Chapter Nineteen
Connor stared at his hands, sticky with Wren's blood.
She fell back and he caught her, lowering her to the ground as she gazed up at him, her eyes taking on a glassy sheen. Connor cradled Wren's head as her breath escaped her mouth in rasps. Connor sensed Creta Shaw raising her gun to kill him. He lifted his gun and fired the last bullet into Creta's head. He dropped the gun and looked to Wren. Blood gushed from the wound and she jerked with spasms. His metal heart fluttered.
Hank paced the waiting room, rubbing the back of his head. He paused after a moment, stopping in front of Connor.
"I want to ride with her," Connor insisted, stepping toward the ambulance. Hank grabbed him by the arms while a paramedic told him no. Connor's mouth fell open and he looked at Wren, his eyes wide. She couldn't see him. She mouthed something, but Connor wasn't quite sure what she said. He could've sworn that she had whispered, "Let him."
"Go wash that off," Hank said, gesturing to Connor's hands.
Connor blinked the burning from his eyes and focused on his hands. The blood had dried into reddish brown streaks that smelled like rust. He tried moving his fingers, but the dried blood acted like an adhesive, tugging at his synthetic skin in a way that made his metal heart lurch.
"I'd like to wait for news, Hank."
"We're gonna be waiting a while, kid," said Hank, placing his hands on his hips. "She won't be out of surgery for a while."
Connor pressed his lips together. He knew Hank was right. He pried his hands apart and stood with a tight nod. He crossed the lobby and trekked to the bathroom. He turned on the faucet and stuck his hands in the steady stream of water. He watched as flakes of blood slid off his skin and disappeared down the drain. He rubbed his hands together, scraped under his nails and added soap to his scrubbing. Eventually, the blood on his hands washed off. He flicked the faucet off and met his gaze in the mirror, gripping the sides of the sink, ignoring the bloodstains on the hems of his sleeves.
Blood splattered his clothes.
He heard the bullet ripping through Wren's body. His sensitive audio input heard the metal plunge through her organs, heard the crack of bone, heard the gasp that hissed from her lungs. The bullet lodged in her body. His limbs shook as he cradled her. Blood spurted when he applied pressure to the wound after executing Creta. It stained his shirt. His face felt wet.
Blood flecked his skin, mingling with his freckles. He switched the water back on and rinsed his face. He dragged his hands down his face, tugging at the synthetic skin. He looked at himself and turned off the water once more.
He looked exhausted. He sucked in a ragged breath to assist his cooling systems.
Why? Why had she done that? It was far easier to repair him than her. His chest tightened and he left the bathroom abruptly, trembling.
He returned to the waiting room and sat down, clasping his hands together. Hank sat across from him, balancing his elbows on his knees.
"It should've been me," Connor muttered, his voice cracking.
"We all wish we could take her place, kid. It's not your fault," replied Hank.
Connor shook his head. Pressure built behind his eyes. "Shaw aimed for me, but… Wren… She jumped in front of it. She took the shot for me." Connor raised his head, his vision blurring. "Why? Why would she do that?"
Hank blew out a long breath. "Sometimes… People will do anything to protect the ones they care about."
Connor's throat tightened. He bowed his head. "The whole time I was trying to stop the bleeding, I… I felt… I felt… scared. I was scared, Hank."
"Yeah," nodded Hank, "me too."
"Why?"
"I love her too, kid."
Connor blinked rapidly. His breath hitched. Love?
love
[ləv]
an intense feeling of deep affection
Connor's artificial heartbeat quickened and his hands tightened around one another. He clenched his jaw.
"Connor? You alright? Your thingy's going crazy," said Hank, tapping his temple.
Connor stared at the floor. "Hank?"
"Yeah?"
"H-how do you know… the difference between…" Connor pursed his lips and flared his nostrils as he struggled to find the right words. "A parent loves their child in a different way than they love their partner, correct?"
"Yeah…" said Hank. Connor didn't need to look at him to know that Hank raised an eyebrow.
"How do you know the difference between the two loves?" Connor queried. He refused to look at Hank, warmth flushing his cheeks.
"Well… That's not an easy question to answer," Hank muttered.
Connor looked up, squishing his eyebrows together. "Please?"
Hank sighed. "Think of it this way: there's a basic foundation that love kind of forms. But there are different levels to it. Or, branches would be a better way to describe it, I guess. Familial love has its own branch, platonic has its own, romantic has its own… You get the idea. But they all stem from the same trunk."
Connor's frown deepened and he lowered his gaze. "But how do you know which is which?"
"Most people just sort of know," said Hank. "I think it's different for everybody. Sometimes romantic love has sexual feelings, sometimes it doesn't. Whatever floats your boat, ya know?"
Connor gritted his teeth. He didn't know. He knew that the love he had for Hank differed from the love he had for Wren. He widened his eyes. Did he love her? Was that why his chest tightened at the thought of losing her?
Blood flowed over his hands. He felt Wren's heartbeat growing fainter. His artificial heart jumped, sending a fresh electrical current through his circuits. He struggled to breathe. It did nothing to keep him alive, per se, but oxygen flowing through his systems gave him the appearance of humanity as well as cooled his systems. He was in danger of overheating from choking on his own breath. He tried not to look at Wren's face, but he also couldn't help but look at her. His thirium pump stuttered –and Connor was vaguely aware that it hurt –at the thought that this might be the last time he looked at Wren's face.
"Look, Connor…" said Hank quietly, "If you're askin' these sorts of questions, then I think you might know the answer to 'em."
Connor's heart jumped, seemingly into his throat. He swallowed and let out a strangled breath. He clenched his teeth and swallowed.
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Connor hung his head even lower. The waiting gnawed at him. He wanted to hear something, anything.
"Tina, Chris and Gavin are on their way," said Hank, looking at his phone.
Connor raised his head and blinked blearily. He widened his eyes and pushed up from his seat. "I'm going to call North." He left the waiting room and entered the hall, which was vacant of people. Connor's lips parted at the night sky. It had been late afternoon when they'd arrived. Had it already been three hours?
North answered on the second ring. "Hey, Connor. How are you?"
Connor opened his mouth, but his voice caught. He cleared his throat. "Wren's been shot."
"What?" North demanded. "What the fuck happened? Is she…?"
"I-I don't know," Connor whispered. He rubbed his face. "She's in surgery."
"Holy shit," North breathed. "I'm coming over. What hospital are you at?"
"Henry Ford," Connor muttered.
"Okay." North's voice trembled. "Are you okay?"
