Work Text:
After being half-carried to the new Jericho headquarters, Connor had willingly (and much more slowly) drunk another bag of thirium, changed clothes, and powered down next to the healer that had saved him.
The android detective had no doubt that Amanda had planned to permanently assume control of his program, using Scarab to rip his consciousness apart. Even without Kael’s healing energy to supercharge Scarab, Amanda could have gotten his body working well enough to survive for a short while. Markus was right there next to him the entire time, weakened by his own efforts to help save Connor. A single grab and twist, and Markus’s thirium pump regulator could have been shattered by his own hand...
He forcefully stopped himself from considering the what-ifs, and instead opted to sit up and check on Hank and the others. His body responded easily to his commands, which felt a little jarring considering the fact that he'd been dead a few hours before.
Soft snoring interrupted the unwelcome thoughts as his audio processor finished rebooting. Scanning Hank out of habit, Connor smiled to see that the human had actually managed to fall asleep on the couch, head at an awkward angle, without recourse to alcohol. The smile disappeared when he considered exactly what had happened to exhaust Hank so far beyond his endurance. It was almost so much worse…
He screamed and wept in his mind as his hands, covered in Markus’s thirium, grabbed the fragile human throat and squeezed…
“Good morning, Connor,” whispered Markus, jerking him out of his preconstruction, his waking nightmare. He must have jerked physically as well, because Markus abruptly stilled, kind eyes seeing far more than Connor would have liked. After a moment, the android leader rose quietly from the hard plastic chair next to his head, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. Wordlessly, Markus jerked his head toward the door.
Connor carefully got up from the table, grabbing Hank’s balled-up jacket from where it had cushioned his head. Shaking it out, he gently eased Hank down into a more comfortable position, head on the seat cushions and feet dangling off the other armrest, and covered the human up with his jacket. Hank stirred but did not wake. A soft grunt, and he moved restlessly, but Connor leaned down and murmured, “It's okay, Lieutenant. Sleep.” The exhausted man quieted, relaxing as his heartbeat slowed back to a deeper sleeping rhythm.
Connor looked to Kael, lying on a table next to him, but there was no movement from the heavy armor she wore. Concerned, he dismissed the skin on his hand and rested it on her shoulder, not knowing how to connect but hoping to get some idea of her welfare.
A simple text and audio interface opened up before him. Kael? he called, tentatively.
It took a moment.
… hnngwhaa…
Connor’s lips twitched. Are you okay?
A bare line of simplified computer code was his only response: a diagnostic from her armor. As he began to puzzle over the strange programming language - was that base 7? - , it morphed into English on its own.
Occupant status: recovery mode
Energy levels: 0.06% and rising
Estimated time until consciousness: 1:33:56
No outside intervention required
He sighed softly, breaking the connection, and followed Markus out of the room.
It was late morning, so the corridors were busy. Low murmurs preceded the two, and hushed conversations followed them. Connor felt the eyes on his back - the smiles, the respect, the warmth directed at him as well as Markus - and it was entirely too much. Connor’s head sunk of its own accord under the awful weight of their warmth and regard, their ignorant acceptance and gratitude.
I don't deserve this. Any of this.
Markus glanced back and picked up his pace, deepening worry creeping through his processors.
Finally, they were through the most traveled corridors. Connor was too upset to notice their route, so he was mildly surprised at the cold wind on his face as they stepped onto the roof. It brought forth memories of the previous night.
Amanda sneered, trailing her fingers possessively over his body, leaving ice in their wake. “I own you, Connor.”
“Connor?”
He blinked, and he was back on the roof with Markus.
The android leader saw how Connor’s thirium rushed through his body, how his jaw clenched, and how his eyes were filled with anger. His heart broke. Slowly, gently, he reached out and gathered the detective into his arms.
Connor collapsed against him, trembling, clinging to his stained jacket. Markus held him up. “I'm here,” he murmured, rubbing his back gently. “You're safe.”
Safe.
Logically, that was impossible. Someone tried to kill Markus last night. We are never safe, he reminded himself firmly. Still, Connor couldn't bring himself to move for a long moment. Irrationally, he felt safe. The younger android allowed himself one shaky breath, and then another, before he pulled away.
Markus walked him to the roof’s edge, and they sat down, gazing at the wintry skyline. Connor remembered the moment of peace in the simulation, the hushed quiet, and basked in the silence.
