February 2nd, 2039 - 4:41 A.M.

Connor leans his head against the window, eyes drifting closed as he listens to the sound of the train tracks. Feeling it rattle through him, like it could turn his bones to dust. He never thought he would come back to Detroit. Not really. He thought after the (failed) revolution, after seeing Gavin run away with Tina, that it would be the end of everything. He thought he could go back to his home, stay there while he got a job somewhere other than CyberLife. Try to pretend nothing happened. Try to go back to some sense of normalcy.

But he hasn't known normal his entire life.

Not a world without androids. They've been around since he was a child, raised to be part of the team to help put them together and make them what they are. He has always had it in his life. His mother had an android that helped clean the house. There were androids at his schools, doing things to help alleviate the stress of the humans that were still trusted to teach. He doesn't think it's like that anymore. Humans are slowly being more and more replaced. Androids are cheaper.

He vaguely recalls when he was a kid, before all this happened, before his mother died, before his brother was ripped from his arms, before he stood by himself in a street screaming and crying and doing nothing to stop the blood from pouring out of the gunshot wound on his mother's chest, doing nothing to stop his brother from being pushed in a van and taken away—he remembers then wanting to be an astronaut or a fireman or president. The kind of fanciful jobs all kids seek out from seeing these people are heroes when they're only eight or nine, before they are shown the horror of the world.

Maybe he would still like to be an astronaut. Get away from this place. Escape the people who couldn't love him the way he wanted them to, escape the people who hate him rightfully so. Escape it all just so he can be by himself.

Connor does not want to be by himself, he's terrified of being alone, but he wants to quarantine himself like a dangerous specimen. The horrors of his past are too infectious for the people he cares about to be tainted by. Not that there's anyone left.

He is all alone on his way back to Detroit, with little more than a suitcase full of only the absolute necessities.

.

.

February 2nd, 2039 - 7:21 A.M.

Gavin's day starts off the same every time. He has given himself a schedule for the first two hours. Get up. Clean. Feed the cat. Tend to the herbs in the windowsill. Run around the property. Come back. Do anything that isn't what he did the day before.

It is harder than it looks.

Gavin didn't realize how difficult it was to keep a schedule while simultaneously not making himself go fucking insane from the routine of it. Too much sameness left him laying on the floor at the end of December staring at the ceiling and screaming because he was alone and all he wanted to do was feel something other than the monotony of life.

He misses Tina. He misses Connor, even. He misses the androids that lived in Zlatko's home with him. He misses his fellow prisoners. He misses people.

He craves any kind of contact, and when it gets bad, Gavin craves even the vicious kind. He craves for the violence of something other than doing nothing, stuck alone with his thoughts so constantly that it destroys him from the inside out. He doesn't do anything. He no longer exists. He is just a broken android hiding out and hoping that another revolution will come by and be successful this time. Free him of his shackles. Fix him of his flaws. Give him a new life and identity.

Sometimes he just wants to die, he thinks.

He could get all he wants if he just died. He could start over, and maybe he wouldn't have his memories and he'd make the same mistakes, but at least he would be brand new again. At least he wouldn't be a torturer. At least he would be something other than him . Gavin can't imagine anything worse than himself. He picks apart his terrible flaws like peeling paint. Strips and strips of it pulled off the walls until all that is left is the grotesque layer that sits in patches but he can't stop because all he can think about it how much worse there is. More and more that he tried to cover up and tried to lie about. More and more terrible awful layers.

Connor doesn't know everything. Gavin almost wishes he did.

Maybe because it would mean a loose end would be tied up neatly, maybe because it would mean Connor never would have tried to rescue him.

And Gavin would be dead, and he is craving that kind of violence again. Focusing on these thoughts that shift through his head enough that they cover up some of the boredom.

It makes him laugh, sometimes.

He puts himself through all this pain just to ease the boredom of the world.

Time flies with self-hatred and suicidal ideation. It's already almost noon, and he hasn't even thought about how he would do it yet. If he could. He knows he can't.

What a coward.

But at least he has a few more hours to spend, fantasizing about the different ways he could end it. They'll fly by, too.

