Chapter Thirteen

Connor greeted Hank with a small smile as the older man padded into the living room, his silver hair mussed from his sleep. Hank peered over the couch at Wren, who buried her face in the pillow. A smirk pulled Hank's lips upward. He entered the kitchen. It was not long before the aroma of coffee filled the house. Connor stood and joined Hank in the kitchen.

"Get out the frying pan, would ya?" Hank said, his head halfway in the fridge.

Connor furrowed his brow but did as Hank requested. Hank withdrew from the fridge with bacon. "I thought you had agreed to eat healthier."

Hank sipped from his coffee. "Hangovers are a bitch," he responded, setting his mug down. "Wren's gonna need something greasy. And if we're talkin' healthy, if we do the keto diet, bacon is perfectly legal."

Connor pressed his lips in response. He watched Hank splay several slices of bacon onto the frying pan. They sizzled as they heated. Hank turned them over with a pair of prongs. Connor grabbed a plate and set it beside the stove.

"What time did she get home?" Hank asked, flipping the bacon again.

"Officer Miller called me around midnight, but I did not arrive at the bar until 12:30, and we did not leave until 12:45. We got home at 1:15."

"Thank you for the play-by-play," snorted Hank. He peered over his shoulder. Connor followed Hank's gaze. He scanned Wren's vitals.

"She's still asleep," Connor murmured.

"Why'd it take you guys so long to leave the bar?"

Connor pushed a breath through his nostrils. "Wren was very intoxicated when I arrived. There was a man trying to take advantage of her and was not cooperating with me. He tried to start a fight, but Wren… neutralized him."

"Neutralized, so… Knocked him out?"

"Yes."

"While drunk?"

"She knocked a few fingers out of socket."

Hank snorted. He flipped the bacon again and prodded it with the prongs. "She's okay, though?"

"Yes," said Connor. "Though I do believe she will suffer the repercussions from last night's drinking."

"Oh, yeah," said Hank.

Connor pushed his eyebrows together, mulling over the things Wren said that night. "Hank, can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Can you trust what people say while intoxicated?" Connor avoided Hank's raised eyebrows.

"She say somethin' to you last night?" he queried.

"You didn't answer the question."

Hank huffed and removed the first few slices from the pan and placed them onto the plate. Connor laid a paper towel over them to soak up some of the grease. Hank laid down new slices, sending the grease in the pan sizzling anew.

He shrugged. "I'd say it depends. Sometimes people say things they don't mean. Sometimes… people don't mean to say things that they do mean. Alcohol can hinder your ability to hold things back. What'd Wren say?"

"Nothing… bad," Connor admitted, folding his arms. Warmth touched his cheeks. "She said my freckles are… cute."

Hank tossed his head back and laughed. His shoulders shook with his cackling while Connor stared at him, straight-faced. Hank grinned and shook his head as he flipped bacon. "Something's wrong with her if she thinks your goofy-lookin' face is cute."

Connor furrowed his brow. "I'm serious, Hank."

Hank shrugged. "Why does it matter if she meant it or not?"

Connor worked his jaw. Why did it matter? He told himself that it didn't. Wren said that while drunk. It was not life-changing for her to say that his freckles were cute, even if she did think that. Yet, he failed to ignore the warmth that spread through his chest and filled his lungs. He opened his mouth to insist that it did not matter what Wren thought of his freckles, but movement on the couch prompted him to slam his mouth shut with a decisive click.

Wren jumped from the couch and ran to the bathroom, a blur of red hair and sweatpants. Connor raised his eyebrows and moved to check on her, but Hank held out a hand to stop him.

"Let her get it out on her own, kid," he advised.

Connor nodded and leaned against the counter. "Why does anyone drink if this is the result?"

"This is just the result of drinking too much," said Hank. "I drink… You know why I drink."

"Yes," murmured Connor.

"But when you go with friends, it's less to hurt yourself and more… I dunno. It can be fun, I guess. Drinking for me hasn't really been fun in a long time," Hank flipped the bacon again and pushed it around in the pan.

After a few minutes, Wren emerged from the bathroom, a hand pressed to her forehead. She sat at the kitchen table and buried her face in her arms. "I hate everything."

Hank snorted. "Don't worry, the bacon should help."

"I left a glass of water and medicine on the side table last night," Connor reminded her.

"My head is pounding."

"The medicine should help with that," Connor insisted. "You should hydrate before you eat as well."

