A week ago, I should've been nothing but a pile to mop up on a sidewalk - but there's a first for everything. Like an android, programmed to rescue a hostage, choosing to throw himself over the edge of death to save someone who shouldn't have mattered to him or his programming.
In keeping with the theme of firsts, Gavin stood in the small bleached hospital room with me. One leg was propped against my bed while he smacked a wad of gum as loudly as possible in his mouth. The stench of sweat roiled off him like muddy water. It was an effort not to scrunch my nose, and one I failed miserably at.
"You'll be discharged soon," he drawled. He didn't add his usual spice of curse words, which unnerved me. It was enough to make me pick at my hangnails.
I'd expected more jabs from Gavin in the wake of my coworkers collecting information on the events that'd left my dad dead, my mother distraught, and my sister numb to any comfort.
Did Emma hate me? I'd ripped away the life of someone she'd loved. Someone I'd loved.
"Shit," I muttered. A bead of red bloomed from the tiny nick my nail had made.
"If that's your attempt at wrist slitting, you're doing a fucking great job," said Gavin, his lips pulling back in a jeer.
To think I'd ever believed Gavin was capable of human decency. "Why don't you demonstrate for me?"
He raised a brow. "Yeah, wouldn't you be fucking delighted?"
"Don't you have somewhere to be?" I snapped.
"Soon as you get discharged, sweetie," he practically purred, winking at me.
"You're disgusting." Breathing through my nose, I stared straight ahead at the dreadful, bleached walls. My patience was running as taut as the gauze keeping me whole.
Of all my visitors, Chris Miller was the only one that had been overjoyed that I'd not smashed my skull to pieces. Bless the man, I'd buy him a whole year's worth of his favorite coffee for how kind he was. Hank hadn't dropped by - probably too wasted to bother. Mom had just settled into a chair beside me while Gavin had idled by the window. No doubt listening into a family dynamic I'd tried so hard to bury.
After I'd decided to become a cop, my mom had withdrawn into shades of first disappointment, followed by insistence towards my having chosen the wrong path, and finally disdain. There would be no swatches of colorful fabrics, no makeup...nothing. I was not the designer she'd always wanted me to be. To both my heartbreak and my luck, she'd never uttered a single word until right before she'd left. And all she said was simply, "Why didn't you stop it?"
There was no way I could tell her the truth. That, on the way home from work, I'd picked up a present for dad: a beautiful, gold-plated wristwatch. The one he'd ogled from the windows down the street on our way to the mall, exclaiming how no one understood true value
anymore now that technology had soared to a limit that none had seen before. I'd wanted to buy it in person instead of using an android delivery service. That way, it was more personal.
I couldn't tell her, because she didn't want to blame Daniel for what had happened. Her whole life had been 'ruined', according to her, when I'd stepped out of the ivory birdcage she'd built around me becoming a fellow designer.
To her, pinning dad's death on me was more convenient; it meant she could channel her resentment into something else that'd gone wrong, rather than accepting the truth. I wish I was being harsh, but growing up hearing her belittle me when I had any kind of differing opinion culminated in a range of verbal abuse, the likes of which dad hadn't been around to hear.
The second I'd gotten home, I'd raced to my room to wrap his gift.
My hand touched my shoulder.
There was no way I could've suspected my friend would sink a knife into me and beat me until I'd collapsed.
Gavin's car reeked like the metal carcass of a beer can: all tangy, sharp, and bitter. I immediately rolled down the window to save my lungs from shrinking. Empty chip bags, dirty used tissues-used for what, I didn't want to know-and an entire nightmare's paradise of things littered the footwell.
I longed for Hank's car. Ratty as it was, there was no fear of the things festering at your feet.
The hospital flashed away in a blur of white as I kept my head by the open window, drinking in the only non-toxic air there was.
Gavin didn't seem to care, cranking up the radio as if to drown out the disgust radiating off me. Still, I couldn't drive myself, and carpooling-even with him-was better than taking a taxi and eating up my next paycheck. I could be patient.
Until the station whirred by.
