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The kid doesn’t like the snow.
Hank had spotted it almost immediately but he couldn’t figure out why. Androids didn’t feel temperature right? Connor hadn’t ever given any indication of it before. Sure, they probably don’t work in sub Arctic temperatures unless they’re specially made for it, but while it’s cold in Detroit, it’s not that cold.
So something has happened. That’s obvious. And Connor doesn’t want to share it because he’s basically a kid and kids like to keep secrets because they don’t know how to talk about big feelings. That’s something he learned with Cole.
Connor is a trained killer. He’s a cop with a keen eye, a steady hand, and a desire to be better.
But emotions are new. So Hank knows he has to help Connor learn them.
Obviously Hank had insisted that Connor stay at his place. He wasn’t going to send him out into the world and while the other Androids would probably let him stay at Cyberlife Tower which they’ve reclaimed, Connor doesn’t want to just yet.
Hank knows he feels like a pariah. But from what he’s heard, Markus and the others do not hold a grudge.
There’s a spare room in the house that had once been Cole’s but now is nothing more than storage. When things in the city called down enough, Hank ordered a bed big enough for an adult, a desk, and desktop computer. Connor liked to work all the goddamn time after all.
The room remains mostly un-decorated. Hank doesn’t think Connor quite has a developed enough personality to have interests, but he’s trying. He’d purchased a poster of some fish with his first paycheck which hangs above the desk. Evidently Connor likes fish. Hank wonders why, but kids are weird sometimes. Cole had really liked dinosaurs.
It’s snowing out now, and Connor has not left the bedroom. Androids don’t eat either, but Connor is always up in the morning to deny Hank his preferred breakfast of a beer and maybe leftovers from the night before.
“Kid,” Hank knocks on the door. He’s taught Connor that it’s polite to knock and so he always extends the same courtesy, “You okay? Can I come in?”
“Yes.”
Hank sighs and pushes the door open.
“I was wondering where Sumo was,” Hank chuckles. It has been a little over a month since the protests and Hank feels as if they were only yesterday.
“He came in here,” Connor says, motioning to the dog across his lap. His LED is bright red. Hank frowns, “Are dogs able to sense emotions?”
“Kinda,” Hank sits down at the desk chair. He’s fully stocked Connor’s closet with clothes for work—Fowler had given him the rank of Junior Detective after some consideration, with all the perks and benefits to go with it—and clothes for around the city. Connor has no idea what he likes to wear and wears anything Hank buys him.
Hank thinks the shirts aren’t that bad, but the station disagreed. Connor seems not to mind it.
(He’s pretty sure that Connor is mimicking him to try and be a human and Hank doesn’t care. Like father, like son.)
“Well,” Hank says, leaning back a bit. Cole was still too young for these kind of serious talks so really he has no idea what the fuck he’s doing. Connor looks like a scared little boy sitting there on the bed in a too big sweatshirt with the dog on his lap, “Hell of a storm.”
“I don’t like the snow,” Connor frowns.
“That’s alright. Shitty out. No use going out today.”
Connor’s frown deepens, “She was going to leave me in the blizzard. She was going to kill me. Take over my brain. My life.”
“Who? What are you talking about?”
Hank knows very little about what happened after Connor woke the Androids up in the tower. He hasn’t pried. Connor turns into a deer in the headlights if you press too hard.
“Amanda,” Connor looks over at him, “She was going to make me kill Markus. Cyberlife wanted me back. They were going to take me by force. I was their way into the deviant demonstrations.”
“Amanda? Who the fuck is Amanda?”
“She was my handler.”
“What, you’re James Bond now?”
“I was so cold. I was going to shut down. I am so afraid to die.”
“That’s very human.”
“I don’t know how anybody can ever trust me again,” Connor says.
“I trust you. You saved my life. More than once. It’s warm in the house Con, the snow is outside. You’re not gonna freeze and that Amanda woman will have to get through me if she wants your dumb ass.”
Connor sniffs. Hank knows that Androids can cry which he thinks is kind of creepy. Or rather, he used to. Now he feels like his heart might crack in two.
“Ah fuck,” he mutters, heading over to the bed. He pulls Connor against him, upsetting Sumo in the process who whines and wanders to the foot of the bed, “It’s okay. It’s okay. I promise.”
