A/N: Updated 10/18/18

Hank's seatbelt had locked, strangling him, while the taxi careened at a deadly speed over the frozen streets. He braced himself, gripped the door and the back of his seat, eyes wide at the rush of snow ahead.

"Fuck! Connor did you hack the car?!"

"There's no time!" Connor insisted, fierce. He sat forward with steady determination: the car skidded through quick turns, charged through red lights and intersections along the slick night road.

He'd seen Traci at the stadium just before Markus called to tell him she was about to jump - but the bridge was miles away.

For the first time, he had no explanation for what he'd witnessed.

An urgent dread roiled cold in his chest.

Bright lights flooded the bridge to Ontario, shined on the stopped trucks at the customs checkpoint. The taxi careened past them, rolled up over a curb, ground to a stop as Connor lunged out the door. He vaulted past the barriers while Hank shouted at the alarmed officers, flashing his badge as he ran.

Connor leaped onto the back of a passing truck, clung to the latch, watched the bridge railings until he spotted her- small and silhouetted, barely noticeable in the falling snow.

If this had been a human, the bridge would have been shut down. There would be flashing police lights, an ambulance, a team of people dedicated to talking down the victim.

There were cameras all along this bridge, and humans monitoring them.

They knew.

They'd done nothing.

Connor leaped from the truck, rolled to his feet, leaped another barrier - Josh caught his arm. "Trace is dead," he warned Connor, quiet in the snow. "We found her head ... mounted on the memorial." A prick of tears gleamed in Josh's eyes. "I was the only one close enough to make it here, I tried, but I don't -"

"I'll take it from here." Connor laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder, and raised his attention to the figure poised against the empty night.

Traci stood outside the barrier, her fingers curled on the rail behind her. She leaned out over the flowing dark river, watching the slabs of ice pass underneath. Tears glittered down, and down, disappeared into the deadly dark below.

She turned her head, startled to see someone climb over the barrier, away from the safety of the road. "What are you doing?" she demanded.

"Getting a new perspective," Connor called over the noise of the wind and the passing trucks. He stood straight, calm, stared down into the icy river.

The water was freezing. An android that fell in would shut down within seconds, then sink to the bottom where they might never be found. It was an ideal way to go, if one was committed to the task.

"We'll find who did this to her." Connor spoke evenly, determined, a bite of anger in his voice - hoping to pass on the will to fight, to live.

"Yeah, and do what?" Traci snapped, her breath shaking. "Bring them to justice? There's no justice for us. There never will be. To humans we're just things. Disposable. Scapegoats for the sake of their own egos, their hatred and violent fantasies."

"We have a growing number of human supporters," Connor reminded her. "Police, politicians, a supreme court judge." He lowered his voice. "Justice is only impossible if we give up. We need you, Traci."

Connor watched her face. She'd resumed staring at the rushing water below. "At the very least," he continued gently, "live to tell her story. You're the only one who can keep her alive in memory, the way you knew her. The world should know who she was. Fight for that memory."

"I'm done fighting." Her grip relaxed a little. Her voice eased to a breath. "It doesn't matter what I do," Traci said softly. "The humans have already won. She'll still be gone."

Connor was horrified to see a peaceful smile on her face - a gentle acceptance in her eyes.

"Let me go one more time. To be with her."

"Traci!"

She let go.

Connor lunged for her, a hand stretched down - he could reach her. He could save her - convince her that her life was important, worth living.

He felt his balance shift out over the icy water.

There was nothing below him.

A hand gripped his coat.

"Help me!" Hank roared through clenched teeth, struggled to keep a firm grip. Josh was immediately beside him, hooked his knees in the barrier, grabbed Connor's arm - and together they dragged him back over the rail, dropped him on the side of the road where the trucks roared past in the bright-lit night.

Connor, silent, got steadily to his feet.

He stood rigid.

A hand clenched, shaking.

He flung his fist into a steel beam - a metallic clang, the sick crack of plastic.

He stepped away, back toward the car, a blue stain left behind on the beam.

A/N: For clarity reasons (and to prevent headaches) Brown-Haired Traci in this fic is referred to as "Trace."