"Where are we going?" I asked.
He shrugged. "Where else? Fowler'd start pissing himself if I took you to-"
"I can't go back," I interrupted him, my voice cracking.
His knuckles bled white on the steering wheel. "I'm not your chauffeur."
"You're an ass."
"Congrats, detective."
One day I would be, and that day would be glorious.
Calm down, I told myself. It's not like I had anywhere else to go. Hank would turn me away the second I showed up, even if Sumo enjoyed my presence. Partner or not, the man had his own life and his own problems. I slumped down in the seat, only to hiss at the sharp, stabbing pain in my side. I groaned, pressing a hand to the wound in an attempt to alleviate the pain.
Gavin arrived at the towering condo, then shut off the engine. He went inside while I concentrated on my breathing, ignoring the pain, and fighting away the tears. By the time I got out, perspiration slick on my forehead, Gavin walked back out, catching the door with his boot. He wore a displeased frown as he waited, like he'd rather let it close on me.
"Thanks," I murmured. The second I'd stepped into the building, an oppressive weight pressed down on my lungs. The space felt too wide and empty; the clean, bright walls were suddenly too harsh.
An android escorted me to an elevator, his gaze never changing from the programmed sunny disposition. Deep down, did he find me pathetic? Did he hate me? Did he pity me? He stared straight ahead, seemingly unaware of my careful observation of his posture-perfect profile. The LED glowing blue on his temple captured my attention.
I bit my lip, imagining the light sliding into red.
The elevator stopped, and I made my way to our door, refusing to let my nerves cause me to falter.
Inside, darkness swallowed everything. Mom sat in the living room, rooted to the couch as if the leather had melded with her body and was holding her in place. The TV served only as background noise to the horror she was no doubt replaying over and over in her mind. One I hadn't seen, but could vividly picture.
At her bare feet lay Dad's smashed tablet. Blood still stained its surface.
"This is why I didn't care when you joined the cops. They can't protect anyone." She turned her head and refused to look at me.
My stomach dropped.
I opened Emma's door.
Her light was on and she was curled into a ball at the foot of her bed. Her face was buried in her arms, slow breaths sending her hair fluttering. Strands of her brown hair had come loose from her ponytail, framing her face messily. A small light glowed from under her pillow, and I unearthed it with dread. The screen displayed a radiant picture of Daniel and Emma, their faces alight with joy.
Dragging a hand over my face, I sighed. Guilt gnawed through me, baring me in ways I never wanted anyone to see. I shut my eyes, slid the tablet back under the pillow, and stepped across the hall to my room.
The door opened with a faint creak. The space was devoid of any personal belongings, because Mom had believed adults shouldn't care for anything unless they served to impress others. All of my favorite dolls, books, games, and movies had been gutted long ago, leaving only a single shelf packed with fashion magazines - the ones Mom had picked for me. A bed sat against one wall, plush rose-colored blankets thrown artfully over a cream comforter.
As work kept me away most of the day, there was no reason to add my own touch. Not when it'd be taken down anyway. I was also just far too tired after long shifts to listen to Mom explain how unnecessary a single blue throw pillow was.
Grabbing my black leather jacket from my closet, I shrugged it on and stared at my reflection in the gloom. I'd certainly seen better days. Standing there, I could almost feel the walls closing in. My breath rattled.
I practically flew out the door and into the safety of the elevator. The same android from before stood in the compartment. He didn't bother me with any questions. He wasn't designed to.
Daniel had always been curious about things. I'd seen humanity in him before he'd become violent. And I'd shoved him off the rooftop.
And Dad…I turned around to collect myself.
When I reached the lobby, something deep in my marrow throbbed. To stay in bed all day, swaddled in sheets but feeling no warmth in that house, it would drive me mad.
I went outside and hailed a taxi, arriving at the DPD as the sun was melting into the horizon in a brilliant flash of oranges, golds, and reds. A hint of lilac tinged the clouds with an ethereal blush along with a gilding of yellow, as if to soften the cracks in my heart.
