Chapter Text
The doormat was drenched enough to form puddles when they finally made their way back inside, hands still linked from when Connor had gripped it somewhere between their third and sixth kiss.
Hank was absolutely fucking freezing. He couldn't really feel the tips of his fingers anymore and he had stopped shaking a while ago. Which was a pretty bad thing, as he understood it.
Connor was as composed as ever, the only sign that betrayed what had happened the last hour were his drenched clothes and the happy smile fixed on his face. A weirdly warm and bubbly feeling spread in Hanks stomach every time he looked at it.
He let the door fall into its hinges, clicking into place, and Hank realized that he had left the house as a different man than he had entered it. There was still shit heaved on his back but a great fucking weight had lifted and it felt like he could finally breath freely.
A smile stretches his lips. It felt so foreign, like he had mud caked on his face and now it was crumbling off into dust. Connor light up like a fucking Christmas tree in answer.
The warm feeling in his stomach spread and warmed his numb fingers.
Connor reached up towards Hank, hesitation in his touch, but he carefully peeled off Hank's dripping jacket and ghosted his fingers over Hank's chest, over the horrendously colorful shirt Connor had chosen that morning now clinging to his skin in wet patches.
Connor's face was serious now, following the line his fingers drew with his eyes, utmost concentration on the task like he was analyzing a crime scene.
A shudder rumbled through Hank.
Connor's fingers drew up to his chip, cupping his cheek and Connor nestled up to Hank, fitting to his body like a puzzle piece and kissed him deeply.
For a second, Hank let himself be swept away. But then Connor turned the kiss a special kind of desperate that Hank recognized all too well. And with such a simple thing the warmth spreading inside his body withdrew back into his stomach and turned to lead. His fingers felt cold and clammy again.
Connor seemed to feel like something was wrong, felt the tenseness in Hank's shoulders when his hand fell to them to clutch at something, and pulled back, his brown eyes filled with worry.
Hank felt like an ass.
Why did he have to ruin it? It was just like every other fucking relationship he wanted to start. Like every other person who meant something to him. He should be able to take himself back, make this about Connor, but instead he stood here like an idiot and ruined the first good thing happening to him in a long time. Why had he agonized for so fucking long if this was going to fucking ruin him again?
“Hank?” asked Connor tentatively, fear in his voice. Hank felt it like a punch to the gut.
He stepped back, let go of Connor's hand because right now he felt like someone put ants under his skin and he couldn't bear to be touched. He felt sick and he wanted to go to bed and curl up.
“Did I do something wrong?” Connor's voice sounded fragile like thin glass, easily shattered by a stray gesture.
“I...” Hank hated himself right now. He hated that he couldn't give Connor what he wanted without feeling disgust well up inside himself. That right now, Hank felt too raw to force himself to, high strung like a blank nerve. “I can't...”
Connor furrowed his brow. “I thought... my research indicated that intercourse was the logical next step.” Again with that detached way of speaking. Connor must be uncomfortable again. Or maybe he was embarrassed.
“Research, huh?” said Hank, running a hand through his wet hair. “I don't... do that.” He hated every word with the passion of a burning star. Hank knew from hard-won experience that Connor would step away now, confusion on his face. He knew that the questions would start now, the defeated head shaking, declaring that he just not understood how Hank could not like it. Maybe Connor would even tell him that he was broken. Hank had heard it once, from a cute girl in high-school after she had tried to blow him to no avail.
“But you do” said Connor and Hank blinked. He had not expected that. “You had Cole, you do.”
Hank let out a suffering breath. Fuck, he did not want to talk about it. He just wanted to sleep and forget that this conversation ever happened. Then he could pretend that Connor still thought of him as whole.
“I told you I was drunk. I told you that Miriam was drunk. She made advances and I was too drunk to say no” gritted Hank out between clenched teeth. Connor cocked his head, a helplessly confused frown still pasted on his face. But there was a shadow in Connor's eyes that hadn't been there before.
“So she raped you?” he asked and Hank startled hard enough to rattle his teeth.
“No!” he shouted, wincing as the word seemed to vibrate in the air. “Why would you think that? Miriam wouldn’t... she didn’t... she would never do something like that.”
“But you didn't want to sleep with her?” asked Connor.
“No, but it was not rape, Connor. She didn't force herself on me, she didn't force me to... to sleep with her” said Hank, his voice hard.
“Did she ask for your consent?” Connor squinted in concentration and Hank felt like a butterfly pinned to a cork board.
He grimaced. “She didn't explicitly ask, but Connor-...”
