Hey! Happy Holidays!

I hope to get chapter fifteen out by Christmas, and then there will be a bit of a delay in updates because I've been reworking sixteen and seventeen. Whether I hit that deadline or not, though, fifteen will definitely be out before the new year.


November 19, 2038

With extra help from the DPD and the brunt of her stress behind her, it only took Andy two days to find an apartment. The Boulevard was less than ten minutes from Midtown and the department, and the small but efficient space had felt like a good fit. The find came at the exact right moment, too, because everyone's days off work were leaving them antsy and restless. A storm was brewing in Hank's home, and Andy was ready to leave.

"You should also change your locks. It's protocol for landlords to do so between tenants, but you should ensure your own security."

She resisted a sigh and looked up at the counter above the elevator doors. Connor, she believed, had the worst of it the past few days. Without Markus keeping him updated or asking for his input, and without the red ice case to keep him busy, he threw himself into helping her. This meant her morning was full of advice on the basic steps of apartment life - she was willing to bet he'd been researching it in the middle of the night.

She didn't hold it against him, but there was only so much she could take. "This isn't my first apartment, you know," She quipped, side-eying him. She shifted her duffle bag further up her shoulder, and jostled the box in her arms.

It cut his rambling short, and he noted the faint edge in her otherwise friendly tone. Realizing he was hyper-fixating, he nodded, and looked to the doors. "Right."

She glanced his way. He was attempting to appear indifferent, and it made her regret saying anything at all. You weak bitch, she thought of herself before leaning to the side to nudge his arm. "But I appreciate the concern," She murmured once he looked her way.

He smiled at her as the elevator reached the sixth floor and stopped. They walked halfway down the hall to a door that was cracked open, and Connor pushed his way inside with the box in his arms. Andy was behind him when she heard a door at the end of the hall open.

A young woman had forgone the elevator ride and climbed the six floors up the stairwell. She slowed in her pace as she neared Andy, coming to a stop one door down and across the hall. They watched one another in casual interest, and she was the first to smile. Pulling earbuds out, she asked, "New neighbor?"

Andy nodded. "That's me." Re-positioning the box in her arms to hold out a hand, she introduced herself. "Andy."

"I'm Kira," The woman replied, reaching out to shake her hand.

Shuffling behind Andy pulled their attention to the doorway, where Hank had emerged. He stopped once he spotted Kira, and offered a gruff but awkward nod. "Uh, hi," He gestured to Andy's box, asking, "That the last of it?" When she nodded, he moved to take it from her hands and carry it inside.

"Moving away from home?" Kira asked, grinning.

The question puzzled her until she realized what Hank must have looked like to the outside eye. "Oh, n...," She trailed off. There was no reason to hide it - she wasn't undercover anymore - but it had been so long that it felt natural. Breaking into a casual smile, she huffed, "Yeah, secret's out."

Kira was none the wiser. She had no reason to think the nice young woman moving in was telling lie. "It's safe with me," She joked, waving a hand around her, "Welcome to the neighborhood."

"Andy?" Connor peaked out into the hall, his timing precise enough to make her want to scream. She looked over her shoulder at him, then back to Kira. It directed his attention to the woman across the hall, and he straightened. "Excuse me-"

"That would be Connor," Andy interrupted, swiftly taking control of the encounter. Unfortunately, the introduction had been left open-ended and without knowing what was going on, he could still reveal too much. She had to convey to him to play along, in no uncertain terms. "My boyfriend," She added, turning to stare up at him.

His gaze shot down toward her. It was unnoticeable if you didn't look for it, but he'd been caught off guard. He regretted walking out of the apartment - all he'd done was step outside, and he found himself in the middle of something he didn't understand. If she could see the LED under the beanie he wore, she was sure it would have been a bright yellow.

She smiled at him, eyes pleading with him to say something. Nodding, he returned his attention to Kira, saying, "I'm Connor. Andy is... my girlfriend."

It wasn't the smoothest of introductions, but Connor wasn't the smoothest of men. It felt genuine, in its own way, and Kira chuckled. "You don't sound so sure of that," She mused.

"New relationship," Andy spoke up before Connor could attempt an explanation. With a shrug, she confessed, "Practically just happened."

Kira waved it off. She was opening the door to her apartment as she told them, "Well, you look cute together."

"What?" Connor imagined this was what whiplash felt like. It was one punch after another, but that was the comment that required a double take. He didn't know what she meant, or why she thought it, but a small, unexplored part of him felt a distinct tinge of... Pride? Joy?

She'd gone inside her apartment by now, and Connor would have to shake it off and think about it later. Andy was standing in front of him, with an explanation of her own due. At his imploring stare, she offered an awkward smile and began to squeeze past him. "We'll talk about it later."

Connor shut the door and followed her into the room, but she ignored him as she picked up a smaller box marked for her bedroom. Looking up from the boxes he'd finished organizing in a stack, Hank noticed their body language and squinted his eyes. "What is it?"

"Nothing," Andy deflected.

