Mumford & Sons - Babel
Connor slid out of the taxi and reached his hand back to help Taylor out as well. The cab ride had been quiet. She sent him small glances from time to time but had remained subdued since she informed him that Alex would meet them at Hank's for dinner.
Now she considered his offered hand, a brief hesitation in her countenance before she accepted it, her smaller fingers cold against his synthetic skin. As she stood beside him, he wished he could read her thoughts.
Sometimes he could glean what she was thinking in her expressions. He had spent enough time with her to learn how she furrowed her eyebrows when she was concerned, how her true smiles made her eyes crinkle, how her hands would start to move whenever she became anxious.
Other times, like now, her emotions seemed a complex puzzle without any discernable pattern. She'd kissed him, but had she been about to say that she didn't have any feelings for him? He had interrupted her because he'd been panicked that she may have sent him away.
She had made him stay away at first when she was drunk. When he had comforted her, she had tried to kiss him, and then withdrew again after he held her back. He didn't know if what he felt for Taylor was attraction, like she'd said, or something more than that. The thought of leaving her, of not being able to see her again, terrified him. Now the uncertainly of it weighed on him.
"Connor?" His LED, pulsing its insistent yellow, faded back to blue as he blinked back into the moment. Taylor's eyes were searching his face now, concern in the lines on her brow. He focused on the soft blue-green ring near her pupils. "Is something wrong?"
"No. I am functioning at optimal capacity," he said it without thought, almost an automatic response as he returned to himself. Her lips curled into a humorless smile.
"Not what I meant. You were zoning out on me there." Her breath came out in a small puff of white as she stared up at him. The taxi had already left, not even visible on the street anymore. A light snowfall drifted down from the heavens, flakes of white collecting in the blonde of her hair and along her eyelashes.
"I was...thinking," he said hesitantly, unsure if he should say more than that. The lines in her forehead deepened. Her fingers were still trapped in his grip, he realized, icy to the touch.
"Maybe do that inside where it's warm? We aren't all impervious to the cold," she said it with a touch of amusement, the worry never leaving her face.
"Right." He paused again, unsure whether he should release her hand or not, but she didn't pull away as he tugged her in the direction of the house.
Hank had given him his own key. He claimed it was to prevent any more unceremonious entrances through the windows, but he'd also qualified it with permission to come and go as he pleased. Connor removed said key from his jacket pocket and opened the front door to usher the now shivering Taylor into the heated interior.
He heard the familiar sound of Sumo's deep, booming bark from somewhere in the kitchen. In the time it took him to turn around and shut the front door, the barking was penetrated by a sudden, high-pitched squeal. He whipped back around to find Taylor on the floor, the bulk of the large St. Bernard standing over her.
"Sumo!" Connor moved to drag the dog off of her, but the blonde had collapsed into a fit of giggles as the dog licked her in the face. His tail was wagging back and forth with enthusiasm as Taylor reached up to scratch behind his ears.
"Hello to you, too." Connor finally stepped forward again, grabbing Sumo's collar and pulling him backwards enough so that she could regain her footing. She rubbed at her face with the sleeve of her coat, then blinked at him. "Did I get all of the drool?"
Connor looked up into her face, still crouched over the excited Sumo, holding him by the collar. She was smiling, and it took him an extra second to say, "Yes."
"Sumo, sit!" The St. Bernard stilled at the sound of Hank's voice and his butt hit the floor, though his tail was still wagging erratically as he looked to his owner. Hank took in the three of them as he stood at the end of the hallway, his hands on his hips. "You can let him go, Connor."
Connor slowly relaxed his fingers and removed them from Sumo's collar, standing. The dog stayed obediently in place, though he was still giving Taylor a look that said he was ready to pounce again. Hank huffed in amusement.
"Sorry, kid, he has a thing for the ladies." Taylor snorted, and then covered her mouth with a hand to hide her laughter as Hank crossed the room and glared down at his dog. He pointed a finger toward the kitchen. "Go lay down."
Sumo put his ears down and sauntered away while Taylor stifled her laughter. "Is that how you pick up women? Rescue them from your own dog?"
"Don't start," he warned, though he still sounded amused. "I already have to play host to a bunch of unwanted guests."
"Poor thing. Alex really is impossible to say no to once his mind is made up." Taylor grinned at him.
"No kidding. Probably comes in handy dealing with you all the time." Hank smirked at her, but she just laughed again as she started pulling off her coat.
"You're not wrong." Connor watched the two of them banter back and forth, seemingly at ease. Hank didn't mention any of the things that had happened to Taylor in the interim of their last meetings, her unceremonious exit from the investigation, her part in the android revolution, even the teasing of a friendship with Gavin Reed.
