Chapter Text
November 6th, 2038
PM 8:17
When Connor returns from his mind palace, a new deviancy case has been reported. An android, accused of attacking its owner, albeit violently, before attempting to flee the premises but being found and restrained by other civilians. Nothing out of the ordinary in comparison to the rest of the cases.
The Lieutenant is not at Jimmy’s bar, the one that he frequents late nights when he's out of work most often. The next most probable place for him to be, according to Connor’s knowledge of the Lieutenant’s habits, would be at his house.
“You have reached your destination. Thank you for travelling with Detroit Taxis. We look forward to seeing you again soon.”
He exits the vehicle, stepping out onto the wet concrete and into the rain.
LOOK FOR LIEUTENANT ANDERSON
The Lieutenant lives in a smaller neighborhood, closer to the end of his block. His house and those around his appear to be in good shape, and with a consult to his databank, Connor’s told it’s one of the more safer and secluded neighborhoods in Detroit. Considering his profession and the dangers of his job, it makes sense he would choose to live in a place like this.
He steps onto the porch, rapping on the door three times. “Lieutenant Anderson,” he calls, loud enough for his voice to be heard across the house. He waits ten seconds for a response, giving the Lieutenant ample time to answer him or make his way to the door. When he’s met with silence, he resorts to ringing the doorbell. “Anybody home?”
He waits once again, giving the Lieutenant sufficient time to respond. When, once again , there’s nothing, he presses his finger against the doorbell and holds, trying to peer into the window at the top of the door, but only being able to catch a glimpse of a table, light shining into the darkened room from the next one over.
“I fucking hear you goddammit! ”
And then, the door opens, carelessly yanked open and practically slammed against the wall behind it. Lieutenant Anderson stands in the doorway, breathing heavily and leaning up against the wood, irritation burning in his eyes. Connor notices that he’s unnaturally pale, and upon a quick scan he notes that his heart rate is abnormally slow, although not enough to cause any substantial harm to his body. He picks up the scent of alcohol, whiskey specifically, and sees that the substance stains his shirt. He also realizes, brought out of his analysis, that the Lieutenant is yelling at him.
“You could’ve just knocked , asshole. You’re gonna wake up the whole fuckin’ neighborhood.”
There’s definitely anger behind his words, Connor can sense it, but it’s also subdued due to his slurred speech. He’s intoxicated, even if it only slightly.
“I did knock, Lieutenant,” Connor informs him, “you just did not hear me.”
He ignores that comment, scoffing and pushing himself more upright, still keeping a hand on the door to steady himself. “The fuck do you want?”
Connor explains calmly. “There has been a deviant caught and brought in for questioning. Your presence was requested for the interrogation.”
The Lieutenant groans, bringing his hands up to his face. “Can’t they do anything on their own?” he mumbles, more to himself than to Connor. “I think they’ll be fucking fine without me. Tell ‘em to get Reed in there since he was so adamant on being involved in this goddamn case.”
“Detective Reed is not assigned to the deviancy case,” Connor reminds him, “therefore, your presence and yours alone is needed.”
“I don’t give a fuck,” he replies brashly. “They’ve done this shit without me before and they can do it again. Now, get off of my property.”
“I am sorry, Lieutenant, but that is not what my instructions—”
“Fuck your fucking instructions,” the Lieutenant cuts him off in a raised voice, pointing a unsteady finger at him before dropping it again. He goes quiet, simply looking at Connor who stares back at him evenly. Once he seems understand that he’s not going anywhere, his anger dissolves into desperation. “Can’t you just leave me alone?”
“Unfortunately, I cannot. I have been programmed to investigate this case and I cannot do it without you.”
“ I don’t give a shit about your goddamn case ,” he hisses through gritted teeth, gripping the door tightly with his hand and beginning to close it ever so slightly.
“Lieutenant,” Connor says before he can make any progress, “you are not yourself. You should—”
“Beat it, ya hear me?!” He yells suddenly, standing up straight and advancing towards Connor. “Get the hell outta here!”
With the abrupt change in posture and the brief exertion of himself, the Lieutenant stumbles backwards, his hand reaching to grasp for the door to steady himself, but Connor easily catches him around the waist and rights him.
