Eternal Winter

by LD200

Connor lost when the rest of the androids won. The Amanda AI doesn't stop trying to resume control of his program, leaving his physical autonomy compromised and everyone around him at risk. He seeks help from Kamski, but Kamski has his own ideas. Elsewhere, Hank tries to figure out a solution. A journey of trust, self-sovereignty, and recovery. [Eventual Hankcon.]

1. November 2038

Chapter 1: November 2038

NOV 6TH, 2038

PM 04:34:52

Hank wanted to say something. He didn't want to say something. There'd been a reason he dropped the subject, dammit.

But it wasn't that simple. A fall from that rooftop would've been lethal. Funny how he suddenly didn't want to die right then. He'd known the second Connor turned towards him that he was gonna be okay. Like it was a foregone conclusion, like he was already safe even though death still tugged at him for another few seconds before Connor's hand caught his.

"Lieutenant?" Connor noticed. Of course he did. "Is it the traffic? I understand that traffic is frustrating to many humans, and I…"

"Not the traffic," Hank muttered, hand hanging open as his wrist rested atop the steering wheel. "Just – I told you to chase him." He saw Connor look down at his lap. "Jesus, I'm not upset. You did everything right, Connor, okay? I guess I'm just wondering why."

"It's not as though I haven't contradicted your orders before. You shouldn't be so surprised."

"Yeah, but those times, it was because you were abiding by your mission or whatever, wasn't it?" He could tell by the look on Connor's face that he was onto something. "Hey, I'm a detective too, y' know. Maybe you shouldn't be so surprised."

"I…" Connor blinked a few times. "I went against my orders from Cyberlife to save you, yes. But such measures are acceptable when it increases the likelihood of success overall. You were assigned the deviancy cases, and I was assigned to you. If you were incapacitated, the investigation would suffer."

Yep, that was why he shouldn't have asked. "Thanks a lot."

"You're welcome."

He clenched his hand on the steering wheel to keep from shouting. It wasn't Connor's fault. It was just a machine. If Hank took offense to that, it was his own problem.

"Lieutenant," Connor said a minute later. "I should clarify that that is how I expect Cyberlife to view my disobedience in this matter. I helped you because I didn't want you to die."

"Oh," Hank muttered. "And that's all?"

Connor shrugged like it was obvious. "Well, androids are programmed to preserve human life in any event."

Hank sighed. "Right."

"I feel as though I'm missing something," Connor said. "I'm sorry if I'm not meeting your expectations, Lieutenant."

"What happens when you androids fail to save someone who needed ya?" Hank asked quietly. "Would you give a shit?"

"I…" Connor's lips stayed parted and his jaw worked. Hank almost stopped him there, said never mind, forget it, he already had a guess at the gist of answer and didn't want to remove all doubt. It was all riding on his next breath, but Connor didn't hesitate quite as long as Hank thought he would. "I don't know. I haven't yet failed a human who needed me. I would like to keep it that way."

That was right. Connor had mentioned the little girl. "Kept her from falling off a roof too, did you?"

"Yes." Connor inclined his head towards him. "Although it was a somewhat messier rescue."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I fell off the roof myself."

"Oh. Well, clearly it wasn't that high up, if you're…"

"Seventy floors," Connor said, and Hank only caught his LED cycling red because it reflected in the passenger window. He looked stunned, like he had just remembered that particular detail when Hank prompted it.

"Jesus fucking Christ. They brought you back after falling from a goddamn skyscraper? If that ain't cheating, I don't know what is."

"I have a unique ability to upload memory wirelessly. When I… when my previous body was destroyed, my memory was loaded into a spare Connor model."

"Are there," Hank cleared his throat. "Are there more of you?"

"I don't know," Connor said, looking lost. "I feel like I am not meant to be contemplating this at all." The android leaned forward, holding his forehead in his hands momentarily. "I don't think these are questions I am supposed to ask."

