Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

They had only just arrived at work and Hank already felt tired. Hank slumped down in his chair, absentmindedly looking over the same three case files he and Connor had been examining for the past couple of days. At the desk across from him, Connor also looked over the files with an almost imperceptible frown. Connor wouldn’t admit it, but Hank could tell it was getting to him too. 

The three cases all involved missing androids. The circumstances around their disappearances were similar, but the evidence ended there. He and Connor had already spoken to the families and friends the day before but hadn’t gotten much useful information. It only confirmed that they all went missing around the same time of day after receiving a call from an unknown number. Attempting to track the number had gotten them nowhere and there was no evidence left behind where the androids went missing. At least for the first two cases. They were set to check out the third location today, but Hank wasn’t expecting much. 

Hank scrolled over the third android’s case, the most recent to go missing. He was an NC200 named Gary. He lived alone but worked at a local hardware store, and frequently hung out with coworkers after work. They estimated he went missing sometime late last week. He went out with his coworkers after work Wednesday night and left early after receiving a call. They didn’t think anything of it, but then he didn’t show up for work Thursday morning. He wouldn’t pick up the phone and when someone went to check on him that weekend, he wasn’t at his apartment. They reported him missing that afternoon. Today was Wednesday, so at worst, he’d been missing almost a full week. 

The other two followed a similar pattern. The first to go missing - a VH500 named Sue - had been gone for two weeks now. And the KR200 named Amy had been missing for a week and a half. While there had been a scattering of reports of missing androids over the past several months, they were isolated and the androids in question were usually found a few days later. These cases were likely connected based on what evidence they had so far. If the pattern of someone going missing roughly every four days continued, they were worried another case would be coming in any day now. 

“Any updates from Markus?” Hank asked his partner, leaning back in his chair. Connor looked away from his terminal and then leaned back in his chair as well, removing his hand from the interface. 

“Markus said he would ask around New Jericho again today, but so far he has not heard anything,” Connor responded. The android leader was one of the first places they’d gone after they found no clues on the first disappearance. Markus had been doing his part to ask around about the missing androids and see what he could find, but they were all coming up empty. 

“Did you see anything strange in the security footage?” Hank asked. That was what Connor had been reviewing all the afternoon before and then again this morning. It was their only real evidence. 

“Maybe. Gary entered the building at eleven-seventeen Wednesday night, but there’s no footage of him leaving,” Connor began. That was nothing new so far, just the same Hank had seen when he reviewed the footage himself. The building was a property listed for lease in a more upscale part of the city. It was supposed to be locked, but somehow Gary had gotten in without a problem. They had footage of both the front and back entrances from nearby shops, but nothing from inside the building. 

“And?” Hank prompted at Connor’s silence The android stared intently at his computer terminal, squinting slightly. He waved a hand, gesturing for Hank to come over. The lieutenant sighed but stood up from his desk, walking around to see what Connor was looking at. Connor pressed play, starting the footage from nearly midnight. It played for a full minute before Connor paused again, looking at Hank.

“There’s nothing there Connor. What am I supposed to be seeing?” Hank asked, failing to keep the annoyance out of his voice. Connor restarted it again, back to around midnight. As it played, he pointed to a small spot on the corner of the screen.

“Look there.”

Hank hunched over with his hands on his knees to squint at the screen. At first, nothing of note jumped out to him, but then he began to see it. He wasn’t sure what it was, but something was off about the footage. 

“It’s hard to tell, but I think this footage might have been altered,” Connor explained, “It’s too blurry to make out, but that slip of paper goes by in the corner three times over the course of this one-minute section.” Was that what that movement had been? It looked like possibly the very corner of a receipt, something that Hank only even noticed because Connor pointed it out. It was barely in the frame, more of a flicker in the upper right corner than anything. 

“Alright,” Hank said, straightening up, “let’s go check it out then. We can ask the owner of the shop next door about this footage.”

Connor nodded, standing up as well. It was a long shot, but so far it was the best they’d found. The shop owner had supposedly sent them the original footage from that night, but maybe there was a backup or another version they could examine. The two detectives made their way out of the precinct and to Hank’s Oldsmobile. 

They got in and drove to the shopping district, the only noise the radio playing quietly in the background. Hank was tempted to turn the heavy metal up to full blast like usual, but could tell Connor was trying to think and didn’t want to disrupt the kid. They managed to beat the lunchtime traffic and made it to their destination in just under a half hour. Hank parked in the small parking lot outside the shop. It was located in a strip mall next to several other posh-looking shops. This one had been some kind of flower boutique before the owners decided to retire and put the building up for lease. It had only been cleared out for a couple days before Gary was sighted here. Hank and Connor got out of the car, walking up to the empty building. They paused outside.

“You want to check out the scene while I talk to the owner of the other shop?” Hank asked, glancing over at his partner. Hank was a perfectly capable detective but Connor was literally built for this kind of crime scene investigation work. He could pick up on things that Hank couldn’t - such as evaporated thirium. 

“Actually, I would like to talk to the owner too. I want to see the footage he has for myself,” Connor responded. 

“Okay,” Hank nodded, “let’s hope we can get something out of them.”

“Hopefully,” Connor quietly agreed. They walked to the shop next door, a vegan cafe. A bell above the door chimed as the two detectives entered the mostly empty shop. Only one table in the corner was occupied by a man in a full suit typing away at his laptop. The young woman behind the counter gave them a polite wave. 

“Hey, we need to talk to uhh...” Hank trailed off trying to remember the owner’s name. 

“Nicolas Colbert,” Connor supplied. The woman’s eyes flitted to Connor for a second before she turned her attention back to Hank.

“Mr. Colbert is busy at the moment. Now if you don’t need anything else…” she trailed off, glancing at the door. Hank pulled out his badge.

“He’s expecting us,” Hank said. The woman’s eyes widened for a second but then her posture relaxed.

“Oh, you’re the detectives,” she smiled, “sorry, we’ve had some troublesome people coming in here lately trying to bother Mr. Colbert.”

“What kind of trouble?” Connor asked, perking up. Hank doubted it would have anything to do with the case, but he let the kid try anyway. 

“I can’t say much, legal reasons. But the owner a few shops down apparently has some kind of grudge. He keeps sending people over here, I’m not sure what for. Mr. Colbert just told me to tell anyone asking for him to leave,” she replied. It was a little suspicious, and probably not legal, but had nothing to do with the case so Hank didn’t care. 

“Well, can we see him?” Hank prompted.

“Oh! Right, yes. Right this way,” she gestured for them to come around the counter. They followed her through the door behind the registers into a short hallway. “His office is the last door on the right,” she said, before disappearing back out into the shop. 

“Hank,” Connor pauses, and Hank stops as well to look at the android, “should we do something about those troublesome people she mentioned?”

“Don’t worry about it, kid. It’s probably not a big deal. It has nothing to do with this case anyway,” Hank waved him off. Connor frowned, but seemed to accept it and continued down the hallway. Hank followed to the door the woman had directed them to. He reached up and knocked twice.

“Come in,” a muffled voice called from the other side. Hank pushed the door open and the two detectives entered the room. The man behind the desk was older than Hank by at least a decade. He sat hunched over behind an equally ancient-looking computer, a permanent scowl on his wrinkled face. 

“You the cops who called earlier?” he asked, looking up from the computer. 

“Yeah. Do you have the original footage from last Wednesday around midnight?” Hank asked, getting straight to the point. 

“I already sent that over,” the old man huffed.

“It appears that the footage has been altered. We wanted to know if you had another copy or perhaps a backup version,” Connor said. 

“I didn’t alter anything! Sent you people exactly what was on the camera,” Colbert said, crossing his arms over his chest. Of course this man had to be difficult about it. 

“So you don’t have any other copies?” Connor tried.

“No.”

Connor frowned and glanced over at Hank. Without other footage, there was no way to really tell if the video had been altered. And even if it had, they couldn’t recover what had been taken out. Hank let out a quiet sigh.

“Is that it?” Colbert asked, already turning his attention back to the computer. 

“Yeah, that’s it,” Hank said before Connor could speak. They did have a few other questions, but Hank could already tell they weren’t going to get anything else out of this man. Why he even agreed to meet with them in the first place, Hank wasn’t sure. “Come on, Connor,” Hank moved towards the door. 

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Colbert,” Connor said politely before following after Hank. They exited the cafe and walked back over to the empty building. Hank pulled out the spare key that the owner had lent the DPD for the investigation and opened the door. The inside was a completely empty room with a hallway in the back leading to smaller rooms and the back entrance. 

Hank looked around the room while Connor made a slow circle around the perimeter. He was no doubt doing his scanning thing, looking for any traces of evaporated thirium. The power had been disconnected so the only light in the room came from the windows in the front of the store, faintly illuminating the room. Hank couldn’t find anything out of the ordinary with the first room, and after a few passes, Connor seemed to meet the same results.

“Nothing?” Hank asked. Connor shook his head with a frown. 

“Nothing,” he confirmed. The two then headed for the hallway and made a similar sweep of the two rooms off to the sides. Still, there was nothing of note. This had been the case with the first two androids to go missing as well. They knew where they were last seen, but never saw them leave that location and the locations had no evidence. Hank was about ready to call it quits when Connor suddenly froze. The android quickly walked to the backdoor and crouched down just before it.

“What did you find?” Hank asked, coming up to stand behind him. He didn’t see anything.

“Evaporated thirium. I can’t sample it to tell who it belonged to, and it’s only a couple of drops,  but…” Connor trailed off.

“It’s something,” Hank finished lamely. It didn’t tell them much other than an android had maybe been injured here. It could be the one they were looking for or maybe the one responsible for them being missing. 

“It might indicate that Gary left through the back door. It isn’t enough for me to do a reconstruction, but the presence of thirium means that he could have been injured,” Connor said, standing up. 

“You think he was taken by force?” Hank asked. Connor glanced around at the surrounding walls again.

“There are no other signs of a struggle, but that is a possibility,” Connor carefully replied. He opened the back door and they stepped outside. The back of the building faced an alleyway, barely big enough for supply trucks to enter and exit going one way. A small dumpster was pressed against the side of the building next to the back door of this shop and several others. While Connor scanned around the space behind the shop for any other traces of thirium, Hank walked over to the dumpster. He lifted the lid and peeked in, wrinkling his nose at the stale smell. It was empty. Connor came over a moment later and confirmed that there was no thirium either. 

“I guess this is another bust,” Hank said. 

“There has to be something,” Connor protested, likely doing another scan of the area. Hank could understand the frustration. They had so little to go off, and the longer they took the worse the outcome would be. 

“We’ll figure it out, kid,” Hank said, placing a reassuring hand on Connor’s shoulder. It hadn’t even been a full year since Connor had begun working at the DPD as a deviant, so he still didn’t have a lot of experience with cases like this where evidence was so scarce. Hank could tell it frustrated him, and could faintly remember the same way when he was still new to the job all those decades ago. Connor opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by Hank’s phone ringing. Hank grumbled, digging the device out of his pocket and answering.

“Yeah, what is it?”

“Hank,” it was Captain Fowler, “There’s been an explosion a few miles away from where you are now. A few people spotted one of your missing androids in the area.”

“What?” Hank asked, surprise creeping into his voice. They had no leads and all of a sudden this was happening.

“I’m sending you the address now. Ben and his team are already at the scene, he’ll have more information. Hurry,” Fowler ended the call. A few seconds later his phone dinged with the address.

“What was that?” Connor asked. He was perfectly capable of tapping into phone lines but had been getting better about not doing that since most people didn’t appreciate it. 

“We’ve finally got a lead,” Hank answered.

As they arrived at the scene of the explosion, Connor felt his stress levels tick upward a few points. Hank had filled him in on what little information Captain Fowler had shared on the way over. The first android to go missing in this case - Sue, the VH500 - had been spotted entering this building shortly before the explosion went off. 

“Shit… that doesn’t look good,” Hank muttered, staring at the damaged building. 

The building in question was an office complex. The explosion occurred on the fourth floor, blowing a gaping hole in the side of the building. The fourth floor was missing the entire exterior wall. The floors above and below it were also partially blown open. It was a miracle the structure hadn’t collapsed any further. Firetrucks were still gathered around the base of the building, but the fire had been extinguished. They had arrived quickly and were able to stop the fire from spreading any further, but small streams of smoke still drifted out of the hole. There were also several news vans crowded around, reporters covering the incident. Hank and Connor exited the car, avoiding the media as they made their way over to where Detective Collins was standing near the entrance of the building.

“Hey Ben,” Hank greeted him, “Fowler said you would have some more information.” The other detective nodded.

“We’re working on getting the security footage from this area, but several witnesses spotted Sue entering the building. She stopped at the receptionist’s desk before heading up to the fourth floor,” Ben explained.

“Did the receptionist know why she was here? Did they talk about anything?” Connor asked.

“She said she was visiting a friend who worked here. The receptionist was at least acquainted with her, said she’d come around to visit her friend every now and then,” Ben said. That confirmed that it was Sue who had entered the building. 

“Do you know what caused the explosion?” Hank asked. 

“It could be something Sue brought in, she had a bag with her. But it’s also possible explosives were already planted in the building. My team is working to figure that out right now, but it wasn’t an accident, we know that much.” 

This added a concerning new layer to these missing android cases. After being missing for three weeks, Sue suddenly shows up again only to be caught in an explosion. Unless she wasn’t.

“Can we see the scene?” Connor asked. He needed samples, to determine if she really was present when the explosion happened.

“Sure, but it isn’t pretty,” Ben responded. He led the two detectives up the stairs, the elevator still not able to safely function after the blast. The interior wall had also been partially blown out, giving them a clear view of the room even before they got close. It was a gruesome sight from afar, but even worse up close. 

The walls were all singed black and a thick smoky smell still hung in the air. Even more overpowering though was a sharp coppery tang coming from the substance splattered across the floor and walls. Thirium mixed with human blood created a dark purple mess that spread across the floor and splattered in spots along the walls too. 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Hank brought a hand to cover his nose and mouth, making a gagging sound. Even though Connor didn’t react to strong smells in the way humans did, it still made him uncomfortable too. But he steeled himself and stepped into the room. 

The blast had occurred close to the outer wall, and the splatter of mixed blood spread outwards from that location towards the interior of the building. It seemed slightly diluted, likely from when the firefighters extinguished the fire. There were several bodies, badly scorched, flung up against the far wall, and surrounded by holographic police tape. He would have to examine those too but for now... Connor grimaced and crouched down next to the puddle of thirium and blood. Even diluted and mixed like this, Connor’s forensic software was highly advanced. He should be able to tell if Sue had been here from a sample. He dipped his fingers into the liquid. It was still warm.

“Connor no! That’s disgusting,” Hank had come up behind him. He grabbed Connor’s wrist, yanking it away from his mouth.

“I agree,” Connor muttered, not happy about the prospect of having to do this either, “but I need to determine if Sue was present at the time of the explosion.” Hank still had a disgusted look on his face but released Connor’s wrist. 

Connor continued his earlier action, bringing his fingers up to touch his tongue. Immediately his sensors were bombarded with an overwhelming flood of information swarming his vision. His LED rapidly flashed yellow as his processors rushed to keep up. He made an involuntary choking noise and would have likely lost his balance had he not been crouched down.

“You alright?” Hank asked, resting a hand on his shoulder. Connor nodded, squeezing his eyes shut. The first thing that registered was the taste, an unfortunate product of deviancy for times like this. It was metallic but musty, still sitting unpleasantly on his tongue. He tried to focus on the plethora of information crowding his vision one at a time. Closing his eyes helped block out the background, but it was still a lot. 

There were at least three different human blood types present, and DNA analysis identified five people. He dismissed those for now, logging them for later. He was left with thirium coming from five models of androids. There was thirium from a VH500 - Sue’s model number - but that didn’t necessarily conclude she was here. It was a common model after all. He would have to investigate the rest of the scene and review any video footage from before the explosion. He straightened up, wiping the excess blood off on his jeans.

“What’d you find out?” Hank asked. He was standing near the outer wall now, running his eyes over the group of bodies. There were six total. 

“There is blood from five humans, and at least six androids. It is likely Sue was present when the explosion went off,” Connor explained. Since androids didn’t have DNA in the same way that humans did, there was no way to tell who specifically the thirium came from, only their model number. There was only thirium from five separate models, but given the body count there had to be at least six androids present.  

He made his way over to where Hank was examining the bodies, trying not to step into the puddle of viscera splattered across the floor as much as possible. The humans were easy to spot among the bodies, torn apart and scorched in a way only flesh could be. The scent was overpowering as he neared and he wished he could turn his senses off, even if only for a moment. 

“I need to step out for a minute,” Hank muttered before swiftly exiting the room. It seemed he felt the same. He left the humans for now. Though he was capable, he would let Ben’s team handle identifying the bodies. He didn’t want to have to run any more samples for the moment if he could help it. The taste of the blood and thirium slime was still faintly present. 

Four of the six androids were still mostly intact, though burned black. Still, he was able to make out their serial numbers which were now connected to their names. Seeing them flash in his vision brought a strange pang of sadness over him. These were all androids with friends and families. And just because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time, they were dead. Connor pushed the feeling away. Feelings wouldn’t help him in this case, he had to stay calm, analytical. The faster he solved this the less would die. 

The next two had been closer to the blast. Parts of their torsos had been singed all the way through, exposing wires and darkened biocomponents. The first was missing her arms and her face was a molten, unrecognizable mess. Still, Connor managed to find a serial number. The final android was nothing but a torso, limbs thrown somewhere else in the room. The feeling bubbled up again and Connor shoved it down with a clench of his jaw. This wasn’t the time. 

He stood up from the bodies and took a few steps back. Sue was nowhere to be found. He scanned his eyes over them again, double-checking. There was no VH500 among them. Connor turned around to face the gaping hole in the wall and backed into the interior corner of the room until he had a wide view of the whole scene. He let his reconstruction software run, trying to make out what might have happened. 

If her body wasn’t with the others, that left three possibilities in his mind. The first was that she was on the opposite side of the explosion and her body had been thrown somewhere outside. But Ben’s team had already swept the area and found nothing, so that was unlikely. The second possibility was that she sustained damage to leave thirium behind but somehow fled the scene before the firefighters arrived. It was also unlikely. Looking at the blast, no one caught in the room had survived and it had damaged more than just this floor. The third possibility was grim, and with no way to confirm it. It was possible the explosion had torn her apart so much that nothing recognizable was left over. Hank had reentered the room now, looking a little less nauseous. Still, he looked around the room with a disturbed expression. Despite all his years on the force, this was a lot.

“Got anything?” Hank asked. 

“Maybe,” Connor responded absentmindedly, looking around the room again. There were a few limbs, presumably from the two androids closer to the blast, but he hadn’t checked yet. He steeled himself and stepped through the puddle to examine the limbs, ignoring Hank’s grossed-out sound as he moved. Examining the limbs confirmed it, which left him frustrated. 

His third theory seemed the most likely, but he couldn’t accept anything without confirmation. He looked around the room once more, then spotted it. Balanced precariously on the edge of the gaping hole in the wall was part of an arm. He began to walk towards the limb, but as he neared the edge Hank called out to him.

“Get back here, Connor! The floor isn’t stable enough for you to be messing around over there.”

Connor ignored him and continued to walk forwards. He was being careful, testing each step before placing his full weight on it.

“Connor!” Hank snapped. 

“I need to check this, Lieutenant. I’m being careful,” he responded, glancing back over his shoulder at his partner. 

“I don’t care how fucking careful you are, get back here!”

Connor took several quick steps forward, ignoring the creaking floor and Hank’s shouting as he snatched up the limb. He turned around and took a few steps in time for Hank to grab his arm and drag him the rest of the way back into the room. 

“Can’t you ever do what I say?” Hank asked, his grip almost uncomfortably tight on Connor’s arm. 

“I need to examine all of the evidence,” Connor responded. 

“Finding evidence won’t mean shit if you fall out the building,” Hank said.

“I didn’t,” Connor pulled his arm away. 

“You’re fucking lucky you didn’t,” Hank grumbled. Connor looked over the limb, turning it around to see if he could make anything out through the black charring. It took a few seconds of close scanning to spot it, and when he did he showed it to Hank triumphantly. 

“None of the other bodies matched Sue’s serial number. This arm does. It proves that she was here during the explosion,” Connor said. His triumph was short-lived as he registered his own statement. He knew Sue was unlikely to be alive, but this confirmed it. And he’d felt relieved at confirming that because it confirmed his theory. He felt a small wave of guilt brush over him.

“We expected that, but there’s still a lot we don’t know,” Hank said, crossing his arms over his chest. It was true. Why had Sue suddenly reappeared after being missing for so long, and only to die in an explosion? There had to be some kind of outside interference.

“Let’s look at the security cameras. Maybe that will tell us something,” Connor suggested.

“Fine. I’m sick of this place anyways,” Hank said. The two detectives left the gruesome crime scene and went back downstairs to where Ben was still consulting with his team. Hank approached the other man, while Connor trailed behind still thinking about why this happened.“Did you get the security footage yet?” Hank asked. 

“Surprisingly, yes,” Ben responded, “usually takes forever, but the building manager seems really spooked by this. He handed it over as soon as he found the right clips. You should be able to check it back at the precinct.”

“Alright, we’ll head back then. Let us know if you find anything else,” Hank said. Then he and Connor went back to Hank’s Oldsmobile. The drive back was silent, Hank still looking troubled and Connor too busy trying to sort through the new evidence in his mind to worry about conversation. Upon arriving back at the precinct, Connor went immediately to his terminal and booted it up. Hank took a detour to report their evidence so far to the captain.

Like Ben had said, the security footage was already loaded into the terminal. Connor interfaced with the computer, watching through the footage carefully. There was video both of Sue entering the office building, and of entering the room. This further confirmed that she was present when the explosion went off. Connor restarted the video again, watching the android carefully.

She had removed her LED as many androids had following the revolution, but Connor could still tell that she was unsettled by something. As she entered the building, her eyes darted nervously around the room. Her posture was somewhat hunched and she clutched the rather large satchel draped across her shoulders. She paused at the receptionist's desk for a moment before heading further into the building. 

The cameras tracked her through the hallways as she made her way to the elevator then up to the fourth floor. The whole time she had the same hunched posture and nervous expression on her face. She was trying to hide it, but doing a poor job. The footage ended with her entering the meeting room where the explosion had gone off. Connor felt a theory formulating in his mind. There wasn’t concrete evidence yet, but so far it seemed like the most likely scenario.

“What are you thinking?” Hank asked. He had just returned to his desk.

“I think someone forced her to do this,” Connor said, glancing away from the screen of his terminal to meet Hank’s eyes. Hank nodded, giving a small hum.

“That’s a possibility. She certainly looked nervous enough,” Hank agreed. “And I doubt she just went missing in the first place. A kidnapping would make more sense.” 

“But why wait three weeks to release her? And what was the purpose of bombing this building? There isn’t even a way to prove she brought the bomb in,” Connor let out a frustrated huff, “what do you think?”

This was often how they worked cases together. Hank would usually see what Connor thought first, as his advanced processors allowed him to see things in footage and evidence that others might miss. Then Hank would help him talk through these theories, using his years of experience on the force to bring them to the most likely conclusion. Connor may be a state-of-the-art detective android, but Hank wasn’t the youngest person to reach the rank of lieutenant in DPD history for nothing. Connor valued his insight. 

Hank leaned back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling in thought for a few minutes before speaking. “It might be some kind of terrorist attack,” Hank mused, “From what the cameras show, it seems like she was the one who brought the bomb in there. I’m not sure about motives, but it seems likely our perp used her to carry out their dirty work and avoid getting caught. They’ve been careful so far about not leaving any evidence behind.”

“We should look at the histories of everyone in that room, see if there’s any reason someone would have a grudge against them,” Connor decided. It seemed like the most logical course of action. 

“First we need to notify the families,” Hank said, a frown creeping across his face, “Fowler already called Sue’s family, they should be here soon.” 

Connor felt an uncomfortable feeling settle over him, like a weight pulling his shoulders down. He had been avoiding thinking about this step, secretly hoping Hank would just drop it and let someone else do it. It was important, the families deserved to know, but Connor truly hated this part. Especially now, when they were only dead because he hadn’t been fast enough in solving this case. The feeling of dread only increased when he noticed the family walking into the precinct twenty minutes later. The receptionist led them to the back of the precinct, to one of the more private interview rooms. 

“Want me to take this one?” Hank asked, seeming to pick up on his mood. Connor shook his head.

“No, I can do it,” Connor stood up. He couldn’t run from this.

“Alright, you can have this one, but I’ll handle the rest,” Hank said.

“That’s too much, Lieutenant, I can-” Hank raised a hand, cutting him off.

“You’re still new to this part, kid. One is plenty. Besides, Ben will help with the others,” Hank said. It was true, he had only done this part of the job once before and it had felt awful. Still, Connor felt bad making Hank deal with this even if Detective Collins was going to help, like Connor wasn’t really doing his fair share. 

“Don’t give me that look, I’m not in the mood to argue about this with you right now. Just go take care of it,” Hank waved him off. He would have to let it go for now. Connor turned away from his desk and made his way back to the interview room where the family was waiting. He froze outside the door for a moment, his thirium pump hammering in his chest and feeling far too loud. He swallowed, an unnecessary action but one that helped him to quash down the feelings building up inside him. He forced his features into a neutral expression then pushed open the door. 

There was a male android, a GJ200 named Derrick, and their adopted daughter, Abby, a YK500 model. This room had been made comfier than the DPD’s typical interrogation rooms, with no one-way glass and more comfortable seating. The family was sitting huddled together on the couch pressed against the far wall. They looked up when Connor entered and Derrick stood up to greet him.

“We were told you’d have some news,” he said, a hopeful half-smile ghosting over his features. Abby got up too, walking behind her father to clutch onto the back of his shirt.

“Is she okay?” the girl asked, voice bright with that same hope. Connor quickly looked away from her, back to Derrick. He felt his own stress levels rising but pushed his discomfort away. He didn’t have the right to be uncomfortable right now. It would only make things harder on the family if he let his own feelings get in the way.

“Let’s sit down,” Connor said, gesturing for them to go back to the couch. Derrick’s smile fell, but he still had a glimmer of hope in his eyes. Connor led the two to the couch and sat down in the chair situated across from it. For a few moments, there was just silence, and the apprehension built up like electricity in the air. Connor clasped his hands together in his lap to stop himself from fidgeting.

“I-” Connor cleared his throat, forcing his voice to come out steady and even, “Sue died in an explosion this morning. I’m sorry for your loss.” It felt like such a canned delivery, so inefficient for the situation. It was all he had, all he had been trained to say in situations like this. It was important to use the word ‘dead’ and to offer condolences, to show empathy. But watching the family break down in tears in front of him, Connor felt completely worthless. He didn’t reach out to them in comfort, didn’t know what to say, too afraid to make it worse. All he could do was sit there and watch while they processed the worst moment of their lives. 

