A Small Unwitting Smile: Chapter 11: Guardian / Angel

Written By: ehProudCanadianWriter

Main Characters: Markus x OC, Elijah Kamski, Connor, Jericho Androids (+ others)

Rating: T (Violence, Swearing)
Point of View: Rheia Elliot (OC)

Disclaimers: This is to note that any similarities that can be found within this work to other fan fiction or works are completely unintentional.

Tumblr & AO3 Username: ehProudCanadianWriter

Please review and favourite if you enjoyed.

/ Author's Note: Hello everyone! Sorry for such a long delay in posting. I've been travelling pretty extensively the past month and came down with bronchitis this past two weeks. I should be getting back onto a regular posting schedule so don't worry! I hope you all enjoy this chapter. Happy holidays!

November 10th, 2038. 9:33 am.

When I left Perkins, I thought I was going to enjoy my short time alone. I had come up with a plan of attack for when I talked to Evan and I had figured out the story I wanted to tell. I thought the time could be used to enjoy the small dysfunctional satisfaction I got from putting Perkins in his place. Sure, I did regret it a bit but usually, I wasn't so… feisty. So, I thought I would enjoy the moment once I was left alone. That wasn't what happened though. As I sat in my cell, the silence seemed to encroach on my good mood, bringing in an unease I wasn't expecting. I sat, unconsciously playing with the small pills hanging off my sweater, waiting for something. I waited for a sound to crack through the silence, to spark my flight.

I felt my brain drifting back to Jericho. The sights, the sounds, they all seemed to linger just out of the corner of my eye. I felt my fingers pinching the fabric with an incessant anxiousness as I sat as if waiting for the gunshot to ring out - for the waves of confusion and desperation to fill my senses. It wasn't like my dreams, which felt so intrinsic and overpowering, but something different; Something distant yet close, something foggy in memory but so real in sensation. I couldn't- I couldn't quite process it. Maybe I didn't want to. I looked down at my shirt and tried to focus on anything else but it lingered, humming in the stillness.

The silence was broken with something more conversational than a gunshot. Francis, with a soft smile, came in to check up on me and see how I was doing. When he came into the room, there was a hesitant calm as he tried to gauge how to approach the situation. As expected, he couldn't be necessarily apologetic, but I could tell with his gentle smile that he was told to oversell it to perhaps smooth over the oversights. Still, Francis wasn't entirely an unwanted face.

He made his way into my cell, a bottle of water in hand and a folding chair in the other. When we met eyes, his smile seemed genuine. He put the chair against the wall and held the bottle out to me. For a moment, I hesitated but my dry mouth pushed me to accept his peace offering. I drank the majority of the bottle before Francis settled. "Are you doing alright? I know that was a bit rocky in there."

Francis' words were temperate but I just shrugged. "I am in prison, I should expect interrogations."

"Still," he mumbled and I watched as his eyes settled to the ground. His mind was turning, attempting to figure out the best approach. He finally settled on, "you've got to have a strong will to avoid being shaken by that man."

I let a small chortle tickle the back of my throat and a little smile brush my lips. I couldn't necessarily explain that I had seen worse in the past twenty-four hours without beginning a line of questioning I wasn't ready to share. I instead shrugged again, letting the silence return. There was maybe a half of a minute before he began cautiously with a statement. I had heard something similar just a handful of minutes before. "I don't really… get you, if I might speak freely."

I raised my eyes to meet his, letting a bit of my confusion show my face. I wasn't confused by the question itself, but the sincerity that lingered in his tone. "You read my file I'm sure, you know what happened."

"No, no, I- I do get that… it's just- I went to the University of Colbridge too and I'm always amazed to see people who do a lot of good end up here in some way."

I let a grin linger before mumbling, "I'm still trying to do good, Francis. Being here doesn't make me wrong."

For a moment we looked at each other and I could see my words flipping back and forth in his mind. "So you went to Colbridge too?" I asked.

I expected him to be more unwilling to speak about himself, as it probably went against all of his training to give out too much information, but the words seemed to tumble out of his mouth. I sipped my water as he told me about his world and the life he had outside of this crisis. He had gone to the same university, though I guess the big difference was that he had gotten the diploma. Listening to him and the way his words seem to twist with his smile brought a bigger smile to my face. It wasn't that he was forcing it for the sake of a conviction, but rather seemed to be just- genuinely happy to discuss his accomplishments. We could have been sitting in a coffee shop instead of a prison cell. He wasn't boastful or overly proud, but simply happy to share. Why he shared these memories with me I wasn't sure but it was clear to see he got lost in his happier recollections.

