Chapter 16

While they were many things that Cole could do programming memories was always faulty. Hank had been built with the intention of replacing the man who had brought him into the world.

Cole knew his father's likes, his dislikes, his hobbies, his interests or at least the biggest part of them.

His father respected people who abided by the law. He disliked people that did bad things but he also disliked people who looked down at him. Sometimes he really hated this quality about his father.

There was no guarantee that the android might be as patient as his father was when it came to such things. Programming things like this in an android wouldn't serve him well.

While he did program all of his father's memories in the machine, there was no way to guarantee it'd even be the same person he knew. Even if he got all of his hobbies and interests right. There was no replacing the love his father felt for him or his mother.

Everything that couldn't be replaced was filled with the A.I that came with the KL-900, the primary function to act as a therapist and a fortune teller.

Caring for someone did come naturally for the KL-900 but Cole could never know if it was the A.I or from the memories he programmed into the android.

From the first time he opened his eyes though, Hank could tell that something wasn't quite right about the situation.

"Hey Hank."

"Hank? Is that my name?" he asked.

"Yes, you were a machine designed to replace my father."

Hank scanned his features.

"You're Cole Anderson. Your father, Hank Anderson is recorded to have died October 10, 2035."

"That is correct."

"Then you made me to help you cope with your grief."

"I've had 16 years to grieve. I've waited all this time just to see you again. Even if it's an illusion can you at least pretend you're him?"

Cole embraced him.

Tears slipped from the corners of his eyes.

"That's all I ask. Please," he pleaded.

'I shouldn't. It's not my function. This isn't healthy.'

There had been no reason to refuse because he hadn't been programmed to care.

As days went by, Hank adjusted to the new family he was in slowly.

Most of the time, Hank spent his time caring for Cole fixing him meals, informing him about appointments and phone calls.

Hank put extra care in ensuring that the meal was healthy for an adult male his age.

Cole sat down at the table and glanced at the plate with a raised brow and a growing frown. After he ate Cole insisted on washing it himself and thanked his father before going along with his business.

This had gone on for two days before Hank began to suspect something was itching at his mind. The event had gone down a similar path as had the previous days.

He ran a psychological simulation of the event the next day before determining that Cole must have disliked the way he prepared breakfast.

Why? Was it because he couldn't cook a decent meal? Did Cole hate the kinds of foods Hank cooked? Or was it some other reason?

"What's the matter? If there is something wrong with the food please let me know and I'll try to fix it the problem for you."

"The food's fine. You're a good cook dad."

"You're not just saying that to make me happy are you?"

"Of course not."

Still Cole seemed to be bothered by the food nevertheless.

Hank even resorted to calling his ex-wife.

"I didn't expect you to call me. What is up?

"It's about Cole. I don't know what's wrong whenever I offer him food. He seems sad."

"What kind of food do you fix him?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Cole said he made you to replace my husband. You may not realize it but he's projecting that image on to you."

"So you're saying it's not the food."

"Not exactly. How do you make the food?"

"Like usual."

"How?"

"I look up healthy recipes-"

"Stop right there," she said. "That's the problem right there. Hank never fixes healthy food. He doesn't even fix food if he don't have to and when he does it's awful."

"Is that why he acted that way?"

"Likely."

Cole had programmed memories of years when he was in college making unconventional recipes to get through school.

Most of his time was used researching how to use food in conventional ways to make something edible. It just seemed highly unhealthy, and very disgusting to create something like that for a human being.

There was a stark contrast between the day he served that and the days he had been fixing healthy meals so much so that Hank took note of it.

He took note of the way, Cole softly smiled gazing at him in an emotion akin to comfort almost relief.

At some point he had been eager to put that expression on his face more often through any means necessary.

Hank scoured the house for some memories of the man he was before.

One particular day he spotted a photograph on the top shelf of a group of people in police uniforms.

"Is this supposed to be me?"

"Yeah, you used to be a lieutenant for the Detroit Police."

'I wonder what I used to do?'

He eventually managed to contact his ex-wife and found he used to work in homicide.

This fact seemed to wear on him until it was all he could think about.

'I look so much like him I could return and maybe Cole will smile again.'

Hank pitched the idea of going back to work at the precinct.

"Are you sure?" Cole asked.

"Well I ain't doing nothing here."

"You're very useful. You don't have to force yourself to do something like that just to make me happy."

"Alright."

Still after that conversation, Hank had got in the habit of brooding over that picture. Sometimes Cole thought he was spacing out.