"Andy...-"

"It's nothing!" She insisted, shaking her head.

Connor wasn't letting her get out of it that easily. "She told her neighbor I was her boyfriend," He informed, walking by toward the couch.

They stopped, and Andy pursed her lips. "Snitch," She muttered.

He picked up another box, and moved to place it atop the counter. "What are you going to do, break up with me?" He asked her, a tiny smirk teasing her.

Before she could retort, Hank lifted a hand and said, "You know what? I don't want to know." He crossed the room with Andy, standing in the doorway of the bedroom as she put down her things. "Hey. Keep on eye on him, will ya?" He asked, glancing over his shoulder to the android unpacking kitchen items.

She stopped in her work to scoff. "Keep an eye on him?"

Shrugging, he began to explain, "It's his first day at the station without me-"

"He's not in preschool," She interjected.

He confronted her with a deadpan stare. "Can you tell me Gavin isn't gonna fuck with him?"

At that, she paused. As she nodded to concede, he mirrored the gesture. "Yeah, good point," She mumbled.

"Thank you," He said. He stepped away from the door and looked around before telling her, "Well, that's all your shit, so I'm heading back home."

She smirked, asking, "Don't feel like helping me unpack for a few hours?"

A snort was his only answer. "Try not to get into too much trouble, all right?" He rose his voice, making the request of the both of them.

From the kitchen, they heard Connor reply, "I'll keep an eye on her."

It was the exact wording Hank had just used with Andy. Her jaw dropped and she looked to him in silent accusation. He shifted on his feet to dodge her stare, and left out the front door.


The apartment was a long, rectangular space that came pre-furnished, and decorated in light, earthy colors. There was a small foyer at the entrance that jutted out toward a living room. Sliding doors and windows on either side took up most of the far wall, and the scene of Detroit over the balcony let light bleed in through the curtains.

To the immediate right of the foyer and behind the dividing wall was a kitchen, an island counter standing in the middle. Along the wall that connected the two rooms was a series of doors; a closet was in the middle, a bathroom to the right, and on the left was the medium-sized bedroom Andy was currently unpacking.

Connor was unfolding and flattening the box he emptied in the kitchen when a call came in. It was one he'd been waiting for, so he quickly answered. "Connor," Markus started once the call was accepted, "How are you?"

He was anxious, confused, agitated. He was feeling helpless. Those all led to a path he didn't want to go down if he could help it, so instead Connor deflected. "I'm trying to keep busy. Do you know the girl I showed you?"

With Andy's permission, he'd sent a photo and model number of Stewart Combs' latest victim to Markus. They'd been waiting to hear from him, hoping that he would have a name they could give her.

Unfortunately, he didn't. "I asked around, and no one's ever seen her before. If I knew what happened to her, I could probably help more..."

It was a not-so-subtle hint. Much to Connor's dismay, Andy wouldn't let him give Markus any details. She was avoiding causing a panic, as a dead android on the steps of the precinct was bad enough. More than that, she didn't want to go to Fowler with a request to share case information with the public.

Connor didn't know how to begin explaining the secrecy, so he tried to move the conversation along. "What's going on with Jericho?"

"We've regrouped, and I think we're safe, but more of us are arriving every day. Soon we won't be able to accommodate all of them," Markus explained. "Which leads me to what I wanted to ask of you, actually."

Connor owed a lot to Jericho, but he didn't know where this was going, and it made him tense. "I don't see how I can help with shelter."

There was a pause before Markus spoke again, as if gathering his confidence. "I think it's time for us to meet with CyberLife. We need to reach out to them before decisions are made without us in the room."

That was the last thing Connor wanted to hear. He still hadn't fully processed what happened to him three days ago, or what it meant for Jericho. He didn't know if it meant there would be more underhanded attempts on CyberLife's part to retake control, and he believed the best thing to do was to keep them as far from Markus as possible. "That's too risky. CyberLife doesn't want Jericho to succeed. You can't rely on them."

"We can't wait around for everyone else to decide whether we belong, either," Was the only argument Markus needed to make. "I'm going to meet with CyberLife, and I want your help."

Connor knew when he wasn't going to win, but he still dreaded the thought of getting in the middle, at least while he was still so in the dark himself. "I understand, but I can't help. I'm not with CyberLife anymore. If anything, I'm... a sore topic. You're better off doing this without me involved."

It wasn't good enough a reason for Markus, Connor could tell. After an extended silence, Markus resigned himself to leaving it be. "Very well. It's your decision, but if there's anything I should know - or anything you're worried about, you can talk to me. Any of us. You're part of Jericho, and we have to be in this together."


Connor was lost in his thoughts when Andy returned to the living room and started unpacking the last small box that sat on the couch.

She didn't have much with her in her move. Aside from kitchen necessities and clothes, there were two boxes labeled for sports and one marked for décor. There was a stack of picture frames inside, each one between layers of folded quilts and small pillows.

