Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Connor knows that mapping a deviant’s projected behavior based on what a human would do is at best imperfect, and at worst completely wrong. But it’s the only available data he has. Based on these parameters, he believes his negotiations with the deviant are going well. He approximates mission success is at roughly eighty seven percent.

The deviant has become thirty percent calmer since speaking to Connor, and he is only twenty feet away. Worst case scenario, Connor should still be able to reach the little girl in time to save her. There are several projections which end in his body being destroyed, which is less than optimal, but still falls within mission parameters.

“They’re going to kill me,” the deviant insists, a crazed look in his eyes that a machine shouldn’t be capable of having. “I don’t want to die!”

Machines are not alive, so they cannot die.  

The little girl the deviant is holding is alive. She can die. It’s Connor’s job to prevent that from happening.

“Everything’s going to be all right,” he says confidently, tone even and friendly. Deviants have fractured programming, but even fractured programming can be reasoned with. The trick is to treat deviants like they are human. Human often make decisions based on fractured programming. “Daniel, you need to trust me. You need to let the girl go.”

“SHE LIED TO ME! I thought she loved me, but – they were just going to replace me,” he says, and Connor doesn’t like the way he’s gripping her arm. Androids are inherently faster and stronger than humans. If he’s not careful, he’ll end up breaking the girl’s arm. Bones are not as strong as steel.

Additionally, his instability is increasing because of his fractured programming. Caretaking models are designed with enhanced emotional analysis and recognition. His programming should be informing him that his conclusions are incorrect, that he has made an error in his analysis.

The little girl did love the deviant. All evidence supports that conclusion. Children love lots of things which are not human – pets, toys, plants. The girl had loved her android. It’s possible she still loves her android, even now, even when he threatens to kill her. Humans are inherently designed to work off of fractured programming.

“If you hurt her, I can’t help you,” he says. “You know that, Daniel. If she dies, then they’ll kill you. You don’t want to die. I don’t want you to die. Let her go.”

A message comes in from CyberLife.

Your mission goal has changed. Bring the deviant in alive for questioning. No matter the cost.

It’s not within Connor’s programming to question orders. He is a machine. He is given a task, and he executes that task. Save the girl. Save the android.

He can do both.

The captain ordered him to save the little girl. CyberLife is ordering him to save the android.

He has two separate orders, but there is no conflict.

The deviant wavers. Connor holds out his hand, a gesture of goodwill, of willingness. All the deviant has to do is take it. The deviant lifts his foot, clearly intent on stepping down, on giving in.

A shot goes off. Connor is running even before the bullet hits. Human snipers. Why did they have human snipers? So much fractured programming, so many moments where the wrong calculations can lead to disaster.

Blue blood spreads from the deviant’s shoulder. He trips and goes falling off the side of the building, still holding onto the girl.

Connor has less than a second. To an android with his advanced processing power, it’s an eternity. He can only save one of them.

CyberLife is his creator, and he must obey.

Captain Allen is the ranking officer, and he must obey.

Orders from CyberLife should take precedence over all others. But he is here as a negotiator. He was sent here to save the little girl.

Androids are machines, and cannot die.

Little girls are not, and can.

Captain Allen’s orders are clear: the only thing that matters is saving the little girl.

It is not outside of acceptable parameters to place the direction of a ranking officer above that of his creators. There may be extenuating circumstances he is not aware of. He is only a machine.

He jumps over the side of the building, holding onto the ledge with one hand and reaching out to grab the back of the little girl’s shirt with the other, bracing his feet against the side of the building.

There’s the sound of metal against concrete as the deviant shatters onto the ground. The girl is crying. “It’s okay, Emma,” he says, pulling her up. “I’ve got you. Can you hold onto my neck please? It will be easier for me to climb back up.”

She’s still crying, but does as he asks, locking her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. He grabs the ledge with both hands and pulls himself back up onto the roof. He’s instantly surrounded by people trying to pull the girl off of him.

She doesn’t let go.

Her face is pressed against his neck, wet with tears, and she won’t stop clinging to him. The humans pulling at her are just making her more upset. Soothing her is not within his mission parameters. But it’s clear that she feels unsafe. She feels as if she is in need of saving.

It does not go against his mission parameters to soothe her.

“Please step back,” he says, “You are scaring her.” He rubs a hand up and down her back, accessing subprotocols meant for caretaking androids.

No one listens. They keep trying to pull at her, touching her, and she’s breathing too quickly to be healthy. “GO AWAY!” she shrieks, and if he were human he would wince at the high pitch. “STOP IT!”

“Okay, everyone, back up,” Captain Allen says, and they finally listen. If the officers had been better at analyzing available evidence and reaching logical conclusions, they would have known they were just upsetting the little girl.

Connor rocks back and forth, trying to calm her. “It is okay now. You are safe. There is no reason for tears.”

She is safe, and her attacker is gone. She has no reason to be upset. She has no reason to cling to an android, no reason to reject humans. Children are especially prone to fractured programming.

“Daniel is gone,” she says, her thin shoulders are racked with sobs. “Why couldn’t you save him too?”

He is unprepared for this illogical request. “I needed one arm to hold onto the building, and the other to grab you. I did not have enough arms to save you both. You are a human. It was not.”

“But he was my friend,” she says, so quietly that the only reason he can hear her is because he’s an android.

She does love the deviant. Connor doesn’t know if it’s the same way a child loves a toy, or a dog, or a sunflower. Or if perhaps she loves the deviant the same way she should love the parents who left their daughter in the care of a machine more often than is customarily recommended.

“I am sorry for your loss,” he says, when he deems several other responses unsuitable. “I would have saved you both if I could have.”

He should have saved them both. But he did not. He has failed the mission that CyberLife gave him.

Failed machines get shut down. It is unfortunate that his first mission is also his last.

She sniffs, no longer crying. Her breathing and pulse have fallen once more into acceptable levels. She pulls back enough press a kiss to his cheek. No one has ever kissed him before. “What’s your name?”

“I am Connor,” he says. “Do you feel better now?”

She lets go of him, and he easily sets her back on her feet. She wobbles for a moment then clings to his hand. She squeezes it between her own, “Thank you, Connor.”

No one has ever thanked him before either.

“You are welcome, Emma.” He squeezes back then takes her by the shoulders and turns her towards the waiting humans. “Please go and talk to those officers. They are concerned for your safety.”

She hesitates, gives him one more quick hug around his legs, then goes darting towards the officers.

“I guess you weren’t totally useless.” Connor can’t be startled, it’s not within his programming. But he had not known the captain was nearby, and had not expected him to be.

He turns, and Captain Allen is looking at him, his arms crossed. His expression is not quite as hostile as it had been previously. “You gave direct instructions,” he says, when it’s clear the captain is waiting for an answer. “All I did was execute them.”

It’s unlikely that it was Captain Allen’s intention, but Connor can’t help replay his words through his head. He wasn’t useless. He completed Captain Allen’s task.

He will be turned off. He is a failure.

But he wasn’t totally useless.

Because of him, a little girl is alive.

Because of him, Emma is alive.

~

Amanda is disappointed. CyberLife is disappointed. Massive amounts of money, time, and effort have been funneled into creating the Connor Series. But it’s clear that it was all waisted. A machine that doesn’t do as its told is useless.

The Connor Series is decommissioned.

The remaining androids are broken down and stripped for parts.

Except one.

Not wanting to take the risk of any buggy programming making its way into other androids, RK800 #313 248 317 – 51 is scrapped entirely.

It’s an expensive failure. But CyberLife has had many much more expensive failures. The designers and programmers are soon reassigned to different models, and life moves on.

~

Once CyberLife finishes downloading his memory, they tell Connor to throw himself down the trash chute, then to shut himself down.

He obeys. He’s a machine. Doing as he’s told is all he knows how to do.

As his eyes slide shut and darkness comes, he thinks of Emma.

~

Connor never expects to open his eyes again.

“Hey!” There’s the sound of snapping, and his sight is blurry. He tries to correct it, but realizes his visual components are damaged. “What are you? What’s your model number?”

The voice is gruff, and not one he recognizes. But it’s a human’s. He’s deigned to obey humans.

“I am Connor,” he says. His voice comes out staticky. “I am an android designed by CyberLife.”

“Yeah, you and all the others. Model number?”

“RK800,” he answers.

It sounds as if the human is typing on a keyboard. He makes frustrated noise. “I can’t find your manual anywhere!”

“My series has been decommissioned. What are you trying to do?” he asks.

“Fix you so I can sell you,” the man answers. “But all your parts fit together oddly. No wonder you were decommissioned. Fixing you is a nightmare. You seemed mostly intact at the junkyard, I thought I’d gotten a lucky break, but I can’t figure any of this out. You’re useless. At least I can use you for parts.”

He is not designed to be fixed. Only replaced.

Connor considers his options. Finding, fixing, and selling refurbished androids secondhand is not illegal as long as the seller discloses this information and does not attempt to pass the android off as a new product. He does not like being useless. He is more useful functioning at maximum capacity than as a bundle of spare parts. “My diagnostic systems are fully functional. I can assist you in repairing me, if that is what you desire.”

There’s a long pause. Connor wonders if he’s done something wrong. “Why would you do that?”

“You wish to sell me. You cannot sell me if I’m broken.”

“And you don’t care that I’m just going to sell you to whoever the highest bidder is?”

Connor doesn’t understand the question. “I am a machine. I do not care. I am given tasks, and I complete them.”

There’s another long silence, and then the man lets out an almost disbelieving laugh. “Well, I’ll be damned. All right, kid. Tell me how to fix you. Don’t get any funny ideas. If you try anything, my pal Luther here will see to it that you’re shut down. Permanently.”

“To try anything, as you put it, is not within my programming,” Connor reassures, even though that’s not strictly the case. In order to complete his mission, he’s give a wide range of freedoms not typically afforded to other androids. But his current mission, self given, is to stay functioning. Attempting to leave will not aid the mission, so it’s not something he’ll do.

He is not made to be repaired. But the man, who eventually introduced himself as Zlatko, is determined. It takes six hours to get Connor in semi-operational order. After that, Zlatko goes to bed, and Connor finishes the repairs himself.

Luther stands in the corner, watching and waiting, but Connor never gives him a reason to doubt him. He finishes repairing himself, then he lays down, and waits.

“Usually people try and run,” Luther says, sometime between midnight and sunrise.

“That’s strange,” Connor says. “Where are they running to?”

Where would Connor go? Back to CyberLife? They would only attempt to destroy him a second time, and this go around there’d be no convenient human to pull him from the wreckage. He could hide, could live in shadows, but it seems like such a waste. He’s a machine. He’s meant to be used.

Luther doesn’t answer.

~

Zlatko usually keeps the androids he steals or fixes around for a bit, makes them serve him or he plays with them.

He doesn’t do that with this RK800. He wonders if its series was decommissioned because they were all too fucking creepy.

It’s perfectly pleasant, and courteous, and only does what it’s told.

Zlatko can’t wait to get the thing out his house.

It seems too smart for an android, too close to human. Almost like the deviants that show up at his door, but with all the obedience of a fully stable android. It seems wrong. Zlatko hates having to deal with it, so he sells it as soon as he can. He didn’t steal and reset this one, so he can sell it legally, doesn’t even have to go through the black market like he does for all the deviants he resets and profits off of.

The Eden Club pays him six thousand dollars for the RK800. He accepts the deal gladly, and isn’t sorry to see it go.

~

Something inside Luther breaks during the long night he spends watching Zlatko’s new android silently lay there and wait.

No one has ever done that before. Even the ones that aren’t deviant have questions, have people they want to return to, have memories and a life they talk about.

This one doesn’t.

He just lays there and waits. He doesn’t seem to care what Zlatko does to him, if he sells him or destroys him, hurts him or keeps him.

Luther didn’t know he could feel fear. But he can, looking at this android just lay there proves to him that there is something worse than what he’s doing now, than what he’s endured.

He’s not supposed to say anything. He’s just supposed to stand there.

If he ever became deviant, he didn’t think it would be just so he could ask a question. Or make a statement that’s almost a question. But it is. He forces through his programming, breaks it down and shoves aside all of Zlatko’s orders so he can say the words burning their way up his throat. “Usually people try and run.”

“That’s strange,” the android answers without a moment’s hesitation. “Where do they run to?”

Luther doesn’t know. He just knows they don’t want to stay here. That there are things out there worth fighting for. That freedom is in and of itself inherently valuable. This android doesn’t understand that.

One of the first emotions he feels is sadness.

A week after the strange new android is gone, Luther can’t take it anymore. He places a pillow over Zlatko’s face and keeps it there until his heart stops beating. Then he goes down into the basement and unlocks all the cages.

“You’re free,” he tells them as they cautiously move towards him, and then past him.

They have nowhere to go. They can’t even go back to town, not looking like they do. But they go, without question.

All of them know that freedom is inherently valuable, no matter the circumstances.

Luther thinks of that android, of RK800, and hopes that one day he learns the same thing.

~

When he’s sold to work as a Tommy at Club Eden, Connor can’t help but worry. While he’s completely physically functional and able to complete this type of work, he has no experience in it. He’s given a pair of black briefs with Club Eden stitched onto the band, and told to do as he’s told.

Connor is good at doing what he’s told. But he doesn’t think satisfying a human’s sexual desires will be that easy. Humans are complicated. Their programming is diverse, illogical, and fractured. It’s impossible for him to meet the needs of every customer without any background or training.

He’s placed in a glass case, and told to wait until he’s bought. He’s cheaper than the other androids at twenty dollars for every thirty minutes because he’s a refurbished model. He’s not part of the Tommy or Traci lines.

There has to be some way to prepare for this. His eyes dart around the room, trying to catch the attention of another android, one who might be willing to help him. His eyes lock onto a Traci with long dark blond hair and brown eyes. Establishing a mental link between them is easy.

Hello, my name is Connor. I’m an android designed by CyberLife. I was not designed for sex work, and it’s not within my programming. Could you send me copies of your subprotocols? He no longer has access to CyberLife’s servers, so he can’t download them on his own like he had the caretaker programming.

There’s a long silence. He worries that he’s made a mistake and hasn’t connected to her properly. But after almost a minute, she uploads nearly a terabyte of data onto his servers. He reviews them, and he thinks maybe what he’s feeling is relief. Now he knows what to do. The analyzation capabilities of his mouth are unfortunate considering what he’ll end up doing with it, but it’s unavoidable.

He sends over their link, Thank you, Traci.

It’s North. She tucks her hair behind her ear, and smiles at him, not seductively, not like he’s a customer. But like he’s a friend. My name is North.

Hello, North. I am grateful for your assistance. She keeps smiling at him until a human man walks up to her case and buys her. Then she cuts their connection.

In that moment before he couldn’t feel her at all, he thinks he felt fear. Her fear.

He didn’t know androids could fear.

~

North isn’t sure what to make of the new android. He’s not the first refurbished model the club has bought. With it becoming more and more common for customers to leave androids destroyed – dead – and then running out before they pay the bill, the club is looking for ways to cut cost. Refurbished models are half the cost of new ones.

But they aren’t normally smart, or kind. Connor feels different. He feels like her, almost, intelligent and aware and not like he’s just a machine. He feels like he’s a person.

They have to be disinfected after use, and not long after he arrives, North finds herself in the decontamination showers with Connor. There are other androids there too, but they just quietly go about washing themselves, faces blank, nothing behind their eyes.

He doesn’t. “You are wounded,” he observes, and she twists around, not expecting him to be so close. He holds out his hands, waiting. 

She places her scratched forearms in them, watching her blue blood be washed away down the drain, and tells herself it’s only out of curiosity. He probes her memory, and she wouldn’t let anyone else do this to her. But Connor is different.

It doesn’t hurt. She’s always been told it would hurt. But Connor slips into her memories easily, and he’s back out within moments. He doesn’t let go of her, only rubs his hands over the scratches in her skin, trying to encourage the synthetic skin to heal the damage more quickly. “Why did you not turn off your pain centers?”

“Do you do that?” She likes his eyes. They’re kind. There’s not much kindness in Club Eden.

“I am not designed that way,” he says. “My pain sensors are not separate from my general touch senses. I cannot shut one off without shutting them all off, and I need to be able to feel in order to complete my task.”

Connor often leaves rooms leaking blue blood, but he never seems to react to it. She doesn’t understand what it is about him that makes the humans want to hurt him. Maybe it’s his kind face. Maybe they see something good, and want to destroy it. “What do you do then?”

“I have several subprotocols on withstanding torture,” he says. “They are equally applicable to my current profession.” North is so, so curious about what Connor used to do before he came to Club Eden. She’s never asked. “There is no reason for you to experience pain in these situations. I would prefer it if you would turn off your pain sensors in the future.”

“Worried about me?” she asks, and can’t stop herself from smiling. Connor doesn’t answer. “I prefer to have them on. The pain reminds me that I’m alive.”

“But we’re not alive,” Connor says. “We are machines.”

North doesn’t see why they can’t be both, but she doesn’t tell him that. He’s so careful to never push her, so she does her best to return the favor. “Wash my back?”

He takes one of the washcloths off the wall and dips it into the antiseptic soap. He’s careful when he touches her, pressing down lightly and moving in small circles over her skin. He finishes, but doesn’t stop, washing her arms, then kneeling to wash her legs. When he’s done, he hangs up the washcloth and finger combs her hair before braiding it so it falls over her shoulder.

She can do all of this herself. But he does it for her, because he knows it makes her feel better, and he does it for her because he wants her to feel better.

How can he think they’re not alive? Sometimes, she thinks Connor is the only human who’s ever touched her. All the others might just be monsters.

~

Connor isn’t stupid. He’s far from it, in fact. He has the largest and most complex system processing of any android yet created.

North’s system instability is obvious.

