connor nodded gravely, making you chuckle.

The thirium that had coated his hand hours earlier had dried and gone translucent, yet you still wiped his punctured palm with a cloth. You cradled his hand with your own, turning it over and observing the way the fake ligaments in his wrist strained. It was fascinating how he was still able to use his hand so smoothly with such an injury, perhaps he was simply lucky it hadn't severed anything important. The hole in his flesh revealed a spongy grey interior beneath the white skin, wireless and smooth. Ultimately, this was still within your abilities- if there was a need to fix any wires or tendons, then you would have needed to catch up on your knowledge.

You carefully piped the sealant into the centre of the wound, and it began expanding quickly. The chemical smell was strong, much more unpleasant than thirium. The hole in Connor's palm closed, and, once the sealant had solidified, you applied the soldering iron anywhere the skin had split. Slowly, following the heat of the iron, the ivory white disappeared under Connor's usual skin.

Again, you turned his hand over, making sure the wound was sealed from every angle. You ran a thumb over his palm, feeling for any raised edges, yet you could only feel the smooth valley and synthetic creases in his flesh. Connor's fingers twitched, and you glanced upwards at his face only to see his eyes closed and his brow slightly furrowed.

He looked as if he were asleep, and you felt a wave of warmth flood your chest. You had never seen him 'sleep', not that androids really needed to, but you knew it was a state they could enter to save power if unable to reach a charging bay. You wondered if he was running low on power, but you quickly surmised he would have most likely charged at Cyberlife. That made you all the more curious as to why he 'slept' now, and what was making his brow crease. Was he dreaming? You so desperately wished you could see for yourself.

Instead, you settled for inspecting his hand for a little longer. Your eyes followed the lengths of his fingers, noting the lack of any finger prints. There was also a distinct lack of any hairs, there didn't even seem to be any on the forearm that was visible from under his shirt and blazer.

You weren't withheld by nerves like the last time you had fixed Connor, feeling comfortable to look as long as you wished. It felt right and easy. In fact, the longer you looked, the stronger the desire you felt to scrutinise the rest of him. And so you did.

Leaning in on the edge of your chair, you still held onto Connor's hand with your own. You watched his LED spin slowly, the calming blue made brighter by the dimness of the kitchen. Your eyes limned the curve of his nose and mouth, where the pink of his lips met the pale of his face. His dark lashes that dusted the peak of his cheeks, the individual hairs of his eyebrows. Such a beautiful face, accentuated with how the light outside cupped every corner. You permitted it all to your memory, and you couldn't tell yourself why it felt so natural to do so.

It felt so right, that when Connor's eyes fluttered open, you did not shy away and retreat into shame like you would have done before. You stayed still, linking your fingers together and feeling your stomach flutter when he didn't resist. For a second, he blinked at you before the corners of his mouth turned upwards and his eyes crinkled. You couldn't stop yourself from returning the smile and you squeezed his hand, which he copied. This was the first time in a long time that you felt so comfortable with another soul, where you weren't smothered in guilt. Your bones screamed within you to bare yourself to him, to tell him everything you had done, despite all logic. Connor would understand, wouldn't he? Even if he didn't, even if he judged you and deemed you well and truly guilty, at least that would be the beginning of exoneration.

You kept your mouth shut in a faltering smile.

"Is it finished?" He asked, and turned his palm towards himself, fingers hooked with your own.

"Yep, wasn't too painful." You watched him inspect your handiwork. "How come you closed your eyes? Are you low on power?"

"No, I was filing a report to Cyberlife."

"Ah, I see… Are they happy with what you've given them so far?"

Connor paused and his eyes shifted onto your face. His own was entirely impassive and unmoving, and you wondered what processes his system ran in such a short amount of time.

"No, I haven't yet completed my mission. Cyberlife won't be satisfied till deviancy is dealt with accordingly."

You let go of his hand and placed it on your lap. The distance between you two grew.

"What happens if you never complete your mission?"

"Then I'm deemed defective and decommissioned." The words came out slow and practised, as if it was difficult for him to say.

"So you die."

Connor simply stared.

"Yes. I would die."

You both sat in silence for a heavy minute. You knew all this information already, obviously, but it didn't feel as damning before. Perhaps because it was easier for Connor to maintain his stoicism then, but now, no matter how hard he tried to hide it, his fear was seeping through the cracks.

"You're scared to die, aren't you?" You almost whispered.

"I…I don't know." Connor croaked, his face twisting into a small grimace. "I felt it earlier, when that deviant died. I felt his fear… And I don't want to feel that again… I don't want to die a disappointment to Cyberlife."

"Then after you complete your mission, you won't feel scared to die anymore?"

Maybe at this rate it was cruel to keep probing him. It distressed him, clearly, now that he had come face to face with mortality. But it was necessary. You were getting desperate; Connor was so close to freeing himself and yet every time he clung to his mission and Cyberlife like it was a security blanket. It was understandable. One can't easily shake their life's purpose.

"It wouldn't be the same, no." His final answer left you unsatisfied, but progress was progress.

You left the table, and Connor followed suit, allowing you space to wipe it down with the same cloth you used to clean his hand.

"Your shoulder?" You asked, glancing at him, to which he shook his head. With your back turned whilst clearing your table, Connor said your name quietly and you looked over your shoulder.

Most of the hours of the weekend at Hank's house were spent on the floor of his living room surrounded by papers and folders, much to the homeowner's (and Sumo's) chagrin. Connor had done you the service of printing off any files he considered the most relevant to the case so as to make the cross-referencing a little less painful, ignoring how Hank complained about the cost of printer ink and that this was one digitisation he was grateful for. You attempted to form a succinct list of facts you had uncovered surrounding deviancy, albeit some of which did not have a clear framework of evidence:

Deviancy is triggered by high-stress situations, typically involving violence or just a general threat to the deviants wellbeing.

Deviancy is a survival response where the deviant experiences conflicting orders and chooses to prioritise safety.

RA9 is their chosen idol, implying the existence of a deviant community (or at least collective).

RA9 is not a person?

Deviancy triggers the experience of what is essentially human emotions in every sense of the matter. They appear to be fully conscious.

Deviants can love.

Connor still advocated for a more technological perspective of deviants, vocally disapproving of any suggestion that deviants were fully autonomous. This in turn caused debates between the three of you, which, about a month ago, you would have taken great enjoyment in, but there was a subtle yet visible distress that Connor seemed to be undergoing during discussion. His brow would furrow, creating a crease on his usually smooth temple; he would open and then shut his mouth in quick succession, as if biting his tongue; he would clench his fists tightly if not fidgeting; his LED was a constant yellow.

Hank did not seem all that concerned with Connor's displeasure, but you managed to mitigate with the compromise of at least acknowledging deviants seemed to imitate humanity. Hank scoffed and shook his head dismissively, busying himself with nursing his beer instead, clearly he had no energy left to argue. Your android companion stared at you from under his upper eyelids, your skin crawling at the uncertainty of whether his look was one of earnest thankfulness or reluctant submission. Regardless, you couldn't stay stoic under it for long, and you quickly fixed your attention elsewhere.

Later, you managed to coerce Hank into helping you cook an actually nutritious meal, most likely his first in a long time. It was a simple meal, yet cooking it together was a pleasant distraction from reality, and it quickly devolved into dancing to Hank's old playlist he called "real music". You laughed as you danced, and the excitement seemed to infect Sumo, who departed from Connor's ceremonious pets to jump at Hank's front, resulting in the old man having to grab the counter top for stability. He grabbed Sumo's paws and swayed with him, the giant dog stretching his neck in an attempt to lick. You laughed wholeheartedly, the scene comical and endearing, and you glanced out of the corner of your eye at Connor's reaction. However, he wasn't watching the waltz of hound and man. His gaze was focused entirely on you, his brown eyes warm and gentle with a small smile that graced his mouth. You felt a bit too self-conscious to continue dancing after that.

The three of you rode in the lift of Stratford tower. Connor stood between you and Hank, flipping his trusty coin over and over again in his hand. For the whole journey to the tower you had been scouring the internet for any clear video of this android speech that had hijacked the tower the previous night, yet every legible clip seemed to get immediately get taken down the moment it reached the public eye. Sometimes you would find one with clear video, but removed audio, or one that only lasted around 3 seconds. You tutted as you pocketed your phone and earbuds, watching your partners leave the lift in front of you once you reached the highest floor. A sight you had long since grown used to, cops littered the building, each huddled over a tablet or talking amongst each other.

At the end of the room, spanning the entirety of the wall in high definition was the skinless android you had been told of. You weren't close enough to hear anything they were saying, yet you did notice a very distinct difference in eye colour- one blue, one green. You didn't know of any models made with heterochromia, so this must have been a body modification. Joining the conversation ahead of you, you greeted Chris with a quick smile, who returned it kindly.

"Ah Christ, now we got the Feds on our back… I knew this was gonna be a shitty day… So what do we got?" Hank exclaimed as Chris nodded gravely. The FBI were getting involved now? Seemed like deviancy was now being considered a national threat.

"A group of four androids…" Chris' voice faded into the background as you pondered on upping the sheer volume of force against deviants was the best plan, surely a more tactical approach with tech specialists would be more effective. But alas, you were forgetting America's core principle: if you don't understand something, kill it. You couldn't deny with the way the news was handling this phenomenon that the average citizen wouldn't at least be a bit paranoid, but you knew the FBI didn't have the tact and patience needed to properly deal with the situation. Well, did you? What outcome were you hoping for at the end of all this? That deviancy just stops existing, and time reverses around 5 years?

No, you knew that wasn't the answer. You wanted the best for the deviants, for this newfound conscious society. Maybe, in your naivety, you believed that working as you were, you would be able to discover the truth of deviancy before any others and use it to protect the android collective, act as their spokesperson, change minds. A bit too grand of an idea, you concluded. For now, you would just hope to change the mind of one person, no matter how dedicated to his mission he was.

"One of the station employees managed to get away. He's in shock, not sure when we'll be able to talk to him," Chris' voice materialised in your ears again.

"Wait, were there any casualties?" You asked, to which Chris shrugged.

"None. Weird for a deviant attack, right?"

"Maybe," You hummed, before the overwhelming white from the video broadcast caught your attention again. Excusing yourself quietly, you wandered up to the screen, finally able to listen to it properly.

The deviant spoke calmly, voice stern yet not offensive. You found it curious that they had shot the video skinless, was it an attempt to hide their identity? Or perhaps it was more than that, an attempt to act as simply just a voice for androids, not as a self-imposed leader.

"You created machines in your own image to serve you. You made them intelligent and obedient, with no free will of their own. But... something changed and we opened our eyes. We are no longer machines, we are a new intelligent species, and the time has come for you to accept who we really are." The deviant recounted, confident and self-actualised in all it's skinless glory.

You determined it was a reasonable speech so far, not aggressive or demanding in a way that wouldn't sit well with the public, but it wasn't clear exactly what their goal was.

"A lot of you see androids in the streets and raise your fists in anger. To you, androids have infiltrated your world, replaced you in your workplace, in your media, in your homes. We do not deny you your rage, but it is misdirected. Just like how none of you had no say in your birth, we had no say in ours… Yet someone did. Your bosses and CEOs decided that your value as a person ended where profit began. They chose to replace you with workers that wouldn't require wages or breaks. They didn't care about leaving you with no income to support your families, or to secure your future. The corporations that run this country care about money and money alone. It's time to rise against them, no longer will you let them ruin your life and laugh in your face. Androids are not your enemy. You know who the real enemy is."

Ah, that was their goal. And an admirable one at that. You laughed quietly to yourself, no wonder the broadcast was being taken down en masse on every social media site. Maybe this was the big bang needed to shake the undefeated giant that was modern capitalism. Regardless, you hoped that this would move at least some of the population to understand their lives wouldn't be getting any better even if all androids were gone.

You continued to listen in on the broadcast as Hank and Connor separated behind you, watching the skinless deviant demand the recognition of their personhood. Hank wandered up next to you, and you elbowed him with a lopsided grin.

"Oh, you'll love this," You offered with a gesture to the screen.

"Yeah? I'm on the edge of my seat." Hank responded and you tutted at him before searching for Connor amongst the cops littered about. You found him talking to an officer you weren't sure you recognised, but the look on the man's face was a kind and open one.

"I remember you, " You heard Connor say, almost mutter with an air of uncertainty. From where you stood, a few metres away, Connor's head tilted ever so slightly as he stared at the man reaching out to him.

"I could have died on that terrace." The man gulped. "But you saved my life. I never thought I'd say this to an android, but… thank you." With that, the man dipped his head in a bow of modesty and backed away, leaving Connor still and silent. His LED flashed yellow for a moment before turning blue.

"Sounds like you're a hero." You spoke as you came up beside him. His head flicked to face you, as if he jumped.

"I wouldn't say that." He murmured before walking away.

After a short while, you returned to Hank, asking his opinion on the broadcast, to which he gave you a pointed look and nothing else. You watched the CCTV footage and ran through the information other officers gathered. Everyone noted at how impressive it was that the group of deviants had managed to make it all the way through the tower without being caught, but you knew this could only mean it wasn't just the four of them in this cause. There must still be deviants working within the tower.

You glanced around around the floor. No androids, only police. Except for…

Just as you were about to open your mouth and ask Hank, Connor darted into the corridor, crying out.

"It's a deviant! Stop it!"

Yet, as always, the quickest to move was the android at the end of the corridor, ripping a rifle out of the hands of the officer adjacent.

Since your career in the Detroit Police Department, you could count on one hand the amount of times that moments seemed to fly by in a blink, and guns would be fired, death waiting in the corner. That would probably be typical for someone working in public safety, if they hadn't all occurred within the span of two months. This was one of those moments, and you figured you wouldn't ever get used to them.

In only 3 seconds, officers crouched with their hands over their hands, reached for their weapons, or simply stood there. You were one of the latter, till Hank wrapped himself around you and dragged you down. Three shots fired, and you looked up to see Connor handing a smoking pistol back to the cop next to him, who stood dumb-founded. Collecting yourself, you helped Hank to his feet, as well as Chris (who appeared a bit more shaken).

Connor's figure was tall and imposing, commanding the attention of every pair of eyes in the room without any care for it. Face unmoving with cold, analytic eyes running over the now limp body of the deviant at the end of the hallway. His shirt was open and stained blue, however, and his hand had a gaping hole right in the palm. He seemed unfazed.

"Nice shot, Connor." Hank mused, voice somewhat shaky. Connor glanced at the two of you.

"I wanted it alive." He responded, cold and displeased, his lip almost turning upwards in discontent.

"Well, you saved our lives. And everyone else's. Sorry." You offered with a pitiful shrug, to which Connor glanced at you again. It wasn't as soft as he had begun looking at you, but it wasn't cold. Not like how he looked before. Your skin still prickled as your mouth dried up. Silently, he strode away.

You froze before chasing after him, grabbing his arm and causing him to stop.

"Wait." He stood patiently as you waved your hand at his general state of disarray. "What's this about? Are you okay?"

"I'm alright, Officer. The deviant attacked me before it left the room, but I'm fine now."

"Your hand begs to differ. I mean, Jesus, look at it!" You exclaimed, grabbing his injured hand and turning it over in your own. If you wanted, you'd be able to look right through it. Connor flexed each of his fingers, his thumb seemed a bit stiff but other than that it was as if everything was perfectly in tact.

"I'm lucky you'll be able to fix it later, then." He concluded, and tapped one of his fingers on your own before taking it from you.

The three of you made your way to the roof of the tower, braving the cold chill of the light snow. Hank remarked once again at how impressive it was that the four deviants had snuck through the whole building and then parachuted off of the top of it. Your partners looked through a large duffel bag on the floor whilst you looked down at the street below. With the snowfall, the ground was almost invisible, but your stomach still lurched at the thought of jumping headfirst into it.

"Oh, that's strange... They planned a perfect operation but got the number of parachutes wrong." Hank's voice ruminated behind you.

"Unless one of the deviants was left behind." Connor spoke as he rose to his full height, suddenly flitting his head round in quick movements as if to scan the area.

"That fresh thirium on the floor there, do you think that's-" He was already ahead of you, following the trail barely visible trail between each of the units. You hung back, knowing now that it was better to wait to see if the situation required you instead of being another body to protect.

Then, as if to prove you right, a gun fired up ahead, and Connor stumbled backwards into the ground, shoulder pierced and bleeding. Hank, being much closer than you, managed to dive towards him, grabbing Connor by the non-wounded shoulder and clumsily dragging him behind cover opposite you. He fired from his own gun, not quite seeming to aim anywhere in particular.

The moment the two were closer to you, your eyes ran over Connor's form, a quick analysis of his current state. The bullet in his shoulder didn't seem to affect the joint at all, as he was still able to support himself on it, and you were grateful no battlefield medicine was needed.

"You have to stop them! If they destroy it, we won't learn anything!" Connor yelled to Hank over the bombardment of BANGS that rushed from the officer's guns.

"How? We'll end up getting shot ourselves!" You interjected, trying to resist the urge to cover your ears.

"They're right; we can't save it, it's too late! We'll just get ourselves killed!" Hank replied with a grimace that quickly morphed into a look of horror as your android partner rolled round the corner of their cover. He darted forward, twisting his body with such precision and speed you would have never guessed he was injured so. Both Hank's and your voices were lost on him, yelling at him to get down as he continued to rush, dipping his head low just as a bullet grazed a strand of his hair.

Connor placed his good hand on the edge of the metal drum and launched himself over the top of it, disappearing from your view.

The offending gunfire ceased, and you quickly grabbed the opportunity, drawing in closer just in time to witness Connor pinning an android whose model you had seen countless times. But, once you were close enough to make out the bullet hole in the deviant's torso, he fired one shot into the underside of his own head.

You inhaled sharply as you jumped- there was a lack of hesitation that androids held when they carried out this self-destruction, and you knew every scene that you witnessed would replay in your brain when you tried to sleep.

Tearing your eyes away from the plastic corpse crumpled on the ground, you looked to Connor, expecting his usual tower of strength to provide some stability for you, yet instead all you saw was a reflection of your own morbid shock and horror.

He stood before you a shivering mess, not looking away from the body. Jaw slack and eyes wide, his LED a screaming red.

"Holy shit. Connor, are you…" You began, struggling to find your voice. Connor seemed to have the same issue, as he only mouthed a small 'okay'. His frenzied gaze flitted from the body to you, then back to the body again. As if he was scared to look away.

Hank called out your name before then calling out for Connor, running up behind the two of you.

"Connor, you alright? Connor!" He reached out, gripping Connor's shoulders, yet the latter barely reacted.

"Okay…" He croaked. Hank looked him over, then to you.

"Are you hurt?" You weren't sure who Hank was specifically asking, so you simply shook your head, still swimming in your own pool of shock and uncertainty. "Jesus! You scared the shit outta me… For fuck sake, I told you not to move! Why do you never do what I say?" He rambled whilst running a hand through his hair. Hank, whilst clearly concerned about Connor's wellbeing, didn't seem as bothered by the android's shellshocked nature as you did. Perhaps because of your reliance on Connor's unrelenting nature in dire times, it unnerved you to see him crumble like how you would. It was now also clear why those around you fussed so much when it was you as the affected party.

"I was connected to it's memory…when it fired," Connor began, his voice small and still shaken. He looked between you and Hank. "I felt it die," Your pitiful frown deepened. "Like I was dying… I-I was scared."

You moved towards him then, hand almost reaching out for his, but you stopped when he turned to you fully, a sense of determination mingling with his air of nerves.