He filed his concerns away, something he was becoming far too skilled at, and crossed the room. He neared the end table where she placed one of the photographs, and reached for the frame. A younger Andy grinned back at him with an arm around the shoulders of an older woman at her left. To their right was a shaven, and sober, Hank Anderson.

She caught him staring at it, and told him, "That's the day before I went undercover."

"Is this your mother?"

"Yep."

They looked alike. Natalie's face was softer and rounder, and the brown in her hair was brighter. They had the same nose, though, and the same, inviting smile. Hank stood tall at their side, chin up and hands down. He was poised, but the small pull at his lips was telling. Andy had carved out a place for herself in his life even before she took on the dangerous work.

Setting the photo aside, he asked her, "Any word from Lieutenant Richards on your transfer?"

She shook her head. "Fowler's not telling him anything, but I'll be fine."

"If he puts you back with Detective Reed?"

As much as any of them dreaded that, she knew that wasn't the worst option. "Then I guess I'll be stocking up on aspirin," She answered with a sigh. Handing him the now empty box, she asked, "You ready to be back in the office?"

He took it from her and began to unfold it. "I'm definitely ready to be working," He nodded.

She eyed him a few seconds longer, a single brow raising in curiosity. Humming, she said, "Good, so Hank was worried for nothing."

She had dangled a bit of intrigue in front of him, and waited for him to take the bait. He paused, well aware there was an ulterior motive behind the seemingly casual comment. "Why would Hank be worried?"

"You know, your first day back at the precinct," She answered, shrugging.

His brows furrowed. While it was true he was worried about the reception he'd receive from the rest of the department, he didn't believe they had any reason to know he was. "I was there two days ago," He denied.

"Yeah," She trailed off, nodding. Gathering the thin pile of quilts in her arms, she rattled off, "So was a CyberLife rep, trying to take you away. This is your first real day back with a job to do, and you're free to be there as much as anyone else. It's different."

A flat stare followed her across the room to the closet. He was keenly aware of those facts. "Thank you for the summary."

She put the fabrics on the top shelf. "You're smarter than me, so I'm not saying anything you don't already know," She remarked, shutting the closet door. Turning, she shot him a sharp, cheerful grin that told him she knew exactly what she was doing. "And if there's nothing to worry about, then it's fine."

"I am capable of picking up on sarcasm," He told her. Putting the flat box with the others, he sat at the kitchen island and faced her. He felt she would drop it if he asked, but maybe it was best to vent a little. He had enough troubles he was shouldering alone. "My presence is going to make people uncomfortable. I have to prove I deserve to be there, and that I can be trusted."

She walked over, leaning her elbows on the surface. "So you're a rookie. Everyone has to do that."

With a bitter smile, he looked to her and said, "They're not uncomfortable because I'm new."

"That doesn't change the solution. You said it yourself; you just have to prove it to 'em," She said, as though it was nothing. When he still looked unconvinced, she reached out to nudge his shoulder. "Besides, you already have an advantage. The SID guys like you."

It was nice, if it were true, but he couldn't bring himself to believe it. "Or they like that I'm the key to your red ice case."

"I'm just saying, I wasn't the only one standing up to Perkins," She said, reminding him of the showdown three nights prior that almost took down an entire unit of the Detroit police. It was a good point, and Connor had a hard time poking holes in that logic. Quietly, she added, "You got this."

He smiled at her, and how sure she sounded of it. Standing straight, she wandered into the kitchen. She was looking through the drawers and the fridge, acclimating herself to her new home. Connor watched her, and let his mind drift to the new neighbor they met, and lied to.

"So, is there a particular reason you lied about my relation to you?" He asked.

If she was nervous to answer him, she didn't show it. "If it makes you feel any better, I lied about Hank, too," She joked, glancing briefly over her shoulder.

It didn't make him feel better, but it did explain it - somewhat. "You don't want these people to know you're a detective."

She wouldn't look back at him now, and he could see her hand lingering on the edge of the stove top, fingers curling absent-mindedly. "Old habits die hard," She dismissed with a shrug. A second later, and with a short jolt, she twisted around to scrutinize him. "You're filing this away for a lecture later, aren't you?"

He quirked a brow. "What's there to lecture? You're just choosing to lie to people after being isolated for years by a fake identity." Tilting his head down, he grinned at her, smug and derisive. "I'm sure it's nothing to worry about."

She was quiet and unblinking, recognizing the tables had been turned on her. Finally, she broke into an amused grin and wagged a finger. "Nice try, Doc, but I don't fold as easy as you do."


With most of the unpacking finished, Andy and Connor left the complex. It was a short ride to the precinct, and once they arrived, they parted ways. While Connor went to check in with Richards in the SID office, Andy walked along the bullpen and went straight to Fowler's door.

He was finishing a report when she knocked, and he lifted a hand to wave her in. Stepping inside, she lined up on the other side of his desk and clasped her hands together. "Reporting in, Cap."

Putting down the folder he was working on, Fowler relaxed in his chair. "Call me Cap one more time and you won't be," He chided before waving a hand toward the bullpen. He continued to look at her with a hard, warning stare as he said, "You're working with Hank."