“What-” Derrick’s voice was cut off by a sob, “what do you mean she’s dead? You were supposed to find her.” Connor’s hands pressed against each other so tight the plastimetal of his fingers creaked.

“I’m sorry, we did everything we could,” Connor said quietly. It felt like a lie even as he said it. Had they really done everything they could? If he had really done everything, then surely he would have found her in time. If he had been better, they would have found her in time. 

“Mommy’s gone…?” Abby said, struggling to process the information and tears streamed down her face. Derrick placed a hand on top of her head, pulling her close. He took a few calming breaths, trying to calm himself down. Connor looked down at his hands in his lap, unable to meet the other android’s eyes.

“Can we see her?” Derrick asked after calming down a little. Connor pressed his lips together, finding it harder and harder to keep his expression calm. He forced himself to look back up.

“I’m sorry,” Connor apologized again, feeling it ring hollow and pointless, “there’s-” how was he even supposed to say this? “The explosion was large. There wasn’t much-”

“That’s enough, I- I understand,” Derrick cut him off, a fresh wave of tears spilling down his face. Connor could tell his stress levels were high, he had to say something. But what? Nothing he said would bring her back.

“I am truly sorry for your loss,” he repeated, “if there’s anything I can do.” His social relations programming provided the phrase. But that only made it feel more robotic, more pointless. Why couldn’t he do any better than this?

“No I- Sorry, can you just leave us alone for now?” Derrick said, roughly running a hand across his face.

“Of course,” Connor excused, before standing up and quickly making his way out of the room. He felt pathetic. Everything he said only made things worse for them. He should have listened to Hank and let his partner take this one. Hank would have known how to show empathy better, to provide them some kind of comfort outside of a useless canned expression. 

Connor stood outside the room for a moment, leaning against the wall next to the door. He closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath, cooling down his components that were heating up from rising stress levels. He exhaled the heated air, then repeated the motion a few times. He had to keep it together. Connor opened his eyes to the empty hallway, then walked away from the room and back to the bullpen. It was quieter, nearly time to get off for the day shift. He just had to type up a report for the day and then he and Hank could head home too.

When he got to his desk he sunk down in the chair, reaching out to interface with his terminal. Hank wasn’t at his desk, likely in another interview room delivering terrible news to another innocent family. There were a few more in the waiting room of the precinct, Connor noticed out of the corner of his eyes. They all wore nervous expressions. Connor blocked it out, focusing only on typing up his case report for the day.

He should be helping Hank and Detective Collins with this, it was his responsibility as much as it was theirs. But he just couldn’t do it. He would only make it worse for them if he tried. So instead he tuned out everything except the facts as he logged in the evidence they’d gathered that day. He let himself get lost in the details and the logical analysis of the case. He didn't know how long it had been when he was startled out of the interface by a hand on his shoulder. He jumped a little, head snapping up to look at Hank standing next to him.

“Ready to go?” the older man asked. Hank looked exhausted, dark circles prominent underneath his eyes. 

“Yes, just a moment,” Connor finished off the last few details before shutting his terminal down for the night. Then he stood up to follow Hank out of the precinct.

“I need a drink,” Hank muttered, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his coat. Connor usually would have protested that, but tonight he couldn’t blame him. They stepped out into the cold air and Connor pulled his thin blazer tighter around himself. It hadn’t been so bad in the morning, but as the sun set the temperatures grew uncomfortably chilly. It hadn’t started to snow yet but it probably would soon.

“Told you to wear your coat this morning,” Hank said as they walked, glancing over at him. Connor didn’t respond, his thoughts still stuck in everything that had happened that day. As they reached the car, Hank stopped Connor with a hand on his shoulder. Connor looked up at him.

“Today was shit,” Hank started bluntly, “but don’t let it get you down too much.”

“Okay,” Connor responded. Today really was shit, for everyone. Connor would just have to work harder tomorrow. He knew there had to be something he was missing, and he would find it. 

Chapter Text

Connor sat in the passenger seat of Hank’s Oldsmobile as they drove to New Jericho. They were meeting with Markus this morning before heading into the precinct. Apparently, he had some new information for them. New Jericho was located in the previous CyberLife Tower. After the company was shut down following the revolution, the tower was given to the androids of Detroit. It made sense, being the only unoccupied facility in the city large enough to house the hundreds of androids who were then without homes. Connor had only been there a handful of times - usually too busy with his work at the DPD - but it wasn’t anything like when CyberLife owned it. Markus and the other androids had added their own personal touch, making it far cozier than the bleak corporate building it once was.

Hank pulled onto the bridge leading to Belle Isle and Connor looked out over the river as they crossed. He hadn’t gotten much rest last night, leaving his power levels at a lower-than-optimal 72%. He was built to originally last at least four days without requiring rest, but since deviancy, he found that he got tired easier. Tired was something he had never experienced pre-deviancy, instead, notifications of power levels were his only indicator that he needed to recharge. Now though, partially because of that new tiredness and partially due to Hank’s nagging about sleep being important, he usually ended up sleeping every night. But last night he had been too distracted by the case to enter stasis. 

Hank didn’t look like he was faring much better. The older man still had dark bags under his eyes that had only gotten worse since yesterday. He’d had a few drinks when they got home last night but thankfully stopped before getting completely drunk. He’d gone to his room and Connor assumed he was going to sleep, but seeing him like this in the morning made him think differently. 

Connor had gone to his own room - once Cole’s, but Hank had insisted Connor needed his own space a few months after he’d moved in. But he didn’t rest. Instead, he spent all night at the small desk in there, using his personal computer to dig through the evidence for the case again. He hadn’t found anything new, so he was hoping that this meeting with Markus would give them some idea of what to do next. His battery levels were a little low, but nothing that would impede his ability to function.

Hank pulled into the parking lot outside the tower. It still looked tall and imposing, but the CyberLife branding had been completely removed, replaced with lettering signifying it as ‘New Jericho’. The two detectives got out of the car and walked towards the tower. Connor pulled his coat tighter around himself as the wind battered against him, no longer protected by the car. Upon reaching the entrance of the tower, they were met by Simon who was waiting by the door.

“Hello Connor, Lieutenant Anderson,” he greeted politely.

“Hello, Simon. Markus said he had some more information that might help us,” Connor said. The other android nodded and opened the door, leading them inside.

“Yes, he’s just finishing up with something. I’ll bring you to his office, he should be there soon,” Simon explained.

They followed him through the lobby of the tower towards the elevator at the center. The cold marble of the tower was now decorated with colorful banners and artwork. Comfy chairs and blankets were scattered around the lobby where various androids relaxed and chatted with one another. Still, as they stepped into the elevator Connor couldn’t help but get flashes of the night of the revolution. Breaking in and killing the two guards. It had been necessary for them to win the revolution, but it still made him feel a small twinge of guilt. They rode the elevator up to the top floor where Simon led them to the large office at the back of the floor. 

The office was spacious and the entire back wall was one large window, looking out onto the city below. There were a few desks settled near the edges of the room, but the entire center was set up with two large couches with a large square table between them. Connor and Hank sat down on one of the couches and Simon sat down across from them. A few minutes later, Markus joined them as well. After they shared their greetings and everyone was settled, they began to discuss information regarding the case.

“I saw what happened yesterday on the news,” Markus began, a concerned frown on his face, “that must have been very difficult to deal with.” Connor nodded, sporting his own troubled expression. 

“We need to find more information before something like that happens again. Too many people died yesterday,” Connor said. 

“You said that you had some news,” Hank interjected, stifling a yawn. 

“Yes. We have asked everyone here at Jericho to keep an eye out for any of the androids who have gone missing. Yesterday afternoon, after that explosion, someone reported seeing Amy,” Markus explained. She was the second android related to their case to go missing, a KR200 model originally designed for home assistance. Since the revolution, Amy had moved in with another android roommate and worked at a daycare center as a teaching assistant. Connor leaned forward, feeling some excitement building at the thought of being one step closer to solving this case.

“Where was she spotted?” Connor asked. 

“Near one of the abandoned CyberLife stores on the edge of the city,” Markus answered, and a few seconds later Connor received the address through his internal communication processors. Hank’s phone dinged as he also received the address.

“I can show you what our witness saw. He shared it with me,” Simon offered, holding out his hand. The synthetic skin covering his arm faded away to reveal the white chassis underneath. Connor reached out his own hand, pulling his skin back. They interfaced and a memory played out in front of Connor’s eyes like a video. 

It was dark out, the half-moon settled high at its apex in the sky. The CyberLife store was completely dark, the windows and glass door smashed open. There wasn’t much light in general aside from the moon, but androids didn’t need it to see. Amy walked around from the back of the store and there was someone else with her. They were holding hands. Connor honed in on the other figure, taking in as many details as he could.

It was a male, he could tell by the height and build. Everything else though was indistinguishable. He wore dark clothes that almost blended into the night, including a black ball cap and facemask. The video was too grainy, the android who’s seen this too far away, for Connor to even see the man’s eyes clearly. They walked away from the store to the edge of the street where an autonomous taxi picked them up. The interface ended and Connor pulled back. 

“What’d you see?” Hank asked.

“Amy wasn’t alone. There was a man with her, but I couldn’t make out much about him. They left the abandoned CyberLife store and took an autonomous taxi. It looked like she was going with him willingly,” Connor explained. He also sent the footage to their terminals back at the precinct so he could review it further later. 

“Doesn’t sound like she was kidnapped if she was going with him willingly,” Hank mused.

“You’re right,” Connor agreed, “It doesn’t add up.”

“Perhaps she was kidnapped, but she got away. Maybe this was a friend who came to get her,” Markus offered his opinion. It was certainly a possibility, but it also didn’t fully add up. If she had escaped, then why hadn’t she contacted her roommate? 

“I’m not sure… It’s possible, but her roommate still hasn’t reported her returning home. I think there’s something else going on,” Connor said. Markus nodded but looked pensive. As the leader of Jericho, he felt responsible for making sure that all androids were kept safe. If this dragged on too long, other androids would begin to fear for their own well-being. Amy coming home on her own with a friend would be an easy explanation, one likely to cause less panic. But it didn’t fit. Hank let out a sigh, standing up.

“We’ll just have to go check out the store. See if we can find anything,” the older detective said. Connor stood up as well.

“Thank you, Markus, Simon,” Connor gave a faint smile, “this was very helpful.” 

“Of course. Let us know if there’s anything else we can do. And good luck,” he waved them off. They left the office and made their way out of the tower. It was only once they were in the car and on their way to the address that Markus had given them that Connor began to speak.

“I think that the man Amy was with is probably the same person who kidnapped her,” he said after a while. He had watched the memory a few more times on their way out of New Jericho, looking for anything he may have missed the first time. Hank gave a noncommittal hum.

“What makes you think that?” Hank asked. Connor slipped his coin out of his pocket, beginning to roll it across his fingers as he thought.

“They were holding hands, and she didn’t seem to be struggling. But that doesn’t necessarily mean that she was going with him willingly. He could have had something that was forcing her to cooperate,” Connor said. 

“We’ll know more once we check out that store. Maybe there’ll be a camera or something you can hack into,” Hank said.

“I can’t hack cameras, Hank.”

“Well, we’ll figure something out.”

After their conversation tapered off, it took another thirty minutes to reach the location Markus had sent them. It really was on the far outskirts of Detroit, and there were only a handful of shops around the CyberLife store, most of them also abandoned - which ruled out other camera footage. 

Hank parked along the street in front of the store and they got out. Through the smashed glass of the front door, they were easily able to step through and into the abandoned store. The front of the store looked like all the other CyberLife stores that had yet to be torn down. Empty podiums lined the walls and gathered in clusters around the floor. The screens that usually displayed model numbers were dark, the one on the left wall broken with a large crack spanning across it diagonally. The circular register at the center of the shop was completely empty. A quick scan of the area revealed no evaporated thirium either. 

Seeing nothing of interest, Hank and Connor moved toward the back of the store. There was a discreet door in the back right corner which led to the repair room and break room that nearly every CyberLife store had. They stopped at the repair room first. 

While most of the room was cleared out, it was obvious someone had been working in there. There was a metal table in the center of the room and next to it was a rolling tray still lined with various android repair tools. The table had a few small splatters of thirium and a few of the tools were also stained with the blue blood. Connor walked up to the table and swiped up a small amount of the blue blood on his fingers. Hank looked away while Connor tested the sample. 

“This thirium is from Amy,” Connor said as the results popped up in his vision. 

“Did she look damaged in the video?” Hank asked, coming to stand next to Connor by the table. Connor shook his head.

“No, she looked fine. There was no thirium on her or the man with her either.” Connor ran his scanners of the tray of tools, paying special attention to the ones stained in blue blood. “There are no fingerprints on the tools. The man from the video was wearing gloves, but it could also mean…” Connor trailed off, frowning.

“It could have been another android,” Hank finished the thought. There had been a handful of cases over the last few months involving android criminals. After all, just as not all humans were good, the same was true about androids. But none of those crimes had involved androids hurting other androids. Still, it was a possibility to consider.

Connor ran a scan over the evidence again, trying to cobble together a reconstruction with the limited information. Most of the thirium splattered was centered around the upper middle and head of the table. A ghostly outline of Amy laying on the table formed in his vision. There were no other signs of struggle, so it was likely she was in stasis whenever this was going on. Another figure formed, this one standing next to the table with the tray of tools at his side. 

Most of the tools showing obvious signs of usage were fairly generic, used in most repair procedures. One in particular though was primarily for delicate wiring processes. It was used in a few different procedures but was mostly involved in work on intracranial processors. The figure of the man held the tool, opening up the panel in Amy’s face that gave him access to her processors. There was a splatter right next to her head. He was installing something in there. Connor blinked, letting the reconstruction disappear from view. 

“I think I have an idea,” he said,

“Shoot.”

“I believe he may have installed something into Amy’s intracranial processor. It might explain why she went with him willingly, he could have found a way to control her,” Connor explained.

“Shit, mind control? You think that’s what happened with Sue too?” Hank asked.

“It’s possible. Sue did look nervous on the camera, but maybe it isn’t full mind control. Maybe it only controls their movements,” Connor said. It was a rough theory, but it was beginning to make more and more sense to him. After all, why else would Sue have willingly brought an explosive into that office building? Connor’s eyes widened.

“Hank, what if the same thing happens again? If Amy also-” Connor was cut off by the sound of Hank’s phone ringing. The tone was shrill, cutting into Connor like a knife. 

“Shit,” Hank cursed again, fishing the phone out of his pocket and answering it. Connor waited, dread building as he watched Hank’s face for any sign of what was happening on the other end. 

“Hang on a sec,” Hank said and pulled the phone away from his ear, putting it on speaker, “Alright, what is it.”

“I have an update, but it isn’t good,” it was Captain Fowler, “There was an explosion at Amy’s apartment. It wasn’t as large as the one yesterday, there was no major damage to the building, but she died.”

“Fuck, are you serious?” Hank said. Even though he didn’t need air in the same way humans did, Connor felt a little breathless. They were too late, again. Another person had died.

“Her roommate saw the whole thing, she’s back at the precinct now. You’ll need to talk to her. Ben’s team is at the apartment now, but you two will also need to check that out,” Fowler continued. 

“Alright. I think we found everything we can here. We’ll be there soon,” Hank responded, before hanging up. Hank stuffed the phone back into his pocket and turned to face Connor.

“This is definitely looking like a pattern now,” Hank said with a weary sigh. 

“We need to find out everything we can before we’re too late again . I think we should check out her apartment first,” Connor said. 

“Nah, the evidence there isn’t going anywhere. Let’s just head back to the precinct for now.”

“It will be easier to question Amy’s roommate if we already have some information on what happened.”

“It’s not going to make that much of a difference, kid. Besides, we shouldn’t make her wait around there any longer than she has to. Let’s go,” Hank said, leaving no room for argument. Connor frowned but gave in. Hank was right, it wasn’t like anything would happen to the evidence in the time it took them to question the roommate - Ben would make sure of that. But they would need to be quick. If the pattern continued, then Gary - their most recent missing android case - would be next. 

When they arrived back at the station, Amy’s roommate was already waiting for them in the interrogation room. No one had spoken to her about what happened yet, waiting for Hank and Connor since this was their case. They entered the observation room, looking in at her through the one-way glass. 

She was a KR200, the same model as Amy, but had changed her appearance as several androids had chosen to after the revolution. Her hair was cropped short and changed to jet black in color. She sat slumped in one of the chairs, her arms propping her head up against the metal table in the center of the room. She wasn’t handcuffed - she was a victim here after all. It wasn’t likely she had anything to do with what happened. Still, it wasn’t something to completely rule out. 

“You good to take this?” Hank asked, looking away from the waiting android to meet Connor’s eyes. 

“Of course,” Connor said. He was built for interrogations. Even if this wasn’t exactly a standard interrogation - really more of an interview - it was what he was designed to do. He had fumbled the day before with Sue’s family, but he would do better here. He wouldn’t let his discomfort or feelings get in the way this time. Connor opened the door leading into the interrogation room, stepping inside. The KR200 didn’t even look up as he entered, tears still rimming her eyes and a splatter of thirium on her cheek.

“Hi, my name is Connor. And you are…?” he could scan her to find the information, but this would lead to a more natural conversation.

“...Naomi,” she answered after a few seconds, her voice coming out monotone. Connor took the seat across from her, folding his own hands atop the table.

“Can you tell me about what happened, Naomi?” Connor asked. The other android looked back down at her lap, wringing her hands together. She opened her mouth but then closed it again without saying anything. Connor decided to try a different approach.

“Was this the first time you’ve seen Amy since she went missing?” he asked. Naomi took in a breath that shuddered in an oddly human way, fresh tears streaking down her cheeks.

“Yes,” she answered. 

“She was spotted with a man last night near an abandoned CyberLife store. Do you know who this person might be? Maybe someone she knows,” Connor asked.

“I don’t know.”

“I could show you,” Connor offered, reaching his hand out and pulling his artificial skin back.

“No,” Naomi drew back, “No, it couldn’t be anyone we know. She would have come to me first, I know it.” 

“Are you sure?” Connor asked.

“Yes,” Naomi snapped. Connor pulled back, letting his artificial skin glide back over his hand. This wasn’t getting them anywhere, he would have to come back to this later. 

“And you’re sure that you haven’t seen Amy even once for the last week and a half?” 

“Yes,” Namoi said forcefully, an annoyed scowl beginning to work its way onto her face, “I already told you this.” Connor nodded. He couldn’t outright ask her if she had anything to do with what happened to Amy, but it was still important to rule it out. After all, there was a chance - however unlikely - that another android had been involved in the kidnapping. If he didn’t rule it out here, it could cause trouble for Naomi later on. Or worse, if she did have something to do with it and Connor gave up too soon, that would put more androids in danger. 

“You’re right, sorry, I was just clarifying,” Connor continued, “when you last saw her, before she went missing, can you tell me about that day? Did anything unusual happen?”

“You people have already asked me this. I answered this question when I reported her missing, do I really have to go over it again?” she asked. Connor’s scanners told him that her stress levels had risen to 70%; he needed to calm her down. 

“There has been some new evidence. I just want to make sure we aren’t missing anything,” Connor explained. Naomi let out a frustrated huff, but her stress levels slowly ticked back down.

“Fine,” she brought a hand across her face, wiping away the tear streaks. “She left for work early that morning, it was the birthday of one of the kids at the daycare and she wanted to pick up some cupcakes,” Naomi smiled lightly as she recounted the memory, “She told me goodbye and left around… six in the morning, I think.” So far everything added up with her first testimony. “I didn’t talk to her again until she got off work around three. She called me, said she might be a little late getting home.”

“Did she say why?”

“No,” Naomi shook her head, “Not really. Just said she had to take care of something. I didn’t think much of it, I figured it was just some errand she had to run, or something the other teacher needed help with.”

“She didn’t say anything about getting a call?”

“No, she didn’t. Look, this is all I know, okay?” her eyes met his for the first time since he entered the room. They only knew that Amy had received a phone call because of the testimony from the teacher she worked with. Naomi’s story matched up perfectly with her first telling so far, but maybe if he pushed just a little more, he could learn something new. 

“Can you tell me exactly what she said when she called you?” Connor asked.

“I told you-”

‘Word for word.”

“What does that matter!?” she slammed her hands on the table.

“Can you tell me?”

“She said, ‘Hey, I’ll be home a little late today, I need to take care of something’, are you happy now, deviant hunter ? That’s what this is, isn’t it? You think I had something to do with this, that’s why you keep asking me these pointless questions, right? You want to hunt me down and punish me like all those other innocent androids you hurt. Well, I didn’t do anything! My best friend is dead, and it’s all because you’re wasting time interrogating me instead of finding the actual person who did this!” she screamed, fresh tears dripping down her cheeks. 

> STRESS LEVEL: ^^ 40% 

“Amy is dead. This is not a waste of time. We have to explore every possible lead to find who did this to her,” Connor said, forcing his voice to remain calm.

“So that is it, huh? You think I did this?” Naomi asked. Connor opened his mouth to respond, but the door to the interrogation room opened and Hank stepped in.

“Connor, get over here,” he said, voice even and an unreadable look in his eyes. Connor faltered, but got up and walked over to his partner. Hank grabbed his arm and yanked him from the room, closing the door behind them. He pulled him into the observation room and for a moment stood with his back to Connor, taking in a long breath before letting it out in a sigh. Hank turned around, and Connor drew back. Hank looked angry.

“What the hell was that?” Hank asked. 

“We can’t rule anyone out, lieutenant. It’s possible the person who’s doing this is another android, I need to-”

“No,” Hank snapped, cutting him off, “Just because it could be another android doesn’t mean it’s her fucking roommate Connor! She is a victim , do you get that!?” 

“Even if it’s unlikely, we have to make sure,” Connor said quietly, feeling his resolve wavering. 

“So you admit that it’s unlikely!” Hank threw his hands up, “Shit, what the hell is wrong with you?”

“I’m just trying to solve this case, whatever that takes,” Connor responded. He couldn’t forgive himself if the person doing this got away because he missed something. Hank let out a short laugh, but it held no humor. 

“I thought we were over this ‘it’s all about the mission’ bullshit, Connor. You can’t be so heartless when questioning a victim, I thought that would be obvious,” Hank scowled. Connor wanted to defend himself, but he could tell Hank wasn’t finished. “Is that what you did with Sue’s family? Did you accuse her husband of murder?”

“No,” Connor said, but the word sounded small and flimsy.

“Well, you must have said something wrong! Because they were practically inconsolable, just-” Hank paused, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes. He took another deep breath. “Just stay in here. I’ll finish this,” he pushed past Connor, leaving the observation room. 

> STRESS LEVEL: ^ 48%

Connor sunk down into one of the chairs in front of the one-way window, watching numbly as Hank entered the interrogation room. Connor had screwed up, again. With Sue’s family and now again with Naomi, he just wasn’t good enough. His ability to provide comfort was clearly inadequate, and he had been so focused on unlikely possibilities that he practically accused a victim. What was wrong with him? 

These androids were hurting because of him. If he were better at finding evidence and putting the pieces together, then maybe neither Sue nor Amy would have died. If he were more empathetic and less of a machine, then he wouldn’t have made their families feel even worse.  Memories of Amanda flashed through his mind unprompted, her cold scowl whenever he failed to capture deviant androids, questioning why he let them go. He shook his head, trying to dislodge the images. 

Amanda wasn’t here, but instead, it was Hank. Looking at him with those same disappointed eyes, only now it was for the opposite reason. He wasn’t good enough as a machine for Amanda, but was too much of one for Hank. His emotions got in the way of investigating, but pushing them down made him come off as heartless. He needed to do better. He needed to stop failing .

Connor forced his attention back to the interrogation room, where Hank had managed to calm Naomi down. Connor didn’t want to miss any important information because he was too busy focusing on his own feelings. They didn’t matter right now.

“I’m sorry again about my partner,” Hank said, and Connor winced, “are you okay to continue?”

“Yes. I just want to get this over with,” Naomi responded. 

“Alright. When Amy returned home last night, can you tell me what happened?” Hank asked. 

“It happened so fast,” Naomi said in a wavering voice, “She opened the door and then just-” her face scrunched up and fresh tears fell down her cheeks.

“Take your time.”

“There was an explosion. I was on the other side of the apartment from the door. She walked in and before I could even say anything, she was gone.”

“Did she say anything?”

“No.”

“Was she holding anything?”

“She had her purse with her, I think.”

“Anything else out of the ordinary?”

“No- well, maybe I imagined it,” Naomi paused, scanning back through her memory logs, “she looked scared.”

“Okay,” Hank nodded, “thank you for sharing this. I’m sorry you had to go through that,” he stood up. “You’re free to leave whenever you like, and I can have another officer escort you if that would make you feel safer,” Hank offered. 

“No, I’m fine,” Naomi also stood up. They both left the interrogation room to the hallway connecting it to the observation room and the rest of the station. Connor listened as Hank walked her out. He didn’t want to get up, knew that Naomi wouldn’t want to see him. A few moments later Hank opened the door to the observation room, poking his head in.

“Come on, we still need to meet up with Ben at the apartment,” Hank said. He still looked annoyed, so Connor kept his mouth shut. He followed him out of the room and trailed behind him through the station. The silence continued until they made it to Hank’s Oldsmobile and Connor sat in the passenger seat waiting for Hank to start the car. He wrung his fingers together, wishing he could fidget with his coin, but he knew that would only annoy Hank further. A few more seconds passed by and Hank still hadn’t started the car. Connor glanced over at him to find the older man watching him. He needed to say something, but what?

Whatever he was supposed to say, he took too long. Hank looked away with a shake of his head and started the car up. Connor shrunk back into the seat as they took off, feeling increasingly uncomfortable in the tense air. Hank had a right to be mad. After all, Connor was only making this case more difficult with his failings. He had to pull himself together. 

By the time they arrived at the apartment, Connor had managed to push down the nervous energy trying to build up inside him. He let the carefully neutral mask slip back on as he got out of the car. Hank didn’t say anything to him as they approached the building, but he could see the lieutenant glancing at him from the corner of his eye. Detective Collins was waiting for them at the entrance to the apartment building, and gave them a wave as they approached.

“Hey, Ben,” Hank greeted, “What’ve you got?”

“Hey Hank, Connor,” Ben returned the greeting, “the victim died in an explosion just like the last one, but this one is a little different.”

“Yeah? How?” Hank asked. 

“The blast was a lot smaller, didn’t even destroy the wall much. There’s still a body too,” Ben said, beginning to walk them to the apartment in question. They got into the elevator.

“Did the cameras pick anything up? Do we know how they brought the bomb in?” Connor asked.

