Just a quick warning! This story is now NSFW. Hadn't planned on it but, there you go.

The Funeral:

The snow that blanketed the cemetery was grey with ash. It had been a week since the battle for control over the city and the smell of smoke still lingered on the air. Most of the fires had been put out or contained, but the landscape of Detroit was forever changed.

Eliza rode past two of the android death camps on her way to the funeral. The makeshift walls stood tall and imposing, cutting off entire city blocks. The grinding of the recycling machines could be heard running in the dead of night. In the daytime, however, it was eerily quiet. An ever-present cloud of smoke could be seen rising up from behind their walls. All Eliza felt when she saw them was shame.

There were still many deviants unaccounted for. Hunting them down and sending them to the camps to be destroyed became the DPD's prime directive. Every case ended up with Eliza going home, getting drunk, and screaming her throat raw from anger or getting reprimanded by Fowler for letting deviants escape. Either way, doing what she was told or disobeying got her nowhere. All she knew was it was now her job to kill innocent people. It seemed all of Detroit, including the DPD, operated at the pleasure of CyberLife.

In the final days of the battle, Connor would relentlessly insist that the deviants were not alive, that they were merely acting out a flaw in their programming. She told him that she found his answers to be too convenient for CyberLife… and for him. In the end, the ferociousness in the way he defended this belief betrayed him. In many ways, Eliza thought Connor was more human than any of the deviants she had arrested. Unfortunately, his denial of that led them to this day.

As Eliza turned off the engine of her antique Indian motorcycle, she crossed the icy lawn, cutting a straight path towards the group of mourners that were gathered around an open grave. The casket had already been lowered in. It had took most of the day convincing herself to even show up at all.

Taking a spot in the back, she quietly listened as Fowler stepped up to the podium to make a speech. He was wearing his dress uniform- as were many of the other officers gathered. It was a shadow of a proper burial for a decorated lieutenant, but the department and their resources were already stretched impossibly thin. At least there were a lot of people; more than what she imagined there would be. Somehow, this made her even more upset. She should have gone to the church, she thought shamefully. It was too late for than now.

As she looked around the group, Gavin Reed caught her eye. Their gazes met and he wordlessly made his way towards her. Sliding past an elderly woman neither of them recognized, he came to stand next to her. His body was stiff from the cold and had his hands stuffed in the pockets of his leather jacket for warmth. He had not put on his dress blues for the occasion, Eliza noted. She hardly even knew why he was there at all. Then again, she almost didn't show up herself. But her reasons for that had nothing to do with indifference.

"You're late," he murmured, leaning into her to speak.

"I know," she whispered, her voice small and tired.

Gavin looked down at her then, seeing the pain she was clearly trying to hide radiating out through her bloodshot eyes. Taking a hand out of his pocket he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her in close.

"Come on, Let's get out of here," He told her. "Hank wouldn't have wanted all this shit anyway."

She paused for a moment, considering his words. Gavin never liked Hank, but he was right. Reluctantly, she followed the detective down the icy path out of the cemetery.

%%%%

Four hours and a $157 bar tab later, Gavin Reed kicked the front door to Eliza's apartment open, his mouth hot on her neck as they stumbled inside. Eliza dropped her backpack and motorcycle helmet to the floor as she reached around him and slammed the door shut.

"I'm going to fuck you so hard, you won't be able to walk," he growled drunkenly, pushing her into the living room.

Eliza aggressively shoved his hands off of her and ripped his jacket off his shoulders and down to his elbows, restricting his arms. "Who says I'm going to let you?"

Gavin stalked towards her shucking off the heavy leather as she backed up into the bedroom. He was on her again in two long strides, his bourbon soaked tongue hungrily laving at her shoulder. Eliza gripped at his hair, roughly tugging at his brown locks, hoping the pain was punishing. A part of her hated Gavin, he was a sexist, intolerant ass, but he was exactly what she wanted right now- a body to lose herself in.

Gavin pulled away to grab the hem of his grey shirt and pull it up over his head revealing his toned chest. Eliza did the same and he hungrily took in the sight of her.

"Oh fuck, baby, you look so good," he breathed, backing her against her dresser. "I've been waiting for this a long time."

Freeing himself from his jeans, he impatiently turned her around to face the wall. Eliza tried not to be annoyed as she gripped hold of the edge of the dresser. She felt him pull her pants and underwear down to her knees before unceremoniously pushing himself inside her. Eliza gasped loudly as he gripped her hips tightly and began relentlessly pounding into her. It was shameless, but this was what she wanted.

She dug her short nails into painted wood as needy, broken, noises spilled out of her mouth as he harshly fucked her. She didn't dare close her eyes, fearing who she might fantasize in Gavin's place. Instead she stayed in the moment. At least as much as her alcohol-addled brain would let her.

A few minutes later, Gavin came with a low groan. He thrusted into her several more times before slumping over, his forehead pressing into her sweaty back. A satisfied curse fell from his lips as he pulled out of her. Eliza was the first to move away. She hadn't orgasmed nor had she expected to. His warm seed dripped down her leg, quickly cooling, as she turned away from the wall and walked to the middle of the room. Was this what being alive felt like? She wondered despondently, picking up her pants and slipping them back on.

