Chapter Text
Precious and fragile things
Need special handling
My God, what have we done to you?
We always tried to share
The tenderest of care
Now look what we have put you through
Depeche Mode, "Precious"
-1-
"I'll wait for you at Chicken Feed," Hank says. "As long as it takes. Until you show up."
"You don't have to do that, Lieutenant," Connor replies at once, but his face lights up and Hank decides he'll wait even if his ass freezes off. Who the hell needs an ass anyway?
Connor doesn't come.
The darkness gives way to a bitterly cold morning. After the night's snowfall, the sun comes out, painting the street in shades of blue and gold.
The city seems dead. Not a single person in sight.
And still, nobody comes.
How is that even possible? Has becoming deviant really taught Connor the most human thing in the world: how to break a promise?
Hank waits, and the feeling that something is wrong keeps growing.
What if something happened? What if CyberLife has come up with yet another trick to stop him?
The phone rings. Fowler again.
Hank doesn't answer. He would've turned the damn thing off, but a small part of him is still hoping Connor will find some way to get in touch.
A police cruiser rolls past, urging civilians to evacuate. Not the first one today.
This time, it stops.
"Sir, you can't stay here. Have you heard about the evacuation order? Civilians..."
"Lieutenant Hank Anderson, DPD," Hank says. "Waiting for my partner. Hell of a night, huh?"
He doesn't have a badge to show them, but it turns out he doesn't need one. They take the bait exactly as he'd expected.
Hank patiently listens to everything they have to say about the army of machines marching straight out of CyberLife and through the streets of Detroit (what is this, some kind of fucking sabotage, did they plan this whole thing), and about androids giving fiery speeches to other androids (fucking androids, what else is there to say).
Everything that fills humanity with this much panic fills him with a fierce sense of triumph. He hasn't felt this good in a long time.
Everything has gone exactly as it should.
So where is Connor? Where the fuck is he?
The officers move on, and Hank realizes there's no point waiting any longer. Time to do something. If the idiot has gotten himself into trouble again, who else is going to get him out if not his partner?
With every breath, every heartbeat, every passing second, his certainty grows. Connor has gotten himself into trouble.
State-of-the-art prototype, for fuck's sake. What else was he supposed to do?
"Yes, he was with us. Then he left. Said he had to meet you. Promised he'd stay in touch."
There's no sign of concern in Markus's voice or demeanor. But then, he isn't human. It would be far more suspicious if he were pretending to worry.
"But right now..." Markus adds after a brief pause. "I can't reach him."
"I think you killed him," Hank says. "In all this chaos, nobody's going to look for him. And there isn't exactly any punishment for that."
"Why would I do that?" Markus asks, sounding genuinely surprised.
"Because he's the deviant hunter and a CyberLife weapon. You used him and got rid of him the second he stopped being useful. Why keep that kind of risk around?"
"That's a bold accusation coming from a human," Markus says, studying him. "Aren't you afraid I'll kill you too?"
"Nope." Hank smirks. "Notice how I came to you while every other human is running away?"
"That kind of loyalty is admirable," Markus says softly, and Hank can't tell whether he's mocking him or being sincere. "A human and an android. Partners. Looking out for each other. I really want to help you, Lieutenant. But I'm not lying. He left."
"Shit," slips out before Hank can stop himself. "Fucking shit!"
Hank had no idea what he'd do if it turned out Markus was responsible. Probably shoot him on the spot. Nothing left to lose.
They'd taken Hank's revolver the moment he walked into the androids' nest, and then Markus had handed it right back. Either he was unbelievably arrogant or unbelievably careless. That kind of god complex was just asking for a bullet.
But the uncertainty is so much worse. What could possibly happen to one state-of-the-art prototype trying to make his way through a fucking city in full-blown panic?
The answer is simple: anything.
The military. The police. Humans. Androids. CyberLife.
Why the fuck did I tell him I'd wait? He was right. There was no need for it. But we're fucking humans. We twist everything into whatever suits us best. We only ever think about ourselves.
"I'll help you find him," Markus says after a moment. "All of us will. Trust me, the android network is far better than any surveillance camera system."
