November 25, 2038
Andy was up before the sun on Thanksgiving morning. She called for a cab rather than ride her bike, and five minutes later, she was standing in the airport.
After the incident at Combs' house, Natalie Hope insisted on visiting over the weekend. She wanted to see her daughter for herself, and Christmas was too long a wait. Andy didn't argue with her - bomb scares were a level above what either of them were used to handling.
Andy arrived at the airport much earlier than she needed to, and she was willing to admit a part of that was anxiety. It had been five years since she'd seen her mother last, and although their relationship was good before she went undercover, that wasn't always the case. It was enough of a stressor that it became the primary topic of what Andy discussed at her last session with Doctor Nazarian. Things are going to be messy, Nazarian said the night prior, You had to do things a lot of people wouldn't want to talk about, and your mother's going to want to know about it.
It was accurate, but the problem ran a little deeper for Andy. Victoria Palmer wasn't just a criminal persona; it very well could have been who she would have become when she was younger. She was worried being that person changed her, and changed her deeply enough that it would break a relationship that once went through something similar.
Set boundaries, but let her in, Nazarian had told her. She was repeating that to herself now, as she stared at the time on her phone.
"Andrea!"
Deep breaths. Set boundaries.
Hank and Connor arrived at work before Andy, which meant the day was already off to an abnormal start. As the minutes went on, a game began of who would bite the bullet and call her. Neither wanted to irritate her if she was simply running late, but after everything the department had gone through over the past month, their paranoia was beginning to take hold.
When she finally walked into the department, Hank turned in his chair to scold her. "You're late."
Her arms went up in a defensive shrug, and she retorted, "I was busy!"
"Doing what?" He scowled.
Before she could reply, Natalie's voice cut in. "She was helping me," The older Hope explained, appearing from behind her daughter.
The sight of her had Hank scrambling to his feet, his eyes going wide and his back straightening. "Natalie!" He exclaimed, towering over her by a full foot in height.
She carried a large platter in her hands, and had two grocery bags hanging from her wrists. "Sorry I kept her," She said, finishing with a warm smile, "It's been a while, hasn't it?"
Hank was no longer aware of his surroundings; that was just the kind of effect she had on him. Andy was moving around to her desk as he nodded, and attempted a healthy-sounding conversation. "It has," He glanced to the platter in her arms, almost twice the width of her petite frame, and reached out to take it from her. "Let me help with you- y- you with that. Let me... help you."
"Smooth," Andy piped.
He tossed a glare in her direction, but kept his attention on Natalie. "What is all this?"
With her hands free, she repositioned her bags and explained, "Well I figured if the rest of you were anything like Andrea, no one was eating properly around here."
There was an assortment of meats and cheese spread across the store-bought platter, and it looked better than all of Hank's meals over the past week. That was an embarrassing fact he would take to his grave, but his brows shot up as he muttered, "You'd be right about that..."
"Is there somewhere we can take this?"
"Oh, yeah. Follow me."
In the SID office, Lieutenant Richards was assuring Connor that his help was valuable, but needed to be handled with great care. They had names, and they had most of the address associated with them. The next step would be surveillance, followed by the DA's intervention and the ensuing arrests. That would be when they would need him again, Richards told Connor.
It was a long way out, and the time in between looked bleak. He needed something to keep him busy, to keep him from feeling like he was useless. He walked out of the SID office with the intention of seeing if Hank had something for him to do, but instead he found Andy sitting at her desk.
He hesitated when he saw her. Their relationship had been changing as of late, taking on a new, more intense form. He wanted to say it started when she first moved into her apartment, or when they investigated Combs' home, but it would have been a lie. He recognized what he was feeling. He'd felt it before, though he wasn't free to explore it back then: he was nervous when he first met Andy, too.
She came into his life like a bright, unstoppable force and knocked him off balance from the very beginning, but they worked together, and came to trust each other. They built a friendship. He wasn't nervous anymore, not when it came to her. She was a steady and familiar constant even as his own identity was crumbling around him.
And yet he hesitated when he saw her.
He approached as she was turning her computer on. "Good morning," He greeted.
She looked up and grinned, unaware of the current insecurities running through his mind. "Hey. How's it going with Richards?"
"They're starting surveillance today on the main list of suspects," He answered, standing at the end of her desk. "I doubt they'll need me for a while."
Kicking back in her chair, she replied, "Sounds like someone's getting some time off."
He tried not to scowl, but muttered all the same, "It would be time off if I worked here."
She picked up on the edge in his tone, and offered a sympathetic smile. Even if she had teased him for his impatience days earlier, she understood how he felt. "Still antsy?"
He didn't deny it, instead giving a faint nod. He leaned against her desk, eyes drifting away from her. Maybe some space from the department would be good for him? "I should see if Markus needs help with anything," He mused aloud.
"I'm sure he can think of something," She agreed.
A soft laugh elsewhere in the station pulled their attention toward the break room. Natalie and Hank stood by the table where they'd placed the food, and were immersed in conversation. As Natalie chuckled over something said, Hank was leaned forward, a small grin on his face.
He was flirting. It was something Connor had never before seen from the lieutenant, but the woman it was directed at wore a familiar face. "Isn't that your mother?" He asked.
"That's her," Andy confirmed. With a small sigh, she explained, "After the Combs thing, she insisted on visiting this week."
