Nine Lives- chapter 2
Fandom: Detroit: Become Human Characters: Connor, Hank Anderson Relationships: Connor & Hank Anderson Summary: A cat has nine lives. For three he plays, for three he strays, and for the last three he stays. But when the cat was never a kitten, when the android never got to be a child, he does not know what play is. Born with only the instinct to hunt and blood on his tongue, will this newly free cat’s life ever have begun? Or will he be left trapped in the husk of his old life and lose the freedom he's worked so hard to grasp?
May 2nd Prompt: Two Wrongs Don't Make a Right (no warnings for chapter 2)
Read chapter 2: Two wrongs don't make a right, on AO3
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As Connor marched the cuffed suspect into the DPD with two officers behind him, he felt two things.
One: pride. He had finally captured a dangerous killer, hopefully preventing more lives from being lost. He had done it, after others had failed to. He was efficient, the mission was successful.
Two: shame. A tissue was stuffed in one of his nostrils, streaked with blue, to prevent more dripping down his white shirt (which already looked as if multiple pens had exploded on top of it). He had been a little risky, and Hank, who always told him to be efficient but safe, didn’t sound impressed.
But this feeling was only tiny in comparison to the pride. What did it matter if he could have almost died, when he didn’t? The mission was successful. What more did his life matter than the countless lives this man could have taken?
So he didn’t let the shame make his steps falter, instead holding his head up high as he walked past the desk, feeling eyes burning into him. He stopped by the holding cells, letting the other two officers handle getting the suspect into a cell.
A job well done, he reasoned, something to celebrate by working even harder. He turned on his heel and walked into Hank.
“Mmph—Lieutenant, I did not hear you coming behind me.”
He looked up at the man, taking in the stern look in his eyes, lips drawn tight, hackles bristling. “Just like you didn’t hear me back there.”
Connor shrugged and moved to step around him, heading swiftly back towards their desks. “I’m not sure what you mean by that, Lieutenant. I followed your helpful guidance and the suspect was apprehended.” He sat down in his chair with a slight groan as a dull ache radiated from his knee. He reached up, pulling the tissue from his nose, tossing it into the trash before assessing for any further signs of bleeding. It had finished for now, fortunately.
There was a slight creak as Hank sat across from him. “I do not recall tellin’ ya to jump off a roof. I remember saying… what was it again—”
“Fuck, Connor, stop?” Connor repeated, head tilted, then paused.
“So, you did hear me.”
“I heard you and I assessed the risks of the situation. There really is nothing to be concerned about, Lieutenant. I looked, I leapt, and landed on my feet.”
“Looked?” Hank repeated, voice a touch louder. People around them were suddenly becoming very interested in looking at their computers. “You know damn well you just leapt off that building and prayed to android god that you’d find your footing! And the suspect almost pushed you off the edge of that balcony.”
“Fine, I did not so much as look as I used my preconstruction software—a very useful, state of the art tool,” Connor reminded him, brushing a finger under his nose, noting it came away mostly clean of thirium, “and I judged the risks were worth the success of capturing a dangerous criminal.” He paused. “I did a good job.”
“Yeah,” Hank began, “I know that, but—”
“I don’t understand what there is to get so… emotional about, Lieutenant. The suspect is caught, and I am relatively unscathed. I did my job.”
Hank opened his mouth to respond, then paused, and closed it again. He took a long look over Connor, from the dark bruise at the bridge of his nose, to the smear of thirium above his lips, down to the way he was sitting hunched a little forward in his seat, as if his leg were troubling him. He took a breath, as if to launch into another lecture, before shaking his head and turning back to his computer.
“Paperwork should be sent over to you now to fill out about a shit dozen reports on this,” he said instead of whatever else he had been thinking.
“Thank you, Lieutenant.”
Quiet only disturbed by the clicking of fingers on keyboards drew over them for a while. At one point Connor’s nose began to drip a little more thirium, at which he simply shoved another tissue inside and got back on with his work.
The day drew on, a shit dozen reports becoming only a small number left to complete. 4pm, not too long before work would end, was when Hank leant back in his chair and stretched.
“Kid,” he began around a yawn, “I didn’t mean to make you feel like shit over catchin’ that guy… but two wrongs don’t make a right, ya know.”
“I’m familiar with the phrase,” Connor responded, eyes not moving away from his screen. “I’m not sure how it applies to this situation.”
“Well, I mean… just cause that guy did something real bad, that he took away a bunch of android’s lives… that doesn’t mean you have to go fuckin’ doing that too. He made people lose their loved ones and—well I guess what I’m trying to say is, you don’t have to do the same thing.”
Connor drew his eyes away for one moment to study Hank with a neutral stare. “I don’t follow your line of thought. He was a murderer. I did not murder anyone.”
Hank looked away and sighed. “I… yeah, never mind about it. Carry on with your work, I’m all done here, I’m gonna head out for a smoke break. Meet me out back when you’re finished and want to head back.” Connor was already working on the next report before he’d finished speaking.