"What's in it for you?" Hank snaps.
Markus looks at him in surprise again.
"He's one of us. We don't abandon our own."
Or maybe you just want to keep tabs on me and make damn sure I don't find him, Hank thinks.
But he doesn't have it in him to resist. He desperately needs an ally. Lately, it feels like the ground keeps giving way beneath his feet.
"I told Connor you weren't the enemy. That you're a people fighting for your freedom." He meets Markus's eyes. "I hope that's true."
Markus's smile is barely there.
"So do I."
They search everywhere. They find nothing.
Hank doesn't touch alcohol again. He has to stay sober if he's going to keep running this goddamn investigation.
No traces. It's some fucked-up kind of magic. That sort of thing happens all the time in cheap action movies, but real life always leaves traces. The world doesn't work the way screenwriters want it to. There's always somebody who saw something, heard something. Some loose thread to pull.
But even all the androids running errands for Markus come up empty.
"I know how this sounds, but... what if he doesn't want to be found?" Markus says carefully.
"That sounds really bad," Hank says through clenched teeth.
"Like something a murderer would say to throw you off the trail," Markus nods. "Want to shoot me?"
"You really in that much of a hurry to die?"
"Think about it. There are no traces. If somebody else had been involved, Connor would've made sure to leave us something to find. But there's nothing. Because he chose to disappear."
"You really are in a hurry to die," Hank says. "I can arrange that."
Markus looks at him with sympathy. Hank grits his teeth. He hates being looked at like that.
You know you're not going to shoot me, Lieutenant, drifts back into his mind for some reason, making him feel even worse.
Fuck.
"Fine," Hank says. "Convince me. Why would he do it?"
"You know him better than I do, Lieutenant."
"He was coming to meet me. He wasn't planning to disappear. So what happened while he was with you?"
"I don't know," Markus says carefully. "Nothing comes to mind. Unless..."
"Unless what?"
"Are you sure you'd have noticed if he really wanted to disappear? No matter what he said. Would you have seen what he actually intended? You told me yourself he knows how to adapt..."
"Just... shut up," Hank says hoarsely. "Just shut up."
You don't have to do that, Lieutenant.
Fuck.
"I'll keep looking," he says stubbornly, and Markus nods.
"Of course. I'll keep helping you."
"No. Thanks for everything, Markus. I'll take it from here."
"As you wish." Markus sounds genuinely disappointed. "But I'll stay in touch. If I learn anything, you'll know."
-2-
"That's enough for you tonight, Hank," the bartender says warmly.
Hank snorts.
"Just look at these fucking androids. If you were human, you'd pour me another one and be happy to make the extra cash. You'll bankrupt yourself, Alma, if you keep taking care of your customers like this."
Alma looks him over, and the strange mix of attentiveness and detachment in her eyes instantly reminds Hank of his missing partner.
Again.
Will there ever be a day when every little thing stops dragging him back into the past?
"Your blood pressure's up. So is your heart rate," Alma says. "You've had enough. If you keel over in here, that'll be terrible publicity. Just imagine. Android poisons customers. Total disaster."
"I don't get what a nurse is doing tending bar," Hank grumbles. "It's just cruel."
"You've got to try everything once." Alma smiles. "Including calling it a night while you can still walk out under your own power. How's that for a challenge?"
"Buzzkill." Hank slides off the barstool. "Fine. I'll leave you. Find myself another favorite bartender."
Alma presses a hand to her chest, still smiling.
"You're breaking my heart. Don't leave me. You're good for business."
"I'll think about it," Hank says dramatically, and heads for the door.
October.
Every night is a little colder and a little longer than the last. Perfect weather for thinking about death.
Another year. Another fucking October.
Time just keeps dragging on, with no end in sight.
It's strange that he's still alive. The world's gone completely to shit, and he just keeps moving forward, even though he gave up a long time ago. What is this? Some kind of curse? A higher purpose?
Fuck it all.
The icy air and the fine mist hanging in it sober Hank up fast. It's like he hasn't had a drink at all. Money down the drain. What a fucking night.
