There are plenty of reasons why someone may pursue a promotion: more money; an enhanced notion of respect among one's peers; better hours. I'd like to say my reason for chasing the title of detective was one of the above, but it was really none of the above. I had my orders to get the promotion, that's all.

Hank found Connor in the front yard, crouched behind one of Carl Manfred's bushes in the shape of a giraffe, hugging his knees to his chest. I stood off in the background on the pavement while Hank knelt beside him, unsure how to comfort his android son.

Connor's mission, as he'd put it, was his life's purpose. Not that he was alive - he refuted any such possibility. That expression was simply the only way he could appeal to his human partners the gravity of his duty to CyberLife. I don't think he'd ever realized just what kind of a risk hunting the deviants had posed for him, until now. Not only was Connor losing his sense of purpose, he was losing his very identity. Each time his LED flickered to life, pieces of the machine he'd been died.

My phone buzzed; this time, it was a call from Gavin. "What do you want?" I snapped into the receiver.

"Android Sucker, how do you think I feel when my phone requests that I grant permission to a fuckin' android trying to message me?"

I still hadn't bothered to read his text, but Hank's reaction to it had me curious. "It's not like I had any idea he was going to contact you. Why did he, anyway? You're the last person on the planet I'd expect him to dial up."

"You didn't see my - fuck. I'm getting sick of people thinking we're a couple, okay? Now, you-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on. Who says we are? That'd never happen."

He said, exasperatedly, "I'm glad we agree. Plastic Prick's convinced we're screwin'."

I pressed my fingers into my temple in an attempt to release the tension. "Is this why you called?"

"Yes, actually. Got a problem with it?"

With a huff, I took the phone away from my ear and opened Gavin's message: You're not my type but with the lights off maybe I'd get it up. I'll put on a good show for Plastic Prick.

It was for the best that Hank had intervened. I wouldn't have been able to keep a straight face after that.

I put on a high, saccharine voice. "Honey, if you don't want people thinking we're involved, maybe don't use your duty-cell. Everyone can read that transcript, you know. Also, you'd better leave the lights on. We wouldn't be able to find it otherwise."

"Oh, how sweet, you little-"

I hung up. No point wasting time over this.

Most people assumed Gavin and I had some history, since we'd attended the same university and often bickered with each other. It made sense that Connor wasn't sure if something was going on, that was fair enough, but why did he care enough to ask the one man who treated him like waste? Unless...

Closing the message, I found another one from Elijah, probably the one that had chimed just after he'd hung up, when Connor had escaped Amanda.

If he doesn't use the backdoor, it'll only pose future problems for you all. Don't pluck out your eyes and toss them to the wolves.

Elijah didn't want me to blind myself to what was in front of me, or else CyberLife - the wolves - would find it first, he was saying in his usual roundabout way. Find what, exactly? I refrained from responding. It's not like I'd get a reply, anyway. Everything Elijah did was for his own merit, so if it'd mattered, he'd have been blunt about the ordeal to risk harm befalling himself.

"Phillips," Hank called from where he was helping Connor to his feet. "We're heading back to the station."

"Okay," I replied, stuffing my phone back into my pocket. Connor rounded the giraffe bush, adjusting his tie with shaky hands. We walked back to the car and climbed inside, same seats as before, listening to the screech of heavy metal all the way to the station.

It wasn't difficult to notice how Hank had been noting my interactions with Connor, now that I thought about it. He'd been doing so ever since we'd been assigned as partners - I was the Android Sympathizer, after all., and he couldn't have his partner botching the mission. And then, somewhere down the road, he'd figured out that I was...in love. With Connor. I couldn't deny it any longer: I ached for his pain, for his confusion, for everything he felt so I could heal him. In the wee hours of the morning, when my only company was the stars winking over Detroit, all I wanted was to know what he was doing, if he was okay. I wanted to curl up again with him on Hank's couch; wrap my arms around him like he'd done to me, and I'd hold him, breathe in his scent, and drink in his warmth. I wanted to talk about - well, anything at all, really, as long as it was with him. Life never gives you want you want, though. You have to get it yourself. Carl was undoubtedly correct about that, like he was about most things.

"Phillips?" I heard my name, but it didn't register as something I needed to react to. Instead, I swiped a finger over the window, smudging away the dirt maring its surface. It was cold against my skin.

"Phillips?" Connor reached over and tapped me on the shoulder, startling me to awareness. "We've arrived. Hank just got out."

He glanced out of his window where, sure enough, Hank's burly figure was ambling towards the main entrance. Embarassed by how engrossed I'd been in my own thoughts, I fumbled for a response. "Oh, thanks. We should get - oh no."

Connor's brows furrowed as he followed my gaze to the car parked just a little ways down, shiny black and screaming with self-importance. "What's the matter?"

"Perkins is the matter. That's his car."

"You know what vehicle he drives?"

I was already texting Hank to forewarn him, so I answered Connor after a small delay. "You never forget it once you do."

