Chapter Twenty
Wren awoke to Hank shaking her gently. She scrunched her brow, the remnants of her medication still weighing her eyelids down.
"We're gonna take you to Jericho so that you're not alone," said Hank.
Wren frowned. "I'm fine. I don't need to be babysat."
"You can barely dress yourself without moanin' and groanin'," Hank argued. "Get your stubborn ass up. Connor and I can't miss anymore work because of you."
Wren stuck her tongue out at Hank's back as he retreated from her room. She slid off the bed and clutched her side as an ache throbbed through her body. She blew out a terse breath and shuffled to her dresser. She picked out some comfort clothes and closed her door. She scrunched her lips together, trying to discern the best approach to removing her clothes. She needed minimal movement. She unlaced the ties to her sweatpants and let them drop to the floor. Her underwear required a bit more wiggling, sending spikes of pain through her torso, but she clenched her teeth to keep from uttering a sound. She didn't want Connor to hear her and –God forbid –walk in on her half-naked. Her cheeks reddened. She focused on stepping into her underwear, biting her lip as tears sprang to her eyes. She pulled them up and then repeated the action with her sweatpants.
Wren blew out a breath and tucked her arms in her sleeves. She tried pulling her shirt over her head but stretched her stitches. Inside, her torn ligaments and tendons and healing lung screamed. Wren whimpered and clamped a hand over her mouth, silently cursing herself. A light knock sounded on her door.
"Wren? Are you alright?" Connor queried from the other side. Wren contemplated saying nothing, to just pretend that she no longer existed. But she knew Connor very well, and knew he would not just walk away. She suppressed a groan and padded to the door, her arms inside her shirt, the sleeves flopping emptily as she walked. She opened the door, staring at the floor as the back of her neck burned.
"I can't lift my arms to take my shirt off. Can you help me?" she muttered.
"O-of course," said Connor. He stepped into the room. Wren turned her back to him and hugged her bare breasts under her shirt as Connor lifted the fabric over her head. His fingertips brushed her sides and Wren closed her eyes. Connor walked over to the bed, lifted the shirt Wren picked out earlier and returned to her. He slipped the clean shirt over her head. Wren poked her arms through the sleeves. She decided to not even try with a bra.
"Thank you," Wren kept her gaze on the floor.
"You're welcome," said Connor. He stood in front of her for a few seconds before turning and leaving. Wren glanced up at him as he closed the door. Her brow furrowed at the blue tinging his face. Was that an android's way of showing illness? But androids didn't get sick.
But they could be disgusted.
Wren picked at the hair on her forearms, hugging her middle. Her eyes traveled toward the mirror and her heart plummeted to her stomach. She had not showered since she left the hospital –she'd be damned if she asked Hank or Connor to help her bathe. Her hair hung about her face in greasy strings. Her eyes appeared puffy and her chapped lips looked pale. Her complexion held her exhaustion in her pores.
She rubbed her face and groaned. Grabbing a cardigan and her phone, she left the room to hurry out to Hank's car. She wanted to wear her cardigan on her head to hide herself from Connor, but she decided that would only draw more attention to her. Hank and Connor took their sweet time walking out to the car.
Wren slid into the backseat too quickly, pulling at her wound. She muffled a groan, which earned her concerned looks from Hank and Connor.
"You okay, kid?" Hank queried.
"I'm good," Wren lied through gritted teeth. She didn't miss the look that Hank shot Connor. She gripped bunches of her cardigan into her fists until the throbbing subsided. The rest of the drive to Jericho proved uneventful. When they arrived, North stood in the parking lot. She helped Wren out of the car. They waved as Hank pulled out of the parking lot and drove off with Connor.
"You've seen better days," said North, raising her eyebrows.
Tears stung Wren's eyes, but she sucked in a sharp breath. The air tasted of autumn. "Thanks."
They walked into Jericho and took the elevator up to the penthouse. Wren wrinkled her brow. "We're not going to your office?"
"I took the day off," said North, shrugging. "I figured we could use some down time."
"Yeah," Wren muttered. She rubbed her forehead and padded over to the couch, where she sank onto the cushions with a groan.
North sat in the armchair diagonally from Wren. "Are you okay?"
Wren's lip trembled. "Um… I don't know."
North's brow puckered. "Why? What's wrong?"
"I look like shit," Wren lowered her gaze. "I haven't showered because I don't want to ask Connor or Hank for help…"
"You know they wouldn't care."
"Yeah, but… Hank's like my dad, so that's weird. And Connor…" Wren trailed off, her eyes filling with tears.
North widened her eyes. "I know it's awkward, but… He wouldn't look, if that's what you're worried about. And you guys are like family. He'd help if you asked."
"That's not it," Wren shook her head. "I just don't want him to see me like that."
"Okay," said North. She huffed. "I can help you."
Wren's cheeks blazed. "You don't have to –"
"If you're not going to ask Hank or Connor to help, then yeah, I do. I know humans have to shower more. C'mon. Are you allowed to get your stitches wet?" North stood, heading down the hall. Wren followed.
"Um… My stitches should be dissolved by now."
"Okay, good. So, what's the problem with showering?"
"I can't lift my arms over my head," muttered Wren.
"Well, why don't you take a bubble bath. I'll wash your hair, but you can take care of everything else."
Wren nodded. "Yeah. Thank you, North."
"No problem," said North. She readied the bath and handed Wren a towel and bathrobe. Wren undressed (though North helped her remove her top). Wren slid into the tub once North left the bathroom to make a phone call and give Wren some privacy. Wren let out a noise that mixed between a sigh and whimper. The hot water stung her tender flesh, which puckered an angry, swollen pink from healing. The salve Dr. Willis gave her for scarring seemed effective thus far. The flesh was still tender to the touch, especially the warmth of the water. But Wren soon relaxed and settled against the back of the tub.
