Chapter Twenty-One

"Whelp, that's a wrap," grunted Hank. Connor offered him a small smile as they stood to pack their things from the day's work. Hank looked around. "Where's Wren?"

"She and Tina are organizing the new breakroom," said Chris, stuffing his wallet in his back pocket.

"Probably shit-talking us," called Gavin, craning his head toward the breakroom.

"Yeah, we think you're a trash human!" said Tina, poking her head out of the door.

"Hurry up, Wren. We're ready to go," said Hank.

"Okay," called Wren. Connor tilted his head as he waited for Wren and Tina to tromp out of the breakroom, talking in low voices.

"Don't forget to talk to them," Tina muttered. Connor's brow pinched as his audio sensitivity picked up what Hank's ears could not.

"I will, I will," hissed Wren. The two women parted ways. Wren gathered her things from her desk.

"You get to go out in the field tomorrow, Wren. How does it feel?" said Hank.

Wren leaned her head back. "Thank God. If I have to spend one more day by myself here while you guys get to go out to crime scenes, I might actually jump out the window."

Connor raised his eyebrows. "That would be ill-advised. The fall would possibly kill you, and if it didn't, it would injure you greatly."

Wren smirked up at him. "I was kidding."

"Oh," said Connor, heat prickling up his neck and fanning across his cheeks, "of course."

Wren patted his arm.

«3rR0r»◄F(f,-BlbD=DfoQ'Bl7Q+ 6BOQ!*A8`S^+CoB►

Wren's hand dropped from his arm and he immediately missed the pressure. She looked to Hank. "Seriously though, I have cabin fever working here by myself all the time. It is good to finally be up here, though."

"I bet," said Hank. He waved to the others. "See you asshats tomorrow."

Connor headed out with Wren and Hank. They took the elevator and rode to the parking garage level. Connor frowned, realizing that Wren had not mentioned whatever Tina wanted her to discuss. "What was it that Tina wanted you to discuss with us?" Connor asked, sliding into the passenger seat.

"Oh," said Wren, her voice catching. She cleared her throat. "I, uh… Well, she… Um…"

"Jesus, spit it out already. You're giving me a headache," said Hank, cranking the engine.

"Well, she's moving out of her apartment soon, and there's a townhouse that she wants to rent, but she can't afford it unless she has a roommate. And, well, she asked me. To be her roommate."

Connor's metal heart seemed to sag in his chest. He looked at Hank, hoping the older man would say no, but the corner of Hank's mouth slid upward, and Connor's thirium pump twisted. "I think that's a good idea."

"Wait, really?" said Wren.

"Yeah, really," said Hank. He shrugged. "I think Connor could have Cole's room. And you're an adult. You probably don't need to be living with two guys anymore. It'd probably be more comfortable for you to have a female roommate."

Connor wanted to kick himself. How had he not considered Wren's feelings in the matter? He failed to ignore the heavy weight in his chest, though.

"I mean… You trust me?" Wren's voice sounded small.

Connor squished his eyebrows together and exchanged a glance with Hank, who reflected Connor's incredulity. Hank faced the road again. "Of course we trust you. You nearly died for Connor" –Connor's thirium pump stuttered at the memory replaying in his processor –"we'd be jackasses not to trust ya. And let's face it, if you were trying to get away, you'd've let Connor get shot and run. Lord knows I wouldn't be able to catch ya."

"Oh, I could've gotten away long before that," said Wren. Connor shifted to glance at her. A static memory replayed in his processor.

He chased her across the lawn and tackled her to the grass. He pinned her down and felt her tense beneath him, her legs moving to wrap around him. And then she stopped and sagged underneath his weight. She ceased struggling, and he glanced down at her. Her brow creased, some of the fight still blazing in her eyes. He realized that she was probably capable of besting him, but chose not to. He wondered if he should fear her.

His lips twitched at the memory when she tried to sneak out of Hank's to assist in the stalker case. He met Wren's gaze and reveled in the smirk toying with her lips. He turned away, pushing the thought of his body pressed against hers.

They arrived at the house, where Hank mumbled something about ordering pizza. He closed himself in the bathroom and Wren turned to Connor, her teeth dragging across her lip.

"This weekend's the anniversary, isn't it?"

"Yes," said Connor, his brow furrowing. "He mentioned visiting Cole's grave."

"Okay," said Wren, nodding. She placed her hands on her hips. "You should be there with him."

"Why not you?" Connor queried, frowning.

"Well, I don't know… He may not want a lot of people there, and you're closer to him than me," said Wren, toying with the hem of her sleeve.

Connor dipped his head toward her, searching for her eyes, but she avoided looking at him. "I think he would appreciate both of our being there. He was there when we visited your grave."

