CHAPTER 8: DISPUTE

NOVEMBER 7, 2038

2:59 AM

"Stay still."

Barbara sat in the backseat of her car, leaning forward with her palm facing upwards. Just under an hour ago she'd had an unfortunate encounter with a screwdriver-armed deviant. At this point, she was practically expecting to leave each investigation with some kind of injury. Of all the cases she'd been assigned to, this one had ended up being the most violent.

Connor sat across from her, focused on her wound. He'd insisted he clean and dress the gouge in her arm, after he'd pressured her several times to go to the hospital and she refused. Going to the ER would just be a waste of time, and she was more than capable of stitching it up herself.

Hank had sobered up enough to drive them to a park near the river. He'd taken a beer from the warehouse at the Eden Club before they'd left, and was now sitting on a park bench, staring out at the bridge and the water. It was a good place for her to pause and acknowledge the gash she'd received from the fight with the Tracis.

"You know, I can do this myself," she reminded Connor, who had her first-aid kid next to him on the seat of the car. It was a picked-over collection of gauze, band-aids, alcohol swabs, and a package of expired Advil she'd had in her car for several years. Needless to say, it hadn't impressed Connor.

"I'm no doctor, but I do have basic first aid protocols that might serve you better than if you tried to do it alone," he explained, then continued. "This wouldn't have happened if you hadn't tried to save me."

"It's not a big deal," she said. Briefly, she remembered the panic she'd felt when she saw the Traci straddling him, screwdriver aimed between his eyebrows. All she could do was react. "I'm your partner, that's what I'm here for."

"You can severely injure yourself if you aren't careful," Connor unwrapped an alcohol pad. "I've told you this before, if something happens to me, I can be replaced. You can't."

This was a reminder, he'd shared this with her before. But it still felt wrong. She couldn't imagine watching him die and doing nothing to stop it. This night could only provide so much trauma before she lost it, and it was already nearing her personal threshold. It was best she kept that thought to herself.

"You're saying you don't want to see anything bad happen to me?" Barbara asked. He seemed almost...frustrated with her, if that was possible. She might have found it funny, if the circumstances were different. She was beginning to think that maybe the few times he'd looked out for her and Hank, it had come from a place of sincerity. That, or he was just really good at being manipulative. The latter was a lot less comforting to her. Connor rubbed down the wound with the alcohol swab, and she clenched her jaw at the sting.

"It wouldn't be ideal," he said. "You've been an asset to this investigation," he said, not looking up.

Despite the compliment, she wrinkled her nose at what he had implied. "Oh," Barbara said. Normally she'd keep her mouth shut, but the next sentence came out of her mouth before she could stop it. "That's the only reason why it would be bad? Because it would hurt the investigation?"

"No," his brows furrowed. "I consider you a friend."

A friend. Now there was something she was shocked to hear. Here she was, making friends at work again. It's not like she could disagree with that statement, as much as she wanted to.

Connor was her friend. It made sense, after all. Barbara's line of work had a way of accelerating relationships, she'd experienced things with her partners that the average person would never be exposed to in their entire lives.

"I see," she answered Connor. "Too bad that feeling only goes one way."

Connor lifted his head to meet her expression, as if he could read her better that way. He looked like a damn puppy dog, all disappointed, until he saw the smile in her eyes. This seemed to satisfy him, and he returned his focus to her injury. "I don't always appreciate your sense of humor."

Barbara frowned. "Well, I need it tonight." She was saving her full mental breakdown for later, recalling the terror in the Traci's eyes moments before it had deactivated. It wasn't human, she had to remind herself, but for some reason, it felt no different. Whatever was happening, she decided all she needed was a bit of a cry, maybe a hit from the half-smoked joint she'd rolled a couple weeks ago and hopefully she could sleep without any nightmares. At this rate, however, there was a good chance she wouldn't be sleeping anytime soon.

An image Hank's hand clasped loosely around a revolver with one bullet in the chamber passed through her mind. That was a whole other issue, but it felt like it'd been three days since she'd made that discovery.

"It would be ideal if you had a medical professional examine this," Connor urged for what was likely the fifth time in the past hour, pulling her out of her head. Barbara waved him off. He worked quickly, lining the wound with surgical pads, holding her arm steady as his deft hands wrapped gauze around her wrist.

"Thank you, Connor," she said when he was finished, crumbling the wrappers from the bandages in his palm and searching for a place to discard them. "Just put them in the cupholder, I'll throw them away when I get home."

Connor nodded and placing them carefully in the front seat before sitting back on his haunches, his hands on his knees. "I should check on the lieutenant," he said. "I don't think he's pleased with how things played out tonight."