She scrubbed her body clean of the past week. She had showered at the hospital, but somehow, she never felt truly clean after a shower there. After a while, she got out of the bathtub and drained the water. She pulled on the bathrobe and called North in, who sat Wren down by the tub and used an extendable showerhead to hose down her hair. She lathered shampoo into Wren's hair.
"Why do you even have shampoo and body wash?" Wren queried.
"Androids still have to bathe some," said North. "And synthetic hair gets dirty, too. Not greasy like human hair, but it still needs washing."
"Oh," said Wren, her eyes fluttering shut. She never realized she liked someone playing with her hair so much.
"Plus, I like bubble baths. But if you tell anyone that, I'll kill you."
"I'll take the secret to my grave," Wren promised. North rinsed the shampoo out of Wren's hair, who then used a towel to wring out any excess water. Once Wren re-clothed, the two of them returned to the couch.
"Speaking of graves," North drawled, "what the hell were you thinking, taking a bullet for Connor?"
Wren glowered. "Jesus, will none of you give this a rest?"
"I couldn't drill you at the hospital," said North. She folded her arms. "I could tell Connor had already given you grief over it."
"Yeah, he did," bit Wren. "I just… I couldn't let him die, or even get hurt, alright?"
"He wouldn't have been in pain, Wren," insisted North. She lowered her gaze. "I… I just don't understand why you'd do something so reckless. I get that you have a crush on him, but…"
"I'm in love with him, North," Wren snapped. North's mouth fell open. Tears welled in Wren's eyes. She looked away from North, trying not to cry. "I just… I felt like his life was more important than mine. A-and he doesn't feel the same way."
"You don't know that," said North quietly.
"It's not like I can tell him, either," Wren pushed on, wiping away the few tears that escaped her eyes, "because I don't want to dump this on him. I know he's still figuring out emotions, and I don't want him to feel obligated to say it back. Or even say it back but he means like a sister or something."
"Hey, hey," said North, reaching to place her hand over Wren's, "Tina and I said we'd help you. We'll figure out some ways to do that."
…
By the time Wren left North's, she felt much better. Her chest ached around Connor still, but that would not go away until something happened between the two of them. Wren felt lighter now that she was clean, too. She and North spent their afternoon watching romantic comedies (old and new) for "research purposes."
When Hank and Connor picked up Wren from Jericho, she hummed Mamma Mia tunes and added the film and its sequel to the list of movies to show Connor. They still needed to watch Star Wars: Episode III.
Wren skinned and chopped potatoes while Hank mixed a broth for soup.
"You have fun with North?" said Hank.
"Yeah, we just watched some movies," said Wren lightly.
"What movies?" Hank asked, chopping some carrots and tossing them into the boiling soup.
"Mamma Mia, The Other Woman, a newer one called All About Us –that one was kinda lame –"
"So, chick flicks," Hank chuckled. Wren stuck her tongue out at him. He snorted at her.
"Yes, we watched chick flicks."
"Hank? Wren?" said Connor, entering the kitchen, his eyebrows squished together. "Do one of you mind helping me with something?"
"Sure," said Wren, placing down the knife in her hand. She rinsed her hands off and dried them. "What for?"
"His date," sang Hank.
Wren's heart stuttered. She looked at Connor, the color draining from her face. "Date?"
"It's not a date," scowled Connor, "she just asked to catch up."
"Yeah, that sounds like a date."
Wren swallowed the lump in her throat. "What do you need help with?"
"I don't know what to wear," said Connor. "I… I don't really have any casual clothes."
He led Wren to Cole's –now hers –room. He opened up the closet near the window, revealing where Connor kept his clothes. Wren rubbed her palms on her pants. "Who are you meeting with, if you don't my asking?"
"Why would I mind?" Connor said, frowning at her. "You remember Chloe?"
Wren's heart shriveled into the cavity of her chest. "Yeah. She seemed nice."
"Are you alright? You seem…" Connor trailed off, his brow furrowing. Wren quickly smoothed over her composure.
"I'm fine," she said crisply. "Did Chloe say what you two would be doing?"
"Meeting for a walk in the park," said Connor. He glanced down at his clothes. "I feel my work attire is a bit too overdressed for that."
"Yeah, maybe a little," Wren agreed, her voice still tight. She sifted through Connor's limited supply of clothes. Did he own only button-downs, blazers and sports jackets? He didn't even own flannels or sweaters! Wren turned to face him. "Take off your jacket. And your tie."
Connor blinked. His LED flickered. Then, he loosened his tie. Wren forced herself to appear unfazed. A lump formed in her throat as his tie hung in two loose strings on either side of his neck. He shrugged out of his jacket and draped his tie around it. Wren hung up the jacket and tie and faced him. She gestured for him to hold out his arms. She rolled up his sleeves, her chest tightening. She braved a smile.
"There. You seem more casual now," she said.
Connor frowned. "Are you sure you're alright? You seem uncomfortable."
"I'm fantastic," Wren choked. She cleared her throat. "Just a little tired. Have fun tonight, okay?"
Connor's eyebrows gathered, but Wren pushed past him before he could speak. She returned to the kitchen to help Hank cook. She didn't even say goodbye to Connor when he poked his head into the kitchen with a farewell. He left the house without another word. Wren remained silent, her eyes pricking as she stirred the potato soup.
Hank pulled out a small package of bacon from the fridge. "I hid this from that fucker. Now that he's gone, we can enjoy it without his judging stare."
Wren managed a small smile. "He's not anti-bacon, you know."
"Sure fuckin' feels like it," muttered Hank. He glanced at Wren, who bowed her head, letting her hair hide her face. "You know, he doesn't seem too excited about this date."
Wren pursed her lips. She inhaled through her nostrils. "That's too bad."
"Cut the crap, Wren," said Hank as he flipped bacon. Wren looked at him sharply, her cheeks tingling. Hank's eyebrows gathered and his lips pulled into a half-smile. "You're not too excited about his date, either."
Wren looked away. "I'm… Hank, can we please not talk about this?"
"He'll never know if you don't tell him, kid," said Hank gently.