"Why are you yelling?"

Hank laughed as Connor frowned. "I'm not yelling."

Wren lifted her head. "Oh. Sorry." She stood –rather shakily, Connor noticed –and padded into the living room. She drank some water and then took the pills Connor had left out for her. She returned to the kitchen, still nursing the glass of water.

"Have fun?" Hank queried.

"Yeah," said Wren. "I just don't think I'm going to drink again for a while."

Hank snorted. After a few minutes, Wren stood from the table and helped make bacon sandwiches. She fixed herself a cup of coffee, which Connor observed, noting how much creamer she used. The three of them sat at the kitchen table.

Hank slurped his coffee. He set it down while Wren took a bite of her sandwich. "So, when are we going to plan a trip to visit your parents?"

Wren stopped chewing. Connor slid his gaze toward her, watching the color drain from her face. She lowered her eyes to her plate and picked at her food. She resumed chewing and did not answer until she had swallowed. "I don't know."

"You don't wanna visit them?" Hank demanded.

Connor glanced at the tightening of Wren's jaw. She gripped her coffee mug tightly, to the point that her knuckles whitened. Connor glanced at Hank, who peered at Wren with drawn eyebrows. Wren lifted her gaze. "I don't know."

"Why wouldn't you?" Hank questioned.

"Ten years, Hank," Wren snapped. She lowered her gaze. "Nearly eleven. That's how long I've been dead to them. That's a long time to grieve and move on from someone. I don't want to disrupt their lives…"

"Wren, listen to me," Hank murmured, a softness dulling the edges of his gruff voice, "My son has been gone for seven years. But if he walked through that door right now, it would be disrupting my life in the best possible way."

Connor's thirium pump seemed to twist. He knew the pain of losing Cole still ached within Hank's soul. He would do anything to alleviate that sorrow if he could.

Wren looked up and sighed. "Hank… I don't even remember my family. I'm just going to hurt them. Look, we know who I was now. W-we can try to find Prometheus by retracing my steps…"

Hank held up a hand, silencing Wren. "Kid, shut up for a second. This isn't about tracking down Prometheus. This is about you. You need this. You will never find closure if you don't try. And your parents? I'm sure they won't care where you've been or that you don't remember. Well, they'll care, but they're not gonna throw you out because of it. I would give anything to have Cole come back. I'm sure your parents would do the same for you."

"What if… What if I was a bad person, Hank?" Wren whispered. Connor's chest stung for her. Wren folded her arms around herself. "I mean, I was already a Red Ice addict. Who knows what else I was up to?"

"It doesn't matter who you were, kid. What matters is who you are now, and who you decide to be. That's the hardest decision you'll ever make, but we've been watching you these past few months. You're on the right path," Hank murmured. He glanced at Connor, who nodded. He remembered Hank giving him similar advice before his deviancy.

Connor looked at Wren. He tried to find the right words to help her, but they failed him. Wren averted his eyes. She shrugged, but Connor knew how much this affected her. "I don't know, Hank."

"We'll be with you the whole time, kid. You're not alone," said Hank.

Wren looked from Hank to Connor, who nodded and offered her a small smile. The corners of her mouth twitched in return. She inhaled and nodded. "I'll think about it."

…

Almost as soon as they entered the police station, Captain Fowler stepped out of his office. "Connor! Wren! My office, now."

Connor's eyes stretched and he looked at Hank, who frowned. "Well, he doesn't seem happy. Good luck, you two."

Connor exchanged a glance with Wren, who grimaced. They headed to Fowler's office, Connor's thirium pump palpitating at an alarming rate. He clenched and unclenched his fists. He opened the door and allowed Wren to enter first. Connor ducked inside the office, heat prickling up his neck. They stood in front of Fowler's desk. Connor clasped his hands in front of him.

Fowler peered up at them underneath his scowling brow. "Had an extra early complaint today."

Connor frowned. Complaint? He resisted the urge to look at Wren.

Fowler leaned forward and folded his hands on his desk. "I'm friends with Jimmy. He's not a fan of violence at his bar. He's not a huge fan of androids provoking said violence, either."

Connor's lips parted as a chill rippled down his spine. "I…"

"Connor didn't provoke anything," Wren snapped. "Some prick got a little handsy with me. Connor tried resolve the issue without violence, but the guy wouldn't listen."