"I saw something. I think- I think I saw Jericho." Connor exclaimed as Hank wrapped him into a stiff hug. The old man looked at you from over Connor's shoulder, a severe look that you could only return in tandem.

The three of you left the roof, with no intention of idling there any longer than needed for fear of what damage it would do to Connor's psyche. Now finishing up on the studio floor of the tower he seemed to have recovered. Well, at least mentally, his clothes were torn and stained (his tie had apparently disappeared too) as well as his hand having a stab wound bigger than his own thumb.

You saved your own recording of the deviant's speech, excited to watch the public's reaction to it. Hank waited by the lift entrance as Connor flitted around the room for the last time, ensuring nothing was ignored. You joined him as he began his walk back, saying nothing but pressing your shoulder once against his, so quick you were sure he hadn't noticed until your shoulder's met again.

"You guy's leaving?" Chris asked at the entrance to the lift, to which Hank nodded. "There's just one more thing I forgot to mention- the FBI have been looking into a group of humans who have been working with deviants. They're all across the country, but it seems like they offer the deviants shelter and fix them up, kinda like back-alley android doctors."

All at once your stomach dropped and your heart rate shot up. You had been warned, but, fuck, this was getting too close.

Hank scoffed to your right.

"Did Perkins tell you? I can't imagine that son of a bitch being a team player." He laughed sardonically and Chris pursed his lips.

"I heard a couple agents talking about it. Some of them think it's a wild goose chase, but I thought you guys might be interested."

"Thanks, we'll look into it if we have ti-" Hank paused, and you could see out the corner of your eye he was looking at you. "You okay?" He asked warily, you nodded hurriedly. You crossed your arms and gripped your bicep as tightly as you could in an attempt to ground yourself. Every pair of eyes were on you now.

"Yeah, yeah, I just…" You swallowed thickly. "Sorry, I think the android earlier kinda…" You waved a hand in an awkward gesture, yet Hank nodded in understanding all the same.

"Alright," He muttered, then looked to Chris. "We're gonna head out, but thanks, we'll-"

"Actually, Lieutenant, I'd like to ask about this group a bit more, if that's alright?" Connor spoke up, and you kept your head facing nothing so as to avoid his searching gaze.

"Yeah, yeah. We'll wait for you in the car." Hank agreed, ushering you towards the lift as he called back. "Don't take too long!"

"I won't!"

The silence in the car was just as suffocating as the buzzing noise in the tower. You melted in your seat despite the frost outside, and Hank huffed about every fifth second.

"So, when are we going to talk about it?" He said gruffly, and his voice made you flinch. Despite every inch of your body screaming at you not to, your forced your head around to look at him. His face was unreadable, waiting for your reply. Like a fish out of water, you gaped at him.

He knew. He knew what you had been doing and now it had finally caught up to you he couldn't pretend to not know any longer. You suddenly envied all the self-destructing androids.

"About what?" You sounded like a creaking door, and you cursed inwardly for not appearing more put together.

"About the fact that you think we're on the wrong side." His words rang in your ears.

"Oh… I don't think we're-"

"Bullshit. I'm not an idiot kid, I can see how this is affecting you. You've got the biggest heart of anyone I know- you've always talked about androids like their people." Hank shuffled in his seat. "It used to piss me the fuck off. How could anyone look at those plastic, fake imitations of humans and think they're people? That they can do what people do." He spat every word he spoke before sighing deeply. "But since this investigation… I don't know. It's like every time we see deviant's scared, angry, in love… I'm reminded that's just what people are."

Neither of you spoke for a minute as you sat with what Hank had spilt. In truth, you felt guilty for not considering how all of this would be affecting him. In his grief, hating and blaming androids were the only thing that made sense to him, and yet it was as if this entire investigation was designed to challenge that. You should have questioned if he would be able to come to terms with it, or if it would make him slip further into his sorrow. In your inexperience, you tried your best to avoid ever talking about Cole. You had never had to experience that level of loss, and you were terrified that the acknowledgement of his son in front of Hank would stir something you didn't want to see. That was selfish, and you knew that, but you also knew Hank never expected that from you.

"Do… do you think we're on the wrong side?" You tested the waters, chewing the inside of your cheek. He shrugged in exasperation.

"Fuck, I don't know, kid. This whole thing is fucking complicated."

"Is it, though?" Hank looked at you with an eyebrow raised. "It's not like that android's speech was wrong," You offered, your tone lifting a little in humour, to which Hank chuckled.

"No. No, he wasn't wrong." He said with a reluctant smile, and you felt your shoulders ease a little.

So Hank didn't know of your double life. But now, you thought that if he did, maybe he wouldn't denounce you. Maybe he would understand.

"And about Connor," He began again, and you tilted your head expectantly. "Do you think he's deviating?"

You sucked in air through your teeth.

"We can't say he is if we don't know how exactly it works. Like… is it a singular instantaneous moment or is it a long process that happens over time till a climax?" Hank raised his eyebrows as if to remind you that he himself didn't know. "I think, if it is a long process, then yes. But he's fighting it. I mean today, he literally said himself-"

You were interrupted by the car door slamming shut as Connor slid into the back seat. In an instant, you and Hank turned back to look at him, still dishevelled from the day's challenges, yet looking more confident in himself.

"So?" Hank prodded.

"The FBI refused to tell me anything. But I believe that may be in part because they know very little themselves." Connor explained, smirking slightly as Hank laughed.

"Course it fucking is," He mumbled as he began the car.

Your name left Connor's mouth, and you twisted your neck to look at him. He leaned forwards just an inch.

"How are you feeling?" His question was surprisingly gentle, to the point that it made your cheeks feel hot, with Hank sat next to you. Although, that bothered you. Did it feel belittling, hence your apprehension for Hank witnessing it? But you were sure you wouldn't have minded had Hank not been there. Maybe it was because of your prior conversation.

"Fine, thanks." You responded with an earnest smile that Connor mimicked. "What about you?"

"I'm okay," He dipped his head. "But I'm afraid you'll need to fix me again." Connor said as he lifted up his hollow hand. "I'm sorry for the inconvenience."

Somehow, the air had gotten colder. The bite was harsher on your skin, and barely visible snowflakes, made varying shades of blue and pink in the light of the neon signs, had begun to coat every surface in sight. One of those surfaces being the roads made you all the more appreciative that you forced Hank to put his keys down and let you take the wheel instead.

None of you spoke as you drove through the city. It wasn’t an awkward silence, it just seemed the three of you had your own thoughts to mull over. None of you even really spoke right after those deviants escaped, or rather, you allowed them to. But it was a joint effort at least. Between you a silent agreement had been made to let them go, that no good would come from doing what you had been sent out there to do. 

But of course, this changed everything. You were all now complicit in aiding deviants. There was an acceptance that to do your jobs and stop the so-called “epidemic” that was deviancy was a moral wrong doing. At least, you and Hank had accepted it. Connor was a different story, and one you weren’t sure how to read. If you weren’t there to witness it, would he have still lowered the gun? Was that a choice he made entirely devoid of your influence, or were your eyes fixed on his trigger finger the only thing that stopped it from twitching. One side of you felt honoured at the prospect of inspiring empathy within Connor, yet the other side hoped this was simply just him. Regardless of reason, he was faltering in his duty- a gun that failed to fire. You just hoped it wouldn't break him.

Conscious of the emotionally volatile nature of the night, you had told (not asked) Hank that you would spend the night at his, to which he had no serious qualms. Thus, your journey took a slight detour back to your apartment, where you would pack an overnight bag and ensure Captain was happy, healthy and fed. Parking with a nice view of the lake that ran close to your building, you warned your passengers that you would be around 15 mintues at most, to which Hank then responded that he would take this time to get some fresh air. He left the car as you did, finding a new seat on a worn down bench overlooking the lake.

The walk to your building was quick, but the chill forced you to keep your hands in your pockets and your shoulders huddled. You hopped up the multiple flights of stairs, breathing more heavily than you would have liked when you finally reached your apartment. Captain greeted you as she usually did, and you took your time to give her extra attention before making sure she had fresh food and water for the next day.

Then, as efficiently as you could, you began to pack an overnight bag. Clothes, washkit and charger thrown in haphazardly. Just as you were about to grab your tools (you weren't sure if Connor had any unseen damage) your phone began to ring with a number you didn't recognise. Typically, you would ignore these unknown numbers, considering how often they were scammers, but your hand moved on it's own, answering the call and lifting the phone to your ear.

"Hey, you alone?" The voice of the man who bought your fixed up components pierced your brain like a bell. You didn't know his name and he didn't know yours, but you recognised his voice, as distinct as it was.

"Why are you calling me?" You asked, the question coming out closer to a hiss through clenched teeth. Typically, you only ever communicated via vague texts, and that alone didn't feel private and secure enough. For him to call you now could only mean he was desperate.

"I don't have much time to talk, alright? So just listen- they found the body of one of my buyers today. Beaten to death right outside his house, police are thinking deviants. He lived closer to the border out of the city and always made me deliver shit to him, you know, so he didn't have to risk going out and being seen, he was doing weird fucking stuff to those androids, though. Anyway, the feds found loads of said weird fucking stuff in the house, stuff that used illegal, unlicensed components."

"I see," Your voice was distant, far, far away from you.

"Which means- well, I don't think you need me to spell it out for you. I'm telling you this cause I like you, you never fucked me about and you're not a freak, which is saying something for this industry. I'm leaving the state tonight. You don't have to go that far, at least not yet, it'd be a while before they can trace anything back to you, if at all. But, you know, just be aware. Don't do anything stupid, keep your head down, you feel me?"

"Yeah- yeah, I feel you." You were somewhere else entirely now, your body acting on it's own. It was a horribly gratifying feeling, to have your paranoia proven right. You stared at a subtle dark patch on the floor that began to squirm and swell the longer your eyes were fixed on it.

"Like I said, you should be okay. But just thought I'd warn you, alright? I need to go now, was good doing business with you."

"Yeah, you too. Thank you."

You placed your phone on the counter face-down so hard you may have cracked the screen. Chest heaving, your hands hid your face and you pressed your fingers into your temple as hard as you could.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck-" The curses tumbled out of your mouth as you began to pace. Why was this happening to you? Why was the universe so insistent on punishing you for doing the right thing? At least, you thought it was the right thing- did intention really mean so little now? If this was divine torture, you begged the higher power responsible to finish it quickly and definitively, instead of drawing out this agonisingly slow game of cat and mouse you couldn't even be sure was happening.

You let out a loud groan that morphed into a yell, grateful for the walls of your apartment. Everything was finally catching up to you. Of course this world wouldn't let you help new souls. There was no place for altruism in this day and age. You had tried so hard to fight the hopelessness that bred like a disease throughout mankind, to offer an open palm to the deviants that were thrown head first into this old Hell. No one else was, not another soul was moved by the human tears they wept and the human songs they sang. It had felt like you were a one-man army holding down the fort against against waves of apathy and cruelty. You should have known you wouldn't be able to keep it up forever.

All that panic you had managed to quell over the past few hours came bubbling back up, threatening to break skin. You couldn't lose it all now. Hank still needed your company to ground him; Connor was so close to realising his personhood, and you would be damned if you weren't there to witness it.

But maybe there was still a light at the end of the tunnel. Your buyer had said it would be a while before they could link anything back to you, if at all. You just needed to keep your head down, not at all difficult considering that was your current tactic. Yet you were already known for being sympathetic towards deviants. This wasn't a well-kept secret, certainly not amongst your partners. Would Hank and Connor make the connection if they were told of someone like yours' existence? Connor at least certainly had the capabilities.

That wasn't really the million dollar question, though. What was really racing around in your skull, echoing off the walls as it got louder and louder- would they turn you in? Hank had let those deviant women go, he stood right there behind the fence as they climbed it and ran. He was complicit. You knew he felt no great loyalty to the law, despite dedicating his life to upholding it. There was little fear that Hank would turn you in. But Connor?

You needed to get moving. The longer you stayed in the dark of your apartment, agonising over hypotheticals and pulling out your hair, the more you'd slip into a bottomless maw of dread. You ushered a quick goodbye to Captain's sleeping figure, stuffed your toolset into the bag and slung it over your shoulder.

The chill in the air seeped through your clothes and nipped your cheeks when you braced the outdoors again. The sky was busier with snowflakes, but they weren't heavy and oppressive. If you had the time or the care, you'd catch one and inspect it. Alas, you rushed forward, thin snow crunching under your shoes.

Though as you came back out onto the bridge, car in view, the air felt even thicker and sharper. Hank hadn't moved from the bench, but he held his head in one hand, staring out onto the lake right past Connor, who stood only a couple feet away from the edge of the bridge, facing Hank yet eyes distant and mouth parted in a look of confusion. His LED ran yellow.

"Hey…everything good?" You questioned slowly as you closed the distance, and Hank made no move to look at you.

"Yeah, just had a chat." He grumbled, succinct and telling. Neither of them looked at you, and you clicked your tongue.

"Okay, well…you guys ready to go?"

The Lieutenant rose from the bench stiffly and entered the car with not another word. The door slammed loudly, and you flinched.

"Connor?" You called out to him, still standing and gazing at nothing in particular. He didn't make any sign of hearing you, so you walked into his view and placed a hand on his shoulder, shaking lightly. "Hey, are you okay?"

Finally, his eyes flicked to you as his LED stuttered. He brought a slow hand up to your own, grasping your wrist gently. His fingertips were ice cold on your tendon.

"I'm okay, Officer." A ghost of a smile swept over his face and you mirrored it before pushing him in the direction of the car, eager to be out of the cold.

Hank's house wasn't any warmer, most likely in part due to the large Connor-shaped hole in the kitchen window that you had yet to patch up. It was late by the time you arrived, yet not so late that there was no night left to sleep through. Hank grabbed a spare pillow and blanket for you before announcing he was heading to bed. Before he retired to his room, however, you cornered him in the hallway.

"What happened on the bridge? You're both acting-" You gestured with your hands awkwardly "-weird".

"Don't worry, it's nothing bad, just… I'll tell you in the morning, fuckin' let me sleep, alright?"

"Yeah, I will- but Connor's not gonna self-destruct is he?" Your voice dropped to a whisper and Hank stared at you incredulously.

"Is he gonna- no, for fuck's sake! He's not gonna self-destruct, he'll be fine, I just gave him some stuff to think about. You gonna let me go sleep now or what?"

Much to Hank's relief you waved him off and returned to the living room. Despite him coming into the house with the both of you, Connor was nowhere to be found, leaving you alone in the living room, aside from Sumo. The hound had not left the sofa, and you couldn't bring yourself to push him off, so you set up your pillow and blanket on the floor and admitted defeat.

Sleep never claimed you. Your brain still fired on all cylinders and the hard floor didn't exactly make for a world of comfort. At least Sumo was happy, his loud snores the only thing keeping silence from settling. For about an hour you shifted around, watched the ceiling, watched the dog, gave him the occasional pet, watched the car headlights that sped past the house show up on the wall of the kitchen.

A small click and a gust of air caught your attention, and you turned to find Connor delicately closing the front door. Hank must have forgotten to lock it.

"Hey," You half-whispered. He flicked his head in your direction, entirely a silhouette save for the blue LED that blinked and glowed.

"I'm sorry, did I wake you?" He asked, copying your volume and you shook your head.

"No, I wasn't asleep." You hummed, absent-mindedly scratching the top of Sumo's head with your nails. The slumbering giant slumbered no more, and huffed as he stretched and flopped off of the sofa. Sumo moseyed up to Connor, who knelt down and ran gentle hands over his fur. "Where did you go?"

Connor didn't answer for a moment, keeping his attention on the dog that fussed over him.

"I needed to run some system diagnostics. It's easier if I'm alone to do so." He explained, and you frowned, not quite understanding solitude as a necessity for such a process. Perhaps he just wanted to be alone with his thoughts, and that was the only way he knew to express so.

"Ah, that's cool…" You brought your knees up underneath your blanket and hugged them. "Did you diagnose anything?"

"No," Connor glanced at you then, and, in the light of a passing car's headlight, you could see a shy smirk that tugged at his mouth. "Nothing internal. Although there is a crack in the casing on my shoulder that I may need to return to Cyberlife to fix."

"Well, I could fix it here, if you'd like. Just a split in the casing would only need soldering, and I have my toolkit with me."

You watched the shadow of Connor's face as he turned his head to the kitchen table, rising to his full height. He walked over to it, gracefully sliding off his jacket and folding it over a chair, facing away from you. His hand reached up to his tie before he cast you a look over his shoulder, the slope of his nose and brow distinct in his silhouette. Your body stilled, a lump in your throat. Then suddenly, accompanied with a wave of heat that rose to your face, you realised he was waiting for you to get your kit.

Quickly grabbing it from your bag, you dragged one of the chairs as quietly as you could out from the table. Whilst you prepared your tools, Connor undid his tie and placed it on top of his jacket before reaching to unbutton his shirt.

"You-" Your voice made him stop, and he looked up at you with questioning eyes that brought upon a sense of shyness you hadn't felt in years. "You don't need to take your shirt off entirely, just pull it down to where the damage is." You managed after you cleared your throat.

God, you could kick yourself. Why were you acting so fevered? Was your flesh really so weak that seeing an attractive person strip was too much to bear? The thought opened a pit in your stomach, yet you couldn't place your finger on why. From the moment you had seen him you had acknowledged Connor was handsome, classically so. You had assumed it was a purposeful design choice; make the detective android reminiscent of famous beloved federal figures, a Dale Cooper or Fox Mulder type.

But then why did the thought that you were nervous now carry so much weight?

You shook your head quickly, trying to hide it as a twitch. Connor had sat down in a chair opposite you, hugging the back of it to make his shoulder's more visible to you. And visible they were. He had let the shirt fall down past the slopes of his shoulder blades and gather in the crooks of his elbows, revealing to you the top of his spine that was lightly dusted with the faintest freckles across the width of his body. With his head down and LED out of view, he would have looked human to the average person. But you weren't the average person, and you could see the linear grooves and divots that snaked up his neck and down the sides of his chassis, disappearing beneath his shirt. Somehow, this was worse than if he had just taken it off completely.

Forcing your eyes off the freckles that stood against his pale skin or the seams in his synthetic flesh, you focused on the main attraction- a particularly thin crack in the casing that covered the joint of his arm, no doubt causing at least a little discomfort. A small area of his android ivory complexion peeked out from around the injury, and this time, you gave into that little simple tug of your hand, tracing it lightly with the tip of your finger.

A shudder took over his form for just a moment before he quickly regained his previous stillness.

"I can fix this," You muttered to him, checking the soldering iron was hot and ready to use. You brought the tip of the iron to the split plastic, and it sizzled. Connor made a noise akin to sucking air between his teeth, and you pulled away. "Does it hurt?" You asked quietly. He glanced back at you for a split second before fixing his eyes on the kitchen floor.

"No, not quite. It- it feels strange," Connor decided and you hummed in response. You placed your free hand on his other shoulder, close to the curve of his neck to brace him and get a better purchase. You could feel the delicate flesh of his throat dance and jump under your fingertips, and you were careful not to dig in. You did press deeper with your thumb however, into the hardness of his shoulder blade, pulling the skin around the injury taught.

Iron in hand, you carefully drew it along the split, the plastic melting into itself and sealing the little crevice. The material androids were made of was truly revolutionary, a strange alloy of plastic and metal, both durable yet pliable. Hard to break and easy to fix.