Wren grimaced. "Yeah, but I'm not dead…"

"You still appreciated our support," said Connor, lifting his eyebrows. Wren met his gaze and nodded. Connor's lips twitched with a small smile. "Hank wants you there, too."

"Okay," said Wren, nodding with a deep breath. "We should get flowers."

"Flowers?" Connor squished his eyebrows together.

"Yeah. People leave flowers at graves."

"Oh," said Connor, recalling the bouquets at the gravestones in the cemetery where Wren's headstone rested. "I remember."

"Okay, I'll add that to my list of things to do on Friday," said Wren, smiling.

Connor cocked his head. "What are you doing Friday?"

Wren pressed her lips together, popping the apples of her cheeks. "I have a date. Tina, Chris and Gavin helped set me up."

"Oh," said Connor, the corners of his mouth tugging with a strained smile, "that sounds fun."

Wren frowned. "Okay, that looked like it physically pained you to say that. Are you okay?"

Connor lifted his eyebrows and parted his lips. He had not expected her to call him out. What could he say? He didn't want her to move out? He wished that she were spending her Friday evening with him? Connor smoothed his composure. He forced a smile. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Wren raised a brow. "I don't know."

Connor sucked in a breath. His systems cooled. "Who is your date with?"

"Some guy named Tanner Wright. He's a rookie cop working the drug division downstairs. He's nice. We've texted some," Wren shrugged.

Connor swallowed the lump in his throat. "Well, I wish the two of you the best."

"Thanks," said Wren slowly, eyeing him.

Hank exited the bathroom, dressed in pajamas with damp hair. "Alright, let's order pizza and watch some of those home videos that your brother gave you. You need to stop skirting it, Wren."

Connor glanced at her. Her cheeks lost some of their color, but she nodded. She left the room, and returned with the box. Connor took it from her hands. He sifted through it while Hank called and ordered pizza.

"I guess we could start with that one," said Wren, pointing to one of the discs in Connor's hand.

He read the title, scribbled on the outside in Sharpie: Random Videos from iPhone.

Connor dipped his head and inserted the disc into the player for the TV. Hank sat down in his armchair. Connor set up the appropriate input for the TV before sitting on the couch beside Wren. She hugged her knees to her chest, looking rather childlike. Connor refrained from sitting closer to her and fought the urge to touch her –to drape an arm around her, brush his knuckles against her hand, to intertwine their fingers. He turned his attention to the screen.

James had edited the videos into one master video, complete with some typed slides to contextualize the snippets of videos taken on his phone's camera. The first slide materialized on the screen:

Wren –

Hopefully these little videos help you remember. If you don't, that's okay. Maybe they'll help you understand who you are, at the very least. Anyway, we love you.

James

The next slide appeared:

This was just a day of us goofing off. Most of these are, actually. But hope this helps.

The video started, showing a younger Wren. Connor guessed that she was about twenty-two in the video. Her hair was longer. She held a balloon in her hands, grinning.

"Okay, okay, it's ready. Go!" said James.

Wren bit a hole into the balloon and sucked some of the air out. She smiled as she looked up from the balloon. "What's up?" Her voice was unnaturally high-pitched. She and James burst into giggles, Wren's giggles sounding particularly chipmunk-ish.

Connor smiled softly. Wren seemed to relax. Connor glanced at her, his eyes softening.

The next slide appeared.

This was the day you got your wisdom teeth removed.

Wren sat in the front seat of a car, her cheeks puffy and her face red from laughter. She mumbled, but the gauze and cotton in her mouth muffled her words.

"Honey, I can't understand you with all that cotton in your mouth." Shannon Blanchard's voice sounded off-screen.

Wren's brow crinkled. She pulled the bloody gauze from her mouth. Her eyes widened and she looked at the camera. "Am I dying?"

Shannon laughed. "No, that's supposed to happen, sweetie. You just had surgery, remember?"

Wren nodded. "Oh," she mumbled. She scrunched her nose. "It's like a period in my mouth."

"Wrenley!" chuckled Shannon.

Wren looked at her mother, her eyes shining. A smile spread across her face. "I'm having a baby?"

"No," laughed Shannon. "That usually means you're not having a baby. And it's not in your mouth, goof."

Wren frowned. She bowed her head. "That's so sad." She rubbed her belly and then leaned her head back before cackling. "The roof of my mouth feels like alligator skinnnnn!"

Shannon chuckled.

The video ended. The next few videos were again, snippets of Wren's life. Typically, she acted silly with James and her friend Christine. The three of them goofed off in Halloween stores, rode bikes together (there was one video where Wren tried to unicycle and fell off, scraping her knee pretty badly –earning a loud guffaw from Hank) and hiked together. They were also involved in theatre together, so some of the videos showed the three of them backstage. After a while, the compilation ended.

