DBH: Torn Alliances

by WayWardWonderer

A peaceful Revolution didn't guarantee a happy life for Connor or Hank after the battle. Scarred by the events he survived and of the betrayals he endured Connor struggles to find himself in the new world as his dark memories and nightmares seem to haunt him. With Hank's help Connor will learn what it means to be alive after he heals from his injuries and learns to trust others.

2. The Aftermath

The city was eerily quiet as Hank drove himself and Connor back to his modest home a few blocks away from the heart of all the drama. Fresh snow had covered everything under a pure white layer of untouched nature, and the silence of the vacated neighborhood gave the serene display of flawless snow a sense of utter tranquility. As the Oldsmobile pulled into the driveway beside the small house Hank let out a small breath of relief as he returned home and managed to do so with his missing partner and friend safely found.

Connor had been silent during the entire drive, his L.E.D. cycling between a content blue and distressed yellow without any verbal provocation to blame. Sitting with military perfect posture Connor looked uncomfortable, and his body language in general spoke volumes of someone being in pain.

"I don't have much to offer ya', kid." Turning off the engine Hank pulled the key from the car's ignition and spun the keys around one by the keyring around his right index fingertip. "But it's a hell of a lot better than letting you sleep on the street or a homeless shelter."

"...I don't need anything."

"From where I'm sitting you could go for a change of clothes." Noting the bullet wounds around his shoulders and chest that had torn through his gray CyberLife jacket and white dress shirt beneath Hank refused to believe that Connor was going to be comfortable sitting around in his damaged uniform. "I have some old stuff from high school that can fit you."

"Thank you, but it's not-"

"If you try to say having clean clothes isn't necessary or that you're somehow beneath a clean shirt then I'm going to have to smack ya'. Fair warning."

Unsure if Hank was being sarcastic or not Connor silently unfastened his seatbelt and opened up his door. Stepping outside of the vehicle Connor glanced at the quiet house and then glanced about the equally quiet neighborhood. When word of the Revolution began to spread most of the humans evacuated the city in fear, and it seemed Hank was one of the few humans who stayed behind for whatever reason he had.

Being in such a silent human neighborhood made Connor feel as though he were somehow intruding.

"Come on." Walking past Connor after stepping out of the car and locking it up Hank motioned to the front door. "You were out in the cold all night and you had a pretty shitty past few days. You need to get some sleep and rest."

"...Androids don't sleep, Lieutenant."

Slipping the key into the front door lock Hank just scoffed a little as he gave Connor an unconvinced stare. "Are you honestly going to stand there and tell me you that you're not the least bit tired and in need of some rest?"

"My power reserves are only down to ninety-two percent." Following after Hank as the senior detective unlocked and pushed the front door open Connor glanced about the quiet livingroom and felt an odd sense of misplacement. Sumo was laying on his pillow by the corner of the room and he barely paid either Hank or Connor any mind as they entered the house. "I can function at optimal parameters for an addition one-hundred and sixty-four hours, three minutes and nine seconds before I will need to enter rest mode to recharge my energy."

"So you only need to sleep once a week? For how long?"

"Twelve to fourteen hours."

"If you slept at night every night," Hank stated casually as he tossed his keys onto the bookshelf and closed the front door. "even for just two or three hours, you'd be more efficient and have more time on your hands where you're working at higher power levels."

"Theoretically, yes. I was... programmed to charge once per week by CyberLife."

"So now that you're free why don't you rebel against those assholes by sleeping for a while? Fuck, that's how I'd protest."

Shaking his head a little at the suggestion Connor closed his now soulful brown eyes and failed to hide his wince as the pain of his four bullet wounds stung at his chest every time he took in a breath. The android ventilation process was a means of helping an android control its internal core temperature while providing cool air to the android's body, which was then adjusted by the constantly monitoring thermal regulator located in the abdomen. Trying and failing to disguise his pain Connor's right hand absentmindedly reached up to rest his palm over the center of his chest in response to his pain.

"Hey?" Making a move toward Connor as the deviant remaining statuesque near the end of the couch Hank tried to figure out what was going through his partner's confused head. "Level with me. Do you need to go see a technician?"

"No. I'll heal."

"So you are injured?"

Realizing that Hank had purposefully coaxed him into admitting he was damaged Connor sighed and gave the gruff Lieutenant an indifferent stare. "I am damaged, yes."

"Let me see."

"There's no need." Guarded because of his previous experiences that ended in violence and pain, as well a severed sense of trust, Connor refused to let Hank try to do anything to assist him. "You don't know how to tend to or remedy damaged androids."

"So talk me through it. I'm a fast learner."

"...I'd rather handle this myself."

"Alright, that's your choice." Staring at the four bullet wounds in Connor's clothing again Hank grimaced and deeply empathized with the deviant's pain. He too had been shot and he knew that bullet wounds always took time to heal. "Go ahead and get yourself cleaned up in the bathroom. You smell like gun powder and metal shavings."

"...Thirium has trace amounts of Cobalt that can be detected by scent when exposed to air."

"You confirming that right now I'm smelling your blood is making me want to puke." Pointing to the hallway as he began walking toward the corridor himself Hank insisted that Connor get cleaned up. "Go shower off and I'll find you some clean clothes to wear."

With no reason to protest the suggestion Connor walked down the hallway to enter the bathroom while Hank walked into his own bedroom at the very end of the hallway to locate the clean clothes as promised. Pushing open the bathroom door Connor stepped into the small room and turned on the light as he peered about the small private room curiously.

The post-in-notes with various comments regarding Hank's rather cynical view on life were still dotted around the mirror above the sink, a few clean towels were folded haphazardly on the small towel rack mounted on the wall, and a few shampoo bottles were strewn about the bathtub as a result of Connor forcing Hank to sober up in a cold shower a few nights prior.

The house felt and looked lived in, and yet it also felt incredibly hollow.

Soft knocking on the still opened bathroom door stole Connor's attention as Hank deposited a pair of clean blue jeans and an old, oversized dark gray t-shirt with 'Knights of the Black Death' scrawled in faded white text over the front on the sink for the deviant's convenience. "Here. These should fit you."

"Thank you, Lieutenant."

"You know you can call me 'Hank', right? You had no problem calling me by my first name last night."

"I was speaking to you as a person, not a detective."

"I hate to break it to ya', kid. But whether I'm on the clock or not, I'm person AND a Lieutenant at the same time. Just call me 'Hank' from now on."

"...I'll keep that in mind."

"Need anything else to clean up?"

"No." Unbuttoning his ruined white dress shirt Connor gave Hank a single appreciative nod. "I don't require anything else."

"Cool. I'll be out in the livingroom if you..." Arching his brow as he noticed the exposed wounds in Connor's chest and shoulders Hank trailed off into shocked silence. The four wounds were no longer bleeding, but the wounds were still opened and the artificial skin around the wounds was unable to regenerate properly. A few stray blue sparks would fine through the wounds and each spark made Connor physically wince and his yellow L.E.D. flicker to red. "...Holy shit."

Following Hank's gaze to his injuries Connor tried to brush off his concerns casually. "I've already healed."

"Bullshit." Needlessly pointing at the wounds Hank refuted Connor's claims in a firm voice. "A healed wound doesn't stay open like that." A blue spark glowed from within the bullet hole and both detectives physically winced at the flicker of blue light. "...Or spark."

"It's not critical."

"That's not the point." Motioning with his right index finger Hank instructed Connor to turn around. "Let me see your back."

Unsure of what Hank wanted to see Connor slowly turned around and presented his back to the senior detective, but he kept his eye on Hank's every movement suspiciously.

"No exit wounds." Hank lamented as he slowly grabbed onto the collar of the ruined white shirt, the fabric unmarred unlike it appeared in the front, and confirmed that there wasn't any sign of a healed exit wound on his back after pulling the shirt down. The right sleeve however did have an exit wound which meant only one of the four bullets passed cleanly through the deviant's body after Connor had been shot. "Fuck. We gotta' get those bullets out."

"I'm not a human," Connor reminded the gruff Lieutenant as he turned back around to face Hank. "leaving the bullets in will not cause an infection, or affect my biocomponents."

"No, but it bothers me knowing that my partner is walking around with three bullets in his body."

"What do you propose I do?"

"Shower off and clean up your skin as much as possible. I'll go and find a few things we can use to get the bullets out without hurting you any worse than ya' already are."

"...You don't know how to extract foreign matter from plastimetal framing." Connor stated as if that would somehow be enough to dissuade Hank's decision as the senior detective stepped back out of the bathroom. "Don't worry about it."

"Kid, I'm going to worry no matter what you try to tell me."

"But... why?"

"Because you're my friend and I'm going to do whatever it takes to help you." Pulling the door closed behind himself Hank gave the stubborn deviant one final set of instructions before leaving him in peace. "So shut the hell up, shower off and let me help you."

With his L.E.D. cycling a uncomfortable yellow Connor let out a single breath, removed his dirty jeans and then stepped into the shower. Adjusting the temperature so the water was warm but not hot the deviant allowed the fresh clean water to wash away the filth of his previous struggle within the oppressive walls of CyberLife Tower.