It explained why she was late to work, but that mystery was replaced immediately by a new one. Connor's eyes were narrowing as he focused on the two. "Hank seems... friendlier."
Andy quirked a brow and hummed. She was clearly amused as she joked, "He's got the hots for Mama Hope."
It was fascinating to watch them. Connor had seen Hank when he was trying to be nice, and this wasn't that. This looked softer. He moved a hand to the back of his neck and averted his gaze, the body language of a bashful man. Having never met Natalie, Connor couldn't begin to compare her behavior, so he asked Andy. "Does she reciprocate?"
Unfortunately, she turned her stare around on him and said, "You know, funnily enough, I don't ask my mom about her love life."
Natalie was the first to notice Connor. She was in the middle of speaking to Hank when she pointed toward the bullpen, cutting off her own sentence to ask him, "Who's that with Andrea?"
Hank turned and spotted the two in a conversation of their own. "That would be Connor," He answered.
It was a name she'd heard before. "The android... detective?"
He nodded, with a strained sigh and a deep nod. "The very one."
It didn't take much for Natalie to switch modes, and she'd been interested in talking to a free android ever since deviancy hit the news in St. Louis. They weren't exactly lining up outside her office, so this was the closest chance she had to talk to a deviant. Her eyes were bright with excitement as she said, "I didn't realize he was still here."
"We, uh..." Hank paused, still not knowing how to explain Connor. "Well-"
A small, awkward laugh left him, and Natalie's gaze centered on Hank. His reaction was curious behavior all on its own, and it took her but a second to realize why. "You like him," She accused, the tiniest of smiles forming.
Hank was quick to scoff and argue, "I don't like anybody."
"You like Andrea."
He pointed at her, stressing, "I put up with Andy."
"You like me."
He began to reply but stopped, knowing that denial was useless and agreement was embarrassing. Shaking his head, he stated, "He's like a puppy, Natalie."
"Said the man who loves dogs," She quipped, positively beaming at this revelation. "Now introduce me."
She was stubborn, but the meeting was going to happen sooner or later, so he gave in and led her out of the kitchen. He called out as they crossed into the bullpen, and Connor stood from the desk to face them as they neared. Hank stopped in front of him, gesturing to the woman stepping forward. "This is Natalie Hope."
She and Connor openly examined one another, neither aware the other was doing the same thing. It was an odd sort of stand-off, as it wasn't contentious, nor was it blatantly friendly.
It also only lasted seconds, as Connor was quick to say, "You're Andy's mother." He held out a hand, offering a smile to go with it. "It's nice to meet you."
The casual mention of Andy by forename rather than rank and surname was not lost on Natalie. It would seem Hank wasn't the only one who'd formed a relationship with the deviant detective. She was pleased to return his handshake, confessing, "And it's nice to meet you. Honestly, I'm surprised to see any androids still here after the protests."
Her voice was light and gentle, and it surprised him. Andy didn't speak with the same kind of lilt; she was bolder, a little deeper, and that was what he expected to hear from her mother. The calming tone was also different, though he wondered how much of that was Natalie's background as a psychologist. "I agreed to help SID with their investigation," He told her, choosing not to add that his help was indefinitely on hold.
"I'm sure they're lucky to have you, Connor."
From the sidelines, Andy cleared her throat. "Well, it's been great, but we should probably get to work."
Natalie's smile turned sly as she chuckled, "That's my cue to leave." She looked between Hank and Connor a moment longer, then asked, "Why don't you come to dinner?"
Andy started to shake her head and reach out, "Mom-"
"We'll have plenty to spare," She insisted, waving a hand toward Hank. Settling on Connor, she added, "And I'd love to talk more with you."
They shared an uncertain glance. Hank's plans for Thanksgiving had been to go home and get drunk, so a homecooked meal sounded tempting, and despite Connor thinking distance from Andy would do him some good, he had to admit curiosity was getting the better of him. "Uh, we'll be there," Hank agreed with a shrug, then offered, "Let me walk you out."
Natalie waved as she followed Hank out of the bullpen. Connor watched them leave before turning to check on Andy. Her protest to the invitation hadn't fallen on deaf ears, and he didn't want to attend a family event if it made her uncomfortable. "If you let Hank know you don't want us there, we can come up with a reason to cancel."
"What?" She looked up at him in confusion, but soon realized what he meant. "Oh, no, I- That's fine," She dismissed, shaking her head.
His brows furrowed. "Then what's wrong?"
"I was-" Sighing, she confided, "I just wanted to talk to her about some stuff tonight."
"I see." He decided not to push the subject, recognizing some matters were best left private. Still, he wanted to help. "We could arrive late," He suggested.
His attempts amused her, but she waved him off and assured him, "Don't worry about it. She'll be here for a few more days. You sure you want to go, though? I mean, you're just going to be watching everyone stuff their faces."
"I don't mind," He shook his head. "I'd like to get to know your mother. Her personality can say a lot about you."
Quirking her brow, she asked, "What, you haven't fully figured me out yet?"
If only she knew. "No, I haven't," He confessed. Gaining a small flirtatious smile, he leaned forward and teased her, "You continue to be quite the puzzle."
It was a strangely familiar gesture, but he gave her no time to respond. She watched his back retreat, her brows raised. Was he just... Shaking her head, she scooted toward her desk. Nah.