"I'm…" Connor closed his eyes. "I'm okay."
"We'll be there soon," said North.
"Okay." Connor hung up and stared out the window for several seconds. The door to the hall opened. Connor paid it no mind, but when he felt a hand on his shoulder, he glanced at the newcomer.
Tina gazed up at him, her brow furrowed. Tears welled in her eyes. Connor looked down at her with a set jaw. Tina bit her lip. "What happened?"
Connor averted her gaze and ground his teeth. "She took the shot for me."
Tina bowed her head. "That idiot." She looked up, inhaling sharply. "Not saying she's an idiot for saving you, of course."
"I understand," Connor said hoarsely, looking out the window. "I feel the same way." He curled his hands into fists.
"Hey," said Tina, resting a hand in between his shoulder blades, "she'll be okay. She's tough."
"Toughness doesn't keep a bullet from collapsing your lung, Officer Chen."
"Maybe not," Tina allowed. Connor offered no reply. Tina left the hallway.
Connor's throat constricted. He knew he should not be so harsh with Tina. She was only trying to offer comfort. He gripped the railing beside the window and bowed his head. His hands shook. Something akin to nausea surged through the thirium powering his biocomponents.
Why couldn't it have been him? He would give anything to take her place.
…
North, Markus and Josh arrived within the hour. Connor didn't even stand to greet them. He sat in the chair closest to the receptionist's desk, glancing up every time a doctor or nurse walked past. The three leaders of Jericho chatted with Hank. North and Tina embraced, and Tina filled North in as best she could. Connor wanted to be left alone. But Markus did not seem to want that to happen, so he walked over and sat down beside Connor.
"You can't blame yourself, Connor."
Connor's brow twitched. He chose to remain silent. How could he not blame himself? Wren took a bullet meant for him. He should be the one getting repaired. Wren should be in the waiting room, worried about him, not in surgery fighting for her life. Why couldn't she have just let him get shot?
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Markus balanced his elbows on his knees. "I blamed myself for Simon's death for a long time. But I realized he did what any of us would've done to protect Jericho. You can't control the actions of others, Connor. You can only control what you do."
Connor stared at the floor. His throat swelled with a lump. He clenched his teeth and swallowed. His eyes slid shut, hoping to alleviate the burning and pricking. Markus stood to join the others after patting Connor's shoulder. Fat tears welled in Connor's eyes. He worked his jaw, trying to hold them back.
After another hour of no news, Gavin left, saying he would do Wren's paperwork for her. Tina promised to call if there was any news. Chris left, too. He had a wife and son to get back to, but he would be back as soon as he got news. Tina, the androids of Jericho, Hank and Connor remained. Tina left the waiting room to grab food from the vending machine down the hall. She paced the halls, circling back every ten minutes for news. Hank stood from his seat and sat beside Connor.
"You need to get fixed up," said Hank, gesturing to the graze in Connor's arm. He glanced down at the flickering blue lights, exposing his innerworkings. He tightened his jaw and returned his gaze back to the floor.
"I will when I know she's okay."
Hank sighed. "Connor… You need to prepare yourself for the possibility that she might not be okay."
Connor wrinkled his brow as his thirium pump seemed to twist. Was this what Kamski meant about tragedy? Humans were so fragile compared to androids. Androids could deteriorate. They could be destroyed or damaged, but it took far more to kill an android than it did to kill a human. Could it all be over so quickly? Could Wren be snatched from him without so much as a goodbye?
The burning pressure in Connor's eyes returned. He drew in a shuddering breath. "I… I don't want her to die, Hank." He hated how small his voice sounded. He hated how it trembled and cracked.
Hank draped an arm over Connor's shoulders. "Me neither, son."
Connor leaned into Hank and closed his eyes, his chest aching. Please, let her live.
…
They waited for seven hours, thirty-six minutes and twenty-nine seconds. Tina slumbered in a chair in the corner, her knees drawn to her chest and her face pressed against the wall. Hank dozed in his seat, his head propped up by his hand. The leaders of Jericho sat together, facing Connor and Hank. No one spoke. Connor clasped his hands in front of him, his elbows resting on his thighs. He stared at the floor, his chest throbbing.
Dr. Willis entered the waiting room, carrying a tablet. "Are you all here for Wren Morgan?"
Connor's head jerked up. He stood, his legs shaking slightly. "How is she?"
Dr. Willis's lips twitched. "She's stable."
The room let out a collective sigh of relief. Hank stood, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Can we see her?"
"She is still unconscious," said Dr. Willis. "The anesthesia hasn't worn off yet. We had to insert a pneumothorax chest tube in order to seal the puncture and prevent her lung from collapsing. She lost a lot of blood, but we managed a transfusion and removed the bullet. She has a broken rib as well. We'll want to keep her here for at least a week to keep an eye on her. But we're optimistic that she'll make a full recovery."
Connor let out a noise crossed between a sigh and a whimper. Tension hissed out of his body like air from a tire. He closed his eyes and smiled slightly. She was alive, and was most likely going to make a full recovery. Connor was not a spiritual or religious android, but he thanked whatever governed the universe for Wren's life.
"Can we see her?" Connor asked, drawing his eyebrows together.
Dr. Willis sighed. "Family only at this point, I'm afraid."
"We're family," said Hank, gesturing to himself and Connor.
Dr. Willis pressed his lips together and nodded. "She won't be awake for a while, but you're welcome to sit with her until she wakes."
"Thank you," Connor breathed. He turned to the others, unable to form words. North offered him a smile.
"Go," she insisted, shooing him. "You should be there when she wakes up."
Connor nodded stiffly. He and Hank followed Dr. Willis down the hall and through a set of doors leading to intensive care patients. Connor's chest clenched as he walked. They stopped at room 317. Dr. Willis pushed open the door and Connor stepped inside. His breath hitched and his mouth fell open. He froze, staring at Wren in the hospital bed.
Her skin was too pale. Shadows darkened underneath her eyes. Her lips were chapped. Oxygen tubes ringed her face. An IV was inserted in the only brachial vein she had. Connor noted the pneumothorax vacuum beside the bed. He circled the bed, coming closer to her side. The pneumothorax tube was thick and inserted in her side. Connor's throat constricted at the sight of dark purple bruises spiderwebbing across her torso. He swallowed the lump in his throat, but it seemed to lodge in his chest, weighing it down. He sank into a chair beside Wren's bed. The heart monitor beeped steadily. Connor didn't know if it comforted or unnerved him.
"Jesus," Hank breathed, covering his mouth. Connor parted his lips and gazed down at Wren, feeling his artificial heartbeat in his fingertips. "I… I can't look at this, kid."
