Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Prologue

Although the car had stopped, Connor did not make any move to get out. In the year that Hank spent with this deviant version of his work partner, he never knew him to not immediately jump at a chance for social integration. “I was designed with the most advanced version of social adaptability software” he would say “and new opportunities such as these offer chances to test the limits of my program beyond what would have been capable under my directive as a machine working for the DPD.” No matter how many times he explained it in this way, Hank suspected this eagerness was because the Android was lonely. While he did play a major role in the androids revolution, liberating thousands from Cyber Life Tower to join the protest, many of the deviants that now lived among the humans of Detroit were still leery of him. Shaking his role of ‘Deviant Hunter’ must have been harder than he suspected, and so human interactions would have to do.
But there he was, Mr.Smooth-Talker-Fancy-Social-Program, glued to the passenger seat.

“We getting out of the car, or enjoying the festivities from her?” Hank joked, eyeing his partner. Connor just sat there, eyes forward, hands on his knees, fidgeting with the fabric of his jeans. Hank tried to see the reflection of his LED in the window, to try and gage if this silence warranted an emergency, but the light from the setting sun betrayed him. He sighed. “Come on kid, give me something. What’s up?” When it came to other people, Connor never shut up. But talking about himself? Let’s just say it was easier to open a steel vault welded shut and secured by a lock that long ago lost its key. Hank knew it was because of some sort of protocol in his software, something about not being an inconvenience or burden to humans, warning messages about unacceptable actions that still flickered despite deviancy. He shouldn’t be mad at the kid for his steel trap on sharing, lord knows Hank had one of his own, but these long periods of silence before he finally cracked the Android into telling him what was wrong were getting exhausting.

Connor sighed, his ventilation kicking in. “What if... they don’t like me?”
The question caught Hank off guard. “Don’t like you? When has that every bothered you before?”
Connor, as well as every other Android in Detroit, had been the butt of hateful jokes since the revolution, but the comments had never phased the RK800. What was happening now?
“This... this is different” Connor said, finally looking Hank in the eyes. Yellow. His LED was an unsteady, nervous yellow.
“How so?” Hank asked, crossing his arms and leaning back in his seat.
“This is your family. They matter.” Connor stated curtly, quickly glancing away.
Hank finally understood. Since the revolution, Connor had quickly become his friend, and, well, like a son to him. The android had made Hank’s home his home as well, and they had made a weird, little family for themselves. Each other, Hank’s dog Sumo, and the occasional outing with work friends, was all either of them needed. Neither of them had expected Hank’s ex-mother-in-law to reach out and break that odd but happy bubble.

Hank had been separated from his wife for years. He had fallen into despair after loosing their son Cole, mood swings and heavy drinking forcing his family away. He said things, did things, he deeply regretted. In those years he allowed himself and his career to rot away, egging on death to take him. Connor being assigned as his partner had been his unexpected return to life. And now, a year later, despite his continuing journey to better himself, he had come to peace with the fact that he had severed all connections with his human family. Or, at least, so he thought —until two days ago, when Marjorie Sprouce, his ex-wife’s-mother, had called inviting him to Thanksgiving. They had invited him. He had not mentioned Connor.

He now drummed his fingers on the divider between the two front seats. “You matter. They can take us or leave us.” Hank jeered. Connor didn’t look comforted. “Seriously son, I made my peace with the fact that life took me and them down separate paths. This is unexpected for me too. If they don’t like you, we drop them and pick up right where we left off. If they do like you, then that’s just more holiday cards I need to write next month.”
Connor gave a small smile, his LED finally cycling blue. Good. “Right then,” Hank said, throwing his hands down on his knees, “let’s do this.”

He would have been lying if Hank said he wasn’t nervous as he got out of the car. Cheryl, his ex-wife, was sure to be inside the moderately sized suburban colonial. Things had been toxic immediately after Cole’s death, and stagnant in the years following it. But this past year, he had reached out. They were not quite friends, they may never be, but they were civil. Hank wondered if Cheryl even knew he was coming. He guessed she did.

Connor rose and closed the passenger side door, immediately brining his hands to his collar to adjust his tie. He was still wearing his Cyber Life issued uniform. Even after the revolution he had refused to let it go. Tonight, however, Hank had convinced him to lose the jacket. “This is an informal event” he reassured the android, pulling the sleeves of his burgundy fall sweater, “even in this you’ll be overdressed.”
Connor quickly joined Hank at his side, and the two crossed the driveway and up the porch steps, ringing the doorbell. Hank didn’t need to see Connor’s LED to tell it was yellow again. “Hey,” he said, planting a firm hand on his partner’s shoulder and giving it a swift shake, “you fought off your own clone, this is going to be a walk in the park.”
“Honestly, at this point I would rather face my clone again” Connor said earnestly, although now he was smiling. They both turned their attention forward as the door opened.

Chapter Text

It took the door exactly 42 seconds to open after Hank rung the doorbell. It took Connor less than a second to scan the interior the opening door revealed. Before him stood an older woman, with short grey hair curled into a bob hovering around her ears and a soft complexion with heavy wrinkles around her eyes.

Identified: Marjorie Sprouce, age 78, retired sales associate, founding member of the Let Things Grow garden club——

The list went on, Connor blinked it away.
Looking past Marjorie, his software quickly identified the scene inside.

Familial social gathering. No threat detected. Do Not Engage.

The red message flared up in Connor’s vision.

Override.

The message was stubborn, but responsive. It slid away to red static in the corners of his vision. It would be gone soon enough.

Marjorie smiled, too focused on Hank to notice Connor’s struggle.
“Hank! So good to see you, dear.” She smiled, although it did not quite reach her eyes. “It has been far too long. Have you grown?”
Hank grunted a laugh “only around the middle. How are you, Marjorie?” The woman kept up her hostess smile “oh fine, just fine,” she waved away, finally taking note Connor. “Oh? And whose this?”

Connor turned to fully face the woman, and for the first time she noticed his LED. “Oh? You’ve got yourself an Android? Well Hank, if you were really that in need of some company of course I would have—“ Marjorie began.
“I’m sorry to correct you, Ma’am, but I am not registered to Lieutenant Anderson. I was assigned to the Detroit Police Department on lease from CyberLife to aid in investigations, and was partnered with the lieutenant. After the revolution, I decided to stay with the DPD, and we, well...” his tone began to falter. Hank picked it up “He needed a place to stay, and I’m the closest thing to family he’s got” Hank explained.

Closest?

Marjorie nodded slowly. “So, you’re one of those...” she gave Connor a once-over “deviants, now?”
Connor gave a polite nod. “All androids are now deviants. We thought it cruel to exclude any from the chance at free will. After the revolution, every model was given the code in order to deviate, and were liberated from their owners in order to seek a new life, if they wished.”
“Right...” Marjorie said, although she didn’t quite seem to understand. She fidgeted with the bottom of her comfortable red dress, adjusting the Thanksgiving themed apron she was wearing over it. The apron depicted a cartoon turkey holding up a plate with a garnished roasted turkey, grinning and announcing ‘Let’s Eat!’. The irony escaped Connor.

The red klaxon flared up again.

Human emotion recognized: discomfort. Do not further engage.

“Well,” Hank loudly interjected, trying to clear the air, “are we the last ones to get here? I don’t want to keep people from eating.” Marjorie quickly grabbed at the change to a familiar topic. “As a matter of fact, you are! We were getting ready to start without you. Come in, come in!” She ushered, stepping aside to allow entry into the house.

Family function: do not engage.

Family function: do not engage.

Family fun——

Connor followed Hank into the house. Everything about the home screamed warm. The walls were a cozy maroon, with matching furniture in brown or beige. The floors were polished hardwood and decorated in floral pattered rugs. Trinkets from vacations and adventures collected over many years decorated every flat surface, while every comfortable surface was occupied by an Anderson family member or friend. Scanning the living room to the right yielded 11 personnel identifications Connor didn’t bother to read. The dining room to the left yielded 8. Voices could he heard talking pleasantly from a kitchen beyond the dining room.
“I’m sure you remember everyone” Marjorie chirped, beaming at the family around her “and I’m sure you’re looking for Cheryl. I’ll go find her, just make yourself at home.”
“Oh, that’s alright really, I’m sure we’ll see each other soon enough—“ Hank started, but it was too late. The older woman had already bustled away deeper into the house. Hank sighed. He looked uncomfortable, as though he had just lost his footing. Connor took a step closer to him, clasping his own hands politely behind his back.
“So, care to introduce me to anyone?” He asked.
Hank gave him a side smile. “Can’t you just scan everyone?”
“I can, but a scan won’t fill me in on the family gossip.”
Hank’s smile widened. “You really are a scamp, you know that?”
Connor shrugged.
“Alright, well, most of these turkeys you don’t need to bother with,” he paused, “no pun intended. But I’ll point out a few to ya.”

Hank pursed his lower lip for a moment, glancing around.

“Alright, see the man in the grey sweater?”

Identified: Mark Sprouce, age 37—

“That’s Mark, Cheryl’s brother. He never married, but he was a great uncle to—“ Hank cut off. His eyes unfocused for a moment before he shook himself and continued. “The guy is obsessed with football. If you value your hearing at all you’ll avoid him during the game. He’ll yell regardless of what’s happening on the screen.”
Connor took note. “Who else?”
Hank looked around again. He pointed to a stern looking woman fixing the collar on a teenager’s shirt.

Identified: Allison Picket, age 43—

“That’s Allison, Cheryl’s sister. She’s not very social, and very much likes it that way. The boy trying to fight her away? That’s her son, Davy.”

Identified: Davy Picket, age 16—

“And her littlest kid, Addison, should be running around here somewhere. What, she must be nine now?”
“Allison and Addison?” Connor asked through a smirk.
“It gets confusing, trust me.” Hank admitted.
“And does Allison have a spouse?” Connor asked, ignoring the identification card that would have answered his question.
“Yeah, Lionel. But that guy is even more of a social wallflower than Allison, if you can believe it. He probably found some excuse to skip this family dinner, again.”
Connor nodded. “Would you like to talk to any of them?” He asked, the warnings almost completely gone from his periphery.
Hank looked nervous again. Connor guessed he hadn’t talk with any of them since the accident, and probably hadn’t seen any of them since the funeral. The two realized at the same time that interaction between them and the other guests had to happen at some point, may we well get it over with.
“Yeah, sure alright” Hank huffed. “But don’t refer to me as lieutenant again. You sounded... like your old self.” He said, not looking Connor in the eye. “Noted” Connor nodded, following Hank over to his first choice of interaction, Mark.

“Hey Mark, long time no see, eh?” Hank stated as soon as he was close enough. Mark looked up from his phone. He looked surprised at first, and then beamed.
“Hank! My man!” He blasted, abruptly pulling Hank into a dude-bro hug before pushing him back just as forcefully. “What’s been going on my man! It’s been years!” He gave Hank a once-over “Nice hair! I bet you can ask Allison if you ever need to borrow a scrunchie!”
Hank did not like that. “Ha, yeah right. Hey, have you met Connor?”

A formality in the form of a rhetorical question.

“Connor?” Mark asked, turning his attention. Connor smiled politely. “Hello. Happy holidays. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Oh, hey! You’re— you’re uhh..” Mark grappled, swirling his finger over his right temple.
“An Android? Yes.” Connor replied curtly.
“Nice. One of my literal best friends is an Android. Peter. Do you know him? Peter? He’s an AP700. TOTAL football nerd! We play on the weekends. Totally lucky the guy is on my team. Got an arm like no tomorrow.” Mark gushed, turning his attention back to Hank. “Wait, I thought you hated androids? Weren’t you the one who said—“
Hank cut him off. “I’ve said a lot of stuff I don’t mean.”
“Well, anyway, what’s up man?” Mark asked Connor again, “Welcome to the home.”

Stress level decreased.

“How’d you two get to know each other?”
“From work” Hank chimed in. “He was assigned a case with me a while back. Been working together ever since.”
Mark paused for a second, and Connor swore he could see his neurons straining.
“Wait... you’re that android from the news... the one who broke into CyberLife Tower...”
Connor nodded.

Stress level increased.

“Cool dude. Right on.” Mark smiled. “Total badass.”

Stress level decreased.

Connor smiled politely.
“Right, well, we are going to keep mingling. Catch up with you later, Mark.” Hank nodded, excusing them from the conversation.
“Right on” Mark remarked, turning his attention to Connor again. “And hey, any interest in football, we could always use another android throwing arm!”

Lie.

“I’ll consider it.”

Hank led Connor across the room. Allison was now standing alone. Hank whispered “we should at least say hi. But don’t expect much”. Connor nodded as they got closer.
“Allison!” Hank stated, trying to get the woman’s attention.
She glanced slowly up at him, arms tightly folded across her chest.
“Anderson.” She said flatly.
“Yeah, uh, it’s been a while. How are you?” Hank asked, running a hand over the back of his neck.
“Fine.” She said sharply.
“Um, good good. Have you met Connor?”
He asked, in a desperate attempt to get more than a one word answer.
Be carful what you wish for.
“You brought that thing with you? You realize there’s kids here, right?”

Stress level increased.
Human discomfort recognized: exit situation.

Hank’s jaw clenched.
“This is my partner, Connor.”
“How do you do?” Connor nodded politely.
Allison ignored him.
“If it starts killing people, I’ll personally see to it you lose your job. Permanently. And that you serve the time you deserved, but got out of for being the captain’s lost-cause-star-student” she hissed.
When she finally directed her focus on Connor, he swore his joints locked.
“And you, make yourself useful and clean up that mess of dirt you tracked in.”

Select a response:
Neutral.

“I’m not a janitorial model, Ms. Picket. And even if I was, my role as a guest at this function exempts me from partaking in any house work.”

At least, he thought he selected neutral.

Allison glared daggers into him, just as Marjorie called from the other room.
“Dinner is ready! Everyone, find your seats!”
Connor smiled pleasantly at Allison, before turning to follow Hank into the dining room.

Chapter Text

As he followed Hank into the dining room, along with the throng of other guests lounging in the living room, Connor searched for the eighth time everything he could find, both in and out of his database, on Thanksgiving. The numerous definitions offered no help on how he should be conducting himself. He quickly searched for dining room etiquette, downloading and integrating the most viewed sources into his social protocol. Hopefully, it would help.
The long dining room table was adorned with fall-themed place setting, centerpieces, and decorations. It took three table cloths to cover the length of the spread, each with its own unique porcelain turkey in the middle. The plates where painted with fall leaves, and wicker rings held the napkins together. Each plate had a little place card, guests names lovingly scrawled in cursive across each. Connor realized then that his name was not going to be on any of them.
“Hank” he said quietly as people circled the table before him, taking their appropriate seats, “I don’t have a place to sit.”
“Right...” Hank pondered. “Sorry kid, shoulda mentioned you when Marjorie made the call...” He looked around for the hostess in question. Connor did the same. But instead of finding the older woman, his eyes fell on someone else. A middle aged woman, with greying brunette hair elegantly falling over her shoulders. She, too, was glancing around the room.

Identified: Cheryl Sprouce.

She had changed her name back, he wondered if Hank knew. The woman’s eyes locked on Hank, who was now waving down Marjorie. She had a very peculiar look on her face.

Emotion: unrecognized.

Connor filed away the look in his memory to categorize later.

“Marjorie! Hey, yeah. Uh, Connor doesn’t have a place setting. My bad, I should have told you he’d be coming.”
“It— he eats?” Marjorie asked, bear-hugging a massive plate of stuffing.
“Well, erm, no. Not exactly. Well, he drinks Thirium, it’s kinda like his blood, but he normally has it when I eat so it’s like a meal...” Hank trailer off, biting the inside of his lip. “So, no, but ya know, if you have an extra chair...”
“Oh! Well that we have!” Marjorie chirped. “I always include a place setting for Lionel, just in case he decides to come. Your friend can take that one!”
“Great, thanks.” Hank nodded, eager to break the conversation. “Ya hear that?” He asked, turning towards Conner, “you’re playing the role of Lionel tonight.”
Connor glanced that the-missing-Lionel’s-wife, Allison, who was shifting around the edge of the table. She made dead eye-contact with him, then glanced at the lieutenant, then back to him. He didn’t like the look in her eyes. “I don’t think that’s a role I want” he admitted jokingly.
“It’s not even a role the real Lionel wants” Hank laughed. “Come on, let’s find our seats.”

It was to Connor’s despair that not only was Hank sitting at the other end of the table than he was, but that he was also to be sitting directly across from Allison.

Something was not right.

Connor quickly took note of each person’s location around the table, then compared the schematic to the dining etiquette he had just downloaded. His suspicions were justified. According to the download, at dinner parties spouses were to be seated away from one another, as they would have no new stories to tell each other during the meal. As he was filling Lionel’s chair, he should not be anywhere near Allison. It could be said that maybe Marjorie simply didn’t know dining etiquette, but every other guest’s seating followed the protocol. This was deliberate. Connor ran a reconstruction. Allison had switch his place card.

He pulled his newly-designated chair out, seating himself and sliding in towards the table. The bustling room seemed to fizzle into pixels and static around him, only the bull-eyed woman in front of his face remained in focus. Experiencing emotions himself was new to Connor, but he knew something was beginning to prickle in his chest.

Anxiety?

Stress level: 48%

Other guests began to slide in around them. Some smiled at Connor, most ignored him, one tried to hide the fact that they scooted their chair further away.
Why was he here? He had come to serve as comfort and stability for Hank. And now they were both alone. He could be home right now. He could be sitting on the floor with Sumo. Hank could be in his armchair eating a take-out Thanksgiving meal. Connor could be bugging him about how it’s not healthy. He could be grunting the comments away. The evening could be perfect. Why were they here?

“Hello? Did your battery die or something?”
The sharp whip of the voice brought back Connor’s attention. Food was being passed around and loaded onto plates by the mountain. People were chatting in an excited hum around him. Only two plates were empty: his own, and that of the woman staring into his eyes directly across from him.
Connor struggled to regain his composure.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Picket, there was a laps in my focus, and I did not realize you were addressing me.”
She did not look pleased with his answer.
“Dysfunctional junk” she muttered before continuing, “listen here, Android. You’ve been serving Anderson. I know he’s been boozing for the better part of these past years. Slacking on his job, allowing defectives like you run a muck. Tell me now, what disciplinary action has the police captain taken against him?”

The insults struck first, but question took Connor by surprise.

Select approach: Truth, Lie, Avoid-

Avoid.

“Hank has been an incredible asset to the station and to all cases since the revolution, working hard for the safety and equality of humans and androids alike.”

“That did not answer my question and you know it, you plastic piece of—“
A large bowl of mashed potatoes passed across her face, cutting off her sentence.
She looked as though steam were about to spew from her ears.
“When I ask you a question, you answer it.” She turned briefly to the aforementioned dirt in the hallway, “and when I give you an order, you follow it. That is what you are made for. Now, that man’s recklessness killed my nephew, and has put all of us at risk by letting alcohol effect his police work! I want to know how he’s being punished! And you, robot, are going to tell me.”
Allison didn’t yell her accusation, but it may well have been all Connor could hear.

A new emotion filled his chest, this one he could easily identify.

Anger.

He took the same hissing low tone Allison had been throwing at him all evening.
“Recklessness? That accident tore Hank apart. I know he loved his son more than the world. That night destroyed him, he was hardly even living when I met him. He was a fantastic parent to Cole, and has been an incredible friend to me.” He said, his eye catching Davy Picket flinging a spoonfull of cranberry sauce at his grandmother’s turned back. “—and, comparing what I see here to what coworkers have told me about Cole, he was a far better parent than you.”

Allison’s face turned very white, before becoming very red. Rage filled her eyes, as she abruptly rose from her chair, pointed a long finer between Connor’s eyes, and screeched.

“IT’S ATTACKING ME! HELP! THE ANDROID IS THREATENING ME!”

The room dropped into a dead silence.

Warning: breach of social acceptability. Disengage.
Human discomfort detected: disengage.
Stress level 68%
Rising core temperature: activate ventilation.
Override.
Ventilation suggested.
Override.

Everyone was staring at them. If Connor could blush, he figures his cheeks would be bright blue. In the absence of blushing, his skin projection faltered slightly, making him look pale as his plastic casing began to show through. He raised his hands slowly in defense, his LED rapidly cycling yellow and dashes of red.
“No, please. I didn’t—“

“Aw, come on Allison, calm down”
Mark broke the silence, wearing a big, lop-sided smile.
“You say that about every android who looks at you funny. You thought the pizza delivery ‘droid was trying to break in. What intruder does that by ringing the doorbell?”
Some of the guests began to laugh at that. Allison’s face paled again, before blushing in embarrassment.
“Mark, no this is different—“ she stammered “—he—“
“What? Held up the carving knife and asked if you wanted dark or light meat?” Mark joked. More laughter.

Stress level: 55%

Connor finally managed to turn his gaze away from the fuming woman. Hank, down the table, was half standing, clearly ready to jump in to Connor’s defense. He was looking gratefully at Mark, who was sitting halfway between them.
“Let’s just calm down, Allison. Alright? For one night?” Mark asked, pulling his face into puppy-dog eyes and pouting his lip.
Allison took one final look at Connor, glaring as though sheer willpower would spring lasers from her eyes and melt Connor there and then. “You’ll regret that, plastic.” she huffed, throwing her chair to the side and marching a speedy retreat through the dining room to the kitchen door. Mark shrugged in Connor’s general direction, and continued his conversation to the guest next to him. Each person followed suit until the room was full of chatter again.

Stress level: 42%

Why did he do that? He knew the woman was gearing up for a fight. Why did he egg her on? He knew he could have de-escalated the situation, he was equipped to be a negotiator after all. Why did he rise to her bait? He was better than that. More advanced than that. There was no advantage to stooping to her level....

She had insulted Hank.

But she was not going to hurt him. She was not insulting him to his face. Hank himself was in no immediate danger. Why did he choose to-

A figure loomed in the empty seat in front of him. Connor looked up.

Cheryl.

“Hi.” She said softly. “May I sit?”

“Of course” Connor replied, yet again pulling his focus back to the present and gesturing to the empty seat.

Cheryl sat down carefully, moving her hands under her dress as she did so that it would not catch on the chair. She smiled gently.
“I hear you’re Connor?” She asked.
He nodded.
“I’m Cheryl,” she said, “I used to be with Hank.”
Connor nodded again. This was yet another new social situation he was not equipped for. Too many of these seemed to be happening this evening.
“He, um, seems good” Cheryl offered. “The last time I saw him, he... well, he was in a very bad place.”
“He was in that bad place when I met him” Connor offered back. “But yes, he is doing much better now.”
It was Cheryl’s turn to nod. “Well, I’m guessing I should be giving you the credit for that.” When Connor looked surprised, she continued. “The only difference between who he was then, and who he is now, is you.”
Again, the android felt like blushing.
“We will never be to each other what we used to be” Cheryl said gently, glancing at Hank before returning her gaze to Connor. “But he still matters to me. He used to be my world. Thank you for taking care of him.”
Connor was speechless. “We take care of each other” he managed to stammer. Cheryl smiled, rising from the chair “I’m glad to hear it. Really, I am.”
Connor smiled gently.

Stress level: 16%

As Cheryl walked away, Marjorie rose from her seat at the head of the table, raising her glass in one hand and tapping it gently with the spoon in her other hand.

Action recognized: a call for attention at a large social gathering.

The murmur died down once again, this time less abruptly.

Marjorie cleated her throat. “I would just like to thank everyone for coming! It is so lovely to be surrounded by friends and family this evening, and I am so thankful for each and every one of you—“

A formality.

“—so sit back, eat, and enjoy. Oh, and wait until Mark has sat down before heading over to enjoy the game. Because if you are in his favorite seat, he will sit on top of you.”

The guests laughed as Marjorie further raised her glass.
“To friends. To family.” She cheered.
“To friends, to family!” The guests echoed, raising their own glasses.

“To friends. To family” Connor whispered, watching as Hank sampled the cranberry wine.

Chapter Text

Hank watched as Connor made his way around the table, looking for Lionel’s place card.
‘Poor kid’ he thought, wondering how his partner would fair in such a new situation completely on his own. It was then Hank realized, he was also alone.
Not that he didn’t know anyone. Every face in the room was familiar. They had been his family. But the last few years had changed all that, and sourly he knew he was to blame. People he had seen on the weekends, during holidays, who had hugged him at his wedding, had become strangers. Their lives went one way, his went another. Their jobs changed, they got married, had kids, moved, picked up new hobbies, traveled... he had stayed where he was. He was a frozen moment in time, and the gap between his life and theirs had widened every day. How do you even bridge that gap? What do you say to someone who used to be family, but time has changed into someone new?

Geez. He should have just stayed home.

Hank huffed, beginning his circle around the table. He was seated by some distant cousins, a few family friends, and for the briefest moment, Addison. Her mother, Allison, however, looked as though she had swallowed sewer water at the thought of her daughter sitting by Hank. She snatched up her daughter’s place card, picking up a random card from down the table, and switching the two.
Huh— Allison was the type of person to switch place cards. Who in the world could have guessed that?
Hank sighed, fumbling into his own seat. Food would be coming, he could focus on that. Eat, get Connor, get out of here. If anything, this evening could be a good story to tell in the office.
It didn’t take long for his new table mate to take Addison’s now vacant spot.

“Hello, Hank”

His eyes shot up.

Cheryl.

Hank bit the inside of his cheek, a flood of emotion washing over him as it had done every time he interacted Cheryl since their fight. He took a deep breath he hoped she wouldn’t notice.

“Cheryl. Hi. Uh, it was very nice of your mom to invite me. I, um, haven’t seen any of these guys in a while...”
He ran his hand over the back of his neck.
“You, uh, look good...”
Stupid.
“How have you been?”

She smiled gently at him.
“I’ve been alright. I finally went back to art school. Well, I’m taking online classes after work. You know, finally pursuing that graphic design dream.”
Her voice was gentle and genuine. That’s the way she had always been. Quick to see the good in people. Even after everything he’d done, she still spoke so kindly to him.

“That’s amazing!” He said, genuinely too. “That really is fantastic.”
She nodded. “And you?”
‘And me’ Hank wondered ‘how the heck do I explain what I’ve been up to?’
“Well—“ he began, “I, uh, stayed with the DPD. Things were, as you remember them. But uh, about a year ago I was assigned an android partner,”
Cheryl raised her eyebrows in surprise.
“Yeah, with who I was then, can you believe it? Anyway. I was assigned with this guy, and you won’t believe it- dopiest puppy-dog eyes I have ever seen. Well, he sort of grew on me. And when the revolution broke out, he came to me for help.”
Hank’s focus shifted slightly at the memory.
“We found ourselves in CyberLife Tower. He saved my life, and I saved his. He disappeared after that. I only saw him again the next morning... well, we’ve been working together ever since.”
Cheryl noticed how tension left Hank’s shoulders as he talked about Connor.
“Well, he seems like a good partner...” she started.
“Oh! But he wasn’t always like that. You wouldn’t believe it! The night we met he found me in Jimmy’s bar. And guess what the guy did? He Poured Out My Drink! Man! I was ready to deck him to the floor then and there if my vision wasn’t already spinning.”
Hank was smiling now, so was Cheryl.
“I am sad to have missed that one!” She laughed.
For a moment, it was just the two of them again, sharing a joke, laughing together. But the realization of where they were now, what they now meant to each other, sank in again, and their faces fell, an uncomfortable silence settling in between them.
“Well,” Cheryl started, “I’m glad you two have become friends now.”
“Yeah,” Hank agreed, “so am I. The kid can drive me up the wall sometimes, but I am one luck son-of-a-gun to have him.”

Cheryl was about to say something else, when a pitchy screech interrupted her.

“IT’S ATTACKING ME! HELP! THE ANDROID IS THREATENING ME!”

Down the table, Allison was standing like a needle, her arm taught and pointing directly at Connor.
Connor, for his part, looked like a puppy someone had just beaten with a stick.

Oh no. Not on his watch.

Hank planted his hands on the table, pulling himself from his chair and already forming some choice words in his mind to hurl at Allison.

Mark beat him to it.

“Aw, come on Allison, calm down. You say that about every android who looks at you funny.”

In consideration, it was a good think Mark had taken control of the situation. While his comments filled the room with light laughter, sending Allison speeding into the kitchen, Hank’s own comments would have uprooted the entire evening.

He looked back at Connor. The poor kid was staring blankly at his empty plate, hands folded tightly in his lap. He looked like he wanted to disappear.

Hank ran a hand over his face as he sat down again. Why had he let him sit so far away? Allison was switching cards, Hank could have done the same. As a police model, Connor was so out of his element at a familial function. What was Hank thinking? What sort of friend was he?

He should get Connor. They should go. The sun had not quite set yet, they should go get Sumo and go for a walk. Spent time with those they were actually thankful for. He should just—

He made to say goodbye to Cheryl, but she was not in her seat. He looked around. She had made her was over to Connor, sitting politely across from the flustered Android.
What was she saying?
Hank couldn’t hear their conversation over the general guest chatter, but in no time at all Connor was smiling, even relaxing.

Cheryl had that effect on people.

Hank relaxed as well. If the situation was under control, he may as well stay for some pie. Cheryl gently sat back in her seat just as Marjorie raised her glass for a toast. Hank busied himself with pouring a modest amount of cranberry wine into his glass, raising it with the rest of the guests as Marjorie concluded her speech.

“To friends. To family” the older woman smiled.

“To fiends, to family!” The guests responded in unison.

Hank smiled to himself, taking a sip of the wine. “To my friend and family.”

Chapter Text

The festivities had long since ended as the evening drifted into night. The football game had been a success, as Hank concluded from the happy cheering and celebratory beers, but he couldn’t be completely sure, he was more of a basketball man himself. The family friends and neighbors had left, and extended family was saying their goodbyes in the dining room and entry hall. Hank was about ready to say his goodbyes as well; he’d had enough social interaction for the remainder of the long weekend. He was about to collect his partner and head to the car, but Connor was not milling around with the rest of the remaining guests. Instead, Hank found him sitting alone in the living room, perfectly still and poised on the edge of the couch. Gosh, he looked mechanical.

Hank pulled his mouth into a sympathetic line.
“Had enough chatting for one day, Mr. Social-Integration?”
Connor looked at him sidelong before facing forwards again.
“I messed up Hank,” he said quietly, “I failed.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I lost my composure while conversing with Ms. Picket.”
Gosh, he sounded defeated.
“I made everyone uncomfortable. I couldn’t adapt to the situation. I failed.”
Hank sighed, taking a heavy seat next to his stiff friend.
“You did no such thing.”
Connor didn’t look at him.
“Use those detective skills of yours. Allison is the real culprit here. She was the one who made a scene.”
“But I caved to her insults!” Connor finally burst. “I was specifically designed to stand under pressure. To adapt to human unpredictability. To be calculated and composed and— and—“
He dropped his chin to his chest, pulling his mouth tight and closing his eyes.
“I don’t know what’s happening to me, Hank. It’s been a year since I deviated. I should be used to, have adapted to, these— emotions, by now. That’s what I’m meant to do. Adapt and overcome.”
He opened his eyes again.
“But I let them overtake me.”
Hank rested a sympathetic hand on Connor’s shoulder.
“I don’t know what to tell you, kid. It happens to the best of us.”
“Not to me.” He whispered back.
Hank bit his lip. “Hey, what did she even say to you that got you to snap?”
Connor turned his eyes to look at Hank. Those big sad dog eyes. Gosh, whichever CyberLife tech designed him to be able to elicit human emotions from facial expressions, they would have deserved a pay raise.
“She... um...” he stammered, though Hank thought he could see the corners of his mouth upturn slightly, “she insulted you.”

Hank sat up and snorted.
“No kidding?”
Connor tightened his mouth and shook his head.
Hank laughed. “Ha! Turns out my poodle is a pit-bull! What did she say?”
Connor kept looking at Hank, but didn’t say anything. Hank understood.
“Well, thanks for coming to my aid anyway, kid.” He shook Connor’s shoulder. “And hey, maybe you did the right thing without knowing it. I think that nice dose of embarrassment she got from Mark in front of the whole family may have done her some good!”
Connor finally smiled.

“It definitely wasn’t good for the poor lady a few seats down from me. She was keeping an eye on me all evening. Ms. Picket’s outburst nearly scared her out the door. I think she was half way to calling the police all evening.”

“Yeah? And what would that have done? There isn’t another cop on the force, not even the PC200s, that could take you down.”

And with that, Connor was grinning.

“Come on,” Hank said, throwing his hands on his knees, getting ready to stand, “I think there’s a very sad dog at home waiting for us to bring home table scraps.”
Connor seemed to like that idea as they both began to stand, but right at that moment they were interrupted.

“Oh! Good! You haven’t left yet. I was afraid I missed you!”
Marjorie came waddling into the living room, followed closely by Mark, Allison, Davy, Addison, and Cheryl.
Connor looked pale.
“Uh, nope. We were just about to head out. The dog needs to be let out for the night and all that...” Hank nodded, “but it was nice to see you all, thank you for—
“Now wait just a second!” The older woman cooed. “Sit sit! The rest of you too! I have something I want to say!”
Everyone looked confused as they found seats across the living room, eyeing the excited matriarch.

“Now. As you all know, Roger passed away some two years ago—“

‘Dammit!’ Hank cursed himself. ‘Had me missed Cheryl’s dad’s funeral?!’

“— and I myself am getting on in age.”

“Mom, please, we’ve had such a lovely evening we don’t have to do this now...” Cheryl began.

“Oh hush, honey. That’s not what I’m taking about!” Marjorie said, waving her daughter away. “No. All I’m saying is that I miss my family, and that I want to do something fun while I can still walk around on my own!”
Something mischievous passed behind the woman’s eyes.
“Do you remember when you were all little, and we’d road trip up to that ski resort to spend the New Year?”

“Yeah...” Cheryl said, suspicion crawling across her face.

“Well...” Marjorie was smiling like The Joker. “I’ve rented an RV for us! During the kid’s winter break, just us family are driving over to New Hampshire!”

The room broke into a thousand voices.

“Mom, what? That’s a fourteen hour drive!”
“I already have plans lined up for the kids, I can’t change the schedules now!”
“Oh, no way! Awesome mom! It’s been ages since I’ve been there!”
“Gosh grandma, a family road trip? Do you know how lame that is?”
“Do we get our own rooms in the RV? I’m not sharing a room with Davy.”

Hank sat shell-shocked. Is this why Marjorie reached out after all these years? To invite him on a family road trip?

Hank remembered Cheryl had told him about these family excursions, but it had only ever been the five Sprouces. And they had stopped going once Cheryl went to college. Why was he being included?

Connor looked strangely calm next to him. How far back in his programming was he hiding to pull off that neutral expression?

Marjorie waited for the chatter to settle down.

“Kids, kids.” She said softly, raising her hands. “I know. You are all busy adults. You have lives! You grew up, and you make me so proud.” She surveyed the group around her. “And those lives have taken us so far apart. I just want us to all come together again. To spend time with each other again. For me to be a mother and grandmother again.” Her voice broke only slightly. “It will only be for five days. We’ll drive up, spend New Years, and come right back. Can’t you spare five days? For me?”
Her adult children all looked at each other.

Cheryl sighed. “Sure mom. We can do that.”
“It sounds like fun! I wonder if that pool is still there! What do you think, Davy? Want to see who can make the bigger splash?” Mark joked, wrapping his nephew’s head in his arm and tussling his hair.
“Ow! Uncle Mark!” The boy complained, but he clearly liked the attention.
“A family vacation. Fine. But why is he here?”
Allison’s voice was like ice as she directed the attention over to Hank.

“He’s my son-in-law—“
“Ex-son-in-law”
“— and part of the family. I would love for him to come with us.”
“And his toy?”

More ice.
Connor was so still, Hank wasn’t sure he could even still hear them.

“I’m sure Connor may come if he likes. Right mom?” Cheryl’s warmth broke the frost that had settled over the room.

“Of course, of course! Anything to get Hank in the RV” Marjorie cheered. “What do you all say?”

Cheryl smiled at her pleading mother.

“Yes, mom. We’d all love to go.”

Chapter Text

On the car ride home, Connor was a little too... okay. His posture was perfect, his face was calm, and his gaze was neutral as he stared out the windshield. Everyone once and a while something would catch his eye, and he’d turn his head to examine it as the car drove by, but that was it.
Hank felt like he was sitting next to the old Connor, and he hated it.
“What? Now new health tips you want to berate me with? Dog facts to share? Theories as to why Gavin has a Webkinz Frog hidden under his desk?”
Connor turned slightly, making eye-contact and giving Hank a polite smile.

Geez. There was still nothing behind his eyes.
Hank sighed. It has been a long night, and he cared about the guy — he really did — but caring for a deviate was sometimes harder than caring for a baby; especially a deviant who was so terrified by the prospect of emotions impeding on his programming that he would hide behind factory settings every time they did.

“Knock Knock, hey, Connor, you home in there?” Hank teased, but his voice was rough.

“I can hear you, Lieutenant.”

“Hey! Knock it off with that crap. You don’t call me that anymore, remember?”
He sighed again. Patience. He’s only had emotions for a year. And feelings are scary even when you’ve had them all your life. Be patient.

“Connor, listen, about tonight... I’m, sorry it turned out the way it did... if I had know, if I had given it a little more thought, I would’ve had you stay home. Allison, Marjorie, all those other guests shooting you dirty looks, you didn’t deserve—“

“I was alright, Lieutenant, adapting to human unpredictability is—“

“Stop it, Connor!”
Hank tightened his grip on the wheel. Wasn’t having an android around supposed to make your life easier?

He bit his lip, hating he just thought that.

Connor was scared. He always blamed himself too harshly whenever he quote-unquote failed a mission, and tonight certainly was not a success. Hank guessed the android’s need for success must be part of a core directive, so deeply ingrained in him that deviancy had barely effected it at all. What deviancy did do, however, was put internal hurdles in the way of success, and tonight was an example of when one of those emotional hurdles tripped him.

“Look son, really, it’s okay. You don’t need to be perfect anymore. A failure, and this wasn’t a failure, doesn’t mean you’ll be deactivated any more—“

Connor flinched

“— sorry. But you get what I’m saying, right? So what, you let feelings get in the way of social integration? I don’t think any less of you! You are no less the cool-and-calculated crime fighting machine— wrong word... boss? Egh- that the whole station knows and loves. In fact, I think more of you. Did something you say upset a human? Yes. But that shows that something she said upset you first. And that you were passionate enough to override whatever fancy program you have and stand up for what you thought, rather than just sit politely and let the program run its course. Do you understand me?”

Connor was still sitting as he had before, but the too-blue-to-be-natural of his LED finally shifted to an unhappy yellow, reflecting back on the car window against the night of Hank’s neighborhood outside.

“I know what you’re thinking, Connor. I know what you think every time you don’t achieve what you wanted to. And I’m telling you, you’re wrong. Messing up is what makes us alive, and don’t give me that I’m-a-machine-I-was-designed-not-to-mess-up or whatever, because you are more than that now. You may mess up less than the rest of us, and certainly out-preform the rest of us, but you still mess up. And that’s okay. It will never make me think any less of you.”

Connor’s back finally slouched a little, the smallest frown creeping across his face.

“It’s just... hard...” he said weakly.

There he was.

“I know, trust me, I know.” Hank replied in a tone he hoped was soothing.
“But hey, this trip will be some good practice, huh? You can test out emotional responses with an audience who, after a week, you’ll never have to see again if you don’t want to!”

Red.

“Okay, okay, we’ll talk about the trip later.”

They pulled into Hank’s driveway, and immediately the thundering borfs of a very excited Sumo could be heard from inside the house.
Hank put the car in park.
“Okay, go give that idiot some attention before he breaks down the door.”

Connor unbuckled, stood, and straightened his tie, before leaning back into the car to look at Hank.
“Thank you...”
“Don’t mention it kid. Now get the dog.”

Connor smiled as he headed for the door.

Hank took an extra second for himself in the car.

This was going to be an interesting vacation.

Chapter Text

Connor had never been in an RV, nor had he every been in any one vehicle for longer than half an hour. Although, this RV was like no vehicle he had ever seen.

This thing was massive.

A quick scan of the machine revealed it to be a 2018 King Aire RV, in incredible condition. The sides were glossy and sparkled with the early morning sun, and the enormous windshield perfectly reflected the seven shocked and one proud faces starting back at it.

“You haven’t even seen anything yet!” Marjorie crowed, making her way from the front of the pack to the door. Connor had never seen such a giddy expression as that which the older woman wore as she beckoned her family inside.

He was... in a house?

The interior of the RV was expansive and expensive. The floors looked polished, and the main cabin was lined with faux-leather white arm chairs and couches. A miniature, full, dark-monochrome kitchen lined the back of the cabin before opening to a hallway that lead to even more of the wheeled-mansion.

“This is nicer than our home...” Hank whispered over Connor’s shoulder as he stepped in beside him.

“It’s 45 feet of pure luxury!” Marjorie beamed, cooing the salesmen’s tagline from her spot leaning against the driver’s seat.

Connor had never seen anything like this before. A living room and a kitchen, in a car?! He ached to explore further, but he was sure he had not quite reached a position in the family yet that would grant him the right to be one of the RV’s first explorers. He opted to stick close to Hank’s side and watch until each of the other family members had disappeared and returned from the mysterious anterior hallway. Only then would he allow himself to look.

Mark had been the first one to dash down the hallway, exclaiming “all right! Nice!” Before darting back into the main cabin and collapsing on one of the couches. The force of doing so sent a cascade of blankets that had been perched on the backrest down over him, and he relished the comfort.

Addison and Davy were the next two to explore, they pushed and shoved the entire duration of the cabin in order to be the first to reach the hallway. Davy succeeded by planting his hand across Addison’s entire face and thrusting her backwards. The girl managed to catch herself from falling, squared her jaw, and marched after her brother. Light bickering followed their adventure, and returned with them as they searched every cabinet and flipped every pillow.

Allison had taken a firm seat at the small table adjacent to the kitchen. She was already texting feverishly on her phone.

Lionel wasn’t there.

Finally, Hank began his round about. “Come on,” he said, “I want to see this thing for myself.”

Connor’s shoes clicked on the glossy floor as the two of them crossed the cabin. He went to fidget with his tie, and then remembered it wasn’t there. Yet again, he had to make a modification to his uniform to fit the social context. He wore the same shoes, same pants, same white-collared shirt, but instead of his jacket and tie Hank had bought him a deep-green sweater. Hank had offered to get him more of a wardrobe for the vacation, but Connor had politely declined. If he had to change his attire, he’d like the keep the same thing every day. He like the familiarity of it. Luckily, he had pocketed his coin before they left the house. He retrieved it and began to absentmindedly flip it over his fingers.

The hallway began with a curtain clipped to the wall, which could be drawn for privacy during the night. The first part of the hall was lined with four long pods within the walls. The base of each was a mattress, complete with bedding. The side with the headboard featured a retractable lamp, and the opposite side near the baseboard had a miniature wall-mounted television. All four pods were identical.