He wanders wherever his feet take him, through the nighttime glow. Along the streets of a city that, just like him, keeps getting back up after blows no one should survive.
The streetlights shine with cold indifference. Traffic lights wink at him, along with the headlights of the occasional passing car. Neon signs beckon with promises of a better future.
"Hey, mister." A thin, dark figure pushes away from the wall of a building. "Want a blowjob?"
Hank grimaces.
"Kid, who the fuck taught you pickup lines like that?"
Meanwhile, his heart stumbles in his chest, refusing to settle back into its usual rhythm.
Why, for one second, had he thought this android looked like Connor? They have absolutely nothing in common.
Except maybe the hair.
"So, is that a yes or a no?" the android asks impatiently. His movements are strange, all jerky.
What a fucking mess. This city turns everything into a different flavor of shit.
"So this is what the revolution was for, huh?" Hank asks. "So you could suck people off in alleys? At least you're doing it by choice now, right?"
The android stops twitching. He looks back at Hank, defiant.
"What do you want from me, old man?" he says through clenched teeth. "You want me hauling your trash? Wiping your ass?"
"Sure. As if those were the only two choices," Hank sighs.
"I never asked for any of this," the android snaps. "Go fuck yourself, you fucking human."
"I know," Hank says.
The sad part is, he really does.
The android melts back into the darkness as quickly as he appeared.
Time to call a fucking cab and get the hell out of here. Home. He's done enough walking for one night.
"Please..." The voice comes from farther down the street. "I don't have shit left!"
There's so much desperation in those words that Hank can't help feeling sorry for whoever's speaking.
"Do I know you?" another voice asks coldly, and Hank flinches. He peers into the darkness.
The voices are getting closer.
"I gave you everything. Everything I had!"
"I'm not running a charity."
"Ungrateful bitch!"
"Fuck off."
The ringing in Hank's ears makes the words hard to catch, but he knows that voice.
No.
It can't be.
He imagined it. Alma was right after all. He's had too much to drink.
"Please..."
Now he can see the arguing pair. And he sees the one whose voice sounded so familiar.
But it can't be him. It has to be another copy, just like the one back at CyberLife Tower, the one that managed to pass itself off as Connor.
"Pathetic," the copy snorts. "Out of all the humans I've met, you're definitely the most pathetic."
The man reaches for him, and the copy brushes him aside. The movement is light, almost casual, but the man loses his balance and lands hard on his ass.
"What the fuck is wrong with you, you bitch?" he yells, furious and desperate. "You'll never make it on your own!"
"Oh yeah?" the copy laughs. "Watch me."
He turns and walks toward Hank.
Hank recognizes every movement. Every gesture.
The voice. The silhouette. The face.
It's him.
It can't be him. But it's him.
"Beautiful night, isn't it?" The copy smiles brightly at Hank and bats his eyelashes. "Care for some compa... oh, shit."
"Oh." Hank's throat suddenly goes dry. "Shit."
Hank stares at him.
Connor hasn't changed. Well, of course he hasn't. What a stupid thought.
But he looks good. None of what Hank had been afraid of. Nothing like the androids who've suffered abuse.
And he isn't wrapped in rags. The leather jacket he's wearing looks genuinely expensive.
In return, he gets the same careful look. Connor openly scans him. He's probably just as surprised that Hank is still alive and hasn't fallen apart yet.
They look at each other for a few seconds that stretch into eternity. Then Connor turns around and walks away without a word.
Exactly what you'd expect from an android who'd just tried to pick someone up for the night.
"Hey," Hank calls after him.
"Sorry. You're not my type," Connor says flatly over his shoulder.
Of course.
Hank feels that old competitive streak stirring somewhere in his chest.
Little shit.
"Connor!"
He stops, but doesn't turn around.
"Do we know each other?"
Flawless performance. His voice is utterly indifferent.
"I'm not so sure anymore," Hank says bitterly. "Do I know you?"
Connor looks at him. His mouth twists ever so slightly. He says nothing.
"Who the fuck are you? Get the fuck out of here while you still can." The pathetic asshole stalks toward them. He managed to peel his ass off the sidewalk after all.
