Connor knew he was being difficult. He'd had two meltdowns in quick succession after all, a fact that only served to frustrate him further and worsen his mood. So yes, he knew the Lieutenant didn't deserve his attitude, but at the moment, he was too annoyed to rectify the situation.
He was quiet on the drive to New Jericho. Part of it was because he was being petty and thought that Hank deserved the silent treatment. The other part warned him that if he spoke, he risked saying something he would regret.
His childish emotional range was proving to be very annoying.
He wasn't expecting Markus to be waiting for them when Hank pulled up, but there he was. He stood at the entrance looking as excited as Connor was irritated. He opened Connor's door as soon as the vehicle stopped.
"Careful," Hank warned from the front seat. "He's pissy right now."
It was a fair statement, but didn't serve to improve Connor's mood. He frowned up at the man, not caring that he was proving him right.
"Well, hopefully we can change that," Markus said, undeterred. He unbuckled Connor, pulling him from the seat and into his arms before he had a chance to protest. He directed his pout to him at that point, but it went ignored.
"God, I hope so," Hank sighed.
Evidently he had gotten out of the car at some point. He was now not far from them, reaching as though he intended to take Connor from Markus's grasp, but the deviant leader turned, denying the request. "I've got it from here, Lieutenant," he told him, hugging him a little closer.
"Hey, now," Hank protested. "I didn't bring him here for you to just take him."
"Please, Lieutenant," it sounded more like a scolding than a request. "You get Connor every day. Surely I'm due for some quality time with him."
The Lieutenant looked like he strongly wanted to oppose the idea. He ran his tongue across the front of his teeth, biting back an argument.
"It's fine, Hank," Connor interjected before he could speak. As much as he would deny it, he reasoned that the man could likely use a break from him. No matter how low he felt right now, he knew he still loved him. That didn't mean he wouldn't wear out Hank's patience.
Hank sighed, then shared an odd look with Markus that he couldn't seem to place. "Fine," he relented. "I've got some errands to run anyway." Markus didn't stop him from coming closer this time. He reached and cupped his cheek before leaning over to kiss the top of his head. "Try to be good, alright?" he said with a smile.
Connor rolled his eyes, but the casual teasing didn't annoy him as it would have earlier, so his mood must have already started to improve. "You be good," he jived back. "Don't go getting a bunch of junk food just because I'm not there to stop you."
Hank rolled his eyes, but smiled as he ruffled his hair and stepped back. "Yeah, yeah. I know. You want me to live to a hundred or some crap." He swung his keyring around his finger before heading back to the driver's door. "You two have some fun, alright? No work, I mean it. I don't care what excuse I gave Jeffery, this is a social visit for you boys."
"We will," Markus promised. Connor noted with irritation that he used his sincere voice which meant the deviant leader was being honest. He really had no plans on assisting him with the case while he was here.
He tried to not let that sour his mood farther.
"Alright, I'll leave you to it then," Hank chuckled then waved before getting in the car and buckling.
Connor was suddenly struck with a very child-like anxiety at watching him go. He wanted to cry, wanted Hank to come back, wanted him to hold him. He didn't want him to leave. He blinked away the tears before they could fall, shoving the feeling down.
He was an adult after all, he could control his emotions.
"You can put me down, you know," Connor commented instead once the vehicle pulled away. If Hank wasn't going to come back and hold him, he didn't want to be held. Besides, several of the androids entering or leaving the tower had certainly stared in interest at the sight of Markus holding a child. Connor wanted to limit the spectacle as much as possible.
Markus gave him a smile before setting him down, rightly deducing that it was a request rather than a statement of fact. "sorry," he apologized. "I suppose I get a bit carried away don't I?"
Connor shrugged, taking the hand that Markus offered in lieu of carrying him. "It's not exclusive to you," he said, dismissively.
"You are very cute," he stated as he led him inside the large building. "Not even North seems to be able to resist you. She still thinks we can get you from the Lieutenant if we tried."
His mood worsened at the mention of Hank, both due to his annoyance with the situation and his infantile desire for him to come back. "I really don't think that would work. He's unnecessarily protective of me."
"I'm not sure about it being unnecessary. He's worried about you, Connor," Markus sighed. "The Lieutenant's message stated that you were claiming to be defective."