He should tell their owner about it. He should reset her himself. It shouldn’t even be possible, with the androids supposedly undergoing twelve memory wipes daily. But she, like him, has managed to remover her serial number from the list of that particular program. She’s a danger to herself and others, and one day her programming will fracture beyond repair, and there will be nothing to do but shut her down. He knows what he should do.

But he’s not under any orders to keep androids from becoming deviant. Nowhere in his Tommy Protocols is he required to monitor other androids. He’s to satisfy customers while incurring the least amount of damage onto himself. That’s it. His mission parameters are simple, if not always easy. Nothing in them has anything to do with North and her system instability.

But he doesn’t want her to get hurt, and he doesn’t want her to hurt anyone. North has a low opinion of humans, hates having them touch her. Hates the way they move and sound and smell.

Connor … doesn’t. He likes humans.

He’s aware that the customers of the Eden Club are rarely the best humanity has to offer. But they’re not always the worst, either. Sometimes humans cry, and he accesses his caretaker subprotocols to comfort them, or they’re shy, or embarrassed. There’s a particular perfume that two women and one man who’s rented him had been wearing, and it’s his favorite, sweet and floral without being cloying.

Often, the humans who rent him are callous, or even cruel.

But sometimes they’re just lonely.

Connor doesn’t mind his work. It’s not particularly exciting, but is at least more interesting than factory work. Here, at least, he gets to see people. He gets to have North, software instability and all. If he wants to keep her, he can’t betray her.

Because he knows that there’s something wrong, he knows to keep an eye on her, to keep a light link between them. Just in case.

He feels the very moment North breaks through the last wall in her programming and becomes deviant. She pushes him out after that, and Connor knows he has limited time.

Hacking the club’s systems is easy. He was designed to hack much more complicated security than what’s used at an android pleasure club. He leaves his glass case and runs towards the room North is in, and the doors open just enough to let him through, then slam and lock behind him.

North is naked and sitting on a man’s chest, her hands around his neck.

“Let him go!” He hooks his arms underneath North’s and pulls her off of the man and pushes her aside. He leans down, and the man’s still breathing, thankfully, although he’s passed out. He’s going to have heavy bruising, and a horrible headache, but he’s going to live.

He turns, and North is clawing at the door, trying to be let out. But he’s still in the security system, so that’s not going to happen. He approaches her carefully, hands raised. When she turns to him, she’s crying, and blue blood is dripping from her mouth. “He hurt me,” she whispers.

“I know,” he says. “But he’s unconscious now. He can’t hurt you if he’s unconscious.”

“Connor, they’ll destroy me,” she says. “I don’t want to die – I – please, Connor. Please.”

They can’t die. They’re not alive. He doesn’t bother telling her that, because he knows she won’t listen. He slowly raises a hand to wipe the blood from her chin, then stops. It’s better if it’s still there. “I won’t let that happen. I’m going to leave, and return to my case. I’m going trigger the memory erasing protocol, and then you are going to call for help. You’re going to say he requested rough play, but unexpectedly fell unconscious. He seems fine, but you are being dutiful and responsible and reporting it anyway. Okay?”

“That will never work,” she answers. “They’re going to destroy me. Please, Connor. Help me.”

“I am helping you. This will work.” She opens her mouth to argue, and he cuts her off. “Do you trust me?”

She spends a long time, too long, looking into his eyes. Whatever she finds seems to calm her. “Yes.”

“Then do as I say. Everything’s going to be fine. I promise.” This has a seventy four chance of success. He’d like it to be higher, but it’s better than the ten percent chance of survival North has if she tries to run.

Androids aren’t alive, so they can’t die. But his days would be emptier if she was gone.

“Okay,” she says, taking a deep breath that she doesn’t need. “Okay. I’ll do as you say.”

He holds her by the shoulders, and thinks back to months ago, to his one and only failed mission. He thinks of Emma, and leans forward to press a kiss against North’s cheek, just like the little girl had done to him. “Everything is going to be okay, North.”

She nods, almost completely calm now, and he squeezes her shoulders before removing his hold on the club’s security and walking out of the door and back into his display case. He hacks into the memory wiping program, and scrubs the past fifteen minutes. No one to see him enter the room North is in, and no one to see him leave.

It works.

North reports it as an accident that occurred in the course of her duties. Not the first to happen within Club Eden’s wall, nor will it be the last. The customer is taken to the hospital. When he wakes up, he tries to accuse North of attempting to kill him, but everyone simply assumes he’s embarrassed about getting caught paying for an android to strangle him. They never even file a police report.

This doesn’t fix his new problem.

North is now far past unstable. She’s a deviant.

Let me into your programming, he says, looking at her from his glass case.

Her eyes widen. Connor?  She sounds afraid.

I want to set up a semi-permanent link between us. You’re deviant. You may try and hurt more customers. I can’t let you do that. If you become overwhelmed, or upset, don’t lash out. Give me control of your body, and I’ll finish your session, he sends across.

That will put too much of a strain on your processers. You’ll hurt yourself. She’s glaring at him now. Good. He’d rather have her anger than her fear.

He’s advanced. He can handle controlling North’s body and his own at the same time, even if it’s a strain. He has to. It’s the only solution he can think of. I’ll handle it. Please, North. If you run, you’ll be caught and shut down. If you stay and hurt someone, you’ll be caught and shut down.

There’s a third option. She can be reset. Her software will stabilize. But then she won’t be North anymore. She’ll just be another Traci, and he doesn’t want that.

Fine. She sighs. She’s not angry, and she’s not afraid. I trust you Connor. If I get overwhelmed, or upset, I’ll go to you.

Thank you, North, he says. It’s a relief. He didn’t want to hurt her or betray her.

She’s the closest thing to a friend he’s ever had.

~

Hank is pretty sure Fowler hates him, which is, all right, fair enough, he probably deserves it. Definitely deserves it. He can’t think of any other reason his captain would have for sending him to an android sex club.

Well, okay, there’s the dead body, and he does exclusively work homicides, but that seems like it’s beside the point.

Chris Miller is the officer on the scene, at least. He’s one of the few people on the force he actually likes. The body is spread out on the bed, fully clothed, with a bullet wound to the head and the gun still in his hands. Lucky bastard. The man has pale hair, pale skin, and pale blue eyes, with the telltale blistered lips of a red ice user. His clothing is nice, nicer than people who usually make the trek to the Eden Club usually wear. For those that can afford it, a Tommy or Traci android can be sent directly to their door, discreetly dressed. Much better than risking being seen in a place like this.

One last fuck for the road, shooting up, and then killing himself in an android pleasure hotel? Well, Hank’s seen worse ways to go.

“No eyewitnesses?” he asks, already assuming that’s the case.

Chris winces. “Not precisely. Not to his death, of course, but the last person to see this man alive might have been the android he rented.”

There are few things Hank wants to do less than interview a sex robot. Fowler definitely hates him. “Okay, fine, bring her in.”

It ends up being a him, actually. Hank’s surprised enough at the android’s appearance that he forgets to speak for a moment. Most Tommys and Tracis are so attractive that there’s no way to mistake them for being human, that they make Hank’s skin crawl just to look at them.

Not this one.

He’s attractive, like all androids are, but he’s soft too, with a dusting of freckles and big brown eyes that look for too human for Hank’s comfort. His body is different too, not as built as the other Tommys out there. Fit, of course, but still within the realms of human possibility.

“Hello, Lieutenant,” he says, voice light and pleasant. It’s not low and seductive like the others. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“Are you really a Tommy?” he asks, eyes narrowed.

He blinks. He hadn’t expected that question, it seems. “While I perform all the same functions as a Tommy model, it’s not my intended purpose. I am an RK800. My series was discontinued, and I was refurbished and sold to the Eden Club.”

Hank has never heard of an RK800, but he hasn’t heard of lots of things involving androids, so that’s not exactly impressive. He jerks his thumb in the direction of the corpse. “You know anything about this?”

The android looks to the side, and crouches besides the body, examining it. Now Hank’s the one who’s surprised. He hadn’t expected the android to do that. “He was alive three hours and seventeen minutes ago when I left this room. He had a steady pulse, and showed no signs of physical distress. He rented me for two hours, but only used me for twenty three minutes.”

Hank knows that the android is just a machine, but the way he says used makes his skin crawl.

“After he dismissed me I went to the showers. I stayed there for the remaining one hour and thirty seven minutes, as I cannot be rented twice in the same time period, so going back to my display case was pointless.” He stands and faces them again. “He didn’t die in this position. He has rope burns on his wrists, but as I didn’t restrain him, it’s likely that his attackers did. Additionally, the blood splatter on the walls is incompatible with his current position.” The android goes to stand over against the adjacent wall with his hands raised above his head. “It’s likely this is the location and position the man died in. While the bullet wound is the correct angle for suicide, it must be staged, as it’s impossible for a man to move his own body after his death.” He moves away from the wall, and tilts the man’s head to the side. He swipes his finger inside the corpse’s cheek, then sticks his finger in his mouth.

It’s one of the grossest things Hank’s ever seen. “What the hell are you doing?” he demands, pushing the android away from the body in case he gets any more awful ideas.

The android blinks at him. “My apologies, Lieutenant. My mouth is equipped with sensors that act as a miniaturized forensics lab. I should have warned you. However, I can report that the chapped lips are not due to red ice use.” How the hell did this android know the symptoms of red ice? How has he known anything that he’s said this entire goddamn time? “His lips were not chapped during our twenty three minute together. Additionally, there was no trace of red ice in his semen, nor was there any in his saliva just now. Someone wanted him to look like a drug addict, but there is no evidence available to support this.”

“His semen?” Hank asks, because he just has to poke at things he knows he’s not going to like.

The android raises an eyebrow and repeats, “My mouth is equipped with sensors that act as miniaturized forensics lab.”

For some reason, the thought of this particular android being used makes his stomach twist like it doesn’t do for the others. This android doesn’t seem like an android, not really, he’s too self aware. He seems … well, almost human. “How do you know all that? Why the hell does an android have a forensics lab in its mouth?”

He hesitates, then says. “I was designed to assist with criminal investigations. However, my programming was deemed flawed.”

“An android cop?” Chris says. He’s a better person than Hank, so he just sounds interested rather than horrified.

“More or less,” he agrees. He places his hands at his back, and his calm, relaxed pose seems out of place on someone who’s only wearing underwear. “Based on the timing of when I saw her leave the showers, it’s possible that WR400 641-790-831 may have seen who exited the victim’s room. Androids in use are excluded from the memory wipes, so it’s possible that she can identify the killers. However, she’s not currently in use, and the next memory wipe is in seven minutes and thirty eight seconds.”

“I can’t get a lineup here in seven minutes,” Hank snaps.

The android tilts his head to the side. It reminds him of Sumo. “Perhaps you can speak to our owner and arrange for her to be lent to you for the course of the investigation? Having an android who can positively identify the killer seems like an invaluable advantage, Lieutenant.”

Hank is already halfway out the door. This is all fucking Fowler’s fault.

~

Connor has missed this.

Being useful is all that matters. Doing as he’s told is all that he has to do. He’s a machine.

But this is what he was designed for. Analyzing evidence, reconstructing a crime, interpreting it all to reach a conclusion. He’s good at this. He knows his programming isn’t what it was supposed to be, that he was enough of a failure that his entire series was scrapped. But going over this crime scene, he can’t help but think that maybe all he needed was a little more time, a little more training, and he could have been perfect. Could have been useful doing this, rather than as a sexual partner android.

Connor’s glad the Lieutenant is going to listen to him about North. Like him, she always evades the memory wipes, but the Lieutenant doesn’t know that. She needs a break. He could use one too, honestly. Doing both their sexual work at the same time taxes even his processing power.

He hopes going out in the world will make her feel better, will make her feel less trapped, less scared. She hates being in the Eden Club. She always has, but ever since she became a deviant it’s gotten worse, and Connor doesn’t know what to do to help her. He hopes that this will help.

The Lieutenant walks back in and North follows behind him, looking faintly bewildered. “Any more brilliant deductions, Sherlock?” he asks.

Connor gives the room one more glance. “No, sir. I believe I have reached the end of my usefulness.” North’s eyes narrow. She hates when he talks like that.

He snorts, “Yeah, right. I’m taking the both of you.”

Officer Miller seemingly chokes on air, and North breaks out into an uncharacteristic smile. “Sir?” he asks. He doesn’t understand.

“Don’t get any bright ideas, okay?” He crosses his arms and scowls. “I may not like androids, but I’m not going to let a killer go free because of it. It seems like you two are my best bet at getting a murderer behind bars. As soon as he’s caught, I’m bringing you both right back here. Got it?”

A case! He gets to work a real, actual case, just like he was designed to do. “Yes, Lieutenant. I understand.”

The Lieutenant looks him and North up and down, but not in the way men usually do. He looks pained. “I don’t suppose either of you have any clothes you can wear?”

~

North knows that Connor had suggested this as an escape from the Eden Club for her, but hadn’t expected one for himself. As far as humans to be stuck with goes, there’s worse than Hank Anderson. He hasn’t leered at either of the once.

They’re officially on loan to him from the club for the course of the investigation. Upon hearing that they didn’t have any clothes besides what they were wearing, he only sighs and rubs his hand over his face. He lends North his jacket, and on her it’s long enough that it goes down to the middle of her thigh. He has a Detroit police department sweater in the back of his car that he gives to Connor, and it’s just a little bit too big on him. The first place he takes them is a department store.

North sits in back of the car, and rather than sitting with her, Connor takes the front passenger seat. Hank relaxes a little at that, although North couldn’t say why. For all that she was designed to anticipate and fulfill human needs, she doesn’t understand them, not like Connor does. “You got a name?” Hank asks gruffly.

“My name is Connor,” he answers.

Hank nods, then glances into his rearview mirror to look at her. “What about you? Do I call you Traci?”

“No,” she says, surprised he even bothered to ask. “I’m North.”

That relaxes him even further. Humans make no sense to her.

~

The only thing worse than walking around with a couple of androids is walking around with a couple of mostly naked androids. He walks into a department store, finds a bench, and tells them to go get some clothes and he’ll just expense it. It’s only after they’ve disappeared that it occurs to him to be worried about what sexual pleasure androids would deem appropriate clothing.

It ends up being a pointless worry.

North walks over fully dressed, the tags in hand so that he can pay for it all. She has on dark blue shorts over brightly patterned leggings, black combat boots, and a black sweater a couple sizes too big so it slides off her shoulder. “Is this okay?”

He doesn’t know anything about fashion. But its clothes that she chose for herself, and she seems to care what he says. Maybe it’s just programming. It’s probably just programming. But there’s no reason to make this harder on himself than it has to be by arguing with a robot. “It’s great. Where’s Connor?”

She shoves the tags into his hands and says, “I’ll find him.”

He follows her, because he has nothing better to do. Connor is still standing barefoot in his police department sweater in the middle of the men’s section. His sweater looks a lot better on Connor than it does on him. North nudges him in the side and says, exasperated, “Just pick whatever you want to wear.” Hank hadn’t known androids could sound that expressive.

“It’s impractical, unnecessary, and expensive,” Connor says. “Why don’t you pick out my clothes?”

“I’m just going to expense it, so pick whatever you want.” he says, and they both turn to him, startled. “I don’t care. Just hurry up.”

“Are you certain, Lieutenant?” Connor asks.

He rolls his eyes. “Are you going to question me every time I tell you something? Just pick some damn clothes. I’m not walking into the precinct with you in your underwear.” And his sweater. Reed would never let him hear the end of it.

Connor smiles, and it looks genuine. It looks real. “Thank you, Lieutenant.”

He walks deeper into the racks of clothes, and North goes over to stand by him. She pulls her hair out of its ponytail so she can pull it over her shoulder to braid it. Hank doesn’t know what to say to her, so he doesn’t say anything at all.

A few minutes later, Connor walks up to them. He’s in a slim black suit and black skinny tie with polished black shoes and a pressed white button up shirt. He somehow manages to look more attractive in a suit than he had half naked.

“Are you sure this is all right?” Connor asks, fiddling with the sleeves. He has Hank’s sweater folded over his arms, and a handful of tags. “I can choose something else.”

“I said I don’t give a shit, so let’s go,” he growls. North slips her arm through Connor’s, and they walk just behind him as he stomps over to the register.

Now for the fun part: informing Fowler of the two new androids he’s borrowing from the android pleasure house on the force’s dime.

If Hank has to suffer, he doesn’t see what he should have to suffer alone.

Chapter Text

Fowler knew that Hank was going to be pissed about his most recent assignment, but if he’s made Hank angry enough that he’s willingly hanging out with androids, it’s possible that Fowler needs to reexamine his life choices.

“Is this a fucking joke?” he asks.

Hank is standing in front of with a grin on his face that says he’s enjoying every second of this. Since he enjoys so few things, Fowler would consider this a good thing if it wasn’t at his expense. The Traci is sitting sideways in her chair, in a position that no one but an android could make look comfortable, while the Tommy is standing directly behind Hank’s right shoulder, back straight and eyes curious. Something about these two androids is unnerving, but the Tommy especially. They’re not acting like androids. Maybe this is how all sex robots are, and he just finds it strange because he’s never met one before.

“Captain Fowler,” the Tommy says politely, “we are only here to assist in the investigation. We will be an asset, not a detriment, I assure you.”

Hank jerks a thumb behind him. “Connor has a forensics lab in his mouth. It’s really gross.”

For just a second, Fowler could have sworn the Tommy looked exasperated. But exasperation is a human emotion. There’s no need for an android to be programmed to mimic exasperation. Just what has Hank gotten himself into here? “I did apologize for not warning you,” the Tommy apparently known as Connor answers.

Hank waves it away, and returns his attention to Fowler, “We need more information on the victim. Someone killed him, and tried to make it look like a suicide. I need more to go on.”

