Chapter Text
The days that followed passed in a strange rhythm — soft and slow, like the calm breath before a scream.
The fever had broken. Jinx was still pale, moving carefully, but she was upright now, able to walk the gravel paths that webbed through the forested camp. Her limbs ached, her lungs burned if she moved too fast, but at least she was moving. Each morning, she woke wrapped in thick blankets, the sound of soft android footsteps in the hall and distant wind through the pines.
And each morning, without fail, Connor was there — standing just inside the doorway or outside her shelter, watching.
Always watching.
He didn’t speak much. His face was neutral, calm even, but his eyes followed her like she might vanish again. Like he was afraid to blink and lose her.
She felt it — the tension in him. The way his body went rigid when she coughed or staggered. He hovered like a shadow, protective but distant, as if he didn’t know what to say anymore.
Jinx didn’t push him.
Not yet.
She found unexpected comfort in the presence of Alice, the little girl android who seemed fascinated by everything she did. Alice would bring her things she’d found — a handful of pinecones, a lopsided carved figure someone had whittled, or a tattered storybook with dog-eared pages.
“This one’s my favorite,” Alice had whispered once, curling beside Jinx on the makeshift cot. “It’s about someone who gets lost but still finds her way.”
They would sit together and read aloud by candlelight. The little voice soothed something deep in Jinx’s chest — a reminder that not everything was broken in this world.
Sometimes Kara would join them. The maternal android had a quiet grace about her, the kind Jinx hadn’t realized she’d needed until now. They didn’t speak much at first, but one afternoon as Alice napped, Kara looked at her with knowing eyes.
“You’re worried about him,” she said softly.
Jinx didn’t answer, just looked away toward the door — where, across the hall, Connor was speaking with Josh, his arms folded tightly.
“He won’t talk to me,” Jinx murmured. “He’s there but... he’s not.”
Kara nodded slowly. “We all carry someone who saved us, you know. Sometimes we forget they need saving too.”
That made Jinx pause.
She looked again — really looked — at Connor. The lines in his face. The weight in his shoulders. The unspoken pain behind his silence.
Her resolve sharpened. She wasn’t just going to sit here and wait anymore.
Still, something gnawed at her. Connor was always busy — moving between Josh, Luther, the network of other androids who’d started working with purpose. They were planning something . Big.
And no one would tell her what.
Not Kara, not Luther, not even Hank — who’d taken to watching her like a protective older father.
She cornered him once, when he brought her a canteen and a few protein bars.
“Hank. What’s going on?” she asked.
He sighed, rubbing his face. “Look, kid... I think you deserve the truth. But it’s not mine to give. Connor’ll tell you. He just needs time.”
“Time?” she echoed. “We’re fugitives, Hank. Time’s exactly what we don’t have.”
He didn’t argue. Just squeezed her shoulder gently and walked away.
Despite the weight hanging in the air, the other androids at camp grew fond of her — fascinated, maybe even amused by the soft, messy human who seemed permanently attached to the infamous RK800.
Some asked questions. Most were kind.
“How’d you meet him?” one asked.
“Did you trust him right away?” another.
“No,” she admitted. “Took me a while. But he trusted me first. That counts for something.”
They liked that answer.
But still, every night, when the lights dimmed and the fires outside crackled low, Jinx would look across the room — at Connor, always standing near the hallway, always quiet — and wonder if the next morning he’d be gone.
She didn’t know it yet, but Connor was wrestling with something bigger than guilt.
He was preparing to make a choice.
* * * *
The dirt crunched beneath her boots. Jinx wrapped her cardigan around herself as she made her way toward the central part of the bunker. Her muscles still ached. Her fever had passed, but the heaviness in her chest hadn’t.
She saw Josh speaking to a group of androids near the old supply shelter — Luther, the android who’d once carried Alice across half the country, stood at his side, arms folded. From a distance, it looked official. Coordinated. Strategic.
And it only made her angrier.
She wasn’t going to be sidelined anymore.
“Josh,” she called out.
He looked up.
The androids turned.
Luther tilted his head slightly but didn’t intervene.
Jinx stepped forward until she was in front of them, her eyes locked on Josh.
“I want to know what the hell you’re planning with Connor,” she said plainly.