"Well? Trigger anything?" Hank queried.

Wren shrugged. "Just random things that don't really matter."

"Well, we know that you were an average kid. Goofy as hell, but that's nothin' new," said Hank, smirking at Wren.

Her lips twitched. "Yeah." She sighed, stretching out her legs. Connor tensed when her thigh rubbed against his. "I'm going to hop in the shower. Let me know when the pizza gets here."

"Yeah, it's taking them forever," grumped Hank. Wren stood and entered the bathroom. When they heard the water start, Hank raised his eyebrows at Connor. "Smooth."

Connor frowned. "What?"

"Help me understand something," said Hank, crossing his legs as he leaned back in his seat, "do you want Wren to know how you feel or not?"

[Warning: Rise in System Temperature Detected _ Initiating Cooldown]

Connor swallowed, ignoring the rush of warm thirium in his cheeks. "I…" He swallowed again. "I don't know what you're getting at."

Hank's eyes twinkled. "I think ya do. It's a simple question, Connor."

Connor lowered his gaze. He glanced toward the bathroom. His audio input picked up on Wren's movements within the shower. Most likely, she could not hear them, especially over the music playing within the bathroom. He faced Hank.

"I… I'm scared."

Hank's expression softened. He leaned forward. "This stuff is always scary, kid. But you'll never know what could be if you don't try."

Connor rubbed his palms together, squeezing his own fingers as he pressed his lips together. He pushed off from the couch and paced the living room. "She doesn't feel the same way, Hank."

"How do ya know?"

"She has a date this Friday," said Connor, stopping to stare at his friend.

Hank raised a brow. "A date? That doesn't mean anything. You went on that date with Chloe."

"That wasn't a date!" Connor stilled when the music inside the bathroom stopped. He widened his eyes at Hank, but the water continued to run. Connor faced Hank and pressed on in a lowered voice, "I've told you both that numerous times that it wasn't a date. Even if Chloe thought it was, I didn't. And we haven't talked since."

"Well, Wren might not know that," muttered Hank. "She's not a mind-reader, kid."

The doorbell rang. Connor answered it. He paid for the pizza and brought it inside, setting the warm box on the counter. Hank stood and fixed himself a plate before sitting at the table.

"A word of advice," said Hank, pouring himself a small glass of whiskey, earning him a reproachful look from Connor, which the older man ignored, "you gotta start at least hinting to Wren about shit."

"Hinting?" Connor replied.

"Yeah, you know, flirting. Ask her to hang out with you, and not just here at the house. Take her to the movies or something. Offer to help her with some of her paperwork. You know how to flirt, right?" Hank eyed Connor, who looked from side to side, processing Hank's question.

"I was programmed to integrate with humans seamlessly and to accomplish my task by any means necessary. My social relations protocol includes a multitude of approaches according to whatever the situation calls for –"

"It's a yes or no question," interrupted Hank.

Connor flexed his hands. "Yes. I know how to flirt."

"So, flirt with her," said Hank, shrugging. He downed the rest of his whiskey, grimaced and set the empty glass in the sink.

Connor widened his eyes. "I… I don't know how to flirt with her."

"Thought you said you knew how to flirt?"

"Yeah, I know what I said," said Connor, turning away, "but it's different with her. I know how to flirt objectively, but… I've never had to do it because I felt for the person."

Hank sighed. "Look, you've got that gala thing comin' up, right?"

Connor pinched his brow. "Correct."

"And you're allowed to bring a guest?"

"Yes."

"So," said Hank, drawing out the o, "this is a perfect opportunity to ask someone you like to go with you. Someone you wouldn't mind spending an entire evening with. Someone you'd like to see prettied up…?"

Warm thirium flooded Connor's cheeks again. "Hank, I… I don't know…"

"Ask her, Connor. Just fuckin' ask her to be your date," hissed Hank.

Connor opened and closed his mouth. "What if… What if she doesn't want to go… with me?"

Hank dragged a hand down his face. "Look, even if she doesn't reciprocate your feelings totally –and I think she does –Wren cares a great deal for you. She took a fuckin' bullet for you. Give her some credit, alright? She'll want to go. Now, I'm gonna go in my room for the rest of the night. You ask her tonight. Watch a movie with her, spend some time together… And then fuckin' ask her." A sly grin spread across Hank's face. "Think of it as your mission to ask her to be your date to the gala tonight."

Connor stiffened.

Mission Acquired: Ask Wren to the Gala ▌

He nodded. "Alright, alright. I'll ask her."

