Florence + The Machine – Shake It Out

"You should stay awake." Taylor sighed. She was seated next to Connor in the backseat of Hank's old beater, trying not to shiver from the cold. The old bastard hadn't even left the heat on after he'd picked up his six pack of beer and left them sitting there without a word.

Normally, she would be annoyed, but she probably would have just taken a nap while the lieutenant had a few drinks. She knew that Hank had baggage and she didn't begrudge him for it. She had her own baggage, though she tried her best not to drag anyone else along for the ride. It had been harder since she had been back in Detroit, the original breeding ground of most of her drama in the first place, but still.

No, the real problem was that Connor had pestered her until she had admitted that yes, there had been some ringing in her ears. He was convinced now that she could have a concussion, so she could not go to sleep. Every time her eyes drifted shut for just a moment longer than a blink, he would say something to bring her back around.

Connor had tended to her as soon as they had gotten into the car. Hank had taken the first aid kit from the glove box and passed it back to them, and the android had carefully washed the blood from her face with peroxide. Then he had placed a bandage over what he claimed was only a small cut near her hairline.

Now when he wasn't peering into her face, making sure her eyes were open, he was sending furtive glances toward where the lieutenant was seated on a bench, taking swigs from his bottle as he stared out across the water.

"Come on," Taylor pushed the seat in front of her forward and climbed over it, reaching for the door. She stood next to the car and ducked her head down to look back in at Connor. "Let's go. If you won't let me sleep, I'm not going to watch you making goo-goo eyes at Hank all night."

She didn't wait for his response, just withdrew from the car and leaned into the hood to wait. The car had been cold, but it had been more insulated than the frigid air that surrounded her now. She shoved her hands deep into her pockets, drawing her jacket tighter, as she heard Connor climbing from the car beside her.

They walked toward Hank together in silence, Taylor just a step or two ahead. Connor trailed uncertainly, his eyes moving between her and the lieutenant. As they approached, Hank's blue eyes shifted to them for a moment, but they didn't linger. He just took another swallow and settled his gaze back across the water.

"Nice view, huh? I used to come here a lot before…" Hank trailed off, his sentence like a thread on a sweater that had been pulled, unravelling into nothing. Taylor lowered herself onto the bench and wrapped her arms around her middle, trying to keep the warmth in.

"Before what?" Connor asked, his voice filling the sudden silence. She fought off a shiver, her breath clouding in front of her face in small white puffs.

"Hm?" Hank hummed without looking at the android. Taylor wondered if he'd experienced Connor's unique persistence the way she had. She had detected a shift in their relationship over the past few days in a more positive direction and knew they'd been together without her at times. Now, she couldn't help but wonder what Hank and Connor were like when she wasn't around, and if she was intruding on something private.

"You said 'I used to come here before.' Before what?" Connor elaborated. Well, at least she knew she wasn't the only one who didn't get to avoid questions. Not with Connor. She almost smiled, except she knew it wasn't the time for humor.

"Before… before nothin'." She risked a glance at the lieutenant. He was still gripping the bottle loosely in his fingers, but his shoulders had tensed, eyes hardened on the horizon.

"Can I ask you a person question, Lieutenant?" Taylor felt her fingers instantly clench into the fabric of her coat. She tried to make eye contact with Connor, to stop him now before he dug himself into a hole, but the android's focus was on Hank.

"Do all androids ask so many personal questions or is it just you?" Hank responded, an edge to his voice now.

"I saw a photo of a child on your kitchen table. It was your son, right?" Connor asked. Taylor's eyes widened and she couldn't help but snap her head around to Hank.

"Yeah," He responded, his voice flat now, a balloon with the air released. He had hung his head and wasn't looking at either of them. "His name was Cole."

Connor stepped around the bench to stand across from them. Taylor glanced between the two, uneasy, unsure of where Connor was going with the conversation, suddenly regretting her decision to get out of the car.

"We're not making any progress on this investigation." Taylor blinked at Connor's abrupt change in subject. "The deviants have nothing in common. They're all different models, produced at different times, in different places…"

"Well, there must be some link," Hank suggested, going along with android's subject change without a thought. Connor considered what he said, thinking, but she already had an answer for them.