Josh blinked — not surprised, but cautious. “It’s not my place to—”
“No,” she snapped. “Don’t give me that. I’ve nearly died for him. I’ve watched him break down piece by piece, and now he’s walking around this place like a ghost while all of you whisper behind his back. I think I deserve to know.”
Josh was quiet for a moment.
Then: “You’re right.”
He dismissed the others with a nod. They left, casting curious glances over their shoulders as they went.
When it was just the two of them, Josh folded his arms. “We’re planning a strike. Not just some protest or signal burst — something permanent. A coordinated attack on what remains of the command structure overseeing android persecution. The real power behind the bounty system. The blacksite no one admits exists.”
“Where?” Jinx asked.
Josh hesitated. “Detroit.”
Her heart sank. “You want to go back ?”
“That’s where the pulse originates. The tracking systems, the reprogramming signals… everything. We end that, we free what’s left of our people. For good.”
Jinx shook her head. “And Connor’s supposed to lead that?”
“He’s the only one who can,” Josh said quietly. “They fear him. He knows their systems. Their blind spots. And he used to be one of them.”
She swallowed. “You don’t understand. He’s not ready for this. He’s barely holding it together—”
“I know,” Josh interrupted. “I know . I see it too. But this isn’t about readiness. It’s about necessity.”
Jinx’s voice dropped. “You’re asking him to sacrifice himself.”
Josh’s jaw tightened. “I’m asking him to choose . The same way he chose to help us once before. We didn’t survive this long because we waited for the perfect moment. We acted when it mattered.”
She clenched her fists, feeling her pulse roar in her ears.
“You weren’t there when he nearly strangled me to death because of what they did to him,” she whispered. “You weren’t there when I begged him to come back. And you weren’t there when I watched him fall apart in silence, night after night.”
Josh’s expression softened. “But you were. And he’s still standing because of it.”
They stood in silence.
Then Josh added, gently, “If you want to protect him, then don’t pull him back into hiding. Remind him what he’s fighting for.”
* * * *
The bunker slept.
Dim yellow bulbs hummed quietly overhead, casting long shadows against the cold concrete walls. Doors remained shut, and most of the androids had powered down for the night, leaving the corridors in an eerie stillness. Outside, snow fell gently, its presence visible only through narrow slits of reinforced glass set high in the walls — like the outside world was a dream the underground had long forgotten.
Jinx padded softly through the corridor in her boots and a borrowed cardigan several sizes too big. She didn’t know where she was going — not really. Her body moved before her thoughts could form. She turned corner after corner on instinct alone, like something inside her already knew where he would be.
The air turned colder the farther she went. The silence deeper.
She found him in a far-off wing of the bunker, past storage units and supply lockers that no one used. He stood in front of a narrow window, back to her, framed by pale moonlight leaking in through the trees beyond. His posture was still, too still — hands buried in the pockets of his coat, head slightly tilted as though lost in a world far away.
His LED glowed faint yellow. Dim. Faint.
Jinx stayed in the doorway for a moment, heart tight in her chest.
“You’re hard to find,” she said softly.
Connor didn’t move. Didn’t turn. But she knew he heard her.
She stepped closer, slow and careful. Her boots echoed faintly on the floor. “Josh told me what you’re planning,” she added.
Nothing.
She stopped a few feet behind him. “You’re really going back to Detroit, aren’t you?”
He let the silence hang for several long seconds before finally speaking, voice quiet and distant.
“There’s a command center hidden beneath the city. They think it’s where the government’s running its operations. The raids. The bounty system. Everything.”
“So?” she said, sharper than she intended. “Let them rot in their underground tower.”
Connor turned his head slightly — not enough to look at her, but enough that she could see part of his face. His expression was empty.
“They won’t rot. Not unless someone makes them.”
Her breath hitched, white fog curling from her lips in the cold of the corridor.
“You’re not just some weapon,” Jinx said, her voice cracking at the edges. “You’re not just efficient. You’re… you.”
Connor’s shoulders twitched slightly, but he still didn’t meet her gaze.
“You have a choice, Connor. You can walk away. We can still find somewhere safe. Start over. Together.”
He inhaled slowly, then looked down — not at her, but somewhere inward, like searching for words in a place already burned clean.
“Markus died for this,” he said, quiet but firm. “North. Dozens more. They believed in something. Something bigger than survival.”
She shook her head and stepped in closer, standing directly in front of him now. Her hands gently touched his arms as she forced his eyes to meet hers.