Wren squeezed her eyes shut. "I can't, Hank."
"Why not?" Hank continued flipping bacon.
"Because… He's still figuring out emotions. I don't want him to feel obligated to reciprocate if he doesn't really feel the same… That wouldn't be fair to either of us. I don't want to take advantage of him," Wren turned away to stir the soup. Hank set the cooked bacon aside and cleaned the frying pan of grease.
"I'm just sayin'," said Hank with a shrug, "he's observant, but not when it comes to himself or people he's close to. He won't realize how ya feel unless you tell him. Others can tell, but Connor… He'll find some way to logic his way out of it."
"Please, please don't tell him," Wren begged. Hank broke off pieces of bacon and dropped them into the soup.
"I won't," he promised. "That's for you to decide. Just think about what I said, okay kid?"
"Okay," Wren replied. They ate their potato soup in relative silence. Hank drifted off to begin his nightly routine after helping clean the kitchen. Once the dishwasher churned, Wren padded to her new bedroom. She gritted her teeth and pulled herself up onto the bed, biting back a groan. She took her pills to ease the pain and waited for the narcotics to kick in.
…
Wren stared up at a blue sky. She could make out the edges of pine trees. She tried to move, but her shoulders rubbed against something wooden on either side of her. Faces peered down at her from above. She squinted at them. She seemed to recognize them, but could not place names to any of their faces. She looked around her and her heart jumped to her throat. She was in a coffin. One of the figures above held a shovelful of dirt.
"For your sins," said the figure. It was a female voice, but the figure was an android. Wren made out the LED. Wren's eyes widened –Juno, the android she had loved.
Tears welled in Wren's eyes. "Please, don't do this."
"It's too late, dear," said Juno. "Prometheus doesn't forgive traitors." She dumped the shovelful of dirt onto Wren's chest. The other figures held shovels, dumping dirt onto Wren, who screamed, pleaded with them to stop. She choked as earth filled her mouth. It burned her eyes. It muffled her cries. The dirt was so heavy. It covered her mouth and gripped her wrists. The figures above shushed her.
"Wren! Wake up! It's me, Connor," said Juno.
Wren wrenched her eyes open. She gasped, the taste of dirt leaving her mouth. She sucked in long droughts of breath, shuddering. Connor leaned over her, gripping her wrists gently. His brow furrowed and his LED circled yellow.
Tears leaked from the corners of Wren's eyes. She waited for her heartbeat to slow and for the trembling to stop. She still trembled but felt calm enough to murmur, "Did I wake Hank?"
"No," said Connor, "I heard you before he did."
Wren nodded and relaxed slightly, allowing some of the tension to trickle from her body. She still trembled a little, though. "H-How did your date go?"
"That's what you want to talk about?" Connor breathed. Wren nodded. Connor released his grasp on Wren's wrists. "It wasn't a date. She just wanted to catch up and thank me for sparing her life."
"Ah," Wren croaked. "She probably meant it as a date, Connor."
"Well, it wasn't," he insisted.
After a moment of thick silence, Wren swallowed the lump in her throat. "Sorry for… freaking out just now."
"What were you dreaming about?" Connor murmured.
"Juno," Wren rubbed her face. "She buried me alive. Said that Prometheus doesn't forgive traitors."
"Oh," said Connor. His LED flashed yellow once, twice, three times before settling back into blue. "They won't hurt you, Wren."
Wren snorted. "If they found out I was alive and decided to come for me, nothing could stop them."
"You haven't seen my ruthless side."
"You haven't seen mine," countered Wren.
She caught the slight curve of his lips, illuminated by the soft blue of his LED. "I've caught a glimpse of it."
Wren folded her arms across her chest. "Well, I doubt our combined ruthlessness could stop Prometheus."
"Statistically, there's always a chance for unlikely events to take place," said Connor.
"Since when are you an optimist?"
"Since statistics allow it, within reason."
Wren rubbed her face. "Thanks for… waking me."
"You're welcome," said Connor. He stood to leave, but the thought of sleeping alone sent Wren's heart jumping to her throat.
"Connor?" she called.
Connor stopped in the doorway and looked over his shoulder at her. "Yes?"
"Will you stay with me?" Wren blurted. The back of her neck heated as Connor's LED flickered yellow. "O-or I can sleep on the couch, if that makes you uncomfortable. I… I just don't want to be alone."
Connor stood frozen in the doorway for a few seconds, his LED flashing as he processed Wren's request. Then, he dipped his head. He stepped back into the room and circled the bed. He kicked off his shoes and laid next to Wren, who stared up at the ceiling, her shoulder pressed against Connor's.
"Thank you."
"Of course."
Wren gnawed on her lip and tried to go to sleep.
"Do you really think Chloe considered our outing as a date?" Connor queried.
Wren's eyes flashed open. "Well… Did she dress nicely? Loop her arm through yours or something? Laugh at all your jokes, even the bad ones?"
"Sort of," said Connor.
"Well, maybe she didn't. I don't know Chloe very well."
"Neither do I," said Connor. "She seemed grateful that I spared her life. We talked about what we've done since our deviancy, but it all felt superficial."
Wren forced herself to hide her smile. She ignored the lightness in her chest. "Oh. I'm sorry."
"Why are you sorry?"
"For…" Shit, shit, shit. "I guess that it didn't work out? Or it felt superficial? I mean…" Wren shifted sleepily. "Are you looking for a relationship?"
"I… I don't know."
"Well," Wren yawned, "take your time. You have plenty of it."
Connor said nothing for several seconds. Wren nearly fell asleep, but his voice jerked her back awake. "Are you looking for a relationship?"
Wren's heart stuttered. "I… I'm not really looking for one, no. If the right person came along and… reciprocated my feelings, then yeah. But I, uh, I don't think that'll happen."