Later that day, news reached Hank that identification was made of the android Combs killed after the attempted assassination of Joss Douglas. He collected the address from CSI, and he left with Andy to pay the location a visit. While he drove, Andy read more information as it came in on her phone. By the time they arrived, she had a good idea of who they would be speaking to.
It was a nice neighborhood. The homes were large, the yards manicured, and the cars that sit in the driveways were numerous and expensive. Already, this android was in a stark contrast to the previous two victims. Hank stared at the estate after he parked by the curb, and asked, "This is where that android lived?"
"According to Ben," Andy replied, showing him her phone's screen, "They manage the factory Combs worked at."
At least that explained Combs' connection, but Hank was struck with another thought. "Y'know, is it just me, or all our victims lately androids?"
Andy thought it over before nodding. Combs may have been their priority, but there was something to be said for Fowler entrusting that job to them, all things considered. She wasn't sure if that was a good sign or not. "You think he should've sent Reed out here?" She asked her partner.
He paused just long enough to imagine the raw indignity Gavin Reed would have displayed had that been the case. "Depends. Could I watch?"
With a small huff, Andy climbed out of the car, and Hank followed. They started to walk along the driveway toward the stone steps of the porch, and Hank waved out a hand across the view of the property. "Y'know, this android probably wasn't even a year old and he was in a place like this. Meanwhile, I've been busting my ass for thirty years, and you see the shack I live in," He complained as they stopped by the front door and Andy knocked. "And now I got to share it with Connor," He ended with a grumble.
Andy's phone began vibrating, and she scoffed, reaching into her pocket. "Hey, I offered to take him off your hands."
"That's just what we need. You two alone without supervision."
She looked up at him, immediately taken aback by the implication. Connor's behavior at the precinct that morning drifted into her mind, making her wonder now if Hank was interpreting their exchanges as something less than platonic. She was always someone who enjoyed harmless flirting, but she recognized there was a line where things turned serious. If he thought they crossed that line, he'd never mentioned it.
Hank didn't seem to notice she was deep in her thoughts, adding to his comment, "You'd end up neck deep in cold cases older than me."
Oh. Oh. That was what he meant. Of course that was what he meant.
She stared another moment, before pursing her lips and trying to regain her composure. "That's fair," She mumbled, finally turning her attention to her phone.
It was one punch after the other, as she was now faced with a photo of Connor standing in her kitchen, donned in an apron and at least one layer of flour.
"You know, you've had your nose in that thing a lot lately," Hank complained, eying her. He wasn't going to mention it at first, but the time she spent looking at her phone increased more and more as the days went on.
He was referring to the time she spent communicating with her secret therapist, she assumed, but this was definitely not that. She was slow as she pulled her eyes away from her phone, trying to sort through the concoction of emotions she was brewing. "Connor's with my mother."
Hank's head spun toward her. "What?"
They'd forgotten they were on duty, much less waiting on someone's porch. The front door opened before more could be said about Andy's text, and they were greeted by a middle-aged woman in heels and pearls. She smiled at them cautiously, waiting for an introduction.
Hank's mouth opened as he tried to proceed as normal, but gave Andy a double-take nonetheless. Focusing on the new face, he cleared his throat and asked, "Uh- Erika Dunn?"
She nodded. "Yes... Can I help you?"
Displaying his badge, he explained, "Lieutenant Anderson with the DPD, Ma'am. This is Detective Hope. Was there an android living here at one time?"
Recognition crossed her features, as did bemusement. "Yes, it went missing a few days ago," She confirmed, "Why?"
Hank put his badge away, and asked, "Would you mind answering a few questions for us?"
Connor was going to see Markus when he left the department. He was going to take some time to visit Jericho and see if there was any work to be done on his end. He would have welcomed the distraction and the opportunity to further redeem himself. That really, truly was the plan.
Then he ran into Natalie, who was calling a cab to take her to the apartment. They chatted as she waited, and somehow, somewhere along the way, she discovered he had no set plans. She subsequently roped him into helping her prepare Thanksgiving dinner.
He didn't realize what happened until he was already standing in Andy's kitchen, elbow deep in flour and sugar. Natalie was keeping a watchful but appreciative eye on him as he worked. She was making stuffing as she quipped, "And you were nervous to work with food. Look at you, you're already mixing like a pro."
He considered it empty praise to soothe him, but nonetheless he commented, "Cooking is mostly math and science - two things androids are designed to excel at."
She had a deep laugh, joking, "Well I hope they wouldn't design you to do anything poorly."
Moving across the island to a box she appeared to have brought with her from St. Louis, she dug through the contents and plucked out a whisk. They settled into a silence as she returned to her own bowl, though it didn't last long. "So how's life, Connor?"
It was a simple question with a complicated answer. Jericho's future was looking bright, even with CyberLife looming over all of them. SID's red ice case was a few weeks of due diligence away from being closed. Hank and Andy were finding their normal lives in a post-rebellion world. But none of that was what she wanted to hear. She wanted to know what life was to him, as an individual.
Life as a deviant was freeing, refreshing, and intimidating. It was all of his past actions coming back to haunt him, and it was all the emotions he had to face and understand. "It's overwhelming," He finally said.
"Long story short," She mused. In a casual tone that didn't match the topic at hand, she asked, "What's got you lost?"