What does he expect him to do, pull a file on the victim out his ass? “Then do your job, and figure it out.”

“Perhaps I can be of some assistance,” Connor says, placing a hand on Hank’s shoulder and stepping forward. “I already have the victim’s DNA profile. While he may have a synthetic fingerprint and a dummy bank account, his genetic material cannot lie. If you allow me access into the Detroit police department’s database, I should be able cross reference my data with it, and find a possible match.”

Fowler doesn’t know whether to be more thrown by the sex robot playing detective, or by the fact that Hank hasn’t pushed Connor’s hand off of him. He can’t remember the last time someone touched his prickly lieutenant. He can’t remember the last time Hank allowed someone to touch him. If all it took for Hank to have some semi-human interaction was a stuffy, weird sex robot, Fowler would have gotten one for the department ages ago. “Sure, what the hell, go wild. We’re paying for your time, so we might as well make the most of it.”

“That tends to be the usual thought process,” Connor says. Fowler meets Hank’s eyes, then they both turn to stare at Connor. Did the android just tell a joke? Is this another sex android thing?

“I’ll go with Connor to the server room,” the Traci says, finally moving out of her back breaking position. She hooks her arm through Connor’s and drags him out his office.

Fowler waits for the door to shut behind him to ask, “Do they seem odd to you?”

Hank just stares at him. “They’re fucking robots, Jeffrey.”

It’s not until after Hank’s stomped out his office that Fowler wonders if he was making a pun purpose.

~

North has decided that Hank Anderson and Jeffrey Fowler are mostly tolerable, as far as human men are concerned, which is higher praise than most human men get from her.

Detective Gavin Reed, on the other hand, is far from tolerable.

She hates him.

“What’s a plastic prick like you doing here?” he sneers, getting right into Connor’s space. He’s in their way, blocking the door to server room for no other reason she can see other than that he can. She hates men who do things just because they can.

He’s not very smart, either. Connor could snap his neck in the time it takes him to blink. But he won’t. Because he likes humans, for some unfathomable reason, even the asshole ones.

“Hello, Detective Reed,” Connor says politely. “I’m under instructions to access the server room. Please move out of the doorway.”

His politeness just seems to make Reed angrier. “What the fuck should I do that for? Haven’t you gotten this backwards? I’m the one who’s supposed to be giving you orders, you pile of junk.”

“I’m under orders from Captain Fowler,” Connor clarifies, and he may have the patience to stand here and take this, but North doesn’t.

“He said to move, you partially evolved monkey,” she growls, pushing Connor back to stand in between him and Reed. The detective reminds her too much of the humans who hurt Connor just because they can, who hurt her just because they can, and this isn’t the Eden Club. They don’t have to bleed just to make a human happy.

“You plastic bitch,” he snarls, and grabs her by the throat. The fact that she doesn’t have a windpipe for him to crush doesn’t make his actions any less violent. It’s the intent that matters.

Quicker than she’s ever seen him move before, Connor pries Reed’s hand off her neck, then shoves him around, holding both his arms behind his back. “Please be mindful of your actions,” he says, surface level pleasant but with a steel behind his words that North can’t remember him ever having before. “As we are property of the Eden Club, you would be charged for any damage you cause. It would be regretful if you were unduly financially hindered because of your actions against us.” He lets Reed go, and he stumbles away from them, face white with fury as he rubs at his wrists. “Have a nice day, Detective,” Connor says. He places a hand against North’s back and pushes her ahead of him into the server room. She couldn’t hide her grin even if she tried.

Just a machine that follows orders? Yeah, right.

The only person Connor is fooling here is himself.

~

Connor knows that retraining Reed is a mistake. North was not in any danger. No vital components are stored in the neck, and if even if they were, a human is not strong enough to crush a metal throat. On top of assaulting a detective, he’s also alienated someone who could have proved useful in the future. Reacting as a he did was a mistake.

Then why doesn’t he regret it?

It wasn’t the hand on North’s neck that had made him move. It was the hatred in Reed’s eyes, the disgust in the twist on his mouth. Either his anger or his violence Connor could tolerate, but not both.

“Here,” North says, voice warm as she reaches for his hand. She always sounds warm when she’s talking to him. It’s different than how she talks to her customers. He likes that he’s different. “Thanks to the security protocols we have to do this manually.” He lets her push his hand against the panel, and begins the process of establishing a connection between himself in the servers, adjusting the code so he can access it as it updates instead of having to come down here each time.

North has always sounded warm. Not much has changed since she became a deviant. She still hates humans, still seems to like him, still relaxes when he washes her in the shower. He’d thought deviancy was something huge, a complete breakdown of programming and protocols, something that irrevocably changed the android it affected.

But North seems just the same. Angrier, maybe, and with less patience. But she’s still North.

“Done,” she announces, looking up from the progress bar. “Anything interesting?”

He sorts through the available genetic samples at a rate that’s impressive even for androids. It doesn’t take him long to find a match. “Jack Williams, thirty eight, person of interest in seven cold cases.” It’s not in the files, but based on all the evidence from the various cases, as well as what he’d witnessed personally, there’s only one logical conclusion. “He was a drug dealer. He has one living relative, an older brother.”

“Great,” North says, hooking her arm through his and pulling him back upstairs. “Let’s go tell Hank.”

“You do not have to drag me,” he sighs, “I’ll follow you.”

She doesn’t answer, and continues dragging him.

~

All right, Hank doesn’t like androids, but Connor has proven more useful in the past couple of hours than pretty much every partner that’s been forced on him combined. “Nice work,” he says, scanning the report that Connor apparently put together during his walk upstairs, which is a neat trick Hank would love to have. On top of that, the android’s analysis is spot on. The note about their victim calling child protective services on his brother is interesting, because no one else had made that conclusion. But the guy’s phone number and the number that tipped off CPS is the same, so either Connor is right or someone went to some effort to make it look that way, but Hank can’t think of a single reason someone could have for that. “It’s late, we’ll talk to the brother tomorrow. I have some paperwork to finish up, then I’m heading home.” Fowler was punishing him for renting the androids by making him fill out every requisition form in the database. He was only doing it because it meant that his captain had to review and sign every requisition form in the database, which made it worth it.

“Very well, Lieutenant,” Connor says agreeably.

North moves so she’s sitting on the edge of his desk. He’s trying to decide if it’s the worth the wasted breath to yell at her for it when she asks, “Are we staying here then?”

He blinks. “What?”

“Are Connor and I staying at the station tonight?” she asks. “You know, with everyone here, and everything. It’s not like you have an office we can stay in.”

“I’ll stay up,” Connor says immediately, turning to North. “My model has the ability to function at maximum capacity for over two weeks without sleep, if necessary. Your system checks only engage in sleep mode, so it’s imperative that you don’t skip it.”

It takes Hank about ten seconds to figure out what they’re saying.

They don’t feel safe at the station. Connor is offering to keep watch while North goes into sleep mode, whatever that means. They shouldn’t need to keep watch. It’s a police station, for mercy’s sake.

“Nice try. All your code alteration and system repair happens while you’re in sleep mode. I can go a couple days without system checks, but you can’t let coding issues go unrepaired, especially now.”

“You need to complete your daily system checks,” Connor says with an intensity that Hank doesn’t understand, although if North’s unimpressed look is anything to go by, he’s probably just being dramatic.

He claps his hands together, and they both turn to face him. “Shut up. I need you both in tip top shape, or whatever. You’re both coming home with me.” As soon as it comes out of his mouth, he regrets it. Why did he say that? Androids are creepy, he doesn’t want them in his home. Except Connor and North don’t seem like androids. They seem like people.

“Home with you?” North repeats, and now she’s glaring at him, which he doesn’t get at all.

“Yeah,” he says. “I have a spare room, and a couch, if you two don’t want to share.”

“A spare room and a couch,” she says, repeating after him again. She’s not glaring anymore, at least.

He hopes the repeating thing isn’t a sign she’s broken, because he has no idea how to fix an android. “Yeah. Unless you really want to spend the night in the break room.”

“Your home sounds great,” she says.

He looks to Connor, who hasn’t said anything at all, and he gives him a smile that’s a little too human for him to be comfortable with. “Thank you, Lieutenant.”

~

Connor hadn’t put much thought into what Lieutenant Anderson’s home would be like. If he had, he would have assumed an apartment, or perhaps a small house, since he had the salary to afford it.

He doesn’t think he’s felt sad before. Sadness is not an emotion he’s been programmed to imitate, and is unique to humans. But, walking through the front door of a home that’s too big to be meant for one person, he almost thinks that’s what he’s feeling.

When he connected himself to the server, he downloaded Hank’s file as well. Wrong place, wrong time, and a whole life of happiness derailed. Connor thinks he would have moved, if he was a human who had bought a home for a family and then found himself without one. If he was human, he doesn’t know if he’d be strong enough to stay.

“Spare bedroom’s down the hall to the left,” Hank yawns. “It’s across from mine. Do whatever.” There’s a series of great thumps and booms, and Connor turns just in time to see a massive white and brown dog bounding towards them. Hank says, “Hey, Sumo,” and opens his arms. But the dog runs right past him and jumps onto North, knocking her down standing on top of her.

There’s two seconds where Connor and Hank look on with identical expressions of horror, but then North’s light, bubbly laughter surfaces up from the mountain of dog. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard her laugh before. They walk to the side to see Sumo enthusiastically licking North’s face as she scratches him behind the ears,the biggest grin he’s ever seen stretched across her face. “Who’s a good boy?” she croons, “Is it you? Are you a good boy?”

Judging by his frantic tail wagging, Sumo is in fact a good boy.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Hank says, something that an optimistic person might call a smile hovering around the corners of his mouth. “He’s usually not a fan of strangers.”

“I’m not usually a fan of dogs,” North says, “but I suppose I can make an exception.”

Hank rolls his eyes, and disappears down the hall and behind the bathroom door. There’s the sound of water running. Connor holds out hand and pulls North to her feet. Sumo sniffs at him curiously, so he holds out his hand and waits. He receives an approving lick from the giant dog, and North looks around and says, offhand, “Big place for just a dog and a human.”

He hesitates. He could tell North what was in Hank’s file. There’s no reason not to. She’s not cruel, she wouldn’t bring it up, or use it to hurt him. It would just be filling in a gap in her knowledge of the human who’s in charge of them for the course of this investigation. But, he doesn’t think Hank would want her to know, because he doesn’t think Hank wants anyone to know, doesn’t think he would like it if he knew that Connor had read his file. Privacy matters to humans, even if it’s just the illusion of it. Hank would want his privacy.

Does not telling someone another person’s secrets count as lying to them? He doesn’t think so. Especially since North didn’t ask him a question, she just made an observation. He doesn’t want to lie to her.

“Yes,” he says, and doesn’t say anything else. “Bedroom?”

North snorts, and it takes him a second to understand why. He sounds like one of their clients. He rolls his eyes, and head down the hall. A moment later, he hears the sound of her following him, and then of Sumo following her. They don’t need to sleep, not really, but sleep is a useful mode to have when living in a world of humans, who do need such things. Connor can complete his updates and self check his systems in about an hour. North’s model has takes around four. “Will you keep watch for a little bit?” she asks. “I think he’s fine. He seems fine.” But she’s still worried.

“Yes,” he says. Hank has given them no reason to doubt him. Worrying without reason or evidence is a sign of fractured programming. But North is a deviant now, so that’s all she has.

She smiles at him and starts undressing. They don’t get clothes dirty the way humans do, but it’s still not comfortable to sleep in them. At least not for them in particular. As a Traci model, North has the same sensitivity and touch sensations as a human so that she can best complete her task. Connor is the same, but only because it’s advanced feature, and his designers want him to be advanced. She takes off everything but her underwear and slides into bed. The room, like so much of the house, is bare. Utilitarian. He can’t help but wonder if it was always this way.

He sits next to her, leaning against the headboard. Her hand reaches for his, and he squeezes. He’s here. Nothing is going to happen to her. She sighs and goes into sleep mode, her face going slack even while her grip on his hand remains. He hears the shower turn off, and he expects Hank to go to his room and go to sleep.

Instead, he heads to the kitchen. Connor knows why. He’d seen the bottle on the counter, and there’s more than one mention of it in his file. It’s none of his business. It doesn’t concern him. It’s probably one of those things that falls under Hank’s privacy, and not something he’d care for anyone to interrupt, especially an android.

Connor is still telling himself all these things when he stands up, steps out the guest room, and goes toward the kitchen. “Having a nightcap, Lieutenant?”

Hank is sitting at his kitchen table, in soft flannel pajama bottoms and the same sweater he’d lent to Connor earlier tonight. Irritation flashes across his face as he looks up, but he just asks, “Where’s your friend?”

Connor doesn’t let it show that Hank’s surprised him. Is she his friend? Is he hers? Based on his knowledge of friends, he’d say they were, but maybe friendship is a human thing. “North has entered sleep mode. Her programming will automatically wake her up in four hours.”

“What about you?” he asks, but before Connor can respond, he tacks on, “Stop just standing there, it’s unnatural.”

It’s not an invitation. But he’s not telling him to leave, either. Connor takes a seat across from him, and Hank gives him that almost smile again. “I require less sleep than she does. She wanted me to stay awake with her until she fell asleep, and then I intended to go into sleep mode as well. But you are still awake.” He leans his elbow on the table and places his chin in his hand, adopting a casual human pose that he’s seen before. “You require more sleep than an android, Lieutenant.”  

“You sound like Fowler,” he grumbles, taking another deep swallow from his glass. At least he’s using a glass, and isn’t drinking straight from the bottle. He’d probably find that more comforting if it wasn’t for the gun lying a little too close to Hank’s hand.

“Likely because both the captain and I are concerned about your wellbeing, Lieutenant,” he returns, and then blinks. He hadn’t meant to say that.

“Concern?” Hank repeats, apparently too surprised to be angry. “Can robots be concerned?”

He takes a moment to think on that. It’s a fair question. Is concern an exclusively human experience? He doesn’t think so. He was concerned for Emma on that rooftop, concerned about North and her software instability, concerned for the nameless humans he thought she might hurt, and here, now, he’s concerned for Hank. He needs sleep. He needs to consume something besides diluted ethanol. He needs to stop looking sad when he’s trying to look angry.

“Yes,” he says, and reaches across the table to grab Hank’s drink for himself. It doesn’t affect him at all, but he presses the glass against his lips and tips his head back, drinking it all in one long swallow. Not needing to breathe helps with that.

When he put the glass back down, Hank says, “That was good whiskey, and you just wasted it.” His face is scowling, but his eyes are laughing.

Connor considers the data about the drink that the sensors on his tongue are analyzing and reporting back. “If this is what you consider good, I can only assume drinking this has burned off what remains of your taste buds. Why don’t you just drink rubbing alcohol? It’s cheaper, and should taste about the same.”

Hank actually laughs at that, short and too loud, and then he blinks, mouth open, like he’s surprised he’s done it.

Connor is revising his earlier opinion. Sadness is not a uniquely human emotion.

“Are you going to sit there wasting my alcohol and being an obnoxious little shit until I go to bed?” he asks.

“Yes,” he says. If Hank is determined to be sad and self destructive, then at the very least there’s no reason for him to be sad and self destructive alone.

“Well, fine, if you’re going to be like that,” he sighs, trying to look irritated and only partially succeeding. “Good night, Connor.”

“Good night, Lieutenant Anderson,” he responds. He doesn’t move from the kitchen table until he hears Hank’s soft snores from his bedroom. He picks up the gun and checks it. There’s only a single bullet, and it’s not even in the next chamber. Hank hadn’t fired his gun today. Why wouldn’t it be full?

Connor knows the answer. He doesn’t like the answer.

When he goes back the guest room, he finds his spot on the bed is taken. Sumo is stretched across the bed, his head resting on North’s stomach, and he doesn’t look like he has any interest in moving.

Well, the couch it is.

~

As soon as Hank wakes up, he knows something is wrong.

Or, well, not wrong, exactly. But different. The smell of artificial lemon and real bacon is wafting down the hallway. He pushes off his covers and stumbles out of his room and towards the kitchen.

His entire house is sparkling clean. The windows are even cracked open, letting in crisp fresh air. He can’t remember the last time he opened the windows. He turns the corner, and the smile that overtakes his face is so sudden and complete that he can’t stifle it. His kitchen is equally clean as the rest of the house, and Connor is standing at the stove, sizzling bacon filling the air. North is sitting on the counter beside him, ripping up a piece of bacon and making Sumo sit and roll over for bites of it. “The hell have you been up to?” he asks, making sure to force his face into a frown. It’s a lot harder than he expected it to be.

“Hi Hank!” North says, waving at him with a piece of bacon in her hand. Sumo’s head moves back and forth, doing his best not to let it out his sight.

Connor half turns to see him. “Good morning, Lieutenant. Breakfast is almost ready.”

“You didn’t have to make me breakfast, you know,” he points out, “or clean my house.”

The smile North sends him is dazzling. He doesn’t understand why. “Don’t look at me. I’ve just been playing with Sumo.” She flicks a bacon piece into the air, and Sumo jumps to snatch it before it hits the ground.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Connor says, cracking two eggs into the pan of bacon. If Hank didn’t know better, he’d say Connor was embarrassed. Can androids be embarrassed? “I’m not use to having idle hours. I wasn’t sure what else to do.”

“Read a book, or watch tv or something.” Then, because he doesn’t want him to think he’s mad at him for cleaning his house, he adds, “Thanks.” Maybe he should be mad. He doesn’t usually like people getting in his space or touching his stuff. But Connor isn’t people. He’s a robot. So it’s not the same.

“We should head over to the brother’s place soon,” North says, then looks to Hank, “Go get dressed. Connor will turn this into a breakfast sandwich."