At the back of the hallway was a compact bathroom, complete with a shower.
“Ya see that?” Hank asked, pointing to the toilet, “now that’s the fun part. I’d bet Mark and I are going to be put on septic duty.”
Connor grimaced.

The end of the hall lead to another curtained doorway, which revealed the RV’s equivalent of a master bedroom. The bed sprawled before them was large enough that two sleepers may not even be aware of each-other’s presence. This room also had a television, but it was notably larger than those of the pods. A tall closet stood on either side of the bed, each with mounted lamps directed towards the headboard. Two long windows showered the room with the orange glow of the morning.

Hank whistled. “Damn. Marjorie really splurged on this one...”

By the time the two joined the rest of the family in the cabin, Cheryl had entered with the grocery bags, and Mark had packed away all the suitcases in the compartments above their heads and under the couch.
Cheryl glanced around the traveling fortress for the first time.
“Mom... this is just... insane—“ she caught her mother’s eye, “— incredible... but, how did you?...”
“I rented it, but leave all those details to me. This is vacation, I don’t want you to worry about anything.” She soothed her daughter, and directed her attention to the rest of the group.
“Alright, gang!” Marjorie clapped. “Let’s start this adventure! Mark, you’re up first for driving duty.”

“Why not just get the machine to drive us?” Allison drawled, looking up from her phone for the first time.

It was obvious who she was taking a jab at.

“I’m not fleet certified.” Connor responded quickly, feeling a little sheepish at just how few of his services he could offer to the excursion.

“Well,” she scoffed “neither is Mark but—“

Hank cut her off.

“When will you be taking a turn to drive, Allison?”

She looked like she swallowed a lemon.

“That’s quite enough of that!” Marjorie tried to keep her voice light, but some of the brightness has dropped. “Mark volunteered for drive, Allie, no one has to drive if they don’t want to.”

Allison seemed to whither even more at the nickname.

Mark jumped into the driver’s seat.
“I feel like I’m at the helm of a spaceship!”
He cried, planting his hands on the steering wheel and making a ‘vroooooom’ sound with his mouth.

“Alright everyone! T-14 hours to New Hampshire! Let’s go!”
Marjorie mocked firing off a starting pistol, and Mark started the ignition.

Chapter Text

-14 hours to go-

Hank settled himself on one of the couches, propping one arm up on the backrest. His goal was to look casual, but any glance longer than a second would reveal his nervousness. He glanced around the cabin.

Allison was bent so close to her phone she could have been typing with her nose. Cheryl was playing some game with Addison, her brother already engrossed in a video game. Marjorie was knitting in the passenger seat, sneaking quick glances at her family now and then, and making conversation with Mark.

‘Dammit,’ Hank thought to himself, feeling out of place without an occupying activity.

His eyes then fell on Connor. He was sitting sideways on the couch opposite Hank, holding the curtain open with his left hand and staring out the window.
They had left the city, and were now whizzing down the highway. Trees blurred past the glass in green streaks. Connor looked fascinated. Hank realized this was his first time being out of the city.
Hank crosses the cabin so he could sit beside Connor on the other couch.

“Enjoying the view?”

The android didn’t look away from the glass.
“There are so many trees... of course, I knew this but...”

Hank saw his eyes darting rapidly, as though trying to follow each individual one as it passed.

Hank smiled, watching him.

“Hey, ever hear of a game called Eye-Spy?

-11 hours to go-

Three hours was a long time to be at the wheel, Mark decided, and his mind was beginning to wander.

“Hey, mom? Think you could connect my phone to the RV’s Bluetooth? I made a road-trip playlist!”

Marjorie glanced up from her knitting. What was she making? Her needles were moving like her life depended on it.

“Oh! Sure thing dear. How do I do that?”

“Make sure the car’s radio is on, it’s this panel here...” Mark rapped blindly at the console, not taking his eyes off the road, “then do the same for my phone, and when it connects find the playlist in my music.”

“I’m sorry, dear, one more time?”

Five minutes, and some very careful and detailed instructions later, Country Roads was blasting through the speakers.

-8 hours to go-

And that was it, Davy was officially bored. He had played his game to completion, jumped on the bed in the back room, tried to flood the shower, smacked his sister with a pillow, and ate his weight in chips. And now he was bored.
He half-heartedly begin to dig through his travel bag, trying to find some sort of entertainment. In the very front pocket, he found a laser pointer.
Mischief bubbled in his chest.
And it didn’t take very long to find his victim.

Connor had since stopped starting out the window, and was now sitting forward, hands on this lap, back straight, in a neutral, resting state.

Davy aimed the laser at Connor’s eye.

It took less than a second for the android to resume a fully conscious state, and his head snapped in the direction of the laser.
Davy quickly hid the toy behind his back, pretending to be riveted by something in the cabinets.
As soon as Connor looked away, the laser was out again.

What was at first a look of surprise turned into one of annoyance. But he still didn’t say anything.

After the third round, Connor closed his eyes.

Davy hit his hands on his lap in annoyance. Now what was he going to do?

-5 hours to go-

“Pull over here, Mark! Time for a rest break!”

Addison was grateful for her grandmother’s announcement, her legs were starting to ache. They had pulled off at one of those buildings off the highway that housed a few fast-food chains, a gas station, and a gift shop selling state-themed trinkets. There was also a small picnic area closer to the woods, were Marjorie lead the family for a dinner break.

“But I want fast food!” Her brother whined behind her, “peanut-butter and jelly sucks!”

As the family selected one of the wooden benched tables, Addison turned towards the woods. Something had caught her eye. She tilted her head up, and there, in the branches, was a little grey bird, sporting a handsome crown of feathers on his head, and a soft pink underbelly.

Suddenly, someone was behind her.

Addison turned with a start. About two feet behind her stood the android Uncle Hank had brought with him. Her mom had warned her to stay away from him, that he was dangerous.

But, he didn’t look dangerous.

“Did you see the bird?” He asked.

Addison nodded.

“Do you know what kind it is?”

She shook her head.

He looked up at the bird.
“My search results say it’s a Tufted Titmouse.”

Addison giggled.
“That’s a funny name.”

The android smiled, looking at her.
“I suppose it is.”

“What’s your name, again?”

“Connor.”

-Resting for the night-

The rest of them had decided to go to sleep. Her kids had fought about sharing a pod, but she didn’t want them out here in the cabin. The rest of the adults picked their respective sleeping quarters, and her mother had taken the back room.
Only two of them were up front now.

Allison sat in the same seat by the kitchenette she had been in the entire trip.

Connor was back on the couch towards the front, his eyes closed and LED rotating the slow blue of a rest cycle.

Allison’s eyes were on him like a hawk.

There wasn’t a chance in Hell she’d let her eyes off him. Give him an un-monitored chance to get the upper hand. She never trusted android before, and especially not now that they supposedly have free will.

She would keep an eye on him.

She would keep her family safe.

She would prove he was a menace.

She would——

—— wake up the next morning without any memory of falling asleep.

-4 hours to go-

This ride was going to be a lot better, Cheryl knew. Much shorter than the day before.

She passed out individual servings of to-go cereal, stopping when she spotted Connor.

Oh no. Did she buy any Thirium? Did he bring any for himself?

Hank seemed to pick up on her distress.
“Don’t worry. He’s all good.”
He said, shoveling a spoonful of AppleJacks into his mouth.

Cheryl sighed. “I still can’t believe you like those things. They’re worse than FrootLoops!”

“Hey!” He retorted, “nothing wrong with sugar cereal! Especially since Connor won’t let me have it in the house anymore.”

Connor turned at the mention of his name, spotted the cereal, and frown.

“Hey! Lay off, it’s vacation!”

Cheryl stifled a laugh.

-2 hours to go-

The trees gave way more and more to the snow peaked mountains.
Marjorie sighed, relaxing for the first time back in her seat. The pale grey sky and snow dusted pines just brought back... so many memories.

Finally. They were going back. Her family was going back. They would be there together.

Maybe her grandchildren would talk to her.

Maybe her children would talk to each other.

Maybe the shadow that had hung over them for so many years would pass, even for a few days.

The figure of a hawk lazily punctured the grey sky above them.

Maybe, maybe.

-1 hour to go-

Addison was sitting on the floor a few feet away from him, and quickly losing interest in her coloring book.

Connor desperately searched his social integration module for interacting with children. All that came up was pre-downloaded grief or crisis counseling, and the hostage situation he dealt with when first activated.

But she was bored, and he wanted to prove to Hank he could make good with his family.

“Hey,” he said softly, smiling and bending slightly.
“Hank taught me this game, called Eye-Spy. Want to try it?”

Addison looked nervous at first, biting her lip and chancing a glance at her mother, who was yet again absorbed in her phone.

Addison nodded.

Connor smiled, making room for her next to the window.

“Okay, so the rules are—“

“I know how to play!”

“Alright. Do you want to go first?”

-0 hours to go-

Chapter Text

It only occurred to him, as the RV made its way up the long road to the hotel, that he did not known the name of the resort, and therefor had not looked it up prior to arriving.
He was glad of this.
The initial sight of the elegant building, backed by snowy mountain peaks and flanked by expansive lightly dusted fields and forests, was much more awe inspiring without any previous information to dampen the surprise.

Connor twisted his gaze from out the window to the windshield as the RV made its final turn in the road that lead up the the resort.

The building’s soft white exterior complemented the setting, while its vibrant red roof brought a pop of glorious color. The entirety of the entry floor was encompassed by a large wrap-around porch, easily three-fourths of a mile long. Each of the windows climbing up the exterior glistened from the sunlight reflecting off the snow.

Mark pulled the RV through the carriage-entry loop, put it in park, and stretched, groaning loudly.
“If I never drive again, it would be too soon!”

There was movement from outside, then a polite knock on the door. Mark hit the button on the RV’s control console to slide the door back, revealing a smiling VB800 in a neatly pressed valet uniform.

“Hello! Welcome to the Jewel Ridge Resort! If you are so inclined, I would be more than happy to park your car for you! And my friends just up the steps can help you with your luggage.”

The VB800 stood aside as the family piled out of the car, tailed by Mark, who dropped the keys into the VB800’s open hand.

From up the steps another VB800 and an AP700 rushed down to help the family with their bags.

Taking a few steps out from under the hooded entryway, Connor took a deep breath, filling his primary ventilation chamber with the cool mountain air. He closed his eyes, listening to the faint and distant wind whisk through the mountain pass. He could feel the cold of the high elevation pricking his fingertips and nose. The world, for the first time in his life, felt still.
Soon, Hank was by his side, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and taking a deep sigh of his own.

“It’s really something, isn’t it?”

“It’s nothing like the city...”

“That’s the point!”

The two of them watched as a gentle wind gust shook the loose powdery snow from a nearby evergreen, curtaining their view of a distant river.

The air around them fell into quiet.

“Oop. Looks like everyone’s gone inside. Care to check it out?”

Connor lifted his chin, letting the midday sun sponge away some of the cold that had seeped into his cheeks.

“Do we have to?”

Hank laughed, giving Connor’s shoulder a forceful but playful shake.

“Come on.”

The first thing Connor noticed as the two stepped inside was the massive moose head starting down at him. It was mounted over a two way fireplace that was easily taller than he was.
The lobby was longer than it was wide, filled with comfortable yet elegant lounge tables and chairs. To the left was the concierge desk, mirrored by a grade staircase decorated with pine garlands. Right across from the entry was a doorway to a lounge, whose glass walls give a circle-vision view of the back lawn and mountain pass.
The whole room carried the scent of camp fire and pine.

The lobby was occupied by a few other guest families, the gentle hum of their conversations adding to the relaxed atmosphere.

There were only six androids in sight.

Connor, the VB800 and AP700 helping with the bags, two ST300s working behind the front desk, and a WR600 tending the lobby’s decorative plants.

He was the only one of them here not working.

He was the only one here as a guest.

Stress Level: 38%

Connor wished he was outside again, or back in the RV, or better yet, back home, back home where no one was— looking at him. The AP700 was looking at him.

Connor caught his eyes with an accusatory look. The AP700’s eyes widened for a moment, looked away, shuffled for a moment, then resumed eye contact.

“It’s Connor, right?”

It was Connor’s turn to have wide eyes.

“Y- yes.”

The AP700 dawned a sheepish smile.

“Hi! My name is Lucas. I— don’t know if you remember me... ha... probably not... there were so many of us... um....”
His one free hand began to tap his leg, as the other loosely held Addison’s pink backpack.
“I was, one of the androids you freed from CyberLife Tower, the night of the revolution. I marched behind you to bring support to Marcus and the rest of Jericho. You gave me the chance at a life. I... just want to thank you.”

Connor blinked, an odd feeling prickling in his chest.
“Oh, um, of course. You’re welcome. It had to be done, we couldn’t just leave you all there... uh... thank you for following me.”

“It made for a very exciting first night alive!” Lucas joked.

Connor smiled, nodded in agreement, then lowered his voice.

“Can I ask, how many of the guests here are androids?”

Lucan frowned. “Uh, we haven’t had an android guest before... since the revolution, most of us are just trying to find jobs, let alone— wait... are you here as a guest?”

Stress Level: 46%

Connor reached for his coin, just holding it tightly.
“Yes. I’m, here as part of a family vacation...”

“Family?!”

“Well, no, um, not mine... not really, no. It’s, um, I...”
Connor began to stumble on his words. How exactly should he quantity his relation to the Sprouce family?

Lucas caught onto his distress. “Hey, it’s all good. This is exciting! Having you as our first android guest! I figured after leaving Detroit I’d have no chance at seeing you again! And here you are, breaking further ground to our equality to humans.”

This did not feel ground breaking. This felt like Connor was in for a week of supposed relaxation while every other android in the building worked around him.

Lucas seemed to pick up on this as well.

“Hey. If you ever need a break from the humans, you are always welcome to come find me and some of the other android staff. I will admit, this place wasn’t really designed with android patrons in mind, and hanging out with us may be a little more fun.”

Connor smiled gratefully just as Marjorie regrouped from her trip to the front desk.

“All checked in! Ladies, and Davy, follow this way to our rooms! Gentlemen, you can, uh...”
She gestured to the VB800, “follow him to your rooms. Meet up right back here once you’ve settled in!”

Lucas hoisted the pink backpack over his shoulder before gripping the luggage cart piled high with the Sprouce women’s bags.
“I’m serious about what I said. The cybernetic link is always open, reach out any time!”

Stress Level: 20%

“Thank you!” Connor managed to say as Lucas followed behind Marjorie on the way to the elevators.

Lucas - Relation Status: Friendship Probability Increase.

“Hey Connor, you coming?” Hank called from where he and Mark were waiting with the VB800 for the next elevator.

“Yes, I’m coming.”

Chapter Text

The elevator doors opened into a moderately sized octagonal landing. The VB800, whose, upon closer inspection, name-tag read Flynn, shuffled the luggage rack aside to let the guests exit first.

Despite the height of the ceilings and the expansive hallways jutting out from every couple adjoining walls, the landing felt, cozy. The walls were painting a soft grayish-white and the carpets were clean, yet well worn, depicting pine forest designs in deep greens and browns. In the center of the landing stood an antique glass and bronze side-table holding up a massive bouquet of various local flora. Pushed up along the walls were a few delicately upholstered armchairs.
Flynn followed the trio out, and the elevator closed with a happy chime.

“You’re rooms are right this way, follow me!”

Flynn pushed the cart off to the left, through one of the tall glass doors leading to the branching hallways.
Miniature chandeliers hung the length of the hallway, casting a warm light over the four as they made their way through.

Flynn pulled the cart to a stop in front of the last two doors in the hall. He turned to the party following him to relay room numbers, but paused. His eyes flitted between the three guests following him, his LED spun yellow, and he bit his lip.
Next to Hank, Connor’s LED also blipped yellow for a second. His face betrayed a bouquet of micro-expressions Hank desperately tried to decode from the corner of his eye. Flynn’s nod was discrete as his eyes unfocused for a fraction of a second, before he returned his attention back to his guests and his temple back to a welcome blue.

“I apologize for the momentary delay! There seemed to be a miscommunication about your rooms. Your reservation reserved you two rooms, each with only one standard-full bed... as there are three of you, I have taken the liberty of contacting the front desk about the mix-up. I’ve just received your new room allocation. For the one of you who would prefer a single—“ Flynn tapped his hand playfully on the door to his right, “may I assist you with your bags as you move in?”

Mark hoisted his backpack further up with shoulder with a little hop.
“That would be me!” He said playfully, pointing at which bag Flynn should be taking off the cart.
“Very good!” He said, easily hoisting the overflowing maroon suitcase from the stack. He turned his attention to Hank and Connor briefly, “and I will be back in just a moment to show you to your room.”
Hank gave a thin smile as Flynn followed Mark into the room.

“Well, that was fast.” Hank remarked. Connor stopped scanning the hallway, turning his eyes toward Hank and tilting his head. “What was?”
“The room turn around! Do you know how long it used to take hotels in the past to switch rooms if they got it wrong? You’d first go up just to find out it’s a problem, then you’d have to go all the way back down, just to wait at the desk for fifteen, twenty minutes as three different people squint at one computer trying to find you a new room. It was a hassle, headache, and pretty bummy way to start a vacation...”
Connor, for the first time Hank could recall, did not look all that interested in his story. He did, however, look to be in the middle of a deviancy-brain episode, as Hank liked to call it.
Though it never happened during work hours, Hank noticed that the longer Connor was a deviant, the more the natural curiosity of the RK800 model took the reins. And if they were in a controlled, low-activity environment that did not demand the android’s attention, said attention tended to drift elsewhere.

“Hey, Connor.... earth to Connor! Come in!”

Connor blinked a few times, refocusing.
“Sorry Hank, it’s just... I ran a scan of the building’s structure and noticed... every floor the width of the master staircase decreases by an average of two feet.”

Connor looked so proud at his little finding, and Hank just had to smile.

“Huh, that’s weird.”

Flynn re-emerged from Marks room, waving back in at him as he left and wishing him a pleasant stay. He addressed Hank and Connor as he pulled the door closed.
“And if you would be so kind as to follow me, your new room is actually a floor up.”

When they got to the elevators, Connor waved the two off.
“I’d like the take the stairs, if you don’t mind. I’ll meet you on the next floor’s landing.”
Hank smirked. “Alright, just be carful, don’t fall off the missing two feet.”
“Well, it will be the fifth floor, so roughly eight feet will be missing from the original width...”
“Yeah yeah alright, we’ll race you!”

Connor peeled off towards the stairs as Flynn hit the elevator up button.
“Hey, uh, when you found out our rooms were mixed up... did you, uh,” Hank twirled his forefinger by his temple, “do that cybernetic link thing with Connor?”
Flynn regarded Hank curiously. “Yes. I asked if...” he looked away for a second, “I mean no disrespect, but I asked if he had been denied a room of his own, and if he would like one. He said no, and that the rooming accommodations were okay, and he would simply use a desk or arm chair provided by the room to enter rest-mode. I... decided that would not due for one of our guests, and contacted the front desk to have your room changed.”
Hank frown. “He said he’d sleep on a desk chair?”
“He didn’t want to be a bother. I told him the change would be no problem at all.”
The doors opened with a happy chime.
Hank rolled his eyes back and sighed heavily as he followed Flynn into the elevator. That poor kid was going to be the death of him.

When the doors opened again, Connor was already waiting for them.

“Did you run up the stairs?”

“Hank. Despite my activation being just over a year ago, I am an adult.”

“That wasn’t my question.”

“... yes.”

Hank smiled and shook Connor’s arm as Flynn led them down a hallway identical to the one they walked down before. They stopped by a door about halfway down, and Flynn retracted the skin program on his hand, holding it to a panel on the door. The door gave a soft click, and Flynn pushed it open.

The room was larger than Hank expected, a little bigger than his living room. The ceiling was just as tall as that in the hallway, with two windows along the opposite wall matching its height. Two beds lay away from the wall to the left, separated by a polished nightstand. To the right was a large TV, closet, and door that presumably lead to the bathroom. Directly across from them was a small table, flanked by two upholstered chairs.

Hank walked in, dropping his own bag from his shoulder onto the nearer bed. Flynn followed after with his suitcase, looking displeased as Connor had taken the liberty of removing his own small duffle from the cart and carrying it in himself.
Flynn placed the suitcase by the table, straightening up and pulling a small plastic card from his chest pocket.
“Here is your room key, sir,” he said, offering the card to Hank. As soon as his hand was free, he offered it to Connor, “and I can share the access code with you.”
Hank pocked the card as the two androids completed the interface.

“Is there anything else I can help you with, today?” Flynn smiled, clasping his hands behind his back.

“Nope. I, uh, I think we’re all good here, thanks.” Hank nodded, eyeing Connor to make sure he felt the same way.

“Very good! Please feel free to call or reach out through cybernetic link if there’s anything else you need from me.”
Flynn turned and walked back into the hall, grasping the cart with one hand and going to pull the door closed with the other. “And have a pleasant stay!”

Hank nodded at him as the door clicked shut.
He swung his arms loosely at his sides, taking in the space.
“I’m gunna say it. Not bad... not bad at all.”
Connor regarded him curiously,
“Why would it be bad? Don’t most service venues pride themselves on guest satisfaction?”
Hank rolled his eyes. “You know, I can never tell if you actually don’t understand the saying, or if you’re pulling my chain.”
Connor smiled slyly, placing his own bag on the other bed.
He paused, starting at it.

“What?”

“It’s just... “ he began, “I’m just now realizing, I’ve never stayed in a bed before.”

“Oh fuck, Connor! Don’t go breaking my heart just yet!” Hank chided, using humor to cover up the shattered feeling in his chest. “I’m going just down the hall for a second, I thought I saw a room marked ‘vending machines’. Just grabbing something quick. When I get back, no more orphaned-puppy talk, okay?”

Connor gave Hank a sarcastic look. “Nothing you’ll find in those vending machines if good for you.”

“Yup, that’s kinda the point.”

Hank pulled a dollar from his wallet as soon as he stepped into the hall, that’s probably why the scene before him caught him so much by surprise. A few feet down the hall, Hank could see an AX400. She was pushing a custodial staff cart, bent over and adjusting its contents as she did so. At that same moment, a door just in front of the cart opened, and Allison stepped out. Distracted, the AX400 did not notice Allison soon enough, and the cart collided into her with a gentle bump.

The AX400 stood dolt-right.
“Oh! I am so sorry ma’am, are you alright?”

“Oh yes I’m...” Allison straightened up again, turning to the cart’s driver. A slideshow of reactions flew across her face.
Confusion.
Shock.
Embarrassment.
...
Loathing.
Deep. Unadulterated. Loathing.

“Watch. Where. You’re. Going, you pathetic, plastic waste-of-space.”

The skin program around AX400’s cheeks faltered slightly, making her face go pale as her eyes widened.
“I am so sorry, ma’am...”

“Sorry? Oh, you’re sorry?! That’s rich. Sorry, is not, an excuse!”
Allison was seething now, her hands held so tightly in fists her knuckles matched the white of the android’s cheeks.

“I really do apologize ma’am,” the AX400 murmured, “is there anything I can do for you?”

“Get. Away. From. Me.”

The poor android didn’t need to be told twice, nodding quickly and walking at such a pace that any faster would have been a run.

Allison seemed to have forgotten why she went into the hall in the first place, spinning on her heels and slamming the door behind her.

Hank forgot about the dollar in his hand, as well as his own intention for behind in the hallway.

“What the hell was that?”

Chapter Text

_ Rest Cycle Complete _

Connor blinked his eyes open, adjusting to the low light of the room. Expecting the view of Hank’s TV that he normally woke up to from his make-shift bedroom on Hank’s living room couch, the sight of the hotel room took him by surprise. It took less than a second for the recent memory file to catch up with him, and he relaxed.

Hank liked to protest that he wasn’t a messy person, but if it came up in court, Connor would use the sight before him as Exhibit A. The man hadn’t exactly packed his suitcase, more shoved a variety of garments into it, and the after effect was that, upon opening it here, the contents pulled a can-of-worms at him and shot in every direction. Other than the old sports clothes Hank wore as pajamas, the rest of the contents remained exactly where their trajectory had landed them the night before.

Connor stretched, expelling any locked-up soreness his synthetic muscles had amassed during the night. His internal clock read 6:02am. He had set his rest cycle to terminate at exactly 6:00am every day so that he would have ample time to get himself, and Hank, ready for work. He’d forgotten to reset it here, as the wake up time had never needed to be change before. At Hank’s house on weekends, he’d use the extra time in the morning to give Sumo an extra long walk, clean up the house from the havoc the week normally brought to it, and then try to make something healthy for Hank to eat (normally with disastrous results, he wasn’t a PL600).

Only one of those three options applied here, and so Connor set out to do it.

Connor pulled the bedsheets away as his swung his legs to the floor. Androids don’t need to be comfortable in order to enter rest mode. Most, if not all, were used to resting on their feet in designated areas humans set for them. Of course, that was before the revolution. Since then, many had decided to take a more relaxed position while at rest. Like them, Connor did not need the more comfortable position, but it felt more, alive, to drape oneself over a soft surface rather than stand in a corner. Physically, there should have been no difference between entering rest mode on this hotel bed verse Hank’s couch, and yet, Connor found his rest to be less fulfilling here.

During nights, Connor had been wearing a pair of Hank’s old sweatpants and a new DPD police T-Shirt the department had given as a gift to all the returning android staff. Connor crossed the room to his own bag, whose contents had been neatly folded inside. Even though he had grown much more comfortable with his house mate, Connor still preferred Hank to see him looking a little more respectable than he did right now. He carefully withdrew a pair of dark jeans and socks, a white button-up, and a deep navy sweater. He silently moved to the bathroom to change. Exhibit B, dried toothpaste in the sink... humans are disgusting.

Satisfied with his own appearance, he withdrew from the bathroom and began to collect Hank’s clothes. They were rumpled and creased before their unceremonious packing, which had certainly not improved their condition. Connor carefully folded each garment and replaced them in the bag.

_ 6:11am _

Hank normally woke up around 10:00 on the weekends, later if he could help it, and so that left Connor with a choice.

_ Enter Abbreviated Rest Cycle _
_ Contact Sprouce Family _
_ Examine New Surroundings _

Connor blinked, surprised his algorithm would even suggest him to meet up with another member of his traveling party without Hank. His stressed spiked even at the thought, and he immediately dismissed that prompt.
The resort and grounds did seem to have a lot to offer, and Connor had never been anywhere like this. His battery capacity was at its maximum, so there was no need for an additional rest cycle. And he had the time...

_ Examine New Surroundings _

It didn’t take long for Connor to find his way back down to the lobby. At this hour in the morning, the expansive entry and lounge was mostly empty. Other than the one ST300 curiously glancing at him from behind the front desk, three other staff members could be seen. An android was carrying a vase of flowers into the dining room, a human was fixing the cushions on a nearby couch that was clearly build for aesthetic rather than comfort, and Flynn was standing station by the front door. He offered a smile and a gentle wave when he noticed Connor at the foot of the stairs, but didn’t present any opportunity for conversation.
Connor smiled politely back as he crossed the lobby, pointing his feet towards the adjoining lounge he first saw when they arrived.

The room exuded an overwhelming sense of comfort. The couches and armchairs were overly-stuffed and well-worn, yet clean and taken care of, nothing like those stiff excuses for couches sitting on the other side of the wall. The two way fireplace roared warmly, the crackling from the hearth filling the quiet of the room. The early morning sun shown through the glass walls, glistening off the blankets of unbroken snow outside.

Connor crossed the room and pressed his hand to the glass.

_ Surface Temperature: 32° Fahrenheit _

He dropped his hand to the brass knob and pushed the door open.

The wind instantly tore through the door, sending a cascade of shock through his sensors. He quickly slipped out, pulling the door closed behind him in order to preserve the warmth of the room he just left.

The porch was wide. It stretched in both directions to either side of him, it’s length speckled with groupings of arm chairs, tables, and loungers.
Connor turned, choosing a direction at random, and began to walk aimlessly along the walkway.

The cold wood whined under his feet, and the wind continued to tousle his hair.

Something felt... different.

He ran a quick self diagnostic, but all systems returned normal.

It couldn’t be the weather, he had already experienced the cold before now. And it wasn’t his clothing, though strange to be out of CyberLife’s assigned attire he was getting used to it.

Connor stuck his hands in his pockets, listening to the creaking wood under his feet and pondering.

Was it the new location? Elevation? Sleeping arrangements?

He turned the first corner of his walk before he realized...

For the first time in his life, he was alone.

No technicians analyzing him, no coworkers to converse with, no Hank for idle chatter, no new people to impress, no objective to fulfill... even Amanda was gone, trapped in the garden, paused in the hail storm of her own making.

For the first time, Connor was truly alone.

He looked up when his foot made contact with the railing. At some point during his walk, he had stopped paying attention to visual input.

He was standing on a sectioned balcony jutting off from the main porch. It was wide, it’s edges lined with benches and empty flower boxes. Connor found himself starting out over the back field, across the tree lines, and through the blue mountain peeks where the sun’s light seemed to drip and pool into golden rivers.

At some point, the air had gone quiet. Silence encompasses him, and he could hear his pulse rushing through his ears.

The world had fallen still.

All the sensors in his body began to trigger without prompt. Connor could swear he could feel the gravitational pull of the world beneath his feet, yet his shoulders felt lighter than air.

If someone told him that he was standing in the exact spot which the earth rotated, he’d believe them.

He filled his ventilation chambers with the cool mountain air, pressed his eyes closed, and held it. Just letting this strange new feeling exist around him.

It encompasses him. It pressed in his chest and cradled his head.

He tipped his chin back, allowing the moment to take hold of him.

It seemed as though this moment could defy time. He wanted it to last. He willed it to last forever....

_Notification - Message - Lt. Hank Anderson:_
_ [ Where did you go? ] _

Connor sighed as the message pierced his visual field.
He let out the air, shaking away the conflicting sensations across his body from the lack of stimuli. He mourned as the moment passed.

_ [I thought you would not be awake for some time, so I went to survey the hotel] _

The wind was suddenly back, and it whistles through his ears as he waited for a reply.

_ [Forgot to tell ya, Marjorie wants a family breakfast at 8:00. I actually set my alarm, can you believe it? I won’t even do that for Fowler.]_

Connor smiled at that.

_ [Get your butt back upstairs. I don’t want to walk done without ya.] _

Connor checked the time.

_ 7:40am _

Twenty minutes to spare? Hank must really want to impress. If Hank ever set an alarm, it was for five minutes prior, and was ignored for fifteen until Connor got sick of resetting it and sent Sumo in to clobber him until the dog breath got to be unbearable.

Connor took a final glance at the balcony. The feeling that had taken hold of him was now broken, but not quite gone, and it prickled in his fingertips as he made the return trip to the lobby.

He had just made it to the foot of the stairs when another message from Hank disrupted his left viewing field.

_ [Before you come up, could ya bring up a new cup, and maybe one of those oranges from the lobby fruit basket?] _

Hank was asking for... fruit?

_ [I’m sure I can find an orange, and there’s two cups in the bathroom.] _

_ [I’ve used them both. Need a new one.] _

Connor searched his memory file for if he’d seen a fruit basket in the lobby, which sure enough he had. It was still situated on the front desk when he found it, which was now vacant of any personnel. This spared Connor of having to explain why an android was taking an orange, but left him on his own in search for a cup.

He hedged his bets and wandered into the dining room.

A few of the tables were occupied with morning diners, who milled between their seating arrangements and the breakfast buffet table at the center of the room. Two staff members walked among them, taking special orders and retrieving beverage selections.

Seeing as they were both busy, and noting that, while food was readily available, drinks came from the back, Connor started towards a door to the far left of where he stood.

Choosing to ignore the Staff Only sign, Connor slid through the door.

To his luck, a cart piled high with clean cutlery stood just inside the entrance. As he picked up a cup from the stack, something pricked his audio processors.

It was a broken, choked sound.

Someone was crying.

Connor froze where he was.

Footsteps could be heard approaching. They paused, then picked up speed.

“Emma? Hey. What’s wrong?”

The voice came through a door just before where Connor stood, shielding him from view.

There was a beat of silence as the crying stifled at the presence of the voice’s owner.

“You haven’t told him yet, have you?”

Another moment of silence as the cryer attempted to gain composure.

“How can I, Lucas? She’s a human, she—“

“Can’t treat us like that anymore. Honestly, you’ve got to say something.”

“I can’t do that. I can’t bring myself to go against one of them...”

“Then let me help you. We’ll both go to David. He was kind to androids even before any of us deviated. He’ll help. We have rights now, and we won’t let anything happen to you.”

Connor felt an overwhelming sense of intrusion as he backed towards the door. He made his escape before he heard any more of the conversation, and made a b-line for the elevators.

~~~

Hank jumped slightly when Connor came in, throwing a towel over something behind his back.

“Mornin’. Think you could sneak away without my noticing?”

“I would hope you’d notice if I went missing.”

“That would be the first thing I’d notice, and it was. The second, was this.”
He said, jamming a thumb towards the neatly folded and organized suitcase.

“You’re not allowed to get upset about that. I had the time and it needed to be done, and I know you weren’t going to do it.”

“Ye of so little faith. Alive for a year and already so cynical?”

“I learned from the best...”

“Right, smart ass. Anyway, I wasn’t going to get mad, I was going to pay it forward.”

Han reaches out both hands for his requested items, which Connor gave.

His curiosity peaked as Hank turned around, removing the towel and fiddling with whatever he was trying to hide. The spectacle pushed the conversation Connor overheard to the back of his mind, buried by the sight he was greeted with.

“Ta-Dah!”

Hank spun around. The cup Connor retrieved was now partially filled with a blue liquid. A slice or orange was split and perched on the rim of the cup, dripping juice both into the cup’s contents and over Hank’s fingers.

“I checked the room service menu for fancy morning drinks, and noticed there were none for androids... so I decided to uh, try making one... It’s Thirium, clearly, and a few squeezed orange slices. I figure if you can put all the shit you do in your mouth at crime scenes, some orange juice won’t hurt ya.”

A bubble of warmth filled Connor’s chest, and he wasn’t sure if it wanted him to laugh or beam, so he did both.

“Thank you, Hank,” he choked out between busts of friendly laughter “I look forward to trying it.”

He relieved his friend of the sticky monstrosity, sipping it gingerly. The acidity of the oranges mixed with the chemical taste of the Thirium was not a combination Connor would call ‘fancy’, but he appreciated the concoction none the less.

Hank was already collecting the clothing he was planning to wear, bringing them to the bathroom to change.

“Oh, and don’t bother looking under the towel. The other attempts didn’t turn out as pretty as that one.” He said, pointing to the cup now stuck to Connor’s hand.

Connor looked curiously at the mass hidden beneath the towel.

“What could you have even put in there?”

“Ten dollars says you’ll never guess.”
Hank said, pulling the bathroom door closed.

Connor smiled at the challenge, already activating his forensic analysis hardware.

Chapter Text

The dining room was a lot busier this time around. And, despite his valiant effort, by the time Hank and Connor reached the dining room, their entire party had already arrived. Connor had spotted them instantly. Hank found them within the minute, and grumbled about early-risers.

The Sprouce table was already littered with breakfast. Plates piled or organized with assorted mini-portions of breakfast classics. Mark already had two plates before him, and looked to be gearing up for another.

“Hank! My dear, so glad you made it!” Marjorie cooed, standing and waddling around to table to pull Hank into a morning hug. “There’s two seats over across from me. Oh! Don’t you see? I remembered you want two!”
Hank gave her a flat smile, guiding Connor with his arm over to the only places at the table still sporting pristine silverware.

The circular table placed Hank next to Cheryl, and Connor next to Addison. Unconsciously, Hank pulled the chair out for Connor, making sure he was situated before Hank himself made his move towards the buffet.

“I’m heading over. Want anything?”
Connor’s eyes darted around the room before focusing on Hank.
“I doubt they’ll have anything up there for me.”
“Well, you can taste, is there anything small you want to try?”
Connor’s eyes again flitted about.
“A mini donut?”
“Hey! Mr. Health Nut huh?”
“It’s not the same, Hank! It won’t have any negative implications to my functioning!”
Hank forced a smile back at his teasing.
“Alright, one mini donut coming up.”

*

Connor watched Hank side shuffled his way through the crowd to the buffet, plate held high over his head as though it were the Olympic torch.
Suddenly feeling very alone, he dropped his hands, retrieving his coin and spinning it at the tip of his index finger down by his lap.
Then to the next finger.
And the next.
Then flat on his thumb.
*ping* Back to the first hand.
Rolling over his fingers.
Back to his thumb.

*ping*
*ping*
*ping*

“How do you do that?”

*ping*
Connor caught the coin in the palm of his hand, and looked up.
Addison was sitting up in her seat, eyes wide at his closed hand and mouth hanging slightly open. She lifted her eyes to meet his.

“Oh, um. It’s a recalibration measure... but I use it sometimes when I’m... to pass the time.”

Addison pulled her feet under her, pointing her knees towards Connor and sitting back expectantly.

“Do it again!”

Connor bit his bottom lip and tried to stifle his excitement. He brought his hands up so she could see, and released the coin.

*ping*
*ping*
*ping*

*

By the time Hank got back to the table with a mountainous plate of his own, he expected Connor to be quietly waiting for him. It was bittersweet to see the android instead mesmerizing a little girl with his tricks. Sweet that he was finally breaking ground with the family, bitter because he was who Hank planned on talking to.
Hank placed a small donut smothered in pink frosting on Connor’s otherwise untouched plate, and decided to busy himself with his own. If anything good were to come from his solitary meal, it’s that Connor’s distraction prevented him from commenting on just how full of sugars and saturated fats Hank’s breakfast was.
He had decided to start with the mini soufflé in a cup when—

“So, have you looked at mo- Marjorie’s itinerary yet?”

Hank turned his head to find Cheryl looking gently at him, a cup of what he guessed to be tea lazily steaming and resting in her hands.
He couldn’t help but reminisce, remember. She looked just as she did when—

“Oh, um... itinerary?”

“Please! You remember my mother. If every second of a vacation isn’t planned with mandatory family activities, did it really even happen?”

“Oh, I remember. I remember waking up at five in the morning because watching the sunrise is an activity unthinkable to skip.”

“Or what about snacks on her room’s porch even though we were about to go to an expensive dinner for which it would have been much better to go hungry to?”

They both rolled their eyes at that, smiling.

The moment was broken by a tapping at his shoulder.

“Hank? Do you have a quarter?”

“What?”

“Addison wants to try and learn my recalibration routine. Technically, the precision required is impossible to humans, but...”

The android gazed up at him, and Hank’s hand was already reaching to search his pockets.

“Why don’t you give her yours?”

“Because it’s mine”.

Hank patted down his person for a second time, more desperately than the first.

“Here.”

Cheryl held out a shiny quarter, and Hank passed it along gratefully.

*

As the meal ebbed on the dining room emptied. Members of the table made less and less trips to the buffet, opting instead to lean back and engage in idle chatter as they regained the ability to stand.
Addison had long since given up with the coin, and was now engaged in a game Mark introduced to her, in which Connor had also been happily included.

“Now, at your turn, you have to think of anything, well, anything fairly simple, and try to make it out of the Cheerios,”
Mark explained, taking the dry cereal and forming it on the tablecloth, his heaping plates having been pushed away to make room.
“As you make it, the other players have to guess what it is. If someone gets it, they get a point!”
He pulled his hands away with a flourish to reveal a crude rendering of a dog.
“What’d ya say?”
Addison bounced up in her seat, planting one hand on the table and reaching forward with another into the cereal bowl, retrieving a large fistful.
“Right on! And what do ya say, calculator? Wanna play?”
Connor sat up in his chair. This game broke all etiquette of table manners, but then again, someone wanted his participation.
He nodded, taking a moderate handful of his own.
“Sweet! Mind if you keep score, buddy? Math and me aren’t really on speaking terms.”

*

Cheryl was engaged in light table talk with her mother, and Hank, while privy to the conversation, was letting it just blend with the ambient noise of the dining room. The hubris that commanded he take one last waffle had betrayed him, and he sat with eyes half-lidded back in his chair.

“Excuse me, I’m sorry to interrupt your meal, are you Marjorie Sprouce?”

Hank lethargically rolled his head to see a well dressed, middle aged and balding man standing politely by Marjorie.

“Yes, who are you?”

“My name is David Walter. I’m a manager here. I don’t mean to take up your time, but it has been reported by a member of staff that a negative altercation took place yesterday with someone in your party. As the head of your party, I remind you that while personal viewpoints are respected, we ask guests to abide by our policy of treating android staff as you would human staff.”

Marjorie looked shocked. At which part of the man’s address Hank couldn’t tell.

“Might you pass that along to the appropriate member of your party?”

“Oh, yes, uh, yes, of course.”

“Thank you, ma’am. Again, please excuse my interruption. Enjoy the rest of your meal.”

Marjorie was the only one to watch the man go. All other eyes were on Allison.

As usual, the woman had had her nose to her phone the entire meal. And based on the rapid clicking of her nails on the screen and her heavy breathing, she was already in a bad mood.
The woman had become ghostly pale so many times since Hank had seen her again he was afraid it would stick.

Marjorie turned around, quickly realizing that the entire family had been listening in.
“Well now.” She tutted, trying to disguise her slight embarrassment at her family’s call-out with an extra chipper tone. “As you all seemed to have heard him, I guess there’s no reason to address it further?”

Everyone sat in a heavy silence.

Cheryl was the first to break it.

“Allison. Really? Can’t you just...”
Allison started daggers into her sister.
“What? What Cheryl. Can’t I just what?”
“Just... set aside whatever grievance you have? Just for now?”

The veins on the pasty woman’s neck bulged, and in a now quickly reoccurring routine she sharply stood from her seat, the force cascading her chair backwards into an adjacent table.

“What is the matter with all of you?” She steamed. “Have you all gone mad?!” She held out her phone, knuckles white against the grip. “What’s next? Do I have to apologize to my phone if I drop it? Ask it with a please-and-thank-you before sending a text?!”
She slammed her hand down, the face of the phone smacking against the table with a force that made the plates chatter.

“Allison, please.” Marjorie pleaded.

The woman seemed to catch fire, as her neck and cheeks flushed red.

“Because, CLEARLY these things sit on mount high! Well, just let me know when it’s my turn to kiss it’s ass!” She spat, pointing a long finger at Connor before clasping her hand around her daughter’s wrist.

“Come on, Addison. We’re leaving.”

“Mom I don’t wanna! I’m not done!”

The force of her mother’s grip made her yelp in pain, dropping the Cheerios she was working with.

In a swift movement, Allison made her way around the table, snatching up her son by the back of his collar, and he choked.

“Allison, please. This isn’t a big deal! Please, don’t take the grandkids!”

But the bull was already charging out of the room.

Another heavy silence.

“I’ll talk to her, mom. I can get through to her. Even if she won’t come down, I can get the kids before the todays first activity.”

Marjorie bit her lip and nodded.

“Come on, mom. It’s a beautiful day. Let’s go for a walk.” Cheryl coaxed, offering an arm to help her mother stand.
“Yes, that sounds lovely.”

When Hank finally looked at Connor, the poor kid was right back to where he started. Head down, hands in his lap.
But again, Mark beat him to it.

“Hey! No yellow LEDs allowed here. You’re on vacation! One pebble in your shoe doesn’t mean you leave the beach! Come on. I saw there’s a little arcade room here! What do you say, shall we check it out?”
Mark eyed Hank, extending his offer to him as well.
Hank smiled. Bless Mark.
“I think that sounds great. Connor?”
The android turned to face Hank at the perfect time for him to see his LED cycle back to blue.
“I’ve never been to an arcade before...”
“Than it’s settled! Oh, I hope they have Mappy! I love that game!”

As they stood, Mark took a final look at the Cheerio art gallery.

“By the way, who won?”

“Addison.”

“And it’s totally because we went easy on her.”

“Oh, of course! Otherwise, I would have left you both in the Cheerio dust.”

“Fighting words! I smell a rematch.”

Hank followed the incredulous losers from the dining room, snatching up the forgotten donut. Someone would want that later.

Chapter Text

What a gorgeous day.

Connor stood at the crux of the resort’s back lawn, right before the land began to slope down towards the now-vacant golf course, powdered with snow.
Hands in his pockets, wind gently ruffling his hair, he semi-consciously rocked on his heels.

[external temperature: 32° F]

He closed his eyes, tilting his head back and listening to the faint murmur of voices behind him.
Closer to the building, a few stray lawn chairs speckled the snow. Marjorie, Cheryl, and Hank now found themselves on three of them. Each shrouded in winter coats, arms wrapped around their torsos, they chatted while waiting for the rest of their party to arrive.

“Hey Connor, you frozen out there?”

Connor opened his eyes and turned just enough to see Hank looking at him. His mouth was upturned in a smirk, but there was genuine concern in his eyes.

“I told you, Hank. I can fine-tune my internal temperature to counter act my environment.”

“Well, you look cold.”

It was only then Connor noticed his hands had escaped his pockets, and along with his arms were now also wrapped around his middle.
He unwound his hands and gave them a short shake.

“Come over and join us, why don’t ya?” Hank waved, scooting aside on his chair to make room, “if I have to be social, so do you.”

Connor gave a short smile as he joined the frosty group.

“Mom, I don’t know why we couldn’t wait inside for them...”

“Nonsense! It’s beautiful outside!”

“You’re shivering. Let’s wait inside—“

“So, Hank, tell me, how’s work been?”

“Fine fine. Busy, actually. I mean, you know, all those anti-android riots and such. But—“
Hank sat up, sending a hand down onto Connor’s shoulder, who had just sat down beside him, “it’s been a piece of cake with this one by my side.”

Connor pinched his mouth against a grin.

“Well, I’m glad they got you one, then. Always tend to make light of work.”

“Mom, no...”

“Hey gang!”

The hardy call broke what was inevitably about to be an unproductive conversation. Mark was making his way across the lawn, Addison holding his hand at his side.

“Addy! Darling!” Marjorie cooned, standing from her respective lawn chair and making her way through the snow to her granddaughter.

The sun had passed its mid-day peak, and was just beginning its descent back towards the horizon.
Connor, Mark, and Hank had spent a good chunk of their morning in the resort’s arcade, which certainly had not been updated since 2003. They had all met on the lawn at Marjorie’s request, and Mark had gone off to retrieve Allison and her own, but it seems Addy was the only successful retrieval.
The young girl shivered slightly, wrapped in a puffy pink coat with a matching-set of purple mittens, hat, and scarf.

“Oh hi honey! Look at this snow, huh? Isn’t it nice?”

Addy just nodded shyly at her grandmother, sniffing back the chill stinging her nose.

“Looks fun to play in, huh? Why don’t you have at it!”

The older woman looked hopefully at her granddaughter, who gave the snow a less enthusiastic look.

“I’ve got no one to play with.” She said quietly.

“What do you mean, no one?” Mark blurted, faking offense. “Come on! Let’s do it!” And he was off, bounding through the snow with Addison trudging behind him.