"Do you want a coffee?" She asked, adjusting her bra and walking into the kitchen. It was only right to make him one for the road. He was too drunk to drive though. She would have to call him a cab.

In the other room, Gavin plopped down on the end of her bed, flattening out over the top of the comforter. "No, I just want to sleep."

Hearing him say that made Eliza wince. She did not want him staying the night. More than anything, she wanted to be left alone.

Grabbing up her mug from the instant coffee machine she headed back into the bedroom to civilly give him the boot.

Gavin sat up, resting his elbows on his knees. His expression hovered between post-coital bliss and being incredibly smug.

"I had no idea you liked the old man so much," he said, looking up at her through his messy hair. "It explains why you never wanted to fuck me before."

"There was nothing going on between Hank and I," she told him sternly, unamused by this conversation. Gavin was treading on very thin ice.

"But you did fuck him, right?" Gavin asked, certain that she did.

Eliza grit her teeth so hard she thought they might crack as she roughly slid her mug on top of the dresser. "Alright. Get out."

"What? Oh, come on," he said, jumping up from the bed. He took hold of her hips and leaned into her. "I'm just joking."

She pressed her hand against his chest, pinning him with her angry gaze. She had enough of him. "Get the fuck out," she growled, unwavering in her request.

"What if I don't want to," he breathed. A smile tugged at his lips as he slipped his hand beneath her bra.

Taking hold of his muscled forearm, she tried pulling him away as he fondled her breast, but he didn't let go. She pulled on him once more and his reaction was to double down and press her back against the dresser.

"Gavin…" no answer. "Gavin!"

Eliza's mind went blank for a second then, suddenly, she grabbed the coffee mug next to her and dumped its contents down Gavin's back. Some of the coffee got on her hands, but she was too scared to feel it burn her. Gavin however, stumbled backwards howling in pain.

"What the fuck's the matter with you, you crazy cunt?" he yelled, looking as though he was about to tackle her to the ground.

"Fuck you! Get out of my fucking house!" She screamed, running to the side of her bed and pulling the Glock .26 she kept in a mattress holster.

Seeing the gun, Gavin immediately gathered up his clothes and scrambled to her front door.

Eliza stood shaking by the bed, gun in hand, as she heard Gavin yell his last words to her down the entryway before slamming the door. "See you at work you fucking slut!"

Once she was certain she was alone, Eliza dropped to the floor, her gun still in her hand. What the fuck was she thinking? She berated herself, her heart racing. It was hard to process through the alcohol and panic what had just happened. She flinched at the soft brush of her cat, Bruiser, against her arm. Realizing he merely wanted to be petted, she pulled him into her lap. Leaning her head back against the wall, she closed her eyes and tried to catch her breath.

Hank was dead. She knew that. She was, for the moment, safe from androids like Connor and from men like Gavin. She was a fighter, more than all three of them were or ever could be. But none of this stopped the tears from coming. None of it stopped her from getting drunk every night and screaming into her pillow until she was too tired to care. Something had to change, she told herself. She couldn't live like this. At least not in Detroit.

Letting go of Bruiser, she calmly padded over to her desk, tears drying on her face as she set the Glock atop it. Sitting down, she opened her laptop and went into her email. Clicking on the 'New Message' button, she began to write.

'To Whom It May Concern,

I regret to inform you that I, Detective Elizabeth Neilson, will be resigning from the DPD...'

%%%%

The next morning, Fowler trudged into his office, a little worse for wear after the funeral the day before. His computer screen began flashing a video call alert but he was so engrossed in the article he was reading on the UN conference regarding the crisis in the Elusion Islands, he almost missed it. Turning on video chat, he saw Amanda starring back at him, her stern gaze and aged face giving her the appearance of a wise sage.

"Amanda, what can I do for you?" He asked, before taking a seat at his desk.

"Good morning, Jeffery. I have a request regarding the new RK900 model the department is receiving."

"Alright," he nodded before taking a sip of his coffee. CyberLife was very particular with the way their products were handled, especially after the deviant uprising. So, Fowler wasn't surprised by her call.

"We want you to assign the new model to Detective Elizabeth Neilson," said Amanda, her tone calculated. She quietly took in Fowler's confused reaction as he registered just how odd this request was.

"I'm sorry, but that's impossible. Detective Neilson handed in her resignation last night. She's leaving Detroit in two weeks," Fowler explained diplomatically.

Amanda's serious expression remained unchanged, however. It wasn't her job to negotiate with Fowler.

"We are aware," she told him, unwavering.

Fowler's brow knitted at her response. "You know Detective Neilson has been banned for working with the RK models. Why are you asking for this?" He said, confused. He could not see what benefit this would have for either of them.

"I am aware of her behavior regarding the RK800 model. However, I am afraid this is not a request," Amanda informed him.

Something told Fowler that Amanda wasn't too pleased about CyberLife's decision either. Unfortunately, both their hands were tied.

AN: Wow! so as I said before, I had not planned on writing a scene like that with Gavin. This is just what an entire afternoon of non-stop writing brought me. I promise Nines comes in the next chapter and I also promise there will be hopeful heartfelt moments in this story too.