"Your stress levels are rising rapidly." Connor ran his fingers down my temple, drawing my attention.

"You sure do touch me a lot." I voiced my thoughts aloud.

His fingers grazed along my cheek, and then he pulled away. "I can sense many things without the need for contact, but feeling for the signs I cannot see is a whole new trove of information. Feeling the blood rush to your face, the way your pulse accelerates faster than its usual speed - it's all very intriguing to me. I apologize, I know that's not a normal action in most social situations."

"No," I said, surprising myself. "I mean, I don't mind." My courage failed me and I had no follow up, so I excused myself from the car.

Hank texted back: Yeah, I see him.

Connor followed me through the lot and towards the doors as I kept my eyes peeled for the Jackal - Perkins's nickname. Wait - Connor could scan for him, couldn't he? "Hey, can you tell me where Perkins is?"

Half of a second later: "He's currently speaking with Captain Fowler in his office. Why?"

"Do you want to run into that guy again?" I asked pointedly.

He paused, then admitted, "No, I'd rather not have to engage with him again."

"Exactly."

I passed through the entrance to the station with Connor at my side. "Do you have some unresolved trauma with special agent Perkins? Your body is in fight-or-flight mode."

"There's a lot of reasons I'm nervous," I settled on.

The blare of KNC served both as background noise and as an accompaniment for the swelling rise of panic regarding the recent events. Androids breaking into stores and setting their people free, peacefully protesting, but in the same swoop terrorizing police officers. Of course, that was mostly thanks to the wonderful media - always dramatizing the truth to new heights. Their protest had been peaceful, even with Pocks gunning them down. Markus chose not to shed blood this morning. He didn't take an eye for an eye. And now there was the surge of deviants on the rise. Nothing was being censored anymore, so the public now knew all they needed, and it was only fanning the flames of fear.

"Like what?"

My phone buzzed again: Get in here, now. You can't skip work and Fowler will want to talk.

Connor and I used our IDs to scan us in through the fast-line. We stood off to the side nearby, away from the waiting area, but closer to the reception desks, so I could read the message and figure out my next moves.

"We need to go," I told him, so I didn't have to answer. I showed him the message for good measure. "Also, you think Gavin and I are dating?"

Connor stared at the ground. "It would appear to most of the station, not just me, that you two are involved in such a relationship."

"It better not. And you could've just asked me, instead."

"We were in the middle of a conversation with Carl Manfred."

"So you chose to text Gavin, not just wait." Connor didn't have any rebuke for that. "You could've asked me afterwards. Gavin's not the friendliest guy to you, I don't see why you'd even want to talk to him. We get along much better, I'd hope."

"We do get along - I'm very pleased to - which is why I had to ask him or else - our bromance is strong," Connor sputtered, interrupting himself several times and further confusing me. He reached out and took my forearm in his hand. I'd rolled up the sleeves of my jacket and sweater in the car to combat the blast of hot air Hank had turned up, and hadn't bothered to pull them back down since. Connor ran the pad of his thumb down my skin, producing a trail of gooseflesh in his wake. He watched with enraptured fascination at the way my skin puckered, at the way the little hairs erected at his touch, and then he looked up at me with a hooded gaze. This wasn't fair at all. He knew what he was doing, didn't he?

My phone buzzed again. Right, Perkins was the main issue here, not Connor. I hoped Hank would message me when I could walk in without bumping into the guy. Connor was still busy tracing featherlight tracks down my arm, watching my every reaction. Like he was collecting results to fit his hypothesis - one he didn't even need to test for, thanks to Elijah.

The person at the front of the line for the reception desk turned around to head for the waiting area and stilled, seeing Connor beside me. Her bright, wine-red lips curled back in disgust. Her (probably) husband, a short, squat balding man, threw me a disapproving look, and then they strode towards the couches, periodically glancing back at us, tongues clearly wagging.

It was easier to have a relationship with a machine, Elijah had once told me. To many, that kind of laziness was demoralizing, and it hurt to think about how many saw Connor as just a tool. The latest news coverage wasn't helping to change that, either. They could talk however they liked about me, but I couldn't stand the way they were no doubt talking about Connor.

I laced my fingers through his and stared back at them defiantly. "Officer?" His voice cracked and I let go, feeling guilty. I'd never given him the chance to reject me, I was just as bad as all the people I criticised for not giving their androids a choice.

"We need to go," I said, striding for the office. I didn't think Hank would message me back. The glass gate closed behind us and I said in a low voice, "I'm sorry, for just grabbing you like that." We stopped before the entrance into the main room.

My partner was silent.

"I hated the way they were looking at us. But that doesn't mean I can just grab you without asking. I wasn't thinking."

Connor said, "Then I should also apologize. I grabbed you too. I have been doing so a lot lately. Considering the news as of late, it seems any contact between an android and a human..." He struggled to find the right words as he continued, "Is considered to be a cause for distress. It scares the public."