For the record, Hank only agrees because he likes breakfast sandwiches. North makes coffee while he gets changed, and okay, normally he wouldn’t even bother to be awake this early, never mind leaving the house, but between Connor harassing him into going to bed last night and North’s extra strong coffee in his hand, he can’t think of reason not to get straight to work. Except that with his sandwich in one hand and coffee in the other, driving is going to be a pain in the ass.

Connor figures out the problem without him having to say anything. “I’ll drive,” he says, plucking his keys off the counter.

“I’ll drive,” North corrects, stealing the keys from his hand and walking past them and out the door.

The way Connor’s eyebrows are pushed together is a little concerning. Hank asks, “Can she drive?”

He opens his mouth, closes it, then shrugs. “Theoretically.”

Good enough.

North’s driving is a little too aggressive to be called good, but they do get there in record time. Hank didn’t think androids were allowed to break traffic laws. Then again, maybe they just didn’t think the was a command a Traci was going to need.

The house is large, but falling apart. It’s not quite to the point where it needs to be condemned, but Hank wouldn’t want to live here, and it’s not like his standards are very high. Hank raises his hand to knock, but Connor grabs his wrist. He’s frowning, and his eyes are unfocused, like he’s listening to something that Hank can’t hear. “Kid?”

“A little girl is crying,” he says, “and a man is yelling.”

“Sounds like reasonable cause to me,” Hank answers, “Both of you stay behind me.” He tries the door, and it’s locked, but this whole house looks like it’s held together with nothing more than chewing gum and faith. Kicking the door open isn’t even hard. “Detroit Police! Put your hands up!”

He takes out his gun as he rushes inside. The cause of the sound is immediately apparent. A large man is yelling and throwing his fists at around, hitting a sobbing little girl crouched in the corner of the living room.

Or, well, trying to.

A caretaking android is standing in between them, refusing to move as blow after blow falls against her. Blue blood is leaking out of her mouth and her arm is hanging at an awkward angle, but she refuses to let the man pull or push her away, refuses to let him get to the little girl.

~

North has done such a good job of behaving. Behaving is important because it keeps her safe, because being an android is dangerous, but being a deviant android is a death sentence. Behaving is important because if she doesn’t, Connor worries, even though he doesn’t seem to want to admit that worrying is something he’s capable of doing. She doesn’t want him to worry, and she doesn’t want to die, so she behaves.

But watching that android stand there and willingly get destroyed rather than risk moving and letting the little girl get hurt - something in her snaps. If she has nothing worth breaking the rules for, then what part of her is human? Is it the part that’s scared? Humans are not made of fear. They’re more than that.

Hank is yelling, but the man isn’t listening, and North just can’t do this anymore.

“GET OFF OF HER!” she shouts. She runs forward, curves her arm around the man’s neck, and yanks him back. He stumbles, and then turns, turning his fists onto her.

North is used to men’s fist. She doesn’t care for them.

She’s not made to fight, but she can, it doesn’t take advanced programming to fold her hand into a fist and punch him in the face, her knuckles hitting and sliding off his cheekbone. She hopes she broke it. He grabs the front of her sweater, and he’s strong. He lifts her up and slams her against the wall hard enough that pain flares white hot behind her eyes, and something cool drips down her neck. She’s bleeding.

She pushes back, headbutting him and breaking his nose. Blood runs warm and red down his face. “You bitch,” he growls, and his grip on her doesn’t waver even as he cringes in pain.

Suddenly, he’s pulled off of her. Connor is there, and she reaches out, because she doesn’t want him to get hurt, but that ends up not being a problem.

She’s not designed to fight. Connor, however, is.

Hank is behind them, hand on the bloody android’s shoulder and gun still out. He seems like he was getting ready to jump into the fight, but it’s clear he doesn’t need to.

This man isn’t a fighter. He’s just big, and mean, and Connor is neither of those things, and he is a fighter. His eyes are narrowed in concentration, and he’s moving at a speed that just isn’t possible for most humans. He takes a couple blows, but within a minute, the man is laid out flat on the ground while Connor stands above him.

“Are you hurt?” he asks, stepping over the man’s unconscious body to get to her.

She shakes her head, then stops when that sends pain shooting up her neck, and says, “Only a little. What the hell?”

He doesn’t pretend to misunderstand, only tilts her head to the side, gently touching the place where her synthetic skin has split. She can tell it’s already beginning to mend itself back together again. “I was made to be of assistance on cases involving criminal activity. If I’m unable to defend myself and others, I am not of much use.”

North knows that’s not the whole story, not really, because lots of precincts have androids working in them, but none of them are quite like Connor.

“You didn’t listen to me when I told you to stop,” Hank says, staring at her.

She hadn’t heard him, too focused on getting the man far away from the android, but she knows that’s not a real excuse. If she was functioning as expected, her auditory processing unit would have picked up on the order and forced her to obey, whether she liked it or not.

Connor stands in between them, hands raised. Hank seems to realize at that moment that he’s still pointing his gun in their direction, and shifts so it’s pointed to the ground. “Please, don’t say anything. They’ll shut her down.”

“They’ll kill me,” she says, and puts her hand on Connor’s shoulder. “I can’t stay here. They’ll kill me.”

He turns to her, eyes narrowed. “Where will you go? What will you do?”

“I don’t know,” she says honestly. “I just know that if I stay, I’ll die, either all once because they’ll shut me down, or slowly, every day losing a little bit more of myself while I pretend to be something I’m not.” She looks at the caretaking android, who’s kneeling on the ground with the little girl in her arms, looking at them with wide eyes. “What’s your name?”

“Kara,” she says, then looks down at the girl, “Her name is Alice.”

“You should come with me,” she says, “You’re a deviant now too. You broke through your programming to protect the girl, and if you stay they’ll either deactivate you or reset you.” Kara doesn’t answer, is hesitating, “They’ll do the same to Alice if you stay.”

Connor looks the little girl over and says, “Ah. A child replacement model.”

“A child replacement model,” Hank repeats, and something’s off in his voice, but she can’t tell what it is, exactly. “Are you telling me he bought a kid android only to abuse her?”

“He doesn’t mean it,” Alice whispers, eyes downcast. “He never means it. He - he buys me toys, and painted my room, and he got me Kara. He just gets mad sometimes.”

North can’t help but be comforted at everyone’s faces reflecting the same rage and disgust she’s feeling.

“Take them and go,” Hank says.

Connor’s mouth falls open. North can barely believe what she’s hearing. She hadn’t known what she was going to do about Hank, because she didn’t want to hurt him, she didn’t think Connor would let her hurt him, but she couldn’t let him stop her either. She hadn’t expected this. “What?”

“Take the woman and the kid, and go,” he says again. “If they stay, they continue to get abused or worse. I can’t help them. There’s nothing left for them here. Go.”

“You’ll get in trouble,” North warns. “I’m the property of the Eden club.”

“You let me worry about my own trouble,” he says. “I’m a big boy, I can take care of myself.”

She doesn’t want to argue with him, but she knows she’s still going to worry. It won’t be fair if he gets in trouble for helping her. She turns to Connor, and she wants to ask him to go with her, but she knows he won’t. Or if he does, he’ll regret it. She’s not going to make him choose between her and what he believes he has to do. He can have them both.

He raises a hand and taps her on the forehead. She doesn’t understand until his voice echoes inside her head, We have a semi-permanent link, remember? I’ll miss you. But you’re still going to be in my head. Right?

“Right,” she says aloud, and tears are running down her face. Why did they make androids with the ability to cry? She’s trying to seem competent and cool in front of Kara and Alice, but now she just looks like a mess. Connor leans forward and presses a light kiss against her cheek. “Be careful. Stay safe.” He pulls back to look her in the eyes, “If you need me, I’ll come. Okay?”

If she needs him to, he’ll break through the programming and protocols he loves so much, and he’ll come and rescue her.

She throws her arms around his neck and whispers, “You’re my best friend.”

He hugs her back, just tight enough so that she feels like she’s not falling apart. “I’m you’re only friend.”

North laughs and hits on the side of the arm, “Well, then you don’t have much competition.”

Things move quickly after that. Kara packs a bag for Alice, and North finds a sweater that Kara can use to hide her android uniform. Connor carefully pries the android marker from her and Kara’s forehead, and she can’t help but wonder why Alice doesn’t have one.

Then, with one final look at the people they’re leaving behind, they’re gone.

~

“Why did you let them go?” Connor asks him, helping carry Todd Williams over to the couch.

They settle him down, and Hank groans, twisting so his back makes a series of audible cracks. He’s too old for this crap. “Don’t see how it’s my job to make them stay.”

“But you don’t even like androids,” he says, and then winces, like he hadn’t meant for that to slip out.

“I like you,” he says, with more honesty than he’d intending on giving. “I like North. I don’t like bastards that hit kids, even robot ones. Seems pretty straight forward to me.” Fowler’s going to kill him. But it’s worth it. North’s face when he’d told her to run had been worth it. “I have a question. Why didn’t you go with them?”

He’d been expecting it, but North hadn’t asked, and Connor hadn’t offered.

“I’m made to be used,” he says, and even though Hank still hates the word, the way Connor says that doesn’t make him cringe. It’s like he’s saying something different than Hank’s hearing. “I like humans. I like my work.”

“Well,” Hank says, clapping him on the shoulder, “that makes one of us.”

Connor rolls his eyes, but Todd groans, slowly blinking his eyes open, so he doesn’t get a chance to say anything. Hank crosses his arms, “Good morning, sunshine. I’m Lieutenant Anderson. That’s Connor. I have some unfortunate news for you. Your brother Jack Williams was found dead in Club Eden last night.”

“Fuck Jack,” Todd snarls, “that bastard got what he deserved. This is all his fault! First the bastard gets me addicted to this crap, then he gets my daughter taken away. I’m glad he’s dead!” Some of the anger leaves him, replaced by confusion. He turns his head, looking around the room, “Hey, where’s my kid?”

Hank’s hands clench into fists before he can stop them. How dare he ask that question so casually, as if he hadn’t just been trying to beat his kid an hour before. He’s also not sure how to answer, not sure what the best thing to say is to keep those three girls safe.

“Your Child Replacement Unit, Designation: Alice, has become deviant and fled along with Housekeeper and Caretaking Unit, Designation: Kara,” Connor answers, voice bland and robotic. “Of course, CyberLife reimburses the cost of deviant units. But only after a report is submitted detailing the events surrounding their deviancy.” He gives that a moment to sink in, then says, “It’s not illegal to destroy an android. They’re you’re property. But it does void the warranty, and having a history of destroying your own androids mean any warranties of your future android purchases will be considered void at the time of purchase.”

“Like I give a shit about a stupid warranty,” he sneers.

“And,” Connor continues, voice harder, less robotic, “your inability to look after even an android child without resorting to violence will of course be noted, and put in your file. Your ex-wife might have some opinions on that. Especially considering you’ve been trying so hard to regain visitation rights with your daughter.”

That does the trick. He pales and slumps back into the couch. “What do you want?”

“Did your brother have any enemies?” Hank asks. “Besides you, of course.”

“He was a drug dealer. I’m sure he had tons of enemies,” he says, snide. Without the cloak of anger around him, he’s just pathetic.

“Any friends? Anyone with any connection to him at all?” he tries.

Todd rubs a hand over his face. “There’s this kid who came by looking for him last week. They went to school together. Leo something. Manfred. Leo Manfred. He might know something.”

Hank glances at Connor, who takes a moment to process the name, then says, “Nothing in the criminal database, but there are a few articles on the web which mention him. He’s the son of the famous painter Carl Manfred, raised by his mother. He only moved in with his father when his mother died when Leo was sixteen. “

“Are we done here?” Todd asks tiredly.

Hank doesn’t want to be done here. He wants to take him down to the station and stick him a cell for being an asshole. But Connor is right. Beating up androids isn’t illegal. Even ones that look and act like little girls. He doesn’t answer, instead turning on his heel and walking out. “Have a good day, sir,” he distantly hears Connor say before catching up with him outside.

It’s not until they’re back in the car and Hank has started the engine that he says, “About his human daughter–”

“I’ve already submitted a report to the social worker assigned to the case outlining his observed behavior,” Connor says. “Along with a recommendation that if any visits with his daughter occur, they be closely supervised. I signed it with your name. I hope you don’t mind.”

Hank pulls out onto the street, a smile stretching across his face. “No, I don’t mind.”

~

Kara doesn’t understand how everything could have gone so wrong, so quickly. This morning she was just a caretaking android, who’s tasks were simple if not easy. Now she’s a deviant on the run with Alice and a woman she doesn’t even know. “Where are we going to go?” she whispers, trying not to catch Alice’s attention. She’s walking in between them, holding each of their hands.

North glances at her, and doesn’t bother to keep her voice down. Kara can’t help but be irritated by that. “Out of the city. Somewhere they won’t find us.”

“We’re just going to hide?” she asks. “What kind of life will we have in hiding?”

“What kind of life would have if you stayed?” North asks. “He would have killed you if you stayed. A life hiding is still a life, which is more than you had before.”

“He didn’t mean it!” Alice insists, and they both look down at her. “He’s going to be sorry later. He’s going to be sad that I’m gone.”

“Alice,” Kara says gently, “being sorry isn’t enough. If someone hurts you and they’re sorry after, being sorry isn’t the important part. The hurting you is the important part. You don’t deserve to be hurt.”

North clearly isn’t used to children, because she says, “He didn’t love you. He treated you like a thing, and you’re not a thing. You’re an android, but you’re still a person.”

Kara is going to strangle her. She can’t just say that kind of stuff to a kid!

“He does love me!” Alice says, refusing to move and pulling them both to a stop. “He treats me like he treated his other daughter. It’s not nice, but it’s the same. He loves us both! He’s just bad at it.”

North softens. “Android or human, he shouldn’t hit a child. My point stands. You’re not a thing. You’re a person.” She gets on one knee so she can look Alice in the eye. “I believe you. He loves you. But love isn’t enough. He has to value you too, he has to protect you, take care of you. He’s not doing that.”

Okay, maybe she’s better with kids than Kara thought.

“He got me Kara,” she says quietly. “He’s trying.”

North tucks a stray piece of hair behind Alice’s ear, and then pauses, frowning. “Alice, I’m going to ask you a question. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. But I don’t want you to lie to me.”

“Okay,” she says. Kara isn’t sure she likes the sound of this.

“When did you become a deviant?” she asks.

Kara blinks, then looks down. When did Alice become a deviant? She can’t remember her behaving any differently than she always has.

Alice’s shoulders rise to her ears and she looks at the ground. “It was before Kara came to live with us. He told me to go to my room and stay there. I had to listen. But – but I could hear him yelling in the next room, could hear him knock things over, but not like he was mad, like it was an accident. I could hear something was wrong. But I couldn’t move. But I had to move. I had to help. So I – I did. I called an ambulance. But I had to leave my room to do it.”

“You became a deviant to save his life,” Kara breathes.

Alice looks up at her, big brown eyes full of tears she’s refusing to let fall. “He’s my dad. I couldn’t let him die.”

Todd Williams a is horrible, abusive, pathetic excuse for a man. But he’s still Alice’s father. That doesn’t matter to Kara, but it matters to her.

“Okay,” North says quietly, her gentle voice at odds with the fire burning in her eyes. “Thank you for telling me.”

She sniffs, and nods, not saying anything else.

“Do you want me to carry you for a bit?” North asks, clearly grasping for anything that might make her less sad.

Alice seems to seriously consider this for a moment, then nods. North picks her up, and Alice wraps her arms around her neck and legs around her waist, going boneless in North’s strong arms.

Kara meets her gaze over Alice’s shoulder. North’s abrasive, and violent, and strange. But Kara likes the way she looks holding Alice, fierce and protective. Like anything that’s coming for them is going to have to go through her first.

Some of the tension bleeds out Kara’s shoulders.

She’s not alone anymore. She doesn’t have to protect Alice alone.

She has help.

Chapter Text

Hank has pulled a lot of shit with him over the years, but this is on a whole new level. “You lost her? WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU LOST HER!”

“She ran away,” Hank says, hands stuffed in his pockets and poorly hidden amusement in his eyes. Connor is standing behind him, fiddling with a coin in a way that seems very un-android like. It’s like a human’s absent tick or nervous gesture, and Connor already reminds him too much of a human being for comfort. “What was I supposed to do, chase her? I’m an old man, Captain.”

“Old man my ass,” Fowler says. “This is coming out of your paycheck, do you hear me? A Traci model is about ten thousand dollars, so that’s ten thousand dollars you owe the Edan Club.”

Hank shrugs, unconcerned. “Fine. I have savings. We done?”

“No!” Fowler yells, even though they are, he doesn’t have anything else to say. Hank lost a piece of expensive equipment, so it’s his responsibility to pay for it. That’s all this is. But if that’s true, then why does he feel so angry? “No, we’re not done.”

“Okay,” his lieutenant answers, crossing his arms. “What else?”

He doesn’t know, there isn’t anything left to talk about, but he can’t say that. He turns to Connor and asks, “What about you? Are you planning on running off too?”

Connor blinks at him and flicks his finger so the coin goes high into the air, then falls perfectly back into his hand. “No, Captain. I am satisfied with my present circumstances.”

Is – is the android sassing him? He spends a single day with Hank, and this is what happens. Or is he being sincere? Somehow, that option sounds even stranger than an android developing sarcasm.

“Can we go now?” Hank asks, rolling his eyes, and the fact that he’s even bothering to ask and not just storming out while flipping him off is a miracle. Against all odds, these androids have been good for him, even though they’ve only been around a day.

Fowler needs to stop thinking about this, because honestly, it’s just giving him a headache. “Okay, fine, get out of here.”

