Chapter Text
Hank came to at the bottom of a flight of stairs, disoriented and confused. His head ached something awful, and the pain in his shoulder was fire. When he opened his eyes, his vision swam, the nausea in his gut threatening to make him vomit.
What the hell had happened to him? He was a crumpled heap with no wits about him. Groaning, he pushed himself up, pain lancing again through his shoulder. “Fuck,” he muttered, blinking hard as he tried to clear his vision. House. Dimly lit, shit hole. They’d come here looking for the suspect, he remembered suddenly, there had been a tussle at the top of the stairs. Connor had been fighting with the suspect, Connor, who had let her get close enough to take the gun off of him.
“Neil was like a father to me!” a shrill voice came from the top of the stairs, despair ridden and harsh. Shit. Connor hadn’t gotten her yet? There was a gun to his right, not his own because Hank’s still sat in its holster. Connor was up there unarmed. He swore again and grabbed it, pushing himself to his feet.
“He took care of me, he made sure I was safe!” the suspect continued. Hank’s head spun as stood straight. He’d been concussed before, knew what it felt like, shit. “Everything he did, he did for me! I want you to break for what Anderson did to him! I want Anderson to wonder for the rest of his life if things could have been different!”
Those words lit a fire in him, though, one that not even the concussion could touch. He remembered dread like this, getting the phone call about Cole, when the android that had tried to save him came to deliver the worst news he would ever have to face. It was the fear that came with the knowledge that you were about to lose something important, that crushing moment when everything in you felt like it was about to fall apart.
As fast as his injured body could take him, he got to the top of the stairs. The AX400 had her back to him, leering over Connor, his pump regulator in hand. Hank wasn’t that knowledgeable about androids, didn’t know them inside out or have much awareness about what their individual parts were used for, but he knew that without that, Connor had very little time.
He had to get it fast.
“You’re not just my enemy,” Connor said, his voice splintering over the words. Hank knew that he wasn’t in pain, not really. It was likely just damage to his internal systems straining his voice processor or whatever he called it, but it sounded real enough to be concerning. Hank raised his gun, lining it up with the back of the AX400’s head. He needed to take the shot, or Connor would die.
Would he regret this like he regretted Neil Whitfield? There was no time to wonder. No matter the outcome, he would have to accept what came.
Taking a breath to steady himself, he pulled the trigger.
The shot was perfect, by some miracle. Even concussed and injured, Hank managed to put the shot directly through her head. “No,” Connor rasped as she sank to her knees, going rigid in that unnerving way androids did when they shut down. Silence, the air felt so cold all of a sudden. It was just him and the body of a dead android, and Connor, who was struggling to push himself up, to get the regulator that she’d pulled from him.
With her down, he finally saw the mess she’d made of his partner, bullet holes torn through his shirt, blue blood everywhere. If he’d been human, he would have been dead. There was no way to survive damage like that.
“Hank,” Connor said. There was a pleading desperation to his voice that Hank had never heard before, something that sounded entirely wrong coming from him. “Hank, help me.”
“Fuck, fucking hell,” Hank staggered forward, dropping down beside the AX400 to wrench the regulator from her grasp. “Hang in there, Connor, shit, I’ve got it. I’ve got it, kid.”
Connor was dead weight when he got to him. Hank knelt and pulled him upright, Connor’s back against his chest, and jammed the regulator back in the hole in his chest. A bullet had torn its way through his shirt, giving him easy access. “There, shit, is that better? Christ, I don’t have a fucking clue what makes androids fucking work—!”
“It’s alright.” Connor said. He didn’t sound convinced by his own words, and his LED was bright red as if to highlight that fact. As if noticing the bullet holes for the first time, he said, “Oh, I really liked this jacket.”
That was alarming. Was he in shock? Could androids go into shock? He had no idea. He didn’t know what deviancy had done to them when it came to situations like this. “Jesus fucking Christ, Connor, shut up. You’re not okay, are you? You’re bleeding all over me.”
“No, I’m not okay. It’s hard to see, I’m getting too many error readings. Biocomponent #8432w and #6848j are damaged.”
“English, please, Connor, I don’t have a goddamn clue what any of that means!”
Connor shifted in his grasp. Hank caught a glimpse of his face, saw that it was twisted into a grimace. “My heartbeat regulator and my right leg unit. Thirium isn’t moving around my body properly and I’m losing it at a rapid rate anyway.” he paused. Shit, he sounded scared. “I don’t want to die, but if this carries on, my chances of survival are slim.”