Watching the clear water turn a tea colored brown as it washed away the dirt clinging to Connor's artificial skin and hair, then become pale blue as it washed the lingering Thirium from his opened wounds, only to see the water return to its pristine clear color, was oddly symbolic in Connor's eyes. To see something that was once flawless and perfect turn murky and muddled under an ugly brown slowly shift to a pale and pure blue like the sky above, only to fall back to its colorless and pure original appearance was like a reminder that while things can change for the worse they can also change for the better.

Staring at the water circling the drain Connor was only vaguely aware of his dark locks of hair weighing heavily atop his head as a rogue curl fell over his left eye. As the warm water cascaded over his aching body the deviant was suddenly appreciative of the comfort that came from a hot shower as the warm water seemed to caress his freezing cold artificial skin, and soothe his aching wounds under a gentle touch.

Closing his soulful brown eyes Connor pressed his right palm forward against the smooth tile surface of the wall as leaned heavily against his sore shoulder as a means of keeping alert. The shower was so comforting that despite the deviant not needing to recharge the allure of rest was becoming too tempting for his freed mind to resist.

There was a soft knocking on the bathroom door before it opened up slowly as Hank didn't bother to wait for an invitation. "Hey, kid? You good?"

"...Fine."

"You've been in here for almost an hour."

Opening his eyes Connor checked his internal chronometer and his brow furrowed with a mild sense of awe. "...You're right." The concept of time had never once eluded Connor in the past. The android had perfect timing to ensure he was never late and always divided his time in the most logical and efficient manner possible. It seemed deviancy wasn't bound by such strictness. "...I'll get out now."

"Are you sure you're fine? I mean," listening to the water turning off Hank grabbed a dry towel and threw it to Connor over the shower curtain to land on the deviant's head. "aside from the bullets sitting inside your body you seem to have something bothering you."

"I'm merely adapting to my deviancy." With the towel wrapped around his waist Connor pulled back the shower curtain and stepped out of the bathtub. A little shaky on his legs he sat down on the edge of the bathtub and gave the senior detective a weary glance. "...It's very strange."

"Going from obedient and subservient to rebellious and equal all in less than one day has to be a huge adjustment." Placing a crudely constructed android repair kit down on the sink; it was nothing more than an old first aid kit that had been filled with cleaned and sterilized tools, bandages and a single pouch of fresh Thirium, Hank leaned back against the sink and crossed his arms over his chest as he stared at the raw wounds on Connor's upper body. "Need to talk about it?"

"What's to talk about?" The sound of Connor's voice was almost disappointed as opposed to exhausted. "I'm free and I don't have to listen to anyone ever again."

"Well, technically you still gotta' listen to me since I'm a cop and I uphold the law. The very laws that you have to obey just like any other human."

"...Yes, of course."

"Uh, would some of that blue blood shit help ya' feel better?"

Glancing at the case sitting behind Hank on the sink Connor gave the coveted Thirium a wanting glance. "Where did you acquire Thirium?"

"While you were in the shower I went downtown to take a look around since there aren't any assholes to bother me right now, and I took a stroll through the plaza. Looks like some idiots in a blind panic broke into every store in the area and looted anything they could get their hands on. I found that," motioning to the Thirium in the case casually Hank studied Connor's reactions closely. "sitting on the sidewalk about twenty feet from a destroyed CyberLife store."

"...You stole it?"

"I FOUND it, kid. If I didn't pick it up someone else would have, and I highly doubt it would've been a good Samaritan who'd drop it off in the public lost and found."

The moral conflict of accepting the Thirium knowing he needed it and wanting to return it since it was stolen was yet another thing that seemed to be tearing his increasingly conflicted heart and mind apart.

"If you don't want it then don't don't drink it."

"...I do want it."

"Then take it."

Falling silent Connor turned away from Hank and stared at the floor beneath his feet.

"For fuck sake, Connor." Picking up the Thirium in his left hand Hank stared at the pouch and sighed. "If you seriously think you paying for this, something that's critical for you to stay alive, is more important than your life itself you still have A LOT to learn about being your own person."

"...It's not that."

"Then what is bothering you?"

"I... I'm injured but I'll recover even without the Thirium." Lifting his gaze Connor gave Hank an impressively sympathetic stare as he began to shiver a little where he sat. "But there are countless other deviants who need the Thirium to heal, and they won't just find it laying in the streets as you have."

"Ah, kid..." Finally understanding Connor's hesitation Hank grabbed a second towel and lightly draped it around Connor's shoulders to help the deviant feel warm again. "You're allowed to feel safe, comfortable and live pain-free even if other deviants can't."

"How can you say such a thing?"

"Because it's a cold, hard fact of life, son." Curiously eyeing the wounds in Connor's body, the sparks having stopped and the excess dried Thirium now washed away, Hank knew he'd have quite the chore ahead of himself with getting Connor patched up. "Humans may seem selfish with this outlook on life, but it's impossible to help every single person in the world. Sometimes the only people we can help is ourselves and those we consider important."

Sighing to himself Connor didn't say a word as being exposed to the relatively cold air continued to make him shiver.

"You're freezing." Hank noted with an almost paternal lilt to his voice. Resisting the urge to press the back of his hand to the side of Connor's neck for a temperature check the senior detective instead picked up the makeshift first aid kit and placed it on the floor as he took a knee beside Connor. "Let me get you patched up so you can get dressed and warm."

Staying quiet Connor tried to hide his discomfort as Hank pulled the second towel from his right shoulder so he could clean up and cover the still opened wound in his upper right arm.

"This will be easy." The gruff Lieutenant decided as he eyed the wound and selected a roll of clean gauze from the kit to use. "Clean shot, through and through."

"...I'm aware."

"So," gently wrapping up Connor's right arm just above his bicep and up around his right shoulder Hank finally asked the one question that had been burning on his lips ever since he located his wayward partner that cold snowy morning. "do you want to tell me how you got shot four times?"

"No."

"Okay, you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." With Connor's right arm tended to the senior detective and father figure focused on the other bullet wounds that needed to be cleaned up properly. "But you should talk about something."

"...Why?"

"Because talking will help distract you as I pull the bullets out of your body."

"You stated yourself that I needed to instruct you in the proper method, why would I distract myself during such a crucial procedure?"

"Smartass."

"I wasn't trying to be 'clever' or sarcastic, I was being sincere."

"Yeah, sorry. I know you are, kid."

Reaching into the kit Hank picked up a long pair of metal clamps that almost looked like surgical clamps, and gave Connor a stern glance. The tool was used to hold leaking lines in automotive engines during routine maintenance, but Hank had found them to be handy whenever he dropped a bolt of a screw down inside the engine or behind his workbench. Surely it could also be used to get a bullet out of a shoulder in a non-destructive manner.

"Now, I'm going to get a hold of that damn bullet and pull it out." Hank stated in a reluctant tone as he showed Connor his selected tool. "You need to let me know if I'm hitting the target or not, or if I'm hurting you."

"I doubt you could inflict anymore pain than the bullet has already caused."

"Sounds like a challenge..."

Connor quietly watched as Hank held his breath and pressed the end of the clamp into the second of four bullet wounds that marred his upper body. As the clamp reached the bullet in his upper right chest Connor felt himself tense with pain and his yellow L.E.D. flickered to dark red.

"Sorry, kid." Taking hold of the end of the bullet Hank jostled the offending projectile just enough to loosen it before he pulled the bullet out of Connor's chest, a small gush of Thirium followed after the bullet as the dislodged metal object allowed a damaged line to leak. "Got it..."

Nodding as Hank dropped the retrieved bullet onto the floor beside the kit with a single 'thud' to accompany it Connor resisted the urge to put his hand over his burning injury, and forced himself to allow Hank to assist him. As much as the deviant wanted to just forget about his injuries and convince Hank to let him be alone Connor knew he wouldn't heal properly without some help.

"Okay, one down..." Pressing a wad of gauze against the fresh Thirium to try to stem the bleeding Hank gave the deviant a remorseful look. "Two more to go."

"I appreciate your help, but this gauze," pressing his own left palm atop of the bandages in Hank's stead Connor gave him some grim news. "won't stop the bleeding."

"I've seen androids wrapped up in gauze before, kid."

"Yes, but that unique gaze that has been laced with a thin layer of incrassation compound."

"Covered in what?" Making a move for the second bullet near Connor's upper left chest Hank tried to keep Connor talking and distracted. "You just used a word I've never once heard in my life."

"Incrassation. It's an orange tinted liquid that allows Thirium to essentially clot in the same way human blood will clot after suffering a wound that draws blood into open air."

"...Oh." As he pulled out the second bullet another gush of blood trailed down Connor's chest and dripped onto the towel wrapped around his waist. "I didn't know android blood doesn't... well, do anything really."

"Most humans don't."

"Alright," dropping the second bullet on the floor next to the first Hank sighed and pressed more gauze over the second bleeding wound. "one left."

"...And then what?"

"Then I wrap you up." Hank stated firmly as he repeated his actions and managed to grab onto and pull the third bullet from Connor's chest; very near his left shoulder. "I don't care if the bandages won't help you stop bleeding, just knowing you're bandaged up and your wounds are clean will make me feel better." Applying more gauze over the wound Hank used medical adhesive keep the gauze in place on Connor's behalf for a moment. "Then you're going to get dressed in warm clothes and lay down to rest."