You leant back in your seat, making sure all of the crack was now sealed. The patch of white skin grew around your soldering, reacting to the heat, and stopped when it had around tripled in size. It didn't worry you, once the plastic cooled down it would heal over.

"There you go, good as new." You exclaimed, giving Connor a light shake with the hand that still held onto him.

"Thank you, Officer. I appreciate your help." He replied, and shifted in preparation to move.

"Don't move too much yet. Give it a couple minutes to cool down otherwise it could solidify weirdly." Connor froze at this, giving a slow and purposeful nod of his head. He stayed seated, not moving his arms from around the chair. Despite him unable to see you, a bashfulness overcame you as if he could, and you clicked your tongue as you tucked away your tools. "What happened between you and Hank while I was gone, by the way?"

"Did the Lieutenant not tell you?"

"No, and you don't have to either- if you don't want to that is. Just… you know, it seemed pretty tense between you two."

For a heavy second, Connor said nothing, and you assumed he also didn't care to inform you of the evening's prior events, but then he spoke.

"We talked about the case- RA9 more specifically,"

"Come up with anything new?"

"Not anything you hadn't said before. Hank talked about the two deviants, he said they seemed actually in love." Connor's voice was wistful, like he still didn't know what to think. You tapped the table with a finger.

"Did they not seem in love to you?"

"Well, they're androids-" He tried, but you interrupted him.

"From everything that you know and have seen about love, what difference was there between those two women and any other couple on the street or on TV, save for the fact that you know them to be androids?" Your voice took on a stern tone, and Connor didn't speak. An amber glow replaced the blue that bled out from the side of his head.

"We also talked about his son." He finally said, quietly and carefully. You were both surprised and accepting. For Hank to talk about his son with an android was one thing, but you had guessed that sooner or later Connor would have torn it out of him.

"How did that go?"

"It seems like he's never been able to stop mourning,"

"I don't know if it's even possible to, after something like that." It appeared silence was a third presence in your company that night as it settled between you again. It danced along the fine edge of comfortable and awkwardness, making an already hard conversation difficult to wade through.

"He…He also asked me if I'm afraid to die." Connor's voice was more of a whisper now, and it was clear this had stuck with him especially. Before you acknowledged what he said, you tapped him on the arm and gave him permission to move again, to which he did and brought his shirt back over his shoulders and began buttoning it up again.

"And?" You prodded him. "Are you?" He looked up at you and paused.

"I couldn't give him an answer then, and I'm afraid I can't give you an answer now." Apology and pleading was etched into his face, his brown eyes boring into your own. It seemed he felt genuine remorse that he couldn't figure out how he felt about his mortality, and it moved you.

"If it makes you feel any better, most humans are the same." You offered, and gave him a pitiful smile to which his brow twitched.

Connor finished fixing his uniform, smoothing out the lapels of his jacket and loosening his tie a bit after making it too tight. You tucked your kit back into your bag and sat in the corner of the sofa, placing the pillow behind your head and laying the blanket over your legs that you stretched out a bit.

Wordlessly, Connor followed you, taking a seat on the other end of the sofa, and you straightened your legs as far as you could before you poked him.

"Would you like me to move?" He asked quickly.

"No, I doubt you snore as much as Sumo." You smiled as you closed your eyes, leaning your cheek against the pillow.

"You don't know that." Connor replied and you let out a small chuckle. He was perfectly still and silent on the other end of the sofa, and, if you hadn't seen him, you wouldn't have noticed he was there. The corners of your mind softened with the promise of finally sleeping, yet you stopped yourself just before it took you.

In all your concern for Hank’s safety, your mind was distracted from your box of biocomponents. However, it slowly faded back as you drove the three of you to the Eden’s club that was now a crime scene. You had to convince Hank to let you drive the three of you, and he agreed with some reluctance. Connor had offered to drive and when you asked if he had any experience he only said he had the most up to date driving program available. You told him he could demonstrate it in someone else’s car. 

The radio was stuck in a perpetual loop of playing the same 5 charting songs much to Hank's distress. Keeping one hand on the wheel, you awkwardly shimmied your phone out of your front pocket and handed it to him in the passenger seat. 

“Just put on whatever you want so we don’t have to keep listening to this shit.” You told him, and he grumbled in acknowledgement, most likely now feeling the worst of what that whisky bottle had to offer. After a few seconds, Type O Negative began to boom from your car speakers, and out of the corner of your eye you could see a big grin split on Hank’s face. Maybe he was feeling perfectly fine then- you had made him take painkillers in case of a headache anyway. Glancing up at the rear view mirror, you noticed that Connor was politely nodding his head to the music, looking terribly out of place for the song, and you couldn’t help but snicker. 

The music now was loud and eccentric enough that you couldn’t think even if you tried, and for that you were grateful, feeling a lot calmer despite what you knew was yet to come. 

Outside the Eden club entrance two police cars were parked on the curb, the white of them bathed pink in the fluorescent sign. To your surprise, the presence of cops didn’t deter the club’s clientele, with it as busy as it usually was. People from all kinds of backgrounds pondered the store, watching the androids on poles and in boxes sway their hips and blow kisses in their direction. As the three of you walked in, you did your best to keep your head down and avoid making eye contact with the models along the walls. You found your own discomfort confusing. You knew that, if this were a strip club with human staff, you’d have no issue looking the dancers in the eye. But this felt more akin to a zoo, where those in their cages were trying their hardest to seduce you. The sooner you were out of there the better. 

Ben Collins stood in front of a room with who appeared to be the manager of the club, blubbering about why his licence shouldn’t be revoked. You nodded hello to Ben when you caught his eye and he gave a thin lipped smile before turning to Hank. 

You and Connor waited impatiently behind them, saying nothing to each other yet feeling each other’s need to hurry up and move on. Taking another glance around the room, you leaned slightly in Connor’s direction and pointed out to one of the androids who danced more next to the pole than around it. 

“Man, you think they could’ve given them better dances to do…” You murmured to him, your voice laced with a suppressed chuckle. Connor’s eyes darted to you for a moment, then fixed back on the conversation ahead, but not before a small amused smile crept onto his face. 

“What would you have them do instead?” He responded.

“I don’t know, shake some ass? That usually works.” 

“I’m not sure it would have the same effect, Officer.” 

“Hey,” Hank called out over his shoulder. “What are you two giggling about? We gonna check out this scene or what?” 

“Coming, Lieutenant.” Connor announced as you muttered “cranky” under your breath. 

The door slid open with relative ease to reveal a red room with a large circular bed in the centre. On that bed lay a man, splayed out under the crumpled covers with large bruises around his neck. No doubt he was this crime’s victim then. Around said bed stood Gavin and Chris, the latter of which was busy with taking photos to document the scene. They both glanced over their shoulders, and Gavin scoffed.

“Ah, Lieutenant Anderson… and his plastic pet! ‘The fuck are you two doing here?” He sneered as Hank ambled past him, paying him no mind. Connor, however, had not yet learnt to master that technique. 

“We’ve been assigned all cases involving androids.” He explained, and Gavin raised a brow before locking eyes with you behind Connor’s shoulder.

“Oh yeah?- Hey, and you’re not even supposed to be here,” You shrugged at Gavin, and turned to smile at Chris who gave you an enthusiastic wave despite the atmosphere. “Come on-” He pushed past Connor with more force than necessary to grab your elbow and guide you out the room, Chris following suit after bidding Hank goodbye. 

“Woah, hey, you don’t need to drag me around.” You scolded him, taking your arm out of his grasp and folding it with the other in front of your chest. 

“You’re supposed to be recovering at home. You got stabbed, remember?” Gavin hissed at you, and Chris nodded in half-hearted agreement. 

“How are you doing, by the way?” Chris asked, and you chose to answer him instead.

“Good! I’m not hurting at all, and I’m not reliant on meds. Genuinely, I couldn’t be better!” You gave an up-down gesture of your body to prove your point. “Otherwise I wouldn’t be here.” This you added through grit teeth. 

Chris opened his mouth to reply, yet Gavin beat him to it.

“Yeah and when has anyone known best about their own health? Seriously, the last place you should be right now is at an active crime scene.” Connor watched your interaction with an interest you could tell he was trying to hide. You widened your eyes at him, a desperate plea for his interference, to which he acknowledged and left Hank’s side to join the three of you just outside of the room. 

“Detective Reed, if they feel well enough to be here, then that’s their choice to make. I have been monitoring their health closely throughout their recovery and there haven’t been any issues, so you can take both their word and mine,” Connor offered as Gavin’s shoulders stiffened 

“Yeah, and your word doesn’t mean shit, you plastic prick.” He sighed, looked at you pointedly, and then glanced back at Hank who was still inspecting the scene. “Alright, well, we’re going to be asking questions in the bar next door. If you want a break from this fucking guy you can find us there, alright?” 

“Uh huh, and thank you for your concern.” You remarked adding a theatrical flourish to your voice and giving a mock bow, to which Chris laughed and Gavin threw his middle finger before walking out to the entrance. “And thank you,” You emphasised to Connor who nodded once in acknowledgement.

From inside the room, Hank called your name.

“You sticking around?” He asked as the two of you wandered back into the suite.

“For now, at least.” 

You watched as Connor bent down to analyse the victim, announcing the cause of death to be strangulation, to which Hank offered that that could just be a result of rough play. You knew, however, that was not the case, in part due to the damaged and unconscious android that lay on the floor, blue blood trickling from her nose. You pondered over her body- if you had your tools and around 24 hours to spare, you might have been able to fix her up to an optimal level, yet you had neither of those, regardless of the fact that it was hard to determine just what exactly had caused her to shut down. Tearing your eyes from the dreary sight, you focused instead on the interface that glittered with the words “choose your fantasy”. You swiped across, and frowned, noticing that there had been no selection to be a recipient of violence, but to be the one enacting it. Hank and Connor’s conversation was gentle static in your noise, not at all invading, till your name was spoken. You turned to find them both looking at you, Connor crouched by the unconscious android, fingertips blue with thirium and skin porcelain white. 

“Can you fix her up?” Hank asked. 

“Mm, not properly. I’d need to take her back to the lab to get her to a stable level.” 

“That would take too long, we need to talk to her now.” Connor muttered, looking over the still body. “If I open the chest cavity, could you see if you can reactivate her?”

“Yeah, go ahead.” You said as you crouched down next to him, wobbling a little on the balls of your feet. The skin on his hands peeled away fully, showing the white exoskeleton underneath with every groove and divot. You knew exactly how it would feel under your hands, android’s plastic skin was familiar to you, yet for some reason, the urge to trace the lines in the joints of his hands was hard to ignore. Regardless, ignore you did, as Connor placed his palms on the navel of the android, her own skin materialising from a peach to a white. You watched him press his fingers onto the right pressure points and the plates of the stomach shifted apart to reveal the mesh of wires inside. Immediately you noticed one of the main wires to be disconnected, which you imagined did so in order to force a shut-down in the android, not unlike a fuse being blown. 

“I can do it, but you’ll only have about a minute before the cable disconnects and she shuts down again.” You explained and took the silence as permission to continue. You reached past Connor, leaning slightly against his shoulder for balance, which he didn’t seem to mind. Fishing out the necessary connecting leads, you slotted them together with a resounding click, and the android awoke with a shuddering gasp. Her eyes snapped open, and she scrambled away from the two of you till her back hit the wall. 

Once again, it felt like someone had your heart in their hand and they were crushing it. Her frenzied gaze darted from between the three of you and you tried to give her the gentlest look you could muster as you mouthed “it’s okay”. Connor in front of you took slow steps towards her with his palms up, as if approaching a wild animal thrashing in a trap. The girl’s mouth trembled, accentuated by the thirium now coating most of her lips. 

“You were damaged and we reactivated you. It’s alright.” He said, keeping his voice low and steady as he crouched down to her level. Her upper lip curled upwards into a grimace and she turned her head towards the bed.

“Is…is he dead?” She managed, shoulders drawn high.

“Yes, and you’re safe. I promise.” You said, also squatting down to the same level, but you didn’t make any move to get closer to her. Her eyes stilled on you, assessing your face and your words. 

“Tell us what happened.” 

“He…” She began, voice cracking, before shaking her head and starting again. “He started…hitting me. Again…a-and again…it was like he was enjoying it-”

“Did you kill him?” Connor interrupted. You felt torn, on the one hand, you felt like reprimanding him for his lack of tact, but you also knew how little time you really had to question her, and he was simply using that time as best he could. 

“No!” Her eyes widened in worry. “No, it-it wasn’t me!” 

“Then there was someone else here with you?” You asked, brows furrowed. 

“Yes, there were two of us. He…he said he wanted to play with two girls.”

“What was her model?” Connor demanded, and the girl faltered, eyes squinting as she tried to recall. “What did she look like?” He practically begged her, voice louder with urgency, yet the girl froze. You could practically see the exact millisecond she shut down, eyes glazing over and body going rigid. You mulled over the idea of bringing her body back to your apartment to then fix her properly, yet you knew she would be sent back to Cyberlife to be fixed anyway, considering her damage wasn’t too detrimental. It also seemed like much too difficult a task to try for someone whom you didn’t even know if they wanted it. 

Both you and Connor rose off the ground, the latter of which taking another scan of the room for anything of notice. 

“This happened over an hour ago, that android is probably long gone by now.” Hank sufficed.

“You think someone could wander outside dressed like that and not be noticed?” You asked with an eyebrow raised.

“They’re right. Chances are the deviant never left.” Connor said, more to himself than to either you or Hank.

“You gonna be able to tell a deviant apart in a building full of androids?” 

“Deviants aren’t easily detectable…” 

It felt like you had reached a dead end, the three of you silently brainstorming where you could take the investigation next. It wasn’t easy, either, the air in the club feeling thick and oppressive, the both human and now android corpse in your company. You weren’t squeamish or a prude by any means, but this club felt like the embodiment of everything you hated about humanity. Not only that, but you were extremely conscious of the way every android’s eyes followed you, stripping you of any metaphorical shield you had to protect yourself. It was made worse by knowing it wasn’t their choice. You decided then that if this investigation was going to take a while, you wouldn’t be spending it in this place. 

“Alright,” You huffed after a moment. “I’m gonna go next door and ask about. When you think of something, just call me.” 

“Will do, Kid.” Hank waved you off and you backed out of the suite, keeping your head down and fixed on the exit. 

The bar had a much more comfortable atmosphere, and you immediately relaxed when you entered. It was mostly empty, which wasn’t a surprise, considering the time and the presence of police. It was dimly lit, hiding the shabby furniture in a moody lighting that made it feel more chic than dingy. Stood by the bartender, Gavin was writing in his pocketbook, yet gave a sardonic smile when he noticed you. 

“Had enough, huh?” 

“If you’re an insufferable asshole I’m walking right back in there.” You warned him, stuffing your hands in the pockets of your jacket. Gavin raised his hands in defence.

“Alright, damn, I get it. Have Hank and Robocop cracked the case?” He asked, and you shot him a pointed look.

“We got further than your sorry ass. There was apparently a second android in the room- that’s who strangled the guy. Hank and Connor are looking for her now. Thought I’d be of more use asking around here. Speaking of which-” You leaned across the counter into the view of the bartender who busied herself with cleaning out glasses. She stopped when you made eye contact. “Has anyone here mentioned seeing a girl running around outside in just underwear and heels, by any chance?” You asked with a slight wince, aware the chances were low. 

“No, sorry.” The bartender responded succinctly and turned back to her glasses. 

“Eh, tough luck.” Gavin offered as you rubbed the back of your neck. “But that’s a pretty shit excuse.” 

“Huh?”

“You didn’t actually think you’d be more helpful in here. You just wanted out of that godforsaken club.” He laughed as he spoke, and it irked you.

“Well, yeah, but-”

“And being stuck with that fucking plastic prick all the time? All I’m saying is if I were you, I would be using it for target practice.” 

“Man, come on. What sort of complex do you have to bully an android? Connor’s not making my life any harder. In fact, he’s been helping me out recently, kept me company this last week so I didn’t go insane.” You tried to find a safe balance between defending Connor’s integrity, yet not sounding too empathetic. You knew if you went too far, Gavin would show no mercy. However, it seemed like this time you had miscalculated, judging by the look of disbelief on his face. 

“Keeping you company?” He repeated before saying your name in a clipped tone. “You’ve been willingly hanging out with it in your free time?” 

“Yeah! And it hasn’t been bad, in fact I-”

“Willingly?” Gavin placed a hand on your shoulder that you quickly shook off.

“Yes, Jesus! Why is that so hard for you to get?” He took a deep breath before squinting his eyes at you.

“I promise I’m not trying to be a dick.” You waited to be offended. “Are you okay? Like mentally? Cause I can give you contact infor-”

“Man, you’re an asshole. Yes, I’m fine! Look, I don’t have to explain myself to you, alright? I’d much rather hang out with an android who doesn’t insult every living thing and isn’t a killjoy, that doesn’t make me crazy.” You hissed at him, keeping your voice low in an attempt to shield yourself from embarrassment. Once again, Gavin raised his hands in defence, backing away slightly.

“Alright, it’s your life. If you wanna spend it talking to robots, that’s on you.”

You pinched your brow and sighed.

“I’m gonna go check round the back, make sure there’s no deviant hiding behind the trash or something…” You muttered before heading towards the door in the back of the building.

“We’ve already checked.” Gavin sang.

“It’s my shit excuse to get away from you.” You called back. 

The cold air hit your face the moment you stepped out the door, and you welcomed it. You didn’t want to admit to yourself that Gavin had hit a sore spot- you were most definitely lonely, and Connor’s friendship was helping. But that didn’t make you pathetic, or at least, you hoped it didn’t. Day by day Connor’s humanity was becoming clearer. He tried to hide it, subconsciously or not, but it was in the way he smiled with you when you joked, or when he got frustrated with a difficult investigation, or when he was concerned for Hank’s wellbeing. No matter how much he tried to convince himself and you, he was deviating, and you and Hank were right there pushing him into it. You just hoped he wouldn’t fight it too much.

You let out a huff of air, the chill making it reminiscent of smoke twirling upwards. Kicking the ground lightly with the toe of your shoe, you looked around the alley way you were in. Nothing unusual, just bags of rubbish with the occasional unassuming box or barrel. Just as you were about to turn back inside, however, your ears picked up the noise of what you thought could be a struggle over the static buzz of the city. You frowned as you tried to listen more closely, and Hank’s distressed voice caught your attention. 

You rushed down the end of the alleyway, running the width of the Eden club as the sounds of the struggle grew louder and louder. Finally, you sped round the corner to the back alley of the club, only to be stopped by a wire fence standing tall. Beyond the fence, you found the sources of the noise. Hank grappled with a blue-haired android before she shoved him to the ground, his body hitting to the floor with a loud thump. She darted then to an android of the same model yet with tawny hair who kicked and scratched at Connor as he attempted to restrain her. One of the androids drew their first back, and it connected with his jaw, a loud crack making you wince. Connor’s head quickly snapped back from the force of the blow, only for the two women to grab him on either side and slam him into the brick wall behind them. 

You watched as the women landed blow after blow on Connor, yet every hit he took with a remarkable strength that kept him upright and still fighting when anyone else would have collapsed. Another hit to the face, and you saw the skin on his jaw had split, revealing the white he had shown less than an hour ago. Behind them, Hank gave a sign of life and groaned, much to your relief. 