He wasn't sure if it was because she was a therapist, or because she was Andy's mother, but he decided it was okay to be open with the woman next to him. "Being alive is a lot to process. I'm still trying to cycle through all of what I'm feeling," He said before admitting, "I'm also struggling with the fact I'm not a detective anymore. I spend a lot of time waiting on Lieutenant Richards, or following Andy."
"Jericho isn't keeping you busy?"
He frowned. He was going to see Markus before he ended up here, but it would have been the first time he'd visited them after the rebellion. "The news may have painted me as one of its leaders, but until the march, we were on opposite sides."
"I assumed they would have welcomed you with open arms once you... Um...," She trailed off in a silent question, holding a hand out toward him for help.
She didn't know the word for what he was, and it reminded him that deviancy hadn't struck the country as hard outside Detroit. "Deviated, and yes, they did. I just..."
It wasn't a silent question, but he trailed off all the same, and she returned the favor by filling in the gap, "Don't feel you belong?"
That was it exactly. When he nodded, she agreed, "That can be overwhelming." She transferred the in-progress stuffing to a baking pan, and it wasn't until she'd placed it in the oven that she spoke again. Dropping her hands onto the counter, she shifted to one foot and asked, "Do you have much time for yourself?"
He'd finished his task, and she pulled the bowl away from him before sliding him a new one. "I have a few hours every night when the lieutenant retires to his room-"
She shook her head, waving a hand to stop him, "No, no, I mean full days, to relax and... think."
He hadn't had a single full day to do that... ever. Brows furrowing, he replied, "I don't. Is that important?"
"Very," She stressed, gathering ingredients for another dish she was starting. "You should make that time. No one knows every part of who they are, and identity is always changing, but it helps to be left to ourselves now and then, and figure out where we are." She dropped an empty bowl down in front of herself and shrugged. "Read a book. Learn a craft. Try gardening. Have something you can call your own."
He had to admit, it sounded nice. Hank had music and basketball. Andy had her bike, and a variety of sports. Even Markus had the arts. Connor had interests and likes, but he hadn't thought about any of them since becoming deviant. "I'll take that into consideration," He hummed.
Assuming the stretch of silence before his reply had been one born of irritation, Natalie backed off. "I tend to overstep, I know. I apologize."
He was quick to correct her, "That isn't necessary. I think you have a good point. I've been so focused on what's coming next, I haven't thought about the rest of my life." That brought him pause; it was weird to say. Liberating, but weird. "I'm still not used to thinking of it as my life," He added, realizing it then and there, himself.
She pointed at him with a wooden spoon and a smile. "That conflict is more human than you may realize."
Erika Dunn led the detectives into a spacious and decorated home. There was a den adjacent to the entrance, with sofas, end tables, and a piano in the corner. An electric fireplace in the middle of the wall turned on as they entered, and she offered them a seat opposite her.
Pulling at her cardigan, she gave a bashful smile and said, "I'm sorry the place is such a mess. We've been short on help around the house lately."
Hank and Andy shared a glance, as neither could find anything they'd consider a mess. "Barely noticed," Andy chirped with a smile only Hank read as sarcastic.
He quickly took control of the conversation, moving along to the reason they were there. "When's the last time you saw your android, Ma'am?" He asked, clasping his hands together between his knees.
Erika thought through her timeline before answering, "I told Kurt to go to the convenience store down the road on Tuesday. I was feeling sick and wanted it to pick up some medicine for me."
That was the day of the shooting, and it appeared to be the opportunity for Combs to strike. "He never came back?" Hank pressed.
"No," She shook her head, unaware of what that meant to them. "Honestly, I thought maybe it just went deviant. What happened?"
That was a long story, one they weren't ready to tell her yet. They were holding Combs' name close to their chest for now, so Andy deflected the question with one of her own, asking, "Did you notice anything strange around that time? Maybe someone lingering a little too much out front, or..."
She was cut off by the sound of the front door. Seconds later, a sharp-dressed man walked into the room, in the process of removing his coat. He came to a stop upon seeing the three of them. "I didn't know we were having company."
Hank and Andy stood from the sofa when he came into the space, and Erika gestured to them. "They're detectives," She explained, then introduced him, "This is my husband, Tom."
Tom relaxed and approached with an extended hand. Hank took hold as the man said, "It's great to hear from you. To be honest, I was getting ready to call Chief Simmons."
Whatever he was talking about was lost on Hank and Andy, and Erika sensed it. She rose to her feet to join the conversation and told him, "Actually, they were asking about Kurt."
Tom slipped his hands into his pockets and lifted his chin in thought. He was still under the assumption they were here for other business, so he asked, "Kurt? You think our android had something to do with the break-in?"
This was new information. "Sorry, did you say break-in?" Andy repeated.
Now he was growing weary. His eyes narrowed as he scrutinized the two, and he explained, "Someone broke in Tuesday afternoon, stole half the valuables from my study. Some officers came out, but we're still waiting to hear about any follow up."
He was beginning to complain about the lack of priority they had with the DPD, but Andy stopped him. Waving her hand, she interjected, "Could we see that room?"
"What was Andy like as a child?"
Natalie was teaching Connor how to make pumpkin pie. Pans and bowls were scattered around them on the counter, and she had him rolling out a ball of dough. She smirked and side-eyed him at his question, joking, "Ah, that's why you're really here, isn't it? You want all the embarrassing stories."
He looked over to deny it, but she ushered him to keep his eyes on the dough. "Andrea was wonderful. Bubbly, sweet, enthusiastic, all those things she wouldn't want me saying about her," She chuckled.