Connor tore his eyes away from Wren to look at Hank, who stared at the ceiling, his eyes glassy. Connor's chest tightened even more. He knew Hank thought of Cole, staring at Wren in her hospital bed, kept alive with tubes and wires.
Hank cleared his throat. "I'm gonna go home, get some sleep… Take care of some things… Feed Sumo… Are you…?"
"I'm okay," Connor croaked. "I'll stay."
Hank jerked a nod. "Alright. I'll, uh, let the others know." He edged toward Connor, patted his shoulder and hurried out of the room. Connor furrowed his brow. He lacked the energy to go after Hank and ensure that the lieutenant was okay. He turned his head and looked back at Wren, watching her chest rise and fall with labored breaths. He pulled his chair closer to bed. He glanced at her hand. A clip around her finger measured her thirium levels. The heart monitor was connected directly to her chest. Connor curled his hands around Wren's, careful not to disturb the clip around her finger. His touch was featherlight, but he still relished the feeling of her synthetic skin against his. How many times had she held his hand in comfort?
Connor looked at her face, his eyes pricking with heavy tears again. His lips parted and the breath rushed out of his systems. Suddenly, he knew. He knew why he was so afraid to lose her. He knew the difference between his feelings for Hank and his feelings for Wren. He loved her.
Path Unlocked: Wren▲⌂
…
Connor bowed his head and stared at his hands. He had released his hold on Wren's hand, not wanting her to wake up and find him holding her.
[WARNING: Damage Detected, Low Energy Levels]
Connor knew standby mode would remedy his energy levels. The loss of thirium and damage to his arm drained his energy, along with the stress that accompanied the past eight –almost nine –hours. The thought of entering standby and not seeing Wren awaken chilled the thirium in his body. His eyes slid shut as another ache throbbed in his thirium pump.
"Connor?"
He snapped his eyes open and looked at Wren. She peered at him through half-lidded eyes. Her brow pinched. Connor parted his lips, but no sound ushered forth. Now that he knew she was awake and alive –that she was okay –he felt his fear trickle away and bubble into something else. It seemed to boil the thirium in his artificial veins. He clenched his teeth and scowled down at his hands.
"Why would you do that?" He barely heard himself. Heat flooded into his cheeks and he pressed his lips together.
"You could've been killed," Wren replied. She sounded unbothered. Connor narrowed his eyes and looked at her.
"You could've been killed," he snapped. "You nearly were. It's far simpler to repair an android than it is to perform life-saving surgery on a human, let alone a cyborg. You should've let me take the shot."
Wren's brow wrinkled. "I couldn't let you…" Her voice broke and Connor's metal heart hurt. Wren looked away from him. "I couldn't let you die." She lolled her head to look back at him, tears sparkling in her eyes. "You're not replaceable, Connor. I-I didn't even think about it. I just… I just did it. You're my best friend."
Connor shook his head. "You're my best friend." He scraped his teeth together. "How do you think I would feel if you died because of me?"
Wren shook her head. "It wouldn't be your fault, Connor. I know… I know it would feel horrible, I know you would blame yourself… But… I…" She drew in a shaky breath. Connor's heart stung. He felt incredibly selfish for pressuring her like this. He looked at her, parting his lips. Tears tracked the sides of Wren's face. "I care about you, Connor. If anything were to happen to you…"
Connor screwed his eyes shut and lowered his head. He knew what she meant. RA9, he knew. Because he had just experienced it. He watched her blood wash down the drain and off his hands. He saw her so close to death. She had almost been ripped away from him. He'd had his thirium pump regulator ripped from his body before, but the thought of losing Wren felt worse. He exhaled unsteadily. His hands trembled. He folded them to hide it.
"Never do something like that for me again." His voice was firm, even cold. He lifted his eyes to meet Wren's.
"I can't promise you that, Connor," she whispered.
Connor worked his jaw and scowled. "Wren, it doesn't make sense for you to risk your life like that. I can take a shot. It doesn't hurt me. It won't take me weeks to recover. It isn't logical for you to do that for me."
"Fuck logic," Wren snapped. Connor clamped his mouth shut. Wren glowered at him, gripping the sheets at her sides. "You can be angry with me if you want. I am not going to promise you that. Maybe my actions don't make sense to you because I didn't act based on logic, but… I don't expect you to understand. I took a bullet for you and I would do it again, logic be damned."
Connor opened and closed his mouth. He tightened his jaw and looked away from her. He pursed his lips. He wanted her to think logically because it would save her life. He didn't care about the logistics… He would much rather be the one taking a bullet for her. He just couldn't bring himself to say it. He pushed a hot breath through his nostrils and closed his eyes.
"I… I'm not angry with you, Wren," he murmured. "I… You… You shouldn't risk yourself like that for me."
"I'd tell you the same thing if you were in my place," Wren mumbled. Connor glanced up at her. Her eyelids drooped. She was exhausted, and rightly so. Connor closed his eyes for a moment.
"Get some rest, Wren," he sighed. Wren's head slumped to her shoulder, her eyes already closed. Her heartbeat slowed. Connor's lips twitched at the sight of her and the ache in his chest ebbed. He reached for her hand and squeezed it gently. He didn't want to get his hopes up, that the reason she did this was because she loved him, too. She cared about him, sure. But he knew her well. She would take a bullet for Hank, or Tina, or North, or Markus… She'd take a bullet for any of them. He wasn't special, no matter how much he wished he was.
…
Connor finally allowed Dr. Willis to tend to the damage in his arm. Though, Connor insisted that he remain in Wren's room. He sat in a chair without his shirt while Dr. Willis reconnected wires. He heated the plastic of Connor's skin and pressed the damaged ends together, melding them into one.
"It won't leave much of a mark," said Dr. Willis. "A very faint line at most. Drink this." He handed Connor a small glass of thirium 310, which Connor downed. Immediately, his systems seemed more alert.
"Thank you," said Connor, moving to put on his shirt.
"Don't," said Dr. Willis, "you'll upset the pliable plastic. Give it a few minutes to cool. Also, your systems are low on energy. I recommend going into standby in the evenings. We've noticed a correlation in low energy levels and emotional stress in androids lately. When was the last time you went into standby?"
Connor frowned. "November 9, 2038."
Dr. Willis pursed his lips for a brief moment. "Androids need more rest than that, Connor. Especially deviants. Emotional distress wears your systems down. It can cause malfunctions in the future."
Connor lowered his head and nodded. "Alright. I will."