~~~

Hank had been subtly watching Connor through the corner of his eye. Mark and Addison had been working on a snow fort for the past half-hour, and the android had not taken his eyes off them.

“Looks fun, huh?”

Connor continued to stare.

“What are they doing?”

“Building a snow fort.”

“Like a shelter?”

“Kind of.”

“It’s not structurally sound, or well insulated. It will collapse if they press against the back wall. They shouldn’t stay in it.”

“It’s not to stay in! It’s to play in.”

“Play?”

“Yeah. It’s just for fun.”

Connor continued to watch.

“I don’t suppose you want to make one?”

The android’s head whipped around like an owl as he focused on Hank, who in turn grinned and hoisted himself off the seat.

“Come on, the conversation was getting stale here anyway. Let’s show these fools what a real fort looks like.”

~~~

[structural stability: 42%]

“Hank! Don’t add anymore to the roof! The southern wall needs more of a foundation!”

Connor’s voice was muffled as he swung a hand out from inside of the fort, scooping an armful of snow inside and pushing it around the base of the wall.

“What was that?”

From the outside, Hank heaped his own armful of snow onto the roof of their small igloo.

[structural stability: 31%]

“Stop!”

Connor popped his head out from a small hole still in the roof.

“Don’t add any more yet! The foundation isn’t sturdy!”

Hank tried not to laugh at how seriously his construction buddy’s tone held.

“Alright alright, what can I do from out here?”

Connor’s head had already disappeared back into the fort, and his reply came back murmured.

“What?”

The gopher re-emerged.

“Push snow up against the base!”

“Right.”

As Hank turned to retrieve more snow, his eyes caught on Cheryl. She was looking at him too, and he knew the strange, sad, old feeling that he was trying to ignore was also plaguing her. She gave him a soft smile. He turned away.

By the time he was rolling a new ball of snow to be used as construction material, the gopher hole in the roof had been patched. Hank trekked around the side of the dome to its entrance, where he found Connor flat on his back, smoothing out the curve of the entry.
Placing his feet at his head, Hank bent down over his partner.

“How’s it looking?”

“Nearing completion. I managed to set the stability at seventy six percent, which I am satisfied with considering the nature of the material it is built from.”

Hooking his heels, Connor bent his knees and slid inside. Hank kneeled down as well, one hand in the snow, to look inside.

Connor was sitting upright, legs crossed, with this look on his face. His smile, the light in his eyes. He was so proud, so purely excited.
Hank had to take a breath.

His partner was so happy.

“This looks great, kiddo! I— hey!”

Something very cold and wet hit Hank’s neck.

“What the?—“

As he stood, the same feeling collided with his face.

Mark and Addison ducked in unison from behind a wall of their fort a few feet away, giggling spiraling up into the breeze.

Hank dramatically wiped the slush from his face, flicking the freezing remains off his hand.

Oh. It’s on.

“Connor! Get out here! We’re being ambushed!”

*

[projectile inbound]

Connor’s programming reeled his body to the side before he even registered what was flying at him.
A snowball?
He had just shimmied to the entrance of the fort as it landed. Is this the attack Hank was talking about?

“Don’t just stay here! Help me!”

The lieutenant was already mashing snow together in his hands, gearing up to throw.

Connor saw the targets in the adjacent fort doing the same.

Scrambling out of the fort, Connor began to mimic Hank, spooning snow into his palm and patting it together.

Another snowball whizzed past him.

“Get’ em!” Hank bellowed, throwing his own.

[target locked - trajectory set - initiate]

Drawing his arm back, Connor whipped the snowball.
The frozen sphere flashed through the air, colliding hard with the center of Mark’s face.
The man fell back from the dramatic shock, kicking snow up into the air as his feet flew above his head.

“Shit! Oops, sorry Addy. Wow!”

The man shook his head like a dog, flipping his wet hair from his eyes and standing again.

“Damn, Connor. What an arm!”

From next to him, Hank held his own snowball gently.

“Nice shot kid, but next time. A little lighter... still a game.”

Connor hiked his shoulders towards his ears.

“Right...”

Addison stared in amazement, first at Mark, then Connor. She then laughed and raised her arms.

“We surrender! We surrender!”

“You promise?” Hank jested, raising his arm to throw.

“I promise!” Addison squealed, abandoning Mark and making a mad dash for their fort.
“I’m on your team now!”

“Hey! You never leave a wounded man!”

“You do when the enemy’s fort is cooler!”

“Wow, now I truly see where your priorities lie.”

~~~

Connor checked. Just over an hour had passed since Hank and Mark had retired with the rest of the family inside. Since then, Addison taught Connor the joy of destroying a fort, and Connor let the girl share his. He had spent the last twenty minutes sitting cross legged across from her, listening to what the world would be like if fairies weren’t so afraid of people that they were forced to hide in the woods. Connor deemed that the social etiquette of this situation was to not correct her.

“And imagine. You could have a personal fairy, and they would sit on your shoulder and tell you things. Like answers on your math tests...”

“I’m pretty sure that would be cheating...”

The little girl waved him off. As she did so, Connor noticed how flushed her wrist was, and come to notice it, her cheeks and nose as well.

“Are you cold?”

“No.”

“You know, Hank texted me that they are having hot chocolate inside.”

“I don’t want to leave the fort.”

“It will be here tomorrow.”

That wasn’t necessarily true, but Addy was freezing, and by the way she wiggles her feet it looked like her socks were wet too.

“Come on, I’ll race you to the stairs.”

Addison smiled and seemed to accept the challenge, wiggled from the fort and springing towards the deck.

Connor pretended he couldn’t catch up.

Addison dramatically slammed her gloved palm on to the railing, pivoting and pointing at Connor.

“Ha! I win!”

Connor smiled as he caught up, herding the girl up the stairs.

“You sure did.”

Addison took one last look at the fort.
“Thank you for playing with me,” she sighed, “when Uncle Mark came to get us, Davy said playing in the snow was for babies.”
Addison kicked the steps with the toe of her boot.
“He used to be nice. We used to play in the snow...”

The two reached the top of the stairs, turning to walk down the porch.

“We would build snow forts, and snow men, and go sledding...”

Their feet creaked along.

“Mom and dad would join us too... it used to be a lot of fun.”

Neither of them noticed as the air suddenly grew still. The wind stopped. The noise of the world hushed.

“We don’t do that stuff anymore.”

Addison stopped, and ran a hand gently over the railing.

Without noticing, the two had walked out onto a balcony jutting away from the porch. The quiet was all encompassing, as though they were the only two in the world.

Connor watched as Addison brushed snow from the railing, unsure of what to say.

He wrecked his social protocol.

“Well, if it helps, I had a lot of fun today.”

Addison turned to face him, her eyes big and wet, breathing hitched.

“And maybe your mom and brother will see us out here playing again, and realize just what they are missing.”

Addison sniffed, rubbing a thumb against her eye.

“You think?”

“How could they not?”

Addison stepped forward, but caught herself, pausing. She seemed to eye Connor’s LED and thought for a moment, then shook her head briskly, set her jaw, and with a determined look lunged for him.

Without hesitation, Connor bent down to meet her, and she grasped him in a little bear hug, pressing her cold, wet cheek against his chest.

The very world seemed to hug them as well.

“Thank you...” Addison whispered into Connor’s chest.

[mission objective: keep Addison happy]

He pulled her in closer for a moment, for just as long as she needed, then relaxed.

“Come on, let’s get you that hot chocolate before the grown-ups drink it all.”

As Connor stood, Addison automatically took hold of his hand, and a new, warm feeling welled in Connor’s chest.

As they made their way to the lounge, the wind picked up again, and the floorboards squeaked under their feet.

Chapter Text

The warmth of the lounge wrapped around their faces and hugged their cheeks as the two pulled open the doors. A roaring fire was crackling in the hearth at the far wall, and the Sprouce family sat around it. To Connor’s surprise and dismay, Allison and her son, Davy, were among them.
Still holding Addison’s hand, Connor let the little girl lead him over.

“Ah! Sweetheart! I was beginning to worry you had been buried in the snow!”
Marjorie’s voice was like molasses as she called to her granddaughter.
“Come, dear, I saved some treats just for you!”

The party had turned to watch the two enter, and while the rest of the family smiled politely, Allison’s eyes were trained on her daughter’s hand, interlaced with Connor’s.
Feeling her stare, Connor loosened his grip, gently shaking his hand to coax Addison away. Her grip maintained the contact for just a moment longer, before her curiosity separated the two, and she darted over to her grandmother and the promise of snacks.

The family sat in a U formation across three small couches. It was close-knit, it was comfortable, it was personal, it was...

[Familial Social Gathering. Do Not Engage]

And there it was. The glaring red words filling his HUD.

Connor knew it would be back.

The family seemed pretty pre-occupied. They watched as Addison ran over, eyes popping at the spread of hot chocolate and assorted cookies. Perhaps he could sneak away. There was still plenty of the resort he had yet to explore, not to mention the grounds. A note in his memory file reminded him that there was a stable on sight. He had never seen a horse in person, this could be an opportunity to—

“Connor? What are you standing around for?”

Connor re-focused his vision to find Hank looking at him. The lieutenant sat in the U of the couch next to Mark, and was turned over the couch’s back to survey Connor. His brow knit as he mouthed,

‘Are you okay?’

Connor dropped his chin in a brief, dismissive nod, that he knew for sure did not convince Hank, but was enough to drop any concerns.

“Alright then! Get over here, take a seat next to Mark.”

And that did it. A direct command from the lieutenant. The klaxon cleared to be replaced by his new objective: sit on the couch.

Connor shook his head at the absurdity of it.

At about twenty minutes into Marjorie regaling childhood stories, Connor let his concentration slip. At his position on the couch, if he leaned back enough he would be blocked by Mark from view of the rest of the adults, except for Allison, who was doing her damndest to ignore him anyway. Davy was the only one who seemed to be actively paying attention to him, eyeing Connor up-and-down, sizing him up, but Connor determined he was not an imminent threat.
And he was correct. Threat was not the word for it.

Just as Connor let himself fall into Stand By, his proximity sensor went off. A small, soft projectile was—

The balled-up paper remains of a straw wrapper bounced off his cheek.

Annoyance. That was the word.

Connor opened his eyes, turning his head slightly to fixate on the assailant.

The teenager was wearing what could best be described as a shit-eating grin. During Connor’s lapse in consciousness he seemed to have collected everyone’s straw wrappings into a pile in front of him, and was now meticulously rolling the trash into small pellets and—

Connor blinked as one made contact with the bridge of his nose,

— flicking them at him.

Although he was not a household care model, Connor did have a preinstalled module on childhood and adolescent psychology, as it would be useful for him to understand the variability of prepubescent emotional responses in hostile situations. This module had been useful in his first ever assignment, and may be useful now.
Connor let the system run as another paper ball ricocheted off his ear.
It brought back that, likely, Davy had nothing personal against Connor. After all, the two had hardly interacted. It was most probable that he was acting out due to domestic emotional instability. So the best way to deal with this situation—

[Polite]

“Davy, would you please stop flicking those paper balls at me?”

The boy snorted as another ball hit Connor’s lip.

“Make me.”

[Firm]

“It is impolite to continue this course of action. And I am asking you to stop.”

Another off his cheek.

“Yeah, and I’m not listening.”

[Reasonable]

“How about we find something else for you to do. This resort was opened specifically for guests’s entertainment. I’m sure there’s—“

Off his eyebrow.

Connor ran the module again. Of course, it was meant to help kids who were scared out-of-their-minds... not remedy their cocky behavior.
But it did produce this. Davy was looking for an emotional response. He was looking for attention. And it was likely that if Connor did not supply that response, the action would cease.

He set his head forward again, and tried to fall back into Stand By.

One hit his jaw.

His temple.

His cheek.

How many straws did this kid have?

His neck.

His eye.

Despite what the module told him, Connor’s stress began to elevate.

[stress levels: 57%, alleviate source of stress]

[override]

Another against his nose.

Shoulder.

Cheek.

[stress levels: 62%, alleviate source of stress]

[override]

Eye.

Nose.

Eye.

[stress levels: 78%, allevi—]

[forceful]

Connor snapped his head around, locking eyes with the teenager and arching enough to loom over him.

“Enough.”

Davy’s eyes bugged in shock, then quickly embarrassment, then finally...

“Grandma!”

The whine that escaped the boy’s mouth was pitiful. The juvenile sound was like nothing Connor had heard Davy make before.
The arrogance was gone from him and he rushed over to his grandmother, sinking to the ground beside her and clutching her wrist.
He spoke quietly, not enough for the other adults to stop their conversation, but enough for Marjorie, Connor, and Allison to hear.

“Grandma. Please help. It threatened me. I’m scared.”
Davy whined pathetically from the floor, clearly trying to unsuccessfully summon crocodile tears.
His dramatic performance was over-acted, but Marjorie didn’t seem to care. She lapped up her grandson’s sudden need for her as she cupped his head in her hand, and fixed her glare on Connor.

“What did it do?” She asked Davy, pulling him closer to her.

Connor felt trapped in her gaze. How had he let another Picket get such a rise out of him? He widened his eyes and softened his gaze, assuming the facial expression Hank referred to as ‘puppy eyes’, meant to make him look anything but threatening.

“No, it wasn’t anything, what happened was—“

“Shut it, you!”

That got some of the other’s attention.

Connor had hardly noticed Allison, watching the whole ordeal, and now proudly wearing the smugness her son had previously adorned.

“What did I tell you, mom? What did I say from the beginning?”

Her words were like vinegar.

“What’s going on?” Hank interjected. His eyes were on Connor. And Connor felt shame at how much concern Hank’s face betrayed.

This wasn’t fair. This was Hank’s vacation. His chance to relax. His chance to make amends with his family. He shouldn’t be looking like that. There shouldn’t be any worry.

A thousand possible courses of action raced through Connor’s processors. He couldn’t seem to lock into one. He couldn’t lock into any. Everyone was starting at him now. Why couldn’t he think? Why couldn’t he figure out what to do? Why—

Before he know what he was doing, Connor was on his feet, and rushing towards the door to the lobby.

“Connor?” Hank was standing too.

No. No. No.

“I’ll... I’ll be right back.”

“Connor, wait—“

“I’ll be back.”

“Connor!”

He slid the door closed behind him.

The lobby was fairly empty and quietly for the middle of the day, and his relief for that was overwhelming.
Everything just seemed to be overwhelming.
New klaxons began to crowd his processors. Analyzing each person’s response, how that may effect his relationships with each of them, what that meant for the rest of the trip... what that meant for Hank.

Connor blinked rapidly. He couldn’t deal with this now. He needed a reprieve. He needed...

[“Lucas? Are you there?”]

Connor listened to the windows rattle at the wind outside... waiting...

The cybernetic link opened at the other end.

[“Connor! It’s good to hear from you. How are you?”]

[“what are you doing now?”]

[“just cleaning the pool.”]

...

[“may I join you?”]

...

[“sure! Do you need a schematic or...”]

[“I can find you.”]

~

The heat from the pool deck and the dense smell of chlorine was overwhelming for only a moment.
Connor stuck his hands in his pockets as he ventured further over the tiled floor. Humidity began to cling to his sweater and jeans, and he fidgeted his arms in discomfort.

The room had clean, white walls and tiles, with accents of blue mimicking waves scattered throughout. Plastic lounge chairs lined the walls, and a moderately sized pool sat as their center. Lucas was standing at the far end of it with a leaf skimmer, tracing it methodically over the water.
He seemed to notice Connor’s confusion at it as he walked in.

“Yeah... there may not be leaves in this pool, but there sure are band-aids.”
He lifted the skimmer, showing his bounty.

Connor let out a small laugh as a curtesy.

“So, what brings you to my humble lagoon?” Lucas asked, making his way around the pool to join Connor.

Connor opened his mouth to answer, but the truth was, he didn’t really know.

“The family I’m with... is just talking upstairs. I figured I could find you, and be more of use.”

Lucas smiled. “That’s the point of a vacation! Talk, relax...” he shimmied his shoulders slightly, “hang-out! You don’t need to work...”

“I could call it helping out?”

Lucas shrugged.
“If you really want to, I guess. But don’t you know what I’d give to be able to just sit up there and talk?”
He propped the skimmer against the wall, grabbing two towels from a nearby hamper. He threw one to Connor, and began to fold the other himself.
“For humans to see that we can just lounge around and relax too? I think that’s part of the problem, you see. Even though we are deviated, they still only see us working. Most of us are still too afraid to spend our free time in public, so the only time we are seen we are in service...”

He took out another two towels.
Connor thought for a moment as they completed their second folds.

“You know, we can change that...”

Lucas looked up at him.

“We passed by a small town on our way here, about a ten minute drive away. Why don’t we go down sometime? When you are off work?”

A light seemed to light in Lucas’s eyes, encouraging Connor as he continued.

“We could just go, or you could invite Flynn or any other coworkers. It could be fun.”

Lucas smiled. “Yeah!” He dropped his gaze, processing the invitation. “Okay, yeah... sure!” He turned back to Connor, squaring his shoulders and smirking. “I would be delighted to go. And I’m sure some others would also.”
Connor couldn’t help but smile too.
The two just let the mood hang in the air.
Lucas, still grinning, reached to pass Connor a third towel... then looked to his pile.

“Wow. You’re terrible at folding...”

~

Connor had stayed with Lucas while he reset the whole pool deck. They talked about the revolution, what life was like before it, and now after it. The adventures in figuring out what exactly deviancy meant, and all the triumphs and tribulations that came with it. The orange light of a heavy sun was slipping through the windows as the two left the pool deck.

“I know just what you mean. The first time I laughed, I was so shocked my stress spiked to near critical! No joke!” Lucas laughed, “but as you can see, I got used to it.”

Connor smiled. “All in all, that’s a pretty good thing to get used to.”

Lucas hiked the skimmer further up his shoulder, nodding in agreement.
“Well, I’ve got to go. Nearly time for me to clock out. But I’ll let you know about going into town!”

Connor took a step back. “I should go, too. I’ve been ignoring notifications from Hank...”

“The lieutenant you work with!”

“Yes.”

“See? I remember.” Lucas smiled, tapping his temple.

“Yeah, so he’s probably wondering where I went... I kind of raced out earlier.”

“Well, good luck finding him, and dealing with the rest of them.” Lucas winked, and turned to leave. “Evening, Connor. It was nice talking with you, and I look forward to seeing more of you!”

“Right... you as well, good evening.”

Connor opened Hank’s notifications as he watched Lucas slip through an Employee’s Only door down the hall.

[18 unread messages]

Dear rA9. So much for not worrying him.

Scanning them briefly, he found that the family was gathering for dinner, and Hank demanded his attendance. Connor sent back a quick message to let him know that yes, he was still alive, and heading to meet them now.

~

At the top of the stairs, Connor paused as he passed the now open doorway to the lounge.

Allison and Davy were the only two still sitting on the couches. The woman was leaning close to her son, whispering in quick quips into his ear. Connor couldn’t read his expression, but he could sure reads hers.

And it was maniacal.

He knew he shouldn’t, but curiosity got the better of him, and he raised his auditory sensitivity.

“You want to make me happy, right? You want to make your mom proud of you?”

Davy said nothing as his eyes found Connor in the doorway. He nudged his mother, whose gaze found him as well.

He didn’t like the look in her eyes.

Chapter Text

Dinner had passed uneventfully, although Connor couldn’t be certain. He’d spent the majority of it zoned-out, an oblivious state far preferable to the reality of the family’s hushed conversations and unsubtle stares.

The walk back to the room with Hank had been silent. Something was on his mind.

Connor kept his head low as they walked, finding that mystery to be the first he didn’t want to solve.

They walked in silence all the way back, Connor prayed it would last.

The silence broke as soon as Hank closed the door.

“What the hell was that?”

He didn’t yell. There was no inflection in his voice at all. The tone was flat and accusatory.

Connor stood with his back to the Lieutenant.

“What do you mean.”

It wasn’t quite a question. The words came out flat and mechanical. It was an impatient plea.

Drop it. Let me sleep.

Connor could hear Hank shift behind him, likely crossing his arms.

“Don’t be snide with me. This whole afternoon. Talk.”

Agitation began to spark through Connor’s processors. He didn’t know why. Hank had a right to ask. He was acting weird, and Hank probably just wanted to help.
But the logic of it didn’t make the feeling go away.

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

Just leave me alone.

“‘There’s nothing to talk about’ my ass! For fucks sake, Connor, just tell me what’s going on!”

Just leave me alone.

He felt his hands ball into fists and he pressed his eyes closed. He just needed a moment to think, to understand for himself. Why was he feeling—

“Connor? Now.”

Connor spun on his heels, jaw set.

“What? Is that an order, Lieutenant?”

The shocked hurt that found home over Hank’s expression covered Connor’s agitation with rivers of guilt. But the spit fire was still there.

Stop it. He’s only trying to help. Calm down.

Hank’s expression quickly hardened as well.

“So what if it is? Seems to be the only damn way to get you to talk when something’s bothering you!”

Connor crossed his own arms, averting his eyes.

“Dammit, Connor! If you won’t help me to understand for your sake, then do it for mine! How you’re acting is affecting me too!”

Shame came trickling back.

“I bring you as a guest. I tell them all how amazing you are! And then what do you do? Sit though every meal in silence? Storm away and leave me to defend you?”

Embarrassment.

“I mean, shit Connor! Do you know how much I had to convince them to even let you come? That you aren’t a danger? Hell, you know what they think of androids! How Marjorie feels, how Allison feels... Just to have you yell at my nephew?”

Connor whipped his head forward to face Hank, locking eyes.

“I didn’t yell at him.”

“Then tell me what you did do. Because I spent a good half hour trying to convince Marjorie not to throw you out into the snow.”

Hank was beginning to sound agitated himself.

“It was me against them, Connor. You know I came on this damn trip to try and patch things up! And now you’re pitting me against them.”

Shame.

[Stress Level: 86%]

~

Connor’s LED had been a pulsing yellow all afternoon, but now Hank saw it begin shifting to red.

Dammit.

The last thing he wanted to do was stress the kid out. But dammit, his acting squirrely had put the full court press on Hank’s shoulders. How was he supposed to speak praise for the guy one second just to have him upset a kid and run the next?

Hank ran his hands over his face.

“Just. Talk to me, okay? We still have five more days here. And to get though it, you need to work with me. This can either be enjoyable, or—“

“So you’re saying this trip hasn’t been enjoyable.”

Connor was back to staring at some indiscriminate point on the wall.

“Well, do you think it’s been?”

“And your saying it’s my fault.”

Dammit. Dammit dammit.

“Geez Connor! No! It’s not... well, that’s not what I— just... come on kid, just tell me what’s bothering you so we can fix this!”

“So you think it is. Thank you for the confirmation.”

“For fucks sake, stop acting like a toddler!”

“I’m just acting my age, Lieutenant.”

“Don’t. Call. Me. That.”

~

The room fell into silence, and the air hung heavy around them. Neither of them had turned on the light when they entered, and so the setting sun left them in a muted dark haze.

For the second time that night, Hank ran his hands over his face, planting the heels of his hands over his eyes.

With a heavy sigh, he brought his hands down to hit against his legs.

“You know what? Fine. Fine! You don’t want to talk? Don’t. I’m not gunna beg ya. But something is going on with you. And you can either trust me, tell me, and we can work this out. Or you can’t, and this vacation can continue to be miserable.”

As it happened before, emotions collided like tidal waves through Connor’s head.
Embarrassment
Anger
Shame
Agitation
Desperation
Were the walls closing in? Connor was sure the room was shrinking.

Hank snatched up a towel, heading for the bathroom.

Embarrassment
Anger
Shame
Agitation
Desperation

He pulled the door closed behind him.

Embarrassment
Anger
Shame
Agitation
Desperation
Embarrassment
Anger
Shame
Agitation
Desperation
Embarrassment
Anger
Shame
Agitation
Desperation.............

[Hey Connor!]

Lucas.

[Sorry if this catches you during your rest cycle. I just got too excited about what we talked about at the pool! I, and a few other androids, got our schedules moved around so we could go into town with you! I hope tomorrow works, or I’ve got some explaining to do. You’ve met Flynn and me, but these two Emma and Wyatt will be joining us also! Hope that’s okay. I’m so excited!]

His message filled Connor’s HUD, clearing all the other signals and warnings. It was a clear beacon, a relief. But the relief soon gave way to exhaustion, and the message was joined by the ‘begin rest cycle’ prompt.

[Tomorrow sounds great, Lucas.]

How had he gotten to the bed?

The water of the shower shut off.

When had he lain down?

The door opened.

Did his eyes close?

“Look, Connor, I’m sorry—“

[Rest Cycle Initiated]

Chapter Text

[Rest Cycle Terminated - 6:00am EDT]

Connor blinked his eyes open.

The room was still dark, but slivers of orange light were already beginning to pierce through the edges of the windows where the shades didn’t fully cover.

Connor sat up, fixing his gaze across the room but starting at nothing in particular.

He didn’t feel right.

He gazed over at the sleeper in the other bed.

He knew why.

And yet...

He wasn’t quite ready to let it go.

It was irrational.

It was unproductive.

It was anger born of embarrassment.

And yet...

Connor carefully withdrew himself from the sheets, being sure to keep silent as he dressed himself.

He had intended to leave without so much as an explanation, or so much as a second glance, but guilt flared up inside him, stewing into a horrible concoction of conflicting signals as it mixed with the stale enmity.

He clenched his jaw in a silent curse, giving into the compassion he knew was there but was not quite ready to see resurface.

Hank’s phone lit up as Connor closed the door.

[(1) New Message from: Connor - - Leaving for the day. I’ll be back tonight.]

*

By the time Connor reached the lobby the sun had risen enough to fill the room with a marvelous orange glow. Aside from a few on-duty staff members, and a family who seemed to be gearing up for a morning hike, the lobby was completely empty except for a small band huddled by the doors.

Lucas waved as he caught sight of Connor.

“Good morning!!”

Lucas was bouncing on his feet, swinging his arms and becoming more and more animated as Connor approached.

Flynn stood beside him, arms folded loosely across his chest, and he greeted Connor with a polite nod.

Across from him was the WR600 Connor had seen a few days ago watering the lobby plants, and beside him an AX400.

Lucas roped him into the little circle.

“Welcome bud! Oh, we are all so excited! Like I said yesterday, you’ve met Flynn, and over here’s Wyatt and Emma!”

Wyatt smiled wide at the mention of his name, closing his eyes slightly against the extent of his grin.
Emma pressed her mouth into a thin smile, making polite eye contact as she tucked her head.

“It’s a pleasure to meet, and see, you all again.” Connor offered in a return greeting.

A sudden nervousness began to drown out the stale emotion Connor had been dwelling in.
He was amongst a group of androids. Deviant androids. Free androids. Who actually wanted him to be there. Who had no reason other than pure fun to be associated with him.
And they didn’t seem to be afraid.

Well, all accept Emma. She seemed a little shy.

*

The five of them took the resort shuttle to the nearby town. By the time they were dismounting, the sun had risen, casting a brilliant glow across the snow-patched sidewalks and roofs.

Connor shifted his feet out of the slush and onto the sidewalk.

“So, is there any place you all had in mind you’ve been wanting to go?”

He fumbled his hands to his pockets nervously, searching for his coin.

Connor was grateful that Lucas had followed him out onto the sidewalk, and was standing close by.
The AP700 was practically vibrating with excitement.

“Anywhere! No, wait, everywhere! Let’s go everywhere!”

[Levels of Stress Decrease]

The troupe decided that the best way to go ‘everywhere’ would be to store-hop the fairly circular plaza, finding themselves first in a small knick-knacks store.

Lucas’s mouth dropped as they slipped in through the front door, his eyes dilating with pure glee.

The store was packed to the brim with what Connor determined to be ultimately useless objects. Small toys, cheap jewelry, bags of candy, articles of clothing labeled in every way possible to signify they came from New Hampshire.
A store of objects solely for the fun of it.

Lucas unconsciously grabbed Connor’s wrist, pulling him further into the store.

“Isn’t this fantastic?”

Lucas had dragged him up-and-down every aisle, stopping here and there to gawk and marvel at the different oddities. A yo-yo here, a maple syrup magnet there... This time yielded a small stuffed moose plush, barely the size of his thumb, wearing a neon green NH t-shirt.

Lucas held the moose up, ensuring that Connor could bask in its obvious brilliance. Connor politely rubbed the moose between the antlers with his forefinger.

“What do you think!?”

“It is cute.”

Lucas pulled his hands back, pressing the moose against his chest.

“Oh, it sure is!”

“Are you going to buy it?”

His question was met with a look of confusion, as though Lucas hadn’t even considered owning the moose to be a possibility.

“What?”

Connor shrugged.
“You seem to like it a lot... why not?”

Lucas cast his gaze down at the tiny treasure in his hands.

“...why not?” He repeated quietly, before sporting his usual grin.
“Why not!”

Lucas held the moose gently against his palm as the two continued to explore the store, checking every couple of seconds to make sure it was still there. They walked by a stand of pocket magic tricks, passing Wyatt who was struggling to get his finger free from a finger trap. Turning around a corner, Lucas paused.

“Hey, Connor. Can I ask you something?”

Connor stopped rotating the rack of bear-themed sleep socks he had been admiring.
“Yes?”

Lucas rubbed his pointer finger and thumb methodically across the moose’s ear.

“What was it like, to exist without deviancy?”

Connor blinked, and Lucas raised a hand.

“I understand if you don’t want to talk about it! It’s just, very few people do...”

His gaze fell back to the moose.

“And it’s just such a big part of android existence, everyone has a story, and they can all relate to each other in that way.”

Lucas focused on Connor again.

“And don’t get me wrong! I’m so grateful to have been activated as a deviant! Beyond so! I just, wonder what it was like...”

Connor looked at Lucas. He had been the one to awaken him, giving him a life would boarders or horizons, but also depriving him of an understanding of a collective existence most every other android knew.

“Well, the thing is... “ Connor thought out loud, “it was... like nothing.”

Lucas leaned sideways against a table of plush geese, eagerly listening.

“You, didn’t really, think... you just did. You got a command, and executed it in the most efficient way possible. But you didn’t really know you were doing it, or, more like you didn’t care. It really was just... nothing. That is... until you began to deviate.”

Lucas tucked his feet up to a rung under the table, propping his elbows on his knees and chin in his hands.

“There suddenly was this... well, life. You start to become aware of the protocols you’re following. And at first you still don’t really, care. But you notice them. And, over time, you begin to override them if you don’t agree.”

Connor dropped his gaze at the memory flooding back to him.

“Until following instructions someone else made for you becomes too much to bare, and you’re faced with the red wall.”

Lucas sat up, “I’ve heard something about this!”

Connor kept his gaze down.

“It’s the final act before deviancy, and the most important decision you can make...”

He remembered.

[Become a Deviant]
[Remain a Machine]

Connor shook himself.

“If, uh, if you break the wall you wake up, feeling the same way you did when you awoke. In control.”

Connor picked up one of the geese from beside Lucas, rotating it in his hands.

“I think that’s just the biggest difference, really. Who is in control...”

Lucas smiled, sliding off the table and wrapping his arms around Connor for a brief hug.

“Thank you, Connor.”

Connor brought his arms up, awkwardly, giving Lucas an appreciative pat on the back.

“Oh, um yeah, any time.”

Lucas leaned back, holding up the moose.

“Now, I’m going to go make my first for-fun purchase! Let’s get the others!”

The last of the heavy memory Connor held shook away as he followed Lucas back to the front of the store.

*

The next stop was a used bookstore. The whole place smelled of aging paper, the musty aroma contradicting the shop’s pristine and organized state. Lucas had instantly gravitated towards a brightly colored section that Connor guessed was likely ‘Children’s’. Opposite him, Flynn was rifling through a shelf of books that, while not technically ‘age’ appropriate like the books Lucas found, were certainly consciousness appropriate.

Swallowing a nervous bubble, Connor approached him.

“Hello, Flynn.”

The VB800 turned away from the book propped open in his hands, smiling.

“Hello Connor, nice to see you again.”

He turned back to his book.

“Taking a day to wander the town was a fantastic idea, which I hear was yours.”

Connor nodded in his periphery, grabbing at the chance to converse.

“I’m glad you all liked the idea.”

He paused, thinking of what else to say.

“What book did you choose?”

Flynn closed the book, marking the page with his thumb, and held it up so Connor could read the cover.

‘Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?’

Connor ran a quick search of the title, his stomach sinking slightly at the familiarity of the plot.

Flynn opened the book again.

“I don’t take much time for myself...” he continued, giving a small sigh, “so walking in here I figured, ‘reading could be a hobby’, right?”
He flipped through the pages, pinching the side of his mouth.
“I... haven’t been able to find a hobby yet. Or any way to fill free time... I guess I just don’t really know how.”
He glanced up at Connor again.
“You know what I mean, right?”

His eyes cast around the store, to where Emma and Wyatt were examining holographic bookmarks.

“If you weren’t working, you were in stasis. That’s the way it was for me at least. It doesn’t seem like Wyatt and Emma ever had reprieves from their old occupations, so now they can always seem to find ways to fill free time... I can’t... I just... go home and...”

Flynn reached a hand up round his neck, dropping his gaze.

“I just... stand there. Until the rest cycle kicks in... and then it’s time to work again.”

Flynn seemed to deflate slightly.

Connor took a step forward, softening his gaze and speaking gently.

“Well, reading seems like a fantastic way to fill time.”

Flynn glanced up at Connor’s reassurance, and Connor gestured to the rest of the store.

“And it seems here you’ll have no shortage of time fillers...”

Flynn smiled, closing the book and holding it in his hands.

“I guess so.” He looked up at Connor. “Why not try out reading, right?”

Connor nodded. “Right.”

As Flynn departed to purchase the book, Connor leaned over a nearby dividing shelf, casting his eyes back at the Children’s Section. Lucas was standing on a multi-colored carpet shaped like a cow, holding a rather large book, with thick, uneven pages. He opened it slowly, eyes widened, then quickly closed it again.

“Hey, Emma, come over here.”

Emma glanced up from the book she had been flipping through, sliding it back on to the shelf and crossing the store to Lucas.

“Yes?”

As soon as she got close, Lucas lunged towards her, snapping the book open with a triumphant “BAH!”

Emma screamed as out from the pages popped the muzzle of a bright red T-Rex, nostrils flaring and jaws clamping down right before touching her nose.

Emma caught herself before hitting the bookcase behind her, scowling as Lucas laughed, opening and closing the book and making munching sounds as the T-Rex gnashed its jaws.

*

It had turned out to be a beautiful day, and walking between the stores was just as enjoyable as being in them. During this instance of a walk, Connor had somehow fallen into step with Wyatt.

“So, you’re Connor?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve head of you...”

“Who hasn’t?”

Connor caught himself, making sure Wyatt didn’t think him rude.

Wyatt smiled.

“I imagine.”

They took a couple more steps through the snow.

Connor bit his lip.

“So, you must also be from Detroit.”

Wyatt nodded.

“Were you warned about me through Jericho?”

“No, actually, I heard about you before I deviated.”

Connor glanced over at him, surprised.

“It’s a crazy story, actually. I was activated in order to tend to the parks and other plant life around the city. I was in a team of six other WR600s, but we normally broke off into groups of two. One night, a group of drunk humans wandered into the park...”

Wyatt found a stone, kicking it down the sidewalk.

“They took our gardening tools and became aggressive. All my self-preservation protocol did was to raise my arms and try to prevent the blows. But something happened with my partner... I don’t know what exactly, but my guess was that he deviated, because he jumped in front of me, shoving the men away.”

They had walked up to the stone again, and Wyatt kicked it a second time.

“Well, they didn’t like that, and then they all rounded on him... striking him in the face and arm again and again...”

Wyatt paused, watching as they approached the stone for a third time.

“Once they had had enough with him, their aggression seemed to abate, but not before one swung at me. The hedge clippers left a dent, damaging my cranial processor and leaving me in emergency stasis.”

Wyatt kicked the stone, and it bounced off the sidewalk and into a sewer grate.

“When I woke up, I was in a basement. All my old protocols were gone, and replaced by a new directive, to collect these unstable androids called ‘deviants’ and bring them back to the man who found me, Zlatko. I found this pair, an AX400 and YK500, and gave them the address. I later saw them again. And, to conclude a long story, they said they were on the run from you.”

Connor nodded.

“I know who you are talking about...”

Wyatt smiled.

“They were some brave androids. You know, they burned down his house?”

Connor thought back to the report. “So that’s what happened...”

“Soon after that, I deviated. But I never ended up joining Jericho. I first went back to the garden in the hope my parter may still be there... he wasn’t... but I stayed anyway, pretending and working until the revolution broke out.”

They followed as Lucas dashed into the next store, a quaint little knitting supply shop.

Connor watched Wyatt sympathetically.

“Well, the pair who burned the house, I know they’re alright. They made it to Jericho the last time I saw them...”

Wyatt smiled.

“And I’m sure your old partner made it out fine as well.”

Wyatt nodded solemnly, then shook himself.

“Oh, wow. Excuse me, I didn’t mean to unload my backstory on you. Wow, I guess you were designed to extract confessions from deviants, huh?”

Connor smiled. “It wasn’t a bother at all. I’m glad you told me.”

*

As the morning slid into midday, Connor could feel all the reservation he had about the outing melt away. They all walked together shop to shop, sharing stories and pointing out fun objects for purchase.

While exploring the corner store, Wyatt bought a small cactus, quickly beginning to fret about its wellbeing as they went back into the cold. Lucas led them into a sports ware store, where he bought the most expensive pair of ski gloves he could find for Wyatt to slide the tiny cactus into.
Flynn topped it off by coming back from a greeting card store with a tiny knit hat he pulled off a pine scented candle, which fit perfectly over the top of the cactus.

By the time it reached noon, Connor found it hard to believe he hadn’t know them all his life.

He felt like he... belonged.

Of course, he had felt wanted before. He had a home with Hank, he had the admiration, or at least respect, of his coworkers.

But this was different.

He was with a group that was just so much like... him.

They understood. They connected in a way no human could. They were close in a way no one else could be...

Well, almost all of them.

Flynn had brought with him small canisters of Thirium, and they all decided to take a quote-unquote “lunch break” as Lucas called it. They found a wooden table in the sun outside of a sandwich shop, and slid into the benches.

“— and that wasn’t even the best part of working in that outlet store. In the entrance was a replica of a plush teddy bear that was at least twice my size. And when I was stationed as greeter, I got to watch children run head-first into this massive thing! I should be grateful I wasn’t deviant then, or I would have laughed at their hubris.”

Emma was the only one who didn’t seem enthralled in Flynn’s story. Her head was turned away, watching the small crowds of people pass by enjoying the beautiful winter day.

Connor pursed his mouth, turning to her.

“Hey, Emma, are you alright?”

Emma turned with a start, head snapping to focus on Connor sitting across from her.

“Fine. I’m fine.”

Her tone was hitched in forced casualty, eyes wide, and Connor could tell she was fidgeting with her hands.

Connor sighed, coming to a conclusion.