Barbara nodded, and decided it was best to give them a few moments of space. Connor left her alone in the backseat of her car, the cool chill of the night seeping in briefly before he closed the door behind him. Shivering, she wrapped her arms around herself and closed her eyes, savoring the first moment of peace she'd had in what felt like days, even though it'd only been a couple hours since Connor had arrived on her doorstep.

Some time passed, it could have only been a couple of minutes, but she was so focused on quelling the thoughts spinning through her mind, she couldn't be sure. The sound of Hank raising his voice, shouting, jolted her out of her meditation. From her spot in the car, she couldn't make out what he was saying, but her eyes flew open. Connor and Hank hadn't had many tiffs since the android had saved him from falling off a rooftop a few days before.

Barbara opened the door to her car and slid out, closing it quietly enough not to alert either of them. Whatever Hank had been upset about had seemed to quell, he was sitting on the back of one of the park benches, cradling the beer between his hands.

It had started to snow, and Barbara shoved her hands in her pockets. Gloves were always an annoyance to her.

Connor was in front of Hank, looking out at the river, and as she approached, she caught the end of Hank's sentence. Connor's eyes flickered to hers briefly but she didn't want to interrupt their conversation. "I don't know, Connor. It seemed like those two girls just wanted to be together," Hank said.

"They don't know what they want," Connor said, his tone suddenly changing from one of curiosity to one with a slight bite, especially in the words that followed. "They're deviants. Whatever it is they think they feel isn't real."

There it was, the cold indifference he'd shown in the abandoned apartment. Barbara shivered. It basically nullified any kind words he'd spoken to her this evening. This time, however, his tone was almost defensive in nature.

"Okay, then Connor." Hank began, taking a swig of beer and pushing himself off the bench. "What the hell do you think you are? You look human, you sound human….what are you?"

"I know what I am." Connor stated, shaking his head in disbelief. "So do you. None of this is relevant to the investigation."

"Right. The investigation. Back at the club, you could have shot those Tracis, but you didn't," Hank stepped closer to Connor. "Wasn't that the right thing to do, Connor? Why didn't you shoot?" Barbara was surprised when Hank reached out and gave him a punctuated shove, hard enough that Connor took few steps backward to steady himself. She tensed up. "Hm? If you care so much about the investigation, what made you hesitate?"

Connor's eyes darted from side to side. "I just decided not to shoot, there's nothing else to it."

Hank stepped back, and it appeared for a moment that the answer satisfied him, until suddenly he reached into his pocket and drew his gun, aiming it at Connor's head. "Then are you afraid to die Connor?"

Barbara lept forward. It hadn't appeared Hank was that inebriated, but she couldn't standby while he threatened Connor this way. What if he pulled the trigger?

"Hey," she called, and Hank turned his head briefly to acknowledge her, unaware that she'd been listening in.

"Stay out of this, Barbara," Hank warned as he focused back on the android cowering in front of him.

Hank's warning meant nothing to her as she attempted to step in between them, reaching for Hank's gun as he pulled it just out of her reach. Connor's arm lifted to block her path in front of them, his eyes never leaving Hank's. Resisting, she pressed against him but Connor surprised her by pushing her with little-to-no effort on his part, sending her skittering backwards, slipping on the thin layer of snow beneath her boots, away from the gun Hank had currently aimed at his head. She hadn't expected this much resistance.

"I would certainly find it regrettable to be...interrupted before I can finish this investigation," Connor said. His voice was even.

He didn't want to die. Barbara had no idea what Hank's intentions were, but she wasn't going to stand by and find out.

"What'll happen if I pull this trigger?" Hank asked. "Nothing? Oblivion? Android heaven?"

"Where does all your anger come from, Lieutenant?" Connor asked in response. "Some...unresolved trauma in your past?"

"You think you're so fucking smart, always one step ahead, huh?" Hank growled. "How do I know you're not a deviant?"

Connor didn't have to answer that question, because Barbara stepped forward again, shoving him out of the way with what she hoped was the same force he'd used on her, and grabbing the barrel of Hank's gun, aiming it at her own head. "That's enough," she said, raising her voice.

"Barbara-" she could see Connor approaching her carefully out of the corner of her eye.

"Stay back, Connor," she warned, holding her hand out out to stop him. "I don't need your fucking protection." His LED spun in one quick rotation of red at her words, but he stepped backwards, shoulders pinched together.

"You're going to take a bullet for him?" Hank asked, incredulous, looking between the two of them.

"I'm not going to let you shoot our partner," she said, her voice was shaking, but she tried to sound as determined as possible. Certainly Hank wasn't going to shoot her. Right?