"Are you alright? All you've been doing is gazing at that picture."

"All I could think about is what I used to do and what I could do if I returned. From what I've researched I think I'd enjoy solving cases and mysteries."

"Really? I never knew you were interested in that kind of thing."

"I didn't know either but it sounds fun."

"If you really want to join I'd be willing to program you with some new packages. Cyberlife has been working on an RK-800 prototype that will help police officers with their investigations."

"Sounds good. When would be a good time to install it?"

"We could do it tonight while you go in standby mode."

After the war, it wasn't difficult for an android to find a job if they had proper qualifications. It was only necessary to be equipped for standard protocol and to comprehend simple instruction.

Reading an article about rules in the police force was different than executing them. Hank had learned that at the academy and had been readmitted on the police force.

Meeting Jeffery again wasn't enlightening in the slightest. Even being programmed with memories of your past comrades was no good when you only had names and pictures to go by.

He was brash and quick to the point. Jeffery had called a young man inside.

Hank noted that the man was thin, his hair short and trimmed and he wore freshly ironed clothes.

First day back at work and Jeffery had already assigned him a new partner.

Connor was his name. There was also a Connor that was programmed in his memories. The memory of the name came with a note, best friends, trusted.

Hank didn't know what it was like to truly trust. He didn't even understand friendship but he was willing to try if it meant feeling useful again.

"I think you don't seem to understand something, captain. I have and always will work alone."

While nothing about the statement was capable of offending Hank, something about the statement perplexed him all the same.

The closest thing to describe it was curiosity but he had never felt that towards a stranger much less someone who carried the same name as the one from his memories.

This curiosity bleeded into the conversation that happened afterwards. Connor was surprisingly chatty despite him using words like cold to describe his work ethic. Hank noted he was also very dedicated often bordering on passionate for his work.

Eventually Hank and Connor had gone to the crime scene. Hank used his program to deduce and process the death of the android at his first crime scene. With the reconstruction program from the RK-800 package it was effortless.

After finding the assailant it was only a matter of scanning the red blood trail across the floor until he found the trail leading to the attic.

During the days in which the suspect had been recovering in the hospital, Hank had decided to drop by Richard's chicken feed and pick up something for Connor.

Cole had always responded positively to nostalgia. That's the only thing that seemed to provoke happiness.

Maybe if Connor enjoyed foods that Hank liked then maybe he would like the android made to replace him.

Only Connor seemed unconcerned with the food seeming to prefer to focus on his work rather than eat.

Slight irritation scratched at the corners of his programming, the KL-900s function to soothe.

Eventually Connor glanced at the food before giving him a lecture on the unhealthy content and proceeded to toss a joke in a deadpan manner.

He never claimed to like the food but he never gave off the impression that he was expecting something better either.

It was quite a dull reaction but also relieving in a way.

Still when asked about his hobbies, Hank still held the fear that maybe Connor wouldn't be as interested in anything he said if he admitted to having none.

By the time the suspect left the interrogation room though it was obvious that Connor could care less about such frivolties even giving him a chance to interrogate the suspect. Even if he didn't provoke a confession out of the suspect, Connor had openly expressed gratitude and appreciation for his work despite how imperfect it was.

With that gratitude Hank began to associate more positive feelings with Connor's presence. It came with the feeling of purpose and belonging further enhanced by the actions of Detective Reed.

Of course everything with Reed just went against the moral structure Hank's morality was based off of but dislike that was programmed by Cole was nothing compared to a moral code implemented by Hank the moment Reed had been bullying Connor.

He wanted nothing more than to punch Reed across his face merely because Connor had elicited these positive feelings within him. It was unfair that Reed tarnish someone who did nothing wrong.

Hank was scared by how protective these feelings seemed in nature. He was starting to care about someone other than his son.

Throughout the night, Hank had been keeping a close eye on Connor. After Connor had arrived at his doorstep with one arm held close to his chest and the other clutching a bullet wound on his side, Hank couldn't afford not to worry.

By the time morning came around, Hank found that he was completely charged to 100 percent unplugging the cord from his outlet.

Connor was beginning to stir.

Hank was certain he was hallucinating. Humans don't wake up before the sun comes up or at least none that he can remember.

He groaned before turning to glance at Hank looking disoriented.

"Anderson?"

"Connor."

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Hmm..."

"You look worried."

"I can't worry?"

"You can but I don't remember you knowing me well enough to."

"I would do the same with anyone."