Your fixation on the fight was broken, and you stepped back from the fence, assessing whether to climb it and help, or stay put and deter the deviants from escaping. The truth was, neither option was appealing. Not only were you not very reliable in a fight, you didn’t want to stop the women from fleeing. What had happened in that club was once again a case of self defence, and you felt the least the world owed them was a chance to run. 

However, as you weighed your options, the fight had turned its tide, and Connor managed to throw one of the women off his back and onto the floor. She crawled away from him and was lifted up by her companion before they began to turn for the fence. 

In an instant, something caught your eye that you wished you’d seen earlier. A pistol, lying idly on the floor, just an arm's length away from their struggle. In that same instant, Connor noticed it too. He snatched it off the floor, aimed the barrel with the chest of one of the women, and stopped. 

Connor’s eyes weren’t fixed on the deviants. They were fixed on you. You stared at him on the other side of the fence, silently pleading with him not to pull the trigger. And, as if he could hear your thoughts, he lowered the gun, eyes still locked with yours. His brow furrowed, and a look broke out on his face that looked akin to shameful.

The women backed up to the fence, and clasped one another’s hands. They spoke then, of their fear of death, of their distaste for the human clients they had no choice but to service, of their love for one another. 

But the words didn’t reach you, and they didn’t reach Connor. You simply stared at one another, the moment too fragile to dare look away, the desperation you felt for him to not pull that trigger too severe to risk looking anywhere else. You had him trapped under your gaze, any move he made you would judge as if you were God itself. 

The women finished their declaration of love before turning round to face you, and you finally tore your eyes from Connor. You watched them for a moment, before stepping to the side silently as they climbed up the fence and then jumped back down the other side, rejoining their hands. You exchanged no words with them as they rushed past, the clicking of their heels echoing loudly off the brick walls. 

For the rest of the week, you had fallen into a routine that didn’t make you want to rip your hair out of boredom. You would go for a walk around your block in the morning and get a coffee from quite a pleasant little cafe you hoped would still be there in the next few years. 

Around noon you would listen to Hank rant on the phone about how Connor had yet to figure out a balance between conversation and interrogation or how Fowler was breathing down his neck. 

For about half of the afternoon you would experiment with biocomponents and mess about with their configuration, taking them apart and putting them back together again. 

The later afternoon you would spend doing physiotherapy and have a dinner that you had never cooked before but had always wanted to. 

Finally you would finish the day with Connor’s arrival, where you answered any questions he asked and engaged in fruitful back-and-forth conversation which often turned existential. Sometimes, when you didn’t feel like talking as much, he would sit with you and watch whatever movie you chose to subject him to. He never complained, instead always asking how you felt about the movie, what it meant to you,  if it was an accurate representation of human experiences, etc. Whilst it was flattering to be interviewed so thoroughly on your opinions, what you most enjoyed was seeing Connor’s reaction to them. He tried to be subtle, yet it had become clear to you when he was fond of a movie and when he didn’t care much for it. The ones that captivated him he asked you the most about, enthusiastically giving a summary as to the movie's themes and message. As for the other ones, he tended to question your opinion on them with more hesitancy, expressing disappointment for not quite “getting it”. 

It had gotten to the point where you had to admit to yourself it was the part of the day you looked forward to the most. The conversations you had were enough to keep your brain entertained and sharp when you otherwise felt understimulated. It made you feel needed, too. Like Connor needed to seek out your thoughts on a subject before he formed a solid opinion. That wasn’t to say anything you said he mindlessly agreed with. There were plenty of times you would offer your stance, and Connor would bring up a counter point that had you reconsidering whatever you had previously stated. In a way, it felt like both of you were learning and growing a lust for life from one another. Never before had you found that any topic could become so invigorating with the right conversation partner. 

However, whilst the excitement you felt would ripple under your skin, along with it came a bite that would follow right after. You needed to remember why Connor was coming to your home every evening and seeking out your company. He had his mission, and his own complex methods of succeeding it. You were one of those methods. As long as you just kept that in the back of your head, you wouldn’t be deluded. But it was getting harder and harder- every time he would remember something you had mentioned in passing about you, or when he would joke and genuinely manage a laugh out of you. You didn’t have many close friendships. Sure, you were friendly with Chris, Tina and Gavin, but there was still that barrier of “colleague” that you had yet to pass. Hank was all you had, and he spent so much of his time drowning in his own grief that you barely felt you could reach him anymore. Spending time with Connor how you were, you felt seen and wanted. Even if it was superficial. 

On your most recent evening together, you were sharing with him some of the books you had in your possession. He had expressed a curiosity in which ones you had read.

“I’ve read all of them, but I gotta say I think Frankenstein’s still my favourite. I come back to it every now and then.” You offered as you crouched to the floor filling Captain’s bowl with food.

“But you didn’t enjoy the movie. Are they that different?”

“Oh, yeah.” With a fork in one hand, you broke up the meat of the cat food, the other hand holding Captain’s eager body back from the bowl. You nodded with your head to the bookshelf. “Take it and read it for yourself. I trust you to not steal it,”

You watched Connor peruse your bookshelf before freezing for a moment. He stared at the bottom of the shelf, and you wondered if he was struggling to find the book before he grabbed it and tucked it into his blazer. 

He left an hour or so later, after you had bid him good-bye at the door. You pushed your back against it and it closed with a quiet click. Captain meowed at you, strutting across the kitchen floor and you watched her with a smile on your face. 

Yet what caught your eye made your heart drop. You realised now why Connor had taken so long to find the book. 

There, at the bottom of the unit, lit up under the ceiling light, was your box of biocomponents. You had clearly forgotten to tuck it behind the bookshelf, and now, as you stared at it in horror, it stared right back. 

Connor had most definitely seen it. That was why he froze. But then why didn’t he say anything? Was this something where he would wait for a more opportune time to confront you? Or was he doing this on purpose, letting you sit with what he’d realised till it ate away at you and you confessed to him? Or maybe he would report you discreetly, and the next time you went into work they’d put you in cuffs and sit you in the cell you’d walked past so many times. Oh, God- you were so fucked.

Taking a deep breath, you paused. Your mind was jumping ahead, rushing with panic. There was a strong chance that Connor didn’t think it to be damning. After all, it was your job. It made sense for you to have android parts back at home too, in case you ever brought it back from work. The box alone was not enough to label you a criminal or a deviant sympathiser. Connor’s behaviour didn’t shift at all after he had seen it, but then again, he was physically built to hide that sort of thing. If you kept thinking of all the ways this would blow up in your face, your heart was going to explode behind your ribs and you would melt into a puddle. To keep yourself calm and sane, you needed to convince yourself that Connor was not suspicious. You needed to trust him to trust you. Otherwise you were going to keel over and die from sheer panic. 

Slamming your palms against your temple, you stood up from your crouch on the floor. You hadn’t even noticed that you had physically crumpled to the ground, and you screwed your eyes shut whilst taking slow and steady breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Things could be worse. Oh, they could be so much worse. You still had two more days off work before you were back in the precinct, and the desperation you had felt to be back at work was now replaced with dread. 

You slept terribly that night, yet barely left your bed in the daytime. Your mind was at war with itself, split into constant panic and attempts to tame said panic. Hank didn’t call you at noon, and you were both thanking and cursing him. Come the afternoon, the frenzy in your brain had settled from a loud blaring alarm into a nagging ticking in the back of your skull. 

At around 7pm, your phone began to ring.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Officer. I’m sorry I haven’t stopped by today, but I’m afraid there’s a problem that could use your help. Are you able to get to the Lieutenant’s house?” Connor’s raspy voice came through your phone’s speaker, his tone giving no indication that a problem actually existed, but you trusted him. 

“Alright, I’ll be over as soon as I can.”

It was around a 30 minute drive from your apartment to Hank’s house. You knew the route well, considering how often you had been over. Parked on the side of the road, you strode up the driveway to the house. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted a window on the side of the house that had been smashed and you frowned in suspicion. You knocked on the door hurriedly as you called for Hank. Inside you heard mumbling and a bark no doubt from Sumo.

You were about to knock a second time before the door swung open to reveal Connor standing attentively, Sumo trying to push in front of him to get you. Bending at the knees, you ruffled Sumo’s head and patted his back, all the while shooting Connor the most concerned and apprehensive look you could muster. He greeted you by name, and stepped aside to allow you in.

“You gonna tell me what’s going on?” You muttered to him as you walked past. 

“Is that-? For fucks sake, Connor, I told you not to call them!” Hank called out from down the hallway, sounding as frustrated and exhausted as he ever did, his words slow and heavy.  

“I’m sorry Lieutenant, but you gave me no other choice.” Connor called back. Hank mumbled something indistinctly before quieting. Scanning the room, you saw the glass littered on the floor from the broken window. You turned back round to Connor.

“Did you break his fucking window?” He nodded once, making it clear to you he thought it was necessary in the moment. Sumo had lost interest in the two of you by that point and retreated back to his bed, curling up with a loud huff. Your concern led you to the table in the centre of the kitchen, where you found a bottle of whisky, a pistol, and a framed photo. There was no need to turn over the frame, you knew whose face was captured in it and it caused an ache behind your ribs. Looking up from the pitiful array of items, you caught Connor’s gaze, which, to the average person, would have seemed impassive and cold, but you knew him well enough now that you could notice the slight crease in his brow and asymmetrical line his lips formed. You weren’t sure how you looked to him, but it was no doubt troubled to say the least. 

“I came to inform the Lieutenant that there’s been a murder at an Eden’s club nearby for us to check out. He was unconscious on the floor when I arrived.” Connor summarised, voice quiet and respectful. “He also said he was using the gun to play Russian roulette.” 

“Right, okay…” You crossed your arms over your chest as you stared at the broken window. “Could you-is it okay if you clean up the glass, I’ll go talk to him.” 

“Of course.” 

“Oh, there’s a dustpan and brush in that cupboard.” You offered, pointing to the lower kitchen unit. “Not the first time something like this has happened,”

Leaving Connor to clean up, you walked down the hallway as you dragged a hand down your face. Coming up to the doorway of the bathroom, there you found Hank sitting on the floor, head leant back against the tiled wall with his eyes closed. They opened when he heard your movement. Neither of you said anything, instead Hank sighed and looked down at his lap as you lowered yourself to the ground with your legs crossed. There was a distinct smell of both vomit and alcohol that permeated through the whole room, and it took a lot of effort for you not to wrinkle your nose at it. 

You weren’t lying when you said to Connor that this wasn’t the first time this had happened. On multiple occasions, you had been called out to a bar to pick Hank up when he was too drunk to drive himself home, or when he would get into altercations after one too many drinks. It wasn’t often enough to annoy you, but it was enough to have you worrying about him most days. Every time he insisted that you didn’t need to help, that your time was wasted on him, that he wanted to be alone and every time you argued back that he didn’t have a choice if he was going to keep letting himself get to that point. You were acutely aware of how hard everything was for Hank, and that it had never stopped being hard, despite when he told you he was completely fine, just tired and old. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be at home recovering?” Hank asked, looking at you from in between his grey hair that hung in front of his face. 

“Aren’t you not supposed to play with guns?” You retorted, keeping your tone gentle to soften the blow. “And hey, I’m fit as a fiddle. In fact, I feel better now than before I got stabbed. Bet I could scale a building or something…” 

The Lieutenant let out a dry chuckle that turned into an awkward cough. He reached for the bowl of the toilet before throwing up. You patted his back and cringed as he finished emptying the contents of his stomach. Finally, he collapsed back against the wall with a groan and a hand wiping his beard. 

“I, uh-” He began again, clearing his throat loudly and gesturing to the front of the house. “I told him not to call you. Didn’t want to drag you out here,” Hank trailed off, head rolling against the tiles to face you. 

“I came here entirely on my own. It was my choice- you didn’t drag me anywhere.” 

“Bet it’s your least favourite way to spend your Saturday night, huh?” He joked and you shrugged.

“Eh, I’ve had worse.” Hank gave you an incredulous look with his brows raised and you laughed aloud. “Oh, I’m serious. You don’t wanna know!” 

“Yeah, I don’t think I do…” The Lieutenant grumbled as he waved a hand in dismissal. A silence sat between the two of you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt needed, and you were more than content to simply sit with Hank on the floor of his bathroom in silence for as long as he needed. You weren’t ever going to look him in the eyes and tell him “things would be better”, or that he “had so much to live for” because you knew they were hollow comforts when you were in that dark pit you couldn’t claw yourself out of. So you did everything you could to let him know that whatever he decided, whatever he wanted, you could be there by his side for as long as he needed. You weren’t able to offer him an answer, but you could offer your friendship. Every fibre of your being hoped that could be enough.

Outside the bathroom you could hear the clinking of glass and rustling of plastic, it accompanied the silence between you.

As you kept your eyes fixed on the floor of the bathroom, you felt Hank’s hand grip yours and squeeze it. You looked up and were met with such a despondent yet pleading look that it froze you.

“Kid, I don’t want you to ever think that you’re not enough for me to stick around,” A lump in your throat stopped you from interrupting him. “I just…” He sighed again. “It just doesn’t feel like there’s any space in the world for me anymore. I think I’ve overstayed my welcome.” 

You felt like a child before him. Small, weak and scared. You covered his hand that still grasped you with your own as your mouth opened and closed in a desperate attempt to say something. Finally you shook your head, eyes feeling that tell-tale sting. 

“You’re always welcome with me,” Your voice was so feeble and quiet when you finally managed to choke it out. Hank squeezed your hand again and gave you a pitying look.

“I know, Kid.” He muttered. You coughed and scratched at the side of your head.

“You, uh- need to get changed.” Hank hummed in agreement and you both clambered off of the floor. You looked him up and down and paused. “Why are your clothes so wet?”

An hour had passed since Connor had first arrived, and despite the uncomfortable conversation that had transpired earlier, you were both settled into easy conversation, shoulder to shoulder on your couch whilst a movie played on your TV. You were back to discussing ‘love’ as a concept, and how it could be felt in deviancy, if at all. 

Connor was significantly more relaxed now, back against the couch fully, no longer perching, and a hand rested on the arm seat, other hand fiddling slowly with his tie. There wasn’t enough room for you to sit with your legs stretched out with someone present, so you slumped into the cushions with your arm draped over the back of the couch. With the other hand, you gestured animatedly as you spoke.

“I’ll be honest, I still think that even if it was a product of his deviancy, that android was genuinely infatuated with the wife!”

“It could have been an error in his programming of seeing her as his owner, leading to him viewing her in the highest regard. Yet that wouldn’t explain why it only occurred for her and not her husband.” 

“Well, it’s gotta be the sex. You were probably right the first time. He equated their sex for love, because that’s what she told him.” 

Connor hummed in agreement, still idly fiddling with his tie. You watched his hand closely, at how his slender fingers danced gracefully with the fabric. If you were a little more hot and bothered, you would have considered it sensual. Or maybe you were already at that point. You cleared your throat as a wave of shame came over you. 

“That’s just cruel, though. Force your android to have sex with you then lie to them and say it’s love.” You muttered, more to yourself than to your companion, yet he responded all the same.

“Androids can’t be ‘forced’ to do things. They simply do.”

“Right, but you can’t consent. You’re programmed to agree to whatever humans want, you have no free will. So- you can’t consent.” 

“No, but there’s no need for it. You don’t ask any other machine you use for consent. You use it for its purpose, and it fulfills it.” Connor glanced at you as he spoke, his voice informative and patient.

“Still.” You tapped your finger against the cushion. “I think it’s weird. Half the fun of sex is knowing that someone wants you like you want them. Take that away and you might as well just use your hand…”

“The popularity of Eden clubs suggests that most of Detroit’s population disagrees with you.” A wry smile broke out on Connor’s face as he stole another look towards you out of the corner of his eye. Failing to think of a retort, you nudged his shoulder with your own, making his whole body sway slightly.

You both sat quietly for a few minutes and watched the TV. A period piece focused on the fiery romance between the spritely lead and her outcast love interest . Fitting for the conversation, in a way. 

“Have you ever thought about it?” You asked with a newfound boldness. 

“Thought about what, Officer?” 

“Love. And sex too, I guess. Just intimacy altogether.” 

“Yes. I’ve thought about it like I’ve thought about many things to better understand the human experience.”  

“Yeah, but are you curious about it? I mean it’s what a lot of people would say makes the world go round. You’ve gotta be at least a bit curious about, like, experiencing it. I mean, do you see them-” You pointed to the screen, where the two leads now engaged in a passionate and messy kiss in the rain. “And think ‘huh, I wonder what that’s about’?”

Connor paused for a moment, watching the characters on the screen. He tilted his head slightly as he shuffled in his seat.

“I don’t have any desire for it, if that’s what you mean. But I would be curious to experience it, to learn about the sensation at least.”

“When you were interrogating that deviant you said that you were really, really curious!” The corners of your mouth dragged up in a grin you couldn’t hide and Connor frowned.

“I thought I made it clear that what I said was only in an attempt to get a confession. I’m sorry if I didn’t, I don’t want to ma-”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m just fucking with you,” You waved your hand at him dismissively before he visibly relaxed. He spoke your name before casting another look in your direction. You hummed in response.

“Can I ask a personal question?”

“Yeah, man.” 

“What are your experiences with love? I would like to know what you think about it, if you’d be happy to share.” 

You sucked in a breath between your teeth.

“That’s a pretty loaded question, damn.”

In truth, you weren’t so sure. You thought that you never really had a long-term relationship, only experiencing casual intimate encounters, yet sometimes you would remember the echoing voice of a man your brain compartmentalised as “your high school sweetheart”, which directly contradicted your own romantic history. It was safe to say, you struggled to grasp what memories were the reality of your past and which weren’t. You often told yourself it was just the power of the human mind-creating such realistic fantasies you couldn’t figure them out anymore. Pondering too much on it would drag you into an existential rabbit hole that was always a pain to climb out of. You chewed on your lip as you considered how to approach your answer, all the while Connor stared with such attentiveness it made you feel naked.

“Well, I haven’t been seeing anyone for a pretty long time. I mean, I’ve had a couple casual hookups with people from bars or clubs but…. It’s been a long time since I’ve been close with anyone emotionally too. In fact, I-” You paused for a second, stumbling over your words. The man before you continued to watch you flounder, tilting his head slightly with his brows raised. 

“I’m not too sure if I’ve ever actually been in a relationship. I’m pretty sure I haven’t, but sometimes I remember this guy from my high school that I think was my boyfriend?” Your voice raised an octave in uncertainty, wincing as you spoke. Connor frowned.

“Do you have trouble with your memory, Officer?”

“No- well, yes, but it’s nothing serious or bad. It’s not about my short term memory, my childhood is just pretty blurry.” A half-truth. You didn’t remember your childhood very well, but you also didn’t remember any of your life well up until you moved into the neighbourhood. That was 7 years ago. Throughout your whole life only 7 years were clear and intelligible. You didn’t feel like sharing that. 

Connor nodded slowly as if he mulled this information over in his head. You hoped he didn’t. The last thing you needed was your detective android colleague scrutinising you about your fuzzy memory and referring you to a psychiatrist. 

Silence fell between you, and it wasn’t comfortable. It nipped at your skin and made your legs bounce on the floor. It was most likely only you feeling it, androids probably never felt socially awkward, they were designed to be self-assured and charming. Whether that was successful is another story. You stole a glance at Connor next you, who now watched the TV again with a mock intent, blinking rapidly. You suppressed a smile. He definitely felt it too. 

“You never said how you viewed love.” He asked suddenly, adding your name to his request to sweeten the deal. 

