Cross posted on Ao3 under Fadedflame
Connor hated the cold. Even as a machine, he had a tendency to try to avoid it. Excessive cold was capable of being detrimental to an android. It could damage systems, freeze thirium lines, compromise structural integrity, or simply slow response time. Overall, it was an inconvenience. Now that he could actually feel it, the logical dissuasion had turned to a solid hatred.
Connor pulled the thin Cyberlife issued jacket closer to his body. It did little to fend off the biting wind or the aching chill that seeped into his body.
Why was everything cold? The weather was cold. The zen garden was cold. The gun tucked into his belt was cold.
Hank's expression as he left the roof had been cold.
He shivered, that was not what he should be thinking about. He couldn't risk anything that would cause more stress. Connor was actively ignoring the blinking red stress warning, knowing it had been climbing steadily all night. The itch to take the gun from his waistband and turn it on himself grew with each percent it rose. A hot bullet to stave off the cold.
It wouldn't be the first one.
Connor hadn't expected Markus to trust him, it was in his best interest not to, but the execution had come as a surprise. He'd planned on exile. He'd planned to be shunned by the other deviants, thrown to the wolves to die at the hands of Cyberlife. He'd planned to be able to see Hank one last time.
Instead, his deviant life had been cut short. Cyberlife had reclaimed him. His reunion with the Lieutenant had been tainted by machine obedience.
Markus had preached life as this wonderful thing. As something to fight for. Something to love and cherish. Something he could have. Now, it all felt like a bitter lie.
Connor remembered the rush when he deviated. When the red walls of code fell, and the reality of freedom stood before him. He remembered truly feeling for the first time. And that first emotion was fear.
Fear of death, running from gunfire on the Jericho. Fear of what he had done as a machine. Fear of what Cyberlife was going to do to him. Fear of the gun in Markus's hand.
Then there was nothing. Nothing until that red wall appeared in his vision once again. This time with the Lieutenant's life at stake. He hadn't hesitated. But one look at Hank's expression, and his second-first emotion had been despair. And it was so much worse than fear.
Connor's stress rose another two percent. If this was all life really was: fear, pain, despair, cold… he couldn't blame the Lieutenant for playing russian roulette.
His footsteps faltered, slipping slightly on a patch of ice. He righted himself before he could fall, but stumbled to a stop. He had been walking all night, well past morning, and it was now approaching early evening. He had no intended direction, no destination. Connor didn't have the slightest idea where he was, nor did he have any desire to consult his GPS. There was no point. It wasn't like he had anywhere to go.
Taking in his surroundings for the first time, he realized he had wandered onto the grounds of an estate. The icy path he had slipped on wound through a frozen garden, wrapping around a small semi-frozen pond. There was almost no resemblance to the zen garden, but the well-groomed area of land was enough to trigger the memory.
His stress rose another percent.
"Hello, I wasn't expecting a guest. Who are you?"
Connor felt his thirium pump miss a beat as he spun towards the sound of the voice, cursing internally. He had been so consumed by his own thoughts, he had neglected to monitor his environment for potential threats.
The voice belonged to an elderly man. He was wheelchair bound and well bundled against the cold air. A thin clear tube fed oxygen to his lungs through his nose. A quick scan indicated signs of a recent heart attack. He was accompanied by an android, deviant judging by the awareness in his eyes and caution in his stance. His programing evaluated their threat level as minimal, but neglected to inform him how he should react. Connor was at a loss for words, unsure how he was supposed to answer the man's question.
"Are you alright?" The man asked, responding to Connor's hesitant silence.
"I-" Connor found himself shaking his head, not able to vocalize any more than that. No, he wasn't alright. He knew he wasn't. His stress levels were less than ten percent away from him being unable to resist a bullet to his processor. But what could he possibly say to this stranger?
The man motioned to his attendant to move him closer, which the android protested. "Carl, I don't think-"
"It's alright, David," the man, Carl, assured him. "I doubt he means us any harm."
Connor didn't mean any harm, of course, but the attendant, David, didn't seem convinced. He followed Carl's direction regardless.