.

.

February 2nd, 2039 - 3:54 P.M.

"Tina."

"Oh," she says with a small smile, leaning forward on her hand. "What are you doing here?"

He doesn't know. Connor has tried to understand it for the last two months and he hasn't figured it out. Not from the moment he called the Realtor, packed his bags, sold what he could, came here with nothing but two suitcases and a hefty balance in his bank account to support him. He could've done everything he wanted to back in Seattle, but staying in Seattle felt too much like he was being haunted.

"I missed you," Connor replies instead, opting to pretend she isn't asking what are you doing here, in Detroit? and instead acting as though she's meant her question as what are you doing here, in this coffee shop?

"We promised we'd never speak again," she replies. "How did you find me?"

"Facebook," he says. "Sorry. It's… creepy, isn't it?"

She makes a face, like she's considering it, but she only ends with a shrug before looking around the cafe, her eyes shifty like people are eavesdropping in on their conversation.

In November, after Gavin escaped and the DPD did their investigation, all paths pointed towards Connor and Tina. They were lucky to get away with it. There was nothing they could do to prove Tina was a part of it, and CyberLife had Connor's back, but they're still suspects. CyberLife might have paid the DPD off to not ask any questions or make any arrests, but it isn't as though the subject has dropped from their priority list. Connor and Tina are fugitives and criminals to them. It's one of the reasons he left. He didn't deserve that kind of generosity, and he knows it wasn't out of kindness when Kamski showed up with a team of lawyers and money to bail him out. The two of them are on thin ice. Being caught together might be just enough evidence for CyberLife to do whatever they please. They have little jail cells for their androids when they go back to be tested on more thoroughly than just Connor's line of questioning. A human could easily find themselves in one of them.

Connor knows how cruel they are. It was a fear that they held over his head sometimes when he questioned things he wasn't supposed to. And he gave up everything for Gavin, including the feeling of safety he had from CyberLife. But now he has spent countless nights staying awake wondering if it was for Gavin at all, or if everything was just for him to finally escape CyberLife. What he did was inexcusable, but there were no proper repercussions except for an hour of arguments between him and his mother before they went their separate ways.

Amanda always made sure to call him on Christmas. She always spent hours talking with him, catching up during the holiday. There was nothing this time. Whatever agreement they had before, whatever familial bond, it was gone now. Connor has seemingly crossed a line on all sides of everything that he can't go back on.

But at least Tina seems safe. CyberLife won't go near her. She lost her job at the DPD and works here now, instead, but at least she isn't in jail. At least Kamski listened to him when they last spoke.

"Did you come to stay?" Tina asks.

"I don't know," he shrugs. "I thought… I thought maybe. I have a hotel room for now."

"Is it nice?"

He nods, a small smile forming. He lets it play out, for the friendliness, for the false happiness to let their conversation not feel so tense. Connor can stay at a nice hotel with room service and mints on the pillows and look out at the view of the city. Lights twinkling across buildings so much shorter than the one he's in. It doesn't change anything. He closes his eyes at night and the nightmares still play on repeat. The softness of the blankets and the mattress do nothing to sway them. It never has, it never will.

"Did you…" she trails off, looking around again. He knows what she's going to ask, but he's planning on forcing her to say it. He doesn't want to bring up the topic himself. "Do you want to… do you think about…"

He waits.

Waits while she puts the words together, and when she does, there's a frustrated sigh as she leans back on her heels.

"Do you want to see him?"

"Who?"

"Connor," she says, tilting her head, eyebrows raised in annoyance. "Come on."

"Hank?" he offers. "I don't think so. We didn't get along."

"Connor—"

"Chris was alright, though. He was nice. I wish I got to know him more."

"Co—"

"Fowler? Tina what a weird—"

"Shut the fuck up," she snaps. "Knock it off. You know who I'm talking about."

He shakes his head, looking away from her. He is doing his best to treat this like a funny situation. Pretend they are in a comedy instead of a horror. Whenever he thinks about Gavin, everything gets worse. He has dreams of Gavin chained to the table, opening his mouth to spill out his secrets and all that comes is blue blood dripping from his lips as he tries his hardest to beg for Connor's help.