“I don’t care about Markus,” she whispered. “I care about you.”
He blinked. His LED glowed amber.
“I don’t want a symbol. I don’t want a martyr. I want the man who carried me through the snow like I was worth saving. The man who holds my hand when I’m sick. That’s who I’m fighting for.”
Connor’s jaw tightened, and something flickered in his eyes — emotion, raw and barely restrained. He stared at her like she was a memory he didn’t want to lose. The breath he released was shaky, mechanical at the edges.
“I don’t know if I can be that man anymore,” he murmured.
Jinx stared at him — the way his face remained composed, but his LED betrayed the war happening behind his eyes. Yellow. Red. Stillness. He was faltering. Breaking.
“Connor…” she whispered. “Please.”
He didn’t look at her right away. His gaze dropped to the floor, hands clenched at his sides.
“I want to stay,” he said finally, his voice low and soft like it might crack under pressure. “I do.”
There was a long beat. Too long.
“But I can’t disappear. Not when there’s still something I can do.”
Jinx’s breath caught like she’d been punched. She stepped closer, emotion rising in her chest, tightening her throat. Her voice shook — louder now, tinged with anger, fear, love all tangled into one.
“They’ll kill you,” she said, nearly shouting. “Don’t you get it? You won’t survive this.”
Connor looked up at her then, and for the first time in days, his eyes truly met hers — open, unguarded.
“There’s a high probability,” he admitted calmly.
Then, with a soft inhale, he added:
“But statistically speaking… there’s always a chance for unlikely events to take place.”
The words sting, but they were so him — logical, precise, and full of heart beneath the algorithm.
Silence stretched between them — but it wasn’t empty. It pulsed with everything left unsaid, all the things they were too afraid to admit in the daylight.
Jinx stepped closer, until their breath mingled.
Her hands found his jacket, clinging tightly, as if she could keep him grounded just by holding on. “Am I not worth staying for?”
Connor didn’t answer at first. His LED blinked yellow — a restless pulse of uncertainty, emotion, and quiet panic. His eyes searched hers, and for a second, he looked utterly lost. Like every calculation in his system was failing him. Like every probability ended in her walking away — or worse.
“You’re everything I never expected to find,” he finally whispered, the words barely holding together. “And everything I’m afraid to lose.”
The silence between them stretched, taut as a wire. She could feel his breath hitch, could see the war waging behind his eyes. He was trying to be logical — to protect her by letting her go. But logic had no place here. Not in this.
Her lips parted, but no words came. Only breath. Only trembling need.
Her heart pounded. She could feel it echo in her throat, in her fingertips, in the space between them that was rapidly disappearing.
Connor’s hand lifted, trembling slightly, brushing a knuckle along her jaw with a gentleness that nearly undid her. “I didn’t know I could feel this,” he said, voice cracking around the edges. “Not really. Not until you.”
And that was all it took.
She surged forward, kissing him like it might stop time.
Desperation. Love. Fear. It all lived in that kiss — not delicate or perfect, but fierce and full of need.
Connor kissed her back like it was the last thing he’d ever do.
Their bodies pressed together, the space between them vanishing like it had never existed. Connor’s hands found her waist — tentative at first, like he still wasn’t sure he had the right. But when she didn’t pull away, when her fingers fisted the fabric of his shirt and pulled him closer, something in him gave way.
He deepened the kiss, and the floodgates opened.
Jinx’s back hit the wall with a soft thud, the chill of the concrete seeping through her cardigan, but she didn’t care. Not with his mouth moving hungrily against hers, not with his hand sliding up her spine, anchoring her as if afraid she’d disappear.
He tasted like longing — like everything she had been aching for through sleepless nights and whispered fears.
His voice was a rough whisper against her lips between kisses.
“I missed you so much.”
She answered by dragging his mouth back to hers.
It wasn’t just heat. It was heartbreak, too — every motion tinged with urgency, with the knowledge that this could be the last time. That they might not have more nights, more stolen moments.
Her hands found the hem of his shirt, lifting it just enough to touch skin. He froze for a second, not out of hesitation but out of awe — like he couldn’t believe she still wanted him after everything.
“Jinx…” he breathed her name like a prayer. Like a warning.
But she silenced him with a soft, “Don’t talk.”