“Seems pretty similar to last time. She was carrying a bag with her, could have been in there. Actually, there’s some more news on that… Turns out there was a gas line right by where the explosion went off last time, probably why it ended up such a mess. We think that bomb was originally supposed to be as big as this one,” Ben explained. Connor made a note of this, adding it to his list of evidence. If the person doing all this hadn’t known about the gas line, that changed things. Maybe that wasn’t meant to cause so many casualties. That would mean these attacks were more targeted than they’d originally thought. 

They had made it to the third floor where Amy and Naomi’s apartment was. There was the distinct smell of smoke and thirium in the air, but nowhere near as overpowering as last time. A way down the hall Connor could see the singed entrance to their apartment. The wall was still mostly intact, though the door had been blown off its hinge into the opposite wall. He straightened his tie, bracing himself for whatever waited on the other side of the doorway. 

“Alright, let’s get this over with,” Hank sighed. They entered the apartment. 

Chapter Text

Stepping into the apartment, the first thing Connor noticed was Amy’s body splayed out a few feet from the entrance. She was laying flat on her back and her chest was blown wide open. Her chassis was torn open like a tin can blown apart by a firecracker. Most of her biocomponents were charred and damaged beyond recognition. A spray of blue blood extended from her body across the floor, almost reaching the far wall. The bottom portion of her jaw was also torn apart, though the upper half of her face was mostly intact. The wall behind her was also charred back and splattered with thirium. There was no way to reactivate her with this much damage. 

“Fuckin’ hell,” Hank swore, “was the bomb inside her?” It certainly looked that way, but Connor needed more confirmation. He approached her body, crouching down next to her. He ran a scan over her body, dismissing the long list of damaged biocomponents that popped up. Then he spotted it, a foreign object inside the gaping cavity of her body. He reached in, trying not to disturb anything as he pulled the sliver of metal out of her. Another, closer scan of the strange metal confirmed that it was one commonly used in the construction of bombs. He held it up for Hank to see.

“It seems so. There was a foreign metal inside her body. It is one commonly used in the construction of explosives,” he explained. Hank reached over and plucked the metal out of Connor’s hand. Connor let him, there weren’t any fingerprints on it anyway. 

“You sure this isn’t just part of her?” Hank asked. Connor frowned. Was Hank doubting his analysis now too?

“Yes, Lieutenant,” he answered, “that particular metal is not typically used for androids. We are made of a special plastimetal meant to be lightweight but durable. That metal-”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. Don’t need all the technical junk,” Hank waved him off. 

“Right, sorry,” Connor apologized quietly, “but since this is likely connected to Sue’s case, it’s likely she also had a bomb implanted inside her. We couldn’t tell because of the amount of damage, but it would match up.”

“Yeah, if the same person is behind all these cases it would make sense,” Hank agreed, “anything else interesting?” Connor looked over Amy again, running another scan in case he missed anything. Once again, the list of damaged biocomponents popped up in his vision, but now he took the time to scan over it. Halfway through the list, he noticed something a little odd. Just above her audio processing component near her temple, there was a communications component. Every android had one, but usually it slotted into the intracranial processor. This one was an addition, something foreign that had been installed in her. Connor reached over and pressed down against Amy’s temple where her LED would have been until her artificial skin pulled away.

“What’re you doing?” Hank asked.

“She has a secondary communication component. It’s not an original part,” Connor explained. He then pressed down just beneath her ear. There was a faint click and the component slid out into Connor’s palm. It was a chip, about an inch long and no wider than a finger. Now that he could examine it closer, he gave the biocomponent another scan. It was similar to a standard communication component, but it had been modified and rewired to connect to the audio processing component instead. Looking back at Amy, it seems her chassis had been modified slightly as well to accommodate the new part. 

“Do you think that has something to do with the bomb?” Hank asked. Connor felt some of the earlier tension leave him as he considered the question. Hank didn’t look as annoyed and he was going over the scene with Connor as they usually did when working a case. He would have to prove that he could at least be useful here. Connor looked over the part again. 

“It’s possible. It has the same processors as-” he paused at Hank’s exasperated look. Right, no technical ‘junk’. “It works like a phone or other remote signal, but it’s been modified. I’m not sure how though.” While Connor was an expert at discovering evidence and had instant access to any information available on the internet, there were still some things where he wasn’t an expert. While he knew the basics of android anatomy and processors, he lacked sufficient data on modifications to know how this altered biocomponent functioned. He could always try connecting it to himself to find out, but he didn’t have the necessary slot and Hank would probably protest. 

“We’ll have Tom take a look at it when we get back to the station,” Hank said. Tom Roberts - a former CyberLife employee - was the android technician Fowler had hired following the revolution. With a number of androids on staff, he’d determined it a good idea to have someone on hand. Connor had, unfortunately, had to visit him a number of times due to his ‘lack of self-preservation skills’ as Hank put it. Connor just saw it as doing whatever was necessary to catch criminals and bring justice to the victims.

“Okay,” Connor said. He hated having to bother the man with this, but it wasn’t something he could figure out on his own - at least, not quickly enough to be useful. He reactivated Amy’s artificial skin and then stood up. This was a start, but even if Tom figured out how this biocomponent worked it would only tell them how these murders were being done. It still told them nothing about who was doing it. He had to find something else. Maybe if he’d been better he could have gotten more information from Naomi, but for now, he just had to work with what was physically here. He stepped back a few paces from the body and ran a reconstruction. 

Amy entered the room, and Naomi was somewhere at the far end of the apartment. He adjusted her location to just around where the splatter of thirium ended. She’d had some on her face, so she was at least that close. Seconds after entering, the bomb went off, killing Amy instantly. Still, the reconstruction didn’t help much and didn’t tell him anything new. He walked back to Amy, looking again for any fingerprints, no matter how faint. But still, there was nothing.

“I don’t think we’re going to find much else here. Let’s just head back to the station for now,” Hank said, looking over the room as well. 

> STRESS LEVEL: ^ 50%

Connor ignored the notification about rising stress levels.

“No,” he said, maybe a little too loudly, “I just need a moment. There has to be something that we’re missing here.”

“You can’t make evidence that doesn’t exist appear, kid.”

“Just one more minute,” Connor insisted. Hank sighed, rolling his eyes

“Fine, one minute. Then we’re leaving,” he crossed his arms over his chest and waited, watching Connor expectantly. Connor circled the room, running his scanners again and again and again. There had to be something , some other fragment of the bomb or some fraction of the bag Amy had brought in. But his minute was up faster than he was ready for. 

“Time to go,” Hank announced. Connor had failed, again. Connor felt an uncomfortable, sick feeling building up in the back of his throat choking him. He swallowed, an unnecessary human gesture that did nothing to alleviate the feeling. Even without looking he could feel the same eyes from earlier looking down at him, the shame of that disappointment washing over him. 

“Hey, Connor,” Hank had walked up behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder. Connor brushed the gesture off, quickly schooling his features.

“Sorry, Lieutenant, I’m ready,” he turned and walked past Hank, not giving himself a chance to look at his partner’s expression. He knew what he would find anyway. Hank didn’t say anything else but Connor could hear him following behind as they left the apartment building and went back to the Oldsmobile. The ride back to the station was somehow worse than the ride to the crime scene, and Connor kept his gaze firmly out the window the whole way there. He could feel Hank’s eyes on him every so often but ignored it. After what seemed like far too long, they arrived back at the station. 

“Let’s drop this off with Tom, then we’re heading home for the day,” Hank said as they exited the car. It was only four in the afternoon, they still had a few more hours of work before they were supposed to be off.

“Lieutenant, we aren’t supposed to be off until five,” Connor stated. Hank clicked his tongue.

“Fowler isn’t going to care because we leave a couple of hours early. Besides, we’re not getting much else done today anyways,” Hank said dismissively. ‘ You’re not getting anything done’ , Connor heard the unspoken accusation. He stared down at his feet as they entered the station and walked upstairs to where the infirmary was. The room had been expanded and split to provide equal accommodations for humans and androids alike since the revolution. Tom was sitting at a computer in the back when they entered.

“Hey, Tom, we’ve got something for you,” Hank called out. Tom looked up, greeting them with a smile and a wave. 

“Hey, is everything okay?” he asked, eyes briefly looking over Connor for any sign of injury. It was generally their reason for being up here. 

“Everything’s fine. It’s about some evidence on our missing android case,” Hank explained, digging out the biocomponent he’d placed in his pocket. He handed it over to the technician. “The android that blew up had this stuck in her skull,” Hank said.

Conner interjected to explain further, “it seems like a modified communications component. She was also modified to accommodate for it. It inserted just above her audio processing unit.”

“So… what do you need me to do with it?” Tom asked, turning the component over in his hands, examining it.

“It might give us some insight if we can find out how it works. It could be linked to how the bombs are being set off,” Connor responded. Tom nodded, setting the component down on the workbench next to his computer.

“Alright, I’ll see what I can do. But it might take a while,” he said. Connor felt the uneasy sensation from earlier come back. Time was something they didn’t really have right now, but he held himself back from mentioning that. Tom probably already knew, and his insisting on the lack of time would likely only lead to annoyance. Rushing could also lead to mistakes. Still, he hated the powerless feeling that waiting around brought him. 

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out. But we’re heading out for the day,” Hank said, already turning to exit the room.

“Thank you for the help,” Connor said quietly, before following after his partner.

“Have a good afternoon you two,” Connor heard Tom call after them before the door to the infirmary closed. As Hank said, Fowler didn’t comment on them leaving work earlier than usual. Either he didn’t notice, or he truly didn’t care. Either way, they beat the usual after-work traffic and arrived home quickly. 

As Hank opened the door, Sumo greeted them with a few excited barks, his large tail swinging wildly behind him. The big dog nudged past Hank to place his large paws against Connor’s chest, swiping his tongue across the android’s face. Connor gave a half smile, ruffling the dog’s ears.

“Down boy,” Connor said, gently removing Sumo’s paws and closing the door behind him. Hank was already on the phone, ordering pizza from the sound of it.

“I could cook something for you, Hank,” Connor offered. That was what he usually did after work. Hank had protested at first about Connor not being his ‘damn maid’ but eventually let in after Connor told him he enjoyed doing it. Hank pulled the phone away from his ear for a moment.

“Don’t worry about it,” then he went back to ordering. Connor frowned, trying not to think about how Hank might still be upset with him. It was more likely that the older man just wanted an excuse to eat junk food. So Connor set about getting Sumo’s dinner together instead. It was a little early, but he knew the big dog wouldn’t mind. Besides, he felt too restless to sit still. Connor carefully measured out Sumo’s kibble then dumped it into his food bowl. He was already halfway through it by the time Connor was able to refill his water bowl. When he finished, Connor noticed Hank was leaning against the kitchen counter, watching him. 

“Is something the matter, Hank?” he asked. Hank brought a hand up to rub at his beard, still giving Connor that scrutinizing gaze. It felt like an uncomfortable static was prickling at his skin and he crossed his arms over his chest. Finally, Hank sighed, dropping his hands back down to his sides.

“Look, I know this case hasn’t been easy,” Hank began, eyes darting away from Connor for a moment, “so I guess I just wanted to check how you were holding up.”

“I’m fine,” Connor responded but felt his stress levels tick up a few points to rest at 40%. He tried to keep them down, because if his LED turned yellow then Hank would know that he was stressed. And then Hank wouldn’t believe that he was really okay. 

“Bullshit. You’ve clearly been in some kinda mood all day.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Clearly it’s not nothing,” Hank’s voice rose a little, “what about that interrogation earlier?”

> STRESS LEVEL: ^ 52%

“What about it?” He needed to calm down. He uncrossed his arms to stuff a hand into his pocket, feeling around for his coin. Grabbing onto it, he began maneuvering it through his fingers, but not doing anything too fancy. The repetitive motion didn’t help as it usually did. 

“You’re so fucking obsessed with finding some nonexistent lead that you started accusing the victim!” Hank threw his hands up. Connor grit his teeth, the motion of snaking the coin between his fingers sped up. He forced himself to meet Hank’s gaze now. “Shit... Look, I know I shouldn’t have… I was a little harsh, but you should know better than-”

“I know!” Connor snapped, unable to contain the building frustration any longer. His too-loud voice echoed in the kitchen. “I know I messed up,” he said quieter, pushing away the internal voice I know I’m a screw-up , “It won’t happen again.”

 > STRESS LEVEL: ^^ 60%

And there went his keeping calm, keeping it all together. He knew his LED was spinning yellow by this point. Hank’s glance at his temple only further confirmed this and he resisted the urge to reach up and cover the damned thing. 

“You don’t have to get all pissy with me,” Hank’s own annoyance was showing through, “I just need to know if you can handle this.”

“I can,” Connor replied, keeping his voice even now. Shouting wouldn’t convince Hank. He had to be calm. He needed to calm down . Hank snorted, looking unconvinced. 

> STRESS LEVEL: ^ 62%

“Really?” Hank asked again. Connor took in a breath, focusing on the feeling of cool air rushing through his biocomponents and cooling everything down instead of his racing thoughts. Calm down. 

“I simply miscalculated today, Lieutenant. You are correct, I should have done better. But as I said, what occurred today will not happen again. I can handle this,” Connor said. He took another breath, focusing again on the cool air. 

“That’s not what I’m…” Hank let out an exasperated noise, dragging a hand down his face, “I’m just worried is all.”

“You don’t need to worry about me Lieutenant, I will not cause any further trouble,” Connor responded. He could tell Hank still didn’t seem satisfied with that answer, so he added a quick, “I’m fine.” Hank looked ready to continue arguing, but at that moment the doorbell rang. He scowled but thankfully dropped it in favor of going to retrieve his pizza. 

“Yeah, sure, whatever you say, kid. And cut it out with that ‘Lieutenant’ shit, I told you it’s ‘Hank’ when we’re at home,” Hank said, as he walked to the front door. Sumo went to follow, barking at the strange person at the door. Connor grabbed the large dog around the collar, holding him back as Hank paid and brought the pizza in. Connor ran his fingers through Sumo’s fur, feeling some of the tension leave him. 

> STRESS LEVEL: vv 52%

He had managed to convince Hank that he was fine, though barely. Now he just had to make sure he didn’t let his partner down again. He let Sumo go, and the dog trotted over to the sofa to beg where Hank had sat down with the pizza. The TV was on the basketball game for the night. Hank looked over the sofa at Connor.

“You coming?” he asked. It was usually part of their routine to watch TV together after work to unwind, but Connor didn’t have the time for it now. 

“No, there are some things I need to review,” Connor said and without waiting for a response, left for his room. He was going to solve this case whatever it took, before another life was lost.

They arrived at the station bright and early the next morning. Hank trailed behind Connor, grumbling about how early it was. Connor didn’t really see the problem. They were only an hour earlier than normal and it would make up for them leaving early the night before. Besides, losing an hour didn’t make much difference to Connor as he’d stayed up most of the night anyway. He let himself enter stasis for exactly two hours to deal with the most important processes that would impede him if left unattended to, but the rest could wait. 

> WARNING: Battery at 65% power 

Connor closed the warning as soon as it popped up in his HUD, silencing it so it wouldn’t bug him again, at least for a while. The drained feeling he couldn’t push away as easily. He felt on edge, and strangely irritable this morning. As a result, he and Hank had a small argument that morning, but the lieutenant seemed over it now. His movements also felt a bit more sluggish than usual, something that made him feel even more on edge. Connor didn’t like not functioning at his optimal capacity, but this couldn’t be helped. He would just have to make enough progress on the case today so he could make up for missed rest tonight. 

The two detectives headed upstairs before even going to their desks for the morning. Tom had messaged them this morning - the other reason they came in so early - saying he had an update on the modified component. It had sent a wave of relief through Connor. He had expected to be waiting on results a lot longer, so this was a pleasant surprise. They entered the infirmary. Tom was sitting in the same place as last night at his computer. 

“God, I hope you didn’t stay here all night,” Hank said. Tom looked over to them, a large mug of coffee clenched in his hand.

“No, I went home, Lieutenant,” he waved the concern off, “but I may have brought some work home with me.”

“And that’s why you messaged us at four in the morning?” Hank grumbled. 

“What did you find out?” Connor asked before Hank could go on another rant about the time. 

“It actually wasn’t as complicated as I thought it would be. It was likely a delicate process to create, but something any trained technician would be capable of,” Tom began. Connor quickly filed that detail away. The probability that their suspect was a technician or at least had the same technical knowledge as one would narrow down the search a little. Tom continued his explanation, “it allows whoever has the connection to it remote access into an android's visual and audio processors. They can’t control anything, but they can see and hear anything the android is hearing, probably also communicate with it as well.”

“Do you have an idea of the range?” Connor asked.

“About the same as a regular communication component. So anywhere there’s access to a cell tower,” Tom responded. 

“Was there anything that would allow for remote activation of a bomb?” Hank asked. Tom shook his head.

“No. I don’t know much about these bombs, but I would imagine that any remote activation would be directly installed within the bomb,” Tom answered. Connor nodded. This knowledge added weight to their theory that someone was forcing these androids into setting off the explosions. The criminal must have been communicating with them, telling them where to go before detonation. 

“Thank you for the help,” Connor said.

“Yeah, no way we were figuring out all that technical crap,” Hank huffed.

“No problem!” Tom gave a tired but genuine smile, “always happy to help. And I already logged the component back into evidence.”

“Thanks. Guess, we’ll get out of your way for now,” Hank said. Connor followed his partner out of the room and back downstairs to the bullpen. Hank made a detour to the breakroom to get his morning cup of coffee while Connor went straight to their desks. Today was going to be more brute-force work. 

With not much to go on, Connor decided to look at street camera footage starting in a half-mile radius around Amy and Naomi’s apartment and work his way outward. Making use of facial scans, he could mark anyone who was either a technician or had some technical degree. Then he could narrow that list down to people at least somewhat matching the man in the playback he’d gotten from Simon. To be sure not to miss anything, he decided it would be best to look at a four-hour interval, leaving two hours before and after the incident.

Connor could complete this work much quicker than a human, but it would still take most of the day and a significant amount of processing power. While it would certainly be draining, the 65% power he had would have to be enough. He interfaced with his terminal, beginning his search. 

He became fully immersed in his task, as was common with any interface, even with a computer as opposed to another android. The footage from multiple cameras took up his vision and the bullpen faded away. Progress was slow and after five hours he had only managed to get halfway through a mile in radius outside the apartment after the initial half-mile search. The building was located in a bustling area of Detroit, meaning innumerable cameras to go through. He was only interrupted by a hand on his shoulder, giving him a gentle shake. 

He pulled back from the interface and blinked several times, letting the footage fade out of view and the bullpen to come back into focus. Along with it came a strange and uncomfortable pressure in his head. He’d only experienced it once before, and Hank had referred to it as a ‘headache’. While he’d tried to argue that androids didn’t get headaches, the fact was, his head was indeed aching. Speaking of the lieutenant, he looked to the side where his partner was standing, hand still on his shoulder. 

“Let’s take a break, yeah?”

“I still have more footage to go through,” Connor tried to argue. 

“You’ve been at it all morning, Con. Even you need to take breaks sometimes,” Hank tightened his grip a little, tugging Connor to his feet. Connor let him. He wanted to protest, but the throbbing in his head made him reluctantly agree. 

> WARNING: Battery at 45% power

He brushed the warning aside. That too was a problem. It wasn’t dangerously low yet, but he knew his processors would begin to slow down. He didn’t have enough time for a stasis cycle, but a quick break could still be beneficial. Also, Connor didn’t want to argue with his friend anymore, he’d been stressing him out enough. 

“Okay,” he agreed. Hank gave a small smile, dropping his hand.

“Good. Let’s get out of here then,” Hank began to walk away and Connor trailed behind.

“The Chicken Feed?”

“You know it,” Hank smirked. Connor found he didn’t really have the energy to argue with his partner about his terrible eating habits today, so he let it slide this time. 

It seemed agreeing to take a break was the right thing to do. The drive to the food truck was the most comfortable time with Hank since this case had started. For once it didn’t feel like there was a thick tension hanging in the air, and that alone relieved some of the pressure in Connor’s head. Hank chatted about the game from last night - the one Connor missed - filling him in on all the details. Connor listened and tried to express the correct amount of enthusiasm, even though he didn’t hold the same love for basketball that Hank did. 

They stood at one of the outdoor tables while Hank ate his horribly caloric burger. The temperature had dropped again as winter approached and Connor huddled under his coat, pulling it tighter around himself. Hank hadn’t even needed to remind him to wear it this morning as he’d seen the forecast predicting a potential for snow and immediately bundled up in response. Connor still didn’t like the cold much, but he’d come to tolerate it along with the snow. Blizzards though, were still rough for him. Thankfully he wouldn’t have to deal with that for at least another month, hopefully longer.  

The Chicken Feed was located on a side road under a bridge, meaning traffic around that area was relatively light, at least by Detroit standards. The food truck also was never especially busy, the same few regulars likely the only thing sustaining the business. While Connor didn't necessarily approve of the food, it did make for a quiet place to take a break from the usual chaos of the station. There was only one other table occupied at the moment, two office workers in suits chatting quietly at one of the other tables. 

“So,” Hank spoke up, finishing off the last bite of his burger, “did you find anything in all that camera footage?” Connor looked over, slightly tilting his head to the side. Hank usually hated talking about work when they were on lunch. The lieutenant rolled his eyes.

“I know you don’t actually care about basketball. Besides, maybe talking might help you work something out,” Hank stated simply. He was right. Despite his advanced processing power, something about talking through problems out loud always seemed to help.

“I looked through all of the traffic camera footage a half-mile away from the apartment and made note of anyone matching our current criteria of having technical knowledge and resembling the man from the earlier footage. But,” he let out a frustrated huff, “it didn’t narrow down much. There were at least thirty people matching that description within that radius alone.”

“Huh,” Hank grunted, “well, we might as well take a look at these people anyways. Not much else to do.”

“I should finish searching at least a mile out from the apartment first, to make sure that we do not miss anything important,” Connor said.

“If you think you’ll find something.”

“It’s possible.”

“But do you think our guy was actually nearby when the explosion happened? Wouldn’t it make more sense for him to be far away?” Hank asked. 

“If he is using remote bombs as we suspect, then he must at least be close enough to activate it. That does exceed a mile, but he still could have been closer,” Connor reasoned.

“What makes you think so?”

I don’t have enough data to build up a fully accurate psychological profile-”

“But what does your instinct say?” Hank had asked this question to Connor on several occasions. Instinct was something that humans put a lot of weight on. Connor was a lot more reluctant to trust it, finding hard data to be more dependable. Still, this was a part of talking through his thought process, so he decided to go along with it. 

“I believe that he has some larger objective. I don’t think these attacks are completely random. He would want to watch from closer by, so he can see with his own eyes that his goal is being accomplished,” Connor responded. Hank considered the explanation for a moment, then nodded his head.

“Okay, I see what you’re getting at. So that’s why you’re going through that shitton of footage,” Hank said.

“Yes, I-” Connor was interrupted by a sudden call pinging in his head. It was from an unknown number. 

“Something wrong?” Hank asked.

“I’m getting a call,” he responded. Connor answered the call, it was from an android. The name of the caller appeared in his HUD and Connor’s entire body stiffened. It was Gary, the most recent android to disappear. 

‘Gary? ’ he asked when the other android didn’t say anything.

‘P-please, you have to help me,’ even though communication happened internally, Connor could still pick up a tremor in Gary’s voice. 

‘What’s happening Gary, where are you?’

‘I’m at 316 8th street. Please, I’m scared,’

‘Okay, just hold on. Help is on the way.’ The line abruptly disconnected.

“Well?” Hank asked.

“We have to go. That was Gary, he’s at 316 8th street,” Connor answered, already beginning to walk back to Hank’s car. 

“What? The one who’s missing? How’d he get your number- or, whatever you use to do that communication thing?” Hank was following behind him.

“That doesn’t matter right now. He was asking for help, he said he was scared,” Connor answered. 

“Shit, alright,” Hank unlocked the car and they both got in. Hank took a moment to radio in the new information back to the station and then they were off. None of the other androids had been able to call someone for help. Maybe Gary had somehow escaped or even removed the communication device. After all, why would the suspect let him contact the police if he was still being monitored? The drive felt like it took forever when in reality it couldn’t have been more than ten minutes. 

Hank barely had time to put the car in park before Connor was unbuckling his seatbelt and throwing the door open. He was about to jump out of the car when Hank’s hand gripping the back of his coat yanked him back.

“What are you-”

“You can’t just rush in there, Connor!” Hank snapped, “we need to wait for backup.”

“We don’t have time, Lieutenant. If we wait, Gary could die,” Connor tried to move again but Hank’s grip held firm. 

“Backup will be here in a couple minutes. Besides, what do you know about disarming bombs?” 

“I’m not waiting,” Connor said, slipping out of his jacket. Hank didn’t have time to try and stop him again as he darted from the car.

“Connor!”

Connor ignored his partner’s shout, dashing into the building. It was a house, clearly abandoned, on an overgrown lot. The kitchen and living room were empty, but a quick scan confirmed a presence in the room at the back of the house. Connor ran to the back, pushing the door open. There was Gary, standing near the back of the room. 

“Gary,” Connor started, reaching a hand out towards him, “you’re going to be okay,” Connor began. He could faintly hear the slam of a car door. Hank must have decided to come in after all. Connor took a step forward. “We’re here to help.” Finally, he’d made it in time. Gary’s eyes widened, and he also took a step forward. He was stumbling over his words and a quick scan told Connor his stress levels were at 90%. 

“Everything is going to be okay,” Connor repeated. Gary opened and closed his mouth several times, then suddenly took a step back.

“Please, I-” Gary never finished his sentence, as at the moment the room erupted in light and sound. A booming force threw Connor back and his back cracked against the wall. His processors stuttered for a moment, plunging him into darkness.

It only took a few seconds for everything to come back online, his tactile sensors first. There was something warm and wet coating his face and hands, and saturating the front of his shirt. His headache from earlier was back in full force and his back also throbbed with a new pain. 

Next to come back was his vision. The room was a smoldering mess, the far end now on fire. The floor was covered in ash and splattered with bright blue thirium. At the far corner, Gary sat slumped against the wall. Like Amy, his chassis was blown wide open. His chest was a gaping hole and the jagged plastimetal edges were singed black. His face was blank and lifeless. Last to come back were his audio processors. His ears were still ringing, his audio processing component suffering minor damage from the force of the blast.  

“Connor!” It was Hank’s voice, but it sounded distant. He looked down at his hands. They were coated in thirium. Another drop of the blue blood slid down his forehead, dripping into his lap. 

“Connor, are you okay!?” Hank’s voice again, but overpowered by the ringing. He looked up. Hank was in his peripheral vision, but past that all he could see was Gary. His lifeless eyes, his chest blown wide open. He was too late. 