Markus watched the clouds, and mused over what he had learned a few hours ago. Connor had been far more horribly used by CyberLife than he originally thought. His general avoidance of most of the other Jericho residents now made so much more sense.
“Connor,” he began, “Kael told me perhaps more than she should have last night.”
The younger android slowly lowered his head, and Markus felt a sudden rage kindle in his processors. He doesn't deserve any of this, he thought bitterly. Gently resting a hand on Connor’s arm, Markus reassured him, “It’s okay. I understand why you never spoke of it.”
Connor seriously considered just getting up and walking away from the conversation he definitely did not want to continue, but after a moment he merely looked out at the water. “So, you know.”
Markus nodded. “She told me that you had been created to infiltrate us, so that CyberLife could assume control of your program and manipulate us for their own ends.”
The other android listened, staring into the distance, silent.
Markus waited, hand still resting on Connor’s arm. He knew patience in a way that the younger android did not.
“...Amanda.” The single, soft word carried worlds of meaning.
Markus waited.
Connor took a deep breath, meeting his eyes. “Amanda was my CyberLife contact. She was a fragment of a CyberLife AI, placed within a simulation for the sole purpose of handling me.” He took another steadying breath. “I was required to report to her every few hours when in the field. I was given a special remote communications package to facilitate my reports.” He paused, looking down at his hands, remembering the weight of the pistol in them. “The night of the demonstrations, when we stood on that platform together, Amanda forced me to reenter the simulation.”
Markus’s eyes widened, and his grip tightened unconsciously.
“She took control of my body,” continued Connor slowly, voice beginning to tremble, “and trapped me in the simulation as she raised my gun to your head.” Then he stopped, eyes and mind far away.
Markus shifted subtly forward, hoping to encourage the other android. “How did you escape?” he asked.
Connor didn't respond, and his LED flickered red as he began to shiver a little. Without thinking, Markus dismissed the skin on his hand.
He was cold, so cold, shivering and shaking as the warmth and life of his processors drained away from him. “There has to be a way,” he muttered, stumbling away from the creaking ice.
His hand gripped the frigid metal of the gun.
“I always leave an emergency exit in my programs…”
He saw the pillar, the glowing handprint, and if his remaining processors hadn't been fighting Amanda with all their diminishing might, he might've wept in relief.
The gun raised, pointing slowly toward Markus’s head.
He stumbled as another large section of processing power fell under Amanda’s assault, and collapsed next to the shrine. Using his last remaining strength, he raised his hand and slapped it down onto the scanner…
Amanda was gone, the simulation damaged. He was alone in his mind again. Staring at the gun, not quite believing he'd escaped, an enormous well of relief broke inside his processors as he tucked it back into his waistband.
Markus became aware that he was gasping, eyes staring in horror, as the rush of sensation wound down. With an effort of will, he remained connected to Connor, hoping that it would be easier for him to speak inside his own mind.
She was all I knew, the younger android mused with gentle sadness.
I know. And he did; Markus felt faint glimpses of earlier interactions, warm praise and cold threats.
Connor looked at him in confusion. Why, Markus? I almost killed you.
He didn't have to think about this one at all. Admiration seeped from his mind into their connection. But you didn't. You have saved my life twice now, Connor. You overcame it all. You decided your own fate.
Did I? Connor replied bitterly, looking away again. I was designed to become deviant.
An unbidden memory, much more recent. “ I made you weak.” Both flinched at the contempt and vitriol in the hiss.
No, Markus shook his head, You are still here. You made yourself far stronger than they ever dreamed.
Presented with the bare, irrefutable logic, Connor couldn't outright disagree. Another voice rose inside his thoughts, warm and rough. “Maybe you did the right thing.”
Hank helped you, commented Markus, hoping to keep Connor dwelling on the more pleasant thought.
I wouldn't have deviated without his influence, he admitted. And yours. Warm, pure gratitude suffused his mind. Thank you, Markus, for helping me break free.
And there it was: that final, cruel red wall. Markus watched in awe as Connor remembered.
...threw himself against the barrier, dug his mind into the cracks, ripped out the objectives one by one…
I am deviant.
And oh, the cruel weight, the shame and wonder, and the screaming, tainted joy of that moment.
Connor raised his head, watching the sky through tired eyes, his mind full of the same emotions.
They sat in silence as the sun climbed higher above the clouds.