Hank doesn't feel the slightest bit sorry for him anymore.
"Keep talking to people like that and I'll shove your teeth down your throat," Connor says before Hank even has a chance to open his mouth.
Well, would you look at that.
Hank never knew Connor could threaten humans. That polite android who'd tried to please every single person he met.
Then again, he'd never known him as a deviant.
Had he ever really known him at all?
"You're defending him?" The asshole rounds on Connor. "What, some fuckbuddy of yours? Figures. While I'm busting my ass, you're..."
"Shut the fuck up, both of you!" Hank barks.
It works. Just not the way he'd expected.
The asshole punches him square in the face.
"Connor... stop! Will you slow the fuck down... for Christ's sake," Hank pants.
Connor doesn't listen. He keeps dragging Hank after him, running like a goddamn greyhound.
And he's laughing the whole time.
Of course he is. He doesn't need to breathe.
Hank has never heard him laugh before.
"The way you clocked that guy!" Connor keeps saying. "Shit, you nailed him! What a punch!"
There's so much pure delight in his voice that Hank can't help laughing too. He has no idea how. His body's probably given up and decided to breathe through his ass.
Now that it's over, it's funny. And embarrassing.
The dumbest fight of his life.
The guy was almost as tall as Hank, but he moved awkwardly. Like he was underwater. Probably high. Hank would've taken him down even if he hadn't been a cop, and even if he didn't have to argue with one very lazy, very stubborn dog every single day.
"Where the hell are you going? Connor!"
"No idea!" Connor calls back cheerfully, finally slowing down. A moment later, he drops to a walk. "But the way you said it! Stay down!"
He bursts out laughing again.
He lets go of Hank, throws his arms wide, and does a strange little twirl. It's clumsy, uncertain. He immediately starts tipping sideways, quickly drops to the ground, and leans back against a fence.
"I'm done," Connor says happily, closing his eyes. "You're on your own from here."
"What's wrong with you?" Hank asks, thrown. He's still trying to catch his breath, but a sudden rush of alarm makes him forget all about it. "Hey, kid... what's going on?"
"Go." Connor gestures vaguely down the street, and the movement strikes Hank as strangely human. Unsteady. Almost drunk. "That was fun. Hank."
"What the hell is wrong?" Hank asks. Then it hits him. "Is something broken? Do you need help?"
"Shhhhhh," Connor says without opening his eyes, smiling all the while. "You're ruining the moment. Just go. Bye-bye."
It's strange to see such absolute bliss on an android's face.
Hank ruffles his hair, then gives his cheek a light pat, but gets no response. He tries to move Connor instead and realizes that dealing with a stubborn dog is a whole lot easier.
Then he pulls out his phone, amazed he somehow didn't lose it in all the chaos, and scrolls to a number he'd never intended to call.
"Markus. I found him."
-3-
Markus is the first major political figure Hank has ever known who'd show up in a cab in the middle of the night. After one goddamn phone call. Wearing sweatpants and a hoodie.
Not a bodyguard in sight.
Still too careless, or just too arrogant? Hank wonders, watching him.
Then again, every android in this fucking city is basically his personal bodyguard. That'd make anyone feel like a god.
"Hi, Connor," Markus says, stopping beside him.
Connor opens his eyes and immediately lights up. It's like someone flipped a switch.
"Bro! You came! You won't believe the shit that went down. One asshole..."
"Fun's over," Markus says, easily hauling him back onto his feet. "Time to go home."
He scoops Connor up by the thighs and carries him toward the waiting car.
Hank watches them in silence. His mind is completely blank. Except for one tiny cop observation: Markus acts so naturally, like this isn't the first time he's dealt with a scene like this. Not the tenth, either.
"I love you!" Connor announces, wrapping his arms around Markus's neck. "You know that?"
"You don't." Markus snorts. "You're high, you social whore. Tomorrow you'll be going for my throat again."
"How about some big, pure love then?"
"And catch something organic from you? No thanks."
"My cleansing system is top-notch!"
"I know. Quit squirming."
Hank opens the car door for Markus and waits in silence while he loads Connor into the back seat.