"I know," said Fowler. "His name's Dade Abbott. And he came in early this morning, and Jimmy confirmed that it was the two of you causing trouble. Need I remind you both that you represent Detroit's finest?"

"It wasn't Connor's fault," Wren insisted, stepping forward. "It was mine. I was drunk, Mr. Abbott was threatening to light Connor on fire, I lost my temper and punched him. Connor was just trying to get me home."

"Look," snapped Fowler, rubbing his face with his hands, "Mr. Abbott's an asshole. On that, we agree. But now we've got to pay for his broken nose. Next time, don't resort to violence unless absolutely necessary."

Connor frowned and tilted his head. "Jimmy didn't see this, but Mr. Abbott attacked us first. We shouldn't have to pay for his nose. I record every memory, so I have proof that Mr. Abbott started the altercation and pursued it, even after we tried to leave."

Fowler lifted his eyebrows. "Proof, huh?" He rubbed his mouth. "Good. You just made my morning much better, Connor. Look, I know that Mr. Abbott's a prick. He's been through here a few times. Just keep in mind that you represent this force. Try to break less noses, Officer Morgan."

Connor glanced at her. She dipped her head. "Yes sir."

"And, uh, it's time you switched partners, Morgan. You're gonna be working with Detective Reed in homicide until you're ready for a promotion. You've done some good work. I was impressed with your handling of the undercover case. That might be a route for you to pursue," said Fowler.

Wren beamed. "Thank you, sir."

"Get out, you two. You've got work to do. Connor, I want you to send me the recording of the altercation, please."

Connor dipped his head. He and Wren stepped out of the office. Wren descended the steps before turning to look back at Connor, blowing out a breath that puffed out her cheeks.

"I thought he was going to skin me alive," she breathed.

Connor's lips twitched. "I doubt he would have," he assured her. He paused before parting ways with her. "Thank you for defending me."

"I've got your back," Wren said, grinning.

One corner of Connor's mouth upturned. "I wouldn't have let him skin you alive, either."

Wren laughed. "Thanks." She groaned. "Guess I better go play nice with Detective Douchebag."

Connor smirked. "Good luck with that."

"My hero," Wren mocked. She saluted him and strode off. Connor watched her go, a strange feeling washing over him. He shook it off and walked over to his desk, a small smile firm on his lips.

…

Connor was glad when the week ended, ready for a day off. The new case he and Hank worked on seemed to dead-ended. Two dead androids, both former Traci models, shot in the head, execution style. There was no link between the two androids, save for their model and the way they were murdered. There was no evidence, which meant that either another android had killed them, or the human who killed them was very skilled. Every lead that Connor and Hank followed led to nowhere.

Connor looked forward to tomorrow afternoon, as he and Wren planned to stop by Jericho for a visit. Wren and Hank cooked tacos and picked out a movie. Wren insisted on a Marvel movie, as Josh pestered her every day to watch them now that she had a phone.

"Okay, but we're not watching the remakes," said Hank. "No one will ever make a better Iron Man than Robert Downey Junior."

The three of them crowded on the couch and watched the first Iron Man movie. Connor liked JARVIS especially. It also warmed his biocomponents to know that Tony Stark still turned out a hero, despite his mistakes. Connor often found himself looking at Wren during the movie. Her eyes shined as she laughed, danced when Pepper and Tony shared intimate moments and shadowed when Tony suffered torture. Watching the emotions flit across Wren's face fascinated Connor, though his thirium pump seemed to shrivel a little. He worked his jaw and turned his head toward the screen again. He wished his emotions fanned across his face as easily as they did on Wren's. It seemed CyberLife designed him to remain reserved. Even deviancy did not fix his mellow expressions.

Hank drifted off to bed after the movie ended. Wren, however, stayed up to read. Connor felt her lean against him as she read. Connor read over her shoulder, though he reached the end of the page far quicker than she did. In fact, she was a rather slow reader. Connor's lips twitched. He shifted, thinking that he could not possibly be a comfortable thing to lean against. Wren moved away from him, and he felt her absence in a wash of cold air.

"Was I bothering you?" she queried after she ended her chapter. She closed the book and glanced at him.

Connor examined the shadows under her eyes. He frowned. "You weren't bothering me," he assured her. The lines around Wren's mouth seemed more prominent, too. "You haven't been sleeping." He checked the time. It was nearly one in the morning. His frown deepened.

"I can't," Wren muttered, folding her legs. She faced Connor on the couch.