In a way, it was easy to imagine Andy as her mother described. She wasn't usually far from those things now, but Connor was sometimes privy to another side of her. No matter how hard she tried to appear cocky and nonchalant, she had her insecurities. He believed he knew why, but he was hesitant to breach the subject. He was careful with his choice of words as he continued, "Would it be rude if I asked about Scott?"
If Natalie was surprised, she recovered quickly. "No. People always ask; it's okay," She replied, shaking her head. "He was a prosecutor. Hard-working. Humble. A little self-righteous, but so am I. I used to call him the smartest idiot I ever knew," She stopped to laugh at an inside joke she'd long been unable to make anymore.
She slid around the counter to retrieve a pie dish from her box of kitchen supplies. "And he adored Andrea. Those two were inseparable from the minute she was born. And they loved sports! Ugh, any sport. I was exhausted," She complained, rolling her eyes.
He smiled at her expression and watched her drape the dough he'd flattened over the dish. Her hands moved slowly, as she took care to be gentle with the crust. "She doesn't talk about him much, but it's obvious they were close," He commented.
She nodded in agreement, not tearing her eyes away from the dish. "Things were hard after what happened. Andrea started to rebel. I expected that. It's normal-" Pausing, she leaned back and sighed. "But it didn't help that it was a big story. You couldn't turn the TV on or walk outside without seeing headlines and photos and videos of crime scene tape. It was difficult."
He wondered what she meant by rebelling. It could have been anything, from trivial childish antics to more serious concerns. Knowing Andy, he suspected she acted in extremes even back then.
He wanted to ask many more questions about Andy's relationship with her father, and about the details of his murder, but he felt himself nearing the limit of what was appropriate. While he was looking for a way to bring the conversation to something lighter, Natalie did so herself. "Did you know she actually met Hank when she was a child?"
Surprised, he said, "They never mentioned that."
She clicked her tongue, muttering, "They probably forgot. She got into some trouble - I don't even remember what, now. Graffiti, or a fight, something like that." She placed the pie dish into the freezer and started to clean the counter of the loose flour, so Connor jumped to help. "I was called to pick her up from the precinct and when I got there, they were sitting there, just glaring at each other," She told him, holding her hands up for emphasis to the story. A new, amused grin pulled at her lips, and she cackled to herself. "Apparently he'd given her a long lecture about her generation, and she called him some impolite names."
Well that sounded right. It would seem some things never changed. "Did her rebellious behavior stop there?"
Natalie adamantly shook her head. "Oh, no. Eventually she got sucked into this local gym. She took classes, started boxing, they gave her a summer job. Then one day she came home and put an application down on the table and said, 'I'm going to be a detective,'" Turning to face him, she stated, "And once a Hope sets their mind on something, that's that."
He smiled again. "I've noticed."
The study in the Dunn home was the length of Hank's living room and kitchen combined. Bookcases lined the walls and extended to the ceiling, and were spaced apart by shelves and display cases that contained various décor. A large mahogany desk sat in the middle of the room, with oversized chairs in front. In a wall behind the desk was a built-in safe.
Hank and Andy paced around as Tom Dunn lingered in the arched doorway with his wife. Hank neared the desk, trying to scan for things out of place without invading too much of their privacy. "What all did you say was missing?"
Tom gestured from the safe in the wall to a smaller bookcase on the left. "Some money from the safe... Jewelry I bought for Erika's birthday coming up... There were a few books over on that shelf - first edition hard copies. Very valuable."
Pointing to him, Hank mused, "Better than digital, right?"
With a smile and an assertive nod, Tom replied, "Wouldn't own any other kind."
Andy quietly rolled her eyes, but at the sidelines, Erika leaned in toward her husband. "Don't forget about the memorabilia," She reminded him.
Hearing her words, Andy turned. "The what?"
He shook his head and explained, "I had some old war artifacts in that cabinet." Andy moved toward the display case in question. She was opening the lid to look closer at the contents as he mumbled, "Took me forever to gather that collection."
Andy recognized the artifacts on display - one in particular caught her eye. "Hank," She called out, a frown setting into her lips.
He walked up to her side, and spotted the landmine near the bottom of the display. It was identical to the one placed in Combs' desk, and the space next to it was empty. Hank looked to the Dunns, pointing down at the antique. "What's the story with this thing?"
"I got those at an auction a few years ago. Disabled long before they ever started circulating the market," Tom answered.
He assumed he was alleviating their concerns about the old explosive, but he'd done just the opposite. "How many of these did you have?" Andy asked.
"Four," He told them, brows furrowing at the panic growing on their faces. "Is... something wrong?"
Natalie was returning the turkey to the oven when she spoke again. "Tell me, does Hank still drink that disgusting scotch?"
Connor was working on a cornbread mixture, when he nodded at the question. "Regularly."
She grimaced at the memory, muttering, "Old dogs and their habits."
"Have you known Hank long?" He asked.
She started moving things around the kitchen, cleaning up after herself. "I'd heard about him here and there, but I didn't really meet him until Andrea joined his task force." Waving her hand, she described, "Back when he was more serious, less..."
She trailed off, and Connor smiled. "Drunk?"
"That's the one," She pointed, chuckling, "I was a ball of nerves when Andrea left, and Hank was very patient with me. I probably would have given myself a heart attack if not for him."
