March 11th, 2039 - 4:15 A.M.
He wakes when Connor does, but he doesn't get out of the bed until the warmth of Connor's body heat has fully left the blankets and he can't cling onto the remnants of rest that he wants to. Gavin follows the light out of his room, pausing in the hallway, watching Connor bent over the sink, splashing water on his face. He looks exhausted, and Gavin wants to pull him back. Tell him it's fine if he sleeps a little longer. But it isn't. He has work. Gavin can't keep him here, even if he wants to.
"Connor?"
He looks up from the sink, water dripping from his face. He wipes it away with a towel, but it leaves the edges of his hair wet, "I didn't mean to wake you up."
"It's fine. You're leaving?"
"Yes."
"When are you going to come back?"
Connor shrugs in a way that says he knows but doesn't want to say. Maybe the answer is that he doesn't want to come back at all. The kiss last night feels more like a mistake than it had when it happened. Maybe it meant nothing to Connor. Maybe the only thing that can be attributed to it is how lonely Connor is. It wasn't that long ago when Connor was talking about his ex. Gavin knows that the simple topic of a past lover doesn't equate to feelings still being present, but it's Connor. Connor, who feels too much, who feels everything, who can't let go of anything, who seems to be grasping at whatever can make him feel something else.
Maybe Gavin was just that something else.
"I have to go," Connor says, breaking the silence.
"Then go."
Connor's smile is tiny and fragile as he makes his way over to Gavin. His arms unfold, which he hadn't even noticed crossing, hadn't noticed the slow retreat he had started to make into the shadows behind him, the promise of the bed that felt cold in the absence of Connor but sounds warm and comfortable now that Gavin is exposed to the cold air of the rest of the cabin.
When Connor reaches him, he tips Gavin's chin up and Gavin's hands find Connor's body, pulling him a little closer, inch by inch, slowly like he's afraid that Connor isn't standing like this for the reason he wants him to.
"I'll come back," Connor whispers. "I promise."
"Good."
Connor's hand moves, brushing a thumb along his cheek, along that smooth skinless surface. He does it with such a tender touch that Gavin's eyes close and he wishes he would do it again. Even Tina, with all her careful touches when she tries to fix him, doesn't touch him so lightly. He's never felt this before. He's never felt someone treat him like this. Like he might break—but in a good way. Like they're scared of breaking him. And Gavin doesn't care. He knows there is some part of himself that should be angry, that should bite back that he isn't made of glass, but he has been broken so many times without anyone caring it's nice to be touched by someone who doesn't want to do it again.
"I wish I didn't have to go," Connor says quietly.
"Then don't."
Connor laughs this tiny thing, so quiet and so protected that it's hard to hear.
"The longer you take to say goodbye today the worse it is," Gavin says, but he is still holding onto Connor like he's afraid he'll disappear. "You're making it worse on the both of us."
"Sorry," Connor says. "I'm going to kiss you now, Gavin. And then I'm going to go. How about that?"
He just wants him to do the first part and not stop. But he doesn't say anything. He only nods, because he has to. And then Connor kisses him, softly against his lips, still holding onto him like he will break under the pressure of it, and he might. Gavin knows he doesn't deserve this kind of treatment. He knows that he should hate who it's coming from. But he doesn't want it to stop. He doesn't want to stop feeling this way, like he actually matters to someone. It's the same feeling he gets when Tina comes over and they cook together, when she takes the time from her week to fix him. He likes belonging with the two of them. What is he going to do when eventually he doesn't belong with them?
Connor pulls away from him slowly. He leaves Gavin's side like he's stuck there and it takes effort to get away. Gavin's hands are still holding onto him until he gets too far away that he has to let go or follow him. But he can't follow him, he can only let go.
He watches Connor leave the cabin, pulling his coat on, tying his shoes, grabbing the keys from the hook by the door. He watches the door open and closed, the shadow of his body move past the window, the quiet sounds of his footsteps down the stairs on the porch. He listens to the car start, the way it stays there for five long minutes before he pulls away. He listens and he listens until he can't even force himself to imagine the sound of the car anymore, and he knows that he can't ever really, truly, follow Connor out of here.
