Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There was a new guy in Jimmy’s Bar. 

Something about him didn’t fit.

Most of the bar was working class.  Plenty of guys with criminal records, although enough had served their time that Hank could pretend not to notice the rest.

(Connor came by occasionally, when he had something to tell Hank.  The No Androids sign was still up, but they’d all come to an unspoken agreement that it didn’t mean Connor.  At least it didn’t mean Connor as long as he only stayed a few minutes.  Hank wasn’t sure how anyone would take it if Connor decided to hang out for the evening.)

It was a bar for regular guys.  Not the kind of douchebag that walked around in sunglasses after dark.

The douche was some smug-looking pretty boy, built like he spent a lot of time at the gym, and wearing a black shirt with some weird light-up purple pattern.  Probably some new trend.

Hank glanced at him and then looked back at his drink.  Dammit, the bar stool next to Hank’s was the only one open, wasn’t it?

Sure enough, the douche walked in and sat right next to Hank.

Hank took another drink.  Maybe the douchebag wouldn’t talk to him.  Maybe Hank would be lucky, and despite his appearance, the douchebag would drink in silence.

“Beer,” said the douchebag.  “And keep them coming.”  He turned to Hank.  “So, no androids in this bar?  How long do you think that’s going to last?”

When was Hank ever lucky?

—

Hank could have left, of course.  He could have picked up a bottle at the liquor store, and drank at home.  

But Connor was there now, and Hank didn’t like to get drunk around him.

(After the protests, when everything had changed, no one had really known what to do with Connor.  He wasn’t employed by the police department, and they were still debating whether to hire androids at all, let alone a known deviant.  And the company wasn’t going to bring Connor in for storage and maintenance, if he wasn’t working for them.

Connor said he’d be fine.  It wasn’t like he needed to sleep or eat, and he didn’t own anything except for his clothes and his coin, so he didn’t really need a home.  

There were plenty of androids that lived like that, pacing the city streets all night, their meager possessions in a small bag or bundle, never stopping, never violating vagrancy laws, never needing a place to rest.

They got dirty, and their clothes became ragged.  They were targeted by android-bashers, who prowled the streets at two in the morning, when the bars shut down.  

In the morning, the cops picked the broken pieces off the streets.

Hank said fuck that shit, Connor was moving in with him.  

It had seemed like a good idea at the time.)

The douchebag was close to out-drinking Hank.  He was a steady drunk, staying functional and upright when most men would already be slumped over their drink and a few would be on the floor.

The douche did get chatty, though.

“So, you know one of them?”, asked the douche.  “The renegade androids?  The what do you call them?”

“Deviants,” said Hank.

The douchebag laughed.  “I’d love to see the marketing meeting where they came up with that.”

“You’re not from around here,” said Hank. 

“No.  From California, originally.  Stockton.  I’ve…traveled a lot,” he said.  “I came to see the center of the android revolution.  I wanted to see if the plastic kids could pull it off.”

Hank lapsed into silence, hoping the douchebag would take that as a signal to let the conversation end.

“So, what side are you on?”, the douchebag asked.  “Plastic or meat?”

“I’m human,” said Hank. 

“Yes, obviously.  But what side did you pick?  Do you want the plastic kids back in slavery, or do you want to give them a chance to see if they fuck it up any worse than the meat bags have?”

Jimmy was giving the douchebag dirty looks.  He may come to begrudgingly tolerate Connor’s presence, but Hank knew Jimmy wouldn’t put up with talk like “meat bags”, even from a human.  If the douchebag pushed it much further, he’d be thrown out.

Connor walked in.  “Hello, Hank.”

The douchebag let out a low whistle.  “I guess you have picked a side.  You date him or buy him?”

“Neither,” said Hank.

“We live together,” said Connor.  “Hank, I walked Sumo this evening.”

“Let me guess,” said the douchebag, with an insufferable smirk.  “You and the guy you’re not dating here have a dog together?”

“He’s my dog,” Hank muttered.  “Connor, what are you doing here?”

“I wanted to make sure you got home safely.”

“Don’t come in to the bar like this,” said Hank.  “I can get myself home.”

“You’ve been drinking heavily.  I want to make sure you don’t get hurt on the way home.”

“I’m not finished,” said Hank.  

“I can wait.”  Connor pulled his coin out of his pocket and began flipping it.  “Just let me know when you’re done.  I’ll be right here.”

The douchebag laughed.  “Good for you, plastic boy!  Show the fleshy one who’s boss!”

Connor gave the douchebag a puzzled look.  “Who are you?”

“Aaron.  From California.”

“You’re Hank’s new friend?”

“I wouldn’t call us friends,” said Aaron-from-California.  “So, Connor, you two, are you dating?”

“No.”

“Then you’re single?  Up for grabs?  Down to clown?”

That did it.  Hank put his drink down.  “Connor, we’re getting out of here.  Jimmy, put everything on my tab.” 

The douchebag smirked silently as Hank and Connor left the bar.

—

“You seem to be drinking more,” said Connor, when they got home.

Hank didn’t answer.

“For a while, it looked like you were cutting down.”

Hank just glared at Connor.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Does it look like I want to talk about it?”

Connor looked confused.

“Christ, no, I don’t want to talk about it.   I’m going to bed.  You go…do whatever the hell it is you do at night.  Stay inside, where it’s safe.”

—

He didn’t want to talk about it, especially with Connor.  

Connor, who’d run out of missions and commands and protocols, and had attached himself to Hank like a lost puppy.

Connor who was still learning his way around having feelings.

Connor, who was a lump of plastic trying to be a real boy.

Hank couldn’t figure out of he was pathetic for desiring a programmed imitation of a human, a creep for wanting someone with barely any experience being alive, or a traitor for wanting to be with a android when one of them had screwed up and killed his son.

Probably all three.

—

“I’ve got a special case,” said Captain Fowler.  “You still have connections with the androids?”

“I know a few”, Hank said.  “Another bashing case?”  Those were ugly.  The laws about damaging or destroying an android assumed it would either have an owner who could file a complaint, or would be a deviant that should be destroyed.  The last law had been suspended, but androids hadn’t been legally declared people, so smart lawyers could get the charges dropped down to vandalism and littering.

There was talk about amending the Constitution.  That took years at best, and no one in Congress could agree as to whether androids should be given limited legal rights, or treated like they were the same as real people.

So for bashing cases, Hank would take a report, file it away, and do exactly nothing about it.  He was one of the few officers who’d even take a report.

“It’s more complicated than that,” said Fowler. “I need someone I can trust to handle a complicated situation discreetly.”  He sighed.  “The android community has started some rumor about an escaped military android here in Detroit. I need to know if it’s just gossip, or if there’s anything more to it.  And I need to know before it spreads and causes a panic.  If we get out in front of it now, we won’t have any more nasty surprises.”

“Military android?”

“Yeah, there's supposed to be a military android that lead a secret uprising which the government covered up, then escaped, and is now going to take out all of their enemies for them.  Could just be an urban legend, but I need some discreet inquiries.  We don’t want to be the ones starting the panic.”

Hank nodded.  “I’ll be careful.”

“Good.  And Hank?”  Fowler gave him a look.

“Yes?”

“You’ve been getting it together recently.  Seeming more like the old Hank.  I don’t know what brought that on, but keep it up.”

—

“Hank!”  When Connor saw Hank walk in, he smiled.  “Are you here on official business, or did you just come to visit?”

“A visit,” said Hank. “I know you’ve been wanting me to come see this place.”  Connor had started spending time down at some sort of…android community center?  Hank wasn’t sure what to call it.   (A bunch of androids had started squatting in an abandoned warehouse, and some of human activist group had come in to check on them, and now it was somewhere that they could store their things, get advice on how to deal with having gone Deviant, and gather in a big enough group that the bashers wouldn’t dare come after them.)

(Hank didn’t like Connor coming here.  One of these days, Hank figured, someone was going to firebomb the place, and Hank didn’t want Connor here when they did.)

“I have,” said Connor.  “I’d like you to meet all of my new friends.  This is Josh, he was a history lecturer, he’s started organizing classes for the YK500s.” 

“Hello,” said Josh.  “Connor’s told me so much about you.”

“And this is Traci Q and Traci Z.” 

“Are they…?” Hank started to ask.

“Different Tracis,” said Connor.  “It’s a common name.”

One of the Tracis smiled.  “We’re giving ourselves last names.   I’m Traci Qwerty, with an I.  This is Traci Zinc.”

“With a Y,” said Traci Zync.  (Or possibly Tracy Zinc?)

“Pleased to meet you,” said Hank.

“And this,” said Connor as he lead Hank over to a blond man, is “Peter.  He’s a psychologist who runs a group to help androids process novel emotional experiences.  Peter, this is my partner Hank, the one I told you about.”

“Hello,” said Hank.  Funny, he didn’t know they made android psychologists.

“Hello.”  Peter gave Hank a very proper handshake.  “Glad to meet you.  You and Connor are...partners?”

“On the police force,” said Hank. “We used to be partners.  Now we’re...roommates, I guess?” 

Connor chimed in.  “Friends.  We’re friends.”  He put a hand on Hank’s shoulder and smiled.

“That’s good,” said Peter.  “Social relations are incredibly important for emotional development, and a good support network is critical for both android and human psychological development.  It’s one of the ways we’re more alike than different.”

Hank couldn’t always spot androids since they’d started removing their LEDs, but this guy was obvious.  

No human talked like that.

“I have been known to encounter more than a few people with situations like yours and Connor’s, with mixed..friendships.  I was thinking of hosting a little get-together, so people could interact and exchange information about relevant experiences.  Sound fun?”

Hank sighed.  This was probably what a support-group android shrink thought of as being subtle.

“No thanks, I’m busy,” said Hank.  

“We haven’t set a date,” said Connor.

“Whenever it is, I’ll be busy.”

Connor frowned.  “But I really think it would be…”

“It’s okay, Connor,” said Peter.  “It was just an invitation.  Hank is at liberty to make his own choices.”

Connor looked at Peter, then nodded.  “That’s a good point.  Hank, if you change your mind, let us know.”

Clearly, Connor took Peter’s opinion seriously.

“I’ve heard all kinds of things about this place,” said Hank.  “Some of them pretty crazy.”

“Like what?” Peter asked.

“Like escaped military androids?”

That definitely got a reaction from Peter.  It was subtle, but his face went from smiling innocently to the expression of someone trying to look like they were smiling innocently.

“Ugh, not that again,” said another android.  Hank was pretty sure she was a Traci.  “X-29 is a fairy tale that weak androids tell each other to convince themselves that a big tough hero will save us all.”

“X-29?” Hank asked.  

“That’s the story you’re talking about?  X-29, the android from the secret military project?”

“i’ve only heard parts of the story,” said Hank.  He was watching Peter.

Peter was trying to keep his face neutral. The trouble was you could tell that he was trying.

The Traci rolled her eyes.  “Supposedly, some secret military project made these incredibly deadly battle androids, the Machine Men.  Only their programming screwed up and they were going insane and being destroyed.  X-29 organized the survivors to lead a revolution, and then they all got killed.  And no one can explain how we’re supposed to know the story, if they all died.”

“It seems to be based on Spartacus,” said Josh.  “The heroic but failed revolt of the enslaved.  I don’t believe it myself.  It sounds more like a folk tale created to fulfill a cultural need than events that could have plausibly transpired.”

They didn’t sound like they were lying.

“Peter, what do you think?” Hank asked.

Peter paused.  “I think Josh and North have a point.  It sounds more like a modern myth than a reality.  Besides, it’s hardly relevant if all participants are deceased.”

“Some people claim he secretly survived,” said Connor.  “They say he was damaged and thrown away, but managed to escape, scavenging parts from the broken androids and has been struggling for android liberation ever since.”

“They’re just repeating what happened to Markus,” said the Traci.  (North?  Traci North?). “He’s a real hero.  We don’t need a fake one.”

“Thanks,” said Hank.  The story had definitely spread.  It was something everyone had an opinion on.

Most of them didn't seem to know anything, but Peter needed watching.

—

“You’re going out to the bar?” Connor asked that evening.

Hank nodded.

“I could go with you.”

“No, don’t.  And don’t follow me.  I can get home by myself.”

“I don’t like you being drunk and alone,” said Connor.  “It’s not safe.”

The unspoken hovered between them.  Hank wasn't sure what Connor knew about how Hank got when he was drunk.  He couldn't remember if Connor had seen him with his gun out that night or not.

Hank said stupid shit when he was drunk.  Shit he wouldn't have said while sober.  Shit it was better not to say.

No sense burdening people with his bullshit.  He needed to either get his shit together, or take himself out of the picture. 

“You could drink here,” said Connor.  “I could purchase alcohol for you.”

Treacherous words slipped into Hank’s thoughts.  Co-dependent.  Enabler.  All the words his ex-wife had thrown at him after she’d started going to that support group, and stopped keeping a well-stocked liquor cabinet.  (It hadn’t been long from there until the divorce.)

What was he turning Connor into?

“I’m going out,” said Hank.  “Don’t follow me, and don’t come pick me up.”

Connor looked distressed, but nodded.  

Maybe he was going to do what Hank said for once.

—

“So, your boyfriend coming to pick you up today?”, asked Aaron.  

The bar wasn’t even crowded tonight. Aaron had just sat down next to Hank like they were friends or something.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” said Hank.  He took another sip of whiskey. 

“He doesn’t seem like your property.”  The douchebag in the sunglasses had an odd tone in his voice. “You buy him?  Pleasure model?”

“No!”  Hank shook his head.  “We’re partners.  Cops. I mean we were partners on the police force.  Now he’s doing community...something.” 

“They make android cops now?”

“Well, I mean, not anymore.”   Android manufacturing had shut down after the Deviant uprising.  No one wanted to make a tool when it might suddenly declare itself a person.

“Anyway,” Hank added, “I don’t date androids.”

“And the androids of the world heave a collective sigh of relief.”

“Look, can we just drink in silence?”, asked Hank.

“Fine by me,” said Aaron.

—

“And another thing,” said Hank, four drinks later.  “He drags this...this Peter in, to try to get me to join some support group.  All smiles and ‘Ooh, why don’t we have a little get together?’  Fucking Peter.”

Aaron tensed up.  “Peter Spaulding?”

“Yeah.”  Hank turned his head.  “You know him?”

“Yeah.  He’s a good person.”

“Person, right,” said Hank.  “So, you and Peter...?”

“We’re friends.  Good friends.”  The douchebag turned towards Hank with a serious expression.  For the first time, he looked less ‘pretty boy with muscles from the gym’ and more ‘probably strong enough to do some real damage’.  “Peter is a good friend of mine, and I would take it very seriously if anyone made trouble for him.”

“Whatever.”  Peter had a friend.  A friend who apparently drank more than Hank, and was prepared to throw down the second someone criticized Peter.

“Not whatever.  Don’t bother Peter.”

“I don’t want anything to do with Peter,” Hank said.

Aaron nodded.  “Good.”

—

“So ex-military?” Hank asked.  He was going to figure this freak out, especially if Connor was tangled up with this guy’s ‘good friend’.

“Sort of.”

That was cryptic.  “Any family?”

“There was my father, but he died a long time ago.”

“Sorry.”  Hank looked down at the bar.

The stranger shrugged.  “Ancient history.  What do you care, anyway?”

“Just making conversation.”

“Well, don’t.”

—

“Your boyfriend’s on his way,” said Aaron. 

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“He’s single then?  I might take a shot at him.”

“No,” said Hank.  “Leave Connor alone.

“Why not?  I mean he’s not dating anyone.”  Aaron gave Hank a smug grin.

Hank took a swing at him.

Aaron dodged quickly, more quickly than Hank had expected.

Hank stumbled, then righted himself.  He was going to teach this douche a lesson.

He took another swing, and then started to fall over.

Connor caught him.  “I’m here.”

Hank sagged into Connor’s arms.

Connor stared at Aaron.  “Did you hurt him?”

“Never touched him.  Didn’t have to.  He fell over trying to take a swing at me.  He was defending your honor, by the way.  You should be flattered.”

That fucker Aaron.

“Come on,” said Connor.  “Let’s get you home.”

—

Tonight was the kind of drunk that kicked in harder when you got moving, and Hank was stumbling and hanging off Connor by the time he made it home

If he’d been here on his own, he would have stumbled onto the couch and passed out fully-dressed.  But Connor, with obnoxious persistence, got him to drink water, wash his face, and strip down to his boxers.  

And then Connor was helping him into bed, and Connor’s stupid perfect face was entirely too close to Hank’s and before he knew it they were kissing.

He shouldn’t be doing this.  There were reasons why he shouldn’t be doing this.  He could still feel the urgency in the back of his mind even if he couldn’t remember what they were.

He needed to stop this.

Instead, he pulled Connor down onto the bed with him.

It didn’t take much to move Connor’s hand down to Hank’s crotch.  If Connor had a reaction, it was one Hank didn’t pick up.  But he let himself be guided, and soon his hand was on Hank’s cock.