Patient was not a word anyone used to describe Hank nowadays, and Connor had a feeling it was unusual behavior even then. It reminded him of that morning, when he saw the two of them in what looked to be a pleasant conversation. Andy's words were ringing true, but Connor wanted to know more. "Andy seems to think Hank may be interested in you," He informed Natalie.
He was more forward than he knew was socially acceptable, but Natalie was an open person. This continued to prove true as she grinned and asked, "Does she, now?"
"Is she right?"
"You're asking me and not Hank?" She retorted, gesturing to herself. At his flat stare, she conceded. "There was something between us once, but it just wasn't the right time."
He didn't understand how the time could be wrong for relationships, and that frustrated him. "What do you mean?"
She shrugged, wiping down the counter. "Relationships are hard. You need to be in a good enough place to know what to give and what to expect. I didn't think he was there." Realizing what she must have sounded like, she quickly added, "It wasn't all on him, though. I wasn't happy where I was, and I left Michigan not long after."
Connor fell quiet, contemplating her words. How would one know when it was time to act on those feelings, or what to expect? He was skilled at reading people and appealing to them. He'd done so before when he was a deviant hunter, but he doubted romantic emotions were anything like hostage negotiations or criminal interrogations. This was messier, and had no clear guidelines.
He wondered, too, why it bothered him so much. Looking down to the bowl in his hands, he asked Natalie, "How do you know when you have feelings for someone?"
It was the first time he managed to surprise her. Her brows shot up as she mused, "Now there's a question."
"I'm having a hard time understanding it," He muttered in frustration.
"Most people do. It's a pretty heavy topic," She assured him. Leaning against the counter, she sighed and began to explain, "Everyone interprets romance differently, but at the end of the day, it's about having a deep emotional connection, and wanting intimacy." Her eyes narrowed, and she asked in a soft voice, "Are you experiencing that?"
She was patient while he asked himself that question. Knowing the answer should have come easy to him, but there was so much he still had to learn. Caring about people was something he did instinctually; it was a fundamental part of his life. Intimacy warped the way he felt into something unfamiliar. It shook the foundation of this family he'd found for himself. Wanting something more than he already had was strange, and it was irrational.
He wanted it, though. "I think I am," He finally confessed.
Natalie had been watching his face, and the expressions that subtly slipped through the cracks as his thoughts progressed. She was an honest woman, and she would admit that she convinced Connor to help her that day because she wanted one-on-one time with an android. Deviancy was fascinating, and she wanted to see for herself the extent of their intelligence. She was over the moon to discover that Connor was as fallible and individual as any human.
That being said, she didn't expect to be giving romance advice. She could tell her next words would bear a lot of weight with him, so she allowed herself ample time to consider them carefully. "All of this is new for you, and that's a big deal, so take your time. Everyone has to explore what they want and decide what they're comfortable with. There's no universal truth you have to follow, no set way you have to feel or live."
Universal truth was pretty much all Connor had as a deviant hunter. With a rueful smile, he confided, "That's the opposite of everything I knew before I was alive."
She grinned, and shrugged. "Well, now you're alive. The rules have changed."
Hank and Andy stepped into the elevator of Andy's apartment complex. She moved to lean against the wall and tap her foot, while he stood closer to the front, staring at the metal doors as they closed. Neither spoke, but tension was hanging in the air.
Resisting a heavy sigh, Andy broke the silence. "Are you sure about this?"
Hank knew it was coming, and he'd been waiting for it. "I'm sure," He groaned out.
There was a distinct edge in his tone, so she tried to leave it there. Pursing her lips, her foot tapped faster and faster until, seconds later, she caved. "What if they miss something?"
Scoffing, he looked over his shoulder and argued, "Andy, damn it, we're not going to find anything the bomb squad and FBI won't find. You gave them all our information. Now it's up to them to stop the guy, and it's up to us to eat the food Natalie made."
"Easy for you to say," She grumbled, referring to his infatuation with her mother.
"What's that supposed to mean?" He asked before shaking his head and dismissing it. "Never-mind. Look, just try to relax for once, all right? And don't go telling any of this to Connor, either. You're gonna get in his head and he'll just egg you on."
With her arms crossed over her chest, she scowled at him. "You do realize we're not children, right?" His accusatory stare was all he needed for her to shrug and exclaim, "All right!" They started to relax, but Andy mumbled, "I still think it's weird he spent all day with my mom."
Hank huffed. "You and me, both."
The elevator opened on her floor, and they walked down the hall to her apartment. He followed her in as she called out, "Mom? We're home."
"We're in here!"
They walked around the half-wall at the foyer, and both came to an abrupt stop. The island in the kitchen was covered in homecooked dishes, with various leftover ingredients scattered around on the counters by the wall. A large turkey on a platter sat in the middle, freshly out of the oven. In the middle of it all, Natalie was hovering over Connor as he held a can of whipped cream and decorated the top of a pumpkin pie. They both wore dirtied aprons, and a small drop of whipped cream clung to Connor's jawline.
Natalie smiled at them, unfazed by their baffled expressions. "How was your day?"
"Weirder now," Andy said under her breath.
Hank snorted, and nodded in agreement. "I'm gonna take a leak," He muttered, heading for the bathroom.
Once he walked away, she approached the two in the kitchen. "When you sent that photo, I thought you were just messing with me," She said, eying the patches of flour that coated them.