Hank didn’t know what to say. What even was there to say? It didn’t sound promising. He remembered the conversation from after the chase in the road, Connor’s own admission that he’d been afraid, and his heart plummeted down somewhere into his gut.
He went for his phone, and then caught sight of the empty bars on the top of the screen. No fucking signal. Of course, this place was in the middle of nowhere. “Shit!”
“What time is it?” Connor asked.
Hank ignored him, his attention entirely taken up by how he was going to drag Connor down the stairs and out of here without jostling his internal systems further or screwing up his own shoulder more. Part of him wanted to be angry; there was no way Connor should have ended up this badly damaged against the kind of android had been made to do laundry and look after kids. He had to have hesitated somewhere along the way, and that mistake had nearly gotten him killed and Hank thrown down a flight of stairs.
“Hank,” Connor said again. His voice was so quiet. “What time is it?”
“Forget the time. We’ve got to get you out of here. I’m going to need your help, alright? Your left leg still functioning okay?”
“It’s got some power. Lack of thirium is making things difficult, but for now, it should be alright.” He paused. “Is it nearly six?”
Maybe he really was in shock. Hank glanced at his phone again, and shook his head. “No, ten past already.”
“We need to get downstairs then.” Connor said. “Back up…back up should be here any moment, as long as Detective Reed makes good on his favour.”
“Connor, there’s no backup coming. We came here alone.” he remembered Connor’s suggestion that they call for help, and now felt immensely awful that he’d turned it down. “We’re on our own. Alright, I’m going to figure this out. Hold on.”
“No, it is. I—” his voice failed him before he found it again. His expression betrayed him. As much as Connor was trying to look impassive, he looked shaken. “I calculated the rough amount of time it should take us to see this through, and then I sent a message to Gavin before we left, telling him that if he hadn’t heard from us by quarter to six that we would require help. If I’m right, then he’s probably about to arrive.”
Hank sorely hoped that Connor meant what he was saying and that his memory banks hadn’t been scrambled or something equally as distressing. “Alright, I believe you. I’m going to stand you up. You ready?”
Connor didn’t look ready, but he nodded nonetheless. Freeing his bad arm from the sling, Hank bit through the pain and hauled Connor up, hissing as he had to move quickly to stop him from collapsing on him. “Shit, Connor, I thought you said you could move!”
“I thought I could.” Connor replied, that desperation creeping back into his tone again. “My commands keep bouncing back. I’ve got power to the left leg unit, but it’s barely functioning. You’re going to injure your shoulder far worse by doing this, don’t on my behalf.”
Hank saw the trail of blue blood that he was leaving behind and winced. “Okay, yeah, that’s bad. Connor, forget about my goddamn shoulder, I’m not the one who’s nearly dead. Shut up, conserve your strength, and help me get you the hell out of here, okay?”
Connor’s jaw tightened but it seemed like he took the words on board. With a tense nod, he wrapped his arm around Hank’s shoulders, and the two of them began to gingerly make their way down the stairs.
Carting Connor around was less like helping another human being and more like dragging a mannequin about. The damage to his leg had rendered it a rigid hunk of metal that did very little to help either of them; Connor couldn’t stand on it, much less use it. He wasn’t heavy in the way another person would be; he didn’t have organs or muscles or anything else that would add weight, but he was still as cumbersome as any full sized adult would be, and Hank was dizzy and injured as it was. There was one moment, and then another, where he nearly sent the two of them crashing down the stairs again. “Careful, Hank,” Connor said quietly.
As Hank finally got them down the final step, the front door burst open, Gavin Reed standing in the entrance with his gun drawn. As he saw Hank move, he pointed the gun their way, the safety clicking off.
“Hey, oi, back the hell up!” Hank snapped as their eyes met. “Suspect’s down, she’s dead, there’s no goddamn threat, okay?”
Gavin pulled back and holstered his gun. “Great, some fucking thanks I get, I haul my ass all the way over here because of your plastic asshole, and—” he stopped as he finally took in the state of both of them, his expression not much more than a scowl. “What the hell happened?”
“If we could—could save the questions for later, Detective,” Connor said, sounding strained, “I’m starting to hit critical levels. Shutdown isn’t imminent, but if I don’t do something soon, it won’t be long until it is.”