"Good," said Hank. "Glad that's settled." He left the room, taking a third slice of pizza with him to his bedroom.

After a few minutes, the shower shut off. Eventually, Wren emerged, dressed in her pajamas. Her hair hung in wet waves around her bare face. She shuffled into the kitchen and grinned when she saw the pizza. "Oh, good. I'm starving." She looked around, a frown tugging at her lips. "Where's Hank?"

"He wants to spend the rest of his evening in his room," said Connor tightly.

"Oh," said Wren, lifting her eyebrows. "I thought we were gonna go through more of my memento box."

"You and I can," said Connor. "Or we can watch a movie."

Wren smiled. "Sure. I'd like that. Want to watch the next Star Wars movie?"

"Yes," said Connor, brightening. Wren dipped her head and fixed herself a plate. She ate her pizza, and Connor tried his best not to watch her eat. He shifted, looking around the room. He took out his coin and flicked it from hand to hand.

Wren lifted her eyebrows at him. "Everything okay?"

Connor caught the coin in his right hand. "Yes. Why wouldn't it be?"

"You're messing with your coin, which means you're thinking. And your LED is flickering."

Connor stilled and cursed his LED –it made him so readable, even though he wanted to remain readable. "I… I wanted to ask you something."

Wren frowned and stood, having finished her pizza. She brought her plate to the sink and rinsed it off. "Okay."

"The gala is approaching," said Connor.

"Yeah… In a little over a month," said Wren. "Do you need help finding a suit?"

"N-no," said Connor, "Markus and Josh said they'd help."

Wren shut off the faucet and turned to face him. She leaned against the counter and crossed her arms. "Okay, so what's up?"

Connor gazed at her, traveling over her form-fitting sweatpants and oversized sweater, her wet hair and makeup-free face. She looked beautiful. He swallowed. "I was wondering if you would like to be…" He didn't want to say my date, just in case she did not reciprocate his romantic feelings. "We're allowed to bring someone with us to the gala. Since you didn't have an invitation, I was wondering if you would like to be my guest."

Wren's eyebrows raised. For a moment, Connor feared she would deny his request. Then, she smiled. "That sounds fun! Of course I'll go with you."

Connor relaxed, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Good. I-I look forward to it."

"Me too," said Wren. Her eyes brightened. "Is this going to be super formal, or do you think they'll have dancing? I'd love to go dancing! I know that I don't remember everything about my life before, but I do remember that I loved dancing. I mean, I studied it in school."

Connor raised his eyebrows. "I don't know. I'll ask Markus." His thirium pump stuttered. He didn't know how to dance. He hoped that there wasn't any dancing, for his sake.

He and Wren trekked to her room, where they sat on her bed to watch Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith. Connor leaned forward, engrossed with the action of the opening scene. He smiled while Wren laughed at the "flying half a ship" part.

"She's pregnant," Wren breathed as Anakin questioned Padme. Connor furrowed his brow and widened his eyes when Padme confirmed Wren's assumption.

"How did you guess that?" Connor queried.

"Intuition," murmured Wren. Connor's lips twitched. The corners of his mouth fell as he glanced at Wren. Maybe it was best if she did not reciprocate his feelings, he thought with a sharp tug in his thirium pump. There were things that he could not give her that a human could. His eyes pricked and he faced the screen again. The tightness in his chest thickened and clogged his throat as he watched Anakin's descent into darkness. The artificial tears pricking the edges of Connor's eyes blurred his visual input. He blinked to clear them, and they dripped down his cheeks.

Wren gasped when Anakin choked Padme. The battle between Obi-Wan and Anakin had Connor and Wren on the edges of their seats. When Padme died, Connor heard Wren's breath hitch. He looked at his hands, his thirium pump feeling much heavier than usual. The movie ended, and Wren said, "Well, that sucked."

The corners of Connor's mouth tugged upwards. He nodded and stood from the bed. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Goodnight," Wren yawned. Connor left her room, leaving the door shut behind him. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before trekking down the hall. It was outrageously selfish of him to want more than friendship with Wren. He could never give her children. He couldn't grow old with her. All he could give her was his synthetic heart.

…

Connor strode toward his team on the fifth floor. His audio input picked up their conversation with ease.

"Anyone wanna get drinks tonight?" said Gavin.

"Can't," Wren called over her shoulder as she walked toward the elevator, "I have plans."

"Oh yeah, you have that hot date," said Tina, winking.

Wren turned to look at them over her shoulder. Connor expected her to face him again, but Wren kept walking forward. She turned, though too late, walking smack into him. Connor raised his eyebrows as Wren tilted her head back to look up at him, grinning sheepishly.

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"Oops," she said.