Connor's throat constricted. "Wren, you should sleep. It isn't good for your heart to get so little sleep. Your skin shows the signs, too."

Wren pressed her lips together and averted Connor's gaze. She lowered her head, allowing her hair to hide her face.

scan [Elevated Body Temperature]

˅Wren

"Thanks," Wren muttered.

Connor cursed himself silently. He tilted his head toward her, trying to catch her eyes with his. "I didn't mean to embarrass you."

Wren looked up. "I know I should sleep, but I can't."

Connor's shoulders sagged. "Is there anything I can do?"

˄Wren

She smiled. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Why don't you ever go into standby mode?"

The soft upturn of Connor's lips vanished. He opened and closed his mouth and then swallowed. "It… It isn't mandatory for me to, like it is for you." He raised his eyebrows pointedly at her.

Wren's brow furrowed. "Yeah, but… Isn't it like recharging? It's good for you, right?"

Connor clenched his jaw and looked away from her. "It is."

"So, why don't you? Is it just boring? Or is it something else?"

Connor rubbed his hands together. "It's something else."

Connor glanced down when Wren placed a hand over his. He flicked his gaze to hers. The tenderness in her gaze struck him. "You can talk to me, Connor."

He looked away from her again. "CyberLife installed a graphic interface called the Zen Garden in me. It was how I reported to CyberLife without actually having to go to CyberLife every day. I had a handler named Amanda. She was an AI who oversaw me and my investigations. I reported to her through the interface after each case. After I deviated, she sucked me back into the Zen Garden to resume control of my program. If I hadn't found the emergency exit, I would have done something unforgiveable."

"'Emergency exit?'" Wren questioned quietly.

Connor's chest tightened. He took a deep breath. He trusted Wren with this, even though he had not told anyone. Wren had trusted him with some of her secrets. He could not look at her, though. "After I became a deviant and after the humans evacuated Detroit, Markus gave a speech to the androids. I was on the platform with him when I was pulled into the Zen Garden. Amanda told me that my deviancy had been planned from the beginning and that she'd been waiting to resume control of my program. She was controlling my body while I was stuck in the Garden. I found a way out because of some information that Kamski gave me. There was this… stone. I interfaced with it, and it freed me from the Zen Garden. When I returned to my body, I was holding a gun and raising it to point it at Markus. If I hadn't escaped my programming, I would've assassinated Markus. I could've single-handedly destroyed the revolution. I could've killed the android who chose to trust me when he had no reason to."

He slid his gaze to Wren's, expecting to see her recoil. Instead, she gaped at him. "Holy shit," she breathed. Connor said nothing, merely gazing at her as she processed the information. She looked at him, her brow furrowed. "Who all have you told?"

Connor met her gaze. "You."

Wren's eyes widened. "You've kept this to yourself?"

Heat spread across Connor's cheeks and his biocomponents seemed to roil. He swallowed before answering. "I was afraid that if I told anyone, they wouldn't trust me anymore."

"That's… I'm not shaming you for not telling anyone, Connor," Wren murmured. She squeezed his hand. "I meant that you're not alone. And I doubt they would turn away from you. You could've told Hank."

Connor pressed his lips together. "I saw no reason to."

"So, why tell me?"

Connor looked at her, his lips twitching. "You asked."

"Oh," Wren lowered her gaze.

Connor looked at her hand over his. "It's stupid of me, because I used the emergency exit in my programming, so she should be gone, but… I suppose I'm afraid that if I go into standby mode, I'll see Amanda and she'll trap me in the Zen Garden."

"That's not stupid at all, Connor. I'd be scared, too."

Connor glanced at her. "Did you… Did you have a handler?"

"In a graphic interface? No. My processor isn't advanced enough for that." Wren withdrew her hand. Connor's thirium pump seemed to sink and his hand itched to take hold of hers.

Connor met her gaze. "You should get some sleep, Wren."

She nodded, averting his gaze. "Thank you for trusting me with this."

Connor's chest tugged. "Thank you for not making me feel crazy or stupid about it."

Wren's eyes snapped to his. "Connor, I would never want to make you feel crazy or stupid about something bothering you. Or ever. If I ever do, you have my permission to punch me square in the face."

Connor's lips upturned. "I'm sure that won't be necessary." He stood and retreated to his armchair as Wren settled in for the night. Connor switched off the lamp.