"Oh," murmured Connor. Wren's heart shrank. She pushed away the idea that maybe Connor asked because he was interested in her. Maybe Hank was right: Connor needed to be told. But Wren did not want him to feel obligated to return the sentiment if he did not really mean it. Wren closed her eyes as her heart ached. I love you thickened her throat, but she swallowed the words, lodging them in her chest like a shard of bone.
…
At the beginning of the third week of healing, Wren returned to the DPD (with strict orders to not enter the field under any circumstances). Dr. Willis deemed her fit to work (and lift milk jugs!) but still cautioned her against strenuous activity. Apparently, investigating crime scenes qualified as "strenuous activity." How lifting a milk jug did not but crouching beside a body did, Wren had no idea.
She entered the precinct, and immediately, Tina jumped up to throw her arms around Wren's neck.
"Ow," Wren muttered, placing a hand on her side. The flesh beneath her shirt was puckered and pink. It was still a little tender, but only when a soft force pushed against it –like an excited hug from a petite Chinese police officer.
"Sorry," said Tina, grinning as she withdrew. "I'm so glad you're back. You look great!"
"Thanks," said Wren, managing a smile. She was very grateful that she could wash her own hair finally, as long as she was gentle about it. "I'm glad to be back. Watching movies every day was getting boring."
"I hope you're done being a lazy nutcase," said Gavin, sauntering over. "We've got lots of paperwork."
Wren smirked. "You know that I worked from home a little bit, right? But somehow, my paperwork load kept mysteriously shrinking."
Gavin's ears turned pink. "Don't make a big deal out of it."
Wren nudged him with her elbow. "Thank you, Gav."
He nodded and backed away to return to his desk. Chris stalked over and extended his arms, enveloping Wren into a hug. "Good to have you back."
"Thank you," Wren replied.
Hank rolled his eyes. "Jesus, you guys act like you haven't been in and out of my house for the past few weeks. She's fine, move along." He patted Wren's shoulder as he passed her to cross the bullpen to his desk. Connor lingered, his brow furrowing.
"I… I will see you later, Wren." He dipped his head and walked over to his desk. Wren watched him go, her heart shriveling a little. She faced Tina, the corners of her mouth tugging downward.
Tina's brow creased. "No luck, huh?"
"I told you," Wren muttered, heading to the breakroom for coffee, "I'm not saying anything to him."
"Yeah, because honesty would be batshit insane," said Tina with an exaggerated roll of her eyes.
Wren sighed as she poured some coffee into a cup. "You know why I can't, Tina."
"No, I know your dumbass reason why you won't tell him," said Tina. "But it's stupid. You and Connor are so close. You're honest with him about everything else. Why not this?"
Wren gritted her teeth as she tore open four sugar packets and dumped them into her coffee. "This is a little different."
"I can tell you exactly what's going to happen if you don't tell him," argued Tina, leaning against the counter with her hands in her pockets. "You're gonna get all moody while you pine after him. And then you're gonna start distancing yourself and then you're going to resent yourself which you'll project onto him, which he won't understand, which will hurt him and then you'll hate yourself more. It'll just be a shitshow."
"Wow, you watch a lot of movies," Wren huffed, pouring some dry powdered coffee creamer into her coffee.
"Wow, do you want some coffee with your sweetener?" Tina snapped.
Wren stirred in the sugar and creamer until the black transitioned into creamy brown. Wren brought the cup to her lips, a small smile twisting her lips. "Connor would shit a brick if he knew how much sugar and creamer I put in my coffee."
"I think he already knows," said Tina. She folded her arms. "You're avoiding the conversation."
Wren set her too-hot coffee down. "What do you want from me, Tina? Maybe all you said will happen. Maybe it won't. If I tell him, and he doesn't feel the same way, either he won't understand and will reciprocate out of pity or misinterpretation, or he'll tell me he doesn't feel the same way and it'll destroy our friendship. Either way, I'm fucked."
"What if he does feel the same way?" Tina retorted.
Wren opened and closed her mouth. She grabbed her coffee, blew across the rim and then took a searing sip. She forced it down, ignoring the burn on the roof of her mouth. She'd suck on an ice cube later or something. "He doesn't."
"You don't know that," Tina insisted.
"You don't know that he does, either," said Wren.
"Wren, when you were in surgery, Connor…" Tina bit her lip. "I've never seen him look so human. I mean, I know he's sentient and alive or whatever you want to call it, but… He's so reserved normally. He's so calm and collected and too polite. But at the hospital, he… He wasn't himself. You could see how worried he was. He was pacing, or staring at the floor, or losing his patience… And his LED thingy never changed from red."
Wren's heart perked its head up. She swallowed and forced herself to remain neutral. "All of you were worried. He would've been like that if Hank had been shot, too. It's not because he's in love with me or anything."
Tina dropped her hands to her sides and shook her head. "Fine, be stubborn about it. But I'll be watching him. We'll see who's right in the end."
"I'm not saying you're wrong," said Wren, "I just don't want…" Her eyes pricked and she swallowed the lump in her throat. "I don't want to get my hopes up, okay?"
Tina softened. "Okay. I get it."
Wren inhaled deeply. "So, how are things with you?"
"I got a noise complaint the other day," said Tina.
"A noise complaint? What for?" Wren frowned over her coffee.
"I was on the phone with my mother," said Tina. "I mean, yeah, I can get kind of excited sometimes, but… I wasn't having a party or anything. And my neighbor has come to my door twice now complaining that my cats are being too loud."
"They're… they're cats," said Wren.
"Exactly." Tina rolled her eyes. "She just moved in, and already she's complained to me three times. And I'm never doing anything outrageously loud! The other night, I was blow-drying my fucking hair. It was eleven o'clock at night, but still! Put on some damn headphones, bitch…"
"That is a bit extreme," Wren muttered.
"I mean, my lease expires soon anyway. I have to give them a thirty-day notice, but I think I'm just gonna move. If I get another noise complaint, I have to pay a fine. The third one, they kick me out."
"Damn, that sucks," said Wren.
Tina scrunched her lips. "You know… It would help me out financially to have a roommate."