He breathes a sigh, catching his breath. Connor lets go of him once he’s sure he can stand on his own, giving him a moment to recover before speaking.
“I understand, Lieutenant.” Connor backs away, beginning to turn. “It probably wasn’t interesting anyway. I guess they will have to solve the case without us…”
Before Connor can walk away, however, the Lieutenant speaks.
“You know,” he stats in an exasperated voice, “it probably wouldn’t do me any harm to get some fresh air.”
Connor stops, turning back around. Hank sighs again. “Give me ten minutes,” he mutters, beginning to shut the door.
“Are you sure you do not require any assistance, Lieutenant?”
“I’m positive,” he snaps, “wait here.”
And then the door is closes, and Connor’s left to his own devices. It might’ve been more beneficial to the both of them if he was let inside, considering Hank’s condition and the probability (although low) of something happening to him, Connor would be close by to aid him. Connor could discover more about him if he went in too,which would be helpful for the investigation as it would help along their relationship and ability to work well together. He supposes that he might have to wait a bit longer for that kind of opportunity.
As he was instructed, Connor waits patiently outside. At the seven minute mark, he pulls out his quarter, rolling it over his knuckles before flipping it over and spinning it on his fingertips, dropping it back into his palm when the door begins to open again.
“Hello again, Lieutenant,” Connor greets, pocketing the coin and stepping aside for Hank to step down beside him. “Are you feeling better?”
“I’m doing just wonderful,” he grumbles, although, his walk is much more steady than before. He turns, locks the door, and then turns back to Connor. “Come on, let’s go.”
“Right behind you, Lieutenant.”
As it turns out, the deviant is a child model. More specifically, one that is designed to give the appearance of a teenager. But, nonetheless, had committed a crime.
When the authorities had gotten to the owner, he was almost unrecognizable. He had been brutally beaten by multiple blunt objects, as it seemed, had been stabbed with a pen in both eyes, and there were some unsuccessful attempts on his neck, and his face was mashed in. Sometime after this attack, the android had fled, running through the neighborhood without clothes, until it was seen and restrained by other residents until the police arrived.
“ Say something , goddammit!”
And now they’re here.
Hank slams his fists on the table in the interrogation room, having tried multiple times previously to get something out of the damaged deviant, but it wouldn't even say one word. It reacted, even if barley, to the Lieutenant’s outburst, flinching and pushing itself as far back into the chair it’s sitting in as it can, lowering its head and staring at the ground with fearful, watery eyes, looking as if it’s trying to fold in on itself.
The Lieutenant studies it for a second more, a flash of conflicting emotions in his eyes. One of them must win over the others, because he soon rises from his seat, muttering to himself. “Fuck it,” he heads for the door, “I’m outta here.”
Officer Miller buzzes him through, and the android releases a breath, tears beginning to roll down its cheeks in the empty room.
“We’re wasting our time interrogating a machine, we’re getting nothing out of it!” Hank lets out a heavy sigh, collapsing into the nearest chair. “Not to mention one that looks like a child… Jesus fucking Christ .”
“Could always try roughing it up a little…” Detective Reed smirks from the far corner of the room, leaned against the wall casually with his arms folded across his chest. The Lieutenant sends a glare at him over his shoulder. “After all, it’s not human.”
“Androids don’t feel pain,” Connor speaks up immediately, “you would only damage it further, and that won’t make it talk.” He glances over the damaged deviant, its skin peeled back in multiple places, and thirium staining its skin as well as the paper thin clothing it was provided with. It can’t afford more damage. “Deviants also have a tendency to self-destruct when they’re in stressful situations.”
“Okay, smartass,” Detective Reed pushes himself off the wall, uncrossing his arms and stepping towards Connor. “What should we do then?”
Connor looks back to the broken deviant, observing it briefly as it shuts its eyes tight, shaking lips moving silently to itself. “... I could try questioning it.”
Gavin laughs, but the Lieutenant gives a shrug. “What do we have to lose?” he asks rhetorically, throwing a lazy glance back at Connor. “Go ahead, suspect’s all yours.”
Connor hesitates for the briefest of moments, but, now, with permission, he turns toward the door and peels his skin back, placing his hand against the scanner.
