Chapter Eleven
TRIGGER WARNING: anxiety, mentions of abuse
After Hank drifted off to bed and Wren finished her nightly routine, Connor watched and waited for Wren to tell him about one of her missions. He sat on the edge of the armchair, his hands on his knees. Wren cradled a cup of tea and sat cross-legged. Her hair was damp from her shower, hanging in wavy curtains that framed her face.
[Wren/Warm]
Wren lifted a brow as she observed Connor. "I said I'd do this, but it won't be easy. But I know I've pestered you with questions, so… Here goes."
Connor shifted. He considered telling her that he did not want her to be uncomfortable, but part of him –a selfish part –wanted her to continue. He dipped his head, encouraging her to continue.
Wren took a deep breath. "Prometheus had me work closely with CIA on a few cases. An agent named Rhett Anson was my partner. This was our first case together. We worked five cases in total. For this particular mission, we knew who our suspect was. Or, he fit our profile and much of the evidence pointed to him. So, the CIA and Prometheus paired Rhett with me, and our job was surveillance. We spent weeks observing this asshole. Atticus Tremont. He was young, barely out of high school. But he was smart. Too smart. And angry. He was a messed-up kid, but that didn't excuse his actions. He was targeting then-governor Atlas Montgomery. Our job was to figure out why and when. Rhett and I had a lot of downtime together." Wren paused, the apples of her cheeks popping as she hid a smile. Connor furrowed his brow and tilted his head.
scan [Elevated heartbeat]
[Increased core temperature]
"You and Rhett were close?" Connor guessed.
Wren widened her eyes. "Oh, um… You could say that, yeah."
Something that Connor failed to identify tugged at his chest. He shifted. "Oh."
Wren's brow pinched but she shrugged. "Anyway, we figured out that Tremont was going to attack a campaign party. He fit the profile for suicide bomber, or at least suicide by cop. We didn't want to cause a panic, so we attended the party as a couple. Tremont threatened to blow the place sky-high if his demands weren't met. He was standing next to Montgomery, a detonator in hand. He was strapped down with explosives. If his thumb left the detonator, we would've all been killed. Rhett and I tried talking him down, but Tremont was persistent. So, Rhett changed tactics. He started to antagonize Tremont and I moved closer. Tremont was seconds away from letting that bomb go off, so Rhett shot him. I grabbed Tremont's hand and kept the button pressed on the detonator so that the bomb wouldn't go off."
Connor's lips parted. "What happened?"
Wren shrugged. "Bomb squad came, disabled the thing, and… Rhett and I left. I… I don't remember how I got back to Prometheus. I just sort of woke up in my cell there."
Questions bubbled up his throat. He couldn't choose one, so instead he gaped at Wren with his mouth hanging open.
"Are you okay?" Wren queried, one brow lifting.
"Yes," said Connor, jerking his head. He frowned and averted Wren's gaze. He wanted to ask about Rhett, but he did not see how it was appropriate. The details of Wren's relationship with Rhett were none of his business.
"Connor? Your LED is yellow. And you look like you want to ask me something." Wren sounded amused.
Connor glanced at her, his head tilting. "Am I… difficult to read?"
Wren raised her eyebrows. "The LED helps, because you don't show emotion as much."
Connor's shoulders sagged and he looked away from her. "Oh."
"But I've picked up on some of your tells," Wren continued.
Connor glanced up. "My tells?"
"Yeah," said Wren. "Like the way you tilt your head when you're thinking."
Connor's lips twisted with a contained smile. "Oh."
Wren narrowed her eyes and leaned forward. "Was that your only question? Your LED is still yellow."
Connor lowered his gaze. "It's… unimportant."
"Obviously not," said Wren, lifting a brow. "But I won't pressure you."
Connor folded his hands and leaned forward. "Thank you for telling me about your mission."
"I don't feel like I revealed a whole lot," Wren retorted, her eyebrows lifting. "I mean, it was kind of a boring one."
Connor raised a brow. "It didn't sound boring."