He remembers Connor saying that deviants can self-destruct if they get too stressed out. Does he have that setting? Hank isn’t sure but he doesn’t want to risk it.
“It’s going to take time,” Hank says, remembering another boy once that he’d comfort. Hank supposes you never quite lose that paternal instinct, “Because it was fucked up. All of it. Being human fucking sucks some times. It’s miserable. There’s so much bad shit and you feel like you’re going to explode. Only you’re not alone. Right?”
“Yes.”
The LED slowly turns yellow.
“It’s a snowstorm. But that’s all it is. You ain’t gotta go out in it. We can stay here. I got food in the freezer. Sumo doesn’t like this weather either. We’ll do whatever you want. Maybe sometime we can try to go out in the snow. Slowly.”
“You’re referring to exposure therapy,” Connor says.
“I’m referring to taking it one step at a time. What do you want to do?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you want to try letting Sumo out in the backyard? That dog loves the snow.”
“I can try.”
*****
Hank digs up a knit scarf and a pair of mittens that he doesn’t even remember buying. He produces snow boots he hasn’t worn in years and a hat with ear flaps that must have been a gag gift from somebody at the station. There’s no way he’d ever wear something so stupid looking, but Connor likes stupid looking shit. Hank can’t exactly find it in him to discourage this.
He dresses Connor for the snow, wondering if they make those snow pants you put little kids in for men Connor’s size. Maybe he should look online. Ski gear maybe. That might work. Hank has never been skiing in his life and he’s not going to start now but if the kid hates the snow then it might be a good purchase. Even if he doesn’t feel the cold, it clearly really fucking bothers him, so Hank’s got to figure out what to do about that.
“I think this may be overkill,” Connor says, looking at himself in the mirror. At least he’s not crying anymore.
“Freeze then,” Hank replies. He ushers Connor and Sumo towards the back door, throws it open, and gives Connor an encouraging push outside. It’s not currently snowing very hard, but the sky is a dull gray and there’s at least a foot of snow on the ground from overnight.
“Come on Sumo,” Connor says. The two trek into the snow, leaving deep footprints behind them. Hank leans against the doorframe. It sure is fucking cold out. He doesn’t know exactly what this Amanda person did, or what it must have felt like to be stuck out in the snow, but whatever happened, it’s clearly fucked up Connor.
“I’ll put on a movie,” Hank calls. Connor is fascinated by movies. He can pretty much know the plot of any in just a moment, but sitting down to watch one is a lot different. They’ve worked their way through countless over the past few weeks. Connor has yet to decide what he likes, but so far, he likes movies about robots, which is so cliche that it’s funny. Maybe he just likes seeing himself on film.
Connor kneels down to brush snow off of Sumo’s nose. It appears to be a little difficult given all the layers. Sumo’s tongue hangs out of his mouth and Connor says something softly to him.
“What kind of movie?” Connor asks, looking back towards the house.
“Whatever you want,” Hank replies, “I got a shit ton of options.”
He also thinks Connor may be developing his sense of what is attractive and what isn’t. He’d mentioned once that he thought Kamski’s Android Chloe was pretty. Hank watches him watch the actors, watch people in the street. Connor was deviating long before that night at Jericho, Hank knows that. Connor doesn’t admit to it, but Hank knows it anyway.
God, he’s gonna be a teenager here before too long. Maybe he’ll sneak out to make out in cars or something.
Hank chuckles and shakes his head. He hasn’t been a teenager for a long time now, but he remembers being young. Connor might like that.
“Sumo’s cold,” Connor says. That doesn’t appear to be true. St. Bernard’s are mountain dogs after all but Hank only nods and steps back so the two can come inside, shaking snow off themselves. Hank collects the now wet clothes and hangs them over the kitchen chairs to dry off. Sumo attacks his breakfast dish and Connor runs a hand through his hair. His LED is bright blue now.
“Be summer before you know it,” Hank says. He’s ready for this year to be over. Next year is going to be better, and that’s the first time he’s thought that in a long while, “Didn’t you say your birthday was in the summer?”
“It’s not a birthday. I wasn’t born,” Connor pulls off the mittens, setting them on the table, “Therefore it’s more of an activation day.”
“Don’t know if that’ll look right on a cake,” Hank ruffles his hair, “Go sit down. We’ll see if we can’t find a robot movie for you.”