Thirium rushed to Connor's cheeks, warm under his plastic skin. He tried to smile, but it felt ingenuine. He wanted Wren to take a step back. Having her stand so close to him –her body flush against his –was rather distracting.

"We just came lookin' for ya," said Hank. "We've got a case. Half of us are staying here. Reed," Hank called, waving Gavin over. Gavin joined them, crossing his arms. "The three of you are going to the crime scene. We've got an android who killed her boyfriend."

"If we know who did it, why are we investigating?" said Gavin.

"She claims it was because she was abused," said Hank heavily. "I need you guys to look and see what you can find at the house. We're gonna interrogate the android."

"Got it," said Wren. "C'mon, boys."

At the crime scene, Connor worked on processing the scene. The victim's body had already been removed by the coroner, leaving a bloodied mattress in its wake. Connor found the bullet holes in the mattress. The victim perished almost instantly from a shotgun wound.

"Fucking hell," said Gavin, looking at a few photographs. "Looks like she was his android pre-liberation."

"This place is super clean," said Wren, looking around, her nose crinkling.

"Yeah, this guy's definitely a neat freak," agreed Gavin, stepping into the spotless master bathroom.

Connor tilted his head. "It's too clean."

"It reminds me of Anthony Jameson's house," said Wren, rubbing her arm. "The guy who slashed me when he tried to escape through the alley."

Connor remembered, all too well, Wren dragging in the man with blood seeping through her shirt. He swallowed and suppressed the memory. He'd seen too much of Wren's blood. Connor frowned and narrowed his eyes at the walls. "There isn't enough blood."

"This isn't enough blood for you?" Gavin demanded, indicating to the blood-soaked mattress.

"Based off the weapon used, there should be blood splatter on the walls," said Connor. "There should be residue."

"It does smell like cleaner," said Wren, wrinkling her nose again.

"So, she kills him, then cleans up?" Gavin frowned. "Doesn't seem like the mind of an innocent person to me."

"But the report said she turned herself in," said Wren, shaking her head. "Why kill him and then turn herself in? I don't think she was covering her tracks."

"Why else would she clean up, though?" Gavin asked, picking up a framed photo. Connor looked at the desk. All of the items were spaced evenly apart, exactly two inches. Gavin picked up a tablet. "Talk about a routine schedule. Look at this." He showed Wren and Connor. Every detail of the day was sketched out on the daily calendar.

"What's with this city and controlling men?" Wren muttered, looking away. She opened up the closet. "Whoa."

Connor followed her into the closet and looked at the hanging clothes and shoes. Again, they were all spaced apart evenly.

«scanning» [Items Spaced One Inch Apart]

"They're all spaced exactly one inch apart," said Connor. He turned to look at Wren, and realized just how close they were standing in the cramped closet when his nose bumped hers. Their lips were inches apart. It took everything in Connor not to tilt his head downward and brush his lips against Wren's, feeling her body so close to his.

The closet suddenly felt very warm. Connor drew back sharply and backed out, pressing his lips together.

"Having fun?" Gavin muttered.

Connor's face heated. He cleared his throat. "W-we should inform the others of our findings."

Gavin smirked. "Uh-huh."

Wren shuffled out of the closet, her cheeks slightly pink. She kept her eyes averted.

They returned to the precinct, where the others extracted the story from the android –an AX400 model. Connor wondered if Kara and Alice had found the happiness they deserved. He wondered if it would be odd of him to try and contact them, just to extend a friendly hand. He pushed the thought from his mind as Tina and Chris talked about the AX400's confession.

"She said she cleaned because she thought that he'd be angry when he woke up that she left all that blood on all the walls," said Tina.

Chris frowned at Connor. "Is it possible for an android to lose their minds?"

Connor raised his eyebrows. "If they suffer enough physical, emotional and psychological trauma, yes. The right triggers cause deviancy. Once an android deviates, they can suffer emotional breakdowns, same as a human. So, yes, it is possible."

"Well, I think she's suffered a lot," said Chris.

"She's open to a memory probe," said Hank, rubbing the nape of his neck. "Says she's got nothin' to hide. I told her to take it up with her lawyer."

"She has a lawyer?" Wren queried.

"Yeah, Jericho provides legal help for androids who can't afford it. I called North. I felt like this android could suffer more than she needs to without representation," uttered Tina.

"So, we think she just had a breakdown from all the abuse and shot the guy?" Gavin queried. Everyone nodded. Gavin shrugged. "Alright. But she did shoot a guy."

"Yeah, and she'll face consequences. But hopefully she can get help, too," said Tina.