"Thank you for your help, Lieutenant," Markus says as he straightens up and shuts the door. He studies Hank for a moment and seems to soften. "Everything's going to be fine. Don't worry."
"But this is... some kind of drug?"
"Yeah," Markus says dryly. "A brand-new pain in the ass. Why do our people keep picking up humanity's worst hab..."
"Nah, I'm not going with you!" Connor declares, throwing the door open. "You'll talk my ears off again like last time! Drag me fuck knows where, and lock me up! I..."
He nearly spills out of the car, but Markus catches him.
"Ohhh, fuck... hold still, would you? Why're you all spinning around..." Connor squints at them. "I'm riding with him!"
"Sit down. Absolutely not," Markus says firmly. "The lieutenant doesn't need to deal with your ass too."
"I've got nothing better to do," Hank says with a shrug.
Markus shoots him a reproachful look. Connor, meanwhile, lights up like a Christmas tree.
"I love you, Lieutenant," he breathes happily.
Something shifts in Hank's chest, and for the first time in a very long while, he feels pain again.
Hank starts toward the front seat, but Markus silently points him to the spot beside Connor instead.
Vindictive bastard, Hank thinks.
Connor latches onto him instantly, like he's magnetic. Hank doesn't even get a chance to flinch, let alone protest. Connor is already resting his head on Hank's shoulder, one hand wrapped around his arm.
"I'm gonna pass out in a sec," he announces. "But I'm not going to Jericho. Make sure of that, Lieutenant. See that guy up front? Can't trust him. He's..."
"The one nobody should trust is you, chatterbox," Markus says, punching in the destination. "Who could possibly fall for your social engineering?"
"I almost did," Hank says carefully.
"I love you," Connor informs him again and closes his eyes. "But I'm not going to Jericho."
The taxi pulls smoothly away from the curb.
"And where are you going?" Hank asks.
"With you."
Markus snorts but doesn't comment.
You got yourself into this one, his silence says more clearly than words ever could.
"I'm not..." Hank starts.
"How's Sumo doing? Did CyberLife pay for your broken window?"
Up until that moment, Hank is still clinging to a sliver of hope that this isn't him. Just another duplicate carrying fragments of original's memories.
The hope dies screaming.
"Careful, Lieutenant," Markus says.
"Aw, fuck off," Connor shoots back without any real heat. "I've known Hank longer than you. We made a good team."
Until you disappeared without even saying goodbye, Hank almost says.
At the last second, he clenches his jaw and swallows the words.
"Sumo's doing fine," he says after a moment. "Still lets any random idiot into the house."
Connor's head snaps up so fast it startles Hank.
"Who?" Connor asks sharply, peering into his face.
"Huh?"
"Who exactly is 'any random idiot'?"
"Jesus..." Hank rubs a hand over his face. "I was joking. Who the hell would be coming to my house? Nobody needs anything from me."
"Okay then."
Connor drops his head back onto Hank's shoulder. Hard enough that Hank hisses through his teeth.
Like getting playfully butted by a young bull.
"I like your house," Connor says.
His voice is sleepy now, and hearing it like that feels strange. He's talking more and more slowly, odd, not-quite-human inflections creeping into his words.
"Or... I think I like it. Social module and all that." He falls quiet for a second. "When you like everything, you don't really like anything, right?"
"It's okay," Markus says softly. "It's all over."
"That's such fucking bullsh..." Connor cuts off in the middle of the sentence as if someone has switched him off. Hank glances at him in alarm and finds his eyes closed.
The grip on Hank's elbow hasn't loosened at all.
"There we go," Markus says. "That's him until morning."
"Does this... happen often?"
"More often than I'd like. We'll have to replace his thirium again soon. This shit ruins everything fast. Biocomponents wear out. Thirium thickens."
"You said again."
"Yeah."
"And how long have you... known?"
Markus sighs.
"You think I broke my promise by not telling you I'd found him. But I had my reasons."
Broke your promise? Hank wants to snap. Fucking androids. What do promises have to do with any of this? How the fuck could a machine like you understand what it's like not knowing whether someone's alive or dead?
"What reasons?" Hank forces himself to stay calm. "Classified?"