"They were all abused," she said quietly. They both turned to look at her in unison, but she found it hard to meet Hank's gaze after hearing about his son only a moment before, so she focused on Connor instead. "All of the androids we investigated were abused by their owners in some way. They acted in self-defense or were just trying to escape. How many of the other cases you reviewed were similar?"

Connor stared back at her, his LED flashing yellow for a few moments, before he responded, "Not all of them. Not conclusively. Didn't you also say you have met nonviolent deviants as well?" She pressed her lips together, nodding in agreement. "It's not enough."

"What do you think, then?" She asked him, tilting her head to mimic his usual body language as she waited for his response.

"What they all have in common is this obsession with rA9," he replied. "It's almost like some kind of… myth. Something they invented that wasn't part of their original program."

"Androids believing in God. Fuck, what's this world coming to?" Hank muttered in disbelief as he took another drink.

"You seem preoccupied, Lieutenant. Is it something to do with what happened back at the Eden Club?" Connor took a couple of steps forward as he asked, his brown eyes still fixed on Hank.

"Those two girls. They just wanted to be together. They really seemed… in love." Hank sounded hesitant. He certainly didn't look at her as she stared at him, her mouth open in shock. The hardened detective had made a point to ridicule her and the fact that she supported deviants at every turn, yet he'd just made a vague statement that might have been construed as support.

"They didn't want anything." Connor retorted, his voice empty of inflection. His gaze flickered between them briefly as he said, "They were deviants. End of story."

Hank nodded, seeming to accept that answer willingly enough. Taylor leaned back into the bench, watching the older man now, unable to read his mood at all, but still feeling the undercurrent of tension, taut like a wire. Her hands were clenching and unclenching into her coat.

"What about you, Connor?" The lieutenant drained the last of the bottle and sat the empty on the bench as he stood, taking a few steps toward Connor. "You look human, you sound human, but what are you really?"

"I'm whatever you want me to be, Lieutenant." The android responded neutrally. "Your partner, your buddy to drink with, or just a machine. Designed to accomplish a task."

"You could've shot those two girls, but you didn't." Hank said, shoving the android suddenly. Connor stumbled back, but otherwise didn't react. "Why didn't you shoot, Connor? Hm? Some scruples suddenly enter into your program?"

"No," Connor answered. He hesitated, then said sincerely, "I just decided not to shoot, that's all."

Hank pulled his revolver and aimed it at Connor's forehead. Taylor felt her breathing hitch as she jumped to her feet, her ankles almost tangling beneath her and sending her faceplanting into the sidewalk. Connor didn't flinch as he stared down the barrel of the gun.

"But are you afraid to die, Connor?" The lieutenant asked. He threw his arm out when Taylor stepped forward, taking a moment to glare at her before turning his attention back to the android.

"Hank, what the fuck?" The blonde demanded, inching closer anyway, glancing uncertainly between Hank, Connor, the gun, and over again until she felt dizzy.

"I would certainly find it regrettable to be… interrupted, before I can finish this investigation." Connor answered Hank's question as if she hadn't even spoken, like the two of them were having a private conversation that didn't involve a gun.

"What will happen if I pull this trigger? Hm? Nothing? Oblivion? Android heaven?" Hank pressed. Connor's eyes flickered to gun again, almost imperceptibly.

"I doubt there's a heaven for androids."

"Having existential doubts, Connor? Sure you're not going deviant, too?" Hank still hadn't lowered the gun, his eyes fixed on Connor, but if he was waiting for a reaction, he didn't get one.

"I self-test regularly. I know what I am, and what I am not." While they had been focused on their conversation Taylor had moved closer. She placed her hand on Hank's arm, and he finally broke his gaze with Connor to look at her.

"Hank. Please." Her fingers were shaking, even as they held on to the arm of his coat, and she tried to pretend it was the cold. Coward. The word scraped along the inside of her skull, but she ignored it, talking through the strain in her voice. "Please stop."

She knew her face was a mask of fear, all the fear that Connor didn't feel at the end of the gun. Hank stared into her face, his own expression going slack. They stayed like that for a beat, two, then he finally lowered the gun.