She tried not let him see the amount of relief she was feeling, afraid this was either a sick joke on his part or an even sicker test. "Okay," She replied, nodding.

He watched her reaction and pointed. "This doesn't mean you're off the hook. If either of you mess up, even a little, you're with Reed and Hank spends his foreseeable future behind a desk."

It was a hefty threat, and she didn't put it past him to make good on it. "I understand."

Once he was satisfied he'd scared her enough, he went on to say, "While Hank's still suspended, I want you looking into Combs. We need to get out in front of this before it becomes a bigger problem."

"Yes, Sir." She turned and moved for the door. Her hand was on the handle when he called her name, and she stopped.

He'd leaned back over his desk and had papers in his grip. "Your appointment's today?"

She paused, hand drifted down the door. "Yes, Sir."

He made no indication he heard her until he finally nodded. "You're dismissed," Was all said as he turned to his paperwork, leaving the exchange as simple and painless as that.


As the afternoon neared, Andy found herself making less progress than she hoped. She dug through every resource she had and discovered as much as she could without a warrant, but it all barely touched the surface. Stewart Combs was living half off the grid, even more so now that he was a wanted man.

A body grew near her and she looked up from her disorganized array of papers. Connor was moving Hank's chair to the end of her desk where he uncharacteristically fell into his seat. "How's it going?" She asked, her cheerful tone a stark contrast to his apparent mood.

"I compiled a list of names for Detective Richards. I offered to help look into them, but he kicked me out," He answered, elbows on the armrests.

He was unhappy with the situation, and the deep frown on his face made it obvious enough. His brows were knitted together, and she swore he was sinking into the chair just a little. She began to smirk, a strained cough masking the laugh. "You're pouting."

His head snapped toward her, and a strand of hair swayed at his movement. It was almost comical. "Don't be ridiculous, Andy. I'm not pouting," He pouted.

She rose her hands in mock surrender, and waited for her quiet laughter to subside before she spoke again. "Outside help has to be sanctioned first, and technically you were only approved for the sting. He's just trying to follow protocol."

"I understand his caution after the IA investigation, but it's a substantial list. SID will be looking at it for days," He complained, shaking his head.

Brows shooting up at that, she replied, "A whole week. Perish the thought."

He stared at her. She was mocking him now. He knew police work took time, especially when those in charge weren't advanced intelligence like he was, but- Well, that was just it. He was advanced intelligence, and he could handle this in a fraction of the time. Still, he knew what point she was trying to make. The world wasn't going to end if they didn't have answers a few days sooner.

That didn't mean he had to like it, or yield to it. Deciding to focus on her work, he asked, "Have you found anything about Combs?"

Her amusement shifted to exhaustion. She fell back against her chair, bringing her tablet with her. As she scrolled down the page, she listed, "He tried to join the military when he was eighteen but he didn't pass the physical. He got his house from the inheritance when his mother died in 2025. She was married and divorced twice, neither to his father, and that's where the trail ends."

"Who was his father?"

"Prosper Hobbs," She read off. Tossing the tablet onto the desk, she told him, "There are seven men in this country with that name, and none of them have ever been to Michigan."

With a new puzzle calling him, Connor was returning to his normal self. "So one of them lied in the hospital."

"Question is which one?" She asked. A tight smile pulling at her lips, she said, "I'm going to ask around, but something tells me the FBI won't be picking up my phone calls. I'm looking for the stepfathers' families now. One looks bleak, but the other's got kids who might know something."

It was the end of the trail for Stewart Combs, but they had other clues to chase. One of the androids had been identified, but the other remained a mystery. All they knew was that she was deviant, and had gone missing from a storefront weeks ago. "Have you heard from Markus?" She asked.

Connor shook his head, saying, "He didn't know anything that could help, but he does expect answers eventually about why I was asking."

"He'll get them when the rest of the public does. I know it sucks, but that's the way it is. I'm not pissing Fowler off," She said, her captain's threats still fresh in her mind.

Although he wanted to argue, he would push it aside. He knew this wasn't easy, juggling her superiors and her work and the people she wanted to help. He had his own version of that turmoil going on, and he had no idea how to handle it himself.

He was spiraling down thoughts of his earlier conversation with Markus, and Andy noticed. "How are they doing, anyway?"

"They're struggling to take care of everyone, but they're better," He answered.

That sounded like the truth, but there was something he wasn't saying. Narrowing her eyes, she asked, "How are you doing?"

He blinked a few times, breaking out of his daze. "I'm fine."

Her shoulders dropped and she frowned at him. He had to know by now that wouldn't be good enough. "You're so convincing about it."

Sighing, he sat up in his chair and leaned forward, wanting as few people to overhear him as possible. "He wants my help planning a meeting between Jericho and CyberLife."

"Makes sense," She nodded. So why did he not look happy? "Why is that not good?"

That was what he couldn't tell her, and for many reasons. "He expects me to have leverage over CyberLife, but I think I might end up making things worse." It was a significantly diluted answer. He knew she saw through it, but it was the best he could give.