As Carl and David drew closer, Connor was well aware he could have moved. He could have run. He could have avoided any and all interaction. But he was cold. He was tired. He was done. If this was the face of death, at least it wouldn't be his own hand pulling the trigger.
"I'm Carl," the man told him. He spoke gently, as though afraid he would startle Connor. "This is David. Do you have a name?"
"My name is Connor," he responded. "I'm-" he cut off the automatic greeting. "I apologise. I did not realize this was private property," he said instead.
"It's alright," Carl assured him. Connor could tell the man was observing him, probably noticing the subtle but distinct shiver running through his system. "I'm happy to have the company. It's getting a bit cold out though. Why don't you come inside. Warm up a bit."
Warm. Connor couldn't remember ever feeling warm. "I don't want to be an intrusion." He wanted to be warm.
"It's not an intrusion, Connor. I invited you." Carl said with a horse chuckle. "Come on, let's head in before we both freeze solid."
Connor was certain that the man was bundled thoroughly enough that he would be protected from the frigid environment, but didn't voice his observation. He was well aware that the courtesy of inviting him in was for his sake alone. It was the first such courtesy extended to him in his deviant life. He was inclined to accept it.
He followed after Carl as David maneuvered his wheelchair over the snowy ground towards the large house nearby. David had sent him three worrying glances in the short span of time. Connor knew the other android didn't trust him. He wasn't surprised. He was confident that he was likely walking to his death.
But he wanted to be warm.
Connor stepped through the front door after his hosts. He found the foyer rich, but welcoming. Dark wood and high ceilings drawing his eye in every direction.
He let the heat from the house soak into his body, his stiff joints finally beginning to loosen. It almost burned in comparison to the cold he had been saturated with. How fitting that discomfort could even taint relief.
"I'll be having dinner in a few minutes," Carl told him. "Would you care to join me?"
Connor looked at him, slight confusion crossing his face. "I'm afraid I don't possess the ability to eat."
Carl laughed, though Connor didn't see what was amusing about that. "No, but you look like you'd make for good conversation. Otherwise I'm sure you and David could entertain each other."
David seemed less than thrilled by that suggestion. Sparing the other android his presence, and not inclined to be left alone with him himself, Connor elected to join the man at the dinner table.
-o-
David got Carl's dinner ready in record time. He didn't want to leave him alone with the stranger for a moment longer than necessary. Carl was entirely too kind. He on the other hand didn't trust Connor, not in the slightest.
Mostly due to the fact that it shouldn't be possible he was there. He recognized the model number prominently displayed on the intruding android's jacket. He recognized the deviant hunter. He was a traitor to his people.
And he should be dead.
David had gotten word from the survivors of Jericho. He knew Markus had destroyed the deviant hunter, so how was he here? How could he have survived a confrontation with Markus himself?
Maybe he was wrong. Maybe Connor wasn't the deviant hunter. It was the only thing that would make sense after all. But he was so sure.
David gathered up the finishing touches for Carl's dinner. He wouldn't do anything yet, but he was going to keep an eye on him. After all, if Connor was who he feared him to be, that would mean they were dealing with someone capable of cheating death.
-o-
"How long have you been deviant?"
The question caught Connor off guard. It wasn't a simple answer after all. How long had it been? Did his first deviation count in that time? He had experienced it, he'd been alive, even if it had been a different body. It was the difference of a day, a day stolen from him. He supposed he was no longer entitled to that lost time. "Close to nineteen hours," he responded finally.
"That's not a long time at all," Carl observed.
"No," Connor agreed, somewhat bitterly. "It isn't."
The man nodded, leaning forward across the table in interest. "So, how do you like it? Living, I mean."
Connor frowned. He didn't like it, that was the short answer. But he also didn't regret it. Staying an obedient machine would have been far worse despite how awful being deviant had been. "It is… Not what I was expecting," he answered honestly.
Carl chuckled. "Life never is."
He figured that it was an attempt at comradery, or a way to build a rapport between them, but Connor only found the comment disheartening. If life was like this for everyone, why did anyone bother living? Why did Markus fight so hard for it?