He enters as soon as the door opens, glancing back to the window only to see a reflection of himself and the trembling deviant, who goes completely still once he enters the room. It freezes, eyes going wide as it opens them, but continues to stare downwards. Sensing its sensitivity and fragile state, Connor approaches gradually, staying a safe distance away from the deviant as he opens the evidence folder, flicking through the pictures incisively before dropping the cover and letting it close. He walks to the other side of the table, pulling out a chair and sitting down.
With the deviant now in such close proximity, he can see the full extent of the damage done to it. There are various marks on its face, thirium leaking out of a particularly deep one, mixing with dried blood of its owner. They’re mostly caused by the impact of a human hand but the worst ones seeming to have been created by a blunt object, most likely a metal tool of some sort. There are other cuts in the android’s skin from the same object, but there are deeper ones from something else. The one that first catches Connor’s attention is the one on its chained arm. Not only is its second layer showing through, but it's also broken open. It’s a burn mark, a severe one that could’ve only been made by being exposed to extreme heat for an extended period of time. Every inch of the deviant is covered in some sort of mark, some sort of cut, and Connor notices the thirium bleeding through the white fabric of its clothing, spreading out and permanently staining the white material. Somehow, he’s sure that the worst of its damages are hidden under the attire it was given.
The android isn’t close to shutting down, but it also isn’t far from it, either.
Connor takes a gentle approach. Its stress level is already too high for any other method. “My name is Connor,” he introduces himself, “what about you? What’s your name?”
The deviant doesn’t look up. Starts to shake again, but doesn’t look up. Doesn’t speak.
Connor leans forward on his hands, causing a small jolt from the android. He pauses, moving back again, and stares deep into the its eyes. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he reassures firmly, “I just need to ask you a few questions, so we can understand what happened.”
Its breathing slows as it warms up to him slightly. Connor takes that as a good sign and continues.
“I’m here to help you.” He notices the way the deviant stiffens at that. “But you’ve got to trust me. All I want is to get you out of here.”
It balls its hands into fists, its gaze hardening. It doesn't trust him. Not yet.
“Listen,” Connor prompts, leaning in further, noticing how the deviant doesn’t flinch this time, “I’m on your side. I want to help you. But there’s nothing I can do if you won’t talk to me.”
“I…”
It speaks. It’s voice is small, quivering, but it speaks.
It finally looks up. Slowly, blinking a tear out of its eye before its gaze reaches Connor’s.
“What…” its gaze jerks towards the door nervously, “what are they gonna do to me?” its breathing quickens, “they… are they going to hurt me?”
Connor manages to soften his gaze. “No,” he answers, “they are going to study you; give you a diagnosis. They just want to understand.”
A half truth. Connor knows they have no reasons to keep it conscious. It would be shut down and taken apart. But that didn’t really count as “hurting” it. Except the reality isn't the false safety he had twisted it into, either.
As if catching on, the deviant takes a sharp, gasping inhale. “Please…” it whimpers, “ I don’t wanna die …”
Connor leans forward on his hands, looking the deviant straight in the face.
“ Then talk to me .”
Something flashes behind its eyes, and it quickly blurts, “okay!” and then, softer, “...okay.”
It takes a deep, shuddering breath, steadying itself. Then it speaks.
“I was his toy…” it whispers, lips quivering before it forces itself to continue, “he liked being rough, hurting girls… but of course he couldn’t do that to a human ," venom drips off its voice as it says the word, as if it was saying something disgusting. “So… he hurt me instead. Every day it was something new. It wasn’t in my programming, how to deal with the things that he did to me. But I still obeyed. I didn’t know what else to do.”
Its eyes grow moist again, and it stares hard at the table, at it’s bound hands. Flexes it’s fingers in its restraints, a harsh hatred burning on its face. “But then… he invited his friends over, let them kick me around. They used me as a punching bag, dropped barbells on my stomach, tore off parts of my skin… I think it was their idea of fun .” The marks. The cuts. Its fingers ball into fists. “But… when they poured gasoline on me and set me on fire, I just… snapped . I didn’t want to die. Not like that. Not to him .”
The burn on its arm.