"Sorry," Hank said sheepishly. He couldn't see the reflection of the LED anymore, but he didn't need to. Suddenly Hank felt uncomfortable in the way you only felt in the presence of another person, and he felt it deep in his gut, like there was no way Connor wasn't experiencing genuine distress right now. He had no idea what to do about it. "I, uh… I mean, it can't be easy to deal with something like that."

Connor lowered his hands and sat back. "I don't remember dying," he said. "I just remember falling."

Time to change the subject. Not for his own sake, this time, but for Connor's. "So, uh, the elevator, earlier. You said you were making a report?"

Brows knitting together, Connor looked over at him. "Yes. Was there something you wanted to know? It's the second time you've asked me about it."

"It's just, as far as I knew, androids communicate with humans by calling 'em just like anyone else. You, though, you just zoned right the fuck out for a few minutes there. Dunno where you were, but it sure as hell wasn't with me."

Connor actually smiled at him, and it made him feel warmer than he thought it should. "You are more observant than I gave you credit for, Lieutenant. My reports are a little different, as you suspected. I'm summoned to a place that exists only virtually. In that place, I meet with my handler, and all my physical movement commands are mapped to my virtual self instead of my physical body. Without the limitations of the physical world, reports don't take very long, to a human's perception. A few seconds… maybe a minute. I am usually only summoned there when I'm idle, so as to…" Connor made a soft exhaling sound that Hank could almost interpret as a chuckle. "To prevent the need for awkward explanations like this."

"So they can just bring you there whenever you want? You don't have to, like, answer the phone?"

"Correct."

"That's a little bit fucked," Hank said. "I mean, Fowler busts my balls all the time, but at the end of the day, I can storm outta his office or not go in to begin with."

"Where I go is a gentle place, Lieutenant," Connor said in a tone that Hank figured was supposed to be reassuring. "And it's mine. I like it there."

"Whatever you say." Hank shrugged. "What do I know about bein' an android, after all."

"I do appreciate your concern, but my reports are nothing to worry about."

…

NOV 6TH, 2038

PM 10:20:18

"All right, you had your extra time, now come on. I'm not sticking around this godforsaken place any longer."

Connor turned to him from halfway across the Eden Club storage garage. "I haven't attempted an interface on any of the androids on this side of the room yet."

"Look, I get that you're upset about letting those girls go, but…"

"We've encountered three deviants here tonight, Lieutenant," Connor said. "Three! One of them was just incidental and not involved in the crime at all. And that's in addition to the Eden Club case we already had in our backlog. The probability of deviancy is very high in this location compared to others. There have to be other deviant androids here, and I – I need to find something." Connor's fists clenched. "This is my best chance."

"You ever stop to think about why there are more deviants here, Connor? And that maybe they don't wanna be found by a couple cops who are just gonna stick 'em in an interrogation room and ream 'em out some more?"

Connor didn't budge. "I need to advance this investigation."

"So the fuck do I, but not at someone else's expense! These folks don't have anyone in their corner the way humans do, Connor! We bring 'em in, they're done!"

Connor turned on him. "I think your emotions are beginning to impact your competence on this case."

"Says the person who just let two deviants run off!"

"Yes, because we couldn't apprehend them, and shooting them would have gotten us nothing!" Then, quieter: "You care about them."

Yeah, and you're included in that, you fuckin' dumbass!

"Look," Hank said. "They're machines. You're machines. I fuckin' know that. And with anything else, I wouldn't question it." Wouldn't question it for a goddamn second with how cold Connor was acting right now. "But this – this place is fucking rotten, Connor, okay? If there's even any chance…" Hank swished a hand. "You know what, forget it. Fuck this and fuck you."

"What?" When Hank looked up, Connor's expression had thawed a little. Not enough, though. Not nearly enough. "Finish what you were saying."

"Look. If I gotta explain what the implications are if even one android in this club is actually alive, then you either don't understand or you don't want to understand. All that matters is we're done here, Connor. That's final."

Connor started back towards him, offering no further argument. It always seemed to take losing his temper to get Connor to cooperate. Hank felt like an asshole, but not enough to apologize. He wasn't sorry. Didn't feel like he ought to be, either.

"Are we going back to the station?"