In a weird way, I found a kindred spirit in Francis. He was fascinated by people, just as I was. He wanted to know how they ticked, what brought them to that moment when he met them in cells like this one. He saw people as the accumulation of all of their life experiences, but it didn't define them. He wanted to see the best in people and wanted to help. Watching him speak reminded me ever so subtly, perhaps even unconsciously, that I had been lucky to find so many good people in this horrible situation - people with convictions and goals – passionate people.

At CyberLife, I had been surrounded by people who were motivated but often were too proud to simply love what they did. Even if their goals were different, it was refreshing to be around all of these people who worked hard for what they wanted and were fervent in their causes. Some people never get to meet people like that. As much as those horrible sights lingered in the corner of my vision, I felt a warmth and reassurance edging it away for the time being.

The way Francis' lips curled into a smile when he spoke about his research interests and what got him into police work to begin with, it reminded me of Simon. His gentle eyes reminded me of Markus when he spoke about the piano. They were all just passionate people and I could only hope that the fire of passion I felt in my chest – the one that pushed me to take that leap of faith with Elijah all those years ago – would be able to push forward again in a new way to fill the world with a little bit more light.

When he finished, Francis looked at me and it pulled me from my daze. "So, what about you? What got you interested in androids? You're the head of android cognitive development right? What made you begin this- journey?"

Although his question was genuine, I thought of the camera over my head and all I could feel was the bureaucracy peeking over my shoulder once again. "I wanted to do what I loved, same as you."

His eyes met mine and he didn't waiver. His head tipped softly to one side, "Why did you love it?"

I didn't expect my answer to feel as full as it did, as if all the emotion of the response was stitched into the words themselves. "You wanted to understand how people worked when you got into school. Elijah offered me the same option, just- a different avenue of exploration, that's all. I wanted to make something of myself, new and unattached to anything else in my life. I wanted to help people and Elijah gave me that opportunity-" my voice softened slightly, "– I owe him a lot for that."

"And he went on to make the first Android –" Francis' frank response seemed so out of place and it caused me to frown. His tone suggested he was simply stating a fact, but it was infuriating none the less. I tried to push the jealousy away and I quickly tried to hide my scowl. It didn't seem to go unnoticed though and as quickly as he could, Francis leapt, "Were you interested in the glory?"

I looked down at the floor and my heart sank with the question. The question of glory and history had nagged at me for a long time and was one I had never really come to terms with. Elijah had promised me history, but it was only him who was ever remembered. It bothered me. Even after all of these years and countless drunken evenings alone, there was no use denying that. Still, the question picked at a sore inside my chest where the knot of restless night sleeps and emotional breakdowns had amalgamated. It pierced the memories of fights with Elijah, the disregard some of my colleagues had towards my contributions, and short-sighted mistakes I had made. I could never fully answer why it bothered me as much as it did, but I did know the answer his question – in the simplest terms.

When I met his gaze, a reminiscent smile was all I could muster. As much as I knew that it would be giving him too much, giving Perkins' more ammunition against me, the words slipped out of me in a spurt of pure honesty - as if they had been behind my teeth waiting to be said. "It did but then I realized if I could be remembered for doing something good, that's all I can ask for."

A half-truth, an unfinished answer. It was what I told myself all those frustrating evenings. It was what I told myself every time I signed off on a bit of code I had finished or sent off an android prototype, even if Elijah and the other supervisors hated designers putting their names on certain projects (they thought it took away from the CyberLife brand). It had to be enough; I didn't get a choice. That memory and those small little acts of rebellion had to be enough to mark my place. It was all I could offer both Francis and myself.

"Is that why you were with Markus?" His words were timid. I think he realized he had stepped into a bit of a minefield. My response was more emotionally charged than I think he was anticipating.

"No," I told him curtly, "I sided with Markus because it is the right place to be."

That part was true. It would always be true.

Francis and I shared a long thoughtful look before a cop broke through our quiet conversation and passed the cell. Francis looked up and the cop waved his hand to lure him out. Francis released a short sigh before pushing himself up. He looked at me and smiled, "Can we talk later?"

"I'll be here."

He nodded, holding out his hand for the empty bottle. Once it and the chair were in hand, he left me once more to the silence. I didn't get much time to sit and reminisce on my own, but rather it was only a few minutes later that another cop stepped into view. He didn't look like any other cop I had seen. His layers of grey hair hung around his face. His long beard seemed to continue only where his hair ended, hiding some of his frown lines behind it - some of them. His eyes were heavy but when our eyes met, they seemed to burst with life.