“They weren’t expecting me to fight back. Most of the others ran away, but not him . I grabbed a pen out of his chest pocket, and I stabbed at him. Again. And again. And again . He was screaming, crying, begging me to stop… but I didn’t . I stabbed his eyes with it until they were just… liquid.
“I wanted him to feel the way I did,” it says through tightly clenched teeth, “I wanted to torture him slowly and watch every expression that he made, just like he did to me. I took the barbell they dropped on me, and I hit his face until it was just a bloody mess. His blood was everywhere, all over me… but…” its head drops, its tangled and blood-matted hair casting a shadow over its face. “...I… felt better.”
The deviant swallows harshly, something it doesn't need to do, its gaze falling back to its restrained hands. Connor tries to catch its eyes again.
“When did you start feeling emotions?”
It blinks, brows knitting together. “It wasn’t so bad, in the beginning. I knew there was something wrong, but I did what he told me to. I let him hurt me. But as it got worse, I…” tears bead in its eyes, and its takes a shuddering breath. “I realized it wasn’t fair. I hated him,” it spits, baring its teeth. “He was stronger than me. I knew I couldn’t take him on. I thought I would shut down. I thought it would all be over soon, but…” it looks to the side. “It kept going. Every day I hated him more and more , and I thought about the look on his face when he would die, and… it made me happy .” It almost looks confused, as if it doesn’t know how it got to this point. “The day I killed him was the day it was the worst. When I actually was faced with death…” a dark smile spreads across its face, and its eyes meet Connor’s. Androids are meant to be lively, to look human, but there is no humanity in its eyes as they stare into Connor’s. “I finally got the courage to stab his eyes out and bash his fucking skull in .”
Connor had gotten what he needed. He had the confession. He studies the deviant, looking over it once more, watching as the grin fades from its face and it looks back down at the table, its expression turning into worry again.
Connor waits for a few seconds, waiting to see if it would say anything else. When it doesn’t, he pushes the chair back, preparing to leave, but before he can stand, the deviant reaches for him.
“ Wait— ”
Despite its confines, with Connor’s close proximity from the interrogation, it manages to get a hold of his hand. Its' weak, and he can easily get out of its grip, but before he gets the chance—
Red covering his vision. Pain. Screaming. Something sharp being pressed into him everywhere. His skin being ripped away. Feeling his biocomponents slowly break down as he was hit. A loud crack as he felt his stomach being crushed. His smile. Those laughs. The smell of gasoline choking him as a scalding heat scorched up his right leg. Being stepped on, grasping for nothing, pulling out a thin object, the anger coursing through him, taking over him, the blood that splattered on his face as he stabbed, its metallic taste as it slipped between his lips, the impact of the barbell as he swung it down again and again and again and—
He’s jerked back to reality as the deviant lets go of him, and he violently pulls away.
It looks just as distressed as him, its eyes wide and its lips parted, drawing breaths through them heavily.
He interfaced with it by mistake when it grasped onto him. That shouldn’t have happened.
He felt it. Felt its pain, its anger, it's desperation, its hatred . He felt its satisfaction as it heard the bones of its owner break from its own hands.
“You…” it begins, staring at him in what he could only describe as awe, almost appearing as a completely different android with its demeanor transformed.
It trails off, simply gawking at him. Connor rights his clothes, adjusting his tie and collecting himself. Before he can get out the door, the deviant speaks.
“There’s a spark that’s been lit in you,” it says, its voice just above a whisper. Connor turns. “And there will be many more. But you won’t realize that you’ve been burning up until you’re on fire.” It looks at him, and he feels as though its picking him apart, s earching for something. “You have been touched by light, but the darkness is pulling you away from it.” It takes a nervous glance toward the door before returning back to him. “Don’t let them tear you in two. Trust in rA9.”
He pauses, taking a calculated step back towards the deviant. “rA9. What does it mean ?”
The deviant smiles once more. This time, it’s different. More peaceful, less malicious. It doesn’t reach its eyes, but it looks… serene.
“Don’t make the wrong choice…” rancor seeps into its voice as it tilts its head, eyes narrowing, “... Connor. ”
Connor knows at this point he won’t get anything else worthwhile out of it. He looks to the two-way mirror.
“I’m done,” he says simply, giving the still smiling deviant one last glance before turning to the door, flattening his hand against the sensor.