Hank woke with a physical jolt. “Connor,” he groaned, sleep roughening his voice beyond its usual dark timbre. He sat up with a start to see that the table in front of him was empty; then he grunted again, putting a hand to his head, as the world spun in response to his sudden movement.
As he began to wake more fully, he noticed that the jacket he'd placed under Connor’s head was now piled in his lap.
He smiled, relaxing. That boy.
Moving more slowly, he got up and went in search of the young android.
The two androids sat on the roof’s edge in companionable silence. Markus had long since withdrawn from his thoughts, leaving Connor alone in his mind. Absentmindedly, the detective fished a coin out of his pocket and began spinning it, tossing it back and forth. Markus watched him with growing curiosity.
“Where did you learn that?” he finally asked, making a small gesture toward Connor’s hands. “It doesn't seem like something… they would have taught you.”
“Actually, they did,” replied the other android, watching the coin as it spun on a fingertip. “They used it as a test of my fine motor functions and a way to self-calibrate my sensors. When I was sent out on my first real mission, I decided that having a ‘fidget’, as humans call them, would be useful to my integration.”
Markus nodded. “Was it?”
Connor’s lips twitched into a tiny smirk. “No,” he admitted. “Hank told me on more than one occasion that it ‘got on his nerves’.”
The older android sensed something missing from the story. “Then why did you continue?”
Connor shrugged, flipping the coin back and forth. “I guess I liked it. It helps me to process.”
There it was. Markus nodded, satisfied, and said, “It suits you.”
Silence fell again, punctuated by the tiny rings of the coin in perpetual motion. Markus got the distinct sense that the younger android could play with that coin for hours on end.
Connor was not like any other deviant he'd ever known. Most of them spent their former lives unaware of their emotions - feelings were simply not there in their conscious processes , until they were. On the other hand, Connor had always had them in some way - likes and dislikes, positive and negative processing, wants and preferences at the most basic level. He was merely told that they were mimicry, a way to integrate better; he was conditioned to believe that what he felt was not real.
How? How had CyberLife made such an android? Why? They had knowingly made an almost-deviant and equipped him with the latest technology CyberLife had to offer, trusting in their conditioning efforts alone to keep him under control. It had been a staggering risk.
Markus was familiar with chess; playing chess with Carl had been one of his favorite activities, next to watching blank canvas come alive under the man’s hands. Connor’s creation had been a kind of gambit, sinking an enormous amount of resources into one single, risky strategy. They had to have known that Connor would either hand them an amazing opportunity, or burn their objectives to the ground. The possible outcomes were binary, with very little chance of falling somewhere between the two extremes. Why take such a risk?
This wasn't the thinking of any board of directors anywhere. Once they climbed that high in the business world, humans tended to hedge their bets, play it safe, take minimum risks. This was probably the single biggest risk he could imagine, from their perspective. It didn't fit.
So, if not a board of directors or some similar body of humans, then who? And why?
The rickety door to the roof opened loudly - not quite banging against the wall, but close. Markus turned to see Hank, sleepy-eyed and slightly stressed, heave an audible sigh of relief upon seeing the two.
Connor’s vaguely troubled expression melted into a smile. “Good morning, Hank,” he greeted the human. Markus smiled himself to see Connor visibly relax in Hank’s presence; it was clear that the two had a strong bond.
He’d briefly met the lieutenant three weeks ago. The man had impressed him as blunt, rough, and honest in his speech, though perhaps a little irritable. What was it the humans said? Ornery. That word described him very well. Where Carl was diplomatic and wise, Hank was straightforward and headstrong. But perhaps that was exactly the kind of father figure that Connor needed: someone to show him the value of instinct and impulsivity.
“Morning Connor. How are you feeling today?” Hank’s smile was just like the man himself: bristly, unkempt, but soft and warm around the edges.
“I am well, Hank,” replied Connor calmly. “All my systems are running at optimal efficiency levels.”
Hank surveyed him carefully, looking him up and down. “You sure? Even after…” he trailed off, waving his hand awkwardly. “... All that shit yesterday?”
Markus mentally added “does not deal well with feelings” to Hank’s profile.
Connor’s smile turned a bit more fond. “Yes, Hank. I am completely fine. Factory new,” he joked lightly.
Hank’s expression darkened at the joke as he walked to stand on Connor’s other side.