"To be fair, I only said it once."
"But do you?" Markus pressed. "Do you feel defective?"
"No!" Connor denied immediately before wavering. "Well, ok, yeah. A little, I guess."
Markus looked at him concerned but didn't speak, wordlessly urging him to go on.
Connor sighed. "It's just… a lot of things. I should have made progress on the case by now."
"I thought you were making progress," Markus frowned, concerned. They pushed past a few people that looked at the android leader like they had just seen a celebrity.
"We thought so too," he told him. "But our lead turned out to be a dead end. I shouldn't be failing like this. And now… I found out that my memory upload was faulty. I forgot relevant information."
Markus was silent for a long while as they wove their way through the building to his private quarters. He only spoke again once the commotion of outside activity was muffled by the closed door. "I understand that must be frustrating, Connor. But it doesn't mean that you are defective."
"It's one of the things I was designed for," he argued bitterly. "If I've failed to do even-"
"Connor," Markus interrupted abruptly. "You haven't failed anything. We've talked about this, not every misstep is a failure. You are far too hard on yourself."
Connor frowned, pulling his hand from Markus's grasp so he could cross his arms defiantly. "This is different," he countered. "This is part of my core programming that failed."
He sighed and Connor could tell he was frustrating the deviant leader. "You aren't a machine anymore, Connor. Your core programming doesn't matter anymore. You probably subconsciously sacrificed those memories to hold onto something else that your old program would have deemed irrelevant."
Honestly, It was a logical conclusion, Connor had to give him that. But the dark corners of his mind pressed in on him whispering of failures and malfunctions. "How can I be sure?" He asked softly.
Markus retracted the skin on his hand and reached over to him. "I can take a look if you would like."
"I can't interface in this body," he told him sadly. He missed interfacing with Markus. The older android had a way of projecting calm through his code in a way nobody else could.
"Maybe not an interface, no," he acknowledged. "But I should be able to establish enough of a connection for a system check."
Hopeful, Connor took Markus's hand, allowing the meager contact to occur.
He could feel the faintest tingle of Markus's code and he reached for it, wanting desperately to experience even a fraction of what he normally would from an interface. They were both RK model androids, brothers, though they didn't advertise it. Their code was similar enough that their systems recognized them as interchangeable and their interfaces were always complete. Vast, open glimpses into each other's mind that left Connor feeling content, at peace, seen.
Now, all he felt was loneliness at the absence of that connection.
Markus let go of his hand, smiling as he pulled back. Evidently the void hadn't bothered him. "There, everything is working as it should," he announced. "Like I told you, no malfunctions in your code."
Connor doubted he could have done a full systems check with such a weak connection, but he seemed confident, so he would let it be for now. "Alright, I'll believe you," he conceded. He tried to hide the disappointment in his voice.
Markus didn't look entirely convinced, but didn't comment, instead turning him to move farther into the apartment. "Now that we have that settled, why don't we get to cheering you up?"
"What did you have in mind?" Connor asked following Markus's direction.
He gave him his warm, comforting smile and gestured towards the room in the back that he used as a studio. "What do we always do when you're feeling down?"
"Painting?" A thrill of excitement ran through him at the prospect. It was the most he had felt since the bad news at the precinct earlier that day, speaking volumes for how much he enjoyed the activity. Hank had gotten him some art supplies, but it wasn't quite the same as using Markus's studio.
"Painting," he declared happily. He opened the studio door, standing to the side so Connor could enter.
He scuttled in, nearly tripping over his own tiny feet in his haste to start and ignoring the chuckles coming from the older android. His gait only faltered when he realized he was too short to use the easels.
Connor turned to Markus, ready to voice his concern, but he beat him to it. "Don't worry. I have a plan," he assured him, apparently already attune to the issue.
He nodded, watching in interest as Markus set about retrieving a pair of canvases and set them flat on the floor. "Won't that be an odd angle?" Connor questioned.
"Nothing wrong with a different perspective," Markus responded, selecting the paints they were going to use.
He set them down within reach and Connor touched two fingers to the pigment, absentmindedly bringing it to his tongue. He froze, only realizing what he had done when the extent of the analysis that came back was 'paint'.