"Great. She's allowed to have visitors now, by the way. I'm going to send some of the ones waiting back here. They're crowding up the waiting room," said Dr. Willis. He smiled briefly before sweeping out of the room. Connor glanced at his arm for a moment. He decided to give it another minute before he put his shirt back on. He stood, careful not to mess with his newly repaired arm, and crossed over to the bed. He placed a hand on Wren's shoulder.
"Wren," he murmured. "Wake up."
Wren stirred. She frowned at Connor's naked chest. A blush crept up his neck. She looked up at him, her eyes wide. "What?"
"Dr. Willis is sending in some visitors," Connor said. Wren's eyes flicked to his chest before flashing back to his eyes. The heat prickling across Connor's back and chest spread to his face. He turned away and pulled on his shirt. He buttoned it evenly.
Wren pushed herself up, hissing. Connor strode over to her and helped her. "Thanks."
"You shouldn't strain yourself so much, Wren," he scolded gently.
Wren smiled, but it looked more like a grimace. North, Markus and Josh entered the hospital room, all three looking relieved. North rushed to Wren's bedside and pulled her into a gentle hug.
"You idiot," she huffed.
"Ow," Wren replied.
North released Wren quickly, her eyes wide. "First you get stabbed, now this… What's next?"
Wren grinned sheepishly. "Sorry. I'm really not trying to get myself killed; I promise."
North smiled. "We heard what happened. How are you feeling?"
"Like I got shot," Wren replied, wincing as she shifted. Connor pursed his lips and looked at the floor.
Markus leaned against the end of the hospital bed. "You scared us all for a minute there."
"Sorry," Wren replied. "How long have you guys been here?"
"Well, we've been here on and off for the past hour, because we had some meetings and work to tend to, but for the past four and a half hours. Connor called North and we rushed over," said Josh.
Wren's eyes rounded. "You… You guys didn't have to do that."
"Don't be stupid," said North. "You're our friend. You'd do it for us."
"Yeah, I would," Wren sighed. She flinched. Connor tried to ignore it, but it still stung his thirium pump to see her in pain.
"Your DPD friends will probably stop by. Tina and Hank are on their way. Tina said something about Chris stopping by later. Gavin's still at the station, taking care of your paperwork," said North.
Wren looked at her hands. "Oh."
"You okay?" Josh queried.
Wren looked up and smiled, though tears glistened in her eyes. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fantastic."
North snorted. "For a former assassin, you're a terrible liar."
Wren chuckled and a tear splashed down her cheek. "Sorry. It might be the painkillers. They kind of lower my inhibitions." She wiped the tears from her eyes. "I just didn't expect you guys to stay here that long and wait for me. It means a lot to me."
"Of course," said Markus. "As soon as you're able, you should come over and paint. You and North should both come. Carl says he misses you guys."
North's eyebrows raised. "Carl said that?"
"Yeah," said Markus, smiling. "He likes you guys."
Wren's lips twitched. "Yeah, I'll definitely do that. We should all go see a movie together sometime, too."
"Yeah," said Josh, brightening. "We hardly ever go out and do things."
"You guys are free but you're still working?" Wren grinned. "You're missing out on the 'human experience.'"
Connor folded his arms and twitched his lips, softening. Seeing Wren happy lifted the heaviness in his chest. He remained quiet for the majority of the Jericho leaders' visit, preferring to listen to Wren insist that they needed to get out more, and that she and Connor would take them to the museum. Eventually, Markus announced that they had another conference call to attend. Markus and Josh waved their farewell, but North paused before getting up to leave.
"Hey," she said quietly, "really try not to get stabbed or shot again. You scared us all. I like having friends, you know."
Wren nodded. "I'll try."
North smiled and stood. "I'll come back as soon as I can. Maybe we can watch a movie or something while you're here."
"Thank you," said Wren. Connor waved his farewell to North and turned to Wren. She smiled up at him. His eyes grazed over the shadows under her eyes. She still looked paler than usual, but some color returned to her cheeks.
"Do you need anything?"
"No, I'm okay," said Wren. She picked at her sheets. "Why wasn't Hank here?"
Connor stiffened. He worked his jaw, wondering how he should respond. "He… He waited until you were out of surgery. But when he saw you like this… I think it reminded him of Cole. He left to go home, insisting that he had to take care of some things."
"Oh," Wren muttered. "So he's not gonna come see me?"
"He is," Connor assured her, taking a seat. "He's on his way with Tina, remember?"
"Yeah," Wren yawned.
Connor frowned. "Would you like me to tell them to wait?"
"No, I'm fine," Wren insisted. "I'd like to see them."
When Tina arrived, she had brought a bag with Wren's iPod, headphones, favorite movies and some clothes. "You'll want the clothes when you checkout of the hospital. Can't have you leaving butt-ass naked."
Wren laughed and then placed a hand on her side. "Ow. Shit, don't make me laugh."
"Sorry," said Tina. Connor stood from the seat so that Tina could sit. Tina looked at him. "Hank's in the waiting room."
Connor nodded and looked at Wren. She smiled, encouraging him that she was okay. He left the room and found Hank in the waiting room, like Tina said. He smiled tiredly. "How's she doing?"
"She's alright. She's awake," said Connor.
"That told me very little about how she's doing," said Hank.
Connor sat down beside his friend with a small sigh. "I think the painkillers are minimalizing her pain. She's tired and a little emotional, but she's…" His voice caught. "She's okay."
"Good," said Hank, bobbing his head. "Sorry I left ya here alone… I figured you'd want a moment alone with her, anyway."
"Thank you," said Connor. He wrinkled his brow. "What did you take care of at the house?"
"I… I, uh… I was cleaning out Cole's old room. I moved Wren's stuff into it," said Hank.
Connor's eyes widened. He looked at Hank, who stared ahead. "Cole's room? Are you sure?"
"He's not gonna use it," said Hank, shrugging. He scowled. "Stop lookin' at me like that. Wren can't sleep on a couch when she gets outta here. We might have to get a new bed… I mean, a full size isn't too small, but she might feel weird using Cole's bed. I know I would. Look, it was time. I didn't throw his stuff out, I just put it away. The poor girl's got no privacy sleeping on the couch. It's time."
Connor's lips twitched. "I'm proud of you, Hank."
Hank glowered at him. "Don't make it fuckin' weird."
Connor leaned back in his chair. "She was disappointed that you weren't there when she woke up. I told her what you told me, if that's alright."
"Yeah, I've got nothin' to hide," said Hank, shifting in his seat. "I'll apologize to her. Just didn't like seeing her like that."