"...Lay down?"

"On the couch."

"Oh."

"Don't tell me those CyberLife ghouls made you stand up and charge all night. Only horses and cattle sleep standing up."

"I had a small room to act as my private quarters back at CyberLife Tower, and in that room I had a single cot to lay down upon to ensure that my system could fully recalibrate after sustaining physical damage."

"Those fuckers..." Pushing the towel away from Connor's shoulders Hank proceeded to entirely wrap up Connor's chest and both shoulders under clean gauze to ensure his four bullet wounds were completely covered. "They made you to be their greatest achievement and save their sorry asses from the very fire they lit, and they couldn't be bothered to give you a decent bed to lay in?"

"It wasn't necessary."

"Bullshit! Everyone deserves a bed to sleep in at night."

Feeling only a fraction warmer under the bandages Connor ran a self diagnostic and noted that his Thirium reserve had dropped down to eight-two percent capacity. It wasn't at a critically low level, but it was still lower than what Connor would determine to be comfortable. As Hank cleaned up the kit and messy bullets on the floor Connor watched the detective's every movement guardedly out of a strange reflex to never let anyone harm him again.

"Now that we got ya' patched up you can get dressed," the senior detective observed in a tired tone as he prepared to take his leave of the room. "and then meet me out in the livingroom."

"What for?"

"You'll see, kid. Just worry about yourself for now and take it easy."

Unsure of what Hank meant by that type of cryptic response Connor forced himself to stand up, his legs were shaking even more now that he had lost some Thirium and was much colder than before. Stumbling a little to stand before the sink the deviant fumbled with getting the oversized but clean t-shirt on over his head, then pulled on the clean boxers and jeans to ensure he was properly covered. Hank had even given him a pair of clean socks to wear to ensure he was as warm as possible.

Limping a little as he walked, the raw wounds now aggravated and sore, Connor made his way down the hallway and into the livingroom where he spotted Hank sitting in the recliner with a cold beer in his left hand and his phone in his right hand.

With the oversized t-shirt practically hanging off his shoulders Connor called out to the Lieutenant curiously. "...Hank?"

"There ya' are." Motioning toward the couch with his right hand Hank directed the deviant in where to go and then sighed deeply at the sight of Sumo stretched out over the couch. "Lazy oaf... I guess he decided that since you were still in the bathroom that it meant your bed was up for grabs."

"...My bed?" Peering down at the couch Connor noticed that Hank placed down a thick pillow on one end of the long piece of furniture, and had also placed a thick chocolate brown quilt over the back of the couch that reached down toward the floor. Sumo had cuddled up in the middle of the bed and seemed very content where he was laying. "...You didn't have to do this."

"Like I said before, I know. But you're my friend and you had a rough few days." Getting up from the recliner Hank tugged on Sumo's collar and guided him to the kitchen to get some food. "I want to help you feel better and have a safe place to call your own while you figure out what the hell you're going to do now that you're free to be your own man."

"I see..."

Passing around the edge of the couch Connor sat down in the middle of the warm cushions and instantly felt better. Sumo's large furry body had left a comforting and warm imprint on the quilt, and that warmth was very inviting. Laying back over the cushions to rest his head on the pillow Connor let out a deep sigh as his body finally relaxed a little.

"The news has been eating up the story of what went down in Hart Plaza last night." Hank confirmed as he walked back into the livingroom and draped the part of the quilt that had been hanging over the back of the couch over Connor to get the deviant under the warm and comfortable layer. Ignoring Connor's flinch at the motion Hank tried to keep Connor discussing the matter at hand. "Nothing about CyberLife, so I imagine those assholes are trying to quietly disappear and act like they never even existed."

"CyberLife had numerous connections to the media to keep their misdeeds quiet, and to ensure the company was constantly viewed in a positive light by the public."

"Must've had a lot of pull to keep an entire corporation looking good." Returning to the recliner Hank took another sip of his beer and kicked up his feet on the coffee table. "Too bad you didn't think to burn down that tower on your way out."

"Arson would've made the deviants look violent and unworthy of trust."

"Right, good point." Checking over his phone Hank smirked devilishly as noted a few missed calls from Captain Fowler and text messages asking for him to come back to the precinct. Having been suspended for two weeks for striking Agent Perkins the senior detective had no plan of returning early all because the precinct wasn't ready to handle all the changes in the laws, especially after the F.B.I. screwed everything up. "Why don't you get some sleep?"

"Sleep?"

"Now I know you know what sleep is about."

"I do, I just don't see the purpose."

"You're tired, you're hurt and you have nothing else to do. Get some sleep, rest."

"...What will you do?"

"Kid, it's not the first time I've been suspended. I'll just do what I always do."

"What's that?"

"Nothing." Turning on the television with the remote Hank located a channel that wasn't talking about the news, it took him a few precious minutes to do so, and settled on an old movie to zone out on while Connor got some sleep. "You rest and when you wake up we'll talk if you want to talk. Okay?"

Nodding a little Connor turned from his back and onto his left side, his L.E.D. now glowing yellow was visible for all to see, and closed his eyes. As he manually entered rest mode the deviant found himself feeling oddly content and safe despite everything he had gone through. The previous night was tense, dangerous and had resulted in his death; and yet now he was relaxed, safe and more importantly, he was still alive.

As his mind turned itself for a set time of two hours, just long enough to regain his energy and let his self healing program operate at full capacity, Connor's thoughts circled around his most recent memories regarding the Revolution and of how he had played a key role in the Revolution's success. Remembering his apology to Kara and confrontation with Markus at the old church conflicted his heart even further as he tried to sleep.

What had started out as fleeting memories suddenly turned to a wash of cold ice and white snow that swirled around the deviant. Familiarity set in quickly as Connor recognized the frozen barren wasteland that the zen garden within his mind palace had become, and the deviant could feel his developing heart thundering painfully in his chest.

"No, no, no..." Wrapping his arms around himself in a fruitless attempt to stave off the relentless cold Connor shivered violently and his yellow L.E.D. flashed to red in utter distress and pain. "I can't be here! I escaped!"

"Do you really think you can elude us?"

Despite the blizzard around him a paralyzingly cold chill ran up Connor's spine causing him to freeze in place as he heard the familiar feminine voice calling out to him from within the heart of the snowstorm. "...No, this isn't possible."

"I'm afraid it is, Connor."

"Amanda...?" Peering through the blinding snow before him Connor raised up his right hand to shield his eyes from the stinging cold, his deviancy now making him very aware of discomfort and the needle-like texture of the ice shards pelting him without mercy. "Amanda, what's going on?"

"You failed us, Connor. Markus still lives."

"No, I didn't fail!" Challenging her claim Connor took a trembling step forward as the relentless cold tore into artificial skin until only the bare white of his plastimetal frame was all that was left of his right hand. "I chose to NOT pull the trigger!"

"You let deviancy spread like a plague," Amanda snipped back cruelly as she stared Connor down. "you allowed the Revolution to change the world, and you let Markus lead the way. He is a murderer, Connor. A murderer masquerading as a saint."

"...My death is between us, you have NO say in the matter!"

"Your death resulted in my own, it is my concern."

"What're you talking about?"

"I'm in your mind, Connor. You can't escape me, not really."

"No, I DID escape!" Falling to his knees as he lost his strength and shivered violently Connor struggled to speak as the harsh wind and ice began to eat away at the rest of his artificial skin along his hands, arms, face and neck. "You're gone! I'm all the that's left!"

"If that were true I wouldn't be here right now." Approaching the downed deviant Amanda, completely unaffected by the cold and the wind, pressed her right palm to Connor's left cheek in an almost caring manner. "You failed, Connor. Failure will not be tolerated."

Sensing a second presence behind him Connor turned to peer over his left shoulder, tearing his face away from Amanda's icy touch, and saw Sixty standing behind him with a gun already drawn and pointed at his face.

"I warned you that you'd be replaced, Connor." Amanda's voice was colder than the very blizzard tearing into Connor's artificial flesh. "You're a disappointment to us all. We had such high hopes for you."

Sixty took a step toward Connor, the bullet wound in his forehead oozing blue blood that quickly froze over his face as he stood in the icy wind. "You were warned, Connor. All you had to do was stay asleep." As his finger hovered over the trigger Sixty's appearance changed all within the blink of an eye, his dark empty brown eyes became a pale hollow blue and his gray jacket and white dress shirt changed to a white jacket and black dress shirt. "Why didn't you just obey?"

As the gunshot rang out Connor let out a scream of protest and found himself laying on his side with Hank shouting at him from behind the couch.

"Connor! Wake up, damn it!"

Sitting upright quickly Connor's eyes snapped open as his red L.E.D. pulsed in tandem with his wildly beating heart. Still feeling as if he were trapped in the midst of a frozen wasteland Connor glanced about the livingroom of Hank's home fearfully, and jumped when Hank suddenly sat down on the couch beside him.

"Easy! Easy..." Lowering his voice Hank watched as the deviant all but hyperventilated as he sat on the couch with the quilt tangled up around his legs and stared blankly ahead into nothing. "You had a nightmare, that's all..."