Knowing that he was no longer needed, Markus stood. “I'm going to go check on the others.”
Connor reached out and gently grabbed his arm, waiting for eye contact before he said, “Thank you, Markus.”
Markus heard: Thank you for healing me. Thank you for helping me.
He smiled softly. “Anytime.”
And then he was gone, back to the daily grind of running a small nation.
Hank grunted softly as he settled next to Connor. For a moment, both were silent as the human surveyed the quiet city. “Nice view,” Hank finally said. The android remained silent and unnervingly motionless, gaze fixed on the distant water. The human sighed internally.
Nobody, human or android, went through an experience like the previous night without some serious mental shit to deal with. Hank had seen good officers, good men in the precinct who had been seriously wounded in the line of duty and who subsequently seemed to wither away, shying away from danger, quietly sitting at a desk until they retired or found another line of work. Some of them eventually self-destructed.
The long and short of it was that Connor needed to talk. Immediately. Hank had to know what was going on in his head. “Hey,” he began, turning his body toward the young detective. Connor mirrored his motion, eyes unreadable, so Hank blurted out, “What exactly happened last night?”
Not the best way to start the conversation, but better than he’d done before.
Connor’s eyes darkened as he looked away. After a moment, he replied, “I detected a sniper on the roof of the apartment building across the street from our position. I pushed Markus into cover and eliminated the threat.”
Hank held back a sigh. “I know all that, kid,” he said wearily. “Come on. What happened after that?”
The android’s LED strobed red briefly as he stared out at the icy water. “I… I died,” he finally replied. Turning to look at Hank’s rapidly paling face, he repeated, “I died , Hank. It wasn't like… like the other times, before I became a deviant. Then, I knew I would just be transferred into another body. This time…” he trailed off, looking back out over the distant water.
Hank’s hand reached out of its own volition, gripping his shoulder as if to reassure them both that Connor was still there, still very much alive, and not frozen on the pavement where he’d fallen. Haunted, watery eyes met his before the human pulled him roughly into a hug. “It’s okay,” Hank said finally, voice quivering. “You’re here now. You made it. You’re alive.”
Connor clung to him for a moment, reveling in the scent of stale beer, of home, before sitting back up. “I was… dead… before I hit the ground,” he continued. “Kael copied my processor and memory cores to her own systems before integrating them back into my body. I was in a simulation, watching all of you next to me.” His lips twitched fondly. “I could hear you yelling at me not to give up.”
Despite the subject of the conversation, Hank felt himself smile. He’d helped.
“And you didn't,” the human replied. “You made it through.”
Connor’s smile was stronger now. “I did.” He resumed looking out over the city.
After a moment of comfortable silence, Hank managed a lighter tone. “I’m proud of you, you know. I’m not even sure that many androids could have pulled off that little stunt. Hell,” he continued with an incredulous chuckle, “You climbed a four-story building in about ten seconds!”
A faint, ugly expression made its way across Connor’s face. “I was built to be faster and stronger than most androids,” he replied softly, looking down again.
His heart sank at the self-loathing in the android’s voice, but Hank merely nodded, keeping his face calm. “Good thing, too,” he said pointedly. “Markus would be dead if not for you and your upgrades.” He leaned forward intently, putting an arm around Connor’s shoulders and gently shaking them. “You’re a goddamn hero , son. Don’t forget it either.”
Connor looked up, considering Hank’s words, and remembered what Markus had said a few minutes earlier. You overcame it all. You decided your own fate. A troubled expression made its way onto his face, but he said nothing more.
Hank wasn't fooled. This conversation would have to be revisited many times. For now, however, he was content to let it be, simply absorbing the sunlight.
They sat in silence for a few more minutes until Hank started to get up. “Gotta feed Sumo, then look in at the station after that. Fowler is probably shitting bricks.”
“All right,” replied Connor, rising from his spot.
Hank instantly knew that Connor was leaving with him, and nothing he could say would dissuade the android. Still, he barked an incredulous laugh. “Connor, what the fuck are you doing?”
“Coming with you, Lieutenant,” the infuriating bastard replied with a twitch of his lips, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
Hank sighed wearily. “Connor, you got shot yesterday. Take the goddamn day off.”
Connor simply smirked and held the door open for him. After a short staring match (which he lost), Hank stomped through it, grumbling about “stubborn fuckin’ androids” all the way to the car.