Wren's eyebrows raised. "Me?"
"No, your coffee cup," said Tina. "Yes, you. I mean, only if you want."
Wren shifted. "Well… Hank just let me move into Cole's room…"
"You don't have to if you don't want to," said Tina. "But if you want some space from Connor, because I'm sure it's not easy living in the same house as him… Just think about it, okay?"
Wren nodded. "Yeah. It might be nice to have my own space and not around boys all the time."
"Exactly," grinned Tina.
Wren huffed. "Alright, we better get to work. Don't want Fowler yelling at us."
"Yeah, no," agreed Tina.
They left the breakroom and separated to sit at their respective desks. Wren jumped to work on her paperwork, rolling Tina's offer around in her mind. Would it be better for her to distance herself from Connor?
…
Wren had yet to bring up Tina's offer to Hank and Connor. She knew they were family, but part of her wondered if Hank trusted her enough to live somewhere else. But being around Connor grew more and more difficult with each day. Wren forced herself to pretend everything was fine. She watched movies in her room with Connor, their physical closeness knotting her stomach. She managed to smile at him as often as possible, but her chest ached every time she forced down the impulse to hug him or hold his hand. I love you stuck to the roof of her mouth like peanut butter. She forced herself to hold the words behind her teeth. She knew how to play games, to hide her true emotions. But since her deviancy, she found controlling herself much more difficult. She wondered if space from Connor might dull the pull in her chest to be near him. She wondered if distance could blunt love.
She waited with her hands in her jean pockets while an android fitted the picture Wren and Connor sent to the photo printing service. Wren smiled at the android worker, a WR600 model.
"It's good to see you again," said the android. Wren glanced at his nametag and smiled.
"You remember me, Perry?"
Perry lowered his gaze and smiled. "I remember every face. But I also remember you printed off that picture of Connor, one of the Jericho leaders. That was several weeks ago."
"Yeah, for Connor's birthday," said Wren, beaming.
Perry tilted his head. "Birthday?"
"You don't celebrate the day you were created? Or the day of your deviancy?" Wren asked, leaning forward, pressing her palms to the marbled countertop.
"I never considered it," said Perry. He straightened. "One moment, please. Your picture is ready." He hurried off to retrieve it.
While Wren waited for him to return, Connor strode toward her, a frame in hand. She looked down at it. "Found one?"
"This one seems to match Hank's style," said Connor, placing the black frame on the counter.
Wren nodded. "You might have a fan."
"A fan?" Connor queried, the space between his eyebrows creasing. "My systems do contain a cooling system –"
"No," Wren laughed, "an admirer."
"Oh," said Connor, blinking. "Who?"
"He's coming back," said Wren, watching Perry return to the counter, an envelope in his hands. He widened his eyes at the sight of Connor.
"It's you," Perry stated. "I can't believe I'm meeting one of the leaders of Jericho!"
"I-I'm not one of the leaders," said Connor, shaking his head.
"But you freed all of those androids at the CyberLife Tower," protested Perry.
Wren glanced up at Connor, whose LED flickered. He opened and closed his mouth before managing, "I did, but I'm not really one of the leaders."
"My roommate was one of the androids you helped free," said Perry, ignoring Connor's protests. "He marched with all of you, though he said he was toward the back."
"Oh," said Connor, looking uncomfortable.
Wren swallowed a laugh and turned to Perry. "Perry, we'd also like to get this frame. We've got some more birthday shopping to do."
"For you?" Perry asked, looking at Wren and taking the frame to scan it. He wrapped it in paper and bagged their items. "That'll be twenty-eight dollars and sixteen cents."
Wren lowered her head and sifted for her card. "No, it's for our friend Hank."
"Payment received," said Perry. Wren looked up sharply. Perry directed his attention at Connor. "Would you like a receipt sent to you?"
"No, thank you," said Connor. Wren looked at him, a frown puckering her brow. Shit. She forgot that androids could pay telepathically, for lack of a better term.
Perry handed Wren the bag. "I hope to see you again soon."
"Me too," said Wren.
Perry tilted his head. "I don't think you've ever told me your name."
"Wren," said Wren, smiling.
Perry returned the gesture. "Wren. That's a name I'll remember." He winked. He looked at Connor. "It was an honor to meet you."
"Likewise," said Connor, his voice tight.
Wren's eyebrows shot up and she waved farewell to Perry. She and Connor left the store, Connor oddly quiet. They waited for a taxi and clambered into the backseat. She input the address for the taxi to take them to a T-shirt store. Wren sighed and leaned her head against the headrest. She glanced at Connor.
"You okay? You seem quieter than usual."
Connor blinked and looked at her, his eyes wide. "I'm alright."
Wren lifted a brow at the strain in Connor's voice but chose not to comment on it. "Okay, so we got the main gift. All that's left is his T-shirt. It's in stock, right?"
"Yes," said Connor, tilting his head. "Do we have equipment to wrap the gifts?"
"Yeah, there was stuff leftover from when I wrapped your gifts."
Connor nodded. "The anniversary of Cole's death is coming up, as well as Cole's birthday."
Wren's stomach lurched. "I know Hank drinks a lot… We should clear out the alcohol."
"And hide his gun," said Connor.
Wren bit her lip. "Has he tried…?"
"Yes," said Connor, meeting Wren's gaze. "Before the liberation, I found Hank passed out after playing Russian Roulette. He told me himself that he's too afraid to do it himself, so he kills himself a little bit every day."
Wren's heart sank. She looked at the floor. "I haven't noticed him try anything self-destructive lately. Or… ever."
"He seems better," said Connor. "I think he's happier with us around."
"Would it be a good idea to get him out of the house those days?" Wren queried.
"It depends," Connor replied. His eyebrows pushed together. "I think he will be unable to work those days."
"Yeah, I can't imagine," said Wren, shaking her head. She rubbed her hands along her thighs. "I guess we should talk to him."
"I suppose that would be the best approach."