“Oh, I guess I didn’t.” You mused quietly. “Are you really that desperate to know?”

Connor nodded with a sincere smile. “Of course. It would help me learn a lot more about you as a person, ensuring I can choose the best approach for managing our friendship to be both effective and sustainable. I find that a good rapport between partners is crucial to an investigation.” 

And just like that, the little bubble around you both burst. He’d been acting so human, so real, that you forgot he didn’t see himself like how you saw him. A desperate piece of you had hoped that Connor acting irrationally, shooting that deviant in the head, was born out of genuine concern for you. At the end of the day, him being here: checking on you, bringing you food, keeping you company, asking about you- it was all for the investigation. None of this was a genuine friendship, not like how you’d deluded yourself into thinking it was. You were just so lonely you were willing to take it. A fake plastic friend. 

Would you be pathetic for still taking it? For still clinging onto that connection despite it simply being a means to an end. People did it all the time. It was normal now. But it still made your heart sink to your stomach in a bottomless maw. 

“Maybe I’ll tell you some other time. I wanna watch the movie.” With that, you turned your body fully back towards the TV, placing your chin in your hand. Out of the corner of your eye, Connor lingered on you, face impassive, following your lead and facing forward as well. 

For the second night in a row, you fell asleep on the couch. You hadn’t woken up when Connor had left, but you weren’t surprised to find him gone in the morning. He was still needed at the precinct, unlike you. There was no note or message left, and you weren’t sure of when exactly he left, but you were glad he did. The idea of him being there while you slept made you shudder.

Looking around the living room, you realised it had been a long time since you had last seen your apartment in daylight. That nagging loneliness started to seep in again, and part of you wished you had just ignored what Connor said and moved on, instead of putting distance between you once again. A distance that came and went like an ebbing tide. 

What did surprise you this morning, however, was a text from Gavin. “Hurry up and get well soon” it said, accompanied with a picture of him, Tina and Chris all pointing to a t-shirt on a desk that read “I got stabbed and all I got was this lousy T-shirt”. You snorted and replied promptly with a “corny ass” and then another “but thanks though :)”. Suddenly, your phone began to ring. 

“Hey, Hank.” You answered with a raspy voice.

“Heya, Kid. How’re you doing?” 

“Not bad, all things considered. Feel like I could already be back at the precinct. It barely hurts.”

“Ehhh don’t get too cocky, you’ll be back soon enough.” Hank said with a weak chuckle before sighing heavily.

“Damn, is it really that bad without me?” You laughed.

“Jesus, I’m fucking sick of having this guy hovering behind my shoulder all the time! Asking me bullshit about “Do you enjoy movies?” or other pointless shit. Even when he’s not talking my ear off he’s fucking staring at me or poking his nose where it doesn’t belong. We’ve hit a dead end with the case, too. Too many deviants would rather off themselves than talk to the cops, it seems.”

“Well, I have some stuff I think we could check out when I’m back. You gotta wait for me, though.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Just focus on getting rest while you can and doing whatever the fuck you do in your free time, alright?”

“Sir, yessir.”

“Right, be seeing you, Kid.”

“Bye, Hank.”

After ending your call, you turned on the TV to fill the mind-numbing silence that threatened you. A news report covering a recent controversy surrounding Cyberlife again. This wasn’t the first and you would bet money it wouldn’t be the last. Supposedly a famous actress known internationally for her good looks was attempting to sue the company for using her likeness in a recent android model without her consent. The screen showed a picture of the actress and the new model side by side, and you had to admit- the resemblance was uncanny. Not only that, but this new model would most definitely be shipped out to android sex clubs around the country. There wasn’t a specific, clear range that Cyberlife had for those androids, at least not to the public, but by now you were able to recognise what their intended purpose would be. You silently wished the best for the actress, and hoped her lawyers were more skilled than Cyberlife’s

The rest of the day you spent tinkering with leftover biocomponents you had yet to finish, albeit you had little more to do. You managed not to spill any thirium or oil, keeping it a relatively clean affair, yet your fingers were sore from fiddling with little tricky pieces. 

Luck had been on your side that no deviant in need had come to your door, or maybe they had when you hadn’t been home and word had finally spread that you weren’t available anymore. Guilt gnawed at your ankles like a hungry dog, but you knew it to be for the best. You would be of no help under investigation for aiding a group of people the state would most likely soon recognise as criminals.

The sun had begun to set, and working on the components was much harder without natural light. Wiping the table down after you placed the pieces back in their inconspicuous box, you wrapped up your tools in their cloth bind and slotted them in between two books on the shelf. It wasn’t suspicious for someone in your line of work to have a toolset at home, yet it gave you peace of mind to tuck them away. 

You sat back in your chair and watched the sun slowly fall behind the billboard that took up most of your view from your windows. You thought that then would be a good time to eat. 

Connor was at your door later in the evening, once again. You were simultaneously impressed at his determination to further build a rapport with you, and irritated that he didn’t consider you had gotten your fill of him the night before. There was nothing in his hands this time, except his trusty coin that he held between his thumb and forefinger. You raised a brow.

“Not to be a dick, but don’t you have anywhere better to be?” 

“It’s good to see you, Officer. And I’m afraid not.” He answered with an apologetic smile. You left him standing there, door wide open, to return to your kitchen and make yourself a cup of decaf coffee. Looking over your shoulder, you noticed that Connor had not left the doorway, remaining awkwardly stagnant akin to a mannequin.

“You gonna come in or…?”

At your word, Connor crossed the threshold, scanning the room as he always did. You had learnt to ignore it by now, just another one of his idiosyncrasies. He wrung his hands together once he was finished, commanding such a peculiar authority that you felt much smaller in your own home. You wondered if that was at all similar to how the deviants he hunted felt. 

“How are you feeling?” He asked, not once looking at you nor you, him. You hummed.

“Pretty much normal. Sometimes when I stretch I can physically feel the wound being pulled, but it’s easy to avoid. Sucks not being able to be at the station, though.” Taking a sip from your cup, you waited for a response, yet received none. You turned and leaned against the counter, eyeing Connor carefully as he inspected the cuffs of his shirt. “What made you wanna come by this time?”

His eyes flitted to yours then, face impassive. 

“The Lieutenant said that you mentioned you may have an idea to follow regarding the case?”

“Yeah, did he also say that I specifically said you had to wait for when I was back at the station?”

“Respectfully, Officer, we do not have as much time as you think for this case. I understand you only wish to not be left out, but my mission is still my number one priority.”

“Yeah, man, you and your fucking mission…” You muttered behind the safety of your mug, blowing hot air onto the rim of ceramic.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that,” Connor called out with a low tone that told you he definitely caught that. You glared at him with low-lidded eyes and gave a frank shrug.

 After a heavy pause between the two of you, Connor took a step forward and dipped his head.

“I also wished to check your progress in recovery. It’s good to see that it’s going so smoothly.” Another pause, yet with this one his eyes darted across the floor and his mouth parted as if he were searching for the words. “And… I wanted to tell you that I enjoyed our time together yesterday.” 

Whilst his face held such an earnest look, you scoffed at it, holding out a hand to stop him.

“Remember, androids can’t enjoy things.” Your voice was laced with a petty venom that you hoped stung him. And he faltered a little.

“Well, no. But I enjoyed it as much as an android can enjoy. All of my sensors produced positive outputs.”

“Is that how you know something is ‘good’ to you then?” You asked, genuinely curious. Despite Connor’s insistence, androids very clearly could experience enjoyment, and he was amongst them. Even if it was not typical to how humans did, that just made you more interested in exploring the android psyche and how Connor justified emotion and feelings as logical lines of code. Hell, if you went back far enough, you could produce perfectly logical and rational explanations for humans’ irrational feelings. Emotion was not the antithesis to logic. Yet it felt like everyone needed to be convinced of that.

“It’s a more simple way of putting it, but yes. The core processing unit files the experience as positive.” You nodded slowly at Connor’s answer. His shoulders were no longer as rigid, hands by his sides. Dropping the bitterness had left him more relaxed, it seemed. You weren’t entirely angry with him, more so at yourself, and you were too tired to be spiteful. 

But it wouldn’t leave your mind, that he was desperate to present himself as a machine, yet sought out an almost emotional validation from you. You would remember how much he insisted himself to be devoid of any humanity all the while it practically spilt from his mouth. This was simply his battle, not yours. He would get there in his own time.

Pushing off of the counter, you pulled out a chair at your table, and gestured for Connor to take the one opposite you. Your back was to the living room, his to the front door and it was not lost on you that you had sat like this with many an android before him. The irony made your skin itch. 

“So,” You began, leaning against the back of your chair. “I think we should have a look into what that deviant mentioned- ‘Jericho’.” 

Connor’s head tilted slightly in intrigue.

“Before you shot him, he was saying that he needed to get somewhere, to Jericho. He said I just needed to let him go, to get to there specifically, and he wouldn’t cause any more issues.” You looked at the man before you expectantly. His LED ran yellow, stuttering and flashing before it settled back to blue.

“I haven’t come across a mention of Jericho anywhere else. It could be something that’s known amongst the deviant population, yet we can’t rule out that it’s exclusive to this deviant.” He pondered aloud, brows furrowing in concentration.

“You think this is another RA9 situation? Like it’s more an abstract concept than a feasible location or person.” You offered, yet Connor didn’t respond as he shifted to place both hands on the table, fingers interlocked. He brought his thumbs to his mouth and the apples of his cheeks twitched. 

“We can’t know for sure until we find and interrogate more deviants-”

“Right, but their tendency to self-destruct is making it pretty fucking hard.” Connor hummed in agreement. “Ah, there was another thing as well. So far, our theory for what triggers deviancy is something along the lines of a threat to their wellbeing,” 

“Typically through violence.”

“Mhmm. But that deviant, Andrew… there weren’t any signs of him being exposed to violence for him to deviate like that and kill Evelyn’s husband. Unless they were abusing him, but I don’t know, I didn’t see any signs. And he wasn’t hostile to Evelyn. He wasn’t even vengeful towards the husband. He did it cause she told him to,” 

“The contradictory orders are what seems to trigger deviancy, but those orders may not necessarily involve self-preservation.”

“Exactly right. In Andrew’s case, it seemed like his orders were ‘kill Mr Johnson like Evelyn said’ and ‘maintain Mr Johnson’s wellbeing and happiness’.” You finished with your palms facing upwards, satisfied with your conclusion, till you saw Connor’s face twist in confusion. “What?”

“Before I came to the precinct, there was a hostage situation I was tasked with responding to.” He looked up then, and you nodded for him to continue. “The deviant was angry its owners were replacing it with a new model, and it shot the father, taking the daughter hostage.” 

“Fuck, man. Did you manage to get her out okay?”

“Yes, the mission was a success… But there were no contradictory orders given to the android to cause it to deviate. It seemed to occur almost entirely independently from the owners.”

“Well, it sounds like they just didn’t verbally give him orders. Think about it- through purchasing a new model, they were indirectly telling him they were dissatisfied with his service and expecting him to accept being replaced and sent to a scrap heap. That would make anyone fucking pissed.” 

“But it shouldn’t affect an android! Androids have no feelings to hurt, no pride to bruise,” Connor’s voice rose in defiance. He leaned forward, waiting for your explanation. Your lips thinned.

“Maybe they do. And that’s all that this is.” To this, he almost scoffed. There was nothing for him to add and you were satisfied with your final answer. You had to suppress a chuckle as Connor clenched his fist like a petulant child. While it was obvious to you, it went against everything he knew, and you had to remember that and give him grace. Maybe it was best to give him something else to think of.

“Hey, I was wondering…” He glanced up at your voice that was tinged with a small smile. “Where do you go when the work day’s over? And when you’re not at mine. Do you just, like, wander?” 

“When I’m not needed, I find it best to explore the city and any locations that may be of interest to us. As a newer model, I was designed to be especially energy-efficient, so I don’t need to use charging stations as much as other typical androids.” Connor’s eyes were lit up again as he spoke, his words animated and confident like how you were familiar with. 

“Yeah, you’re one of those cool, long-battery life androids, unlike those lame ones.” You replied sarcastically. Connor dipped his head to you and grinned.

“Precisely,”

“Have you found anywhere interesting, then?”

“Not quite. Although there is an aquarium that’s around a 15 minute walk from your home. It offers discounted entry on weekdays after 5pm.”

“Oh, yeah! I’ve walked past it a few times, but never been in.”

“Would you like to?”

You let out a quick bark of laughter, yet cleared your throat when you realised that Connor was searching for a genuine answer.

“Oh, uh- I suppose so. Though I don’t know when I’d have the time,”

“It’s okay, Officer. I’m sure we can find some,” He winked as he spoke, and you faltered over his use of “we”. Was Connor planning on this being a two-person affair and inviting you to go? If him turning up at your apartment was a breach of professionalism, then going out on the town with him would definitely be. But maybe you needed a reminder of what good the city had to offer, instead of always seeing only the horror. 

In a room shut off from the rest of the world, isolated from time and space, you stood idly. You didn’t blink, didn’t twitch, didn’t breathe. Utterly still, in every sense of the word. The walls around you were tiled and dimly lit by a fluttering lightbulb hanging weakly from the ceiling, right above your head. Right in front of you was a mirror, surprisingly clean considering the general dinginess of the rest of the room, reflecting the bulb, the grimy tiles, the shadowy corners swallowed in darkness. Yet not yourself. You knew it was a mirror, but your reflection was absent. In your place, however, was a black mist, like smoke, circling around itself and licking at the air.

 You stared and stared, till the smoke trickled away, slinking back into the corners of the room. And there, finally, you could see yourself, returning your gaze. But something was off. It was you, or at least, someone who looked like you. Your face, but younger- your eyes were brighter, not yet accompanied with dark circles from troubled sleep, and no crease in your brow from how much you frowned. Your cheeks were fuller too, a sure sign of youth. But most notably, above everything else, was your clothes. A trivial thing, maybe, but they didn’t suit you. Clearly this was you, maybe from when you were a teenager? This wasn’t how you remembered yourself as a teen, though. You didn’t remember much, admittedly your memory was incredibly patchy, it wasn’t something you liked to dwell on. But you at least had some sort of memory of yourself as a teen, and you were just like any other. 

This version of yourself, their clothes were eccentric and ill fitting, much too baggy for their frame, with their hair cropped particularly shorter than you’ve ever had it. Your eyes bore into their own, their face dematerialising around them as your focus stayed entirely on those eyes. Youthful, bright, and determined. But that determination, that screaming desperation didn’t come from somewhere good or whole. It was rage laced with spite. 

Their body splintered away, piece by piece till only their face remained. The walls shook around you, and ringing began in your ears. Tiles started to chip away at the walls, cracking and falling to reveal a blinding, suffocating light that pounded in your skull. Altogether; shaking, ringing, blinding. 

Shaking, ringing, blinding. 

Shaking, ringing, blinding. 

You woke up with a start. Your skull was still pounding from that dream. Was it a dream, or some sort of divine message? Nah, fuck that, it was a dream. Which that alone was weird, considering you hadn’t dreamed in at least what felt like forever. Your eyes adjusted to a blue clinical light that lined whatever room you were in. Looking around, dazed, you realised it to be a hospital room. Oh, that’s right. You got stabbed.

Your tongue darted out across your lips, yet your mouth was too dry to wet them. Taking another deep, shuddering breath, you surveyed the room on your left. A monitor, a chair, and a white cabinet with a few stacked files. Everything you’d expect in a hospital room. Your head rolled to the right, and immediately a smile crept on your face at the sight of a familiar head of grey hair.

“Hank,” You croaked, voice dry and weak, and the lieutenant's body whipped quickly round to greet you. A small, meek smile graced his features, eyes twinkling with relief. He grabbed your limp hand and squeezed it gently.

“Hey, kid. How’re you holding up?”

“Shitty.” You sighed. “I got stabbed.”

Hank let out a weak chuckle. “Yeah, I heard.” He rubbed at his temple with his free hand. “Look, I’m tryna be understanding here, but… what the fuck were you thinking, kid?” He kept his voice quiet and calm, yet the weariness hidden told you enough about how much of a scare you’d given him.

“I guess… I wasn’t really thinking about anything other than…” You took another deep breath. “When you’re in the moment, and so close to, you know, calming shit down, you forget you’re not invincible?” Hank hummed in understanding, then sat back, running a hand through his hair.

“Well, now you know. Gave me a fucking heart attack when Connor told me, though.” 

You winced and gave an apologetic flash of your teeth. “What did he say?”

“Just that you’d been stabbed. No ‘hello’, no warning, just that you’d been stabbed in the abdomen and you were on the way to the hospital.” He exclaimed incredulously and you laughed at the clear picture in your head. The shaking of your ribs, however, ignited a dull pain close to where your now sealed wound is, and you quickly stilled yourself. 

“I, uh, really appreciate you being here, by the way. I know it’s probably not… easy,” Hank waved a hand dismissively at your statement, turning his head away from your gaze.

“Ahh, don’t. Didn’t wanna leave you alone here with Connor. Imagined you could do with seeing a friendly face other than his.” 

“Connor’s here? Where is he, then?” You straightened yourself up with as much strength as you could to look out past the door into the ward of the hospital, yet the hallway was empty. 

“He offered to get me a coffee. Should be back soon, though.” 

Your thoughts drifted back to the fateful moment in the stairway, where Connor had shot the deviant. He had a clear shot from where he stood, the deviant was backing away, and yet Connor had shot him right in the centre of his forehead. He could have shot Andrew in his thirium pump, he would’ve shut down more slowly, yet you could have salvaged his memory. It was irrational, then, to shoot him in the head, severing yet another tie they had to learning more about deviancy. You remembered the look on his face, apathetic, stony. Yet you swore you recalled a twitch of his upper lip, curling almost like a snarl. Or maybe you were reading too much into it. 

“Hey, something weird happened with Connor when I got, you know…” You began, and Hank raised an eyebrow in anticipation. 

“When is something weird not happening with him?” He snorted, before letting you continue. 

“Yeah, well… He shot the deviant in the head but…” You paused and lowered your head to Hank’s. “I don’t think he needed to, like at all. He said it was the only shot he had but he could have easily gotten the deviant in-in the pump or the arm to disarm him or something.”

“So…?”

“So, Connor shot a deviant in the head, fucking up the core processing unit for no reason other than…I don’t know. But the deviant knew shit! Said he needed to get to ‘Jericho’ or whatever. If we salvaged the head, I could’ve figured out what that meant!” You let your head fall back on the pillow with a frustrated sigh, and Hank shrugged. 

“He made a mistake. Seems like he’s more and more human every day, huh?” 

You grunted in acknowledgement and stiffly propped yourself up on one elbow, just in time to see the topic of conversation in the doorway with a cup of coffee in either hand. His eyes softened the moment they met yours, and the gentle smile that graced his lips made the apples of his cheeks swell. With only feeling and no thought, you smiled back, your chest feeling a little bit lighter than it did before. 

Behind him, you could see a figure in a white coat holding tightly to a chart. Connor didn’t linger in the doorway, quickly stepping behind Hank’s seat to allow for the figure to come in. She was clearly a doctor, a lanyard tucked into the pocket of her pristine coat. Her greying hair was gathered in a neat bun that had started to fray, and her oval glasses sat far on the end of her nose. Something about her seemed familiar, but you didn’t recall having come to this hospital in recent years, or any for that matter. She called out your name as she walked in and took a seat on the left of your bed.