At the mention of a photo, Connor perked up. He looked to Natalie with a face of betrayal, and she gave a defensive shrug. "What? Are you embarrassed?"
He weakly shook his head. "I'm not..."
Gaining a devilish grin, she picked up trays of food and scurried out of the kitchen to place them on the temporary table she set up in the living room. Andy replaced her at Connor's side, watching him finish a border of whipped cream around the pie. "Have fun with my mom?"
He nodded. "I did. She's a compelling woman to talk to," He replied, moving on to cut slices. "How was your day?"
Andy hesitated as Hank left the bathroom, and she watched him linger around the dinner table to speak to Natalie. They were distracted and unaware of the conversation taking place in the kitchen, so she leaned forward to speak to Connor quietly. "The android in the parking garage worked for Combs' old manager," She started, resting her hip against the counter, "Combs didn't just kidnap the android, though - he broke into their place and stole three deactivated landmines."
Connor immediately returned to work mode. A man like Combs having one explosive was bad enough, but now he had two more opportunities for destruction? Thinking to the written plans they found in his home, Connor said, "His targets need security details as soon as possible."
She scoffed, reaching for the can of whipped cream. "The FBI's on it. Fowler made us hand over the case. And Hank agreed, can you believe that?" She hissed, picking at the nozzle.
He understood her frustration, but looking down at her now, all he could think about was seeing that landmine in her hands two days ago. Hank was right. "It makes sense," He declared.
It was the last thing she expected from him, and her jaw dropped. "What?"
"Combs is committing acts of terrorism. This is a federal case," He explained.
Her shoulders dropped, and she started pouting. "...But it's my case."
"You could have been killed two days ago," He scolded.
Rolling her eyes, she slapped the can on the table and said, "God, now you sound like Hank."
"Someone who cares about you? I don't find that offensive," Was his firm retort.
This flustered her, and it was enough to shut her up and avert her gaze to the counter. After all their interactions over the past few days, his words landed heavier than they would have a week ago. It was a nice feeling - one she hadn't experienced in a long time - but also concerning.
She wouldn't let herself think too much about it. "Yeah, well, you have cream on your face," She argued, picking up a napkin and smacking it to the side of his jaw. It stuck to the stray bit of whipped cream, and he jolted at the contact, blinking in surprise. He watched her turn and walk away before slowly lifting his hand to peel off the napkin.
Natalie's feast left no square inch empty on the table. Dishes of stuffing, casserole, potatoes, and cornbread circled around the centerpiece, which was a large, rich turkey. Empty plates and glasses of water and wine were set around the table. It was a grand sight that Andy considered excessive, but she wouldn't say so aloud. She believed that after five years, Natalie had a right to go as overboard as she wanted.
While they settled in around the table, Natalie stood and held up her wine glass. "Before we eat...," She said, straightening her blouse.
Andy took in a deep breath and shifted in her seat, preparing for the upcoming speech. Natalie noticed it, and narrowed her eyes, teasing, "Well now I'm going to talk... extra... slowly."
She waited a moment to sober herself before she began. "I know this isn't the Thanksgiving any of us imagined for ourselves ten years ago-" Lifting her glass toward Connor, she amended, "Or for some of us, a year ago. We pictured different homes, different company." She took a sip, adding under her breath and drawing a huff of amusement from Andy, "Worse food."
The room was quiet as Natalie spoke, each person at the table having their own pasts to reflect on and their own futures to consider. "But I think we all know how fragile plans can be. Life changes. The rules change," She said with a smile toward Connor. "But we're here for each other. We're a family, even on days where that may feel inconvenient." Raising her glass, she finished, "So I, for one, think this a pretty decent runner up."
Glasses were lifted in cheers, and they proceeded to eat.
Food had been placed on plates by the time Connor piped up, the first to start conversation. "Is it true Hank arrested Andy when she was younger?"
They looked up at him in mild confusion. No one replied instantly, but once the realization hit, Hank aimed an indignant glare in Andy's direction. He couldn't believe he'd forgotten it as he yelled, "You called me a geriatric asshole!"
She cackled as she stabbed her fork into a slice of turkey.
Half the food was eaten by the time everyone separated from the table and settled into place throughout the apartment. Andy insisted on being the one to clean and put the leftovers away, shooing Natalie out of the kitchen in the process. She turned on faint music to listen to while she wrapped up food to put into the fridge, setting aside the dishes to clean afterward. Connor had been moving food to the kitchen for her, and once he finished, he stepped up beside her to help.
"So, thinking about a career in the culinary world now?" She asked, keeping her voice down to match the tone of the evening.
He shook his head, downplaying his part. "I didn't do much."
She didn't believe him, and the shrug expressed as much. "Mom says you made the pie by yourself," She argued.
Chuckling, he told her, "One pie is far from becoming a chef."
"I don't know, I think the hat would suit you," She joked. Her smirk widened, and had he noticed it, he would have been prepared for the next comment. "The apron certainly did."
She looked absolutely delighted with herself, and shot up a challenging brow once their eyes met. He smiled, remarking, "You're going to tease me about that for a while, aren't you?"
At least she was honest enough to nod and admit it. "Might even make it my phone's lock screen," She threatened. "Thank you for keeping her company."