Whether she accepted it as truth or not, she wouldn't let him hide from Jericho without a fight. Scoffing, she said, "You could say that about anything. You know more about CyberLife, and humans, than any of them. He knows that. It's why he's asking."

"What if-"

"And here's the DPD's last plastic pet." The mocking voice drifted along as Gavin Reed walked past Andy's desk toward his own. He stopped a few feet away, turning to jut his chin out in Connor's direction. "Didn't you get the memo? No androids in the bullpen."

While that was mostly true - the android units once working for the department were all absent - Connor was an exception. It was nothing but bait to start an argument, so he remained stoic as he said, "I'm here to help Lieutenant Richards on his case."

Nodding his head, Gavin stepped forward and sneered at the android. "Oh, right, you're evidence now. Well then, allow me to take you down to the evidence room."

"Focus on your own work, Reed," Andy interjected, finally looking up at him. She smiled, sweet and bright, adding, "Unless you need our help with something you can't solve?"

Pointing a finger at her, he smirked and warned, "Watch your tone, Detective. Don't want to hurt my feelings and piss off Fowler with a new report, do you?" He spun on his heel, cackling to himself as he returned to his desk.

While he appreciated the swift end to the encounter, Connor didn't approve of her taking fire for him. "You don't need to defend me, Andy."

She never acknowledged his comment, sitting forward in her chair and picking up their conversation where it had been left off. "You want my advice? Talk to Fowler. We've got a meeting room in the back and everything. It's neutral territory. CyberLife won't feel like they're giving in, and Jericho won't think they're walking into a trap." She stopped, glancing away. "At least, not as much of a trap."

He started to protest the idea, but found himself agreeing with it. It was already made clear to him that Markus was doing this with or without his help. This was a way to keep things clean without having to be there himself. "Do you think the captain would agree to help Jericho?"

She looked over her shoulder at Fowler's office, and Connor followed. He was ending a call with someone as he typed into his computer, unaware of the conversation going on outside. Andy picked up her tablet and turned to Connor with a casual shrug. "You're right, don't bother. Tell Markus it's a no-go. You can just squat in churches for the next fifty years."

His eyes narrowed into a pointed stare as she went back to her work. She was feeling rather cheeky today, it seemed. "A simple yes or no would suffice."

"Yes, but that's not nearly as fun for me," She joked with a grin. He stood from the chair and she called out, "Good luck. Oh, hey-" He'd passed her but stopped at this. They both turned to each other, and she asked, "I'm going for lunch in ten. You in?"

He nodded before walking away. "I'm with you."


Twenty minutes later, the two of them were seated on a bench in Capitol Park. Andy leaned on her knees and held a hot dog in her hands, enjoying lunch while Connor described his conversation with Fowler. As she expected, and wouldn't let him forget, the request had gone over successfully.

"He's going to get in touch with Chief Simmons and they'll reach out to both Jericho and CyberLife. They'll plan the details as mediator," He explained.

Snorting, Andy swallowed a bite of her food before mumbling, "DPD being a mediator. There are miracles in the world."

"He made it clear they wouldn't be enforcing anything beyond that," Connor said. With a faint frown, he added, "Markus thinks all of this is a good sign."

She shrugged and leaned back beside him. "He's earned some optimism." If anyone could bring CyberLife to some kind of compromise, it would be Markus. He'd already done something amazing, after all, and his speech after the protests at Woodward stirred up even stronger support from the public.

Thinking of it naturally led Andy to speculating over Connor. He had really appeared to be struggling next to Markus that night, but for the life of her, she couldn't pinpoint why that would be. Picking at the crumbs of her hot dog bun, she piped up, "We still haven't talked about what happened when he was giving that speech the other night."

Connor shook his head. To him, they'd just gone over this, but Andy didn't know that night was the reason he didn't want to help Markus work with CyberLife. She didn't know anything about that night.

It wasn't a matter of trust. He just didn't want her involved, getting her hands dirtier. Whatever CyberLife was planning - and they had to be planning something - he needed to handle it alone. Whatever questions he had, about what their secrets meant for him and the rest of Jericho, he needed to answer alone. More than that, it was to preserve his pride, and her opinion of him.

He didn't want her to know CyberLife almost regained control.

"Everything worked out. It's not an issue," He said, trying to appear nonchalant. When her gaze didn't let up, he gave her a little more. "CyberLife contacted me and attempted to make threats."

"What kind of threats?"

It was a hard tone she took on, and he attempted to reassure her that it didn't need her intervention. "Nothing worse than what Miss Carnegie tried. It wasn't anything I couldn't handle."

She didn't say anything right away, but it was obvious she was not any less concerned. "You know I don't believe a word of that, right?" She finally asked.

He looked to her, stressing, "They won't be a problem anymore."

"Then why not want to meet with them for Markus?"

He stood corrected; apparently she had connected those two events. On one hand, he couldn't blame her for wanting the truth, but on the other, the line of questioning bothered him. There was a hint of offense in his voice as he reminded her, "I'm not a suspect."

