He's broken. His vision blurred by static and smoke.
Every diagnostic he runs comes back scrambled, unable to make out the extent of the damage or if any of it is even fixable.
And Markus gasps, the taste of Thirium on his tongue, chest full of fake blood and mud so he staggers forward, like trying to move through quicksand, the weight of it pulling him down again.
The sky above reveals only inky black.
"C-" One name burning his lips but he barely gets it out or he's chocking on it, coughing up shades of blue that stain his hands endlessly. Feet sinking deeper into the earth still, holding him in place.
Something like fear grips his being, a primal instinct neither human nor android telling him that if he doesn't move now he will die. Every inch of him is trying to force itself into motion.
They grab him, cold fingertips that brush his sensors and one of them curls around his wrist, pulls, squeezes. Their grip like iron bending him beneath their strength.
One. And then a dozen.
Crawling all over him, against him. Pulling him down into a murky water of littered android pieces. He opens his mouth but there's only metal and sparks, cogs whirring away inside him. He is not alive.
And they stare into his shattered socket like Markus is one of them.
The push back into reality is sudden, a jolt that shakes him as his system forces itself online again. Androids don't sleep as such but their software needs to reboot from time to time, get rid of excess files and throwaway data, and when it does it is like dreaming.
A state of restfulness often accompanied by revisiting old memories.
The room is dark, cold like ice. As if all warmth has been drained by the horribleness of his recollection. Seeped away into every crevice he possesses. Markus shudders and rolls over, bracing one elbow against the mattress and Connor is sitting up, sheets pooling around his hips, simply looking at Markus.
Of course he is.
"You were talking." He says, eyes weary and hair in disarray and Markus wants to tell him he looks beautiful but now is not the time. "In your... sleep."
The word sounds foreign to both of them, but there are a lot of concepts that lack words these days. Things too complicated to put down into human terms, the language of their former masters one they do not relish using. Yet they're too new to be their own. Borrowed vocabulary will have to do for now.
"Oh..." Markus breathes between clenched teeth, entire body stiff with the sensation of too many hands grasping him, convulsing against him. Forcing him down. "I didn't know."
Connor frowns. That looks he gets when he's trying to figure out something new, something he has no experience with but he wants to understand for Markus' sake. It's adorable.
"I know." He replies eventually, matter-of-factly, and he's leaning over Markus' prone form now, entire body tilting towards him. A planet caught in the gravitational pull of its sun, completely caught. "Was it about-"
He stops suddenly, the sentence half-way uttered hanging heavily between them in the air. Because Connor too has bad memories. Ones where there's snow all around and a gun pressed to the bottom corner of his chin.
"No, it was about before." Markus says, which honestly could mean a lot of things. Before they met, before the revolution, before Carl. There's always further back you can go.
It never stops.
He presses the palm of his hand against Connor's chest then and there's something there. Not quite a heartbeat or the moving of a ribcage as its safely contained lungs take and expel their much needed oxygen.
But something alive just the same. Something uniquely theirs which a human couldn't mimic even if they tried.
They are alive.
Connor blinks down at him patiently, opens his mouth-
"It's fine. We don't have to make a thing out of this." Markus says quickly, cause it's their screams that resonate within his mind right now. His scrambling over them for spare parts, scrambling not to die and them doing just that. The dull color of deactivation in their eyes reflecting back at him.
"What kind of thing?" Connor asks sincerely, leaning impossibly closer and Markus can smell him. Can smell the police station and the after-hours bar Hank drags Connor too on a regular basis. A faint whiff of gun powder which he doesn't dwell on.
"A thing thing." He explains, but the look in Connor's eyes shows he doesn't get it, a nearly indiscernible yellowish glow in the dark of their room.
"That's not-"
So Markus shuts him up with a kiss instead, using his arms as leverage and he's pushing up into it, cutting off whatever comes next. It doesn't matter anyway. Connor makes a surprised little noise, eyes wide, before he's returning the gesture carefully.
Breathing isn't exactly a priority for them, but Markus pulls back after a few seconds just to be sure, smiling at his lover in the dark. Connor smiles back.
"I'll tell you about it." He says softly, voice barely wavering. Something soaked in mud and broken legs sticking to his throat. Something dark and painful and as broken as he was back then. "Just... not today."
"Not today." Connor agrees, finally laying down again like somehow that simple promise has told him everything he ever needed to know. He's closer now, the gap between their bodies nearly nonexistent and Markus can feel the warmth again, like a physical wave rolling over him.
He takes the opportunity to lace their fingers together underneath the blanket, closing his eyes and he can feel Connor squeeze back, a reassuring gesture that makes something inside him move faster. A thrill that fills his entire being for a second before settling down into a comfortable feeling of safety.
Whatever dreams might still come, at least Markus wouldn't be alone through them.
Somebody requested fluffy Markus/Connor so here ya go. Hope this is fluffy enough for you tastes ;)