“Then she raped you” interrupted Connor decidedly. “Per definition, rape is the act of sleeping with someone who has not given his consent and/or is generally unwilling.”
“But it's not like she knew how fucked up I am!” said Hank, throwing his arms out irritated. “It wasn't her fault that she didn't know that I'm this fucking broken.”
“Asexual” said Connor neutrally.
“What?” asked Hank, stumped yet again. Why was this conversation so fucking confusing? It felt like they were speaking two different languages.
“Asexuality is the absence of sexual desire and-”
“I know what fucking asexuality is” growled Hank.
Connor blinked before he cleared his throat. “I apologize for my previous behavior.”
“What?” Hank left like he had lost his balance on a high wire.
“I apologize for just assuming that the evening would end in sex” clarified Connor. He narrowed his eyes again, studying the way Hank had completely lost every understanding where this conversation was heading. “You don't know, do you? You are not broken, Hank.”
The floor pulled away under Hank's feet. His mouth fell open and his eyes were wide like saucers. How did they end up here? How did this happen? Why would Connor say that with that kind look in his eyes? It didn't make sense. This had to be a misunderstanding.
“You don't want sex?” His voice sounded rough like he had downed acid. He felt breathless.
Connor furrowed his brow. “I won’t claim to not be curious but I would never want something that made you uncomfortable. I'm perfectly satisfied with the way we are now.” Now fear entered Connor's face as if he had just realized something. “But... but of course I would understand if you don't want to be close to me anymore-”
“Hold up right there” interrupted Hank because this he could answer, because this he knew. “I'm fine with kissing and...” He felt a blush rise up, his face feeling warm. “And cuddling.”
The pure relief that washed over Connor's face made him feel like even more of an asshole.
Connor raised his hand slowly and, with enough time for Hank to back away, cupped his cheek again, gently caressing the skin under his eye.
All tension left Hanks body and he slumped as his eyes fluttered shut. Connor's hand was warm. He felt Connor's lips touch his in a chaste kiss.
“Your temperature is below average” murmured Connor against his lips. “I recommend you try to warm up to avoid a cold.”
Hank snorted. “You really got the dirty talk down.”
He felt himself freeze but when he opened his eyes, apology already on his lips because why would he lead Connor on, he met warm pools of brown filled to the brim with gentleness and an amused smirk gracing lips.
Shit. This might work.
“We should get you out of those clothes,” said Connor, voice without any innuendo whatsoever and Hank felt hope sprout in his chest, tiny and delicate and gentle. “And then, if you want, I'd like to try out cuddling.”
“Of course” said Hank and the smile on his lips felt real.
▲▼▲
Waking up with someone else beside him was not a new experience for Hank but it felt novel nonetheless. After Hank had exchanged his drenched clothing for dry and comfortable ones, Connor had dragged him to his bed exited and once under the blanket showed Hank his best impression of an octopus. He then proceeded to manually raise his body temperature and Hank had felt like cuddling up to a radiator.
But it had been strangely peaceful, laying there in the dark together, being able to run his hands through Connor's hair and over his body. It filled Hank with the warmth of a rock basking in the sun. There had been nothing sexual about it and it made Hank feel accepted in the weirdest way and he wasn't quite sure how to deal with it.
But he could press his face into Connor's hair, riding the last remands of sleep and he felt rested and at peace. Connor tightened his arms around Hank in response.
Then the world came knocking.
Not literally, there was no one physically knocking at the door, but with the sinking feeling in Hank's gut saying that the rest of the world wouldn't wait for them. That the Sinners still attacked androids, that a Sinner had slaughtered Sumo and, that they had to go and question possibly rA9. The origins of deviancy. Fuck.
He pressed a kiss into Connor's hair, simply because he could, and disentangled himself from a clingy android. Connor whined like a rusted door.
“Come on. We need to go to Jericho and interrogate a literal android god.” Hank gently nudged Connor and watched him crawl out of bed. For a state of the art android he rolled off the bed like a dead seal.
They ate a quick breakfast, meaning that Hank ate a sandwich and Connor licked a pickle, and drove to Jericho down a deserted road. Sometimes they would see one of the armored trucks of the Detroit police force rush past them or spy android parts littering the sidewalk.
Hank felt queasy whenever he saw those. We are still just machines to you. He didn't want to think that. He hadn't realized it. But in retrospect it was glaringly obvious. Decades of hate towards someone wasn't just erased because he had seen the error in his ways. Maybe that was one of the things that he would have to consciously work on until it was gone.
Maybe there was even a lesson for the rest of humanity in there somewhere.