Connor did the bare minimum and only when it was convenient for him. How many other androids did he send off to die? How many other androids did he lie to about a perfect paradise? About hope? About a future?

"Gavin isn't in the city," Tina says. "But he's close."

"You shouldn't be telling me this."

"Yeah?" she asks, glancing toward the door as the bell rings, announcing the arrival of a new customer. "You should see him, you know. He's all by himself. You're the only person he knows besides me. It's the least you could do. And what's going to happen? CyberLife going to do something about it now? Everything is quiet. They wouldn't risk a scandal as long as he's laying low."

"I don't think it's a good idea."

"I don't care if you think it's a good idea. You got me wrapped up in this. He's fucking miserable out there. He can't go anywhere. I've been—" she pauses. "One second, okay?"

He nods, but while she's distracted with the customer and his overly complicated order, Connor grabs his coffee and disappears out the door, racing down the street back to the piece of junk that is his car waiting on the side of the road as fast as he can manage. He sold the car he had before. Some desire to get rid of everything and anything he could that CyberLife gave to him. It was different if it was just money, he could do whatever he wanted with it and it felt a little bit like vengeance, but the car was a gift from Kamski his fifth year there, almost exactly the first year anniversary when they stopped calling what they did just sex and called it dating .

He slams his hands against the steering wheel now, willing back all the thoughts and emotions as he starts the engine, driving away from the cafe. He'll come back again. He slipped the number to the hotel room across the counter. She'll find it. He wouldn't abandon her, even if he wants to.

Connor just always feels so broken. Torn between two worlds every time he gets a chance to look at some sort of situation.

He doesn't miss working at CyberLife, but he misses having a place he belongs.

He doesn't regret saving Gavin, but he thinks his life would be easier if he had never turned his back on where he was supposed to be. And Connor doesn't love El anymore, but every single time he thinks about him he misses their relationship and he misses being in love and he misses having a place where he could exist outside of work. He misses the safe space beside him. He misses the phone calls and the texts that let him know he wasn't alone because all he ever feels anymore is alone , no matter how many people talk to him, no matter how many people try to keep him company. He shoves them away because at night when he's laying in the vast emptiness of a bed too big for one person, he wishes El was there, filling the space.

Connor is torn in two different directions, just wishing that someone could love him again, wishing he could love again, wishing that El would just come back because then he didn't have to start all over again, because he would be able to protect himself better this time, knowing that they had fallen apart before.

But he can't go back.

He'll never go back. Not just because he left CyberLife and made the decisions that did even more irreparable damage to them than what El had done first, but because it's his choice now.

Connor doesn't want Elijah back, he just misses what Elijah represented.

.

.

February 2nd, 2039 - 7:16 P.M.

Tina calls sometimes. Not every day. Sometimes, though, and always at seven in the afternoon. The sun has set, sending his world into darkness. Lit only by candles he can't smell, but Tina picked out to all be vanilla. Whenever she comes over, she comments on how nice it is. Like a cake shop. Sweet and sickly. He doesn't know what to say. He only lights them so he isn't in total darkness—he doesn't like to turn the lights on. Not here. It feels too much like exposing himself, with the one wall facing south that's made entirely of glass windows, overlooking the forest.

Instead, Gavin sits in the dark, putting vanilla candles on the list of things he wants Tina to pick up nearly every week because burning them for six hours straight tends to leave them melting away fast. It's the only thing he ever puts on the list,

It feels a little bit like a seance when he picks up the phone, sitting against the wall and watching the flames flicker from afar, chained to the wall by the cord of it. It's an old place he's in. He likes it, sometimes. It feels cozy. It feels warm. It feels safe. Sometimes it feels suffocatingly small, a place he shouldn't be. But the way the antiques and the dated technology and furniture line the walls makes it feel less like the world he lived in is actually real, and that this is instead. Or vice versa. He doesn't know. It just feels like an escape. He can pretend a little bit easier when he's in here.

"Gav?"