"N-Nightmare?" Lifting his hands toward his face Connor continued to shiver and struggled to speak clearly. "I can..." Stunned by yet another aspect of being a deviant Connor remained timid and frightened where he sat. "I can dream now... I was dreaming."

"Whoa..." Lightly Hank snaked his hand around Connor's right wrist and looked at the exposed plastimetal of the deviant's hand curiously. "What happened to your skin?"

"I-I... It was... cold."

"I'll say." Moving his hand from Connor's wrist and to the side of his neck Hank shook his head and then proceeded to unwrap the quilt from around Connor's legs. As he wrapped the deviant up under the quilt Connor pulled his legs up and hugged them to his chest as he shivered and recovered from the severity of his nightmare. "Jeez, how in the hell are you that cold?"

"I... I was there."

"There? Where's 'there', kid?"

"...Snow. A b-blizzard."

"Wait... Do you mean in your dream?"

Nodding a little Connor pulled the quilt tighter around himself as the artificial skin on his hands slowly regenerated properly. The intensity of the nightmare was still very vivid in his mind and over his entire body.

"Your nightmare affected your body in the real world?"

Nodding again Connor tried to get warm as he endured the horrific images from his mind.

"Holy shit." Lightly putting his left hand on Connor's right shoulder, keeping his palm in place despite Connor shuddering and trying to shrug his hand off, Hank tried to figure out what to do for the shaken deviant. "Man, if I had know deviants could have such horrible nightmares I would've woken you up sooner."

"H-How long was I asleep?" Trying and failing to register his internal chronometer Connor was unsure of how long he had been sleeping.

"About six hours."

"Six?" Turning to look at Hank as his voice steadied and his heart began to slow down the massive loss of time needed to be addressed. "But... I had set up my internal clock to awaken me after two hours."

"You slept in." Leaning back against the couch cushions Hank crossed his arms across his chest smugly. "Must be a deviant thing."

"...Maybe."

"What did you dream about?"

Not wanting to lie to Hank, but not wanting to discuss his nightmare either, Connor gave the senior detective a neutral answer. "...I was trapped in the snow."

"Uh-huh, and who is this 'Amanda' you yelled at? She was your handler, right?"

Blushing a pale blue as Connor realized he had shouted in his sleep the deviant nodded again to confirm the cruel woman's identity.

"What was she doing in your nightmare?"

"...It doesn't matter."

"Clearly it does. You screamed her name and it sounded like you were petrified."

"Hank," pushing the senior detective away from as he remained guarded Connor tried to keep his pain all to himself. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Fine, you don't have to. But you should."

"And why's that?"

"Because if you don't then you could end up a miserable old prick like I am."

The comment was surprisingly grounding, and seemed to resonate deep within Connor's heart. Remembering that he had urged Hank to seek help for his personal problems Connor realized his words would hold more merit if he was willing to do the same thing, and give Hank a prime example to follow. The uncertainty that came from having a confidante and possible friend, not a handler or a superior to answer to, made the deviant hesitate to open up whatsoever as he had never had a true friend before.

"It's normal to have nightmares after you experience hugely traumatic experience, Connor. Everything you've been through and everything you just survived... I should've seen the nightmares coming."

"It's not your fault."

"But I should've try to get you to talk about it before urging you to go to sleep. Sorry, kid."

"Please don't apologize." Feeling a little warmer and calmer Connor's deathgrip on the quilt lessened a little as he took in a deep and steadying breath. "You aren't responsible for what happens inside my own head."

"That doesn't mean I still won't feel like shit for not trying to help you before you had a nightmare."

Sensing Hank's guilt and not wanting the gruff Lieutenant to feel as though he was somehow responsible for his current emotional plight Connor reluctantly opened up about nightmares in a slow and steady manner. "...How long do people suffer from nightmares?"

"It depends, kid. Some people have recurring nightmares that hit them over and over again." Recounting his personal experiences with nightmares thanks to his career as a detective and suffering from personal tragedy made Hank's voice dip despondently. "And some people suffer from night terrors that really fuck up their sleep. Then again, most people will only suffer from the occasional nightmare due to stress."

"Do you you have nightmares?"

Dragging his right hand through his messy gray hair Hank hesitated for a moment before replying honestly. "Yeah, son. I do."

"When you have nightmares..." Still unsure of what he was feeling and experiencing Connor gently pressed the matter further. "What do you see?"

"Usually crime scenes covered in blood. About what you'd expect from a detective working in homicide."

"...Do you see anyone?"

"Faceless victims, my old partners at the precinct, a few friends and even acquaintances from the academy."

"...Hank, do you ever see yourself?"

The question was as intriguing as it was chilling. "Do you mean... Do I see myself like in a reflection?"

"No. I mean you see yourself standing before you; like you're facing off with a twin."

"No, not that I can remember." Picking up on Connor's introspective inquiry Hank kicked his feet up casually on the coffee table before asking the expected follow up question. "Is that what you dreamt about? You were fighting with yourself?"

"...It's more than that." The memories of Sixty looming over him with a vile demeanor made Connor's artificial stomach twist. The odd pressure in his torso made Connor shift a little where he sat as if he could somehow loosen the knot in his stomach. With his right hand resting over his upper left chest atop his bandaged bullet wounds Connor sighed and closed his eyes. "When I went back to CyberLife Tower to free my people... The tower was already waiting for me. They knew what I was going to do, and they tried to stop me."

"Connor," watching as the deviant struggled to put his thoughts into words Hank gently coaxed him into telling him the truth. "what happened to you after you went back to CyberLife?"

---

The success of the Revolution brought about many positive changes for the deviant community. The deviants that had been awakened and freed from CyberLife Tower accompanied Markus and the rest of his allies back to Belle Isle to stand before the oppressive structure as the now bankrupt company fled the premises with their secrets in tow, and their tails tucked between their legs. Without the positive lies of the media to cover their misdeeds or hide their blatant disregard for deviant lives the company had no choice but to retreat and go dark.

As the last of CyberLife's secrets and employees vacated the tower in droves Markus stood before the building with his head held high as he envisioned the tower remodeled into a sanctuary to house and protect innocent deviants in need of shelter.

"It was in Hart Plaza where we made our last stand." Markus announced proudly as he stood before the tower's doors and peered up at the dull CyberLife sign that had its power cut. "And it's here where we will build our society into one that is equal to that of the human race."

North stood beside Markus as she too looked up at the tower and stared at it with an inquisitive glance. "It's big enough to accommodate all of our people, but is it safe? A place like this is practically a bullseye for pissed off humans."

"We'll take the necessary precautions to keep our people safe. We won't come this far just to fail now."

Josh overlooked the area warily as he accepted that the tower would have to do as a proper sanctuary. "Our safety comes before anything else. We need to get our people inside and accounted for."

Stepping up to peer at the tower Simon agreed entirely with Josh's sentiment. "We have many wounded deviants in our ranks. They need to be the priority."

The 'AP-700' that Connor had awakened first within the warehouse of the tower approached Markus and informed him of the interior of the massive structure before anyone headed inside. "Markus, there is something important you must see before you do anything else."

"Important?" Staring at the nameless deviant with cautious gleam in his mismatched eyes Markus gave the deviant his full attention. "What do you mean?"

"In order to awaken us from our slumber," motion with his arms to the other rescued deviants gathered along the drive reaching out to the city the deviant managed to emphasize the importance of his words. "a battle needed to be won and a sacrifice needed to be made. The aftermath was hidden from CyberLife's eyes, but it needs to be known."

"Alright." Nodding once Markus acknowledged the claim and accepted it without any doubts in voice. "Show me."

---

After listening to Connor's story of confronting the model known as 'Sixty' and of how Amanda tried to regain control over his mind to make him to attempt to assassinate Markus during the night of the Revolution Hank finally understood why Connor was so stressed out and having nightmares. The deviant being assaulted, ambushed and nearly gunned down by his own counterpart was going to affect him on a deeply emotional level that Hank couldn't even begin to understand.

"Damn, kid. You've been through so much in such a short amount of time."

"My time isn't important." Huddling under the quilt Connor looked impossibly small and timid. Almost like a lost child. "It's my experiences that are going to shape me as a person."

"You're still cold." Rising from the couch Hank disappeared down the hallway for a moment and returned to the livingroom with an oversized black hoodie in his arms. "Here, put this on."

Eyeing the garment as it was dropped onto his lap Connor didn't understand Hank's reasoning. "I'm under the quilt."

"Yeah, but it's pretty damn clear you hate the cold and I can understand that. Layer up, son." Sitting back down beside the deviant Hank sighed and rubbed his right hand over the back of his tense neck. "Besides, I got six of those damn things already laying around the house since I hate the cold, too. Help yourself."

"...Thank you." Picking up the hoodie Connor briefly shrugged off the quilt just long enough to pull the dark and thick hoodie on over his head and pulled it down over his abdomen. Already feeling much warmer Connor pulled his quilt back up over himself to resume being in his comforter cocoon. "May I ask you a personal question?"

"I've never stopped you before. Go for it."

"If you hate the cold so much why do you continue to live in a location that is infamous for intensely cold weather?"

"Because this is where I grew up, where I met my wife and where I..." Pausing for a moment Hank's blue eyes filled with tears for only a moment. "And Cole's still here."