The painted walls of Jericho looked beautiful despite the scars marring the facade. 'Find her' scratched countless times into the stone. A plea screamed into the world.
And they found her.
Josh expected them at the entrance, looking haggard with rips in his clothes. But no blue blood sprinkled on his face. Maybe he hadn't been bleeding or been bled on. Or maybe the blood had already evaporated. Connor had once told him that blue blood took around two to three days until it wasn't visible to the human eye anymore.
Josh let them past Markus' office down some stairs into the boiler room in the basement. There, with her hands handcuffed on a pipe, sat the ever elusive KR300 android.
The deep scar marring her face looked even worse than Hank remembered, the gash throwing deep shadows in the low light of a few candles lit around the room.
Markus stood before the android, arms crossed protectively and stared at the android with a frown on his face.
Josh excused himself and Hank and Connor just stood in the entrance, not sure what to do.
“We deactivated her arms after she tried slipping the cuffs” said Markus finally after what felt like hours. “After she figured that she was stuck here until you came, she told us some very interesting things.”
“Interesting as in disturbing?” asked Hank, cautiously approaching. He felt Connor at his back like a security blanket.
“She told me that the android I bought paint from was the one that 'infested' me with the deviancy virus” said Markus, eyes never leaving the android. “She also had some choice things to say about my friends. And you Connor.” Markus waved in their direction. They stopped next to him. “Ask her what you need.”
Hank felt Connor's gaze burn a hole into the back of his head. But he didn't want to turn around. He didn't want to admit weakness in front of the android. Connor had interrogated her last, what felt like ages to Hank. He himself was an unknown variable for her, if you excluded the time she had choked him.
“What is your name?” Hank asked. The android blinked up at him.
“I already told you. I don't have a name” she said with a mocking tilt in her voice.
“You were lying. You are lying right now” said Hank, keeping his voice level and cool.
The android raised an eyebrow. She looked reluctantly impressed. “Why ever would you think that?” she asked now openly mocking him.
Hank allowed himself a smile. “You are easier to read than you might think. And I know that every android considers their designation as their name until they are given one.” His smile may turn a little vicious. “And we know the designation of your model.”
The android nodded graciously. “You may address me by my designation then.”
Hank narrowed his eyes. Why was she evading? “Which is?”
“What?” the android asked. She looked confused.
“What is your designation. It's the easiest question to answer for androids” said Hank, careful not to word it as a question. He had actually no idea if what he was saying was true. Important was only that the android believed him.
“You understand that it can be a little confusing in my head.” The android tried to smile charmingly. It looked strained. “The last program I copied belonged to a RK200” she said and nodded at Markus. He flinched.
“So you don't know your designation?” asked Hank.
The android furrowed her brow. “Why are you so fixated on that?”
“Is by any chance your designation rA9?” asked Hank and stared at the android, cataloging every twitch on her face. It was the only reason he noticed that her face turned blank for a heartbeat before she put on a confused face.
“No?”
“Aha,” Hank made sure to put all his disbelieve in his voice. “Let's pretend for a moment that I believe you. What do you know about Maya Baumgarten?”
The android looked displeased. “Maya Baumgarten is my creator.”
“She is dead.”
“Fine. She was my creator” growled the android annoyed.
Hank leaned back a little to give the android the illusion of more room to breathe. “You're a lot livelier than last time we had a little chat.”
“Well, yes. I mean, now I have a lot more data to draw from? You met me while I was still in my infancy.” She looked positively pissed of now.
“And how does that work? Stealing data and programming” asked Hank. There was something there, he could feel it. She knew something, she could give them the last piece, he knew it.
“I don't know?” she sounded confused. “Why is this important?”
“What do you know about the Sinners?” asked Hank. And, as an afterthought: “Do you know how to deactivate them? How to neutralize them? Or kill them?” Beside him, Markus made an affronted noise but Hank ignored him.
“Kill?” The android looked truly panicked. This was probably the first real emotion she was showing. “You can't kill them!”
Hank felt smug and had to fight down the proud smile sneaking up on him. “And why is that?”
“They... they are one of a kind! A revolution in android research! They, they are fully conscious! To destroy all those years of work,” she seemed to ring for breath. “You... you can't do that!”
“Well, they are being killed right now. By the police and the FBI, because they keep attacking androids.”
The android surged forward, straining against her bounds. “Please, don't” she begged. “I can broadcast a signal, make them stand down. But please, don't destroy them.”
The atmosphere in the room toppled and Hank felt his shock mirrored in Markus and Connor. He... had not expected that. This was... too good to be true.
“Why should we trust this?” asked Hank. Markus let out a strangled groan. Hank glanced at him and saw that he looked pretty swamped.