Hank let out a grumble as he holstered his gun and grabbed the rest of his six pack, turning to walk away. Taylor had felt the knot of tension inside of her release when he lowered his weapon, but there was still this nagging feeling, this constant itch along her skin that had started the moment she'd set eyes on him across that first crime scene.

She took a step to follow, willing her feet forward, knowing it was now or never. She'd been trying to find the right moment to talk to Hank, but the timing was never right. The words would push at her teeth, begging to come forth, but she couldn't speak them. Coward.

"Hank!" He didn't even slow as he continued making his way toward the car. She walked faster, her heart pounding, knowing if she didn't tell him now, she would never have the guts to say it again.

"You saved my life that night!" This time he did slow, his footsteps coming to a stuttering halt. The bottles remaining in his cardboard six pack clinked softly as his arm swung still.

Taylor stopped several feet behind him, heartbeat pounding in her ears. Her breaths came out as ragged gasps, creating white bursts like clouds in the cold air. She clenched her hands into her coat again. Clenching. Unclenching. Coward.

"I had been in the emergency room for hours. I sat in a room watching minutes tick by on the clock, and no one would look me in the eye, or talk to me. I thought the world was ending. And then you walked in."

She paused, took a shaky breath, "You looked right at me, and you said 'You survived. You're a survivor.'"

Silence stretched between them. Taylor stared at Hank's back, but he didn't say anything, didn't respond, didn't even acknowledge that she'd spoken.

"I felt like I could breathe again. I never forgot those words. Even when my mom died." She hesitated, but she'd said too much now to slow down. "I wouldn't be here if you hadn't told me that. I just wanted you to know."

Hank stood there for another moment, and then he continued walking. She watched him get into his car, put his beer in the passenger seat, and drive away. Her head was quiet. She had been scraped empty and left hollow and it didn't matter that he hadn't say anything. There was nothing left to say.

"Taylor?" Connor appeared in her vision, blurry and indistinct. She touched her fingers to her cheeks and felt the tears. A sob clawed its way up her throat, and she covered her face with her hands, ashamed.

"I'm sorry." Taylor took a step backwards, tried to turn away, but she couldn't see anything. When she stumbled, Connor's hands closed around her upper arms, steadying her. She tried to step back again, rubbing at her eyes. "Leave me alone."

"You shouldn't be alone," he persisted, tightening his grip on her arms. She knew he was talking about her concussion, but the words kept bouncing around in her head anyway. No matter how she struggled, she couldn't pull away from his grip.

"What do you care, anyway?" She narrowed her blue eyes up at his face, which only caused the tears to squeeze out faster. His LED was flickering red and he was looking at her in something akin to alarm. She wondered what her stress levels were. He must not be programmed to deal with hysteria. She almost laughed, but it came out as another sob that she muffled with her hand. "Go away, Connor."

"No." Taylor thought she had misheard, but Connor was shaking his head. "I will stay with you for your safety. Unless you're ordering me?"

It was a challenge. She had told him that she would never give him an order. He was looking at her, his brown eyes like molten hickory reflecting the streetlamps, his lip quirked into a smirk because he knew that he'd won. Whatever small piece of her sanity had been holding together crumbled.

She leaned her forehead into Connor's shoulder and wrapped her arms around his chest, clenching her hands into his CyberLife jacket. He went rigid beneath her touch, but he was warm, like always. It took a moment for him to relax, but he placed his arms around her and pulled her closer.

Taylor didn't know how long they stood there, how long before she stopped crying. Connor stood patiently, holding her, his long fingers stroking slow circles along her back. Eventually, though, she did pull away. She felt the absence of warmth immediately, a shiver moving along her spine.

"I will take you home." Connor said softly, his hands still hovering over her arms. A look of panic crossed her face, and his fingers tightened. "Back to the station?"

"Okay," she sighed, her shoulders slumping. His LED flickered to yellow. Calling for the cab, most likely. He led her toward the curb to wait.

"What you told the Lieutenant," Connor began. Taylor almost groaned. She should have known he was listening. She should have known he wouldn't wait long to start prying. "What did it mean?"

"Does it matter?" She stared at him, a challenge in her eyes. He hesitated, uncertain of what to say. They stood that way as the cab pulled up, at an impasse, an android who didn't have emotions and a girl who had too many.

"I would like to know." He said finally, as they settled into the seat of the cab. Her hands fell into her lap, and her fingers twitched.