I looked at him with a confused expression as we stared each other down. He seemed as uncertain at first as I was but then he did something I wasn't expecting. He opened the door. With a scan of his palm, the glass door opened and he stepped inside. I watched him attentively, keeping myself seated on my small cot so as to avoid looking hostile (I guess a bit of Perkins' advice had stuck). He didn't seem like the chatty type like Francis. Why was he here? There was no way Evan was here yet… so…

"You're Rheia Elliot, right? The CyberLife girl?"

That's a hell of a way to put it.

"Yeah, I guess you could call me that."

"I need you to come with me and be quick about it."

For a moment, I simply stared at him before he rolled his eyes and groaned in annoyance. I pushed myself up and he gestured to my hands. I raised them, allowing the man to handcuff me. "Where are we going?" I thought the question was simple enough.

"Just- be quiet will ya?" he muttered under his breath.

Watching his constant flickering gaze, I felt an ominous pit settle into my stomach. Something wasn't right or at the very least something was happening. It was best to be alert.

He turned, walking me out of the cell and I followed behind him 'quietly' as he requested. Only a step behind him, I could see his head swivelling back and forth nonchalantly. He went to turn towards the main office space before another voice broke through the sound of the clacking keyboards in the room adjoined. "Hank, what are you doing?"

I could see the moment the cop – Hank I guess his name was – stopped and turned towards the voice with a small, hardly disguised sigh. The other cop came into view and it didn't take me a moment to recognize him or at least his appearance. His dark brown hair, musky eyes, and larger nose were indistinguishable from a picture I remembered. Yes- it was definitely him… but where did I remember it from?

My thoughts were cut off when the man spoke again, "Figures, I'm told to act as Perkins' errand boy and you're already scooping up the scraps. Can't let this case go can you?"

Hank didn't seem to move for a moment, but the other man simply groaned. "Just get her to the second interrogation room will ya? They want to read her the conditions of her parole before Elijah – Kamski - gets here."

His aloof tone failed to alleviate the mountain of questions that had pooled in my mind from the beginning of his sentence. Parole? Elijah? Why was Elijah coming here? Why was I getting parole? I was absolutely dumbfounded. The other cop smirked as his eyes turned to me and he could undoubtedly see my confusion. "Don't worry sweetheart. Everything is gonna be explained, don't worry your pretty little head about it-"

And instantly my confusion resolved into annoyance and I rolled my eyes.

"Just leave her alone will ya? We don't need to add sexual harassment to her list of charges. Besides, she's probably smarter than you and I thought you learned not to test your luck with smart women Gavin."

The man scoffed in response to Hank's retorts and when he glanced over at me, I couldn't hide the small smirk on my face. "I'm definitely smarter than you- be careful detective."

He shook his head and gestured to the hall that led to the interrogation room, clearly done with the sarcastic banter. "Just get a move on. Perkins is gonna start barking soon."

Hank moved and put a hand on my upper back, giving me a small but gentle shove forward. I stepped in time with him away from Gavin, though I swore I could hear him call me a bitch under his breath. That small smirk stuck for a moment or two more before we found ourselves back outside the interrogation room. I let the expression fall as he put a hand on the scanner and opened the door. I didn't get a chance to look at his face for my eyes instantly landed on the two men inside. Perkins was inside, as well as another gentleman in a finely tailored suit. He sat at the table with a laptop on one side and a handful of papers on the other. Both looked at me in total unison and I took a step inside. Hank didn't follow, but rather the door shut behind me. "Have a seat, Miss Elliot."

I eyed them for a moment before I did as I was told. I sat down across from the other gentleman who opened up his laptop. Perkins' expression was a bit sour, to say the least. What on earth was going on?

"Miss Elliot, I am Chuk Uba and I am currently working as an intermediary between the FBI, the state of Michigan, and the White House on your case and I am here to oversee your release. You will be released on parole and will be placed under strict rules you must follow."

Well, shit.

I stared at him as he began to explain the nature of my release and I couldn't help but interrupt one of his pauses. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to sound ungrateful but – how am I being released on parole? Special agent Perkins here made it very clear my situation was precarious."

Uba paused, glancing at Perkins through the corner of his eye before looking at me. Maybe he had gotten into more trouble than I thought?

"I will be frank with you Miss Elliot. Your treatment up until this point has been – estranged. This crisis currently in a delicate state and it has been decided by the president herself that we do not need to exacerbate the issue currently. You will still be under constant scrutiny until this issue is resolved and will be living with the guardian we are to assign you."

"Is it parole or house arrest?" I asked.