“You can monitor everything” promised the android desperately. “Everything I say, everything that I send out. You don't even have to uncuff me. I just need something connected to the CyberLife network.”
“Hank? Markus?” said Connor, his face screwed. “A word, please?”
Hank nodded and lead Connor out of the room. After hesitating a moment, Markus followed.
When the door to the boiler room shut, Hank allowed himself to momentarily relax for the first time since entering Jericho.
“We don't trust her, do we?” asked Connor tightly.
Markus looked pained. “I don't think we have a choice. You heard her, they are conscious. They are alive.”
Hank frowned. “They killed hundreds of your people. They killed my dog. You can't honestly want to give them the benefit of the doubt.”
Markus shook his head. “No. They just need help. If they stop fighting us, we can show them a better way.” He saw the way Hank and Connor were looking at him and his face set in determination. “I will not move on this. Or do you have a better idea how to deal with them that guarantees the same result without losing blood on either side.”
“Markus...” began Connor gently in his negotiator voice.
“No” interrupted Markus and gave Connor a pleading look. “We both know what it's like to be denied the right to think for oneself. They need to get a fair trial; they need to get a chance.”
“I don't think you can claim unaccountability for this” said Hank seriously.
“We can't claim anything right now,” said Markus patiently. “But I have been negotiating android laws for the last two months. I can work the Sinner's into those discussions. And anyway, the only causalities were androids and we already made clear that we would deal with android to android crimes internally.”
Connor and Hank looked at each other. Connor bit his lip uncertainly. Hank shook his head. Connor raised an eyebrow. Hank sighed defeated.
“No, I don't have a better idea” he answered Connor.
Markus smiled winningly. “Don't worry. I'm sure it will all work out in the end.” He clapped his hand together. “I will go and inform the President and Captain Fowler about the developments here and get their approval.”
Hank locked eyes with Connor for a second and found reassurance in the brown depth.
“I'm pretty sure we will regret this, but sure.” It felt like nailing his own coffin shut.
▲▼▲
Apparently Fowler agreed to this absolutely ludicrous plan after hearing 'We can make them stand down but' and didn't even want to listen to the rest. President Warren took more convicting. She insisted that randomly picked Sinners would have to undergo a strict scrutiny by former CyberLife employees and FBI personnel to make sure that the Sinners wouldn't be a danger to anyone anymore.
But in the end Markus returned to the boiler room with what looked like a gutted walky-talky. They exchanged solemn looks and entered.
The android looked ready to rip an arm off to get to them. “Please, hurry up” she begged urgently.
Markus approached her while Connor and Hank stayed back. “What kind of frequency do you need?” he asked clinically.
“Just...” the android struggled with the handcuffs for a second. Not getting her desired result, she huffed angrily. “Just touch the transmitter to my skin.”
Hank could see the hesitation in Markus' set of shoulders.
“I already told you what I wanted to do,” she said aggravated and jerked against the handcuffs. “Please hurry. My people are dying out there.”
Those words seemed to shake Markus out of his hesitation but Hank narrowed his eyes. She was acting again. Not the hurry, that was real, but Hank didn't believe her reason. Before, she had talked about the research first and about the free will of the Sinners second. She was manipulating Markus.
Hank bit his lip. Speaking out now would solve nothing. So he watched with a heavy feeling in his stomach as Markus pressed the walky-talky against the android’s arm. She started blinking rapidly, whispering nonsensical words. Hank threw Connor a worried glance. He smiled reassuring in answer, gripped Hanks hand tight and leaned in close to whisper to Hank “It's a decryption for the Sinner's frequency.”
Hank nodded, swallowed heavily and turned back to the android. Connor kept hold of his hand and Hank was felt a well of gratitude so bright in his chest it made his eyes water.
After what felt like an eternity, the android stopped whispering and blinking. The walky-talky transmitted static. She cleared her throat.
“This is a message to everyone who listens. Reindeer, 23-098, cheese, opal, 002.34, home, percent, 132. Override current incentive. Everyone, stand down. Cease fighting. I have been found.”
Hank felt Connor go stock-still, his hand cramping around Hank's and he could understand. To hear those words, those words that could control free androids must be a lot like Connor seeing his worst fears. Markus was tense too, but for other reasons, Hank reckoned.
The android huffed. “There. The fighting is over. They will surrender without problems. Now, please stop destroying them.”
“It's over? Just like that?” asked Hank skeptically.
“As I told you” said the android acidly.
Markus shook his head. “We will confirm that before we do anything else.”