How could I begin to even explain that I didn't mind? Usually when he used touch as a form of communication, it was because he was having difficulty explaining what he was trying to say, and the people he worked with had grown to understand that. What had transpired earlier felt much more intimate than anything he'd done before, though, but Connor wasn't exactly renowned for his emotional intelligence so it could have been by pure chance.

I had more power over him than he realized. I was a human: my actions and my words were deemed as a command he had to follow, even if it was phrased as a passing comment. Just thinking about it had me feeling sick to my stomach. It shouldn't be this way. We should be equal, because we were.

He stepped closer, hesitantly. "Are you angry?"

"I'm mad at myself, at them, at this world. Not at you, how could I ever be angry with you?"

"So…you and Gavin aren't romantically involved, is what you're saying?"

That was all he'd taken away from this, apparently. I couldn't help it, I laughed. Until I couldn't breathe and tears leaked from the corners of my eyes.

"Did I say something funny?" he asked, visibly concerned.

"Yes, because that would never happen. Ever."

If he was still confused about my behavior, he didn't comment. Instead he reached out for my face, then drew back, as if remembering what he'd said just moments ago. I took a step forward before he could drop his arm and leaned into his open hand, well aware that if anyone passed by, they'd see everything. His fingers twitched against my cheek, settling against my face.

"It wouldn't work out," he said and I glanced up at him, eyes rounding. "The probability of a successful relationship between you two would be quite low." He dropped his hand.

"You can measure the success of a potential relationship?" Why the hell would CyberLife include that in his programming? I couldn't foresee any hostage situation or case where that would be needed.

Connor scrambled for an explanation. "Not...exactly, but I can collect all sorts of data to predict a good outcome. For instance, Officer Miller and his wife will likely never divorce."

"You've never meet his wife, though."

"Even so, I can infer."

I smirked. "Oh yeah? Well, I have a bullshit detector."

"That is absolutely impossible."

"Try me. What's my chance of success with someone, then?"

He pulled his coin from his pocket and started fiddling with it. I headed for the bathrooms, and he trailed after. If I didn't come out of there, Perkins couldn't very well wait for me all day or come in to find me, and he'd soon be on his way.

"That would depend on the person, I suppose," he murmured.

"Well, who are my best options?" I wasn't really paying attention, too busy watching out for Perkins.

Hank threw us an exasperated glance along the way and I ducked out of sight when I saw that Perkins was also in Fowler's office. The Captain caught a glimpse of me and pointed, and the coat-man started to turn. I managed to catch myself from breaking into a sprint in the nick of time.

Oblivious to the drama unfolding, Connor offered, "Why don't you list possible candidates?"

I was almost to safety, and to amuse both him and myself, I posited, "What about you?"

Connor's finger slipped. The coin spun out of his control and rolled to a stop at my feet, bouncing off my shoe. He strode forward and stooped to collect it at the same time that I knelt down to retrieve it. His fingers curled away into a fist right before he accidentally touched me. His pupils dilated into dark pools. "That success would be a probability of-"

"Officer Phillips." Perkins's bitter voice snipped the thread pulling me closer to Connor, and sent me rising to my feet. He looked to the door to the bathroom, emblazoned with Women. "You weren't bringing your little toy in there with you, were you? I can't imagine what you'd even need that for."

Behind him, Pocks leaned against a wall, a styrofoam cup in his hand. His beady eyes glittered at the scene unfolding before him.

"My car is outside," Perkins said, fixing me with a meaningful look.

"Actually, sir." I dusted off my jacket. "I don't have much time, thanks to a rather important breakthrough in my case."

Perkins tsked, his eyes brightening with his sneer. He was only ever happy when he was being foul. "I'm sure you have. But the time to experiment with your toys isn't for the workplace." He glanced at the women's bathroom with deliberate slowness.

I could feel my face reddening at his implication, but I drew myself up and repeated, "I don't have much time."

His gaze narrowed in suspicion, and he jerked his chin at Connor. "Leave."

Connor got to his feet and towered over the man, but Perkins was unperturbed by the height difference. He waited until the android was out of earshot before he slinked towards me, his trenchcoat brushing the backs of his knees. We were the same height, which was both hilarious and intimidating. The former, because if he were taller then he'd sneer down his hook of a nose with every chance he got. The latter, because he could look me square in the face and read me like a book.

His voice was a low, raspy gravel. Angry that I'd wrested control of the situation from him. If we'd moved to a more discreet area to have the discussion the way he wanted to have it, I'd have no way of winning, and he knew it. "What are you doing here, huh? You've wasted enough time as it is."

"I'm doing my job, sir."

"Which one? The way I see it, you're not getting very far. Your results are paltry at best. Deviants slip through your fingers so easily that it's almost like you aren't trying to capture them."

Perkins was overly ambitious, and his cutthroat nature had served him well to get to where he was. But it also meant a fair deal of people despised his very existence. I was one of them.

"Let me handle this mission," he said, in a tone that demanded I obey him.