I pushed through the doors and flashed my ID, keeping my expression neutral.
Some people drank away their troubles, but I couldn't bring a bottle of poison to my lips after seeing Hank drown himself in their sweet, numbing trap.
A lot of the shows I grew up with painted law enforcement as some kickass, rewarding job. Rewarding, absolutely. But kickass? There was a whole lot of paperwork, and all-nighters working on case files, only to realize you'd never see the end of it. The shows only depicted me what audiences wanted to see, not what actually happened.
Depression, homesickness, exhaustion, and more, plagued the team, but they were tucked away into smiles, and shoved between weathered scowls.
The office was bathed in bright white lights, the kind that kept you awake even when your body was screaming for sleep. Unlike the hospital's disinfectant-reeking environment, the delicious scent of coffee permeated the air, growing heavier the farther I went through the room, until it gradually became overpowering.
Now that I was logged back into the system, I expected Fowler to smash through his door like a bull, but so far so good.
My desk was situated next to Hank's, my Lieutenant and partner for patrol and various activities. AKA, drinking excursions. Each visit had drained my soul until I'd stopped tagging along. My wallet had benefited the most from this decision, as Hank had frequently used my money to pay for his drinks.
Sitting down, I opened my drawer and withdrew the manila envelope cushioned between two copied case files I'd stowed away to hide. Much as I wanted to pay Chris a visit, I needed to get this done first.
Hunching over the documents, I checked off everything required of me onto a separate notepad. All clear. I slammed the $30 entry fee down, securing it to the page with a paperclip. I didn't care what Hank thought regarding my sloppy presentation - he was the one in charge of making sure everything was fit for submission, after all.
Gritting my teeth, I signed my name and put everything into a clear file, setting it atop the folders on Hank's overcrowded desk. He had the gall to call mine messy, but you could at least see its surface.
When I straightened, I felt someone's gaze burning into my back.
Fowler stood outside his door, his brow heavy. I'd expected him to yell, but here he was. Whatever his reason for sparing me, I wasn't about to spit back in its face.
"Captain," I said, approaching him.
"Don't Captain me," he snorted, looking less than amused. Not that he was anything but, to be fair.
"My office. Now. " His tone left no room for discussion.
I passed Chris, who gave me a salute. A groan bubbled in my throat. An android shut the door behind us and Fowler sank into his chair, fixing me with a steely look. His office never changed, a perfect model of the ultimate clean desk.
"You and Anderson do well together," he started, taking me aback.
"Well?" I blurted without thinking, disbelief coloring my words.
"Phillips, quiet. There're more than enough officers to spare, so I'm assigning you and Anderson to a special case. However, I'm not about to have you running around right now."
"What are you saying?"
"That you're gonna lay low-"
"I'll do whatever I can to stay in this office. I'll glue my ass to my chair, I'll hand out coffee, I'll be your errand girl. I'm not," I snapped, unable to stop the anger rushing out of me, "staying there to rot."
Fowler glared at me until I took a deep breath, and then he said, "You're gonna lay low and help Anderson with whatever menial tasks he has until you're fresh and ready again. And no, you're never going to make anyone coffee, ever. I forbid it."
He looked at me with finality, and I cringed, recalling how I'd once burned the coffee so badly everyone had their androids pick up an order for the team instead. Gavin had gotten an awful stomach ache, though, which had been sweet revenge after he'd dumped half a tube of ketchup into my thermos.
"Special case?" I asked, not understanding.
He nodded. "Deviant cases, specifically."
A chill swept over me.
"Look, I get what happened. It wasn't my choice to assign you to this."
"But you're always in charge?"
"Damn right, Phillips. Unless my boss tells me to. Seeing as no one will work with Hank unless I shove a stake up their ass, you're the best option I have."
My expression soured. "I've not done anything to earn this?"
Fowler slammed his hand on the desk, his voice rough. "You're not one of my best, but you do your job well and I see that. God knows how much shit Hank gives you. But you're an officer. And if I could, I'd have another detective on this. The scope is just too broad for
someone of your caliber."