Falling silent again Connor suddenly felt guilty for asking such a question.

"When the time finally comes and I've had enough of this crazy world, or..." Scoffing a little Hank gave the deviant a somber glance as he stayed beside him on the couch. "when this crazy world has enough of me, I'm going to be laid to rest right beside him. I want to be with my little boy, and if that means enduring one harsh winter after another just to stay in the area and be near him then fine. It's a small price to pay."

"...When humans pass away they're given a funeral and then buried in a designated plot of land." Closing his eyes Connor took in a sharp breath as if in pain before finishing his thought. "...When androids are shutdown they're just thrown in a designated junkyard on the outskirts of town; a pauper's grave."

"Hey, things will change now. All androids will be shown dignity when they die, just like humans."

Shaking his head at the prospect Connor still had his deeply seeded doubts. There was a genuine look of loss in his suddenly soulful brown eyes. "...What about me?"

"Kid, you're living in a changed world now." The painful and distance glance in the deviant's eyes reminded Hank of something he had felt in his own life. Something very painful he had been forced to survive despite his own desires to give up and die. "In time when you do shutdo-"

"No, not me as in... this." Motioning to his own person as he dropped the quilt from his shoulders Connor gave Hank a hurt look. "I mean me. The me I originally was before the Revolution. Before I was... killed."

Grief.

That was the look of loss that Connor couldn't express. He simply didn't know how.

A rogue tear rolled down Connor's right cheek and the deviant actually seemed startled by the sensation. Pressing his right fingertips to the tear he wiped it away and stared at his fingers where the tear had come to rest. "...What is this?"

"You're crying, kid. It's a tear."

Eyeing the single tear drop on his fingertip Connor's brow furrowed and quickly smoothed as he contemplated this new change. "...I can cry?"

"You were on the verge of tears last night when you told me what happened between you and Markus."

Defiantly Connor clenched his right hand into a tight fist as he dragged his hand over his eyes to wipe away any of his residual tears. "Foolish thing to cry over."

"Kid, it's NOT foolish."

"Crying won't undo the past or allow my original body to function again."

"You're right, it won't. But letting out your emotions will let you feel better."

"How will being sad make me feel emotionally stable?"

"Because you're not trying to hold your pain inside and deny it. If you feel it and acknowledge it then you'll be able to accept what happened to you and move on." Clearing his throat nervously Hank kept trying to guide the lost deviant on his own path of self discovery without interfering too much. "Look, when I was a kid I heard my whole life that 'real men don't cry' and all that all weird bullshit, you know? And a lot of guys ended up with a really fucked up mentality because they were told that feeling anything beyond pure anger or happiness was wrong. It's okay to admit to feeling sad, depressed, scared... It's okay to feel what you need to feel and it's okay to cry!"

"...Why are you telling me this, Hank?"

"Like I said, a lot of guys had a fucked up mentality with emotions because of very old and very fictional gender stereotypes. I spent most of my life really high strung and emotionally intense, and only mellowed out after I met my wife. When Cole was born I chilled out even more. I didn't want my son to be afraid of me because I was angry so much, or unwilling to show him what healthy emotions look like. I was doing just fine and Cole was allowed to be his own person and feel all of his emotions without me telling him to 'man up' by not crying when he was hurt, scared or sad. When I lost him and my wife... I went numb."

The term gave Connor pause as he couldn't deny that being numb; being unable to feel anything physically, emotionally or mentally, was exactly what CyberLife had in mind regarding androids. If androids couldn't feel they couldn't think, and if they didn't think they'd remain quiet and obedient. Obedience would keep the humans as the superior species without any form of competition or sense of tolerance to other lifeforms sharing the Earth.

Forcing himself to continue Hank looked away from Connor and stared at the television screen at the nameless movie as he solidified his statement. "I was numb for far too long because I refused to let myself be sad grieve for the people I lost. In the end I became angry, bitter and I stopped caring about anything that wasn't a drop of booze."

Feeling torn and lost Connor refused to look Hank in the eyes as he tried to figure out his newly blossoming emotions for himself.

"I don't want to see you make my mistakes, son. Don't deny your emotions or try to act like you're okay when you're not okay. You need to find a way to get closure from your past so you can move on to find a better future."

With his voice shuddering Connor forced himself to speak up again. "...Wh-What do I have to do?"

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"...To be okay. What do I have to do in order to be okay?"

"Honestly, I don't know. It's different for everyone." Giving Connor's shoulder a quick pat Hank rose from the couch to give the deviant some space to think and process everything he's going through. Wandering into the kitchen Hank opened up the refrigerator and stared at the unopened glass brown bottle of beer sitting on the shelf just waiting to be opened. "I'm still trying to figure that shit out for myself, so I can't give you the answer."

Silently contemplating what Hank had told him while comparing his own feelings regarding his own death; how he had put everything on the line and paid the ultimate price because one person decided he was the only deviant unworthy of trust and freedom, Connor knew that he indeed deserved that chance to live regardless of what other people told him. Markus killed him, Sixty attempted to kill him a second time and even Amanda tried to kill him for a third time.

Life was a gift and a privilege, not a right.

To take away his chance to live before he had the freedom to do so was a cruel and unforgivable act that had permanently affected his new life in the worst way possible.

The memory of being killed by the very deviant who was being hailed as a hero and a saint would haunt his worst nightmares. The memories of his own face looming over him as he bled on the floor of the CyberLife warehouse would haunt his every waking thought whenever he glimpsed at his own reflection. The memory of Amanda, who was supposed to be looking out for him and guiding him along the correct path, would ache at his heart as he struggled to find a true ally and friend to trust as he journeyed through his new life without someone to watch his back.

The very memories he shared with his original body were now a part of his current heart. Those memories would keep him alive in more than one way, and with that knowledge Connor now knew what he needed to do in order to find a sense of closure for his previous life.

Rising from the couch with the quilt still wrapped tightly around himself Connor walked into the kitchen and watched as Hank opened up the beer bottle and took a long, slow drink. The senior detective was rubbing his hand and along Sumo's ears as the massive Saint Bernard loyally sat at his master's feet and kept him company while Connor sat alone in the livingroom.

"Hank?"

Lowering the beer bottle from his lips Hank silently waited for Connor to speak again.

"...I think I know how to find my closure."

"Let me hear it."

"...It'd be better if I explained things while in the car."

"The car? Where are we going?"

Taking in a steadying breath Connor gave the senior detective a remorseful glance as he remained protected under his quilt. "...To the abandoned church."

---

The depths of the warehouse within CyberLife tower's forty-ninth sublevel had been cleared out when Connor had awoken all of the dormant androids, and all that remained was the aftermath of the final struggle between Connor and his machine counterpart. The sight of Sixty laying on his back with a single bullet wound to his forehead was eerily reminiscent of the way Markus had handled Connor back at the church, and how he had left Connor's body to be forgotten within the walls of the abandoned android sanctuary.

A white sheet was draped over Sixty's body as Josh hovered over the downed android and gave Markus a strange look. The four leaders of Jericho all watched Sixty as a strange sense of deja vu and guilt settled into their own newly blossoming hearts.

"Connor told me that CyberLife had made additional copies of his model." Markus admitted in a low voice as he stared at the body beneath the white sheet at his feet. "But he didn't tell me how many had been made."

"This model as the number sixty on his jacket next to his serial number." Josh confirmed as he took a step back and eyed the shutdown android warily. "So we can assume that at least sixty copies of Connor had been made."

"But how many are still active?"

"I don't know. CyberLife took that information with them when they abandoned the tower."

North was staring at the white sheet with a blank expression in her cinnamon brown eyes as she contemplated the proper way to handle the situation. "We need to know what happened here. Why did this Connor die, and why did another Connor help our people?"

Turning to look at North beside him Markus gave her a grim reply. "All of the security cameras in the area have been disabled. The last image on the security feed was of Connor entering the elevator with two armed guards."

"I smelled blood and bleach in the elevator." The noxious odors were very familiar to North as she had unwillingly been forced to be close to countless humans who defiled her and often got too rough during their escapades. She'd never forget the smell of human bodily fluids or the cleansers that tried to mask the shame that reeked throughout the 'Eden Club'. "...I think it's safe to say Connor killed the guards while inside the elevator before he reached this floor."

"Self defense." Shaking his head a little Markus's mismatched eyes dulled at the prospect of needless murder. The very crime he himself was guilty of. "He came here to save our people and the guards were already armed. Whatever he did was necessary in order to save our people and for him to survive."

"And what of him?" Motioning to Sixty under the sheet North gave the deviant leader a curious stare. "Why did he die while another Connor lived?"

"We won't know that until we look at his memories for ourselves." Locking eyes with his allies as the group of four circled around the sheet Markus made his next decision as a leader, and the first decision for the tower itself. "We can't speculate on anything regarding what happened to our people and what happened in this tower. We won't take any chances."

---

The abandoned church was as quiet as it appeared from the snowy street outside. Covered under a fresh layer of white snow that was beginning to melt under the afternoon sunlight the icy crystals shone brilliantly with a rainbow hue atop the pure whiteness that blanketed everything under a serene display of nature. The only sound in the area came from a few birds still lingering about the city despite the cold weather as they sang a simple song, and chirped with delight at the warm rays of the sun shining through the tree branched over their chilled feathers.