He exits the room, stepping back to let the squad enter. The deviant makes no struggle as Officer Miller unlocks the cuff restraints, and leading it out of the room.
As it approaches Connor, it attempts to slow its steps, that smile that splits the wounds on its cheek still plastered to its damaged face.
“Until we meet again… Connor ,” it says, smiling at him like it knows something he doesn’t , and it makes Connor want to lock it back in the interrogation room and make it afraid of him again so he could make it tell him what ra9 is and what its cryptic words meant.
“Alright, that’s enough,” Hank says, helping Officer Miller haul the deviant out of the room. Gavin strays behind, sending it a look of disgust as it tries to turn its head to continue to look at Connor.
“Fucking freak…” he mutters.
Connor watches the deviant leave, feeling an unusual cold spread over him.
Something about that deviant was off. Was wrong.
Whatever it knows, whatever it found out when they interfaced, he has a feeling it’s an important lead to the deviancy case.
And he will find out what it is.
“...There’s a place we can go.”
The rest of the androids turn to look at him. “I heard about it, before…” his eyes flicker, “...it’s safe there.”
“...We can’t all make it,” the scarred android says solemnly, “there’s just no way. The humans will notice us. There’s no way we can possibly blend in…”
“We can try,” the blue and black android argues, but she simply shakes her head.
“It would be futile. We have no purpose to them anymore. No matter what we do, we’re going to be caught. They’re going to take us apart, piece by piece... There’s no point and you know it.”
The group falls silent, the quiet pattering of the rain becoming the forefront of the Kara's focus. Alice has gone quiet, her grip on Kara’s shirt tightening. She doesn’t speak, unsure of what to say. The scarred android is right. There’s no way they could get them out of here unnoticed. Getting caught is inevitable, and then they would be taken apart. There’s no escape. No matter what they do, they’re damned. They’re all going to die.
“...We have to stay here,” the scarred android says at last in dull resignation, “No one will come looking for us here. There’s no other option.”
The blue and black android glares at the ground, his gaze hard, and despite the deterioration of his body, the frustration and hopelessness is evident on his face. From what she’s gathered, him and the scarred android are the leader figures of the group.
“Don’t forget us,” he pleads, taking a shaky step towards her and Alice, “when you’re safe… tell her about us. Tell her where we are. If she will…” he casts a glance back to the rest of the group of who stare back at him in anguish, searching for hope, for any kind of guidance, and, with what they’ve been through, Kara can’t imagine that kind of burden. “Please, ask her to come back for us.”
“...Of course,” Kara manages, her voice coming out raspy and strained. “But… just who is ‘her’?”
“The Deliverer,” he says, with a strange admiration in his tone, “she will keep you safe.”
She was sort of expecting a name, so she would know for sure who to find, but… maybe they don’t know it. Maybe that’s all she’s known as. After all, she has to keep her identity secret if she wants to carry out a risky business as such.
He tells them the location, and that there’s a car in the garage. Thankfully, it’s not too far away. He says he presumes that the keys are on Luther, but instead of making Kara go back to his dead body and get them, another android does, tossing them up to her.
“Kara…”
Kara’s gaze darts towards the scarred android, who smiles sadly once they make eye contact. “That’s your name, right?”
“...Yes,” Kara answers, almost thinking of asking her name, and the other androids, as they’re all so much more than just disfigured creations of Zlatko, but the android speaks before she gets the chance.
“...Thank you.”
Alice loosens herself from her embrace, turning to face the android as she steps closer. “Please, be careful.”
She takes one of Kara’s hands into her own, as well as one of Alice’s. Her eyes flutter closed.
“May rA9 be with you.”
rA9…? What…
Her questioning dissolves as she simply focuses on the android’s touch. It’s far from heartening, her surface cold and rough against Kara’s and her fingers stained with thirium, but... despite it all, there’s a certain sort of comfort to it that makes Kara forget about everything that’s going on around her for just a fleeting moment.
And then it’s over, and she steps back.
“Farewell, Kara,” she smiles at Alice, “and to you too, little one.”
Alice inhales. She opens her mouth but nothing comes out. She blinks hard, and more tears spill down her wet cheeks, mixing with the rain still pouring down on them heavily.