The words seemed to strike her in a way he didn't quite understand. Her eyes widened and she started to refuse the implication, "I didn't-" She stopped, taking a beat to collect herself. Lowering her voice, she looked away from him and said, "It's your business, but if it could bite people in the ass later, I just want to know about it before that happens."

"You've done enough, Andy. I'm not putting you in the middle of this," He told her.

She didn't like it, but finally, she was backing down. Fingers pulling at the corner of her paper basket, she said, "Sorry that turned into an interrogation."

He nodded, replying, "It's all right."

Her eyes drifted away to the street. It still unnerved her, and she nervously tried to give an apology she thought was worthy. "I- I didn't mean to-"

"Andy," He stopped her. This was not a side of her he'd seen before, and the sudden insecurity confused him. He made sure she was looking him in the eyes when he repeated himself, "It's all right."

This time, she believed him. Clearing her throat, she nodded and waved the paper basket in her hands. "I'll toss this and we can leave."

She wasn't more than four feet away when he called out to her. "Do you regret what you did?" He asked, bringing her to a sudden stop. When she looked back at him, he added, "We haven't talked about that, either."

No, they hadn't, but she'd had plenty of time to think over her answer. She didn't regret siding with Jericho. If she could have done things differently, she just would have been smarter. She would have helped them in a way that couldn't have so tragically backfired on them. "Not what, but... how. It was really stupid."

He nodded at that. "It was. You could have been seriously hurt."

She titled her head, musing, "That, too."

"That's the main reason," He insisted. He understand what she meant, that she had not taken her safety into consideration, and he wouldn't let it slide. Not caring about her safety was precisely why it was an issue.

Before she could respond, her phone started ringing. She reached into her pocket and pulled it out, answering with a casual tone that betrayed the heavy conversation they'd been having. "Hello? ... That's me."

As the person on the other line spoke, Andy perked up. "Yeah, I was. Do you have anything? ... Uh, yeah, that would be awesome."

Connor watched, puzzled, as she glanced around frantically for something, then rushed back to the bench. Dropping her box down beside her, she reached out to grab Connor's arm and started repeating a series of numbers to him. He listened quietly as she came to the end of the number, and said, "Gabriel Mateev. Got it. Thank you."

She hung up the call, and was flipping through her contact list as he asked, "What was that about?"

"That was an officer in Toledo calling about Prosper Hobbs," She replied.

"He knows someone by that name?"

Shaking her head, she gestured to him, "No, but his brother might. What was that number I just gave you?" He opened his hand for her, letting the phone number project on his palm in holographic android typeface. She glanced to it and back to her phone, but did a sudden double take. "Show off," She muttered, pursing her lips.

He was positively beaming as he watched her. With a smile bordering on smug, he responded, "You're welcome."

The number started to ring, and she sat up with an amused grin as she waited. When a man on the other end picked up, she began, "Hey, this is Detective Andy Hope, with Detroit Police. I got a call from someone who says you might be able to help me out."


It was a half-hour drive out of Detroit to get to Michigan Bail Bonds. They walked up the steps and entered the small building, where they were greeted by a reception desk and a row of chairs. Andy crossed her arms, standing by the unaccompanied desk as she looked around.

They didn't have to wait long. A stocky, dark haired man in a black uniform approached from the back room and leaned out of the doorway. "Detective Hope?"

She looked up and asked, "Gabriel Mateev?"

"You got him," He nodded, gesturing for them to follow.

Falling into step behind him, Andy spoke, "Thanks again for the help. Nothing I was doing came up with a Prosper Hobbs in Michigan."

The room they were in was not meant to be this kind of office, but the company was making it work. Desks were back to back in their own version of a bullpen, and filing cabinets were crammed in any empty corner they would fit. One wall was nothing but counterspace, home to an old coffee maker and a barely used microwave. There were two offices in the rear, doors closed and blinds drawn.

Gabriel glanced over at her as they weaved through the space. "That's because his real name is Sebastian Hewitt. He's got about five aliases and they're all loosely based on his family. His father's middle name was Prosper, Hobson was his mother's maiden name, that kinda thing." He stopped at a desk near a corner of the bullpen and turned to face them. "Did he do something in Detroit?"

"Not that I know of. We're looking for his son," She answered.

With a wry face, he snorted and asked, "Sebastian's got a kid?"

"I take it he's not Dad of the Year, then," She joked.

Shaking his head, he pulled at his chair and sat down. "He's never mentioned kids, and he talks. Too much." Turning on his computer, he told her, "Trust me, they were lucky if he wasn't in the picture."

Behind Andy, Connor inquired, "What kind of record does he have?"

"A long one." Once the screen lit up with the relevant page, he reached up and twisted the monitor toward them. He leaned back in his chair, saying, "Guy's a conman who can't drive. Sometimes he gets into fights."