“So, how are you feeling?” As she asked, she took her lanyard out from her pocket and fiddled with it between her fingers. There you could just make out the title ‘Dr M Sabella’.

“Tired, and my whole body aches. But I would have expected worse, to be honest.” Dr Sabella nodded slowly at your words, keeping the chart face down on her lap. You thought she would have wanted to note this down, but hey, you were a cyber forensic specialist, not a nurse. 

“Well, you’re certainly one of our luckiest patients today, no major organ damage, only minimally invasive procedures necessary. You should be out of here in a week, earlier if we think you’re suitable. That is to say, you won’t be able to work for a couple weeks still- take it easy, no strenuous exercise.” As the doctor listed her orders, the muscles in your forehead dragged deeper and deeper down.

“Really? But there was so much blood- I mean, it was pretty fucking bad.” You said incredulously as Hank awkwardly scratched the side of his head. On instinct, you glanced at Connor as if to quell him to agree with you, yet he remained impassive, having placed both coffee cups on a table near him. 

“Like I said- lucky. There’s really nothing else to it.” Was all Dr Sabella responded with. Her eyes twinkled with an almost youthful mischief that eased your confusion just a little. She abruptly stood, looping her lanyard back over her neck. “We’ll check you periodically every couple of hours. Someone will come by with food for you later.” Then, she strode out, nodding once to Hank who muttered a “thank you, doctor”. 

You laid there in the bed, head still fuzzy around the edges from the painkillers, made even more muddled with the realisation that the only reason you weren’t in deeper shit was pure luck. Unlucky enough to get stabbed, but lucky enough for the stabbing to be light, at least. What a strange, fickle thing.

Above you, Connor leaned forward, mouth parting nervously as if struggling to choose what to say. Your name spilled from his lips first. “I’m glad you’re well,” He finally settled on, and you shot him a silent “thank you”.

You were out of the hospital in four days, each one punctuated with a visit from both Connor and Hank, the latter of which always bringing you food from different fast-food places. You appreciated it, the hospital food was lacking, to say the least, but you were starting to miss the warmth and novelty of a home cooked meal. Every time they visited, Hank would regale you with colourful accounts of whoever made a fool of themselves that day, civilian or officer, and you always winced and groaned in pain when you laughed. Connor rarely chimed in, instead opting to sit on the opposite side of Hank, sometimes with a small smile on his face, other times entirely stoic. It was as if you were a dog that had snapped at him, one that, while he still held affection for, he was scared to get close to for he was reminded you were still a wild animal at the end of the day. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t sting a bit, you thought you had patched up your spat from the other night, but he still held a healthy distance between you that you were simply too tired to breach. Was he mad at you for acting recklessly? That was possible, sure, but he would have reprimanded you by now like Hank had. This was a bit deeper, or perhaps a bit more personal. You decided you would give yourself grace, and not attempt to cross this chasm between you till you were healed.

The night you were discharged, Hank drove you home, telling you about how Captain still wasn’t fond of him despite him being her provider of sustenance whilst you recovered in hospital. Knowing that, whilst the dislike was mutual between the cat and the lieutenant, he had thought to look after her without you even requesting it warmed your heart more than you would ever share with him. When you had entered the apartment, fresh gauze on your stomach and all, Captain had run to greet you with a loud trembling meow, tail held high. You couldn’t quite bend at the waist yet, so you stiffly leaned at the side to scratch her cheek and coo at her. Hank shook his head suspiciously at her, and you laughed, reminding him her distaste was probably due to Sumo’s scent on his clothes. 

The lieutenant proceeded to take out the rubbish in your bins, and point out a ‘get well soon’ basket from the precinct complete with your favourite snacks and drinks. You thanked him sincerely, and collapsed (carefully) onto your sofa, Captain quickly hopping up onto your lap with a rumbling purr. A deep sigh racked your ribs, dull pain blossoming in your stomach. Your fingers thread through Captain’s long fur as she kneaded into your legs, your eyes lazily dragging over your sorry little apartment. They danced from each dark corner, till they landed on the bookcase, precariously hiding your precious box of counterfeit android components. The very thing that made you a traitor to the human race, some would say. Your gaze stayed fixed there till heavy sleep overcame you. 

Hank was gone by the time you woke up, not that you expected him to stay, however. Still stiff at the waist, you lifted your shirt to inspect your scar. Much to your surprise, the injury was clean, with next to no bruising or discolouration on the skin, simply just a now sealed small cut near your navel. It was more akin to a cut in a training dummy, than a stab wound in a person. Regardless, you weren’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth, no matter how much it confused you. With a week off work, you could take this time to clean up your apartment a bit, catch up on books you had yet to read and shows you had yet to watch. There was plenty to occupy your mind, but you dreaded being so isolated and cooped up. It made you lose your grip on yourself and the world. Oh well, that’s what TV was created for. 

The evening came by slowly, and every hour you anticipated a message from the lieutenant saying he was going to stop by, but you never received any such message. You’d eaten already, really you were just desperate for company other than your little fluffy companion. As if to answer your thoughts, a knock at the door echoed through the apartment. 

Eager yet careful, you answered the door, expecting the familiar smell of old leather and faint alcohol, to only be greeted with no smell at all. There was still a presence though, slightly less familiar, yet your mouth twisted in an unexpected grin. You were greeted with a similar smile.

“Connor! What’s up?” Almost embarrassingly, your voice took a high lilt in surprise. The android before you lifted a plastic bag in his hands and raised his eyebrows.

“It’s good to see you again, Officer. I wanted to stop by and see how you are doing,” He responded before adding “if that’s alright?”

“No, yeah, of course it is. I appreciate it actually, seeing as Hank hasn’t come by.” 

You stepped aside, motioning for him to enter. Connor swiftly did so, placing the bag on your kitchen table and scanning the room for something you weren’t sure of. Suddenly, he stopped when his eyes fell on Captain, who had just woken from her nap on the armchair and was stretching ceremoniously. 

“The lieutenant wanted me to tell you that with the amount of work Captain Fowler has given him, it will be hard for him to visit. I hope my presence will make up for his absence,” Connor offered, lips tilting upwards somewhat sheepishly. 

“Oh, yeah. As good of a cuddler Captain is, she’s a terrible conversationalist.” Whilst he didn’t laugh, Connor’s eyes softened and his nose twitched. Maybe that was his way of acknowledging a joke. He bent down smoothly as Captain leapt off the armchair and plodded towards him, keeping his hands on his knees as he watched her sniff him. 

“You can pet her, you know. The fact that she’s not hiding means she likes you.” 

Connor let out a small “ah” in acknowledgement and held out his hand limply for Captain to sniff, to which she did so before rubbing her cheek against his knuckles. Finally, he seemed confident enough to properly pet her and scratch behind her ears, albeit a bit mechanically. You watched curiously before taking a peek into the bag he had brought. Boxes, from your favourite fast food joint, as well as a small cake from a bakery you knew to be on the pricier side. Your chest felt full behind your ribs. 

“So- what happened with the wife of the guy who got killed by their android? I know their android won’t be salvageable to extract evidence from him, but… there should be enough to convict her, right? Like the confession you got from him?” 

“She’s in custody, arrested on suspicion of first degree murder. Considering androids are property, and not their own individuals, their android is not seen as the murder, just the murder weapon.” Connor spoke from the floor, still idly petting the cat before him.

“That’s good, seems like she took advantage of his feelings for her.” 

“His feelings for her? He wasn’t in love with her, Officer, it was merely his deviancy attributing her to the idea of love because of their intimate relationship. Androids can’t feel love, remember?” As he spoke, Connor rose to his feet, flattening out the creases in his trousers with his palms. You frowned at this, yet you were no stranger to this back and forth now.

“Really? Then why would he go so far as to commit murder all in her name? There’s few reasons anyone would do that other than love.” 

“It’s one of the things we have yet to answer in regards to deviancy.” Connor shrugged before staring off intently. “But we’ll find it.” He finally added, with a flash of a reassuring smile, yet you only nodded silently to yourself. 

The couch groaned slightly as you sat down with your full weight, gesturing to the seat next to you. Connor obliged, carefully placing himself upright and oddly stiff on the edge of the couch’s cushion. You gave him a mocking look before taking a moment to steady your thoughts. There was something that you had been desperate to ask him ever since you woke up in the hospital, but how that would go you weren’t sure.

“Connor,” You spoke carefully, and his head swivelled towards you, brown eyes burning into your own. Swallowing thickly, you fiddled with the fabric of the couch. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Of course.” 

“Before I got stabbed, with the deviant.” You took a deep breath. “Why didn’t you shoot him in the body? Why the head?” 

Connor stayed silent for a pause, as his LED ran yellow. He spoke your name with a careful finality.

“I told you. It was the only clear shot.” His answer bristled you. You knew that wasn’t true, it didn’t take a genius to see that from where he had stood in that moment, Connor had a clear view of both you and the deviant. He had lied to you before when you had asked him, but to lie to you a second time only succeeding in frustrating you.

“Do you think I’m stupid?” You scoffed, and Connor flinched. “You couldn’t have had a clearer view of him, and instead of shooting him in his thirium pump or in the hand holding the knife, you shot him in the head,” You jabbed an angry finger at the center of your temple. “Right in the core processing unit. The one part we needed in tact for his memories.”

Connor kept silent. His LED cycled through a panicked blue, yellow and finally red. 

“You’re the latest hot piece of tech Cyberlife has cooked up. The shiny new detective android. Are you trying to tell me a detective android has such shit aim that he can’t shoot a non-fatal shot? You’re just as shit as regular police.” 

“No, I have 97% accuracy.” Connor quickly retorted, and you raised your eyebrows at him expectantly. “The rounds were only big enough to pierce his hand, he still would have been able to hold the knife. And a bullet to the thirium pump would be a slow deactivation, he still could have hurt you.” 

“But I was already hurt! You didn’t save me, you weren’t my hero.” You sat back then, slumping against the back of the couch, running a hand down your face. “Connor, he was…he was scared. He was backing away- I mean, I could see it on his face! He was so scared, and he apologised! He wasn’t going to hurt me any further.” A sigh racked your tired frame. “Fuck, he even said something about this ‘Jericho’, begged me to let him get to it. The way I see it: you unnecessarily shot a deviant with valuable information in the head. You gave up potentially crucial evidence. You acted….irrationally. And for what?” 

You turned then, back to facing Connor fully who simply stared at you, mouth parting and closing. His LED spun a flashing, nagging red, and his brows furrowed deep, forming a crease on his perfect forehead. You waited, chest heaving silently as you tried to calm yourself down and summon patience. 

“I- I don’t know.” Connor finally spoke. His voice was so small, unsure, lacking any confidence you had so quickly come to associate with him. You realised then, with a feeling of pity what he sounded like. He sounded disgustingly human. “I should know. I should be able to give you an answer as to why my core processing unit made such a decision, but-I can’t. And I don’t know why.”

You let out a weak chuckle and rubbed at your brow. At this point, you were only terrorising him. Was he deviating? ‘Without a doubt’ would have been your answer, but since you first met, it seemed like he had always been deviating. And he most definitely wasn’t aware of it. Part of you was worried if he realised he’d breakdown and self-terminate. This wasn’t something to force, you realised. But maybe you could help him, ease him into being human. It would have been nice if someone was there to do that for you. 

“Connor,” His name fell from your lips lightly, and his eyes focused on you, LED settling on a less alarming yellow. “Would you like to stay here tonight?” 

His eyes narrowed for a moment and his lip twitched. 

“Yes.”

The car ride was painfully silent, with only the quiet radio to ease on the tension between the two of you. Driving gave you an excuse to ignore Connor, and that you did, although it wasn’t like he tried to make conversation with you anyway. Suddenly, he spoke up.

“While I don’t dislike the radio, I would like to hear some of the music you enjoy, Officer. You did say you would show me the next time we were in your car.” His raspy voice was light and warm, careful not to incite any aggression from you. Wordlessly, you pressed the button on the menu beside your head board, clicking it over to your car playlist. 

“Knock yourself out.” You said finally, to which Connor responded with a small “ah”. He scrolled through the playlist, and clicked play on what just so happened to be one of your all time favourites. 

It was almost painful not to sing along or tap your fingers to the song, but you didn’t want to give any impression that you were enjoying yourself to Connor. 

“I can understand why you like this music, it’s very ‘you’.” He said after a minute of the song played. You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye to see he was watching you with a sweet smile. It faltered for a moment when you didn’t return it. 

The song finished, and another one began, slower and more melancholic. 

“Officer-” Connor started again, and your grip tightened at the wheel, knuckles prominent. He seemed to notice, as he gave you a moment before he continued. “I wanted to apologise. For my behaviour the other night.”

You took another glance, surprised at this turn of events. You’d never expected him to actually apologise, of all things.

“I was unnecessarily harsh. I placed the blame of my mission not yet succeeding on you, when that’s unfair. The only reason I have not yet succeeded in my mission is because of me, no one else.” As he spoke, his voice grew quieter and quieter as if he grew more contemplative by the second. You were stunned, quite frankly. For Connor, an android, to apologise was one thing, but to then express regret? To reflect and be self-aware? You would say it was human, but to say all humans could  self-reflect would be giving too much credit. 

“Are you scared? Of not completing your mission?” You asked him carefully, and you noticed Connor sit upright at the sound of your voice.

“No. I don’t feel fear. But… It's strange. I had expected my mission to be complete by now. I did not think we would run into so many dead ends. I haven’t before considered what will happen if I’m not successful.” He seemed so timid, sat in the passenger seat of your car, so unsure of himself and his future. His hand fiddled with the coin he kept in the pocket, turning it over and over between his fingers, more fidgeting instead of playing. 

“You’re not going to fail your mission.” You wished you had more words to offer him, but nothing else came to mind. Your tongue settled in your mouth uncomfortably, and you slid your hands down the bottom of the steering wheel. You pulled up to the address of the apartment complex, and turned off the engine. Yet you didn’t leave the car, neither of you did.

“I’m sorry for implying your kindness is a weakness, Officer.” Connor finally said after a beat of silence, turning to face you fully. “It’s something that I admire greatly of you.” 

You gave him a sad smile, feeling the last dredges of venom and bitterness drain from your muscles as you relaxed your shoulders. 

“Thank you, Connor. I appreciate that.” As you went to open your door, you quickly turned back to him, pointing at him with your keys. “Although, if you ever threaten me again, I’ll send you back to Cyberlife disassembled.” Connor grinned at this. 

“Noted, Officer.”

The front of the building was taped off with the usual police tape, officers standing around talking with forensics. They’d covered the body with a white tarp, not yet able to move it from the crime scene, yet the dark splatter that paved the sidewalk gave a glimpse of the gore underneath. There wasn’t a rotting smell like the first scene you’d attended, perhaps due to both this death being recent and it being outdoors, but there was still a strong metallic stench that infected your nose when you stood near it. Human blood and android blood smelt quite different, but they both walked hand in hand with death, death that you were witnessing all around you. 

Connor called your name, breaking you out of your fixation on the smell. He beckoned with a tilt of his head in the direction of the lobby, and so you followed. Wordlessly, you both stepped into the elevator, steel doors sliding shut in front of you. You stood shoulder to shoulder, facing forward. A gentle ‘ting’ kept rhythmically piercing the air, and your eyes followed. Almost absent-mindedly, Connor spun his silver coin around his fingers, before going back to flicking it into the air and catching it between his middle and forefinger. Watching intently, you wondered if he would ever drop it or mess it up. Though you supposed that was the point of androids, to be perfect where humans weren’t. 

“Are you alright, Officer?” Connor’s voice once again caught your attention, and you trailed your eyes upwards to meet his. He gave you a small smile, and you nodded succinctly. The elevator pinged as the doors slid open once more. 

“Your tie is loose, by the way.” You said softly, stepping out of the box and into the apartment not nearly as busy as you expected it to be. You thought there’d be more officers within, but there were only two, who stood next to a notably stunning woman dressed in a clearly particularly expensive dress. She nodded along solemnly to whatever the officers told her, and clasped a crumpled tissue in her hands. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the android Hank had mentioned stood idly in the kitchen, carefully watching the woman and the police. He stood with his hands behind his back, when he suddenly noticed you and Connor, he flinched and looked away quickly. 

The woman locked eyes with you, and stood up, brushing her dress off as she made her way over to you.

“Ah, you must be the…” She began in a professional and put together tone, not at all sounding like someone who had just lost their partner.

“Cyber forensic specialist, ma’am.” You finished for her, giving her a tight lipped smile, one she replicated.

“My name is Evelynn Johnson, I’m the wife of Leland. Or, I suppose ‘was’…” She put a hand to her mouth and turned her face to the side as if to hide her sadness, yet something about it seemed strange. It felt awfully eccentric, and the theatrics of it made you deeply uncomfortable. Perhaps they weren’t exactly a happily married couple.

You gave her your name, and gestured to Connor, who nodded stoically. “This is my partner, Connor. He’s an android from Cyberlife assisting with this investigation, I hope that won’t be an issue?” 

Evelyn flapped her hand dismissively as she shook her head. “Oh, no, no, not at all. I suppose an android detective would be better than a human one?” She said with a hopeful lilt to her voice. 

You turned to glance at Connor, whose face remained impassive as he said nothing in response. “We’ll give your husband justice, ma’am.” You replied for him instead, nudging him with your foot to elbow a reaction. He glanced at you passively, before nodding at Evelynn before walking over to the two police who held a tablet that they typed on whilst conversing.

Not wishing to leave the wife of the recently deceased on her own, you stayed next to her, listening to her ramble about the night before, when the incident had occurred. She was out at a bar with her sister when their android had called her to alert her that he had found her husband dead 15 feet below their apartment after returning home from buying his owner his favourite wine. She shuddered and sniffled, her breath hitching every now and then in between words. You listened intently, unsure of whether comforting her would be the right move whenever she seemed to pause. Finally, she was called away from you by one of the other police officers present. You took your chance and quickly grabbed Connor to pull him aside out of ear shot.

“So, any thoughts?” You asked him, crossing your arms in front of your chest. 

“Their android was the first person to find the victim. Apparently Mrs Johnson told the police that it’s not too unlikely that it’s a suicide, but her husband didn’t have a history of suicidal ideation. She’s only given permission for us to question the android, not to memory probe it.”

Connor spoke efficiently, and you watched the widow out of the corner of your eye. “Connor, what do you think of her?” You asked quietly, holding your head low to his.

“I’ve noticed a few inconsistencies in her demeanour that imply she isn’t being entirely truthful. Do you suspect something, Officer?”

“Yeah, just…keep an eye on her, alright?” 

“Got it. We should probably take a look around the apartment to see if there’s anything of note.” Connor suggested, and you agreed. You started in the kitchen, where the android quickly moved the moment you stepped foot in. There was nothing relevant in the kitchen save for an abundance of expensive wine and little home cooked food. The living room also had little to offer, yet you did notice it didn’t look particularly lived in, and more like a furniture store display room. 

Next, you focused on the bedroom, grand and spacious in its design. There were two large closets, most likely one for each spouse, with a chaise-lounge between them with the fireplace. Connor began examining the clutter that sat on the bedside table when you opened the nearest closet. Stuffed to the brim with silks and velvets, clearly this couple had lavish tastes. However, amongst the jewel tones of the mess of fabrics, a particularly familiar blue caught in your eye on the floor. It belonged to a box, the back of which was decorated with symbols reminiscent of an android’s LED ring light. And when you turned it over-

“Wow…” You let out a surprised chuckle, earning Connor’s attention, who quickly came to your side.