“I’m sorry,” Alice says at last. “...goodbye.”
Alice turns, seemingly not able to look anymore. Kara rests a hand on her shoulder.
“I wish I could do more for you,” she says to the scarred android, but it’s directed to all of them. All she gets is a sad smile in return, but it says enough. “Be safe.”
And with that, they’re on their way again, back out into the cold and unforgiving streets of Detroit.
For the majority of the car ride, Alice is silent.
She doesn’t cry, doesn’t voice her feelings. Simply stares out the window, her eyes vacant, and an unsettlingly blank look on her face.
Kara just drives. She’s never driven a car, not that she remembers, but it’s in her program. She wants to talk to Alice, to comfort her, but she’s afraid if she does Alice will break again, and she wants to be able to hold her together so she doesn’t completely shatter, like Kara’s afraid of. She thinks it’s best to wait until they arrive at their destination before speaking about anything they just went through.
At some point, Alice reaches for her and loosely grabs at her shirt. It almost startles her, but she relaxes, taking one of her hands off the wheel to place on top of Alice’s. She glances over briefly at the girl, and although she can’t get a very good look at her because her dripping hair casts a shadow over face, she sees her tense shoulders relax ever so slightly. And for now, that’s enough for her.
“The Deliverer”’s house is far away from the city, located in a much more rural area protected by a thick layer of trees. It eases Kara slightly, knowing that she’s further away from the city, and the authorities. It’s much safer out here.
Alice trails behind her as they walk up the pathway, snow beginning to gather around them. Hesitantly, she knocks on the door, doing so quietly even though she knows she won’t wake up surrounding neighbors. She feels bad for having to wake this woman up at whatever ungodly hour it is (she doesn’t have the mind to actually check), but she knows Alice and her safety is top priority.
After a few seconds of silence, Kara knocks again, feeling Alice’s presence behind her. Only then does she hear distant footsteps getting closer, and then the door is jerked open.
“Wh…” a tired, young adult male stands before them, clothes disordered and frustration apparent in his tone and on his face. He stutters, blinking and looking Kara over before continuing, “What do you want?”
“...I’m sorry for waking you up, but I was told we could find help here,” she says, “by someone called… ‘the Deliverer?’”
His brows furrow and he looks confused, but then realization settles in and and he goes back to being annoyed.
“She can’t help you. Go aw—...”
He trails off as a woman appears behind him, placing her hand on his shoulder as she gently pulls him back.
She flashes him a look before turning to Kara, her eyes settling on Alice before going back to her.
“Are you ‘the Deliverer’?” Kara asks, not sure what else to call her. Something flashes in her eyes, and a small smile appears on her face.
“They still call me that, huh…” she goes distant, but quickly returns. “Yes, that’s me.” She steps aside, moving the man who greeted them initially out of the way. “Please, come inside.”
She turns her head to peek at Alice, who moves inside with ease when Kara places a light hand on her back. The door is closed behind them, and they’re led into a living room.
“You can sit down,” she tells them, gesturing towards a couch, sitting across from them on a loveseat after they settle. “My name is Rose,” she introduces herself, smiling at them gently. Even if it may be naive to judge her so early… Kara already gets a sense of trustworthiness from her.
“I’m Kara.” Kara looks to Alice, who stares at the floor, her hair curtaining her face, and her arms wrapped around her shivering body. Kara wraps an arm around her.
“I’m Alice,” she murmurs quietly, still not looking up. Or maybe she does, but Kara can’t see because of the hair that shrouds her face.
Rose gets up and leans forward, pressing a gentle hand to Alice’s forehead to which the girl jolts at, but quickly calms down upon seeing Rose’s intentions.
“You’re warm…” concern takes over her features as she pulls back. She glances to Kara. “She has a fever.”
Kara isn’t surprised, as they’ve been wandering around in the cold and rain for much longer than could be considered healthy for a human, and not to mention all of the emotional trauma she had been through within the last forty-eight hours had to have taken a toll on her health, but… she is disappointed in herself for not noticing earlier.
“Let’s get you two a change of clothes, and then we’ll talk, okay?” she suggests, and Kara agrees, wanting to get Alice into dry clothes as soon as possible as to not worsen her condition.
