Jetpacking (Or Connor gets to be the little spoon)


Soft morning light flittered through the blinds, bathing the room in a warm orange glow. Connor's LED pulsed a rapid blue, the only indication he was out of standby mode. Through his thermal receptors, he could feel the slight chill in the air and decided to snuggle further in the blankets rather than turn them off.

Though androids didn't need beds (and Connor was more than fine standing in the corner to recharge his systems), it was one of many small things androids did to showcase their newfound autonomy. A small part of a whole that helped androids feel more free from the chains of the past.

Truthfully speaking, the only reason he owned one was due to his better half. If Hank were to tell the tale he'd claim it was an argument to last the ages: the pinnacle of CyberLife engineering verses a mother bear with a point to prove. Needless to say, Connor stood no chance. With her hands on her hips and physically looking up at him, Connor still felt like he was the one over half a foot shorter. One final huff and the argument was over with a 'Don't you dare go in standby mode standing up, just buy a damn bed like a normal person'.

Because that's what they were now. A people. Living, sentient beings with free will.

Looking back he did more to hinder that reality then help it. He could spend the rest of his life paying back all that he'd took and it still wouldn't be enough. And though others have forgiven him (not himself though. Never himself) they wouldn't soon forget.

The android sent by CyberLife. The infamous deviant hunter. That's who he was and who he always will be. At the slight shifting of the sheets, unbidden thoughts run through his processes. Not by them. Images, memories, are pulled unwillingly from his hard drives.

Rough words and rougher pats on the back. Innocent laughter and carefree smiles. Soft hands and warmer eyes.

Connor shook his head, knowing it had no actual effect on his thought processes.

No.

What right did he have to happiness? What right did he have to enjoy life in all its wonders and heart aches when he had caused so much pain and suffering and death to those who just wanted to be free? He can still taste the Thirium on his tongue, the metaphorical blood on his hands. Blood that refuses to come off after his scrubbed his hands raw; right down to the plastic (And Connors ashamed that Kara has caught him in the act more than once, blue drops running down the sink and white hands that have nothing to do with deactivating his synthetic skin.)

Before his system has a chance to overheat descending further down the rabbit hole of his new found conscience, Connor feels strong, slender arms wrap around his chest, bringing warmth that that settles deep within his very being. On instinct Connor reaches for Kara's hands and weaves his fingers between hers, the empty spaces filling out perfectly.

A quiet hum that barely reaches his advanced audio receptors eases his troubled thoughts enough to think with clarity. He can feel his stress levels return to normal and the deafening whirr of his cooling system quietens to silence. Before he can apologise for waking her, Kara nuzzles her cheek on his back and whispers soothing words that his heard so many times but still can't get himself to believe.

"It's alright Connor. We forgive you. I forgive you. Why can't you do the same? You were a machine then, following orders. Not anymore."

In his base programming, Connor was designed to show no flaws. He was to be the pride and joy of humanities greatest achievement. The perfect agent to do CyberLife's dirty work. Maybe that's why he enjoyed being comforted so much. In Connors mind, CyberLife can go fuck itself.

Kara continued to rub soothing circles with her thumb over his hand and right now, Connor didn't want to move from his position on the bed. Yes, he very much enjoyed what his databases referred to as being the 'little spoon'. Only with Kara did Connor truly feel free from his core programming. Truly feel like a sentient being. With her, he felt like the deviant he is, and not the machine he was.

With Kara, Connor could fly away from all his worries. Could fly so far away he didn't have to live in fear of Amanda taking control of him again. He could fly anywhere, with her small frame wrapped around him. His own personal jetpack.

END.


Prompts welcomed. Take care.