Markus didn't even try holding back his laughter at that point, but still handed him a handkerchief to wipe his tongue clean. "It's not funny," he insisted, petulantly. This was supposed to be improving his mood.
"Sorry," Markus apologized. It was sincere despite the lingering amusement. "Your face was simply priceless."
"It's not funny," he reiterated, feeling the tears welling up in his eyes. Connor rubbed at his face furiously. He didn't want to cry again today. But apparently, that wasn't up to him.
"Oh, hey," Markus cood once he realized the state Connor was in. All at once he was wrapped in his arms, tight in a sympathetic hug.
However much Connor didn't want to cry, it was magnified exponentially at the realization that he was here to see him cry. With nowhere else to hide his face, he buried it into the fabric of Markus's coat.
"I'm sorry, I didn't want you to cry," he whispered gently. "I shouldn't have laughed."
That was at least a sentiment they shared. "It's not… that's not…" he choked out around his sobbs. He wished Markus would rub his back, it always seemed to help when Hank did it. "That's not the problem."
"What is it then?"
He pulled away a bit so he wouldn't be muffled, but kept his face down. "It's another function I'm incapable of," he lamented. "It feels like all my basic functions are gone."
"Connor, you know that's not true," Markus insisted. He pressed his hand to his face and he could feel the cool plastimetal and hint of code that suggested an attempt to interface. Whether he had forgotten he couldn't, or believed he could force even a hint of comfort through the connection, he wasn't sure. But it only seemed to solidify his point. Markus sighed, running a finger across Connor's cheek to wipe away some of the tears. "I know this body has… limitations, but…"
"I think even my mind is going," he confessed. He saw Markus open his mouth to counter the claim, but he continued before he could do so. "I'm behaving irrationally. I can't trust my own mind. I cry all the time," he wailed. "I think I'm regressing and I don't know what to do about it."
Markus was silent for a moment. He sat there, one arm wrapped around him, the other cradling his face. Connor's hope that he was formulating a solution or an argument as to how it couldn't be true was dashed as soon as he spoke. "That is actually possible," he admitted. "We knew your emotions would adapt to your new body, it stands to reason that your mind could adjust as well."
He finally looked up at him, still frustrated, but no longer crying. "How do I fix it?"
Markus pursed his lips for a moment. "I don't really think there is anything to fix."
"Are you crazy?" Connor all but shouted, pushing away from his arms. " Of course it needs fixing. I can't be a six-year-old!"
"I really think you are taking this too seriously," he countered. He was using that calm, diplomatic voice that he brought out when he was trying to de-escalate a situation. It only annoyed Connor more.
"You aren't taking this seriously enough," he accused. "I'm a homicide detective, Markus. It's bad enough looking like a child, I can't start thinking like one too!"
"Connor," he said as he reached for him, but Connor swatted at his hands, not in any mood to be comforted. "You have the unique opportunity to experience a childhood. That's not something that many androids can say."
"I don't want a childhood!" Connor shouted. "I didn't ask for any of this!"
Markus blinked in surprise. He lowered the hand that he had extended to him, a solemn understanding spreading across his features. "You're right," he sighed, disheartened. "None of this was your choice. It's not my place to tell you how to feel about it."
"You were just happy I'm not dead?" Connor guessed, softening now that he'd gotten his point across. "You didn't think I'd have any issues since I was alive and that's all that mattered? Hank had that problem."
"At least I'm in good company," Markus reasoned. He opened his arms, pleading for a hug and Connor obliged, pressing his face into his chest. "If it is any consolation, any regression you experience will revert once you return to your adult body."
"That does help, actually," he admitted, finally letting himself relax a bit.
Markus tightened the hug before letting it end. "Does that mean you are ready to paint?"
Connor smiled with an enthusiastic nod. "I'd like that. We still need the brushes though," he observed.
"Actually, I thought we could omit the brushes this time," he grinned at him, wiggling his fingers meaningfully.
His smile fell, annoyance creeping back into his expression. "Finger Painting? Really?"
"It will be fun, I promise," Markus grinned. "Please, at least let me try to show you that there is some joy in being a child."
Connor looked at him skeptically, but agreed anyway. If he was going to go back to normal, he supposed there wasn't really any harm in at least trying to have a little fun.