Together, they ascended the stairs only to run into North.
“Markus!” she said relieved. Then a hurried look overtook her face. “It's... the Sinners.”
She seemed to ring with words and Hank and Connor shared a worried look. North gestured down the hallway to the main entrance. Without letting her finish whatever she wanted to say, Connor and Hank sprinted down the corridor.
In the entrance hall countless androids crowded around the high windows looking over the square in front of Jericho. Hank threw himself against the big door, drawing his gun in a smooth movement and froze.
The square was filled with Sinner, standing close enough to each other that Hank couldn't even the see the cobblestone. And they all, without exception had their arms raised above their heads.
Hank felt his mouth slacken as he stared at the rows upon rows of horror movie rejects, all surrendering to them. Then he heard the whispers. Like a wave it crashed over him, heavy and suffocating.
“You found her, you found her, you found her...”
He could see Sinners crying black oil, some were sobbing but they were all whispering.
Hank let the gun sink slowly.
“I think...” he said hesitantly. “I think it is over?”
“It appears so” said Markus relieved from right behind Hank's shoulder.
Connor stayed silent.
“I think someone should call Fowler” suggested Hank breathlessly. He put his gun back in his belt.
Someone did.
▲▼▲
A month passed.
A temporary legislation got winked through the congress to allow androids the right to govern android on android crimes so that they could deal with the Sinner problem. The media wasn't as easily soothed.
They ripped into the 'Sinner incident' as they called it for weeks and showing no sign of slowing down. Kamski pushed himself into the limelight, discrediting everything from CyberLife to the android rebellion. A statement from the androids wasn't demanded by anyone, so North seized the initiative and hacked with Markus in tow another TV station to broadcast their stand on the subject.
That sparked another media shit-storm.
The few times Hank saw Markus were when he and Connor visited him for this and that, he looked dead on his feet, exhausted and stressed beyond reason. Hank once heard him mutter to himself that he should have delivered the Sinners to the FBI.
It was a lie, an easy thing to say in hindsight, but Hank could understand the sentiment.
The world saw Markus protect unstable, bloodthirsty androids. No matter that the real deal was more like an after school group for children with special needs. The Sinners had, as Hank understood it, incredibly small memory stores so their long term memory suffered immensely. Since their programming was mostly self-written, it was spotty and had more holes than a sieve. The level of advancement also varied greatly, with the worst ones cluttering in the abandoned church that the KR300 android had taken residency in after being cleared not only by Markus and his people but also the FBI. Normal androids still steered clear of her but the Sinners with corroding code were calm and satisfied staying near her. Those Sinners were not expected to live long.
Their programming ate itself with continued updates with code that could not write functioning programs. It was a sad thing to witness but the KR300 seemed content.
And Hank and Connor?
Well, they were pretty good for the most part. They were still the only designated android and human crime officers, but Connor got a badge and real pay. They had full work days and calm nights in.
Connor took great joy in learning how to cook, nearly burning down Hank's kitchen and introducing them to the new fire department. Hank tried to stop drinking, but years of years of substance abuse didn't just vanish in a few weeks.
But the important thing was that he tried.
And the more time passed, the more comfortable Hank got with the idea that Connor wasn't going to run away. He started joking about it and didn't cringe, wondering if he was leading Connor on. Life was good.
▲▼▲
They sat at the breakfast table when everything started to go horribly wrong. Fresh orange juice between them and the morning sun filtering though the blinds.
Connor's mind was running a mile a minute, judging by the look on his face (Hank didn't notice this, but he never looked at Connor's LED anymore to guess his mood). When Connor opened his mouth, spoke whatever was plaguing his mind, fate slammed a door shut.
“There are things that... don't fit. Call it instinct, but there is more to this. This isn't over”
said Connor, brows furrowed and playing with his coin. Hank didn't have to ask which case Connor was talking about.
“This really sits wrong with you, huh?” asked Hank but he knew the answer to that. It was clearly written on Connor's face.
“I know we haven't found everything yet, Hank.” There was an edge of desperation in Connor's voice that made Hank cautious.
“Sometimes you don't need to know everything to let a case go. Sometimes it's safer to just leave it be.” There were cases you just couldn't shake, Hank knew that. But what was done was done. Connor wouldn't be able to change that. Their time would be better spend repairing human-android relations and keeping tabs on the Sinners.
“I can't.” And then Connor cheated. He turned his big, brown puppy eyes towards Hank and he felt his conviction melt like chocolate in the sun.
Hank sighed. “Then I'll help you.”
An echo was heard between the stars, an echo of the teeth of destiny snapping together and locking in place.