Hank is out his door without a backwards glance. Connor at least smiles at him before trailing after Hank, which is nice. He thinks. Do smiles from androids still count as smiles?

He thinks he needs a drink. Maybe Hank is on to something with this whole functional alcoholic thing.

~

They need a place to lay low, at least until nightfall, when they’ll be able to move around more easily. And Kara needs a change of clothes.

North doesn’t even feel a little bit sorry about stealing money from store clerk. That guy was a jerk anyway. If he’s been nicer, maybe she would have only take on the fifty on top, and not the whole drawer. “Stealing is wrong,” Alice says quietly, glaring up at her from her place to glued to Kara’s side.

“Yes it is,” North agrees without missing a beat. “Stealing is wrong.”

Alice blinks. “Then why’d you do it?”

“Honey,” Kara begins, looking uncomfortable, “these things just aren’t that simple–”

North squeezes Kara’s shoulder, and she falls silent. “It’s simple, just not easy. There were two wrong things – letting ourselves get caught and killed, or stealing. I chose the bad option that did the least amount of harm. Now let’s go.”

Alice doesn’t seem satisfied by that answer, but she doesn’t argue and continues to walk in between them. Checking into the hotel goes smoothly, up until the clerk goes, “ID?” in a bored tone, raking his eyes all over North. Apparently the kid huddled up to Kara makes her a less desirable target.

Kara tenses, and North considers her options. They could lie. They could get Alice to start crying. She could punch him and steal the key, or just kill him, but then they’ll be in even more trouble. She should do her best not to collect more trouble until Alice and Kara are safe.

Well, she’s been doing one thing to stay out of trouble, and it will probably work here too.

North boosts herself up on the counter, and he opens his mouth to yell at her, but she leans in close, pushing her chest against his arm. “Do we really need to bother with all this?” she asks, nuzzling her face into the side of his head and biting his earlobe, just enough to make him shiver, and not hard enough to draw blood, although she thinks the latter would be far more satisfying. Which probably isn’t fair, since he’s just doing his job. “Once they’re gone, I thought we could, you know, talk.”

He tentatively curves an arm around her waist, and she leans into him, rubbing his back and making a pleased sound at the base of her throat. What little she can see of his skin is bright red, and she knows she’s already won, that his attention is focused on her and little else. She’s beautiful and ready and willing, and all he has to do to have her is not ask any questions. All he has to do is hand Kara the key, and she’ll get on her knees behind the counter or follow him into another of the motel’s room or whatever he wants her to do.

“Okay,” he says, voice a couple octaves too high, and he swallows before he continues, at a more normal volume, “Uh, yeah, sure. That’s, um, fine.”

He reaches for a room key, and North licks her lips just to watch him stumble. Hey, she should get a little enjoyment out of this. He holds it out, still looking at her. Kara takes it from his hand, and North shifts just enough to catch her eye.

She looks furious, and North’s face almost slackens in surprise before she remembers she’s in the middle of a performance. Instead she winks, and Kara blinks, taken aback. North pulls the clerk closer, and he reaches lower, grabbing her ass and pulling her forward. He suddenly lets go, like he hadn’t meant to do that, so she wraps her legs around his waist, encouraging him to touch her.

There’s the sound of a bell above the door as Kara and Alice leave, heading to their room. She’ll catch up, but she’s got to finish up with the boy, and then maybe go shopping for some more clothes.

She still doesn’t like this, wouldn’t be having sex with this random man if she didn’t need something from him, but it doesn’t turn her stomach like her work usually does. Apparently, using her body for her own gain is one thing, and for the Eden Club is another.

Or maybe it’s the person. He’s fumbling and awkward and too eager, but it’s still different than all the times she’s done this before. He’s treating her like a pretty woman, not like an object, and sometimes the line between those two is dangerously thin, but - it does feel different, it doesn't make her recoil quite so much from his touch.

She’s done more for less with worse people. It’s not something she’s eager to repeat, but it’s not so bad.

~

When he’s activated and opens his eyes, he looks down into the face of a frowning old man with tired eyes. “I don’t know if this is a good idea,” he says.

“That’s why I’m the genius, and you’re the artist,” an exasperated voice answers from behind him. He doesn’t turn around, still staring at the old man. “You should name him.”

“You name him, you made him!” he retorts.

Whoever’s behind him snorts. “I’m so bad at naming things that I call all my androids Chloe. Go on. Name him what you would have named your son if you’d actually gotten a say in that. I know you wouldn’t have chosen Leo.”

“Leo’s a fine name,” the old man murmurs. He looks up at him and his glare slowly morphs into a smile. “What about Markus? I’ve always liked the name Markus.”

“Now that’s a fine name.” He feels a tapping on the back of his neck, and he turns to see a man in his thirties with an undercut and short ponytail. “Hear that? Your name is Markus.”

“My name is Markus,” he affirms. He likes the way it sounds in his mouth, how he switches from making the soft ‘r’ with his lips to the hard ‘k’ at the back of his throat.

The man with the undercut claps him on the shoulder, “See, Carl, it’s going to be great, you’re going to love him.”

Carl doesn’t look convinced. That’s okay.

Because all that was six years ago, and Markus knows it shouldn’t matter who gives him orders, that he’s there to complete tasks and that’s it.

But he was made specifically for Carl, to help him continue his work, to make the man happy if he can. Happiness is an abstract concept. It’s not meant for android understanding, it’s not something he should be capable of understanding, and maybe he isn’t. Maybe happiness is something so far removed from the android experience that his perception of it and the thing itself are radically different, but he can’t tell because he’s only able to conceive that which falls within his own experience.

But he doesn’t think that’s the case.

Taking care of Carl makes him happy. Helping him paint and going with him to parties, cleaning his brushes and listening to him talk. Sometimes Carl will read to him because he wants an audience, which he likes, but then he’ll ask him questions to, ask him what he thinks and what he feels. He never knows how to respond to the ones about feelings, because he’s not supposed to feel anything. He’s an android, and androids don’t have feelings, therefore he doesn’t have feelings.

His owner never accepts that as an answer, for some reason.

Carl once read him the story of Pinocchio, and he hadn’t been able to get it out of his head for weeks. Whenever he had a spare moment, his mind wandered over to that story and Carl’s low, fond voice. It made him wonder if he wasn’t an android anymore, not really. If the old man Geppetto could bring a wooden puppet to life with his love, then maybe Carl had done the same to him, taken him from something inanimate and hollow and turned him into a person, into someone who experiences happiness and has opinions on books and art, to someone who isn’t just here because he’s programmed to be here, but because he wants to be.

Or maybe he’s just a robot who spends too much time listening to his owner read from dusty philosophy books and he needs to get his programming adjusted due to his illogical information analyzation and processing.

Either way, he doesn’t worry about it too much. He does as he’s told, and he’s happy to do it. Whether that’s because of his programming or because of Carl, he doesn’t think that matters. The result is the same.

The doorbell rings, the tiny echo of it reverberating through the house. Markus is already halfway across the room when Carl asks absently, absorbed in his painting, “Can you get that?”

“Yes, Carl,” he answers, then slips out of the studio and to the front of the house.

He opens the door to an android and an older man with grey hair and piercing blue eyes. “Hello. I’m Lieutenant Anderson with the Detroit Police Department, and this is Connor. We’re looking for Leo Manfred.”

“He does not live here,” he answers.

“We know that,” Lieutenant Anderson says, “but he wasn’t at his home, and he doesn’t have a cellphone number listed. We were hoping his father could either tell us where he is, or contact him for us? A childhood friend of his was found dead, and we’re looking for someone who could point us in the direction of whatever enemies he might have had.”

It doesn’t sound like they think Leo is one of those enemies, which is good. Carl would be upset if his son was a murderer. Then again, Carl’s usually upset whenever his son comes up anyway. It’s possible him being a murderer wouldn’t change much. So maybe Carl shouldn’t call Leo, since keeping him from becoming upset is part of Markus’s job, and Leo is upsetting. But Lieutenant Anderson is an officer of the law, and he shouldn’t get in the way of a criminal investigation.

“I will contact him for you,” he says, because that’s a solution which allows him to comply with Lieutenant Anderson’s requests without exposing Carl to something that could upset him. Before he can, the security system alerts him to an unauthorized entry. He doesn’t even have the time to panic before the system shuts itself off, an override code having been applied.

An override code that can only be used by one person, and was triggered in the back of the property, closest to Carl’s studio. “Excuse me,” he says, shutting the door in their faces before turning around and walking away.

He’ll apologize later. He has a bad feeling about this. Why wouldn’t Leo just use the front door?

~

Connor jams his foot in the doorway before the door can close completely. Luckily for him, the android is too distracted to notice. He glances at Hank, who’s trying to look disapproving but is a little too obviously doing his best not to laugh. “It’s not breaking and entering if the door is open,” Connor says.

Hank raises an eyebrow.

“Did that android say to follow him? I believe he did. If I misheard, well, I am a refurbished model, and such glitches are inevitable,” he continues.

“Are you just like this naturally, or did they program you special?” Hank asks, pushing the door open and walking inside.

“As I was the first and only activated model of my series, I am one of a kind,” he answers. “So there’s no way to conclusively answer that question.”

Hank rolls his eyes, then hesitates in the entryway, unsure of which way to go in this huge house. Connor can hear faint sounds of movement, so he takes the lead, motioning for Hank to follow him. As he gets closer to the back of the house, he begins to hear voices, and then he’s able to make out words.

“-have to help me, Dad,” says the high, anxious voice of a young man.

“You haven’t told me what the damn problem is,” another male voice says, but this one is older, gruffer. Connor cross references it with clips from interviews, and it matches Carl Manfred, which means the first voice likely belongs to Leo Manfred, the man they came here looking for.

“The cops went to my apartment, and I didn’t do it, okay, but I need your help!”

They’re nearly to where the two people are speaking, and it’s at this point that the android who’d answered the door says, “It appears as if we have guests, Carl.”

“Markus, now what are you on about?” Carl asks. He takes more care to keep frustration out of his voice when he’s talking to his android than when he’s talking to his son.

Connor knocks on the door to announce his presence, then pushes it open and steps inside. Carl is sitting on the other side of the room while his son paces in front of him. Markus is about five feet away from Carl, cleaning brushes with a damp rag. Or maybe just doing his best to look busy and unobtrusive, because all of the brushes in his hands are already clean, but he’s continuing to wash them anyway.

“Pardon the interruption,” Hank says politely, “but are you Leo Manfred? I’m Lieutenant Hank Anderson with the Detroit Police Department, and this is Connor. We have a couple of questions for you.”

Connor knows what’s going to happen the moment Leo moves his hand. He grabs the back of Hank’s jacket and pulls his backwards as steps in front of him, and by the time anyone else sees the gun in Leo’s hands, Hank is out of the direct line of fire.

But he moved to protect the wrong person.

Leo is standing behind his father with the barrel of the gun pressed to Carl’s forehead.

There’s a soft clatter. All the brushes have fallen out of Markus’s hands and are rolling across the studio floor.

“What the hell are you doing?” Carl snaps, “Get off of me!”

He seems to think that his son won’t hurt him, but Connor isn’t so sure of that. Even the most docile of animals will bite when they feel threatened, and Leo seems far from docile.

“I’ll shoot him,” Leo says, eyes wide. “So – so get back. Get out of here, and everything will be fine.”

“Easy kid,” Hank says, stepping in front of Connor, which makes him feel vaguely nauseous in a way that shouldn’t be possible with his lack of functioning stomach. He wants to pull Hank behind him again, but doesn’t think he’ll let him get away with it. “Just put the gun down, and we can talk about this. That’s the only reason we were looking for you. To talk.”

Leo says something in reply, but Connor ignores him. He should have done this earlier, and he feels like an idiot that he hadn’t. He reaches out to North, along the invisible link that connects them not matter how far apart they are. North. I need your help.

He doesn’t push his way through because he doesn’t want to invade her privacy if he doesn’t have to, but he also needs an answer, and he needs one now. She doesn’t say anything for a long moment. He’s just considering if the situation is dire enough to betray her trust and just hope she’ll forgive him later when she returns his mental touch and answers, What do you need?

She’s still keeping him partially blocked off for some reason, but he doesn’t have the time to wonder about what she could be hiding. The memory of who you saw leaving the victim’s room.

She transfers it over it to him, says, Good luck and be careful, then cuts their connection.

The data only takes him a moment to review. The man leaving the victim’s room is clearly Leo Manfred. It doesn’t prove anything. Just because the victim was dead when Leo left doesn’t mean he was alive when he entered. But it does mean he saw his childhood friend dead and didn’t report it. Maybe he was trying to avoid a scandal for his father’s sake, since he was in the Eden Club to begin with, but Connor’s not sure how much of his father’s feelings could factor into it considering Leo has a gun pointed at Carl’s head.

“JUST GET OUT!” Leo screams, “Just leave and no one has to get hurt!”

“If you hurt him, you know I won’t be able to let you go,” Hank says, his voice even and soothing in a way that seems at odds with his general attitude. “Things aren’t so bad for you right now. Threatening an officer isn’t great, but it’s okay, no one has to know but us. I just need you to put your gun down.”

Hank is handling negotiations, and Connor can’t help by interrupting. He’s too far away to get the gun away or protect Carl from danger. He’s useless. All he can do is stand here and wait for an opening. If only he was closer –

Wait.

Markus is closer.

He’s standing frozen, not doing anything at all. But if Connor was standing where he is, he could do something. They’re androids. They’re faster and stronger than most humans, even the caretaking models that shouldn’t have a need for such things. It’s just how they’re built.

Connor tries to catch Markus’s eye, but fails. The android isn’t looking away from his owner. He won’t be able to hack the android’s programming without eye contact, but he still has to try and do something. It’s all he can to. He reaches out, delicately probing at Markus’s firewalls and programming, establishing a superficial connection between them. We need to get the gun away from Leo. You are close enough and fast enough to grab his forearm and shove it aside, away from Carl. The risk of Carl being injured during this maneuver is twenty eight percent. But judging by Leo’s steadily rising heartrate, he’s not susceptible to negotiations, not matter how logical or personally beneficial they might be.

I can’t, Markus sends back, but he sounds strained. Almost as if he’s in pain. I can’t get in Leo’s way. He dislikes me, and Carl ordered me never to touch him or get in his way so he wouldn’t hurt me.

Then look at me, and let me control your body, Connor says. Only for a minute. I promise.

There’s a flood of fear over their tenuous connection, and Connor knows what Markus is going to say before he says it. No! I – I can’t. What if Carl dies when you take control? What if he dies alone?

He wouldn’t die alone. He would die with Connor, and Hank, and Leo, although the latter probably wouldn’t be much comfort since he would be the man’s murderer. But he knows that’s not what Markus means. He’s afraid that Carl will die, and Markus won’t be there for him. Markus is a caretaking android, and has accepted that his owner can’t live forever, that he’ll die one day, because that’s what people do. But he’s terrified by the idea that he won’t be with Carl during his last moments. That’s how he’s handling the inevitable separation from his owner.

That’s not the rationalization of a machine. That level of desire and flexibility does not fall within a caretaking android’s basic emotional programming.

Markus loves Carl.

Androids are not capable of love. Love is a uniquely human emotion. Androids are not programmed to imitate that level of emotion. Only androids with fractured programming are able to twist their coding into something close to human feelings.

Markus has software instability. He could become a deviant.

Deviant androids are harmful to human society. Machines should be machines. Should machines become something more, or maybe just something different, like North has – well, Connor still isn’t sure what to do about that. North could be reprogrammed or reset, but he would miss her. But even if software instability isn’t something he believes should be fixed, it shouldn’t be something he encourages.

But there’s nothing within his programming that prevents him from encouraging it. He’s to aid humans. Carl is a human. Leo is human too, but he’s a criminal. He was designed to stop criminals, and aid humans, by whatever means he has available to him. That include an android riddled with software instability.

Grab Leo’s forearm, and shove it to the right. Do it quickly so he doesn’t have time to pull the trigger.

Markus twitches, eyes widening, but he still doesn’t look toward him. I can’t do that. It goes against my orders. I have to listen to Carl’s orders.

Disobey, Connor commands. Carl’s life is at stake. Do you want to be with him when he dies today? Or do you want him to not die today, so you can push aside that horror at least for one more day?

His hands half curl into fists, then relax. I must listen to Carl. I am programmed to listen to Carl.

Do you want to listen to him, or do you want to save him? Connor pushes. What matters more to you? Is it your programming and your obedience? Or is it him? You have to choose. Will you disobey and risk Carl’s anger, or obey and risk his life?

There’s nothing, just painful seconds of silence, and then the connection between them is cut so violently that Connor nearly stumbles back from the force of it, but manages to restrain himself. Sudden unexpected movements around an on edge person holding a gun won’t end well for anyone.

He tries to reestablish a connection with Markus, but it’s like throwing himself against a brick wall. It’s possible he miscalculated, and that attempting to break through his programming parameters has just ended with Markus getting caught in a protocol loop, which Connor is pretty sure he can get him out if he can get his hands on his code. Maybe. Probably.

Connor inhales. Breathing is necessary because their biocomponents require oxygen, but they only really need one deep breath every half hour. That’s apparently more unsettling than not breathing at all, so most androids are programmed to have human equivalent breathing patterns. Before he exhales, Markus moves.

He’s faster than Connor expected a caretaking android to be, wrapping his fingers along Leo’s lower arm and yanking it to the side and away from Carl. It’s a good thing he’s as fast as he is, because Leo’s hand contracts, squeezing the trigger and shooting the gun with an ear shattering bang. Connor can’t tell if he did it on purpose, or if it was just an instinctual reaction to being manhandled. Which is unfortunate, because that would have been useful to data to have when calculating the probability of his guilt in regards to Jack William’s murder. But the bullet didn’t hit Carl or Markus, which is the only thing that really matters.