This is still his prison.
.
.
March 11th, 2039 - 6:57 A.M.
He brushes a hand across the side of the van, dusting away the layer of snow that fell overnight and covered the Rose's Farm logo on the side. The neat script with its old fashioned style, fruits and vegetables painted around it. The van is old, beat up, but it runs, it does the job. He's waiting on the androids in Rose's house to pack up their things and say goodbye, the shelves in the back already stocked with the baskets to deliver. There's a large space carved out in the van, big enough for the three androids to sit, but it doesn't always work that way. It's dangerous, sometimes, to be caught with three people in the back of his truck, especially now. They can't trust the DPD. The army-presence isn't entirely gone, even though it's toned down. There's no getting androids out of the country the more-legal route, but Connor isn't involved in that process. He's involved with this.
Rose steps over to him, her coat pulled around her tight, a box in her hands that she hands to him.
"What's this?"
"Seed packets. Nothing important. Just deliver them with her," she says, looking back to the android on the front porch, saying her long goodbye to the person she arrived with. She's human—it'll be less suspicious if they cross the border separately and meet up on the other side. "And you?"
"What about me?"
"You look sad. You always look sad, but more so today."
Connor smiles softly. They're not really friends. They talk seemingly as little as possible, and Connor has never known whether to attribute that to the lack of words to say or the busy nature of their days when they're around one another.
"I kissed someone last night," he says. "I don't think I should've. And I kissed him this morning, too."
"And you feel badly about that?"
"I feel like even though he's the android with the missing parts, I'm the one that's too broken to make it work right," Connor says quietly. "I had this thought this morning that I should leave him and not come back until I thought I could handle it."
"A relationship, you mean?"
He nods, but it's not entirely true.
Life is what he means.
If he ran away, if he stayed helping Rose, if he thought he could make up for everything he did, if he thought he could do something to bring back the people he had helped murder, maybe. If he thought this hole inside of him could close back up properly—
Maybe he could be with Gavin.
The problem, though, is that he doesn't think that guilt will ever go away. It crept up on him and now it's stuck here, sewn into his shadow, following him wherever he goes. Even if he died, it would still be in his essence. He'd be a ghost haunting the walls, crying from the shame. He let CyberLife manipulate him. He let CyberLife use him. He didn't do anything to stop it.
And even if he ever did properly forgive himself for it, it feels like it would only make him more guilty. That he could be capable of thinking that saving any lives would make up for participating and the murder of another.
"Do you think there will ever be another revolution?" Connor asks. "One that will work?"
"Of course. Look how many people are still running. Look how many people are helping fight to get free," she says, nudging him. "It's not over. Is that important? To you and your boy?"
"It's the only thing that matters."
Not just because of Gavin, but because of the android and her human struggling to say goodbye to each other. The tears in their eyes, the kisses pressed against cold skin, the arms wound so tightly it will take only the promise that the hug will happen again to break it. It isn't just them. It's everyone. It's the entire world.
.
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March 11th, 2039 - 3:07 P.M.
"I've been looking for you."
Connor's body freezes into place, one hand holding a pen, marking off and filling out forms for the legitimate orders for Rose's business. The sound of the coffee shop is loud, but it feels as though it goes dead silent when he hears his voice.
He looks up, slowly, carefully, giving him time to disappear. But Elijah isn't disappearing. He's still there, standing beside the table, coat zipped up to his chin, small smile on his lips.
"What are you doing here?" Connor whispers.
"I tried calling you. You didn't answer. Can I sit?"
"N-No—"
But he does anyway, taking the seat across from Connor, his own cup of coffee set down on the table between them as though he'll actually drink it. In their entire time they were together, Connor has only known Elijah to like one very specific, very expensive blend. Imported from overseas. Anything else is ignored, held just for the warmth of it, for the scent of coffee to comfort him.
"I wanted to talk."
"I have nothing to say to you, El," Connor replies. "I made that pretty clear before."
Elijah turns his head, looking away from him as though the memory is foggy to him. It's not foggy to Connor. He yelled. He screamed. He was the angriest he's ever been and he didn't let his words stop spilling out of him, cruel and manipulative, but needing to get everything out of him. You were my friend and you betrayed me, and if you ever loved me, you'd help me.