"Yeah," Connor muttered, "me neither."
"I know this was tough for you, kid." Hank patted Connor's shoulder. "I know you care for her."
Connor pursed his lips. "I… I think I love her, Hank."
"I know," Hank replied.
Connor pinched his brow and looked him. "You do?"
"Uh, yeah. I live with the two of you, remember? I've picked up on some things."
Connor looked at his hands. "But… I'm not even sure…"
"Sometimes it shows before you even realize it," said Hank heavily. He leaned over and withdrew a bundle from the backpack sitting at his feet. He handed the bundle to Connor. "Go change out of those nasty clothes. You look ridiculous walkin' around covered in blood. Red and blue."
Connor managed a small smile. "Thank you." He stood and headed for the bathroom, where he locked himself in a stall and changed into the clothes Hank brought. It felt rather freeing to remove his bloodstained clothes and dress in clean, crisp ones. He smoothed the wrinkles of the button-down and tucked it into his jeans before bunching up the dirty clothes and exiting the bathroom. He found Tina in the waiting room instead of Hank.
She smiled at him. "He's in there with Wren. You might wanna give them a moment."
Connor dipped his head. "Of course."
Tina wrinkled her brow and the corners of her mouth downturned. "How are you holding up through all this?"
Connor averted her gaze. "I'm not sure what you mean."
"I mean… You saw your best friend get shot. Anyone would be freaking out. I know I freaked out, and I didn't even see it. Gavin flipped, and he and Wren barely get along. I don't know how you held it together. I'd be a wreck."
Connor looked at the floor. "I'm… managing."
Tina placed a hand on his arm. He looked up to meet her surprisingly gentle gaze. "I'm here if you ever wanna talk, okay?"
Connor's throat constricted with a sharp lump. He swallowed and nodded hastily. "Okay. Thank you, Officer Chen."
Tina laughed. "Dude, you don't need to call me that. You can call me Tina."
Connor managed a smile. "Thank you, Tina."
She grinned and pushed her purse up her shoulder. "Alright, well, I gotta go feed my cat and deal with my stupid neighbor. I'll be back tomorrow. We'll all alternate visiting her so that she's not alone for too long. Nearly dying causes a shitshow of emotions and trauma. Don't be surprised if she starts having nightmares or something."
Connor nodded. "I understand."
"Yeah. See you around, Connor." Tina stepped around him and waved. Connor returned the gesture and headed back toward Wren's hospital room. He paused before entering.
"Please don't be mad at me, too," Wren said. Connor froze.
"I'm not mad, kid. I'm just telling you to be more careful."
"Jesus, I saved Connor's life. You both are acting like I was playing with a gun and accidentally shot myself."
"We just don't wanna lose you, kid."
Wren was quiet for several seconds. "Really?"
"You've grown on me, so what? And I know Connor's fond of you, too."
Connor hurried into the room before Hank could spill anymore secrets. "Thank you for the clothes, Hank." He put the dirty ones into the backpack.
"No problem," said Hank. He sat in the chair, his hands closed around one of Wren's. Tears tracked her cheeks.
Wren's eyelids drooped. She yawned. "I'm sorry. The medicine really knocks me out."
"Well, that's a good thing. It means you're not feeling the pain," said Hank.
Wren smiled, peering up at them through half-lidded eyes. "Not yet, anyway."
"I'll go pick up dinner. You'll be hungry when you wake up."
"That sounds… good…" Wren breathed. She opened her eyes suddenly. "You guys are going to stay the night, right? I don't… I don't want to be alone."
Connor's thirium pump twisted sharply. He nodded, reassuring her that of course he was not going anywhere. But Hank shook his head.
"I love ya kid, but I'm not sleeping in these hospital chairs. I'll bring dinner and we can watch a movie, but I'm gonna go home after that. Don't wanna leave Sumo alone for too long."
"Okay," Wren muttered.
"I'll stay," Connor assured her, offering her a small smile. Wren returned it weakly. Her head drooped to the side. Hank pressed a button, lowering the back of the bed so that Wren was not propped up in her sleep.
"Yeah, she's gonna be exhausted for the next couple of days. Don't be surprised if she falls asleep on ya."
Connor nodded and approached the other side of the bed. He placed a hand over Wren's forearm and gazed down at her. Warmth spread from his thirium pump and through the blue blood in his synthetic veins. He held back the desire to kiss her forehead. He frowned at himself, uncertain of where that want came from. He pulled away from her, his brow still furrowed. Hank failed to notice. He stood and stretched.
"Alright, I'll go pick something up for dinner."
"Not the Chicken Feed," Connor warned. "She needs something healthier."
"Alright, alright. Stop bustin' my balls about that. You know she has a love for fries and milkshakes. You gonna take that away from her?" said Hank, glowering.
"Of course not," said Connor circling the bed to the chair that Hank vacated. "But she doesn't have that every meal."
"I don't have Chicken Feed for every meal," retorted Hank. "I eat plenty of other unhealthy shit."
"Yes, I'm aware."
"Yeah, yeah. You don't even eat, so you can't tell me what to eat. If you tasted that healthy shit you keep trying to sneak into my diet –yeah, I see you switching out plain rice for quinoa –you'd wanna eat at the Chicken Feed, too. Anyway, Doc says she's supposed to stay on fluids right now, so I'll pick up some soup. That healthy enough for ya?" Hank paused by the doorway, raising his eyebrows to challenge Connor, who lifted a brow and quirked one corner of his mouth.
"It's a start."
Hank nodded. He moved to leave but stopped, poking his head back into the hospital room. "And uh, if you don't want anyone to know how you feel about her, you should probably stop looking at her like she's everything to you."
Connor gaped at Hank, who swept out of the room before the android could reply. He looked down at Wren, frowning. How was he supposed to do that?
…
Connor watched Wren eat while a movie played in the background. Hank called it Star Wars Episode I. Wren's hand shook as she ate her soup, and she winced every time she raised her arm. Connor pressed his lips together and tore his eyes away from her. He knew if he offered to help her, she would refuse. He returned his attention to the movie. Hank laughed ridiculously loud at some of the lines in the movie. Wren giggled (and hissed in pain) with him.
Connor liked the movie, but understood why Hank and Wren laughed at some of the lines once they explained that the lines were cheesy. Connor's lips twisted with a small smile as he watched.
"Next time you take a turn in the car, you need to say, 'Now this is pod-racing!'" Wren snickered when the movie ended.
Hank chuckled. "I'll try to remember that. Alright." He stood and stretched. "You good?"