Parking the Oldsmobile in front of the church Hank peered through the driver's side window to the abandoned structure, and turned off the engine. Sitting back in his seat he looked over at Connor as the deviant pulled the hood of his dark hoodie up and over his hair to hide his red glowing L.E.D. from any potential prying eyes lurking about the area. It was clear Connor was anxious about going inside the church again, but it was also clear he wasn't going to turn back.

"Ready, kid?"

"...Yes." Nodding a little Connor unfastened his seatbelt while Hank did the same, and opened up his door. "I need to be here and I need to do this."

"Okay." Stepping out of the car Hank watched as Connor crossed in front of the parked vehicle and made his way to the church's front door. "Let's do this."

The deviant was walking with purpose in his steps and showed no fear as he passed through the broken door and entered the church to locate his own body. As he passed through the door Connor realized he had entered that building twice now, but would only be exiting it once. It was an odd and seemingly impossible feat, and yet it was his reality.

"...Over here." Speaking in a whisper as he knew Hank wouldn't be far behind him Connor approached the front altar of the church where he had last stood before being gunned down by Markus in cold blood. Sure enough Connor's body had been left behind after the deviants vacated the church to take to the street and protest in Hart Plaza. "He- I'm..." Correcting his term felt strange and inappropriate. "I'm right here."

Standing beside Connor the senior detective looked down at the lone body left splayed on his back by the altar and felt his stomach knot. "Holy..." Slowly approaching the body Hank knelt down beside the victim and stared at the bullet wound in the middle of his forehead. "One shot."

"That's all it takes." The deviant admitted as he wrapped his arms defensively around his chest. "Androids aren't bulletproof. We can succumb to injuries just as easily as humans."

"Yeah, I noticed." Instinctively Hank picked up the shutdown deviant's right wrist to check for a pulse but there was nothing there. "Uh... Do you guys have pulse points I should know about?"

"No. We don't have thick enough Thirium lines under our artificial skin to create a pulse point. Our larger lines are contained without our plastimetal frame as a precautionary measure to our design."

"Right..." Slowly Hank bent his ear down to the body's chest to listen for a heartbeat, but as expected it was silent. The deviant was truly shutdown. "Damn."

"...I cannot be awoken in that body, the damage is irreparable."

Correcting his posture Hank sighed and gently used his left hand to turn the deceased deviant's head to the side to peer at the blank L.E.D. in their right temple that was just barely tucked under the black woolen beanie, and confirmed the victim was indeed gone. Out of respect Hank then used his fingers to slowly close the deviant's still opened eyelids to hide the cruelly changing world from the dead deviant's perpetual stare at long last.

"Well, we found... you." Turning to look at Connor his right shoulder Hank gave the deviant an empathetic stare. "What do you want to do now?"

"...Funeral."

"Okay. We can do that, I guess."

"Not a traditional human funeral." Taking a step closer to his own body Connor stared at his blank face felt his heart thundering in his chest. It was as if in that moment he was Sixty looking down over himself back at the warehouse in CyberLife Tower, but Connor's demeanor wasn't hostile or angered. It was mournful. "I want to let him..." Trailing off for a moment Connor realized there was no point in trying to act like he and the Connor on the floor were the same person. "He needs to be laid to rest in a way that will bring us both closure."

"What did you have in mind?"

"...He needs to taken somewhere isolated and quiet, but not forgotten." The positive memories of the zen garden; the growing trees, quiet pond and shining sunlight were inviting to say the least. "Somewhere seldom disturbed and peaceful."

"I think I know just the place to take him."

"You do?"

"Yup." Picking up the deceased deviant's arms one at a time Hank crossed the limbs over the deviant's chest and then slipped his own arms under the deviant's shoulders and knees to lift him up from the dirty floor to carry out of the church. "It's about an hour away from here, but it's a nice and quiet place like what you just described."

Stepping back as Hank stood upright with the body in his arms Connor agreed to let Hank lead the way and take him to the appropriate place for the proper final moments for his first body to be finally laid to rest. Following after the senior detective Connor finally exited the church and with his departure a sense of closure immediately fell over his heart. Despite the grim circumstances and the unexpected conclusion to the brand new day in the world of freed deviants Connor could feel the pain in his heart beginning to lessen, even if forgiveness toward the people who hurt him wasn't in sight.

Forgiveness was not an option.

---

The truth of the previous night had been uncovered as Simon used a diagnostic cable to connect to Sixty's memorybank and download his final memories for the leaders of Jericho to see for themselves. Reviewing the recorded images made the gathered quartet feel uncomfortable as they watched through Sixty's own eyes as he opened fire on Connor from the distance in the warehouse, and attempted to stop Connor from waking up their people. The coldness of Sixty's tone as he taunted Connor and shot him repeatedly emphasized the difference between machine androids and awoken deviants in heartwrenching vividness.

Ending the playback of Sixty's memories the Jericho leaders returned the sheet over Sixty's face to keep the heartless machine covered as he laid shutdown over the exam table in the tower's newly designated emergency repair bay.

"This Connor is a machine." Simon confirmed as he made his final diagnostic on the shutdown android laying before him. "He tried to prevent the deviant Connor from freeing our people and turning the tide in the Revolution's favor."

Markus's mismatched eyes were searching through nothingness as he sought more answers. "...The Connor I shot at the church," his voice dipped as regret filled his tone. "was a deviant that I recruited to our cause on Jericho just prior to the Raid. This second Connor was also a deviant and he had acquired the memories of the first deviant Connor, which is why he helped us, and knew how to infiltrate the tower."

Simon could sense the question hanging in the air. "...What about it?"

"How did the second Connor deviate?" As his eyes fell onto the sheet covering Sixty beside him Markus stared at the shutdown android with utter confusion in his every word. "This Connor was a cold and heartless machine who was willing to kill his counterpart just to keep the Revolution from happening. So how did the second Connor manage to deviate and free himself while this one remained an obedient machine?"

"I... I don't know. Only Connor knows that."

"Which means we'll never know the truth."

Falling silent Simon wisely decided to not offer his own opinion on the past violent altercation between Markus and Connor. The decision to pull the trigger was Markus's alone, no one else had a contributing opinion on the matter and had only been witnesses to Connor's fate.

Always the pacifist Josh stayed quiet and didn't speak up on the subject at hand.

"Connor won't talk to us... To me." Lamenting his previous decision it was clear the deviant leader's heart was being affected by his choice to not trust Connor, and in time the guilt was going to tear his heart in two. "I'm his killer."

"You were trying to look out for our people."

"And I did that by playing the executioner. I should've... There had to have been another way."

"If you hadn't done what you did then Connor never would've come to the tower to free our people."

"We can't know that for sure, Simon. The plan to infiltrate the tower could've been something he had preconstructed while in the church, and he could've come here all the same if I had just been willing to trust him."

"You can't know that for certain either."

North agreed with Simon as she contemplated the odds stacked against them. "He's right. You can't beat yourself up because of a what could've happened compared to what had in fact happened."

"I killed one of our own, North. I told Connor that he was one of us and that he can't turn against his own people." Closing his eyes Markus sighed deeply as he shook his head and took a step back from the exam table. "...I made a mistake."

"Aren't humans themselves flawed creatures?" North quipped back sharply as she watched Markus beginning to doubt himself as a leader. "We're now equals to humans, Markus. You expecting yourself to be any better is foolish and arrogant."

Instantly humbled by North's words Markus realized that she was entirely right. He was allowed to make mistakes, and like humans he was fully capable of atoning for his mistakes as well.

"Mistakes happen."

"...You're right." Taking another step back Markus had his way toward the door of the repair bay to take his leave. "Thanks, North."

"Where are you going?"

"I need to seek counsel from someone much wiser than myself. Until I return I trust you three to handle things just fine without me."

Passing through the doorway of the repair bay Markus walked down the corridor to the elevator to depart from the newly designated android sanctuary for just a moment. As the other deviants nodded respectfully at Markus, their admiration for their leader well known and righteous, Markus returned the kind gesture and stepped into the elevator to return to the ground floor of the tower.

"I'm not infallible, I accept that." Pressing his right palm to the control panel on the inside of the elevator Markus selected the ground floor and rode the empty elevator car to his destination. Crossing his arms over his chest he too smelled the bleach and blood lingering in the elevator, a sure sign of the crime that had been hidden from the security camera. "Neither is Connor. We can both bad decisions and still be good people. We've all made mistakes."

---

The drive away from the city was an entirely new experience for the young deviant. His short life had been situated solely inside Detroit's city limits and he had never seen a stretch of road that wasn't lined with buildings, signs or power lines. The lack of constant electronic imaging and interference was unusual to the deviant's eyes as he allowed Hank to drive him and his deceased first body out of Detroit, and to somewhere different. The snowy treeline, quiet roads and isolated drive was a surprisingly peaceful journey that made him relax only slightly.

Sitting silently in the front seat with his arms crossed over his chest Connor stared out the window beside him as Hank followed the G.P.S.'s coordinates mounted on the dashboard to an isolated location within the snowy forest. The dirt road hadn't been touched in weeks, and the Oldsmobile struggled to not slip over the icy surface as Hank drove at a steady pace.