Wren shrugged. "I mean, in that mission, I was… I wasn't doing anything morally grey for the greater good." She inhaled sharply, took a sip of tea. She stared into the mug for a few seconds. "I mean, my missions are an important part of who I am, but… I suppose the things that happened in between define me more. The decisions I made, the people I chose to save, the people I connected with…" She trailed off, her eyes distant. Connor narrowed his eyes, gazing at Wren's features, from her cheekbones, to her chin, to her lips and finally to her eyes. She looked up at him, striking him with those dark blue orbs. "Rhett and I were on and off again. It was unprofessional, but… It was something that Prometheus couldn't take away from me, you know?"
Connor frowned. What was his that CyberLife couldn't take away from him? His coin. His friendship with Hank. Sumo. His job, his purpose… His eyes lifted slowly to look at Wren. "I understand."
Wren smiled awkwardly. "Sorry, if that was… too much info."
"I appreciate that you told me," said Connor, offering her a small smile. She returned it. She ran a hand through her hair, mussing it over.
"I should get some sleep," she said, standing. She took her mug to the kitchen. Connor listened to her clean it before drifting to the bathroom to brush her teeth. He leaned forward and picked up Waiting, as he finished The Innocent already. Wren returned to the couch and curled under the blanket. "Goodnight, Connor."
Connor's lips twitched. "Goodnight, Wren."
…
Connor decided he preferred working out in the field rather than sitting at his desk working on paperwork. It never took him very long, though he intentionally slowed his pace in order to fill the time. If he sped through paperwork too quickly, it left him sitting mindlessly at his desk. He worked on some smaller cases first, getting them out of the way.
Then, he came across Creed's case. Connor read over it and wrote his report, though he could not help the clench of his jaw.
Why are you doing this? You're one of us!
You're just a tool…
Connor pushed a hot breath through his nostrils. He pursed his lips and gathered his brows. He gripped the edge of his desk tightly with both hands.
Hank lifted a brow at him. "Connor? You okay?"
Connor looked up. He opened his mouth to respond, but the words lodged in his throat. He swallowed thickly. Then, he shoved himself away from his desk and stalked away. His boots clicked against the floor. He'd been a tool before his deviancy. He had accomplished his mission of finding Jericho. Sure, he had chosen to spare androids along the way. The Tracis, Kara and Alice, Rupert, Chloe… But what about Simon? What about the countless androids he got killed because he led the FBI straight to Jericho? And what of the human lives he'd taken? The SWAT members he had killed to save Jericho, the CyberLife guards in the elevator… His hands were drenched in blood, both red and blue. He'd cost so many lives… As a cop, he was to bring both androids and humans to justice. But when androids killed in self-defense, or revenge, it left Connor in a world of grey. He'd seen humans kill androids for no reason. He'd seen humans kill androids out of fear and self-defense. There were monstrosities in both species, evils that needed to be brought to justice. And yet, Creed's words rattled his mental processor: You're just a tool.
Another thought struck Connor cold to the core: Did he deserve forgiveness?
[WARNING: Systems overheating]
Pressure built behind Connor's eyes until they burned. He pushed open a door and a blast of cold air hit him. He gasped as he stumbled onto the roof. The snow had begun melting, giving way to spring, but winter still lingered in the air. He drew in droughts of breath to cool his systems. He did not remember deciding to head to the roof. It was an odd place for him to be, as he was not particularly fond of heights.
The door creaked and Connor heard another person step out onto the roof. He turned, his lips parted to explain why he was there, that he was fine, that he would return to work soon… But stopped when he saw Wren. They stared at each other for a moment.
Wren folded her arms, shielding herself against the cold. "Are you okay?"
Connor tried to speak, but his chest tightened and he choked. He tried breathing to cool his systems. His biocomponents felt as though they were quivering.
[SYSTEMS CHECK: No abnormalities detected]
He heaved and clutched his chest. He looked at Wren, his mouth still hanging open. "I-I… I can't…" Couldn't what? Even he did not know. He was not suffocating, but he imagined that this is what it felt like.