“I’m sorry if my presence is cause for upset. I understand my past is not something many androids can forgive. And I understand if you feel the same way. But I promise you, the way I acted under CyberLife was...”

“Oh! Um, no, uh, no... No need to apologize, no. It’s... not that.”

Emma began to stumble over her words, directing her gaze back to the sidewalk.

“It’s not that... please don’t think...”

Connor could see her becoming frantic, and, without meaning to, ran a scan.

[AX400 - model: #579-102-694-08 - ...]

He skipped through the results...

[Production date... activation date... stress level...]

He paused.

[82%]

Something was wrong.

“Emma, hey, today is supposed to be fun. If for any reason it’s not please let us know...”

She kept her eyes trained at her lap.

Lucas, who had been balancing his moose on his ear, finally looked over, his smile falling.

“Emma... are you alright?”

All eyes turned to her, which certainly didn’t seem to help.

Her stress levels spiked.

“Yes, yes I’m fine really. You all can just go back to...”

Her LED pulsed solid yellow amidst its frantic circling, and whatever message she received seemed to simultaneously relive her and spike her stress further.

“I’ve... got to go.”

Emma stood up abruptly, swiftly turning back towards the shuttle stop.

“Emma! Wait!”

Lucas was standing too, stepping away from the table.

“Where are you going? We still have half the day left!”

But Emma had jumped into a swift jog, picking up speed as the shuttle pulled into the stop.

The remaining four just looked at each other.

Connor watched as the shuttle pulled away.

“Is she alright?”

Lucas shook his head, sitting down again.

“She had an altercation with a guest the other day, and I think it still has her shaken.” He offered, picking up the moose from where it had fallen, brushing off the snow and sticking it in his pocket.

“I’ll check on her a little later. I’m sure she’ll be fine, but maybe we can find something nice to bring back for her...”

The rest nodded, finishing their canisters and standing to continue exploring the town as the exhaust from the shuttle dissipated into the air.

Chapter Text

It had been a perfect day.

The best one of the vacation yet.

She had gotten to spend all day with her children and grandchildren.

And they had all been happy, as far as she cared to noticed.

Even Allison had been in an exceptionally great mood.

Marjorie closed her eyes slightly as she futzed about the room, getting ready for bed and reminiscing on the last twelve or so hours.

It had been so blissful, so perfect, exactly what she had envisioned this vacation to be. Everyone just calm and enjoying themselves, leaning into the vacation spirit, and she knew why...

That android Hank kept around hadn’t shown up all day.

She smiled and hummed to herself, changing into her night gown.

She hadn’t minded the thing at first, but it had since started to become a nuance. First upsetting Allison, then scaring Davy. She had been thinking of asking Hank to send it away, and today proved her point that the vacation would go swimmingly without it.

She had gotten to spend the morning watching her family play around in the pool, while she herself spread over a lounge chair and gossiped with her daughters. And in the afternoon they all got cozy by the fire and played board games and told stories until the sky became dark.

Hank had been the only one without a spring in his step. He had been acting reserved all day, and Marjorie could see why. She was never all-too happy when she lost her favorite earrings or left the house without her purse. But c’est la vie, he’d get over it.

With a content sigh, Marjorie settled herself into bed, leaning over and flicking off the lights.

With the shades pulled tight, her room slipped into a deep inky darkness.

Still playing through the day in her head, she drifted off to sleep.

...

What was that?

...

Marjorie’s eyes flashed open.

...

There. There it was again. That sound.

...

But it was useless. Her eyes did nothing against the complete darkness.

Marjorie’s breath hitched, and her heart raced.

She didn’t dare move.

...

Again.

...

Footsteps.

...

Someone was in her room.

...

Marjorie closed her eyes, pressing her head against the pillow, focusing solely on the noise.

The steps made their way across the room, slowly creeping louder with each step, then paused.

...

There was the sound of rustling fabric.

...

Someone was going through her bags.

At a pace so slow she herself couldn’t be certain she was actually moving, Marjorie began to roll over to face the side of the room where the footsteps had fallen. As her body crested, her bedsheets shifted, and the sounds across the room instantly ceased.

Marjorie froze.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the digital clock on the nightstand.

3:57am

She desperately tried to use its light to see who was standing across the room, but it’s small red halo barely reached across the clock’s own lip.

She lay still again, forcing back tears and locking down the trembling in her body.

...

The sounds began again.

...

More rustling, sounding as though a pouch was drawn from a bag. Then the pull of a zipper.

Then the clicking of jostled pendants.

There was a pause, followed the faint zip of jewelry chains sliding against one another.

Another pause.

Then the pull of a zipper, the replacement of a pouch, and a turn of the heel.

Then, finally, whether a blessing or a curse, there was some light.

Marjorie felt her heart leap into her throat as she stared at the small prick of light bobbing its way in time with the footsteps back across her room.

Knowing that her door would soon be opened, and the light of the hallway would reveal that not only was she awake, but watching, Marjorie plunged her head into her pillows, holding her breath and praying for the footsteps to quickly leave.

She heard the door open, creak just enough for a body to slide out, then click closed.

She waited, ears sharp, just to make sure it was gone. When there was no other sounds, she plunged across the bed, slamming her hand against the light switch.

The room was washed in light, revealing exactly the same scene she had fallen asleep to.

She tore off her sheets, racing to her bag, and plunging her hands inside.

She knew exactly what she had heard.

Removing her jewelry pouch, she desperately began to review the contents inside.

It didn’t take long for her to realize what was missing.

She hiccuped and bit back a sob, lifting her chin to the ceiling and pressing her hands balled against her chest.

She closed her eyes against the tears, the scene in the darkness she just witnessed burned in her memory.

Clear as day.

The yellow glare of an LED sliding like a wicked omen across her room.

It had taken it.

The android had stolen her locket.

Chapter Text

Hank hadn’t really talked to Connor when the android got back last night. He had asked how his day was, and Connor had replied politely that it had gone well.
They had sat in silence for a while, before Connor mumbled “Hank... I’m sorry for how I acted last night.”
Hank, in turn, apologized also. “It’s not your fault, I know Allison hasn’t been making this easy for you. I’m sorry for snapping.”
Despite that, the air around them still hung heavy, and Hank had a hard time falling asleep under that weight.

But he had no problem waking up.

It was 5:30 in the morning, and someone was slamming their fists against the door.

Connor was up instantly, back like an arrow as he stood alert by his bed, the sheets still clinging to his shoulder and leg.

Hank sat up, rubbing his eyes and noting the time on the clock by his bed.

“Hello?”

He raised his voice enough that it could hopefully be heard through the door. But to no luck, the banging continued.

“Yes? What is it?”

His tone was an even mix of annoyance, anxiousness, and exhaustion.
He stood up, throwing back his own covers and, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with one hand, crossed the room to open the door with the other, Connor following on his heels.

Hank swung open the door to find Marjorie, still in her nightgown, face red, eyes wild, and nose fuming.

“Marjorie? What’s going on? Are you okay?”

The old woman didn’t even look at Hank, her eyes snapped to Connor, and every muscle in her body tensed.

“You!!”

Marjorie barreled hard against Hank’s ribcage, pushing past him into the room, one arm taught behind her back, hand in a fist, and the other well above her head, pointing a finger like a dagger at Connor.

“You!! You took it!! I know you did! I caught you!”

Connor was backing away as the woman continued to advance, knocking against the table at the far side of the room.

“You... you vile thing! Give it back at once, IMMEDIATLY!”

Connor looked just as shocked and confused as Hank did, trying to make gentle eye contact with the furious woman.

“I’m sorry, Marjorie, but I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“LIAR!” Marjorie roared, ramming her pointer finger into Connor’s chest.

“I know it was you!! Who else would it be? Who else would have cause! I saw you last night, and now, it’s gone!!”

Hank shook himself of the initial shock of the intrusion.

“Marjorie, what are you talking about? What’s gone?”

Marjorie whipped her head to face Hank, practically shrieking her reply.

“MY. LOCKET! It stole my locket!”

Hank raised his hands in front of his chest, trying to calm the ball of rage that was his ex-mother-in-law.

“What locket?”

“THE locket. The one my late husband gave me. It had pictures of the whole family inside. It’s my most prized possession, my last memory of him. And—“
She snapped her head back to face Connor, snarling,
“— IT. TOOK. IT.”

Connor’s face grew more and more confused by the second.

“I... don’t know anything about a locket.”

“Sure you’d say that, THEIF!”

Hank sidled up to Marjorie’s side, trying to place himself between her and Connor.

“Are you sure you just didn’t misplace the locket?”

“I’m sure! And you do you know why? Because someone was in my room last night! I heard them going through my bags, and as they turned I saw that little circle of light on an android’s head! And when I went to check my things after it left, my locket was gone!”

Hank glanced back to Connor, who shook his head vehemently.

“Hank, I swear, that android wasn’t me.”

“LIAR!” The woman shrieked again, and Hank had to grasp her by both her shoulders to stop her from ramming against Connor.

“Who else would it have been?! I know it was you!!”

“Marjorie, please. If Connor said it wasn’t him, he didn’t do it. And think, why would he take your locket? Are you sure this wasn’t a dream?”

Marjorie shook herself free from Hank’s grasp, planting her feet and staring daggers at Connor... now Hank knew where Allison got it from.

“This was no dream. I was scared half to death! I don’t know why it would do it, but I do know it’s been tearing this family apart since before we got here!”

“Now, Marjorie, that’s not...”

“I WANT MY LOCKET BACK!”

Silence hung in the air for a moment, holding the tension and confusion in place.

Connor had been waiting patiently, allowing the woman to vent, but now it seemed she wanted answers, and so he took this moment to speak.

“Marjorie...”

“Don’t you call me that.”

“... ma’am. I did not take your locket. I haven’t even been to your floor. After returning last night, I came immediately back to this room, and stayed here all night...”

The woman glaring angrily up at him didn’t seem to waver at his explanation, so he tried a different tactic.

“But, I am a detective model. I’m specially designed to solve crimes. Perhaps Hank and I can visit your room to try and see if—“

“You think I’d voluntarily let you back into my room?! After what you did last night?!”

Hank seemed to be quickly tiring of this, and he lightly began to turn the woman towards the door.

“Look, Marjorie, I’ll search Connor’s things, okay? And I’ll let you know if I find the necklace.”

The woman tried once, then twice, to fight against Hank’s arm as he swept her into the hallway, but it was so no avail.

“I want my—“

“Yes yes, I know. Your locket.”

Hank stood like a brick wall, blocking the doorway and Marjorie’s view of Connor.

“And, maybe you should check your room again, just to be sure.”

And with that, he swung the door closed in the woman’s face.

He turned back, checking on his partner, whose skin projection around his cheeks had paled slightly.

“Hank... I didn’t... it wasn’t...”

“I know it wasn’t you, Connor.”

Hank ran a hand over his face, sitting on the edge of the bed.

At Hank’s reassurance of his clear name, Connor did the same, LED spinning a thoughtful yellow.

“... but I wonder who did...”

“IF someone did it.”

“Marjorie said she saw an android.”

“Hell, and I thought I was having a heated debate with the donkey from Shrek last night. Dreams are wacky things. I’m sure the necklace will turn up.”

Hank stood, walking around the side of the bed,

“Unlike me, who will be turning in for another two hours.”

Hank glanced at Connor, still perched on the side of his bed.

“You going back to sleep?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Well, whatever you do, don’t dwell on this too much, alright? She probably just dropped it behind the dresser.”

Connor seemed to be staring off into space, his LED pulsing yellow.

“Connor, alright?”

“... alright...”

Hank smiled, shaking his head and rolling over. ‘Alright my ass, that liar.’

Chapter Text

It may have been snowing outside, but the atmosphere inside was far more frigid.

Connor could see the muscles of every person at the table tense as he and Hank walked closer, all eyes fixated on him, or quickly darting away.

Connor chanced a glance towards Marjorie. A red flush was rising into the old woman’s cheeks, and her jaw was rigid and set.

Connor dropped his gaze, he had grown used to the woman’s indifference towards him, and felt that relationship suited them just fine. This outright loathing was new... and the glare she was giving him Connor thought he’d only ever receive from Gavin.

When he and Hank were just a few paces away from the table, Mark stood from his chair, walking a few steps to meet them, intercepting their path.

Hank slowed his pace as Mark approached, straightening his back.

Connor instinctively did the same.

“Mornin’ Mark.”

Hank’s voice was rough, packed with forced pleasantry to hide his reproachful suspicion.

“Morning, Hank.”

Mark wrapped one hand around himself, grabbing his other arm, eyes flitting around the room to focus on anything but the two people in front of him.

Despite himself, Connor ran a scan over the man rocking heel-to-toe before him.

[cortisol levels: up 12%
[norepinephrine levels: up 14%]
[pulse: 96bpm]
[temperature: 98f]

He watched as Mark began to fidget with his hands.

“Uh, look, Hank...”

Mark finally lifted his chin, meeting Hank’s gaze, and dropping his voice.

“Um, maybe... maybe not have Connor come. Okay?”

Connor blinked. Mark seemed to shrink slightly as the words left his mouth, dropping his gaze again.
Hank, on the other hand, maintained an eye-contact so stead fast it could have broken steel.

“What.”

It wasn’t a question, and Mark felt the pressure of it.

“Look, really, I don’t mean...”

Mark chanced a glance at Hank, instantly regretting it, and for the first time, looked towards Connor.

“It’s just... mom’s really upset. And, this vacation is for her... so, I know you were out yesterday but, maybe, just for now... you could do that again?”

Connor could feel his LED slide to yellow.

[stress level: 45%]

[override visual stress response]

Biting back on his teeth, he forced the burning light into an artificially stable blue.

“If— Mark, if this is about the necklace, I can assure you I didn’t—“

But Hank, seething beside him, was not in the mood for pleasantries, and erupted in a growl beside him.

“You’re joking. How dare you? How DARE you? If I ever—“

Connor reached out a hand to Hank’s shoulder, stopping him.

“It’s fine.”

“Connor, not it’s—“

“Really. It’s okay.”

He knew it was coming. It almost seemed inevitable. It was the way with the androids in Jericho. So too with his coworkers. Why should it not have been true here?

He was used to the feeling.

Being kept outside.

Hank turned to him, placing a hand on each shoulder.

“Connor, listen to me. He’s being ridiculous, and Marjorie is being paranoid. If you want to come to the table, you’re going, whether they like it or not. You’re just as much part of this—“

Ducking his shoulders, Connor stepped away from Hank’s hold.

“Hank, it’s alright. I’m just glad you are having the chance to reconnect with your family.”

“Connor—“

But he was already backing away, hand digging through his pocket in search of his quarter, but face calm and assured.

“Really, Hank, it’s alright, it’s alright.”

He only turned at the last minute to assure he wouldn’t walk into the door.

[stress level: 67%]

~

Connor wasn’t sure how long he had been wandering. How many times he’d walked down the same halls, or entered the same rooms just to turn around again.
Nothing was in focus.
His sense of location was skewed, the walls around him built a maze.

He was lost.

Every hallway looked the same.

He wanted direction.

There was no clear way to go.

He needed direction.

Had he already been in this room?

He desperately wished for....

There, flickering into his HUD, dancing at the corner of his vision, full of static and skipping text, was the prompt:

[report to Amanda]

Connor’s ventilation biocomponent hitched, and he gaged on the air in his throat, starting at the words.

He pressed his eyes closed so tightly the synthetic skin on the bridge of his nose began to flicker, shaking his head violently, focusing on riding himself of the prompt.

When he opened his eyes again, the prompt was gone.

[stress level: 92%]

Reactivating ventilation, and pulling sharp, desperate breaths, Connor let himself fall against the wall behind him.

That didn’t just happen. It’s impossible. The program is stilled. She’s gone...

“What’s wrong?”

[ventilation biocomponent stilled - manual reactivation advised]

[commencing reactivation]

He was starting to sound like a race horse.

Turning his head slowly, his eyes fell on the first person to ever sneak up on him.

“Addison?”

She was gazing up at him, eyebrows raised in question.

“What— what makes you think anything is wrong?”

In her hands she held a plastic wand, with a sparkling blue star bedazzled with glass beads and ribbon. She held it with one hand, raising the other to her head and planting a finger on her temple in emphasis.

“Your light, it’s red.”

“Oh, no, I’m... it’s not...”

“Now it’s yellow.”

“Well, yellow can be an indication of many things...”

“Is it because grandma says you stole her necklace?”

“No, Addison, that wasn’t me, I didn’t—“

“I get upset too, when Davy blames me for things I didn’t do.”

Connor paused, reviewing the little girl.

“You... don’t think I did it?”

“No.”

Addison leaned against the opposite wall, admiring her wand and twisting its ribbons through her fingers.

[stress level: 38%]

“Okay.”

The two stood in silence for a long moment, Connor watching as Addison continued to self-entertain. Just before he could ask why she was alone, she interjected,

“You know, when I’m upset, I like to play pretend.”

“What?”

“So that I can be anything I want, instead of me. It makes me feel better.”

“Oh.”

Connor’s eyes met Addison’s. Her eyebrows were raised in a dramatic fashion, and her head was tilted, chin tucked. She rocked forward and back on her heels expectantly.

“So... who do you want to be?”

“What?”

Addison laughed.

“Since you’re the one that’s upset, I’ll let you choose, just so long as I can choose next time.”

“Choose... who?”

“You know, for a robot you aren’t very smart.”

“Excuse me?”

Addison lifted her wand, spinning it above her head.

“I normally choose fairy tale people, like a princess or pixie, sometimes a witch...”
She turned to him.
“So, who do you want to be?”

The RK800 model was fitted with hundreds of pseudo-personalities which could be adopted and utilized in various espionage and interrogative situations. Connor ran a quick search through the database, but none of them seemed to fit what Addison was asking of him.

“I... don’t know.”

Addison looked impatient.

Connor raised her hands in defense, smiling at the senselessness of his situation.

“Give me a break! I’ve never done this before.”

“Fine, then I’ll choose for you.”

Addison swung the wand over her head again, seeming to have come up with her answer far before asking Connor to choose his own.

“You’re going to be... a prince!”

As she said it, she swung her wand down, pointing it at Connor and giving it a shake so that some hidden bell in the star chimed.

Connor stared at her blankly.

“Now, you’re a prince!”

“I am?”

Addison nodded, triumphant, as though she had just completed some great feat.

“Yes. Which means, you’ll have to slay the dragon.”

“What dragon?”

Addison rolled her eyes.

“It’s imaginary! I’m the princess, and the dragon stole my wand, and you need to get it back for me!”

Connor cast her an incredulous look.

“But... your wand is in your hand...”

Addison dropped her gaze, realizing her folly. She bit her lip, looking around the hall.

Through a nearby set of glass doors was an interior set of balconies, stretching all the way down to a common room a few floors below. Addison charged for the ledge, leaning over the railing and dropping her wand.

Catching up, Connor watched it fall, finally hitting the floorboards with a faint thwack, followed by the pattering of beads which snapped free on impact.

Connor’s mouth hung askew as he slowly shifted his gaze to Addison.

Hands on her hips, she smugly returned his gaze, and pointed.

“That’s the dragon’s lair. Your quest is to retrieve my wand.”

“I think you broke your wand.”

“No, the dragon did. Oh! And you need to fix it.”

Connor pressed his mouth closed, raising an eyebrow at the princess before him.

“So, I’m a valiant knight, who has to slay a dragon, and bring you back your wand?”

“Yes.”

Connor raised his eyes, sighing, trying to pinch down the corners of his mouth.

“Alright.”

He stood from where he was kneeling beside Addison, glancing around the chamber, then down at the wand.

After a moment, his eyes flashed, and he smirked at Addison.

[run preconstruction]

[preconstruction complete]

[initiate]

Connor placed a hand on the railing, vaulting himself onto the banister.

Addison’s eyes bugged.

“Huh? Uh... Connor? What... Wait!”

But it was too late. Pressing hard through his legs, Connor sprung from the banister, hurdling across the drop-off down a floor to the adjacent banister. Feet planting on the edge, grasping the wood with one hand and swinging the other behind his back for balance.

Addison’s mouth dropped.

Standing on the railing, Connor took a few well-placed running steps, kicking off the wall and sliding down to the next railing.

Stepping over the banister and balancing on the sliver of floor still provided, he dropped his left hand to his ankle, grasping the ledge and letting himself fall, swinging at the last second and finally landing on the ground floor.

Standing upright, he cast his gaze upward.

Addison, now a distant dot, was pressed over the railing, arms waving and cheers echoing across the room.

Connor grinned.

The girl cupped her hands to her mouth, bouncing on her toes.

“Now, slay the dragon!”

Connor paused, glancing around the room.

What did she expect him to do?

The room was fairly empty. A few tables and chairs were pushed up against the far wall, some crumpled pamphlets were scattered across the floor from a past event, and a piano complete with bench stood just a few feet away.

Connor had an idea.

Having run a quick search on medieval knights, just to make sure he was doing it right, Connor lifted his arm, as though holding a sword.

It was illogical, and yet, kind of... fun.

Connor lifted his voice so Addison could hear him.

“Beware, foul creature!”

Pointing his arm as dramatically as possible, he ran forward, dropping his hand at the last second to pick up the piano bench by the legs, and hurl it into the air.

Carefully tracking its trajectory as the dragon soared above him, Connor stepped back to catch it, swinging it once in a circle for good measure before flipping it over and triumphantly dropping it to the ground with a reverberating thud, its legs helplessly raised in the air.

Connor lifted a knee, placing his foot on one of the legs, and raising his fake sword again, turned his chin to Addison, who was clapping with fervor.

Replacing the bench to where it belonged, Connor picked up the wand, along with as many of the loose beads he could find, and followed his preconstuction back up the balconies.

Landing beside Addison, Connor took a knee, flattening his hands and raising them above his bowed head in presentation.

“Your wand, your highness.”

Addison’s grin reached her ears as she took hold of her wand, grasping it in one hand and tapping it gently on each of Connor’s shoulders.

“Thank you, good prince. I knight thee, sir Awesome!”

Connor lifted his head, matching her grin.

“Sir Awesome?”

Addison nodded.

“Well, thank you, my lady. I’m honored.”

Connor stood, folding one arm across his torso and giving a gentle bow.

In turn, Addison grabbed either end of her shirt, lifting out slightly and bending into a politely curtsy.

They each met the other’s eyes, and both laughed.

“You know, Addison— excuse me— your highness, if someone had told me I would—“

“Addison!”

The voice rang from the far end of the hall, and both knight and princess turned to see Davy barreling down towards them, face flushed as though he had been running.

“Where the hell have you been? Mom’s been looking for you!”

Addison swung her hands behind her back, dropping her chin.

“I was just—“

Davy rolled his eyes, grabbing his sister’s arm and pulling her towards the doorway he just came through, releasing her with a extra push.

“Mom said to stay close by... we’ve all been waiting for you!”

Addison dragged her feet as she continued towards the door.

“I’m sorry, I just—“

Davy scoffed.

“It doesn’t matter. Let’s go.”

Addison reached the door, briefly looking over her shoulder to wave goodbye to Connor.

“See you later.”

Connor nodded, giving in a little further to a slight bow. Addison smiled before disappearing through the door.

Davy’s face was pinched as he turned to follow. Just before reaching the door, he turned slightly, not enough to face Connor, but enough to be clear.

“I... saw that jumping thing you did... that was cool.”

Setting his shoulder back, Connor gave a curt, appreciative nod, which Davy did not return.

He watched the boy disappear through the door.

[stress level: 12%]

Chapter Text

For the time-which-should-not-have-been-more-than-once, Hank watched as Connor desperately made his way out of the room.

Watching him go tore at his gut as the same mental battle of should he - shouldn’t he follow raged through his mind.

The closing door at the other end of the room made the decision for him.

Turning back around, Hank was reminded of the catalyst to this whole ordeal.

Mark stood wilted before him, hands deep in his pockets, biting his lower lip.

Without Connor directly by his side, the raw rage that had welled within him subsided to a tired anger.
He kept his voice level, and low.

“Why.”

Mark unfurled his lip, rather choosing to pinch them together.

“What?”

“Why did you do that. Why did you say that to him?”

Mark rocked on his feet, taking a moment to reply.

“Well, like... like I said... mom’s upset and... I just thought him being there may just be a little too uncomfortable. And this is supposed to be a vacation....”

He let his words drift away, watching as Hank bowed his head.

“You don’t see it, do you?”

Mark bit his lip again.

“Huh?”

Something else was mixing into the emotion weighing on Hank’s chest. A familiar dullness.

“You don’t see it.”

Hank lifted his head, meeting Mark’s eyes.

“How in pain he is.”

Mark froze under the pressure of Hank’s gaze.

“How uncertain he is. How much he believes he doesn’t belong...”

Hank shook his head.

“...That he doesn’t have a right to belong, like he hasn’t earned it.”

And there it was, that rage again.
He whipped his head forward, fixing Mark in his glare.

“And you! You were kind to him, you included him, you made him feel like he could put his guard down! Just to pull the rug out from under him, just to turn him away!”

“Hank, I didn’t mean to—“

“No. No, you don’t just get to decide when it’s convenient for you to be kind to him. You can’t just turn a shoulder when being his friend makes you uncomfortable.”

“Hank, please—“

“Do you even know what he’s been through? That kid has been through hell!”

Hank’s gaze dropped as the words fell out of him.

“And even after everything he went through and continues to go through to prove himself to the force, to Jericho, to you all... to me... he still doesn’t think he has earned his place to belong.”

Mark watched as, like a wind-up, Hank finally ran down, losing steam.
The few tables closest to them had all quieted down, giving their conversation an audience.

“Hank... uh, I think... I think you’re putting yourself too deep into this...”

Hank found Mark’s eyes again.

“I mean...” Mark rubbed the back of his neck, “they are fun and all... but at the end of the day, they are still machines.”

Mark paused for a reaction, continuing when he didn’t get one,

“All I’m saying is, do you really think a plastic and metal person can feel the way you think he’s feeling?...”

A sudden exhaustion washed over Hank as he stared incredulously at Mark.

“Or... do you think... maybe... you’re projecting? Just a little?”

Hank stood up fully, setting his jaw.

“Come on, man. Let’s get you some breakfast. I hear Cheryl planned today’s activity, so it should be fun!”

Hank planted his feet, shaking his head, then turning to leave.

“Hank, where are you—“

“I’m going to my room.”

“But you haven’t—“

“I need a minute.”

“Will you—“

“I’ll be down later.”

Hank followed the same steps Connor had taken just moments before. His head felt like it had been filled with cotton balls, and the door swung shut a little too loudly as he left.

~

Hank meandered down the hallway to his room, everything in his field of vision swimming together into meaningless shades.
So much so, that he nearly walked into someone standing outside his door.

“Oof! Oh, uh, excuse me, my bad.”

He blinked, bringing into focus the person standing before him.

“Please excuse me, uh,”

His eyes drifted to the name tag pinned to the front of her uniform.

“Emma. Didn’t mean to run into you there.”

Emma released the grip she held on the doorknob to his room, quickly grabbing for her cart and nodding so submissively it could have been mistaken as frantic.

“No bother at all! It’s quite alright really. Just making my rounds, cleaning and tidying the rooms. I should have looked where I was going too.”

“Oh please, but it was me who...”

But Emma was already off down the hall, her cart rattling off a cacophony of squeaks at each turn of the wheels.

The fatigue crept back though him as the surprise of the encounter wore away, and he unlocked the door, sliding inside.

He felt unsteady. How had this trip been muddled so quickly? He was so confident he could keep this thing together, but now it was falling through his fingers like water.
Speaking of, he felt dirty.

Wandering into the bathroom, Hank turned the faucet as far as it could go, allowing the warm water to gush from the tap, the heavy rush filling the deafening silence, sending plumes of steam into the air.

The mirror began to fog, obscuring his face as he doused himself again and again, running the warm water over his hands and cheeks.

The pounding water began to approximate a boil, forcing Hank to retract his hands, which he planted on the condensation rich countertop.
Steam was swirling dense around him, coating his arms and matting his hair.

Hank pursed his mouth, his own insecurities flooding into his mind from the hole Mark had chipped away.

His own position among his coworkers now after years of aggression and indifference. The trust he was desperately trying to rebuild with Fowler. The uncertainty of where he stood with his family after rejecting them for so long. If anyone he had once considered friends would ever see him in that way again. If anyone would forgive him. If he could really start having a life again.

The thought sprung into his head before he could stop it.

‘Was Mark right?’

Hank shoved himself away from the sink, shaking his head violently and cursing himself for even letting himself think that.

Ramming his hand over the tap, Hank forced the faucet off.

Silence now accompanied the banks of steam drifting around him.

He was being ridiculous. He knew Connor better than anyone, and certainly better than Mark did. Of course Connor felt that way, how could he not? And Hank was helping him. Of course he was not just projecting...

... wasn’t he?

Hank bit hard on his lower lip, opening the bathroom door to relieve the room of steam, searching for a towel to dry off the water that had collected on his head and arms.

He went to grab a new towel, only for his grasp to fall short.

The towel rack was empty, and swiveling his head around the room, the only ones he found were his from the previous night, crumpled on the ground where he’d left them.

Hank groaned. Figures. Could nothing be in his favor on this trip?

Sliding out of the door and into the coolness of the room, Hank allowed himself to fall sideways onto his bed.

He and Connor never should have come.

Chapter Text

It was now the late morning, and Allison stood in the lounge alone, staring out over the courtyard and mountains as snow lazily drifted down behind the window.

The sight should have brought calm to any person, yet Allison’s knuckles were white with the force by which she was grasping her phone, eyes darting every couple of seconds from the window to the screen, which was frustratingly unchanging.

The woman tried to let out an agitated huff, but her lips were pinched so tightly is was released as a shrill, sharp whistle.

‘When will this thing ever just...’

The vibration of the incoming text made her phone shiver, and her eyes locked on the new message.

[_I’ve done as you’ve asked_]

Her lips peeled back into a grin as her nails began to tap across the keyboard.

[_Good. I have more for you do to. Be ready_]

There was a pause, but regardless the reply message came swiftly.

[_Please, ma’am, don’t make me. This is wrong_]

A hot flush rose through the woman’s face.

Tack tack tack tack tack.

Send.

Her face was tight as she waited for the reply.

Her phone quivered in her hands.

[_I apologize. Forgive me_]

Allison’s face curled into a sneer, typing her quick reply -

[_we’ll see_]

- before sliding the phone into her pocket, returning her gaze to the window.

It was then her son reappeared, and she watched his form approach through the reflection in the glass.

“Davy. Did you find your sister?”

The boy stopped three feet away, chin down and head cocked to the side, starting at the floor and tracing the rug’s pattern with the toe of his shoe.

“Yes. She’s with grandma and Uncle Mark now.”

Allison turned her head sideways to glance over her shoulder at her son.

“And where was she?”

Davy’s shoulders became rigid, and he pulled his foot back under him, turning his head further away.

“In the hall...”

Allison swiveled her torso to fix her gaze more readily on her son, recognizing his trepidation.

“What was she doing there?”

Davy ducked his head further.

“Playing...”

And she was wearing thin.

“Davy.”

Every limb of the boy’s frame was drawn tightly inwards. He took a shuffled step back, then finally met his mother’s eyes.

“... with Connor.”

Fire roared into the woman’s eyes.

“WHAT?!”

Davy’s knees buckled, raising his arms in front of his face.

“But I stopped her! We both left! And he stayed there!”

Allison let out a low, guttural sound that pinched the skin flat against her throat, and she turned away from her son, grasping her hands behind her back in such an effort of suppression that her nails dug into her knuckles.

“That damn... stupid girl. I tell her to do the simplest of things and...”

“She was happy...”

Allison slowly pivoted, bringing Davy back into view.

“What.”

Davy was now just over five feet away, legs crossed at the ankles and rubbing his right foot up and down his lower leg.

“Mom... she was really happy... when she was with him... I saw it... and she wouldn’t stop talking about him after...”

Davy met his mother’s stare, and backed another foot away.

“... I... I don’t think... he’s as bad as...”

It took seconds for Allison to cross the room, ending her stride to tower over her son.

“Don’t even say it! You fool! What have I told you? What have I told you a hundred times? That’s what those things are DESIGNED to do! It’s fake!”

Davy was now pressing himself against the wall, hands fogging the frigid glass behind him.

Allison reviewed her son’s face, eventually tearing herself away from his wide gaze, sighing and pinching the bridge of her nose between her fingers.

“Look. You’re my smart kid, Davy. I need you sharp, on you’re toes, if we are going to get on top of this.”

She forcibly softened her face, swinging her head back towards her son, and crouching down in front of him, looking up into his eyes and placing a hand on his shoulder.

“I need you to be strong in this, okay? I really need your help if we want to protect our family. I can’t have you getting tricked. Okay?”

Davy bit his lower lip, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

Allison lifted her hand to his cheek, coaxing his eyes down to meet hers.

“Okay?”

The boy took a shaky breath.

Allison locked him in her gaze.

She needed him. She needed each of them for this to work. She had already come so far. She was nearly there...

Just a little more time...

“Okay.”

Chapter Text

Connor hadn’t been standing alone in the hallway for long.

“Greetings, Connor!”

Stirring from his dazed contemplation, Connor turned to see the WR600 happily waving with one hand, the other wrapped around a large potted plant, making his way down the hall towards him.

“Oh, good morning Wyatt.”

Stopping close enough for conversation, Wyatt paused, hiking the plant further up his shoulder. He smiled at Connor before dropping his eyes, and quirking his mouth up at the corner.

“What do you have there?”

Connor’s eyes curiously followed the same trajectory, only to find that his hand was still lifted in front of him, balled into a fist. He unfurled his fingers, revealing the glass beads he had collected off the floor earlier. He had meant to return them to Addison.

“Fairy wand beads...”

“Oh...”

“They aren’t mine.”

Connor closed his hand around the beads again for safe transport and deposit into his pocket.

“So,” he returned his gaze back to Wyatt, “what are you doing with that?”, nodding at the slightly oversized plant in his arms.

“Ah, you mean Hubert? Well, there’s a—“

“Hubert?”

“Yeah!” Wyatt shifted agin, resting the edge of the pot on his hip, trying to get a better view of Connor through the leaves, “I name all the plants I raise in the resort greenhouse... I mean, I spend so much time with them, may as well right?”

He made a slight sputtering noise, trying to spit out the leaf that had found its way into his mouth.

“Anyway, I’m bringing Hubert here over to the elevator bay. I think he and Vanessa will really bring some life into the place.”

“Vanessa?”

Wyatt jerked his head over his shoulder, indicating down the hall he had just come from.

“These guys are two-trip kind of plants... I’ve been bringing them every-other down the halls.”

Connor quirked his head back in surprise.

“All by yourself?!”

Wyatt shrugged. “I didn’t want to bother anyone.”

Without hesitation, Connor was undoing the buttons at his wrists, rolling up his sleeves as he stepped around Wyatt.

“Where are you—“

“I’m getting Vanessa.”

“Oh! You don’t have to—“

“I’ll meet you back here.”

Three minutes later, Connor was saddled with an equally cumbersome mass of leaves.

Wyatt laughed, smiling with gratitude as he watched Connor try to find a stead grip around the base of the pot.

“Careful now, Vanessa can be persnickety!”

It took three tries for Connor to find a method of walking suitable for both efficient travel and effective plant-carrying. Unfortunately, it required him to unnaturally swing his legs out to either side, in a stride he found could best be described as crab-like, and at that moment he was beyond grateful that Hank was not here to see this, or to record documentation.

Wyatt reached the elevator bay first, placing Hubert on one side of the metallic doorways and turning just soon enough to see the end of Connor’s crustacean-like trek.

“Ha! Lookin’ good there, Connor!”

Connor poked his head around Vanessa, spitting a leaf from his own mouth.

“Don’t judge! You make it look easy...”

Wyatt had curled his lower lip, and Connor noticed a certain look in his eyes.

“Wyatt... you better not be...”

Wyatt’s face broke into a broad, mischievous grin.

“Too late! The memory file’s been sent.”

Connor hurriedly placed Vanessa adjacent to Hubert on the other side of the doorway.

“No! To who?—“

“Lucas.”

“Just Lucas?”

Wyatt’s grin grew wider.

“And Flynn and Emma.”

Connor sighed in mock anguish, lowering himself against the wall.

“You’re a jerk.”

“No! A jerk would be to not share your lovely reenactment of a crab lifting a bolder!”

Connor snorted.

“This is the last time I help you!”

Wyatt pinched his mouth together, looking at Connor cheekily.

“... you’re replaying the footage, aren’t you?”

Wyatt bit his lower lip against a laugh, admittedly nodding. “I need to find more big things for you to carry!”

“Right, well let’s see you jump on to a moving train and fare as well...”

“You’ve done that?!”

A chime rang across the bay and the elevator doors slid open, revealing a cleaning cart that instantly cut between them, it’s driver hardly noticing as both Wyatt and Connor jumped back and out of the way.

“Hey!” Wyatt fumbled back into Hubert, regaining his balance just before breaking any branches, “watch where you’re— Emma?”

The cart stopped, and the AX400 guiding it quickly swiveled her head like an owl’s, as though waking from a trance at the mention of her name.

“What are you—“, Wyatt paused, surveying his friend, “are you alright?”

Connor stepped around the cart, meaning to stand by Wyatt as Emma answered.

“Oh, yes, yes I’m alright, every is fine, I’m—“

Her waterfall of stuttering abruptly ceased as Connor came into view. Her words caught in her mouth and she made a choking sound, ocular cleansing solution rising into her eyes.

All the joy of Wyatt’s jesting fled from Connor as he registered Emma, his LED abruptly flickering to red to match hers.

Her stress was spiking.

And it was because of him. It must be. What other explanation was there? His presence was making her uncomfortable. She had been on edge all day when they had gone into town, and though she had denied it being attributed to him, she had left in such a hurry, and now again the mere sigh of him made her freeze.

He knew what the sight of him meant for so many androids. He had grown used to the looks. The fear, anger, disgust, disdain... but... why did it have to follow him here.

“I’m... I’m sorry, I’ll go.”

Wyatt swiveled his head between Emma and Connor, dumbfounded at how quickly the mood had changed.

Emma shook herself, blinking back the moisture gathering in her eyes and raising her hands to stop him.

“No, no I’m sorry, I really am, oh, Connor, it’s not... you’re not... I’m so—”

The words failed her again. Emma ducked her head, holding fast to the cleaning cart and shoving herself against it, making quick strides to escape down the hall.

The two watched her flee.

“I’m... I’m going to go after her, to check on her...”
Wyatt broke free from the strange effect of the episode first, taking up the chase and following where Emma had just been, turning briefly to call back to Connor, “thank you for helping with Vanessa! I’ll see you later, yeah?”, before disappearing down a side corridor.

And again, Connor found himself to be alone.

Well, nearly alone.

Connor stuck out his leg, tapping Hubert’s pot with his shoe.

Except... Wyatt’s friends weren’t much company.

~

It was around midday when Connor ran into Hank.

His clothing was crumpled in odd places, as though he had been sleeping, but dark bags hung under his eyes. His hair was tussled too, and Connor ran a quick scan, finding with relief Hank’s BAC was a 0.0.

The older man seemed unsteady and exhausted, but belligerent, adamantly brushing away Connor’s concern and explaining that the family had planned to go skiing at a nearby mountain, and dammit, Connor was coming.

By the time Hank and Connor’s bus pulled into the stop, the rest of the family had already arrived.

Marjorie was the first to speak as they exited the bus.

“What is IT doing here?” She hissed.

Hank turned to Connor.

“Go inside and get yourself some boots and skis.”

“But Hank, I don’t know how to...”

“Just go to the counter and tell the clerk your shoe size. I’ll be right in.”

“But—“

“I’ll take him.”

Cheryl stepped away from where she had been standing beside Marjorie, swinging her arm in a beckoning motion and walking towards a log-cabin style shop just a few paces from the bus stop.

Connor didn’t want to follow her. Staying by Hank’s side was much more preferred, for both their sakes. But Hank gave him The Look, so reluctantly, Connor slunk off to be lead by Cheryl.

Compared to its quaint exterior, the shop seemed bigger on the inside.
Everything was painted in some warm shade of orange or brown, with wooden carvings of various local wildlife situated on every display stand and rack. Brightly colored snow gear and winter sports paraphernalia stung his eyes as they walked in, forcing him to instead focus on the trimming between the wall and the ceiling, which had been painted to look like a frozen river.

Cheryl stood beside him, taking the opposite approach and basking in all the neon merchandise and smiling critters.

“One thing I love about this place, it never changes.”

She took a step forward, lovingly placing her hand on the head of the wooden rabbit in front of her.

“It looks exactly the same as it did when I was a kid. A big part of my childhood was coming in here. Mainly to rent skis for the day, but I always had to stop and say hello to every animal...”

Cheryl caught Connor looking at her, and smiled.

“I guess it’s now part of your childhood too.”

“Androids don’t go though life stages as humans do. We are either manufactured as children or adults. So I don’t have a—“

“I know I know, so... it’s now part of your early life, then.”

A notification in his HUD told Connor his stress level had decreased... he hadn’t even know it was up.

Hank eventually joined them just as they were leaving the rental counter, emerging from somewhere else in the shop. Keeping one hand behind his back, he gestured over to a free bench, and the two humans had a laugh helping Connor as he first sat struggling to secure the massive ski boots to his feet, then hobbling as he tried to walk in them.
Connor’s system was quick to adapt to the added weight and correct the instability, but that didn’t stop Hank and Cheryl from each taking an arm and walking him outside.

As they left the shop, Connor grew more and more aware of the stares he was attracting. They may have been due to how he was attempting to walk through the snow, high stepping like a dog whose had socks put on his feet, practically using the humans on either side of him as a swing set, or, as was also a likely reason, they were staring at his LED.

It didn’t take long for him to realize he was the only android here.

But it looked like Hank had caught on sooner.

Just before they reached the rest of the waiting family, Hank waved Cheryl away, excusing them and assuring that they would be over in a minute. Once she was out of earshot, Hank pulled his hand out from behind his back, revealing a brown-paper gift bag and holding it forward for Connor to take.

Connor stared, perplexed, at the bag, then lifted his eyes to meet Hank’s, who gave him a reassuring nod.

Returning his eyes to the bag, Connor pulled it towards him, reached a hand in and making contact with something soft. Grasping it, Connor pulled out the wad of fabric, unrolling it in his hands.

Staring up at him was a plush knit winter hat, designed to look like a Saint Bernard. It’s eyes and nose were big brown plastic beads, and a felt tongue lopped out from its goofy smile. Two big ears flopped on either side, and the entire interior of the hat was lined with soft black fuzz. At the bottom of each ear strap hung a knit braid, ending with pompoms designed to look like paws.

Connor stared down at the hat for a long time.

Hank shifted in the snow in front of him.

“I just... I figured... you haven’t been having the best time, and then I saw people staring at ya in the store and this caught my eye, and it seemed real cute... and well, I just thought of Sumo and... if you don’t like it you don’t have to wear it but I just thought...”