Hearing that hurt, but it wasn't my place.
"Then why? It can't be just because of Hank." I had my suspicions, and when he looked at me, the confirmation in his expression hit me like a truck. Not knowing where to look, I crossed my arms and stared to the right of him.
"Your android deviated, and from what we gathered, you were quite close to it. There's a whole bunch of 'nope's to factor in since you care too much about them. And - I almost forced someone else with Hank."
Dread pooled in my stomach. Hank had warned me about eyes in the force. Internal Affairs regularly checked up on the people working in law enforcement, and for someone with my kind of background, there was a higher chance of them monitoring me. They weren't the only ones I needed to be on guard for. Cyblerlife itself took any mention of androids seriously.
"I don't need to go through all those cases where you put yourself at risk trying to understand what those things were doing and why, but you can't do that shit again. If you didn't learn they're not human after what it did to your family I'd think you were stupid."
I flinched.
"Hank has all the details. Stay in the office all night if that's what you want, but I expect all your files completed. Stay off the record, understood?"
I nodded mechanically. Perhaps it'd be better if he'd revoked my badge or yelled at me, instead of this oddly mellowed tone he was using. Waiting on my superior wasn't new, but for the first time since I'd worked with him, I felt completely and utterly lost. How could I explain androids were sentient? That I wasn't crazy, and Daniel hadn't been either.
Chris immediately dipped behind his monitor when the office door opened, but after peering around the side and seeing only me, he beckoned me over.
"Did you get your ass handed to you? 'Cuz I didn't hear him yelling like he always does. What'd you do?" he asked all in one breath.
"It's what he didn't do." I sighed, plopping into my seat and spinning the chair. I tilted my head to the ceiling, watching the tiled pattern swirl into nothingness.
"Well, don't leave me in suspense," he said, stopping my orbit.
I paused as the room settled back into equilibrium. "Thanks, Chris," I said, "for visiting me."
He shook his head. "Anything for someone who puts a laxative in Gavin's drink."
I smirked, relishing in the memory. "Hank's gonna have more of a monopoly on my wallet now," I said, frowning. So much for my submission. Even if he turned it in, I wouldn't be allowed to take the exam until after the case was finished. What luck.
Chris sat up straight and said, "You're working with Connor and Hank then?"
"Connor?" I'd never heard of anyone in our office go by that name.
My friend nodded, steepling his fingertips together. "He was sent to secure your android buddy when he took Emma."
No way - I thought he'd been with the FBI? There was no time to wait - I had to thank him for saving my life. For giving me a moment to protect Emma from Daniel's fate.
"Where is he?"
"Connor's not here right now, but-"
"Where'd he go?"
Chris held out a hand, as if trying to calm an aggressive animal. "Looking for Hank, but hey, he'll be back real soon."
"It's urgent," I said, clamoring to my feet and heading towards the entrance. Even if he found Hank, he'd be stuck trying to wrestle the guy away from his liquor.
He threw up his arms. "Fine, ignore me. You'll walk right into him anyways."
I made a heart with my fingers and raised them at Chris, but he swatted it away. "Sorry, only my wife can give me love."
My footsteps felt lighter than they had all day as I rushed out of the building, looking down each hallway just in case. The sun had drowned behind a silver-flecked and indigo canvas, and the ground was bathed in the soft glow from the streetlights.
Hank's favorite bar was automatically my first go-to, but my feet drew to a halt before I could even leave the DPD by more than a few paces. A glimmer of blue caught the glow of the golden lights. A band of the ocean on his arm, another in a triangle over his chest. He was facing the parking lot, expression obscured in shadow. Then he turned so his back was beneath the lights, looking this way and that.
Perhaps he'd been able to get Hank out sooner than I'd thought, and had been dropped at the curb by his superior. I didn't think he'd be too upset by Hank's departure, considering none of the androids lingered around the man anyway.
I edged closer, keeping as silent as possible. Something in me was sparking at the familiar sight of his steel gray jacket, the back spelling 'Android' in white. Like a lost puppy, he tilted his head to the side, then turned around, his LED swirling.