"You're a goddamn police Lieutenant and you're threatening to kill someone you work with?"

Hank lowered his revolver, as if he finally realized who he was aiming it at. Barbara took the opportunity to snatch it from his hand as his grip loosened, turning on the safety and pocketing it before he could react.

"Hey, what the he-" Hank protested, reaching towards her pocket, but she cut him off before he could finish the thought.

"You've been drinking," Barbara said. "I'll give this to you tomorrow once you've sobered up."

"Don't act so high and mighty like you're above all this," Hank said. "You're just as fucked up as I am and you know it."

"You're drunk," Barbara deflected. He had a point, and she knew it. But it wasn't something she was interested in hearing about, especially not tonight. "I'm not going to have this conversation with you. Save your bullshit for someone who actually cares. I'm done with it." The second the words left her mouth she regretted them. The betrayal in Hank's eyes was evident, fleetingly, before he hardened again.

Turning around, he chucked the empty beer bottle in his hand into a trash bin, stalking off.

"Where are you going?" she had nearly forgotten about Connor next to her, when he spoke up she felt even more shame that she'd been so brutal to Hank in front of someone else.

"To get drunker!" Hank yelled without looking over his shoulder. He walked past her car. They weren't far from Jimmy's, and he could catch a bus home. Barbara wanted to make things right, but she knew it wasn't going to happen if she chased after him. Instead, she watched silently as he disappeared down the street.

It could have been hours that she stood there, frowning after Hank, a knot in her stomach and an overwhelming feeling of dread hanging over her. She really fucked up. Even with the chill of the evening, the snowflakes landing on her coat and in her hair, her body was hot with shame and embarrassment. There was no longer any anger inside of her, just regret.

"You shouldn't have done that," Connor's voice cut through the tension that hung thick in the air. "You could've gotten killed."

If it wasn't for him speaking up, she wasn't sure how long she would have stood there staring after her lieutenant.

"Yeah, well I did," she defied, but she bit her tongue to stop any more words from coming out. Barbara would never forgive herself if she continued. She'd already caused enough pain tonight, she didn't need to add more, even if Connor couldn't get emotional. "Hank wouldn't have shot me anyways," she lowered her voice.

"Barbara," she heard him speak again, stepping closer, voice quiet and reassuring in her ear. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she said, though it wasn't convincing to herself, and probably not to the inquisitive Connor. "I shouldn't have said that."

Connor was at her side, his hand on her shoulder. Perhaps it was supposed to be comforting, but it did little to qualm the turmoil inside her. Her instinct was to shrug him off, partly because she felt close to crying. It was only making things worse. Barbara didn't like comfort. She'd always preferred to suffer alone.

In the moment she'd been so mad at Hank, she thought it would feel good to give him a verbal slap across the face, to shock him with her words, but now she felt like a weepy child after a temper tantrum, pathetic and petulant. "I'm sorry for yelling at you," she said, recalling the harshness of her language towards him only minutes ago.

"You don't have to apologize," Connor said, for the second time that night. When she finally turned to look at him, his LED was spinning in a circle of gold before it turned back to blue.

"Are you okay?" she asked him. "You seem a little...off tonight."

Connor shook his head and pursed his lips. "There are no irregularities in my programming."

"That's not what I-" Barbara began, and then cut herself off. "Nevermind."

Androids weren't capable of feeling emotion, at least that's what she'd been told. But Connor didn't appear to be his usual steady, reliable self.

"It's been a long night, and Lieutenant Anderson had been drinking," Connor spoke again. If he wasn't being honest with her, she understood. Maybe all of this meant less to him than she thought it did...but...it couldn't. He was so authentic.

Barbara sat down on the bench, staring out at the river. It wasn't cold enough to have frozen over yet, a lone cargo ship purred it's way along the banks. There were unspoken words that hung in between them, an obstacle course, Barbara was just trying to figure out which rope to grab.

"Why didn't you shoot?" she asked him, leaning back. Nothing that had happened at the club had made her upset with him. If anything, it was quite the opposite. But his motives were what mattered.

"If they died, I wouldn't learn anything from them." he said. "It seemed...pointless, if all they were going to do was run away."

It wasn't the answer that she was looking for, but it wasn't as bad as his excuse to Hank. "I would have done the same thing," she said flatly.

Connor had his back turned to her, staring back at the river. After a moment, he spun on his heel and moved closer, taking a seat next to her on the bench. His LED was a constantly spinning yellow disk. "It's interesting," she began. Maybe he'd feel better if she changed the subject back to the investigation. "You said those androids at the club had their memory wiped every two hours?"