I realized only after that that could have come across as hostile, though my tone seemed to placate Uba. "Your parole will be very restrictive Miss Elliot, as you can no doubt understand. Right now, we not only want to ensure your safety and comfort but also – put your mind at ease as to your treatment…"

I could see how gently Uba organized his words, tiptoeing around the issue itself. They were to put me on a leash, but one with a comfortable bed and away from the police station. It really didn't seem like there was much of a difference to me, but I could only imagine the chaos that must have erupted if they had to call in an intermediary just for my case. Hell, the president even knew about me. This had turned into a real shit storm. Perkins didn't look the least bit thrilled.

"So, I'm going to be given a form of house arrest that has more comfort and freedom than just simply being incarcerated?"

"That is the long and short of it, yes. If you accept the conditions, you will be under the control of your guardian and will have a regular inspector come to determine your conditions."

There's that word again… guardian. I felt the pit in my stomach begin to grow. "My guardian – it's Elijah Kamski, isn't it?"

"How do you know that?" He was polite but I could see the inquisitive look on his face.

"I heard one of the detectives mention it outside."

Uba sighed and nodded, "Yes. You will be put under the care of Elijah Kamski. He petitioned the state for your guardianship and has even offered to pay bail in your stead."

Fuck…. Just- fuck…

I felt my shoulders slump a bit with the news. Being stuck with Elijah in any long-term capacity was already going to be difficult and then being literally indebted to him would only make it so much worse. The idea of him consistently scrutinizing me again was not one that filled me with joy. It didn't seem to add up though. "If I may ask…" I tried to keep my tone gentle, "… my relationship with Elijah is well known and documented due to our history with CyberLife. That isn't considered a conflict of interest?"

"All of this has been discussed and weighed Miss Elliot. I can assure you."

"And the fact that he and I have a sexual history as well does not raise any alarm bells?"

That seemed to catch his attention and he looked up from his computer with a scrupulous look. "I am- unsure if we were ever informed of such history. I- I will check once more with my superiors but I am sure it has been addressed."

That told me, most certainly, it had not been.

The topic of the small 'relationship' (though it could hardly be called that) I had with Elijah was not known by anyone really. It wasn't a fact about my life I was necessarily proud of and I hated giving Elijah the satisfaction of discussing the short fling in any public way. It was only a few nights during the time we were tailoring Chloe for the Turing Test; I had tried my best to forget about it. We had agreed not to speak of it, mostly just to make sure there would be no drama in the workplace, aside from the drama Elijah inherently created. As a colleague and a designer, I thought Elijah was a genius and maybe even a friend but that did not mean every element of our personal interactions contained that same admiration. What can I say, whenever something deals with Elijah you can expect it to be overly complicated.

Pushing the topic of Elijah aside, Uba continued to detail to me the stipulations of my parole. Some of it was the standard stuff, but it was easy to see how it was tailored to be both extremely restrictive but sound like more freedom than I had in the police station. Worded just right, I'm sure they all believed it might help to placate me or at the very least act as a defence if I took them to court after the whole affair. It probably wasn't normal protocol to be so kind, but with the turbulent media, the indistinct definitions as to what kind of threat the androids posed, and my contradictory prominence and anonymity in the whole situation, it must have been very convoluted.

When he finished, Uba had me sign a collection of forms. I was hesitant at first to sign them, staring down at them with a vague disgust. Perkins didn't seem to bother making note of my discomfort before he spoke, "When Mr Kamski arrives, you will go with him and a police escort to your home. There, more information will be settled on how his guardianship will work in practice and we will install the various mechanisms to ensure accordance with our stipulations."

Even Perkins' speech felt very rehearsed. I let the silence sit for a moment. I could feel their eyes boring into me as I gently pushed the forms around to read them. The dreadful truth of it all was that this was likely my only option. As much as the daring part of me wanted to find some way to escape and go back to Markus and the others, I also knew that my confinement here was simply buying them time. It was all I wanted when I sat in my cell; I wanted those precious minutes to help Markus and to give him the chance to formulate his own plan.

Perhaps part of me always knew I wasn't going to get back or would ever see any of them again. Markus had made it clear that he wanted me out of Jericho before the raid. I had to resign myself to that fact. I could only hope that I had given them a chance. I felt that pit in my stomach grow larger and a hint of nausea tickled the back of my throat. I simply nodded and signed the forms one by one, hoping that each signature would give Markus the chance to make his difference in the world. Uba smiled once all the forms were signed, "Thank you for your cooperation with us, Miss Elliot."