His LED flickered as he wondered if Hank could sense the vague hint of turbulent emotions lurking just under the thin veneer of her smile. Maybe it was easier for the lieutenant to detect because he was also a detective, or also human, or also had his fair share of emotional trauma.
Whatever the case, he didn't bring up a single offense. He just let her wander around the living room looking at his books and asking questions about his things. She paused in front of his record player, her fingers brushing over the old vinyl in their sleeves almost reverently.
Hank was surprised when she recognized the music. She reminded him sardonically that her mother had been a musician. They spent the next few minutes talking about jazz without a sarcastic comment between them, discussing favorite artists and songs while Connor looked on in near disbelief.
The spell was broken by a knock on the door. Connor, still standing a few paces away, moved to open it. Alex stood on the threshold, his cheeks rosy in the cold, arms laden with pizza boxes.
"You wouldn't believe how many pizza joints I had to call to find somebody still serving pizza in this town. I thought I was going to have to drive outside of Detroit city limits." He sighed heavily as he stepped into the warmth of the house and inclined his head back outside. "There's a case of beer in the car, will you grab it?"
Connor nodded, venturing outside. The car in question had been pulled up onto the curb with the door to the passenger side still hanging open. No doubt Alex had rented it since it clearly wasn't an automated taxi. The snow was falling heavier now, the temperature still dropping as he collected the case of beer and closed the car door with his foot.
The bottles clinked together softly as he made his way back up the walkway and through the door. He followed the sounds of speech into the kitchen, where Alex had placed the pizza boxes on the counter.
Connor placed the case next to them and watched Hank pulling plates from the cabinets. As he glanced around the kitchen, he realized the lieutenant had put in a valiant effort to clean up in anticipation of his 'unwanted guests.'
"You sure you're okay?" He startled. Taylor had appeared at his elbow. She made a show of opening the case of beer and grabbing several bottles to carry to the fridge. When she came back to grab a few more bottles, she elaborated, "You still seem distracted."
"You don't need to worry about me," he said softly. Taylor huffed a laugh through her nose but didn't say anything in response. He recalled what she'd said to him before, that she worried about him because they were friends. It was one of the new things that came with his emotions that he hadn't completely reconciled.
"Bring a couple of those over here." Hank said this over his shoulder as he placed plates on the counter beside the pizzas. Taylor obliged, handing both him and Alex a bottle. His small table only had two chairs, so they piled the food onto their plates and filed to the living room.
"What are we going to watch?" Taylor asked as she settled on the floor in front of the couch, crossing her legs in front of her. "Michigan is playing Ohio State. Jake said he was going to the game."
Connor remembered the blue and yellow room he had stumbled into at Taylor's old house, covered in Michigan Wolverine posters and memorabilia. Alex sat on the couch next to Taylor's left shoulder while Hank took the chair, so Connor took the other spot on the couch. Hank shrugged and flipped on the TV, changing channels until he found the football game.
As the game played, Connor downloaded the rules and information so he would understand what was happening on the screen. Even after he understood the rules of the game, he couldn't quite follow the conversation about certain players versus their previous years' athletes and prospects for a national title between Hank and Alex.
"How's the DPD?" Taylor asked from her spot on the floor. The now empty plate rested against her thighs and she was taking occasional sips of the beer in her right hand. Hank regarded her, seeming to decide his answer, before he just shrugged.
"Quiet." She continued to stare at him, her eyebrows raised. He sighed. "They're saying less than half of the population stayed after the evacuation. Less people, less homicide."
Alex stood and collected their plates. He returned a moment later with another round of beers. On his heels came Sumo, padding softly behind. He shamelessly looked at Hank before creeping closer and placing his large shaggy head on Taylor's knees.
She dug her fingers into the fur on the back of his neck without a second thought. His tail slapped against the floor with each stroke of her hand. Hank rolled his eyes but didn't say anything to reprimand him.
Connor offered to get the next round for them. Taylor handed her bottle up to him, and when their fingers brushed together, she smiled. "I don't want another. Thanks, Connor."
He retreated to the kitchen. When he returned, Taylor had curled onto the floor next Sumo, her head resting on a pillow from the couch. She looked like she was already starting to doze off despite the conversation still going on over her head.
Handing Hank and Alex their drinks, he settled back on the couch and concentrated on trying to follow the game.
Connor dipped his hand back into the warm water, swirling his fingers in search of a plate to wash. He could still hear the television from the other room and the ongoing conversation, but he felt oddly out of place.