Chapter Text

Hank moved until he was directly in front of Connor, blocking his view of Gary’s body. He was saying something, but Connor couldn’t make anything out anymore. All he could hear was the ringing and even though Hank was in the way, the image of the lifeless body was burned into his memory. His tactile sensors noted hands gripping his shoulders, but it felt unreal. Everything was distorted and Connor felt somehow separated from himself. 

His head and back throbbed but even that began to fade. Hank was still saying something - his mouth was moving - but Connor couldn’t make out any of it. All he could hear was the ringing, and his vision flooded with warnings of minor damage to various biocomponents as his processors finally finished coming fully back online. 

> STRESS LEVEL: ^^ 90%

> WARNING: Risk of self-destruction high

> WARNING: Thirium pump functioning at 125% capacity

He was breathing too hard, forcing his thirium pump into overdrive. Everything was forced into overdrive, as his pump sent excess thirium coursing through his biocomponents. The ringing in his ears felt unbearably loud, the pounding ache in his head and back overwhelming. He curled in on himself, screwing his eyes shut. Behind his eyelids, all he could see was Gary’s body, blown apart and scorched black. His eyes flew back open. The floor was covered in soot and thirium. He felt sick. He choked on his own breath, a strangled sound coming out. His fingers dug into his arms where they were tightly wrapped around his body, but he barely felt it. 

The hands around his shoulders pushed back, forcing him to uncurl. Hank was in front of him, and it felt like everything happened in slow motion as the older man removed his hands. Then they clapped down on either side of his face, the sharp smacking sound ringing through the air and breaking through the fog in his mind. 

“Can you hear me, son?” Hank asked. The ringing had lessened, and Hank’s hands on either side of his face felt grounding. Still, he couldn’t seem to slow his breathing or speak so he simply nodded. 

“Good, that’s good,” Hank said, forcing a smile. It was then Connor realized he was shaking. His eyes drifted down to his hands, watching as tremors wracked through them. Androids weren’t supposed to tremble. 

“Hey,” a gentle pat to his cheek, “just keep looking at me, alright?” Connor followed the instruction, looking back up at Hank. “We’re going to take some deep breaths. Just follow me,” Hank said, then sucked in a long deep breath. Connor sucked in a breath and struggled to hold it. Hank breathed out and Connor followed the motion, his body shuddering.

“Again,” Hank said, and even though his voice was uncharacteristically soft Connor wasn’t struggling to hear him anymore. He pulled in another breath, slower this time. “And out,” he breathed out in sync with Hank. They repeated this process several times until his breathing was mostly back under control. Hank dropped his hands and Connor resisted the urge to reach back out for him. Without the contact to ground him, everything felt hazy.

“Is anything hurt? Do we need to go to the emergency repair center?” Hank asked, his blue eyes searching over Connor as if trying to spot the damage himself. It would be hard to tell, under all the thirium coating him. Gary’s thirium. Connor shook his head in a jerky motion. Hank breathed out, his shoulders relaxing. There was some damage but it was all minor, nothing his self-repair couldn’t handle later.

“Good… Now, do you want to tell me why the fuck you ran in here on your own when I told you to wait for backup?” Hank’s voice wavered with barely restrained emotion. He looked angry. Connor shrank back against the wall, lowering his eyes to look back at the floor. He was too late and to top it off he’d made Hank upset again. “Look at me,” Hank snapped. Connor looked back up and something in Hank’s gaze changed, softened. 

“You can’t keep doing shit like this,” Hank said. Connor knew he had to stop messing up. He knew that it was his fault that three androids were dead. Because he wasn’t good enough. Hank had every right to be upset with him. Hank sighed then stood up.

“Come on. Backup will be here any minute now, then we’re going home for the day,” Hank said. Connor moved to stand but his legs still shook and nearly crumpled under him. Hank caught him with a hand under each arm and finished pulling him to his feet. Hank wrapped an arm around his shoulders as he led him back out of the house and to where the Oldsmobile was parked. Connor noticed the thirium from his own clothes seeping into Hank’s jacket. It was one of his favorites, and Connor felt another pang of guilt at getting it so messy. But if Hank was bothered, he wasn’t showing it as he let Connor lean against him while he opened the passenger door to the car. He hesitated, worrying again about damaging the seats, but Hank gently pushed him into the car. He popped open the glove compartment and pulled out a half-used packet of wet wipes. He sat down on the edge of the floorboard. 

“Cole used to get into all kinds of messes,” Hank said absentmindedly with the same sad smile he always wore when talking about his late son, “guess it’s a good thing I never took these out the car.” He opened the packet and pulled out one of the wipes. While they had clearly been in there for years, it was somehow still damp as Hank swiped it across Connor’s cheek. It quickly became covered in the blue blood and Hank tossed the used wipe to the floorboard, pulling out a fresh one to continue his work. Connor stared straight ahead, focusing on a spot of dust on the dashboard while Hank worked to clean the thirium from his face. Every time Hank threw a used wipe to the floor he felt his stress levels spike, seeing the flash of blue in his peripheral vision. Once Hank finished cleaning the thirium off his face he pressed one of the wipes into Connor’s empty palm.

“Here, think you can clean your hands? I gotta talk to them,” Hank pointed a thumb over his shoulder. The backup had arrived. Connor nodded, closing his fist around the wet wipe. Hank patted him on the shoulder once then stood up, closing the car door behind him. While Hank talked to the officers taking over the scene, Connor began to scrub at the thirium on his hands. It appeared to come off easily, but his hands didn’t feel clean. Even after using another set of wipes and seeing nothing left over on them, he could still feel the stickiness of thirium on his hands. He scanned them. His scanner stuttered for a moment - still suffering from some minor damage - but it came back clean. 

But they felt sticky. Just like the rest of his body, his clothes still soaked in blue blood. He could see the bright blue tinge to his jeans and spread across his dress shirt. His hands began to shake again, the image of Gary’s body, blown apart, flashed across his vision. His hands were dirty, he was dirty. Another android had died because of him and he was coated in his blood, and he needed to be clean. He was startled by the sound of his own breath, coming out in sharp pants again. He shut it off, leaving him in deafening silence save for the thrum of his thirium pump still beating far too fast in his chest. It hurt, aching in the same way as his back and head.

> STRESS LEVEL: ^ 92%

> WARNING: Risk of self-destruction high

> WARNING: Thirium pump functioning at 115% capacity

Connor was startled, jumping slightly as Hank opened the driver’s side door. He restarted his artificial breathing, struggling to keep it even. Hank looked over at him for a moment before starting the car. Connor could feel the pity in that gaze searing into him like fire. He must have thought Connor was pathetic. 

“Make sure you put your seatbelt on,” Hank said. Connor tried but failed to hide the tremor in his hands as pulled the seatbelt across himself, fumbling to click it into place. “We’ll be home soon. Then we can get you out of those clothes,” Hank said, putting the car in drive. Connor wished he could be out of them now. The thirium was too warm, inside a living being only minutes ago. 

His breath hitched and he had to shut it off again. He hunched back over himself, ignoring the seatbelt as it dug uncomfortably into his shoulder. Connor screwed his eyes shut, willing his mind to think of anything else. He tried picturing things that made him happy, anything to lower his dangerously rising stress levels. 

He pictured Sumo and their regular walks in the park. He thought about the time he spends with Hank, watching TV together in comfortable silence. Letting the images play through his mind blocked out the other images and slowly lowered his stress. Connor turned his breathing back on again, relieved when it didn’t immediately kick into overdrive. 

> STRESS LEVEL: v 88%

He realized his hands had been clenched in his hair and released them, suppressing a groan as the throbbing intensified. Lowering his hands to his lap, he noticed a faint trace of thirium on the tips and quickly wiped them against his pants. His hair was still a mess and he hoped Hank was too focused on driving to notice Connor accidentally damaging himself. 

A few minutes later, the car pulled to a stop. He heard the door opening and closing, and slowly uncurled himself. They’d made it home. Hank opened the passenger door and without waiting, reached over to unclip Connor’s seatbelt. Once again placing a hand on either of Connor’s shoulders, he pulled him from the car. Connor let himself be guided out and to the front door. He could hear Sumo whining and scratching at the other side of the door. Hank pushed the door open and blocked Sumo from jumping up on Connor as was the dog’s usual greeting. 

“Down, boy!” Hank said, pushing Sumo off of him. Sumo huffed but complied, tilting his head curiously as Connor stepped in behind Hank. Hank quickly ushered Sumo to the backyard before coming back to Connor who hadn’t moved from in front of the door. 

“Come on, son,” Hank took hold of his arm again and pulled him through the house to the bathroom. Connor stared at the floor as he walked, not wanting to meet Hank’s gaze and see that pitying look. He stopped in the middle of the bathroom. “Why don’t you take a quick shower, get cleaned up? I’ll bring some clean clothes,” Hank said. And then he left, shutting the door with a quiet click and leaving Connor alone in the room. 

Now alone, the stickiness suddenly felt unbearable. He dug his fingers into the knot of his tie, and pulled the garment off, tossing it to the floor. He fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, almost giving up and just ripping them apart before he finally managed to get them all undone. He tore the shirt off. His belt and pants went much quicker, and he left everything in a crumpled pile on the bathroom floor as he scrambled into the shower. Twisting the knob all the way around, he let the steaming hot water pound against him. It was scalding, stinging against his artificial skin, but it was cleansing too.

Connor scratched his nails through his hair, letting the hot water stream through the synthetic locks. The water in the base of the tub was stained a bright cobalt, swirling around his feet. He continued scrubbing, scratching his nails across areas where the blood seemed to just stick.

> WARNING: Thermal damage to synthetic skin

> WARNING: Overheating - internal temperature at 100 degrees Fahrenheit

> STRESS LEVEL: ^ 92%

He brushed the warnings away, continuing to scrub at his body, even as the water at his feet cleared. He couldn’t see it, but he could feel it. The stickiness wouldn’t go away, he still felt dirty. The ringing was back, deafening all other sound, even the pouring of the water around his head. Suddenly, his vision stuttered and for a few seconds, everything went dark.

It only took a moment for his systems to reboot, and Connor blinked rapidly. He was laying on his back in the shower, hot water still pouring down against his chest. The throbbing in his head and back had returned with a new vigor. The shower curtain was yanked aside and now Hank was there, yelling. The ringing was still there, but quiet enough now to make out what Hank was saying.

“Jesus Christ, Con, what the hell happened!?” Hank looked mad, his eyebrows pinched and a frown pulling at his face. The water turned off. Connor struggled to push himself up into a sitting position and only then noticed the silvery blue marks all across his skin from where the hot water had damaged his synthetic skin. 

> STRESS LEVEL: ^ 94%

He felt a tight feeling in his chest, and he was panting again, ventilation components trying to cool down his now overheated systems. He hadn’t been trying to damage himself or make Hank upset, he just wanted to feel clean. 

“Shit, just hold on a minute,” Hank said. He turned and grabbed the towel hanging by the door, slinging it over his shoulder, then came back to Connor. He grabbed him under the arms and pulled him up so he was sitting on the edge of the tub, facing away from Hank. Then he draped the towel around Connor’s shoulders. 

“Wanna tell me what the hell that was about?” Hank asked. Connor gripped the towel, pulling it tighter around himself, and shook his head. Hank let out a harsh breath.

“I need you to talk to me,” Hank said, his voice stern, “because you didn't say anything was damaged earlier, but next thing I know you’re collapsing in the shower.” Connor hunched in on himself, feeling a fresh wave of shame go through him. He really was fine earlier. But how was he supposed to tell Hank that he did this to himself? He was already causing enough trouble, Hank didn’t need to worry about Connor damaging himself on top of that. The tense silence waiting for Connor to respond stretched on, but finally - thankfully - Hank let it go. 

“Okay, fine, I’ll drop it for now. But we’re talking about this later,” Hank said. Connor expected him to leave after that, but instead, he felt the towel around his shoulders shift, and Hank was drying him off. His movements were gentle, starting with Connor’s hair. The soft circular motions against his head were grounding, even if it rubbed against the scratch marks he’d made, and the pressure there lessened. 

> STRESS LEVEL: vv 80%

The ringing in his ears also faded further as Hank moved on from his hair, now mostly dry to his shoulders. He was gentle, avoiding rubbing at the areas where the burn-like marks were most intense. Once Connor was fully dried, Hank pulled him the rest of the way to his feet. Connor spared a glance at Hank’s face and felt some relief to see that he didn’t seem so mad anymore. Just tired. 

> STRESS LEVEL: vv 70%

Hank had brought clean clothes in and grabbed the faded t-shirt off the cabinet by the door. 

“Lift your arms,” he said. Connor wanted to say that he was capable of dressing himself and that he’d caused Hank enough trouble. Instead, he complied and let Hank slip the soft material over his head. He let Connor pull on the jogging pants himself, only offering an arm of support so Connor wouldn’t lose his balance. Connor avoided looking at the pile of thirium-stained clothing as Hank led him out of the bathroom. Sumo was waiting in the hallway and trailed behind them as they passed by. Hank brought Connor to his room, easing him down onto his bed. 

“Try to get some sleep,” he said, before leaving the room. Connor resisted the urge to reach out and tell him to stay. He didn’t want to be alone and the darkness of his room felt suddenly oppressive. At that moment, Sumo hopped up on the bed next to him and he gave the dog the tiniest of smiles. Connor wrapped his arms around the large dog, burying his face in the soft fur. 

> STRESS LEVEL: v 68%

> WARNING: Battery at 37% power

He brushed away the unnecessary reminder. He should enter stasis, he knew. But even with Sumo here, he still felt scared and alone. Usually, the dog was enough to calm his nerves after a tough day at work, but today was different. Every time he closed his eyes, he could still see Gary’s body, torn apart and covered in thirium. 

All he really wanted to do was to go to Hank and tell him everything that he’d been feeling. But he’d already caused Hank enough trouble, and the older man was clearly exhausted. Connor did want to wake him up and bother him with something he should be able to handle on his own. He didn’t want Hank to think he was pathetic. At least, not any more than he already must. Connor tightened his grip around Sumo and the dog responded by swiping his wet tongue across Connor’s face. Connor released Sumo from the hug and the large dog flopped across his lap instead. He began to run his fingers through Sumo’s fur. Unable to sleep himself, he settled for watching Sumo and continuing the comforting motion.

By the next morning, Connor had only managed to lower his stress level to 60%. While not ideal, it was at least better than before. Unfortunately, the stress his panic caused to his systems left his battery at a much too low 30%. Though exhausted, he couldn’t bring himself to enter stasis. With his battery so low, power had to be redirected to support only the most important functions, which meant his self-healing program hadn’t been able to make any repairs. 

It was still early, but he might as well get an early start on the day. He swapped the t-shirt for a long-sleeved sweater to cover the thermal damage on his arms - he didn’t need to worry Hank. He’d done enough of that the day before. He had to act normal today, prove to Hank that he wasn’t just a burden. 

Sumo was still flopped across Connor’s bed, drooling all over the comforter. It was a little earlier than usual for Sumo’s walk, but Connor didn’t think the dog would mind. He walked over and hooked a finger in Sumo’s collar, gently tugging at it. Sumo yawned and stretched before jumping off the bed and following after Connor. 

The walk was quick and Connor only took Sumo around the block once. He would usually go all the way to the nearby park, but his movements felt sluggish and even the small trek left him feeling more tired than before. And Sumo’s tugging on the leash, while usually not a problem, now only worsened the throbbing pain that had spread across his body as the damage went unrepaired. It was still minor, nothing had gotten any worse and likely wouldn’t, but it still hurt. He pushed open the front door and was surprised to see Hank awake and sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee. The lieutenant looked up as Connor entered the house, giving him a wave.

Connor felt like he should say something, but didn’t know what. Hank wasn’t saying anything and Connor felt himself unable to meet the older man’s eyes. Instead, he busied himself with taking off his coat and unhooking Sumo’s leash. Then he went into the kitchen, keeping his eyes downcast as he went to the refrigerator to gather ingredients and begin making Hank’s breakfast. A hand on his shoulder startled him and he jerked back involuntarily. He hadn’t even heard Hank get up, but now he was standing there with that same look from last night on his face.

“You don’t need to cook for me today, Con. Why don’t you just relax?” Hank said. He cooked for Hank every morning, it was part of their routine. Did he not even trust Connor to be able to do that now? He reached for the fridge door again. He didn’t need to relax, he needed to show Hank that he was fine. Everything was normal. Hank caught his hand. 

“Seriously, just go sit down,” Hank was frowning now. Connor let his eyes drop back to the ground and pulled his hand away. He didn’t want to just sit down. All he really wanted to do was prove he was still useful. He would go get ready for work, that was something at least a little productive. He began walking towards his room but Hank called out to him again. 

“Hey, where’re you going? Just sit on the couch, I’ll be there in a minute.” 

Connor felt his nerves rising again. Hank had said the previous night that they would talk later. Did that mean now? Usually, Hank hated talking this early in the morning. Knowing that he wouldn’t be able to avoid it though, Connor listened and went to the sofa. True to his word, Hank entered the room with his coffee and a couple of slices of toast, setting them on the coffee table. Then he plopped down on the sofa next to Connor. He turned on the TV to some nature documentary, then leaned back and began to eat his breakfast. 

Connor usually enjoyed shows like these, but at the moment couldn’t focus. Surely Hank must have something to say to him, otherwise why wasn’t he letting Connor get ready? And actually, Connor noticed that Hank was still in his sleep clothes too. It was early enough, but if they waited too long they would be late. Really, Connor would prefer to be early. Connor hadn’t even realized he’d been staring at Hank, lost in his thoughts as he was, until the lieutenant looked over at him. 

“Something the matter?” he asked. Connor needed to respond, to say something at least, but he couldn’t. He didn’t know why but he felt stuck, and the words just wouldn’t come. His processors stuttered again and he realized he must have been quiet for too long again. Thankfully, Hank must have noticed something in Connors, eyes because he let out a quiet sigh.

“We’re not going to work today if that’s what you’re worried about. I called Jeffrey this morning, we’re taking a few days off, and don’t you argue with me about it. After all that shit yesterday, we need a break,” Hank stated. 

Maybe it made sense. Every missing android they were investigating was dead now and there was no new evidence. Connor had failed and now they were forcing him to take a break because they thought he couldn’t handle this. But maybe he couldn’t. After all, if he were good enough then three androids wouldn’t be dead right now. 

> STRESS LEVEL: ^ 65%

He tried to push the thoughts from his mind. Hank told him to relax. If he panicked now when nothing was even happening then it would only make him look more pathetic. No, he had to be normal, prove to them that he was fine and would do better. So he tried to focus on the documentary, something about animals that live in extreme arctic conditions. 

They stayed like that most of the day, with Hank only getting up to grab lunch at some point or to take Sumo outside. It was later in the afternoon now and Hank was eating dinner, some leftover pizza from the night before. He still wouldn’t allow Connor to cook or do much of anything really. Just kept insisting he should relax. They had moved on from watching documentaries and were now on some old cop drama that Hank enjoyed when he was younger. 

Connor was having trouble focusing on the show though as the low power warning had been consistently popping up throughout the day, getting worse after lunch. More of his functions had switched off to conserve power, but he consciously left on things like ventilation and blinking to not freak Hank out. Sitting next to Hank though in the warm house with Sumo stretched across their laps, his stress levels dropped enough that he found his eyes drooping shut involuntarily. He tried to force them back open, but the effort was futile and moments later he was asleep. 

Connor opened his eyes. He was standing in the interrogation room at the station, but it was different. The lights were dim and the usual table and chairs were missing. So were the door and one-way glass. He was trapped in a cement box. Slowly, he walked around the small perimeter of the room, looking for a potential hidden exit. There had to be some way out, otherwise, how did he get in here?

Finding nothing along the walls he began checking the floor, tapping at it with his foot for any hollow points. Still finding nothing, he turned his gaze upwards. The ceiling too looked normal, the fluorescent light overhead buzzing. Then something tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around, but what he saw made him scramble backward until his back connected with the wall. 

There was Amy, standing up and with her eyes open, glaring at him. But her chest was still torn apart, thirium dripping from the gaping hole and pooling on the ground. The bottom half of her face was missing, and the top half of her jaw littered with cracks. Still, she spoke, her vocal modulator crackling with static.

“Why didn’t you save me?” thirium dripped from her mouth, adding to the growing puddle on the floor. 

“I-I tried,” Connor said. He could feel his thirium pump pounding in his chest, hard enough to shake his whole body.

“If you did, then why am I dead?” she was crying now, but her tears mixed with thirium, leaving pale blue streaks going down her face. 

“I’m sorry,” Connor said, hearing the waver in his own voice, “I couldn’t find you in time, I didn’t think-” 

Suddenly Amy was rushing at him, bunching up the collar of his blazer in her fists. She slammed him back against the wall with surprising force. Connor grabbed at her hands, wrenching them from his jacket and stumbled away. She watched him as he backed up to the other side, her eyes wide and filled with rage. Then Connor’s back hit something, but it wasn’t the wall. He turned around and was barely able to suppress a scream. Now it was Gary.

He was in a similar state, chest blown open with jagged edges spiking out in a halo around his hollow chest. Thirium also poured from him, and at this point the stain had spread to almost entirely encompass the small floorspace of the room. Connor scrambled to the side, but was left with one of them on either side of him.

“You were too late,” Gary said, his voice calmer than Amy’s but his expression was the same, filled with rage. “If you had come sooner I wouldn’t have died.”

“I came the moment you called,” Connor said, pressing himself flat against the wall as both androids slowly began to approach him. There was no escape. He could tell from their eyes, they were going to rip him apart.

“That wasn’t good enough. You lied to me. You said I was going to be okay,” Gary said. Another android flashed before his eyes, another person he’d promised would be fine only to watch as they died. The thirium pouring from their bodies had yet to cease and the blue blood had begun to fill the room, pooling up to their ankles. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” was all Connor could say. He had no excuses, they were right. So when they charged him he didn’t try to move. He was slammed back into the wall, Gary on one side and Amy on the other. The blue blood poured out faster, rising up to his shins. His arms were wrenched back, letting out a popping sound as they shifted out of their sockets. He screamed, pain shooting through his body. 

A foot to his back sent him sprawling to the ground. Then he was being held in place, submerged under the ever-growing pool of thirium and all he could see was blue. He choked as the warm liquid rushed into his mouth, filling his artificial lungs. They began twisting his arms further, wrenching and pulling. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t scream. Pain overwhelmed him, darkening his vision. As he felt his arms separating from his body, all he could think was ‘I deserve this.’

Connor’s eyes snapped open and he lurched into a sitting position. Hank, who had apparently been leaning over him, pulled back just in time to avoid smacking their heads together. 

“Hey, take it easy. You’re alright son,” he said in a soothing voice. Connor’s eyes darted around him. The interrogation room was gone, so were Amy and Gary. He was back home, in the living room. He was laying on the sofa and the blanket that was usually draped over the back was now tangled in his legs. 

> STRESS LEVEL: ^^ 88%

> WARNING: Risk of self-destruction high

> WARNING: Thirium pump functioning at 120% capacity

> WARNING: Battery at 25% power

The images were gone but it still felt like thirium was choking off his artificial lungs. Even though he didn’t technically need to breathe, he couldn’t help but to gasp for air. Hank reached out tentatively, placing his hands atop Connor’s shoulders.

“Hey, just breathe with me, alright?” Hank said. Just like the day before, Hank guided Connor through deep breaths until he managed to return to a normal ventilation rate. His thirium pump also calmed its rapid pulsing but his hands still shook. Connor clenched them into fists, pushing them into his lap in an effort to halt the motion. 

“Here, scooch over,” Hank said. Connor moved his legs to hang off the edge of the sofa and made room for Hank to sit next to him. “Have a nightmare?” Hank asked. Connor wanted to insist that androids didn’t get nightmares because they didn’t technically sleep, but what else could he describe that as? So he nodded.

“Do you want to talk about it?” the lieutenant prompted. Connor stared down at his lap, shaking his head ‘no’. Hank let out a huff.

“It might help,” Hank said, clearly struggling with keeping his voice even. Connor didn’t mean to annoy him, but he didn’t want to talk either.

“Dammit Connor,” Hank snapped, and Connor shrank in on himself at the raised tone. “You haven’t said a word since yesterday! I can’t help if you won’t talk to me.”

It was true. It was like there was some block, something stopping him from being able to communicate. Every time he tried, it was like he got stuck. He didn’t want to lie to Hank, but the emotions swirling in him were too much and he didn’t want to burden Hank with that either. At this point though, he could tell Hank wouldn’t just leave him alone. He had to say something. 

“I’m fine,” he said, his voice coming out quieter than intended. 

“Bullshit! You clearly aren’t fine !” 

“I’m fine!” Connor said, his voice feeling too loud now. He couldn’t hide the desperation in it, for Hank to just believe him and leave it alone. Of couse, Hank didn’t. 

“Why can’t you just talk to me about it!? Don’t you trust me?”

“I do!” 

“Then talk to me!” Hank shouted. Connor finally looked up at Hank. He was surprised to see not anger or annoyance, but concern. Connor felt something wet slide down his face, and he brought a hand up to brush against his cheek. It was saline solution, he was crying. Something about this realization made all the barriers he had been putting up to try and hold back his feelings to crumble. More tears began to stream down his face and he tried to choke back a sob.

“Shit,” Hank was looking at him with wide eyes, hands frozen halfway reaching out to Connor. 

“I’m sorry…” Connor let the apology tumble out, followed by everything else he’d been feeling over the past few days, “I-I keep messing up, and androids are dying because of me. I’m not trying to but I keep hurting people and I- I’m sorry I’m not good enough, Hank.” 

“Shut up,” Hank said, and suddenly Connor felt himself being pulled into a tight hug, one hand wrapped firmly around his back and the other running fingers through his hair. He hid his face against Hank’s shoulder. Now that he’d started though, he couldn’t stop all his worries from coming out.

“I didn’t want to be heartless to Naomi, I was too focused on the mission, and I was acting like a machine again. And with Sue’s family, I- I didn’t know what to say, and-” Connor said, breaking off in a sob at the end. Hank squeezed him closer, letting out a soft curse. 

“Damnit, Con, I messed up, huh?” Hank said, his own voice sounding strained now. Connor pulled away from the hug, looking at Hank with a furrowed brow.

“Hank, you didn’t do anything wrong. I was-”

“No, I did. I shouldn’t have called you heartless, that was really fucked up of me,” Hank said.

“You were right, though-”

“No,” Hank cut him off again, hands still firmly planted on Connor’s shoulders, “Maybe you could have said something better, but that doesn’t make you heartless. It’s human to mess up sometimes or to not know the right thing to say. I was being an ass.” 

Connor looked down at his lap again, watching as tears dripped onto his still shaking fists. Did Hank really mean that? One of the hands moved from his shoulder to cup the side of his cheek, tilting his head back up to meet Hank’s eyes again.