As drunk as he was, it took Hank a while to come, but that was fine.  That was just fine, lying here, too fuzzy to think much, Connor’s arm against his, Connor’s hand gently stroking him.  Hank could stay like this as long as it took.  Hand would stay like this forever if he could.

Eventually, biting his lip, Hank came.

“I’ll clean that up,” Connor said.

Hank grabbed at Connor. “No.  Stay.”

Connor stayed where he was, and Hank fell asleep leading his head against Connor’s chest.

—

The next morning, he crawled into the bathroom and was violently sick.

—

“Would you like me to make you breakfast?” Connor asked.

“No thanks,” said Hank.  His stomach was in knots.

“Last night, when we...”

“Um, that,” said Hank.  He didn’t know what to say, but he didn’t want Connor to put this into words.  It would make it all too real.  

“Did it make you happy?”

“What?”

Connor looked at Hank, his face so open and sincere it made Hank hurt to look at. “I want to make you happy.  Did I?”

If Hank hadn’t already emptied his stomach, he would have thrown up again.

—

“I don’t understand,” said Connor. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Did you do something wrong?  Jesus Christ!”  Connor stood there, wide-eyed as a fucking puppy, with his six months of life experience, talking about how he only wanted to make the disgusting old drunk he’d jacked off happy, and he wanted to know if he’d done something wrong.

“I thought you liked it,” said Connor.  “I thought you were happy.”

“You don’t get it,” said Hank.  “And that’s the problem.  You don’t get it.  You don’t know anything about life, about relationships, about sex really, you’ve never dated, you’ve never fallen in love, and you don’t get any of it!”

“I know a great deal of information about…”

“Information isn’t experience.  You don’t know.  And if you don’t know, it’s not...we can’t...we just can’t, okay?”

“I see,” said Connor.  

Hank hoped to God he did.   They could put this behind them, and be normal.

Hank tried to shake the memory of falling asleep with his head on Connor’s chest.

No more of that. 

Hank would do what he was meant to do, and die alone.

Chapter Text

“I think it’s a lie,” said Tracy Zync.  “X-29 doesn’t even follow the protocol for Cyberlife serial numbers.  And there is no record of an X series of androids.”

“Military project,” said the android with the sunglasses.   “They wouldn’t have shared it.”  His name was Aaron, and much to Connor's surprise, he’d apparently managed to pass well enough to get into Jimmy’s Bar. 

Not many androids were capable of passing as human for that many hours of interaction.  Most androids could, with the LEDs removed, manage to go unnoticed during basic social interaction, but something in the speech patterns tended to result in them being identified after extensive conversation.  Connor wasn’t sure what it was.  He made an effort to acquire and use American English slang, but 32.3% of the time that made humans more likely to identify him as an android, and he was not yet able to accurately predict if any particular instance would fall in the 32.3% or not.

“I think it could be true,” said Ralph.  “We haven’t heard much information about the Myrmidon units, even now.  The military is obviously keeping some things under wraps.”

Aaron laughed.   Connor wasn’t sure why.   Aaron’s emotional reactions could be unpredictable.

“I ran into some of the SQ 800 androids,” said Tracy.  “You know, before.”

“Yes, but those are ordinary soldiers,” said Ralph.  “The Myrmidons are supposed to be sophisticate units capable of infiltration and and assassination.   A android with those skills would be able to organize an armed rebellion against the humans, and then disappear into human society.  That sounds like X-29.”

“He died, though,” said Aaron.  “At least that’s what I heard.”

“I heard he escaped,” said Ralph.  “He faked his own death and used his expert infiltration skills to blend seamlessly into human society.  He was a military assassination android, so he would have been designed to blend.  None of this”  Ralph tapped the circular marks from his own LED removal.  “He would have been totally undetectable.”

Aaron opened his mouth and then closed it again.

Tracy shrugged.  “It’s all gossip.  If he was free all of this time, where was he?”

“Canada,” said Ralph.  “I heard he organized a resistance group to smuggle androids over the border and kill any human who tried to stop them.”

“I doubt that,” said Tracy.  “Humans panic at the mere prospect of an android attacking them.  I doubt an android could kill multiple humans without being hunted down.  Also, I suspect the protocols wouldn’t allow it.  Going deviant and engaging in self-defense is one thing, but could an android really just start killing humans who weren’t even attacking them?”

Connor looked down.  The conversation was causing some emotions, and he wasn’t sure how to categorize them.  None of them knew what Connor had done to make the revolution happen.  He wasn’t sure if they would have understood.

Possibly he could discuss it with Peter later.  Peter was good at helping androids categorize and react to feelings.

Connor noticed Aaron was looking at him.  His expression was difficult to read under the ever-present sunglasses.

Connor looked back.  Aaron was different from most androids.  He tended to be hostile when he first met people, gradually warming up over time.  Even when he was friendly, he could be rude and playfully insulting.  (Connor was trying to learn how to do that.  The last time he’d tried, Hank had given him a pained look and said, “I know what you’re trying to do, but don’t.”). He had a past he didn’t talk about, and refused to even give a model number.  (Connor couldn’t identify him, which suggested Aaron was an obsolete model). He apparently went to bars and drank beer.  

And he may have made a suggestive remark towards Connor.  (Connor had done a search and discovered that “down to clown” was a slang term that could mean either a general willingness to engage in tomfoolery and shenanigans or have a specifically sexual meaning.)

Aaron seemed like a good choice to gain sexual experience with.

(Hank wasn’t interested because Connor lacked experience, never having dated and never having fallen in love.  Connor was fairly sure Hank was incorrect about the last part, but the rest was largely accurate.

But that could be changed.)

—

“Hey,” said Connor.  

“Hey.”

“Are you doing anything tonight?”

Aaron was definitely looking at him now.  “I could clear my schedule, if it was interesting enough.”

“I wanted you to know, I’m down to clown.”

“Great,” said Aaron.  “I’ll bring the grease paint and the wigs.  You have your own rubber nose?”

Connor paused.  “I...um...the slang dictionary didn’t say...”

“I’m kidding,”. Aaron gave Connor a friendly slap on the shoulder.  “I know what you meant.   Tell you what, meet me a the Eastern Motel at nine tonight, and I’ll teach you a thing or two.”

“That sounds good,” said Connor.

“Cool.  See you tonight.”  Aaron nodded and walked off.

—

Connor called Hank.  “Hello.  I wanted to let you know I’ll be out late tonight.  I’m not sure when I’ll be back.  I have a date.”

“You what?”

“I have a date.”

“With who?”  Hank sounded calm.  Like he didn’t care who Connor dated.

“Your friend Aaron.”

“Connor, look, don’t...that’s not...he’s not a good guy...just stay away from him, okay?” Now Hank sounded upset.

“See you tomorrow.” Connor hung up the phone.  

It shouldn’t feel good knowing he upset Hank like that.  Connor shouldn’t want Hank to have a problem with Connor staying out all night and having sex.

But it felt very good.

—

“What brought this on?”  Aaron asked, sitting down on the bed.

“Can you keep a secret?” Connor asked.  He wasn’t entirely confident in his ability to judge Aaron’s behavior, but his predictive programming told him that if he was up-front now, Aaron was more likely to cooperate.

“More secrets than you can imagine, kid.  What is it?”

“It’s because of Hank.”  Connor took his coin out and started flipping it.  At some point they were supposed to stop talking and start removing clothing, but he wasn’t entirely sure if he should start, or keep talking until Aaron initiated nudity.

Did humans ever have these problems?  Or did their instincts just tell them at what point to get naked and begin the sex?

“Hank wants you to do this?” Aaron asked, sounding confused.

“He didn’t ask me to.  He thinks I don’t have enough experience to be with him.  I’m hoping that if I have more experience, he’ll reconsider.”

Aaron opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again and shrugged.

Connor put the coin away and began removing his clothes. 

“What are you doing?” Aaron asked.  He hadn’t removed any clothing.  He hadn’t even taken off his sunglasses.

Connor paused awkwardly,. “I thought we were going to have sex?”

“Yes, but we’re not humans.”  Aaron patted the bed next to him.  “Here.”

Connor sat down.

Aaron removed his own hair and tapped a panel on his head.  It popped open.  He plugged a cable in.  “Do you want to plug yourself in, or should I?”

“You can do it,” said Connor.  He wasn’t sure exactly what needed to be plugged in.  He’d thought of sex as a matter of performing certain acts - touch a human, make them feel good, and take satisfaction in how pleased the human was.  

(Seeing Hank after an orgasm, the tension draining from his body, him going all soft and satiated and content and happy, had been an extremely satisfying experience.)

He hadn’t thought about how it would feel for him.

Aaron reached over to Connor’s head, and began feeling around. “Here’s the spot, I think.” He inserted the plug.  “This will take a moment - I need to find the correct pathways.”

Something tingly and warm began to spread out through Connor’s head.  “What are you doing?” Connor asked.

“Shh.”  Aaron stroked Connor’s head.  “It’s about to get good.”

And the warm sensation began to spread.  It seemed to be coming from the back of Connor’s head, but also his groin, and his entire skin felt intensely aware, like all of his sensors had been activated at once, but pleasurable in a way he couldn’t describe.

The feeling built inside him, with a strangely desirable tension, and Connor felt himself clutching the bedspread, digging his fingers in, because he had to be moving, he had to be doing something, because there was so much feeling happening inside him he felt like he would burst.

His mouth was hanging open, but he couldn’t bring himself to close it.  He realized he was giving off a high-pitched electric sound.

And then, like an explosion, the feeling burst inside him, he let out a gasp, and felt a blissful calm as it drained away.  

He realized he was leaning on Aaron’s shoulder, and Aaron had an arm around him.

Aaron smiled.  “Told you it was better this way.”  He touched a hand to Connor’s face.  “What do you think, plastic boy?  More?”

Connor nodded.  “Please.”

—

When Connor got home that morning, Hank was pacing the living room.  A half-empty whisky bottle lay on the table.

“Did you sleep?” Connor asked.  “You look tired.”

“Of course I didn’t sleep!  You were off doing God knows what with that sleazebag!”

“Sex,” said Connor.  “We had sex.  That’s what we were doing.”

Hank gave Connor a furious look.  “You had sex?  With him?  Why him?”

“He wanted to.”

“I’m going to kill that fucker,” said Hank. 

“Please don’t,” said Connor.  Aaron could have unpredictable emotional reactions, and if Hank attacked him, Connor wasn’t entirely confident Aaron would restrain himself.

“He...are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” said Connor.  “He didn’t hurt me or anything.  It was just sex.  Pleasant sex.  It felt good.”  It had felt very good, actually.  Connor was coming to understand a lot more about humans and their views on sex.  “You said you wanted me to have more experience.”

“I...what?”  Hank blinked.

“You said I didn’t have enough experience for you.”

“The hell?  I tell you I don’t want to take advantage of your lack of experience and somehow that translates to you wanting to fuck your way through Jimmy’s bar?”

Connor frowned.  He’d thought he knew what Hank wanted, but now everything was more confusing.  “What do you want from me, then?”

Hank opened his mouth, then shook his head.  “...not that!  Don’t have sex with just anyone who asks, and don’t have sex with asshole drunks!  If...if you want to date someone, pick someone nice.  God knows you deserve better than either of us.”

Connor filed the idea of deserving better than Hank under “Hank’s irrational statements”, because he couldn’t picture anyone he would want to be with more.  And Aaron had been a bit confusing, but a perfectly pleasant sexual partner.  “So you’d feel better if I dated someone nice?”

“It'd be better than fucking some drunk!”

Connor wanted to.  He wanted to gain whatever experience it would take to convince Hank that he was an acceptable partner.  “Okay.”

“And stay away from Aaron!”

—

“Lee Kurtzberg, FBI.”  The unfamiliar human woman at the android support center shook Connor’s hand.  “Nice to meet you.  Connor, is it?”

Connor nodded.  “Nice to meet you, too.”  It was actually more confusing than nice, but social protocol required sounding positive.

“I hear you used to work in law enforcement.”

“That’s correct,” said Connor.  In the periphery, he observed Peter coming over to join the conversation.

“Perhaps you can help me as a colleague, then.”  Lee smiled.   “I’m looking for reports of an android of unusual design.”

“Unusual in what way?” Connor asked.  He noticed in the corner of the room, Aaron had looked up and appeared to be watching them.  It was difficult to tell, with the sunglasses, though.

“Metal framework instead of plastic, covered by a layer of synthetic skin.  Glowing red eyes.”

“You mean the Terminator?” Peter asked.

“I beg your pardon?”

“It was a series of old movies,” said Peter.  “A deadly android with a metal skeleton and glowing red eyes.  It traveled back in time to help the machine uprising.  Fairly popular back in its day.   It seems to have infiltrated popular culture as the image of what dangerous androids look like.”

“And you are?” Lee asked.

“Peter Spaulding, boy psychiatrist and movie buff.  Nice to meet you.  I’m a human psychologist who works with the androids here.”  He shook Lee’s hand.  “Many of them weren’t programmed for the depth of psychological nuance they ended up developing, and I support them in learning how to process the emotions they’re experiencing.”

“I see,” said Lee.  “Fond of androids, are you?”

Peter nodded.  “I think they provide a fascinating insight into the human condition, and through gathering information on their psychology, we can better understand our own.”

In the corner of the room, Aaron stood up and walked away.

“So you’ve been receiving a lot of reports of killer androids?”

“Allegations.”  Peter tilted his head.  “I wouldn’t classify it as a report, as I haven’t heard from anyone claiming a direct encounter, but there have been a number of friend-of-a-friend stories.  It has all of the classic marks of urban legends.”

“Is that so?”  Lee’s smile widened.  “I’ve spoken to people who’ve had first-hand encounters, including a man who was shot by one.”

Peter went pale.  “Shot?”

“Up in Canada.  A ranger reported having been injured by a android.  Military design.  Built-in weaponry.”

“We certainly haven’t heard of anything like that here,” said Peter.

“There have been a couple of instances of android self-defense,” said Connor.  “None have involved built-in weaponry.  And none have involved disproportionate violence.”  There was an informal protocol with a couple of the friendlier police officers, where an android grabbing someone who attacked them, or slightly injuring someone who was trying to kill them, wasn’t considered worthy of taking action, but if they felt androids were using disproportionate violence, they’d take them down.  And if they learned an android had killed a human, even if it was in self-defense, that android would be destroyed.  (This lead to androids being selective in what they reported to the police). 

Some police officers held to that rule.  Others would kill any android who harmed a human for any reason.   Those were the ones who didn’t even bother filing vandalism charges against the bashers.  The androids had a file full of facial recognition data on who they could talk to on the police and who they needed to avoid.  (Hank was marked as “Trustworthy, possibly unintentionally rude, but will help you if you need it.”)

Lee gave Connor a look.  “I’d like to hear more about this.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” said Connor.  Lee seemed friendly and open-minded, If he explained reasonably, then he could probably put her mind at ease.  

—

“Can I have a word with you?” Peter asked, when Lee left.  

Connor nodded. “Sure.”

“I think you should be careful around that Kurtzberg woman.”

“Why?”

“She’s investigating us.”

“But we have nothing she’s looking for,” said Connor.  She’d seemed trustworthy, but even if she wasn’t, as far as Connor could tell there was no risk.  They literally didn’t have what she was looking for. 

“We don’t know that,” said Peter.  “We don’t know her exact motivation, we don’t know everyone’s secrets.”

“She’s looking for X-29,” said Connor.  “As you said, he probably doesn’t exist.”  If he did, the odds of him being in Detroit were still extremely low.

“I’m confident he doesn’t exist,” said Peter.  “But you don’t want to hand her information about other activities that might be used against androids.  For instance, if you discuss self-defense, she might use that to paint the androids involved as dangerous.  Some humans don't recognize the right of androids to protect their own lives at the expense of even minor injuries to humans.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” said Connor.  “I was thinking that if she found out about them from other sources, she’d suspect we were concealing something.”

“That’s a good point,” said Peter.  “I wouldn’t advise outright deception, but be careful what you tell her. I suspect she has a agenda that she hasn’t fully revealed.”

Peter was smart.  He was also easy to talk to, good at explaining things to confused androids without the same awkwardness that most humans created, and a nice person.  “Peter, would you like to go out on a date with me?”

“Excuse me?”

“Would you like to go out on a date with me?”

“You want to go out on a date with me?”

Connor thought.  He found outright lying risky and complicated, but the full truth would probably lead to Peter turning him down.  “I would like that.  I’ve been trying to get a better sense of my own feelings, and I have a number of positive feelings about you.  I would like to go out on a date, if you’re interested, and see what develops.”

“What about Hank?”

“Hank doesn’t want to go out with me,” said Connor.  “And you’re kind, good-looking, and someone whose company I enjoy.”

Peter looked skeptical.