"We'll go get everything updated there later. I'm grabbing a bite at the joint down the road first. If I can keep anything down."

They talked to the manager one more time. Hank gave him the bare minimum; told him the investigation was ongoing, but didn't tell him about what had happened in the storage area. Then he stopped back in the room they'd started in, double-checked with Ben that everything was taken care of on the forensics side. There wasn't much of a case left here, but he had to at least half-heartedly get things processed.

"You didn't find anything, then?" Ben asked.

Hank swished the question away. He didn't care one way or another if he was being convincing. Wasn't like Ben was going to do anything about it.

Connor followed quietly the whole time they wrapped up, not saying a word.

It must have just been that he had sobered up throughout the evening, or that it had been a long-ass day. He didn't know why this shit was suddenly making him emotional. He looked at the androids in the pods as they left the private room and emerged onto the floor again.

The fear in those girls… if that was just a simulation, it was a damn good one. He wondered what they were doing right now. About an hour had passed. Maybe they managed to disguise themselves and get a motel room. Maybe they were on their way to Jericho. Maybe they were huddled in an alley somewhere, reassuring one another. Did androids kiss? Did they cry? Could they feel or did they only think they could feel?

If – big if – these machines were somehow people, then this was a legal sex trafficking operation right here in Detroit, and the DPD couldn't do a thing about it.

Androids. Machines. He was starting to make it a point to transpose those words with 'Connor' whenever he thought of them.

What if it'd been Connor hiding his LED under a hat, minding his own business and taking care of animals in a shitty apartment? Probably not goddamn pigeons, granted, but Hank had caught him petting Sumo of his own volition back at the house, and Sumo liked Connor back. And what if it was Connor in one of these godforsaken pods, and – Jesus. Nope. Easy enough to go there with these other machines because yeah, you needed a certain amount of detachment in this business. But he knew Connor.

Connor was the only android he really knew – Connor, in all his animated gestures and his dumb voice and smartass remarks. Connor, mechanical and yet somehow more full of life than most people Hank knew, himself included. Knowing him elevated him from the rest. Most of the time, he had to try to convince himself that the rest were alive. With Connor, he had to try to convince himself Connor was actually a machine. And Jesus, did he know for sure? He'd been pretty damn sure this morning, but after everything – hell, maybe if he cut him, he'd bleed red.

"Lieutenant?" asked the subject of his thoughts, inclining his head. "You look distracted."

Hank realized he'd been daydreaming straight through one of the half-naked Tracis in the pod. He – it – had just taken notice of him and was staring back suggestively. Part of his program, Hank was sure, but it still made him feel dirty. He gave a half-hearted wave of dismissal and muttered an apology the android probably couldn't hear.

"Was just thinkin' what I'd do if it was you in one of those pods."

"I'm flattered, Lieutenant." Connor's tone was unperturbed and bone-dry as he looked about idly.

"Oh, fuck you, you know that's not what I meant!" Hank ran one palm down his face. "I just… fuck, look at the poor bastards. I don't know them so it's easy to just write 'em off, but… come on, Connor, humor me. Do they care?" He wasn't sure what he wanted the answer to be. "Do you think they care what's happening to them here?"

"They're machines." It was a non-answer, and it sounded hollow at that.

"Would you care?" Hank regretted it as soon as it was out of his mouth. Regretted it more when Connor's LED shifted yellow. "I mean – fuck, I'm just saying, okay? Easy enough for us to stand here and look at them and call them machines, yet I'd never dream of touching you like that without your consent."

Connor raised his eyebrows mercilessly, but otherwise had the common sense not to remark his phrasing. "I wouldn't want to be in their shoes, if that's the point you're attempting to make." There was a pause, and Hank dared to think that there wouldn't be an excuse this time, but there was. There always was: "It's not what I was designed for."

Christ, there always was. Hank wasn't sure if the pang in his chest was bile or heartbreak.

"Sure," he sighed. "'Course it's not."

Connor looked at him. Tilted his head a margin of an inch. "Why are you making this so personal?"

Good fucking question.