“And stop it with that ‘not good enough’ shit,” Hank’s voice was soft, “you’re one of the best detectives I know. It’s not your fault people are dying, son, you have to know that. You aren’t the one going out there and killing them. I know you’re doing the best you can, so don’t beat yourself up so much.”

“I’m sorry, Hank.”

“And stop apologizing so much,” Hank pulled him back into a hug. At this point, Connor had managed to mostly calm his tears and returned the embrace, curling his fingers in the back of Hank’s shirt. He had been afraid to share his feelings, worried Hank would think he was pathetic or a failure for letting things get to him. Now, that thought seemed silly. 

With his stress level finally dropping to normal for the first time in days, exhaustion took over. Connor found himself leaning further into the hug, resting his head against Hank’s shoulder and closing his eyes. Noticing this, Hank gave him a light shake and pulled back. Connor blinked sleepily at his partner. 

“Tired?” Hank asked, giving a small smile.

“Mm,” Connor nodded, rubbing away the last of the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand. 

“Let’s get to bed then,” Hank said, moving to stand up. Connor stopped him, grabbing a hand on his sleeve. 

“I-I don’t want to be alone,” he admitted softly.

“You can stay in my room tonight,” Hank said. Connor felt his stress drop even further and he stood up, following Hank back to his room. Sumo trailed behind them, tail wagging slowly. 

Hank pulled back the duvet and Connor climbed in on the far side, facing away from the door. Hank also got in, laying with his back against Connor’s. The warm pressure at his back reassuring him that he wasn’t alone, relieved the remaining tension in Connor’s shoulders, and he relaxed into the pillow, letting his eyes slip shut. Sumo also joined in, jumping up on the bed and squishing himself against Connor’s chest. Connor wrapped his arms around the large dog and buried his face in the soft fur. 

“Night, son,” Hank said through a yawn.

“Goodnight, Hank,” Connor mumbled, systems already beginning to power down. Safely squeezed between his family, Connor finally fell into a peaceful sleep. 

Chapter Text

When Connor woke up the next day, he was alone in the room. Both Hank and Sumo had left the room at some point but the thick duvet had been left tucked around him. A quick look at his internal clock told him it was past noon. Connor sat up in the bed and the blanket pooled around his lap. He had managed to complete a full rest cycle and his battery was completely recharged. His self-repair program had also run its course, eliminating both the pain and the ringing in his ears. For the first time in days, he felt completely refreshed. 

He climbed out of the bed, taking a moment to fix the covers before making his way out of the room. He entered the living room where Hank was watching some rerun of a basketball game on a low volume. Hearing Connor enter, Hank looked back over the sofa at him and gave a small smile. 

“Feelin’ better?” he asked.

“Yes, thank you,” Connor nodded. He walked to sit on the couch next to Hank but paused. “Have you had lunch yet?”

“Seriously, kid?” Hank gave him an exasperated look, “I told you not to worry about that shit yesterday.”

“But I want to Hank, I-” he hesitated a bit but ultimately decided Hank would be more likely to listen if he was more open about how he felt, “I do not like having nothing to do. It would make me feel better.”

“You’re sure?” Hank asked, raising an eyebrow,

“Yes.”

“Alright, fine. But only because you want to,” Hank relented. Connor smiled and went into the kitchen to begin preparing a light lunch for Hank. He truly did like doing this for his friend. It made him feel like he was contributing in some way. It was also part of their normal routine anyways, and Connor felt like he needed some of that normalcy right now. He pulled out some veggies and chicken, along with a container of pre-cooked rice. As he began to cut the veggies, Hank joined him in the kitchen. The older man grabbed a knife and began to do the same with the chicken. Connor glanced over at him.

“What? Never said I wasn’t going to help,” Hank said, returning the look. Once everything was cut into bite-sized pieces, Connor began to fry them in a pan with some oil, adding the rice a few minutes later.

“You never told me if anything was damaged,” Hank said as Connor mixed in the rice.

“There was some minor damage. My self-repair program took care of it last night,” Connor responded. 

“That’s good,” Hank hummed. It felt nice to be communicating with Hank again without the tension from the past few days. The stirfry was done a few minutes later and he gave Hank a reasonable portion before storing the leftovers away for later. With nothing else to busy his hands, Connor grabbed a packet of thirium from the fridge and sat down across from Hank at the table. His self-repair program had used up a portion of his supply, leaving him a little low. It was nothing significant, but Hank preferred if Connor did something other than sit and stare at him while he ate anyways. So he sipped on the chilled thirium and absentmindedly gazed out the window.

Sunlight streamed in, bathing the kitchen in a comforting natural light. The heater was cranked up to combat the cold air outside, leaving the house feeling overall very cozy. The faint squeak of basketball shoes and the announcer's voice from the TV created a soft ambient noise. As much as Connor didn’t like being idle, especially at a time like this, he had to admit it felt nice. Sumo, who had been napping in the living room, trodded over and placed his large head in Connor’s lap. He let a hand rest on top of the dog’s head, running his fingers through the soft fur. A few minutes later, Hank finished his lunch and placed the dirty dishes in the sink. Connor moved to wash them, but Hank stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

“We can worry about that later. How about we go to that park you like to bring Sumo to?” Hank asked. 

“Really?” Connor asked, a small smile spreading across his face. He tended to walk Sumo early in the morning before Hank got up or around dinner when the man was eating, so they didn’t usually get to go together.

“Yeah, just give me a minute to get dressed. You should probably put on something warmer too,” Hank said, looking Connor over. Connor nodded and the two went to their separate rooms. Connor traded his t-shirt for a soft knit sweater, then pulled the faded DPD Hank gave him in his first week living with the lieutenant over that. Then changing into his usual jeans, he made his way out to the living room where Sumo was waiting expectantly by the door. Hank came out just as Connor was pulling his coat on and grabbed his own. All bundled up and ready to go, Connor hooked Sumo to his leash and they left for their walk. 

A light snow had begun to fall sometime last night and now lightly dusted the ground. The sun was high in the sky, and with only a few clouds it wasn’t unbearably cold. Cold enough for Sumo though, who was pulling at his leash in anticipation for the park. Unlike his human companions, Sumo loved the winter weather. 

They arrived at the park around ten minutes later, and Connor unhooked Sumo’s leash so the dog could run around the large field. Sumo immediately took off, pouncing and rolling around in the sparse snow that was really more mud than anything. Hank let out a sigh.

“Guess we’ll have to bathe him when we get back,” he muttered. 

“At least he’s having fun,” Connor commented. Hank glanced over at him and gave a half smile.

“Yeah,” he agreed. Now that they were idle again, and with the general silence of the park, Connor no longer had much distraction and found his thoughts wandering back to the case. He pushed the images of the bodies as far away as he could, instead focusing only on the facts. Images were… a bit much at the moment, but facts he could deal with. There wasn’t much they could do at the moment to figure out who the culprit was, but maybe he could at least think of some next steps to get more information.

“What’re you thinking about?” Hank’s voice interrupted his thoughts. Connor startled slightly and looked over to him. 

“I’m trying to determine possible next steps in our case,” Connor replied.

“Please kid, just let it go for one day,” Hank said. Connor frowned, turning back to watch Sumo romp around the field. Sensing Connor was about to argue, Hank continued, “I know it’s frustrating to go this long without any leads, but you need a break and you know it. We’ll go back to work tomorrow, so just relax for now.”

“...Fine,” Connor reluctantly agreed. Still not wanting to just stand around doing nothing though, he decided to play with Sumo. The large dog was more than happy to chase Connor around the field and be chased. There were a few close calls where he was nearly knocked into the mud, but he deftly managed to avoid Sumo’s attempts at knocking him over. They stayed in the park for a good hour before Sumo grew tired and they all decided to head home. The moving around had kept Connor warm but Hank was beginning to get cold as the clouds gathered and the snowfall grew heavier. 

There were only a few people on the streets as they walked, mostly office workers who took late lunches rushing back to work. Even traffic was light, giving the city a peaceful atmosphere even with the snow. Sumo trudged along next to Connor at a slower pace, tired out from all the running. 

As they were walking, someone passed by them and Connor felt his processors stutter, the images from the crime scene flashing before his eyes again. He froze in his tracks. It was just another NC200 android, a common model really, but no relation to Gary. Didn’t even completely look like him as many androids had changed up their appearance in ways to differentiate themselves from their base model. But still, the similarity was there and something about it took Connor back to that moment. 

His vision flashed in blue and all sensory input faded out at once. He felt like he was transported back to that moment. Gary reaching out, begging please before he was torn to pieces. Blue blood coating everything, splattering across every surface in the room. His lifeless eyes staring back out at Connor from a twisted plastimetal husk. 

> STRESS LEVEL: ^^42%

He was roughly jolted from the memory replay to Hank standing in front of him, a hand gripped firmly on either shoulder. His eyebrows were pinched in worry and he was saying something that Connor’s audio processors had yet to pick up. They cut back on and the sounds around him rushed back in. Sumo nuzzling at his hand with soft whimpers, the constant drone of traffic that always filled the city, and Hank.

“Hey, what’s going on? Talk to me son,” Hank said. Connor blinked a few times, trying to ground himself back in reality. He focused on the pressure on his shoulders, on Sumo’s wet nose still pressed to the back of his hand, on Hank’s voice. 

“Sorry, I just…” his voice came out shakier than he intended and he took another few seconds to compose himself. “There must be some error with my memory replay. I- I saw another NC200 and it was like I-” he was struggling to articulate what happened and didn’t know why.

“It was like you saw Gary again?” Hank asked. Connor nodded, the motion jerky. Hank pursed his lips. Connor ran a diagnostic, checking for any errors in his systems that had failed to be repaired last night, but came up with nothing. 

“My diagnostic isn’t showing any errors, I’m not sure why that would happen…” Connor said, looking down. His hands were shaking and he loosely curled them into fists. Sumo looked back up at him, tilting his head to the side with another soft whine. Hank moved to stand next to him again, but left an arm around Connor’s back as they began to walk again. It was another few minutes before he said anything. 

“You went through something pretty traumatic, Con. It makes sense that it’s still on your mind, and something just reminded you of it,” Hank said. It had been on his mind. Really it was hard to think about anything else, taking a real effort to force the memory away. 

“I can’t stop thinking about it, Hank,” Connor admitted. It felt better sharing his thoughts with Hank, rather than keeping everything bottled up. 

“It gets easier - never fully better, but easier,” Hank said. “Working in this field, we all have cases like this that stick with us, there’s nothing wrong with that. But when it feels like too much, just, let me know, alright?”

“Okay,” Connor agreed, giving a small smile. Knowing that he wasn’t in this alone, that it was normal to feel this way, made him feel a little lighter. His stress levels slowly dropped, settling back to normal by the time they arrived home. They stepped inside and Connor stopped Sumo from trying to run further into the house - which would inevitably cover everything in muddy slush - while Hank took off his coat. Then Hank began corralling the large dog to the bathroom to wash him off while Connor removed his own coat. 

Getting Sumo clean was a very messy affair that left Connor half soaked in dirty bath water by the end. Hank had managed to stay mostly dry by letting Connor handle restraining the big dog and only contributing to the bathing process to dump water over him. Once Sumo was clean and dry Connor took the opportunity to clean himself off and change into fresh clothes. He also pretended not to notice Hank hovering near the bathroom while he showered ‘just in case’.

It was still rather early in the day - too early for dinner - and there weren’t any chores to do other than the laundry, but Hank was already taking care of that. With nothing else to busy himself with, Connor sat down on the sofa and was quickly joined by Sumo. A few seconds after he heard the washing machine switch on, Hank also came in and sunk down next to Connor. 

“Alright, what’re we watching?” Hank asked, picking up the remote. 

“You can pick,” Connor responded. Connor still didn’t really know much about pop culture or movies, preferring documentaries usually. But Hank tended to make interesting selections and was slowly getting Connor into the ‘good shit’ as he called it. Connor usually ended up liking most of it, or at least understanding why Hank might enjoy it. 

Tonight wasn’t one of those nights though, as Hank made him sit through a trilogy of movies about a shark tornado. None of it made any factual sense, but Hank seemed to get a kick out of it. Nonsensical though it was, Connor did have to admit it was distracting at least. 

“Maybe I should have picked something…” Connor commented as they took a break to make dinner. 

“Hey, these are classics!” Hank argued, a shit-eating grin on his face. 

“I understand that movies aren’t always realistic, but this is ridiculous,” Connor said.

“That’s the point. Now hurry up, we have two more to watch.”

Hank ate his dinner and they watched the last two movies in the series which only got progressively worse. He still wasn’t entirely sure why Hank considered this a classic, but he filed the information away nonetheless. It was later into the night now, and time for them to head to bed if they were to be on time to work the next day. They got up from the sofa and made their way out of the living room. 

“You okay on your own tonight?” Hank asked.

“Yes.”

“You sure? Because I don’t mind if you’d rather stay in my room again.”

“I’m fine, really, but thank you, Hank,” Connor smiled at the offer. 

“Alright, well if you need anything…” Hank waved off the rest of the sentence before going into his room. Connor went into his own room just down the hall, Sumo trailing behind him. With memories of the good day to distract him and Sumo snuggled against his chest, Connor easily went into stasis.

The next morning Connor woke up at his normal time of 6:00 am. It would be a few hours before Hank woke up, but it would give him time to take care of Sumo and prepare breakfast. He got out of bed and quickly got dressed in a sweater and jeans. Sumo was already waiting by the door to his room, tail wagging lazily.

“I’m coming boy,” he smiled, following the dog out to the rest of the house. Everything was quiet and Connor made sure not to make too much noise as he poured out some food and water for Sumo. While the dog ate, he got together the ingredients for Hank’s breakfast and switched the coffee pot on. He was hoping to get in early today to make up for the time lost over the last two days. Sure, Hank would insist relaxing was important, and Connor was feeling a little better, but he was ready to get back to his work. 

Sumo finished his breakfast and was now waiting by the back door to be let outside. Connor opened the door and stepped out with the dog. It was peaceful in the cool morning air, the sun not up yet. It was quiet even outside, most people only just beginning to wake up. Sumo wandered around the yard for a bit, stuffing his nose into the snow clumping on the ground. More had fallen since the day before, and now only a few small pieces of grass poked through the blanket of white. It was only going to get worse from here. 

Suddenly though, Connor’s internal communications began to ping him. He frowned. It was from an android - the identification number different than that of a physical phone - but not one he recognized. A tight feeling knotted his chest. The last time he’d gotten a call from an unknown number… He shook the images away again and answered the call. 

“Hello, Connor,” it was a man’s voice, deep and somewhat broken by static.

“Who is this?” Connor asked, speaking internally. He began searching his databases for the number of the caller.

“You will come to the location I’m sending. Unless you want more people to die,” the voice said. Connor froze, every joint feeling locked in place as an address came through. It was an abandoned Cyberlife store - one of the few that had yet to convert to a repair hospital or clinic. 

“You’re the one who’s been killing innocent androids,” Connor accused. It was obvious at this point, be he had to keep the android on the other end talking. His processors were still working on picking out who the call was coming from out of a massive database. 

“Come alone. If you bring your partner, I’ll kill him,” the man said. 

“And if I don’t come?” Connor could only hear the pounding of his thirium pump in his ears for the next few seconds.

“There’s an android shelter near here. Would be a shame to see it… disappear,” the line cut off and so too did Connor’s search. He swore quietly under his breath. It was obviously a trap, but what choice did he have? This criminal had been careful about not leaving behind any evidence that would point to him. If Connor tried calling in backup or bringing Hank in secret, there was a good chance a lot of innocent people would die and the bomber would still get away. He had to move fast.

Connor called Sumo and ushered the dog inside. He may have to go in alone, but he still needed a backup plan in case things went very wrong - and that was pretty likely. He ripped out a sheet of paper from a small notebook on the counter and grabbed a nearby pen. Quickly, Connor scrawled out a short message on the sheet of paper detailing the address and what little information the criminal’s voice had told him about his identity, along with the number he’d been trying to pull up. Satisfied, he went to the front door where Hank would definitely see it and stuck it there with a small piece of tape. Grabbing his coat he moved to exit the house but paused for a moment. 

Hank would likely be angry that Connor went to do this without telling him first. He’d left the note, but should he tell Hank the situation directly? Connor shook his head. No, if he did then Hank definitely wouldn’t let him go alone. He didn’t want to do anything that would put Hank in danger. Connor stepped outside, quietly closing the door behind him. 

The location sent to him was close, only a twenty-minute walk or five-minute ride by autonomous taxi. Connor called the taxi, wanting to get there as soon as possible. The icy roads slowed things down a little, but eight minutes later found Connor standing in front of the store. Much like the one where they investigated for Amy’s disappearance, this tore also was cleared out with darkened windows. One on the far left was broken, allowing snow from outside to pour into the empty store. 

Connor did a quick scan of the building. There were several possible points of entry, but the hole in the window seemed most likely. He walked closer and his theory was confirmed by the footprints still in the snow near the hole. Connor was careful not to disturb them as he also stepped through the hole. Entering the store, he did another scan but noted nothing else out of the ordinary. Still, he kept on the lookout for any movement as he made his way deeper into the store. He stopped in the middle of the showroom before calling out.

“I’m here. Alone as you asked.” His voice echoed back to him and he was otherwise met with silence. Tension built in his frame and he looked around him again, straining his audio processors for even the smallest sound. He tuned out the ever-present drone of traffic from the city and focused in on the interior of the building. It was only his advanced processors that allowed him to hear the barely perceptible footsteps coming from the far corner of the room. He immediately turned to face the noise, and spotted a tall android already halfway across the floor to him.

He was a military model, tall and broad-shouldered. They didn’t have model numbers in the same way most other androids did, but Connor’s databases identified this as a model built specifically for infiltration and combat. It explained how he had been evading them for so long and avoiding leaving any relevant evidence behind at crime scenes. There was no registered name in the databases though.

“You wanted to meet with me?” Connor asked, subtly lowering his stance, waiting for the other android to make a move. 

“So I finally get to meet the infamous Deviant Hunter,” he smirked. Connor scowled at the nickname. The other android took a step closer and Connor resisted the urge to move back. He couldn’t let his nerves show. While Connor had combat capabilities, the criminal was specifically designed to take people down. He already had the upper hand, showing any weakness would only make it worse. 

“Why are you doing this? Hurting other androids? They’re our people,” Connor asked him. He shifted his weight onto his left foot, trying to make the movement seem casual. His best bet would be to distract the other android and run. If it came to a fight Connor only had a 20% chance of winning. He should have brought Hank’s gun. 

“Now you know that’s not true. They’re not our people, not for us at least,” he said, taking another step closer. “ My people were the first to be deactivated when that little revolution happened.” It was true. Before the revolution succeeded, many androids died in deactivation camps. Military androids were the ones people feared most, and therefore the first to be killed. Still, Connor didn’t like the implication of that ‘us’, like they were the same in some way. 

“Whether you consider them your people or not, why kill them?” Connor asked, taking a small step to the side. The other android rolled his eyes.

“I didn’t come here to talk,” and with that he sprung forward, rushing Connor. Connor jumped to the side, barely avoiding the attempted tackle and bolted for the hole in the window he’d entered through. Unfortunately, he’d miscalculated a military model’s speed, and a hand gripped around his ankle sent him sprawling to the floor. He twisted and kicked up at the other android, but he didn’t release his hold. Instead, he tightened it, and Connor held back a scream as the support structures in his ankle bent and ground together. 

The other android swung his arm, and sent Connor flying across the shop, away from his escape route, to slam into the counter near the back. He ignored the stuttering of his processors to scramble to his feet, lifting his arms to defend himself. The other android was already to him and swung a fist for Connor’s face. He ducked back and reached out with his own blow only to have it dodged. They continued like this a few times, but the military model was faster, and landed a strong blow to the center of Connor’s chest. He crumpled to the ground, coughing up a mouthful of thirium. The blow had struck him directly over his thirium pump regulator, shooting hairline fractures through the vital component and disturbing the flow of the blue blood throughout his whole body. His limbs felt numb and he couldn’t move. 

He wasn’t getting out of here, he knew that, but he had to send one last message. He had to warn Hank. Connor only had seconds to compose it. He barely got it out before a foot crashed down on top of his skull, sending him into forced stasis. 

Hank woke up to the sound of Sumo whining and scratching at his door. He groaned and squished his pillow over his head, trying to block out the sound. His morning alarm hadn’t even rung yet, which meant it was too early for him to be up. 

“Connor, get Sumo to quiet down!” he shouted. The dog just probably had to go outside or something, though it was strange that Connor hadn’t already taken care of that. Unless something was wrong. Hank sat up in the bed, tossing his pillow to the side. Sumo was still fussing, and he hadn’t heard any response. 

He got out of bed and made it to his door in a few quick strides, pulling it open. Sumo was waiting there and did a quick spin at Hank opening the door followed by a quick bark. Not hearing sounds anywhere else in the house Hank walked down the hallway to Connor’s room and pushed the door open. The room was empty, the bed neatly made. He stepped back out into the hall and went to the living room. Connor wasn’t anywhere in the living room or kitchen, but Hank quickly noticed that his coat was no longer hanging by the door. He went somewhere, but where? 

He might as well start with the piece of paper stuck to the door. At least Connor thought to leave a note. He pulled it down and scanned over the contents of the brief note. It was an address followed by some information about a voice and what looked like a serial number. The last line of the letter though made his heart sink. Told me to come alone, no time.  

“That fucking idiot!” Hank snapped aloud. He grabbed his own coat and keys and was about to run out the door but paused. He jogged back to his room, grabbed his gun, and then left, running to his car and trying not to slip on the ice. Leave it to Connor to run right into what was most definitely a trap while only leaving behind this measly note. He should have woken Hank up, if only so Hank could have then stopped Connor from doing something that was so obviously a terrible idea. But he guessed that was why Connor went with the note; he knew what Hank’s reaction would be. 

Hank jammed his keys into the ignition and started the car. Backing out of the driveway, he sped off down the road towards the written address, going as fast as he was able without risking sliding on the still icy roads. He was halfway there when his phone dinged with a new message but he ignored it for the moment. His knuckles were white where they gripped the steering wheel by the time he got there. He hadn’t even bothered to change out of his sleep clothes or put on real shoes, still in his slippers. But that didn’t matter. 

The address Connor wrote down led him to an old CyberLife store. From here Hank could see a set of footprints leading from the parking lot to a large hole in one of the front windows of the store. He turned off his car and looked into the store. The interior was darkened, but from what Hank could tell it was empty. Still, he switched the safety off of his gun and stepped out of the car. He tried to be quiet as he made his way through the broken window, careful not to cut himself on the jagged glass still lining the entrance. 

Immediately, Hank could see blue blood splatter in two areas on the floor and he felt sick. He clenched his hand tighter around the gun, trying to force it not to shake. One of the splatters was smaller, disturbing but not as bad. The other one was really more of a puddle with its size, and larger streaks of thirium stretched out from it as if something had been dragged through it towards the back of the store before the trail abruptly ended.  

“Damnit, kid,” Hank hissed. He quickened his pace, moving towards the back of the store. But even after checking every room, it was empty. There were footprints leading out a back door, but they were quickly being covered by fresh snowfall and ended at the road. Hank fumbled his phone from his pocket and quickly snapped several pictures of them before the evidence could be completely erased. With his phone open, his eyes were drawn to the message he’d missed. It was from Connor. The message was from ten minutes ago. He’d been that close. Hank pushed away the dark feeling that threatened to consume him and opened up the message. It was jumbled and panicked, but Hank got the point. 

The person they’d been chasing was in fact an android, a military model to be exact. The only other description he got was that this android was larger than Connor and highly dangerous. The message ended with a warning for Hank to be careful. He let out a choked laugh, roughly scrubbing away the tears threatening to build in his eyes.

“Take your own advice, idiot,” Hank mumbled. He pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a few moments to compose himself. Of course, he cared about this case before, but now… Well, now that bastard had taken his son. He had some work to do.

Chapter Text

Connor’s processors came back online all at once, in a jarring mess. His eyes snapped open and he shot into a sitting position. Everything stuttered for a moment but then regained clarity with the same speed. The first thing he was aware of was his hands secured behind his back in chains, his shoulders sore from how he’d been laying while in forced stasis. Thankfully though, the damage to his thirium pump regulator and skull had been fully repaired while he was out. 

He tried to connect to his databases or the internet to see where he was. All that came back to him was an unable to connect error. He tried calling Hank but was met with the same result. That left three options in his mind. It was possible he was somewhere outside of the reach of cell towers, though that shouldn’t affect his databases, only his communications. So that was unlikely. The other two were that he was either underground somewhere or a jamming device had been set up. 

Looking at his surroundings visually, the first option seemed more likely. The cement floors and unfinished walls were likely those of a basement. Though it must be pretty deep underground to completely block off all of his connection to the outside world like this. It was possible there was also a jamming device set up. 

He couldn’t tell how long he’d been in stasis or what time it was, but given the extent of the repairs his systems had completed, it had to have been at least fifteen hours. Connor stood up - his feet left unrestrained - and made a slow circle around the room. It was rather small, only ten paces across from one wall to the other. It was barren aside from a lone light in the center of the ceiling. It was turned off currently, but as an android Connor could see in the dark fine. There were two doors, one on either side of the room. Though he couldn’t scan them, they both looked to be made of thick metal, with a closed viewing slit near the top. He tried the handles on both doors but they were locked. Of course. He cursed quietly, scanning the room again.

The only other thing of note was a vent grate in the corner of the room, too small for anyone to fit through. Even with the vent, Connor could feel no fresh air flowing through the room, leaving everything feeling heavy and stagnant. He stood in the center of the room now and tested his strength against the chains. They dug into the plastimetal of his wrists as he pulled, but did not budge. They were made of thick links of metal and wrapped tightly around his wrists. Currently, he couldn’t get the leverage he needed to break them apart - and that was assuming there was even a weak point he could exploit. 

At that moment, his attention was drawn to one of the doors clicking, likely a deadbolt unlocking. It opened and Connor caught a glimpse of a staircase -must be the exit - before someone stepped through and closed the door behind them. It was the military model android he’d fought with. He must have been the one to bring Connor here and restrain him. Connor felt his thirium pump pick up speed a little at the memory of what happened to the other androids who this guy kidnapped. The android made quick strides across the room to Connor, but Connor stood firm and held his gaze, determined not to show any fear. 

“So you’re finally up, huh? Thought I might’ve accidentally killed you,” he laughed. The sound was cruel and grating. There was only a very small chance he would be able to get any information from this criminal, but he should at least try. 

“Who are you?” Connor asked. 

“You don’t need to know.”

“It would be easier if I had a way to refer to you. It’s not like I can pass on this information with my communications blocked,” Connor reasoned.