We were a few feet apart and yet somehow it felt like there was a gaping chasm between us. The android's eyes were a brown so deep they appeared black, and his hair, likewise, was pushed back, only for a stubborn handful to swirl and dip about, the edges teasing his
forehead like an unruly wave caressing the shore.
The streetlights set him aglow in gold.
Instead of my initial expression of gratitude, my first thoughts were that he was remarkably handsome. The kind of handsome many would call classic as they referred to black and white movies. I shut my mouth so hard my teeth clacked.
He took the first leap over the chasm.
"Hello, my name is Connor, the android sent by Cyberlife."
"Cyberlife?" I repeated, a bead of sweat sliding down my neck.
"Yes. The Lieutenant asked me to wait here for his return. But I am afraid he has been gone much longer than it should take to fetch some paperwork." He glanced at the badge sticking out of my jacket's pocket. "His name is Hank Anderson. Have you perhaps seen
him?"
The air in my lungs whooshed out of me. "I don't know how that man ever became a lieutenant, always trying to get out of work."
Connor blinked several times, tilting his head once more. My brow wrinkled at the spectacle, caught off guard. There was something human about him, more so than any of the androids in the office. "Lieutenant Anderson was able to rise to his current position as Lieutenant Detective due to his exceptional history, notably his work in red ice, an impressive title among his colleagues." The LED swirled as Connor explained his opinion, based off whatever information he was seeing.
"Uh, yes," I said, bobbing my head up and down.
"Who are you, Officer?" He pointed his chin towards the badge shining beneath the light.
"Oh, um, I'm actually going to be working with you, Connor," I started, offering him my badge to glance over. "On the deviant cases." I held out my hand and he took it, his own warm and gentle.
His forehead wrinkled in surprise. "Officer Phillips?"
I was terrified for a single moment he'd run a background search on me, but instead, "I didn't expect to meet you until much later, but it's a pleasure to work with you." He held a hand up to his heart and the corners of his mouth curled up.
My own thinned into a straight line as I glanced to the side, distinctly aware of the way I was admiring him. This really wasn't the time or place. In fact, I shouldn't have even thought that at all. "The pleasure is mine," I said, meeting his expectant gaze once more. I started picking at my fingernails, gathering my words. "And, thank you."
My new partner's brows drew together. "What have I done?"
I stepped closer until I was doused in the light and peeled away my jacket. Rolling up my cap sleeve, I revealed to him the patch of gauze protecting the wound over my shoulder where Daniel had stabbed me.
Connor's nostrils flared, and he immediately looked down at my side, right where the bullet had passed through. "You're the girl who threw herself off the rooftop," he said, his LED furiously swirling as if he were struggling to piece together what he was seeing.
I breathed out a sigh. "So you remember me?"
Connor dipped his head. "My memory is backed up at Cyberlife, so I had to access it."
"Why would you need to do that?" I asked, not understanding why he couldn't keep his own like the androids here. Connor blinked and said nothing. Confusion was scrawled over his entire body.
"I self-test regularly," he settled on, which wasn't an answer at all.
Stunned into silence, I drew back and pulled my jacket tighter about me. His LED began to swirl once more, and he threw me a strange look. "How is your fish?"
"My what?"
"There was a fish at your place. It had somehow gotten out of its tank and was dying."
A loud bam shot through the night.
I whirled around to find Chris, inexplicably sprawled over his own garbage bin. He looked between us, then proceeded to stash the spilled contents back into the container. Connor leaned forward to peer at him, so close the warmth of his body wrapped me in an embrace.
I stiffened.
"Uh, hello again, Connor," Chris said, refusing to look at me. "Hank's inside, hiding at his desk."
Connor practically grew a wagging tail at the news, and he thanked Chris before excusing himself. Right as he went in, Connor stopped. Slowly, he met my gaze. His LED was yellow. A second later, he carried on back inside.
I turned to Chris, who was busy dusting off his slacks. "Androids carry out our trash, if I recall."
My friend offered a cheeky grin, "They do?"