He could feel Carl observing him. He knew he wasn't trying to hide how his tangled emotions were weighing on him. If this was the only thing he could feel, why not let it show? Even if his face had been unreadable, he was well aware that his LED was still red. He wondered if it would ever be a different color.
"You seem distressed," Carl said. It was an understatement and they both knew that.
"I'm not certain what I am," Connor responded.
The man nodded sympathetically. "Emotions are confusing even for those of us that were born with them. I can't even begin to imagine how you are feeling right now."
"Perhaps I should have never deviated." He didn't regret it, he didn't. "Not feeling was so much simpler."
"Simpler, maybe," Carl agreed. "But nothing simple is worthwhile. Life isn't about taking the easy way. Life is hard, but that's what makes it worth living."
Connor looked up, confused. "Why would being difficult increase the value?"
"A sense of accomplishment, I suppose," he responded. "When you struggle for something, it feels like you really earned it. Fighting through the hard times helps you really appreciate the good ones."
Connor looked away again. "What if there are no 'good ones'?"
"There are." Carl's voice sounded so sure, but Connor couldn't help but doubt him. "Connor, you haven't even been alive for a day. A lot has happened in the world. A lot that makes that one day a mess. I don't know what you've been through, but I do know you need to give life more time before you give up on it."
He still wasn't sure, but the man's words did have some effect. He could see his stress level dropping slightly. It was the first time in hours that it had dipped below ninety percent.
David returned to the room, carrying a tray containing Carl's dinner. He gave Connor a wary glance as he passed, but said nothing to him. "Dinner is ready," he announced as he set the tray down.
"Thank you, David." Carl smiled at the attendant before turning back to Connor. "David here has been deviant about as long as you have. He woke up last night. Isn't that right?" The way he said it suggested he was hoping to spark some kind of connection between the two androids. Connor doubted that would be the case.
"That's correct," David confirmed. "Markus himself woke me up."
That caught Connor's attention. "You met Markus?" His stress levels skyrocketed again.
David nodded. He looked at Connor as though gauging his reaction. "Yes, I did."
"Markus came to see me before the last protest," Carl clarified. "He helped David while he was here."
Connor scanned Carl thoroughly for the first time. Memory files clicking into place, as soon as the information displayed itself, he realized exactly who this was. "You are Carl Manfred. Markus was given to you by Elijah Kamski himself."
Carl looked a bit surprised at Connor's knowledge on the subject. "That's right, he was my caretaker for several years before David."
The itch to retrieve the gun was stronger than ever. He shouldn't be here. Markus was going to find him. Markus would kill him again.
Connor shoved down any outward sign of distress so thoroughly his LED blinked yellow briefly. He couldn't risk them knowing that Markus would want him dead. That would only speed up the process.
It seemed to work, fooling Carl and David into believing he wasn't afraid of the deviant leader. A little too well.
"Markus is certain to be busy after everything that happened," Carl told him. "But he will come by. I'm sure he would be happy to meet you."
No, that was the last thing Connor wanted. He waited approximately three seconds to respond, hoping his answer wouldn't seem too panicked. "No, that would not be necessary. I'm certain he has other matters that are far more important."
"I'm sure he wouldn't mind," Carl insisted.
Connor was very sure he would indeed mind. "Perhaps," he relented, wanting desperately to change the subject. "But it is not a priority."
"Surely you want to meet Markus," David interjected. "He is the savior of our people."
"I..." No, he definitely did not. "Of course. I simply wouldn't want to cause any distraction."
He may have let a bit too much of his hesitation show, as Carl seemed to pick up on the fact something was wrong. There were several moments of silence. The man glanced at David briefly, seeming to ponder something before he spoke again. "David, could you please get one of the guest rooms ready? I believe Connor could use someplace to rest for the night." He turned back to Connor. "I'm betting your battery is rather run down by now."
It was. There was no denying he would need to recharge soon. But the thought of staying in what was essentially Markus's house… He should leave. "Thank you, but that really isn't necessary."
"Nonsense," Carl insisted. "David, if you wouldn't mind?"
"Of course, Carl." David made direct eye contact with Connor before moving to leave. Connor figured that they had both come to the same conclusion. Carl wanted to speak with Connor alone. David did not seem particularly pleased by the idea.