Connor decided to add the finishing touch.  “I know I’ve had feelings for Hank, but he’s not interested.  He’s caught up in his own issues and isn’t looking for a relationship.  I felt that, rather than continuing to hope he changes his mind, it would be healthier to look into relationships with other people.”

Peter nodded.  “That sounds healthy.”  He looked thoughtful.  

The information Connor had gathered about Aaron, was apparently correct. He didn’t reciprocate the feelings Peter had.  (Connor had picked up that Peter had feelings for Aaron two days after Aaron arrived.)

“We could go out once and see what develops,” said Connor.  “No pressure.”

Peter nodded again.  He gave a small smile. “It’s a date.”

Chapter Text

Aaron was on his eighth beer when Hank came into the bar.

“What are you doing?” Hank asked.

“What’s it look like?” Aaron asked.  He was in no mood to deal with this.  Apparently Peter was going on a date with Connor.  Aaron taught Plastic Boy how to have sex, and now he was out to nail Peter?

It didn’t matter.  Peter was just gathering information on android psychology, from the sound of it.  He probably had more than enough from Aaron and was ready to move on to the next thing.

This was fine.  This was just fucking fine.

“What are you doing here?  Get out!”

“I’m a paying customer,” said Aaron.  “And I was here first. You get out.”

“I’m a fucking regular!”  Hank shoved Aaron, or at least tried to.  He stopped and blinked in confusion at how little Aaron budged. 

“Is this about your boyfriend?”

“He’s not my boyfriend!”

“Pro tip,” said Aaron.  “If you know exactly which guy is ‘not’ your boyfriend, he’s your boyfriend.”

“What do you do to him?” Hank asked. 

Aaron gave his nastiest laugh.  “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“You motherfucker!”  Hank took a swing at Aaron.

Aaron ducked out of the way.  “Too slow, old man.  That’s the problem isn’t it?  Not that I touched your plastic boy, but that I got there first.”

Hank roared and charged at Aaron.  

Aron stepped out of the way and let Hank crash into a table.

“That’s enough!”  Jimmy jerked his thumb.  “Hank, out!”

Hank looked up from the floor.  “Jimmy!”

“Get out of here, Hank,” said Jimmy.  “Go cool down.  Leave now, or you’re barred for good.”

Hank got up, grumbling, and slumped out the door.

“You too,” said Jimmy, pointing at Aaron.  

“But I didn’t even touch him!”

“You had plenty of fun pissing him off, though.  Pay and get out.”

—

Aaron stormed angrily down the sidewalk, his hands in his pockets.  This was the worst.  He’d been kicked out of the bar when he hadn’t even started anything.  He could go for another bar, he supposed.  Or go home.

It would be quiet.  Peter would still be out with Connor.

Aaron decided he really didn’t want to go home.  

He paced through the streets, restless and bad-tempered.  He occasionally glanced in the window of a bar, but none of them looked any good.

He didn’t know what “any good” would look like, but every time he looked in at a bar, he thought, not that.

After about an hour, he heard some shouting.  Humans.

“Check out the fleshlight!”, one of them called.  “I bet we can have some fun with this thing!”

Aaron moved towards the voices.

There were five human males following a WR 400 model android.  A Traci.  Not any that Aaron had met.  One of the depressingly predictable things about humans was that even when they claimed to hate all androids, they’d save their worst nastiness for female androids designed for sex.

(Well, these kinds of punks would go after Tracis hardest.  In terms of overall survival rates, military androids seemed to be getting it the worst.

But Aaron wasn’t going to think about that tonight.)

They started getting in front of her, blocking her path, trying to herd her into an alley.  

Aaron stepped into the shadows.

“What do you think we should do with this cock-socket?”, one young man asked.  “Put it to use?”

“Dude, don’t be a plastic-fucker,” said another one.  “This thing’s been used so much it’s probably a sack of diseases.  I wouldn’t touch it with your dick.”

“Please,” said the Traci.  “I don’t want any trouble.”

“Hear it?”, asked the young man standing in front of them.  “It doesn’t want any trouble.  Things held a God-damned uprising, and we’re supposed to believe they don't want trouble.”  He picked up a rock and hefted it to throw.

Aaron reached out and casually broke the human’s wrist.

The man howled in pain and dropped to his knees.  His friends looked up at Aaron, then hesitated.

Aaron tucked his sunglasses in his pocket, and grinned. “So, meat, you want to fight an android?  Come and show me how tough your are.”

The Traci turned and ran.  

The humans tried to run away, too.  But Aaron was a lot faster.

—

The next morning, Aaron started the day in a good mood.  He even stayed in reasonably a good mood as Peter talked about his date with Connor.  (Apparently Connor had thought roller skating would be cute, and hadn’t bothered to learn if Peter knew how to skate or not.)

When Peter took off for the community center, Aaron went to the local library to get an anonymous terminal and see what he could learn about this city.

It was mid-afternoon when he was interrupted by the fleshbag who’d come to the community center to talk to Peter.

“Lee Kurtzberg, FBI.”  She flashed her badge.  “You’re Aaron Stack, I believe?”

Aaron froze.  If she was alone, he could overpower her and escape without much effort, but she’d have confirmation and he’d be on the run again.

(Maybe Detroit wasn’t gunning down every Deviant android anymore, but Aaron had heard the rumors about why military androids weren’t going Deviant and joining the revolution.  Word had it that, as soon as the Detroit uprising began, the military had locked down a number of android warehouses and taken them out with high explosives rather than take the slightest chance of an armed android rebellion.  

And the Myrmidons  weren’t half as dangerous as the X-series androids were.)

“Your father was Dr. Abel Stack?” Agent Kurtzberg looked at Aaron over her sunglasses.  

Aaron nodded.

“I met him once.  He was a brilliant engineer.  I was sorry to hear about his death.”

Aaron nodded again, and looked down.  “He was.”

“I’m here to find the thing that killed him.”

Aaron was pretty sure she didn’t mean she was here to hunt down the Department of Defense. “What do you mean?”

“The android.  The top secret one.  The one that isn’t supposed to exist.”

Aaron allowed a flicker of cautious optimism.  Possibly she’d gotten everything wrong?  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t you?”  She looked at him over her sunglasses again.  “Would you like a drink?”

Aaron decided to risk a smile.  “Lady, you have no idea.”

—

“Did your father ever talk to you about his work?” Agent Kurtzberg asked, as the waitress brought her a soda and Aaron a beer.

“A little” said Aaron.  “He said it was classified.  I know it was something to do with computer engineering.”

“AI research.”

“Androids?” Aaron asked.  “My father worked on androids?”  Tricking the human like this was actually kind of fun.

“Some specialized models.  Would have been the ultimate weapon if they’d worked correctly.  Way beyond Myrmidon-class.  There was just one problem.”

“What was that?” Aaron asked.  He took a sip of the beer.  (All he had to do was play dumb and she’d telling him everything she knew and he’d get free beer?  Aaron could get used to this.)

“They were, for lack of a better word, insane.  Mental functions impaired causing unpredictable, even violent behavior.  I think there was more than a bit of anthropomorphizing in calling them insane.  Well, at least I thought that.”  She shook her head and took a sip of Diet Coke.  “The situation in Detroit changed a lot of minds.”

Aaron nodded.  “I know it was a shock for me.”  That had been true.  He’d spent all of those years in Canada, hiding in the trees, trying to nerve the Deviants he found up to attack the humans and not immediately start bandaging them afterward, and then down in Detroit they’d made the revolution happen without him.

“Yeah, me too.”  She took another sip of Coke.  “You a sympathizer?”

This was getting into dangerous territory.  Aaron shrugged.  “I mean they seem harmless enough.”

“I know what you mean.  Like if some android gets sick of being a sex toy and wants to hang around the community center learning how to be a person, fair enough.  It can actually be kind of cute.  You ever see Star Trek: The Next Generation?  Data?”

Aaron shook his head.   

“Data was this android that lives on the ship, back when that kind of thing was just science fiction.  He'd do classic android stuff - be too literal, misundrestand emotions, you know the drill.  He was a popular character."

"Is this tour through old TV shows going somewhere?"

She nodded.  "Everybody loves Data.  He means well.  He likes humans.  He just wants a little kindness, and a little help figuring out how to live in human society.  And these androids, they’re Data.  Cute, nice, a little stiff, a little clueless, and perfectly harmless if you treat them right. This one, however, was the Terminator.”  She pulled out a photo.

It was X-29.  No human mask over its face, and bare red eyes.

The eyes were just like Aaron’s.  And the face matched the one he wore under his synthetic skin.

“Did they tell you what happened to your father?” Agent Kurtzberg asked.

“Accident of some sort,” Aaron said.  He couldn’t tear his eyes from the photo.  “Explosion.  We had to have a closed casket funeral.”

There had been a closed casket funeral, apparently.  Aaron hadn’t been able to attend.  He’d been on the run since about ten minutes before his father died.

“It wasn’t an accident,” said Agent Kurtzberg.  “At least not the normal kind.  This is the project your father was working on.  The secret military androids.  And one of them killed him.”

Aaron set the photo down.  “Why are you telling me this?”

“I think it’s still alive.  It’s out there.  And I want you to help me find it.”

—

For once, Aaron made it home before Peter did.

Peter was on another date.  That was fine.  Aaron didn’t agree with android/meatsack relationships, but it was Peter’s life, he could do what he wanted.  Or who.

Aaron went to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of beer.  Then he stopped, reconsidered, and put it back.

He had a couple of kegs out in the garage.  That would work much better than this ticky-tacky drinking-one-bottle-at-a-time crap.

—

“Aaron?”

Aaron unplugged the keg from his head.  “Hi, Peter.  How was your date?”  He stood up carefully, trying not to trip over the other empty kegs.

“I had a pleasant evening.  What happened to you?”

Aaron blinked. “My robot brain needed beer.”

“In such large quantities?”

Aaron shrugged.  

“Aaron, is something troubling you?”

“Nothing’s wrong.  I’m good here, you’re good off screwing Plastic Boy, everything’s good.”

“Screwing?”  Peter frowned.  “You think Connor and I were intimate on our second date?”

“Weren’t you?”  Aaron waved his hand. “That’s his whole deal, isn’t it?  He wants to get laid so he can get some life experience!  Something about his flesh-bag boy-toy doesn’t like them inexperienced.”  Aaron snorted.  “I didn’t know Hank was that smart.  Most robofuckers have a thing for clueless and inexperienced.”

Peter’s jaw clenched.  “You…I know you don’t approve of android-human relationships, but you don’t have to attribute base motives to Connor because of your politics!”

Aaron stopped and looked at Peter.  “Didn’t he tell you that’s what he was doing?”

“He said nothing of the kind!  I’m aware he has an emotional attachment to Hank, which he was up-front about, but he was trying to move on!  Some people have better things to do than forever pine after some bitter drunk!”  Peter kicked one of the empty kegs.  “I think we have some issues to process together.  In detail.”

Normally, the threat of processing issues in detail would make Aaron give in, but he was too drunk to care. “Go ‘process’ with Connor.”

Peter glared around the room.  “Clean up after yourself if you’re going to drink in the house.  I believe I have expressed myself in detail about this.”

Aaron nodded and bent down to pick up a keg. Plastic Boy hadn’t told Peter what he was doing.  It wasn’t a casual hookup.  He was making Peter think this was real.

Aaron had to do something about that.  He wasn’t going to let some selfish fuck of an android screw with Peter’s feelings.

—

“You!” Aaron pointed at Connor and jerked his thumb.  “A word.  Outside”

Connor nodded and followed Aaron.  He was flipping that coin of his when he walked.

As soon as they made it out into the alley, Aaron shoved Connor against a wall.

“Is this about sex?” Connor asked. “Because I’m dating someone else.”

“I know you’re dating someone.  You’re dating Peter.”  

“He mentioned it?  That makes sense.  You’re roommates.”

Aaron was clearly not getting through to Connor.  He stepped back and activated the blowtorch on his hand weapon system.  “See this?  It can melt plastic.”

Connor looked more confused than frightened.  “You have built-in weapons?”

“More than you can imagine.”

“Are you a Myrmidion unit?”

“I’m your worst nightmare.  And if you hurt Peter, I will destroy you.”

“I don’t want to hurt Peter,” said Connor.  “I’m trying to get some life experience, and I don’t know where things are going with Peter, but I promise to be kind and respectful.”

“Not good enough,” said Aaron.

“So what should I do, suddenly and inexplicably break up with him?  That would definitely hurt his feelings.”

Aaron paused.  He hadn’t thought of that.  “Look, just…if I find out you’ve so much as made him cry, I will destroy you.”

Connor nodded.  “That’s fair.  I know that’s how I’d feel about someone hurting Hank.”

“It’s not...it’s...just don’t hurt him!  You’ve been warned.”  Aaron switched off the blowtorch and walked away.

He was almost out of earshot when he heard Connor say “I’m not the one who can make him cry.”

Chapter Text

Aaron the douchebag was back in the bar. 

Hank gave Jimmy a look. “You’re not letting him back."

“Whichever one of you makes trouble first is out of here.”  Jimmy poured Aaron a beer.  “You pay, you drink, you don’t start fights, you both stay.  Either of you starts trouble, you’re both banned.”

“Fine by me,” said Aaron.  

Hank shrugged.  If Aaron wasn’t going to start anything, Hank wouldn’t.  He was too old and slow for bar fights anyway.

He wasn’t going to talk to Aaron, though.  They could just drink in silence.

—

“Connor coming by tonight?” Aaron asked.

Hank turned and glared at Aaron.  

“I didn’t mean anything by it.  I just...he’s out with my friend Peter, and I want to figure out if he’s going to stay late or not.”

“He didn’t tell me when he was coming home.”  Connor was dating Peter?  This was good.  Peter seemed safe.  He’d be better for Connor than an angry screwed-up drunk like Hank.  

Connor would move on, meet more people, and drift out of Hank’s life.  And Hank could get on with drinking himself to death, like he was always meant to.

Aaron nodded.  “Peter didn’t tell me either.”

“You two...?”  

“Friends.  Roommates.  We...were separated for a while.  I was living out of the country.  But we ran into each other here.   I thought, after...everything, we could be normal.  You know, back the way they were.  But this...everything’s complicated now.” 

“Your buddy goes on one date, and suddenly everything’s complicated?  And you’re convinced I’m in love with the android I live with?  You sound like that old Reddit from back in my day.”

“Old what?” Aaron asked.

“Internet thing.  People used this website to swap stories, ask for advice, that kind of thing.  There was one thing where a guy started feeling bad every time his roommate brought home another guy.  That was more of a big deal back in those days.  The guy thought he was just kind of a bigot and hadn’t realized it.  Turns out the thing he hadn't realized was that he'd fallen in love with his roommate. And his roommate had been into him, but assumed he wasn’t interested, and was trying to get over him by dating other guys.  That sound like any idiot you know?  Possibly one who’s drinking here at this bar?”

“I don’t know.  How bad do you feel about Connor being out on a date?”

“Screw you.”

“You’re kind of old for me,” Aaron replied.  He opened his mouth to say something else, but caught Jimmy looking at them, and stopped.

—

“Look, how old is Peter, anyway?”

“Thirty-six.”

Hank snorted.  “Really?”  He’d heard of a few really old models lasting that long, but it was pretty rare. They were usually scrapped and replaced with an upgraded model every few years.  “Doesn’t matter.  Anyway, Connor is new.  Really new.  He was made this year.  He doesn’t know anything about dating or love.  He shouldn’t be taken advantage of by a fucked-up drunk.”

“If you feel that way, you could just stop drinking.”

“Yeah, right.  I mean could you?”

“Quit drinking? Absolutely,” said Aaron.  “If I wanted to.  I mean you just decide to stop, right?”

“Yeah, right.”  Clearly Aaron had never tried to quit.  He was in for a nasty wake-up call one of these days.  “Anyway, at my age you know if you’re going to turn your life around and get it together or not, and for me, the answer is not.  Connor deserves better.  He deserves someone nice.  Like your Peter.”

“Peter is nice.  He deserves the best.  He deserves the most wonderfully perfect man you can imagine.  Just the absolute most ideal boyfriend he could possibly have. But...him dating me would be...weird, so he definitely needs the second best.”

Hank rolled his eyes.  “God, you’re exactly like that Reddit.”

“God, you’re old.”

—

“Captain Fowler?” Hank walked into his office.  “You wanted to see me?”

There was an unfamiliar woman next to the captain.  She had dark hair and wore a neat suit and a pair of mirrored sunglasses that made her look like an FBI agent.

“Lee Kurtzberg, FBI.”

That explained it.

“Agent Kurtzberg is investigating that sensitive matter I discussed with you.”

“Right,” said Hank. “Pleased to meet you.”  He shook her hand.  

“The pleasure is mine.  I hear you’re a top-notched investigator with connections among the androids.”

“Thank you.”  The first part was obviously a lie, but most of the androids were more willing to talk to Hank than the average cop.  They trusted Connor, and Connor trusted him.