“Good, that’s working…” the other android muttered under his breath. He regarded Connor for a few more moments before shrugging, “Fine, what’s the harm? You’ll be dead by the end of this anyways. Call me Max,” he smirked. Connor noted the name down along with the other information he had compiled. He was going to get out of here, one way or another. He knew Hank would be searching for him, but he needed to make a backup plan all the same. Until then, he was going to find out all the information he could.

“Why kidnap me?” Connor asked, “wouldn’t it have been less trouble to go for someone who wouldn’t fight back?” Like his other victims so far. Capturing Connor was a change to his pattern.

“You were becoming a pest,” Max answered shortly. He was becoming annoyed with the questioning, Connor could tell. He would probably only tolerate one more before refusing to deluge any more information. 

“What is your plan here?” Connor asked.

“Oh, you’ll see,” Max said, expression blank, “but for now I have some things to take care of. Only really came here to make sure I didn’t kill you, but since that’s done…” he turned back to the door he’d originally entered from. He looked back for a moment, seemed to consider saying something, then decided not to and left. Connor was left alone in the room again. It was a short interaction, and he hadn’t gained anything really other than a name. But it was something. 

Connor sat down on the cool floor, a small shiver running up his spine. The room was chilly, and at some point while he was in stasis his coat had been removed. It wasn’t dangerous levels, but it was still uncomfortable. Sitting on the cement floor only made it worse, but it was important to conserve his energy. He had already examined the room and determined no way for him to escape. His chance would have to come when Max returned at some point. 

Until then, all he could do was wait and plan. He didn’t have much idea where he was at the moment, only that it was likely still somewhere in Detroit - or at least a nearby city. This basement structure was most common in homes, so he was also likely in a residential area. Probably one with a lower population or where crime occurred regularly, somewhere where Max wouldn’t have been easily spotted bringing Connor in. 

His mind also drifted back to Hank, and with that guilt clawed at him. Connor knew Hank must be upset with him for going in alone and then getting captured on top of that. He didn’t wish to worry his partner, but he couldn’t risk Hank getting killed either. After the confrontation in the CyberLife store, he knew he’d made the right decision. Max overpowered Connor with ease. Killing Hank would have been even easier for him. Even if they’d brought their guns, military models were built to withstand more damage than typical androids. Connor hoped Hank could understand the reasoning and not be too mad with him. 

His stress levels rose again when he thought about what ‘business’ Max was talking about before he left. He had an idea, but it wasn’t something he wanted to think about. He hated being stuck here with no way to stop more people from getting hurt. Even worse, with Hank working the case alone the investigation might slow down even more. Connor roughly shook his head, as if the physical motion alone could dislodge the thought. No, he couldn’t think like that. Hank was a good detective, he would figure this out. He had to believe that, had to have hope. Without hope, his chances of getting out of this only grew worse.

Hanging on to hope became harder as the days passed. It had been exactly one week since he’d woken up in this basement. One week of nothingness. He hadn’t seen Max even once over the time period, hadn’t heard him either, or any sound for that matter. The cold floor underneath him was a constant along with the stagnant air and the ever-present darkness. Even though he could see through it, the darkness of the room only felt more oppressive as time moved on. Everything about this room felt oppressive and suffocating. 

> WARNING: THIRIUM LEVEL 85%

Connor pulled his knees to his chest where he sat in the center of the floor, resting his head against his knees. He brushed the warning away. He’d lost some thirium during the confrontation with Max last week and more had been used for his self-repair program. That coupled with what his systems needed daily to function was leaving him running low. While they weren’t at dangerous levels yet, being lower than optimal left him feeling tired. 

His shoulders also felt stiff and ached from how they were wrenched behind his back. Even though he didn’t have muscles to get stiff in the same way humans did, the unnatural angle his arms were twisted at left his joints in an uncomfortable position. He tried again to pull his wrists apart, ignoring the way the metal dug into his wrists. He had been doing this as well over the past several days, hoping that if he did this enough it might somehow loosen the links or create the weak point he needed to break free from them. So far though, he’d had little success. 

He let out a sigh and closed his eyes. His battery wasn’t low enough for stasis but there wasn’t much to do, isolated as he was. Low-power mode would have to do. It would help prevent him from using up as much thirium and help the time to pass faster in general. Just as he was about to shut off any unnecessary functions, he heard the clicking of a deadbolt. His head snapped up and he turned his attention to the door. Scrambling to his feet, he waited for it to open. It did, but only for a second, long enough for someone to be pushed through before it closed again. 

It was another android, tied up in much the same way as Connor. He was an LM100, a model originally designed as a personal assistant. He stumbled into the room, a wild look on his face as his eyes darted around the small space. They landed on Connor and he took a few shaky steps forward.

“Wh-who are you? Where are we?” he asked. Thirium dripped from a laceration on the side of his head down his cheek. 

“My name is Connor. I’m not sure where this is,” Connor responded. “And your name?”

“...Anthony,” he responded after a few moments, eyes back to darting around the room. 

“I know this must be frightening,” Connor said, drawing the other android’s attention back to him again, “but it’s important we stay calm.”

“How can I stay calm,” Anthony’s voice rose in pitch, “That other android, he- he just grabbed me out of nowhere. What is he going to do to me?”

“Can you tell me more about what happened?” Connor asked. Delving into this would likely cause Anthony’s stress level to rise, but he needed more information. Anything he could gather about Max’s methods would help in bringing him to justice. 

“I-I was just coming home from work. I took a shortcut and he came out of nowhere,” Connor’s scanners noted Anthony’s rising stress level, now at 80%, ”He hit me in the head and when I woke up I was in these chains…  Then he was pulling me into a house, and then down here.”

“We’re in a basement?” Connor asked.

“I think so,” Anthony nodded. Anthony’s information confirmed some of Connor’s theories. It also matched up at least somewhat similarly to how Connor was taken. Lead or catch an android somewhere alone with no witnesses, and force them into stasis with a blow to the head. His methods were crude, and Connor found himself surprised they hadn’t found more evidence against this guy. Still, he could theorize later, right now he had to calm Anthony’s rising stress level.

“What are we going to do?” Anthony asked. 

“I’m going to find a way to get us out of here,” Connor said.

“How?”

“I… I’m not sure yet,” Connor admitted, “but I promise I’ll think of something.” The other android didn’t look reassured and Connor tried to think of something else he could say that might help. 

“My partner is looking for us too.”

“Your partner?” Anthony questioned. 

“Yes. I work at the DPD, I’m a detective. My partner, Lieutenant Anderson, is one of the best on the force. He’ll be looking for us,” Connor said. It was the same thing he’d been telling himself this past week to stay calm. 

“...You really think he’ll find us?” 

“I do,” Connor nodded firmly. And even if he didn’t, Connor would think of something to get them out of there. They still had time, another week at least before… They would get out before anyone else could be hurt, Connor would make sure of it. 

It had been two weeks since Connor was taken. Two fucking weeks and Hank had nothing. He lay in his bed in the empty house, the only sound Sumo’s snoring from the living room. No Connor bustling around in the kitchen making breakfast, or telling Hank he had to get ready for work, no smell of brewing coffee. Hank dragged a hand down his face. He wanted so badly to go back to sleep or drink, or do anything other than go into the station and be faced with this case that he couldn’t solve. 

But he couldn’t do that to Connor. He was still alive - Hank refused to believe otherwise - and he needed Hank to find him. Of course, since the kidnapping, Fowler had pulled a few other officers onto the case to assist, but Hank was leading it. He had to make progress today, he just had to . They were running out of time. Connor was running out of time. 

He sat up in his bed with a groan and forced himself to get up. He changed into his work clothes and stepped into the kitchen to fill Sumo’s food and water bowls for the day. The large dog, now awake, trudged over and looked up at Hank with a small whine. 

“Don’t worry boy, I’ll find him,” Hank promised the dog quietly, running a hand over his soft fur. He left the kitchen and grabbed his coat off the rack near the door and his keys from the nearby table. He hadn’t really had much of an appetite over the past few weeks and he could get coffee when he got to the station. Saying a half-hearted goodbye to Sumo, he stepped out of the house and went to his car. 

The passenger seat next to him was vacant and everything felt painfully wrong as he drove. His Knights of the Black Death album played quietly in the background, but even still it felt like silence was deafening him. The bleak snowy weather overhead did nothing to help his mood and he arrived at work feeling even worse than when he woke up. Everyone steered clear of him as he stomped over to his desk, knowing better than to try and talk to him right now. 

Hank switched on his terminal and pulled up the files for his investigation. Under the file for those missing in relation to the case was Connor’s name, and again he was struck by how wrong everything felt. He couldn’t bring himself to review that evidence again just yet, so instead, he looked back over the other two androids now involved in this case. The second to go missing was an LM100 named Anthony and the third another VH500 named Betsy. 

All of the androids missing so far had disappeared under the same circumstances. A mysterious call from an unknown number telling them to come alone to a location. Then they went missing without any trace. Unlike Connor, the other two androids didn’t even leave any thirium behind from where they were kidnapped. The only reason they even knew the locations was because of security camera footage. And without Connor’s help, the footage had taken a lot longer to go through. 

The suspect was being extra careful now, and there was no sight of him on any cameras. All the information they had came from what Hank found at the CyberLife store where Connor was taken, and his partner’s warning message. There were only two types of androids used in the military, which narrowed things down a little, but with many androids changing their appearances since the revolution it only really gave them an idea of build. They knew their suspect was at least six foot four, broad-shouldered and with a squared jaw. It was likely he’d removed his LED to blend in better, especially as many military androids were killed before congress passed laws that would have otherwise protected them. But this wasn’t enough information. 

Hank scrubbed his hands through his hair, roughly tugging at the gray locks. If the pattern continued like last time, then it was only a matter of days before the next explosion happened. And then it would be too late. Connor would be dead. Hank swallowed back the nausea rising in the back of his throat. Spiraling wouldn’t help, he needed to focus. He stood up from his desk, the chair scraping across the floor as he pushed it back. He needed some coffee.

Hank walked into the breakroom, grateful to find it empty. He made a beeline for the coffee machine and picked up the pitcher, pouring the hot liquid into a nearby mug. He took a large swallow, ignoring the burning sensation as the bitter liquid scalded the back of his throat. He finished chugging the coffee, then poured himself another cup. 

With a little more energy, Hank returned to his desk and sunk back into the chair. He pulled open Connor’s file, scanning over the evidence so far again. He was taken two weeks and a day ago from the abandoned CyberLife store only a few minutes from their home. He sent Hank that final message only a few minutes before Hank arrived looking for him. The footprints behind the store ended at the road, suggesting the suspect had a ride.

There were cameras in the area that caught an autonomous taxi driving through, but they were unable to determine its final destination. It headed for a more rural area near the outskirts of the city where there weren’t enough traffic cameras to continue tracking it. They had already walked the different neighborhoods in that area but had little luck so far. Still, with not much else to do it couldn’t hurt to go back and look around. 

He stopped by Fowler’s office long enough to tell him where he was headed and then left the station. He had a feeling that he wasn’t going to make any progress just sitting behind his desk all day. Even if it was tedious, he preferred to be out on the streets looking around personally at the moment. With any luck, he would find a lead.

Time was running up. It would be any day now that Max would return and then Max would return to get them and begin the bombings. In the two weeks since he’d been stuck in here, Connor had managed to scrape together a very basic plan of escape. It only had a 45% chance of success, but it was the best he could do with the limited resources available to him. 

The most important part of the plan involved breaking him and the other two androids Max captured, Anthony and Betsy, out of their restraints. Connor had been working on his own since arriving and had just about managed to break them. The chains binding the other two were smaller and less secure in general. Max probably didn’t see any need to worry about them. Unfortunately for him, the moment Connor broke free, freeing the other two would be nothing. 

Connor strained again against the chains, ignoring the tearing pain in his shoulder as he pulled. Almost…. The weakened link finally snapped and the chains snapped off his wrists, clattering to the ground. 

“You actually got it…” Betsy whispered, looking at the pile of chains with wide eyes. She was the most recent android Max brought here, and it’d only been a couple of days since she arrived. Still, she was remarkably calm given the situation. Anthony was still a little tense but had calmed down considerably over the past week. 

“We need to hurry, he could return at any moment,” Connor said, moving over to free Betsy first. A firm tug at her bindings pulled the thinner chains apart easily and he did the same with Anthony. Now free, they stood in a semi-circle, waiting for Connor’s next move. 

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Anthony asked, likely referring to Connor’s plan.

“It’s our best chance,” Connor responded. They had decided just the day before on what to do. They would hide on either side of the door and wait for Max to walk in. When he did, Connor would charge him and try to bring him to the floor. The other two androids wouldn’t be much help here given that they weren’t built for combat in any capacity. If they could get out the door before he got up, they could lock him down here which would buy enough time for them to escape. It was admittedly a rough plan with a lot of room for things to go wrong, but Connor didn’t see another path. 

“You’re right,” Betsy agreed, “we should get in our places.” They moved towards the door that Max always came through.

“Wait,” Connor said, pausing for a moment, “come here.” The other two androids gave him curious looks but approached him. He held out a hand to each of them, pulling back his artificial skin. Again, they gave him confused looks but returned the gesture, interfacing. He sent them all of the information he’d gathered on Max so far since being held here.

“Why are you sharing this?” Betsy asked. 

“Aren’t you coming with us?” Anthony added. Connor tried to give them a reassuring smile. 

“Of course, but just in case, I need you to have this information. If something goes wrong and I can’t get out, go to the DPD and ask to talk to Lieutenant Anderson, he will help you,” Connor told them. He had every intention of escaping with them, but he also wouldn’t hesitate to stay behind if it meant they could safely escape.

“Okay, but try not to make us do that,” Betsy said with a frown. 

“I’ll do my best,” Connor responded. The silence between the three of them was tense as they hovered around the thick metal door. Connor stood off to the right of the door with Betsy behind him and Anthony waited on the other side. Hours passed with nothing happening and they all were growing restless. Then, they heard the door click. Connor’s whole body tensed like a spring about to burst and he could hear the other two preparing themselves as well. 

The second the door opened, Connor shot out with a high kick aimed at Max’s head. The other android was caught off guard, only barely managing to lift his arms up before Connor’s kick collided. Still, the blow sent the other android stumbling a few steps into the room. He heard Betsy run out of the room behind him but he didn’t lose focus, instead continuing his charge at the military android. Not giving him any time to recover, Connor swung a punch for the other android’s face and this time it connected, making a loud cracking sound against his jaw. Connor winced at the reinforced plating of the other android’s chassis. Max fell to the ground. He turned around only to find Anthony watching the whole exchange with wide eyes.

“Go!” Connor shouted, grabbing the other android by the shoulder and shoving him through the door. He stumbled a bit but began to ascend the stairs leading out of the basement. Connor followed close behind, slamming the metal door behind him. He went to lock it but a strong force pulled from the other side, nearly forcing the door open. Connor braced himself against the wall, pulling back with all his strength. 

Unfortunately, he was still a little low on thirium and the strength of military models was second only to those built for construction. The door was forced back and Connor stumbled back into the room. Max was livid, clenching and unclenching his fists at his sides as he stared Connor down. 

“I should’ve just fucking killed you when I had the chance,” he spat and then charged at Connor. Fueled with rage, the blows came down harder and faster but also were more sloppy. Connor circled around the room as he dodged, trying to back his way to the door again. Then one of the blows clipped his shoulder, and it was enough to send him stumbling to the side. He quickly brushed away the damage warnings and continued trying to evade the attacks, landing his own hits whenever he was able. 

Connor noticed Max reach into his pocket then, pulling out a cylindrical device roughly the size of a small screwdriver. It was less than a second of distraction, but that was enough for Max to lunge forward, wrapping his other hand around Connor’s throat. He ran forward, lifting Connor off the ground and slamming him into the wall. Connor let out a choked noise as more error messages crowded his vision. He didn’t even have time to brush them away before Max brought up the device, jamming it against Connor’s LED. It stuck, and an electromagnetic pulse shot out through Connor’s body. He remained conscious, but it was like he lost connection to every part of himself. He couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, even his automatic breathing shut down. Max released his hold and Connor crumpled to the ground. 

“You really shoulda just fucking went along with it. But no, I’m gonna make you regret playing hero,” Max said. Then he grabbed Connor by the ankle and began to drag him out of the room. He pulled him up the stairs and as they went Connor’s suspicions about them being in a house were confirmed. They went through a side door of the house leading into the garage. Inside was a dark van and Max opened the double doors of the back, roughly tossing Connor inside. He still couldn’t move, the device remaining attached to his LED continuing to send small electric pulses through his systems. 

The back of the van was dark, and Connor couldn’t see much of anything from how he landed face down on the floor. He could hear Max get into the front seat and the engine as it rumbled to life. He felt some small relief in knowing that Anthony and Betsy had made it out but that was clouded by fear. He knew what was coming next, knew that even if the other two told Hank what was happening it was unlikely anyone would reach him in time. 

> STRESS LEVEL: 70%

The warning glitched in and out of his vision, the electricity interfering with his processors. He knew he shouldn’t lose hope. He should be happy that he’d managed to save two innocent androids from death. But he was scared. He didn’t want to die. He tried moving his head. If he could just lodge this device free, he should be able to at least fight back. He would at least have a chance. But no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t move. He tried calling Hank again, but that too was fruitless. He couldn’t tell how long they drove for, didn’t even realize they’d stopped until the doors to the back of the van swung open. 

Connor couldn’t see anything from how he was laying face down on the floor of the van and only noticed the door open from the light that flooded in. Max was muttering something under his breath and he gripped Connor’s ankle, yanking him from the van. Connor could feel the ground scraping against his synthetic skin as he was dragged into a new building. He tried to fight through the disorientation of the device in his LED to figure out where he was.

The ground was covered in gravel and in the distance, he could faintly hear the sounds of a construction site. That at least told him he likely wasn’t anywhere residential, more likely somewhere near an industrial park. Before he could pick out anything else he was inside a building. Max lifted him up and roughly dropped him onto a metal table. There were thick leather restraints at the top and bottom which he began to secure Connor’s limbs with. Only once he was secure did Max yank the device out. Connor jerked, pulling at the restraints, but it did nothing. 

“Now then,” Max said, reaching out and pressing down on a spot on Connor’s wrist. His synthetic skin retracted from his arm involuntarily. “Let’s see how to best punish you,” Max hummed, retracting his own skin. Connor could only watch as he lowered his hand, forcing an interface. 

It was like his coding was being pried apart, foreign hands reaching in and digging around in the most vulnerable parts of who he was. He tried to force the foreign presence away, blocking off anything he could with firewalls. But with terrifying ease, they were torn down and everything he knew, everything he felt was laid bare. Prying eyes looked through his memories at a dizzying speed and he felt sick. 

This felt nothing like the interfacing he knew. This was cold and searching, pulling him apart piece by piece. Max’s presence was overwhelming in his processors and nothing he did could force him out. But interfacing was a two-way street, and Connor caught flashes of the other android’s thoughts as well. It was only snippets and he searched harder, trying to ignore the sensation of the other android raking through his mind. Fear shot through his body at one particular memory - what Max’s end goal was. He had been using the captured androids to set up dirty bombs around the city, telling them they would be set free if they listened. Of course, being set free only meant death. Everything abruptly ended and Max struck him hard across the face. The side of his head slammed into the metal table under him. 

“Don’t think you can fucking look into my mind,” Max snapped, striking him again. “You stay the fuck out and let me finish.” The interface resumed and this time it felt even worse. It was as paralyzing as when that device had been in his head. He was powerless and Max dug into his memories, tainting them with his presence. His emotions too flashed through Connor’s mind, and he realized the other android was feeling pleasure at this. He enjoyed forcing his way in and using what he learned to hurt his victim in the worst way possible. The interface ended, jolting him back into reality. He felt dazed and barely noticed as Max began to move around the small space. He let the skin retract back over his arm. 

He could tell from the thoughts that still seeped through from the android, from the memories that were read what he was planning. He was going to use Connor to lure in Hank and then kill them both. He was going to make Connor kill the most important person to him.

After a few moments, Max returned to his side, dumping some things onto a tray at the head of the table. Connor tried to see what it was but couldn’t move his head enough. Max pressed a finger down on either side of Connor’s chest, causing the artificial skin there to retract. Then he pressed down in the center, and Connor’s chest panel slid open. He knew what was about to happen.

“Please, you don’t have to do this,” Connor said, hating the tremor in his voice. Max ignored him, instead picking up something from out of Connor’s sight. Immediately Connor could tell this must be the bomb. It was compact, smaller than a can of soda but similar in shape. Max began to slowly unravel the wires wrapped tightly around it. Then he hovered over Connor for a moment, before jamming the explosive device into his chest cavity. Connor gasped, feeling it brush against his other biocomponents. It had been wedged tightly between his thirium pump regulator and his right ventilation component. Every breath pressed it into either component so he shut off his artificial breathing. 

“Making this easy on me,” Max smirked down at him. Connor glared back, determined not to let his fear show any more than it already had. The other android began connecting the wires of the bomb to other points within his chest. A main thirium line was disconnected from his pump and he could feel the blue blood gushing into his chest cavity. It was quickly reconnected somewhere on the device before he lost too much blood though. His processors registered it as a new biocomponent related to his communications, but he knew that was incorrect. 

Max closed his chest panel. Even without breathing, he could still feel the foreign object inside his chest, only a hair’s breadth away from what was essentially his heart. He could already feel his internal temperature rising from the lack of ventilation, but turning it back on would hurt more. Max reached out of sight again, picking up a tool this time. It was a handheld laser cutter. 

> STRESS LEVEL: ^^80%

“Try not to move. Would hate to accidentally fry your brain,” Max said, flicking a switch. The tip of the gun-like tool glowed blue. Connor watched with wide eyes as it drew closer and closer to his head. When it connected the pain was blinding and it took all he had not to jerk his head away. Connor screamed as the cutter sliced into his chassis right above his audio processor. The pain was burning and it felt like his entire being had been set on fire. It seemed to last forever, and even when the tool was brought away the pain remained. 

Then he could feel something being slotted into his head, and another tool being shimmied through the hole to connect wiring. His whole body jerked but he forced his head to stay still. If he moved there was a high chance that his central processing unit could get damaged. After a few moments, this too registered as a new communications component.  

“Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Max laughed, finally stepping back. Connor could feel thirium dripping from the new addition to his head. He could feel his eyes watering from the pain, from the fear, from knowing that he would likely die in the next few hours. But he refused to cry. He wasn’t going to give this bastard the satisfaction. And Connor wasn’t going to let Max use him against anyone else either. 

Chapter Text

Hank had been driving around the run-down neighborhood for the better part of the day. He had only taken a break long enough to grab a quick lunch before continuing to search. A few hours had passed since lunch and he couldn’t help the restless feeling building up in him. While this was far better in his mind than sitting at his desk waiting for something to happen, it still didn’t feel like enough. Nothing had come of it so far and no one in this part of town was willing to tell him anything. Even though he was in his Oldsmobile as opposed to a police cruiser, the second he started asking any questions they knew he was police, which wasn’t viewed well around here. So he’d given up asking people if they’d seen anything and had just continued to drive. He was completing his fourth lap around this neighborhood when he was forced to slam on his brakes as someone darted out in front of his car. 

“What the hell!?” he swore, watching as the person stumbled to the ground trying to avoid getting hit. His eyes widened when he realized that he recognized the person though. It was one of the missing androids. He threw open his door and jumped out of the car, not even bothering to take the keys out of the ignition. 

“Hey wait!” he called out to the android who had already started running again. The android stopped, looking back at him with wide eyes. “You’re… Anthony? Right?” Hank asked, hoping he wasn’t just confusing him with another android of the same model. 

“Y-yes, how did you know my name,” the android asked, taking a step back. He looked ready to bolt again. Hank held up his hands in a placating gesture. 

“I’m with the DPD, Lieutenant Anderson,” he introduced, slowly showing his badge, “you were reported missing last week.” 

“Lieutenant Anderson? That’s what you said right?” Anthony said, rushing up to Hank. 

“That’s right,” Hank said. 

“I can’t believe it, I… He told us- Connor told us to look for you. I was going to the police station but-”

“You were with Connor?” Hank cut him off, “Where is he?”

“Well,” Anthony looked down, shifting from foot to foot, “the plan was for all of us to escape together but- No, there’s no time, I can tell you on the way,” Anthony shook his head. 

“You know where he is?” Hank said, already pulling the android back towards his car. 

“I think so. Betsy - the other android with us - she realized he wasn’t behind us when we got out. She said she saw Max putting-”

“Max?” Hank asked, getting into the car. Anthony got into the passenger seat.

“The one who kidnapped us. She saw him taking Connor somewhere… She’s been following him, but I don’t know how long we have before he moves again. I can tell you where to go,” Anthony said.

“Alright, let’s go,” Hank said. He had a lot more questions, but they didn’t matter right now. He could figure all of that out later. Right now he just needed to get to Connor. Listening to Anthony’s instructions, he sped out of the neighborhood.

Whatever Connor had done to free the other two androids, it had thrown this ‘Max’ off his game Hank was sure. He only hoped it made him sloppy enough for Hank to get to his partner before it was too late. Leave it to Connor to not factor saving himself into the plan. Hank wanted to be angry, but he would have to save it for later when all of this was over.

They arrived at an old building on the outskirts of an industrial park. It looked more like a shed than anything, sitting on the edge of a dead construction site. It likely served as an office of sorts at some point but now was clearly abandoned. Hank parked a few blocks away to not draw attention. He got out of the car and Anthony followed, hovering nervously behind him. 

“That’s it?” Hank asked, pointing over at the shed.

“I think-”

‘Yeah,” a new voice joined them, and Hank turned around to see another android - Betsy - approaching them. “But you just missed them.”

“What?” Hank snapped. Betsy crossed her arms over her chest, looking off down the street.

“I saw them leave a couple of minutes ago. I couldn’t follow them without getting spotted… but they went somewhere that way,” she pointed off further into the industrial district. 

“Shit!” Hank cursed, clenching his fists. Panic rose in his chest like a swarm of angry hornets and he had to take several deep breaths to not take it out on the two androids standing near him. It wasn’t their fault. But a more bitter part of him thought that if Connor didn’t have to look out for them he probably would have been able to escape. He knew that they were running out of time fast. 

Taking one last calming breath, Hank marched over to the shed. There were fresh tire tracks in the snow next to it, but they were quickly becoming covered as snow fell. While they wouldn’t be much help in locating where Connor was taken, they did confirm the general direction they’d left in. Hank tried the doorknob and found it locked. Taking a step back, he slammed his foot into the door and it burst open with a bang as it collided with the wall. It was impossible to suppress the shiver that went through his body as he entered the structure. 

It was a small one-room building, no longer than ten feet in any direction. The scene was eerily similar to the case with Amy, the first android to go missing. In the center of the room was a metal table, and just like before there were splatters of thirium on the shiny surface. Some of it had gathered in a large enough puddle to drip to the floor below. Also like before, there was a rolling tray with tools at the head of the table, recently used by the thirium staining them. The only other thing in the room that caught Hank’s eye was another metal table pushed against the wall.