Elijah had been quiet the entire time, listening to his demands, not saying a thing. The next morning, Connor got an email from his assistant, telling him that Tina would be left alone, that Connor would be let go, as though he hadn't voiced it as him quitting, like it ever mattered, and that the entire situation would be kept under wraps. Connor hadn't believed any of it until he saw Tina at the cafe and not behind bars. He's still waiting for the newspaper to release a story about a CyberLife employee gone rogue. His trust in Elijah was shattered, and he still expects it to be pulled out from underneath him one last time.
"I know. You never wanted to see my face again. I remember."
"So why are you here?"
"Because I still care about you," El says, looking back to meet Connor's gaze. "I'm leaving CyberLife. For good. I have a place, outside of Detroit. I won't ever have to come back. I won't have anything to do with CyberLife and stopping deviants anymore. I want you to come with me."
"Because you love me?"
"Because I care about you."
The answer is so easily a no, but he's taking into careful consideration the way Elijah is looking at him. The same way he looked at Connor when he told him his mother was dead, when he confessed that the nightmares plaguing him at night were tied to his brother, always just out of reach. He is looking at Connor the same way he had when he first told him he loved him, pulling Connor onto his lap, holding him close, whispering it like a secret against his throat.
And how horrifying—
How completely upsetting it is, to look at Elijah like that, like a knife slicing him open, like a wound spilling fear. They were good together, when they were happy. But when they weren't…
Losing Elijah broke him the rest of the way. Fractured his pieces in a way he thought meant he was beyond repair. But it wasn't losing a lover that hurt, it was losing his friend, and he's known this, and it isn't the upsetting part of the situation, seeing Elijah look at him like that. They could never be back together. They would never fit together properly, and it isn't entirely because they've changed. It's because the part of Connor that loved Elijah has shifted and changed into something else, growing smaller, but not disappearing, just making room for Gavin. Elijah was like vines, creeping around his heart, threading through his ribs. Gavin feels like roses, blooming beside his heart. Sometimes the thorns dig in, sometimes the petals feel soft and tender against his broken pieces.
But it isn't the upsetting part—
Knowing he couldn't love Elijah like that again isn't the upsetting part.
It's the part of him that craves El's comfort and his friendship and his platonic love and knowing he'd never get it again, knowing he can't have it. They have changed beyond just their incapability with loving each other the way they want to be loved, the way they need to be loved. They have changed to be unable to even be friends. Connor can't even have that. And what a twisting pain it is, to crave this person in front of him, to talk to him, to tell him the little things about his day, to want to confess his love for someone else and have it be a secret he could trust and believe it wouldn't hurt Elijah to say those words out loud, to say everything that happened in Seattle with him and Morgan and his brother and know that El would understand. But he can't say any of it. He can't even pretend for a moment he could. It's gone now. Their friendship is gone. He doesn't think it ever could have stood on it's own without them loving each other the way they did, anyway.
"I care about you, too," Connor whispers. "I missed you."
"Even though you yelled at me?"
Connor blinks, trying to will the tears in his eyes away. He is stealing as many seconds as he can right now, trying not to look at Elijah but trying to have this image in his head long enough to last him the rest of his life.
"Thank you for helping me."
"Least I could do," he says. "Connor? Will you come with me?"
He shakes his head, because he knows he can't get the word out. He can't say no. He never could to Elijah. He could never voice that the late nights when Elijah was at CyberLife and not with him made him feel lonely and desperate. He never knew how to tell him he was uncomfortable with the way Elijah's eyes would wander over other people, the things he would say about them. They were such off-handed remarks, and Connor was terrified of scaring him away. He didn't know how to love someone. He still doesn't know, he thinks.
"I can't love you again, El."
"I'm not asking you to."
He is. He is, with his gaze on Connor, with his hand resting on the table, moving to catch his, to hold onto it just the slightest bit, and his fingertips are so warm, his palm against his familiar and comforting. If Connor hadn't kissed Gavin the night before, if he didn't know how much he wanted Gavin and only Gavin, he might give into this, just for one night. To say a proper goodbye, maybe.