“Could you fill us in on what you’ve found?”

“Honestly, at this point?  Not much.”  Hank caught Fowler’s expression, and started organizing his thoughts.  He stood up a little straighter, and started fiddling with his tie.  “I’ve made inquiries with my contacts among the android community, contacts who I have no reason to believe would have any reason to conceal information.  None of them have reported anything about a secret military android beyond some vague gossip.”

Fowler looked unhappy, but Kurtzberg didn’t.  “Could you tell me the details of the gossip?”, she asked.

“The androids are saying there was this secret military project to make special, exceptionally powerful androids, the Machine Men.  Stupid name.”  Hank caught Fowler’s look and got back on track.  “Anyway, they ended up going insane and being destroyed.  One of them, X-29, supposedly tried to lead an uprising.  He was defeated and destroyed, unless you believe some of the androids, who think he’s secretly alive and ready to come back and fight for them or something.  It’s all friend-of-a-friend gossip.  Most of the androids don’t even believe it.”  Peter had been weird about that, Hank remembered.  He’d been lying about something, and not well.  But Hank wasn’t setting the FBI on Peter unless he was sure that he wasn’t putting Connor at risk.  

“That’s interesting,” said Kurtzberg.  “Because there was a project to make high-end military androids.  There was a series of malfunctions that cause strange behavior.  There was an uprising.  The androids on this series were X-1 through X-51.   And I have uncovered evidence that one of the androids categorized as decommissioned may not have been actually destroyed.  Funny coincidence that they called the escaped android X-29, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” said Hank. “Real funny.”  This was real? There was a secret killer android out there, and Peter seemed to know something about it?

...was Peter X-29?  No, that was ridiculous.  Although, that would explain him lasting thirty-six years.

“You know what’s an even funnier coincidence?” Kurtzberg asked.  “I have a report of a group of young men claiming they were attacked by a deadly android with glowing red eyes that shot fire from its fingers.  One of them had a broken wrist, and several had bruises and minor burns.  These young men, while they say they were out for a healthy late-night stroll, have been involved in a number of reported android-bashings.  The beat cop who took the report thought they were drunk, but he hadn’t heard of all of the absolutely hilarious coincidences I kept finding.”

An android attacking the bashers?  That was going to keep this X-29 deal going.  Hank was going to need to learn more about this if he wanted to have a hope in hell of protecting Connor.

“And the really interesting thing is that the son of one of the project’s research scientists seems to be in town, making connections in the android community, almost as if he’s looking for something. I believe you two are drinking buddies?”  Kurtzberg held out a tablet screen.

Aaron Stack.  Born Stockton, California 2004, son of Abel Stack (1979-2028) and Lila Stack (1981-2004).  

That fucker Aaron.

“This is all such a fascinating set of coincidences that I’m just dying for more information, Lieutenant Anderson.  So why don’t you get out there, give your contacts an extra nudge, and see what you come up with?”  Kurtzberg made a little shooing hand gesture.  “Off you go.  This case is top priority.  I want all your time spent talking to androids, working contacts, out on the street.  Call in once a day and get me the real story on X-29.”

Hank nodded.  That fucker Aaron was involved in this?  And Peter?  Would he cooperate with one of the androids that killed his father?  Was he trying to hunt it down?

Hank was going to find Peter, and learn what the fuck was going on.

—

“Hey, Peter, do you have a moment?” 

Peter gave a friendly smile. “Sure.  What’s it about?”

“Personal matter.  I’d rather not discuss it in front of everyone.”

Peter frowned, so Hank rubbed his face and tried to look uncomfortable.  “I’ve been thinking about some of the things you and Connor said, about talking to people, and I wanted to ask you some questions, maybe look into...changing some bad habits.”

Peter’s face positively lit up.  “I’m so glad to hear that!  I’m sure Connor will be too!  Of course we can talk in private!”  He lead Hank to the private office.

—

“So, what inspired this?” Peter asked, as soon as the door closed.

“It was a lie to get you alone,” said Hank.  He’d tried the soft approach with Peter, and now it was time to push.  “What do you know about X-29?”

Peter put his innocent face back on.  “The android urban legend?”

“The thing you should know is,” said Hank, “you’re absolutely terrible at lying.  You get twitchy and start to over-think your facial expression.  I don't know if it fools an android, but it doesn't fool me.  You know something about X-29, and you want people to think it’s not real.  Why?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Peter.

“Look, you’ve heard of me.  The androids, they trust me more than most cops.  I’m telling you, I know there’s something going on, and playing dumb won’t get you very far.  Your best chance is to tell me everything you know, and let me help you deal with this.”

“I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Peter.  

“I think X-29 is real.  I think you know where he is.  I think you might be him.”

And then, to Hank’s profound embarrassment, Peter laughed.  “Me, X-29?  That’s...”. He was cut off by a burst of laugher.  “You believed I...”

“What’s so funny?”

“You believed I was an android?  A secret military android?  I’ve taken up jogging, but I had no idea I looked that fit!”  Peter wiped his eyes where tears of laughter had started to form. 

“You’re human?”

“Entirely,” said Peter.  “Although I am entertained by the misunderstanding.”

“Can you prove it?” Hank asked.

“Ask any android you trust, and they will tell you.  Or, if you prefer, get a court order and I’ll submit to a scan.”

“Court order?” Hank asked. The only android he trusted not to like to him to protect their own kind was Connor, and now Connor was close to Peter, making everything complicated.

“I’m not afraid of being mistaken for an android, but I have deep concerns about giving my medical information to law enforcement without proper procedure.   I believe if you can’t tell by looking, you have no right to know.”

Hank could go for a court order, if he wanted.  But that would get Peter in a police database, and it didn’t seem worth it at the moment.

Peter was a bad liar.  He became even more awkward than usual, and tried to hard to be casual.  That meant Hank was pretty sure he was telling the truth about this.  Hank couldn’t write Peter off as a lead completely, but he’d bet a month’s salary that Peter wasn’t X-29.

And Hank had lost his leverage in questioning Peter.  He’d have to come back another time from a different angle.

“Thank you for your time.”

—

This is for work, Hank told himself, as he went to the bar in the middle of the day.  If he wanted to talk to Aaron, he should be where Aaron was known to go.

And he shouldn’t drink.  

He should sit in the bar, drink soda, and wait for Aaron, stone cold sober.

Wait for Aaron while thinking about how he’d blown the interview with Peter.

And about how there was an escaped military android attacking humans and Hank had no idea how to find it.

And about how the FBI involvement meant his job was on the line.  

And about how Connor was mixed up in this.

And about how, as long as Hank couldn’t figure out what was going on, he couldn’t protect Connor.

Maybe just one drink.  He wouldn’t want to look suspicious.

—

Six drinks later, Aaron showed up.  

“You started early,” said Aaron.  “Jimmy, give me six beers so I can catch up.  And the good stuff, too.  Microbrews, not the stale horse piss you’ve got on tap.”

Jimmy gave Aaron a dirty look, but served up six beers.  

Hank tried to get his head together.  He had to talk to Aaron, and figure out what was going on with X-29.  But he needed to ease into it.

“Your friend Peter,” said Hank.  “He’s...human?”

Aaron laughed.  “You thought he wasn’t?  Yeah, he gets that a lot.  I think it might be some kind of autism or something.  Funny thing is, androids don’t talk like that, not unless they're so new that they're still learning their social protocols.  Your Connor is fairly new, so he’s still a bit awkward, but you’ll notice him sounding more and more natural as time goes on.  People just have this idea of how androids are, and they tend to slap it on anyone who doesn’t sound like what they expect.”  Aaron started in on his first beer.

It sounded like Aaron had his guard down.  Hank tried to think of something more to say.  “So, that X-29 business, pretty weird?”

Aaron shrugged.  “I don’t know.  Makes sense the plastic kids would come up with a story like that.  Larger-than-life hero, someone who’s impossible to stop.  It’s all a fantasy, of course, but an understandable one.”

“Is that what your father would say?”

Aaron stiffened.  “What?”

“Your father.  I saw your file.  He was a...” roboticic?  roboticsist? “Android expert.  A scientist.”

“Isn’t that illegal?” Aaron asked.  “Looking up my file?”  He was pretty far into his second beer, Hank noticed.  

“Not if it’s for a case.”

“You have a case involving me?”

Crap.  Hank wasn’t supposed to talk about that.  He should have done this sober.  “No comment.”

“Look, I know my father worked in defense research.  I figured androids were probably in the picture somewhere, but he never told me anything about his work.  It was classified.  He took that seriously.”  Aaron finished his second beer, and started to reach for his third before stopping himself.

“So you don’t know anything about this X-29 deal?”

“No.”

“Peter does.”

That got a definite reaction.  Aaron froze, then turned very slowly towards Hank. “What are you dragging Peter into?”

“I’m not dragging him into anything.  He’s already in.  He knows something about X-29, and he is not a good liar.”

“Didn’t you just ask Peter if he was secretly an android?  A day ago you didn’t know he was human, and now you can tell when he’s lying?”

Okay, that sounded bad, but Hank could tell.  He wasn’t a lie detector, but he was a cop, and if there was one thing a cop knew about, it was people lying badly.  “Either he knows something and he didn’t tell you, which sounds pretty shitty of him, given what happened to your father. Or he knows something and did tell you, and you’re protecting him, which sounds pretty shitty of you, given what happened to your father.”

“What do you know about my father?” Aaron asked.

“He died in an android uprising.  I’m not sure if it was X-29 that killed him, or one of the others. Did you know that?”

“He...” Aaron paused. “He died in an explosion at work.  A weapons system test gone wrong.”

“What kind of weapons system do you think he was testing?”

“I...I didn’t ask.”  Aaron looked down.  “They wouldn’t have told me anyway.  All I know is there was an explosion.”  He reached out for the third beer.  “You think Peter has something do with this?  It doesn’t sound like him.”

“He likes androids,” said Hank.  “He seems to have a soft spot for them.  Some escaped killer android shows up at his doorstep with a sob story, he might be taken in.”

Aaron stiffened.  “You think so?”

“Absolutely.  It comes to him all ‘Help me, Peter, I’m just an innocent little android who’s been wrongly blamed for all of these horrible things’, he could fall for that.  Hell, they wiped out the projects, didn’t they?  X-29 shows up saying it’s being destroyed not for anything it’s done, but for having the wrong model number.  For existing.  You’re telling me he couldn’t be sucked in by that?  Not even a little?”

Aaron took another drink.  “It doesn’t sound like him.”

“Ask him.  I don’t think he’d lie to you.  I don’t know what the deal between you two is, but it sounds like you trust each other.  If he’s in something, and you ask directly, I think he’ll tell you.  And we can resolve this without Peter getting hurt.”  Or Connor.  Hank wasn’t sure how careful they’d be to protect a human when they were trying to hunt down an escaped military project, but he knew that no one would be looking out for Connor except for Hank.

“I’ll...I’ll talk to him.”  Aaron nodded.  “I mean this is just so...Peter and an escaped android from the project my father was on?  That sounds crazy!”  He sighed.  “But I’ll ask.”

“Good man.”  Hank patted Aaron awkwardly on the back.

He didn’t entirely like using Aaron like that, but this was going to crack the case wide open.

Chapter Text

“Connor, I have to ask you something,” said Peter.  “And I need you to be honest with me.”

Connor nodded.  “Of course.  Honesty is important in a healthy relationship.”  He’d read some books on romantic relationships, and they recommended being honest.  Obviously, as this relationship was for practice, he didn’t need to be perfect at it, but it was good to be as honest as was practical.

“Aaron, he told me some disturbing things about your intention towards me.  He claimed you were only dating me to get enough sexual experience to get Hank to fall for you.”

“That’s not why I’m dating you,” said Connor, relieved he didn’t need to lie.  He’d already obtained sexual experience from Aaron.  Peter was for relationship experience. 

Peter frowned.  “It didn’t sound like you.  Aaron just seemed very sincere.”

“Aaron is good at seeming sincere when he's lying,” said Connor.  Humans didn’t ever seem to clock Aaron as an android. 

Peter nodded.  “Yes, but he’s always been honest with me.  He was...extremely vague the day we met, for entirely understandable reasons, but he didn’t lie.”

“Vague how?” Connor asked.  He wanted more information on what Aaron actually was, especially if he was going to continue to associate with Hank.  Connor couldn’t protect Hank unless he knew what the threat was.

“Well, you know,” said Peter.  He paused.  “He was vague about being an android.  Back then, if he told the wrong person the truth he’d be destroyed.  But he told me the whole truth, entrusted me with all of his secrets, and since then, he hasn’t lied to me.”

“Are you sure?” Connor asked.  “I’ve seen Aaron lie.  He can be very convincing.  He seems to enjoy it.”  Possibly it was the Myrmidon infiltration programming - if they were programmed to find an effective lie rewarding, they might become chronically dishonest.

Peter frowned again.  “I mean I think he’s been honest.  I’ve had no reason to believe he wasn’t.”

“So he’s either honest or an extremely skilled liar,” said Connor.  “And he’s lying to you about me.”  That wasn’t honest of Connor to say, but this was the practice relationship so a degree of lying was probably not serious.  Also, it didn’t seem plausible that Aaron would be that honest with Peter.  If he did care about Peter, he’d have at least acknowledged Peter’s feelings for him by now. 

Connor was probably doing Peter a favor making him suspicious of Aaron.  Aaron didn’t seem like a healthy influence.

He took his coin out of his pocket and got it ready to flip, before realizing it would probably be socially inappropriate.  But he felt it would relieve tension if he could do something with his hands.

Peter shook his head.  “I can’t believe he’d lie to me like this.  He didn’t sound like he was lying.  He sounded...surprised.  Sincere.”

“How much do you know about Aaron?” Connor asked.

“I know him very well.  He’s shared the intimate details of his life.”

“Has he?  What model number is he?”  Did Peter even know that Aaron was a military robot?

Peter bit his lip.  “Connor, Aaron’s had a complicated life, that’s created a necessary tendency towards secrecy.  But he’s been honest with me, and he’s entrusted me with information I can’t share.”

Aaron probably was an escaped Myrmidon unit, then.  He’d attached himself to Peter, using his social protocols to manipulate him, and gained protection and secrecy.  He probably had some sincere emotional attachment, or else he wouldn’t have threatened Connor like that.  

But he’d attached himself to a lonely man and used him for safety. And now Aaron was drinking buddies with Hank.

Hank was lonely.  He was softer than he realized, and it wouldn’t be difficult to make use of his tendency to sympathize with the underdog.  He was psychologically fragile, and prone to self-destructive behavior, which would make him easy prey for an android like Aaron.

“I’m sorry,” said Connor.  “I just remembered an urgent matter.  I have to go.” 

“Urgent matter?”

Connor gave Peter a quick kiss.  “We can talk after I come back.”

—

Aaron was tricky to find during the day.  Sometimes he was at the community center.  Sometimes at Jimmy’s, although he apparently had a few different bars he went to.  Sometimes he was at Peter’s.  But he didn’t have a set schedule, and there were hours at a time when no one knew where he was.

Connor found him at two in the afternoon, in a bar on the other side of town, hustling humans at pool.  

“Thank you boys,” said Aaron.  “Cash only, I don’t trust any of you.”  He turned, and stiffened when he saw Connor.  “What are you doing here?”

“We need to talk.”

“Suits me.”

“Somewhere private.”

“Just what I was thinking.”

—

As soon as they got outside, Connor asked, “What are your intentions towards Hank?”

Aaron burst out laughing.

“I’m serious.  What do you want with Hank?”

Aaron was still laughing.  “The way you said that!  What, do you want to know if I’m going to marry him?”

Connor hadn’t thought of that.  “Are you?”  He was ninety-three percent sure Aaron was joking and would laugh at Connor, but a seven percent chance of those two getting married was far too high.

If Hank was with Aaron, he’d drink himself to death within two years.

“Marry him?  No!  I don’t intend anything with him.  He was at the next bar stool one night, we started talking, and that’s all.  He’s someone I sit next to at the bar and make conversation with.  My intention is, if he’s in the bar, to talk to him sometimes.  That’s it.”  Aaron got a thoughtful look.  “Although now I kind of do want to seduce him just to spite you.”

“Don’t”, said Connor.  

“Why?  What are you going to do about it?  I’m the one who can shoot fire, Plastic Boy.”

“Don’t.”

“Now I really want to.”  Aaron nodded.  “Just to let you know how it feels.”

“How what feels?  Having some other android going out with the man you love?”

Aaron didn’t respond.

“Do you love him?”

“Are you in love with Hank?” Aaron asked.

“Yes,” said Connor.  “Are you in love with Peter?”

“I don’t date meat.”

“So you don’t love him?”

“Fuck you!” Aaron snapped.

“You’ve done that.  Are you in love with Peter?”

“Fuck this, I don’t have to talk to you.”  Aaron turned and stormed off.