"Where's the towels?" He turned his head. Taylor smiled up at him. "It's not fair that you're in here cleaning up after the unwelcome house guests after all."
He inclined his head toward the drawer to her right. She pulled one of the towels out and posted up at the counter next to him. Sumo had decided to curl up at Hank's feet rather than follow the blonde into the kitchen.
"I don't require any assistance," he said, uncertain, his fingers finally closing around the edge of a plate. "I don't mind."
"Will it make you feel better if I tell you I just wanted to come admire your arms?" Connor blinked. He looked down to where he had rolled up his sleeves while Taylor started to laugh. She nudged him with her elbow. "I was also tired of listening to Hank and Alex argue about whether basketball or football was better."
Now that he focused, he could hear the two men still debating from the next room. He passed her the plate. They washed and dried in silence for a few minutes.
"Do you think you will want to be a detective when all of this is done?" Connor paused in handing her the last plate, well short. She reached the rest of the way and took it from him. "You could be Hank's partner for real."
"I would like that." He glanced over his shoulder at the lieutenant, still passionately arguing the finer points of basketball to Alex. His eyes jumped back as Taylor sat the dried plate in the rack. "I confess I haven't thought that far ahead."
Her lips twitched as she wiped her hands dry. Leaning one hip against the counter, she turned to face him. "I was only going to say, before you interrupted me," her eyes flickered over his face, settling on his eyes, "that I think you need time."
"Time?" He felt his brows drawing down. She nodded, a few strands of hair falling across her forehead. He resisted the urge to reach up and tuck them back into place. Every word about his errant desire to touch her had been honest, and he couldn't help but notice she was only standing inches away now.
Before, when he had only been a machine, he had touched her. On multiple occasions. She had been in his arms when they danced together, when he carried her away from that crime scene, the night on Ambassador Bridge. Even then his programming had brought him back to the blonde again and again, on the premise of her import to the case.
When he became deviant, the first time his synthetic skin came into contact with Taylor's human, he realized he had never felt anything before. Not really. As she laid against him, her human heart beating against his mechanical one, he thought he may have started to understand what it meant to be alive.
Part of him had been searching for that moment ever since she had pulled away. Each time he brushed against her skin and felt her pulse rising in response, he only craved it more.
"Just, you should at least be able to figure out who you are." Connor realized he had been staring at her in silence since she spoke a moment ago. She bit her lip. He glanced at the flash of her teeth against the soft pink of her bottom lip.
"Aren't you taking me to find new clothes tomorrow?" His lips angled into a smirk at the look of surprise that came over her face. "Can't I figure it out with you?"
Her face softened. An emotion he couldn't place clouded her eyes before she turned them downward. "Sure, Connor."
"You ready to go?" They both looked up. Alex stood in the entrance of the kitchen with his gaze focused on Taylor. "I have an early flight. I also think if I argue with Hank any longer, we might not be friends anymore."
"You lasted quite a while. I'm impressed." She pushed away from the counter and walked to him. Connor watched her go, feeling like the conversation wasn't over. She turned back suddenly, her lips stretching into a smile. "I'll see you tomorrow, Connor."
He felt his thirium pump falter. He quickly ran a self-test to make sure he wasn't malfunctioning, but as Taylor turned back around to leave and his tests revealed no abnormalities, he wondered if he wasn't just reacting to her. Alex was looking at him as the blonde walked past with a smile on his face that suggested he knew more than Connor did.
"Good night, Connor." The smile never wavered as he stuck his hands in his pockets and followed Taylor out.
Taylor buckled her seatbelt as the engine rumbled to life. The whole car shuddered with horsepower before Alex shifted gears and eased them onto the road. She wondered what had possessed her father to want a car like this.
"Thanks for letting me borrow the car." She shifted her gaze from the window. Alex's green eyes were on the road, but traffic was scarce. His attention kept flickering toward her.
"No problem." When she looked down, she realized she was tapping her fingers against her thigh. Fisting both hands, she tucked them against her legs, frowning.
"Something on your mind?" Her eyes jumped back to his face, but he was staring out through the windshield. "Someone?"
She turned her head back to the window, her frown deepening. Taking a breath in her nose, she said, "I was thinking about my dad."
The resulting silence wasn't as satisfying as she'd anticipated. Her shoulders slumped forward and she curled in on herself subconsciously. "What do you think my life would have been like if he hadn't died? It's pointless to think about it, I know."
"We probably wouldn't have met." Alex said quietly. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel.
"I guess we do have Anthony to thank for that. And my mom." She leaned her head against the window, feeling the cold seeping through the glass. Closing her eyes, she listened to the notes of the pop song coming out of the old speakers. Just as the exhaustion was settling into her bones, dragging her down into sleep, she heard Alex's voice again.