"I have my orders," I said, calmly. It only irritated him more. Pocks hummed a lilting tune in the background, as if he were used to Perkins demanding people hand over their jobs to him. I snorted, seeing the answer right in front of me. Pocks wouldn't be allowed to hang around for this conversation unless he were with the FBI. "You should handle your own team better. We nearly died this morning thanks to Pocks's reckless behavior."

Perkins angled his head, and his bottom lids tightened with lines. It was his signature look, 'The Jackal.' Sarcastic and predatory, yet nowhere near the level of Elijah. Where Perkins was reedy and somewhat collared by the FBI at least, Elijah was lean and wild, kept at bay (or not) thanks entirely to his own will. "Isn't that exactly what makes a successful undercover personnel? Creating a facade which goes against the very job you're undertaking? I'm disappointed you couldn't tell right away," he chastised.

"You're seriously not implying his actions constitute commending," I retorted, fighting to steer the conversation away from where it was heading. But this was Perkins, hellbent on becoming recognized as the best of the best; he'd knock down everything in his way to get there, even me.

"This android called Markus plays at Gandhi like a fool. Pocks knew the chances of a violent retaliation were low, that's why he shot at them. He knows how to play the game, whereas you've lost your edge." He smirked. "You've been the FBI's sweetheart for so long, there's no way they'd suspect you'd let your role as a sympathizer become your reality." I opened my mouth to retort, but he cut me off. "It's for your own good. Unless you'd rather let that little role of yours define the rest of your career. Now, just hand your mission over to me, because this isn't going anywhere," he said dismissively.

I smiled. "You're right, this isn't going anywhere. So you can turn around - take your screw-up with you - and be on your way." I brushed past him, and I heard a small laugh, like a crack forming in a frozen lake.

"Overconfidence has always been a weak point of yours."

I halted right before Pocks, who was slurping at his coffee so loudly that the people in the breakroom paused to look over at us.

"I've not been asked to step down, so stop salivating at my feet. Find your next mission elsewhere, Perkins."

He sidled up to me, his upturned collar cutting along his jawline. "You've a peculiar propensity for the androids you should be taking down, Officer." He sneered my fake title. "More concerning is how this addlement extends to your toy - you've broken its only functions, a waste of resources. Don't jeopardize your career for a piece of plastic. It'll end up in the junkyard soon anyway."

I spoke without thinking. "He's not a piece of plastic."

The Jackal's features morphed into nothing more than a series of acute angles; his nose seemed to sharpen as a nasty grin split his face. "I gave you a chance. You just signed your own resignation from this case. This shouldn't take more than a single phone call." He jerked his chin at Pocks, and they both strode down the hallway and out into the lobby.

I schooled my expression from horror into a blank slate before I joined my team. Connor slid off the Lieutenant's desk at the sound of my approaching footsteps, as if he'd differentiated my footfalls from everyone else's. Hank watched me over his clasped hands, his knuckles like wind-shorn mountain peaks.

"I'd hoped after these past revelations had come out, you'd be comfortable sharing the one thing you're so keen on hiding," he said. "You know Perkins, don't you? You've known him for a while." He said it as if he were already aware of the answer, testing my loyalty to him and what forbade me from speaking.

"This isn't something I can share," I said. "Believe me when I say that I'd tell you if I could."

Hank looked at Connor. "Did she tell you?"

"No, sir," he said, raising his hands in a classic surrender gesture.

I let my arms dangle by my sides, keeping my body language as open as possible. "Perkins is intent on taking this case for himself."

"Like hell he will," Hank said.

I glanced over to where Fowler was sitting at his desk. As I watched, the phone rang and he answered it. "Well, we're about to argue for it."

Connor and Hank both looked up at the same time that Fowler waved at us to come in.

I knew the second we stepped into his office that Perkins had secured his share by the way Fowler had moved to sit atop his desk, perched like a rooster about to announce the new day. Or, in this case, the return to our original duties.

Hank and Connor remained blissfully positive that we'd trump any chance of the FBI taking over the case, and why wouldn't they? Our progress was a continual cycle, albeit devoid of many answers, but there'd been enough to carry us forward. A shame it'd come to this.

We gathered in the office in a line, myself situated between my partners. Connor's eyes were shut tight and his face was pinched with concentration. He stood rigid as a block of ice with his hands clasped behind his back, yet his features rippled and convulsed, as if he were arguing with someone - but he never said a word.

Was he speaking to CyberLife?

Hank folded his arms and awaited Fowler's next orders. Connor's features smoothed into complacency, and his eyelids opened. It was like he'd simply closed them for but a moment, yet I had a sinking feeling he'd been gone longer than any of us could imagine. Daniel had been like that, sometimes, in the hush of the night. They experienced time differently than us.

"You're off the case," Fowler began, his voice weighted with resignation. "The FBI is taking over."