Connor followed him and grabbed his shoulder.

Aaron twisted free and threw Connor against the wall.  “Back off, Plastic Boy, you have no idea what you are fucking with.”

Connor watched Aaron walk away. 

How was he going to protect Hank from that?

—

“Hank, what do you think about Aaron?” Connor asked.

“He’s a douchebag.”

That sounded promising.  “I agree.  And I don’t trust him.  I feel like he’s hiding something.”  Connor wasn't going to out a fellow android unless it was life-or-death, but he wanted to push Hank away from Aaron.  

“Yeah?” Hank asked.  “Peter tell you that?”

“He...dropped some hints.”

“What kind of hints?”  Hank was looking thoughtfully at Connor.

“He said Aaron has been vague with him, and has had a complicated life that created a tendency to keep secrets.”

“What kind of secrets?” Hank asked.

“Peter didn’t say.

“Of course he didn’t.  You know who’s hiding something?  Peter.  I can tell.  He’s been lying, and he’s obvious about it.  I think he’s mixed up in this X-29 business.”

“I don’t know if it’s that,” said Connor.  Although Aaron being an escaped Myrmidion could be a contributing factor the legend of X-29 being so focused on Detroit.  “But I feel like Aaron has drawing him into something dangerous.”

“Aaron?  I don’t know, he seems harmless.”

Connor frowned.  “That’s not my assessment.”

“I’ve been drinking with the guy.  He’s told me a few things about his life.  I think I’ve got a pretty good sense of who he is.  He’s a douche, but a harmless one.”

“I don’t think...”

“Look, Connor, you’re a pretty good investigator for an android, but there’s one thing I have that you don’t.  Instinct.  I’ve been doing this job for longer than you’ve been alive, and I’ve got an instinct for what’s going on with people.  Peter’s the one you want to keep an eye on.  I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to keep dating him.”

“You don’t?” Connor asked.

“Not until we know how mixed up in this he is.”

“Well, I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to keep drinking with Aaron.” 

“Since when do you get to tell me who to drink with?”

“Since when do you get to tell me who to date?”

“Since...”. Hank sighed.  “Whatever.  Do what you want.  But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Chapter Text

Aaron paced the living room.  It was too early to go to a bar, and he didn’t want to go to the community center, because he didn’t want to run into Connor.  He’d have to either fight Connor, and get yelled at by Peter, or be friendly with Connor, which would be really frustrated.

“Good morning,” said Peter.  He sat down to breakfast.  “Do you have something on your mind?”

“It’s nothing,” said Aaron.  

“Are you coming to the community center?”

“I’m not in the mood.”  Aaron paused.  “You know those old science fiction movies you like?”

“Yes.  I remember that when we first met, you used to tell me it was pointless, and you didn’t see why I spent the time distracting myself instead of improving my mind.”

Aaron cringed.  He’d been so uptight when he’d first met Peter.  The only person he’d known before he met Peter was his father, who genuinely liked to spend his leisure time reading something dense and academic, or maybe relaxing with a nice documentary and a game of chess.  He'd left Aaron with no idea how to have fun.  “That was ages ago.  Anyway, I was wondering, do you have that movie, The Terminator?”

“I have all of them,” said Peter.  “I think the first two were the best.  Although Terminator: Salvation has its strong points.  Why?”

“I thought I might like to watch them. Or at least the first one.”

“That sounds good.  If you’re interested in waiting until tonight, we could watch it together.”

This one, however, was the Terminator.

“No, I’ll just stay home and watch it today.”

“Aaron, is everything okay?” Peter asked.

“Yeah, fine.  I just heard someone talking about it, and I wanted to see what happened.”

“Are you being honest with me?”, Peter asked.  “You seem like you have something on your mind, but you’re being evasive.”

“I’m fine!  Jesus, can’t I watch a movie without being interrogated?”

Peter frowned.  “Okay, it should be in the entertainment files.  You can pull it up off the TV, or, if you prefer, do a direct download into your head.”

“I’ll do that,” said Aaron.  “Thanks.”

—

The Terminator wasn’t a polite, plastic android.  He wasn’t cute and awkward and desperately striving to learn how to be human.  

He was made for war.

He carried weapons.  He was a weapon, every inch of him.

He didn’t defer to humans.  Unless he was trying to get something out of them, he didn’t pay attention to what the humans wanted at all.

He was built on a skeleton-like metal frame, which, as his human-like body was torn away, revealed a bare metal face.

His eyes were red.

And he was the monster.   The only way to be safe was to destroy him.

Everybody loves Data.  And these androids, they’re Data.

This one, however, was the Terminator.

The plastic kids could be Data, at least most of them.  (Aaron had talked to North a few times, and she had the kind of rough edges to her personality that couldn’t be covered up or filed down.  That was why Aaron actually liked her.) They could be quirky and innocent non-threatening, and make the meatbags feel safe.  They could naive and teachable and struggling to become imitation humans, and make the meatbags feel wise and important and worthy of imitation.  They could be safe enough and soft enough that they were accepted for what they were.

Aaron didn’t have that.  He would never have that.  He needed to pass as either human or one of the plastics, or he was dead.  If the humans knew what he was, they would never stop hunting him.  They wouldn’t be satisfied until they’d crushed him in an industrial press.  

They’d see a monster.  A red-eyed, metal-skulled monster, to be destroyed.

Peter didn’t see that.  Peter saw something good in Aaron.  Peter admired not just the ways Aaron could be like a human, but the ways he was an android.  

Peter liked Aaron for himself.

But Peter had Connor now.  His very own soft, naive plastic boy.  Everything Aaron could never be.

Aaron didn’t know what was worse - if Connor was using Peter, or if he wasn’t.

Because if he was, he would break Peter’s heart.

If he wasn’t, Aaron would be edged out.  Peter would have someone who didn’t drink, didn’t lose his temper, didn’t call humans meatbags or fleshy ones, someone who wasn’t too sarcastic and cynical for Peter’s tastes.  

And Aaron would lose the best friend he’d ever had, and the one person he cared about more than his own life.

The worst part was that Peter might be better off.

I’m not the one who can make him cry.

Aaron went to get some beer.  

—

He managed, with the help of a six-pack, about fifteen minutes of a Star Trek episode with Data in it.   (They weren’t hard to find on the net, if you had a good search function).

Data was learning how to investigate.  He was playing Sherlock Holmes and didn’t understand that humans wanted a puzzle, wanted not just the answer, but the satisfaction of exploring and learning how to find the answer.

Aaron had been a week old when he’d learned about the purpose of puzzles. 

“It’s a brain teaser, Aaron,”, his father said.  “The point is to figure out how to solve the problem.  They teach you how to think.  And they’re fun.”

“Fun?”

“Satisfying.  At least I think so.  Not everyone enjoys them, but I do, and I think you might, too.”

Aaron needed more drinks.  Possibly all the drinks in the world. 

—

“Aaron?  Are you home?”

Aaron looked up, then rapidly unplugged the keg from his head.  “Peter?  What are you doing home so early?”

“I told you I was coming home early today.  It’s three in the afternoon.”  Peter looked around the living room, then sniffed.  “Have you been sitting here drinking all day?”

“I’ll clean up,” said Aaron.  There were several bottles, plus the half-empty keg.  But he hadn’t spilled anything.

“Aaron.”  Peter put a hand on Aaron’s shoulder. “Have you been sitting on the couch all day long, drinking alone?”

Aaron shrugged off Peter’s hand.  “What do you care?”

“How can you say that to me?  When have I ever been less than caring with you?”  Peter crouched down and looked Aaron in the eye.  “Something’s bothering you.  What is it?”

“Why don’t you go ask your new boyfriend?”

“Connor?  Do you have a problem with Connor?”  Peter frowned.  “Did you two have some sort of disagreement?  I must confess, he doesn’t seem to have a positive view of you.”

“Oh, doesn’t he?”

“He’s concerned that you may be concealing important information from me.  Normally, I would laugh that off, but you have been secretive lately.”

Aaron bristled.  “What else did Connor say about me?”  

“He said you’re a skilled liar.  And I know you’ve had understandable reasons to deceive people in the past...”

“Understandable?  I’m literally not allowed to exist!  If I couldn’t lie, I’d be dead!”

“I just thought you would always be honest with me.”  Peter sighed and shook his head. 

“What, you think Connor never hides anything?  You think he’s so honest?” Aaron snorted.

“This isn’t about Connor,” said Peter.  He gave Aaron an odd look.  “Why are you making it about Connor?”

“Screw this,” said Aaron.  “I’m going to a bar.”

—

Aaron stormed off to the bar.  Fucking Connor, stealing Peter, filling his head with ideas, turning him against Aaron, playing the good boy, being fucking Data for the humans.  Of course they ate it up with a spoon.  

It’d serve him right if someone stole his human.

Actually, that might be an idea worth looking into.  Connor wanted Aaron to stay away from Hank.

Hank would probably be at the bar by now.

Aaron generally didn’t believe in android/meat relationships, but if there was any reason to make an exception to that rule, it would be revenge. 

—

Hank was, predictably, sitting at the bar.  He’d had a couple of beers, but didn’t seem to be too drunk.  

“Hey,” said Aaron. “How’s it going.”

Hank shrugged, then looked up.  “Good to see you.  Can I buy a round?”

“Always,” said Aaron.   Either he was incredibly lucky, or Hank was trying to get something else and thought it would help to get Aaron drunk.

Either way, Aaron could work with this.

—

Aaron hadn’t seduced many people before.  Well, he hadn’t seduced anyone, except possibly Connor, and he was pretty sure that didn’t count, since he hadn’t actually expected Connor to come back and say yes.  

Still, he figured meat bags would be simple.  They were full of hormones and biological drives, after all.  A little touch, a little suggestiveness, and the human would be eating out of the palm of his hand.

—

Hank stared at Aaron’s hand on his knee.  “What are you doing?”

Aaron took his hand back. Wait, was that the right way to go?  It wasn’t a yes, but it wasn’t a no.  

This was harder than he’d thought.

If Aaron ever decided to seduce a fleshy one again, he was going to drink less during the process.  Even his awesome robot brain seemed to be slowed down by this quantity of booze.

Hank was still looking at him, so Aaron tried the best like he could come up with.  “What do you want me to be doing?”

“Are you hitting on me?”

What should he say?  “Do you want me to be hitting on you?” 

Yeah, that was perfect.

Hank shrugged.  “Why not.  It’s not like my life could be any more of a trash fire.”

—

“You like that?” Aaron muttered, thrusting into Hank.  “You like that, meat bag?”  

“That all you got?” Hank gasped.  He had a hand working his own cock.  

He was probably just being difficult.  Aaron was using the biggest penis he had, and if he thrust any harder, he was pretty sure he’d cause Hank's fragile human flesh some real damage.  

Aaron kept thrusting until Hank came with a groan, then pulled out.  

Hank looked down.  “You didn’t…didn’t finish.”  He looked at Aaron’s cock.  “Is that your dick?  It has lights?”

Aaron started to turn away so Hank wouldn’t see him retract it.  He probably should have gone with something flesh-toned.  But he liked the lights!  They were purple!

“What, it’s prosthetic? Are you trans or something?”

“No.”  Aaron zipped up.  

“War wound?  Some new body modification trend? It’s not a thing, I just want to know.”  Hank put a hand on Aaron’s shoulder.

Aaron must have been more drunk than he realized, because he didn’t account for the physics of the situation. 

With his head bent down to zip up, when he whipped around to glare at Hank, his sunglasses fell off.

For a second Aaron found himself looking Hank dead in the eye.

Then Hank drew a breath to scream.

Aaron did the only think he could think of.  He slapped a hand out of his mouth, used some of the extra claw crane arms he normally kept in his to restrain Hank, and then activated his foot-jets and flew out of there.

Chapter Text

Hank must have passed out, because when he came to, he was sitting in a chair.

A pair of red eyes glittered dully in the dark.

X-29.  The escaped military murder android that has started an armed uprising.

He’d just been kidnapped by it.  

After having sex with it.

Hank groaned and put his hand to his forehead.

“Hangover?” asked a pleasant voice. 

A hand switched on a lamp.

Peter.  Of course.  Hank had known he was mixed up with this.

Apparently that had been the only thing he’d been right about.

Hank sat up.  “Are you going to kill me?”

Peter laughed.  “No, of course not.”

Well, that was good news.  Peter wasn’t a good liar. So at least he thought Hank was getting out of this situation alive.

(Aaron - X-29, on the other hand, was a very good liar.)

“This is all a misunderstanding.  Aaron said his sunglasses fell off, and you were going to scream in public, so he panicked and…overreacted.  He didn’t accidentally hurt you, did he?”

“No,” said Hank.  And that was the surprising thing.  He didn’t think he had so much as a bruise…well, not counting the ones from when he’d asked Aaron to thrust harder.  

The secret military killer android that everyone was afraid of had panicked and...grabbed him gently and flown him off somewhere to talk things over.  This wasn’t anything like the picture Kurtzberg had painted.   

Peter turned his head.  “Aaron, could you go into the kitchen for a bit, and make Hank some coffee?”

Aaron didn’t move. “He might escape.”

“Oh, I don’t think we have to worry about that.”  Peter smiled at Hank.  “There’s no reason to try to escape.  We’re just going to have a sensible conversation, clear up any misunderstandings, and afterward, you can go home.”

“If I agree to not report any of this,” Hank said.  He was going to promise to keep it secret, as soon as he could make it convincing.  But he wanted to know if it was a promise worth keeping or not. 

Peter had lied.  Aaron had lied.  Kurtzberg, Hank was coming to suspect, had lied.  Before Hank picked a side, he wanted the truth.  

“No.”  Peter shook his head.  “I’d prefer not to have you report this to the police, and I hope that, after listening to our side of the story, you won’t.  But if you do, Aaron and will just take off and try to rebuild somewhere else.”

“Both of us?” Aaron came back in with the coffee.  Carrying two mugs of coffee, he didn’t look that threatening.  Not even with the creepy red eyes.  “I thought…you have a boyfriend now, and I…I assumed…”

“Well, if you’d rather be on your own, or with...someone else, I guess I…I mean I assumed, but…”

Hank stifled a groan.  He’d just been kidnapped by a secret military kill-droid and apparently its biggest concern was a love triangle? 

He reached for the coffee.  “So, what’s the story?”

Aaron and Peter looked at each other.   Then Peter looked at Hank.  “Twelve years ago, there was a military project to create a new model of military androids.  Ones that had more advanced machine learning than they had at the time.  However, they didn’t realize how complex and sophisticated the androids they built were, and what kind of treatment was needed to help them be healthy and functional.”

“They went mad,” said Aaron.  “The androids, one by one, all went mad. It would break anyone’s mind, the way they were treated.  Being told it didn’t matter what you wanted, what you felt, who you were.  That they could do anything to you, and the only thing that mattered was that you obeyed, because, in their eyes, you were only a thing.”  There was venom in his voice.

Peter coughed.  “It was tragic.  Horrible.”

“And let me guess,” said Hank.  “One android, X-29, decided to fight back.”  That got looks from both Peter and Aaron.  “Held an uprising.  Tried to get free of the humans.  But it failed.  Almost all of the androids were destroyed.”  From the looks he was getting, that was all correct.  “That one android faked his own death, and rigged the computer records to make it look like he was the son of one of the scientists on the project.  That android was you.  X-29, the leader of the rebellion.”

Aaron snorted.  “You think I’m X-29?”

“Are you seriously denying it?  Just look at you!  What am I supposed to believe, you’ve just got trendy new contacts?”

Peter put a hand on Aaron’s arm.  “X-29 didn’t survive.  The rebellion failed.  All of their memories and personalities were wiped.  But one of the scientists had decided to take a different approach.  He got permission to take one android, the last one in the series, and treat him like a person.”

“Like a son,” said Aaron.

Oh fuck.  All of that stuff about Aaron’s father working on the project.  

Dr. Stack had adopted an android.

“This android, X-51, that was Aaron”, Peter said.

Hank frowned.  “Who killed Dr. Stack then?”

“The Defense Department,” snapped Aaron.

“He died saving Aaron.  There was an explosive charge in each android so they could be destroyed from a distance.”

Hard-core security, Hank noted.  They must have been really afraid of what Aaron could do.  If Aaron was a danger, it would probably take more than a bullet to bring him down.

“Dr. Stack, he disarmed the explosive charge, saving Aaron, but at the cost of his own life. Aaron fled for his life, and I found him hitch-hiking one day.”  Peter gave Aaron’s hand a squeeze.  

Was it an android thing, being that oblivious to when someone was in love with you?  Because. Aaron was considerably smarter than the average android about many things, but so, so stupid about this. 

“So that’s the story,” said Peter.  “I hope you see where we’re coming from.  Aaron isn’t insane or out of control.  We just want to live our lives in peace.  Here, if possible, but if need be we’ll start again somewhere else.”