Wren held out her hands and stepped toward him. "You're having a panic attack," she informed him, resting her hands on him. One splayed across his back while the other rested on his arm. "Listen to me, Connor. You're okay. Remember what I told you? Count down from ten and focus on different things around you. Take a deep breath with each count."
Connor swallowed and nodded.
Ten.
The leftover snow on the roof was grey and slushy.
Nine.
The sky was grey.
Eight.
He could see the new Jericho building in the distance.
Seven.
Wren was wearing a black leather jacket with a royal blue denim shirt underneath.
Six.
She looked nice in blue.
Five.
Her lips were full and pink, though a little chapped.
Four.
Her eyes were bright blue, though dark.
Three.
Her head tilted toward his, her brows slanted in concern.
Two.
She was warm.
One.
She had a very light spray of freckles across her cheeks and nose, almost unnoticeable.
He frowned. "You… You have freckles."
Wren's eyes widened and she offered him a bemused smile. "Yeah, I do."
Connor took one last, deep breath.
[System temperature normalized]
He relaxed slightly. He looked down at Wren. "I'm… I'm sorry."
Wren frowned. "You don't need to apologize. Connor, are you okay?"
Connor pulled away from her and folded his arms. His brow furrowed and the corners of his mouth downturned. He considered avoiding the topic, but a jolt frazzled his circuits when he realized that he trusted her. "Wren, can I ask you something?"
"You just did, but sure," said Wren.
"Are we… Are we friends?" Connor asked, turning to look at her over his shoulder.
Wren jerked her head back as her eyes widened. She crossed her arms. "I'd like to think we are. Do you… Do you want to be?"
A lump formed in Connor's throat. He nodded and breathed, "Yes."
Wren's lips twitched at the corners. "Then yeah, we're friends."
[Path Unlocked: Wren: Friend]
Connor relaxed, but Wren tilted her head. "That's not what's bothering you, though."
Connor looked away from her. "No."
"Then what is?"
There was almost too much bothering him. He looked toward the sky. The clouds curled together and shimmered, almost like the inside of an oyster. "I arrested an android a few days ago. He'd killed humans in revenge for what the victims did to his friends before the liberation. He asked me why I was doing this and told me that I'm just a tool that the humans use."
"Do you feel like you're being used?" Wren asked quietly.
Connor inhaled, then held his breath. He could have held it forever, but he released it after a moment. "No."
"So, there's something else?"
"Yes," Connor murmured.
"Okay, I'll shut up," said Wren.
The corners of Connor's mouth tweaked upward. "I told you that before my deviancy, I was the Deviant Hunter."
"Yeah, we've talked about it some," said Wren. "Shit, sorry. I said I'd shut up."
Connor smiled to himself. "It's alright," he assured her. He turned to face her, his arms still folded. He looked at the ground. "The original Jericho was a freighter, harboring thousands of innocent androids. I led the humans straight to it and cost many androids their lives." Connor paused, his throat swelling. He swallowed, keeping his eyes trained on the ground. Heat tingled up his neck. A warning flashed in the corner of his eye, but he ignored it. "Markus chose to trust me, and I infiltrated the CyberLife Tower and freed thousands."
"I saw the broadcast."
A metallic taste flooded Connor's mouth. He wondered if that was what guilt tasted like. He gritted his teeth and worked his jaw before swallowing. "I…" He closed his eyes for a moment. "I don't think I deserve Markus's forgiveness. Or anyone's."
"Why?" Wren queried softly.
Connor looked at her at last. The pressure behind his eyes returned. "I got so many innocent androids killed. I got Simon killed. He deserved happiness. I was so focused on accomplishing my mission that I forgo many androids' lives. I believed we were just machines, but I was in denial. Because I was… I was scared. I was stupid. I'm chasing down androids and humans who break the law, putting away murderers, but I'm a murderer. I'm a hypocrite."
His eyes burned, and his vision blurred. He knew androids were equipped with artificial tears, but he had never used his before. He blinked, hard. His vision cleared, but a tear slipped down his cheek. He raised his head to look at Wren, who wrinkled her brow. She wore a rather pained expression as she looked at him.