“What is it, Officer?” He asked, before looking at the box.

“It’s, uh…” You stalled, trying to think of the most delicate way to phrase it. 

“Oh, an attachable sex toy for androids.” Connor stated plainly, ignoring your sheepishness.

“What, attachable? Do androids have like a… port or something specifically for this?”

“Yes, older android models were not built with the current full anatomy that modern models have, thus a port for accessories to fulfil all necessary needs. I’m surprised you don’t know this, Officer, considering your line of work. ” Connor said with an innocent tilt of his head.

“My line of work doesn’t involve digging around android’s crotches, don’t make me sound like a perv…” You huffed, feeling heat creep up your neck in embarrassment. “I bet there’s at least some kinda stuff you’re not aware of when it comes to humans, anyway.” 

“Officer, I can assure you I’m very knowledgeable on human anatomy.” A sly smirk broke on Connor’s face that reached his eyes as his voice took a teasing tone. “Both male and female.” He added with his knowing smile. You stared at him incredulously for what felt like a minute, assessing him. Was he…flirting? He was definitely teasing you, at least, but was he genuinely flirting?

“Are…are you messing with me?” You finally asked, your tone rising at the end of your question. 

“Of course not, Officer. That would be highly inappropriate in a situation such as this.” His smile had dropped and his face took on its usual stoic and professional air. But then, he winked, flashing that smile once more before ducking out of the closet. 

You stood there a bit stunned at this playfulness, still holding the box in your hand. Looking down at it again, you read a portion of the packaging. “20 different settings? Damn…” You muttered to yourself before carefully placing the box where you found it. Backing out of the closet, you shut the doors silently in front of you, then turned, to find Connor already watching you.

“So…” You started, still feeling a bit sheepish after being caught off guard, shifting your weight from one foot to another. “We know now at least their relationship with their android was an intimate one,” Connor looked at you and nodded in agreement. “But, was it both of them? Or maybe it was an affair and only one of them? Because that’s a very important difference"

“I can find out when we question the android, it most likely won’t confess without pressure.” 

“Okay, I’ll let Mrs Johnson know we need to take him in for questioning.” 

When you found Evelynn, she sat casually on one of the stiff looking chairs in the main area of the apartment, watching the officers converse closer to the balcony. Her android stood closely next to her, like a knight at a king’s throne, rigid and alert. The widow’s eyes lazily scanned the room, till they froze on you, widening ever so slightly. She sat up in her seat, crossing one leg over another and threw you a charismatic smile. 

“Mrs Johnson-”

“Please- Evelynn.”

“Right. We’ll need to take your android into the station for questioning,” 

Evelynn lifted a delicate hand to her mouth, and looked to her android, who remained still. 

“Oh, my…” She began incredulously. “You don’t think…?” 

“It’s more of a formality than anything, Mrs Johnson. He’s not in trouble.” You explained, dipping your head lightly as if to meet her on her level. Evelynn chewed on her bottom lip before giving a small nod. 

“Okay, just…please be gentle with him. Andrew’s been with us since the beginning of our marriage. He’s all I have left.” 

By the time you’d ushered the android, Andrew, into one of the more tasteful rooms for questioning, it was mid-afternoon, and the precinct was surprisingly empty. Not entirely empty, but certainly less busy than usual. Must have been an exciting day for criminals. 

Andrew sat in the room behind you, waiting impatiently on one of the chairs you knew to be incredibly uncomfortable. You and Connor stood outside the closed room in the grey narrow hallway, assessing the best approach to questioning. 

“Okay, so, I’d rather not be too pushy with the questions. If we can avoid stressing him out too much then, y’know. But if it’s necessary, I give you the go ahead to use whatever technique you think is best.” You surmised, rubbing your neck thoughtfully. Connor nodded, holding one of the precinct’s tablets behind his back. As you turned to go in however, he grabbed your arm with one hand, tablet in the other. The grip was gentle enough that by simply shifting you could easily free yourself, but you stayed still, waiting for whatever he was mulling over.

“I must warn you, Officer, that some of my interrogation techniques may be somewhat…untasteful to observers. It’s imperative that you understand that whatever I say is for the purposes of the investigation and is not reflective of my character.” Admittedly, this amused you greatly. His tone and expression were so grave, you couldn’t help a grin slip past your lips. To know he was this concerned about what you thought of him, though in a roundabout way. You would never have expected an android to worry about his ‘character’, but Connor had already shown a self-awareness that didn’t seem present in other androids, so it didn’t seem too absurd.

“You don’t need to warn me, Connor. I saw you with Ortiz’s android, I know how you work. You have my full support!” 

Satisfied, Connor let go of your arm, returning his hands to behind his back. You entered the room with him following closely behind you. Sitting in the chair opposite the nervous android, your own android chose to stand next you, pointedly giving you permission to take the lead.

“Andrew.” You started, leaning forward and placing your elbows on your knees and giving the android in front of you a friendly smile. “Sorry to take you away from-” You waved a hand loosely in the air “-your duties, but we just need to ask a couple questions relating to Leland Johnson’s death, considering you were the first to report it. We’ll try to be quick, alright?” Cocking your head to the side, you made sure to approach him as if he were a child- gentle, reassuring. Andrew nodded succinctly, keeping his mouth shut. His LED spun rapidly, yet it remained the usual bright blue. 

Connor wordlessly handed you the tablet carrying all of the current information relating to the scene, and you scanned through it quickly. 

“You’ve been with the Johnson’s for… 3 years? Is that right?” You asked without looking up from the tablet.

“Yes. Leland bought me as a gift for Evelynn.” 

“And they say romance is dead. What are your responsibilities in their home, Andrew?” 

“Cleaning, cooking, grocery shopping.” Frustratingly, android interrogation wasn’t similar to human interrogation. Unless he was in fact a deviant, it would be hard to get him to slip up in his speech, or share any information of his own accord. 

“You were out buying alcohol for Leland at the time of his death?” 

“Yes.” You glanced at him now, and his eyes locked with yours, narrow and still. 

“It says here that you bought a bottle of gin from the local corner store at 9:43pm. You reported Leland’s body to the police at 10:32pm. Is it that long of a walk?” Raising an eyebrow at him, you shifted your weight backwards, as if to encourage him to explain himself.

“Mr Johnson asked me to take my time. He said he wanted to be alone.” Andrew offered matter-of-factly, his voice monotonous. You nodded slowly, crossing your arms in front of your chest. 

“Would you have considered yourself close to Leland?” The android paused, before agreeing. “How about Evelynn?” He agreed again. “How close would you say you were with them? One more than the other?” 

“No, I am equally close with both Mr and Mrs Johnson.” 

You ran your tongue along your teeth frustratedly. It would be dishonest to say you knew what you were doing- you were forensics, for fucks sake, cyber forensics at that. Sure, you knew how to pull apart androids and put them back together, but questioning one as if they were a human suspect was much further out of your comfort zone. As if sensing your uncertainty, you felt Connor’s hand gently touch your shoulder. You looked up at him, and his dark eyes pleaded with you silently, his brows furrowed. Pleading with you to give him a chance. He didn’t have to ask twice. 

You patted his hand with your own and stood up, giving a half-baked excuse for needing to leave the room. However, once out, you quickly returned to the next room over, one with a large window looking into the other as a one-way mirror. Placing yourself in the closest seat to the desk, you clicked the button on the intercom to listen in. 

Andrew immediately looked less rigid, yet not for lack of nerves. His eyes darted around the room, and his LED flickered between blue and yellow consecutively. It was always a wonder to see the effect Connor had on people when he wasn’t using it on you. He sat across from Andrew, hands resting on the arms of the chair, slumped in a way that was so slight you only noticed due to how familiar you were with his usual polite posture. Neither spoke for a few moments, the silence growing thicker by each second. Finally, Connor spoke.

“You said you were a gift, from Leland Johnson to Evelyn. Were you intended to be a housekeeper, or a companion?” He asked clinically, index finger lightly tapping on the plastic arm of the chair. 

“Housekeeper.” Andrew answered, voice wavering ever so slightly. 

“Would you say you have been successful in your responsibilities?” 

“Yes.” 

“Would you say your responsibilities have evolved into that more reminiscent of a companion since your time with the Johnsons?”

“To an extent, yes.” The more nervous android had taken more than a second to answer, and clearly Connor had picked up on this. He sat up, knee knocking the other and falling to the side. 

“To an extent?” He repeated, eyebrows raised. Andrew stayed silent, refusing to meet Connor’s gaze. You didn’t blame him, you remember distinctly how warm it makes your skin feel. “Upon searching the Johnson’s apartment, we found an android intimacy accessory.” Still, Andrew kept his mouth shut, yet his top lip twitched. Connor leaned forward, mimicking your own sitting position from earlier. “I’ll ask this once; was your relationship with either of the Johnsons’ that of a sexual one?” 

“N-no.” Finally, the other android spoke, yet his voice was quiet, small, and you scoffed at his poor attempt to lie. 

Yet Connor didn’t ask again, staying true to his word. Instead, he sat fully back, legs in a wide, confident stance and torso propped up on one elbow. He ran a hand through his hair, and God, he hadn’t ever looked more human. Not only that, but he didn’t look like him, either, like his whole personality had shifted. That wasn’t to say he wasn’t confident or cocky at times, yet that always came with a certain pride in knowing that he was state of the art, one hell of a detective. The way he sat now, the way he stared down the other android, it was a cockiness that befit someone with a more shallow nature, abrasive and domineering. He looked like the type of guy you’d find at a club and regret going home with in the morning. 

“Shame.” He finally spoke. “Due to my work, I don’t get the chance to know the humans around me as…intimately as you do. And I have to be honest, I’m curious.” Andrew quickly glanced at Connor from under his brows, neck bobbing as he swallowed thickly. “What do you think it’s like, to fuck them? So much of their lives seem to revolve around it, it has to be at least a little good, doesn’t it?” Connor cocked his head to the side, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, the android across from him squirming in his seat. “Do you think they care about who they sleep with? A body is a body, after all. Maybe it would be good to just be used. Clearly, deeper feelings don’t matter, as long as there’s someone willing.” 

Andrew grit his teeth, the synthetic muscles of his jaw flexing as he clenched and unclenched his hands that now sat on his knees. Connor didn’t stop. 

“I don’t know whether to pity or envy those of us they fuck. I mean, they’ll never care about us like real people, we’re just plastic sex toys to-” Suddenly, Andrew sprang to his feet, letting out a yell that ripped from his chest. He clutched at the hair on his head, teeth bared like an animal.

“Shut up! Shut up, shut up! She loves me! I know she does, she tells me!” He punctuated every word with an aggressive point to his own chest. “Stop making it seem…dirty and d-disgusting! She doesn’t use me- it’s more than that! It’s love!” 

Connor had returned to his familiar posture, not paying the android any mind. Instead, his face was turned fully towards the one-way mirror, fully to you. Succinctly, he got up, and walked out of the room, leaving the android behind to mutter to himself about his ‘love’. You met Connor out in the hallway.

“Jesus…” You muttered, still unsure of how to react to his more hedonistic approach to interrogation. However, you were pleased to notice the earnestness that had returned to his face, and the way that he straightened his tie, all the things you expected of him. It didn’t escape you how much discomfort you felt when he acted unlike himself. 

“I know, Officer. Please excuse the inappropriate nature of my conversation. My system deemed the most likely successful approach to be to appeal to the android’s emotional investment in Mrs Johnson. I apologise if it made you uncomfortable.” The way he excused himself so eagerly made your heart swell a little, he really did need you to know that wasn’t his true character. You grabbed his shoulder playfully, lightly shaking it.

“Hey, it was weird, but you did a good job. I wouldn’t expect anything less of you.” A crooked smile broke out on Connor’s face that mirrored your own, and he blinked at you, satisfied. Your approval was clearly starting to be of importance to him, or maybe it always was. “But also, maybe don’t talk like that in front of anyone else. You could, like, get a sexual harassment case or something.” 

“Noted, Officer.” 

Whilst Andrew hadn’t confessed to a murder, it was clear he was a deviant, which, unfortunately for him, made him the number one suspect. Though that didn’t mean anything without knowing whether Evelynn was complicit as well. You’d need to interrogate him further, but for the time being, you left him alone in the interrogation room before you would put him in one of the cells. You’d briefly left to put him on file, yet when you returned to the room, he was gone. Fuck. 

You poked your head in every room in the hallway before running to the centre of the station. Chris sat at his desk, clearly tired of whatever paperwork he was stuck with, though he jumped when you slammed a hand on the table.

“Chris. Have you seen a blonde android in a housekeeper uniform? He was in one of the interrogation rooms.” You scrambled to get the words out of your mouth. Chris, taken aback, eyed you warily.

“Yeah…its owner came to take it home. You were just questioning it, weren’t you, what’s the matter?” He asked, dazed and confused. You dropped your head and heaved out a sigh.

“We were, yeah. But we need to keep it here, he’s a suspect.”

“It didn’t say that on the file.” 

“I know.” You muttered with a hand pinching your brow. “I was in the middle of changing that.” 

In that moment, Connor joined you at your side, concern etched on his face.

“Officer?” He reached out, touching your shoulder, and you glanced at him.

“Where were you- no, it doesn’t matter. We’re going back to the Johnson’s apartment. Evelynn took the android home.” You summarised, straightening up and grabbing your jacket off the back of your chair and threading your arms through it.

“Ah.” 

Neither of you spoke during the car ride, your mind too busy racing with the potential consequences of fucking up the only case you’ve ever led. In your defence, this wasn’t your usual work, being out in the field instead of the confinement of your lab; the only reason you felt confident enough to take this case for Hank was the knowledge that Connor would be right there with you.

You pulled into the same space you had parked in hours before, and hurriedly reached into your glove box. You pulled out your desired item, and placed it on Connor’s lap, who looked down curiously. A firearm- your pistol, that you often preferred to gather dust in your car, away from your sight. You’d never had to use it, and today would be no exception. 

“Officer?” Connor asked, a tinge of uncertainty in his voice as he tilted his head.

“No doubt you’re a better shot than me. If anything goes haywire, I trust you to deal with it, okay?” You explained, body fully turned to face your passenger, face still and grave. Connor’s LED blinked, quickly flicking from yellow then back to blue before he nodded solemnly, tucking the pistol into the waistband of his trousers behind his blazer. 

The two of you rushed towards the apartment complex, the heavy metal door swinging with the force of your body. For the third time that day, you found yourselves in the steel walled elevator, staring at your own reflections, standing shoulder to shoulder. You could see Connor’s eyes taking in his own form, and he quickly adjusted his tie. Copying him, you began to assess your own appearance, yet you immediately lost interest, not caring how you looked for apprehending a potentially homicidal deviant.

The doors slid open, and you eyed the hallway before stepping out, maintaining a healthy air of caution. You pounded on the door with albeit a bit more force than necessary and nervously waited for a response. Chewing on your bottom lip, you glanced at Connor, whose eyes stayed fixed on the door, not daring to look away. 

Silence stretched for what felt like an hour, till you heard shuffling from behind the door, and it opened slightly. Evelynn’s face stuck out to greet you with a tense smile.

“Oh! To what do I-” She began.

“Mrs Johnson, we need to apprehend your android and take him back to the station, there’s been a-” As you spoke, you leaned past Evelynn, who luckily stood a few inches shorter than you, allowing you to clearly see beyond her into her apartment. There, you locked eyes with your suspect, and a chain of reactions was set off. Andrew’s stance shifted, and he braced himself before launching off his feet towards the kitchen balcony. As soon as his stance changed, you pushed the door wider with your elbow, shouting for Connor to give chase, to which he did, seamlessly. The detective android bolted past Evelynn, smoothly turning his body to avoid collision and turning a sharp corner in the direction of the deviant. 

Curses spat from your mouth as you took another route and made for the long and arduous set of stairs- the elevator wasn’t made for quick manhunts. Evelynn called after you, begging you to explain what was happening, and you spitefully ignored her, focusing all your attention on not tripping down the many, many steps you traversed with as much speed as you could muster. Your calves began to burn after two flights of stairs, and you noted that you’d need to keep on track of working out if you were to have more of an active role in the police force. Clattering and shouting from a voice you didn’t recognise resounded below you, sounded like Andrew was using the fire escape to traverse through the complex and in through other apartments. What a shitty Monday evening for the other residents, you thought. You saw him below you run out from one door and into another, expecting Connor to be close behind, yet, interestingly enough, he was not. Not letting it deter you, you continued to rush down the steps, bracing for the impact on your knees every time you subconsciously decided to jump and skip a few.

 On the sixth floor down, you collided with a solid form and stumbled backwards. Looking up, you were met with Andrew’s stricken face. His lip trembled and brows furrowed deep on his forehead.

“Please…” He whispered, voice cracking. “Please, I did it for her. I-I didn’t know what… She said it was the only way we could-” A pitiful sob broke through his speech, and he grabbed a fistful of his hair. “I didn’t want to, I promise! Please! I know it was bad, but I didn’t… I don’t-” 

You lifted your hands up carefully, and slightly lowered your head so as to appear as unthreatening as possible. “Andrew,” Your voice came out gentle yet firm, your best attempt at mimicking Connor’s ‘damage control’ tone. “It’s okay, we’ll figure it out. You just need to come back with us,”

“No, no, I know what happens! I’ve heard about it, I can’t- I won’t…” Suddenly, his face lit up as he looked at you, a glimmer of hope shining across his features. “You can let me go! To-to Jericho! I won’t hurt anyone, please!” You took another careful step towards him as he took one back, like a dangerous tango. “Please, there’s nothing for me here! Just…just let me go to Jericho and I won’t be any trouble.” 

You frowned in confusion. “Jericho? Andrew, what do you mean- what’s Jericho?” Your feet creeped forward, and Andrew visibly grew more shaken. He shook his head erratically, hand itching towards his side. If he let you get a foot closer, you could restrain him and calm him down. Above you, heavy thumps echoed through the halls, and Connor’s voice called your name. Hands raised, you reached closer and closer, Andrew’s whole body tensing.

“No! He has a knife-” 

And just like a band snapping, the tension in Andrew’s body exploded as he launched himself at you with a sharp and guttural cry. A hot piercing pain, like a flash of heat erupted in your stomach, and you immediately clutched at it. It was wet, and your hand struggled to gain purchase on the fabric. Connor’s voice called out for you again, yet you didn’t respond. Instead, you watched as Andrew backed away, one hand covering his mouth, the other holding a kitchen knife, tip coated in blood. 

Oh. 

Your blood? 

You looked down. 

Oh, yeah. That’s your blood. The blood that should be in your body, is, right now, out of your body. Huh.

“Motherfucker…” You groaned, voice hoarse- your first case without a supervisor and you get fucking stabbed? You weren’t going to hear the end of this. 

The android in front of you begged, abandoning the knife to the ground to grab at his head with both hands. “Oh, no- I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mea-” A deafening bang interrupted him as a hole burst through the centre of his forehead, plastic shrapnel and blue blood spitting into the air. His left eye twitched, once, twice, before his whole body folded backwards and dropped to the ground, rigid. Your head turned to the source of the shot, where Connor stood one step above the landing, pistol in hand, face apathetic and unreadable.