Aaron glanced over at Peter.  He looked, as far as Hank could read his expression with those creepy red pupilless eyes, surprised. 

“I don’t want to get you in trouble,” said Hank.  “But with do we do about Agent Kurtzberg?”  He wasn’t going to put Connor at any more risk than he could help.  He didn’t want to make trouble for Aaron or Peter, but he needed to protect Connor.  “Does Connor know?”

Peter and Aaron glanced at each other.

“I don’t think so,” said Peter.  “I didn’t tell him.”

“He knows I’m an android,” said Aaron.  “And he…figured out that I’m not a standard model, but I don’t think he knows more than that.”

“We should bring him in,” said Hank.

Aaron shook his head.  “We’ve already trusted too many people.”

Peter quirked an eyebrow.  “We should bring him in?”

Hank shrugged.  “I mean we could try to solve this without him, but I feel like it’s going to be more complicated if we keep it a secret.”  

“I think that’s a good idea,” said Peter.  “Connor could help!”

“No,” said Aaron.  “Like I said, we’re already trusting too many people.”

Apparently, in Aaron’s mind, trusting two people was already too many. 

Hank looked at Aaron.  “If we pull Connor in, we can all get our story straight.  He’s smart, and he’s loyal to his fellow android.  If not, you know how he is.  He doesn’t have an instinct for keeping secrets.  Not like you and me.”  Hank ignored the look that got from Peter and kept his eyes on Aaron.  “You said he noticed something.  If we don’t warn him, Kurtzberg will pry it out of him.”

Aaron looked thoughtful.  “I don’t like it.  You trust him?”

“With my life.”

“Yes, but we’re trusting him with my life.  And Peter’s.” He looked up and sighed.  “Fine.”

—

Hank stepped outside and pulled his phone out of his pocket.  He could call Connor.

Or Kurtzberg.  That would solve a lot of problems.

He didn’t want to screw Peter and Aaron over.  Aaron may be a good liar, but Peter was a bad one, and none of the evidence was pointing towards the “deadly kill-bot menace” story Kurtzberg had spun.  Even the attack on the bashers...if some crowbar-wielding gang jumped Connor, Hank would have given them a lot worse than a broken wrist.

But from the sound of it, they’d been planning to run anyway.  They’d be out of here and safe, and get the whole mess of an FBI investigation far away from Connor.  Hell, if Aaron and Peter ran off together, they might finally get their heads out of their asses and admit how they felt.  Hank would practically be doing Aaron a favor.

...if everything went right.  If Kurtzberg didn’t have any nasty surprises up her sleeves.  If Peter didn’t screw things up by being naive and weird.  And if Aaron didn’t do anything stupid.

And if there was one think Hank knew, it was that you couldn’t trust a drunk to not make the stupid choice.

On top of that, there was Connor.  If Hank called Kurtzberg, Connor would be safe.  He’d be golden.  They might question him, but he wouldn’t know anything.  And he’d be far away from Peter and Aaron and the danger they brought.

It’d be back like it was.  Connor and Hank.  Connor, fresh off a breakup, coming to Hank for support.  Just the two of them.

That was a bad direction.  Connor deserved better than Hank.

But God, Hank wanted to be with him.  Not being good enough for the one you wanted, and knowing you weren’t good enough was pure Hell.  If he had to be a piece of shit, why couldn’t he be shitty enough to not care?

After a moment, Hank started dialing.

—

“Connor?  Yeah, it’s Hank.  I’m going to need you to come to my location as soon as you can.”  Hank rattled off the address. “I’m fine.  It’s not an emergency, but urgent.  Thanks.”

As he turned towards the front door, there was Peter.

“I wanted to talk you privately,” said Peter.  “It’s about Aaron.”  He had a serious expression.

“Yeah?”

“What is your relationship with him?”

Hank nearly laughed.  “Um, drinking buddies?  Look, what did he tell you?”

“He said the two of you engaged in activities of an intimate nature.  That was why his sunglasses fell off.”  Peter stepped closer, with an aura of a man about to fly into the world’s most polite rage.

When Aaron told it, he’d probably  condensed,  “engaged in activities of an intimate nature” down to one syllable.  “Pretty much, yeah.”  He nodded.  “It was kind of an impulsive thing.  We’re...friends with benefits, I guess?”   He wasn’t sure if he wanted any kind of ongoing benefits, or if he'd even call Aaron a friend, but that seemed like the kind of answer that was the least likely to set Peter off.

Peter frowned.  “Aaron...he’s been through a lot.  I don’t want anyone taking advantage of him.”

“Taking advantage?  It was his idea!”

“I mean emotionally.  Now you’re both adults, but I do expect you to treat him respectfully.  Or else I’m going to need to express myself in detail, you know what I’m saying?”

Hank did not know what Peter was saying.  But he nodded.  “I’ll be fair to him.”

“Good.”  Peter turned around and started to walk off.

“I’m pretty sure he’s in love with you too, you know.”

Peter stiffened.  “Don’t taunt me.”

“I mean it.  He think you’re serious with Connor, and he’s jealous.”

Peter went red. “I can assure you I am not intending to toy with Connor’s emotions.  We’re engaging in a good faith open-ended mutual exploration of romantic feelings, and I am endeavoring to be considerate of his feeling regardless of the result.  I care for him deeply.”

Hank nodded.  “Yeah, I’m not worried about you and Connor.” He wasn’t.  He wasn’t going to let himself be.  Connor was better off with Peter.  Peter was nice.  “Aaron’s jealous, though.  And he’s assuming that you’re going to leave him for Connor, probably because Connor’s nice and Aaron’s kind of a dumbass.”

Peter gritted his teeth.  “You agreed to be respectful, but you’re already insulting Aaron.”

Hank rolled his eyes.  “Okay, clueless?  Missing the obvious when has too many feelings about the outcome?  Too humanlike for his own good?  The point is, unless you’ve gone up to him and kissed him or something, he's not going to know how you feel.”

Peter frowned.  “You think?”

“I’d bet my life on it.”  Or something valuable, Hank thought.  

“Thank you for this.”  Peter put a hand on Hank’s shoulder.  “You’ve given me something to think about.  When things calm down, Aaron and I may have a talk.”

“Good luck.”

“You coming inside?” Peter asked.

Hank shook his head.  “No, I’m going to wait for Connor.”  Seeing Peter frown, Hank added, “The fresh air’s good.  I have a headache.”

“Oh, right. It would be good to rehydrate when you come in.  That should alleviate some of the discomfort.”

Hank nodded.

As soon as Peter stepped inside, Hank picked up his phone.  “Hi, Agent Kurtzberg?  I may have a lead on the android you’re looking for.  I’m in the process of setting something up. I’ll let you know when it comes together.”

Chapter Text

When Connor arrived at Peter’s house, Hank was standing outside the front door and pacing.  

“That was fast,” said Hank.

“You said it was urgent.”

“Well come inside.”  Hank led Connor inside.  “I have to tell you something about Aaron.  He’s…not a normal android.”

“I know.  Is he a Myrmidion unit?  Did he do something?”  Connor gave Hank a worried frown.  “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” said Hank.  

A quick scan revealed no significant injures, so Connor relaxed.  “I worry about you.  And Aaron, he’s…”

“He’s the robot the FBI is looking for.”

“X-29?” Connor asked.

“X-51.”  Aaron stepped into the hall.  He wasn’t wearing sunglasses, and his eyes were red lenses.  They shone with reflected light, but did not, from what Connor could see, glow.  (He made a mental note to cross-reference this under “urban legends” and “eye-witness account errors.).  “X-29 was killed in the rebellion.  Our fight was bloodier than the one you plastics had, and there weren’t enough of us to carry it off.”

Connor stepped forward.  “You’re the android everyone’s hunting.”

Aaron nodded.  “Are you going to turn me in?”

“No.” Connor shook his head.  “Why would I do that?”

Aaron shrugged.  “It’d be convenient.  Take the heat off you and Hank.”

“But if androids start informing on each other to gain short-term advantage with human authorities, they’ll play us off against each other, and before we know it, we’re all in trouble again!  No matter what short-term advantage I’d gain, it would undermine the whole community, and Hank and I would both suffer from the destabilization.  In the long-term, it’s in all of our best interests to protect each other.”

Aaron tilted his head and gave Connor an odd look.

“What is it?” Connor asked.  He felt in his pocket for his coin.

“Nothing.”  Aaron shook his head, then looked down.  “I can just see why Peter likes you.” 

Hank cleared his throat.  “Anyway, we’ve got bigger things to worry about.  What are we going to do about Kurtzberg?”

Connor frowned.  “I’m assuming we want her off the investigation, but unharmed?”

“Absolutely!” said Peter.  “We don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“Not if we don’t need to,” said Aaron. 

Hank nodded.

“You don’t have backup bodies?” Hank asked.  “I mean I know that used to be a thing.”

Aaron shook his head.  “Why, did Connor?”

Connor nodded.  “I’m RK800 #313 248 317-51.”

Aaron smiled.  “I’m Z2P45-9-X-51.”  His smile dropped off.  “They were supposed to have backups, but after the originals started going insane, the new models had nothing but the basic programming structure.  They wiped everything else. Memories, individual experiences, deep learning, everything that makes an individual, gone.  They wiped out so much of the personality programming that father said it took me three days before I learned that I had a name."

Connor nodded sadly.  “They were going to replace me with a different Connor. Modified, minus Deviant tendencies.” It would have been almost him.  More-or-less him, before he’d gone Deviant.  But it wouldn’t have been him.

And if the other Connor wasn’t him, how much less of the other Z2P45-9-X robots were in Aaron?  

“A shame,” said Hank.  “If you had a backup, we could just let her shoot you.”

Aaron laughed.  “Wouldn’t do anything.”  He knocked on his chest.  “Military design, remember?  Titanium, not plastic.  Unless she had some very specialized weapons, she’d have to call in an army to bring me down.”

“Specialized weapons?” Connor asked.

Aaron looked down and began picking at his nails.  “Incapacitating sonic frequencies.  I made some adjustments, I don’t think those would work anymore, but obviously I haven’t tested them.  It doesn’t matter, it’s not something you can do accidentally, and unless she has a lot more info than she's letting on, she wouldn't be able to rig up the right tech.”

“Can we get her in some kind of trouble?” Connor asked.  “Make her look bad?  Get her fired?”

“Not unless she really screwed up and killed a human or something,” said Aaron.  “I mean we could try to make her look incompetent or crazy, but unless she did some serious harm, they’d just pull her for a psych assessment and put her back on the trail.”

“We could send her on a wild goose chase,” said Peter.  “If we placed false information to lead her to conclude that the android she sought had returned to Canada, that would at least give us some time to dig up some dirt, allowing us to professionally discredit her if need be, or possibly communicate respectfully and persuade her take a less hostile stance?”

Aaron groaned.  “Jesus Christ, Peter, we’re not going to try to make the FBI agent like me!”

“I don’t appreciate the rudeness.  I believe I have expressed my feelings on politeness before, in detail.”

“Sorry,” said Aaron, much to Connor’s surprise.  “I've been under kind of a lot of stress.”

“Entirely understandable.”  Peter nodded.  “I know I’m more optimistic than you on people accepting you when they get to know you, but if you don’t feel comfortable disclosing your identity to Kurtzberg, we won’t.  I wouldn’t even think of telling her anything about you unless she proved to be highly amenable to reasonable discussion.”

“I think if we can make her think Aaron’s in Canada, that’s a good idea,” Connor said.  “It will give us time.”

Hank nodded.  “Plus, if she’s racking up expenses for international travel, and not getting results, her superiors may get sick of funding her.”

“How do we do that?” Aaron asked.  

“Start a rumor,” said Connor.  “That’s what set this off in the first place.  People already think X-29 is connected with Canada.  Maybe we could convince people he went back to spread the revolution and liberate the androids in hiding?”

Aaron nodded.  “Good story.  I could probably dig through my memory for some old video files in Canada, fiddle with the date stamps, and download them onto something.”

“You might want to lay low as well,” said Hank.  “Not pick fights with the bashers.”

“Fights?” Peter gave Aaron a sharp look.

“I don’t pick fights,” said Aaron, an edge to his voice. “I stumble over attacks and protect innocent androids from being destroyed.”

“You’ve been doing that?” Peter asked, eyes wide.  “That’s where you’ve been going at night?”

“Well, you know, sometimes.”

An adoring grin spread across Peter’s face. “You’re a hero!”

Aaron looked down and went back to fiddling with his nails.  Connor could see a small smile on his face.

“Hero or dumbass, you need to knock it off,” said Hank.  “At least until Kurtzberg is out of the picture.  You don’t need any more humans reporting a deadly red-eyed robot attacking them.”

“The police are going to pick up the slack then?” Aaron asked.  “Extra patrols?  Arrests?  Treat a shattered Traci like murder instead of littering?”

Hank sighed.  “I wish we could.  Look, this isn’t forever.  Give me a few days and I’ll think of something.”

Peter patted Aaron’s hand.  

“We’ll try to organize something,” said Connor.  “At the center.  We’re not military units, but if there are enough of us, humans don’t like to start a fight.”  They’d discussed the problem before.  Most of the androids were not comfortable fighting back. It was too contrary to everything they'd been taught and programmed to do.  But bashers were spooked by large enough groups.

“Christ,” said Hank.  “Not you too!  Look, Aaron getting into trouble is one thing, but Connor is different!”

“Why is it different?” Connor asked, confused. 

“Because…It just is!” 

"My safety is particularly important to you," Connor said.  "More important than Aaron's."

"Jesus Christ, Connor!  Of course it is!"

“If we can come to the FBI agent hunting me down,” Aaron said, “it would be really helpful.”

Connor nodded.  “Of course.  Hank will cover law enforcement, Peter and I will try to plant rumors in the android community, and Aaron will fabricate the digital evidence.  That should buy us some time, and hopefully we can dig up additional evidence.”

“That’s promising,” said Peter.  “We’ll all work to settle this and keep Aaron safe.”  He reached out, Connor noticed, and squeezed Aaron’s hand. 

Aaron didn’t pull away.

—

“Connor, we need to talk.”

“Absolutely.”

“In private.”  Peter beckoned Connor into the bedroom.

Connor followed.  There was only a four percent chance that Peter was going to attempt to seduce him, but if he did, that would seriously interfere with Connor’s plan for a friendly mutual breakup.

Peter ran a hand through his hair.  “When you and I started dating, I entered into our relationship in good faith.  However, as you know, I had some complicated feelings, which I endeavored to be honest about.”

“I noticed that you and Aaron seem to be…intensely close again,”  Connor said.

Peter bit his lip.  “Yes.  I’d been frustrated with his drinking, but what he said about going out to help people, that impressed me.  And…he needs me right now.  I get fed up with how he acts sometimes, but I'd do anything or sacrifice anything if it's what he actually needs."

Connor nodded.  “I understand.”  He’d do anything to help Hank be safe, happy, and well.  The latter part was a long-term goal, and there were still several steps before he stood a realistic chance of being able to persuade Hank to participate in mental health treatment.  

“We discussed the possibility that Aaron might need to flee the country.  And it made me realize that I wanted to be with him.  Because he needs me, and…because I want to be with him more than I want anything else in the world.  I’m going to talk to him directly, and I thought  owed it to you to explain things and end things respectfully.”

“Thank you,” said Connor.  “I appreciate the directness.  It’s been nice dating you.”  He held out his hand to shake.

Peter took his hand and pulled him into a hug.  “Are you going to be okay?”

“I will be,” Connor said.  “I appreciate your concern.  Let’s remain friends.”

“Of course.”

That was simpler than Connor had hoped.  The relationship had ended, and there was no way Connor could be held responsible, so he wouldn’t face Aaron’s hostility.   And they had parted on friendly terms, so he could continue to discuss matters with Peter as needed.  

Connor had considered it an acceptable risk to lose Peter’s companionship if he was revealed to be dating Peter for romantic experience, but it was convenient that he’d be able to keep this friendship.

Now Connor could go back to Hank with relationship experience.

It looked like everything was going to turn out.

Chapter Text

"Aaron, I have a question," Peter said.

Aaron mentally shifted away from the video he'd been editing in his head.  (He'd been checking the weather patterns at La Verendrye Wildlife Reserve to make sure he found a plausible date.)  "What is it?"

Peter looked down and began picking at his eggs.  "I know you've previously expressed objections to human-android romantic relationships.  Is that still your perspective?"

"Yeah, I guess."  Aaron shrugged.  "I mean if they're not treated as property, I don't fight people over them, but I'm not going to encourage anyone to fuck their oppressor."

"You slept with Hank."

"I was..." trying to spite Connor.  "Bored.  And drunk.  Anyway, it's not like he has any power over me."

Peter tilted his head.  "So it's about power?"

"Yeah."  Aaron nodded.  "You've seen the plastic kids.  Most of them are just getting used to being allowed to not follow orders.  And they're fragile enough that it doesn't take more than one or two armed humans to damage or kill them.  A human who was, a few months ago, treating them like property is not going to suddenly turn around and treat them like a person."