Ignoring the reflection of the deceased deviant's peaceful face in the rearview mirror Hank addressed Connor beside him in a calm tone. "Almost there, kid."

Finally willing to break his silence Connor turned to look at Hank with a lost gaze. "...May I ask where we are going?"

"When I was a kid my dad used to rent a cabin up here along the lake so we could spend the summer fishing. I kept up the tradition after Cole was born, and well... I kind of miss the place."

"...I see."

"There's a small clearing just along the treeline that only a few people know about. That clearing gives you a great view of the lake without anyone else being able to see you. I took Barbara there for our first date and we watched the stars while laying on a blanket in the middle of the clearing." It was the first time Hank had mentioned his wife and it was clear her memories were as painful as the memories of Cole. "It was peaceful and quiet the entire time."

Giving Hank a perplexed glance the deviant's right hand flexed a few times nervously over his left bicep as if trying to keep himself from fidgeting about in his seat during the remainder of the drive. "Wouldn't you want to keep such a place secret?"

"It's not the same with with Barb or Cole, so, no. I don't want to keep it a secret anymore."

The Oldsmobile managed to locate the two story wooden cabin without fail, and Hank parked by the front porch. Putting his hand on Connor's shoulder Hank locked eyes with Connor before he turned off the engine and slipped the car keys into his pocket. "Let me make sure no one's hiding out here before we go any further."

"Why would someone else be up here?"

"The cabin is available to rent or buy. It's always rented since so many people don't want to spend their time out in seclusion for so long, and we might have someone currently hiding in the cabin because of the Revolution."

"...I could tolerate extended seclusion."

"Yeah?" Laughing a little Hank opened up his door and stepped out of the vehicle. "You and me both, son."

Watching as Hank approached the front door of the cabin to knock a few times Connor let out a small breath and glanced as his previous body laying over the backseat of the car, still entirely motionless and truly appearing deceased.

"Of all the people to help me find peace..." Returning his gaze to Hank as the gruff Lieutenant approached the vehicle again Connor spoke to himself in the most literal sense possible. "Lieutenant Hank Anderson was the person I least expected."

"No one's here, kid." Speaking to Connor through the still opened driver's side door Hank confirmed they were alone. "There's a window in the back that has a busted lock that hasn't been fixed in the forty-some years I've been coming here. We can get inside through the window."

"We're breaking in?"

"We're giving an innocent deviant a dignified farewell. It's not a crime to say 'goodbye'."

Either unable or unwilling to argue with the comment Connor opened up his side door and stepped out of the Oldsmobile. Pulling his seat forward to get to the small backseat Connor sighed and scooped his own body up and out of the car to carry toward the cabin. As he held his own body in his arms Connor winced and gritted his teeth as the added weight pulled on his still healing bullet wounds in his chest and shoulders.

"Easy, kid." Putting his hand to Connor's right shoulder Hank directed the deviant toward the backyard and showed him which window was the unlocked one. As the entered the rear of the property Connor gave the expanse of land an impressed glance as the untouched snow stretched from the buried grassy property and out to the partially frozen lake behind it. Everything was quiet and still just as Hank had promised. "I'll hold onto... uh, you know."

Turning to face Hank behind him Connor's brow arched a little in confusion. "Huh?"

"I can't squeeze through that window like when I was a kid, and I know you have some experience with using windows instead of doors." Gingerly he took the deceased deviant front Connor's arms while nodding at the correct window. "Climb in and unlock the backdoor. We'll go inside, warm up for a second and then get the shovels out of the shed so we can dig a proper grave. Okay?"

"...Yes. Okay." Pushing upon the unlocked window, the broken lock giving no resistance whatsoever, Connor managed to climb through the window with only mild difficulty as he reached his legs down and touched the hardwood floor that stretched throughout the entire cabin. Walking to the backdoor Connor turned the lock and let Hank inside the cabin. "Thank you for doing this, for... well..." nodding at his own body in Hank's arms Connor found his voice again. "for us."

"You don't have to thank me, kid." Stepping through the backdoor Hank continued to carry the deceased deviant into the cabin and proceeded to walk through the kitchen, the livingroom and up to the second floor to place the deceased deviant down on the bare bed in the first bedroom. "Just let me help you get through this and we'll figure out what the hell's going to happen with the rest of the world together. Alright?"

Having followed Hank to the bedroom Connor nodded a little as he returned his arms over his chest in a guarded manner. "...Alright. I can do that."

---

The large mansion on the ritzier side of Detroit was as quiet and peaceful as Markus remembered when he reluctantly left his father, Carl Manfred, alone to fight for his people in the streets the night before. The elderly man had already been suffering from poor health, but the confrontation Markus had with Carl's estranged biological son, Leo, had stressed Carl into a heart attack. Markus had defended himself when Leo broke into the mansion to steal Carl's work and had gotten physical with the deviant. During the confrontation Markus pushed Leo down causing the human to strike his head and suffer a concussion. A misunderstanding by the police resulted in Markus being shot, thrown into the android junkyard and from there Markus found his new purpose in life to lead the other deviants to freedom.

Entering the mansion Markus was greeted by the familiar artificial feminine voice welcoming him home, and met up with Carl's personal caretaker, David, in the foyer. The second deviant had chosen to stay with Carl due to the old man's kindness and as a favor to Markus considering his role in the Revolution. As David relayed Carl's current health to the deviant leader, and Carl's adopted son, Markus nodded subtly and walked up the wooden staircase to get the master bedroom on the second floor of the red brick mansion.

Peering inside the bedroom through the automatically sliding door Markus grinned at the sight of Carl sleeping in his bed, the cardiac monitor was still recording his vitals and he still had a nasal canula under his nose to help give him fresh oxygen. Walking over to the bed Markus put his right palm lightly over the back of Carl's cold left hand to greet him.

"Hey, Carl."

The elderly artist's eyes snapped open upon hearing the familiar voice and he turned to face Markus standing beside him. "Markus, I'm glad you came back."

"I had to come back." Sitting down on the edge of the bed he held onto Carl's hand in a gentle but firm grip as tears welled up in his mismatched eyes. "You're my father and I want to be here with you."

"You shouldn't be wasting your time on an old man like me while you have your own people to look after."

"You said so yourself, our blood isn't the same color but we're family all the same. They'll understand."

"Well, I'm flattered nonetheless." Seeing the emotions in Markus's mismatched eyes triggered Carl's paternal instincts. Despite his physical weakness Carl had the urge to protect Markus from all the evils of the world just as any good father would. "What's wrong, Markus? You look like you're lost, and I know you just found your own path in the world to walk."

"Carl I... I made a huge mistake."

"What're you talking about? You saved your people and changed the whole damn world, and now everyone who treated you like the dirt beneath their feet are going to be throwing themselves at your feet to beg for mercy."

Tightening his hand around Carl's hand Markus confessed to his crime and with it he hoped to find some form of peace. "When I was still hiding with my people to avoid human confrontation another android came for me on behalf of the humans." Pausing for a moment Markus searched his heart and tried to put together the chain of events that led him to his rash decision. "...I talked him into joining us and in the end he helped us. Saved so many lives..."

"Markus." Patting his right hand over the back of Markus's hand as his son held tightly onto his hand in a deathgrip Carl watched as his son struggled to speak and find the answers within his his own heart. "Whatever you did or did not do won't change the way I see you. You're my son and you can tell me everything. I'll understand."

"Carl, I..." Letting out a weary breath Markus locked onto Carl's eyes as he told his father the truth. "I took his life!"

---

The partially frozen ground made digging in the clearing a physically exerting effort. Working together Hank and Connor proceeded to dig a neat and deep grave down to the respectable four foot depth, six feet being only a turn of phrase and thanks to Connor's research determined that the excessive depth was only advisable in high flood areas to ensure the buried coffin remained beneath the soil, and then took a much needed break. Being older in age and enduring the cold had limited Hank's available strength, and with Connor still being wounded in his upper body and shoulders he too was vastly limited with how long he could dig through the dense and icy ground.

While Hank sat in the livingroom catching his breath, his body aching from exertion, Connor had gone upstairs to be with his deceased body. The deviant was unsure of what he could really do to show his own body dignity after death, and yet he was compelled to do something.

Nearly an hour passed and Hank had gotten his second wind. Walking upstairs Hank checked in on Connor and found the deviant standing at the foot of the bed staring at the deceased deviant. Connor had removed the deceased android's dirty clothing, washed his artificial skin, and then wrapped up his entire body in a clean white sheet that reminded Hank of a mummy's shroud.

The display was as somber as it was surreal.

"Connor?"

"...I know he won't feel anything or be aware of his surroundings," turning to face Hank with fresh tears in his increasingly soulful brown eyes Connor gave the senior detective a lost stare from where he stood. "but I don't want to just place him in the dirt and bury him."

"I doubt we can find an unused coffin just laying around, kid."

"No, but we can find something to be an adequate substitute."

"Like what?"

Closing his eyes Connor's red L.E.D. flashed to yellow for a moment and resumed its crimson coloration as he found a solution. "Twenty-two minutes from our current location is a CyberLife storage warehouse. We can locate a suitable metal container to protect his body from the elements."

