/&/ Toys \&\
The action figure is small. An old plastic policeman that fits nicely in his hand. The joints are a bit loose but he manages to raise one of the arms without it falling off. Too bad there isn't a toy gun to go with it. He stares for quite a while, occasionally moving a limb or two. He's never played with toys and doesn't know what to do. Then again he doesn't need toys at all.
A knock on the bedroom door makes him look up. The pattern indicates the Lieutenant. Why does he not simply— oh. Right. "Come in." Having personal space and privacy is still new. The Lieutenant enters and sits down next to him on Connor's bunk. With his predecessor outside with the dog he can't mind.
The Lieutenant opens his mouth to speak but immediately shuts it upon seeing the toy in his hand. A tense pause. Finally after an entire minute the silence breaks. "Thought that went out to Goodwill with the rest?"
"I found it in pieces in the corner of the closet. It wasn't hard to reassemble." The room falls silent once more and he places the toy in the Lieutenant's hands. He has no need for a dead child's playthings.
Emptiness should be hollow, not filling him from the inside out, coursing through his system like a virus, filling his veins. It clings to his mind, drowning all that he is in the nothingness. For he is nothing. A poor replacement. A broken copy. An empty vessel.
He shudders, trying to get rid of the sensation. Or is it a memory? When Cole's room was first cleared for him and Connor. When Hank Anderson let them take his son's place. No. He can't do that. The sensation increases, as if bit by bit pieces of himself are falling away, replaced by a hollow void. He is nothing. He is empty. Just a machine.
A plastic cop manipulated by others.
A hand on his shoulder and something in his hand. The Lieutenant's voice saying, "You and Connor should keep it. Cole would've loved you two."
Something in him snaps, data rushing back to fill the voids. Yes, he is something. He is a machine but also more. Cyberlife may not be around but he is important to others. He is not empty. A glance over at the Lieutenant, then down at the toy. And he is not a replacement. Not for Cole. Not for Connor. Not anymore.
He lowers the toy policeman's arm, watches it fall from the socket into his lap, and picks it up with his other hand. A sigh as he reattaches the limb.
A chuckle from beside him draws his eyes back to the Lieutenant. "Actually, I think you can keep it."
"Why me? Connor is the sentimental type. Just because I found it doesn't mean I want it."
The Lieutenant's knowing smile and ensuing shoulder pat are confusing until the words that follow. "Look at him, son." A gesture to the toy. "Plastic cop, tossed aside and broken, but here he is in one piece 'cause he had help. Remind you of someone?"
.
Oh.
.
He stands up from Connor's bunk, turns around, reaches up, and places the plastic policeman in his own bunk beside the pillow. A soft, "Thank you, Lieutenant." finally breaks the quiet as he finishes his movements and looks the man's way.
The Lieutenant smiles, laughs, and answers, "Well I'll be damned, I think that's the first time you've thanked me for anything!"
"If you tell Connor about this it will be the last." he replies with his favorite malicious grin.
"Alright, alright," The Lieutenant throws his hands up in surrender, then turns and reaches for the door. "You can tell him yourself. Don't be surprised if he finds it though. He's a hell of a detective."
"If he goes searching in my bunk unprompted it won't be the only surprise I give him."
And at that vague threat the Lieutenant sighs, shakes his head, and leaves the room, gently shutting the door behind him.
He stands there 22.37 seconds longer to be certain the man isn't merely lurking outside, then climbs the ladder to the upper bunk. It's pleasant there in the quiet, between his Cyberlife blue blanket and the calming white of the ceiling, where he lays with the toy now back in his hands. A machine absolutely does not need playthings. The closest he has ever come has been a calibration tool. But this…
He looks over the damaged plastic cop.
Lieutenant Anderson has given him something to think about.