“Fuck’s sake, can’t leave you two alone for a minute, can we?” Gavin said, stepping forward. Roughly, he pulled Connor away from Hank. “Give it—him, don’t fucking look at me like that—give him to me. I can carry him a lot better than you, asshole.”
“Watch yourself, Gavin, your compassion’s showing.” Hank muttered back. Shit, he could barely see straight. “I need to call this in. Drive us to whichever Cyberlife store is closest. Markus made sure they were all converted into like, android-fucking-doctor-surgeries or something. Buy and sell replacement parts. Repairs. Something like that.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m dropping you off at the hospital on the way.” Gavin said, pulling Connor’s arm around his own shoulders. “You’re bleeding out of your head and you look like shit, weren’t you injured anyway?”
Hank scowled. “You’re not dropping me off anywhere, Gavin.”
“You think you’re in much of a state to argue with me?” Gavin barked a laugh, all but dragging Connor back to the front door. “That’s funny. Don’t trust me with your plastic toy?”
“Do what he says, Hank.” Connor said. “My scans aren’t…aren’t working right, but I can see that you’re concussed. I’ll be fine.”
I’ll be fine. Hank knew, logically, that he was right. Androids were not like humans, there was no uncertainty in their survival as long as they were repaired with the correct parts. He recognized that, and yet, he couldn’t help but be concerned over Connor’s injuries.
“If you’re lying to me to get me to go, Connor,” Hank said, “I will personally chase you into whatever android-bullshit-heaven there is and I will kick your goddamn ass.”
Connor’s smile was a small thing. “Of course. Don’t worry, I know you can tell when I’m lying, Hank.”
--
Hank hated hospitals.
The android who was currently tending to his shoulder was a gentle young woman with clear blue eyes and a calming voice. She’d been a nurse before the revolution, she had explained, and she’d enjoyed it so much that she’d decided to carry on afterwards. Hank, who cared little for small talk, half heartedly grunted his responses and tried not to engage in any other kind of conversation.
He knew she was only being kind, but he had a bad track record when it came to hospitals and his hatred for them only grew as time passed. The atmosphere was all wrong, the orderlies were all too overbearingly kind, and it was the place where his young son had taken his last breaths, left to a android who could do nothing while a human doctor went and got off his face on Red Ice instead.
He had moved past the android issue, realised how unfair he had been, but it didn’t change his opinion on the place itself. His head still hurt like a bitch even though he he’d been given pain relief, and the nausea hadn’t subsided. Being here wasn’t helping him in either regard.
As soon as the android was done, his arm firmly back in a sling and his head patched up, he was free to go. Not much they could do for a concussion other than sleep and waiting it out now they’d confirmed it wasn’t a serious brain injury. There had also been a mention of avoiding alcohol, but Hank had switched off at the mention. He was going to go home and he was going to drain an entire bottle.
His car had been left behind at the abandoned lot, but it wasn’t like he could drive it with his arm back in the sling anyway. He left the hospital and pulled out his phone, standing on the sidewalk as he looked for Gavin’s number. He found it under the label, Station Asswipe, and called it.
Gavin picked up on the fifth ring. “You took your time,” he said in lieu of a greeting.
“You get thrown down a flight of stairs, see how you deal.” Hank bit back. Typical Gavin, unable to start a single conversation without turning it into an outright confrontation. “What’s going on?”
“My night’s ruined, that’s what. I’ve got fucking blue blood all over me, and I’m stuck in plastic-prick heaven with all of these assholes looking at me like I’m the piece of shit in this situation. You know how many times these pretentious assholes asked me if I was the one who fucked him up? I hate these things.” The speaker muffled as Gavin presumably moved the phone. When he spoke again, his voice sounded further away. “What was that? Oh screw you, I don’t give a damn.”
“Talking shit about androids in one of their spaces? Real damn classy.” Hank said. “Where’s Connor?”
“Still getting fixed. Damage was extensive, from what they told me. You know what? I’ll send you the address, and then you can take this over. I want to get the fuck home.”
“Please, would make things better for us all.” Hank muttered, but then he realised—Gavin had come to help. As much as he hated Connor, as much as he hated Hank, he had listened and he had put himself out for them. It probably meant nothing, things would probably go straight back to the way they’d always been—but he had to be grateful for it, or Connor might have been dead by now.
“Gavin.” he said. His pride wanted him to shut up, but he had to be the bigger man. “Thanks, for coming out. Connor made the right choice, asking for your help.”