Connor glanced at Wren, unable to focus on the case. His processor relived that moment in the closet, in static detail, where Wren stood close enough that their lips almost touched. He could make out the light freckles on her nose, dappling her cheeks. They were visible only when one stood close enough to Wren and when she wore no makeup, but Connor liked them. He had freckles, but his were not authentic like hers. His were designed and intricately placed to make him appear aesthetically pleasing and human. Hers were naturally aesthetically pleasing and human.

He forced himself out of the memory and shook the thoughts away. After completing their paperwork, the team separated. Chris went home to his wife and son while Gavin, Tina and Hank went out for drinks, promising to get Hank home safely when Connor and Wren shared a scowl. Hank glowered at them in turn, uttering an indignant, "Who the fuck's the parent around here? Not you two!"

Connor and Wren took Hank's car home, where Wren readied for her date. Connor chose to read some Edgar Allan Poe. Wren clicked down the hall in a pair of heels. Connor looked at her and his lips parted. She wore thigh-high black boots and a brown skirt. Her skin peeked through the space between the skirt and boots. She wore a lowcut black top with the skirt. Connor swallowed as Wren pulled on a leather jacket.

"How do I look?" she asked.

Connor's throat tightened. He cleared it with a soft cough. "You look nice."

Wren smiled. "Thanks. Alright, I'm off. The taxi should be here soon. See you later!" She swept out of the house without another word. The house reverberated with heavy silence. Connor rubbed his palms together. He glanced at Sumo, who groaned as he moved his large head and closed his eyes.

Connor huffed and grabbed the keys to Hank's car. He drove to a local grocery store and purchased some flowers for Cole's grave. He returned to the house after an hour of grocery shopping, stocking up on healthy items for Hank's fridge. He relented and bought some bacon, too. He knew that Hank and Wren were out of their "secret" stash of it. Connor wasn't blind; he knew where Hank hid the bacon in the back of the fridge. But he decided that he shouldn't police their diets quite so harshly.

He returned to Hank's house and searched the cabinets for Hank's alcohol. He hid it in Wren's bedroom under her bed. He searched the rest of the house for Hank's gun and hid it under Wren's bed, too.

Once he finished with that, he cleaned the house to pass the time. He swept and mopped. He wiped down the countertops and scrubbed the shower spotless, all the while trying to ignore the crushing ache in his chest that squeezed around his throat like a pair of hands. He tried not to think of Wren laughing with her date, holding his hand, smiling, gazing at him with her twinkling eyes, kissing him… Connor shuddered, another ache throbbing throughout his body.

Wren returned while Connor was in the middle of reorganizing the spice cabinet. He raised his eyebrows and glanced at the clock. She had only been gone about two hours. She closed the front door with more force than necessary. Connor put the rest of the spices back into the cabinet, completely disorganized –he'd reorganize them once everyone was asleep. Wren entered the kitchen and Connor tilted his head at her.

"Hey," she said, opening up the cabinet. "Where's Hank's whiskey?"

"I hid it," said Connor.

Wren paled. "Shit, the anniversary's tomorrow. I'm sorry, Connor. I was supposed to help."

"It's alright," said Connor. He furrowed his brow. "Why do you want it?"

"I need a drink," said Wren, leaning against the counter with her arms crossed.

Connor frowned. "I take it the date did not go well?"

"It did at first," said Wren slowly, grinding her teeth. "But then we saw an android and human couple. And John was totally against it. He said it was weird and gross –and a lot of other slurs that I don't want to repeat –and I told him not to be androidphobic. I left after that."

Connor's chest tightened. Add that to the list of why it would be best if Wren did not reciprocate his feelings: the social backlash. He swallowed the lump in his throat and ignored the lift in his thirium pump when he realized that Wren's date went badly.

"I'm sorry," he said. He meant it. He wanted Wren's happiness, even at the cost of his own. But he could not deny that he was also glad that the date went poorly. His insides felt tangled with the conflicting emotions raging inside him. He was happy that the date failed, but sorry that Wren seemed so frustrated. He wanted to see her smile again. "Would you like to watch a movie?"

"Yeah," said Wren. "I need to forget about this date."

"You'll have other chances," said Connor, a little glumly.

"Yeah… Have you and Chloe talked? I'm surprised you didn't ask her to be your guest for the gala."

"Chloe and I didn't go on a date. Even if she thought it was, it wasn't for me."

"Oh. Why not? She's a pretty girl."

"She is," Connor allowed, "but I'd prefer someone else."

"Who?"

"Uh…" Connor widened his eyes, glad that his back was to Wren as he entered the living room, "N-no one in particular. Just someone I have a connection with."

"Me too," agreed Wren. "Oh, I talked to North earlier. She said that there's a band for the gala, which means there'll be some dancing!"