I waited for a moment as they gathered the materials and prepared to leave. I looked down at the papers I had signed and sighed, watching as they were scooped up by Perkins and handed to Uba. I had no choice... Going back to Markus was impossible, as much as I willed it. I had to accept it. Evan wouldn't be able to do anything about it, even before I signed the papers. I would be under surveillance at all times and I could only hope Elijah wouldn't see himself as a 'magnanimous' dictator with the power he had seemingly purchased for himself. No matter my fears, there wasn't much that could be done. I just wouldn't falter once I was there. They would get no information about Jericho from me, come hell or high water.

My eyes shifted to the door as Hank once more stepped inside and Perkins casually waved his hand towards him, "Follow the lieutenant. We're done here, Miss Elliot."

I nodded, glancing at Uba who shot me a quick and courteous smile. "Have a good day Miss Elliot. We'll be in touch. If you have any concerns, please do not hesitate to reach out. Mr Kamski has been given my number."

"Thank you, Mr Uba."

I pushed myself up from my chair and looked at Hank as I stepped past him into the hall. The door shut, leaving me with the lieutenant at the end of the hallway. Although I expected to move either back to my cell or out the front door, Hank caught my elbow. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small set of keys to unlock my handcuffs. At first, I was surprised but I let him slowly unlink my hands. I suppose now that I had signed the papers, I was safe in their eyes? It seemed like an oversight but I didn't say anything. I rubbed my wrists gently as he slid the handcuffs into his pocket. "So do I get my stuff back or do I-"

"I'm going to tell you something and you're gonna have to just go with me, alright?"

His words cut mine off like a heated knife but were so quiet I almost couldn't hear him. His eyes fixed on me. "I will give you an opportunity and when you see it, you take it. Go to the back of the building, understood?"

His tone was intense and his eyes were stern. I couldn't help but feel my body stiffen. Was this some kind of test? There was no way Perkins would do something like this but he was also not acting like himself. Maybe it was the suggestion of one of his supervisors? I did just sign to live in confinement. It was one sentence that settled my mind and changed my perspective. "Connor will meet you in the cab and will know where to take you."

He knew about Connor. That's all it took to sell me. I wish I could tell you I took a second to think about the consequences of my actions. I wish I could tell you that I wasn't that naïve and didn't put so much blind faith into a man I had never met before; I wish I could tell you I thought about what would happen when they realized I never got into the car with Elijah. I didn't though. He knew Connor; I could get back to Markus. I wouldn't be stuck in a hell space with Elijah. I could go back to them and maybe be of some use. If Connor was there, Markus wanted me back with them at least in some capacity. At that point, that's all that mattered to me.

I instinctively nodded and met the man's gaze. My determination seemed enough for him as he gestured ahead of him. "Don't do anything funny. Let's go," he told me loudly.

I took a few hesitant steps, unsure of where to go, but after a moment he stepped in time with me and I followed his heavy steps back to my cell. As we rounded the corner, I noticed my backpack and coat sitting on my cot. I watched as he stepped inside, grabbing hold of my coat and backpack. As he did, another cop entered the cell.

She was a short woman with light wavy hair, dressed in the traditional police uniform. All the other cops I had seen walked with a sense of routine but she seemed rigid and polished. That, and her lack of insignia, made her seem like someone right out of the academy. What a terrible time to get a new job as a policeman. I pushed the thought aside and tried my best to look distant and disinterested as they began to speak. "Lieutenant? You've been put on this?"

Hank gently shimmied my coat over his arm, glancing over at the other officer with a small shrug. "Perkins gave her to me so I thought I'd see it through. Don't need Fowler complaining how I'm not a team player."

"You sure? Have you been briefed on what is going to happen-" the woman paused, her eyes hesitantly eying Hank with suspicion. She did not seem entirely swayed.

"It's fine Hitchcock. I got it." Hank's disparage tone caused the young cop to recede and nod approvingly.

"Alright. They will come and brief you when Kamski gets here. Thanks, Hank."

With that, the cop left the room, once more leaving me with the disgruntled detective. He grabbed hold of my bag and gently unzipped it, checking its contents. "Some of the items you had have been kept as evidence. I'll give you a copy of your parole conditions once we get to your house."

I nodded, keeping my eyes down to the ground. He held onto my backpack but handed me my coat without a word. I took it eagerly from his hands, pulling it on and immediately zipping it up. The cells weren't inherently cold, but I had missed the additional warmth of my winter coat. Once everything was secured, he nodded and left the cell, waving his hand to bring me along. "Alright Miss Elliot, come with me."

I followed dutifully behind him as we made our way through the main section of the room. I let my eyes wander and scan the room I had only caught glimpses of during my original interrogation march with Perkins. The room was almost empty with the exception of a handful of cops still sitting at their desks. The other cops were in the meeting room connected to the office. I only caught a glance of a map of Detroit on the projector before Hank brought me through the security doors out into the foyer.