"What?" Hank asked, sharing Connor's befuddled expression. Then his frosty gaze slipped down to mine. "But we're on to something!" He dropped his arms to his sides. "We...we just need more time. I'm sure we can-"

"Hank, you don't get it." Fowler held out his hands, appealing to him. "This isn't just another investigation. It's a fucking civil war! It's out of our hands now." Hank stared at Fowler with unconcealed incredulity, his eyes shadowed beneath a heavy brow. "We're talking about national security."

"Fuck that! You can't just pull the plug now. Not when we're so close."

"You're always saying you can't stand androids! Jesus, Hank, make up your mind." The Lieutenant was livid, and with each word Fowler spoke, his mouth seemed to fall open more. "I thought you'd be happy about this!" the Captain said, perplexed by the man's reactions.

Hank braced his hands atop the back of the guest chair. "We're about to crack the case! I know we can solve it." Fowler's lips thinned and he leaned back a little. "For God's sake, Jeffrey, can't you back me up this one time?"

The captain was already shaking his head. His next utterance was like a plea for Hank to understand the situation. "There's nothing I can do. You're back on homicide," then he turned to Connor, "and the android returns to CyberLife."

What? I fought against the protest rising within me. I'd always known he'd have to go back, but for some reason it'd never occurred to me that with Perkins taking over, it'd result in this. Connor wavered where he stood, his face falling at the news.

Hank folded in on himself, losing all of his thundering passion from earlier.

"I'm sorry, Hank, but it's over."

My superior almost couldn't bear to glance over at his android partner; he was already heading for the door the second that his gaze had alighted on him. I could do nothing but stare at Fowler as Connor gave the captain a quick, tiny dip of his head, and then he followed the older man out.

"You're free to go, Phillips," Fowler said, the air whooshing out of him like a deflating balloon.

"Perkins is taking over our investigation," I whispered, still astonished by the news.

"There's nothing I can do, Phillips. I'm not in the mood to argue." He got up and clapped a hand on my shoulder. "Hank submitted your application. Focus on getting your promotion. Close the door on your way out." Fowler let go of me and headed for his chair, but it was like I couldn't see anything. I'd nearly killed myself for this promotion, because I'd been ordered to obtain it at all costs, and for what? To be dropped from this case?

Even if I got it now, a whole lot of good that would do me. I couldn't even partake in my own mission. I could step on Perkins's toes all I liked, but it wouldn't change anything. He'd already done enough damage to my reputation as it was, there was no recovering from that.

Outside, I found Connor at the bottom of the staircase. He jumped when I started down the steps, and my heart thudded at the sheer desperation in his gaze.

He headed straight for Hank's desk, settling onto it with a sigh. Hank was crouched in his chair, his chin propped on his hand.

"We can't just give up like that," Connor told him firmly, "I know we could have solved this case!" He stabbed the air with his words.

Our Lieutenant moved his chair around to face him, his gaze flicking to mine for an instant. "So you're going back to CyberLife?"

Connor looked to the side, regretful, and said, "I have no choice." He nodded as if he were scoffing at the turn of events, and his next words had me curling my hands into fists so tightly that my nails bit into the flesh of my palms. "I'll be deactivated and analyzed to find out why I failed."

Hank leaned forward, his expression grave. "What if we're on the wrong side, Connor? What if we're fighting against people who just wanna be free?"

"When the deviants rise up, there will be chaos. We could've stopped it! But now it's too late," he trailed off, staring at the ground.

Maybe not; Markus was their leader, after all.

"When you refused to kill that android at Kamski's place, you put yourself in her shoes. You showed empathy, Connor. Empathy is a human emotion."

Connor had been fixated on his Lieutenant until that last line; his dark gaze flitted to the side. Guilt? Or reflection, perhaps.

And then, to my surprise, he said, "I don't know why I did it," as if he was asking for an answer. I'd expected him to use my standing in front of the barrel of the gun as an excuse to write off his actions, but he didn't. A warm expression overcame Connor's countenance. "I'm not programmed to say things like this, but...I really appreciated working with you. With a little more time, who knows…" A hint of a smile played about his mouth, "We might've even become friends."

Hank looked incredulous, his default reaction to any sincere gesture, especially when it originated from Connor. I smiled for the two of them, since they were both too damn stubborn to do so themselves. Connor just couldn't seem to break his professional image completely, if he even knew how, and Hank was too much of a manly-man to give Connor the warmth he'd sought since the day they'd become partners.

"Officer," my partner tentatively began, and I twisted around in my place on the desk beside him, having only expected him to share this moment with Hank. "I'm afraid I won't be able to talk to you about everything I'd meant to. I had hoped I'd have a little more time."

Fuck, a lump was forming in my throat already.

Maybe it was because Connor was leaving for good and I'd be a mess after he was gone, or maybe it was because he had finally opened himself up to Hank. I'm not sure which it was, but whatever the reason, Hank remained silent. I should've felt uncomfortable with our audience a literal foot away, but all I really saw was Connor.