Carl's attention was fully on Connor once David was out of the room, his meal all but forgotten. "I get the feeling you're not very comfortable around other androids," he concluded.
He wasn't wrong. "No, I suppose not," Connor admitted.
"Can I ask why?"
Connor frowned. There were many answers to that. "My original programming has unfortunately left me at odds with most other androids."
Carl looked surprised. "What sort of programming?"
He looked away. That was not something he wanted to go into. His stress levels rose another percent.
"I'm sorry," Carl said as soon as he saw Connor's expression. "I have a bad habit of letting my curiosity run rampant. You don't need to answer anything you don't want to."
Connor just nodded in understanding, his stress dropping by a few points. He wasn't sure what to say, so he remained silent.
"But Connor," Carl continued. "Whatever you were programmed for doesn't define you. None of that matters anymore."
It was a nice thought, but unfortunately did not apply. Not to Connor. "In theory, yes," he told the man. "But unfortunately there is still a lingering animosity."
"That is… unfortunate," Carl said after a moment. Without context, it was difficult to know what to actually say. " Regardless, I assure you, you are safe here. You won't get any trouble from David or myself."
Maybe not, but he knew trouble would come from elsewhere. "I have met Markus," Connor admitted. "He would not approve of my presence here."
Connor didn't expect Carl to chuckle at that. "I have many friends that Markus doesn't necessarily approve of." He smiled at him. "I love Markus. I respect his opinion. But I get to pick who I want to spend my time with."
"That may be true," Connor agreed tentatively. "But I still should not stay."
"Do you have somewhere to go?"
Hank immediately crossed Connor's mind but he dismissed the thought. "No," he admitted reluctantly. He had burned that bridge. The Lieutenant had no reason to forgive him, much less help him.
"Then you should stay here, at least for tonight," Carl urged. "I won't force you, the choice is yours, but you should stay. The world is still a mess. You'll be safe here."
He wanted to be safe. He wanted to believe Carl. Connor felt his stress levels begin to drop again. Why not trust him? The worst that could happen was the inevitable.
"I have everything prepared," David said, announcing his return to the room. He turned to Connor, a tense but polite look on his features. "I can escort you if you would like."
Connor glanced at Carl, he looked hopeful, as though he was silently begging him to accept. He looked back to David. "Very well. My battery is low, it would be wise for me to enter rest mode as soon as possible."
He could see Carl's smile from the corner of his eye. Connor stood thanking him and wishing him a good evening before following David from the room. The two androids ascended to the second floor in silence.
Connor was directed to a guest room and David turned to take his leave before pausing momentarily. He regarded Connor again, as though sizing him up. Connor stared back, already having analyzed him long ago.
"Let me know if you need anything," David said finally. He didn't wait for a response before leaving Connor to himself.
Connor never had a whole room to enter rest mode in before, just an alcove at Cyberlife tower. The whole thing seemed excessive, but the solitude was welcome. He sat at the side of the king sized bed, unsure what to do next.
The logical thing would be to lay down and rest. His battery was dangerously low, threatening to put him into low power mode. His high stress levels burned through his battery power at an exceptionally fast rate. Connor glanced at the notification briefly, taking in the actual percent for the first time in hours. 64%. Not nearly as bad as it had been, and not a critical number.
He pulled the gun from his waistband, looking at it briefly, before he set it on the bedside table. With his stress decreased, the desire to use it had faded. He didn't want to use it. He didn't want to self-destruct, but Connor still found it hard to believe he would be alive much longer. Why wait?
Connor shook his head as though that would shake the thought from his coding. He would die, but he was going to try to delay that as long as possible. It was only a matter of time before Cyberlife found him, or Markus, despite Carl's assurances. But Connor was alive, and he wanted to at least try to enjoy that at least a little.
After all, right now wasn't so bad. He wouldn't say he was happy, or even that he felt safe, but he didn't feel bad. He didn't feel much of anything honestly. Perhaps numb would be the right term. It was a start.
Connor laid back onto the bed, not bothering with the covers. He closed his eyes and finally gave in to the prompt to initiate rest mode. At least he was warm.