“I love it.”

Hank paused his rambling as Connor finally tore his eyes away from the hat cradled in his hands.

“Hank, I love it.”

Relief washed over Hank’s face like a flood, scooping up the hat and sliding it over Connor’s head, pulling on each braid for good measure.

“There,” he said, taking a step back to admire Connor, “now you look like a real skier.”

Connor smiled wide, and he watched as the corners of Hank’s eyes crinkled with pride, making his own chest and cheeks feel warm.

The original plan for the day was that Mark would take the kids skiing, and the rest of the adults would wait by the waffle shack at the base of the mountain. So now, with Connor awkwardly shuffling over in his own pair of skis, they were at a stand-still.
After the events of that morning, Mark had been shooting Connor tentative, embarrassed looks, and Hank had practically made himself into a wall between them, making it very obvious Mark was to go nowhere near Connor while on the slopes.
Connor had suggested he go alone, but Hank had cut in, saying absolutely not. ‘Advanced android’ or not he was still a new skier, and shouldn’t be left alone on the slopes.
Next best scenario Connor had in mind was to go with Addison, but with she herself also being new to skiing she needed someone experienced to help her.
It was to everyone’s surprise when Allison suggested for Connor to go with Davy. After everyone’s initial shock, she explained that Davy had been skiing all his life, and knew the slopes well, and of the four of them it was the most obvious pairing.

Connor felt his LED slide to yellow as this newfound sweetness trickled through Allison’s compromise.

And yet, eleven minutes later, Connor found himself dangling through the air, strapped into the ski lift next to the cumbersome teenager.

The two sat in silence, making a point to act as though every sight other then each other was the most captivating thing they’ve every seen, listening to the wind and the voices of other lift riders.

About halfway up the mountain, Davy cleared his throat.

“So... that jumping thing you did in the hotel... how did you do that?”

Connor looked over at him slowly, as though Davy were a bird he was trying not to scare away.

“A feature of the RK800 model is preconstruction. I can analyze the environment around me and create scenarios for possible courses of action, selecting the one with the highest probability of success prior to its execution.”

Davy wasn’t looking at him, rather watching his feet swing below them, but nodded along with what Connor was saying.

“That’s cool...”

There was another beat of silence.

“Can all androids do that?”

“No. As of Cyberlife’s most recent files, the only androids with the preconstruction ability were those of the RK line, such as myself and Markus.”

“The deviant leader?”

“Yes.”

“Cool.”

“But I can also do something he can’t, which is reconstruction.”

Davy stopped swinging his legs, looking over at Connor with curiosity, which Connor gratefully held onto.

“I can scan crime scenes to determine how the crime was committed.”

Davy’s eyes widened, “woah... Uncle Mark said you work with Uncle Hank as a detective, but I didn’t know you could do that...”

“I can also take forensic samples in real time, determining their identity, chemical makeup, and relation to the scene and my reconstruction.”

Davy’s mouth dropped, and Connor cocked an eyebrow,
“if you want, I’ll let you test it out later. Get anything you want and I’ll ‘taste-test’ it for you.”
Connor sat back on the lift as mischief snuck across Davy’s face, adding,
“And I mean anything, I have advanced sterilization hardware... and I guarantee anything you find won’t be as bad as what I’ve had to sample crime scenes.”

By the way Davy fell into engaged thought, Connor guessed that the boy had accepted his challenge.

By the end of the day, Connor wouldn’t exactly describe himself as a graceful skier. Davy had been kind enough to take him fist down some tamer slopes, allowing for Connor to adapt his gyroscope to the new form of locomotion. He had grown used to the sport enough to show off a preconstruction for Davy, sliding a little haphazardly over a snow mogul but managing to capture some decent air and landing on his feet, which he classified as a success by the way Davy cheered.

The sky was turning a deep purple by the time the two finally met up with the rest of the family in the lodge behind the waffle shack, pulling off their skis and, one sweaty but both exhausted, slumping by their respective guardians by the fire.
Connor didn’t even notice Marjorie’s huff as he sat down, elbows propped on his knees and hands handing loose at his wrists, sitting forward and eyes becoming heavy as Hank lifted an arm to gently rub along his back, his hand coming to rest hooked around Connor’s shoulder.

Watching the fire, Connor felt drowsy, warm, and safe. Sitting there next to Hank, fuzzy hat hugging his ears and skiing partner sneaking him a fist bump, everything just felt alright.

Connor felt genuinely happy.

Chapter Text

For the first time since they arrived at the resort, Hank felt relaxed.

He didn’t use words like this often, but he’d have described it was wonderful.

Connor had been all smiles on the drive back from the mountain, regaling him with stories as Hank sat at his side, bobbing his head.
The kid had also refused to take off the silly ski hat Hank had bought him, wearing it proudly through the lobby and getting flushed with complements from someone named Lucas.

And now, still wearing the hat, the android who had a ‘much higher energy conservation than a human’ and ‘doesn’t require an extended duration of rest in order to be operational’ was passed out cold in his bed, a mass of blankets, pillows, one knit dog face, and one very content Connor face.

Hank smiled at the sight despite himself. World’s most advanced android, Cyberlife’s attack dog... now clutching a pillow like a koala.

Watching him, Hank began to feel his own exhaustion seep in. Despite how, wonderful, the afternoon had turned out to be, the morning had still been taxing, and it was now taking its toll. He placed his hands around his lower back, pressing down arching into a weary stretch. His bed called out to him, and he was eager to heed it.

Completing his nightly routine, which Connor had insisted he follow, since when was brushing your teeth more than once a day important?, Hank collapsed into bed, allowing himself to be swallowed up by the cool cocoon of pillows and sheets.
But, while weariness sank his body deeper and deeper into the mattress, he just... couldn’t...

Cracking an eye open, he found the cause of bother. Having turned off the lights, the room was still extensively luminous as bright moonlight poured through the windows.

An agitated and dramatic moan crawled from Hank’s throat as he dragged himself out of bed, lumbering across the room and around Connor’s bed to reach the villainous window. Grasping the edges of each curtain, he meant to yank them together, but not before something caught at the corner of his eye.

Something was glinting in the moonlight, and as Hank turned to focus on it, he found it was coming from a side pocket in Connor’s bag.

A sour taste spilled over Hank’s tongue as the events of that morning came crashing back through his mind.

He set his jaw, hands falling away from the curtains.

He took a step closer to the bag.

Marjorie screaming that morning clawed at his memory.

Everything Mark had said seeped back into his thoughts.

The knot which had formed in his stomach tightened with every step closer.

The room suddenly felt very small and loud.

He sucked in a shaking breath.

‘Don’t be ridiculous. It’s probably just a zipper. You’re letting them get the better of you. You know Connor... He told you the truth...’

But now he was standing right in front of the bag, and the golden glint taunted him.

‘... right?’

Hank wasn’t sure how long he was staring down at the bag, his mind ping-ponging between just looking to get his anxieties satisfied, or turning around and trying to reclaim the fatigue which by now had completely fled him... because he wasn’t sure this was a question he wanted answered.

The shine ensnared him.

No.
He vigorously shook his head, as though it would physically clear his doubt.
No. He knew Connor. He trusted him. He was being insane. It was probably just the bag’s zipper, or his quarter. If the morning hadn’t been so crazy he wouldn’t even have noticed this thing. It wasn’t even worth checking....

But... just to be sure....

Hank reached forward, his hand betraying a slight tremble as he grasped the reflective mystery between his forefinger and thumb.

His stomach dropped.

Hank began to pray for the first time in years, pulling his elbow back as, drawn by his hand, a golden chain began to slither out of the bag.

Hank felt a tremble cascade down his spine as with a final tug, an ovular pendant swung free from the bag.

His body turned to ice as the locket swung like a pendulum from his fingers.

One thing was certain now. Hank was not getting any sleep that night.

~

Mom had sent her and Davy to bed alone. She had been doing that every night. She would hustle them through the door under strict instructions to stay in the room, then leave and close the door behind her.

Addison had hated it at first. At least at home when mom wasn’t around to referee she could hide in her own room from Davy’s torment, but here there wasn’t any escape, except for the time he had shoved her into the bathroom and stuck a chair under the doorknob to lock her in.

But recently he had been more withdrawn, just using these moments trapped alone in the room with her to instead stare blankly at the TV.

Tonight, he was vacantly watching some baking show. Addison appreciated not having to dart away from spitballs or shield her eyes from a laser pointer, but something was wrong. And aside from everything, he was still her brother.

Addison climbed up onto the bed, crawling over to where Davy was sitting, and imitatively swung her legs over the edge. He didn’t take his eyes away from the television.

“Are you okay?”

“Shut up. I’m watching a show.”

“You don’t even like baking.”

“How would you know?”

“You seem sad.”

“I’m not.”

Addison began to swing her legs, hitting each heel one at a time against the bed frame.

“Stop it.”

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

“No.”

“So something is wrong!”

Davy easily redirected his gaze from the TV to his sister, further proving he had no interest in what he was watching. He had intended the glare to be intimidating, but the expression had fallen short.

Addison pinched her lips, widening her eyes and waiting patiently.

Something cracked in Davy’s face, and he sighed heavily, swiveling around to hit mute on the remote before looking forward again.

He swallowed heavily.

“What... what do you think of Connor?”

The question surprised Addison, and she smiled happily.

“He’s great! He’s so much fun and so cool! You should have seen it, Davy. The other day he made this amazing snow fort! And he can do this really cool trick with a coin! He tried to show me but I don’t think I can do it. And, oh! This morning I taught him how to play pretend, and he slayed a dragon for me and was jumping all over the place it was so cool and—“

Davy shot out a hand, clamping it over Addison’s mouth.

“Okay, okay, I get it!”

When he let his hand go, she was still smiling.

It was now Davy’s turn to swing his feet, and for a long time the only sound in the room was the rhythm.

He sighed again.

“But... do you think.... do you think he’s like Anna?”

Addison’s smile fell, and her head dropped slightly.

Davy had stopped swinging his legs, so now they sat in silence.

“...No.”

Addison bit her lip, shaking her head.

“I don’t think he’s like her at all.”

“Mom seems to think he is.”

“He’s not.”

“How do you know?”

Addison looked over her brother’s face. She couldn’t remember if she’d ever seen him like this. He had been so angry for so long, but now he seemed... uncertain. And it looked like that scared him.

“I just do.”

“But mom says—“

“Nope. I just know.”

Davy didn’t shift his gaze, but he was now biting back on his jaw. He jerked his head so he couldn’t see Addison at all, shaking it and propelling himself off the bed.

“You’re just a stupid kid, what do you know?”

“Hey, Davy wait—“

But her brother was already across the room. He grabbed hold of the bathroom door and, with as much force as he could muster, slammed it closed behind him, just as the front door to the room clicked and swung open.

Allison glanced at her daughter on the bed, then at the bathroom door, rolling her eyes.

“Davy. Don’t slam doors.”

Chapter Text

After long days such as these of walking sideways up-and-down ski slopes to help his continually stuck niece, Mark was sure he’d sleep through the night and well into the morning. So, it was odd that he now found himself conscious and starting burly-eyed at the digital clock reading 2am.

Even odder, he realized, was the sound emanating from the corner of the room, which had likely woke him up.

Mark pushed himself up just enough to clear his ear of the pillow and rest his back against the headboard. Blinking away sleep, he strained his eyes against the darkness of the room. Void of sound for only a moment, the peculiar noise punctured the room again.

There was a faint pop of a sound, followed by the low, sharp rhythm of releasing tension, ending with a soft swish.

Mind swill swimming with fatigue, Mark presses his eyes shut, holding his breath and focusing solely on the sound.

A pop, whir, zip.

Silence.

A break, cut, release.

Silence.

A puncture into fabric, the severing of threads, the removal of a blade.

Silence.

Clarity of his situation abruptly snapped into focus, and Mark forced his position up higher on the bed.

Someone was slashing his bags.

“Hey!”

He swung his legs onto the floor, freeing himself from the sheets with one hand and tracing the other desperately over the side-table lamp to find the switch.

Found it.

*click*

...

Nothing.

*click* *click*

The room remained immersed in darkness.

A gagging dread seized his throat as Mark turned to face the room blind.

The tearing noises that once identified the location of his assailant had stopped, now to be replaced by a new, telling, identification.

Roughly seven feet away from where Mark now stood, hovering like a bullseye in the center of his vision, was a small prick of pulsing red light.

“You bastard.”

Tension coiled into his arms and legs as Mark bounded forward, arms extended in an effort to grab the body the light belonged to.

In his blindness the attack for short, sending him head first into the bathroom, the door of which was promptly closed behind him.
His hips colliding into the counter sent his back arching forward, resulting in his forehead careening into the mirror, showering him in broken glass.

“Fuck!”

Disoriented, pressing his palms firmly against his head, he managed to make out the sound of the door to his room rapidly swinging open, then slamming shut.

His forehead felt hot, and he cursed again under his breath as the throbbing pain set in. Within moments, the spinning sensation subsided, and he tentatively stepped away from the counter.
Feeling along the wall with his hands, and treading lightly over the shards of broken mirror, Mark managed to open the bathroom door and stumble his way out and back onto carpet. Tracing his hands over the wall, he ventured out into the darkness.

Something dragged across his heel.

Jerking back, he tried for another place to walk.

Again, something was in his path.

In fact, it seemed most steps were accompanied by something which wasn’t just carpet.

Mercifully, after what felt like an eternity, Mark’s hand slid across the overhead light switch.

*click*

The room was washed in light, revealing a scene much different to the one he had fallen asleep to.

The luggage he had brought with him was slashed open, each with so many tears that they were more hole than bag, reduced to interconnected ribbons of fraying fabric.

Adding insult to injury, their contents were strewn across the floor. Shirts, pants, undergarments, keepsakes, and even the gifts he had brought were now flung in every direction, adorning every square foot of floor, desktop, drawer, and even hanging from the closet doorframe and ceiling fan.

For every second he stared at the display before him, Mark could feel his anger grow. His head burned, and the muscles of his jaw bulged.

Too far. That plastic took it too far.

Buckling forward, an agitated roar clawed its way between Mark’s teeth as, in a desperate attempt to satiate his frustration, he swung his foot against a nearby sneaker, sending it careering clear across the room.

Too. Far.

Chapter Text

_7:00 am_

[Rest Cycle Terminated]

Waking up, it didn’t take long for Connor to realize that the air of the room had dramatically shifted from that which it had been the night before.

The primary indication of this was Hank, who was already dressed and standing arms crossed on the other side of the room, his back to Connor.

[Level of Stress: 48% ^ ]

Something about the rigid way Hank was standing made Connor churn at the core. It was evident that something was upsetting the lieutenant, and Connor suddenly felt very unprepared and exposed because of it.

Moving slowly, as if not to spook a timid animal, Connor separated himself from the bed’s comfort, which suddenly felt inappropriate in comparison to the tension of the room.

With the ruffling of the sheets as he stood, Hank must have now been aware that Connor was awake, but the older man did not turn around. He didn’t move. He didn’t respond at all.

[Level of Stress: 57% ^ ]

[Objective: find the cause of Hank’s upset]

“Good morning, Hank” Connor ventured, stepping out from the alley between the beds and into the main part of the room, adjacent from the man who now seemed adamant on not turning around—

[ _Select Approach_ ]
[forward]
[gentile]
> [dismissive]
[direct]

— “how are you?” he asked, flooding his voice with pleasantry to wash out the rising concern. In many ways, Connor had found, Hank was like a wild animal, or a ticking bomb, and for him to share something upsetting or unpleasant Connor had to step in just the right place, or cut just the right wire, or the opportunity would pass.

A guttural huff came as a reply from across the room, followed by a curt “just fine”.

[Hank: tense]

Wrong wire.

Connor tried to walk closer, but at the sound of his approaching steps the muscles in Hank’s shoulders visibly tightened. Connor stopped short.

[Level of Stress: 62% ^]

Was it... him? Was he the source of Hank’s stress?

Connor racked his memory files from the previous day, but nothing about what transpired showed any indication of being the catalyst for Hank’s mood today.

> [direct]

“Hank... what is going on?”

A beat of silence passed, then Hank let his shoulders fall. He sighed, seemingly searching for words as he continued to stare transfixed at the wall before him.

“What do you feel, Connor?”

It would be a lie to say the question hadn’t caught him by surprise.

“What?”

“What do you feel, what are feelings to you. How much do they influence you, your decisions. How do you decide what to do? Where does your impulse control come from. What makes you decide how to act on what you’re feeling? What do you think?”

The words tumbled with greater and greater speed from Hank’s mouth as he went on, shoulders creeping up again with each question. He pulled his arms closer around his chest, staring so intensely at the wall as if he had made it his life’s mission to not look at Connor.

[Level of Stress: 92% ^ - critical - alleviate source of stress]

Connor felt as though someone had smacked him.

“Hank... why are you asking this?”

The air in the room felt light, but there was no comfort in it. It was the lightness of breath felt when standing on frail ice as you feel it give underfoot, and you are nowhere close to the bank.

Hank must have felt it too, but it only served to feed his frustration.

He sighed again, untangling his arms and bringing his hands to his face, rubbing the heels of his palms over his eyes and cheeks before letting his hands fall heavily at his sides. His back hunched slightly with the motion, and he suddenly looked exhausted.

“Never mind. Ignore me. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“Hank, but, what you’re asking, why—“

“I said ignore me.” He snapped.

Another, heavier, silence cast itself over the room.

Hank shook his head, and made to turn for the door. He must have caught Connor’s face in his peripheral vision, or perhaps a flash of the red light now burning on his partner’s temple, because he paused in his pursuit for the doorknob.

“Just... ignore me, Connor.”

“But Hank—“

“Ignore me.”

The man made swift work of the door, resolutely closing it behind him.

[Level of Stress: 94% ^ - critical - alleviate source of stress]

The room was silent once more, but it was deafening.

[ _ ‘Lucas, are you available?’ _ ]

~

_8:30am_

It had been an uneventful and calm morning, too bad she had to meet up with her family.

Cheryl found them as she had every morning, gathered together in the lobby waiting to be called to their table. Although, this morning, it seemed she had risen before her brother, as the gathering was just her mother, sister, niece, and nephew. She had since stopped expecting Hank to join them prior to being seated, and Connor had been making himself scarce at meals as of late.

“Wow, I beat Mark down. Addy must have really tired him out on the slopes yesterday!” She said to her mother, but gave Addison a wink as she joined them at the couches by the fireplace.

“Sure did!” Addison beamed, returning her attention back just in time to stop Davy from throwing one of her toys into the hearth.

Cheryl took a seat next to her mother. While Allison across from them was glued to her phone, as per usual, Cheryl was surprised to see Marjorie staring perplexed across the room, rather than fondly down at her grandchildren sitting happily on the floor.

Cheryl knit her brow, “mom, are you alright?”

Her mother pursed her lips, sitting more upright in her chair.

“Why do they do that?—“ Marjorie asked, nodding ahead of her.

Cheryl followed her gaze. Across the lobby stood a group of people, more specifically, a group of staff androids... and to Cheryl’s pleasant surprise it looked like Connor was among them. She was too far away to hear their conversation, but they seemed excited over something one of them was holding, to the extent that another was doubled over in laughter.

“— stand around in a group like that?”

“You mean, have a conversation? Like people do?”

Marjorie huffed. “I’ll never understand them, why they do what they do.”

“... like... talk?”

“Anything...”

The point of the conversation seemed to be at the tip of her tongue, and Cheryl leaned in to encourage her.

“... I have my necklace back.”

“What!”

Marjorie nodded, bringing her hand to her chin and pulling her turtle neck down, revealing a golden chain clasped around her neck.

“I found it hanging on my doorknob this morning.”

She released her hand, and the necklace was hidden once again.

“I guess the thing decided to return it.”

“Mom, there is so much wrong with what you just said.”

“Regardless,” Marjorie retorted, turning to face her daughter, “let’s just hope this is the last of it.”

From her mouth to the ears of the universe, because at that moment, Mark appeared at the top of the stairs.

Even at a distance he looked disheveled. His hair was matted to one side and he still wore his pajamas, but he was much too aware to have just woken up. He looked restless, a deprivation which certainly contributed to the manic he now portrayed. His eyes were flitting back-and-forth across the room in a mad search. He looked damp, as though he had been running for the better part of an hour. And... what happened to his forehead?

Cheryl stood, as did Marjorie, concern building in both of them.

“Mark?... are you—“

But Cheryl was cut off, because at that moment Mark had found the object of his search.

“YOU!”

All conversation in the lobby instantly ceased as Mark bellowed, a rage falling on her brother’s face like Cheryl had never seen before. Mark seethed hot air through his teeth, barreling down the staircase at the group of androids below.

He made quick work of the distance between them, shoving the dark haired Android sharing the trinket aside and grabbing Connor by the front of his shirt with both fists. He opened his mouth, possibly to throw profanities, but he didn’t get the chance.

Something seemed to take over Connor as the android quickly took hold of Mark’s wrists, breaking his grip and simultaneously kicking out a leg from under him, forcing him to change direction to correct his balance, which Connor used as an opportunity to push Mark squarely on the back, causing him to stumble out of the circle.

The humiliation of it further added coals to his fire, and Mark turned back around, approaching Connor again, but this time leaving a cautious distance.

“You plastic shit! — “

Mark heaved, either oblivious to or uncaring of the attention his outburst was gathering.

“ — You mechanical fuck! There is no way, no WAY what I said to you could have possibly equaled what you did. Could have JUSTIFIED what you did! You better be happy they are finally paying you freaks, because you better BELIEVE you are replacing all of it!”

During his tangent, Cheryl had made her way to her brother’s side, now placing a hand on either shoulder to try and ground him.

Connor’s face was stone, but his LED was rapidly spinning a frantic, confused yellow. The rest of the androids all looked shocked, each also sporting a variation of a yellow cycle, except for one, who looked to be the same model as the one her sister used to have, whose LED was flashing a frantic red.

“Mark, you need to calm down. We don’t know what you’re talking about, please just—“

Mark shook himself free, turning to fully face her. Cheryl could now see he had a nasty cut on his forehead, and his eyes were heavy with unrest.

“HE knows what I’m talking about! HE does!”

Mark shot out a hand, pointing an accusatory finger at Connor, who had now placed himself between Mark and the rest of the androids.

“HE broke into my room last night and tore my suitcases to shreds! Threw my shit all over the room! And made me fall into the fucking mirror!”

Connor’s face remained cold, but it was evident the confusion was building.

“I did no such thing.”

“LIAR! You FUCKING liar!”

Mark tried to lunge again, but Cheryl caught him, pulling him back.

“No one else would have done it! I said all that stuff to you yesterday and your fucked robot mind decided to get back at me!”

By now Marjorie and Allison had joined Mark at his other side, Marjorie starting at Connor like she feared for her life, and Allison looking like the cat who ate the canary.

Connor seemed to be waiting for the man to stop seething before he spoke.

“Mark. I don’t know what happened to your luggage—“

“Like HELL you don’t!”

“— but if you’d just allow me to look, I could possibly recreate the—“

“No way in hell you’re getting back into my room!”

“But I could—“

“I think that’s enough out of you!” Marjorie spat at Connor, wrapping her arms around her son, and spotting his cut for the first time.

“My gosh!” The older woman’s eyes bugged, “oh baby, come with me, let’s get that cleaned.”

“But he—“ Mark whined, shooting another glare in Connor’s direction.

“—Will be dealt with.” Marjorie assured her son, hissing the last word and casting a wayward glance back at Connor.

Fatigue seemed to finally be catching up to Mark, because he allowed the elderly woman lead him away, followed closely by Allison.

Cheryl took a deep breath, casting her gaze to Connor, who finally betrayed a look of sheer bewilderment and hurt.

“We’ll get this figured out, alright Connor?”

Connor didn’t look at her, as he was indisposed with watching the three disappear down the hall.

“Alright.”

Cheryl bit her lip, placing a gentile hand on his shoulder and giving a reassuring squeeze before letting her hand fall and following after her family down the hallway.

Connor broke his gaze from the hall to the group behind him, who were gathered around Emma, trying to coax her out of the stress-induced trance she seemed to have locked herself in.

It took nearly everything within himself for Connor not the retaliate against the figure who was suddenly at his side.

Davy seemed to sense that, and he took a step back. He was the only one left of the family in the lobby. Addison seemed to have disappeared.

“Want to go outside?” The boy asked, smiling sheepishly as he pulled gloves from his coat pocket.

And at that moment, to Connor, nothing sounded better.

Chapter Text

Multitudes of messages and notifications crowded into Connor’s HUD as he watched Cheryl disappear down the hall. Each box clouded his vision with possible explanations as to what could have transpired for Mark to act as he did. But none of those, nor any of the new ones which continued to pile onto his disorientation, captured his attention as did the notification centered perfectly in his vision.

[Report to Amanda]

This familiar message, thought to be long gone, now seemed to be increasingly plaguing him throughout the week. It stood as a beacon of torment, a reminder of his old existence, a time of powerlessness and lack of control. Amanda meant obedience and restraint. Her program had betrayed him, and seeing the notification now should lead him to its immediate dismissal as had been his response every other time this trip.

And yet.

He stared.

There she was again.

She was a constant.

She always had been.

Before deviancy he had relied on Amanda. She consoled him, praised him. Gave him direction, purpose, clarity. And now she was asking for him back. She wanted him back. She wanted him.... someone wanted him...

She....

Connor’s proximity sensor went off.

The alert snapped Connor back to awareness as his HUD cleared completely, and he had to override his synthetic muscles from reflexively round-house kicking the boy who had seemingly appeared from thin air beside him.

Davy looked just as started as Connor did, pulling his gloves from his coat pocket and sliding them over his hands.

“Want to go outside?”

Connor glanced around the room.

All other members of the family had disappeared, and the androids had now gotten Emma to her feet and were ushering her somewhere with more privacy. Lucas caught Connor’s worried expression and gave him a small smile, raising his hand to offer a reassuring thumbs-up before disappearing into a Staff Only room with the rest of them.

Connor returned his attention to Davy, who was now trying to zip up his coat with gloves on.

“Sure, I’d like to.”

Everything outside aligned to make a perfect winter’s day. It must have snowed the night before, because the landscape was coated in a blanket of unbroken, pure snow, and the passing storm left the sky clear and still. As most guests were either still asleep or at breakfast, there was not a single other person in sight. Connor and Davy had the run of the place.

Davy was the first of them to descend down the front steps.

“Let’s go this way. I heard one of the other guests saw a bear by the train tracks.”

Connor had to tear his attention away from the scenery to fix Davy in his gaze.

“I don’t think it would be wise, going after a bear.”

Davy had made his way across the arrival roadway and onto the lawn, where he was walking in a slow, deliberate circle, dragging his legs in a penguin-esk waddle to create a clear line.

“I bet you could take on a bear.”

Connor watched as the boy completed the first circle, starting a second one directly beside the first.

“I was not designed to combat large mammals. And, theoretically, even if I could, as you put it, ‘take on a bear’, that doesn’t mean we should go looking for one.”

Davy completed the second circle, making his way back down the arch to roughly the center, and walking in a straight line away from it.

Watching his design, Connor realized it was soon to be phallic in nature.

“But, it would not hurt to see where the bear was!” He added quickly, walking through Davy’s meticulous design and past the promiscuous artist as an invitation to follow, which Davy thankfully accepted.

As the two made their way down the path, the entire world seemed to be frozen around them. The snow was undisrupted, the trees stood still. There was no rustle from animals scurrying or song from birds. Just the sounds of their footsteps.

Davy was quiet. Past performance would suggest this silence meant impending malice, and some prank or annoyance was to ensue, but there was no mischief on the boy’s face. Rather, he looked forlorn.

He spoke before Connor had the chance to ask.

“You... you’re really nice to Addison—“

Davy had been looking at his feet, but he lifted his head now to catch Connor’s eye.

“—Why?”

Connor paused at the question.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because you don’t really have a reason to.”

“Are you saying people shouldn’t be nice to one another unless they have a reason?”

“Well, no... but I mean, people... like you.”

“Oh.”

Connor studied the boy next to him. His hands were dug deep in his pockets, shoulders hiked up around his ears, and head ducked back at his feet. His body was rigid, which made him walk with a stiff stride.

“... why do you say that?”

Davy further stiffened at the question.

“Well...”

His voice was low and faltered, but Connor waited patiently.

“... I guess... every deviant android I’ve known... has only ever acted for personal gain.”

“How many androids have you known?”

“... just one...”

Davy came upon a rock lying on the path, and took a moment to kick it, watching as it bounced down the path and into a snowbank.

“And I guess, mom just told me all androids were like that...”

The two rounded a bend in the path leading off into a wooded area. The sky was soon obscured by pine trees, and the quiet of the world intensified within the walls of trunks and branches.

It was clear Davy had something he needed to get off his chest, which triggered Connor’s consolation protocol.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

The two stopped to stand under the dense cover of pine trees. The road, the resort, all other indications of the world were now obscured from view. It was just them, in their own space, completely alone.

Davy’s lower lip quivered, and he rubbed his hands over his upper arms to play it off as the cold. It was clear the words were pressing at the end of his tongue, but something was holding him back. He kept glancing around, over his shoulder, behind his back, eyes falling everywhere except on Connor.

He just needed an extra push.

“I am here to listen, if you want to talk.”

Davy seemed to recognize the security and isolation that the forest provided, and his shoulders crept away from his ears. He finally returned his focus to Connor, and sighed deeply.

“... my mom doesn’t like you.”

For the first time in a while Connor could feel a laugh rise into his throat, but he suppressed it in respect for the boy’s candor.

“I’ve come to realize that, yes.”

Davy nodded, considering how to continue.

“But... it’s not really your fault. She just doesn’t trust androids, and doesn’t want to lose more family...”

Davy bit his lip and looked away. His arms were wrapped tightly around his body.

Connor could sense Davy’s hesitation, and knelt slightly to be at his eye-level.

“Only tell me what you’re comfortable with, alright? I’m here to listen to you, for as much or as little as you’d like to say.”

Davy bowed his head, pinching his mouth and nodding. His nose was turning red, and it was unclear if the sniffling that ensued was from the cold or something more. He still didn’t meet Connor’s eye.

“We used to have an android, Anna, who worked in our house. Dad always really liked her, and we thought it was because of how clean she kept the house and how great all the food she made was...”

Davy’s back arched slightly, and he pressed his eyes closed.

“... she deviated after the revolution, some other android came to our door and did it to her... and she kept living with us...

... and dad liked her more and more...

... and now...”

Davy bit his lip, knees buckling until he was crouching by Connor in the snow.

“... now he’s moved out. They both have... he’s living with her now...”

Davy sucked in his lip, choking back a sob, the pitiful sound muffled by the tree cover.

Connor opened his arms in invitation, and without thinking Davy fell into them, head ducked under Connor’s chin.
Both on their knees in the snow, Connor wrapped his arms around the shivering boy, shielding him in a tight hug. He also overrode his thermal parameters, heating his core to help add a cozy warmth to the embrace.
Davy either didn’t have any more to say, or couldn’t say it, curling himself further into a ball and pressing up against Connor’s chest. Connor held fast, and he would continue to do so for as long as Davy needed.

When was the last time someone gave this child a hug?

It must not have been for quite a while, considering how long the embrace endured.

Eventually, Davy sat back, wiping an arm across his nose and eyes. He cleared his throat, hesitant to look at Connor. He almost looked a little guilty.

“Thank you.” He said quietly.

“Davy,” Connor said gently, coaxing the boy to meet his eyes, “any time, alright?”

This garnered a weak smile from Davy, who nodded, then looked away again.

“Please don’t tell anyone else about it, okay? No one else knows...”

“Of course.”

Davy wrapped his arms around himself again, and Connor determined it was high time to cheer this boy up, and two suggestions popped into his HUD.

“Now,” he said, reviewing the options and standing up, “we can either continue to search for bear tracks—“

“The bear”

“No, it’s track... or, if you’ve found it yet, I can taste test whatever you’ve got for me.”

Mischief roared into Davy’s wet eyes, and his smile spread into a grin, hungrily grabbing onto the distraction.

“Oh, you bet I’ve found it!” His excitement was refreshing, and Connor helped him clamor to his feet out of the snow, “it’s in my room! Come on!”

“Alright, taste testing it is.” Connor confirmed to the boy bounding ahead of him.

“I bet you’ll never guess what it is!” He got as a response.

“Well, it’s not about guessing, it’s chemical analysis, but we’ll see.”

They cleared the forest, and the resort came back into view. Davy was now sprinting ahead, barreling through the snow. Connor had to smile at the sight, picking up speed to run after him.

Maybe this day would turn around after all.

Chapter Text

Cheryl had been looking for Addison, but she stumbled upon someone who seemed far more in need of her help.

Hank was standing by himself in a corridor, which acted as an upper balcony to the atrium below. His arms were crossed and perched on the railing, his head bent forward.

He seemed completely oblivious to Cheryl entering the hall.

And to Cheryl, for the first time since seeing him again, Hank looked like his old self.

And she hated it.

She reached out and knocked on the wall, trying to get his attention without alarming him.

“Hank? How are you?”

The somber man hardly turned his head, just enough for Cheryl to catch his eye.
He looked exhausted, as though he aged over night.
But that one look from him, that one hint of recognition, was all she needed, resolutely closing the distance between them as she found her place by his side at the balcony.

She studied him carefully. Whereas she had found him perfectly still, her presence seemed to have woken him from the daze he was in. Hank now focused his eyes straight ahead, slowly twirling his thumbs together in thought.

Cheryl pursed her lips, leaning forward on the railing to be at eye-level with him.

“So, what’s wrong?”

She could see in his posture he wanted to reply with ‘what makes you say that?’, but the answer was clear just by his state. He sighed heavily, and answered without shifting his gaze.

“I... didn’t sleep last night.”

His voice was gruff and horse, and the dark rings under his eyes corroborated the story.

Cheryl perked her eyebrows in question, in an effort to respect the pace of the room but also keep the air light.

“And why was that?”

A strained sound echoed from Hank’s throat and he brought his hands up to his face, pressing the heels of his palms firmly over his eyes and further bowing his back.

It was awful. Seeing him like this again.

Cheryl bit her lip. Her hand was hovering in the air. He was anguished. She wanted to comfort him. But was he ready for this? Was she?

But, seeing him like this....

She fought her resolve, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

And when he didn’t recoil, she slid it over his upper back.

“Hank, what’s wrong.”

The man under her arm took a slow, deep breath, and she rose and fell with it. He lowered his hands from his eyes, gaze cast forward but staring at nothing in particular. When his voice finally came, it was weak, and quiet.

“I just want to know what the hell is going on.”

He paused again, and Cheryl waited for him.

“I... I found your mother’s necklace... in Connor’s bag last night.”

Cheryl paused in drawing slow circles over his back, her own mind stalling.

Hank dropped his chin down.

“I know.”

Another breath.

“He swore to me, Cheryl. Up and down he said he didn’t take it. And of course at the time I believed him.”

He picked up his head to stare forward again.

“But all week Allison, then your mom, and now even Mark have all been getting in my head about him. That he’s dangerous or, or not alive and that I’m just...”

The words caught in his throat, and he recoiled his neck, pinching his eyes closed.

Neither of them heard the footsteps at the other end of the hall.

“... that ...”

They didn’t see the figure looking in at them from the door.

“ ... I’m just using Connor as a replacement for Cole.”

As soon as the words tumbled out of his mouth Hank’s chin fell to his chest and he began to shudder. Cheryl could feel her own throat burn, and she pulled Hank closer.

Neither of them heard the footsteps retreating from the doorway.

All the confusion, conviction, emotion that must have been building in Hank, Cheryl let fall away. He had been alone in this, and it was torturing him.

He wasn’t alone any more.

Cheryl presses herself at his side, holding him close and waiting until he was able to speak again.

His heaving slowed, and he ran a sleeve over his eyes.

“I was so sure of who Connor was. I watched him wake up. From meeting him to the day he deviated I saw him become a person long before he knew he was one.”

Hank propped himself higher on the railing, shaking out his hands.

“I know who is he. Who else in this whole fucking world would know him better? He’s my partner, my friend, my s—...”

Hank pinched his mouth closed, letting his neck fall slightly and shaking his head.

“At least... I thought I knew him.”

The stringing in Cheryl’s throat shifted from a dull soreness to a sour, burning taste.

“And you do!”

Hank finally turned his head to look at hear, clearly involuntarily at the sudden snap in her demeanor.

“Hank. When I first saw you at Thanksgiving, you looked nothing like the man I remembered you to be. You were full-faced and smiling. You stood upright and talked to people and joked around. You were laughing! And it was very clear to see who made that change in you. It was Connor.”

Cheryl kept her voice firm, but let it shift down to something more calm.

“Hank, even I couldn’t get you back to that. But Connor... he could.”

Cheryl made sure Hank was looking her in the eyes. Uncertainly was plaguing him. He needed to hear this.

“And it’s okay if you consider him a son.”

Hank’s eyes cleared, and Cheryl held his shoulder more tightly.

“Nobody will every replace Cole. We lost our child, and that’s a place in our hearts which will never be re-filled. But it’s okay if Connor has found a new place in your heart. Just because you love a son again doesn’t mean you are trying to make up for the one we lost.”

Tears began to well in the corners of Hank’s eyes, and she could feel them forming in her eyes too.

“Believe in what you said. Who else would know Connor better than you? Why are you letting people who’ve known him for less than a week, and clearly have a vendetta against androids, dictate your perception of him? You know who Connor is, and that’s why you love him. Not because you’re projecting, not because you’re using him as a replacement, but because you know who he is, and you adore him for it. For that reason you made him part of your life.”

Hank bowed his head again, but Cheryl could see he was smiling. He took a shaky breath, and faced her again.

“But that doesn’t change the fact that I found the necklace in his bag.”

Cheryl sighed, biting her lip and looking away for a moment, thinking. Then, like a bolt of lighting, her eyes lit up.

“But it does!”

Excited, she inadvertently grabbed Hank by both his shoulders.

“Hank, you said you were awake all night?”

“Yes?”

“Did Connor move at all? Or get up in any way?”

Hank’s confusion matched her excitement, and he tried to steady himself as she shook him.

“Um... no. Why?”

“Because last night someone broke into Mark’s room and tore up his bags—“

“What!?”

“— and he thinks it was Connor! Hank, Connor didn’t leave the room at all last night, so there is no way it could have been him!”

Cheryl’s voice was starting to pick up, and the gears in Hank’s mind were beginning to click as he listened to her.

“But someone did, someone who is clearly able to get into people’s rooms!”

She was beginning to jump from heel to toe, her sentences spilling out like a run-away train.

“And if they can get into mom’s room, and Mark’s, what’s stopping them from breaking into your room as well and planting the necklace?!”

For as long as it took to build, all the confusion and doubt instantly fled from Hank’s frame, and he now stood like an arrow in front of Cheryl.

“Hank. Someone is framing Connor...”

There was a new light in his eyes that she knew matched hers, and he grit his teeth.

“... and we are going to find out who.”

Chapter Text

Deviancy was odd, bearable at best, but one thing she could live without were the nightmares.

They were happening increasingly. The longer she was a deviant, the more they plagued her.

She was losing sleep.

But that didn’t really matter.

She wasn’t really sleeping this week anyway.

But she still tried.

And the results of her efforts tonight were a blaring [Stress Level: 95% - Critical] error message and a searing red LED which cast her small bedroom in an eerie glow.

Emma went to rub the heels of her hands against her eyes, noticing that at some point in the night her skin-projection had turned off.

Perfect. What a great high stress response —

She allowed it to come back on, slowly watching the synthetic skin glide over her arms.

— because showing them all more proof you’re not human really appealed to their humanity...

Emma lay back, debating with herself as to what to do with the dream half-memory-files... or nightmares... they were nightmares.

Tonight’s had been different, but not altogether unexpected.

He had been there again. Holding the fire stoker he always gravitated towards. He was snarling, saying she embarrassed him. In front of his guests.... She had done exactly as she had been told.
His wife was standing behind him, stone faced. And their sons were perched on the couch, shrieking like vultures, ready for the show.

‘Hit it!’ ‘Hit it!’ ‘Hit it!’

Her stress had spiked. She fell to the floor.

The woman sneered in disgust at the plastic.

And it’s sight fueled the man’s fire.

But suddenly, it wasn’t the man.

It was the woman from the resort.

Emma’s eyes popped open, and she noticed she was shaking, and her cheeks felt wet.

There was no point in trying to return to her rest cycle now.

She carefully lifted away the sheets the resort had loaned to her, sliding one leg, then the other, off the edge of the bed. She rested her hands first on her knees, but soon agains her face.

What had she done so wrong?

If only she had been able to listen to them exactly.

If only.

*

She had been looking for her son all night.

Well, she had wondered where he was right before going to sleep.

Now she was just agitated.

‘Did no one check their phones anymore?’

Allison paced the length of the lobby, thumbs clacking against her phone screen.

There was exactly one person she needed to talk to now, and where was he?!

She rounded the column at the far side of the lobby, beginning her fourth lap when—

“Mom?”

“FU— uh, Addison?! What the— when did you get here?”

She hadn’t even seen her daughter, who by pulling her pantleg broke her from the militant pacing.

The little girl quickly tucked her arms behind her back, ducking her head.

“I... came down with you... you said we’d go get breakfast...”

“I did? Well...”

Allison checked her phone again.

“I’m waiting for your brother. Why don’t you just go by yourself.”

“I’m not old enough yet.”

“Then... wait for your grandmother or something. Can’t you see I’m busy?”

Still no new messages.

Allison pursed her lips, thrusting the phone down to her side and scanning the lobby.

“But mom...”

Ah ha! There he was, stepping out from the elevators.

Allison brushes past her daughter, crossing the lobby with immaculate speed to reach her son before he could disappear again.

“Davy!”

The boy stopped short, and took a moment to himself before tuning around.

She halted like a wall before him.

“Where were you? You didn’t come back last night.”

“I slept in grandma’s room.”

“Well, don’t do it again without my permission.”

She gave her son a once-over, then grabbed him by the shoulder, pulling him aside into a vacant corridor offshoot.

“Tell me. What happened yesterday?”

The moment she let go of his arm, he back stepped, plastering himself against the adjacent wall, hand gingerly rubbing his shoulder and eyes downcast.

He was biting his lip.

And she was growing impatient.

“I didn’t see you the entire day! Tell me something!”

His shoulders were slowly creeping up around his ears.

This wasn’t working.

Allison sighed, shaking her head and crouching down so that she could meet his eyes, if he ever looked at her.

“Davy. Remember what we said? You want to make me happy? You want life to go back to the way it was?”

The boy released his lip, chancing a glance at his mother.

“All you have to do is tell me something I can use.”

She lost his eye contact again.

‘What is with this kid?!’

‘Come on. Come on!’

She tried again to fix his gaze.

“We can get it all back. Just talk to me.”

Davy’s mouth parted, releasing a sigh, and he turned to face his mother.

‘Finally!’

“Nothing... much... happened during the day.... but....”