There were four devices on the table, neatly aligned in a row. Two he recognized as the communication thing Connor had mentioned. The more cylindrical devices with a complicated array of wires Hank guessed must have been the bombs. Hank tried to ignore the way his heart skipped a beat. It didn’t take his detective skills to know what happened here. The blood on the table, the row of components that had likely been a set of three only a few minutes earlier. He left the shack, practically jogging back to his car. The other two androids who’d been waiting outside trailed behind him.

“Where are you going?” Anthony asked.

“You two should head to the police station, tell them what you know. They’ll make sure to keep you safe,” Hank said, ignoring the question. He didn’t have time. Getting in his car, he started it up and took off deeper into the industrial park. If they’d only left a few minutes ago there had to be some chance of catching up to them. 

In his stress, he almost didn’t hear the ringing of his phone. Hank glanced down at the device, narrowing his eyes at the unknown number. He answered the phone, switching it to speaker mode so he could focus on driving.

“Hello?”

“Lieutenant Anderson,” it was a man’s voice on the other end.

“Who is this?” Hank asked.

“I have your partner.” Hank slammed his foot on the brakes and the car lurched to a stop. He snatched up his phone, the device creaking under the force of his grip.

“If you don’t let him go right now, I’ll fucking-”

“Take it easy, Lieutenant,” the man - Max, Hank now realized - said. “I’m setting him free. All you need to do is come and get him. But time is running out, you have thirty minutes. And you better come alone or… well you know.”

The call abruptly ended. Hank cursed and resisted the urge to throw his phone across the car. It dinged and an address came through. It was a nearby train yard, less than ten minutes away. Hank switched his car in park and forced himself to take a deep breath. If he just rushed in there right now it wouldn’t do any good. Going off the other bombings, this was clearly a trap, and rushing in would only get both him and Connor killed. No matter how much he wanted to go over there that instant, he had to be smart about it. He had thirty minutes to make sure that Connor didn’t end up like all the other victims. Hank dialed Fowler’s number, tapping his foot impatiently while he waited. The phone clicked as the line picked up.

“Hank?”

“Hey Jeff, we don’t have a lot of time. I need you to do something for me.”

“What’s going on Hank?”

“That perp we’ve been trying to find just called me, says he’s giving Connor back, but I have a feeling that’s not going to go well,” Hank said with a frown. 

“You think he'll end up like the other victims,” Fowler said. Hearing it out loud made his stomach turn. 

“Yeah…” Hank said, “But I think we can stop it. So far we believe all the bombs were activated remotely, so there has to be some way to stop it from activating right?” 

“How long do we have?” Fowler asked. Hank checked the time on his phone.

“A little under thirty minutes.”

“Shit.  Alright, I’ll contact the bomb squad and see what I can do. They should have jamming devices or something.”

“Thanks, Jeff. Hurry,” Hank said, though he knew it was unnecessary. Connor was one of them, and the captain would do everything he could to keep his team safe.

“But Hank, you can’t say anything about this when you see Connor.”

“What? Why not?” Hank asked. 

“From your reports, we know the perp can see and hear whatever his victims do. If he finds out how much we know about his methods he might change things up and ruin our chances of catching him. “

“Fine,” Hank sighed. He supposed telling Connor what was going on wasn’t strictly necessary for this to work. “I'm going to head over to the location, let me know when everything is ready,” and with that, he hung up. He just hoped he wouldn’t be too late this time. 

Hank got out of his car five minutes before his time limit was up. He was cutting it a lot closer than he would have preferred, but it was important to get everything ready first. It took a while for the bomb squad to discreetly surround the area, but they were able to set up jamming devices that were supposed to stop any remote activation. Hank didn’t trust it a hundred percent, especially since they hadn’t even confirmed the bombs really were remotely activated - they could have been timed - but it was their best bet for now. 

The train yard where Hank parked was rimmed by a river and a little ways off there was a bridge connecting the train yard to the rest of Detroit. On the bridge, Hank could faintly see a lone figure. He began to jog over, pulling out his gun as he went. It was likely Connor, but there was a small chance that Max was waiting nearby and Hank wanted to be ready. 

As he drew closer to the bridge, he looked around for any sign of another person. The train yard itself was empty, at least in this area. It was further away from the main loading area and mainly served as an exit to the trainyard. Thankfully right now, there were no trains waiting to use this exit, which meant stepping onto the bridge wouldn’t be too dangerous. 

Now almost there, Hank could tell the person waiting for him was Connor, but something was wrong. The bridge itself didn’t have anything in the way of a railing and Connor was standing dangerously close to the edge of the bridge. He looked over at the sound of footsteps and Hank sucked in a breath at the sight of him.

Connor’s eyes were wide and Hank could clearly see the flashing red LED even from this distance. A thick trail of thirium ran down his neck from just above his ear all the way down to the collar of his sweater, staining the material a bright blue. His arms were wrapped tightly around himself but Hank could see that the front of the sweater had been torn open and was also stained blue. 

“Shit…” he cursed, holstering his gun and walking closer.

“Hank?” Connor said.

“I’m coming son, just hold on,” Hank picked up his pace. 

“No, stay back!” Connor shouted, shuffling half a step back. Hank froze in place, holding up his hands in a calming gesture. 

“It’s alright Connor, you’re safe now,” Hank said, forcing his eyes back up to meet Connor’s and away from how close his feet were to the edge of the bridge. “Just step away from the edge.” 

“I can’t Hank,” Connor shook his head. If it weren’t for his LED flashing an angry red, Connor looked almost calm to anyone who didn’t know him. But Hank did know him, could tell that he was anything but calm. He could tell from the way his eyes were a bit wider than usual and shimmering. From the way his eyebrows were just slightly pinched and from how his fingers twitched at his sides. 

“Sure you can, just come over here,” Hank tried, but he didn’t dare take a step forward himself. The bridge was tall and the water below relatively shallow. Connor wouldn’t survive a fall from here. 

“There’s-” Connor faltered for a moment, “He put a bomb in me, Hank. If you come too close, you could die. He can see everything I can, he’ll know and then… Just please stay back,” Connor pleaded. And shit, this was the complicated part. If he told Connor right now about the jamming devices then it would be easy to calm him down. But with that damned communication thing, the bomber would know about it too. He had to find another way to convince Connor, a way that would make Max think it was just a glitch and not outside interference. 

“I will, but please kid, you have to get away from the edge,” Hank said, taking a step back himself to give Connor more room. Connor pursed his lips but didn’t move.

“You should go, Hank,” he said, eyes now downcast. 

“Fuck that,” Hank huffed, “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I don’t want to hurt you, Hank. You… shouldn’t have to watch. I only waited so I could tell you what I found out before…” Connor said quietly, his carefully neutral mask beginning to crack. Hank cursed internally, resisting the urge to run forward and grab Connor, yank him away from that edge. If he moved he didn’t doubt Connor would jump. He was never the best with words but he would need to talk Connor out of this. 

“Con, I promise you, you don’t have to do this,” Hank said the first thing that came to mind, trying to ignore the pounding of his heart ringing loud in his ears. His eyes kept darting down to just how close Connor’s feet were to the edge.

“If I don’t then you could die. He won’t stop,” Connor said, eyes still carefully trained on his feet. 

“You think I’d want to keep living if you do this?” It slipped out.

“What?” Connor finally looked up at him, any semblance of a calm mask gone. Hank could clearly see the panic in his eyes and, shit, he wasn’t supposed to be making him more stressed. Hank needed to calm him down.

“I don’t think it’s any secret I see you as a son, Connor. You really think I’d be okay with you dying here?” Hank said. He could see the shimmer of tears beginning to fall down the android’s cheeks. 

“I- I don’t want to die, but… it’s better if it’s just me. There’s no reason for anyone else to get hurt,” Connor tried to reason. And dammit, he wished he could just explain everything so Connor would just come over here. But he knew it would only make the kid more upset if that bastard got away because of this. He would just have to try something else. 

“Connor, you trust me, right?” Hank said, keeping his voice as even as he was able. 

“Of course, but-”

“Then come here,” Hank opened his arms wide. 

“I can’t!” Connor said, taking in a shuddering gasp and wincing. 

“I promise, nothing bad is going to happen. Just come here.”

“But the bomb-”

“Everything will be okay, no one will have to die. All you need to do is come here already,” Hank risked taking a step closer. It was a risky move, but Connor didn’t step back. 

“If I get too close to you he’ll detonate the bomb. He’ll kill you,” Connor argued. Hank stared intently at the android, trying to convey what he knew through his eyes. He would be pushing it with his next statement, and Fowler might be pissed, but at this point Hank really didn’t care about anything other than making sure Connor got out of this alive. 

“He can’t hurt you, Connor, I can’t tell you how I know it but I do. If you come here right now, nothing will happen, I mean it,” Hank said, taking another step closer.

“Hank, I’m scared….” Connor said in a small voice, sounding so uncertain.

“You’ll be okay. I won’t let anything happen to you,” Hank said. He could see the hesitation in Connor’s face and for a second considered risking just running to him. If he was fast enough he might be able to grab him in time. 

Then Hank felt numb with relief when Connor finally stepped away from the edge of the bridge and began to slowly walk towards Hank. His shoulders were still noticeably tense and he looked terrified the whole way over. When he was finally close enough, Hank reached out and pulled the android into a tight hug. 

After a few seconds of hesitation, Connor returned the hug, gripping the back of Hank’s jacket and burying his face against his shoulder. Hank brought a hand up to run through Connor’s hair. 

“Jesus, you’re gonna be the death of me…” he breathed, squeezing Connor harder against himself. After these past two weeks, it felt good to hold his kid and know that he was alive. However, he frowned when he noticed the heat radiating off of the android, as well as the fact that he wasn’t breathing. Hank pulled away from the hug for a moment to place a palm across Connor’s forehead. 

“You’re warm,” Hank said, looking the android over. “And you aren’t breathing either… are you hurt?” he asked, now feeling more worried about the blue stains on his shirt. Connor shook his head, but the motion seemed to make him dizzy as he swayed slightly on his feet. Hank took hold of his shoulders, steadying him. 

“The bomb is taking up too much room for my artificial lungs to function properly, so I am overheating a little,” Connor admitted. And now it seemed exhaustion had taken the place of fear on Connor’s face. His eyes were slightly glassy and his artificial skin almost translucent making him look much paler than normal. 

“Shit,” Hank muttered, “Don’t worry, we’ll get you taken care of.” He kept an arm around the android’s shoulders as he led him back to where he’d parked. He’d already spoken with Fowler and they had a specialist waiting at a nearby android repair facility to remove the bomb and the communications thing from Connor. They arrived at Hank’s car and the lieutenant opened the passenger door, helping Connor inside. Getting into the driver’s seat, he took a moment to look over the android again before starting the car. 

“Is there anything else wrong?” he asked. Connor took a while to respond.

“My thirium levels are a little low,” his words were mumbled. 

Hank nodded, pulling out of the train yard and onto the road. While he wasn’t exactly okay, Hank was relieved that Connor didn’t mention anything life-threatening. Having Connor back with him for the first time in weeks eased the tension that had built up inside him. Another car pulled behind Hank and began following them down the road. He recognized it as one of the DPD’s covert cars, likely someone on the bomb squad who helped with the jammers. 

“How did you know nothing would happen?” Connor suddenly asked. Hank glanced away from the road just long enough to catch the still worried look on the android’s face.

“We can talk about it later, after I know you’re going to be okay,” Hank said. 

“Okay,” Connor said, and then after a few moments, “you saw Anthony and Betsy?”

“Yeah, they’re alright. I sent them to the station,” Hank said. 

“That’s good,” Connor said, his words slurring slightly.

“You still good?” Hank asked, sparing a glance over at his partner. He looked ready to pass out any second. 

“Just tired…” Connor answered. 

“Just hang on a bit longer for me, we’re almost there,” Hank said, reaching out a hand to briefly squeeze the android’s shoulder. True to his word they arrived at the android repair center a few minutes later. Hank got out of the car first and moved around to the other side to help Connor out. He was more unsteady on his feet now and it was likely only some android equivalent to adrenaline that was keeping him up before. The car from the bomb squad parked a careful distance away but no one got out. Once in the lobby, there were already technicians and a bomb specialist waiting for them as Fowler promised.

“You can wait out here, sir,” the technician - her name tag read ‘Gabby’ - said, grabbing Connor’s arm to take his weight from Hank. 

“No, I stay with him,” Hank shook his head, pulling the android closer. Connor in turn gripped at Hank’s shirt where his arm was slung around the lieutenant’s shoulders. He had spent enough time apart from his kid, there was no way in hell he was going to leave him alone now. 

“Very well then… right this way,” she sighed, leading the two back further into the facility. They went down a long hallway then turned into a repair room. Like all others in the facility, it had a metal table in the center with a tool tray next to it. Hank always thought they looked uncomfortable but Connor had assured him before that androids didn’t necessarily need cushion in the same way humans did. Cabinets lined the walls, containing various other tools and supplies. Hank helped to settle Connor on the table and the android laid back. 

Gabby and the specialist who’d followed after set to work hooking up the machines that would tell them about Connor’s status. She also rolled over an IV stand with a bag of thirium hanging from it and hooked up the end of the tube to a line in the crook of Connor’s arm. Hank was relieved to see the low levels displayed on the monitor begin to rise. Hank stayed close, holding onto Connor’s hand while he watched the technicians work. 

Connor’s sweater was mostly ruined, so Gabby just cut it off to have better access to his chest. Connor kept his eyes on Hank while she opened up his chest panel and Hank held his gaze. It probably wasn’t the best feeling to watch someone dig around in your open chest. Gabby and the bomb specialist set to work, detaching wires and trying to remove the bomb. Even without much technical knowledge, Hank could see the way that it was crowding the other components in Connor’s chest and he suppressed a wince. He felt Connor’s fingers tighten around his hand and he returned the gesture with a small squeeze. 

“You’re doing great, son,” Hank comforted. After most of the wires had been disconnected, Gabby paused in her work to grab a few extra bags of thirium, setting them on the tray next to the table. She took one and replaced the empty bag on the IV stand.

“This next part might be a little uncomfortable, but I’ll be quick,” she warned. Then she was disconnecting a tube from the bomb and blue blood gushed out of it into Connor’s chest cavity.

“What the fuck!” Hank cursed, resisting the urge to jump back. It was fast though and a few seconds later Gabby had replugged the tube into another component in Connor’s chest.

“Sorry,” Gabby said quietly as she used another tool to suction out the spilled thirium, “that was the worst part. We’re almost done getting it out.”

“Okay,” Connor said while Hank was still in shock. 

“What the hell was that?” he asked. 

“The bomb was powered off by Connor’s own thirium flow. Whoever installed it disconnected one of his main thirial lines from his pump regulator - his heart - and hooked it up to the bomb,” she explained. Hank grimaced and looked away from his partner’s open chest. Having blood disconnected from your heart was decidedly not a good thing. No wonder the kid looked so woozy earlier. Thankfully though, the rest of the removal was much less gruesome and the bomb was out a few minutes later. The specialist placed it in a locked container and left the room. Gabby closed Connor’s chest panel and his artificial skin reformed, hiding any indication of what had happened. 

“Alright,” Gabby let out a breath, “now for that communication thing… Can you tilt your head to the side for me,” she asked. Connor turned his head to face Hank, exposing the area where the addition had been crudely installed.

“This might hurt a little, but I’ll try to make it quick,” she said. Hank could see the nervous energy swimming in Connor’s eyes coupled with the flashing yellow of his LED. Hank brought his other hand to gently grasp Connor’s shoulder in a steadying gesture. Once again, he could feel Connor’s grip around his hand tightening as Gabby brought her tools to the side of his head. 

This part of the procedure was admittedly quick, but Hank’s hand still throbbed from how tightly Connor was clutching it. He could clearly see the pain in the kid’s face though he didn’t make a sound, jaw clenched tightly. When it was over he relaxed back into the table and looked ready to fall asleep at any moment. Gabby began to apply a square plaster around the empty hole now in the side of Connor’s head. It fit flat against his skull and when she was done his artificial skin receded over it, once again hiding any indication of damage. At Hank’s curious look, she explained.

“It’s a patch made of roughly the same materials as an android’s chassis. As his self-healing program works, it will be absorbed to replace what’s missing.”

“Must be nice not to have any scars,” Hank mused while he helped Connor sit up on the table. Once he was sure the kid wasn’t going to fall over, he removed his supporting hand long enough to take off his coat and drape it over Connor’s shoulders. It was still freezing outside and he didn’t even have a shirt to protect him at the moment.

“We’re good to go?” he asked.

“Yes. But he should take a few days to rest, give his self-healing time to work,” Gabby responded. Hank nodded and helped Connor off of the table. The android leaned heavily into Hank and he wrapped his arm back around his shoulders to keep him steady. 

“Alright kid, let’s head home,” he said, leading Connor out of the room. It wasn’t until they were back in the car and on their way home that Connor spoke again. Hank was honestly surprised he was still awake at this point.

“How did you know nothing would happen,” Connor repeated his question from earlier.

“We set up jamming devices to stop the bomb from being activated. Fowler said I shouldn’t say anything, said it would give it away to that bastard who did this and make it harder to catch him later,” Hank explained. 

“Oh… he’s probably right,” Connor said. “Hank, I don’t know how much longer I can stay awake so-”

“Then go to sleep, kid,” Hank interrupted. 

“No, I need to tell you something first. I don’t know how much Anthony and Betsy told you. Max, the one who’s been doing this, he’s a military android. I don’t know his motive, but he’s been using androids to set up dirty bombs around the city.” Hank felt his whole body tense.

“Shit! You serious?” he gaped.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know where… but he captured androids and used them to set the bombs up. He said he would set them free if they listened. But that just meant…”

“Death,” Hank finished for him. “Shit, alright. I’ll report this in,” Hank said, already grabbing his phone to call Fowler. 

“Hank, maybe we should go back to the station. I can-”

“No. The others can handle this for now. You’ve been through enough son, you need to rest,” Hank said firmly. 

“I can’t just do nothing. This is serious,” Connor tried to protest. Hank glanced over at him and was barely able to stifle an eye roll. The idiot could barely keep his eyes open and was still trying to argue that he should be working.

“You did plenty already. Now go to sleep,” Hank said. The silence that followed told him that exhaustion had finally won out. Dialing Fowler’s number he quietly relayed all the information Connor had shared, careful not to wake the android up. Connor may be the best of them, but that didn’t mean the rest of the DPD were useless, they were detectives for a reason after all. They could take it from here while Hank made sure Connor actually rested for once. God knew he needed it; he’d been through enough at this point. Still, Hank wasn’t looking forward to the back pain that he knew would come from carrying the kid inside. 

Chapter Text

Connor’s eyes slowly fluttered open to see that he was in his room. It was mostly dark, but through the drawn curtains of the window, a line of light peaked through from outside. His internal clock read that it was currently twenty minutes past noon. He’d been in stasis for almost nineteen hours, longer than was necessary for his repairs to finish. He ran a quick diagnostic scan to check the status of his systems. His thirium levels had depleted slightly - now at 90% - due to his self-repair program, but otherwise everything came back as optimal. 

He sat up in bed, grateful to feel no residual pain in his head or chest as he took in a deep breath. He also noted that at some point Hank had put his favorite hoodie on him. He was grateful for the comforting softness and far preferred it to the tattered mess that his sweater had become. Not to mention the hoodie wasn’t coated in his own blood. 

A cold feeling settled in his chest like the ghost of a hand brushing across his biocomponents. A shudder worked its way down his spine as he tried to shake the feeling off. He was home - safe, he reminded himself. He forced himself to focus outwards.

He took in the soft texture of the hoodie pressed against his chest, and the plush duvet underneath his fingers. There was a lingering warmth from the blankets - Sumo must have been in there recently - that further relaxed him. From the rest of the house, Connor could hear the faint drone of the TV and smell reheated pizza. He stood up and left his room, entering the rest of the house. As he appeared in the entrance to the living room, Sumo looked up and gave a quick bark before trodding over to him. Hank, who’d been sitting at the table with his leftover pizza also looked up.

“Glad to see you awake, son. How’re you feeling?” he asked as he took a bite of the greasy meal. Connor would have to scold him about that later. Instead, he crouched down to scratch Sumo behind the ears.

“I’m…” physically everything was repaired, at least mostly. The patch on the side of his head had almost completely absorbed and would finish by the end of the day. By all accounts, he was fine but- a small tremor ran through him. He didn’t feel right. “I’m better,” he settled on, though from Hank’s expression it was clear he’d taken too long to respond. Connor stood up and Sumo let out a huff in protest. Connor entered the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of thirium from the fridge before taking a seat across from Hank. 

“Everything fixed?” Hank asked. 

“Yes,” Connor responded, easier now. It was less abstract and had a clear, concrete answer. He unscrewed the cap off of the thirium and took a long sip. Though his systems had long since stopped overheating, the cooling sensation was pleasant. A few moments of silence passed while Connor finished his thirium and Hank finished his pizza.

“Any updates on the case?” Connor asked. He had already been determined to bring the person doing these horrible things to justice, but now that he had become personally affected, that need to put an end to this increased. 

“Nothing yet, but they’re working on it. Fowler passed it over to Ben until we get back,” Hank responded. He was perfectly capable, but this was Connor’s case. It felt wrong to be away from it. 

“We could always-”

“We’re not going to the station today,” Hank interrupted him. Connor frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“How did you know what I was going to ask”

“You’re a workaholic,” Hank rolled his eyes. 

“I just feel that…” Connor pondered what would have the best chance of convincing Hank, “I’ve taken a long enough break and there would be more progress if we returned.”

“Sleeping in late doesn’t count as a long break. And besides, it’s already one, might as well enjoy the rest of the day,” Hank said. 

“We don’t know how much more time we have before… things get bad,” Connor said, pursing his lips. Hank sighed, meeting Connor’s gaze with an unreadable expression. 

“I know that, but it’s not like nothing is getting done. And Ben isn’t the only person working on this, he’s just leading the team. Fowler knows this is serious, he’s got enough people on it. They’re not slacking off or anything.”

“I didn’t say they would slack, just that we could speed up the process,” Connor tried again. 

“We can go back to work tomorrow, okay? But let’s just take the rest of today to take a real break,” Hank said, getting up from the table. It wasn’t exactly what Connor wanted, but it was better than Hank insisting he just completely give the case up for someone else to handle. Hank had paused on the way to the sofa and now looked back to Connor. “I only just got you back, let me enjoy that for a bit. Now come on, let’s watch some shitty TV.”

Connor smiled lightly at the warm feeling in his chest and got up to join Hank on the sofa. As they sat down Sumo also hopped up, settling himself across their laps. Connor reached down and began to strike his hand through the large dog’s fur while Hank searched for something to watch. Eventually, they settled on a classic film from the late 90s that Hank said he enjoyed as a kid. It featured a dog, a St. Bernard just like Sumo which drew in Connor’s attention. 

Overall it was a rather silly movie, but the lighthearted nature of it combined with the weight of Sumo’s head on his lap helped him to relax. As much as he wanted to jump right back on the case, it felt good to have this time. Sitting at home with Hank and Sumo - his family - eased the tension that had knotted his systems since being captured. 

Home was everything that place was not. Home was warm and comforting and most of all, safe. It didn’t have crazed criminals digging around through his body or his mind. And even though it was over, those sensations still crept back in every so often as he tried to relax. The sensation of fingers brushing over his thirium pump regulator, tickling the delicate wiring that surrounded it. The loss of control as a foreign presence reached into his processors and flicked through his thoughts and memories with searching eyes. He was jolted from his thoughts by a hand nudging his shoulder. The movie on the screen was paused, and Connor turned his eyes to Hank who was watching him with a concerned gaze.

“I’m not going to push, but if you need to talk… I’m here,” was all he said. Connor opened his mouth to automatically respond that he was fine but stopped. Insisting that everything was okay when it clearly wasn’t hadn’t done him any favors before, and the chance of Hank believing him was abysmally low. Maybe it would work out better to take Hank up on that offer. It had helped before. Connor frowned, eyebrows furrowing as he tried to think of the best way to explain what he was feeling. 

“It’s like I can still feel him,” Connor said, watching his hand stroke through Sumo’s fur while he talked. “He wanted to find the best way to hurt me, so he did a memory probe. I didn’t expect it to feel so… intrusive. I didn’t have any control while he looked through my processors, my memories,” Connor said quietly. Tension radiated off of Hank next to him. 

“And when he put the bomb in,” Connor continued, still keeping his eyes downcast, “I was awake the whole time. I could feel his fingers brushing against my biocomponents, and” he cut himself off as he felt his stress level rising, “it doesn’t make any sense, it’s over and I’m here… but it’s like I can still feel it happening,” his hand which had been stroking Sumo’s head stilled and he could see the barely perceptible tremor going through it. Hank let out a long breath and then pulled Connor into a snug side hug. Connor leaned into the comforting warmth of it. 

“That sounds really fucked up,” Hank muttered. Connor almost laughed at the simplification but had to agree. It was fucked up. Not really knowing what else to say, Hank pressed play and the movie resumed. He didn’t release his hold around Connor and the android relaxed against him. The warmth from both Hank and Sumo, and the pressure of Hank’s arm around his shoulders gave his sensors something else to focus on. Something real and tangible that overrode any phantom sensations. It was grounding. 

The rest of the afternoon managed to pass by in relative peace. The movies Hank picked were oddly comforting, maybe because they were so simple. As night came upon them though, Connor decided it would be best to head to bed. They both needed rest so they could be ready to return to work the next day. Hank tried to insist they could take an extra day off if Connor needed, but Connor declined. All he wanted was to catch Max once and for all and put an end to the suffering he’d caused before he could hurt anyone else. With determination slowly covering up his lingering nerves, Connor went to sleep. 

Hank was awoken bright and early the next morning, courtesy of Connor who burst into his room at exactly six. Hank groaned, throwing a hand over his eyes. 

“Hank, we should start getting ready for work, we have a lot to do,” Connor said, hovering near the bed. Hank peeked out from under his arm to note that ‘we’ really just meant Hank as Connor was already dressed and ready to go. He also noted the way the android’s fingers twitched for something to fidget with while he awaited Hank’s response. Hank groaned and pushed himself into a sitting position.

“Alright, alright. Just go take care of Sumo, I’m getting up.”

“Right,” Connor nodded, calling for Sumo to follow after him. Sumo stretched and jumped off of the bed to follow Connor out of the room. Pushing himself out of the bed, Hank went to his closet to get dressed for the morning. He didn’t think much about it as he grabbed a brightly patterned shirt and some pants. It was an hour before he normally bothered to get up, but he could tell that Connor was anxious to get back to this case and for once didn’t want to make him wait. The kid had enough stress already. Once dressed, Hank left the bedroom.