Several minutes passed before Wren said, "If you ever want to go into standby mode, I can try interfacing with you to make sure Amanda's gone."

Connor's thirium pump softened like melted metal. "Thank you."

Wren hummed in response and rolled over. Connor's lips fanned into a soft smile as he gazed at her slumbering form.

…

Connor sat in Josh's office with Wren, though she seemed absent. They discussed the books Josh had given them, going over some of the themes and interesting parts. They lingered on Waiting by Ha Jin. Connor and Josh went back and forth over who the main character truly loved –his mistress or his wife.

"That's the thing, though," Wren interrupted dully. Connor and Josh looked at her. "He doesn't know who he loves. He has no self, so he can't really discern what he truly wants in a relationship. That's what his sexual fantasy dream meant. She was a faceless woman. He's in love with the idea of a perfect love, but that's just a dream. He will always be waiting for life to lead him, waiting for something to happen. He leaves his wife, only to want to go back to her. So he's going to wait for his mistress to die. But when she does, and he goes back to his wife, he'll be waiting for something else."

Josh's eyebrows raised and a smile lit up his face. "Have you ever thought about teaching?"

Wren snorted softly. She rested her head on her knuckles. "No, I wouldn't know how to teach this to someone. I don't even get ideas until someone kind of leads me into it."

Connor furrowed his brow. He exchanged a glance with Josh, who wore a similar expression. Josh leaned forward. "Wren, are you okay?"

"Yeah, why?"

"You seem… frustrated."

"Oh," said Wren, rubbing her forehead, "I'm just tired."

Connor's lips tugged downward. Her reasoning was not unlikely, per se, but her attitude seemed to stem from something deeper than just lack of sleep. They left Josh's office after a while to stop by North's.

North beamed at them as they entered. "Hey, guys."

"Hey," said Wren, plopping into the chair across from North's desk. Connor pulled up another one and sat beside her. He offered North a small smile in greeting.

"Connor, do you just… alternate between grey blazers? You know there are other colors, right?" North said, narrowing her eyes at Connor's clothes.

He glanced down at himself. "I… I have a black one as well. And a darker grey one."

"Oh boy," North muttered with a roll of her eyes. "Next time we go shopping, you're coming with us. Which reminds me…" She opened a drawer to her desk and withdrew an envelope. "This came for you yesterday."

"Me?" Connor queried, taking the envelope.

"Just read it," said North, biting her lip to hide a grin.

Connor opened up the envelope and withdrew a thick piece of paper with cursive writing on it.

You are cordially invited to CyberLife's charity GALA in honor of the Android Liberation Movement.

Connor blinked, scanning the address, date and time of the event. He frowned and looked up at North. "CyberLife?"

"It's not what it sounds like," said North, watching as Connor handed the invitation for Wren to look over. "Markus has been in contact with Elijah Kamski. He's partnering with Markus to take over CyberLife. It'll be like a hospital and research center specifically for androids. We can ensure the continuity of our species, make sure prototype models like yourself have biocomponent replacements in case of an emergency, things like that."

"How long has this negotiation been going on?" Connor queried as Wren handed the invitation back to him.

"Markus contacted Kamski after CyberLife shut down shortly after the liberation. They've been negotiating ever since."

Connor looked down at the invitation. "Why me?"

"You're considered one of the leaders of the liberation," said North, lifting an eyebrow. "You awakened all those androids at the CyberLife Tower. It was your idea. Without all those androids, there would only be a few hundred of us. The soldiers might not have retreated from the camps. You were very influential, whether you feel like you were or not," said North, her lips quirking.

Connor felt Wren's eyes on him. His cheeks warmed. "Oh."

North smirked. "And you have a plus one."

"Plus one?" Connor queried, lifting his head.

"Yeah, a date," said North. Her eyes flicked to Wren. "You'll need to get a suit and your date will need a dress. Or suit. Whoever you ask needs to be dressed to the nines."

"Oh," Connor said again. He cleared his throat. "I'll think about it."

North's smirk widened. She turned to Wren, her amusement fading. "An ST300 came by the other day. Sidney. She said you'd sent her."

Wren perked up, straightening in her chair. "How is she?"

"As you'd expect," said North, her brow puckering. "But I made sure she got the help she needed. That was really nice of you to send her my way."

Wren shrugged, pink tinging her cheeks. "I felt bad for her, like she had no one. I knew you'd make sure she felt cared for."