That was underselling it, they quickly realized. From a slew of assaults and traffic violations, to an even longer list of various fraud charges, Andy didn't even understand some of the ones he'd managed to obtain. Pointing to the information at the top of the screen, she asked, "Is that address current?"

Gabriel hit a button on his keyboard, and somewhere behind him a printer started running. "Nah, he's pretty much couch to couch. He also turns off his phone when he's not making calls, so there's no point tracing it."

She looked down at him. "Isn't that risky for you?"

Shrugging, he replied, "He's good at making court. We only ever had to send out agents once."

As he turned the monitor to its normal place, Connor asked, "Do you have a bond for him right now?"

"No. Business slowed down during the whole android thing. Still, I'd be surprised if he lays low through the new year," Gabriel answered, his face twisting in skepticism. He kicked off the floor and rolled his chair backward toward the printer. When it hit the small desk the equipment was perched precariously on, he stopped. "What's the son's name?"

"Stewart Combs."

No recognition flashed as he gave the name some thought. Pulling the papers from the printer, he returned to his desk and stapled them together. "Doesn't sound familiar, but if I hear anything about either of them, I'll give you a call," He told her, holding up the records.

She nodded, and took them off his hands. "Thanks."


With the information the bondsman had given them, they returned to the precinct and began the new search. While Connor read through the records they already had, Andy looked though the department's own database for Sebastian Hewitt. Naturally, Connor finished his task first and resorted to hovering over her shoulder.

Despite knowing more about Hewitt, Stewart Combs remained a mystery. Sighing, Andy dropped her hands onto the desk and said, "This feels like a dead end to me. Nothing suggests Combs knows his father."

He'd come to same conclusion. Lowering himself into Hank's chair, he asked, "What about the factory where he worked?"

She huffed and donned a sarcastic smile. "They directed me to their lawyer, and he doesn't want to hand over employee records. I'm shocked."

He wasn't, either. "They're going to want to protect their reputation, and this isn't enough for a warrant," He said.

"Yeah," She mumbled, lowering her head into her hand. Without leads on Combs, or his victims, they were in the dark. There was a distinct sinking feeling forming in her gut, one that usually meant this was the start of something much worse. They needed to get ahead of this, and fast. "There are no obvious connections between Combs or his victims. Honestly, I think he's just driving around looking for opportunity."

Connor nodded, along his own similar thought process. "I agree. Neither of his victims were from the factory, so it's not just revenge. He's on a mission, and killing any of us contributes to that."

Tilting her head, she muttered, "And he knows we're looking, so his routine's going to change. I'm betting he already ditched his ride for a new one. We're gonna find it in a parking lot somewhere." She thought to the skeleton crew the DPD was working with right now, and leaned back, complaining, "Doesn't help that the department's patrol team is basically three guys with cameras and whatever SID can lend right now."

That was a problem for which Connor believed he had a solution. "Not if you let Markus know about Combs."

She shot a sharp look over at him. He'd already asked this, even before today, and her answer remained the same. "I can't release that information-"

Leaning down, he cut her off with a hushed but urgent voice, "With Captain Fowler's approval, you can. If you tell Jericho about Combs and what he looks like, the victim pool gets smaller and you get more eyes around the city." She started to shake her head, but he persisted. "Markus already knows something's going on. Let me tell him the details."

He had a point, and a part of her agreed. The problem was that it introduced too many variables. This wasn't like what Jericho had dealt with before, and she kept imagining old documentaries in her head, showcasing entire cities falling apart under the fear of serial killings. At least they knew to be alert, but then she thought of androids like North, who could just as easily resort to violence in response to men like Stewart Combs. As much as she hated it, if an android hurt Combs without it being explicit self-defense, the law was protecting him, not them.

Fowler's words that morning were also still ringing in her ears. If any of her decisions backfired now, that was falling on Hank's head. She was trying, harder than she ever had before, to tread carefully.

But Connor had a point, and a significant part of her agreed. Bouncing her foot in frustration, she pointed up and warned him, "If I do this, I need to know that lookouts are all I'm getting. The second this turns into vigilante justice or a protest outside the precinct, we lose control and Combs becomes a martyr."

That made it two arguments won in one day for Connor. Marking the occasion in the back of his mind, he nodded and assured her, "Markus can handle it."

She still wasn't sure about that, but she would trust them. Pushing herself to her feet, she sent him one last, weary glance before turning and walking toward Fowler's office.


The next few hours were spent coordinating with Markus over a call in SID's office. They would give him Combs' name and photo, and the blocks of Detroit where they knew he had frequented at one time. Markus would have his people avoid those areas and keep an eye on anyone who attempted to approach them. The DPD offered protection, but Markus refused - it would require telling them where they were staying, and with the wounds still fresh, that was a lot to ask.

When the day was over, Andy felt at least a little accomplished. She didn't have anything on Combs, but she felt as though they'd put a dent in his plans. That would have to be enough for now.

Pulling up to the curb outside Hank's home that night, Andy parked her bike and lowered the kickstand. Behind her, Connor climbed off and stood to his feet. He removed the helmet she lent him, and told her, "Thank you for the ride."