"I never meant to hurt you, Connor."
"But you did." You still are.
This is hurting him. Seeing him, seeing the subtle ways he's different, but knowing how little he's changed. He's still that person that Connor loved, isn't he?
"And if I hadn't?"
"It wouldn't change anything," Connor says. "We would've broken eventually."
"But I could've had you for a little while longer."
"How much?" Connor asks. "How much longer would've been worth it?"
"A day. An hour. A minute."
A second.
"I love someone else, Elijah."
"Are they good to you?"
Connor nods, "The best."
Elijah's hand on his tightens for a moment, "Make sure they treat you like a prince."
He smiles, softly, letting Elijah's hand pull away. A letting go that hurts just as much as the holding on. Part of him so quickly wants to hold onto him, ask him if they can stay in contact, make some joke about how he knows Elijah would kill Gavin if Gavin ever hurt him, but he can't. It would imply that they could have anything else other than this.
"I'm sorry I didn't…" Elijah trails off. "I didn't love you the way I should've. I should've said it more often. I should've said it every day."
But he didn't. And Connor can't even remember the last time Elijah said it, which is strange, because he harbored each and every moment that Elijah said those words like they were treasures. Committing them to memory, saving them for the days when he didn't believe it and needed the feel of Elijah's words against his skin to remind him.
They've been drifting away, quicker and quicker, replaced with things like Gavin making him hot chocolate, Gavin telling him about a book he read that Connor gave to him, Gavin just being there, smiling softly at something Connor's said, or laughing at a joke Tina's told.
"I want you to know, Connor, I didn't put you up for that job," he says. "I wouldn't have done that to you."
"W-What?" his eyes snap up to Elijah's face. "What are you talking about?"
"Your mother did it. She asked me if I thought you were a good fit and I told her no, but then you were being promoted and—"
"My mother put me up for the job?"
"She made sure you got it."
.
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March 11th, 2039 - 2:16 P.M.
He flinches. Something Tina did has pinched him, for lack of a better word. His face hurts, his jaw feeling like it's going to break off. The pain radiates upwards, fading as it goes. She pulls away, the tiny screwdriver in her hand dropping to the table.
"I'm a fucking genius."
"Christ," he says, a hand coming up, touching his cheek like he can help soothe the pain away. "That fucking hurt."
"Sorry," she says, pulling him off the chair toward the mirror hanging in the living room. "But look."
Usually Gavin does a good job at draping something over it now, hiding the reflection that stares back when he's passing by, but the blanket is always falling down and rests on the floor now, showing his face back to him. He turns it to the side where the pain is just a fleeting memory now. There's skin covering part of his lower jaw, creeping down until it disappears under the collar of his shirt. He hadn't even noticed it. He was too busy thinking about how much it hurt.
"I know it's not your whole face, but I think I did a pretty good job. Like a scientific breakthrough. You should be proud of me."
"I am," he says, his fingers won't leave the surface of his face. He can feel all the imperfections there. Little scars that she could do nothing to hide. "Thank you."
"Wow," she says. "I actually believed that was sincere. You're welcome, Gav."
He turns back to her, lightly pushing her away with a small smile creeping up on his face. "And the rest?"
She sighs. "Come along, greedy boy. I'll give you a proper human face."
.
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March 11th, 2039 - 3:18 P.M.
"Connor, where are you going?"
"To talk to her."
"Connor, you can't—"
"I can't what, El?" he asks, pushing him back. "I can't yell at her? I can't be angry with her? She destroyed me. She made me lose you."
"You said yourself it didn't matter."
"No—" he pauses. "No, it wouldn't have, but—but why would you do that? Why would you take the fall? Why would you let me believe it was you and not her?"
"You were miserable with me, Connor," he says. "I was giving you an out."
And he was miserable without him, too. Just in a different way.
"Why did you even come back, then? And ask me to go with you?"
"Because I care about you. Because I miss you," he pauses. "Because I'm selfish."
"And if I'd said yes?"
"I would've made up for it."