Looking at it all now, they really did seem crippled by the lack of androids. The reception desk was manned by several human workers and the lack of additional security by the front door made the place seem almost unfortified. The small security gate seemed so inadequate with no androids in the lobby. Although I had faith in the police department (or rather, I did before the colossal mess up that I experienced personally), I could see how drastically their manpower was cut and how poorly prepared they were for any kind of real threat.

Hank brought me over to the side of the foyer before looking out of the front doors of the station. One by one, cars seemed to pass by and Hank kept a watchful eye. We stood there for about three minutes before he looked at me. "Wait here."

Hank's mumble drifted after him as he stepped out onto the busy sidewalk and I stood entirely alone. For a moment, I watched him through the door before he simply walked from sight, further up the street. I wish I had more of an idea of what the plan was but I followed his instructions. I saw a chance and I took it. With a few short steps, I pushed open the door and made my way out onto the busy street. "Excuse me!" a female voice called from within, "Miss!"

I went to move, to put as much space between me and the cops inside as I could, when I felt a firm grip hit my back and push me forward away from Hank and the police headquarters. I gasped and stumbled slightly with the force of the movement but when I got a look at the perpetrator, I was immediately greeted by Connor. His face was strict with purpose and wore an uncompromising look. He was dressed in the same slightly over-sized clothing he had been wearing in Jericho, covering his LED with his beanie.

I breathed a gentle sigh of relief but that reprieve didn't stick. He had his arm around my shoulders and he pushed me faster and faster in my step to round the nearest corner. I never thought I would be broken out of prison in my lifetime; I also never thought I'd be breaking my parole while signing the paperwork. Still, I was happy to see Connor, even if I knew the hell storm that was waiting on the other side of the wall and that bureaucratic nightmare. We were nearly in a jog when I spotted a cab sitting next to the police cruiser car lot, seemingly empty. The out of service banner that rolled across the side of the cab kept it safe from pedestrians.

As we approached it, however, the door of the cab slid open and I was pushed immediately inside. When I got into my seat and the door shut, the cab pulled from the curb and we disappeared into the crowded streets. I turned my gaze to Connor in amazement and it was only then I noticed Connor's eyes trailing up and down my body. Once he seemed satisfied, he gave me a subdued smile. "I'm glad to see you're not hurt Miss Elliot. It's nice to see you again. I hope you were not treated poorly."

I glanced out the window as we passed by the front of the police station. I felt my nerves spike as I found Hank's silver hair next to someone familiar. Connor's voice and concern slid away into the space of the cab. I knew the windows were tinted and I was safe from view but my eyes landed on another pair; for a split second, it felt like our eyes met through the glass of the cab's windows. Elijah was getting out of his car and had been greeted by Hank. The two stood side by side and it seemed in that moment that Elijah had turned just as we passed. Elijah and I shared a momentary glance and for an instant, I thought I saw him smirk. It was as if time halted and I felt my stomach churn. That was all it was though, a second in time before our cab turned, pulling away from the police station as discretely as it arrived. "Miss Elliot?"

Connor's confused tone brought me back and I tried to shake off the goosebumps that settled up my arms and back. I met his dark eyes with an exacerbated look and a bit of frustration forced its way into my tone. "I think I'm okay. Maybe a bit more direction next time on where the hell to go would be nice? All Hank told me was to 'take the opportunity he gave me' which really wasn't clear."

"I'm sorry that the plan was not well explained. In all honesty, we had other arrangements in place but your transport put them into jeopardy. We knew if you left with Mr Kamski, it would be too difficult to see you released due to the increased security around the perimeter of your home. When Hank informed us, we knew the best course of action was to free you in transfer."

"And what necessarily was the other plan?" I asked, letting the edge lessen in my voice.

"It was very simple. In the late hours of the morning, Markus and Josh were to go to separate districts of town and hijack the emergency broadcast service lines to make dozens of reports of anti-android riots in distant Detroit housing districts. Once the police department was thoroughly empty, I would have gained access to the department, incapacitated those remaining, and break you out without any casualties."

I listened and couldn't help but chuckle slightly with his words. "I never thought 'breaking someone out of prison' would be simple," I retorted.

"I suppose it wouldn't usually be. However, having individuals inside the police department is useful if such an occasion arises. Though, I would very much like have to avoid doing this again in the future."

His tone was so matter-of-fact that I couldn't help but let out a small giggle. The small frustration I had seemed to disappear as we got further and further from the police station. It probably wasn't pretty there now and I could only hope Hank would be able to avoid incarceration himself.