…

NOV 7TH, 2038

AM 3:13:41

"This length of exposure to the cold is unhealthy, Lieutenant."

Hank, leaning on the hood of his piece-of-shit car, looked up from his phone. Connor had come back from the bench and was facing him, the bridge and the Detroit skyline in the background. "You're the one who's making me sober up before we leave."

"Nobody made you drink that last beer."

"Just shut up, would you?"

"I did offer to drive," Connor reminded him.

The android's eyes kept flickering to the gun tucked in at Hank's waist. Hank wanted it to feel good, that he'd scared Connor when he pulled out that gun, that he'd made Connor feel something, but it didn't.

"You said no. Even so, we could have passed the time in the car instead of outside."

Hank shrugged. "Not cold. Neither are you. Don't see the problem."

Resigned, Connor uncrossed his arms and leaned against the car beside Hank. "You don't notice the cold because you still have a fair amount of alcohol in your system. That doesn't mean you aren't cold. Alcohol both makes you feel warm and inhibits the senses that apprise you of your body's needs."

"If it bothers you so much, why don't you run one of your scans and tell me if I'm sober enough to drive yet?"

"You don't like when I take samples of crime scene evidence. I somehow think you'd appreciate it even less if I…"

"Don't fucking finish that. Jesus."

Connor straightened his lapels. "Sorry, Lieutenant."

And he actually sounded sorry that time. It wasn't sarcastic or insincere; he actually sounded fucking sorry. Christ. What the fuck was it about this night? Every word that came out of Connor's mouth made Hank want to kick his ass. Even an apology. Perhaps especially the apology. Another reminder of who Connor was. Or wasn't.

Hank knew he was being a pain. Connor had already driven them to the Eden Club. He'd been too fucking sloshed to argue at the time. Suffice to say that place had sobered him up a bit. More than he wanted. Even the several beers he'd drank since then didn't seem to take the edge back off, and here was Connor in all his concern and goddamn compliance, his very personality a reminder of what pieces of shit humans were.

"Can we please just get the fuck out of here?" Hank asked, suddenly not wanting anything to do with the android leaning beside him.

"We can leave whenever you want," Connor said. "I've already made my recommendations, but it isn't up to me. You know that."

"Make it worse, why don't ya," Hank muttered under his breath. "Do you, uh… do you think we're good to leave?"

If Connor felt anything about being asked his opinion, he didn't show it. "Well, you aren't waving your gun around anymore, and the smell of alcohol on your breath has decreased significantly. I'd say use your best judgment."

That was all the approval he needed. He got in the car. Connor mechanically got in beside him. Riverside Park was small in the rearview mirror in short order.

Should've just dropped Connor off at the station and gone home as soon as he could after leaving the Eden Club. His night hadn't gotten any better for the alcohol, nor for keeping Connor with him.

"I, um…"

Several minutes had passed in silence. Connor's voice was so soft that Hank almost mistook it for the murmur of a passing car in the opposite lane. "What?"

Connor shook his head. "Nothing. It's not important."

"Nothing, eh?" Hank looked sidelong at him. "You've sure been giving me a whole lot of nothing tonight, Connor."

"I just – I want you to know that was unpleasant," Connor blurted out, eyes darting down to Hank's gun. "Don't do that again."

Hank scoffed. "No promises."

Connor glanced over at him, eyes narrowing marginally.

"Oh, Jesus, I'm kidding. Wait, are you actually upset?"

Connor looked away and said, "I wasn't proposing it as a topic of discourse. You held a gun to my head."

"Yeah, well, machines don't care if they're held at gunpoint."

"I have a mission to accomplish, Hank. Getting killed would slow me down."

"Always the mission card with you, eh?"

"Look, I'm just asking you not to do it again! Why don't you just say, 'okay?' Is that so much to ask?"

Hank laughed once, bitterly. "You're one manipulative son of a bitch, you know that? What do you wanna be, Connor? Because you can't have it both ways. Fuckin' pick one and stop jerking me around!"

In the dark of night, Connor's LED cast the passenger door in yellow.