He feels a small smile try to tug at his lips, a fondness for the nickname. He never had one before. He was always Gavin or Reed. Once, someone called him Vinny as a part of a cruel joke after he first arrived at Zlatko's, when he was given legs again and joined the realm of the other creatures awaiting assignment for their purpose. Experiment? Slave? Enforcer?

Enforcer is such a stupid fucking word he keeps picking to trick himself that he isn't a disgusting android that nearly carved Zlatko's name into the shoulder of a YK400 like a brand to remind her forever of who and where she belonged, as if the CyberLife stamp on all of the pieces of her body wasn't enough to tell her she would never be her own person.

"What is it?" Gavin asks quietly, trying to pull himself from the past. Always trying to pull himself from the past.

"I wanted to tell you something," she says, and he listens to the sound of bags and items moving around.

She always buys something when she talks to him. Like there has to be a plastic bag full of food or clothes in order for her to dial the number. She told him once that she liked to clean while they talked. To do simple chores. Dishes clanking away in the sink or boxes of cereal being lined up in the pantry. If he thinks about it too deeply, he reads into the situation much more than he needs to, and ends up leaving hurt like a wounded puppy.

"About?"

"Connor."

Oh.

He feels himself shrink back against the wall. Feels himself try to decipher what this thing inside of his chest is whenever Connor's name is mentioned. A rarity, between them. Always from Tina's lips. Never his. Gavin thinks about Connor, but he doesn't talk about him. He doesn't know how to. He doesn't know how he feels about the boy that locked him up, the boy that interrogated him, the boy that saved him.

Who is Connor Stern? He has no fucking idea, and it feels like they have spent far too much time together.

"He came to see me today."

"He's in Detroit?" Gavin asks, unsure if the feeling he has is negative or positive. He can never decide if Connor is good or bad. He lies somewhere in between, and every time Gavin thinks he's decided whether or not the thought of Connor feels nice, he feels guilty. He feels guilty no matter what.

Connor saved him. Connor hurt him. Connor changed his ways and finally broke free of a pattern that CyberLife taught him to practice. Connor, before that, had caused dozens of androids to be sent away to be slaughtered. Picked apart and dissected. Studied and scrapped.

"Yeah," she says, the clatter of cans against the counter-top too close to the phone. "I don't know for how long. He gave me his number. Do you want me to pass it along?"

"No," Gavin says, too fast, too quick. He can't even decide if it was out of a desire to keep Connor out of his life or pretend that he doesn't miss Connor.

And he doesn't know why he fucking misses Connor.

"Are you sure?" Tina asks. "I could give him the address. He could come see you."

"No," he repeats. "I don't—I don't want him here."

"Gavin…"

"He's not my friend. He was never my friend."

"You said that about me, too."

"Well, I've decided I only have room in my life for one person to be my friend and you're it. And you're not allowed to stop being my friend just so he can come by. I don't want to see him."

"Okay," she says quietly. "If you're sure."

"I'm sure."

There's a moment of pause between them. Nothing said in the silence as it lets the words settle in.

Gavin has no reason to pretend that Connor would be a positive influence in his life. His one good deed can't even be considered a one good deed because Gavin's been racking his brain trying to figure out how to reverse it so he can be dead and someone else could be here, alive. Of all the fucking androids in the world, Connor chose to save him.

Sides—

He's not an idiot. He knows what Connor did, and he thinks if he sees him, he will punch him. Hard enough to destroy the plastic on his knuckles. Hard enough to leave a bruise or a scar on Connor's pretty little face.

He doesn't want to see him. Never. Not ever. He will die before it happens.

.

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February 2nd, 2039 - 8:23 P.M.

"Hello?"

"You left me," Tina says. "You ditched me."

Connor winces, the guilt flaring up again like an old friend. Back, back, back again. He wonders if he will ever be free from the feeling. It follows him everywhere, no matter what he does. Regret and shame and guilt are entwined into his soul, embossed on his rib cage. The smallest of things make them burn like embers against his organs, pressed close and searing away at the fragility of the tissue making up his heart and lungs.

"Sorry. I had a phone call."