Connor’s jacket hit the floor without a second thought, his hands slipping under her thighs to lift her effortlessly. Jinx let out a soft gasp, arms wrapping around his neck as he carried her the short distance to the old wooden table tucked in the corner of the room. It groaned beneath her weight as he set her down, but neither of them noticed. Or cared.
His mouth found hers again in a fevered kiss, desperate and reverent. A stack of worn-out datapads tumbled with a crash, scattering across the floor. Connor didn’t flinch.
His hands slid under her cardigan, pushing it from her shoulders with slow, aching care — like she was made of something sacred. She was already trembling, both from cold and from the way he was looking at her: like she was the most important thing he’d ever known.
He unfastened the button of her jeans, easing them down her hips. Her head fell back with a sharp gasp, the sound echoing off the cold concrete walls.
And that’s when Connor heard it.
A noise — faint, but close.
He froze. In one fluid motion, he straightened and covered her mouth with his hand before another sound could escape.
“Shh,” he whispered, eyes scanning the darkness. His voice was steady, but his body had gone still — alert.
They didn’t move. Barely breathed.
Footsteps echoed. Voices, distant but growing closer.
Connor’s hand remained over her mouth — not because she needed the reminder, but because the moment demanded it. Jinx wouldn’t have made a sound now if her life depended on it.
The voices drifted past. Fading. Gone.
Only then did the tension leave his shoulders. He exhaled softly, and when their eyes met, something broke between them — a breathless laugh, quiet and reckless, escaping both their lips. For a flicker of a second, it was like the war outside didn’t exist.
His hand slid from her mouth to her cheek, thumb tracing the curve of her smile.
She caught it with her lips, kissed it softly… then drew it into her mouth, sucking just enough to make him twitch.
His pupils dilated. His jaw flexed.
“Fuck,” he whispered — not a curse, not quite. It was reverent.
When he kissed her again, she finally understood why.
She could taste it — the desperation, the grief, the sheer weight of everything they’d run from and everything they still fought for, all wrapped in the way his tongue moved against hers. It wasn’t rough, but it was unrelenting. A vow made in silence.
She was breathless when he pulled away, his fingers slipping through the buttons of her blouse with a kind of reverent urgency. The cold air kissed her skin, but she didn’t shiver — not with the way he looked at her, like nothing else existed.
He leaned in, lips brushing the shell of her ear. “What if they hear us?”
A thrill shivered through her — part fear, part defiance.
“Then let them.”
His mouth crashed into hers again — hungry, reverent, almost aching.
Her hands roamed down the line of his chest, tugging insistently at his shirt. He didn’t hesitate, peeling it off and tossing it aside without taking his eyes off her.
Her legs wrapped tighter around his hips, drawing him in. He moved with a low groan, his lips grazing her neck as he pressed against her — and even through the thin fabric between them, she could feel him. Hot. Tense. Needing her as much as she needed him.
She rolled her hips against him, her breath hitching at the friction. Connor groaned softly, his hand sliding down her spine to anchor her closer.
“Jinx,” he whispered against her throat, voice rough. “We should stop.”
Her laugh was quiet — not mocking, but laced with sadness. “We can’t. Not yet. Not when we don’t know what tomorrow will bring.”
He lifted his head to look at her. The conflict in his eyes was plain, the weight of everything pressing down on him. “Jinx…”
She kissed him before he could say anything else — hard, desperate. Before reason could take hold. Before he could remember all the reasons this was dangerous, reckless, wrong.
His hands returned to her hips, sliding up the curve of her waist. She gasped into his mouth, arching up to meet him.
He kissed her like a man lost, like she was the only thing tethering him to something real.
His hand moved between them, fingers curling around the waistband of her underwear. He hesitated just long enough to look up — asking silently.
Jinx met his eyes and kissed him deeper, her hand sliding down to cover his. Guiding him.
That was all he needed.
His fingers slipped beneath the fabric, slow and deliberate, exploring her with reverent precision. She was already wet for him, already aching.
“Connor…” His name broke from her lips in a whisper, a prayer, a plea.
He slipped one finger inside her — then another. She clung to him, her nails digging into his shoulders as he stroked her from within, every movement purposeful. He touched her like he already knew her rhythm, knew what would unravel her.
Her hips began to move, grinding down against his hand, chasing the pressure, the heat. He was panting softly against her mouth, his own hips shifting forward, grinding against her thigh in time with his strokes.