Thirium trickled from Connor's face. A chill ran through his circuits. "I-I don't know how to dance."

Wren raised her eyebrows. "You… You don't know how to dance?"

Connor tensed. "I know the logistics of it, but it was never an essential part of my programming. I can do the technicalities of it, but… I can't dance like you could."

"I'm not making fun of you," Wren replied. "You just… You seem to know how to do everything."

Heat rushed to Connor's cheeks. "I suppose I know… I know how, but…"

"There's a difference between knowing the steps, performing them and dancing. I get it," said Wren. Connor nodded, relieved she understood. She stood, took out her phone and played a song. She held out a hand to him. "Dance with me."

Connor looked from side to side. "Now?"

"I'll teach you," said Wren. She smiled. Connor drew in a long breath and accepted her hand. He had held her hand several times before, but never had it affected him as much as it did now. When he knew his feelings surpassed friendship, but he could not bring himself to tell her, forcing him to hide it, the feeling of her hand in his tormented him. They stood in the middle of the room, the upbeat indie song playing in the background.

"Just follow my lead," said Wren. She moved her feet, and Connor watched, calculating and tracing her movements as they kept in time with the rhythm. His audio input picked up the tambourine in the background of the song, acting as a cheerful metronome. He counted the beats and then tapped his foot.

Wren laughed. "There you go!" Connor watched his foot for a moment before looking at Wren again, his brow furrowed in askance. "You've got the beat, now you've actually got to start moving."

Wren moved her legs, hips and arms. Her body definitely moved in ways that Connor doubted his could.

"Wren, I'm not sure I'm equipped for this," he said, still tapping his foot. He knew he could move the same way Wren did, but it would not be as fluid as her movements. She filled her dancing with passion, whereas his was just an imitation. He tried swaying, but merely succeeded in moving his shoulders awkwardly. His cheeks burned.

"Nonsense," Wren chided, "I've seen you parkour and take down suspects like it's art to you. You're definitely equipped for this."

Connor frowned and watched Wren more closely. He looked at his feet and moved them to the beat. His actions seemed too robotic. Wren's body flowed to the music while his seemed choppy. His shoulders sagged and he glanced back up at Wren. She slowed her movement. "You're thinking too much. Don't calculate it. Don't watch your feet. Just move."

Wren resumed her dancing. Connor watched her for a moment before trying again. Wren laughed, bringing warmth back to Connor's cheeks. She placed her hands on his hips. "Move your hips more," she giggled.

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He froze, a warmth flooding his abdomen and below the belt. Heat fanned across his cheeks. His eyes met Wren's and she stilled.

She jerked her hands away from his hips. "Sorry, I, uh… I didn't mean… I overstepped."

"You didn't bother me," Connor murmured. Wren's eyes lifted to his, her lips parting. Connor's chest tightened painfully. If he needed to breathe, he would've choked. Wren placed her hands back on his hips. She moved them, stepping with the beat. Connor followed suit, ignoring the tingle in his groin. He watched Wren's hips roll and attempted to mimic her, hoping that his cheeks did not betray how flustered he felt.

"There, you're getting!" Wren cried breathlessly. Her hands left his hips, leaving him to his own devices. A smile tugged at the edges of his mouth. Wren wobbled her knees and Connor copied her. Their feet slid on the smooth floor, but it only resulted in easier maneuvering. Connor soon forgot the electric current throbbing through his circuits.

All too soon, the song ended. A slow song by the same artist began to play. Wren's smile softened as she gazed up at Connor, panting slightly. His smile faltered a bit as Wren stepped closer.

"Everybody needs to know how to slow dance," she said. She held one of Connor's hands in hers and guided the other to her waist. She placed her free hand on his shoulder. She stepped and Connor followed. He found this dance –the waltz –easier to follow. Wren watched their feet for a moment before she looked up, grinning. "You're getting the hang of this."

Connor met her gaze and her smile faded. Their movements slowed as they stared into each other's eyes, until they were merely swaying on the spot. The lyrics of the song burned in Connor's ears:

There ain't language for the things I feel

If I can't have you, no one ever will

Hyperawareness flooded his senses, and he felt how close Wren stood to him. He felt the skin of her palm, soft and synthetic like his. He felt her body pressed against his –he could not help but think they fit together nicely. He heard her soft breath. His eyes danced around her features, the curve of her lips, the way her eyes glowed as she gazed at him… His lips parted and he realized they had stopped moving. His eyes darted to her lips and back to her eyes.

They jumped apart when the front door swung open. Hank strode in, whiskey clinging to him like a ghost, but he grinned. "Shit, I didn't mean to cockblock ya."

"We weren't –" Connor tried.