"Now you're a liar," she says on the other end of the phone. "Thanks for leaving me your number so I can berate you, though."

He smiles softly, leaning against the backboard of his bed, pulling his legs close to him. He wasn't doing anything. Just watching television, and he muted the show when the phone rang. Left it running so he can look at the black and white blocky subtitles run underneath a fast food advertisement.

She is so different from how they interacted before. Lighter, almost. She doesn't treat him like he's her superior, she treats him like she's on the same level as him.

Or above.

It's nice to be treated like a human. To be treated like a living being that can afford friends, though he's tentative to call her such.

"You left because I mentioned him, right?"

"Yes," he says, finding it easier to tell the truth over the phone. He can always shut it off if it gets too dangerous. Even block her number. "I just don't think it's a good idea that I see him."

"Why?"

"I'm fairly certain he hates me, Tina," Connor says quietly. "I messed everything up."

Sometimes he lies awake at night, thinking about how his life should've gone. How his time at the DPD should've gone. He never should've caused the fallout with Hank. He never should've pressured Tina to help him. He never should've let Gavin be free from the prison. Everything should've gone the way it was supposed to, and nothing did. Every step of his plan was foiled by his own idiocy.

"You're not wrong."

"Thanks," he whispers.

"No, I just mean—" Tina sighs. "It's not like you guys were friends. I know that. You both tell me that constantly."

"We both do?"

"Yes," she says, not leaving him time to mull over her words. Gavin talks about him? Constantly? "I'm just saying that you guys don't have to be friends to want to see each other. You're allowed to miss someone that isn't your friend. You're allowed to want to see each other."

"He wants to see me?"

She hesitates on the other end, the quiet becoming deafening, "Yeah. He does."

Oh.

"I think it would be good if you guys were friends," Tina continues, but it sounds distant. Like she's talking to herself and not to him. Voicing her thoughts out loud. "You know? Build up again. Restart. You're allowed to do that."

"To restart?"

"Yeah."

He wraps his arms around his legs, watching a commercial for a home improvement store chain. Images flashing between all the aisles of doors and flooring and plumbing. All the tools and equipment needed to help remodel a bathroom or a bedroom. To restart again.

Connor tries not to think of the timing of it. Some heavenly god zapping a Lowe's commercial onto his hotel television like it's going to fix anything.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"I'll go see him, if he wants me to."

.

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February 2nd, 2039 - 10:23 P.M.

"What are you doing here?"

Tina steps inside, pushing the door open as she walks past Gavin, "It's my cabin."

"It's your parent's cabin."

She shrugs, setting a box down on the counter, "Can you sit, Gavin?"

He obliges, taking a seat on the kitchen stool, letting her get to work in silence. Nothing but the sounds of pages turning, tools moving around, things tightening and loosening parts of his joints that makes him feel uncomfortable and sick.

It's fine.

She is doing this to help him.

Piecing him back together again—

Finishing the job that CyberLife started.

"You're still mad at Connor?" she asks finally.

"You're still wasting a perfectly good Friday night on me?" he returns.

"I'm trying to help," she says, setting the screwdriver down. "Can you talk to me? You said I was your friend, so please, just say something."

He shakes his head, looking away, "I didn't mean it."

"That I'm your friend?"

He nods, and she sighs. Exasperated and frustrated. And unbelieving, too. He shouldn't have let it slip. Like a boy accidentally telling a girl he loves her too soon in a relationship. He never meant to admit to Tina that he liked her, that she's a good friend to him. Wasting nights coming here or studying in her apartment just to fix him up again. The skin on his body is gone, but the shift of the LED colors beneath his parts has gone away. It's only a faint blue now, so dull and dim it's barely noticeable. It's all she managed to change, and it was by accident. But he appreciates it. He hated the glow of red in the dark, always keeping him awake, reminding him of how broken he is on the inside and out. Both literally and metaphorically.

"I know you're not friends with him," she says quietly. "Of course you aren't. But—"

"But I'm out here all alone, yeah?" he replies, looking to her. "And you're afraid I'm going stir crazy? You're a bit late on that, Tina."

"So let him come visit. Let him annoy you for a little while."