"I'm going to ask you something, but I'm not trying to change the subject or anything, I promise," she warned. Connor nodded. Wren hugged her middle. "Do you think I deserve forgiveness, after everything I've done? I've hurt a lot of people. Human and android alike. Some of them I didn't even spare them the mercy of a bullet. Do I deserve forgiveness?"
Connor stared at her for several seconds. "Yes" jumped to his lips, but he swallowed the word. If he admitted that yes, he believed Wren deserved forgiveness, then he would seem even more hypocritical. How could he forgive her if he could not forgive himself? But he could not bring himself to say otherwise, because he believed Wren was a good person. "Yes."
"Why?" Wren questioned, tilting her head.
Connor blinked at her. He had not expected to explain why. Warmth spread across his cheeks. "Y-you've done so much to make up for what you've done. You're trying to be better."
"Okay, let me ask you this: Are you trying to be better?" Wren stepped toward him.
Connor gazed down at her. She was still a few steps away, but she was close enough that he could see the color of her eyes clearly. He licked his lips. "Yes."
Wren nodded slowly. A small smile tugged at her lips and she stepped closer to him. "The thing about redemption and forgiveness, Connor, is that if you deserved them, you wouldn't need them. But you're a good person. You're kind when you have every right not to be and you're still trying to help androids and humans. You're still here, making a difference. The fact that you feel you don't deserve forgiveness just shows that you do. Anyone who has you in their life is a lucky person."
Connor's lips parted. He was speechless. Warmth flooded his biocomponents, but it was not the prickling, nauseating heat that choked him. This was… pleasant. Peaceful. When he spoke, his sounded choked: "Thank you."
…
The rest of the day dragged on, with Connor more distracted than he had ever been. He continuously glanced across the bullpen at Wren, who sat at her desk working on paperwork. Eventually, Tina, Chris and Wren left the precinct to investigate a sex crime. Connor sat back in his chair, his shoulders sagging. There were cases that he and Hank needed to address, though they were all minor altercations. Hank insisted they catch up on their paperwork, trapping them at the bullpen. Without Wren there, Connor had no reason to visit the breakroom. The precinct suddenly felt emptier without her presence.
Connor huffed, trying to push Wren from his mind. His brow puckered as he continued working, though he noticed Hank glance at him every so often. As many filtered out of the station to go home for the day, Tina, Chris and Wren returned, all three wearing grim expressions. Connor glanced over at them, his eyes narrowing.
"We'll pick up on this tomorrow," said Tina. "Get some rest, guys."
"See you guys," said Chris. Tina and Chris walked out together as Wren folded her jacket over her arms and walked over to Connor and Hank.
Hank pulled two chairs up to Connor's terminal. "Alright. Let's apply the new filters."
Connor glanced at Wren, who sat rigidly straight, her teeth peeking out as she bit her lip. She nodded to him. He applied "domestic abuse victims" to the search. No results found. Connor scowled as Hank sighed.
"Maybe… Maybe I wasn't reported dead," muttered Wren.
Connor frowned at her. "Wouldn't Prometheus have wanted whoever you were to disappear completely?"
"Yeah, but disappear doesn't exactly mean dead," said Wren, raising her eyebrows. Connor nodded and removed that filter. Results popped up, but none of them matched Wren. Connor clenched his teeth and glanced at Wren. Could they really not find her? But Wren's brow puckered, and her eyes darted around the room as she thought. She leaned forward. "Not all domestic abuse victims report that they're abused. Look for victims who have extensive hospital visits for broken bones."
Connor nodded and added the filter. The database scanned the new information. Connor tensed, waiting, praying to rA9 that something appeared… There were eleven results. Connor sorted through them, looking for one who matched Wren's description. His eyes widened. "I found you!"
He pulled up the records on the terminal to show Hank and Wren. The picture from Wren's driver's license filled the screen. She looked different, though only a few years younger. Her hair was much longer, and she wore a bright smile.
"I'll be damned," Hank breathed. "Your name's Isabelle Wrenley Blanchard. You're from Ellsworth, Maine… And you weren't reported dead, just missing. They ruled your case as a runaway."