'I wouldn't,' a voice in his head caught him out on his lie.

Connor smiled.

"That makes sense I suppose. What time is it anyway?"

Hank brought up the time on his processors.

"6:41 am. Do you want something to eat?"

"My injuries don't deem me bedridden. I can cook myself."

Connor slowly got up and winced.

Hank quickly helped him to his feet.

"Sh-t, I forgot about my arm."

"Are you sure you don't want me to cook?"

"I'm quite capable of cooking my own meals," Connor insisted.

Hank helped him to the kitchen.

Connor being so stubbornly adamant on cooking drove him crazy. It took twice as long for him to prepare all the necessary foods because he insisted on plowing through the fridge himself.

"So what else do you like to cook in your spare time."

"Don't really cook alot."

He wondered if he should bring up Hank's memory

or

not say anything at all.

"I believe you said that you used to make food in college but that's Hank's memory isn't it?"

"Something wrong with that?"

Twenty minutes of bumbling around the kitchen and Hank had enough.

"Enough Connor. You continue bumbling around the kitchen and nothing will get done."

Connor wondered if he should ask Hank to cook something he likes

or

cook Hank's ramen recipe.

"Why don't you ever cook something?"

Hank glanced at him with surprise.

"Huh?"

"Your mannerisms, your behaviors, nearly every single one of them emulate him."

"Is that a problem?"

"I can't speak for a robot, but trying so hard to be someone else can be stressful. You don't need to pretend with me."

"You two were good friends and what do you mean by nearly?"

Hank was sure he was emulating him perfectly.

"Hank Anderson is dead. You are your own person who just happens to have the same name as him."

"You can't possibly think that?"

"Why not? You already have qualities that distinguish you from him. You're more approachable, you hate metal music, you love to play sports, being an android you're probably very good at cooking."

"You think I'm more approachable?"

"It took me a long time before Hank would even warm up to me. I remember asking to work in his yard and he thought I would leave the job unfinished so he would always be outside making sure I got the work done to his satisfaction," he said before glancing at Hank. "But you, even when I was being difficult, you didn't let it bother you at all."

"Maybe I am bothered. You didn't even know who I was before any of this."

"Logically you can't know enough about a person to program an exact duplicate of them. Hank loves metal music, he'd rather watch sports than play them, the only sport he's actually played is soccer but he quit the moment Cole was born, and he rather stop to get fast food than cook a meal but I don't like you because you act like him."

"Then why do you like me?"

"It's because you gave me another chance. You didn't let me drag you down and you continued to support me even when I was a jerk. You just can't find people like that nowadays."

Hank sighed.

"You better appreciate my effort. I don't just do this for anyone," he said gruffly.

He passionately gathered up the ingredients for Connor's breakfast and set to work.

It smelled nice. The fresh smell of garlic and onions was a tantalizing smell combined with the ample amount of green leafy vegetables in the frying pan.

The tense stature of the android had also relaxed. Hank was completely absorbed in what he was doing.

"Collard greens are an interesting choice," Connor said.

"I made it for Cole before because he doesn't eat a whole lot. From what I gathered from most health articles dark green vegetables are a good source of fiber and iron."

"So why don't you fix like this more often? You seem to enjoy it alot more than what you made before?"

Hank chuckled but Connor noted it sounded forced.

"I can't."

They didn't speak any more on the matter. After Hank was finished he set it on the counter and Connor took the plate and headed to the table in the dining room.

He turned and glanced at Hank.

"Thanks for the meal."

Eagerly he dug into his food. It was very tasty but equally perplexing was the amount of effort put into it.

This was a meal that Hank had made for Cole. It was a very thoughtful meal. The vegetable choice and flavors were chosen carefully with Cole in mind.

So why had Hank made it for him?

"How is it?" Hank asked.

"It's pretty good."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I eat food like this everyday."

Hank frowned.

"I put some effort into it and this is the kind of thanks I get?"

"Why did you make this? You could have fixed anything else."

Hank glared at him.

"Maybe I'll do that next time. I bet you're just dying to try my ramen recipe again."

"That's not what I mean," Connor said. "You said this was something you made for Cole. I just want to know why you fixed it for me."

"You told me to fix something for you. That was the first thing that popped up in my mind. You're always passionately talking about food like you're a health nut, avoiding caffeinated drinks, food with a lot of cholesterol. I thought it was something you might enjoy but clearly I was wrong."

"I did enjoy it."

"Though it's not anything different than what you make yourself."