"Is Hank with you then?" The question lingered on my mind and Connor's expression softened as he nodded. "The lieutenant was my partner before I deviated. When I left to locate Markus and the other deviants, he refused to offer assistance. He thought they deserved a chance. When I reached out to him at his home last night and explained what had happened, his opinion of my mission changed as you might expect."

So Hank supported the deviants, even before his partner had deviated himself. That fact alone was oddly reassuring.

"Is he going to be alright?" A small hint of worry lingered in my voice and I could see the light yellow hue beneath Connor's hat in the dim lighting of the cab.

"Lieutenant Anderson will be alright. In the eyes of his superiors, it will appear as another mistake on his record. He might need to turn in his badge but it should be seen as a failure of police systems over something nefarious. Don't worry."

Although his tone was meant to put me at ease, I could only hope that Connor was right. I nodded, gently cracking my fingers as if it would inherently release some of the nerves that lingered. "Just- keep an eye on him alright? I'd hate-" I paused for a moment, taking a second to look at Connor, "I'd hate if something worse happened to him just to get me out."

"I will do what I can Miss Elliot but you will see him again before the evening is out I'm sure. The lieutenant can handle himself. I just hope that your stay at the police station was… comfortable at least; I hope they didn't harm you."

Comfortable would not be the word I'd use to describe it but I tried to reassure him none the less. "Perkins was an asshole and there seemed to be a lack of communication but other than that, no I think I'm okay."

"Good. Markus was concerned so I'm sure he'll be glad to hear it."

"How is Markus? What is happening Connor?"

He adjusted himself a bit, leaning back into the seat across from me. It was almost a bit funny, seeing him with his perfected analytical movements looking as he did. He moved as if he was in a three-piece suit, even with his over-sized jacket. I watched as his eyes settled, staring at nothing in particular before he returned his attention to me. "I think it would be best for Markus to explain it. There's a lot you two will need to discuss."

He nodded as if settling the notion for himself and I was forced to follow it. I nodded in return, leaning back into the seat and letting my shoulders slouch in removed tension. We sat in silence for a few minutes as the taxi weaved through the streets of Detroit. I knew we weren't necessarily going home, as we got further and further away from my condo downtown. I didn't bother to ask where we were going. Rather, I found all those questions reverberating in my mind that I had failed to ask before following Hank's instructions. As much as I wanted to be back with the androids, it didn't seem like a smart idea… I was a liability to them. "Why break me out? It's- it's only going to cause you more trouble."

Connor raised his eyes and looked at me inquisitorially. "I'm not saying I'm not happy to be back with you but – I thought especially considering Markus didn't want me to stay in Jericho that you all wouldn't risk getting me now."

"You have proven yourself and have become instrumental to this cause. Markus didn't want you to be left behind. This is especially true because of your actions in Jericho."

I looked up at him and I was surprised to find a softer expression on Connor's face. It was not one of calculated thought, but rather its emotional depth caused me to stop. "I wanted to apologize to you Miss Elliot for what happened."

"Connor- you don't have to-" I tried to give him some reassurance, even if it was just to help to diminish the tortured look on his face as he shifted to look down at his hands, but it was to no avail.

"It was my fault that the human's found Jericho. I was stupid-" The words came out of him with almost a metronomic rhythm, as if whispered in his mind over and over into perfect sync. He cut off his thoughts and shook his head, bringing his words back onto his determined track. "I didn't know why you were in Jericho but I wanted to make sure you got out safely and- I failed that mission. When you jumped in front of Markus, I could have done something. The risk of collateral damage was too high. You had a higher survival rate if I didn't intervene but..."

I could see the struggle on his face as he explained and I couldn't help but feel for him. All of the androids were suddenly thrown from their billions of operations and calculations into the chaos of emotions, both good and bad. Watching as Connor's face twitched and his lips formed into a thin line, I could see him struggling. How did all the other feel? Sure they had had more time with it but I didn't even understand my emotions and I had had them my whole life. I had caught glimpses of Markus' turmoil but he hid it so well that I failed to think about it. Connor, on the other hand, was struggling. I had designed him to accomplish his mission and to think of every available option. Sometimes, the shades of grey were difficult to distinguish, especially when personal goals and relationships became part of the equation.

"You didn't fail me, Connor. You did what you had to do. I appreciate the thought, but I didn't die. You were right not to help me- the odds were-"

"The odds were unfavourable, yes, but I should have done something. I could have tried alternative methods to secure your safety. I failed every android inside that freighter because I was too blind to see an alternative to my mission."