Wren nodded. "Yeah. I'm good."
"I'll see you in the morning, kid." Hank waved in farewell to Wren and Connor. He left the hospital room. Wren pressed a button on her bed to summon the nurse to help her get ready for bed. Connor backed out of the room to allow her some privacy. Dr. Willis strode past.
"Hello, Connor," he greeted. He stopped to face Connor.
"Dr. Willis," said Connor, dipping his head.
Dr. Willis looked toward Wren's hospital room. "I was just about to check on her. How is she doing, from a non-medical perspective?"
"She said it hurts to laugh. She tried to hide her pain whenever she moved as well," said Connor.
Dr. Willis sighed. "Unfortunately, we've begun to ween her off the morphine. I'm going to prescribe her some painkillers to take home. They won't be nearly as strong, of course. One will be for the evening and the other for the day. The evening one will help her sleep. The good news is that I will most likely remove the pneumothorax tube in a day or two. Her lung seems to be healing nicely."
Tension eased from Connor's body. He managed a small smile. "Thank you, Dr. Willis."
"Of course," said Dr. Willis. He raised his eyebrows. "Go into standby tonight, Connor. You've been dealing with a tremendous amount of emotional stress lately. It'll start to show in your functionality.
[WARNING: Elevated Thirium Pump Speed _ Initializing _ Regulation]
Connor offered a strained smile. "Yes, Dr. Willis."
Dr. Willis dipped his head, but frowned. "Are you alright?"
Connor lowered his gaze. "Do you know anything about graphic interfaces?"
"A little," said Dr. Willis, "why?"
"Do androids ever report going to their graphic interface when going into standby post-deviancy?" Connor queried, his eyes widening.
Dr. Willis shook his head and Connor relaxed. "Not that I've heard. I've heard that androids are capable of experiencing something akin to dreams, but there is very little research on the matter. But if you experience this, just exit standby. There's nothing to worry about."
Dr. Willis left Connor to check on Wren. Connor released a heavy sigh and entered the room. The nurse administered some medicine via Wren's IV. Dr. Willis and the nurse left, leaving Connor alone with Wren. He sat beside her bed. She glanced toward her heart monitor, listening to the beat slow into something steadier.
"It's like a countdown for when I'll fall asleep," Wren yawned. The corners of Connor's mouth twitched.
"Dr. Willis has suggested I go into standby more often," he murmured, lowering his gaze. Wren shifted out of the corner of his eye. He turned to look at her.
"Are you scared?" Wren mumbled, her eyes drooping.
"A little," Connor admitted.
Wren's eyes closed. "I'm right here… if you need me…"
Connor's lips curved into a tender smile. He placed a hand over hers. "I know."
He watched her for a moment, a softness spreading through his body. He wanted to take her hand, like he had seen in the movies. He wanted to press his lips to her knuckles, to see her smile as he kissed her forehead. He wanted to hold her close, like he had seen Christian hold Satine in Moulin Rouge. He bowed his head and leaned back in his chair.
/Systems check… ok/
/Initiating standby mode… ok/
Connor's eyes slid shut and the world around him dimmed to silence.
…
"Fucking androids," said Creta. Connor turned, his brow furrowing. Creta raised her gun, aiming for him. He tensed, calculating how much time he had to respond and act to minimalize the damage. But an uncontrollable variable rendered his calculations superfluous.
Wren's body took the bullet and Connor lunged forward to catch her as she fell back. He lowered her to the ground. He executed Creta and looked back at Wren. She choked on the blood surging up her throat. Her body convulsed. Connor placed his hands over the wound, blood pouring over his fingers. No, no, no, no. This was too much. Wren couldn't bleed this much, no… This was wrong, there was too much blood, staining the snow around them…
Snow?
Connor looked around and his heart seemed to disconnect from its wiring and tubules and drop to the floor. He was in the Zen Garden.
"N-no," he breathed, shaking his head. "No, not here, please…" He glanced down at Wren. There was too much blood. Too much… He couldn't stop it. Wren lifted her eyes to meet his.
"I'm sorry," she breathed. "I'm sorry."
"Don't speak. You need to save your strength."
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm… sorry…" Wren's eyes filled with tears. "It hurts, Connor, it hurts."
Connor's eyes stung. "I know, Wren. Hold on, please. You'll be okay."
"No, not this time…" Wren breathed. "I'm sorry, Con…" Her eyes glazed over and stared at nothing while her body slumped.
Connor's mouth fell open. He gaped at her, dead in the snow, her hair splayed out around her. He cupped the back of her neck. "Wren? Please, no… Wren, please… Don't go."
"Connor?"
Connor opened his eyes, pulled from standby mode by the sound of Wren's voice. He looked around, panting slightly. "Wren?"
She looked at him from the bed, her hair mussed from a restless sleep. She was awake and alive. Connor relaxed, but Wren peered at him with a furrowed brow. "Are you okay?"
"Y-yes," Connor lied. He could see Wren's scowl, even in the dark. He looked away from her. "I-I don't know. I entered standby mode because Dr. Willis told me that not doing it can cause my systems to wear down. He told me that androids can experience something akin to dreams. I think that just happened to me."
"Did you dream of electric sheep?" Wren queried.
Connor frowned. "W-what?"
"Nothing," said Wren, rubbing her face. "Stupid joke."
Connor looked at the clock. It was two in the morning. He drew his eyebrows together. "Why are you awake?"
"You were… You were talking."
Connor's eyebrows lifted. "I was?"
"Yeah."
Connor shifted. "What… What did I say?"
"It was kind of unintelligible. Mainly just 'no.' You were pretty quiet. I was kind of already awake."
"Why?"
"I can't sleep," Wren admitted. "I just keep dreaming of getting shot and choking on my own blood. It won't leave my head."
Connor looked at his hands. "I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault."
He wanted to argue, but he knew with Wren, any argument would be useless. He pressed his lips together and squeezed his eyes shut, willing the lump in his throat to disappear.
"What were you dreaming about?" Wren asked.
Connor's eyes flashed to hers. "You getting shot. Only this time… We weren't able to save you." I wasn't able to save you, he held back.
"Come here," said Wren, patting the bed. She scooted over, grimacing. Connor circled to the side with a bit of space and free of tubes. He frowned as Wren patted the mattress again.
"I'm not sure this is a good idea," he muttered.
"You're not gonna hurt me, as long as you don't freak out and kick me in your sleep. Or, standby." Wren reached for her iPod and headphones, sitting on the table tray beside her. She groaned, gripping her side. Connor leaned over and grabbed the objects for her, placing them in her hand with raised eyebrows. Wren uttered her thanks, her brow still creased.