She was close — already spiraling — but it wasn’t enough. She needed more. Needed him .
Her hand slid down between them, fumbling with the button of his jeans. He groaned as she palmed him, hot and hard through the denim. She stroked him once, slow and deliberate, and felt the tremor ripple through him.
“Jinx… fuck…”
She silenced him with another kiss, deep and breathless, while her other hand tugged down his zipper. His fingers curled inside her one last time, pulling a whimper from her throat — then he withdrew with a low curse, shuddering from restraint.
He didn’t bother removing his jeans completely — just pushed them low enough to free himself. She reached for him, but he caught her wrist, gently pinning it beside her as he positioned himself.
With a single, fluid motion, he sank into her, burying himself to the hilt.
Jinx cried out, her other hand flying to his shoulder, legs tightening around his waist like she couldn’t stand to let go. He stilled, forehead pressed to hers, his breath uneven.
“You okay?” he whispered.
She nodded, barely able to speak, her walls clenching around him. He hissed at the sensation, his hips twitching in restraint. “Careful,” he breathed. “Please.”
She answered with a kiss, open-mouthed and desperate, and that was all he needed.
His hips began to move — slow, deliberate strokes, deep enough to leave them both gasping. He wasn’t rough, but there was nothing soft in it either. He fucked her like he was memorizing her, like he never wanted to forget the feel of her.
She clung to him, her nails trailing down his back as her voice caught on each breath. His rhythm built — harder, deeper — his mouth finding the curve of her neck, whispering words she couldn’t fully make out.
It didn’t matter. All she could hear was the ragged sound of their breathing, the creak of the table beneath them, and the pounding of her own heart.
He pulled back to look at her, his eyes nearly black with want. “Fuck, I missed this,” he said, voice low and wrecked.
Her orgasm hit her like a tidal wave, crashing over her and dragging her under. Her cry of release filled the cold room, her body arching against him, pulling him deeper. He groaned — one last thrust, then another — before shuddering with his own release, collapsing against her with a whispered, “Oh fuck, Jinx…”
They stayed like that, bodies tangled and trembling, until the silence settled again.
His forehead rested against hers as they caught their breath, eyes locked — and for once, the future didn’t matter. Only this. Only now.
“Don’t leave,” she whispered.
She hadn’t meant to say it. Hadn’t meant to beg. But the words slipped out anyway, quiet and raw in the space between them. “Stay with me.”
She waited for the inevitable — for him to pull away, to remind her why he couldn’t. Why he shouldn’t.
But he didn’t speak. He only looked at her, eyes conflicted, jaw tight. And then he reached for his shirt.
Jinx stayed perched on the table, watching as he dressed in silence. His shoulders were rigid, his movements rushed — like if he didn’t hurry, he might change his mind. She didn’t stop him. Didn’t say another word. She just sat there, swallowing back the burn rising behind her eyes.
Because deep down, she already knew what his answer would be.
He would choose his people. He would choose the fight. And she wouldn’t stop him. Even if she wanted to. Even if it broke her.
So she stayed quiet. Let him go with dignity. Let him walk away without making it harder than it already was.
It was the right thing. The only thing.
Even if it shattered her.
She had always known this couldn’t last — that someone like him wasn’t meant to be hers forever. But part of her had still hoped. Hoped that maybe, somehow, they could survive this. That love could be enough.
And now, as she watched put on his shirt, she knew — this was the last time. The last time she’d feel his skin against hers. The last time she’d kiss him without the shadow of war between them. The last moment where they were just two people, not fugitives, not soldiers.
Connor’s eyes found hers when he finished dressing — an apology in the look, and something quieter too. A goodbye.
“This is it, then?” she said softly.
He opened his mouth. Closed it. “Jinx… I…”
He didn’t finish. He didn’t have to.
She gave a small, sad smile and slid off the table, gathering her clothes from the floor. “It’s okay. I get it.”
She paused, hesitating just long enough to meet his gaze one more time. “But promise me something. Try to come back. Try to make it out in one piece. Just… try.”
It was foolish. She knew he couldn’t promise her that — not where he was going.
But she had to ask anyway.
Connor’s expression shifted. Something vulnerable flickered in his eyes — the part of him that wasn’t code or mission parameters, the part that wanted, so badly, to be hers.
“I’ll try,” he said quietly.
It wasn’t enough.
But it was all she needed to hear.