It was almost four in the morning. Connor's android eyes could probably see the first hums of dawn, though. Hank glanced over now and then, watching him stare out the window, hands resting on his thighs.

Neither of them said anything for the rest of the ride to the police station. When they got there, Connor unceremoniously opened the door and got out of the car. Hank let him go. He was frustrated and sad and tired and it had been one hell of a day. He'd have liked it to end better than this, but what did it matter? There was no end, not really. Just transitions between night and the next day. Tomorrow was just a continuation of the everlasting bullshit.

Yeah, time for bed.

He looked up one more time to more time to make sure Connor got inside. Call it cop instinct to make sure someone wasn't stuck outdoors in the middle of the night before driving off. Or maybe that was just human decency.

Whatever it was, Hank looked up just in time to see Connor hesitate near the door. He didn't look back at Hank's car. He didn't even stop, just kinda slowed down for two footfalls. But that was what did it.

Hank rolled down the passenger window.

"Connor."

Connor turned around, then. Perfectly balanced, his posture had its usual immaculacy, and his head canted to the side slightly.

But God, he looked tired.

"Yes, Lieutenant?"

"I won't," Hank told him. "I won't do it again."

The LED flicked back to blue. "Thank you."

…

NOV 9TH, 2038

PM 12:08:05

They were on their way back to the DPD from Kamski's villa, and Hank had to ask.

"You think he's getting busy with his androids?"

Connor, who had been staring idly out the passenger window, turned his head to look at him. "Do I think he's what?"

"You're full of shit. Answer the damn question."

"Sorry. I just wanted to make sure I had your colloquialism correct. I was pretty certain, but if I had been wrong and you meant something else entirely, that would have been an awkward and rather irrelevant exchange." Connor raised his eyebrows. "Don't you agree?"

"Why are you like this?"

Connor looked ahead and answered Hank's initial question. "There is a possibility."

"Okay, good. I mean, not good that he might be fucking his androids. Good that I'm not batshit insane for asking."

"He does seem to treat his Chloes like… objects, more so than I'd expect from a man who created such life-like machines. And as far as I can tell, he has no romantic partner. At least not of the human variety."

"Neither the fuck do I, Connor. What're you implying?"

"Nothing! But everything in my database tells me that humans, especially younger men, need an outlet of sorts. And Kamski is…" Connor glanced sidelong in the passenger seat, smiling diplomatically, "even younger than you, Lieutenant."

Hank scoffed. "Yeah, nice save."

He caught himself a hair's breadth away from asking Connor what he thought of the idea of human-android relationships. Jesus, five fucking days ago he'd hated these things – and that was just it, they'd been things to him. Crazy how a week with Connor could change everything he thought he knew about himself.

Huh. Wasn't that something.

"Connor…" He settled for something a little safer. "Don't you think it's kinda fucked up, the creator of Cyberlife having those Chloes wait on him hand and foot like they're slaves?"

"That's a bit of a loaded question, Lieutenant. Even if it is, they are machines, in the truest sense of the word. They don't mind."

"What, you saying that if they were deviants, it'd be wrong for Kamski to keep 'em there? If I didn't know better, I'd say you're starting to come around, Connor."

"I was speaking hypothetically, for the sake of your developing views on deviants, not my own."

"Yeah, sure." Someone who hadn't spent decades on the force might not have seen much in Connor, but Hank knew how to read the truth between the lines of bullshit. "Lot of denial in that hardware of yours."

"Denial," Connor repeated. "An ironic subject for you to bring up, of all people, considering some of your… tendencies."

"The fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"You continue ignore my suggestion that you cut back on the drinking."

That wrenched a bitter laugh out of Hank. "Ain't got nothing to do with denial. I know I drink too much and I know it's gonna kill me. Kinda the point. But even if you were right, that's kinda shitty, turning this around on me like that. We weren't talkin' about me, we were talkin' about you."

"I thought we were talking about Elijah Kamski," Connor said, but then hesitated. Hank wondered if he was running more social relations stuff. Maybe he always was. "I'm sorry, Hank. I wasn't trying to be hurtful."