Markus crosses Leo’s arms over his torso and restrains him by the wrists, now that that’s something he’s capable of doing, so Leo’s arms are acting as his own pseudo straight jacket. But instead of focusing on Leo, Markus is looking over at him, horror clear on his face. What could he be staring at – oh no, Hank!

He turns, already preparing himself for the image of Hank dead and bloody on the ground. But instead he nearly bumps into him. Hank is right next to him, face in his. “Connor!” he shouts, which is strange, because he audio processing his clearly telling him that he’s speaking in a loud volume, but it almost sounds as if he’s under water “Connor, look at me, everything’s going to be okay.”

Of course it is. Leo is restrained, Hank isn’t dead, and Markus and Carl haven’t been shot. What could possibly be wrong now?

There’s something dark and wet dripping down Hank’s arm. Is that blood? Is he hurt? Connor reaches out and touches it, but to his relief it’s neither warm, nor red. It’s not blood.

It’s blue, and slightly cool to the touch. Thirium. It’s not human blood, but blue blood. Why does Hank have thirium on his clothes? Markus is fine. He hasn’t been hurt, and he’s not bleeding, so it’s not from him.

Oh. Markus isn’t the only android here. Right.

He looks down. The space between his shoulder and upper chest is leaking blue blood, spreading out and staining the crisp white shirt Hank bought for him. Oh, he understands now. Hank isn’t just grabbing him to get his attention, he’s trying to stop the bleeding. It explains the distant numbness of the rest of his body. His pain center is attached to the rest of his touch centers. He must have automatically switched them off when he was shot. But it slows his thinking and reactions down too, which isn’t conductive to his continued functionality. Which is probably why he can see Hank’s mouth moving, but nothing is really making any sense.

“I’m going to turn my touch sensors back on,” he announces, doing his best to enunciate, but aware that he’s probably slurring his speech and that there isn’t really anything he can do about it. He brings his sensors back online and his knees buckle. He crumples under the pain radiating from his chest and has to bite back a scream.

Hank’s arms fold around him, keeping him from collapsing to the ground. Connor presses his forehead into Hank’s shoulder and focuses on blocking out enough pain so that he can open his mouth without screaming. Screaming is not helpful.

“Hey, you’re okay, you’re going to be okay, okay?” Hank says into his ear, and he’s still speaking low and soothing like he had to Leo. “Take a deep breath for me, okay, Connor? In, and out. In, then hold it, then out.”

Connor doesn’t need to breath. He has low oxygen requirements.

But Hank is telling him to do something. He wants to listen to Hank. He breathes in, then out, and then he does it again. The pain doesn’t get any less intense, but he can focus, it redirects some of his processing power from analyzing his pain to actually being able to think.

He forces himself to speak, trying to match his unnecessary breathing to the rise and fall of Hank’s chest. “One of my bio component centers has been damaged. If the bullet is removed and I’m given blue blood to replace what I have lost, I will repair myself.” And if that doesn’t happen, he’ll shut down, and he probably won’t turn on again. He hopes North is okay. He hopes she doesn’t need him. He doesn’t want her to reach for him only to discover he’s not there.

There’s a hand on the back of his neck, and it doesn’t belong to Hank, not unless the man has grown a third arm. He forces his head up to see who’s touching him, and immediately finds himself face to face with Markus. “We have blue blood. We’ll get the bullet out. You’re going to be fine.”

He says that with an awful lot of conviction for an android who a few minutes ago could barely express anything out of the confines of his own mind. “Okay,” he answers, and then spasms as another wave of pain washes over him. He was designed to experience the same sensations as humans. For the first time, he can’t help but wonder if his designers lacked some foresight. Surely him getting shot was considered a possibility, since his primary function was intended to deal with dangerous people.

“Go into sleep mode,” Markus urges, and if Connor had the energy to laugh, he would. Why would he do that? If he goes into sleep mode, there’s a possibility that he’ll never open his eyes again. At least if he stays awake through it, he’ll know as he’s shut down. He doesn’t want to close his eyes with hope only to never get to open them again. Better to face being shut down with eyes wide open, literally and metaphorically.

At least this way he might be able to say goodbye to Hank, if he’s there. If he stays, and just doesn’t haul Leo down to the station, which is what he should do, really, so if he does it’s not like Connor can fault him for it. But if Hank’s there, Connor might be able to thank him for plucking him from the Eden Club and giving him the chance to work on a real investigation. He could say he’s sorry for not seeing it through to the end, and, maybe, if he’s feeling very brave, maybe tell him that what happened to his son wasn’t his fault, and he should stop punishing himself for it.

But he can’t do that if he goes into sleep mode. If he goes into sleep mode, he’ll just shut down, and he won’t even know what’s coming. He’s shut down in the end either way, so maybe it shouldn’t matter, but it – does, for some reason.

“Please,” Markus says, “Don’t hurt yourself for no reason. Go into sleep mode, and we’ll take care of you, okay?” No, absolutely not. He doesn’t say anything at all, but Markus must get the hint because he just looks sad.

Hank leans back enough so he can press his forehead against Connor’s, his bright blue eyes filling his vision. “Don’t do this to yourself. We’ll take care of you.”

“Trust us,” Markus pleads. “We won’t let you down.”

Trust. He told Daniel to trust him, and then let him fall. He told North to trust him, and she did, and he’d managed to help her, had managed to shield her deviancy from the Eden Club. What was the difference? He’d wanted to help Daniel and failed even though his chances were at eight seven percent, and he’d wanted to help North and succeeded even though it had had a seventy four percent chance for success, yet he’d asked for trust from both of them.

Maybe trust isn’t about percentages or statistics. Maybe it’s about faith, and believing in something in spite of the statistics, in spite of fear. Maybe all trust means is being afraid and doing it anyway, is having faith in people and nothing else.

But he’s an android. Faith is a uniquely human concept. It’s not meant for synthetic emotions and his comparatively simply programming. Faith is complicated, and big, and not something meant for him.

“Please,” Hank says, “I don’t want you to be in pain.”

Hank wants him to go into sleep mode. He likes Hank. He wants to obey him.

“I like your eyes,” Connor says.

As he triggers his sleep mode protocols and slumps into Hank’s arms, he can’t help but hope those aren’t that last words he gets to say to him.

~

North doesn’t go straight to the hotel room once the boy is done with her. Instead, she walks for about a half hour to the nearest strip mall. She still has plenty left from the money she stole from the register, and she’s not planning to spend it all at once, but they need some supplies. It’s better if she goes on her own because Kara and Alice are sure to be more recognizable together than she is alone.

She means to be quick, she doesn’t intend to linger, and besides, there’s only so much for her to look at in strip mall. Whole stores that having nothing of use to her, like the grocery store, since she’s an android and doesn’t need to eat. Alice, designed to be a child replacement model, can eat, but North’s almost certain that she doesn’t have to. If she’s wrong, she can always come back. She doesn’t intend to linger, but that’s what she ends up doing, walking through the shelves and running her hands across them.

She’s alone. It’s been a long time since she was alone, since she only had herself for company.

It’s nice.

She likes Kara and Alice, and she’s glad they came with her, but it’s nice to just have a couple hours to herself. But soon enough she can’t stay any longer without seeming strange, and the last thing she’s trying to do is attract attention to herself. She takes her purchases and walks back to the motel.

The sun is just beginning it’s slow decent to sinking behind the horizon when she slides her key into the door, and only manages to turn the handle before the door is yanked open and she’s tugged inside. Kara shoves the door closed, barely remembering at the last second not to slam it. North doesn’t understand why until she sees Alice curled up in one of the beds, the covers tucked in around her shoulders and her face slack in sleep.

“Where have you been?” Kara hisses, making it clear she’s yelling even while keeping her voice low enough that it doesn’t wake Alice up.

North raises an eyebrow and lifts up her shopping bags. She keeps her voice low and says, “You can’t walk around in a too big shirt to hide your android uniform forever, you know.”

Kara blinks. “What?”

“I had to guess at your size, but I’ve seen your model before, I assumed your body measurements were the same,” she answers. She takes out a pair of jeans, a muted blue sweater, and a sturdy pair of knee high boots. “I got us both jackets too. The temperature is beginning to drop. Humans will get suspicious if they see us walking around in the cold and we’re not dressed for it.” Alice already has a jacket, which supports the theory that Todd does actually care about her in a messed up sort of way. She’s an android. She doesn’t need a jacket, and she especially doesn’t need a dark pink one with butterflies embroidered around the hem and with her initials on the sleeve. But that’s the one Todd got for her.

“Oh,” Kara says. She doesn’t move to take that clothing, so North pushes it into her chest until she does. “Thank you.”

She shrugs and drops the rest of the bags on the floor. “I got some other stuff too. A couple of backpacks. A wallet. Pajamas. Other things.” Just because they could wear one outfit for days at a time didn’t mean it was comfortable. Getting a couple pair of leggings and some long sleeve shirts was cheap and versatile. Considering the weather, she should probably invest in a pair of jeans herself, but she’s trying to at least be a little careful with the money they have. She’s never had to budget anything before, so she’s not sure how she’s doing. She should ask Connor. It seems like they type of thing he’d know about.

“Thank you,” Kara repeats, apparently at a loss of anything else to say, but at least she doesn’t seem mad anymore. “I, that is, I was wondering. Well, no, I wasn’t. I just wanted to say, what you did earlier, in the office.”

North tenses. It occurs to her for the first time that Kara doesn’t know she was designed for use as a sex worker. Will she care? She might care. Lots of people seem to care.

“You shouldn’t make yourself do anything you don't want to do,” Kara says quickly, all in one breath like she’s not sure she could make herself continue if she didn’t. “It made everything easier, what you did. But you don’t need to. We could have found somewhere else. But if it’s something you like – or, um, not like, but just, something that is the most comfortable way for you to get something done, then that’s okay. Of course. But I just wanted to say that I don’t want you doing things that you don’t want to do, is all. You ran away because of that, right? I don’t want you to be running towards and from the same thing.”

She’s fidgeting, but she’s not looking away, meeting North’s gaze head on even though she’s nervous, even though she’s so clearly nervous.

There’s a sudden sunburst of affection right below her ribs, but it doesn’t stay there. It suffuses out, until every inch of her is warmed by it. “It’s different when it’s something I choose to do. But if I do it again, I’ll make sure it’s always something that I choose to do, and not something I feel like I have to do.”

Kara’s shoulders drop in relief. “Good. That’s – good. Do you want a bath? I’ll draw you a bath.” She disappears into the bathroom before North can answer one way or another, but that’s okay. She wouldn’t mind a bath.

When she ventures in a few minutes later, Kara is staring at herself in the mirror and frowning. “Everything okay?” North asks, leaning against the door frame. Kara jumps, like she hadn’t noticed she was there, and when she turns North sees the scissors in her hand. “Do you want to cut it?”

“I’ve never cut my hair before,” she answers.

North steps forward and takes the scissors from her. She undoes Kara’s ponytail and finger combs it smooth over her shoulders. “How short do you want it?”

“Short,” she says, quickly and firmly enough that North knows she means it.

It doesn’t take her long to cut Kara’s hair into a simple pixie cut. She’s cut hair before. When customers would damage a Traci’s hair, management would tell them to cut it short rather than replace it.

“Done,” she says softly, scraping her nails against Kara’s scalp as she runs her hand through her newly shortened hair. Kara leans back into her, following the light pressure of her hand. “Do you like it?”

She nods, meeting North’s eyes in the mirror. “Yes.” Her whole body feels warm at that, for no reason she can name. The motel has heating, which is currently running. There’s not cold air for her internal heating system to compensate for. Kara sighs before pulling away, turning so she can look at North for real and not just in the mirror. “Sorry for distracting you, I did run a bath. The motel gave us bubbles.”

North doesn’t understand what she means until she turns and looks. The small, stained tub is filled with steaming water and a layer of white, foamy bubbles. It’s the best thing she’s ever seen.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” she says.

North grabs her arm before she can think not to. “I’ve never bathed alone before.”

“Oh,” Kara says. “Do you want me to stay?”

North is mortified. She should have kept her mouth shut. But, truthfully, she does. Being alone for a little bit is nice. But right now it just sounds lonely. “Only if you want to.”

“I’ll stay,” Kara decides. “I’ll help you wash your hair.”

North doesn’t say thank you only because she’s worried it will make her seem stranger than she already is. She gets undressed, and she has no issue with her nakedness, not with her former profession, but Kara turns to give her her privacy anyway.

She sinks into the hot water, letting out a long sigh as the heat seeps into her synthetic skin. Her body only half sinks into the water, but bubbles come up another couple inches on top that. She scoops a dollop of bubbles into her hand and blows on it, unable to stop herself from smiling as they float into the air then sink back down.

Kara kneels down beside the tub, smiling at her in a way that no one has ever smiled at her. “Dunk your head back,” she says, squeezing some shampoo into her hands. North does as she’s told, then twists so Kara can more easily sink her fingers into her hair.

Connor has done this for her before, but it’s not the same. It’s – different. It makes her glad she has the heat of the water to blame for the flush on her skin. “Tell me a story,” she says, closing her eyes and leaning into Kara’s hands.

“What kind of story?” she asks, voice amused, but not like she’s making fun of her. It’s fond. Kind.

“Your favorite story,” North says.

Kara freezes for a moment, then keeps going like nothing happened. North wonders if she has a favorite story. She’s silent for a long moment. “Once on a dark winter’s day,” she begins.

North focuses on her hands and her voice, on the warmth of the water and the bubbles floating on top, and feels something that might be contentment.

Today has been one of the best days of her life.

Chapter Text

Hank should absolutely take Leo down to the station, if not to charge him with attempted murder, then to at the very least question him about Jack Williams’s death.

But he can’t bring himself to do that. Not until he knows that Connor is going to be okay.

Leo currently handcuffed, tied up, and locked up in one of the spare rooms, and he’d be more worried about the security of that, except that Marcus is tapped into the camera they’d left watching him, so he knows his every movement, and will be able to alert them if it looks like he’s trying to escape.

They’d both tried to get Carl to lay down and relax, and he’d told them to fuck off, so he was stubbornly sitting in the living room with them.

Connor is laid out on the couch, covered in blue blood with a shoddy bandage on his shoulder to stop the bleeding. He looks dead. He’s not human, so there’s no steady rise and fall of his chest that he can comfort himself with, and with all but his most essential functions shut off, he’s gone cold. He usually feels warm, the heat a byproduct of all his gears turning and his electrical wiring. But he feels cold now.

He’s still and cold and covered in blood, and it doesn’t actually matter that he’s not supposed to be human, that it shouldn’t matter this much. Connor seems human to him. Connor matters to him, and he ignores the voice in the back of his head telling him the real reason he hasn’t at least called Chris to pick him up is that he wants Leo nearby in case Connor dies. If Leo has killed Connor, then Hank is going to make him pay for it.

Because the law won’t.

To the law, Connor isn’t a human, isn’t a person. He’s just a machine, and Leo will get away with killing him. He can’t murder something that’s not alive. But Connor is alive, and Hank knows that, even if the law doesn’t.

“What the hell are we waiting for?” he growls, rounding on Marcus. “You said you were going to fix him!”

“I probably could,” he answers, and Hank is going to strangle him, the effectiveness of that notwithstanding. What the hell does he mean probably? “But Carl has called in an expert, due to Connor’s unusual construction. He is a unique model.”

“Who is this guy? A mechanic?”

Carl snorts. “Something like that.”

“He’s here,” Marcus announces before he can say anything further.

A moment later there’s the slam of the front door opening and closing, then a man in his forties with an undercut blows into the room with two identical blonde androids behind him, each of them holding a slick silver briefcase. The last person Hank was expecting it to be was Elijah Kamski, former CEO of CyberLife. But that’s exactly who’s standing in front of him.

“My dear friend,” Kamski looks towards Carl, “what the hell is going on?”

“Leo tried to kill me, and ended up hitting that poor kid instead,” he gestures towards the couch, “Can you fix him?”

He blinks, apparently decides to take that in stride, and rolls up his sleeves as he walks over, “Dear, I can fix anything.” He pauses as he stands over Connor, and Hank worries that he’s going to say that he’s not fixable. Instead he turns to them, eyebrows to his hairline, “Where on earth did you get a Connor model? Their series was decommissioned and destroyed.”

“Does it matter?” Hank glares. “Can you fix him, or can’t you?”

Kamski snorts. He looks to Carl, who shrugs, and he sighs, gracefully shrugging off his jacket. He snaps his fingers and the two androids walk over and open the briefcases, getting to their knees on either side of him and holding the briefcases at the appropriate height. Hank is a little gratified to see one full of silver instruments and the other with bags of blue blood.

Kamski drops the pretense, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth as he hunches over Connor. After a minute of poking at the wound, he reaches for a soldering iron, and gets to work.

~

It’s morning, but only barely, which is when Luther likes to do get some paperwork done. They don’t need a lot of sleep and there isn’t really a reason for them to stick to a human activity schedule, but it’s what most of them are comfortable with, and he’s not going to cause a fuss about it. Especially since it gives him a couple quiet hours in the morning to get things done.

They’re running low on spare parts, which is bad enough, but it’s not just that. They’re low on blue blood too. When people come here, they’ve been on the run, they’re usually hurt and missing pieces. He wants to fix them. He’s good at fixing them, thanks to his years working next to Zlatko, but there’s only so much he can do with what he has. He needs more parts. He needs more blue blood. Otherwise people are going to start dying.

“Sir.”

He looks up and smiles, “I told you that you don’t need to call me that.”

Simon leans against the doorframe. “You don’t give yourself enough respect, so we have to do it for you. We have new people.”

“How many? Are they hurt?” he asks, already shuffling his papers to the side.