Connor searched Isabelle Wrenley Blanchard's records. "You have a criminal record," he said quietly, with a side glance at Wren. The color drained from her cheeks. She dipped her head to him, encouraging him to continue. He opened up the records. Wren's mugshot showed a completely different person. Her skin was sallow. Her hair was greasy and dull. Her cheekbones were far more prominent, revealing her unhealthily skinny state. "You were arrested for possession of Red Ice along with a Jonah Cage."
"Jesus," Hank muttered.
Connor tilted his head as he looked at another one of Wren's mugshots. Her left arm was covered entirely in tattoos. There was a single tattoo on her right forearm. Connor glanced at Wren, who peered down at her arms. An entire history had been erased from her body, simply by amputating her human limbs and replacing them with robotic limbs. Connor looked back at the terminal and opened up the accident report. His eyes scanned the photo of the car.
"Holy fucking shit," Hank breathed. Connor widened his eyes and parted his lips. The left side of the car was crushed. The front of the car crumpled. All of the windows had shattered. The passenger side door had flown off. Hank rubbed his face with his hands. "No wonder they had to amputate ya," he muttered, "you'd have been paralyzed from that…"
"So why did they say I was a runaway?" Wren demanded quietly.
Connor frowned. She made a fair point. No human would have been able to walk away from a wreck like that. He scanned the official report. "Your body was never found. You were reported missing but presumed dead. They said that an animal must have dragged you off. The driver who collided with you was an android. The android was destroyed in the accident."
"That's why CyberLife must've found you first," said Hank.
"And then Prometheus," Wren muttered.
Connor continued through Isabelle Blanchard's records. "You graduated from the University of the Arts in Philadelphia. You studied dance there. Your parents still live in Ellsworth."
"You alright, kid?" Hank queried.
Connor turned away from the terminal to look at Wren. Her eyes widened and her mouth hung open. No pink colored her cheeks. Her hands clutched the arms of her chair so tightly that her knuckles glowed blueish-white in the artificial light of the terminal.
scan [WARNING: Elevated heartrate, core temperature rising]
"I…" She looked between them, her mouth still open. She stood abruptly and walked out of the precinct. Connor knew she had gone to the roof. He stood to follow her, but Hank jumped up, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"She might need some time, son," said Hank.
"Her anxiety is reaching precarious levels, Hank," Connor retorted.
"So would yours if you just found out all this," said Hank.
Connor frowned. "Which is why I don't think she should be alone."
Hank sighed and released his grip from Connor's shoulder. "Fine. I'll wait down here… or in the car."
Connor nodded and headed for the elevator. He withdrew his coin and passed it between his hands and rolled it over his knuckles. What was he going to say to her? What state would he find her in? His nostrils flared as he pushed a breath through them. He had no idea how to help her, or if she would even want his help. He just knew that he couldn't leave her alone.
He stepped out onto the roof. It did not take him long to find Wren. She was sitting with her back against the brick railing of the roof. Her knees were pulled up to her chest and her head was in her hands. She drew in haggard, panicked breaths.
Connor's throat tightened painfully. He had seen Wren upset before, but not like this. He pinched his lips and tried to swallow, but the tightness spread to his chest and constricted his biocomponents.
[Objective: Lower Wren's stress levels]
[Probability of Success: 32%]
"Wren?" Connor queried, bending slightly to peer at her.
Wren did not look up. "I'm fine."
Connor furrowed his brow. "No, you're not. Take deep breaths."
Wren's head snapped up. "Don't you think I'm fucking trying?"
[Probability of Success: 17%]
"What about counting backward from ten, like you've told me?" Connor suggested gently.
Wren shook her head and buried her face again. Her body wracked with a sob. "I tried."
Connor crouched, holding his hands palms forward. "Okay, it's alright," he assured her, "tell me how I can help."
"Go away," Wren begged.
Connor pursed his lips. "I'm afraid I can't do that."
[Probability of Success: 22%]
"What else do you do when you're anxious?" Connor queried.
Wren trembled. "I… I distract myself." Her breath continued in heaves.