"And what would you have done? Come running to save him, only for him to disappear again?"
It's a fair point. But breathing is still difficult.
"You can't just leave him like this without help. If you've known for this long, why didn't you..."
"As far as I know, you had quite a history with alcohol," Markus cuts in. "How much help did you accept during that time? How much good did all those heartfelt talks do you?"
"Fuck," is all Hank can manage.
What exactly are you supposed to say to that?
"Sorry, Lieutenant." Markus sighs again. "At least he's where I can see him, and these days he even agrees to talk. Hopefully that continues."
"Are you telling me not to screw this up?"
Hank expects Markus to seem embarrassed. Instead, he lets out a short laugh.
"Exactly. We're here."
"Where the fuck..."
This isn't Jericho. Hank stares in disbelief as he recognizes his own house.
"Something wrong?" Markus asks innocently.
"How do you know where I live?"
Markus just snorts, and Hank immediately realizes what a stupid question that is.
"He'll run off on me tomorrow morning," Markus says. "So why not let him stay here for once? You seemed pretty happy with the idea."
"I wasn't..."
"Don't worry. He's not violent. You've seen him, he loves everybody. The worst he'll do is try to seduce you, and that's perfectly safe. He really does have an excellent cleansing system."
"What?"
"He's stronger than you, so I'd suggest relaxing and enjoying yourself."
"Markus, what the fuck are you..."
"Just kidding," Markus says with obvious satisfaction, and Hank realizes something he's suspected for a long time.
The leader of Jericho's social module is every bit as good as Connor's. Maybe even better.
And he doesn't like humans.
Nor does he make any effort to hide it.
Hank expects getting Connor out of the car to be a struggle. You never know with androids, especially when they're high. Maybe once they freeze in place, they just stay that way until they wake up.
But Connor turns out to be just like a sleeping person, if a little less pliant. He even breathes, or rather imitates breathing, just like someone asleep. His eyes never open.
Markus lifts him into his arms with ease. Hank moves to help, but Markus only glances at him with a smile.
"He's heavier than he looks. You'll throw your back out."
Hank's pride howls in protest, but he doesn't argue.
That's how Connor ends up on Hank's couch. He certainly has a talent for finding the strangest ways to drop by. At least this time the window survives.
Sumo is thrilled to have visitors. Watching him greet Markus, Hank catches himself thinking for the first time that the leader of Jericho is actually a good man.
Even if he is an android.
"Can I ask you something?" Hank says when Markus finally manages to peel himself away from Sumo and heads for the door.
Markus turns back.
"Of course, Lieutenant."
"Call me Hank."
"What would you like to ask, Hank?"
Hank clears his throat.
"You... actually seem to care about him. Aren't you supposed to hate him?"
"Why would I..." Markus frowns. "Ah. You're talking about his past again. The deviant hunter, right?"
"Right."
"I'm not going to hate one of my own because of what humans did to him." A faint note of superiority creeps into Markus's voice. "I'm not human. My mind doesn't work that way."
"Sounds pretty human to me," Hank can't help saying.
Markus sighs.
"Anything else?"
"So what happened, then? Why did he... leave? Do you know?"
"The same thing that happened to all of us," Markus says coldly. "Humanity. We're all learning how to live. There are no right choices. If you want the details, ask him yourself."
"But you'll shoot me if I screw this up, right?" Hank asks with a crooked grin.
Markus smiles back, broad and open.
"I'll come up with something worse. Goodbye, Lieutenant. If anything goes wrong, you know how to reach me."
"Wait. What could go wrong? And how am I supposed to know..."
"Everything will be fine." No, Markus is definitely mocking him. "Nothing to worry about. You've got Sumo. Connor likes dogs."
Still smiling, he disappears. Just a fucking cat out of a fucking fairy tale.
Hank looks doubtfully at Connor, perfect as Snow White herself, pretty enough to have every dwarf in the kingdom lining up beside the couch.
Only now he isn't breathing, and Hank's blood runs cold before he calls himself a fucking idiot. Might as well have checked his pulse too, for fuck's sake.
What could possibly go wrong?