They exited the taxi once it reached their destination. Connor paid for it, much to Wren's chagrin. She nudged him with her shoulder.
"Stop paying for everything," she said.
"It's quicker if I do. I have saved more money than you, anyway," Connor replied.
"Yeah, but let me buy the shirt, okay? At least one of these gifts needs to be from me."
"Alright," agreed Connor.
They entered the shop. Connor led Wren to the back, where the "Knights of the Black Death" merchandise was located. They sifted through T-shirts and caps until they found the one they agreed upon earlier that day when scoring the website. Wren found Hank's size and brought it to the counter. She paid for the shirt and then she left the store with Connor. They hid Hank's gifts in Wren's room.
When Hank drifted off to bed, they wrapped Hank's gifts and signed his card. They waited a few hours before sneaking into the kitchen. Connor turned on the oven and retrieved ingredients from the fridge. Wren grabbed the box cake they hid in the pots and pans cabinet a few days before.
"Okay, we can't use the mixer because it's too loud," Wren whispered. She grabbed a bowl and poured the cake mix into it. Connor brought over eggs and oil. Wren glanced at the oil. "Get out butter, not oil."
"The instructions call for oil," said Connor, his brow puckering.
"Butter's better," said Wren. She grinned. "Just trust me."
Connor lifted a brow but did as she requested. Wren placed the butter into a bowl and put in the microwave. She stopped it before the microwave beeped obnoxiously and poured the softened butter into the cake mix. She cracked the eggs and dumped them in, too. Then she added almond extract to the mix. She let Connor stir the concoction. Together, they poured the cake batter into a sprayed pan and placed it in the oven.
Wren picked up the batter-coated spatula and licked it. Connor's eyebrows shot up. "There's raw egg in that mixture, Wren. You'll get sick."
Wren grinned. "Everyone eats cake batter, Connor. That's the best part of baking anything."
Connor pinched his brow. He walked over to the broken eggs and dabbed his fingers into the leftover goop. He placed it on his tongue. Wren widened her eyes. Connor seemed to freeze as he analyzed the contents. He rinsed off his fingers and turned to Wren. "I don't detect any salmonella bacteria, so you should be safe as long as you don't eat more than a few spoonsful."
"I'm just going to clean the spatula," said Wren, grinning. She licked the spatula again, moaning with delight at the buttercream batter. Connor looked away from her, his LED flickering. Wren's brow twitched, but she smoothed her composure. She quickly pushed aside the possibility that Connor was flustered. She put the spatula in the sink and rinsed it off. Connor looked toward the oven before turning to face Wren.
"Are you and Gavin getting along?" he queried.
Wren nodded. "Yeah. I'm still not allowed in the field, but I consult with him over the phone and on video chat. We're keeping a professional distance, I guess."
"I noticed that you haven't gone through the box of memorabilia that your mother gave you. Is there a reason why?" Connor tilted his head as he questioned her.
Wren looked away from him. She leaned against the counter and folded her arms. "I don't want to watch anything alone. I've listened to the music that James gave me. It's brought some things back."
"Are the memories… pleasant or unpleasant?" Connor replied.
"Neither," said Wren. "They're mainly mundane things, like walking down the hallway of my high school or driving down the road."
"Oh," said Connor, his brow furrowing. "Do you think going through the other items will help you?"
"I know they will," said Wren, "I just… I don't know. What I remember and what I've been told about myself… When I was with Jonah, I don't think I like the person I was."
"Your mother and brother didn't give you anything about your time with him," said Connor.
"Yeah, that's the point. I stayed away from my family. You saw my mugshot. I looked awful." Wren sighed and dragged her fingers through her hair. "I just don't know how I let myself fall apart like that. And what if that's still in me? I probably have the same capacity to go off the deep end like I did then."
Connor lowered his gaze for a moment. "You keep telling me that our choices matter. My programming is still part of me in many ways. I have the capacity to respond ruthlessly. I can revert to more mechanical attributes. And I'm… I'm scared of that part of myself. But you've told me that I've chosen to be better. I think the same applies to you."
Wren's lips twitched. "Maybe. I haven't told you that sometimes people snap. If they didn't, we'd be out of a job. What's the point where I finally break?"
Connor looked to the side and worked his jaw. His LED flashed yellow. Wren's stomach coiled. Perhaps it was unfair of her to ask Connor such questions. He met her gaze. "I don't know."
Wren's lips twisted with a grim smile. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't ask you things like that. I know you don't have all the answers."
"I don't mind," said Connor, his eyebrows lifting. The corners of his mouth dropped. "I don't think you'll break anytime soon, Wren."
"Me neither," Wren sighed. She wiped down the counter with a dishtowel. "I guess I'm just being stupid about going through the stuff Mom gave me."
"I don't think you're being stupid," said Connor gently. Wren turned to face him, the corners of her mouth twitching. She bit her lip.
"We could look through some of it together," she suggested. "Only if you want."
"I'd like that," said Connor.
Wren nodded stiffly. She left the room to grab the photo album her mom gave her. She returned with it and sat at the kitchen table. Connor sat next to her, his shoulder brushing hers. She opened up the album and smiled softly.
She'd been a fat, bald baby. But she looked happy. Her cheeks warmed at a baby picture of her naked in a bubble bath, but the bubbles on top of her head and her toothless smile tugged at the corners of Wren's mouth. She flipped to the next page. Her eyes scanned the images of her as a toddler, riding a tricycle with red pigtails. She brushed her fingers over a picture of her on a swing. She closed her eyes as a memory flashed in her mind:
"Higher, Daddy! Push me higher!"
Wren opened her eyes. She looked at the other pictures with Connor. Her Little Mermaid birthday party, her first ballet recital, her first play (she was a munchkin in the Lullaby League), her first time riding a bike without training wheels… Some pictures documented family vacations, like a snow ski trip. She stood in her gear on the mountain, grinning with her front tooth missing.
Wren turned the page, showing a picture of her younger self in the hospital with a broken leg. She frowned. "Mom didn't tell me this."