Connor needed to lower Wren's heartrate. Her quick, shallow breaths could cause lightheadedness and eventually unconsciousness. His mental processor raced to pick a topic that would help her. What could he talk about? Himself? He gritted his teeth for a moment, grimacing at himself. He looked at Wren, his brow furrowed. His chest ached to see her so broken. "Is there… anything you'd like to know about me?"
He shook his head at himself, but brightened after a moment.
[Probability of Success: 32%]
"Uh… W-what do you like to do?" Wren wheezed.
Connor blinked. He realized that outside of work and the books Wren leant him, he did not really do anything. "I… I like spending time with my friends. I haven't really taken the time to develop any hobbies… I-I like when Hank plays music in the house, though I haven't listened to any other genres outside of the ones he's shown me."
[Probability of Success: 43%]
"Do you like music?" Connor asked hopefully.
[Probability of Success: 39%]
"I think so…" Wren breathed, lifting her head. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Connor's biocomponents squeezed.
"The best way to discern what you like is by exposing yourself to a variety of genres. We could listen to different types of music to figure out what we like, if you'd want," he suggested, his forehead creasing.
[Probability of Success: 51%]
A small smile tugged at one corner of Wren's mouth. "Are you asking me out on a date?"
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Connor felt as if his circuits shorted. He froze, staring at Wren with his lips parted. "I-I'm sorry if I insinuated that –"
"It was a joke," Wren muttered. "Poorly timed."
Connor's chest sank. "Oh."
[Probability of Success: 50%]
"What's your favorite color?" Wren sighed. The tears had stopped, though after a scan, Connor deduced that Wren's anxiety levels were still alarmingly high.
"I…" Connor frowned. He had never considered this question before, either. Except… "I like all shades of blue." He offered Wren a small smile. "What's yours?"
[Probability of Success: 52%]
"Green," said Wren immediately. "Like a forest." She blinked and frowned, her brows gathering.
Connor sensed a spike in her anxiety. He leaned forward. "What is it? Are you alright?"
"I think… I think I've said that before," Wren muttered, not meeting Connor's eyes.
He frowned. "I've never heard you say that."
Wren shook her head. "No, I mean… before… all of this…" She grabbed fistfuls of her hair. "God, why can't I just remember?"
[Probability of Success: 33%]
Connor's shoulders sagged. He felt utterly helpless.
[WARNING: Rise in system temperature detected]
"It's alright, Wren," Connor tried. "It's not your fault."
"I know it's not," said Wren, tears glistening in her eyes. "I wish I could remember. I don't know who I am or who I was… My name isn't even Wren…" She looked at him. "Connor, I'm so lost."
[Probability of Success: 12%]
She buried her face into her hands and sobbed. She seemed so broken that Connor's chest ached. He reached out a tentative hand and rested it on her shoulder. "It's alright. I-I'm lost, too."
[Probability of Success: 23%]
Wren lifted her head slowly, sniffling. "You… You are?"
Connor let out a weak chuckle. "Wren, I was designed to hunt deviants and bring an end to the android rebellion. Instead, I deviated and helped shift the balance of power into the androids' favor. I went against everything I was programmed to do. You think that hasn't caused conflicts in me? I'm less expressive than other deviants. I was programmed to be the perfect partner for detectives, to adapt to any personality. There was always this… ruthlessness in me. In some ways, it's still there. But I'm still an android detective, still the perfect partner… Still ruthless in some ways. Sometimes, I wonder if I'm doing this because I was programmed to and I don't know what else to do. Sometimes, I wonder if I'm really… free."
[Probability of Success: 87%]
Wren stared at him. Connor's face tingled with warmth. He had not meant to ramble about his inner turmoil. He was supposed to be comforting Wren, not the other way around. Wren reached for his hand and gripped it.
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Connor blinked quickly, wincing slightly. When he looked at Wren, something in him stirred. He wondered why code had flashed across his vision when she gripped his hand, as it had never happened before. He pushed the thought from his mind as he held Wren's gaze.