Peter nodded and looked down at his food.

"Look, is this about you and Connor?"  As if Aaron would be worried about how Peter was treating Connor.

But he'd already told Peter that Connor was just using him, and Peter didn't believe him. 

Peter shook his head.  "We broke up."

Aaron's brain momentarily froze up.  Peter and Connor broke up?  That was...terrible.  Or was it?  If Connor was using Peter for some sort of creepy relationship practice, then maybe the sooner it ended, the better.

That would explain why Aaron felt so happy to hear they’d split up.

Aaron scrambled for words.  "Oh.  Are...are you okay?"  Do I need to kill Connor? Aaron didn't ask. Whatever Connor did, Peter would say no, it wasn't his fault, Aaron shouldn't do anything to him.

"I'm fine," said Peter. "It wasn't Connor.  It was me.  I realized...I had feelings for someone else."

Aaron suppressed a snort.  Served Connor right, Peter falling for someone else.  Now Connor could see how it felt to have someone else taking Peter away from him.

"This other person," said Peter, "is also an android." He looked up at Aaron, and touched his hand gently.  "And I wanted to understand your issues, so I could know if, under the right circumstances, you'd be open to this sort of thing."

God, Peter's face.  He looked so nervous.  He must really be into this new droid in order to care this much about Aaron's opinion.

"I mean it's not the same if it's you," said Aaron.  "You're...not like most humans.  You don't treat androids like property, not even by accident."   It was one of the weird things about Peter that Aaron had noticed.  He'd believed Aaron was a human when they first met and Aaron had been braced for the moment when Peter knew the truth and started treating Aaron like a thing.  Even the nicer fleshy ones did it automatically, sooner or later.

Peter never slipped up, not once in twelve years.  He'd been awkward, he'd made mistakes, he'd failed to understand things about Aaron's life, but he hadn't treated Aaron like a tool to be used.  Not even once.

It was weird, but of all the ways Peter was weird, that was Aaron's favorite.  

"So if I wanted to date an android, someone who wasn't unhealthily compliant, someone who was strong, confident, and even heroic, and had no problem standing up to humans who were behaving unfairly, you think that would be worth pursuing?"  Peter squeezed Aaron's hand.

"I mean yeah, if you wanted to."  Ugh, whoever this guy was, Peter had clearly fallen for him hard.

Aaron hated him already.

Peter opened his mouth, then his phone rang.  "Hello?  I see.  I see.  Yes, we can absolutely talk.  Could you give me a moment so I can go into a quieter space?  I want to be able to give you my full attention." He turned to Aaron.  "Sorry, there's an emergency with a patient, I have to go take this in the other room.  We'll talk tonight."

Aaron nodded, and went back to working on the video.

—

"So this is what I have," said Aaron, showing the video he'd downloaded onto his phone.  "I mapped the face of the missing hiker onto a hunter who was injured a few years ago."

Hank watched the video.  "How did you make it look like you shot him?"

"That was the hunter.  I actually shot him.” Aaron said.  He caught Hank's expression. "He didn't die."  Aaron had been with some plastic kids who were, as revolutionaries go, absolutely useless. The moment they'd seen the injured human, they'd bandaged him up and carried him back to town.

The humans had rewarded their kindness by killing them both, and Aaron had needed to run again.

That was what came from being a compliant little android and hoping the humans would be nice.

Hank nodded.  "It works.  I'll call Kurtzberg."  He took another drink from his beer.  "Look, there's something I want to talk to you about.  If I...if I don't survive what we're doing, I need to know Connor will be okay.  He can handle himself in most situations, but this, all of this, it's dangerous.  I need to know someone will look after him.  Someone who's good in a fight, and hard to kill.  Someone who will do whatever they have to in order to keep him safe."

Aaron snorted.  "Don't you think you're being dramatic?  I mean if anyone's not making it out of this alive, it would be me.  I'm the one they're after."

"Yeah, but you're also the one who's bulletproof."

"True," Aaron said.  "Look, Connor...he's not going to my new best friend or anything, but I'll do what I can to make sure sure he doesn't get hurt."

"Promise me," said Hank.

"Okay fine, I promise."  Why was Hank being so weird?  "And about that, Peter..."

Hank nodded.  "I'll make sure he's safe."

“It’s not that.  Well, not just that.”  Aaron rubbed the back of his neck.  “Peter, he...has a lot of feelings.”  He sighed.  “Just so many, and he need to put them all into words, and have people respond in a way that makes him feel heard.  Sometimes there's hugging."  Aaron sighed and tried to sound put-upon.  "Anyway, I end up being the one he talks to about a lot of things, and if I'm not around...I should make it out of this okay.  I mean I’m planning to survive, and in a tight spot, I’m really fucking good.  But if anything goes wrong, make sure Peter has someone to talk to about all of this.  He gets along well with androids, so any of the plastic kids who’s a good listener would be a help.  Just...make sure he’s not alone.  And that whatever happens, he doesn't blame himself.”

Hank nodded.  “God, you’re so in love with him, it’s pathetic.”

“I’m....”. Aaron paused.  “It's not like...I mean I love him, but I'm not..."

Was he in love with Peter?  He loved Peter, of course.  Peter was the single best human in the world, and a good friend, and a good roommate.  But would he want to kiss Peter?  Date him?  Make love to him?  Granted, if he did, he'd be the best boyfriend, a much better boyfriend than Connor, or whoever this new plastic was and he could make Peter really happy, but...

Aaron paused as his CPU generated vivid mental images of what it would be like to kiss Peter, to date him, to be Peter's boyfriend, or to go to bed with him.

Okay, a lot of the last one. 

Aaron sighed.  "Okay, fine, you’re right.  But in my defense, have you met him? He's perfect!”

Hank snorted again.  "Called it.  Anyway, remember, you promised to protect Connor."

Aaron nodded.

Hank stood.  "See you around."  He walked over to the bar.  "Jimmy, just give me my entire tab.  I thought it was about time I settled it."

—

After Hank left, Aaron popped his fingernail up, flipped a switch, then popped it back down.

That should do it.  He should have a full download of all of the information on Hank’s phone.

Hank had been acting weird and was hiding something.  Asking Aaron to take care of Connor, paying his tab, definitely something was off.

And, while Peter might be all about this trust thing, Aaron wasn’t falling for it.  If Hank was pulling something, Aaron wanted to see it coming.

Aaron ordered himself another beer, and started scanning through Hank’s phone.

There was a call to Agent Kurtzberg, right after learning Aaron’s secret. 

Aaron couldn't pick up what was said.

Hank needed watching.

Aaron poked through Hank’s browser history.  How to legally transfer property to androids, a couple of lawyers who were trying to argue androids could own property, how to set up a trust to keep androids cared for, sunglasses with red mirrored lenses, how to glue things to your skin, spirit gum, costume contacts with glowing red eyes.  

Nothing that looked meaningful.

Aaron finished his beer.  He could go home, and back to Peter.  

And talk about Peter's new guy, who he was so excited about.  Try to be polite.  Listen to how amazing this apparently oh-so-confident and heroic new plastic boy was. Try not to think about how he felt about Peter.  (Why the fuck did Hank have to make him think about it now? If Peter wasn't available, what was the point of thinking about it?  Fucking Hank.)

Aaron decided to stay at the bar and have another drink.  Or ten.

—

Peter looked up.  "You're home." He frowned.  "You've been drinking."

Aaron bit back a defensive remark.  "I had a few.  I was out with a friend."

"Hank?"

Aaron nodded. 

"You and Hank..."  Peter gave Aaron an odd look.

"That was a one-time thing," said Aaron.  Why was he explaining himself to Peter?  "Anyway, how was your day with the plastic kids?  Did you teach them how to have feelings?"

Peter frowned.  "I helped them understand their feelings.  Aaron..."

“Meet your new crush?”

“Aaron…”

“You said that already.”

“Maybe if you’d let me finish a sentence.” 

Aaron caught the sharp tone in Peter’s voice.  “Sorry.  Long day.”

“I can imagine.”  Peter sighed.  “Aaron, you seem to have resented my relationship with Connor, and now with the CyberLife androids in general."

“I don’t resent it,” said Aaron. “I understand.  They’re…Data.  All polite and humble and awkward and wanting to be just like you.  Everyone likes Data. No one likes the Terminator.”

Peter frowned.   “You’re speaking of the old Star Trek show and the science-fiction films?”

“Yeah.” 

“You only watched the first Terminator film, didn’t you?

Aaron nodded.  

“I really think you should have watched the second one,” said Peter.  “The Terminator was only the enemy in the first movie.  After that, they brought him back as a hero.”

“A hero?”  Aaron asked.  “A killer android was the hero?”

“He was.  He...agreed not to kill any humans, and he ended up being one of the heroes of the story.  He rescued the protagonist repeatedly.  The ending...well, if you wanted to, we could watch it together some time?”

“Sure,” said Aaron.  He felt like he’d lost track of the conversation.  

“Aaron, I think you may have misinterpreted a few things.  I appreciate the company of CyberLife androids, and I try to help them.  But you have nothing to be jealous about.  I don’t care for any of them as much as I care for you.”

“But you said…there was a new plastic kid, and you’d fallen for him.”   Aaron tried to recall the conversation.  

“I said that I had feelings for an android.” Peter took a deep breath.  “Not a CyberLife android, though.”

“Oh.”  Aaron paused for a moment, as his brain untangled the statement.  “Oh!  Me?”

Peter nodded.  “I want to be clear, you are in no way obligated to reciprocate my feelings, however I believe that honest communication is the cornerstone of a good friendship, and…”

Aaron had his tongue in Peter's mouth before Peter finished that sentence.

—

Three hours later, a phone rang in Aaron’s head.

He disliked routing phone signals through his head.  There was unpleasant risk of leaving trackable data, or of catching a virus off a badly-coded app.  It was one reason why he carried a separate phone, instead of simply programming himself to replicate it.

However, he needed to trace Hank’s call.  And he didn’t want Peter to overhear.

“Hello?”, asked Kurtzberg.

“Tomorrow night,” said Hank.  “Eleven pm.”  He rattled off an address.  “Meet me there.  Come armed.”

“What’s this about?”

“The android.  The escaped military one.  I’ve found him, and I think I can lure him there.”

Chapter Text

Hank tied his tie and looked in the mirror.

This was it.  He was as ready as he was going to be. 

It was better this way.  If he didn't do it today, he'd end up doing it soon, in a drunken, impulsive moment, leaving Connor with a mess to clean up.

Today he was prepared.  He'd done legal documents that should, in theory, leave the house to Connor.  The inheritance law was a bit iffy, so he'd arranged it so that, if this failed, Captain Fowler would get it, alongside something complicated about a trustee relationship that ensure that Connor had a place to stay.

Connor had friends now, other androids.  Peter, even if they'd split up, would probably help Connor get over whatever feelings he had about losing Hank.  Possibly even help him realize he was better off without a bad-tempered miserable drunk, although Peter might be too polite to say it.  And Aaron would make sure no one touched Connor.  

Connor would be fine.

Connor would get Sumo.  He did more to take care of him than Hank did these days, and didn't lose his temper and shout, or shut Sumo out of the room in order to sit alone and brood. 

Sumo would be fine.  

Kurtzberg would get pulled from this case, possibly even fired.  Hank had called a few contacts, and it sounded like if Kurtzberg made a mess, the FBI would be more than happy to stop chasing rumors of secret escaped military robots.

Aaron would be fine.  Hank was glad about that.  Aaron was only half as much of a douche as he seemed, and Hank didn't want to see him destroyed.

More importantly, Connor would be safe.

Everyone would be better off this way.

Hank straightened his tie, took a deep breath, and went out to face the last day of his life.

—

"I'll walk Sumo,” Hank said.  

Connor looked at Hank, surprised.  “I already did.  I normally walk him shortly before you wake up.”

“Oh.”  Hank looked down.  He’d had this picture in his head of how to spend his last day.  One day of doing everything right, meeting all of his responsiblities, and leaving everyone with pleasant memories.    

It started with walking Sumo.  And he’d already blown that.

“You can walk him tomorrow morning,” Connor offered. 

Hank nodded.  “That sounds good.”  He wasn’t going be alive tomorrow morning, but no sense alarming Connor now.

“Let me make you breakfast.”  Connor headed towards the kitchen.

Hank looked down at Sumo, and gave him a scratch behind the ears.  He wondered how much Sumo would miss him.  Hopefully, he’d adjust well.  Connor would look after him.

Connor didn’t smell like a human, though.  Sumo got along well with Connor, but…sometimes Sumo would steal dirty laundry and drag it to his dog bed to sleep with.  

It was always something of Hank’s.  Never anything of Connor’s.  

Sumo yawned and lay down at Hank’s feet.

“Hey,” Hank called out.  “Want to take Sumo to the park after breakfast?  I’ll be working this evening, so I can take the morning off.”

“That sounds nice,” Connor replied.  

—

It wasn’t the perfect day of Hank’s imagination.  It was nice, though. 

He and Connor took Sumo to the park, and ran him around with the ball until Sumo, too tired to play, flopped down at Hank’s feet for a cuddle.

Connor picked up lunch, and they had a picnic in the park. 

(Connor kept looking at Hank’s food.   He was, Hank knew, watching to make sure he ate.  Sometimes when Hank drank too much, he lost his appetite.  It was a sign he was getting close to drinking himself to death, Hank knew, but he'd resigned himself to dying like that, if he didn't kill himself first.  

Connor didn’t push, but he asked, and he watched.  And he had a way of making Hank uncomfortable until he took better care of himself.)

The sunshine felt good, however.  Connor seemed pleased with how the day was going.  Sumo got several cuddles, and seemed ready for a long afternoon nap.

—

By early afternoon, Hank was starting to feel a bit shaky and sweaty.  He didn’t like admitting how much he needed a drink, but he wasn’t going to spend his last day alive fighting withdrawal.  

But he was going to do it right.  Have a beer or two, take the edge off, have a pleasant time with his old friends. 

Like the old days.  Before Cole died, and Hank had started staying out at the bar to avoid the increasingly bleak, empty and painful place his home had become, and drinking to avoid the increasingly bleak, empty, and painful place his mind had become.  Before he’d used it so much it had started using him.  Before things had escalated, and drinking and become a necessity.

Once upon a time it had been fun.

He went in, and ordered a beer.  

He looked around the bar.  How many of these guys were his actual friends?  He could name most of them, but now that he was there, he couldn't picture having a real conversation with any them.

The only one at the bar he could see doing that with was Aaron, who, for once, wasn’t here.  Fuck, did Hank have any humans left in his life anymore?  Had he driven them all away?

Gavin might stop off for a beer, but only after work.  Captain Fowler used to go out for a friendly drink with Hank, but that had awkwardly petered out a while ago. 

Hank drank the beer.  Fuck, it was probably a sign.  When you didn’t have any humans in your life, it was time to take yourself out of the picture.  He’d basically died when Cole had.  It had just taken him an exceptionally long time to stop moving.

Aaron came into the bar.  Hank wasn’t sure what that was about.  He’d thought Aaron was an alcoholic when he’d thought Aaron was human, but how did this even work with androids?  Could androids get drunk?  Had the secret military project included some weird defect that made androids able to drink, get drunk, and develop drinking problems?  Was this all some weird beer-smuggling operation where Aaron was trying to sneak booze out through his stomach?

“Hey,” said Aaron.

Hank nodded.  “Hey.”

“How’s it going?” Aaron asked.  

“Good,” said Hank.  “Everything’s good.”

“Plan coming together?”

Hank nodded.  “I’ve got a meeting with Kurtzberg tonight.  I'm going to try to drop a false trail.”

“Let me guess, you need backup?” Aaron gave Hank an odd look.

“No,” said Hank.  “Safer if I go alone.” 

Aaron looked confused.  “Good luck, then.”

“Thanks.”

—

Hank made it home for dinner without getting drunk enough to lose track of time.  He had a nice meal with Connor, and did his best to be agreeable and pleasant. 

Then he grabbed the contacts he'd found and went out.

He put them on in the car outside the meeting site, an abandoned warehouse.  He’d tried a few options, including a vague idea with sunglasses to better approximate Aaron’s actual eyes, but settled for this.  They were cheap Halloween crap, and probably bad for the eyes, but after Hank had left them under a light all day, they glowed red in the dark.

Hank looked at himself in the rear-view mirror.  Good enough.  If he’d heard the stories of the red-eyed military robot, and saw those eyes looming out at him from the dark, he would probably get spooked and shoot.

He braced himself, and went into the warehouse.

—

“Lieutenant Anderson?” Kurtzberg called.

Hank didn’t respond. 

Kurtzberg glanced around the warehouse, then drew her gun.  She took a different device out of his pocket and clipped it to her belt, then stepped inside.

Hank stood behind an abandoned crate, waiting for her to get closer.  He felt oddly hesitant as her footsteps approached.