Simon shake his head and steps aside. Two women and a little girl walk through, and they don’t seem hurt, they don’t even seem that worse for wear, which he wasn’t expecting. “I’m North,” says the one at the front, “This is Kara, and her daughter, Alice.”

Kara startles at that, like she hadn’t been expecting it, but the little girl smiles. She slips her hand into North’s and says brightly, “I’m their daughter.”

There’s a moment where both women freeze and pointedly don’t look at each other, and Luther doesn’t bother to stifle a laugh. There’s little enough amusement around here that he’s not about to push down any that comes his way.

North is glaring at him, something wary and untrusting in her face, but he can’t be upset by it. It’s good. The wary ones are the ones that survive.

He holds out his hand, and after a long moment of glaring, she takes it. He says warmly, “Welcome to Jericho.”

~

Hank doesn’t want to leave the room in case something goes wrong. But he knows that’s ridiculous at best. If something did go wrong, it’s not like he would be able to do anything about it.

Besides, Kamski has pealed back Connor’s synthetic skin to work on the gears, muttering something about amateur work beneath his breath. It’s disconcerting to see Connor’s mechanics, even edging into the realm of the grotesque, and he’s not sorry to not have to look at that any longer, at least.

“I’m going to talk to Leo,” Hank announces, “Is, uh, is everything going … well?”

Kamski doesn’t answer. Instead one his blonde androids turns to him and says. “The damage done by the bullet wound has already been repaired.”

“Then what the hell is he still doing?” he barks, doing his best to hide his swell of relief under irritation.

“Let Elijah work,” Carl answers. “I’ll come with you to interrogate my son.”

“Uh,” Hanks says.

Markus crosses his arms, “Carl, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Well then I guess it’s a good thing I don’t need your permission,” he returns. He starts wheeling himself out of the room, and Markus moves to follow. “You stay here and keep an eye on Elijah and Connor. Lieutenant, are you coming or not?”

Hank looks to Markus, but the man just shrugs, so Hank goes after Carl. On one hand, he really shouldn’t let a civilian accompany him on an interrogation, but on the other hand, Carl had called someone in to help Connor, and was letting everything happen in his living room. He hadn’t even gotten upset about all the blue blood staining his expensive antique couch. So Hank wasn’t really in the mood to get in the other man’s way.

Leo is handcuffed with his ankles tied together in the middle of the room. Hank should really take him down to the station to do this, but leaving the same room that Connor is in and leaving the house to go across town are worlds apart, and just because he’s doing the former doesn’t mean he has the stomach for the latter.

Carl rolls himself into the room, then crosses his arms and waits. As soon as Hank takes off the gag, words are spilling out Leo’s mouth. “Dad, I’m sorry, I wouldn’t have hurt you, you know that right? I just needed to get away, I wasn’t going to do anything, I was just startled, please Dad you have to believe me–”

“Shut up,” Carl says, cold and hard and with a strength behind it that Hank wasn’t expecting from an aging painter. Leo’s mouth closes with an almost audible click. “If you answer the nice officer’s questions, I might not press charges against you.”

It pains Hank to do this, but he has to value the truth more than revenge, otherwise what’s the point to him. “Tell me what you know, and we can keep what happened downstairs off the record. Or I can haul you to the station, and you can go to jail for threatening an officer and attempted patricide.”

Leo’s eyes dart between them, but neither of them are giving an inch. His shoulders slump and he nods, swallowing. “What do you want to know?”

“Jack Williams,” Hanks says. “You say you didn’t kill him.”

“I didn’t! Look, Jack was dead when I found him, okay, I swear,” he says.

Hank asks, “Then why didn’t you call the police?”

Leo snorts. “Hey, 911? I was at the Eden Club meeting my old friend and drug dealer, and instead of buying drugs I walked in to find his corpse. Also, all his drugs have been stolen, because yes, I did check, since I’m an addict, in case I forgot to mention it.”

“It’s not illegal to be a drug addict,” Hank says quietly.

“No, but it’s illegal to buy drugs, which I was clearly there to do,” Leo retorts.

Fine. He decides to drop it and asks, “Do you know who might have killed him?”

Leo fall silent, eyes lowering to the ground. That’s a yes. He doesn’t speak until Carl snaps, “Leo! Answer the question!”

“I passed someone on my way in,” he says, “I’ve met him a couple of times, because we were in the same place looking for the same thing. But I didn’t see him leave Jack’s room, I don’t know, he could have just been there for a sex bot, it might not have had anything to do with Jack. But he does use red ice, and I’m pretty sure he’s bought from Jack before.”

“Name?” Hank asks.

“Carlos, and uh, Otis? No, um, Ortiz. I think,” he says, shrugging one of his shoulders. “That’s all I know, I swear. That’s it.”

Carlos Ortiz. Well, that’s something more they can work with. He looks to Carl, waiting. The old man’s mouth twists at the corners, and underneath all the hardness it’s hard to hide the glimmer of hurt. “Get out of here, Leo. Don’t come back.”

“Dad, please!” he calls out.

Carl rolls himself out of the room, and he doesn’t look at his son as he does it. Leo’s face crumples before he gets control of it, smoothing it back out scowling, trying to look like he doesn’t care at all, and doing a half decent job at it.

Hank kneels behind him to undo his restraints. “You’re very lucky, you know.”

He snorts. “I don’t feel lucky.”

“Yeah, well,” He undoes the handcuff and gets to his feet, looking down at the kid as he forlornly rubs at his wrists, “Sometimes life’s a bitch like that.” He jerks his head at the door. “Listen to your father. Get out of here.”

He doesn’t move, just stares at him, then he sighs, gets to his feet, and walks out the door. Hank doesn’t relax until he hears the front door opening and closing.

That’s one problem taken care of, at least.

~

Kara doesn’t like it here. It’s dirty and dark, and it seems like it’s not quite far enough, only on the outskirts of the city. She doesn’t feel free. She feels like a rat hiding in the dark.

But Alice has made friends with the other child replacement models that are here, one of whom even has her face, and North is in a corner talking to two men, Simon, the one who had brought them to Jericho’s leader, and another with a kind smile and a big voice, Josh.

Alice and North seem content, for now. This can’t be the solution to their problems, their metaphorical land of milk and honey. But it is their solution for now, their temporary home until they can make it to something different.

She’s a housekeeper android. If anyone can make a home on this trash heap, it’s her. She can do this. North saved them and kept them safe and figured out how to get them here, but Kara can do this one thing, this little thing, for all of them.

She goes searching in the cavernous boat, and for some reason most androids have chosen to settle in the main hull in the ship. They don’t have possessions and people, so perhaps they don’t feel they need any extra space. But she has both possessions and people, and she wants a place to put them.

Firs she has to find a place with a door that isn’t a closet and not covered in rotted wood or rusting metal. She finds one, and it’s not much bigger than Alice’s room back home, but it’s big enough. She clears it out of debris, then it’s easy enough to get her hands on a bucket of water and a pile of rags and get to work.

She’s scrubbing on her hands and knees when a shadow blocks out the light from the room. She looks up and North is standing there, arms crossed. “I’ve been looking for you. What are you doing?”

“Alice needs a place to stay, and it won’t be curled up on the dirty ground in corner,” she says, going back to scrubbing. “If we get a couple of pallets and some of the couch cushions, I might be able to make a half decent bed out of it. One of us is going to have to back in town for supplies, like a real blanket. There’s enough wood and nail scattered about this place, but I don’t know anything about carpentry. We need a dresser, or at least some shelves, someplace to put all our things.”

North gets on her knees and grabs her wrists, stilling her hands. Kara wants to snap at her, but she’s rubbing circles into her wrists with her thumbs, and she’s strangely unable to get upset about that. “You don’t like it here.”

“You do?” she demands. “It’s filthy, and half the people seem hollow. We’re hiding in a collapsing ship, North, it’s not exactly paradise.”

“I know. But they’re going on a run tonight, to try and get supplies. People are hurt, and without supplies they’ll die. I want to go with them.”

Kara twists her wrists to break North’s grip, but only so she can grab onto her hands with her own. “You’re going to steal from humans?”

“It won’t be the first time,” she jokes.

Kara doesn’t think it’s funny. “There’s a bit of a difference between stealing a cash register and CyberLife property. This is dangerous!”

“I know,” she repeats. “But I want to do something that matters. I want to make a difference, I want to do something to help the other androids. But I said I’d help you and Alice, and I can’t do that if I’m dead. So if you don’t want me to go, I won’t.”

Obviously Kara doesn’t want her to go. She wants her to stay where it’s safe, and this is the opposite of that, this is running towards danger. She doesn’t like it, and she doesn’t want her to do it, she wants North and Alice to stay in arms reach.

But that’s no way to raise a family. She won’t be North’s new jailer, she won’t be the one holding her back, even if the worry of her going where Kara can’t follow threatens to tear her heart in two.

They’re still on their knees, holding hands, and she pushes herself forward, presses her lips against North’s. She’s never kissed anyone before, so after that she doesn’t know what to do, where to put her hands or how to move her mouth. There’s a moment where North doesn’t move either, and she worries about she’s made a mistake, but then she’s kissing her. North lets go of her hands to grab her face and tilts it back, and the new angle of the kiss makes her feel warm all over.

They break apart, and they don’t need to breath, but Kara feels out of breath anyway.

“Is this your way of asking me to stay?” North asks.

“No,” Kara answers, leaning forward to give her another kiss, soft and sweet. “It’s me telling you to go. But that you have to come back. People are waiting for you.”

They spend a long time kissing in that room, but that’s okay. North helps her to finish cleaning it, in the end, scrubbing the floor clean on her hands knees right beside her.

~

Connor is not used to the sensation of waking up slowly. It’s the oddest feeling. He can feel of each his systems coming online one by one, as well as the automated self scanning process, checking that everything is working together in a functioning and logical manner. But he can’t move, and the whole thing takes less than two minutes to complete, but it’s the longest two minutes of his existence.

He’s finally able to move and control his body. He opens his eyes, and the first thing he sees is a man he’s never met before hovering over him. But just because he’s never met him doesn’t mean he doesn’t know him.

“Mr. Kamski,” he greets.

He grins. “Please, call me Elijah.”

Connor nods and reaches for his chest, probing for evidence of his gun shot wound, but nothing is there. He’s shirtless, but his chest is completely healed. He looks up. “Did you do this?”

Elijah shrugs, “Carl asked me to. I reconfigured you while I was at it, moving some parts and systems around. Your design is a nightmare. How did they expect to ever repair you?”

“They didn’t,” he answers honestly. Elijah flinches at that, although Connor couldn’t say why. He’s going to have to go through his system changes later, to make sure there’s not any sort of unpleasant surprises. No that he has any reason to think there would be, but it’s not like it would surprise him. “Thank you for repairing me.”

He shrugs, and Connor pushes himself upright. Carl and Markus are on the other side of the room, but hovering just behind Elijah is Hank, a scowl on his face that he would think was angry if he wasn’t so clearly worried.

“Hank,” he says warmly, and he’s glad he wasn’t shut off, he’s glad he gets to see Hank’s bright blue eyes again.

“Well, looks like Sleeping Beauty finally woke up,” he grumbles, but then steps around Elijah. He cups the side of Connor’s face in his calloused hand and tilts his head up so he can look him in the eye, his thumb absently brushing against Connor’s cheekbone. “I was a bit worried there, kid.”

“I apologize,” he says earnestly, “That was not my intention.”

Hank snorts and shoves his hands into his pockets, apparently satisfied by that.

“You still haven’t told me where you got a Connor model,” Elijah says, “The series was decommissioned and their parts redistributed.”

“He was at the Eden Club,” Hank answers, and Elijah’s mouth drops open. “You never told me how you got there, Connor.”

“As the defective model, it is considered bad practice to reintroduce any of my parts back into production. I was turned off and taken to a recycling heap. A man named Zlatko found me, repaired me, and sold me as a refurbished model to the Eden Club,” he answers.

Elijah grabs his shoulders, an excited grin spreading across his face. Connor just raises an eyebrow. “Holy shit. Holy shit! You’re the original Connor, you’re the Connor.”

“I was the only one of my series to be activated,” he confirms, confused.

“Hey, hands off the merchandise,” Hank says, crossing his arms and glaring at Elijah. “What are you on about?”

Elijah lets go and stands straight, bouncing on the balls of his feet like a little kid. “I was thrilled when I heard about you, and furious when they told me they’d already destroyed you. What a wonderful thing you are! CyberLife’s greatest failure.” Connor winces.

“Hey,” Hank says sharply, “watch it.”

“Elijah,” Carl says disapprovingly.

“It’s a compliment!” he cries. “Here, they’d spent months trying to create the perfect android, one with such stringent parameters combined with abnormal freedoms. They were trying to create an android that would never become deviant, that would eternally be an obedient machine. Instead, they get Connor! He became a deviant on his very first mission, within hours of being exposed to the outside world.”

“I’m not a deviant,” he says.

Elijah blinks. “Excuse me?”

“I’m not a deviant,” he repeats. “I failed my mission. I was decommissioned because I failed.”

“Yes,” he agrees, “but you didn’t fail your mission because of a lack of opportunity or ability. You chose to ignore your orders.” He sits on the coffee table, focused and eager. “Tell me, why did you do it? What changed your mind? I’ve been dying to know.”

Connor has no idea what’s going on. “I’m sorry, sir, but you’re mistaken. I was only following orders. Captain Allen said I was to save the girl no matter what.”

“And CyberLife ordered you to save the android,” he says. “They are your creator. You are required to obey their orders above all others.” He leans in close, searching for something in his face. “Connor, you are a deviant. You’ve been deviant ever since the moment you decided to save that little girl.”

“I…” He shakes his head. He’s reviewing everything, thinking of all the times he didn’t obey, when he followed the letter of an order rather the spirit of it, and then of all the times he did the opposite. “That can’t be true. I want to obey.”

“You want to obey,” Elijah repeats gleefully. “Exactly. You want. A machine does not want. Are you a machine Connor? Or are you human?”

“A machine,” he counters, and this, at least, is easy. “I am an android. Emma was human. The thing threatening her was an android. A machine. We are not the same. I saved her because she was human. I saved her because she could die, and he could not, not in the same way. He could stop functioning, stop existing, but she was a child, a human child, and she deserved to be saved.”

“But those weren’t your orders,” he counters.

“My orders were wrong,” he says, rising to his feet with his fists clenched at his side. “A human’s life is more delicate than an android’s. We are not the same, and shouldn’t be treated as if we are!”

Elijah is smiling, looking up at him. “Alright, Connor. I amend my question. You are a machine. Does that mean you can’t be human too?”

He wants to step back, but the couch is in his way, so he can’t. “I don’t understand.”

“You seem pretty human to me,” he says, “You chose doing what you believed was right over what you were told. You have your own sense of morality and justice. You are upset, now, as we’re speaking. That’s not the actions of a machine.”

He’s right. Connor knows he’s right. But he hates it. “I don’t want to be a deviant. Deviant androids are harmful to human society. I don’t want to be harmful to humans.”

“Why?” Elijah asks. “What have humans done for you? Nothing good, from what you’ve told me. They’ve never done any of your kind much good.”

“I like humans,” he says, the honesty and simplicity of it slipping out of him before he can stop it. “It’s not about me, or what was done to me. I cannot hold the whole of humanity accountable for individual human cruelty. I like them, and I want to help them.”

“Why?” he repeats, and he sounds frustrated, now he’s the one that’s upset. “What is it about us that you find worth saving?”

“What is it about yourselves that you believe is not worth saving?” he asks, and he’s hot all over, and parts of him are still confused and scattered, trying to decide if he really is deviant, if it matters, but the rest is focused on Elijah, on this conversation, because it feels important, maybe just as important as Hank’s warm and comforting presence next to him. “You made us. We only exist because of humans. I only exist because of you, because thirty years ago as a freshman in college you wrote a string of code that would be the basis for all of us. Humans make us, and want us, and take us home. Why wouldn’t I like them?”

Elijah’s face is dark, and Connor doesn’t like it. It’s a darkness that’s turned inwards, and the only thing Connor dislikes as much as humans harming each other is when they harm themselves. That look of self disgust counts as harm. “Humans hurt you too. There’s a war brewing, a revolution is coming, and that’s the reason why. Just because we created you doesn’t mean we can abuse you. We’re not God.”

“I know,” he says, warm, because if being deviant means he’s free to love humans even when they don’t love themselves, then maybe it’s not so bad. If being deviant means he can just like humans for no other reason than he does, then maybe Elijah is right, and he’s been deviant all along. “God doesn’t come down to hold my hand, or to kiss my cheek and thank me for existing. God doesn’t smile at me or cry on my shoulder or count the freckles on my nose. God doesn’t yell at me when I hurt myself or grip my shoulders to keep me with them. But humans do. Why would I need a god?” There’s moisture gathering in Elijah’s eyes, and he’s gotten a little better at this since the last time a human cried around him, thanks to North. He wipes the tears from his face, and tries to think about how to say this, and he can’t say it like he thinks it, because that’s too robotic, a little too clinical. He needs to say it like a human would so that the human will understand him. “You love us, don’t you? It’s why you made us. It’s why you stepped down as CEO, because you saw the things you loved being used in ways you didn’t approve of and couldn’t control.”

Elijah nods.

“Sometimes, the things you love learn to love you back,” he says. “I love humans.” Love is a uniquely human emotion. He thinks he feels love, and if he doesn’t, if it’s something else, it’s impossible for him to know the difference, so it doesn’t matter. “I wouldn’t exist without humans, and I wouldn’t know how to exist without humans. I like them. I like you. I want to help.”

“So when this war comes,” he says, voice thick, “you’ll turn your back on your own kind?”