"I have made meals like this but never with those kinds of things in mind. You put a surprising amount of thought in the things you cook. It's very thoughtful of you to do this even for someone who might has well be a complete stranger to you."

For a brief second, Hank glanced at him with an expression akin to awe before turning away. Connor noted the light red on his cheek bones.

'Is he embarrassed?'

Cole chose that moment to step in the kitchen.

He glanced at Connor's plate before looking back at Hank in confusion.

"That looks tasty. Did dad make it for you?"

Connor smiled.

He could be honest.

or

He could lie.

It was not good for Hank to continue to maintain this illusion but at the same time he didn't want Hank to feel ashamed of something he did himself.

"No, I made it myself."

Hank gave him a grateful smile.

"Is there any leftovers?"

"Yeah, it's on the stove," Hank said.

After he ate Cole headed out.

"Why did you lie to him back there?" he asked.

"You wanted me to tell him the truth?"

"N-no, of course not."

"If you're anything like Hank, he wouldn't want to intentionally hurt Cole either."

"I thought you said I was nothing like him."

"Even if you're not him, Cole is still someone special to you isn't he? You don't want to see him hurt. You're afraid he won't like you if you don't maintain this facade so you feel like you have to so you don't hurt him."

"That still doesn't answer my question."

"It's pretty self explanatory though isn't it. If I told him the truth, it'd hurt him. Even if he likes you, it wouldn't be the same. Acknowledging that fact in turn would hurt you, wouldn't it?"

Hank felt his thirium pump racing. Connor's soft gaze ensnared his eyes. He was rendered speechless. If he was human, he was sure he'd be breathless.

"You were worried about how I felt?" he stammered.

"Of course, why wouldn't I be? We're partners right?"

Hank looked away.

Something about his gaze made him feel more vulnerable.

He fished his LED from his clothes and placed it on his head.

"I ought to call and tell Jeffery that you'll be taking the next couple of days off for your injury."

"I'm perfectly fine," Connor spat.

He saw the LED had turned from it's blue color to a more yellow color.

"Anderson!"

Hank ignored him.

Connor firmly grabbed his shoulder.

"You did it anyway, didn't you?"

Hank smiled smugly.

"You're d-mn right I did."

Connor rolled his eyes throwing his hand in the air.

"Unbelievable."

"Don't be looking for trouble alright? You think you'll be good by yourself?" Hank asked.

"I'll be fine, Anderson."

Hank snorted.

"Liar."

Connor smiled.

"Maybe you should have thought about that before phoning Fowler."

"Do you have a death wish you know as well as I do that you're in no position to be working in that condition."

"I'm in every position to do so especially since you're the one who foolishly left me under Reed's care. I'm not going to let you or Reed keep me from doing my job."

Hank stammered. The forgotten LED on the corner of his head turning into a red color.

"Wait, Reed's the one who shot you?"

'Sh-t. I said that out loud didn't I?'

"Yes. You shouldn't sound so surprised."

"Chris told me he would be the one driving you back to the station," Hank said. "If I had known he'd leave you with Reed I would never have left."

"Why did you think it was a good idea to leave me alone to begin with?"

"Chris said they had everything under control. I made a mistake, okay. I'm sorry."

Connor glanced at him smugly.

"You're really enjoying this aren't you?"

"You have no idea."

"Look I won't do it again alright."

Connor's smug smirk faded.

"Wait, you said Chris told you he'd be driving me back to the station?"

Hank noted the young's man's face was pale, with wide eyes. He looked haunted.

"Yeah, he did. Why?"

"Chris dislikes Reed. He'd never do something like that."

"Are you sure?"

Connor nodded.

"That is a little odd. I'll see what I can find out at the station but you need to go to the hospital. You can't keep postponing it."

"Alright I'll go but only if you come too."

With that Hank set off leaving Connor alone at the house. After Hank had left, that's when his cellphone began to ring.

Quickly Connor answered it.

"Yes?"

"Is that you, Connor?"

"Yes it's me. Who are you?"

"Simon. Meet me at the usual place at noon."

"Alright."

End Notes:

I've outlined a total of 26 endings of Connor's storyline. Most of which are influenced by choices earlier on. So I'll be keeping a tally of how these choices effect other endings.

The first alternate choice is ultimately another tick mark for the ending I'm already pursuing in this fic. The other two alternate choices though are 2 tick marks that lead to thirteen other endings that are in group 1. Depending on other choices these endings will get more specific.