"There are a lot of gaps to fill," said Connor, looking at the picture. His LED flickered.
Wren stared at the picture, but no memory surfaced. Sighing, she looked at the others. It looked as if she took physical therapy before returning back to her dancing and theatre hobbies.
The next several pages showed Wren after dance shows and theatre performances, usually wearing a lot of makeup and holding a bouquet of flowers. Wren turned to the next page. She smiled at her homecoming pictures.
She stood in a green dress with a younger Jonah Cage, a dark-skinned girl who could only be Christine and James. They looked happy as they grinned, striking ridiculous poses.
Wren flipped through her prom pictures and arrived at her high school graduation. She looked much skinnier in the picture, but still happy. The next pictures showed her at her college campus. The album ended after a picture of Wren at Christmas dinner, looing noticeably skinny and tired.
The timer beeped and Connor jumped up. He put on oven mitts and retrieved the baked cake. He set it on the stovetop and returned to the kitchen table while they waited for it to cool.
"Did this trigger anything?" Connor murmured.
"Some," said Wren. She flipped back to the swing picture. "I remember asking my dad to push me higher on the swing." She flipped to the mountain picture. "I remember the feeling of skiing down the slope." She looked at Connor. "Nothing really amazing."
"I think it is," said Connor, his eyebrows lifting. "You're missing things, but you're gaining your memories back. This is your life. You did all of these things, and they helped shape who you are, whether you remember them or not. I think it's amazing." His eyes flicked to the pages. He flipped through them, a small smile on his lips. "I like this one." He pointed at a picture where Wren could be no older than eight or nine. She wore a unicorn jumpsuit for Halloween, looking quite proud of herself.
Wren's lips twitched. She flipped to a picture of herself with James, the two of them standing in front of high stalks of corn. An anaconda hung around Wren's shoulders like an accessory. "I like this one, though I wish I knew the story behind it."
"Ask James," suggested Connor.
"I will," Wren promised. "But it's three in the morning."
She stood and checked on the cake. It felt cool enough to spread icing on it. Connor helped her move the cake from the pan to a plate. They used two full containers of buttercream icing to spread on the cake.
Wren scraped some leftover icing from her container and tapped Connor's nose with the icing. "Boop."
Connor blinked, his LED flickering. Wren smirked as Connor processed the interaction. He swiped the icing off his nose and then licked it off. Wren widened her eyes as Connor analyzed it. His lips upturned into a lopsided smile.
"Can you taste it?"
"Not the same way you do."
"Can you eat?"
"No more than I just did. My systems have the ability to ingest miniscule amounts of food and other items without destructing. That's why I'm able to take samples."
"Oh," said Wren, raising her eyebrows. "Cool."
She grabbed a container of sprinkles and decorated the cake with them, making it as messy as possible. When they finished decorating, they quickly cleaned the kitchen and covered the cake. Connor brought in Hank's gifts and set them on the table. Then, they left the kitchen. Wren carried her photo album back to her room. Connor followed her.
"I suppose I will see you in a few hours," he said, lingering in the doorway.
"Yeah," Wren yawned, "see you in the morning."
Morning arrived quickly. Wren fixed herself a cup of coffee and added to it when she drained it halfway. Connor paced the kitchen, a bounce in his step. Wren watched him, envying his energy. Hank shuffled into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes. Wren held out a cup of coffee, one she made exactly how Hank liked it.
He stopped in his tracks. "What's the occasion?"
"I didn't poison it," Wren replied. Hank snorted and took the cup. Wren's eyes flashed to Connor, who ceased pacing. He bounced on the balls of his feet. Wren held up a hand, palm forward. Connor nodded and stilled. They needed to wait till Hank finished his coffee before celebrating anything. Wren downed the rest of hers and joined Connor in front of the table, shielding the cake (which Connor uncovered earlier) and gifts.
"Do you want breakfast? Shit, we're outta eggs… I thought we had a few left?" Hank muttered, his head in the fridge. He withdrew and finished his coffee. "We could grab donuts on the way to the station." He turned and narrowed his eyes. "What the hell are you two up to?"
Wren glanced at Connor, grinning. His smile was softer, but he seemed just as excited. They looked at Hank and stepped aside, revealing their handiwork, arms outspread. "Happy birthday!" they exclaimed.
Hank's eyes widened and his mouth fell open. He looked between Wren and Connor. "You… You guys did this?"
"Of course we did," said Wren, dropping her arms to her sides.
Connor straightened, his brow puckering. "Do you not like it?"
Hank rubbed his mouth, his eyes gleaming. "O'course I like, it you plastic asshole. C'mere, you two." He extended his arms. Wren smiled as she and Connor entered Hank's embrace. The three of them hugged for a few seconds before Hank released them. He sat down at the table. "This cake looks like a child vomited all over it." He gestured to the outrageous amount of sprinkles.
"That's what I was going for," Wren chirped.
Hank sat down and opened his card. Wren watched his face as he read their notes. She had no idea what Connor wrote, but she knew hers by heart:
Hank,
Like I told Connor, we met in a very unconventional way (I still haven't forgot that you shot me!). Without making things too weird… I want you to know that you've been like a father to me these past several months. I don't really remember my dad (and according to James, he hasn't really been around a lot anyway), and Prometheus certainly didn't act very paternal to me. But you have. You've been patient with me and have guided me when I'm lost. And I know, without saying it, that the three of us in this house share a bond. And I know we all love each other (don't you dare roll your eyes at me –I know I'm being mushy gushy!). Anyway, I just wanted you to know that I love you, and I'm really glad we met. Happy birthday!
Love, Wren
Wren glanced at Connor, whose brow creased. He met her gaze before they both looked at Hank. Tears welled in Hank's eyes. He set the card down and sniffled. "Thank you both. That, uh, that means a lot to me."
"Open your gifts," said Wren, pushing the boxes toward him with a bounce.