He blinked, several times, like he was processing information. "I think I finally know why Amanda called me back to CyberLife, Officer," he said. He searched my face, and it was like he was seeing me anew.

Hank looked between us and said, "Ain't this fucking depressing."

"Let me talk to Perkins," I begged him. "My word is as good as his-" I froze, squeezing my eyes shut as if I could erase what I'd said.

"Phillips…" Hank breathed, "Shit, you can't be serious." What had I done? No-one was supposed to know. I turned a terrified gaze on Connor, but he wasn't looking at me. "Doesn't matter. Even if your word carries the same weight as his, your superior is who you gotta deal with. And fuck me, they're higher up than Fowler's boss. Doubt they'd change their mind now."

"You can't tell anyone," I started frantically, but he was already nodding.

"I'm guessing not even Fowler knows you're in the FBI, holy shit. If he did, you'd be with Perkins. You'd never have been here to begin with." Then Hank stared past me, his brow furrowing. "Well, well. Here comes Perkins, that motherfucker…Sure don't waste any time at the FBI…" The guy was walking oddly even for him, like a befuddled penguin, all the way down the hall, staring at his phone.

Connor said, all in one breath, "We can't give up. I know the answer is in the evidence we collected. If Perkins takes it, it's all over."

"There's no choice! You heard Fowler, we're off the case." I could tell Hank was wavering, though.

But Connor was nothing if not dedicated to his mission. He slid off the desk and leaned forward. "You've got to help me, Lieutenant." He let go of me to jab his finger against his palm, saying, "I need more time so I can find a lead in the evidence we collected. I know the solution is in there!"

"Listen, Connor…" Hank held up a hand, like he usually did to calm Sumo down when he came home.

"If I don't solve this case, CyberLife will destroy me. Five minutes. It's all I ask," he implored, giving his best puppy eyes.

Hank looked at him, then at me, then at Connor's hand, his knuckles brushing against mine. Pushing up from his chair with a sigh, he said, "The key to the basement is on my desk. Take Phillips with you, Perkins will be on her case if you don't. And if you find a lead, she goes with you, got it?"

Neither of us could speak. Hank was willing to break the law so severely to help us?

"Get a move on!" he said when we didn't budge. "I can't distract them forever."

Fowler had gotten out of his chair and was heading towards his door, so I grabbed the key. "Let's go," I said.

In the distance, Hank snarled, "Perkins! You fucking cocksucker!" followed by a nasty crunching sound, and Perkins's (satisfying) exclamation of pain.

We headed straight for the door out of the bullpen. Connor opened it, glancing around as he did so, and we slipped inside. Just as we neared the Archive Room, the door behind us slammed open, and the DPD's eyesore emerged.

"Hey, Connor!" Fuck, Gavin had the worst timing. It was almost comical how he chose to use the android's name for once, given the situation we were in. "I'm talking to you, asshole. Where you going? We don't need any plastic pricks around here! Or didn't anybody tell you? And what the fuck are you doing with him, huh? Your boozed up partner's out there roughing up coat-man, or didn't you notice?"

"I'm making sure he inputs his evidence before he goes back to CyberLife." I made sure my voice cracked at the last part, playing up the act just for him. It didn't take much effort.

Connor let go of the door handle and spoke to Gavin as if he were a petulant child. "I'm registering the evidence in my possession, but don't worry, I'm going to leave."

I was thankful, for once in my life, that my gaze was glassy with a film of tears. They were left from just moments ago, when Connor had announced CyberLife's intent to kill him. The shift in Gavin's disposition from ire to reluctant acceptance might've evolved into him deciding to leave us alone, had Connor not added, "Though I'm certainly going to miss our bromance."

"You son of a bitch!" Gavin withdrew his gun, aiming the barrel at Connor's forehead. Then he angled the tip up, and made the sound of a gunshot, laughing as he did so. I wouldn't put it past him to imagine the spray of thirium as the bullet tore through his skull, and I had to wonder if my presence was what stopped him.

Connor attempted another one of his pained smiles, except this one had fuck you written all over it. I'll never know why Gavin didn't comment on it - maybe he was just too freaked out by it. "Go on then." He sized him up and sneered, "Get a fucking move on! Prick," he spat, for good measure. "Fucking androids." The guy had obviously never heard of a chill pill. He ambled back out into the main lobby.

We bolted through the door and down the stairs, and I used the card key to open the door, granting him access to the main control panel. Connor pressed his palm flat against the surface, revealing his true skin, smooth and porcelain. "Hank's password. What would a hard-boiled, eccentric police detective choose?" he mused to himself. Then he entered a long string of letters via his mind, and what do you know, it worked. "Obviously," Connor said to himself.

"What was his password?" I asked.

Despite how we really needed to collect the information and get the hell out of here, Connor spared a moment to be a dick. "Do you remember how I asked for your opinion on how CyberLife chose to design me? If I was aesthetically pleasing?"

I edged away from him and moved for the walls of evidence sliding out. "Yeah, and?"