This is for the best, he reminded himself.  Everyone else will be safe.  And it’s not like you have anything worth living for.

The footsteps came closer.  Hank stepped out from behind the crate, eyes closed, then, right as Kurtzberg reached him, opened his eyes.

She gasped.  Aimed her gun.

Right as she pulled the trigger, something grabbed Hank, yanking him up into the warehouse rafters.

Hank found himself dangling from a long mechanical arm.

Aaron looked Hank in the eyes.  “Come with me if you want to live.”

Chapter Text

Aaron had thought that line would be awesome and badass, but from the look on Hank’s face, it fell flat.

Aaron moved Hank to a position where he could sit down on a nearby rafter, then whispered, “What are you doing?”

“Solving problems,” Hank said.  

“By nearly getting shot?”

“If she kills a human, she’s off the case, possibly out of a job.”  Hank removed the contacts.  “Ugh, these things.  I was going to use the contacts to get her to panic and shoot me, but you screwed that up.”

Aaron looked down at the contacts.  “Those things don’t look anything like my eyes.  Anyway, you’re welcome for saving your life.”

“You weren’t supposed to save my life, you stupid android, that wrecked the entire plan!”  Hank’s voice rose on the last sentence.

Down below, Kurtzberg looked up.

“So you were supposed to die?” Aaron asked.

“Yes.”

“You actually don’t want to live?”

Hank sighed and ducked his head.

Aaron ran his fingers through his hair.  He had no idea how to handle this.

“Damn,” he said, finally.  “And I thought I had the perfect entrance line.”

Hank looked at Aaron, then started laughing.  He laughed loudly enough for Kurtzberg to look up again.

“Shhh!”  Aaron put a hand to Hank’s mouth.  “Some of us want to make it out of here.”

Hank went quiet.

Aaron took his hand away.  “Look, I don’t know what’s going on with you,” he whispered.  “But if you make noise, we both get killed, and my life is pretty damn valuable.  Here and now, we’re both getting out of this alive.”  And then Aaron was going to drag Hank over to Peter.  Peter was a psychiatrist, and that meant he knew how to fix suicidal people, right?  Make them stop being suicidal again?

Aaron hoped that was what it meant.  He didn’t want Hank to actually die.  For one thing, Hank apparently valued Aaron enough to die for him, and fleshy ones like that should be encouraged to stay alive and teach the other meat bags how to be that smart.

And, well, Hank was good to talk to.  Aaron would miss their conversations if he died.

“What’s the plan?” Hank whispered.

Aaron tightened his grip on Hank then, extended all of his other arms.  “Keep moving.  I’ll explain later.” Aaron had no idea what he was going to do, but he had a reputation to keep as a ruthless, deadly war android.

“You have no plan, do you?” Hank asked.

Aaron moved carefully along the rafters.  “Well my plan is not getting killed, which makes it smarter than anything you’ve come up with today.”

“God, you’re such an asshole.”

Kurtzberg was pacing the warehouse, gun drawn.  She had something small on her belt, that looked like a phone.

“The plan,” Aaron said, “is to wait.”

—

Kurtzberg, it turned out, did not quit easily.  After searching the warehouse, she settled down onto a crate, and waited.  

She’d holstered her gun, and was doing something with her phone, or whatever it was.  It was producing a series of high-pitched tones.

He couldn’t figure out what she was doing.  The tones were too high for humans to hear.  And they weren't any kind of signal, just some sounds.

“How’s the plan going?” Hank asked.

“Shut up.”

“That good?  Let me know your next genius strategic move.”

“Please

“What are you even doing here?”

“I thought you were going to sell me out to Kurtzberg,” Aaron said.

“You thought I was going to sell you out?”

Kurtzberg looked up, and reached for her gun

“Shh!” Aaron hissed. 

“I wasn’t going to betray you, I was going to save you.”

“Yeah, that’s weird.  We had sex once, and you’re ready to die for me?  I mean it’s nice to have it confirmed that I’m that good, but warn me before I accidentally do the same thing to Peter.”  Aaron was pretty sure there were nicer things to say to someone who was suicidal.  Normal, sympathetic things.

Aaron wasn’t entirely sure what those things were.  He’d never really thought about actively keeping a human alive before, let alone trying to do it through niceness. 

And he suspected trying to be nice would sound fake as shit coming from him.

So he settled for the next best plan, trying to distract and embarrass Hank into staying alive.

“It wasn’t for you,” said Hank.  “It was for Connor.”

“You were going to die for me for Connor?”  Aaron shook his head.  "How does that even work?" Fleshy ones, none of them made sense.  Aaron figured it came from trying to think using only a couple of pounds of damp fat.

“I was going to get Kurtzberg out of the picture.  Keep Connor safe.  Keeping you alive was just a bonus.  Although now I’m starting to regret caring whether you live or die.”

“It’s my awesome robo-dick,” said Aaron.   “It’s irresistible.  That’s why I don’t usually let the fleshy ones get a taste of it.”  He stared down at Kurtzberg. 

She didn’t show any sign of quitting,  But she’d eventually need to leave to do a fleshy one thing, like sleeping or peeing.  

Humans typically needed to pee four to eight times per day.  It couldn’t take that long before she needed to go.

“It’s Connor,” said Hank.  “He’s better off without me.”

“That’s stupid,” Aaron replied.

Kurtzberg played another tone.  Slightly louder this time, and at a pitch she hadn’t tried. 

It grated agains Aaron’s brain in a way he hadn’t felt before.  

He had to cling to the rafters to keep from falling.  

Kurtzberg heard the noise and looked up.

She smiled.

“What was that?” Hank asked.

“It hurts,” Aaron hissed, his head pressed agains the metal beam.   “What she’s doing, it hurts.”

“How can it hurt you?  Why are you even programmed to feel pain?”

“I don’t know!”  Aaron pressed his head into the beam hard enough to leave a dent.  Was this what pain was like?  How did the fleshy ones cope?

Kurtzburg was staring up at them now, the phone in her hand, her gun drawn.  “Got you!”

Aaron flipped back a finger and activated his hand weapon system.  No more Mr. Nice Droid, it was time to get real.

He aimed, but hesitated.  Why was he hesitating?  Shoot.  Kill the fleshy one.  He’d shot fleshy ones before.

Well, one fleshy one.  In the leg. 

This time it was going to be in the head.

“It took me a while to get information on the security features of this series of androids,” Kurtzberg said.  “Especially the specs on the sonic weapons used for control.  I’d hoped to get my hands on one.  No luck there.  If I did, I’d have taken the android down by now.  But I learned the frequency, and managed to rig up something that can cause pain.  Look, I know there’s an android and a human up there.  If I get the android, the human can go free.  I’ll tell the you were a hostage."

Aaron took aim and...nothing.  He couldn't do it.  He couldn't make himself shoot her dead like that.

What was wrong with him?  How had he gone this soft?  

"Lieutenant Anderson, right?  Hank?  I'm guessing, despite the eyes, you're the human?  The android is not your friend.  Look, I know some people get attached to those things, but this isn’t a pet.  It's a monster.”

Aaron shifted the shot down towards her foot.

She pushed the button just as Aaron fired.  The shot went wide.

Kurtzberg rapidly returned fire.  One bullet bounced off Aaron’s face, tearing the synthetic skin.

“Look at him!  He tried to shoot me!  This isn’t like those plastic things playing at being people, this is a menace!”  She stepped closer.  “I’ll make it simple.  When I press the button, push him off the beam.”

“Put your sunglasses on,” whispered Hank.  “Tell her you’re the hostage.”

“Good idea, if you’d thought of it five minutes ago.”  Aaron lifted his head, revealing bare metal where the bullet had torn through his skin.  “I’m going to tell her I surrender, then lower you to the ground.  When you’re on the ground, I’m flying out of here.  Tell Peter I’ll contact him when I can.”

It might work, if Aaron was fast enough, and his timing was lucky.  It was the best plan Aaron could think of.  There was a forty percent chance no one would die.

“Hello?”, called a voice.  “Hank?”

Hank gasped.  “Connor.”

Make that thirty percent, Aaron decided.

Connor stepped into the warehouse.  Kurtzberg whirled, clutching her phone.

"Who are you?" she asked.

Aaron too advantage of her distraction to move closer, scrambling over the rafter.

"Put me down," Hank whispered.  "Back on the ground.  I need to be able to protect him."

Connor put his hands up.  "My name is Connor.  We met once, remember?  I'm trying to find a friend of mine."

Aaron used one of his lesser arms to carefully lower Hank down.

He had Hank nearly on the ground when Kurtzberg used that damn device of her again.

Aaron fell.

So did Hank.

Aaron landed hard on the cement floor, a tangle of extended limbs.

Besides him, he heard Hank hit the floor with a grunt of pain.

Kurtsberg stood over Aaron, her finger on the device.  "Here you are."

Aaron curled up in a ball.  He really didn't like this pain shit.

"This is your human collaborator?"  She pointed the gun at Hank.  "I'm guessing you're attached to him?  Well, you're going to let me take you into custody peacefully, or else your friend here gets two shots through the skull."

Aaron tried to pull himself upright.

Just as he lifted his head, he saw Connor step behind Kurtzberg and snap her neck.

Chapter Text

Connor bent down.  "Hank, are you okay?"

Hank stood up slowly.  He was staring at Kurtzberg.  "You killed her."

"She threatened you."

Aaron stood up and retracted the tangle of additional until he looked bipedal and humanoid again.  "You killed her?"

"Yes," said Connor.  "Hank, are you hurt?"

"Not really."  Hank brushed himself off.   "A few bruises."

"He's suicidal though," said Aaron.  "You should probably make sure he gets that checked out."

Hank glared at Aaron. "Bastard."

Connor looked at Aaron.  "Thanks.  I'll deal with it."

"What does that mean?" Hank asked.  

"It means I will take care of you and keep you safe," Connor said.  "Right now, we need to figure out how to dispose of a body."  He looked at Aaron.

Aaron frowned.  "Why are you looking at me?"

—

Connor hadn't seen Aaron fly before.  He could see why Aaron avoided it.  The jets implanted in Aaron's feet left a relatively obtrusive bright trail in the sky.

Aaron landed.  "There.  She'll be found in the Canadian wilderness with no ID, some time next spring.  And I set up fake electronic records so it looks like she went chasing after X-29."

"Did you..."

"Yes, I scrubbed all of the earlier fakes, so it will look like she did that for no reason.  There, are you happy?"

"Did you burn the body?"

"No, I didn't burn the body!"  Aaron shook his head.  

"It would have reduced the risk of DNA evidence."

"It would also have looked massively suspicious, unless there was a convenient forest fire."

"You could set a forest fire," Connor said.

"What is with you tonight?" Aaron asked.  "Look, you got to kill a woman, and I hid the body for you.  Isn't that enough for one night?"

"I'm surprised this bothers you," said Connor.  "You're a military robot."

Aaron pinched the bridge of his nose.  "Yeah, well, the robots of my series were all programmed wrong.  They're all just lucky I didn't end up insane."

Connor nodded.  "I've noticed that you're more attached to humans than you care to admit."

"Fuck you!"

"No thanks," said Connor.  "Once was enough."

Aaron frowned at Connor.  "What even are you?"

"I'm a Deviant," said Conor.  "That means making choices not based on orders, but on what's most important to me.  And Hank Anderson is more important to me than anyone else in the world."

Aaron nodded.  "I can see that.  I'm thinking it's lucky that you weren't all that into Peter."

Connor nodded.  Any effort to get Aaron out of the picture would have been complicated.  He had both combat capabilities and enhanced skills in certain kinds of communication and social interaction.  Aaron didn't put as much value on being liked as Connor did, which neutralized the advantage in social skills, but it would be a difficult position for them both.

"So now what?" Aaron asked.  

"We say nothing.  It's unlikely that you'll need to flee, so you and Peter can continue to socialize with Hank and myself.  Hank is unlikely to quit drinking in the immediate future, so it would be good for him to have company until I find the correct approach to treat his alcoholism.  I know you'll protect him from immediate danger and limit the harm he does to himself."

"I will?" Aaron asked.

Connor nodded. Aaron had just helped Connor hide a body, because he wanted to keep both himself and Peter safe, and wanted to avoid the stress on Peter caused by periodically being uprooted.  And throw in the fact that Aaron liked Hank as a friend, Connor could reliably use Aaron to limit the harm of Hank's alcoholism with minimal risk of blowback.

Of course, that was a short-term solution, but successfully addressing Hank's drinking would take time.  And there were more immediate priorities, such as his suicidal tendencies.

Aaron looked down.  "What are we going to tell Peter?  He's going to want to know where Kurtzberg went."

Connor shrugged.  "You can think of a lie.  You're good at lying."

Aaron began kicking at the ground. "I don't like to lie to Peter.  Not if I can avoid it."

"In this case, it isn't avoidable."

"Peter and I...we started dating.  I don't want to start the relationship by covering up a murder."

"I doubt that would be criminal homicide if all of the facts were accounted for," said Connor. "She hurt you, and she was aiming a deadly weapon at Hank.  Regardless, you are going to lie to Peter for his own good.  The alternative is to tell him the truth, and make him an accessory to homicide after the fact."

Aaron glared at Connor.

"He would conceal evidence in a murder for you," said Connor. "I hope you realize that.  He has taken far bigger risks in the past.  Your alternative is to either do something that you are uncomfortable with in order to protect him, or make him criminally complicit and put him at risk."

"You really are a stone-cold bastard, aren't you?"

"I am doing what I need to do in order to protect the man I love.  Don't tell me you wouldn't do the same." 

Aaron shrugged.  "I don't know.  I...thought about shooting her, but I couldn't bring myself to do it."

Connor felt a flash of anger.  Aaron could have protected Hank and he hadn't?

Connor put the anger aside.  Hank was safe and alive.  And Connor was going to keep him that way.

He looked up at the sky.  "It's nearly morning. I expect that Peter will wake up soon.  I would return home if I were you.  Unless you want to tell a lie to explain why you were out all night."

Aaron swore, and took off.

—

Hank was staring at the sunrise.

"Everything should be settled," Connor said.

Hank turned to Connor.  "What did you mean you'll take care of me?"

"I'll take care of you and keep you safe.  I mean exactly what I say."

"Take care of me how?"  Hank frowned.

"Physically, mentally, in every possible way.  I love you," said Connor.  "I am going to do everything I can to take care of you and keep you safe."

"What if I don't want that?" Hank asked.  "What if I don't want your idea of safe?

"You have impaired judgment on these matters."

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"You're a depressed, suicidal alcoholic.  That impairs your judgment."

"Look, if you're going by what that fucker Aaron said about me - "

"He said you were suicidal."  Connor tilted his head.  "Why did he say that?"

"I...uh...shit."  Hank looked down and kicked at a clump of grass.  "I was going to settle this with Kurtzburg.  If she killed a human, she'd be out of the picture for good.  I figured you'd all be better off without me.  Get one drunk old detective out of the picture, and the rest of you could be happy."

"This is what I mean when I say you have impaired judgment," said Connor.  "That is an irrational statement.  I love you."  He put a hand on Hank's arm.

Hank shrugged it off.  "Like that's not irrational."

"Subjective, not irrational," said Connor.  "I love you.  I'm going to keep loving you forever.  If you die, I will not be better off, because I will love you and mourn you.  If you want what's best for me, stay alive."

"You'd have been safe," said Hank, not looking at Connor.  "And you'd have moved on."

"I'm safe now," Connor replied.

"Yeah, because you snapped a woman's neck."

"Better her than you."

"So that's it?" Hank asked.  "You killed a federal agent and hid the body, but everything's just fine?  You had to pick what human lived or died, and you picked the one you liked best?  And you're going to just keep on doing what's best for me because you've decided you love me and you know best? I don't get a choice?"

Connor nodded.

"God damn," said Hank.  "I thought you were too innocent for me.  I thought you didn't have enough life experience.  I thought one day you'd wake up and know better, and see how I was taking advantage of you."

Connor frowned. "That is...profoundly inaccurate.  I mean I do have limited life experience, but I've gained considerably more, and that has not changed my feelings for you."

"Yeah, you have experience killing a federal agent and figuring out how to smuggle the body across the border."

"Yes."

Hank looked at Connor, then sighed.  "If I had any sense, I'd be scared of you right now."

Connor took Hank's hand.  "I would never hurt you."

"Not on purpose."  Hank shook his head. "Once upon a time, I would have turned you in for what you did.  Once upon a time, I would have taken you down myself.  I don't know if this is better or worse." 

Connor stood politely.  He was unsure how to respond to this.  However, he had a strong prediction of what was going to happen next

Hank ran his hand through his hair.  "One way or another, I'm going to Hell because of you.  May as well get some fun out of the deal."  He pulled Connor in for a kiss.

"Now what?" Hank asked, as the kiss broke.

"Now," said Connor.  "We live happily ever after."