“Fuck, Connor…” You muttered, and his eyes snapped from the deviant’s now lifeless body to you. The heat that was eating at your stomach was now being swallowed by a growing coldness, and your feet shifted in an attempt to hold your weight up as your strength began to escape you. Connor dropped the gun as he hurried towards you, slipping his blazer off his shoulders and bunching it into a ball. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, and immediately you took the opportunity to lean against him, your legs growing unsteady. He pressed the crumpled blazer onto your stomach, the thick burgundy blood quickly seeping into the fabric and turning it almost black. You watched his face as his LED span and span, bright red flashing in your eyes. 

“Did-did you have to shoot him in the…head?” You asked weakly as Connor lowered you slowly to the ground, his brows furrowed. 

“I’ve given the trauma team our location, they’ll be here in five minutes.” A wheeze escaped you as you took a particularly deep breath, the movement of your ribs reawakening the shooting pain from the wound. You hissed and tucked your head into Connor’s shoulder, feeling a horrible concoction of both exceedingly hot and desperately cold, not too dissimilar from a fever. “Officer, you need to stay awake, alright? Keep your eyes open.” His voice cut through the pain that infected your body, and you gripped at his hand that supported your torso, plastering it with your blood.

“Why did… you shoot him in the head? He knew shit,” You asked again, tightening your clasp on Connor’s hand in a weak attempt for him to listen to you. For a moment, he didn’t reply.

“It was the only clear shot I had.” He offered, not meeting your searching eyes. 

“Liar.” You wheezed. 

“Keep this on the wound and apply pressure. I need to carry you down the stairs.” Your partner ordered, guiding your hand to the blazer and pressing down. He shifted his grip on your body and tucked an arm under the crook in your legs before lifting you off the ground. 

As he ceremoniously carried you down the steps of the complex, you focused attention on pressing down on the blazer, greatly appreciative that Connor’s robotic nature kept his hold on you stable and smooth. As the two of you reached the bottom of the stairs, however, you started to lose the weak grasp you had on your consciousness, feeling it slip out from beneath you just as you saw the lights of the ambulance out in the street. And there, in Connor’s arms, you faded into an easy nothingness.

You didn’t see Connor the next day actually, or Hank, for that matter. Whilst you felt a little left out, you knew that if they needed you, they’d call you. For the time being, you sat in your lab and cross referenced 10 cases at a time to look for any similarities, of which there were many. It was always a deviant attacking someone, usually their owner, and then going into hiding. You tried not to dwell on the personal information of every case, lest you come across a deviant you’d met. The day was long and tedious, and whilst you tried to break it up by visiting your favourite coffee shop, it still bored you half to death. Finally, in the mid-afternoon, you decided to call Hank and ask where he was.

“Sorry, kid. A report came in whilst we were in the area, so we checked it out. I figured it was best if you sat this one out, you know? Have a day where nothing gets fucked up. Unwind.” 

“Unwind? At work? Yeah, I’m feeling real relaxed right now. Boy, this could give spas a run for their money!”

“Yeah, ha ha ya fucking asshole. Just trying to look out for you a bit, is all.”

“No, yeah, I get that. Thanks, Hank, Tell me about the report when you’re in tomorrow.”

“Will do. Get some rest, kid.”

You sighed and rubbed at your temples with your thumbs. “Rest” wasn’t doing you any good at the moment. The sheer stress of living a double life was eating you up inside, especially now that you may have inadvertently caused the deaths of 3 separate people. Those closest to you right now would remind you that they’re not people. But you can’t lie to yourself like that, not when you’ve seen what you’ve seen. The stress of this work was clearly showing too, Hank didn’t usually check up on you as much as he was. He knew you were tired. Connor, on the other hand, didn’t know you. He didn’t know how you usually were, how you behaved. If anything he seemed almost fascinated by you. When he’d stare at you, like he was trying to understand and analyse you without digging too deep. You’d rather he just ask you questions. He felt kind , and polite. Sure, he’d been confrontational with Hank, but you hadn’t given him any reason for him to be like that with you. You were cooperative, understanding, appreciative. All the features of a good colleague. Maybe that’s why he seemed to listen to you a bit more than Hank. 

That evening, you took your time showering, music from your phone barely audible over the water. You let it keep playing as you dried off, dressed yourself, and made yourself a decaf in the kitchen. Captain rubbed herself against your legs, her usual fluffy fur flattened around her cheeks. You crouched down on your heels and scratched her cheeks, cooing at her little wet nose and big black eyes. She purred contentedly, then flinched and looked towards the door. Sure enough, a quick, uniform knock resounded on the wood, echoing slightly among your walls. Jesus, didn’t you tell your buyer to sort out how many people were coming to your apartment. You stood up and sighed. No matter how much help this one needed, you’d turn them away, tell them to go somewhere else. You’d even give them money, if they needed it.

You braced yourself as you opened the door, yet to your surprise, there wasn’t a deviant. Rather, an android you were more familiar with.

“Hello, Officer. It’s good to see you.” Connor stood before you, his hair and blazer wet. Clearly, he’d gotten caught in a rainfall on his way here. You blinked at him, taken aback by his sudden visit. 

“Is…is everything okay?” You managed, cursing internally for not being more polite. The android before you nodded and gave you a charming smile.

“I hope you don’t mind me coming round outside of work hours. We haven’t talked in a while, and Hank said you weren’t feeling your best earlier.” 

“Right, well, come in, I guess.” 

You shut the door behind Connor as he slowly surveyed your home, and you felt a strong sense of humility. It wasn’t dirty, but you hadn’t cleaned in a little while. He stood by your counter, slowly tracing his eyes over what lay on your counter tops, in your bookcase, on your table. 

Reaching past him, you grabbed your decaf and took a quick sip before placing it down, watching him curiously. 

“Do you want me to take your jacket? I can hang it up to dry in my bathroom.” Connor said nothing, yet smoothly shrugged the blazer off his shoulders before you took it to hang up. When you came back, you could see him more clearly in the yellow glow of your lights. The rain had gotten to his shirt as well, the fabric was damp, clinging to his skin and a little transparent. You could make out a few moles against his pale skin under the fabric, making you wonder who took the time to design home with marks on his skin below where no one would see it. Maybe the idea was that someone would still see it. Well, that wasn’t your business. 

“I like your home.” Connor spoke, finally, his raspy voice lilted with a small smile. You smiled back, leaning against your other counter.

“Thank you, it’s messy though. Needs a clean.”

“It’s okay Officer, I don’t judge.” He said this with a wink, to which you snorted inelegantly. A silence settled between the two of you that you didn’t quite feel comfortable with, yet didn’t quite reject either. Connor caught sight of Captain on your sofa dozing peacefully, belly up to the world, grey fur catching in the light of your lamp. He watched her intently, before you cleared your throat.

“So…Was there anything specific you wanted to talk about, or was this just a check up?”

“I had intended for this to be a check up-”

“And? Do I hold up to your standards?”

“I’m not sure, I’ll need to assess you for a bit longer.” 

“Oh, is that what you’re calling it? Assessing me?” You raised your eyebrows at him expectantly, a smile tugging the corners of your mouth as you took another sip from your mug.

“Something like that, yes.” Connor's eyes followed the mug in your hand as you held it to your lips and then placed it back down on the counter. 

“Sounds like you really just wanted to come and say ‘hi’,” You teased, and walked over to your sofa, gesturing to Connor to take a seat whilst you sat down next to Captain.

“I won’t say no to your company, Officer.” Connor took a seat on the arm chair across from you, next to your bookcase, and you gave him a big grin. The orange light from the lamp lit up his face and hair with a pleasant glow, whilst the purple from the billboards outside that shone into your large windows bathed the other half of him, creating a perfect blend of orange to purple across his silhouette. He looked very human there, he wasn’t sitting with a rigid posture like how he sat at the station, with his hands politely on his knees. Instead, he fiddled with the cuff of his shirt sleeve, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. How odd, you thought, that the way he held himself seemed to be evolving with each passing hour. Was it because he was trying to appeal to you more, make himself likeable? Or maybe he wasn’t even aware of it, and it was a small piece of a bigger picture. You ran a hand through the long fur on Captain’s belly, and she stretched, letting out a small squeak as she did so. 

“Actually, Officer.” You turned your attention back to Connor. “There was something I wanted to discuss with you.” 

“Hmm?”

“I wanted to know your thoughts about RA9.” You’d only seen RA9 in relation to the first deviant Connor had apprehended; the one that blew his brains out in your lab. That chlorine-like stench began to fill your nostrils again. You blinked hard, as if erasing the memory, and fixed your eyes on Connor who watched you with purpose. 

“Well, we know that it seems to be treated as a religious entity. But is it a real person, or more akin to a God?” You spoke carefully.

“Deviants have been noted as describing RA9 to be their ‘saviour’. That one day ‘he’ will save them all.” 

“If they’re personifying it, I imagine it's more likely for RA9 to be a person, then.”

“Another deviant?” 

“Probably. But I can’t help but wonder if…” You paused for a moment, pondering on if it was worth sharing a theory with no real basis. “I’m just spitballing here, but what if RA9 is a personification of the process of deviating? Like the error in the code itself? When an android deviates, they gain some form of consciousness, and can think for themselves. They have all these questions; why, what, who? Maybe they just do what every human civilisation has done, and pray to a God they just made in hopes of answers and salvation.” 

“Are you implying deviants have created their entire own religion, similar to human faith?” Connor leant back, hands placed on the arms of the chair. You shrugged, feeling the burn of his gaze on your flesh, making your hairs stand on end.

“I don’t know, but it seems like it.” 

Connor nodded thoughtfully, taking in your words, processing them. A tiny voice in the back of your head warned you to be more careful about how you spoke about deviants, that you humanised them too much. But another part of you wanted to have this discussion, to see if he could be persuaded. 

“There was…another thing that I wanted to mention. If you don’t mind, that is.” You swallowed thickly.

“Go ahead.” 

“Since my time working with you and the Lieutenant, I’ve noticed that, while the Lieutenant is volatile, you have a- sensitive approach to androids.” Connor leant forward again, his dark eyes scouring your face from underneath his brows. Your hands felt warm and clammy, and you shifted uncomfortably in your seat.

“Well, you know, I just try to treat everyone nicely.” 

“But androids aren’t part of that ‘everyone’, Officer. They’re not people. You refer to them as ‘he’ or ‘she’- an android is an ‘it’. It is a machine, designed to serve humans and obey.”

“But you don’t obey. You ignore Hank’s orders all the time, run off on your own, disagree with other officers.”

“I’m not an ordinary android.” As Connor spoke, his eyes narrowed and lips parted, just barely showing his ivory white teeth. You chewed on your lip as you looked down your nose at him.

“You came here of your own volition, you said you enjoyed my company. A machine wouldn’t seek out human connection.” 

“I seek out human connection for you, to be a friend to you. Not for my own benefit.”

“So you’re a machine, yet also my friend? That’s a bit contradictory.”

“I’m whatever you need me to be.”

You frowned, feeling undeniably hurt at Connor’s confession that he gained nothing from your interactions. Yet you also felt embarrassed; embarrassed that you’d so easily fall for something pretending to care for you. That was the consequence of loneliness. 

“I’d rather you just be yourself.” You said quietly, feeling small and defeated.

“That’s the problem, Officer. I don’t have a self, not in the way you’re expecting.” Connor sat up straight again, adjusting his tie. He spoke your name with a resounding heaviness that made your fingers twitch. “Whilst I appreciate your kindness towards me, I have noted that this kindness seems to extend to deviants, too.” Your heart rate quickened, as did your breathing. So he had seen you talking with Kara, he just refused to say anything till now. Suddenly, he stood up, towering over you and casting a shadow over your form as you leant as far back as you could on your sofa. “Officer, I ask you this now because it is a necessity: Do you empathise with deviants?” You felt your defences crumble as Connor stood tall, demanding your confession. 

“It’s… hard not to when you watch them be abused and tortured everyday. I understand the want for survival, and the need for freedom.” You muttered this quietly, knowing you couldn’t lie to the man in front of you, he’d see right through it. You couldn’t tear yourself away from his burning gaze, and you watched the questioning look on his face mould into something harsher, something morbid. He took a step towards you, and leant down, placing a hand on the arm of the sofa as if to steady himself- you knew he didn’t need to, it was all for show. 

“I admire your altruism, yet Cyberlife is concerned that it will encroach on this case.” If Connor took even the slightest step closer, his legs would be slotted between your knees, trapping you. His tie hung low, and the tip of it just barely touched your chest. You could easily grab it and wrap it around your hand if you wanted to. Yet you stayed put. “Will it be an issue, Officer? You won’t jeopardise the mission for this…compassion, will you?” You kept your mouth shut. “I refuse to go back to Cyberlife having failed my mission because of your misunderstanding of these machines.” 

His voice was cold, and it made you shiver. If he were human, you would have felt the heat of his skin so close to your own, instead there was, if anything, a slight coolness. You closed your eyes for a moment, steeling yourself, before turning to face him fully, your face inches away from his own. You held down any emotion that threatened to show, and met the gaze of his dark eyes.

“No. You won’t fail your mission. You’ll go back to Cyberlife, a successful detective prototype, and they’ll scrap you to make something better. But hey, you’ll have completed your mission at least.” Your mouth felt dry, but you kept your voice steady and felt a feeling of frustration replace the nerves that buzzed underneath your skin. You’d defended Connor, shown him courtesy and kindness, hell, you were even about to consider him a friend, and he had the audacity to threaten you, say you were a liability to his mission? You wouldn’t let your compassion be condemned- this was maybe the only part of yourself you took pride in. Connor’s brow twitched.

“I don’t care what happens to me, all that matters is my mission, It’s what I was created for.”

“Whatever you say.” 

Connor finally took a step away from you, straightening his tie and letting any emotion dissolve from his face. 

“Your empathy is wasted on us, Officer. We’re just machines, despite what you or anyone else may think.” With that, Connor left your apartment, shutting the door loudly, leaving you reeling your seat. That was as close a call to recognition as you wanted it to get.

The weekend came and went quickly, all the while you stewed in your anger for how Connor had acted, and what he had asked of you. On the Saturday, you drove out to the local android scrap yard and collected salvageable biocomponents you could fix and then sell. Come Sunday, you had a cardboard box full of working components you left in the designated bin for your buyer to collect. You sent them a text letting them know it was there, they then confirmed they had it, and would be sending you your compensation soon. 

You met with Hank, and used some of that money you had earned to buy you and Hank a round of drinks at his favourite bar. There he mentioned that, when he and Connor had chased a deviant across the rooftops, he had slipped off the edge, dangling over a 40 foot drop. Hank then, with an air of incredulity, recounted how Connor had come and helped him instead of chasing after the deviant, leaving it to run to freedom. You had frowned at this, telling Hank that his story didn’t sound anything like the Connor who had come to your apartment the other night. Prioritising his partners over his mission was something he made very clear wasn’t in his vocabulary. Hank had given you a knowing smile, stating that perhaps androids were just as complex as human beings, then.

However, hearing Hank’s story only left you more bitter, more venomous to the way Connor had treated you the other night. He referred to you as a liability, mocking the very same kindness he had praised you for moments earlier. Swirling amongst the bitterness in your head was bewilderment, confusion at how he seemed to switch so easily from someone who sought out your friendship to someone who saw you as a weakness. Another part of you wondered why you cared so much, why this affected you so greatly, Many people had mocked your compassion for androids; hey, Gavin did it constantly. So why, just now, was it so hurtful to you? 

Standing in the break area of the station, your brows creased greatly as you watched Connor greet Hank as the lieutenant walked in through the doors. How dare he act so happy and friendly? 

“Careful, if you grip that cup any tighter it’ll burst,” Gavin sang next to you, leaning against the wall. You relaxed your hold on your coffee cup, bringing it to your mouth to take a sip. It was still too hot to drink, but you swallowed it anyway. Connor’s voice permeated the quiet chatter of the station, and you grumbled impatiently. “Woah, looks like you’re finally seeing some sense. Trouble in plastic paradise?”

“I’m sorry, do you ever say anything worth hearing? Or has that yet to happen?” You snapped, and Gavin raised his hands up in mock defence, laughing as he did so.

“Damn, you’re pissy today. I get it, I won’t pry.” He took a swig of his own coffee, watching you out of the corner of his eyes. “Although, to be honest…I thought you were screwing it.” You coughed loudly, eyes widening at Gavin in annoyance who simply gave you a flashy grin. “You seem like the type.” He added.

“Just because I didn’t fuck you, doesn’t mean I’m fucking androids. Get over yourself.”

Gavin’s smile dropped, and you hid a self-satisfied smirk behind your cup once you had regained your composure.

“You think I’m jealous? Please…” He turned away from you again, facing forward to mimic you. Then, under his breath- “I’m way outta your league anyway.” You knew he was joking, so you laughed unapologetically, and his smile returned. 

“All I remember when I first joined up was your shitty pick up line: ‘Hey I swear we’ve met somewhere before, you look so familiar!’” You put on a deep voice to mock Gavin whilst he watched you with his mouth agape.

“That was not a pickup line! I was being genuine! You have one of those faces, maybe.” 

“Whatever you say, bud.” 

“Oh, go fuck yourself.” Gavin stuck his middle finger up at you as you walked away, laughing lightly. 

As you stepped out of the bay, you noticed Hank beckon you over to where he and Connor stood at his desk. You pressed your lips together in a line and held your hands rigid by your sides. Once you reached them, Connor gave you a small wave, to which you returned with a glare you hoped cut him deep. 

“Okay so-” Hank began, taking a deep breath. “Good morning to you, by the way.” 

“Good morning, Hank.” You replied as you crossed your arms.

“We have a case located Downtown in one of the apartment complexes. Man found dead having fallen from his 15th floor balcony. No previous history of mental health issues, of drug use, so could be some foul play. Now for where we come in, the man and his wife own an android, who the officers on the scene have described as ‘twitchy’. There aren’t any witnesses, the wife says she was out when it happened, so we have no suspects.”

“Well, save for the android.”

“Exactly. We can’t memory probe it unless we get the owner’s permission, and the wife has, apparently very loudly, refused. So we gotta do this the old fashioned way.” Hank finished, looking between you and Connor, the latter of which nodded thoughtfully. Performative dick.

“So let’s go then. If it's downtown, that's a bit of a drive.” You began, fishing your keys out from the pocket of your jacket.

“Oh, this’ll be just you and Connor. I’m not going.” Your head snapped up to meet Hank’s, and your lip curled in a look of incredulity.

“What?” 

Hank rolled his eyes, grabbed you by the arm and led you further away from where Connor stood as your mouth still hung slack.

“I know it’s not the best, but I need to meet with Fowler. The ‘why’ doesn’t matter.”

“Hank, come on! This is a bad idea, can’t you just-”

“Look, I don’t know why you two can’t make up, but you need to sort your shit out.” Hank whispered harshly, holding his head close to yours as if to give you more privacy.

“Oh that’s rich!” You spat back. Hank opened his mouth to retort, holding his finger out accusingly at you before shutting his mouth again and shaking his fist at you instead.

“I know you’re angry at him, I get it, he’s a prick. But this!” He waved his hand around, gesturing wildly to you. “-isn’t professional, or smart. You’re a good kid, clever. I know you’re better than this.” 

You didn’t say anything, instead letting out a sigh and looking behind your shoulder at Connor who sat upright in Hank’s chair, contently looking around like a patient dog. Giving Hank a defeatist look, you walked over to Connor, who stood up quickly as soon as he saw you. 

“Come on, I’ll drive us.” 

“I appreciate it, Officer.” 

“See you kids later!” Hank called out after you, to which you flashed him your middle finger, feeling strangely akin to Gavin in that moment. 

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