"You would've made up for it?" Connor asks. "For pushing me away when I needed you? For letting CyberLife send me off on jobs you knew would hurt me? For letting me help kill androids?"
"I couldn't stop her, Connor, she thought you were weak."
And he was. He still is. She made him weaker. The job has torn him down until he was shreds and then found a way to keep pulling him apart. And Elijah is doing the same thing. Tearing him apart more and more.
"You can't go to her, Connor," Elijah says. "I'm not at the company anymore, I can't help you if something happens, and if you make her mad, she'll—"
"She'll what?"
"She knows how to control you, Connor. She knows about Tina and your android in the woods."
She would hurt them, in retaliation. Or threaten them. Do something, anything.
Elijah wasn't asking Connor to go with him because he wanted to be with Connor again, not entirely. He was asking him to run away with him to protect him.
"Just leave it, Connor. Please. Don't provoke her."
"I hate her."
"I know," he says quietly. "So do I."
Maybe if things were different, Connor could listen to him explain why. Maybe if he never met Gavin or Tina, he would go with Elijah and let himself try again. He never thought he could let someone love him or love someone else after Elijah, and he did, accidentally, letting Gavin fill that space. Little by little. And if he hadn't, if he hadn't saved Gavin, if they still somehow had this conversation, would things change? Would he be so quick to decide that they were impossible?
Maybe.
It doesn't matter.
What's happened has happened, and Connor can't go back now. Not just because of Gavin, but because of himself. Elijah will always remind him of this person he was before, and he can't let himself be around Elijah. It hurts too much.
"Connor, can you promise me you won't go?"
He nods, knowing it's the last thing he'll ever promise to him, "I promise."
They stand in the quiet street, cold wind brushing past them, their coffee left on the table still visible through the window as it's cleared away by a waitress. He's glad Tina didn't work today. She was supposed to, he thinks. He came here for the off chance that during the lull in the workday they could spend a few minutes together, talk about last night. But she's not here, and Connor allows himself a moment of relief that this conversation with Elijah won't ever get back to Gavin. It doesn't need to. He knows that's wrong, he knows he should be honest with Gavin, but if he talks anymore about Elijah, he knows the message will get twisted. Elijah won't just be an important person in his life, but the important person that Connor once loved.
Once loved.
Gone now.
"I have to leave," Connor says quietly. "I have work."
"So this is goodbye, then. For forever."
Connor nods.
"I won't call you again," Elijah says. "I promise."
He wants to tell him it's okay. In case of emergencies, Connor would still be there for him, but he can't get the words out.
"Goodbye, Elijah."
Elijah takes a step forward, leans upwards, presses a soft, ghost of a kiss against Connor's cheek, "Goodbye, Connor."
.
.
March 11th, 2039 - 9:27 P.M.
"Oh," Connor says, breathing the word out softly.
"Oh?"
He reaches a gloved hand up, touching Gavin's cheek lightly. He hasn't seen him like this. Not really. He saw images of what his model was supposed to look like, but they feel like long forgotten pictures of the past by now. He hasn't looked at them since. He hasn't touched Gavin's file, the little shreds of it that remain in his possession after CyberLife took everything they could get their hands on.
"You look human."
"I do," he says. "Do you prefer me that way?"
"I prefer you as you," Connor says carefully. "I don't care what you look like."
"How sweet," Gavin replies with a small smile.
And God—
Connor has never really seen him smile before, has he?
"You are very handsome like this, though," Connor says. "I think I like it."
"I'll tell Tina how grateful you are."
"I'll send her a gift basket," he laughs. "I should've already. Without her, I don't know what would've happened to you, you know? I had nowhere to take you. We would be on the run together, probably, out in the middle of Nebraska."
"You think we'd still be together? Or do you think I would be tired of you by now?"
"I think we'd probably both be dead."
"Do you think you would've kissed me?"
Connor smiles, turning away, a blush creeping up on his face, "I don't know. We've only kissed twice, you know."
"Do you want to try a third time?" Gavin asks, his voice sounds uneven, like he's just as embarrassed about the subject as Connor is. Wanting it, trying to flirt, but the nerves getting to him. "It'll be different, you know. Like a first kiss all over again."