I sighed softly, letting him slowly work through his words. Sitting there, I couldn't help but think of Carl, who stared down the face of a confused programmer questioning her own existence and her role in the chaos we found ourselves. His words escaped me with a gentle tone, "If you thought I'd pass a verdict on what happened, I'm not the person to do that. You're obviously here because Markus trusts you so I'm going to follow his lead on that."

Connor looked down at his hands. It was only then I noticed he was holding a small coin. The calibration coin was one of Jean's ideas to help him maintain consistent vigilance and dexterity. I was almost surprised that he had kept it. He had it so tightly pressed between his thumb and index finger that I thought he might bend it.

I tried to assure him, "I'm not going to tell you one way or another how you should feel about this, but I know you did your best and you did protect me inside Jericho – before Markus found us, remember? It's good you're asking those questions though. That's a good place to start, don't you think? So long as you don't mercilessly harass yourself with your guilt, self-reflection is healthy."

He sighed, nodding a bit before looking at me once again and his expression relaxed. "Thank you, Miss Elliot."

"Call me Rheia, please. I've had enough of people calling me Miss Elliot for the time being."

He smiled slightly and nodded before we continued the drive without much conversation. Although I wanted to ask Connor more questions, I felt it best to leave him alone for the time being. We made our way into a suburb of Detroit and I couldn't help but let my gaze follow the houses as we passed them. I took in a couple street signs, attempting to locate where we were with no luck. The small handful of side streets I saw had names I didn't recognize. When we pulled up to a small house, Connor pulled my attention back.

Connor's hand hovered over the payment pad of the cab and as he pressed his hand against it, his skin retracted to reveal his white android hand. Instantly, the cab seemed to spring to life in a strange way. The lights above our heads flickered and immediately, the cab's autonomous voice crackled through the speakers. "I'm sorry. This automated cab has detected errors and must return to the Detroit Automated Taxi headquarters for diagnostic. This cab is unable to continue to your destination. We are sorry for any convenience. Would you like another cab to be sent to your current location?"

Connor spoke up immediately, his hand still pressed against the scanner, "No."

"Very well. Thank you for choosing Detroit's Automated Taxi Service. Please exercise caution while leaving the vehicle. Have a good day."

Connor raised his hand and stepped out of the cab and I quickly followed suit, slightly awed. We stood outside the cab as its door slid shut and the same 'out of service' banner appeared along its sides and back window. It drove off almost immediately and I shot a glance at Connor. "Is that how you all have been getting around? Breaking cabs?"

"It is still fully functional. I simply had to bypass its recording and directive processes to make sure no one could find out where you went."

I shot him an impressed grin before he turned and made his way towards the small house. The small white house seemed so quaint in comparison to the rest of Detroit. The suburban home's white façade, the dark stone detailing on the siding, and its minimalistic landscaping made it seem indistinct from all the other houses around it. Connor made his way to the front door and I quickly followed just a step behind him, once more feeling the chill of the air. Connor was already standing by the door to the house, pushing the doorbell in a small rhythmic pattern.

We stood for a moment in the silence before the door unbolted, revealing Josh through the crack of the door. When he determined it was us, he opened it fully and a kind expression crossed his face. I smiled at him when we met eyes and stepped inside but he looked away into the main room of the house. With the TV gently humming the news in the background, a figured pushed itself from the couch and turned. It was undeniably Markus and when he saw me, time itself seemed to freeze.

All the confusion I had about that moment seemed to both erupt and silence itself. There was no doubt in my mind that the expression on his face read as mine did. We didn't exactly leave on the best terms but our final moments were poignant. Markus had broken me out of prison because he didn't want to leave me behind but he also feared to get me too involved with the android protests. I had thrown myself in front of soldiers to protect him even though it was the last thing he wanted. He tried to pull me with him and away from the violence. He tried to pull me to run but I didn't – and here we both were.

I was worried he'd be angry or at the very least uncertain. His eyes seemed to scan me as they had on Jericho, checking me scrupulously. Although his first few steps were slow towards me, that moment of hesitation snapped and all at once he crossed the room. Before I could realize what was fully happening, my face found its way into his chest and his arms enveloped me. His broad shoulders weren't instinctively rigid but rather bent with his body as he pulled me tightly into his embrace. One of his arms had laced around my waist while the other pressed against my shoulders as his hand found its way gently against the back of my head. His body curled slightly around me so I slid perfectly into his grip. He was so warm.

It took me a moment to recognize what was happening before I put my arms around him too. I released a sigh of relief, one that seemed to be lingering inside me for far longer than I thought it was. I relished his warmth and the slightly musty smell that lingered in his clothes – I knew such a moment was not going to last. We had a lot to talk about but at that moment, I was just happy he was alive and in one piece.