"Does he even want to see me or are you just trying to pair us up again so it can be like the good old days?" Gavin asks. "The shower has a glass door, I can sit inside of it and pretend that I'm in my cell again. You can cry on the floor and Connor can throw things around like a fucking—"

"Gavin, stop," she says, and her voice is so serious, so demanding and angry, that he listens.

It is difficult to make her angry. It's difficult to make her turn serious. She has tried her best to keep everything light in the past few months. He's thankful for that. He's glad there is this space for jokes and humor when his people are being hunted down and turned into scraps.

"I'm not asking you to forgive him."

"Ah, so that's what it's about," he says quietly. "You want me and him to have a talk to clear the air?"

"I think it would help."

"Yeah?"

She sighs, shaking her head, "You know, I would ask you to write him a letter, but I don't think you could manage it."

"The fuck does that mean?"

"You and him have all this tension and history and I saw him for two seconds today and I could tell he wasn't through with it. Neither of you can sort out your shit even without seeing each other face to face. I told you once to keep a journal, right? Write everything down. Get it out. You never talk to me, but you wouldn't do anything with it all. And you wonder why—" she pauses, leaning against her hands, breathing out. "Everything is so fucked, Gavin, and nobody's trying."

"Me and Connor being friends isn't going to fix the revolution, Tina."

"I know."

"My writing a stupid letter about how I feel isn't going to solve anything—"

"I know," she says. "But it doesn't have to be about the world, Gavin. It can be about just us. We can fix what we have. We can make ourselves better."

"You said he wasn't even staying in Detroit," Gavin says. "What makes you think this is going to help?"

"It's not about his physical permanence in your life," she replies. "It's about everything in your head. It's about his space there, in your thoughts."

Gavin goes quiet, watching her put the tools back in her box, giving up for the night. He doesn't blame her. It's late. It's stupid. He is beyond repair, and what does it matter anyway? Who would want a thing like him?

But he thinks about her words, too—

Wonders if she knows how often he thinks about Connor. The best thing to preoccupy his thoughts about the past is someone else in his past. Not his worst wrongdoing, not his most terrible memories, but something else to fill the gap.

"Does he even want to see me?" Gavin asks quietly.

She looks to him, snapping the locks closed on the case, "Yeah. He does."

.

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February 5th, 2039 - 3:35 P.M.

It takes him a while to get here. There are other things he needs to deal with—for starters, finding a place to stay besides his hotel. Connor likes it, but it isn't going to be a wise financial decision if he wants to stay in Detroit, and he thinks he does. He feels grounded here, and he hates that. Like he's not only running away from his recent past but also running straight to it. His life has been so split across the country it's hard to pinpoint where the worst things in his life have happened, besides the obvious winner of a movie theater where a gun was pressed to his mother's chest and the trigger pulled.

Detroit isn't so bad.

And Tina's here. He can make amends with her, whatever those amends might be.

Connor needed to sort his living situation out before he saw Gavin. He needed his decision to stay here to be based on something other than an android out in the wilderness that he destroyed his life for.

But he's here now, his car pulling onto the road he can only see by the reflective markers lining it. There's too much snow, making it impossible to see amongst everything else. And his car wasn't built for this. He drives slowly, but he makes it up the road, over the hill and into the driveway outside of a cabin nestled away in the woods. Tina told him it was her parents, but they never come here. It looks small, with large windows and a steep roof. He closes the door behind him as he steps out into the bitter cold, his eyes shifting from the cabin to the trail of footprints that come down the front steps, curving straight toward the trees and circling back again.

Gavin goes walking, or running, alone in the woods.

It's this strange little fact that has pushed its way to the forefront of his mind. Something he didn't know about Gavin before. Something he doesn't think existed inside of Gavin—the need to run, the need to go somewhere, the need to be outside and moving—before he was imprisoned by Zlatko, imprisoned by CyberLife.

Imprisoned by Connor.

.

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February 5th, 2039 - 3:40 P.M.

He sees Connor before Connor sees him. Tina told him he was coming over today. A brief phone call the night before that only existed like a warning that he was going to have company, as if Gavin is a child that needs to clean his room before he can play with his friend outside.