"Connor really likes you." He almost seemed to be talking to himself. She turned back from the window, opening her eyes. He was still staring at the road ahead, but as she continued to look at him, wide-eyed, he finally glanced her way. "What?"
"Nothing." She refused to engage him. He only wanted to tease her again and she wouldn't indulge him this time. Instead she rubbed her chilled fingers together and held them closer to the heat blowing out of the vents.
"I'm serious. You can lie to me all you want about not having feelings, but it doesn't seem like Connor has the same reservations. It's written all over his face." Taylor could sense the warmth in her cheeks and tried to attribute it to the heater blasting air at her. Every conversation apparently would circle back to this eventually.
"You're so full of it," she huffed.
"What are you so afraid of, anyway?" Her fingers stopped wriggling in front of the vent. She bit into her bottom lip, worked it between her teeth as she thought. Was she afraid? Alex had a habit of seeing the truth in her, even when she couldn't.
Still, there was no answer to offer. Connor didn't frighten her. She felt safer with him, in fact, than she probably should have given how long they had known each other. How long he had been deviant. How long his motives for being close to her didn't involve what information she had to offer.
"Maybe I am just getting old, but I'd like to see you be happy." He angled them into a turn that brought them into the parking garage below the hotel. Alex sighed as he pulled into one of the dozens of empty spaces near the elevators. "I don't so much care about the circumstances anymore."
"Who says I haven't been happy?" The idling of the engine was the purring of a jungle cat, and when Alex flipped the key and pulled it from the ignition, the world sounded hollow. He shot her a look before he exited the car, his lips curving. Not a smile. Almost a grimace.
When she closed her door, the sound echoed through the parking garage. So did her footsteps, hurried as she caught up with him at the doors of the elevator. They stood in the freezing Detroit air, unnaturally silent, until she began, "You don't have to always do that."
"Do what?" His voice became tense. The last time they'd come close to this subject, they had fought. The elevator pinged softly, and he held the door open for her while she stepped inside. He pressed the button for their floor as the doors slid shut.
"I'm fighting with this fear all of the time." She hesitated. Swallowed. The words felt thick and impossible, but she forced them up like bile. "I know sometimes I'm just pretending to be okay. Most of the time." Her hands started clenching in the pockets of her coat. Unclenching. She squeezed her eyes shut. "I just wish sometimes that you would pretend, too."
The ding of the elevator let her know that they had arrived. The doors slid open and she practically leapt out, digging into her pockets for the hotel key as she walked. When she came to a stop before her door, however, she felt Alex's hand on her arm.
"Taylor, stop for a second." She tried to pull away. Her back hit the door and his other hand curled around her opposite arm, holding her in place. A shudder of breath trembled in her throat, her brittle attempt at holding back the sob rattling through her chest. The last thing she wanted to do right now was cry in front of him.
"I'm not going to pretend. I don't care if you're a mess. I don't care how bad it gets. How many people do you think pretended your mom was okay?" The tears squeezed from the corners of her eyes and left hot, salty trails down her cheeks. The first sob the broke loose felt like shards of glass scraping against her throat.
Alex pulled her against his chest, circled her shoulders with both arms. He squeezed her, and the strength in his arms steadied her. "I know that you're trying. I just want you to be honest with me. That's it."
"I would never do it." Muffled against his coat, voice thick with tears, she didn't know if he could understand a word she was saying. "No matter how bad it gets. I would never kill myself."
He sucked in a breath, went very still. He definitely heard her. Then he relaxed around her, releasing his breath in a sigh. "I know."
Gently pulling away, he took the room key from her clenched fingers and tapped it against the lock. He held the door for her while she stumbled inside, rubbing at her tears. Glancing around the room, he said, "I really do have an early flight. You should get some sleep. And pack. You should be able to move in the next day or so
He gave her one last, hard look before he left her there. Taylor slid out of her coat and slung it over the chair before she retreated to the bathroom. Turning on the tap for the sink, she scrubbed her face until the tearstains were gone, until she felt clean again.
When she emerged from the bathroom in her pajamas a while later, she climbed directly into the nest of pillows and pulled the covers up to her chin. The quiet settled in around her with the comforter and she clicked the light next to the bed off. The room plunged into darkness. She stared up toward the ceiling, sighing, before rolling onto her side.
She laid there for a long time wondering why she felt unsettled. After the fourth time she rolled over, she realized it was Connor's absence that was bothering her. He had been with her almost every night. Groaning into the pillow, she rolled over again and tried to let her exhaustion pull her into sleep.