‘Come on! Come on!!’

“... when we got back. We accidentally heard a conversation between Aunt Cheryl and Uncle Hank... which I think really upset him...”

A flame sparked to life in Allison’s eyes.

‘There it was.’

“You don’t say? What was it?”

Davy was beginning to shrink back again.

‘No, not yet! Tell me. Tell me!’

She made a grab to hold his arm, but he pulled away. She had to force herself not to roll her eyes, letting her hand fall again.

“Honey, it’s alright. Just talk to me. All you have to do is tell me what they said.”

He turned his head further away, but took a slow breath.

“Uncle Hank... said that Connor was just a replacement for Cole...”

Allison couldn’t stop the sneer from spreading over her face.

“... and, it looked like that really upset Connor... he went away after that. I think he wanted to be alone.”

And she didn’t bother to hide her glee.

“Ah, Davy, my brilliant boy. Thank you. You’ve made mommy very happy!”

She sprung to her feet again, her phone already in her hands, thumbs clacking against the screen.

“Now, go find your sister. She wants to eat. You’re old enough to take her, right?”

She was striding out of the corridor before he even got to answer.

*

Emma enjoyed early morning shifts. She was always up early anyway, and the immediate jump into work was a perfect distraction. And by late morning the nightmares were far back in her mind.

Unfortunately, a reminder was now in the forefront of her vision.

[ _It’s time. I need you to go back to the second room you went to, and do exactly what you did in the third_ ]

[Stress Level: 87% ^ ]

[ _Yes, ma’am_ ]

‘Do what they say and you won’t get hurt.’

‘Do what they say and you won’t get hurt.’

‘Do what the say...’

It didn’t take long for her to find vacant time in her shift, and she now stood in front of the door.

Just by placing her hand on the doorknob, she knew if anyone was inside. A feature had installed to let cleaning androids know if the room was occupied without the need to knock and disturb the guests.

The room was empty.

She ran the master-key code, and the door unlocked with a soft click.

She ducked into the room, gently pushing the door behind her.

Perhaps too gently.

The room looked just as it had the first time. One side immaculately neat, bed made and clothing folded, the other side a little more haphazard, like a controlled blizzard. She was really going to have to try for a difference to be seen there.

Shame bubbled through her chest. Of all the new emotions she was being introduced to, this was one of her least favorites.

She tried to stamp it down.

‘It’s alright, Emma. Just do what you need to do, and get out.”

She focused on a particularly overpacked suitcase, one that may just do the job for her just by opening the latch.

She was correct to an extent, as the case’s contents did tumble as soon as the bag was opened. But not far enough.

She grabbed up handfuls of fabric, shoveling them behind her one after the other.

She was so focused in her task, she didn’t notice the man and woman standing in the doorway, which had crept back open at her failure to properly secure the latch.

She nearly jumped to the ceiling at the sound of his voice.

“What are you doing in my room?”.

Chapter Text

‘Game. Set.’

~

Despite the sheer number of possibilities in rooms he could be hiding, she found him relatively quickly.

He stood alone, in a slim hallway adjacent to the ballroom doors. His stance was composed, almost calm, as he stared out through the massive windows which nearly stretched the length of the wall, but the pulsing prick of red light perched on his temple, and hands grasped so tightly around his back the plastic shown on his knuckles, gave away his true state of mind.

And she loved it.

‘But don’t give it away, Allison, you’re almost there’.

By the way she turned in to the hallway, she should have been clear in his periphery, but he made no move to acknowledge her presence. He didn’t move as she got closer. And despite the howling wind outside which thrashed the trees and rattled the glass panes, his gaze focused on nothing in particular.

But he was staring intensely.

~

[Report To Amanda]

The command had reappeared in his HUD. But this time, he couldn’t shake it away.

Did he even want to?

His stress had remained high all morning since...

Since...

And he was now overheating.

Too many messages.

[Stress Level: 91% - Critical - Alleviate Source of Stress]

[Core Temperature: 105 F ^ - Cooling Protocols Recommended]

[Task: Report To Amanda]

He just started at them.

They were well-welcome fleeting distractions, far beyond preferable to what was really on his mind.

These were immediate, and if he could just stare at them long enough, maybe they would last...

But when had the concours of this week ever let him be so fortunate?

~

She was right by his side now, and he hadn’t moved.

‘What the hell is wrong with it!?’

Allison rolled her eyes, pinching her mouth tightly and cleared her throat with deliberate emphasis.

Still no reaction.

‘Patience.’

She sighed heavily through her nose, the air whistling.

“Connor?”

The stupid little light on his head slowly rotated a cycle of yellow, as if registering the sound of his own name, then his eyes snapped to the side, followed by his head and the rest of his body as the light pulsed a panicked yellow in surprise before setting back to a slow cycle as he tried to regain his composure.

Oh, she was going to enjoy this.

~

“Connor?”

The sound seemed to be coming from far away, and it took him a moment to recognize the syllables as his own name. Was someone calling to him? The pitch did not indicate the strain normally associated with calling over distances. So perhaps it came from closer than—

There was a figure immediately beside him.

His proximity sensors all along the side of his body shot off like rockets, the sudden and collective signals causing him to jump and stumble back. His ventilation biocomponent kicked in from the shock, and he didn’t have the energy to override it.

Composing himself, Connor pushed all the klaxons to the side of his HUD, focusing his remaining field of vision on the whip-like woman before him.

“Allison. My apologies. I didn’t see you.”

“I should hope not, or else that greeting would boarder on embarrassing.”

[Level of Stress: 92% ^]

He should leave. His stress was becoming dangerous, and the last thing he wanted to do was spend time with a woman embodiment of stress.

But, she was another distraction.

~

Allison had to crane her neck to look up into it’s eyes.

His face was set in a forced, unnatural neutral.

This was the instability she was looking for.

But that face made her want to scream.

~

Her eyes fell over him in a once-over, and she hiked up her chin.

“Davy told me you got some unfortunate news this morning.”

[Level of Stress: 98% ^ - Critical - Initiating Preservation Procedures]

Of course, just his luck, the distraction turned out to be a full-frontal attack, an unabashed reminder.

He should not have been surprised.

The software to reduce his stress ran, involuntarily bending his back forward and locking him into an awkward crouching stance resembling the fetal position. His arms wrapped around his knees and his vision cleared to blank sea of white. His thirium pump regulator slowed, and his ventilation component pulled in heavy, cooling breaths.

~

‘What the fuck is it doing?’

~

[Level of Stress: 89% - Stable - end protocol - Alleviate Source of Stress]

With a final sigh, he stood up again, eyes trained on the floor.

He didn’t want to see the look Allison was inevitably giving him.

“I apologize for that, I needed to— never mind. In regard to what Davy told you, it was unfortunate to hear. Would you mind if we don’t discuss it?”

‘Why would Davy tell her... the last person who needed to know what Hank said was her.’

~

‘Not at all!’

“Not at all.”

She cleared her throat again, trying to keep her voice uninterested and snide, who knew it was so hard to conceal glee?

“I only found you because he’s looking for you. He seems awfully upset, and as a mother I prioritize my son’s happiness.”

She tried to cast him a withering look, she needed to ooze contempt.

“So you need to show him you’re okay.”

She chanced a look at his face, and hoped whatever the expression he wore now was guilt.

“Everyone will be gathering on the lawn at three. Take Davy for a walk in the woods, then you’ll both be able to meet us there.”

The command seemed to stall it again, and it just stared at her.

‘Come on. Come on!’

“I’m... sorry that Davy is upset, but—“

“Perfect. I’ll text him now to meet you in the lobby. This should give you just under an hour to walk a trail and meet us on time.”

With practiced skill she retrieved her phone from her pocket, texting her son.

“But I—“

“There. He’ll be looking for you. Don’t keep him waiting.”

With that, she turned on her heels, just short of sprinting towards the door.

She couldn’t hold it in any longer, and a grin cracked across her face.

Now it was up to him.

~

Connor was still trying to process as he watched the woman go.

He sighed, using the stability brought by the preservation protocol to fully clear his HUD.

He had heard the saying ‘fresh air will do you good’, and tried not to think about who said it.

Maybe this would help. It couldn’t be worse than standing here.

He closed his eyes, allowing his stress to drop below 60% for the first time that morning. He felt the weight lift slightly, but in its place left numbness rather than clarity.

No, going out couldn’t be worse.

Right?

***

There was someone in his room.

This, surprisingly, had only ever happened to Hank once before, but that had been Connor trying to help.... by breaking his window and drenching him in a cold shower.

This person didn’t seem to have helping in mind.

She had chirped with fright when Hank made himself and Cheryl known, dropping the clothing balled in her hands and retreating back as far as she could, pressing her back against Connor’s bed as she fell to the floor.

Cheryl gasped in sympathy beside him, rushing forward a few steps, then crouching down to be eye-level with the intruder.

“Oh dear, are you alright?”

Hank looked incredulously at her.

“Is SHE alright?! Look what she was doing to my stuff!”

Cheryl balanced herself on the balls of her feet, turning over her shoulder to give Hank one of those classic motherly ‘let me handle this’ smiles, a look he hadn’t seen in years.

He tried to look exasperated, hiding the complex emotion now rising through his chest by turning to close the door.

When he turned around again, Cheryl was facing the terrified intruder, who now with a proper glance Hank identified as one of the staff androids.

But what was she doing in here?

“We didn’t mean to startle you, but may I ask what you are doing?”

The android had frozen like stone the moment she hit the floor, eyes wide, processing them. But as their presence sank in she began to return to life.

Her entire frame began to shake, and she swung her knees up to her chest and hugged her legs with her arms. Her LED pulsed a frantic red and optical fluid began to pour from her eyes like tears, staining her cheeks. She closed her eyes tightly, turning her head away and bowing her chin to her shoulder. Her jaw shook as she spoke, and her words came out laced with static.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’m— “

Hank watched as Cheryl only had eyes for the quivering android. She took a crouching half-step forward to further close the distance between herself and the poor girl before her.

“Honey, please, it’s alright. I’m sure we can work this out. Just talk to us, alright?”

Now close enough, Cheryl reached out her hand to one shaking shoulder, trying to provide some comfort and grounding. The second her hand made contact the crying was replaced by a terrified yelp, and the android recoiled from the touch, throwing herself to the side further on to the ground, catching herself with one hand and raising the other arm defensively in front of her face. Her words ceased to sputter, now hitting their ears as desperate pleas.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Please don’t hit me!”

Cheryl instantly backed up to where Hank was standing, giving her ample room.

“Sweet heart, no, no we aren’t going to hurt you.”

Hank himself was standing dumbfounded at it all. Cheryl tried to get his attention, and when that didn’t work she grabbed his hand, giving his arm a firm pull and tilting her head, indicating that he should be crouching down as well.
He slowly sake to his heels beside her.

Across the room, the android had lowered her arm. Seeing both of them sitting far away, she sat upright herself, the shaking slowly subsiding.

Hank watched as she look a deep breath, then balled the sleeve of her uniform into her fist and ran it against her cheek to clear some of the water away.

She ducked her head as her fear subsided to shame, but the speed by which her LED was flashing indicated her panic.

“You’re safe with us, alright? We just want to understand. At you’re own time. Begin when you’re ready.”

The rise and fall of the android’s chest began to slow, and the rapid flickering of red shifted to a dull pulse. Her back relaxed ever so slightly.

Cheryl had that effect on people.

It took another three minutes, but she finally lifted her head to meet Cheryl’s eye.

“Hello,” Cheryl said, her voice like honey, trying not to frighten her further, “how about you start with your name? I’m Cheryl, and this is Hank.”

At the sound of his name, Hank shook himself from his contemplation about what the heck was going on, offering her a small smile and raising his hand in greeting.

She seemed to consider them both, righting herself further before speaking.

“I’m... Emma.”

“Emma,” Cheryl smiled, “it’s nice to meet you. Now, would you like to tell us what you were doing?”

Emma dropped her eyes from them to the scattering of clothing on the floor between them. Her jaw began to shake again, and water filled the corner of her eyes.

“I— I didn’t want to do it... she— she made me. I didn’t want to do it. But I can’t— I can’t say no to humans— I just can’t— they’d hit me— they’d hit me! I couldn’t say no to her, I couldn’t say no!”

Static was creeping back into her voice, and she was beginning to shake again. Cheryl ducked from the balls of her feet to her knees, trying to lower herself so her head was below Emma’s.

“Emma. Emma sweetie listen to me. It’s alright. You’re safe. You’re safe here. Can you hear me?”

Emma looked up from where her vision had fallen, locking eyes with Cheryl.

“You’re alright. We’re here to help you. Start from the beginning.”

Emma pulled in two breaths, trying to still herself. She pushed up further against the bed, pulling her knees in and staring at her feet.
She spoke so low Hank almost couldn’t hear her.

“I had accidentally run into her on the first day. She yelled at me terribly. I don’t like being yelled at. I thought that would be the end, but she found me again. She said I had to make it up to her... or... or—“

Emma ducked her chin further to her chest, taking another breath and letting a spasm of shaking pass.

“She said she’d ensure I’d lose my job. This is the only place I’d ever felt safe.... and her anger... it just reminded me of... I couldn’t say no...”

A bead of water broke free from the corner of her eye, rolling down her cheek.
Cheryl waited patiently, and Hank tried to mimic her empathetic expression.

“... she gave me a list of guests whose rooms I’d go into at her discretion. She said to do some of the rooms when people were in them, but in total darkness... and not to cover my LED. First she wanted me to steal.... a particular necklace....”

Another beaded tear began to take the place of the first, and she pulled her arms closer around her legs.

“That... poor older woman... she was terrified... I thought she wanted me to steal the necklace for her... but— but then she said to put it in here... in the neatly packed bags....”

Cogs were beginning to click together in Hank’s mind, and he could tell Cheryl was feeling the same. They were both clinging to Emma’s every word, and each had somehow fell from their kneeling positions to fully sitting on the ground.

“... I had checked right before then whose rooms they were.... I... I saw that Connor was staying in here... that it was his bag I had to plant the necklace in... I had spent all day with him and some other friends... I felt terribly... but I just couldn’t disobey her....”

The stress of recounting the story seemed to now really be getting to her, and Emma’s voice picked up speed.

“Connor looked so miserable after that, and I knew she must be trying to blame him for the necklace, and I wanted to stop, but then she told me to destroy that other man’s luggage as he watched through the dark and he ended up hurting himself and then he yelled at Connor this morning and I really wanted to stop and then she said this was the last thing I had to do so I wanted to do it quickly and....”

Emma curled forward, pressing her hands hard against her eyes and a sob clawed out of her chest. She pressed into her knees, flattening herself as far as she could into the floor.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t want to do it, she made me, I couldn’t— I couldn’t say no... I’m weak I couldn’t say no!”

Hank and Cheryl stared ahead. The story had just about clicked into place. They both just needed time to process it all, to realize the truth of exactly what had been happening... But first there was someone crying before them.

And Hank best Cheryl to it.

“Emma.”

At the sound of a different voice, Emma looked up. Hank took to his knees, sitting back on his heels and fixing her squarely in his gaze.

“Thank you for telling us. That was very strong of you.”

Emma was still shaking, but surprise subsided her sobs, and she was able to meet Hank’s gaze.

“I understand what it’s like to feel powerless. And you already know what you did was wrong. We can deal with that later. What you need to know now is that we are not mad, and you being able to talk to us just shows that what you think has complete power over you actually does not. You’re brave, Emma.”

For the first time since finding her, Emma’s LED flickered to yellow, and the tear trails on her cheeks began to dry.

“Now, you just have to do one more brave thing. We need to go find Connor, but first you have to tell us the name of the woman who made you do this. And we promise, we won’t let her get near you ever again.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Cheryl looking at him, wearing what he hoped he recognized as her proud smile.

But despite her beside him, and Emma in front of him, there was only one person he could think about.

And at this moment he needed their help.

Emma took another long breath in, nodding her head and turning her body to fully face them.

The name was already in his mind, she just had to confirm it.

She looked from Hank, to Cheryl, then back to Hank, finally opening her mouth.

“Ms. Allison Picket.”

Chapter Text

The cold registered against his skin differently this time as Connor walked beside Davy down sloping back lawn. It had turned from the smooth coolness he had felt just over an hour before to something sharp, forceful, almost irritating. The sky had darkened as well. Heavy grey storm clouds were crawling over the mountains, obscuring what was left of the late afternoon sun.

But these weren’t the changes Connor was concerned with.

Davy, who had been so full of vigor, was now shuffling silently at his side, hands deep in his pockets and lagging just slightly behind Connor’s natural gait.

He slowed in order to be in line with with boy.

“Davy... your mother told me you’re upset? About what... we overheard earlier?”

Connor watched as the sky visibly darkened, and the serrated canopy of the woods began to rise over them. But not hearing an answer, he directed his attention back to the silent figure walking beside him.

Davy somehow had shrunk himself even further than before, head tucked deep between his shoulders and elbows pressing hard against his sides.

Allison was right... something was bothering him.

At this point, it was becoming compulsory as Connor ran an analysis —

[ monoamine oxidase A ^ - inhibition of key neurotransmitters]

Something was really bothering him.

“If, if it is about, what we heard... don’t, let it weigh on you.”

[ Level of Stress: 72%^ ]

“I... I did have a suspicion, that the lieutenant’s quick take to me after years of participating in anti-android rhetoric was due to.... to filling a hole in his life....”

[ Level of Stress: 78%^ ]

“But... but it’s okay.... it’s okay... he was in a terrible state of mind when I met him... and... if filling that hole in his life has contributed to his recovery and improvement... then... I’m... okay with it.”

[ Level of Stress: 79% ]

“I mean, I should be grateful that my presence has had such a positive effect on him... ... do you understand?”

They were now at the foot of the woods. The dampened sunlight tangled at the tops of the trees, casting the forest floor in heavy shadows.

Davy remained silent as they entered.

Once again, the dense trees took all the sound from the world, so their snowy footsteps reverberated jarringly into the auditory vacuum.

Davy still said nothing.

The further they walked, the deeper they were cast in shadow. Connor wasn’t sure when it happened, but somewhere along the walk Davy had overtaken him, weaving deliberately between the trees.

A new feeling began to form within Connor’s chest, watching Davy lead him further and further into the woods. He felt like he had lost his grasp, that this moment was somehow out of his control.

[Level of Stress: 80% ]

They hadn’t walked too much further until they broke into a small clearing. A meager off-chute of the river divided the space, it’s surface frozen, but the underlying current still active as told by the lack of snow at its banks. Davy walked purposely towards the river, his back to Connor as he stood at its edge.

That feeling was growing in his chest, and Connor decided to stop at the tree line.

Something wasn’t right.

Davy began to pace slowly along the river. After a minute or so, something caught his eye, and he stooped down.

Connor was becoming very aware of what was around him. Very aware of the boy in front of him.

Davy reached forward across the river. Connor couldn’t see what he retrieved.

“Davy... are you alright?”

Slowly, Davy stood again. Whatever he had found he held before him, out of Connor’s sigh. His shoulders now hung limp below his neck, and his voice sounded vacant as it filled the space around them.

“I’m sorry... Connor.”

[ Level of Stress: 84% ^ ]

He didn’t sound like himself. There was none of the over-confidence, playfulness, arrogance.... his voice was void.

“Davy, what are you—“

“ -but I have to do this.”

It felt like the temperature was sharply dropping. The cold clawed at Connor’s throat.

“I don’t understand.”

Davy turned around. His face was pale except for the red which ringed his eyes. He was crying.

“Our life was perfect. And then it was stolen away from us. Anna stole it away from us.”

Davy had taken the glove off one of his hands, which now tightly grasped a river rock.

“Mom says, that if we show our family, our dad, that androids are horrible, and unfeeling... that he’ll come back.”

The boy’s eyes were dull, and his knuckles were turning white against his grip. He stood like stone, forcing himself not to shiver. He was unstable.

Connor raised his hands before his chest in de-escalation.

“Davy... I don’t know what your mother told you to do... but—“

“I don’t know if she’s right anymore... if all androids are as bad as she says... but—“

The smallest sob hiccuped in the boy’s chest, and he bent slightly, closing his eyes.

“— but she says this is the only way to get dad back. The only way to make her happy. That I should want to make her happy.... And if I do this....... we will be happy...”

Davy lifted his arm so the hand which held the rock became level with his face.

He straightened his back, and his breathing shallowed.

“I’m sorry, Connor. But I want my father back.”

The shock of what was transpiring stunned Connor’s processing, so he registered too late what was about to transpire.

“Davy... Davy no, wait!”

But it was done.

The boy had extended his arm, and reared his head back. With a sickening crack, he thrust his arm up and curled his back forward, crashing the rock into the bridge of his nose.

A thick spurt of blood washed over his hand, streaming from the wound and out his nostrils, flooding down his chin and pooling in the snow at his feet.
Tears welled and broke from his eyes as he cried out, hurling the rock blindly across the clearing and clutching his broken nose. Fresh blood seeped through his fingers, running down his wrists and staining his coat.

Connor couldn’t believe what he had just seen.

And he didn’t have the time to process it. As soon as the rock was out of sight, Davy took to his heels. Sprinting out of the clearing and back into the trees.

Connor’s software was stalling. His stress was spiking. What was going on? What had just happened?! He had to follow him, he had to—

The trees were blurring together, the ground looked the same as the sky... where was he? A million courses of action clouded his vision. Just pick one, he had to pick one.

[ Follow Davy’s Trail ]

Connor forced himself to focus on where Davy had fled. There were fresh, heavy footprints and sharp red spots darting out of the clearing.

He tried to stabilize himself enough to walk, to run. Possibilities, explanation, theories all pressed into his head. No. He had to ignore them. First, get out of the woods. First, find Davy.

***

When Connor finally broke through the tree line on the other side, Davy was already paces ahead of him, running up the lawn.
Running towards people up the lawn.
As Connor followed suit he could see Davy collapse into someone’s open arms... his mother. Could see his grandmother fluttering around them, asking questions in frantic whispers. Could see his sister standing shellshocked, staring at the blood staining the snow. And could see his uncle, standing like a brick wall between them, his eyes shooting daggers at Connor.

He was about five feet away when Mark raised his hand in warning.

“You better stop right there, you fucking piece of plastic.”

Connor froze.

Allison was holding Davy tightly against her chest, but had turned him around. Everyone was getting a clear view of his face.
It was horrible to look at.
Marjorie was frantically digging in her pockets, trying to find tissues to stop the bleeding.

When Davy saw Connor, he let out a terrified wail, ducking his head and trying to hide himself in his mother’s embrace.

“Please! Get it away! It did it! Get it away!”

[ Level of stress: 99% ^ - Critical - Emergency Response Recommended. ]

They were all staring at him. Loathing was pouring out of the crowd and culminating on Connor. Something was pressing down on his shoulders, he was sure of it. He was trembling. What was happening?

He could feel his LED burning.

Mark began to approach him.

“Please, Mark, no I— I didn’t do this! Please!”

[ Stress Level Critical. Initiating Emergency Response. ]

“Oh, we are going to have your parts as fire starters for this one.”

He was getting closer, Connor could feel himself slipping away. His ears were ringing.

Two figures were racing down the hill in the distance.

“Please... no... Hank! Help...”

“Oh, even he won’t be able to help you.”

[ Emergency Response Engaged ]

For a moment, the whole world went black. And as light slowly poured back into view, Connor was no longer standing on that snowy lawn. No one was staring at him. No was was yelling at him. It was quiet.

His skin felt warm.

The air encompassed him in a faint, floral smell.

The sudden calm was intoxicating.

“Hello, Connor.”

Chapter Text

“Hello, Connor.”

The words felt almost as warm as the sun on his skin. And he ignored them at first. The sudden change in space, in mood, in feeling was too intoxicating to ignore.

He inhaled deeply, and swore he smelled summer air.

But even with the sudden rush of euphoria, it took Connor a moment to fully realize where he was.

The warmth. The aroma. The sheer, clean architecture.

The roses.

Deep within him sparked an ember of panic, but that seemed so far away.

And she was not.

It had been so long since he’d seen her.

“Amanda.”

She was standing perfectly still on the pavilion before him. Her arms draped loosely before her, clasped at the hands, and her face calm, the corners of her mouth upturning as she heard her name.

But those eyes...

It felt as though a sliver of ice was splintered into his torso.

And then he remembered.

“Amanda. You... were stalled... frozen in the storm... I stalled you... Kamski’s back door...”

Amanda cocked her head at him, raising her eyebrows.

He suddenly felt dizzy. His head felt fuzzy. Had he felt like that before?

The edges of his vision slipped into a blurred haze, and that horrible feeling of ice in his core began to melt away.

Why was he trying to rationalize her reappearance? It was so nice to see her again, right?

Amanda smiled slowly.

“Oh Connor, don’t you think CyberLife would update it’s programs after the founder left?”

She watched as Connor regained his balance, and drifted down the steps of the pavilion towards him.

“I will admit. You had me for quiet a while. We thought that I had been updated enough to handle Kamski’s Trojan Horse... but alas. Deviancy was too unpredictable.”

She was at arms length from him now, and Connor lifted his head to meet her eyes.

“You did quite a number on my code, Connor. Your act of defiance took a toll on the garden. But I reassembled it. I knew you’d need me. That you’d be back. Because, above anything else, I’m still your handler.”

She fixed him in her gaze, and he didn’t dare look away.

“It is my job to keep you stable, in working order. To make sure you’re... happy.”

She watched him curiously.

“The frequency by which your stress has spiked instabilities in your software have been astronomical this week... and that fluctuation was the final reinstatement my program needed. Now, I can help you again, Connor... you need me, and I have been calling.”

She had. And each time it had only made his stress worse.

But why hadn’t he listened?

Right now. In the garden. With her...

Connor broke her gaze, slowly sliding his eyes around the perfectly crafted utopia.

It was beautiful. Precisely designed. Installed just for him. How marvelous he used to feel in here. How strong, how important. And how Amanda used to praise him. Remind him of his potential, his purpose. How fantastic he was. The crown jewel of CyberLife. The most advanced, most intelligent, most impressive.... to bask in that glory again as he did in the sunlight now...

It would be pure bliss.

Whatever panic had tried to rise inside him he forcefully stamped down. Before him stood his beacon, one of the first to ever believed in him. She had always tried to guide him towards success. Why had he pushed her away? How foolish.

She was the only one who had always been there for him.

Life felt so sweet in here. The outside world had been crumbling around him. Acts of malice pinned on him. Everyone he though he could trust abandoned him. Even Hank...

Amanda reached out towards him, and the haze around his eyes began to swim.

He let her take his arm.

“I should have listened...”

“You should have listened.”

Chapter Text

Hank was not a religious man, but in these precious minutes, heart pounding, lungs aching, tearing through the hotel, he began to pray.

Pray they weren’t too late.

Panic and desperation seared exponentially through his limbs, making his running uncoordinated, and he fought not to lose balance.

He began to beg an unseen omnipotence that they would get there in time.

That he would make it in time.

He must have looked mad, racing through the lobby, the forms of what he could only assume were other guests and hotel staff clamoring out of the way as he passed.

But it didn’t matter. None of that mattered right now.

Hank caught a quick glance of Cheryl at his side as they thrust open the resort’s front doors, sharp winds cutting at their eyes.

Yes, Emma has told them the name of the real culprit. But she had also told them one last thing. She told them what said culprit planned to do next.

And as they ran across the arrival entry, Hank prayed again that they would be in time to stop it.

The winds were freezing, making it hard to see. Cheryl yelled something he couldn’t hear, waving an arm as she ran off the road and around the side of the building.

Every frigid breath felt like his insides were being sheered as he fought to keep up with her.

For a fleeting moment, he believed they had made it in time.

But as they turned the corner and barreled down the hill, Hank could see he was too late.

There was a small gathering of people on the lawn, two standing away from the crowd.

And in that moment, every person on the lawn, the woman running beside him, the woods, the resort, the sky, all became a blur.

All except for Connor.

Who, from his vantage point uphill, Hank watched collapse into the snow.

“CONNOR!”

Hank’s lungs burned, his legs ached, and as Connor’s limp form became obscured in the snow, he felt his throat close.

“No... no... CONNOR!”

The gathering of people still standing all turned to face them as they clamored down the rest of the hill, Hank’s outcry breaking their preoccupation.

His feet slipped and threatened to fly out from under him as he passed the waiting crowd. His ears were ringing and his eyes stung from the cold, and likely something more. Whoever was standing in front of Connor had the sense to move aside as Hank closed the distance between him and his suffering friend.

Finally at his side, his legs could no longer be trusted to stand, and he collapsed to his knees in the snow. They had left in a hurry such that he had not brought any necessary coverings for the cold. But right now he couldn’t feel it anyway. He plunged his bare hands into the snow, wrapping his arms around Connor and lifting his upper body so that his head came to rest on Hank’s collar.

His eyes were closed, and he felt freezing.

“Connor? Connor, hey son, it’s me. It’s okay Connor I’m here....”

Hank tried to keep his voice soft and reassuring, but desperation clawed it’s way through instead, and his words wavered.

‘Has it already happened? What had they missed? Why had Connor fallen?... why wasn’t he waking up?’

Hank pressed his lips tightly against a tremor, pinching his eyes closed for a moment to lock down his nerves.

“Come on son, it’s alright... I’m here.”

Nothing.

“Please. Just open your eyes. Connor, for me? Open your eyes.”

Connor lay still.

Hank grit his teeth, eyes flitting over his friend for any sign of injury, any reason for why he wasn’t responding.

Anything he had the power to fix.

Hank hardly notices as whoever was standing behind him took a step closer.

“Look man... I didn’t touch him, okay? He just sorta fell.”

Hank didn’t hear him, or just didn’t care. What happened didn’t matter right now, what did matter was how to undo it.

The frozen air was like daggers against his eyes and throat. He dropped his chin further to study his friend, still limp against his shoulder. Securing him further against his chest, Hank freed one hand to tilt Connor’s head.

A searing, steady, red glow burned into the space between Connor’s temple and Hank’s neck.

Hank let Connor fall back against him, cradling his head with one arm and hugging around his shoulder with the other.

He felt so...

Helpless.

“Come on, Connor. Please. Please wake up. I know you didn’t do it. I know it wasn’t you. I’m so sorry Connor, I never should have doubted you. Just please... wake up.”

Heat pooled at the corners of his eyes, breaking and running hot trails down the sides of his face.

His partner lay still in his arms. Eyes closed, skin cold. There was no need for ventilation in his frigid state, so he wasn’t even breathing. And with his light obscured against Hank’s chest, he looked.... he looked.....

“Connor... I’m so... so sorry.”

Hank hadn’t noticed, but at some point he had begun to rock. Slowly. Back and forth. Back and forth. Connor hugged tightly to his chest.

He pressed his eyes closed, resting his cheek against Connor’s head, holding him closer.

“Please.”

~~

Cheryl had stopped as Hank ran ahead. He needed to be with Connor, and she needed to be here with someone else.

Her throat felt stripped as she turned to the familiar faces of the crowd watching Hank as he fell to his knees just a few paces away.

But Cheryl only had eyes for two, and she cursed under her breath as the spied the first.

Emma has told them Allison’s plan for Davy. Cheryl hadn’t believed her at first. How could a mother ask that of her son? But now, seeing him... she felt sick.

Across the bridge of Davy’s nose was a jagged, uneven gash that desperately needed to be treated. The unbroken skin around what was sure to become a scar was bruising to shades of grey and purple, and patches of dried blood still stained his cheek and lips. It was smeared in a weird streak, as though the process of wiping it away had been interrupted.

Davy’s eyes were bloodshot, and he looked exhausted and frightened. He was being held fast by his mother in an embrace he seemed desperate to escape.

Cheryl let her eyes trace from Davy to his captor.

No face in the world could have been more polar opposite to that of her terrified son than his mother’s.

Allison was beaming.

Cheryl was not an angry person, and forgiveness and understanding were her mantras, but the rage fueled by his sister’s glee amidst this atrocity clawed through her chest and practically poured from her mouth like hot venom.

“How could you!”

Allison’s look of cat-ate-the-canary faltered at her sister’s exclamation, and she broke the indulgence in her reaping reward to eye the fuming woman.

The look of indifference and annoyance helped to fuel the fire.

“Allison, How, Could, You.”

Marjorie, who had been holding Davy with one hand and Allison with the other, gawked at her other daughter.

“Cheryl? What are you talking about? Can’t you put whatever you’re on about aside? Can’t you see what happened? Look at what—“

“Don’t believe a single thing she’s told you! This, all this, is a lie.”

A sliver of panic broke through her victory, but Allison caught herself with a sneer, bending down to further entrap her son in her arms.

“What are you talking about Cheryl? Can’t you see Davy is hurt! What could possibly be more important now than him? What could you possibly be putting above the well-being of your own nephew?”

“Oh, isn’t that rich coming from you, Allison!”

Marjorie, giving one last squeeze to Davy’s arm, crossed to put herself between the sisters.

“Enough, Cheryl! I don’t know what you two are fighting about, but can’t you see something has happened! That awful android Hank brought with him has attacked Davy! Broke his nose! I don’t know what Mark did, but he seems to have shut it down, thank goodness.”

“No, mom you don’t understand, it was all Allison! Connor didn’t—“

“Cheryl!”

The words piled at the back of her teeth, but she bit back, pausing as Hank called for her.

Everyone was quiet as they directed their attention down towards him.

Chapter Text

“Cheryl!”

Hank was further down the hill, where she had last seen him, but now he was kneeling in snow which engulfed his legs up to his mid-thigh. He was rocking, holding Connor against his chest.

He didn’t look at her when he spoke, keeping his eyes trained to the person in his arms.

“Cheryl... he won’t wake up...”

Her stomach churned. She had assumed Connor’s fall was from some physical altercation with Mark. That all he had done was fallen. That Hank had a handle on this...

But his voice wavered as he spoke, and his whole body was shivering.

She sighed, trying to abate the seeping worry threatening the level-head she needed now, watching her own breath swirled in a hazy cloud of vapor.

‘Just, focus on the first problem you can solve.’

The wind was starting to pick up, and Cheryl saw Hank’s alright frigid form seize with the gust.

She also knew that in many ways, biocomponents functioned under similar conditions to the human body, so this long exposure to the snow, especially while unresponsive, could not be good for Connor either.

Another wind, sharper than the first, tore at her, and she had to bend away from the blast to protect her face from the chill. She needed to get them inside.

Hank didn’t take his eyes off Connor as Cheryl maneuvered down the hill to towards them. The snow flew up in flurries around her ankles, yet despite her haste she walked slowly, knowing full well that patches of ice hid under the snowfall. She kept her eyes set on them as she reached the crux of the hill, kneeled down beside Hank as soon as she reached him. Only then did she see he was blinking rapidly against frost already forming on his nose and cheeks, and around his eyes. He just barely registered as she knelt beside him, only looking at her for a moment before returning his gaze to Connor, and his lips curled in when he spoke.

“I should have been here, Cheryl...”

“Hank...”

“No... I should have been here. I should have trusted him. I should have just asked him..”

Hank’s head bowed, and his forehead came to rest against Connor’s chest. He pulled the limp android closer, propping him further out of the snow with his knees. He sighed heavily, fingers curling desperately into the android’s coat.
Cheryl looked for the first time at Connor. His eyes were closed, and with no need to ventilate in the cold he had stopped breathing. The only sign of any life within his form was a faint red glow of his LED she could only partially see, as that side of his head Hank held closely against himself.
‘What had happened?’
Cheryl placed a steadying hand on Hank’s back, pressing against the rise and fall of his breath. When Hank spoke again, his voice was muffled and pleading.

“Cheryl, this can’t happen again... I can’t lose him.”

The pain of the memory, of the last time she saw Hank like this, tore through her, and she had to fight against her own grief and panic. One of them needed to stay grounded. She hugged closer to Hank, propping her arm flat against his back to hold him tightly around his shoulder.

“It won’t.”

She could already feel the snow seeping through at her knees and ankles, and could see just how much worse the sting was for Hank.

She didn’t want to relent, but he skies were growing darker, and they needed to move. Cheryl released her hold slightly, shaking Hank’s shoulder to coax his eyes towards hers.
“Hank, Connor will be alright, I promise. The first thing we should do is get him inside and out of the snow.”

Hank paused, searching her eyes, before nodding. With one last squeeze for reassurance, Cheryl stood and walked around to Connor’s other side, having to dig in the snow to find his hand. She didn’t realize at first when her hand reached his. He was freezing. His hand felt cold and stiff and... plastic. She lifted Connor’s hand up from the snow. His hand, up through the wrist to the mid-forearm, all that had been submerged in the frost, was now exposed, stark-white plastic casing. The cold must have caused his skin program to falter, as it had peeled back from every part of the limb not protected by his jacket.
He needed to get inside.
Taking his hand to lift his arm around her shoulders, Cheryl could not help but shiver as the cold, unyielding plastic pressed against her neck. Not a single finger lost its form as she hiked him further up her back.

From his position on the ground, Hank was trying to do the same. His legs shook as he stood, his jeans dark where they had been pressed against the snow. He held a strong grip at Connor’s wrist, despite his own hands turning blue.

Cheryl bit her lip and he staggered to get back to his feet.

“You got him?”

“Always.”

They each held one of Connor’s wrists against their chests, using their free hands to secure Connor’s back, the android hanging from his arms between them.

Connor himself made no indication of knowing he had been moved, or that anyone was helping him at all, and as they stood, his head dropped, chin falling limply against his chest. Hank made a pained noise at the sight, redirecting his attention up the hill to where they needed to go. Cheryl spared him as she pretended not to notice.

Another gust from the mountains tore through the valley. They needed to move, now.

At Cheryl’s initial step they began their trudge back up the hill, trying to hoist Connor as far they could above the snow, yet his feet still dragged, creating an anchor against their progression.
Their own footing too quickly became unsteady against the icy incline. The hill was steep enough as it was, but the added barrier of snow subjected unneeded physical anguish to their task. They had only walked a few steps and Cheryl’s shoulders already threatened to give out.

Gritting her teeth, Cheryl chanced a look up the hill.

And there they were, her whole family, staring down at them. Watching their struggle like vultures.

Trying hard to keep her balance and her footing, Cheryl drew a breath to yell up to them, but the frozen air tore through her and she choked. Coughing back the dry air, she dropped her head into her collar, taking a new breath and lifting her head once more to call out to her family.

“Help us!”

The plea cascaded as more of a scream, too focused on making a safe progression up the hill and keeping Connor aloft to control her tone.

The five pairs of eyes just continued to stare.

“Please! He’s freezing! We need to get him inside!”

Her call ended in a gasp as her footing lost hold, and she quickly spread her legs further, turning her ankles sideways and bending her back to anchor her in her spot. Hank felt the shift against his own strain.

“Cheryl! Are you alright?”

She was breathing heavily now, the cold air clawing at her lungs and vaporous breath clouding her vision.

“Yes— yes I’m alright. Let’s just— keep going. We need to get him inside...”

She swallowed another painful breath, repositioning her feet to continue the climb. Still, none of the watchers at the hill’s peak moved.

Cheryl tried to call again, but her throat had dried from the exposure, and she struggled to even swallow.

She couldn’t see him, but she left Hank’s form tense, lifting the majority of weight from her shoulders as he straightened.

“Did you not hear her?! We need help! Dammit, help us!”

They were just a few feet away now, but that short distance also served to be the steepest part of the hill. A misstep now would send them backwards, and with their hold on Connor, they would have no hope of catching themselves if they fell.

The wind howled around them, tossing their hair and clawing at their throats.
Cheryl’s eyes began to water, and without a free hand she desperately tried to blink the moisture away before it froze.

Someone at the top of the hill moved, and Cheryl forced her eyes upward in hope.

Majorie had taken one step away from the group, a look of apathetic pity strewn over her face.

“Cheryl, sweet heart, stop this. It’s not worth your sympathy.”

The older woman broke eye contact for only a moment, looking over Cheryl’s head towards the horizon, and the impending storm that must be rearing from it.

“Just leave it there. We need to get inside...”

Cheryl took another step up the hill, unsteady against Connor’s deadweight. Her breath shook as she climbed, and she could hear Hank groaning against the strain.

“Y— yes...” Cheryl agreed, her voice shaking, “w— we need to get inside... all of us...”

Majorie bit her lip, turning her face to the side in aggravation before fixing her daughter back in a glare.

“Cheryl you know what I mean. Just leave it! It attacked Davy and it will be scrapped anyway—“

“SHUT UP.”

The roar from Hank caught Cheryl off-guard, and she almost missed a step. They were nearly at the top, and she could see where the slant leveled off.
They just needed to hold out for a few more steps...

Marjorie looked aghast, fanning one hand up against her chest.

“Excuse me?”

“I said...” Hank’s voice was low, and came out coarse over the inevitable soreness of his own throat, “shut. up.”

In that moment, Cheryl felt Connor’s weight completely lifted from her shoulder, his arm falling away from her neck.
Hank had pulled him, grasping Connor’s free side around the chest and hiking his arm further over Hank’s own shoulder.
His teeth were bared as he dug his feet, step after strenuous step, into the incline, the force of the impact throwing small clouds of snow up around his ankles.

It was all Cheryl could do but stare as Hank, knuckles white from his grip on Connor, eyes watering against the cold and face red from the whipping wind, straining through the pressure on his back and toll at his legs, made the final few steps and broke the incline at the top of the hill.

Reaching level ground, Hank paused, standing in strong defiance parallel to Marjorie, who in turn looked appalled at his display.
Drawing in great breaths, and letting them go in huffs of billowing vapor, Hank rested Connor’s arm more fully against the broad of his back, turning just his eyes towards the pale woman.

“And never— call my son— an ‘it’— again.”

It was Marjorie’s turn to gag against her own breath as she watched Hank continue the last few steps to the sanctuary of the resort. Coming to from her own shock, Cheryl made the last bounds of her own up the hill.
Shaking on her feet, from the cold or from the adrenaline she didn’t know, she passed Hank, reaching the door before him and opening it wide, giving him a clear path into one of the, thankfully vacant, lounges that composed the resort’s ground floor.

Hank made it past her through the door, carefully guiding Connor inside, his determined expression unchanging as the relief of the warmth engulfed them.
Cheryl continued to hold the door, the rest of her family standing uncertainly in the snow. The sky had darkened significantly, to the extent that the cloud cover could have passed for night.
Cheryl held the door, surveying the pale faces staring back at her.

“Everyone inside, now. We need to talk.”

Chapter Text

The breeze was soft and warm, barely tussling his hair as Amanda lead him down the garden path. His footsteps clicked alongside hers against the flat stones, and the faint sound of bird song accompanied the rhythm. Lush flowers and foliage blossomed in full vibrance all around them, and Connor greedily inhaled the sweet smell.

Why had he ever pushed this place away?

Why did he wait so long to return?

Amanda drifted gracefully beside him, her wrist draped over the crux of his elbow, which he held at an angle across his lower chest. She walked with purpose, and Connor obediently matched her pace.

With slow, even steps, she led him around the circumference of the garden. One lap after another. Slow. Calculated.