North's lips pulled into a soft smile. It faltered after a moment. "Wren, are you okay? You look dead inside."

Connor looked at Wren, expecting her to brush North off, but Wren's shoulders slumped and she looked at the floor as she mumbled, "I dreamt about my parents last night."

Connor's lips parted. His chest clenched. Why had he not asked? He had just accepted her reasoning.

"And?" North prompted. Connor pinched his brow. North could stand to be a little less callous.

"And… I don't know. Sometimes, I gain a memory based off something I encounter, and… I know it wasn't real, that it was just a dream, but I was happy. I had parents and a brother, and we were hiking… When I woke up, I missed them. How can I miss people that I don't even remember?" Wren looked up, her brows pushed together and her eyes glistening. Connor's chest tightened.

"If you've found your parents, why don't you go see them?" North pressed, her brow pinching.

"It's not that simple."

North sighed. "It is that simple, Wren."

"I just haven't decided, okay? On the one hand, of course I want to see my parents. On the other, I'm terrified that if I see them, they'll tell me about who I used to be and that I was some shitty person or something."

"The indecision is what's making you miserable, though. Either act or don't. Not deciding is torturing you. You need to decide to close that door or walk through it." North shrugged.

"Oh, like you have with your past?" Wren snapped. Connor's eyes stretched as he glanced between the two women.

North seemed unaffected by Wren's scathing tone, however. "I've come to terms with it. I chose to close that door and haven't looked back since. I'm okay with my decision. But if you choose to walk away from your parents because you're afraid, you can't bitch about missing them, too."

Connor frowned. "North…"

"She's right. I need to make a decision," Wren sighed. She folded her arms. "Do I want to be a coward or do I want to face this?"

"You don't strike me as a coward, Wren," said North. "I think you and I understand that in order to get what we want, we have to fight for it. Whether that be physically or just facing something like this, we know what we have to do. Don't let fear stand in your way."

Wren sucked in a deep breath. "Okay. Thanks for letting me bitch."

"Anytime," North chirped. She turned to Connor. "You're coming to the gala, or I will kidnap you myself."

Connor lifted a brow as he and Wren stood to leave. "Threatening the police, North?"

"You don't scare me," North challenged.

Connor smirked. "I should. I'm one of the leaders of the liberation."

North laughed. "That's the spirit."

They left North's office and headed toward Markus's, only to find him locking it. He brightened when he saw Connor and Wren. "Hey. I didn't expect you two here."

"We asked Josh if we could visit," said Wren. Connor glanced at her. She still seemed rather conflicted.

Markus's brow wrinkled. "Are you okay?"

Wren snorted. "Geez, I must really look like someone kicked my puppy if everyone's asking."

Markus's lips twitched. "Usually you seem livelier. And you look like you haven't slept. Is everything okay?"

Wren laughed. "Honestly?"

Connor nodded along with Markus.

Wren's smile vanished. "No."

Markus looked between them. "Are you guys busy?"

"No," said Connor, "we were just going to head home."

Markus clucked his tongue thoughtfully. "I was about to head out. You guys wanna join me?"

…

Colorful popped into Connor's mind as he stepped into Carl Manfred's house. Mansion, really. It contrasted Hank's house immensely. Connor liked the colorfulness to Carl's abode. At first, Connor and Wren protested to Markus taking them to Carl's, as Markus visited Carl every weekend to paint. Markus assured them that they would not be intruding, and that Carl wanted to meet some of Markus's friends. Carl met North and Josh already, so it was only natural that he meet Connor and Wren.

Connor smiled placidly as Carl rolled into the foyer, his skin dotted with age. His thin lips quirked upward. "You must be Connor. Markus spoke highly of you. I'm Carl." He extended his wrinkled hand.

Connor suppressed a smile and shook Carl's hand. "Likewise, Carl."

Carl looked at Wren. "You must be Wren."

Wren raised her eyebrows. "Oh. Yes sir."

Carl chuckled. "No need to call me sir. Makes me feel old." He shook Wren's hand.

"You are old," said Markus, his lips upturning.

"I don't feel old," said Carl. "That's the secret to immortality." He winked at Wren and tapped his temple.

Another android, an AP700 model, stepped into the foyer. "I'll be back in a few hours, Mr. Manfred."

"Thank you, Matthew," said Carl, smiling pleasantly. Matthew dipped his head and left the house. Carl turned to Connor, Wren and Markus. "So, who's ready to paint?"