She waved off the comment. "Eh. Hey-" She leaned back a little on her bike and pointed to him, saying, "You survived your first day back." With a tilt of her head, she added as an amused afterthought, "Even if you did pout."

He frowned. "I did not pout."

He could see the smile peeking out underneath her bike helmet as she gave an enthusiastic sway of her head. "Like a little baby boy," She chirped. When he started to hold out the helmet, she shook her head, "Keep it here. You're using it all week."

Nodding, he tucked it under his arm and watched her re-position herself on her bike to get ready to ride. "I'm..." She turned to him, and he hesitated. The earlier conversation was over, and maybe he didn't need to bring it up again, but he was still fixated on it. He wanted to make sure it wasn't adding unnecessary stress to her life. "You don't need to worry about my problems with CyberLife."

She hadn't expected the topic, but she gave little reaction to it. With her hands sitting on the handles of her bike, she asked him, "What would you do if I told you not to worry about some big secret I was trying to protect you from?"

He started to argue it wouldn't have been the same, but he knew she would say it was exactly the same, and she would have been right. He gave her proposition a serious moment of thought; He would have hated knowing he was powerless to help her. He would refuse to let it stay that way. "I wouldn't rest," He admitted.

Having expected him to argue or deny the comparison, the confession surprised her. She shifted on the bike before plastering a shaky smile on her face. "And I'm more stubborn than you, so think about that," She joked.

As she lifted the kickstand, another memory occurred to him. It had been sitting in the furthest recess of his mind, puzzling him, all day. "What did your neighbor mean when she..." Andy looked up at him, waiting for him to finish his question, and he felt a sudden waves of nerves. "Never mind," He finally decided.

Thankfully, she would not push. "All right. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Drive safely."


"I just need talk to the other former employees. I mean, someone has to know something. Everybody's got a friend, or a cousin, or that one co-worker who keeps sticking his nose into your business, right? I just got to find him. He'll tell me what I need to know."

Andy sat on a long couch in an unfamiliar office, her elbows on her knees and her hands clasped together in front of her face. She stared straight ahead, but her eyes were glazed over as she rambled.

"Guys like this? They don't hide their motives. They brag about them. They think they're doing the world a favor and they want gratitude. Someone knew Stewart Combs was on the edge of doing something stupid, and I just have to find that person."

"Detective Hope."

She blinked several times, at last noticing the woman sitting across from her. Dema Nazarian was a well dressed woman with immaculate, intimidating posture. She sat with one knee over the other, and until now she'd been watching Andy with raised brows.

"Yeah?" Andy asked.

Nazarian's attention was exacting, but patient. "We're ten minutes into your first session, and I know more about your case than I know about you," She explained.

This was true, but Andy was fine that. "We're one more body away from this becoming a serial killing. Shouldn't I be focused?" She retorted. When the doctor's expression quietly persisted, Andy quipped, "Disapproving stares are my favorite form of communication."

It got no obvious reaction, so she sighed. "I don't know where to start," She admitted, leaning back on the couch. At least it was a nice couch.

Doctor Nazarian finally smiled. She relaxed, swaying a heeled foot as she mused, "The beginning usually works."

It was Andy's turn to be unamused. "Are all therapists comedians or just the ones I get to deal with?"

Shrugging, Nazarian replied, "I can be more direct if you prefer." The woman slid a hand under her open, and currently empty, journal. "So you've dealt with therapists before?"

Andy diverted her gaze. "My mom," She said softly.

"How's your relationship with her?"

"It's good," She said, hands fidgeting in her lap. "I haven't been able to see her in a few years, with all the work stuff."

"Have you talked to her about any of it?"

Andy gave a visible scoff, "God, no. She'd just go into shrink mode."

"Did she do that when your father died?"

The question shocked her, and she jostled herself, shaking her head as though to reset herself. "Wow, okay. Straight for the jugular," She exclaimed.

At this, Nazarian grinned and retorted, "Well, you didn't want the comedian."


When Andy made it to her apartment that night, she was sure she was the only one in the building still awake. She rested her head against the wall of the elevator, eyes closed as she listened to the hum of the mechanisms lifting her up each floor. The metal was cold on her back, and the stillness of everything was soothing to her headache.

The day hadn't even been that exciting, but she was exhausted. Her mind was swirling with the red ice case, and Stewart Combs, and Jericho meeting with CyberLife, and Connor keeping secrets from her. Throwing therapy on top of that seemed so stupid now.

Stupid, but necessary. As tired and messy as life was now, it was also a little more stable. This was her way to find normalcy, to cope - to maybe not lie to her neighbors for no reason, or not treat her friend like he was a suspect.

The elevator opened and she kicked off the railing. She walked down the hall, slipping off her beanie to run a hand through tangled hair. As she came to a slow stop at her door, she reached into her pocket for her keys. It wasn't until she twisted the knob that she noticed a piece of paper stuck to the surface of the door.

'Taking out the trash isn't murder, Miss Hope. Stay out of my way.'