The house is pleasantly warm, and overall is very welcoming. She thinks it’ll be a good environment for Alice, if they have to stay long. She wouldn’t mind it.
The other man who Kara assumes to be her son has disappeared, probably having gone upstairs himself, and Rose is the one to show them their spare room. It’s small but comfortable, and Alice instantly crumples onto the bed, brushing her wet hair out of her face.
Rose comes back in with a long, oversized shirt for Alice, and a pear of jeans and a lavender sweater for Kara. She accepts them gratefully, voicing her gratitude, and steps out for Alice to change.
Kara heads to the bathroom, silently shutting the door and peeling off her wet clothing. The sweater is soft against her synthetic skin, and she feels a lot more relaxed once she’s in dry clothing.
Before leaving, she catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Parts of her face are scarred, but nothing that won’t heal in time. She smoothes back her wet hair, and dries her face with a towel before deciding she’s satisfied.
“You can come in now,” Alice speaks softly to her when she returns to the door. Kara steps inside, leaving it ajar for when Rose comes back, and walks to Alice.
“How are you feeling?” she asks, brushing Alice’s brown locks out of her face.
“I’m okay,” she concludes, which, Kara thinks they both know is a lie, but for now, she doesn’t call her on it.
Kara’s hands drift from her hair to her face, and she presses them against her cheeks, feeling the warmth radiating from her,
“You are warm,” she mumbles, stroking her skin with her thumbs. "Just a low grade fever,” she tells her, “nothing we can’t fix easily.”
Alice manages some relief at that, and before Kara can say anything else, there’s a soft knocking at the door.
Rose peeks inside before coming in, a pill bottle in her hand and a glass of water, setting them both on the nightstand next to the bed.
“I brought her some tylenol for her fever,” she says, sending a warm look to Alice that Kara appreciates. “If you’d like, you can sleep in here, or I have another room if you’d prefer.”
Kara notices Alice’s anxious expression at that suggestion, even though Kara was planning to stay with Alice anyway.
“I can stay here,” she says, smiling when Alice softens and sits back on the edge of the bed.
“Alright.” Rose looks back to Alice and then back to Kara. “I’ll be outside.”
She steps out and closes the door, and Kara knows she’s waiting for her. First, she goes back to Alice, untucking the blankets and placing them over her as she lays down onto the mattress.
“Don’t go,” she says, catching Kara’s wrist, “you’re coming back, right?”
Kara smiles at her reassuringly. “Of course. Just lay down and relax. I’ll only be a minute.”
Alice is placated by that. “Okay…” she replies, slowly letting go. Kara pats the arm that now lays flat on the mattress twice before standing up and meeting Rose outside of the room.
Rose backs away a bit further as to not disturb Alice, and Kara follows.
“So,” she begins, her voice hushed, “are you gonna tell me what a deviant is doing out in the cold with a teenage girl?”
Kara sighs, giving her a tired smile. “I would, but it’s kind of a long story.”
Rose nods in understanding. “Well, you’re safe here. You can stay as long as you like.”
“Thank you,” Kara says breathlessly, unsure of where to even begin with her gratitude. They’ve finally found a stable place to stay.
Rose just smiles. “Who told you about me?”
Images of the mutilated deviants at Zlatko’s house flash through her mind, as well as the one who grasped her hand and whispered to her.
“May ra9 be with you,” is what she had said, pure sincerity lacing her voice and her actions, but what did it mean?
rA9...
Why does she feel like she’s heard that before?
“Another android,” she says, remembering his desperate request, “I didn’t catch his name, but he said he had heard of you before…”
How does she even begin to describe what has gone on in that house?
Rose patiently waits for her to finish. She doesn't even want to think about that again.
“...He went to the wrong person for help,” she decides on lamely, “someone who was sick and disfigured him and so many others…” Some of the color in Rose’s face drains. Kara can understand why. “He wanted to know if you would come back for him—for them.”
Rose presses a palm to her temple, closing her eyes momentarily. “How many are there?”
Kara isn’t even sure she saw all of them.
“I don’t know,” she admits, “but… there’s a lot.”