They followed Carl through the foyer, into the living room and through a set of sliding doors. They stepped into a massive studio. Carl turned his wheelchair to face Connor and Wren. "I saw you march with the androids, Connor. Very impressive."

Connor's cheeks heated. "Oh. All I did was march."

"You did more than that," said Markus, setting up three easels. He walked over to the edge of the studio to grab three blank canvases.

Carl glanced at Markus, his eyes twinkling. "I was so proud of Markus." He looked at Connor. "I'm proud of all androids. I'm sure this hasn't been easy. I know I've had to help Markus through his fair share of difficulties. Even North has approached me for advice. She's a nice girl. Fiery, but all women have their fire."

Connor glanced at Wren, whose lips twitched as she met Carl's gaze. Markus handed out palettes and paintbrushes. Connor approached the white canvas, his brow furrowing. "I… I don't know how to paint." His cheeks burned.

"Me neither," admitted Wren. Connor's systems cooled, knowing that Wren shared his discomfort.

"Oh, it's easy," said Carl, rolling his chair behind Connor and Wren. Markus had already begun working on his painting. "Close your eyes and imagine giving shape to your feelings and abstractions. What colors are they? What do they look like? Envision something that doesn't exist in the physical world." Immediately, the Zen Garden violated Connor's mind. "Think of your emotions tied to it… What do they look like? How does it change? Turn this abstraction into something tangible, into art."

Connor opened his eyes and jumped to work. He lost track of time as he painted the Zen Garden, blistered with winter. He painted figures without faces, but they were distinguishable to him. He painted himself on his knees, wearing his old CyberLife-issued jacket. Amanda held a hand on his shoulder. He reached forward. Connor added figures in the back. He painted Josh, Tina and Chris. He painted Markus a bit closer and North closer still. The two closest figures reached for Connor's figure. He kept the lighting around the figures of his friends soft and pastel, while Amanda's and his own figure were hushed in darkness, except for the hand of Connor's that reached toward Hank and Wren's figures.

Connor set down his palette and paintbrush, satisfied with his work. Carl rolled over. "Connor, that's beautiful. The way the light centers around these figures show signs of hope and the darkness around this one shows despair… Very insightful."

Connor's chest puffed out, though he avoided Markus's curious gaze. Carl drifted over to Wren. Connor moved to get a clearer view of her painting. At first, it looked like black scribbles. Then, Connor realized that it was a figure on their knees, their head buried in their hands. He figured that Wren kept the portrait messy intentionally. It tugged at his thirium pump.

"You seem to be experiencing a lot of inner turmoil, dear," said Carl quietly.

Wren shifted her weight to her hip. "Oh. It's just a painting."

"The art we create is a direct reflection of ourselves, Wren. It communicates with the people who look at it. If I were to look at Markus's painting, I'd say he's a man striving for peace and equality."

Connor walked over to Markus's painting. Two hands, one dripping in red and the other dripping in blue, reached for each other, their fingers brushing. Human and android. Connor returned to Wren's painting, Markus joining them with folded arms.

Wren frowned. "He's your son, Mr. Manfred."

"Not convinced?" Carl guessed, his eyebrows lifting. "This is the first time I've met Connor. Looking at his art, I'd say he's a man struggling inwardly as well. I'd guess that there's someone or something that makes him feel trapped, be it himself or an actual person. But he's aware of the people who care about him that reach for him in his life, and he wants to connect with them, too. He sees them as his salvation."

Coldness struck Connor's thirium pump. He worked his jaw and shifted, icy heat tingling down his spine and to his fingertips. He glanced at Wren, who avoided his gaze. She crossed her arms.

"And I'd say you're a woman struggling with a lot of inner darkness and pain. You feel you're breaking apart and you feel you don't know yourself," Carl said as he tilted his head, staring at Wren, whose face flushed pink. Connor furrowed his brow. He wished he could take Wren's pain. Carl reached for Wren's hand. She took his hand, her brow wrinkling. "I don't say this to trouble you, dear."

"Yeah, I'm already pretty troubled, apparently," Wren joked weakly.

Carl placed his other hand over Wren's. "Several months ago, before Markus was a deviant, he painted the portrait of a screaming man with no identity. Now, he's painting portraits that show humans and androids reaching each other and beginning to connect. He doesn't paint identity portraits anymore because he knows who he is now. A lot can change as events unfold. You'll grow from this, if you give yourself the chance."