But he is grateful. He is a messy person.

All of his free time is spent thinking and wondering and hurting that he never picks up after himself when he manages to allow a different past time than over-thinking. Books scattered across the cabin, dust collecting on the shelves. It's clean now. All of the knick-knacks wiped off and put back into place again. All of the candles sitting in a trunk that he keeps hidden in the closet. For some reason it feels weird to let Connor know about how many he has. How he lights them and leaves them around because turning on the real lights feels like exposing himself in front of thousands.

But he does see him coming. Gavin sits up in the loft by the window, looking out as far as he can see down the road until a car appears between the trees in the distance, turning onto the road and creeping its way toward him.

He opens the door before Connor can knock, the two staring at each other in silence for a moment before a small, strained smile breaks across Connor's face.

"Hi."

It is as awkward as he expected it to be. Not just between them but within Gavin's head. This strange feeling of not knowing whether it should be alright to let Connor in. His keeper, once. The person who made him tell some of the worst things he did out loud. He never wanted people to know about those things, and Connor pried them out of him with treats dangling in his palms.

That is enough for Gavin to hate him, but he doesn't, and he can't figure out why he doesn't.

It was easier before, when he was locked in that cell. He knew he hated Connor. He knew that there was nothing more clear and obvious to him than his hatred towards Connor. But then Connor saved him, and then he was out here, thinking and comparing and wondering if the boy in the motel room that looked exhausted and barely alive could really be worthy of Gavin's hatred.

And he let it go.

The truth is, Gavin has been struggling to figure out how he feels towards Connor, but he's figured it out now, watching him in the doorway, sheepish smile and awkwardly looking away toward the trees—

He doesn't feel anything toward him at all. Just the fleeting memories of a past. Not good or bad. Just nothing. Even the anger he had been building up before feels like it's gone now that Connor is here. It doesn't feel worth it. Nothing feels worth it.

.

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February 5th, 2039 - 3:43 P.M.

Connor doesn't know what to do. Gavin numbly replies back to him and Connor is filled with this feeling he can't name. A sort of need to make sure Gavin is really here. It's only been a few months, but it feels like forever. He has seen countless news stories of androids found hidden around the country and taken apart again. Sent to recycling camps and turned into scraps.

He realizes—

He's happy, he's glad. He's incredibly relieved that Gavin is alive and okay.

And he steps forward without thinking, pulling Gavin into a hug half out of the need to make sure he's really here and half to express how glad Connor is that he's not dead. And he misses him. He missed him so much and it feels stupid to think he could miss someone this much that he barely got to know. Someone that he only seemed to have a negative relationship with. Someone that felt like it was crushing him with how much terrible atrocities kept happening between them. In their history or in their present or the pressing weight of the future.

And, Connor thinks—

He hugs Gavin because he needs this. He needs to hug someone. He needs the physical intimacy of being with another person before he breaks, and he doesn't think he can let go again. It is a selfish thing, but he has always been a selfish person.

.

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February 5th, 2039 - 3:45 P.M.

Connor is hugging him.

Connor is hugging him again.

And this time Gavin's arms come up and hug him back, holding him there. Listening to Connor whisper that he missed him. Three times on repeat, like Connor doesn't know if Gavin heard him because Gavin hasn't been able to reply.

He doesn't know if he can or if he should. He doesn't know if he missed Connor. Sometimes, he did. Sometimes, he didn't. Right now, he thinks he did. Because the arms around him feel nice. He doesn't think anyone has ever hugged him besides for Connor, and he wasn't able to really allow himself the comfort of that hug before. He hated Connor and he didn't want him near him, but he was. Now all Gavin knows is that if Connor stops hugging him he might fall apart with this newfound addiction towards this feeling it gives him.

Safety.

He feels safe, here, with Connor hugging him.

.

.

February 5th, 2039 - 3:46 P.M.

"I didn't miss you or anything," Gavin says, but he squeezes him a little tighter. "It's just nice not being…"

Gavin trails off, and Connor listens to him struggle with the words. Maybe not the words, but saying them out loud. The vulnerability they would have with them, no matter how sarcastically or angry Gavin said them.