"I'll tell you once you complete the survey."

"Come on. What's his fucking password?" My partner raised his eyebrows in amusement. "I'll pass," I said, bracing myself as Daniel's mangled, bloodied corpse came into view. It was like I had tunnel vision, and the harsh glare of the lighting only made the scene more barbaric.

Connor brushed past me, intentionally touching me, and smirked. "I'm afraid you'll never know his password then." He reached for the rA9 statue, then placed it down after a quick examination. "We must find the deviant's hideout." He picked up the partial recording of Markus and listened to it. When the small segment finished, he frowned, rewound it, and said, "We're looking for a place called Jericho. Have you heard of it?"

I shook my head and picked up Rupert's diary, unable to decipher anything in it. Connor set down the tablet, and reached for the interrogation recording as I switched the diary for the statue. I ran my fingers along its intricate carving, surprised by how light it was in my hands. Like it was hollow.

"The truth is inside," the recording said. I moved to return the statue when Connor took it from me, raised it to his ear, and shook it. I leaned in to listen too, and we both looked at each other with surprise at the sound of a slight rattle. Without warning, Connor smacked the statue against the cubicle it had been housed in. The top half of the pottery figurine shattered into pieces.

"We're gonna be in so much trouble," I said, and then I ate my own words. Connor pulled out a slip of paper, and unfolded it to reveal a map of some sort. "Actually, never mind."

"Jericho is somewhere in the Ferndale neighborhood," he said excitedly, "now I can scan their memories and narrow the search down."

But who to ask? All we had available to us was Ortiz's android, the deviant from the Stratford Tower...and Daniel. What I'd give to hear his voice one last time. To apologize for killing him. To tell him Emma was alright. Oh God, I couldn't cry, not here, not now. I spun towards the Stratford deviant and Connor followed my line of sight.

"I can reactivate him, but he's missing a biocomponent." He reached out and removed the defunct one from the android.

"Do we have it?"

Connor tentatively placed a hand on my back, and murmured, "Daniel has it."

What a cruel joke life is, taking and taking, finally giving only to take again. "We...we have to. Don't let CyberLife deactivate you." I trembled. "Let's get this over with." I marched over to my friend, pinned like a butterfly to a corkboard, bloodied and mangled, and a cry almost tore itself from my throat at the sight of him. I'd thought I'd been done grieving for him, but seeing someone you loved again, no matter how long they've been dead, it twists you up and spits you out. I wanted to hold him in my arms, but his own had been blown off. I was surprised more of him hadn't been lost after the fall. He was practically just a torso and head.

"Do you want to speak to him, first?" Connor asked. "We still have a few minutes, it shouldn't take too long." I sliced at my hands with my nails, in an attempt to force away the sting of hot tears through the pain. "Officer, you're hurting yourself."

I sucked in a breath. "Just do it."

Connor watched me for a moment before reaching over and installing another biocomponent into Daniel. He'd scanned him before he'd even looked at the other androids; he'd known ahead of time what was needed to reactivate him, as if he'd known I'd want to speak to him. "I hope it can give you some closure," he said sincerely, and then he reactivated Daniel.

I wasn't prepared, I don't think I ever could be prepared for this. This was why I'd never gone down with Hank to the evidence room after that night. I struggled to breathe. Daniel sputtered to life, his LED blood red, and then his eyes opened. Blue, and filled with hatred. "You pushed me off the roof," he said. He sounded as if he were struggling to process how I was standing before him, alive and not a mess on the sidewalk. "You chose another model over me."

My voice came out shredded, like a wounded animal. "I'm so sorry, Daniel. I wish I could've stopped it all, but I couldn't let you…" I broke off, sucking air into my gasping lungs, "I couldn't let you kill Emma."

Daniel stared back at me, his gaze wobbling. "I didn't mean to hurt anyone. I never wanted this."

"I know," I cried. "I wish none of this had ever happened." It was like someone had driven a knife into my gut and was slowly, torturously twisting it around, carving out all of my sins. "I don't deserve your forgiveness, I just wanted to tell you I'm sorry. I love you, I always have, I always will. I wish I could've done more, that I could've stopped this nightmare from even happening."

My friend watched me break apart. When I couldn't take it any longer, my words mixed into a jumbled, incoherent mess, and Connor knelt down and placed one hand on my shoulder. I didn't even notice that I'd collapsed to the floor, but he was there. As always he picked up the pieces and stitched them together as best as he could, but there would always be cracks.

"You-" Daniel snarled. "You ruined everything." He was switching between accusations and apologies like a metronome set to its highest speed, and it made my head spin.

Connor said, "I'm sorry, Daniel. But you were going to kill that child. You gave me no choice."

"I don't know what came over me." Daniel switched back to me, begging me to understand. "When your dad decided to replace me, I snapped. It was like I wasn't myself. Like I wasn't in control anymore." He blinked, and even that tiny action looked painful. "How is Emma?"