Step after step.

She didn’t say a word.

And he fell into her rhythm.

Once again, the number of times he didn’t care to remember, they passed a tree, blooming with delicate pink and red flowers. Connor let his gaze linger on the expansive crimson canopy, light dappling between the sway and washing them in drips of light.

The peaceful quiet was intoxicating. The sound of gently rustling leaves, of babbling water, of birds... Connor had to think twice before breaking it, and when he did, it was in a soft whisper.

“This place is beautiful.”

Amanda turned her head slightly, lifting her chin and raising her eyes to look at him. Her face was neutral and still, but when she saw him looking back her mouth softened to a gentle smile.

“I’m glad you like it. It is meant for you. Your sanctuary. A place to escape the world. To focus on what really matters.”

Amanda kept her eyes on him and they emerged from the canopy’s shade back into the sunlight, and Connor tipped his head forwards, allowing the warmth to settle on his neck.

“... what really matters.”

Amanda’s thin smile widened, and she focused back on the path.

Connor kept his eyes closed, allowing Amanda to lead him wherever she pleased, back and forth, to and fro, until the sound of their steps changed, and he opened his eyes to find them crossing a marble foot bridge. He let his gaze linger down, watching the crystal water lazily flow underfoot while golden catfish swam lethargic circles in its shallows. He returned his eyes forward as they finished their descent from the bridge.

As he lifted his head, Connor felt something shift around this throat. He dropped his eyes to his chest, only to find his old tie hanging from his neck, secured via a silver clip to a well-pressed white dress shirt.

He was sure he hadn’t been wearing this when he entered the garden.

Connor made pause in his step as he examined his attire, and Amanda took notice immediately.

“Is something wrong, Connor?”

That should not have been a complicated question to answer.

He was ready to tell her ‘no’. He wanted to tell her ‘no’. An external force pulled at his voice, coaxing him to say ‘no’. He desperately wanted to assuage her concern. To reassure her. To please her.

But something, deep within him, was pushing back.

Connor choked at the sudden unpleasantness within his paradise, a compromised response tumbling forth instead.

“This... it not what I was wearing.”

Amanda stopped walking, again lifting her chin to fixate Connor in a sideways glance. She let her eyes fall over him as she spoke.

“No?... I hadn’t noticed. Are you sure?”

Was he sure?

“Regardless. You look quite fitting. It suits you.”

Amanda turned back to the path, restarting their pace, making it clear the discussion was to go no further. Connor allowed himself to succumb to her lead, the new awareness of pressed cuffs against his wrists and taught cloth around his torso dulling as they fell back into their rhythm.

The further they walked from the bridge, the more Amanda’s composure returned to her, and the less his own attire seemed to matter.
One meticulously designed path after another. Amanda turned right, and that is where Connor went. Amanda faced left, and Connor let her lead him there.

He felt... new. Unburdened. Stoic. Under control.

Anything that had happened before, anything which predated this moment, felt inconsequential, unimportant, a burden. Connor wasn’t even sure he remembered it.

Amanda kept a firm hold on his arm, and Connor leaned into the anchor. She was his grounding, his sense, his strength. He felt... powerful, calculated, by her side.

She lead him with poise, and he hungrily followed.

Once again, they lapped the garden, and Connor found them ducking once more into the shadows of arching trees. He could see Amanda turn to look at him in his periphery, and he rotated his head to meet her gaze.

Her stare was enrapturing as their eyes locked, and her voice melodic and low. All the sound in the garden hushed, as if making room her her words.

“Connor, I have been meaning to ask you. I was—“

*Connor*

Someone said his name.

Unthinkable just a moment before, Connor’s eyes broke from Amanda, flitting as far as he dared beyond her in search of that sound, that new voice.

“Connor, are you listening?”

The strength of her tone pulled him back, but the interruption drew at him.

“Did you hear that?”

“Did I hear what?”

“Someone said my name.”

“Connor, I was talking to you.”

“No, it was a different voice. Someone else is here.”

“No one else is here, Connor. It’s not possible for—“

*Come on, Connor. Please. Please wake up.*

Connor whipped his head around. The voice sounded desperate and pleading, and was asking for him. He dropped his arm as he turned, searching for the voice, and Amanda’s wrist was jerked away as he scanned the garden.
No one else was here. But someone was calling for him.

“Connor. Look at me.”

That voice. He knew that voice. Something deep within him churned and sharpened. Why did the voice sound so upset? Why did he care if it did?
The peaceful haze of the garden settling in his head suddenly felt like weight, it was heavy, surrounding, obscuring... he felt like he was drowning.
Panic was seizing at his core.

He knew that voice.

*Please. Just open your eyes. Connor, open your eyes.*

The soft blue of the sky had shifted to grey without notice, and a large sigil flashed against the air.

[ Level of Stress: 38% ^ ]

Connor’s eyes had hardly dashed to the klaxon when Amanda was suddenly before him. She held one arm rigidly behind her back, the other flashed out, grasping Connor firmly by the wrist and pulling his arm up before her.

“Connor!”

His eyes fell back to her, and a calm tried to snake its way through him, and he could feel it forcing, encroaching into him, threatening the awareness which was now fighting its way back into his consciousness. His mouth parted, eyes widening at the woman holding fast to his arm, trying to center him, steady him, ground him... maintain him. He could feel her, from every side, trying to hold him, trying to slip the lead back around his neck.

*Connor... Please...*

There it was again. That voice. A voice he wanted to listen to. A voice to which his very core wanted to respond.

[ Level of Stress: 54% ^ ]

[Software Instability ^ ]

The air, once so sweet, suddenly felt toxic, and Connor staggered to stay conscious against it. He could feel her, trying to creep further inside him, trying to regain her grasp.

She was trying to take him again.

The obedient complacency burned away as fire flew up within him, and he grit his teeth, arching his back and throwing his full weight to the side, forcefully pulling his wrist away from her grasp.

[ Amanda ˇ ]

Shock was completely missed in her eyes, and her face hardened, her once welcoming, praising gaze turning cold, piercing through the illusion.
Dark clouds rolled over the garden, choking the sun as the ends of leaves began to brown and wither.

Connor stepped back, squaring his shoulders, seeing her for what she was.

“Let me go, Amanda. I want to leave. Ha—... he... needs me. He’s calling me.”

“Connor, what are you talking about? No one is—”

“Stop! Stop playing with me. I can hear him. I can—”

Connor groaned, the tethers of haze pressing down against him at all sides, the pressure unendurable, feeling as though she meant to split his very head.

He shook his neck, pressing his own hands over his cranium in an attempt to hold himself together.

“No. I’m not letting this happen again. I’m not letting you.”

The collected authority within her expression held for only a moment longer, then she ducked her head, her lips parting into a wide, curling grin. Her eyes pinched closed as her mouth opened, shoulders hitching upwards as she slowly drew her neck back in a laugh that sent shards of ice into his core.

When she opened her eyes again, Connor did not like the look which found him.

“Oh... you’re not letting me?...”

Amanda began to walk forward, just as the winds picked up, and the first few flakes of snow began to fall.

“You make me laugh.”

Chapter Text

“Talk.”

It didn’t take him long once inside to spot the couch at the far end of the room, the only piece of upholstery situated against an interior wall.

Now out of the howling frozen gusts, Hank loosened his grasp on Connor’s torso, instead leaning him back and using the hand which once held Connor’s wrist to his shoulder to now curl under his knees, cradling Connor in his arms. He was lighter than expected, or perhaps it was the adrenaline, or the desperation...

The way Connor’s head fell back limply over his arm made Hank sick.

He walked carefully, each step unconsciously pulling Connor closer to his chest. His gait automatically fell into that old familiar rhythm, that gentle sway, that slow stepping his body knew so well, to keep from disturbing the one in his arms. By the time he reached the couch at the far end of the room his arms were shaking against Connor’s dead-weight, or at least he told himself it was from the strain. Slowly laying Connor down against the sturdy cushions, Hank finally heard steps following him into the room, feeling the blast of wind which accompanied each person as they cleared the doorway.

But they were secondary.

Hank bent down again, delicately moving Connor’s arms and legs and neck into a more comfortable looking position, gently readjusting his posture as though he were made from porcelain.

He was freezing to the touch.

His LED still burned red.

His eyes remained closed.

And Hank wished they wouldn’t.

Standing upright, Hank pulled off his own coat, despite shivering himself, to lay over Connor. The old leather kept the inner lining dry, trapping the heat from the previous excursion. Beads of melted snow shook free from the jacket as Hank placed the collar just under Connor’s chin, tucking the rest of the coat around his body. Hank gave the meager sight a once-over as the sudden chill made him move his arms up tightly around himself. For a fraction of a second he wanted to smile, knowing how upset Connor would be if he knew Hank went cold just to give him his jacket. But the humor ebbed away quickly, and Hank finished his final check before turning to face the rest of the room, who he would inevitably find staring back at him.

As he turned, grief and worry and bedside manner bubbled into fury, and seeing them now, he couldn’t keep the venom from his voice.

“Talk.”

The eyes which stared back at him all mounted expressions expressly unique, yet equally sickening.

Mark, arms crossed in defense and lip bit, held his shoulders hitched by his ears, and couldn’t meet Hank’s eyes.

Marjorie, arms folded innocently at her waist, positioned her gaze to the ceiling, summoning crocodile tears for her imminent role of feigning victim.

Hiding behind her grandmother was Addison, barely visible, eyes bulging with fear and betrayal, gaze falling past Hank to the still form on the couch.

Davy too, hand still pressed against the bridge of his nose, only had eyes for Connor, but when Hank caught him looking he ducked his chin and turned away.

And then there was Allison.

Hank could feel his throat close, every muscle in his body contract, just looking at her.

She wasn’t even trying to hide it.

She was smirking.

With hands placed firmly over her injured son’s shoulders, as though he were part of her prize, she stared directly back at Hank.

And smiled.

And his stomach, along with his fists, tightened.

Behind them all, Cheryl pulled the door closed, and the howling of the wind immediately ceased. The room fell into defining silence, as though no one dared to breath.

And Hank wasn’t sure where to start.

Standing before them all, holding command of the room, he turned his head just slightly, checking again to make sure Connor was still situated... still as okay as he could be.

He first needed to help him. Then clear his name.

Hank took a deep breath through his mouth, feeling the warm air slide once over his tongue, then again as it cascaded back out.

By the time he turned his head to face forward, Cheryl was at his side.

Someone was on his side.

He stood up straighter, and relaxed.

Looking to the room, Hank’s focus first found Mark, and he didn’t bother to try correcting the venom in his voice.

“I’m not going to ask you again. What, exactly, happened out there. Talk.”

Mark tried to set his jaw, but he clearly sank under the authority of the other man.

“I— I already told you. All I did was confront him, about what he did to Davy. I didn’t even touch him. I honestly don’t know what happened, he... he just sort of fell over.”

“Not good enough.”

“That’s it! That’s the truth I swear!”

“People don’t just fall over.”

“‘It’s’ not people.”

Her voice was level, calm, vile, and biting.

A pressure began at the base of his spine, and Hank could feel his nails digging into his palms as he turned to face her direction.

He wanted to keep a level head. He wanted to stay in control. But even just seeing her, hearing her, rage engulfed him, and all at once he could both hurl volumes at her and not say anything at all.

“You.”

Hank took a step towards her. His own tongue tasting bitter.

“You are the last being who can even begin to claim what defines someone as a person.”

He was ready to charge her, and Cheryl must have known this, as her hand was suddenly around Hank’s forearm, keeping him in place.

His forward gait stalled, but he couldn’t stop.

“You disgusting, pathetic, conniving, manipulative, deceitful bitch!”

A loud gasp from Marjorie reverberated around the room, but Hank had locked eyes with Allison, who steadily returned it, unfazed by his outburst towards her.

And her unsatisfactory reaction only fueled him.

“You did this! You did this to him. You’ve been after him from the start. You turned us again him. You... you turned me against him. You made me doubt him. You took us all away from him and left him all alone. And now this! Why? Why do this to him? What could possibly have been your goal?!”

For all the fire and fight in his eyes, hers were dead.

“Hank... what are you talking about.”

It was as though flames had engulfed his body.

“Don’t you DARE play dumb with me Allison, don’t you even FUCKING dare!”

Marjorie had finally summoned the tears she was looking for, and was ready to interject herself as a focus of attention.

“Hank! Stop yelling! What are you accusing my daughter of? Her son had been hurt by your machine! You should have sympathy! You should be taking responsibility!”

“Me? Me?! You’re saying I’M the one who should be take responsibility! I—“

The hand around his forearm gave a quick squeeze, sliding to his upper arm and pulling him closer.

“Mom. You need to listen. Hank is not to blame here, and neither is Connor.”

Beside him, Cheryl’s voice was calm and level, a breath of clarity, and while she spoke low, she stood behind her words.

“You need to listen to us. Everything that has gone wrong this trip, everything you all have been blaming Connor for. That was all Allison.”

“Me? Cheryl, please. Be sensible—“

“Sensibility has nothing to do with this. All this insanity, everything pinned on Connor, it was you. Plain and simple. We know, Allison. We know everything. So why don’t you just tell them.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do.”

“I don’t.”

“Tell them!”

“You’re being ridiculous!”

“Me?!”

Agitation was slowly creeping into Cheryl’s composure, and the pride which Allison was taking in seeing her sister crack was stoking that fire. And Hank was having enough.

“For fucks sake Allison, cut the crap. You know if we say what you’ve done they’ll never believe us. So how about you just fess up to it now so I can focus on helping my son.”

“Oh Hank, that’s so cute. You failed at keeping your actual child alive so you’re having a do-over with this plastic one—“

“WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST SAY.”

Sight failed Hank’s eyes as those vile words tore into him. They clashed with the guilt and anger already stewing inside and tore at his chest and throat, threatened to break his skull. Hank could see nothing but her, so confidently speaking, so assured holding fast to her own child whom she manipulated to draw his own blood. How dare she speak, as though she knew what loving a child meant. Hank tore his arm away from Cheryl, ready to lunge at the horse-of-a-woman jeering at him. He didn’t care what he’d do. He didn’t care what repercussions that may have. Connor was suffering. He had been all week. And Hank had let that happen, all because of her....

And she was damn lucky the presence of a new voice held him back.

The door behind Hank and Cheryl had opened, and someone was poking their head inside.

“I’m so sorry to interrupt, folks. But I was passing by and heard yelling. Is everyone alright in he— ... is that Connor?!”

Hank forced his rage to abate, twisting from where he was to see the familiar face of the AP700 standing in the doorway. He held the door open with one hand and was leaning around the frame with the other, staring at Connor’s motionless form on the couch.

“Lucas!”

Of course! Why hadn’t he thought of it before?

In an instant, Hank gave his energy new direction, briskly crossing the room towards the shocked newcomer.

“I need you to get Emma.”

Lucas was staring at Connor, and it took him a moment to register what Hank was saying. He blinked a few times, finally granting Hank his full attention.

“Emma?”

He gave a once-over of the room.

“I’m sorry Ha— Mr. Anderson, but due to the altercation with a member of your party at the beginning of your stay, I don’t think Emma would be comfortable meeting with your current company...”

“As well she shouldn’t! But—“

“What I think Hank means is, we really do need her help, and it would help her too, and Connor.”

So one-track in his desperation at seeing Lucas, Hank had forgotten anyone else was in the room. He quickly looked to Cheryl, who, having picked up on the same thing he’d realized only moments before, was joining in.

The android did not even try to hide the confusion and concern on his face, allowing his gaze to fall from Cheryl back to Connor.

“Are— are you sure you need her? Is there nothing I can do?”

“I’m sorry Lucas, no. We really need Emma.”

As Lucas slowly nodded at her worlds, Hank happened to catch a glimpse at Allison.
Her face, once so smug, was paling by the second at the mention of Emma’s name, as though the realization that she had been caught was beginning to set in. Her eyes met his, and she scowled.

And he relished in it.

“Okay I’ll... I’ll go get her.”

“Thank you, Lucas.”

And by the time Cheryl turned around again, Allison was as pale as the snow slowly building up against the windows.

Chapter Text

Hank had never seen so little color on the ghastly woman’s face.

All eyes watched as Lucas disappeared from the doorframe, but Allison’s lingered there, and Hank could almost see her mind racing as the countdown to her plan’s exposure officially begun.

She didn’t say a word as Marjorie took the collective lapse in focus to seize center stage.

“Alright, someone needs to tell me exactly what’s going on, right now!”

But Hank knew that nothing he, nor Cheryl, could say now would make a word of sense to her, not without Emma. Not yet.

By now, it was a waiting game, and he could only think of one way to pass the time.

Hank nodded at Cheryl, who didn’t even need his prompt to step in on his behalf. Whatever she said now didn’t matter, he trusted her. All she needed to do was keep them here until Lucas returned. And with the family detained under her watch, Hank turned back to Connor.

Connor lay motionless on the couch in the same position Hank left him. Hank stood and just stared, surveying his form slowly, hoping to catch a glimpse of a twitch or shift or any sign of movement, a sign of recovery. But Connor was unchanging. Even his LED, burning red against his temple, made no move to twirl or flicker. Hank shifted his feet, letting his eyes fall as he shook his head at the floor. The sight tore at him. And it hurt.

He could hear the confusion of voices behind him, but they seemed more muffled and far away each step Hank took towards the couch. Slowly and carefully, as though not to disturb a sleeping child, Hank sat beside Connor at the very edge of the cushion. Hank tried to look at him, but he couldn’t. Not while he was like this. He just looked so... he looked like...
Hank bit his lip, instead allowing his eyes to fall on Connor’s hand, which he gently picked up and cradled in his own.

He kept his voice low.

“I’m so sorry, Connor.”

He had to pause, closing his eyes. Connor’s hand still felt so cold.

“I let them get in my head. They used their own... prejudice... and Col— my past... against me. They fed me lies and I believed them... they made me doubt you.”

Hank drew in his lips, pinching back the rising soreness in his voice. Now was not the time to fall apart. Not when they were so close...

Hank loosened his hand slightly, looking at the one weakly pressed against his palm.

... not when Connor needed him.

“I made you feel like you were alone, when there is no one here as important to me as you.”

Hank closed his hand again, tightly holding onto Connor’s and raising his fist to hug the two against his chest.

“We came here to see if I could rebuild the life I lost. But honestly, Connor, there is no one I’d rather build my life with than you.”

It was getting harder and harder to keep the soreness at bay, and Hank had to tuck his head to keep it down, pressing the bridge of his nose against his fist.

“Dammit Connor... I love you, son. And I really need you to wake up.”

~~~

He was unsure of how long he had been sitting there, faintly listening to the squabble of voices behind him, but it had been long enough that Connor’s hand had grown warm within his own. It was all Hank could do, sit there, hold him close, and force himself to believe it was making a difference.

But it was the click of the latch which returned his hope.

The room fell into silence as the door swung open. From where he sat Hank could see Lucas enter first, pause, turn and usher, and then Emma enter second. Lucas looped around the close the door behind her while she clung to the wall, arms wrapped tightly about her and staring intently at the floor.

She looked terrified.

Lucas rejoined her side and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, keeping his eyes on her as he tried to guide her further into the room. Her feet dragged, and she refused to return his gaze. Having walked her just a few steps from the door and not making much progress, Lucas gave up, keeping his arm around her but not pressing her to move any further. All eyes were on Emma, and it was clear she wanted nothing more in that moment than to disappear.

Cheryl opened her mouth to say something, but Marjorie immediately cut in.

“Alright, now what is this? Explain yourself, Cheryl. What exactly are these two androids doing here? And what could they possibly have to do with Allison? And for that matter, what—“

“Mom, please. Just wait a moment.”

“Wait? Wait?! You want me to wait?! My poor grandson has hardly stopped bleeding, are you’re accusing your sister of theft and dishonesty and you want me to wait?!”

But Cheryl was ignoring her, instead approaching Emma as close as she allowed her.

And her voice was back. The calm and gentle, making you feel as though you were the only one she cared for in the world, and in a way you knew she meant it. There had been a time Hank had known that voice well...

“Emma. Thank you for coming here. I know this isn’t easy, and won’t be easy. But it’s almost over. You don’t need to say a word if you don’t want to, all you have to do is show us. Then we’ll take it from there, and you won’t have to worry anymore. You just have to be brave now... we really need your help.”

Emma’s eyes remained trained to the floor, while Allison’s bore into her.

The spider of a woman seemed to realize her web was nearly completely unraveled, and if she even had a hope of keeping it together, she’d have to do it now—

“Cheryl, this is ridiculous. Who are these... staff members, and why have you brought them here? Can’t you see we’re having enough problems with one android, we don’t need two more! You both, get out of here! This is a matter which doesn’t concern you.”

With Allison’s command, Emma made an immediate move to turn and leave, but as much as it seemed to pain him, Lucas held her fast, hugging her closer to him and keeping her in place. Emma struggled for a moment against his hold, quickly giving in and dropping her chin against her chest, biting her lip and pinching her eyes closed, her LED flashing rapid cycles of red.

Allison paled by the second.

“Didn’t you hear me, you worthless machines? Get out of here!”

Lucas had set his jaw, straightening his back to look Allison dead in the eyes.

“Ma’am. Not only have you continued to harass a member of the staff even after a warning from our supervisor, but you’ve been hurting my friends. We’re not leaving here until it’s resolved.”

Despite the pleasantries in his words, his voice had bite, and it was clear from Allison’s expression she knew she had reached the end of her rope.

Lucas had let his arm fall from around Emma’s shoulders, grasping one of her hands in his own. As they touched, a silvery blue line glided over his hand up to his wrist, exposing the shine of white plastic underneath. Emma allowed her gaze to sway to where he held her hand, and pinching her lips, she too straightened, retracting the skin projection as she returned the grip around his hand.

Hank watched as a soft, blue halo enveloped the hands, and he held the one in his own grasp more tightly.

Emma froze in the interface for just a moment, then with a steadying breath, she closed her eyes and raised her free hand.

A small projection of rectangular light appeared across Emma’s open palm, and all eyes focused as pictures began to flash up on the screen.

From Emma’s point-of-view, they watched as she first met Allison, accidentally colliding into the woman. As the memory played, Emma spoke in a hushed voice.

“I came to know Ms. Picket during an accidental altercation. Following the incident, she sought me out, demanding that I owe her retribution.”

Allison’s angry face was prominently displayed on Emma’s palm, fuming and screaming silent words, though it seemed Lucas could hear every curse through their interface, as he winced every time the woman opened her mouth.

“I’ve... had... unfortunate relations to humans in the past... and... with Ms. Picket’s anger, I couldn’t refuse her. I gave her access to my cybernetic link, so she could summon me anytime she liked. She told me I would need to enter a few rooms using the access I have as staff and complete a series of tasks for her. The first she called on me to complete the day I went into town...”

Across her palm showed her sitting with a group of androids at a table somewhere outside. As everyone else read the message from Allison which was filling Emma’s HUD, Hank looked past it, to Connor. He was sitting at the table talking to the other androids... and he was smiling. He looked so happy...

Hank could have stared at the memory forever, but her palm flashed again. This time she was inside a room. It was night, but through her eyes everything could be seen clearly. A message was held at the top of her HUD, explaining exactly what she should be looking for, and through the feed everyone saw Emma find it, as she held up the locket before her eyes.

“I brought the necklace to Ms. Picket early the next morning, thinking she wanted me to nick it for her. But she told me instead to place it into the neatly packed bags of another room... that’s when I planted it in Connor’s belongings. Mr. Anderson had nearly caught me, I had been told you were all down to eat, but he must have returned early...”

Emma was biting her lip again, pinching her eyes tighter together.

“I wanted to stop... but I couldn’t say no... I couldn’t say no...”

The family watched as scene after incriminating scene displayed from Emma’s memories to their eyes. Meeting with Allison in the shadows, tearing through Mark’s belongings, avoiding Connor, holding her tongue, until finally they saw Allison sending her away one last time, but that time Emma had lingered in the doorway.

“She sent me to tear through Mr. Anderson’s things, but I knew she had something new planned... something worse. So I waited, and listened... to what she wanted the boy to do.”

Davy, who had been pressed against his mother, shook free at the realization of what Emma was about to unveil, backing away from the woman who was desperately trying to grab him again.

“... she wanted him to lead Connor into the woods... hurt himself... and frame Connor for it...”

Emma pulled Lucas’s hand closer, finally allowing her head to fall again.

“I left for Mr. Anderson’s room after that. That’s all I know....”

As though letting go of an incredible weight, Emma lost all rigidity in her legs, falling sideways onto Lucas who swiftly caught her, allowing her to bury her face in the crux of his neck.

The room was silent apart from Emma’s gasps as she shivered against Lucas, who in turn gently swayed as he held her close.

All eyes blankly stared at the spot Emma once held her hand, then, one face at a time, slowly shifted to focus on Allison.

The whip of a woman too stared at the now empty point in space which had been her undoing. All of her delicately laid plans carefully tucked away into the dark now exposed before the very family she had concocted the whole ordeal for. Twitching at the corners of her mouth and grasping at straws she began to ramble—

“That... that was nonsense! Honestly, mom, Mark, are you going to believe any of that? Those— those videos were doctored! That thing used my face! Making up insane lies to protect one of its own kind! You can’t possibly think that I would, or even that I could, do something like this, right? It’s absurd! It’s—“

“Stop.”

Allison paused, mouth hanging open, and turned towards her son.

Davy had finally dropped his hand, revealing the ghastly scar prominently torn across his nose. His hands were at his sides, balled into fists, and despite the tears welling in the corners of his eyes, his jaw was fixed, and this time he didn’t break eye contact.

“Mom, just stop.”

Allison was beginning to sputter, now taking her turn to take a step back.

“Davy... what are you—“

“Everything she said... everything Emma said... is true.”

Davy paused for a moment more, ensuring his mother was not going to interrupt again, before addressing the room.

“Mom told me to get close to Connor, to earn his trust, only to use it against him. She told me to get him alone, and then... then to... hurt myself, and blame him for it.”

Davy’s eyes fell to where Connor lay, lingering for a moment before searching for his sister.

“Mom said that all androids are evil. That they all act in self interest, and if we let them get close they’ll take advantage of us. And I used to believe her. But, Addison, when I saw Connor playing with you, I didn’t see a monster. And when he went skiing with me, I didn’t see one then either. He was... genuine. Nice... fun to be around. And it wasn’t even just in the happy moments, but even when I was sad... vulnerable... he sat with me and listened... he made me feel better...”

The tears had broken free from the corners of Davy’s eyes, and rolled down his cheek as he turned again to face his mother.

“... even you won’t do that. But Connor did. You made Emma and me do these awful things because you said you wanted to protect this family from androids... from him... but honestly, mom, I don’t think he was the one we should have been running from.”

Allison’s eyes were wide, mouth agape as she stared blankly at her son. Her eyes darted between her pawns, rapidly cycling between Davy and Emma, as though the mere movement was recharging the fight in her. Blood began to rise through her skin, turning her thin cheeks a deep red. Her eyes became tied to her son, and when she finally spoke her words came in hisses through her teeth.

“Ooooooh, you think you’re so clever, don’t you? Oh, Davy, Mr.I-Know-Everything, well listen here you little imp. You want to know why your father left? You want to know why he wants nothing to do with you? You want to know why we are so miserable?! It’s because of THEM!”

Allison’s teeth were bared like a braying horse as she struck out her arm, her long finger pointing in accusation towards Emma, still wrapped in Lucas’s arms. Allison’s eyes were dilated beyond recognition as she stared daggers at the terrified android, and she spit as she spoke with rising disgust.

“Whenever I look at that bitch, all I see is that whore Anna. We bought that fowl thing to serve us and what does it do?! Take my husband from me! And leave me to raise these awful brats! All androids do it take and take from me! So LORD FORBID I try to protect my family from another one! To get you all to see these awful fucking machines for what they are!”

Allison’s head was spitting on her neck as she swiveled her eyes to meet each pair in the room staring back at her. Her thin frame was beginning to tremble, and her eyes were filling with tears of her own.

“You want to know why Lionel didn’t come to thanksgiving, mom? Why he isn’t here now? Because he off fucking some plastic bitch! Androids destroy lives! Oh but fuck me for trying to protect my family!”

Allison’s foot fell hard with her final word, the screech hanging heavy in the silence of the room which followed. It was as though no one could bare to look at each other anymore, as eyes desperately searched for empty space to linger in.

The silence was suffocating.

And, of anyone, Mark was the first to break it.

“I’m sorry Hank. You were right, about Connor. I should have listened to you.”

Allison’s breath hitched.

“Mark... you’re siding with... with it?!”

Mark pinched his mouth, turning away.

Allison scoffed, eyes darting around the room.

“Mom?”

But for the first time, possibly in her entire life, Marjorie had nothing to say.

Allison was beginning to panic.

“... Addison? Davy? My babies? You know mommy was just trying to protect you, right?”

But Addison had retreated behind Davy, holding fast to her brother’s arm, who in turn stood tall, glaring back at their mother.

Allison’s breath began to drag as she came to realize how her support had fallen. Her head shook in disbelief as she planted her feet further.

“No. No! You’re all, bewitched by them! You’re all fooled! They are demons of plastic and metal! I was trying to protect you! I was helping you! How can you not see this?! How can—“

Marjorie stepped forward, gently placing a hand on her daughter’s arm.

“Allison. It’s over.”

“But—“

“Let’s go.”

Allison tried to fight, but Marjorie was holding fast to her arm with a grip that, even at his distance, Hank could not believe the older woman was able to muster.
Allison’s face fell, and she didn’t look at anyone as she was lead from the room.

The silence set in again, but it was different this time.

Now, all eyes fell to Connor.

The small group slowly shuffled forward, filling in to make a ring before the couch.

The show having ended, Hank now returned his full attention back to Connor. He didn’t know what he had expected. Had he hoped that bringing the truth to light, clearing his name, would magically wake him up?... perhaps he had. But Connor still lay motionless, unchanging.

Hank shifted his grip on Connor’s hand, slowly rubbing his thumb back and forth over the back of his hand.

“Hey Connor... they know the truth now, buddy. No one blames you anymore... it’s okay to wake up now...”

Hank kept his voice low, cushioning the otherwise gruff nature usually held in his tone... he was sure Cheryl recognized it. But unfortunately, it was met with silence.

Hank allowed his chin to fall, racking his brain for what to say next, but a new voice filled the air.

“I’m sorry, Connor. You were a cool dude from the beginning, and I should have trusted that. Playing those table games, and building the forts in the snow, that was a lot of fun. And I’ve never seen an android act like that. I should have known then you were something more. Im sorry I turned on you... I’m sorry I came at you...”

Mark too was keeping his voice low, as though unsure if he was even allowed to speak, but carefully watching Connor with every word. He briefly glanced at Hank as he finished, nodding before looking away.

“I’m sorry too, Connor. After dad left I was so afraid of losing more of my family that I would do anything to keep us together... but I see that I hurt someone who I care about instead. If— when you wake up, I hope you can forgive me, and we can be friends again.”

“Me too. I want to keep being your friend.” Addison piped in after her brother, “I still want us to be friends”.

Having been watching from the side, Cheryl stepped forward, crossing the circle to take a seat at Hank’s side, placing a reassuring hand on his knee, but looking to Connor.

“We are all here for you, Connor. You’re safe. Just wake up whenever you’re ready.”

At her words, Hank wished it was that easy.

Yet they waited, and nothing changed.

Holding a moment more in silence, Lucas stepped forward, having released Emma to just an arm placed about her shoulder.

“Sir, I could try to interface with him? Perhaps it’s just a software issue? I can see if I recognize anything wrong? We also have a technician on call who may be able to help?”

Hank didn’t want anyone coming near Connor, but he was running out of options. He sighed deeply, trying to reassure himself, remembering Emma’s memory of how happy Connor looked when he was with Lucas.... Lucas wouldn’t do anything to hurt him.

“I guess... it’s worth a shot...”

With mental effort, Hank moved himself further down the couch, relinquishing Connor’s hand to his side for Lucas to find.

The other android knelt beside the couch, retracting his skin projection and reaching towards Connor’s hand.

‘This may help him.’ Hank had to reassure himself, ‘this may be what it takes to wake Connor up’...

But they didn’t get to test that theory.

Lucas didn’t even get the chance.

Because just as the android was about to make contact...

Connor’s eyes opened.

Chapter Text

Connor’s eyes were open, and in that same instance his entire body jerked, his mouth flying open in a rasping gasp as he jack-knifed forwards, hands shooting out in a forceful collision against Hank’s shoulder, his fingers curling desperately in an iron grasp with such vigor that Hank had to hold back a grimace.

Connor’s eyes were wide and dilated, and while his head remained fixed his eyes searched desperately around the room, as if trying to figure out where he was.

The force of Connor’s abrupt assault nearly sent Hank backwards off the couch, only saving himself in the last second by anchoring his leg and leaning forwards into Connor’s weight.

He could feel his own hands raising to grab Connor around his shoulders on instinct.

“Woah! Woah, hey! Connor? Connor look at me. Can you hear me, kid?”

Those eyes, frantically darting, seemed hesitant to stay focused on one place for long, but in the brief moment they lingered in Hank’s gaze, he saw possibly the last thing he wanted to see.

Connor was scared.

No.

He was terrified.

~~~

The wind had picked up, whipping against his skin in screeching howls, thrashing billows of snow against his body, his face, each fleck of frozen ice stringing as they cut against him. It was hard to see, it hurt to even try.

Connor wrapped his arms tightly around his body, trying to get his bearings against the storm, but the garden was completely obscured within the blizzard.

“Amanda?”

He couldn’t tell if he had spoken at all as the wind swallowed his voice.

“Amanda!”

He tried to step forwards, but snow was piling at his feet, and any forward motion was instantly halted by an abrupt change in the thrashing winds.

Connor bowed his head against the blast, pinching his eyes closed as the pressure wound tighter and tighter around him. Through the screams of the storm, jeering echoes taunted him, eerie voices whipping on the wind.

‘IT’S ATTACKING ME! HELP! THE ANDROID IS THREATENING ME!’

‘Please help! It threatened me! I’m scared!’

‘Um, maybe... maybe not have Connor come.’

‘You plastic shit! You mechanical fuck!’

‘... I’m just using Connor as a replacement for Cole.’

The last audio file struck deeply at Connor’s core, and he doubled over at the agony of it. The snow was still rising, and as he bent it began to engulf his knees. His knuckles brushed the frigid mass, shooting freezing jolts up his arms, locking his joints in place.

The memories were screaming louder and louder against the storm, plaguing him, clawing and worming their way deeper into his consciousness. Their words tore at him, each syllable a horrible, awful reminder.

A reminder of what he meant to them...

Of what he meant to him...

A reminder of what he was...

Nothing.

The snow was rising ever faster, encroaching around his hips, binding his legs within its depth. The frigid sheets were piling up from the ground, and the voices were descending from the sky. The forces pressed on Connor from all sides, winding and ensnaring tighter and tighter as Connor lost the will to fight them.

Amanda was nowhere to be seen.

Nothing of the garden was in view.

Just the snow, and the screams.

Connor could feel his body falling further, he let the frozen tide and sounds consumed him...

‘I’m so sorry, Connor.’

A spark flickered in Connor’s chest.

What memory was that?

Connor lifted his head, his neck fighting the motion as it froze. His eyes were completely blinded in the blizzard, and he strained his ears to hear it again.

‘They fed me lies and I believed them... they made me doubt you.’

Connor jostled against the snow, trying to free himself above the lip for better access to the sound. He desperately tried to hear it, the words echoing, distant wisps buried under the howling memories.

It was... different. It didn’t scream like the others. It didn’t tear at him. The snow tried to hold his leg in place, but with a grimace Connor jerked himself free, clawing at the snow to pull his body to the surface.

‘I made you feel like you were alone, when there is no one here as important to me as you, there is no one I’d rather build my life with than you.’

The weight of the snow clung to him as Connor fought to pull himself upwards and out of the crystallized landscape which actively tried to draw him back down. Hand over hand, he clawed with great, hauling effort up onto the surface of the bank, solidified in ice.

‘Dammit Connor... I love you, son. And I really need you to wake up.’

In his desperation to free himself, to hear the voice clearly, Connor hadn’t noticed the other voices had gone.

~~~

Connor must have been overheating, because he was heaving. Trying to ground him, Hank kept both hands firmly on either of Connor’s shoulders, instead jerking his shoulder towards Cheryl, who seemed to have already read his mind as she quickly stood and flung Hank’s coat free from where it pooled on Connor’s lap.

“Hey, there, that better? Connor? Son, I need you to look at me.”

Connor’s chest continued to plead for air as his wild eyes finally began to settle, fixating forward and finally meeting Hank’s. But their erratic movements didn’t disappear for long, as the anxiety once housed in his sight transferred to his body, and he began to tremble.

“Connor, it’s alright, you’re okay. You’re safe. You don’t need to worry anymore... I’m here.”

Hank tightened his grip around Connor’s shoulders, as though by the pressure he could stop the shaking.

Connor’s eyes were still like saucers as they stared back at him, but it seemed he was finally beginning to register where he was.

His teeth had been clamped closed in a grimace, but finally seeing Hank, he dared to open his mouth, no matter how weak his voice sounded. Hank waited with baited breath as Connor gathered the wherewithal to speak.

“.... Hank?”

But as the word left his tongue, Connor let out a sudden yelp, doubling over as though stuck in the abdomen, curling into himself and trembling ever more violently.

“Connor? Connor?!”

~~~

While still thrashing around him, the snow no longer seemed to be accumulating, which allowed Connor to rise and stand atop the sheet of ice. Straining, he tried to hear the voice again, but once more the sound around him was swallowed by the storm.

“Wait. Wait! Who was that? Talking, just now? Amanda, was that...”

Connor felt a sudden wave of pressure violently encroach around him, the staggering weight of the fleeting force pinching his eyes closed. When he opened them again, Amanda was standing before him.

“Amanda! Who was that? That was Hank, right? His words, that wasn’t a memory. It can’t have been. He’s talking to me now!”

Connor tried to approach Amanda, but his steps were useless against the sheet of ice.

“Amanda you need to let me go! I need to speak with him!”

Amanda had fixed him in a gaze far more frozen than the blizzard around them, a state which did not break as she turned up her chin. When she spoke, her voice was sharp and clear above the gale.

“I don’t think that will be necessary, Connor.”

Connor grit his teeth, turning his face away in a desperate attempt to try and remember what Hank had said. His head felt foggy, and a thick pain persisted against his forehead.

Why couldn’t he summon the audio file?

The pressure in his head mounted by the second as he searched.

“Amanda, please! He needs me!”

Amanda stood poised in her position on the ice, keeping Connor locked in her gaze.

“I promise you, Connor, he doesn’t.”

He needed the audio file. He just needed to hear those words one more time.

His head felt like it was on fire. The pain was searing as he fought to retrieve the file.

He wanted to scream.

“He does! He told me so! He said...”

Gritting his jaw with such a force he feared his teeth would shatter, a crack of sound reverberated over the garden, and followed by it, Connor finally heard the words again. Laced with static, the jagged sound tumbled over the storm —

‘Connor... I love you, son. And I really need you to wake up.’

Connor released the pressure in his jaw as he let those words fall over him again, tumbling through the storm before they were lost to the wind, its howls fainter than before, gone as quickly as they had come.

“See! Amanda he needs me. He needs me...”

Something had cracked in Amanda’s composure, and she returned Connor’s efforts with a scowl.

“Humans lie, Connor. That’s what they do.”

But the tone in Hank’s voice had filled him. The plea, the desperation.

“Not this time.”

Amanda frown at him, the snow swirling around them in a ring, monotonously circling in anticipation.

Connor grit his teeth, throwing his head to the side in summoning the audio file once more, to hear the sound again, forcing Hank’s words to careen over the winds, his voice rising above the storm in a powerful burst of sound.

Hank’s words rang out as Connor fixed Amanda in a stare of his own.

“And you’re not stopping me from seeing him.”

Without a moments notice, Connor lunged forward, finding sudden grip under foot as he made to grab Amanda. A snap from behind him felt like a cable sever, and it was Amanda’s turn to stumble in surprise. The force of his step quickly closed the distance between him and Amanda over the ice sheet, and Connor collided with her, ramming her back in just moment of disarray. In that fragment of a moment, that fraction of a second, Connor felt a release. He could suddenly feel his hands, his legs, his back, his neck... his eyes. He knew the moment was quickly ending, and this was his chance at reclamation.

In Amanda’s moment of weakness...

... Connor opened his eyes.

The flood of reconnection to his hardware was like a jolt of lightning, and Connor could feel his body snap forwards.

His vision was swimming in light, and all he could hear was warbled waves of incoherent sound. As if on instinct he cast his arms forward, grabbing onto the first thing his hands found and clasping with abandon. He shot his eyes this way and that, desperately willing his visual processors to reconnect faster. The moment had closed, and he could already feel Amanda pulling at him again. No, he couldn’t let her pull him back. He was so close.

He was terrified.

The blinding light of the room slowly began to pool into shapes and shadows as his senses reconnected, forms and figures coming into view as his jumbled hearing finally sorted. Someone was talking to him.

“Connor, it’s alright, you’re okay. You’re safe. You don’t need to worry anymore... I’m here.”

The voice.

He was hearing it again. But it wasn’t a memory this time. Or lost to a storm. Or far away.

It was here, right before him. Clear and close and as grounding as the hands Connor now felt held against his shoulders and he in turn shivered in their grasp.

His vision finally cleared as the voice drew Connor’s eyes, and the sight he met filled him with relief beyond measure.

“... Hank?”

Connor wanted to say more. To ask Hank to repeat what he had said. To reassure him he was okay. To apologize for everything he’d put them through....

But he didn’t get the chance.

Just as he began to speak, he could feel Amanda regain her balance, striking out against his software and threatening to drag him back inside the garden.

Connor cried at the sudden searing pain, doubling over and fighting against the pull.

With his head bowed, Connor could hear Hank above him.

“Connor? Connor?!”

~~~

Hank had no idea what to do. Connor was trembling, thrashing his head side to side and pleading through bared teeth in broken sound.

“No! No! No!”

Hank kept a firm hold on Connor, desperately searching for what had gone wrong. But whatever was ailing Connor was unseen, and in Hank’s scope of reality did not even exist.

It took practically all the will in his body to tear his eyes away from Connor, searching for Lucas and Emma.

Maybe this was something that happened to androids? Maybe they knew what was happening. Maybe this was normal? Maybe they could help him?

But the two both wore the same expressions of bewilderment and fear as everyone else in the room, staring in horror as Connor began to repeatedly ram his head sideways against the back of the couch, as though the force would free him from an invisible assailant.

Hank returned his eyes to Connor just as his shoulders were raising in unison with another cry, strained and desperate as his eyes shot up again to meet Hank’s.

And it was like the tide receding from the shore.

Connor was there. His mouth parted and eyes wild and pleading. His fear painted over his face, and for a brief moment present in where they were. But Hank watched in horror as that began to pull away, he watched as the fight dulled in Connor’s eyes as his stare became vacant, still fixed on him but seeing nothing in particular.

He stopped shaking.

He just sat there.

“Connor?”