Connor backed away from the bed. "I don't think this is a good idea."
"Connor, stop worrying. It's fine. I'm fine," said Wren. Connor pressed his lips together before sliding out of his shoes and climbing onto the bed gingerly. He laid next to her, finding the bed rather comfortable. Wren lifted an earbud. Connor took it and placed it in his ear while Wren wore the other one. "It helps to listen to music when you're having nightmares."
Connor let Wren pick a playlist before relaxing against the pillow. Wren settled in next to him, resting her head against his shoulder. Connor remained still, not wanting to disturb the delicate tubing that supplied Wren with morphine and kept her lung from collapsing. He stared up at the ceiling, listening to the lyrics. The longer he listened, however, the heavier his metal heart seemed to weigh.
Meet me on the battlefield,
Even on the darkest night,
I will be your sword and shield,
Your camouflage
And you will be mine,
Echoes of the shots ring out,
We may be the first to fall,
Everything could stay the same
Or we could change it all.
Connor sucked in a sharp breath. "Wren?"
"Hm?" Wren murmured.
"I-I never thanked you for saving my life."
"You don't need to," Wren hummed, shifting.
"Yes, I do," Connor replied. He blinked, hard. "And I'm sorry I got angry with you. I… No one has ever done something like that for me. So… thank you."
Wren sighed sleepily. "Anytime."
Connor's lips twitched. He rested his cheek against the top of her head and reentered standby mode.
…
He stepped aside, allowing Markus to face the thousands of freed androids from the CyberLife Tower. Snow fluttered around them, catching in their synthetic hair. North strode forward, a small smile tugging at her lips.
"They want you to speak with them," she said, turning toward Markus. He faced her, the synthetic skin melting away from his hand as he pressed his palm to North's. She smiled as their lips met. Connor's eyes softened at the exchange. He looked away, only to find himself face-to-face with Wren. His lips parted and he widened his eyes. The scene around them shifted, the android army disappeared. North and Markus faded away, too. Everything faded until Connor was alone with Wren in the snow. Her fingers touched his. He pressed his palm to hers, their synthetic skin disappearing. Where the plastic of their hands touched, blue light glowed. His eyes slid shut as he leaned toward her. Their lips met softly, hesitantly. Wren parted her lips and pushed against him harder. He responded in kind, deepening the kiss until everything disappeared around them. His other hand reached to cup her neck, his mouth still sliding against hers. He pulled her closer, wanting the distance between their hips to minimalize.
Their fingers intertwined, sharing more than just memories. Their connection deepened, and pathways unlocked in his CPU. Binary passed between them. Connor wanted more.
…
Connor withdrew from standby with a gasp. Morning illuminated the hospital room. He pushed from the bed, careful not to wake Wren. He slipped on his shoes, still gazing at Wren.
"Really subtle, Connor," muttered Hank from the doorway. Connor wheeled around, his eyes wide.
"Hank," he stammered, "I –It's not –I didn't –She –"
"Jesus, are you glitching or something?" Hank snorted, entering the room. He carried a bag of food. He set it on the table tray.
"No," said Connor, frowning. He glanced toward Wren, who still slumbered, her head lolling to the side now that she no longer had Connor to support it. He turned back to Hank. "She… I had a nightmare."
Hank squinted. "Androids can do that?"
"Apparently," said Connor circling the bed. He folded his arms. "She had one, too. We listened to music together, that's all."
Hank laughed. "Like anything could really happen with her like that." He gestured to the intravenous tubes protruding from Wren's body and the oxygen tubes ringing her face.
"Right," Connor muttered, averting Hank's gaze.
"You should head to the station," said Hank, glancing at the clock. "Fowler's understanding about all this, but… We should watch her in shifts, okay?"
Connor nodded, giving Wren another glance. He turned back to Hank. "You'll call if anything happens?"
"Of course I will, kid."
Connor nodded stiffly. "Alright. I will see you later."
The rest of the week proceeded in the same, odd routine. Everyone alternated visiting Wren, though Connor and Hank were the most frequent visitors. Connor watched the hospital room slowly congest with flowers and get-well-soon cards. Gavin even gave Wren a set of balloons that said Congratulations! on them. Fortunately, Wren's sacrifice was not in vain. Their plan worked on drawing out the true killer, an unstable mousy man who used to work for CyberLife as a Traci designer. He'd been rejected by the Tracies, or so he believed. He killed Varick Sullivan for witnessing one of his murders of the Tracies.
After three days in the hospital, Dr. Willis removed the pneumothorax chest tube from Wren's body. Connor tried to ignore his "dreams." Ever since the one where he kissed Wren, he had avoided going into standby mode. True, he felt far sharper in his abilities, but he did not want to risk experiencing another dream like that.
After a week in the hospital, Wren was released. Dr. Willis pulled Hank and Connor aside to give them instructions for caring for her. "No strenuous activity. Don't even let her pick up a milk jug. She'll need help dressing and changing her bandages. The salve I prescribed will help with scarring. She won't need to wear bandages for much longer, but the skin will be sensitive for a while, so I suggest she continue wearing them as long as she can stand it. She should come in for a checkup in a week and we'll go from there, depending on how she's progressing in her healing. If you notice any greening of the wound, it's infected and she needs to come back immediately. Call if you have anymore questions, alright?"
"Will do," said Hank.
"Thank you," Connor replied. Dr. Willis nodded. Hank signed Wren's paperwork while Connor entered the hospital room. The nurse wheeled in a wheelchair.
Wren glowered at it. "Seriously?"
"Hospital regulations," said the nurse. "Besides, it'll be really painful for you to walk."
Wren sighed. Connor managed a small smile and approached her. Her feet dangled off the edge of the bed. "I hate this."
The corners of Connor's mouth quirked upward. He scooped Wren up off the bed and walked her over to the wheelchair and sat her down in it. He nodded to the nurse, who allowed him to take over. He rolled Wren out into the hall. Hank carried their belongings and the three of them headed to Hank's car. While Connor helped Wren into the backseat, Hank rolled the wheelchair back to the hospital lobby. Connor slipped into the passenger seat while Hank sat in the driver's, cranked the car and pulled out of the hospital parking garage. Jazz filled the silence on the ride home. Wren dozed in the back while Connor watched the scenery. Hank hummed, tapping the steering wheel with his thumbs. Connor's lips twitched.
When they reached the house, Connor got out and opened Wren's door gently. She stirred, her brow pinching.