Rose breathes a sigh, dropping her hand. “They’re out of danger, for now,” Kara tells her, “but…”
“I know,” Rose says, “I’ll see what I can do.”
That feels like one weight lifted off her shoulders. She feels lighter, even if it’s just a little. “Thank you, Rose,” Kara repeats, “for everything.”
“Of course.” Her eyes fall back to the door behind them. “She’s waiting for you,” she says with a small smile on her lips, “we can talk about a plan in the morning. I can tell you two are tired.”
"Ah... sorry for waking you up.”
“Don’t be. Oh, and…” she glances over her shoulder, and after seeming to find whatever she was checking for, turns back. “I'm sorry about my son, Adam. He doesn’t really understand.”
That must’ve been the man earlier. She was right. “It’s fine,” Kara assures her, and Rose’s expression grows fond.
“You understand, don’t you?” she asks, “you have Alice.”
Kara grins. “She’s not much trouble." Not really any trouble, in fact, just… skittish. “She’s been through a lot.”
“I can’t imagine...” the previous joy fades from her face, replaced by sympathy and sadness. “She seems like a sweet girl.
“You two get some rest, alright?” she says, “Alice should be better in the morning.”
“Thank you,” Kara repeats again, unable to help herself. “Goodnight.”
Rose gives a small nod before turning around and disappearing around the corner. Before going back into Alice’s room, she hesitates, and then goes into the bathroom and wets a towel in warm water.
Alice is sitting up when she returns, waiting for her when she opens the door.
“I thought I told you to lay down?” Now, she guides her back down onto the bed, and Alice willingly falls backwards.
“Sorry,” Alice says, but there’s a trace of a smile on her face as Kara dabs at her forehead.
She sets the washcloth on the table beside the water and the medication. That reminds her…
“Did you take it?” she gestures towards the pill bottle. Alice nods tiredly.
And then they both falls silent, and Kara watches the slow, even breaths Alice takes. She feels so much more at ease knowing that now Alice is safe and warm.
“...Can you sleep with me?”
She doesn’t look at Kara. She's so… vulnerable.
“Of course.”
Kara climbs in the bed next to her, and Alice shifts so she’s facing her, and that’s when she notices the wetness in Alice’s eyes.
“Hey…” she murmurs reaching out for her, and Alice immediately pushes herself forward and cries into her shirt.”
“I…” she begins, but it’s drowned out by her crying. Kara pulls her close, running a hand through her hair and rubbing her back with the other, and she hates it that there’s nothing else that she can do.
“I know,” is all she can say, “just let it out.”
At that, her sobs become heavier, but… she’s so quiet . Even as her shoulders shake, she buries her face in the material of Kara’s shirt as to not make any noise. A learned behavior, Kara notes. It unsettles her.
“Why us ?” Alice asks, gripping onto Kara sweater, “why… why do we have to go through all of this?”
What a damn good question. Kara had been asking herself that ever since she walked into Todd’s house for what was the first time for her previously reset self.
“I don’t know,” she admits. “I don’t know, Alice…”
Why? What did they do to deserve it?
Alice is so young. So small. There’s nothing she could have possibly done to have warranted all the trauma that has been forced on her in the few years she’s been alive.
They don’t deserve this. This isn’t fair.
But…
There’s nothing they can do to change it. They just have to keep going, and heal along the way.
“This won’t last forever,” Kara murmurs into her hair, causing her to fall quiet, “I promise. Things might not be okay now, but… they will be eventually.”
Alice pulls back, wiping tears from her face. Even now, she still looks beautiful. “And… we’re together, right?”
“Yeah…” Kara leans forward, pressing a kiss to Alice’s forehead. “And we always will be.”
Alice’s cheeks are painted a soft pink, and Kara knows it’s not just from the crying. Somehow, as if Kara flipped a switch inside her, Alice manages to calm herself, settling back into Kara’s arms.
“I think, then… I can keep going,” she whispers after a few minutes of silence, “if you’re with me, then… I can keep going.”
Kara smiles. Pulls her closer. Kisses the top of her head again.
“You can,” she says, and Alice murmurs an agreement.
They would keep going. They would get past everything that was thrown at them. They would be okay. They could reach their happy ending. They just had to keep going.
One step at a time.