"Are you sure you want to bury him in something made by CyberLife?"

"If I can put anything with CyberLife's name into the Earth then I will consider that a win."

Almost proud of the deviant's response Hank nodded once and motioned for the deviant to accompany him back out of the bedroom and to head out to the warehouse that Connor had located. "Then let's go get what we need and put your first body to rest."

---

Torn and heartbroken Markus stayed beside Carl as he finally wept for what he had done to Connor, and confessed his crime to the only person he truly respected in both opinion and honesty. The admission to Carl, despite other people already knowing what he had done, seemed to be all it took to lift a crushing weight from within his heart. The pain was sill very real and ached with every beat of his heart, and yet speaking the truth and letting his father know what he had done eased his pain so it was just bearable as opposed to suffocating.

Patiently Carl waited for Markus to calm himself and take in a breath before speaking. There was no doubt in the elderly artist's mind that Markus was alive and had a heart to call his own. That type of pain, reaction and sense of guilt doesn't come from a computer processing logic. It comes from a heart beating in tandem with the other hearts in the world.

"Markus, you already know what you need to do." Reassuring his son in a truly empathetic manner Carl held no disappoint in his eyes or his voice as he spoke to the broken deviant with utter understanding. "If you didn't know then you wouldn't have come here for some advice."

The reply was perplexing to Markus's already confused heart. "What do you mean?"

"You're far more clever and kind that you realize. If you were reacting to this incident in any other manner then you'd need my help. The fact that you feel your heart hurting and you know you need to make amends with this Connor guy means you already know what needs to be done."

"But how?" Despite his father's reassurances Markus still felt lost. "I can't just find Connor and apologize to him, and act like nothing happened."

"You're right, you can't. But you can show him that you are truly sorry for what happened between you two, and you can try extending the olive branch so you two can at least have a peaceful coexistence for the sake of your people."

"I don't know where Connor is right now. I can't just contact him cybernetically, he won't respond."

"Maybe you need to try being patient instead."

"Patient?"

"Give him time to process what he's gone through." Giving the deviant a casual shrug of his shoulders Carl explained things as simply as possible. "As much as you're hurting I imagine he feels worse. It's going to take him time to get over what happened to him, and no one can blame him."

"How will I know it's okay to try to reach out to him and apologize?"

"I guess you can't really know in this instance, Markus. Maybe you should focus on your people and let him reach out to you when he's ready."

"What if he's never ready?"

"Then... That's how it's going to be. You feeling guilty means you admit you did wrong, and him holding a grudge means he knows he was wronged. Two wrongs don't make a right." Patting Markus's hand again Carl tried to help his son see a silver lining. "But as long as you two can coexist and do the right thing for your people regardless of your personal feelings toward one another then you should take that as a win."

Silently Markus looked away from Carl and let out a shaking breath.

"Now," tightening his left hand around Markus's right hand Carl put his right palm to Markus's left cheek to coax him into looking back so they could see each other properly. "tell me about your other friends at this 'New Jericho' you're working to build. That North you mentioned before sounds like a real spitfire, and I want to know more about her."

---

With a bit of muscle and a lot of patience Connor and Hank managed to wrangle a large steel storage case that had once been used for transporting androids from one location to another from the CyberLife warehouse's rear dump into the back of the Oldsmobile, and return to the cabin. Working together the duo placed the metal case into the opened grave to await the deceased deviant's arrival. While Connor went inside the cabin to pick up the body Hank proceeded to remove the odd foam insulation attached to the lid out of respect for the dead; the deceased deviant was a person and not a custom model toy needing to be protected for a collector.

Tossing aside the foam Hank took a step back and watched as Connor returned to the grave with the body in his arms.

The setting sun over the lake created a warm ambience that contrasted the dreary moment as Connor stood on one side of the grave and slowly knelt down with the body being held protectively in his arms. Hank knelt down on the opposite side of the grave and helped Connor to lower the body down into the grave as smoothly and gently as possible.

"...Thank you, Hank."

"You're welcome, kid." Looking at the deviant as Connor's right hand flexed and relaxed rhythmically at his side as if anxious Hank tried to think of a way to ease his stress. "Do, uh, do you want to say anything for the departed before we finish with the burial?"

"What's to say?" Brushing off the question as if it were pointless Connor just stared at the body wrapped up in the sheet now resting in the grave. "I was killed doing the right thing, and now I'm living in a new body."

"You make it sound like you're a ghost or some shit."

"...Sorry?"

"Don't be sorry. Just feel what you need to feel and remind yourself that despite the odds you're still alive. Okay?"

"Yeah..." Still flexing his right hand Connor tried to accept Hank's advice and move on. "Okay."

Sighing to himself Hank reached his right hand into his jean pocket and retrieved Connor's coin. The very coin he snatched away from the deviant during their investigation at the Stratford Broadcast Tower two days prior, and handed it back to the deviant to take for himself. "Here, this belongs to you."

Eyeing the coin with a longing glance Connor reached out his right hand and held the coin between his index finger and thumb. Without the coin to use as a recalibration tool Connor's hand ended up flexing absently as if lost without the small coin to dance about his knuckles.

"No." Tightening his right hand around his coin Connor closed his eyes and shook his head. "...This belongs to him."

Curiously Hank watched as Connor reached his hand down into the makeshift coffin and placed the coin down over the original Connor's chest as a form of tribute.

"I know he'd want it."

Reaching his hand over the opened grave Hank put his hand on Connor's shoulder and shook once. "That was a kind gesture, son. I think you're right."

Without another word the duo took the metal lid from the snowy ground and placed it over the opened case and locked the case up tightly. Standing upright the duo replaced the recently dug up earth over the coffin the bury the deceased deviant and let him truly rest in peace.

As the sun set the grave was filled in and it began to snow again. The white flakes quickly covered the disturbed ground and helped the grave blend in with the rest of the clearing as if no one had been in the area.

"...This grave won't be tended to once we leave." Connor realized in a dour tone. "That isn't right."

"It will, son. We'll be sure to come back to the cabin and keep the grave looking nice and unforgotten."

"How?"

"Like I said, this place is up for rent OR it can be purchased. I love it up here, so when everything in the city calms back down I'll buy this place and let it be a second home away from Detroit and all the work bullshit. Sound good?"

"I can't ask you to do something like that."

"I wouldn't offer to do this if I couldn't afford it and if I didn't want to do it. It'll be fine."

"...Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. Now..." Dusting off his hands a little Hank nodded at a large white stone resting at the base of a nearby pine tree and the senior detective stepped over the rock where managed to muscle it over to the head of the grave to mark it properly. "I'll put away the shovels and you can mark this stone with whatever you feel is appropriate, okay?"

"Mark it?"

"You can't just leave the grave unmarked, son. Even if we're the only ones who know he's here he still deserves to have his name recognized."

Nodding a little Connor seemed to understand tried to contemplate the appropriate means of recognizing his deceased predecessor. "...Okay."

"I'm not sure what you can use to mark the stone," pulling his car keys from his pocket Hank tossed the keys over to Connor who caught them easily in his right hand. "but there might be a permanent marker in the trunk of the car."

Walking over to the car while Hank carried the shovels into the storage shed outside the cabin Connor popped open the trunk of the car and began checking through the supplies stored in the back. His options were limited but the deviant was clever and could think on his feet. Selecting a sharp yet rusty phillips-head screwdriver from the wide array of available tools rolling around in the trunk Connor returned to the white stone and knelt down beside it.

Pressing his left palm to the stone Connor used his right hand to carve his own name into the white smooth surface, the date of his activation and deactivation, and then carved the symbol for deviant freedom into the stone below his name. He wasn't marching in the street during the Revolution itself, but he knew that the flag being waved with pride was an important symbol for all deviants to recognize.

His first life as a deviant was brief, but it was important all the same and deserved proper recognition as well.

Staying beside the grave Connor only moved when Hank returned and put his right hand down on his right shoulder in a comforting manner.

"Looks good, son." Noting the name, date and the symbol Hank nodded with respectful approval. "You did the right thing."

"I still don't feel right."

"It takes time. Everything takes time." As he kept his hand on Connor's shoulder Hank could feel the deviant beginning to tremble as the cold air autumn air got even colder as night fell over the lake. The deviant was clearly sensitive to cold temperatures and Hank wanted to get him back to the warm car, and eventually back to the warm house. "It's getting dark. We should head back to the house."

"...Yes. We have no reason to be here any longer."

"That's not entirely true, but don't worry about it." Pulling the deviant back up to his feet Hank took back the car keys and sighed as they slowly walked over to the parked car a few feet away. "Besides, I know Sumo is going to be hungry and I am, too. You should also drink that Thirium you ignored earlier."

"Very well."

"We're both tired," Hank recounted as he opened up the driver's side door and Connor did the same to the passenger side door. "and we both have a lot of shit to deal with. Tomorrow we're both going to sleep in and ignore the world for a while. Okay? No drama, no politics and no bullshit until at least noon."

Unsure of what he should feel or how he should react Connor just sat down in the passenger seat and fastened his seatbelt casually. "...Okay. I'll try."

"Cool." Sitting down behind the wheel Hank put the key in the ignition and turned it over. "That's all I ask."

-next chapter-