"It's a long story, Connor."

"I have time." Taylor shook her head. His eyes were intent on her face, his LED a cool blue, the corners of his mouth slightly lifted. There was no real reason not to tell him. He had been kind to her. Even if he didn't necessarily care, it wasn't fair of her to hold that against him.

"My father, the real one I mean, died when I was eight." She really didn't know how to start, but she supposed it was as good a place as any. "He was in a car accident on the way to the hospital when my little sister was born, back before self-driving cars were the norm. I told you my mom wasn't a happy person, but she had been happy with him. At least, that's how I remember it."

She started tapping her fingers against her knee, "It's a little unkind to say she couldn't be happy for her children, but she really wasn't capable. She married my stepfather, I think, because she had to keep up some pretense of normalcy."

"You said you were always afraid of him." She hadn't realized how long it had been since she'd spoken. Connor was trying to help her along. It was in the back of another taxi that she had said those same words, and he had waited for this very story.

"He made me nervous, when I met him. It was almost a year after my dad died. He was charming, and nice. Mom thought I just missed my real dad. Jake though I was nuts. I started to think I was just paranoid."

She closed her eyes, leaning with the car as they turned, her shoulder touching against Connor's. "Then he came into my room in the middle of the night the first time."

Taylor tried to keep talking. This was just another detail in the story. A segue into the next act. "I was too afraid to tell anyone what he was doing to me. I was afraid to go to sleep. I was afraid to go home." Her mouth twitched. "But I had been living with my mom for a year while she barely functioned, and I felt obligated to make sure that Hayley was taken care of."

She clenched her hands into fists. "I was thirteen when Hayley turned five. I remember the unicorn-themed party, the rainbow balloons, the cake. But most of all, I remember the way my stepfather was looking at my sister, like he was seeing her for the first time."

She turned her eyes to the window, watched the snow swirling past. "After that night, I went to the emergency room and I told them that I had been raped by my stepfather. I imploded my whole family."

Taylor laid her head against the seatback and let the silence settle around her, familiar and consuming. When she finally gathered the nerve to look at Connor, he still hadn't moved from his previous position, but his LED was flickering. Red. Red. Red. Processing. Placing the pieces together, the pieces of her, starting with that first jagged shard.

"My stepfather went to jail. For a very short time. But he's a powerful man, and the current CEO of CyberLife. He got out on good behavior and favors, sealed the police records, and moved on with his life like nothing ever happened. And my mom killed herself."

Her eyes were locked onto Connor's brown now. Telling it felt surreal, like it had happened to someone else. His eyebrows had pulled down, forming a small line between them. Her fingers moved almost of their own volition, sliding gently into Connor's hand, still watching his LED flickering red in her peripherals.

"Anything else you'd like to know about me?" An attempt at a smile twisted her mouth into a grimace. Connor finally blinked, however, and she exhaled with relief. His LED faded back to blue, but he still didn't look away from her, his eyes now scanning her face.

"You moved to California?" He asked hesitantly, like he could think of nothing else to say. This time she did manage a smile.

"I did. Alex assumed legal guardianship over me. And I was mostly happy before I came back here."

"Mostly?" He asked, tilting his head to the side.

"Mostly," she agreed as their taxi finally rolled to a stop before the Detroit Police Department precinct. She glanced down, noticing that his fingers had tightened around hers. He noticed at the same time, for he released her, allowing her to exit the cab. He joined her on the sidewalk a moment later, but as she turned to enter the building, she felt his fingers tighten on her wrist.

"I'm sorry." Connor stepped closer, glancing to the side, his LED pulsing a gentle yellow. "I'm unsure of what is appropriate to say in this situation."

"It's okay, Connor." Taylor smiled up at him. "You listened. That's enough."

"Thank you." He turned back, eyes fixing on hers. She realized how close he was, and her heart quickened. If he wasn't scanning her, he could easily feel her pulse jumping under his fingers, still locked around her wrist. "For trying to prevent the Lieutenant from shooting me."

"Of course," she said quietly. "Were you… afraid? To die?"

"I am not alive." He replied mechanically, his LED flickering again.

"Right." She sighed, pulling away. "Come on, it's cold out here."