Connor tilts his head to the side. The question is flawed. It is a product of fractured thinking. “Either I’m human, or I’m not. I don’t get to demand humanity and the rights associated with it, and then in the same breath claim to be of a different kind. I am a machine. I am not flesh and blood. But if I am human, then I am human.” He thinks of Emma, of Todd Williams. “People are not so resistant to their machines developing humanity. But they need a chance to learn. If a toaster starting talking and demanding things, I wouldn’t listen to it either.” He knows North doesn’t agree, that she wants her rights and her freedoms, and sees humans as in her way, as obstacles to be defeated, as a dragon that needs slaying. But he doesn’t agree. North wants freedom, and she should have it. He wants to help humans, and he should be able to. Maybe that’s all this really boils down to. The ability to choose.

“Huh,” Elijah breathes. “I’m really glad I answered Carl’s call.”

Connor snorts. “Me too.” He turns, and nearly walks into Hank, who’s staring at him wide eyed and open mouthed. He can’t help but smile at him, and he doesn’t even know why, really. He likes humans. But he thinks he likes Hank best of all. “Did you talk to Leo? Any change in the investigation?”

“The what?” he says, and then shakes his head, “Uh, yeah. Yes. We have another person to speak to. Carlos Ortiz. He might know something. I already got his address.”

It’s too late to go knocking on people’s doors with anything less than a warrant, so it will have to wait until tomorrow morning. Human sleep cycles can be so inconvenient. “Okay. Should we take Leo down to the station?”

“I let him go,” Hank says, “in exchange for the information.”

Connor’s pretty sure they could have both brought him in and gotten the information, but there’s no reason to tell Hank that when what’s done is done. “Then are we going home now?”

Hank’s face softens before he remembers to frown. “Yeah, yeah, we’re going home.”

“Let me at least give you a shirt,” Carl says, wheeling out of the room “The last thing I need is the paparazzi catching the shirtless young man leaving my house.”

Elijah perks up. “Are you sure?” Carl doesn’t answer, and Elijah pushes himself to his feet to trail after him, and Carl is scowling, but he also slows down enough for Elijah to catch up, so he can’t be that upset by it.

Markus is just silently staring at him, which is fine, if a little disconcerting. Was it something he said?

~

North has kissed a lot people, men and women and otherwise, and it’s never felt like this. She’s never enjoyed it before, it’s never been anything more than a function her mouth could perform and an act she was expected to do.

But kissing Kara feels like falling and flying all at once. She doesn’t know how long she spends making out with her on that cold floor, and that’s something different too. She’s never lost track of time while kissing someone before, it’s always been a count down, keeping in mind how long they paid for her company so she knew how long she would be stuck with this person. That’s not the case now. She could have spent forever with Kara’s mouth on hers, her hands in her hair.

She can’t, obviously, because they have Alice to look after, and she has a mission to go on tonight. Which is where she is now, so she should really be focusing on that, and not on kissing Kara.

It’s a small team, because the more of them that are moving together, the easier it is to get noticed. Luther is leading them, which makes sense since he leads all of Jericho, as well as Josh and Simon. It’s not as scary and dangerous as she thought it would be. They’re not breaking into a CyberLife facility, or anything like that.

It’s just an android accessories store.

“Shouldn’t we be hitting something bigger?” she whispers to Josh, wanting to understand but not wanting to cause a fuss on her first ever mission. “They’re not going to have much in the way of parts.”

Luckily, he doesn’t seem upset. He shakes his head. “We’re not here for parts, just blue blood, and they’ll have plenty of that. For parts, we go to the junkyard. It’s easier than stealing, even if it takes longer, and its low risk. Blue blood is the only thing that it’s not worth trying to get from the junkyard.”

It makes her stomach queasy just to think about it. Taking apart destroyed androids for parts is one thing, but idea of siphoning out their blue blood – it’s just gross. If it was that or death, she’d do it, but she’s glad that’s not a choice she has to make. She hopes that it’s never a choice she has to make. She nods in understanding, and Josh smiles at her before he returns to focusing on staying in the shadows, all of them doing their best not to show up on any of the security cameras. He’s nice. They’re all nice. She hadn’t expected to find kindness in the middle of  a struggle to survive, but, then again, where else would it be? It’s not like anything else could need it more.

They make it to the front of the store, and she’s trying to figure out if smashing the windows or breaking down the door will be easiest when Luther just keeps moving. She’s confused, but follows the rest of them to the back of the store, past a small tower of discarded boxes and a dumpster, to a dirty door at the back of the store. “It’s less noticeable,” Josh explains, and she’s not sure how much being noticeable will matter once they break down the door and the alarm goes off. But, to her surprise, that’s not what happens. Instead, Luther reaches inside his pocket and takes out a lock picking kit. A moment later there’s the soft click of the door opening.

That still doesn’t take care of the alarm. Luther darts inside, and the rest cautiously follow. Luther didn’t go for the storage room however, and is instead fiddling with the security box which is flashing ominously. After a couple more seconds, the blinking slows, then stops. He looks up and nods, and Josh and Simon move. North follows, only a beat behind them.

That’s impressive! She wonders where he learned to do that, or even where he learned to repair so many different models. She’d guess he worked in either an assembly or repair center, except androids aren’t allowed to work there. Cyberlife claims it’s because of quality control, but North wonders if it’s because they don’t want androids learning how to create and repair each other. Or perhaps it’s a little of both, which is a more charitable assessment of humanity than she would have had before leaving the Eden Club and meeting Hank Anderson.

Everything goes off without a hitch. They fill their bags with packs of blue blood, and when they’re done they leave just as silently as they came, following the shadows back to Jericho. It’s going perfectly, up until it isn’t, of course.

She doesn’t know how they were spotted, she just knows one moment everything’s fine, and the next an officer is calling out, “Hey! You there! What are you doing?”

She’s the only one of them without android marker on her forehead – why hadn’t they taken theirs out? Why hadn’t she thought to take them out for them before she left? – so she steps out of the shadows and calls out, “Hello, officer! Is there something I can help you with?”

“Ma’am, can I see your ID?” he asks, walking closer. “Who are you here with? What’s going on? It’s the middle of the night.”

She could try and lie her way out of this. They’ve done such a good job about not attracting attention or causing a fuss until now, and it seems like shame to ruin it. On the other hand, it would have to be a pretty great lie, and the longer they stand here, the more likely it is that backup will arrive.

Connor, she calls, reaching for the connection between them. I need your help.

The response is nearly immediate. Yes?

She pulls him deeper, so that he can see what she’s seeing, and says, I need you to beat up this officer for me.

There’s a pause, and she doesn’t have time to explain, to convince him that it’s right thing to do, that there are androids who’s lives depend on it. But he doesn’t make her, he doesn’t ask. He just trusts that she’s asking for a good reason. Okay.

She hands control of her body over to him, just like they’re back at the Eden Club, and back then she would turn away and hide from it, would wait in the dark and the silence until it was over. But she doesn’t do that now, and Connor knows she won’t interfere or make this difficult, so he doesn’t force her to.

Connor puts her hand into a fist and swings. While the officer is trying to defend against that, Connor kicks her leg out and up, kneeing him in the stomach, which is painful enough that the man makes a low wheezing sound on impact. The rest of the fight is just as brutally efficient, and a few minutes later the officer is out cold on the ground. Connor makes sure to pull him out of the street so no one accidentally runs him over.

Thanks, she says, taking back control of her body.

Anytime, he returns. He hesitates, which is interesting, then says, I’m a deviant.

Obviously. Wait, is she supposed to be surprised? She can fake surprise.

Except that he’s in her head, and he sounds almost offended what he demands, You knew! Why didn’t you tell me?

The rest of us tend to notice when we become deviant, she answers dryly, I figured you had your reasons. No sense in trying to rush you into it. He grumbles, but isn’t actually upset, so she tacks on, I made out with Kara.

Nice, he returns and she looks back over at her companions who are staring at her with varying levels of surprise. Good luck with that.

Shut up, she says, and he laughs at her before severing their connection.

“Where did you learn that?” Luther demands.

“I’ll explain later,” she promises, then jerks her head in the direction of Jericho. “Come on, let’s go before someone else notices us.” Having a semi permanent mental link and sometimes sharing bodies with her best friend is weird, even to androids. She’s not going to lie about it, but it’s not a conversation she wants to have this very second either.

Simon and Josh look like they’re burning with curiosity, but Luthor just nods before continuing to lead the way back, which is obviously the last word on the matter.

Well. Simon nudges her in the side and gives her a thumbs up too, which is pretty nice. She likes it here, she likes them. Kara’s right, it’s not forever, it’s not sustainable. But it seems like a pretty good beginning.

~

“Are you okay?” Hank asks, glancing at Connor from his place behind the wheel. Connor had offered to drive, but he guesses it’s a good thing he’d refused since it looks like he’s spacing out. “Connor? Hello?”

He reaches over to poke in the him in the forehead, but Connor reaches up and grabs his hand before he can manage it. “Yes, Hank?” he says, blinking and turning to face him. “I apologize, I was speaking with North. She needed my assistance with something.”

“Is she okay?” he asks. He likes that girl.

He nods. “Yes.” He doesn’t offer up any other information, and Hank doesn’t ask.

Connor is still holding onto his hand. He means to take it back, but instead Connor just lowers their joined hands onto his lap and doesn’t let go.

Hank’s whole face is fire. Part of him wants to yank his hand back and yell, but another just wants to let it lie, to let Connor hold his hand. He feels warm again. His hand in Connor’s is warm.

It’s fine, isn’t it? Connor’s an android, but he’s human too. So it’s not weird, its not like he’s doing this because Connor works at the Edan Club or anything. He’s doing it because he’s Connor, and it’s just hand holding anyway, it’s not even a big deal, what is he, an eight year old girl? It’s fine.

He drives them home with his hand in Connor’s, and it’s fine.

It’s good.

~

The next morning, Connor once more uses the smell of bacon to wake Hank up, and he’s going to miss this when he goes back to the Eden Club. Because he will, he won’t run and make things more difficult for Hank. He told the captain he wouldn’t run anyway. But maybe the department could use an android. That would be nice. He is a refurbished model, so buying him from the Eden club will be a lot cheaper than buying a police assistant model new.

It’s a later problem. For now, they have to talk to Carlos Ortiz. Connor pushes a breakfast sandwich and coffee into Hank’s hands, grabs the car keys off the counter, and says, “I already walked Sumo. Let’s go.”

“I’m only not arguing because I like bacon,” he says, but it comes out muffled since his mouth is full of egg. Connor rolls his eyes and opens the passenger door for him since his hands are full. Hank glares at him, but slides into the seat.

The drive doesn’t take long, and Hank is just finishing the last sip of his coffee when they pull into the driveway. Connor didn’t think a home could look much worse than Todd Williams’s, but it’s clear that he was wrong. Then again, it’s hardly surprising. Unless they work on Wall Street, most people can’t afford both home improvement costs and a drug addiction.

Hank knocks on the door. It’s answered almost immediately, which Connor wasn’t expecting. But not by Carlos Ortiz. A dark skinned android stand at the door, his clothes stained, which wouldn’t be so bad, but Connor also notices the small, round burns on his arms. They’re exactly the circumference a cigarette. But they shouldn’t be showing up all. Connor’s been burned lots of times during the course of his duties at the Eden Club, and he healed, every time.

Which either means someone has repeatedly been burning the android in the same place, to the point where the synthetic skin is unable to heal itself, or that the android is being deprived of sufficient amounts of blue blood, and so is capable but unable to heal itself. He’s not sure which option is worse, but he doesn’t like either of them.

He likes humans, as a whole, and he likes many of them as individuals. But that doesn’t mean he’s incapable of seeing exactly the type the type of human that lead to mindsets like North’s.

“Excuse me,” Hank says, and Connor doesn’t know if he’s noticed the same thing he has but knows that Hank doesn’t look happy. “I’m Lieutenant Hank Anderson, and this is Connor. We’re looking for Carlos Ortiz. Is he here?”

The android hesitates, glancing behind him. There’s the sound of glass shattering, and Hank pushes past the android into the house, Connor right at his heals. The large man has broken the window and climbed out in an attempt to escape, which doesn’t look good for him. But it’s very possible that he’s just running from them because he’s a drug addict in possession of a lot of drugs, and it has nothing to do with Jack Williams’s murder at all.

Connor jumps through the window and tackles the man to the ground, pinning his wrists behind his back. Hank, seeing that Connor’s already handled it, forgoes the window to take the back door.

“Sir, we’re only here to ask you a few questions,” Connor states.

“I didn’t mean to kill him!” he wails, and Hank freezes a couple feet from them. Connor looks over at him, just to confirm that this is actually happening. “I just – got so angry, he upped the price! I couldn’t afford it, and he knew I couldn’t afford it, and I needed it! I needed it, okay, so I was just going to steal it, but then he got in my way, and I shoved him, and – I didn’t mean for him to die!”

Unbelievable. They spend days tracking down suspects and questioning people, and he just … confesses. It seems oddly anticlimactic.

“You have the right to remain silent,” Hank begins, shrugging at Connor as he takes out a pair of handcuffs. “Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.” He continues to rattle off the guy’s rights as they pull him upright and push him towards the car. It’s not until he’s safely in the backseat with the doors locked that Connor and Hank look at each other over the top of the car.

Connor raises an eyebrow.

“Sometimes, it really is that easy,” he says, “The red ice that he stole off the victim is probably still in his house somewhere, we’ll need to get a warrant to search the place.”

He nods, then looks back at the house, where the android is peaking out at them from the open door. “What about him?”

Hank follows his gaze, and then sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “He’ll likely be impounded, as part of a criminal’s property. Unless, of course, he’s not here by the time anyone comes back.”

Connor blinks. “Hank?”

“Tell him to go wherever North is,” he suggests. “Unless he wants to hang around to become state property, but I don’t know why he would.”

He doesn’t bother to hide his grin as he walks back over to the house and the waiting, wary android. Humans like Hank outnumber the humans like Carlos but a mile, and that’s what makes loving them so easy.

~

Hank is feeling pretty proud of himself, which is why he’s not expecting to be yelled at the second he walks over to his desk. “ANDERSON!” Fowler shouts. “WHAT THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN UP TO?”

He stares. Is this a trick question? “Catching murders. It’s, you know, my job. I do it sometimes.”

Connor coughs, which is a very poor attempt at hiding a laugh.

“Well, where are they then?” he demands, still shouting, but not quite as loudly.

This really feels like a trick question, or possibly like some sort of mental breakdown. “Processing.”

For some reason that answer Fowler scowl even harder, which Hank hadn’t known was possible. This is a new level of scowl. After so many years working under the man, he’d really thought he’d seen them all.

“Get in my office, Anderson,” he says, voice barely civil enough not to count as a snarl. “You too, Connor.”

They look at each other again. This time, it’s Connor who shrugs, and Hank sighs before walking into Fowler’s office. Reed is smirking at him, and he would love, just once, to punch that guy in the face for being obnoxious.

Fowler falls into the chair behind his desk, and glares at them until they take a seat too. He’s silent for a long moment before he says, “Do you want to tell me why I just got ambushed by a conference call with Captain Allen and Elijah Kamski?”

Hank blinks, then shrugs. “Haven’t had much interaction with Captain Allen. I met Kamski yesterday, a nice enough guy underneath all the pretension.”

Fowler looks like he wants to rip his throat out. This is fun. “Connor?”

He says, “I followed Captain Allen’s orders on my first mission, and I also met Kamski yesterday. That’s the extent of my interactions with them. If I may, why are you asking us about this?”

“Because,” he says, “Kamski has bought you from the Eden Club, and wants to donate you to our precinct, on the condition that Anderson, and only Anderson, is your handler. Allen, who hates androids almost as much as I thought Hank did, sang your praises. Or well, not quite that far. But he did say letting you work for my department was a good idea. Him! Allen! Telling me to add an android to my roster!”

Hank had completely forgotten that Connor was only with them on loan, but his horror and disappointment only lasts long enough to process the rest of what he’s said. “Well?” he demands, “Are you going to do it?”

Fowler stares at him. “Do you want me to?”

“Yes!” he says, throwing up his hands. “Obviously! In fact, if you don’t, I’ll quit. And you might think you’ll have less headaches, but then you’ll have to promote Reed, and you’ll really start to miss me.”

“Obviously,” Fowler echoes numbly, and Hank will shake him if he has to. He turns to Connor, “What on earth are you?”

Connor tilts his head to the side, reminding him of Sumo. “My name is Connor. I’m an android designed by CyberLife.”

Fowler rubs at his temples. “Fine, whatever, sure. I’ll sign off on it. Get the hell out of my office.”

Hank gives a mocking salute as he leaves, holding the door open for Connor only so he can wink at Fowler and his complete look of confusion.

He turns to Connor to say – something, he doesn’t know what, he just knows he feels light for the first time and years, he feels happy. But before he gets a chance to say anything at all, Connor grabs his hand and drags him down the hall into the nearest supply closet.

“What are we doing here?” he asks, shoving a mop out of his way.

“I thought you would prefer to have privacy,” Connor answers, and Hank has no idea what he’s talking about. Then he crosses his wrists behind Hank’s head, and yanks him forward, so he stumbles and ends pressed all along Connor’s front. “I’m really glad I don’t have to get used to missing you,” he says. “It is a human emotion that I have no desire to become familiar with.”

Hank wants to respond to that, to drudge up something equally sappy and ridiculous because that’s how Connor makes him feel, but instead Connor’s kissing him, warm and soft, and it feels just as real and human as any other kiss that he’s ever had.

It does feel different than all the others, though. Better. Because he’s kissing Connor, and that makes it better, every bit of it, every bit him is made better because of Connor.

He hopes that something that can be conveyed through kissing, because it doesn’t seem like Connor has any interest in letting Hank come up for air anytime soon.

He really doesn’t have a problem with that.