“Yeah, well, don’t make a habit of it. This makes all of us even, you got it?”
“Oh trust me, I get it.” Hank said, hanging up. Seconds later, the address for the Cyberlife store Gavin had chosen pinged through. Typically, he had to be an asshole to the end; the store was out of the way and a hell of a trek to get to. Cutting his losses, Hank called a cab.
Twenty minutes later, he was outside the transformed store. Gavin was stood against the wall, leaning back on it with his arms crossed. When he’d said he’d been covered in blood, he hadn’t been lying. His shirt was soaked through with thirium, and Hank didn’t know or care if it would come out in the wash. “Finally,” Gavin said when he saw him. “Guess I can go home. You called this shit in to Fowler, yeah?”
“Yeah. Chewed me the hell out for it, not that I can blame him. He’s got people at the lot now.” he looked up at the old Cyberlife building. “How’s it going?”
“Like I’d know. I told them you were coming, so feel free to go in. I’m going home.” Gavin pushed himself off the wall and stalked past him. “Try not to drink yourself into a coma later.”
The words were harsh, but there was no bite to them. Hank laughed. “Screw you, Gavin.”
Without another word, Gavin vanished off down the street. Hank took that as his cue to head inside. He’d never been inside a Cyberlife store before the android’s revolution, but he had a vague idea of what they used to look like. Now it more resembled a doctor’s surgery, complete with a reception desk and waiting chairs.
The young man (android? No LED so it was hard to tell,) behind the desk gave him a friendly smile. Hank didn’t feel much like reciprocating it, so he picked a chair and sat down. Androids didn’t sleep, any time of day was fine for them, and that seemed to be reflected in the fact that it was still busy even though it was late. Plenty of androids were sat in the other chairs, some with visible faults, others without. Hank had to wonder what it had been like when Gavin had pulled Connor in here, both of them covered in blue blood, and Connor barely functioning.
Android parts weren’t difficult to replace, but they were expensive. A leaflet on the small table beside Hank detailed the parts and their prices, and he found himself wincing as he looked over them. It was, he thought, a good thing that Connor spent absolutely nothing of his pay checks; he’d been hoarding money like a dragon might hoard gold. He was going to need it; a new leg unit reportedly cost upwards of $500.
He hadn’t noticed that he’d dozed off in the seat until someone was shaking him awake. They weren’t being gentle about it, no, it felt like he was experiencing a small scale earthquake. Jolting awake, Hank let out a sharp cry, somewhere between a “Hey!” and a “What!”
Connor was peering down at him, those brown eyes of his concerned. “Hank?” he said. “Are you awake? It’s me, Connor.”
Relief was a pleasant wave against his headache. Hank laid his hand over where Connor’s was resting on his shoulder, removing it carefully. “You’re alright?”
“Better now, yes, and much lighter in terms of money. They had to replace my heartbeat regulator entirely, but the damage to my leg unit was actually repairable. They gave me the bullets in case I wanted to keep them.” he held up the jar that held them.
Seeing them was somewhat horrifying. It made the whole experience that much more real. Connor really had almost died. He realised he wasn’t just relieved; he was angry. Angry that Connor had put himself in such a dangerous situation, that he let the AX400 get the upper hand on him. It was a selfish thought, but he could have been killed. It was exactly what she’d wanted, and Hank would have been left wondering if he’d done something different, maybe he could have saved him.
It could wait. He’d question him when they got home. “Christ,” Hank breathed. “You were in there for what, two hours, and they managed to patch you right up?”
“Machines don’t need to heal. We’re fortunate in that respect, as soon as the repairs are done, we’re free to go.” he smiled, and then glanced around. “I noticed Gavin isn’t here. Did he return home?”
“Yeah, he’s gone. Pissed off as soon as he could.”
“Probably for the best. I didn’t really know how to say thank you in a way that wouldn’t leave both of us uncomfortable.” Connor paused, his smile falling. There was a pull to his eyebrows that wasn’t usually present. He might have been physically alright, but there was evidently still something going on behind his façade. “Hank. I’m going to call us a cab home, is that okay?”
“Yeah.” Hank said. “And when we get there, I want to talk. There’s so much crap we need to unpack about today, because it was a straight up shit show and it shouldn’t have gone down that way."
Connor nodded, turning his back. “Yeah.” he said. “I know."