"Connor, I didn't realize…" Wren's brow pinched and her eyes softened. "You know, a lot of people call this an identity crisis. It's actually pretty normal. I think it proves you really are free. I mean, I'm not the best person to give advice about this…" She drew in a shuddering breath, startling Connor into scanning her vitals to make sure her anxiety had not heightened. "Just know that… You're not alone, Connor."
Connor's insides flooded with warmth. He offered Wren a small smile. "You're not alone, either. Your anxiety levels are still rather high, but they have decreased. Do you think you can count backward from ten now?"
Wren pinched her lips and nodded. Her eyes widened as she looked at Connor. He lifted his chin slightly. "Ten," he murmured.
Wren glanced around. "Uh, the moon."
"Nine," Connor said.
Wren gazed up at the sky still. "It's a waning crescent moon."
"Eight."
"The stars."
"Seven."
"They're so beautiful…"
"Six."
Wren's eyes darted around the rooftop but failed to focus on anything. She looked at Connor. "I… There's not much up here."
"Five," Connor continued, maintaining eye contact with her.
"I… Your LED is yellow."
"Four."
"I don't think I've ever heard you laugh."
"Th-three."
"We're… We're still holding hands."
"Two," Connor's voice caught. He hoped Wren did not notice.
"All I see is you," Wren whispered.
"One," Connor finished. They stared at each other for several seconds.
Wren let go of Connor's hand. Cool air washed over it. "We should… We should get to Hank."
"Of course," said Connor stiffly. He stood and held out a hand for Wren. She accepted his help, but as soon as she was standing, she let go of his hand. Connor's chest squeezed. He clenched his teeth and turned away, leading Wren toward the building access door.
"Hey, Connor?" Wren said, sticking out an arm to stop him.
Connor paused and looked at her. "Yes?"
Wren gazed up at him, her lips parted. Her gaze flicked to the side, as if she were searching for the right words. She looked back at Connor and threw her arms around his neck. Connor froze.
pd0nTY29ubm9yIGlzIGNvbmZ1c2Vkcr055Y29ubm9yIGlzIGNvbmZ1c2Vkb0und4r135/p
"Thank you… for everything," Wren said into Connor's shoulder.
Connor blinked and then spread his arms around her. He held her close to him and closed his eyes, a soft smile tracing his lips. "Of course."
Wren withdrew and Connor let her go. She smiled up at him. "Let's go see Hank."
Connor nodded. They left the roof and found Hank in his car. They were quiet on the drive home. Connor noticed Hank look at him a few times out of the corner of his eye, but said nothing. No one spoke until they entered the house.
"Alright, Wren, you're calling in sick tomorrow," said Hank, tossing his keys onto the kitchen table with a loud clatter.
"What? Why?" Wren demanded.
Hank turned toward them, looking at Connor. "You too, Connor."
Connor frowned. "Androids don't get sick, Hank."
Hank rolled his eyes. "I know that, Jesus. You're gonna take care of Wren and take a personal day. Your LED changed from yellow to red all day today. And Wren just had a meltdown."
"Hank, I'm fine." Wren and Connor chorused. They looked at each other. Heat spread up Connor's neck. Wren looked a little embarrassed, too. They looked at Hank, who raised an eyebrow at them as he crossed his arms.
"Uh huh," he drawled. "Look, just take a day. Wren, think about what your next step is. Connor, you've been working yourself to death."
"My next step?" Wren queried.
"Figure out if you wanna visit your parents or not. I don't know. They might have answers to all the questions running through your head. But both of you need a break. Fuck, go see a movie or something. You're both young. You shouldn't be working so damn hard and having meltdowns. Just take a day for yourselves."
"I…" Wren paused. "Okay."
"Good. Glad that's settled," said Hank, turning away. "Let's order pizza. I don't feel like cooking."
Connor knitted his brow and glanced down at Wren, who avoided his gaze. His chest clenched and his circuits stuttered. What was wrong with him?
...…
Whelp, we know who Wren is now. And things might be stirring between Wren and Connor (wink wonk).
Thank you guys so much for your lovely reviews. Y'all are feeding me lmao.