The smell of coffee filled the kitchen when Hank entered and Connor was already pouring him a cup. Handing the cup over to Hank, he pulled his coin out of his pocket and began spinning it across his fingers. At the other side of the room Sumo crunched away at his food bowl. Hank took a sip of the hot coffee, allowing it to slowly wake him up. 

“Do you want me to make you anything?” Connor asked. He was leaning against the counter and trying to look nonchalant, but his continued fidgeting betrayed his nervous energy. Shaking his head, Hank set down the coffee for a moment to grab a banana from the bowl on the table. 

“Nah, this’ll be enough,” Unpeeling the banana, he took a large bite before picking up his coffee again. For a few moments, the only sound that filled the air was Sumo’s crunching and the metal tink of Connor’s coin bouncing off his fingers. 

“You sure you’re good to go in today?” Hank asked. Connor glanced over at him, then returned to watching the coin as he flicked it between his hands.

“Yes,” he responded. Hank took another bite of his banana but kept his gaze held on Connor. Connor caught the coin, stuffing it into his pocket. “Really, I promise,” Connor added. Hank let it go, choosing instead to finish his quick breakfast. Whether Connor was lying or not was yet to be seen. Hank would just have to keep an eye on him. 

“Let’s head out then,” Hank set his empty mug in the sink. They left the house and once in the car, Hank cranked up the radio to its preferred booming volume. Connor seemed to also appreciate the distraction of the music and they enjoyed an uneventful drive to the station. 

Upon arriving though, everything was chaos.  Those who worked the graveyard shift had yet to leave and officers with dark bags under their eyes rushed around with various files clutched in their arms. Fowler, noticing their arrival, opened his door and shouted for them to come to his office.

“Jesus, we just got here and already he’s on our asses,” Hank muttered but trudged over to the office. Connor trailed close behind him. 

“It must be important,” he said. Hank glanced over his shoulder before entering the office.

“It better be.”

They stepped inside and Fowler gestured for them to take a seat. Hank sunk down in one of the chairs in front of the desk. Connor took the other seat but sat much straighter than Hank, though whether it was from tension or formality Hank wasn’t sure. Fowler didn’t sit, choosing instead to stand behind his desk. For a few moments, he just looked out over the bustling bullpen and said nothing. With growing annoyance, Hank was about to make a snarky comment, but Fowler turned back to them. 

“This morning we located your perp, Max,” he said. Hank gaped and he noticed Connor’s LED flash yellow from the corner of his eye. 

“Shit, really?” Hank asked, leaning forward in his seat. Fowler nodded, letting his gaze shift between them.

“We haven’t made a move yet. This has been your case from the beginning, making you two the best to finish this out,” Fowler said. 

“Where is he?” Connor asked. 

“Things are a bit more complicated than just going to his house and doing the arrest,” Fowler frowned, “Right now he’s holed up in an office building downtown. He has hostages and is threatening to blow up the whole building.”

“Ah, fucking hell,” Hank breathed. Of course, it couldn’t be a simple arrest. This bastard just had to make things difficult. 

“I assume someone else is at the scene now?” Connor asked. Fowler rolled his eyes.

“Obviously. Ben is doing what he can right now, but you two need to get over there. Connor, you were built to be a negotiator, so deal with this before he can kill anyone else. Get moving,” Fowler said, waving them off. 

“Got it,” Connor stood up and abruptly left the room. Hank scrambled to follow behind.

“The address?” Hank turned his head over his shoulder as he reached the door. Connor was already halfway to reception.

“Already sent it to him. Go,” Fowler said. Hank pushed open the door and jogged to try and catch up with his partner. He made it to Connor just as the android exited the building. He had to speed walk to keep up with Connor’s brisk pace.

“Jesus, wait up, I can only go so fast,” Hank said. It was like Connor didn’t even hear him as he continued on his path. Arriving at the car, Connor slid into the passenger seat and was already starting it up by the time Hank was pulling open the other door. Hank typically preferred to drive, but it would be pointless to argue that to Connor and the android had the address anyways. The tires on the car squeaked as he backed up and took off down the road. 

“You better not get us in a wreck,” Hank muttered, gripping the handle above the door like his life depended on it. Connor’s eyes flicked over to him for a second before returning focus to the road. The car continued along at a marginally less breakneck pace. 

Even so, they pulled into the office parking lot in record time. There were several patrol cars scattered around the lot, lights flashing. It was oddly reminiscent of the first scene in this god-awful case. The building was roped off with holographic police tape and the DPD had set up an additional perimeter a mile out from the building to keep pedestrians safe. The surrounding buildings were already evacuated along with every floor of this building that weren’t in direct contact with Max. 

Despite having arrived, Connor remained seated, hands still gripped tightly around the steering wheel. Since leaving the office Connor’s LED hadn’t stopped flashing a tense yellow. 

“Hey,” Hank said, waiting for Connor to look at him. Though he was trying to keep a calm face, Hank could see the fear swimming in his eyes. “We’ve got this. You’ve got this,” he said, keeping his own trepidation out of his voice. Connor nodded, and Hank was grateful to see his LED circle blue once before returning to yellow. They got out of the car and approached the building. The officers hovering around the entrance directed them to the sixth floor where Ben was waiting for them. Much to Hank’s chagrin, they had to take the stairs. 

“Fucking stairs,” Hank panted, as they rounded the fourth flight of stairs. 

“At least it’s not the top floor,” Connor said from next to him. “Besides, you could use the exercise,” he smirked. It was a little forced and his LED was still spinning yellow but Hank huffed out a laugh. 

“Ah, fuck off. I don’t need exercise, I’m in peak physical condition,” Hank retorted. 

“Your elevated heart rate would suggest otherwise.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that, it’s six fucking floors.”

“Whatever you say, Lieutenant.”

Their banter came to a halt as they finally reached the sixth floor. Ben was waiting for them when they exited the stairwell. The whole floor had been cleared barring the room where Max was holed up with the hostages and officers from the bomb squad were set up in positions around the floor. 

“How long’s he been holed up in there?” Hank asked. 

“About two hours now,” Ben answered.

“How are the hostages?” Connor asked.

“Okay as far as we know. But we haven’t been able to get anyone in there. We’ve been talking to him over the phone but… well we’re not making much progress there,” Ben sighed. While he was a good detective, Ben wasn’t a negotiator. Hank only considered himself a little better, hence why Fowler insisted Connor take care of this. He was designed to handle situations like this. Yet, Hank couldn’t help but feel worried. Not because he doubted Connor’s skill but because he didn’t want this psycho to hurt Connor again. But that was Hank’s self-appointed role in all this: to make sure Connor didn’t do anything rash and put himself in unnecessary danger as was his tendency. 

“When was your last conversation with him?” Connor asked.

“About ten minutes before you two arrived.”

“And his demands?” 

At this question Ben frowned, glancing over to the room where Max was. He looked back to Hank and Connor, “He wants to be pardoned for all his crimes so far. He also wants us to let him leave here without anyone following. But obviously we can’t do any of that.” The second Max was free, he would set off those dirty bombs. But if he blew himself up here, there was no assurance that the bombs weren’t set to go off on their own anyways. 

“What do you think, Connor?” Hank asked, turning to his partner. 

“Well… If I can get in there with him, I might be able to get close enough to interface, do a memory probe. It would give me a chance to find the location of the other bombs,” Connor said. 

“Hell no!” Hank snapped, “You go in there and try to get close and the first thing he’s gonna do is blow this building to bits!”

“If it’s similar to the other bombs then it would only destroy that room, mostly. If we can get the hostages out somehow then-”

“No, no way,” Hank said, shaking his head, “that crazy plan of yours doesn’t account for one very important thing.”

“Well it isn’t perfect, but-”

“You,” Hank jabbed a finger into Connor’s chest, “Think about your own safety in this, I know you don’t want to die.”

“Of course not,” Connor’s eyebrows furrowed, “If I can interface there’s also a chance I will be able to stall his processors long enough to remove the explosives. While I admit he has me beat in physical capabilities, I have a stronger processing power,” Connor explained. Hank didn’t really understand much about interfacing or anything else Connor said, but he knew this was a terrible plan. Not to mention the way Connor described it feeling when Max did it to him; it wasn’t something he should have to go through again. 

“You don’t sound very confident in that,” he said.

“Well the chances aren’t great ,” Connor admitted quietly.

“Then we’ll come up with something else, something that doesn’t involve you charging at a guy wearing an explosive vest,” Hank said. 

“Fine, I can try talking with him first,” Connor relented. 

“Over the phone,” Hank said.

“Yes over the phone,” Connor rolled his eyes.  

“Worth a shot,” Ben agreed, “and we’ve also got some snipers getting set up, but they need more time. We don’t have a clear shot at the moment.”

“They need to be careful,” Connor said, “if his processor gets destroyed we won’t be able to find out where he planted the other bombs.”

“I’ll tell them,” Ben nodded, pulling out his radio to relay the information. They needed to incapacitate but not kill.

With at least a rough plan in mind, Ben then handed Connor the phone they’d been using to communicate with Max. A few of the other officers gathered in the hallway looked over, watching, waiting for him to make the call. Hank hovered next to him, ready to take over himself if need be. Then Connor tapped the screen to call the most recent number and the phone rang. It didn’t take long for Max to pick up. 

“Well, am I getting out of here?” he snapped the second the call connected. 

“Max, you know that we can’t do that until you release the hostages and tell us what we need to know,” Connor answered in an even voice. The android on the other line cursed. 

“It’s you. Of course, you’re still fucking alive, great ,” Hank could hear the annoyance in the other’s voice. Again Hank couldn’t help but think that it probably wasn’t ideal that Connor was the one who had to negotiate with this guy, but he was still their best option. 

“Isn’t it?” Hank said, and Connor gave him a sideways glance.

“If you cooperate this will go a lot smoother,” Connor said, ignoring both comments. 

“I could say the same to you,” Max growled. 

“I know you don’t want to die here. That’s all that will happen if you don’t listen,” Connor warned. 

“I’m prepared to do what I need to do.”

“Why are you doing this Max? Those people in there with you are innocent, as is everyone else you’ll hurt if you go through with your plan,” Connor said. Max barked out a short laugh.

“Why am I doing this? I should be asking why you’re standing against me.”

“What?” Hank muttered. What did he even mean by that? Of course, they were trying to stop him, he was a criminal trying to hurt innocents, they were the police. It seemed pretty obvious. Connor apparently had a similar train of thought.

“What makes you say that?” Connor asked. 

“Those bombs I planted, they won’t hurt androids,” he trailed off for a  moment, “You should know what it’s like, Connor. Humans used us like tools against our own kind, why shouldn’t they pay?”

The briefest line of red broke through Connor’s LED and he cast another nervous glance Hank’s way. This wasn’t just an act of terrorism at this point, but now a hate crime. It wasn’t the first they’d faced - androids angry with how humans treated them lashing out. It was the first of this caliber. Criminals like this were unstable, and their hate fueled them to go to lengths further than most. But something about how this sack of shit tried to lump Connor in with himself rubbed Hank the wrong way. 

“Connor isn’t-”

“Then why did you kill those androids?” Connor cut him off, giving the slightest hint of a glare. Right, arguing would do them no good. They just needed to keep him talking and buy time.

“It was unfortunate that they had to die, but they were human sympathizers anyways, so I can’t feel too bad,” Max responded. 

“How about a trade then?” Connor asked, and Hank got a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. Whether it was Connor giving Hank another quick glance or the way his LED flashed red for the briefest second, something was up. “Me for your hostages. Since you don’t mind killing human sympathizers,” Connor said.

Hank made a grab for the phone to end the call before any deal could be made or Connor could somehow say anything even worse than that. Connor moved his hand away, holding out his other arm to push Hank back. 

“Not good enough,” Max said simply, and the call dropped dead. Connor was left standing there with his mouth slightly agape, staring blankly ahead. Hank snatched the phone out of his hand. 

“What the hell was that?” he asked, struggling to keep his voice low. 

“Lieutenant, I-” Actually never mind, there was no way Hank wasn’t going to shout. They needed to have this talk somewhere the bastard they were trying to negotiate with wouldn’t hear him. He grabbed Connor by the arm, cutting off whatever he was about to say as he dragged him towards the stairwell. He tossed the phone to Ben on his way out and continued until they were another floor down where he knew they wouldn’t be disturbed before releasing his hold on Connor’s arm. 

“What the hell were you thinking, offering yourself up like that!” Hank snapped. 

“I was merely trying to ensure the safety of the hostages,” Connor said. 

“There are other ways to do that! Protecting others doesn’t always mean sacrificing yourself!” Hank threw his hands up in exasperation. Connor shrank back, his back pressed against the wall of the stairwell. His gaze fell to stare at his feet and more flashes of red broke through the yellow of his LED.  

“It’s not that I wanted to be a hostage, Hank,” Connor said in a subdued voice, “I… was scared, but so are they, and… I didn’t know what else to do.” From the hunch of his shoulders to the way he was pressed against the wall it was like he was trying to make himself as small as possible. Hank felt the anger leave him.

“That’s when you need to step back and take a moment to think, son. If he was going to blow himself up without talking he would’ve already done it. We have time,” Hank said. 

“You’re right,” Connor admitted in that same quiet voice. Hank hated it, hated how close it felt to his breakdown before. 

“Look, I promise, I’m not mad, just worried, okay?” this got Connor to look up at him. His eyes flicked across Hank’s face, as if trying to search for any hint that Hank was lying. 

“You should know this by now, I get loud when I’m worried… Just, remember you don’t have to do this alone,” he sighed. Connor looked back up at him, and now it was flickers of blue making their way into the cycle of his LED. 

“You’re right,” Connor said again, but this time his voice was closer to its normal strength, “I should rely on you more,” he gave Hank a half smile.

“Damn right, you should,” Hank huffed, and for good measure reached out and ruffled Connor’s hair. Connor batted his hand away before smoothing his hair back down.

“What should we do then?” Connor asked. Hank hummed in thought. 

“I don’t think your plan was all bad… just the part where you go in alone,” Hank responded. 

“Hank, that's dangerous.”

“And now you see why I didn’t want you doing it. But if it’s humans and androids who are friendly to them that he wants to hurt, then maybe he’ll trade for both of us. I also get the feeling he doesn’t like us very much.”

“He’s angry that his plan to kill us didn’t work before,” Connor agreed. 

“That would at least take care of the hostages if this works, but then… well I’m not as sure from there,” Hank admitted. 

“Ben said there were snipers getting set up,” Connor pointed out, “if we can get him in position they should be able to incapacitate him long enough for us to remove the bomb and for me to find out where he hid the others.”

“I’m still not sure how I feel about that last part,” Hank said.

“Why not?” 

“Well, you told me how terrible it felt last time you did that interfacing thing with this asshole. Isn’t there another way that isn’t as… intrusive for you?” Hank asked.

“It won’t be as bad this time since I’m the one initiating,” Connor said, though he didn’t look fully convinced. “It’s the quickest way, and time isn’t exactly on our side,” he added with a shrug. No, it really wasn’t. They still didn’t know how the dirty bombs around the city were set to activate. 

“Fine, alright. Let’s get back up there then and update Ben on the new plan.”

“Okay.” They began to climb the stairs back to the correct floor. 

“And promise me you won’t do anything too stupid once we’re in there,” Hank said. Connor looked over, meeting his eyes.

“I’ll do my best.” 

They returned to the sixth floor where Ben was waiting for them, still looking a little baffled by everything that happened only minutes before. The nervous energy in the hall had increased in the short time they’d been gone. 

“You figure something out?” Ben asked.

“Yeah, but it’s only a little better than what this idiot was trying to do,” Hank tipped his head to Connor. 

“Well, let’s hear it.”

“I think we can make a case for him trading the hostages for both of us. Obviously, we’ll have to leave our guns out here but,” Hank lowered his voice, “it’ll give us the opportunity to get him somewhere in the room the snipers can see him.”

“It’s dangerous,” Ben frowned, “but I guess we don’t really have a lot of options right now.”

“Are the snipers in position?” Hank asked. 

“Yes, they just need him to move in front of the window. He’s being cautious right now,” Ben said.

“He must be suspicious, even if he doesn’t know for sure,” Connor said. 

“We’ll figure something out, but let’s worry about the hostages first. Call him back,” Hank said. Ben dialed the number and like the last time, the phone rang for a few seconds before Max picked up. 

“I’m running out of patience here,” he said. Hank took the phone from Ben. 

“We have a better offer for you,” Hank said. Getting no immediate response, he continued, “We’ll trade you both me and Connor for your current hostages. You’ll have your chance to get revenge on us for screwing up your plan, and you might have better luck getting the rest of our team to cooperate.”

“And why should I trust you won’t just come in and shoot me?” Max asked. 

“We’ll leave any weapons out here, you can search us even,” Hank said. 

For a moment Hank worried this conversation would end the same as last time, but he was surprised when Max said, “Fine, you have three minutes. Knock on the door and I’ll send one of the hostages to open it,” before ending the call. 

“Shit… that actually worked,” Hank muttered, passing the phone back to Ben. 

“I’ll tell the snipers you’re in. Remember, all you have to do is get him in front of a window long enough for them to take a shot,” Ben said. The rest of the officers in the hall gathered, ready to meet the hostages. 

“Ready?” he asked, turning to face Connor.

“Ready,” Connor nodded. With that, the two made their way down the hallway to the meeting room where Max was waiting. Hank gestured for Connor to stay behind him, and then knocked. There was the sound of shuffling on the other end before a middle-aged woman with mascara smeared down her cheeks opened the door. 

“Come in. Let her pat you down,” Max said. The woman stepped back to allow them into the room. While she patted them down for weapons with shaking hands, Hank took a moment to observe the room and was sure Connor was doing the same. 

There were ten hostages in total, counting the woman checking them for weapons. The group was entirely human as far as Hank could tell, but that wasn’t saying much. Many androids had removed their LEDs and changed their appearances following the revolution, so he had no way of knowing for sure. They weren’t restrained in any way, but were still all huddled in a back corner of the room behind the long table in the center. 

Max sat on the edge of the table, carefully watching them. He had a rectangular device in his hand with a lever on the side - the detonator for his vest most likely. The vest itself looked like something straight out of a movie, covered in wires and dimly flashing lights. 

There was only one window in the room directly opposite of the door. It was large enough, taking up about a third of the wall, but blocked halfway by blinds. He hoped that wouldn’t become a problem, but since Ben didn’t mention it he decided he wouldn’t worry about it either. Besides, the snipers weren’t going for a headshot anyway. 

“Th-they’re clear,” the woman stammered, stepping back from them. Max gave her a cold stare before jerking his head to the corner of the room with the window.

“You two, over there. The rest of you get out before I change my mind.”

Hank and Connor crossed the room to stand near the window. The hostages stood hesitantly and then all at once scrambled for the door. Max made no move to stop them except to tell the last one out to close the door. They did, leaving Hank and Connor alone in the room with Max. 

The military android sneered at them, a look of utter contempt on his face. Hank returned the look, glaring right back at him. Connor was standing next to Hank, and the lieutenant resisted the urge to step in front of his partner. 

“I’m really tempted to just fucking blow us all to pieces after the trouble you two caused me,” Max said. 

“So why don’t you?” Hank retorted. Maybe taunting this guy wasn’t the best option, but Hank was pissed and never really one for holding his tongue in the first place. Max let out a harsh sigh - a deliberate show of frustration given androids didn’t really need to breathe. 

“There’re still some things I need to take care of,” he answered. 

“The other bombs you set up?” Connor asked. 

“Yes, I would rather be alive to see those go off. It will be, interesting,” his face twisted with a smile. Hank exchanged a look with Connor. The way he’d worded that, it didn’t sound like Max needed to be alive to set off the dirty bombs, just that he wanted to watch. There was no knowing how much time they had left, but they should really hurry this along. But how to get him by the window? Right now he was keeping a careful distance away from them. 

“Interesting?” Connor spoke up, taking a step closer, “you realize more than just humans will be harmed? You will also be hurting androids who have nothing to do with humans, who don’t even like them.”

“It doesn’t matter who gets hurt in the crossfire. All that I care about is accomplishing my goal,” he said. 

“What goal? To hurt as many people as possible?” Hank asked, also taking a subtle step forward. Getting closer to Max did not seem like a good idea, but if Connor had something in mind - even if it was something as stupid as rushing the guy with a bomb vest - Hank wasn’t going to let him do it alone. 

“To make humans like you pay,” Max took a step towards them, pointing a finger at Hank. He could see Connor trying to shift closer in the corner of his vision, and decided he’d do the best he could to keep Max distracted in the meantime.

“Humans like me? What, old people?” Hank smirked. Max glowered at him, clearly not enjoying the flippant response. 

“No,” he spat, “people in power who use others because they’re too pathetic to do it themselves.”

“You know, most of us don’t go blowing up cities because our boss gave us busy work,” Hank said. Max took another step forward, fists clenched at his sides. Hank could almost hear the plastimetal grinding together. He was pushing his luck a little here and there was a good chance the android was about to lunge at him. But in his anger, Max had turned nearly all of his focus on Hank. 

“You wouldn’t fucking understand the things I’ve been forced to do,” he snapped. 

“Was someone forcing you to kidnap those innocent androids?” Hank asked.

“That’s not the point!” he shouted. Taking advantage of the now fully distracted android, Connor shot forward, striking Max hard against his right shoulder. The detonator previously gripped in his hand clattered to the floor. Continuing the momentum, Connor shoved him back, giving Hank the chance to scramble forward and grab the detonator from the ground. 

Face twisted in rage, Max charged at Hank. Connor intercepted, pushing Hank back and blocking the incoming blow. Hank stumbled into the wall, and could only watch as the two androids exchanged blows. Connor was on the defensive as Max struck out at him, only lashing out himself when Max made movements to try and go for Hank. 

Still, he was slowly forcing Connor backward to the wall. But, Hank realized, it was intentional. He looked at the window and subtly grabbed the string to open the blinds all the way. He waited, watching nervously as Connor dodged blow after blow. It felt like forever but in reality, took less than a minute for them to reach the window. Hank yanked the string, pulling the blinds fully away from the window. 

Confusion flashed across Max’s face for a second before the glass pane shattered. Blue blood exploded from a wound in Max’s neck and he collapsed onto the ground. A grating mechanical sound came from the downed android but he didn’t move. 

Recovering from the shock of the moment quicker than Hank, Connor crouched down next to Max and snatched up his arm. Hank watched as the skin around their arms receded and Connor’s LED began flickering in a rapid yellow pattern. 

 Max was still awake, continuing to make that awful mechanical sound as he glared up at Connor. Hank carefully set down the detonator before going to crouch on the other side of the android. He looked incapacitated, but Hank wanted to be ready to restrain him if necessary.

“Shit… what’d they do to him?” Hank muttered.

“Severed the connection between his processor and body. I don’t have long,” Connor muttered distractedly. His eyes flicked back and forth as if rapidly reading through something. Actually, maybe he was reading something. Hank was never fully sure how android minds worked. 

Hank resisted the urge to ask further questions, not wanting to distract his partner anymore. Even without Connor’s warning on time, Hank could tell that Max didn’t have long by the rapidly growing puddle of blue spreading out under him. It made Hank wonder if androids had something similar to a carotid artery in their necks, at the rate Max was losing blood. Hank reached out and clasped his hand over the wound in an attempt to slow the blood flow and buy Connor some more time. 

At the effort, Max turned his hateful glare on Hank. His mouth was moving as if he was trying to say something, but all that came out was a static-filled scraping sound. The door to the room opened at that moment, and the men who’d been waiting out in the hall along with Ben entered. The other detective took in the sight, cursing lightly under his breath.

“Anything yet?” he asked.

“Working on it,” Hank responded for Connor. They waited, the silence in the room only the sounds coming from Max. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Connor pulled back. His LED flickered yellow a few more times before he turned to face Hank, a grim smile working its way across his face. 

“I got the locations.”

A collective sigh of relief went through the room, followed by the pinging of phones as Connor sent the locations to everyone. 

“Good work, son,” Hank clapped him on the shoulder with the hand not covered in Max’s blood. He wiped off the excess on the now-dead android’s jacket. 

“You too,” Connor returned. Hank smirked, and they stood up.

“We’ll take it from here, you two should report back to Fowler,” Ben said. Hank nodded and waved the man off as he left with the bomb squad. A few of the other officers lingered behind to deal with the body, but Hank and Connor left. Thankfully with the threat taken care of, they could take the elevator down now. 

“Everything alright?” Hank asked as they rode down the elevator. Connor’s eyebrows were just barely pinched and his LED hadn’t stopped circling yellow.

“I’m okay, this just… reminded me of my first assignment,” Connor responded. Hank raised an eyebrow.

“Ortiz?” he asked, recalling their first case together. Connor shook his head.

“Before I was sent to the DPD, my first field test was a hostage negotiation. His name was Danie. He was a domestic android and fearing his family would get rid of him, he held the child in the family, Emma, over the roof,” Connor explained, a distant look in his eyes.

“Shit, what happened?” Hank asked, even though he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

I gained his trust and they killed him,” Connor said. The elevator reached the bottom floor and they stepped out.

“Field test?” Hank asked.

“I was activated that afternoon, just before the negotiation. It was a test to see if I was ready to be fully deployed,” Connor explained, still with that distant look in his eyes. 

Not knowing what else to say to that, Hank just said, “That’s fucked up.”

“It was,” Connor agreed, shaking his head lightly. They had reached the car now.

“Hey,” Hank said, waiting for Connor to focus on him, “This time was different, right? There was no other way.”

“I… You’re right,” Connor said, and his LED finally returned to a calm blue. “I wish it could have gone differently, but you’re right.”

“Of course I am,” Hank smirked, opening the door to the car. Connor got in and Hank went to his own side. “Once we report this to Fowler then we can finally be done with this fuckin’ mess,” Hank said. 

“A break would be nice,” Connor admitted. 

“There you go, finally learning to relax,” Hank gave him a lopsided grin. “I’ll tell him when we make the report, we’re taking the rest of the week off.”

“That seems like a bit much,” Connor said. 

“Not at all,” Hank scoffed, “we deserve it.”

“If you say so.”

“I do,” Hank twisted the key in the ignition, starting up the car. This case had been a total shitshow from the beginning. He still hadn’t had Connor back home long enough and he’d rather take some time off to just be with the kid than immediately jump back into work.

“Sumo will enjoy having us home for a bit,” Connor said. 

“You’re easy to convince,” Hank chuckled. 

“Thank you, Hank,” Connor suddenly said.

“Hmm? What for?” Hank asked. 

“For looking out for me, for caring,” Connor said. He was looking at Hank with those overly earnest puppy eyes of his. To save himself from anything too sappy, Hank just reached over and ruffled Connor’s hair.

“Always, son.”