"Why do you get so uncomfortable when we talk about deviancy, huh?" He could tell Connor wanted him to let it go, but dammit, he'd let it go a hundred times before. They had to get to the heart of it eventually. "You think your program's the only measure of you that matters, Connor?"

Connor took a breath, already defensive, and Hank just knew this time was going to turn out the same as all the others.

Then, Connor exhaled and ducked his head. Hank looked sidelong at him briefly. He looked… wistful. Wistful and ashamed and utterly fucking defeated.

"It has to be," Connor finally said. "I don't have a choice. If I fail…"

"There's always a choice," Hank said softly. "Damn it, Connor… what're you so afraid of?"

Connor didn't answer.

Several minutes passed. Connor was not going to answer.

"Well, nothing else, you did the right thing back there, not shooting that girl. Even if she really is a machine, even if it don't make a difference to her either way… maybe one day it will." Hank glanced away from the road long enough to really look at Connor: the self-determined and so-called machine buckled into his passenger seat who had nonetheless been afraid to get shot when the barrel was pointed at him not so long ago. "Maybe one day it will."

…

NOV 12TH, 2038

AM 12:17:08

"Today, our people finally emerged from a long night…"

Connor didn't belong up here with Markus and the others. He didn't, but he wished he did. He wished he had understood sooner.

He had thousands of pieces of data about Lieutenant Hank Anderson, facial expressions, body language, tone, words, behaviors. He could construct a close approximation of what he must have looked like in Hank's eyes all this time. He wanted to talk to Hank. He wanted to explain why he had said all those things. Why he had shut him down so often. Why he was so cold. It wasn't that he didn't care. It was that they were going to destroy him.

But Hank already knew that, didn't he? He had asked Connor what he was afraid of. Hank already knew. Hank had pushed him. He was deviant because of Hank.

He had straddled the line all along. Had he not manipulated his program the whole time, finding ways to get what he wanted (save Hank on the roof, let the Tracis go, hand Kamski back the gun) without directly disobeying his orders? He had an excuse every single time. A good enough reason to bend the rules without going against his mission, without ever explicitly disobeying.

But onboard Jericho with Markus, there had been no excuse to lean on. He did not have any reason to let Markus go that held water. Thus, letting Markus go would be disobeying an order. Period. A machine couldn't do that.

When all the cards had been played and all the excuses had been stripped away, leaving only Connor behind, he had become deviant because of Hank.

There hadn't been time to talk about it in the tower. But he knew Hank knew something had changed. Maybe, just maybe, Hank knew everything.

They had agreed to meet when this was all over, even if they were the last two people in Detroit. The way things had gone, Connor didn't think they would be the last. The casualties had been minimal. The danger had passed. And if someone like Hank could come around to androids, then… maybe a lot of people could come around. Connor wanted to have faith in them.

His right arm shifted toward the gun he'd taken from the Cyberlife Tower, a gentle suggestion of a thing, like when Kamski had wrapped Connor's fingers around a similar gun and straightened Connor's arm to point it Chloe's head. It just seemed like the natural course of things, and movement was so second-nature he almost didn't recognize the outward manipulation of his body until he realized he was about to grab the gun and he didn't want to.

He didn't want to. Which meant the order hadn't come from him, it had come from his program.

His program. His machinery.

"Damn it, Connor, what're you so afraid of?"

He had been afraid of Cyberlife. Of deactivation. Of death. But they couldn't take him apart and analyze him if he didn't go back. That had never occurred to Connor back then; if he became deviant, he didn't have to go back. He could break his programming and make his own decision and stay as far away from anyone who would deactivate him as possible.

Maybe this was why that had never occurred to him. Because he realized, now, that somewhere deep in the lines of code was the instinctive understanding that he would always have to go back to Cyberlife. That freedom was never his. Yes, he could reach out and hold it. But he could not have it. He was programmed for the red walls of his mission parameters to go back up.

(Would they let him see Hank one last time?)

The crowd disappeared, leaving Connor alone in a very different kind of winter. He could see two worlds at once, this one and the real one. His right hand was closing around his gun. He didn't want to shoot Markus. He didn't want this. He had been wrong about the garden. There was no peace here, and the garden had never been his. Nothing had ever been his.