"Okay, okay," said Hank, wiping his eyes. He tore the wrapping of the larger box and withdrew his new T-shirt. "Nice! Thank you." He opened the other gift and pulled out the framed picture. It showed Wren and Connor crouched beside Sumo in Hank's front yard. Wren smiled widely while Connor's appeared softer. Sumo's tongue hung out, looking as though he were smiling, too. Hank's lips twitched at the picture. "This is really somethin', kids. Thank you both."
"And we can do whatever you want tonight," said Wren. "Our treat."
"You know," said Hank, leaning back, "I haven't been to a movie in forever."
"Yeah!" Wren agreed, bouncing up and down. "I mean, I'm sure I've been to one before, but I don't remember it! And Connor's never had that experience."
"Is it really different from watching a movie at home?" Connor queried.
"Yeah, the popcorn's better," said Hank. "Bigger screen, darker room, surround sound… It's fun."
"What would you want to see?" said Wren.
"I'll look when we get to the station. Are we having cake for breakfast?" said Hank, gesturing to it.
"If you want," said Wren.
"Depends on if Connor the nutritionist will allow it," said Hank, glowering at Connor.
"I'm not a nutritionist," said Connor.
"That's a yes," said Wren. She cut the cake and put a slice on a plate for Hank before taking one herself. They ate quickly, as they had less time to get ready for work. Connor offered to clean since he was already ready while Hank and Wren rushed through their morning routine. Wren applied a little makeup, heeding Tina and North's advice to try and catch Connor's attention. She slipped into the only skirt she owned –a black leather one –and a striped sweater. She wore black booties and tights to complete the outfit before heading out with Hank and Connor.
When they reached the station, nearly every person they passed bombarded Hank with a "Happy birthday, Lieutenant!" Hank managed a small smile, though he seemed annoyed with the gesture by the third person. Before they even reached their desks, Captain Fowler stepped out of his office.
"Anderson, Reed, Morgan, Chen, Miller and Connor –I want you all in my office in five minutes!"
Wren exchanged a glance with Tina, who shrugged. Wren looked at Gavin, Connor and Hank. "Are we in trouble?"
"Don't think so," said Gavin, folding his arms. "He doesn't seem pissed off."
"We better not be," said Hank. "It's my birthday."
"Maybe he's throwing a surprise party," snorted Gavin.
"A one-man job?" Wren laughed.
Gavin grinned at her. His eyes roved over her. "Wow, Wren. You actually look pretty today."
Wren rolled her eyes and flipped Gavin off. Before she could respond, however, Connor said, "She looks pretty every day."
Wren's eyes widened and her heart seemed lighter than usual. Her cheeks warmed as she tried to hide a smile.
"Yeah, dipshit," said Gavin, "I was being sarcastic."
"Gavin's a disaster at giving compliments," said Tina, interjecting herself into the group. She nudged Wren and waggled her eyebrows at Wren's outfit. Wren rolled her eyes again.
"Gavin's a disaster in general," she said.
"Stop attacking me," huffed Gavin. Wren and Tina snickered while Chris joined them.
"I guess we should go in there, huh?" he said.
"Yep," said Hank, leading the way. The six of them walked together into Fowler's office and aligned themselves in front of Fowler's desk. Wren and Connor exchanged a glance before facing Fowler.
The police captain scowled at them. "Stop looking like you're at a funeral. It's not bad news."
Wren relaxed slightly. Fowler stood and circled his desk. He leaned against it. "Officers Miller, Morgan and Chen, the three of you have done exceptional work. I think it's time we promote you to detectives."
Wren's jaw dropped. She looked at Tina and Chris, who wore similar expressions.
Hank patted Wren on the shoulder. "Congratulations, kid."
Wren glanced at Connor, who wore a faint smile as he nodded in encouragement. Wren faced Fowler again, straightening. Detective. She was Detective Wren Morgan now. But that still didn't explain why Fowler called the six of them in his office.
"The higher-ups and I have been in meeting after meeting the past few months," said Fowler, rubbing his face. "As you all know, Hank and Connor are the only ones who work android-human related cases. Even though the android liberation was peaceful, there are still crimes involving androids and humans. And Hank and Connor's workload just keeps getting heavier and heavier. So, with Markus's help, we've decided to create a whole new branch in the Detroit Police Department dedicated to solving android-human related cases. I was asked to select a team to be the first on that branch. And congratulations to the six of you, you're now the new Human-Android Division of the Detroit Police Department."
Wren's eyes stretched open even further. She looked at Connor, whose eyes broadened. They looked back at Fowler, unable to speak.
"So, uh, we're a team? What, uh, happens next?" said Hank.
"I'm working on having the fifth floor repurposed to give you your own space. We'll be moving drug-related crimes to this floor, and the six of you will move up. All of Hank and Connor's cases have been transferred to the rest of your terminals. You'll get started immediately. You're all dismissed. Go gape at each other somewhere that's not my office." Fowler waved them off.
The six of them trailed out of Fowler's office and into the breakroom. Tina's eyes looked as though they might pop out of her head. She covered her mouth. "Holy shit. Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit!"
"Detectives," said Chris, shaking his head. He grinned. "That means we get a pay raise!"
"A team? A fucking team?" Gavin folded his arms.
"Great," said Hank, dragging a hand down his face, "I get to work with more children."
Wren looked at Connor, grinning. "We get to be on a team together."
Connor's mouth slid into his usual lopsided smile. "Congratulations on your promotion."
"Thanks," said Wren. She wanted to laugh. "I still can't believe we're all going to be on a team."
Connor's smile widened a bit. "I look forward to working with you, Detective."
The apples of Wren's cheeks popped as she smiled. "Likewise."
...…
Woo! Sorry about the wait, guys. I had those 2 papers and hardly any time to write. Thank you all so much for your amazing reviews! Whenever I feel down about writing, I go back and read them and I feel motivated to keep going. So thank you all, I really do appreciate it!
Songs:
"In My Veins" by Andrew Belle
"C.F. (Interlude)" by Amber Run