But Connor knows.

It is nice being touched without violence behind it.

"Why'd you come here?" Gavin asks, pulling away, but not far enough. Like he doesn't want Connor to go too far in case the craving for the contact comes back again. "Why are you here?"

"I missed you," Connor says again, for the fourth time, wondering how stupid he sounds.

"Yeah?" he asks, shaking his head. "I don't believe you."

"Then don't. But I…" it is his turn to trail off, his turn to struggle with voicing something out loud. "I wanted to see you."

"Really?"

"I wanted to get to know you. For real this time."

"Not for some bullshit assignment?"

Connor shakes his head, "CyberLife fired me."

"For saving me?" Gavin asks, watching him in a way that Connor knows means he is analyzing Connor's features, his expressions, every little bit and piece of it.

"Yes."

"And the others?"

Connor feels his stomach turn as he pulls a little further away from him, "Yeah."

"Connor?"

"What?"

"Can we not… do this?" he asks quietly. "You want to get to know me, you want to be my friend—"

He is shifting back into the Gavin that Connor knew before. The layer of anger and resentment fueling his every action. Filling up the empty space as a reason to live.

"I just want you to be honest. No lies. You can stay, then, if you don't lie to me."

"Okay."

Gavin nods, "Okay."

.

.

February 5th, 2039 - 4:01 P.M.

Connor is sitting on the couch, telling him the story of how he ended up in Detroit. Gavin doesn't know if any of it is the truth other than Connor's word, and he trusts it like a bond now. He has no reason to, but he has no reason not to, either. He doesn't feel like he does. And he is barely listening, barely paying attention to the details of a garage sale and Realtor meetings.

He is thinking of a few months ago, when he was climbing into Tina's truck and thinking about how there wasn't a way she could have saved those androids in the DPD's Archive Room. How Connor lied to him that they were being rescued, too. He has thought about this for a few months now. He even imagined that if he ever saw Connor again, it would all reignite into an argument and it would be the last they saw of each other. A shouting match about why Connor didn't save the androids more deserving of his generosity.

But there seems to be little point to it. They're already dead. They've already been destroyed, and Connor has admitted to it. There was no way to save them. The stasis they were in would've taken a few hours to fully activate them. Not many of them could walk or run properly. It was Zlatko's way to keep them dependent upon him, to keep them from being able to escape. They couldn't have gotten away, and even if they did, they would be like Gavin. Trading their lives for a prison like this, away from society and into the middle of the woods.

He is angry about their deaths, but he has stopped blaming Connor for it. He had no choice.

Connor didn't kill them. Zlatko did. CyberLife did.

Connor was a tool for aggression, just like he was.

And he is so tired of fighting and holding grudges against one of the only people that has ever helped him.

.

.

February 5th, 2039 - 7:58 P.M.

"How long are you planning on staying?" Gavin asks quietly, watching Connor move his piece along the board. They've switched from telling the basics of their past in these last few months to Clue, which isn't such a fun game with only two people, Connor is realizing.

"I won't stay the night," Connor says. "Don't worry."

Gavin's lips move into a small smile. Fake, but polite.

He's strange, outside of the cell. Softer , Connor thinks.

They haven't told each other everything. Connor certainly hasn't. He hasn't told him about half the things he should have, and he is surprised that Gavin didn't yell at him or kick him out when Connor confessed that the other androids never made it out of the Archive Room.

Honesty.

No lies.

Gavin didn't say anything about no secrets, though, and Connor is planning on keeping thousands.

There's been a strange shift in the last few hours. Listening to Gavin talk about his life here in the cabin—going for runs in the morning, playing cards and reading books. Filling his time with meaningless activities and clinging onto life—

It's made Connor realize how much he wants to keep Gavin in his life. How the idea of losing him sounds painful.

And he thinks about what Tina said, too.

About rebuilding, restarting.

He wants to restart with Gavin. He thinks Gavin wants to restart with him, too.

So why not keep a few secrets, to make it a little easier?