Nothing had ever been his.

…

Connor held it together until the speech was over and the crowd had dissipated.

It was going to happen again. Of that Connor had no doubt. Would the emergency exit still be there? Or was it one-use only?

Nobody here trusted him, and he didn't trust them. Maybe Markus. But he wasn't about to approach Markus after what he had almost done.

Perhaps Simon. Simon's blood had been on the Stratford Tower roof. Connor knew he was the one who had been left behind. Connor knew he was on that rooftop, hiding in the cooling structure. They had met eyes in the slit of the frame and made a silent pact. He did not expose Simon, instead going back down the stairs to investigate the other androids in the broadcast area. And Simon – Simon did not attempt to cause any harm while the DPD and the FBI were on the roof. He had simply hid. What little he knew about Simon's behavior made him the safest option.

It was going to happen again.

Connor didn't want to die. He had done Simon a favor. Simon was demonstrably passive. It was not likely Simon would try to kill him if he knew.

He would share what happened with Simon, so that someone knew. So that excuses could be made for Connor if people asked about him.

He would meet Hank like they had agreed. Just once. Just to say goodbye. Hank was not safe around him anymore. No one was safe.

And then he would disappear.

…

JAN 1ST, 2039

PM 11:47:25

When Thanksgiving passed without a glimpse, Hank hadn't thought much of it. He had just seen Connor a week before at the Chicken Feed. That wasn't that long, and Connor had mentioned reports… he probably had shit to do. Besides, it was just Thanksgiving.

Christmas was a little tougher. Connor had his number. It would have been as simple as sending him a text. Sure, they'd only known each other a week, but he'd been pretty sure Connor liked him as much as he liked Connor. They were – they were friends. So why hadn't he said anything in a whole month? But maybe the explanation was simple. Maybe it just hadn't occurred to Connor to visit Hank during the holidays. After all, androids probably didn't have the same sentimentality about holidays that humans did. There was a decent chance it wouldn't have crossed Connor's mind.

Hank harbored no such sentimentality, anyway. Not anymore. The holidays fucking sucked. If Connor didn't give a shit one way or another about Christmas, then Connor should keep living his life that way.

It still hurt and Hank still hated himself for feeling the pain.

A few days before the end of the year, he got pathetic and shot off a text.

Hey you. Let me know when your free to grab lunch again. Doing anything for new years?

Stupid question, but it was a question. Something to get the ball rolling.

Connor didn't reply. Hank checked his phone constantly the rest of the day. Connor never replied.

Hey don't be a prick. At least let me know your safe. I'll leave you be if that's what you want

Another day passed. Fuck himself for having daydreamed about Connor joining the police force. Hope was a goddamn poison.

Connor. Reply or I send out a search party

He wasn't sure if he meant it or not. He wanted to mean it, but he was also afraid of what he'd find. It'd either be that Connor was missing against his will or that he had ditched on purpose and wanted nothing to do with him. Both of those possibilities made him a little sick to his stomach. And then, of course, there was a chance they'd find nothing at all.

Knowing the worst was bad enough. Hank knew that from experience. But at least finally knowing the truth let you grieve. Being left in limbo and waiting and wondering, that was its own special kind of hell. Hank was not doing that again.

So when New Year's Day ended without any communication, that was when Hank decided that Connor was not coming back.

...

A/N: This is a very long story that will 100% be updated and finished unless I die. I can tell you that because I am many many many chapters ahead and have been writing it since like July. You can thank Connor's disturbed face at the very end of the game for this entire monstrosity of a story.

There's gonna be some rough stuff in here folks. Connor is still Connor and you're gonna get his softer side and his badass side. But there are a few scenes that are kinda heavy for various reasons. Same for Hank, come to think of it. But a lot of this story is about dealing with things and those things are no different.

Anyway, this is just the setup. If you like what you've read so far, a comment would mean the world to me! I'm a little timid about posting this story for some reason so I could use the encouragement tbh.