I wiped the tears away and sniffed. "She's fine, but she misses you, so much."

Daniel looked away from me. "I'm guessing you're alive thanks to him. I'm glad you're not dead..."

I staggered to my feet and Connor lingered beside me, one arm around my shoulders to keep me steady. "I've missed you so much."

Daniel's LED flickered and when he didn't answer, Connor stepped in to ask him where Jericho was.

"You're wasting your time, I don't know anything about it." Daniel glared at him as if he'd tear him apart, given the chance. I reached up to Daniel and pulled out the biocomponent Connor had provided. "Goodbye," I whispered as he slowly shut down. I handed it back to Connor, scrubbing at my tears. When he took it from me, his fingers tightened around it for a brief second.

"Forgive me for this," he murmured, right before he grabbed my face between his hands and pressed his lips against my forehead. I was stunned. We stood there for what felt like forever. His mouth was soft, warm, and impossibly gentle. It sent soothing waves through me, and I felt safer than I'd felt in a long time.

Connor backed away, and it was like he suddenly didn't know where to look. "It's the first thing the internet suggested to help someone dear to you who's in pain." God, he knew how to ruin a moment. But then I saw the way he was looking at me, his gaze lidded and tender, and I refrained from commenting entirely. "We'll need to do something about your hand later, you're bleeding." His thumbs cleared away my tears. "We have about two minutes left of Hank's distraction, let's hope this works."

He inserted one of Daniel's biocomponents into the Stratford deviant, who immediately booted up and said in a glitched, static-filled voice, "It's dark. Where am I?" His gaze was cloudy and unseeing.

"I need to find Jericho. Tell me how to get there," Connor commanded him.

"You're...the one who shot me. The deviant hunter. I'll never tell you where Jericho is. Now leave me alone."

Would we make it in time? Connor opened his mouth, and out came Markus's voice. "Everything is alright. Don't worry."

"Markus?" The deviant lifted his head and stared straight at Connor. It hurt to see the hope in his blind gaze. "Is that you? I tried to reach you, but the deviant hunter stopped me."

Connor closed his eyes, but he continued, "You stopped him from finding me; you saved me! You saved Jericho. You'll be alright now. I came to take you home. Give me the location to Jericho. We gotta leave now."

"The location of Jericho?" If we didn't get it, we were done. I stepped towards Connor. "Yes. Yes, of course." Connor reached out and took the deviant's elbow in his grasp. His eyelids fluttered at the wave of information passing between them. When it was done, the deviant placed a hand on Connor's shoulder. "Markus? Is that you, Markus?" The deviant drew him closer and Connor glanced up at his milky eyes. He removed his biocomponent just as the other android pleaded for the leader of the deviants not to leave him alone. A mercy killing.

"We did it-"

"I've been dreaming about this since the first second I saw you…" Gavin said, startling me. I turned around to find that he had his gun levelled at Connor, who remained perfectly still.

Connor bit out his words. "Don't do it, Gavin. I know how to stop the deviants."

"Gavin, put that down," I said, striding towards him. He ignored me.

"You're off the case. And now, it's gonna be definitive."

I closed the gap between us. "Don't!"

Connor whirled around and dived behind the evidence clearance panel, right as Gavin fired. I withdrew my own weapon. Gavin slunk towards Connor's barrier. He grunted when Connor wrenched his gun away and was shoved back.

"Gavin, stop it!" I shouted.

He aimed a kick at my partner, who blocked it, and then the oncoming flurry of punches. "Stop? Not until he's gone. These fuckers are taking our jobs - you're just-" he jabbed an uppercut at Connor, and the attack was parried easily- "living in some fantasy land."

Connor blocked the next blow and then whacked the heel of his palm into Gavin's throat. The detective collapsed to the floor, and didn't move anymore. He almost looked like he was sleeping. Connor fixed his tie, and I holstered my gun.

"Let's go," I suggested, and he nodded.

"Of course, Officer." He retrieved Gavin's gun from the floor and pocketed it. "In exchange, you're to take CyberLife's survey."

Little shit. "How about no? This Amanda lady is trying to kill me, firstly - and secondly, Hank told you to take me with you."

Connor straightened his jacket and opened the door for me, ever the gentleman. "She's not particularly fond of you, from what I understand. We're going to have to talk about that, by the way. You crop up in multiple conversations with her. But as I said before, your opinion on this survey is invaluable." Connor blocked the entrance. I scoffed up at him.

"Fine, I'll take your survey. Let's just get out of here before Perkins finds us."

Connor lowered his arm, and we hurried up the stairs together. "I look forward to it, Officer. And, I want you to know I'm also looking forward to Hank's orders."

We reached the final landing and pushed through the door. "Yeah, you're about to complete your mission."

"No, that's only half of it." He cut in front of me and bent forward to peer into my eyes, his own alight with the kind of mischief I'd come to recognize as his own brand of flirting. "Now I have you all to myself." Then he winked, and I lost the retort that had been at the tip of my tongue.