Connor looks back to him, nodding like Gavin would say no after asking it in such a way, after continuing to look at him. Connor is the one that acts, though. One hand coming up to Gavin's waist, pulling him out into the snow where it falls down heavily still, coating the ground, leaving flakes on his hair and his skin.
"It's freezing out here, Connor," Gavin says. "You're going to kiss me out in the cold? Make us fucking freeze to death like this?"
"Shut up," Connor whispers, and he kisses him before he can say anything else. Kisses him like he had before. In the morning, at night, now. They're all the same. Connor kisses him like it will be the last time he kisses him and he's terrified that it will be. That something will happen. That someone will follow him out here.
But Gavin was wrong. Kissing him doesn't feel that different. Not in his chest, in his heart, where all of the feelings he kept pushing down further and further crash against the surface like a storm at sea.
He's falling hard and he's falling fast and he's still falling and he's scared of crashing into whatever there will be at the bottom because when he fell away from El it felt like dying but being with Gavin, kissing him in the snow, holding onto him, seeing his completed face smile and feeling that smile against his lips and the hum of a laugh—
That feels a lot like being alive again.
.
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March 11th, 2039 - 9:32 P.M.
Connor's fingers trail over his face, and not just the part where there's skin now. They trace the bridge of his nose, the spot where the LED would be, the shape of his bottom lip, the curve of his jaw. They trail along his neck, wind down his right arm, pausing to take his hand, to press a kiss there. Against the inside of his wrist, against his palm, against his knuckles. Their fingers thread together. One part metal and plastic, one part human.
The trust he has with Connor touching him is the same kind of trust he has with Tina. There is no fear that his hands will break him open, pull him apart. There is no fear of seeing blue blood slicked on sleeves. With Tina, it's in a mechanical sense. A fixing sense. But with Connor there is this layer of something underneath. He doesn't bring it up. He doesn't say anything about what he can or can't provide Connor with, and Connor doesn't ask. He's content with just holding his hand, with pressing kisses against his neck and his jaw.
He wonders how long they'll be like this. Sitting together, holding onto one another. If there will ever be any hope in them leaving again.
Gavin can't remember much about his life from before Zlatko, and he's done his best to forget what happened with Zlatko, but he wants to remember everything that happened with Connor. Even the bad. Even the times he yelled at him. He sees him like this and he doesn't want to lose it. They wouldn't be them without the part before. They'd be some other version of Connor and Gavin. Maybe still on opposite sides. Maybe still together. Maybe still feeling this same valley of love that feels so deep and full that it will never end. But it wouldn't be this. An android and his interrogator. A torturer and his human.
"Gavin?"
"Hm?"
"I think…" he trails off, tries again. "Thank you. For caring about me. Giving me a chance."
Gavin doesn't say anything. He doesn't know what words there are to say. He doesn't know if it's right to return those words right back to Connor, in a moment like this. He thinks telling Connor he loves him is going to be too much weight for this moment, and Connor already feels broken in the way he's wrapped himself up in Gavin's arms. So he stays quiet, pressing a kiss against the top of his head, holding him a little tighter, hoping the message gets across. That he loves him, that he'll never go, that he forgives him, that there is still time for Connor to be the person he wants to be, to see that he's already halfway there.
But he came back.
Connor came back for him. Again and again. He isn't running, and neither is Gavin.
There's even the possibility for the future, too—
Returning to the city. Connor mentioned it, Gavin coming over to his place, even staying there. It's too soon, he thinks, for them to live together, but he's looking forward to being somewhere other than here. His hands are still mechanical, but it's still reasonable for him to wear gloves, and Tina will likely fix it before spring fully hits and the heat starts to roll in. Nobody can tell he's an android from his face anymore. He can hold Connor's hand in public, he can be with him without hiding. He can help him, even with Rose. He can start to repair his own damages he's caused. He can make up for what he's done, too.
And eventually, maybe in a day or a week, he'll tell Connor he loves him, and Connor might not believe the words, but he'll say it as often as he can until he does, and then he'll say it more, and he'll scar those words on Connor's skin with his lips and makes sure they stay with him forever.