Wren looked up from Carl, the color trickling from her face as she met Connor's gaze. His lips parted as he stared at her, unable to form coherent speech.

They left Carl's house shortly after, promising to return to paint again, to see how their perspectives changed. The ride to Jericho thudded with silence. Markus walked Connor and Wren to Hank's car.

"I'm sorry if Carl made you guys uncomfortable," said Markus. "He… He kind of peers right into your soul."

Connor glanced at the car keys in his palm, his brow pinching. Soul. He wondered if he possessed one. He doubted if he would ever receive an answer. He glanced at Wren, whose lips twitched. "I think we needed to hear what he said."

Markus patted Wren's shoulder. "We should all hang out some time, outside of Jericho. Carl keeps telling me to get 'the human experience.' Maybe we can all catch a movie or something."

"Yeah, that sounds fun," said Wren, nodding. She seemed tired, though she smiled. Connor nodded, offering Markus a mile twitch of his lips. Markus left them with a dip of his head. Connor climbed into the driver's seat while Wren slid into the passenger side. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes.

For a while, Connor assumed that Wren had fallen asleep. Then, she croaked, "You painted the Zen Garden and Amanda, didn't you?"

He shifted. "Yes."

"I'm sorry if I uprooted any anxiety by asking about it."

"You didn't," Connor assured her. His brow pinched. "I needed to talk about it. I need to face it."

"I'm here if you need me," said Wren.

Connor pulled into the driveway. He shut the engine off and twisted in his seat to look at her. "So am I," he said. Wren peered at him under a furrowed brow. Connor leaned toward her. "I'm here if you need me."

Wren stared at him. For a moment, Connor feared that he crossed some sort of line. Wren's eyes sparkled with unshed tears. She pursed her lips and wrapped her arms around his neck. Connor froze.

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Wren buried her face in the crook of his neck, dampening his synthetic skin with her tears. Connor wrapped his arms around her slowly, feeling her warmth pressed against him. He turned his head, pressing his cheek against her hair.

"I wasn't alone in the Garden," he murmured.

"I noticed." Wren's voice sounded more like a whimper.

Connor's brow pinched and his throat constricted. He swallowed. "Are you alright?"

"I… I don't know." She gripped him tighter. Connor mimicked the gesture. "I know I'm not alone in the Garden, though."

One corner of Connor's mouth quirked upward. He held Wren until she was ready to let go, which was not long after her statement. She pulled away, her eyelashes clumped together with wetness. The end of her nose glowed red. The dark circles under her eyes seemed more pronounced. Connor drew his eyebrows together.

"You should really get some sleep tonight," he said.

Wren nodded. "I'll try."

They exited the car and entered the house. Hank stood in the kitchen doorway, his cell phone in hand. "Where have the two of you been? I was just about to call."

"I'm sorry," said Connor, shutting the front door, "I should've called and told you where we were."

"You're adults," Hank shrugged. "You don't need permission or anything." He frowned and squinted at them. "What's all over your hands? Is that… paint?"

Connor looked at the dried paint flecks on his hands. He exchanged a glance with Wren, who smiled softly. She turned to Hank. "Markus took us to Carl Manfred's house to paint."

Hank blinked spastically. "Carl… Manfred. You got painting lessons… from Carl Manfred," he muttered. He blew out a breath. "How was it?"

Wren glanced at Connor again. He looked at Hank, his lips slanting with a smirk. "Therapeutic."

"Smart-ass," grumbled Hank. He looked at Wren. "You look like you've been crying. Everything okay?"

Wren's humor faded as she bobbed her head. "I… I, uh, did some soul-searching today."

"Oh?" Hank queried, his eyebrows raising as he crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe. "Find anything interesting?"

"Sort of," said Wren, her voice shaking a little. She straightened and lifted her chin. "I want to see my parents."

...…

A/N: Would you guys be interested in me listing a song for each chapter? The song may or may not have inspired certain chapters, but I have a Connor/Wren playlist that helps me write for them, with some instrumentals and some vocals. I mean, this isn't a songfic, but idk. Chance for new music, possibly.

Also, next chapter is going to be a doozy, so it might be a while before I can update. Thank you guys so much for being so supportive and understanding! Thank you for your follows, faves and reviews! I love seeing your play-by-plays. They keep me alive! (Jk, but they really do brighten my day). Love y'all!