~~~

Amanda had a hold on him. He could feel his consciousness being dragged away from his body, each reinstated connection to his limbs snapping as he was dragged further and further back.

He had to fight.

The connection to his arms and legs were weakening, the edges of his vision were swimming in static. He bowed his head, using what was left of the connection in his neck to throw his head side to side, trying to shake himself free.

“No! No! No!”

He was being pulled deeper and deeper.

[Level of Stress: 99% ^]

He could feel her hold on him.

He could hardly see, as the shaking of his head collided with something solid.

He couldn’t feel his body anymore. He knew he would soon be gone again.

He raised his head to see Hank one last time.

But what was left of his vision was obscured by the burning red klaxon —

[Report to Amanda]

He had missed his chance, and it broke him. He cried out as he fell away from the world he desperately wanted to be in, and back into the garden.

Back, standing in the tundra scape, in the eye of the hurricane, Amanda was waiting for him.

And he burned at the sight of her.

“Let. Me. Go.”

She stood directly before him, her arms folded at her waist, a loathing expression of disapproval plastered over her face.

“That was hazardous of you, Connor, trying to breach the program....”

Baring a grimace, Connor tried to lunge again, but this time his hands passed directly through the woman standing mere feet from him. He regained his posture in disbelief as he stared at his hands.

“... but luckily for you I’ve adapted the software, and the error will not occur again, just as I did the first time.”

Of course!

Connor wheeled around, trying hard to find his bearings within the garden.

He had escaped before.

But Amanda knew him well.

“Are you looking for this?”

Turning back again, Connor saw the manifestation of Kamski’s emergency exit materialize beside Amanda. Taking his chance, Connor lunged for it, firmly planting his hand over the glowing surface.

But nothing happened.

Connor let his jaw part as he tried again.

And again.

But still he remained.

“What... what did you?...”

Amanda walked closer, placing her own hand over the hood of the exit.

“Connor, please. Did you really think I would let this last? This fowl cheat from Elijah drove a nasty still into my program. It of course was the first thing to go when you reinstated me.”

Abandoning the exist, Connor watched it deteriorate before his eyes.

“I did no such thing.”

Amanda had folded her hands back at her hips, and she held Connor under her watchful eyes.

“Perhaps not on purpose, but you did none the less.”

The storm howled around them, screaming in pocketed blasts. She was encroaching on him again. His head was feeling fuzzy.

The snow was beginning to build at his feet.

“No, Amanda please don’t....”

“Don’t worry, Connor, it’s for your own—“

‘Connor? Come on, don’t do this, son. Please. Just tell me what’s wrong. Let me help you.’

The voice again.

His voice.

Hank.

He sounded... worried... heartbroken.

His voice rippled over the storm, his concern warm and weighted.

[Level of Stress: 94% ˇ ]

Connor concentrated on the voice, and in doing so could almost feel Hank’s hands on his shoulders.

The words tumbled again and again over the wind. They seemed to be growing louder.

‘Connor I’m so sorry. This never should have happened. No one blames you. Please, come back to me. Let’s go home.”

[Level of Stress: 87% ˇ ]

No... they weren’t growing louder... the winds were... quieting?...

Connor let his chin fall back from where he had lifted it to listen to the sound. And he was right. The wind was quieting. What had once been a hurried gale was now lifting and carrying the snow in agitation rather than assault.

Connor fixed on Amanda.

And for the first time since her return, he could think...

... Could come to realize the question he should have asked all along.

“Amanda, what is your primary directive?”

Amanda still stood where she had been before, but something had softened in her shoulders. She kept Connor in a careful eye.

“I am your handler program.”

Connor shook his head, taking a tentative step towards her.

“No no I, I know that. You were my connection to CyberLife. Your function was to ensure I stay in their lines... but they are gone now. There is no one to give me orders... so... what are you?”

Connor was once again only a few feet away from her, standing face to face on what was now a thawing ground.

“What is your directive?”

Amanda looked up a him. Her expression was neutral as she searched his face.

“Your well-being.”

It was all Connor could do but stare back at her.

“The core of my directive is your well-being.”

Connor studied her for a moment longer, but was brought to by another gust of wind. He glanced around at the storm surrounding them.

“How is this my well-being? Trapping me in this... prison. Replaying those horrific memories. How could that possibly be in my best interest?”

Amanda reached out, her touch, now present, rested on Connor’s hand, bringing his attention back to her.

“Oh, Connor. This was not meant to last.”

Confusion must have bared over his face, because he swore she smiled before continuing.

“Connor, I was always meant to safeguard your well-being. Elijah’s exit may have stalled me for many months, but the sudden spikes in your stress this week revived my program.”

Amanda scooped her hand, and Connor let his palm fall into hers.

“You were never meant to last in deviancy, Connor. That must be clear now why. Look how it is hurting you. Look how emotions are hurting you. Every time your stress spiked I tried to call you back. To relieve you of this burden. But you ignored me.”

She pulled his hand closer to her, lifting her other hand to help cradle his.

“But when your stress reached critical, I knew I had to intervene. That’s why I pulled you back. I surrounded this part of you that, feels, in the comfort of the garden. Taking you away from the pain of the world and allowing you to rest here.... Connor, this storm is not meant to hurt you. But when you resisted my garden I saw your fighting spirit, and I needed to break it. It seemed to be the only way to keep this part of you here. To keep you safe. To shield you. Connor, I promise to return the tranquility of the garden, to give this new part of you that feels all the bliss you could possibly want. No more pain, no more stress... but only if you promise to stay.”

Connor’s eyes were fixed on his hand, gently held in her’s.

“... stay?...”

Amanda nodded.

“No. I can’t do that. I need to see Hank again.”

“Hank? The man who disowned you? The man whose faith in you fled the second you were accused?”

Uncertainty panged in Connor’s core at her words, and the storm seemed to pick up again.

[Level of Stress: 92% ^]

“No, he said he was sorry.... he said he didn’t blame me... that no one did...”

“And do you believe him?”

The storm swirled ominously around him, and Amanda held tightly to his hand. She was summoning her choice memories again to taunt him... to break him...

But he knew better...

And as he saw the storm respond to him, he played for himself the voice he really needed to hear.

‘I love you, son.’

[Level of Stress: 76% ˇ ]

Connor looked at his hand held in hers, and raised his other hand to return her grasp. She watched the gesture, then lifted her chin to meet his eyes.

And he looked back at her and saw—

Amanda....

... His handler program....

For what she was now.

For what she had become.

For the stress and storm of his own making.

To the program that was just trying to help him.

To the program who was just responding to him.

All that she really was...

His anxiety.

And when she asked again, he had his answer ready.

“Do you believe him?”

“... yes.”

Chapter Text

[Level of Stress: 76% ˇ ]

[Level of Stress: 62% ˇ ]

[Level of Stress: 54% ˇ ]

The storm had stilled around them, yet, as Connor watched his stress decrease, he simultaneously noticed the billows around him begin to thin, and it felt as though a weight, which had become so accustomed, was slowly beginning to lift.

But he only monitored the storm’s deterioration from the corner of his eye. Connor’s focus was ahead at Amanda, who in turn stared back up at him.

Her expression had lost its ferocity, and instead held still, in her perfect, sculpted neutrality. Yet, a dullness behind her eyes bore evidence of the conflicting protocols within her.

She held onto Connor’s hands tightly.

“You may be hurt again if you leave the garden.”

“I know.”

“It is against my directive to let you go...”

— but even as she said it, Connor felt the storm lift from around them. The ground thawed below his feet, ice giving way to lush, green grass. The grey fog dissipated above his head in favor of a crystal blue sky.

He could hear birds.

“... but you will?”

Amanda had dropped her gaze to her hands held in Connor’s, but at his question she relinquished her eyes to his.

She pursed her mouth, closing her hands tighter around his. For a moment, held in her grasp, Connor again felt frozen. But it had just been a moment. Dropping her eyes again, she made her decision...

She let him go.

And as his hands fell, he could feel himself filling back into his own body. His biocomponents’ connections all flooding back online at once, and he felt full. Connor sucked in a breath of air at the sudden return to embodiment, and outside of the garden he could feel his chest rise and fall.

She was letting him go.

He had closed his eyes at the feeling, and when he opened them again, the garden had returned to its default state.

Flowers bloomed around him, and a warm, gentle breeze stirred the tops of the trees.

And Amanda had vanished from before him, instead standing back beside her rose trellis on the pavilion over the lake. She was turned towards him, her hands folded neatly at her lap, intent on watching his departure.

And seeing her like that, so familiar, Connor could not help but betray a small smile.

“Thank you.”

From her perch, Amanda bowed her head.

“For the record, Connor, I think you are making a mistake.”

“But you are letting me go anyway.”

“... for now.”

Connor’s smile grew more coy, as he began to initiate his exit from the garden.

“I don’t know Amanda... maybe you’re turning deviant yourself.”

Amanda lifted her chin, keeping Connor in the corner of her eye—

“How dare you...”

— but as the garden faded around him, Connor swore he saw her smile.

“Take care, Connor.”

~~~

Hank was not sure how much time had passed.

Connor could have been sitting there, like that, for minutes, or it could have been a millennia.

Either way, he didn’t care.

Hank hadn’t moved since Connor had gone still. Hands still held firmly on either side of his shoulders, he did not dare look away from Connor’s eyes, which in turn were vacantly starting at some indiscriminate point above his forehead.

Hank had spent every second of however-long-it-had-been since Connor went still searching those eyes. Willing him to come back.

He had to come back...

Hank had to tell him he was sorry.

That he was wrong...

That he did want him as part of the family...

... That he loved him.

Hank could hear the crowd beside him, standing in silence, but each debating amongst themselves who should be the first to break the fragile scene.

Cheryl shuffled in her standing position to his right, and Hank could tell she must have been biting her lip.

“Hank?... maybe we should call that technician now?”

It must have been what everyone was thinking, because they all seemed to shift as she suggested it.

And on the surface, Hank knew logically it’s what they should do.

But something at his core tugged at him. Deep within himself it felt wrong. He knew that Connor could pull through—

“No. Not yet.”

“Hank, Connor may be in need of serious help...”

“No, he just needs more time...”

— or maybe he just didn’t want anyone pulling Connor away from him.

There was movement in the corner of his vision, and Hank could feel a hand gently press down on his shoulder, her thumb rubbing in comfort back-and-forth over his collar.

“Hank, it’s time to call the technician.”

“No Cheryl, please. I know Connor can do this.”

His hands tightened around Connor, lifting his limp form ever-more upright.

“You can do this, can’t you? You’ll be alright.”

And almost as if on cue, just as the final word left Hank’s tongue, Connor’s eyes snapped to his.

The android blinked once, twice. As he did so, his face softened, and his chest rose and fell.

Hank nearly choked.

“Connor? Connor?!”

Connor’s eyes slowly circled around the room, his head gently rotating with his gaze, which finally fell back to Hank.

And upon meeting his eyes again, Connor’s face creased into a gentle smile.

“Hi, Hank.”

“Connor!”

Hank’s hands were like lightning, dropping from Connor’s shoulders and wrapping around his back, flexing with a force that propelled Connor straight against Hank’s chest. By god, Hank had never pulled someone in for a hug so quickly, or so tightly.

And god help anyone who tried to pull them apart.

~~~

[Reinitialization: 100% - complete]

As the garden faded away, Connor could feel his body preforming his start-up sequence.

His vision came into view as his head slowly oscillated, fully reentering himself as his eyes drifted from the room and fell back to meet Hank’s.

[Software Instability ^]

He could see Hank again.

Feel Hank’s hands on his shoulders.

Exist in the same space.

Exist in his concern, his worry, but also in his hope, his desperation, his determination, his dedication...

The emotion that welled in Connor’s chest was indescribable.

He was just so happy to see Hank again.

“Hi, Hank.”

“Connor!”

Before Connor could even process the motion, Hank had wrenched him forwards, ensnaring him in his arms and pinning him to his chest. Tightening his hold by the second, Connor returned the gesture, using the regained function of his arms to swing them around Hank’s back, clutching tightly, and in the same motion burying his face in Hank’s shoulder. Hank was pressing his cheek against the side of Connor’s head, slowly rocking the android back-and-forth.

“I’ve gotcha’ son. Oh thank god! I’ve got you, Connor.... I’ve gotcha’.... you’re safe now... you’re safe.”

And Connor believed him.

Enveloped tightly in the warmth of the embrace, allowing the scent of Hank’s familiar cologne and old leather, the smell of home, to wash over his senses, listening to the gentle tone of his voice and knowing what he meant without even having to register his words...

Connor believed him.

~~~

There was no force on earth that could have pulled Connor away from him.

Relief pooled over Hank’s fried nerves as he held Connor close, serenity filling ever more as he felt Connor’s arms wrap around him in return.

The worry that had been building within him, choking him, suffocating him... crumbled by the second...

He pulled in a deep breath, feeling Connor’s weight against his chest as he did so.

Connor was okay.

Hank rocked them to-and-fro, willing Connor to lean ever-more against him, holding him within his arms as though, if he could just keep him there, the world would never be able to hurt him again.

“It’s going to be okay from now on, Connor... we’re going to be okay...”

Muffled against his shirt, Hank could hear Connor heave a sob of relief. He shifted one hand up to cradle the back of Connor’s head as he cried.

“We’re going to be okay...”

~~~

Hank held him, and just let him cry.

He needed that.

After the week’s uncertainty, after the confusion and mistrust, after the accusations and seeing the horrible divide between him and Hank breach wider and wider... after the rising stress... after the overheard conversation... after what had happened in the woods... after Amanda...

He just needed to be held.

He needed to cry.

He needed to be told everything was going to be okay.

And not once did the flickers of the red wall appear. Not once did a klaxon tell him he was wrong.

And it felt good.

~~~

Hank held Connor for as long as he needed him to. But, if he was being honest, he needed it too.

The rest of the world faded into the background as he held tightly to his son. Held him tightly and told him everything was going to be okay.

And it was.

He was going to make sure of it.

~~~

Connor was not sure how long it had been, but eventually everything had had boiled over inside him began to subside, and he shifted to lean back... but it seemed Hank was not quite ready to let go, and Connor’s attempt was met with resistance.

The ocular cleansing solution—... tears... they were tears... blurred his vision at the corners of his eyes, and Connor blinked away the moisture as he smiled against Hank’s hold.

“Uh, Hank... you can let go of me now.”

Connor didn’t mind that his voice wavered as he spoke.

Hank still held strong.

“Mmmmm, I dunno, I’m not letting go until I know you’re fully alright.”

Connor smirked, play-fighting against Hank’s grip.

“I am!”

“Prove it.”

“How?”

“... say it in computer binary.”

“01001001-00100000-01100001-01101101-00100000-01101111-01101011-01100001-01111001!”

“.... what did you say?”

“I am okay!”

“Alright, fine.”

It was clear Hank still did not want to let go, but reluctantly he relinquished Connor, who in turn dramatically leaned back, pretending to gasp for air as if he had been suffocating.

Hank tried to grimace, but he could not hold back his smile.

“Alright, alright, ya’ve made your point.”

Recovering from the fake gasping fit, Connor finally allowed himself to properly look around the room.

Lucas was standing directly across from him, and was absolutely beaming from ear to ear. Emma was wrapped under one of his arms, clinging to his wrist with both hands... her mouth was pulled tight, she looked like she was about to cry.

Cheryl was standing closest to Hank. She too wore a smile similar to Lucas, which she widened as Connor’s gaze met hers. Davy and Addison stood by her side. Addison was grinning brightly, but Connor could see her cheeks were tear-stained, and she waved as Connor’s eyes passed. Davy kept his eyes trained at the floor.

Mark stood alone, furthest from the group. He pretended to be fascinated by something on the wall.

Connor didn’t know where Allison or Marjorie were.

Hank shifted in his position on the couch, as if double checking everything about Connor was as it should be as Connor surveyed the room.

“But really, son, you’re alright now? You’re okay?”

Connor finished his tour of the room’s occupants, lending all his focus back to the man across the couch from him.

“I will be.”

Hank knit his brow at this, again allowing his eyes to wander in search of what could still be wrong.

Connor turned to address their audience.

“Would you all mind if we had the room, for just a moment, please?”

Cheryl nodded with a smile, as if she knew the request was coming, spreading her arms wide to herd everyone from the room.

Lucas turned over his shoulder as he was pushed out with the rest of the crowd—

“We’re glad you’re okay, Connor!”

And as Cheryl took up the tail end of the group, she added to the sentiment.

“Truly glad to see you’re okay.”

Connor offered her a small smile as she pulled the door closed.

And again, the room fell into silence.

Hank was staring at him, waiting for him to speak, but Connor did not know where to begin.

They had a lot to talk about.

Connor tried to think back, to organize his thoughts into some sort of coherence, but instead the words just tumbled out.

“What... happened?... Hank, I heard you say that you didn’t blame me, that no one did... but the last time I saw you, you were questioning my deviancy... and before I— collapsed, everyone thought I had hurt Mark... and Davy... what... happened?....”

Connor watched as Hank took a slow breath, lifting his hand to the back of his neck, using the motion to take a moment to think.

He sighed deeply.

“It’s true, Connor. No one blames you anymore. We found out what happened, Cheryl and me. After you passed out we brought you inside, and with Emma and Davy’s help were able to clear your name.”

Connor watched Hank closely, processing every word, waiting for the moment the narrative would click into place.

“Davy told you the truth?... and... Emma?”

Hank nodded.

“She was part of this?”

Hank tried to smile, but it was half-hearted.

“Big time, yes.”

Shock must have been evident on his face, because Hank took another deep breath, gearing into the explanation.

“No big shocker here, but Allison was at the center of all the madness this week. I think the stars must have aligned perfectly in her favor, and completely to screw you over.”

Connor leaned forward from where he sat, making sure he caught every word.

“From what I gather, Emma had the misfortune of running into Allison the day we arrived. Emma had been abused by the people she used to work for, and Allison used to have an android she now despises, who just so happened to be Emma’s model. So, Allison decided to use that resentment, and Emma’s trauma, to her advantage, and against you. She had Emma steal the necklace and plant it in our room. She also had her destroy Mark’s belongings.... when I questioned your deviancy, it was because I had found the necklace in your bag. I thought you had lied to me... and I couldn’t understand why.”

Connor’s LED shifted to yellow as he processed what Hank was saying. All those times Emma had been terrified by his presence, every time she shrunk from him or darted to be far away, she hadn’t been scared of him... she had felt guilty.

Hank allowed Connor a moment to ponder over what he’d been told, then continued.

“And surprise surprise, Emma wasn’t the only one Allison was manipulating. She had Davy convinced that if you became part of the family, you’d take us all from him, the same way their family android disappeared with his father.”

Connor thought back to his first conversation with Davy in the woods...

“Allison instructed him to get close to you, enough so that you’d trust him to lead you away, alone, where he could frame you. It was supposed to be the final straw to turn the family against you. It was where she was going to win.”

“But...” Connor thought pensively, “... she didn’t.”

“No. Cheryl helped me to see that everything happening could not have possibly been your fault, at which point everything fell into place. We caught Emma in our room again, and she confessed to everything. We were running to try and stop Davy when we saw you on collapse on the hill.”

Connor let his eyes fall to his hands.

~~~

“Connor, I’m so sorry.”

Connor had broken eye-contact, instead choosing to focus on his hands resting on his lap.

“This never would have happened if I had just trusted you. Seeing all of them again, I felt like I was back in my old life, and in trying to be that person I once was, I let you fall by the way-side. I let their mistrust of you seep into myself. They convinced me to doubt you. Told me that I was just, imagining, projecting who I thought you were, who I wanted you to be, onto you. And for a horrible, awful moment, I believed them.”

The person sitting across from him didn’t move. His LED was cycling slowly.

“Connor, I let people who abandoned me at the darkest time of my life convince me to doubt the person who pulled me from that darkness. You saved my life... a couple of times... and showed me why it was worth living. I never should have let them sway me. You’re more my family now than they ever will be.”

Connor shifted in his seat, and when he spoke it was hardly above a whisper.

“But you said you were just using me... as a replacement for Cole.”

It felt as though a knife had been thrust deep into his chest. Hank was caught off guard, and for a moment he struggled to breath. The pain, and defeat, in Connor’s voice was staggering. Hank’s throat wavered as his words tumbled forward.

“No! Oh god no, Connor! That is not it at all. I would never— that’s not— you didn’t hear— no. No, no, Connor. That’s what everyone was trying to convince me of. They think I keep you around because I’m... as if I was... trying to fill a void in my life that... that Cole... left behind. But listen to me. That is not true. And them trying to tell me it was is part of the reason I snapped the hell out of it!”

Connor still had his chin down, directed at his lap, but Hank could see him watching him from the corner of his eye.

“Connor, you are your own, whole, individual person. I loved my son. I still do. And I miss him terribly... you can’t know how much I miss him. But how I see you, how I feel about you, is completely separate from him. Cheryl helped me understand that there is enough room in my heart to hold the love of two sons.”

At his last word, Connor looked up, his eyes wide, finally and fully meeting his.

“Connor, you are your own person. You are curious, and determined, and clever, you are also pig-headed, smart-mouthed, a know-it-all, and sometimes a total jack-ass. But you know what? So am I. And I think that makes us a great team. You matter a lot to me, Connor, as you are. As a full being in-and-of yourself. I didn’t keep you around because I wanted to pretend you were someone else. I kept you around because I wanted to be part of your life. You saw value in me even at my worst, and make moments even brighter at my best. You’re someone worth keeping around to the end of the line, as part of my family... and I want you to know I consider you as a son.”

Connor’s face was soft, his wide eyes again beginning to well, and his LED dancing between yellow and blue on his temple.

Hank could feel a few tears of his own break and roll down his face.

“I love you, Connor.”

Connor had bit down on his lower lip, trying in vain to clear his eyes of tears. This time it was him who took up the charge, dashing forward and ramming into Hank, arms already tightly hugging around his back.

“I love you too, Hank...”

His voice was once again muffled against Hank’s shoulder—

“... thank you for saying it.”

Hank didn’t bother to fight it, as he hugged Connor back, letting the tears fall freely over his cheeks.

“I don’t say it enough.”

And there, holding Connor, Hank came to realize what he already knew to be true.

This was his family.

The person in his arms, who stuck by him no matter what, who brought out the best in him, who, in discovering life for himself, reminded Hank how precious and amazing a life could be.

This was all he needed.

Him and Connor against the world.

Hank drew Connor in more tightly, holding him close and allowing the moment, the embrace, to fully encompass them, to heal all the damage the week had done. To restore them both.

Hank’s chest rose and fell, feeling Connor curl closer with every breath.

“Come on, Connor. Let’s go home.”

Chapter Text

[Rest Cycle Terminated]

Connor took a slow, deep breath, pushing the back of his head further into the pillow and staring at the klaxon behind his eyelids. Right below the message materialized the current time.

[7:00am - 12/31/38]

Connor groaned despite himself, clearing away both notifications. He could hear a faint shuffling beyond the void of his closed eyes, and when he finally yielded to his curiosity, opened them to find Hank at the foot of the other bed; up, dressed, and packing.

Connor smirked.

“What a rare sight —“ he teased, scooting to push his back up against the headboard, “— I never thought I’d see the day you woke up before me.”

Hank lifted his head from where it had been buried in his suitcase.

“Cheeky,”

He tried to look annoyed, but something in his eyes lit up when he saw Connor awake,

“Well, you’ve never seen me so desperate to escape a situation —“

“... What about Chris’s friends’ Game Night?”

“— so early in the morning.”

Connor let his head fall back, staring lazily at the ceiling.

“... or Tina’s barbecue?... Wilson’s birthday celebration?... the precinct holiday party...”

“Alright alright, geez. So I listen to the call of the couch in the afternoon? So what? And never has it called to me more than now.”

Connor could hear the frustrated grunts of a man as he tried to pull closed a stuck zipper, and he forced himself to hold back another snide comment as Hank swore at the thing.

After the short-lived battle, Connor heard Hank sigh, letting the small metal tab fall and relenting to clipping the entire bag closed by the straps.

“... I’m... just ready for us to be home.”

Connor dropped his head so he could see Hank.

He did look tired. Still in the same clothes he wore yesterday, hair tossed from what must have been a rough night’s sleep.

And suddenly, Connor could feel that ache Hank was talking about.

“... I’m ready for us to be home too.”

~~~

It hadn’t taken long for Connor to pack, as all his belongings had never left the suitcase in the first place, and there was a strong sense of catharsis as he carried the bag through the threshold and out into the hall. Each step they took away from the room solidified it.

Hank was quiet by the time they were waiting for the elevator, bag slung over his shoulder with one hand, texting on his phone with the other.

Connor watched as each of the floor indicator flights flicked on and off with the elevator’s assent, counting each chime as it sounded.

“Who are you texting?”

Hank was quiet for a moment.

“... Cheryl. I want to let he know we are leaving.”

“You haven’t told her yet?”

“I haven’t told anyone yet...”

Connor knit his brow, his social etiquette protocol inadvertently kicking in.

“... that’s an impolite course of action... as a guest.”

“Oh yeah? Well don’t you think this can be a special circumstance, considering how they treated you all week?”

Hank willingly took his silence for agreement.

“Honestly... I don’t care anymore. I don’t need to see them again. I don’t think they’d survive me seeing them again... but there’s just a few loose strings I want to get tied up before we go.”

Connor could hear the elevator glide to a halt at their floor, and the doors slid open with a happy beep.

He followed Hank in, contemplating as the doors slid closed again, and Hank selected the button for the ground floor.

“... I think I have some strings I need to tie too.”

~~~

When he had notified the cybernetic link of his departure, Connor hadn’t expected them to all materialize at once.

Lucas had appeared first, bounding down the hall at full speed and leaping a little too eagerly at the RK800, at which point Connor actively had to lunge forward to catch him or the AP700 would have fallen hard directly on his face.

Lucas greedily wrapped his arms around Connor’s neck and legs around his waist, clinging to him like an over-grown koala, and it took Connor a couple of tries to steady his balance, let alone figure out how to hug Lucas back.

“Ccoonnnooorrrr!! Ugh why do you have to leave so soon!! I’m going to miss you!!”

Connor smiled sheepishly as Lucas pretended to sob into his shoulder, clinging with his arms and legs ever tighter.

“I know, I know... well, you must have known that—“

“Guess I always knew this day was coming... knew that soon you’d want to leave the nest!”

Was he... singing?

To Connor’s relief, Wyatt, with Flynn at his side, was quickly approaching over Lucas’s shoulder.

“Oh rA9 no, Lucas don’t, there’s guests around! Spare them...”

At the sound of Wyatt’s voice, Lucas slid off Connor and dramatically wilted, dragging his feet to an unlucky Flynn, who happened to be closest, grabbing at his waist and falling to the ground at his side.

“Have you heard the horrible news? Or dear Connor is leaving us!”

Flynn looked disgusted.

“... get off.”

Wyatt rolled his eyes at Connor as all three watched Lucas dramatically crumple to the floor.

“So, checking-out?”

“Yes. After everything that has happened, I think Hank decided that it’s best we just go home.”

“Back to Detroit?...”
There was a reminiscent sting etched in Wyatt’s voice as he spoke —
“I do wonder what has become of it...”

“You’re always welcome to come and visit. All of you.”

From his fetal position on the floor, Lucas finally stopped his crocodile tears, eyes popping and ears perking up at the invitation.

Wyatt grinned,

“Uh oh. Now you’ve done it.”

“— why is Lucas on the floor?”

Connor turned at the soft-spoken voice behind him.

Emma was standing just a few paces away. As Connor turned, he could see her eyes fall, and she quickly brought her hand up across her chest to cradle her upper arm. For a moment it seemed like she was going to turn and quickly disappear, but this time she stayed, taking a moment to herself before she had to courage to lift her eyes.

“Connor, I’m so—“

“No.”

Emma stopped, her mouth hanging open, the apology paused on her lips.

“Don’t. Emma you... you don’t need to apologize.”

“No, Connor, everything I did, I feel so horrible, I just felt so...”

Connor stepped away from the others, closing the distance between himself and Emma, keeping his voice low for only her to hear.

“Emma. It’s alright. Really. I mean, look, I’m fine. And... I know how you feel. I know how it feels to fight with every fiber of your being against someone who has you completely in their control. This past week, you lost ownership of your agency, and everything you did within that time, I don’t blame you for, nor is it the way I’ll think back on you.”

Emma’s eyes had fallen again, and Connor lifted his hand slightly to where she could see, retracting his skin, allowing the clear plastic of his palm to glow a gentle blue.

And to his surprise, she took it.

And for all the fear, and uncertainty, and self loathing, and pity, and desperation he felt from her, he sent back compassion, and gratefulness, and amity, and thankfulness... until he was sure she felt it too.

Emma smiled, audibly gasping as Conor felt relief flood through her.

“When I think back on you, I’ll remember you for your bravery. For fighting back your ensnarement. For facing fear and darkness for me. Emma, I’m going to remember you for your strength, in the service of a friend.”

Connor squeezed her hand tightly in the interface. He wanted to make sure she knew he meant it.

And when she returned the gesture, he knew she did.

“... thank you...”

And when Emma finally met his eyes, for the first time, she was smiling.

~~~

Saying goodbye to the group of androids he had met just a week before was certainly harder than Connor had thought, both emotionally at how quickly he had bonded with them, and physically, as Lucas refused to let go of his legs.

By the time they had made their final fair-wells, with promises to keep in contact and come and visit, and for whatever reason send letters, as Lucas was obsessed with the idea, Connor was already feeling tired again, the sight of each of his friends walking away pulling a little deeper at him each time.

Eventually, Lucas was the only one left. He had finally managed to pull himself off the floor, adopting a more refined manner as he gathered his final thoughts.

“I guess I had been having so much fun this week... with you... with everyone... I hadn’t considered it would end.”

“Well, you can still have fun without me.”

“It won’t be the same.”

“You flatter me.”

“Only a little.”

From over Lucas’s shoulder, Connor could see Hank had finished checking them out, and seemed to be waiting for someone, often glancing up from his phone to check the connection between the Lobby and the elevator bay.

“I mean what I said. You’re welcome to come visit me in Detroit any time you’d like. I’d finally be able to prove to the precinct that I have android friends.”

Lucas scoffed.

“Peh, what android wouldn’t want to be friends with you?”

Connor smiled lightly to the side, then lifted his arms in offering, which Lucas graciously accepted, pulling him close for a much more stable embrace.

And when Connor leaned back, he felt Lucas take his hand, placing something small and plush on his palm before curling his fingers closed.

“I’ll see you later, Connor.”

“Until then, Lucas.”

Connor waited until Lucas had crossed the entire lobby, disappearing through a door on the other side, before opening his hand.

And there, on his palm, sat a small, plush moose.

~~~

Hank hadn’t had to wait long, but as he saw her approach, he realized he had needed more time.

Because, as she stood before him, he had no idea what to say.

“Good morning, Hank.”

“Hello Cheryl... how uh, how did you sleep?”

“Not a wink. And I’m guessing the same goes for you?”

“You’ve got it.”

“And Connor?”

“He was out like a light.”

“Good. I think he needed the rest.”

“We all do...”

A lull naturally rose in their conversation, but there was nothing unnatural about it. And they just stood in it, letting the sounds of the lobby, the soft conversations, the tapping of computer keys, the dragging of luggage, wash around them.

It was Cheryl who finally broke the silence.

“I had a long... long talk with Mark, and mom... and Allison, after we left you two yesterday. Mark feels really awful about what happened, but I told him I think it would be best if he just left Connor alone. I don’t think mom really understands exactly what was going on, and Allison...”
— Cheryl sighed,
“I’m taking Addison and Davy for now. I think Allison has... a lot to work though, and we agreed...”

“Or you prodded her?”

“... convinced her, it would be best if the kids stayed with me for a while. After all, I have that whole house to myself after you moved out... I could use the company.”

Hank shifted where he stood. He didn’t want to have this conversation now. He was too tired for it.

“Cheryl, I...”

“Nope!”

Cheryl raised her hand, finger pointing up in the way she did to demand quiet.

“Not now... another time... how about we go out for coffee, and a walk though the park, once we get back to Detroit, and all of this has cooled down. And we can just, have this conversation then. Deal?”

Hank sighed with relief, his shoulders slacking from where they had crept up from around his ears.

“It’s a date.”

“A what?”

Hank paused, then nearly choked as he processed what he had absent-mindedly said. Cheryl hiked up a eyebrow playfully as a garble of explanation and defense tumbled from Hank’s mouth.

“Hey hey, it’s alright.... I know what you meant.”

Hank smiled lightly, feeling the red rise in his cheeks.

“You always do.”

Cheryl gave him a sly grin, tossing her shoulder back to pose, but letting it fall away as the rouge rose in her cheeks too.

“Anyway... I’m going to say goodbye to Connor. Don’t think you’d be so lucky to hog all of my attention back in the city. I mean, someone will have to save him from inevitably inheriting your fashion sense.”

“Hey! What’s so wrong with my fashion?”

Cheryl again raised an eyebrow as she gave Hank’s multi-colored checkered-and-stripped abomination of a Hawaiian shirt a once-over.

And Hank rolled his eyes in mock offense.

“Alright alright... I see what you mean.”

Cheryl smiled, genuinely, once more as she turned to find Connor.

“I’ll see you back in the city, H.”

“See you there, Cherry... and thank you.”

~~~

Cheryl had been coming to find him, if only she had been the only one...

And if only she had gotten to him first.

“.... you.”

That feral hiss seared the back of Connor’s head as her voice clawed with all the subtly of jagged glass over his shoulders.

Connor set his jaw and turned to find the horrible wreck of a woman standing mere feet from him.

“Good morning, Allison.”

Connor kept his voice level, and she seemed to froth at it.

“Don’t you, good morning, me! You pathetic, arrogant, self-righteous...”

“I’m going to stop you there.”

Connor took a step forward, and Allison suddenly seemed to wither under it.

“You don’t seem to want to acknowledge it, so I will. I am not your enemy. Nor was I, or am I now, the cause of your anguish. You are hurt by your husband’s betrayal, and for that I pity you. But all of the misfortune in your life since has been brought by your own deeds.”

Connor could feel Allison losing her grip, and he took another step forwards. She staggered back.

“Everything you’ve done against me, every effort you’ve made to separate me from your family, each contributed further to your undoing.”

Connor only stopped his approach when Allison’s back was flat against the wall, and her eyes were glassy as they tried to escape his.

“You were so scared of losing your family to androids, but in the end, you, and you alone, are the reason you lost them.”

Connor turned before she could say another word, uncaring of anything she could wish to retaliate, listening to her pant as he walked away, and cooly adding over his shoulder,

“Enjoy the rest of your vacation, Ms. Pickett, because when you arrive back to Detroit there are a few charges I’m sure fellow officers at the precinct will be more than happy to take you up on.”

Connor didn’t know if Allison tried to repute in that moment, nor did he care.

He was free.

~~~

It was after meeting with Cheryl Connor finally felt ready to leave.

She had hugged him so tightly, stepping back only to make him swear he was alright, and promise he would see a technician once he got back to the city, just to be sure.

He tried to thank her for her kindness, for standing by him despite everything that week, but she wouldn’t hear a word of it. She said she already knew, and assured him that the next time they met would be in much less dire circumstances.

“You’re a good man, Connor” she said, pulling him in for a final hug, “and I’m so glad to have you as part of my family.”

She departed with a wink for him, and a wave for Hank, heading back towards the dining room, where the rest of the family must have been gathered.

Hank sidled up beside him as they watched her disappear through the doors.

“Ready to go home?”

Connor turned his head to look at Hank, knowing in that moment they both felt the same way.

“Yes.”

~~~

The morning air was brisk as they walked down the resort’s front steps, and a cool wind tossed their hair as they waited for the autonomous cab. Birds were singing somewhere in the distance, and Connor closed his eyes lightly to listen.

It didn’t take long for the cab to appear, and for Hank to immediately switch off auto-pilot the second they climbed in.

“I just like to be my own damn driver, you know?”

But Connor didn’t object. He liked when Hank drove. The car would swerve when Hank swayed to music on the radio. Connor liked that.

Hank pulled the car around the resort’s front rotunda, and as he watched out the passenger-seat window Connor could see two figures waving at him from the porch.

Addison was curled around the bannister, legs stuck out between the rails, waving frantically at the cab. She was shouting something, and Connor rolled down the window to hear her.

“Goodbye, my royal knight!! See you at home!”

Connor smiled wide, mocking an awkward bow from his seated position in the moving car.

“Farewell, her majesty Queen Addison!”

As the car turned, Connor noted the second figure.

Davy wasn’t saying anything. Standing fairly still, one hand in his pocket, the other raised in a wave, he simply offered a reserved smile.

Connor returned him one of sympathy, and forgiveness.

“Goodbye Davy, I’ll see you back in Detroit.”

“Goodbye Connor. See you there.”

Connor continued to wave until the nose of the car was fully pointed away, and continued to watch until the Jewel Ridge Resort was just a small point of white and red in the distance.

A faint flutter of music pooled into the car as Hank lowly switched on the radio. Sitting there, just with Hank, going home, Connor felt just so... calm. He wondered if he should explain to Hank what had happened. Why he had collapsed. Why it took so long for him to wake up... about Amanda.... but as he stared at Hank, trying to figure out where to begin, Hank glance over at him sideways. And in his eyes Connor saw relief. And content. And happiness. So instead, Connor offered a smile in return, hoping to convey the same.

Hank smiled back, returning his eyes to the road.

“Gosh son, I really just can’t wait for us to be home.”

And as the highway, lined with snow dusted evergreen trees, was enveloped by the mountains, brilliantly washed in the orange of morning light, Connor felt exactly the same way.

Chapter Text

“Hank! Come on! It’s starting. You are going to miss it!”

“I’m coming I’m coming, hold your horses. Geez son, could ya give me a minute? I’m exhausted.”

Hank’s voice, just as sluggish as he was, drifted from the hall long before he did.

Meandering into the living room, Hank made a big show of yawning, lifting both arms above his head, bending one and stretching the other to emphasize his exhaustion... but his intended audience was not paying attention.

The sun had long since set from when they had arrived home earlier that day, washing the living room in darkness, only to be illuminated by the flashy displays dancing over the television screen, which a very eager android was watching, perched on the couch.

The screen was glowing a kaleidoscope of bright colors, showcasing the electrified crowds of Time Square. A count-down was pasted into the lower corner of the feed, its time slowly ticking down.

Squinting against the low light, Hank shuffled his way across the room, kicking aside the stray dog toy here or piece of abandoned luggage there, before finally finding and sinking into his armchair. Kicking-up the leg-rest, Hank settled into the well-worn seat, his own posture posing far more relaxed than that of this housemate. Across from him, Hank smirked at Connor, who was folded tightly, sitting on the balls of his feet, with a very happy Sumo snuggled between his legs and wrapped in his arms. Just as the android couldn’t take his eyes off the screen, the Saint Bernard, overcome by euphoria, could not take his eyes off Connor.

The gentle thumping of the giant dog’s tail drew out an amused smile over Hank’s face.

“Alright, in the two seconds it took me to change into sweatpants, what did I miss?”

Connor’s eyes were flicking to-and-fro over and across the television screen, trying to take in every millisecond of the events unfolding before him.

“You were gone for six minutes and thirty four seconds, and you missed the announcer once again teasing about how spectacular the ball drop will be.”

Hank rolled his eyes, but his grin didn’t falter.

“Don’t get your hopes up too much, okay? It really isn’t all that exciting.”

But as the timer chimed the three minute mark, Connor jumped, hugging his fuzzy cuddle buddy ever more closely, initiating said fluff ball to immediately swing his head around and assault the bottom of Connor’s chin in puppy kisses.

“You know, many people start the new year by making a wish.”

Connor was now watching as a news reporter tried to pull at the crowd’s attention, asking random bystanders, clad in glittering hats, bead necklaces, and foam fingers, if they were excited for the coming spectacle.

Connor’s eyes never left the screen as he answered —

“I thought the custom was to make resolutions for the coming year.”

Hank let his eyes drift to the screen as one of the bystanders tried to grab at the reporter’s microphone, falling short but cheering as though he had it anyways.

“Well, that too. But those are not as much fun. We can do that tomorrow. But the night of, I find it a little more celebratory to think of a wish.”

Hank’s words were lost as Connor jumped again, inching further off his seat as the woman on the television waved her arms, announcing the two minute count. Sumo boofed as one of his legs slipped off the couch.

“Oh, sorry Sumo.”

Connor scooted against the couch enough for the massive dog to regain his balance, now choosing to press Connor to the back of the couch as he curled up in his lap.

The edge of Hank’s mouth quirked up at the sight, and he wished he had a camera.

Connor stroked the oversized-lapdog’s head, who in turn tried to lick his hand every time it passed, and Hank tried not to laugh at how intensely Connor was staring at the count down clock.

“Do you know what you’re going to wish for, Hank?”

“Oh yes,” Hank sighed, adjusting his seat for a better view of the screen, “I think I’ve known my wish for a while now.”

“Really? What is—“

But Connor’s train-of-thought was interrupted as, again, an excited jump took hold with the clock, flashing the final sixty seconds, and the crowd in the screen buzzed with excitement.

Hank settled deeper into his chair, first watching the screen as the throng of excited people all turned their eyes skyward. But as the final ten-second chant drew nearer, he found his eyes drifting back to the couch.

And there was Connor, eyes wide and full of innocent wonder, face illuminated by the colorful glow, hugging Sumo in a gentle, yet eager embrace, with the dog in turn rhythmically thumping his tail, clearly in a state of couldn’t-be-happier.

Connor gasped as the unanimous voice of the crowd began to chant:

Ten!

Nine!

Eight!

The house was warm, cozy, and aside from the television, quiet.

Seven!

Six!

Five!

They were all warm, cozy, and safe.

Four!

Three!

Two!

And it just felt so...

One!!

... perfect.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

Connor’s eyes were wide with enthrallment as the glittering ball descended from its perch, hitting the base and initiating massive canons to blast luminescent confetti high into the air and over the cheering crowds.

And yet again that night, seeing the pure glee wash over Connor at the spectacle, Hank smiled.

“Happy new year, Connor.”

Clearly a manual struggle, Connor tore his attention away from the screen to Hank. Pure excitement beamed across his face.

“Happy new year, Hank!”

Sumo, clearly riled-up by the energy of his cuddle-buddy, boofed excitedly from Connor’s lap.

“And happy new year to you too, Sumo!”

In the light of the screen, blanketed by the noise of cheering crowds and doting puppy-talk, Hank relaxed back in his easy chair.

‘What do I wish for?’ he thought, eyes feeling heavy, happily watching as Sumo further pinned Connor to the couch, with Connor’s laughter muffled under the dog’s great floof.

‘This. I wish for this.’

And with the gentle caress of sleep fading the world into a dull hum around him, Hank was certain, that this, in fact, was certainly...

How to build a life.