"I think I can do it," she said, unbuckling her seatbelt. She tried to get out of the car, groaned and clutched her side. "Never mind."
Connor pursed his lips and lifted her out of the car. She weighed more than she looked, though her weight posed no real issue to Connor. He figured the mechanical aspects of her body contributed to her weight. Kamski designed androids with light metals, but they still weighed more than humans, even if they appeared a lighter weight. It seemed a similar case for Wren.
He brought her into the house, but did not take her to the couch. Instead, he carried her down the hall, past the bathroom and Hank's bedroom to the room at the end. The door usually remained shut, but now it stood ajar. Connor pushed it open and felt Wren tense in his arms.
"What are you doing?"
"This is your room," said Hank over Connor's shoulder. Connor stepped inside with Hank.
Hank had cleared the room of boxes, knickknacks and anything that belonged to Cole. Hank even bought new sheets and blankets for the bed. They were green, mismatching the blue walls. The dresser against the left wall contained all of Wren's clothes. On top of it sat her very few belongings, including her scrapbooks and photo albums gifted by her mother and brother. A TV sat atop the table across from the bed.
"You can put me down now," Wren said to Connor, who blinked. He forgot he still held Wren in his arms. He set her down gently. She turned to Hank, shaking her head. "I can't take this, Hank."
"Why the hell not?" said Hank, placing his hands on his hips.
Wren looked around, her eyes wide. "This… This is Cole's room. I-I can't."
"Yeah, well, you can't sleep on the couch anymore. Every time you and North go shopping, you invade my living room with more o' your shit."
Wren lowered her gaze, pink dusting her cheeks. Connor's lips twisted with a small smirk. Wren lifted her eyes to Hank's again. "But… Hank…"
"I don't wanna hear it," Hank waved her off. "I want my damn living room back. Cole's never gonna use it again. And a couch would mess you up now." He gestured to her torso.
Wren looked away for a moment. Her shoulders shook. Connor's eyes widened a fraction and he looked at Hank, whose eyebrows lifted toward his hairline. Wren turned to Hank and hugged him around the middle. He hesitated before returning the embrace, a warm smile curling his lips. Connor's chest warmed and one corner of his mouth upturned.
"Thank you," Wren sniffed, withdrawing. She wiped her eyes. "Ugh. Sorry. I think these painkillers make me loopy."
"Yeah, they'll do that to you. I'm gonna go fill your prescription and pick up some groceries. You guys gonna be okay?" Hank looked at Connor pointedly.
"We'll be fine," he assured Hank, who nodded and left. Wren shuffled toward the bed. She tried to lift her leg a few times, calculating ways to get on the bed. After a moment of alternating lifting legs, she turned to Connor, redness tinging her cheeks.
"I… I can't do it on my own," she admitted. Connor smirked and walked over. Wren scowled. "Don't make fun of me."
"I didn't say anything," Connor retorted, failing to contain his smile. He helped Wren onto the bed.
"You didn't have to," Wren pouted. She glanced at the TV. "Wanna watch something?"
Connor nodded eagerly. "What do you want to watch?"
Wren hummed, tapping her chin. "How about Star Wars: Episode II?"
Connor turned on the TV and set up the movie. He turned and looked around the room. There was no chair for him. Wren moved on the bed and patted the space beside her. Connor hesitated but obliged, pushing away the lightness in his chest as he crawled onto the bed beside her. His arm pressed against hers. He folded his hands in his lap as he sat up on the bed. Connor liked the Star Wars movies so far, though Wren explained to him that some of the jokes were cheesy. She busted into laughter when she saw Obi-Wan's hair. She called it a mullet. Connor admitted that it looked a little silly, though he did not find it quite as humorous as she did.
They paused the movie when Hank returned home. Wren was allowed to eat more solid food, but she still needed to use caution. After eating, Wren performed as much of her nightly routine as possible. Connor and Wren returned to her new room once she finished brushing her teeth. She bit her lip.
"Connor? I tried changing my bandages in the bathroom, but I can't really twist to look at my side. Could you…?" Wren gazed up at him with a creased forehead.
Connor softened. "Of course."
Wren lifted her shirt. Connor peeled back the bandages slowly. A sharp tang flooded Connor's mouth. The skin around the hole through which the pneumothorax tube used to penetrate puckered. Across Wren's front, purple bruises yellowed around the edges. He lowered his gaze as his chest tightened. Pressure built against his eyes.
"I'm so sorry, Wren," he murmured.
"Connor," sighed Wren, "I'm fine. Stop beating yourself up about this, okay? I made the choice, not you."
Connor pressed his lips together as he applied the anti-scarring salve to the bandages. He placed the against Wren's wounds. She sucked in a sharp breath and he looked up at her. "I'm sorry."
"You're fine," Wren said tightly. Connor's eyes drifted over Wren's bare torso. Even with the bruises and stitches and bandages, he could not help but think she looked beautiful. His eyes dipped toward her hips before quickly flashing back toward her face. Heat prickled his cheeks. He stood from his kneeling position when he finished bandaging Wren. He scooped her into his arms and carried her over to the bed. Warmth softened his metal heart as he held her close to his chest. He gritted his teeth, trying to suffocate the feeling. He ignored the temptation to rest his forehead against hers, to hold her even closer. He laid her on the bed and circled it to resume his original position. He lifted the remote and resumed the movie.
Connor's lips parted as he watched the love story between Anakin and Padme, not even blinking. His artificial heart ached for the characters and their forbidden love. He smiled when the characters almost kissed, furrowed his brow when Padme pushed Anakin away and slumped when Anakin cried about losing his mother. Toward the end of the film, when Padme and Anakin were set to be executed, and they shared one last kiss, Connor glanced at Wren. She had fallen asleep due to her medication. His chest clenched and he closed his eyes for a long moment. Did all love end in tragedy?
The sore heaviness left his body when the movie ended with a secret wedding. A soft smile touched Connor's lips. He switched off the TV with the remote. He removed himself from the bed, laying Wren down gently. He draped a blanket over her and padded out of the room. He entered the living room. He looked around and let out a sigh. The room felt hollow without Wren in it.
...…
I'm posting this earlier since I'm not sure if I will be able to post this weekend. I have 2 papers due by Monday, lol. (One of them is about Middle English, hlort help me). Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed this angsty/fluffy chapter lol. Thank you all so much for your support!
Songs for this chapter:
"I Found" by Amber Run (fun fact: I danced to this with my husband at our wedding)
"The Day I Lost You" by Stilz ft. Meteor