Connor nodded. "Yes, it's protocol at the Eden Club."

"Those two girls still managed to remember that they loved each other, even after the memory wipe," she said. "They formed a relationship, trusted each other. Deviancy must be deeper than just a simple code error, wouldn't it be wiped too if their memory was erased?"

"That's an interesting theory," Connor seemed to ponder this. "I suppose it's not impossible for the virus to embed itself in their programming. If that's what's happening, a memory wipe wouldn't eliminate it."

"Yeah," she said, leaning forward and placing her elbows on her knees, stared at the skyline and squinted, the lights of the city streaking across her vision. "It's definitely something to consider."

"May I ask you a personal question?" Connor spoke after a beat of silence.

Barbara snorted, she found that him asking permission to get to know her was a little quirky, ever since the beginning. But she understood. "It depends on the question," she said softly. At this point, it had become a bit of a running joke between them, that she needed to hear the question first before deciding whether or not she would answer.

"Most humans don't care for androids..." he trailed off. "You don't seem to share that sentiment. Can I ask why?"

The question caught her off guard, she supposed she wasn't quite sure how to answer it right away. Delving into her past seemed like a requirement, she didn't want to go there, but she didn't think she could answer the question without it. Was she really going to pour her heart out to someone who likely only viewed this conversation as one more step towards his mission? Barbara scolded herself. She needed to stop being to severe.

"Well, uh….I spent a lot of time in children's homes." Barbara turned to look at him briefly, and he nodded, as if to encourage her to continue. "My parents weren't around much the last few years before I moved out."

She thought of the lack of consistency in her life. There were a few moments of her childhood she could pinpoint where she felt joyful, that she looked back on with a sort of fondness. It wasn't all bad, but it had been unclear to her just how abnormal her childhood had been until she reached adulthood.

"Androids weren't commonplace until I was in my late teens, and there were some that worked in the dormitories. They'd cook and clean and help look after the kids. They were always so kind to me...I mean, my parents tried to be. But they were addicts, they had more pressing obligations than their daughter."

Connor was staring at Barbara, she didn't need to look at him to see that. She'd always had a talent for being able to tell when someone had their eyes on her. "I don't think that we're all that different. You can get technical about it, but in this case, it's better to take things at face value."

She half-expected him to reaffirm that androids were machines, and that they were indeed different. But when he spoke up after a moment of quiet, she was taken aback. "I'm sorry to hear that," she turned to him, eyebrows creased in confusion. "About your parents," he clarified.

Oh. She wasn't aware he'd even paid any attention to that, since it wasn't the answer to his question. Barbara shrugged. "It's just the hand I was dealt." She'd come to peace with it awhile ago, or so she thought. It wasn't something she enjoyed dwelling on. And she'd made it out alright...to some extent.

It was silent where they sat, besides the noise of the river and the occasional car running over the bridge. Serene. Another moment of quiet in an evening that had barraged every single one of her senses and stripped her of acumen. She shivered, the chill of the night settling in.

"You should go home, get some rest," Connor said. "Your arm will heal quicker if you sleep."

Barbara had nearly forgotten about her bandaged wrist, but nodded in agreement. She was tired, she just didn't know if sleep was in the cards for her. "I know," she said. "Do you need me to take you anywhere?" Connor shook his head no.

"Where do you go at night?" she asked. It seemed strange to leave him in the vacant, empty park all alone.

Connor shrugged, falling into step beside her as she trekked through the light snowfall to her car. "There are places in the city for androids to stay."

The android parking ports, she'd seen them scattered in the city, but it felt so inhumane for someone like Connor, like you were throwing your cell phone on its charger for the night. "Isn't it a bit cold for you?"

"I can't feel cold," Connor said. "And if it does get too cold my system has ways of regulating my temperature."

"Oh, okay," Barbara cast her eyes down. He halted in front of her car, as she stepped around to the other side, opening the driver's side door. "Well, be careful...there's a lot going on out there."

"I will," he assured her.

Nodding, she gave him a small smile, her hand on the roof of her car. "I guess I'll see you in a couple hours, then."

He returned the grin, dimples in his cheeks she'd never noticed appeared. "I'll see you then. Drive safely," always polite, professional.

Barbara closed the door and started the car, and Connor watched her drive away. She crossed the bridge to go back to the city, guilt weighing heavily on her shoulders, absolutely and completely alone.


Thanks for the kind words last chapter. They really gave me motivation to edit this one quickly and get it posted. I have to admit, however, I didn't feel it needed as much editing as previous ones, so I might have gotten lazy and missed a few typos. Let me know if you see anything, and please let me know what you think of this chapter. It's one of my favorites!