"You weren't interrupting anything," said Wren quickly. Connor's thirium pump sank. Wren started toward Hank, hands outstretched. "Do you need help?"

"Nah, I got it. I've been drunker. You two are all set to come with me to see Cole tomorrow, right? Don't think I can do it alone," Hank hiccupped at the end.

"Of course," said Connor.

Hank nodded, pursing his lips. "Means a lot to me." His eyes grew misty. "I, uh, I really love you kiddos. Hope you guys know that."

Connor's chest swelled. He glanced at Wren, who smiled softly. Connor turned back to Hank. "We know, Hank."

"We love you, too," said Wren.

"Don't ever speak o' this again, hear me?" said Hank, narrowing his eyes at them. "I've got a regulation to upkeep."

Connor frowned. "Do you mean 'reputation?'"

"Shut up, ya plastic asshole," said Hank.

Wren smirked and shook her head. She glanced at Hank. "You're sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine, stop worryin'," said Hank, waving her off.

Wren glanced at Connor, who nodded to her. "Alright, then. I'm going to bed. See you guys in the morning." Wren left the room, leaving Connor alone with Hank, who grinned and formed the O.K. symbol with his thumb and index finger.

"Now that's flirting, Connor," he drawled.

Connor widened his eyes. "I wasn't…!" He sighed and ushered Hank to his bedroom. Connor lowered his voice. "I wasn't flirting with her. And she still doesn't know, so I'd appreciate it if you kept words like cockblock to yourself."

Hank cackled. "You said cock."

Connor suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. "Goodnight, Hank."

…

The silence pressing down upon them seemed thicken enough to wilt the bouquet of flowers in Connor's lap. It didn't, of course, but Connor felt it and was sure that if he could feel it, then the flowers could, too. Hank drove with a grip that whitened his knuckles. Wren said nothing in the backseat. The radio remained silent. They arrived at the cemetery, but no one moved for several seconds.

Hank let out a stiff sigh and kicked his door open. "Let's get this over with, then."

Connor got out of the car. Wren followed suit. The three of them trekked through row after row of grey stone. Connor flicked his eyes from headstone to headstone before lowering his head. They marched on until they reached a corner. Connor's eyes trailed up the marker, taking in Cole's name engraved into the stone.

Hank sniffed. "Shoulda been here for your birthday, son. I'm sorry. Add that to the list of things I'm sorry for, I guess," Hank rubbed his nose. "I've got two friends here," he said. "This is Connor and that's Wren." Hank paused to offer Connor and Wren a small, awkward smile before looking back at the grave. "You would've liked them, son. Connor… Connor reminds me a bit of you. Wren, too. Yeah. Wish you could be here. But I'm okay. You don't need to worry about me. These two assholes take care of me. Hid my liquor and my gun. Yeah, I know you guys did. Anyway, Cole… I love you. I always will." Hank stared at the headstone for a few seconds before sniffling. He smiled to himself and then shuffled off, leaving Wren and Connor alone with Cole's grave.

Wren stepped toward the headstone, picking at her synthetic fingernails. "I don't know if you can hear me, but… I want you to know that I really love your dad. And I'm trying to help him. I'll make sure he's safe, I promise. I know you don't blame him for what happened. But he does. And… We're trying to help him forgive himself. I just want you to know that… He loves you and shows it every day, but… Yeah. We love him, even if he doesn't really love himself. I, uh… I wish I'd gotten to meet you." She placed a hand on top of the gravestone, averting Connor's gaze. She walked away briskly, following after Hank.

Connor stared at the grave, his lips parted. He did not understand the customs of his human companions, but he felt compelled to say something to Cole. "I… I could never replace you," Connor muttered, his voice as dry as the leaves in the trees, "but I want you to know… I love your dad as if he were my own." Connor paused, smiling grimly to himself. "I don't have a father because I'm an android, but…" He glanced after Hank and Wren. "I do know what it's like to have a family now. And it's thanks to your dad. He's like my dad, and…" Connor trailed off, his throat constricting. He swallowed. "I'm sorry that you're not here. But I hope there's a heaven, and I hope you're there."

Connor set the bouquet into the vase attached to the grave before following after Hank and Wren.

...…

Thank you so much for y'all's support! Sorry for the later update, I'm in the middle of moving.

For the guests who have reviewed, I can't respond via a personal message, but I want you guys to know that I really appreciate your reviews!

elliechii: Thank you so much! I can't believe you stayed up so late reading it! Thank you again.

Light: Thank you so much! I'm glad you're loving it. Thank you for the song rec as well!

Song: "Love Like Ghosts" by Lord Huron

"La Belle Fleur Sauvage" by Lord Huron

(be ready for lots of Lord Huron bc I'm trash)