His movements slowed as he watched her. She was smiling now, without any trace of humor, and he found himself at a loss for words. It reminded him of another moment, of them sitting in Hank's kitchen when they first met. She had winked at him then, and for just a second, his mind cleared and he stopped thinking. It was absurd how easy it was for her to disarm him completely, even more so that she'd had that effect on him since day one.
Not much time passed since she thanked him, so he told her, "There's no need. I meant it when I said I enjoyed it."
"Sounds like you went a whole day without wanting to pull your hair out or pace a hole into the floor," She said.
He agreed, admitting, "You're right. I think this was the first day I've ever relaxed."
Nudging her shoulder into his, she told him, "Welcome to life-" Suddenly her eyes went wide, and she spun on her heel to face him, exclaiming, "Ooh, I know, I'll get it printed on an apron!"
He scoffed.
Andy's laughter travelled outside of the apartment as Hank stepped onto the balcony. Natalie made herself comfortable in a chair by the sliding door, cuddling into her sweater and coat. She was enjoying the view of the city, and looked up at Hank as he stood there.
He rubbed the back of his neck, shifting his weight to one foot. "Uh, thanks," He said, lamely. "For, you know, inviting Connor and me."
"Of course. We're happy to have you," She nodded. He crossed the balcony, resting an arm over the railing. She waited for him to settle, and once he turned to face her, she asked, "How have you been?"
"Good!" He exclaimed. It was more excitable than he intended, so he cleared his throat and tried again, "Good." Natalie continued to watch him stand there and unravel. "I'm... good."
She was smiling at him when she nodded and quietly said, "Okay."
Tired of being on the spot, he gestured toward her. "What about you? How's St. Louis?"
"It's good."
Their eyes met, and he caught the hint of amusement on her face. He tried to retort, but stopped himself. He knew how ridiculous he'd sounded, how unbelievable his answer was. He huffed, and they shared a small laugh. "My partners have been taking over some of my responsibilities at the office, so I have more free time than usual," Was the real answer she eventually gave.
If anyone else said it to him, he would have taken it as a good thing. He knew Natalie Hope, however, and it made him grin. "Bet you're miserable."
Chuckling, she admitted, "Pretty close. But now that Andrea's back, I have someone to bother when I'm not working."
It was a comment that got his hopes up, and he tried to act nonchalant when he pressed for more information. "So... you think you'll be coming back to Detroit more often?"
"I do," She drawled with a wide smile, letting him squirm in front of her. With an innocent tone, she added, "Why do you ask, Lieutenant?"
He gave another breathless laugh, this time shaking his head and looking away. "God, you're really trying to bust my chops, here."
Her laugh was not quite as faint as his.
Once the night came to an end and Hank left with Connor, Andy and Natalie made their way to the kitchen. As Andy dug into the cabinets for plates, Natalie retrieved leftover pie from the fridge. They met at the island, Andy putting down plates nearby.
"That was probably the best Thanksgiving I've had in a while," Natalie claimed, wedging the blade of her knife between already cut slices of pie.
"Tell me about it. Last year, I was eating lunch meat in a dimly lit parking lot," Andy snorted. It stopped Natalie's movements, and she looked to Andy with a hint of sorrow, but more-so pride. Noticing the face, Andy grimaced. "Oh, forget I said anything."
Natalie stomped her foot and twisted around to face her. "No, no, Andrea - I want you to tell me these things! It's a real step in the right direction for you!"
The younger Hope pointed and said, "That right there? Makes it weird, Mom."
Rolling her eyes, Natalie turned her attention back to the pie. She was lifting a slice up from the dish as she asked, "Well, will you talk to me about Connor?"
Andy shrugged. "What about him?"
"He's sweet," Natalie replied, smiling. "He's very protective of Hank."
"Oh really?"
She hummed and nodded. "They have quite the dynamic going between them." Her smile turned coy, and she added, "It's almost as interesting as the one you have with him."
In the back of her mind, Andy knew what her mother meant, but she refused to face it. She shifted on her feet, taking on a defensive tone to ask, "What does that mean?"
If she wasn't ready, Natalie wouldn't push. "We'll talk about it later," She dismissed, turning away to put the rest of the pie in the fridge.
She was still looking a bit smug for Andy's taste, but Andy would leave it be. Picking up her plate, she mumbled, "He's just trying to figure out if you have a thing for Hank, anyway."
Natalie recognized the ulterior motive to deflect and change the subject. She chuckled, replying, "Oh, he mentioned that. We talked plenty about Hank and me."
Andy was in mid-turn toward her living room when she stopped. "What does that mean?" She asked, looking to her mother with new suspicion.
Natalie shrugged, as though it was common knowledge. "Well we went out for dinner a few years back."
"Like a work dinner?"
"No, not like a work dinner."
Andy stood there a moment, trying to process the information. Her jaw dropped as she tried to form a response, but no comprehensible words seemed possible. She inhaled a deep breath, turning to face the kitchen fully. "Okay, hold on," She whispered, gingerly placing her plate back down on the island. Hands slapping onto the surface, she started, "What? You- You dated Hank? My lieutenant, my- my partner- You dated him?"
Shaking her head, Natalie corrected, "We didn't date, we went on a date. There's a difference."
"Augh!" The younger woman burst, eyes widening. "I can't believe I'm hearing this."
"Andrea, don't be childish. We're two grown adults-"
She lifted her hands and waved them in protest. "I don't want to hear this speech! I know where it goes! I don't like it there!"
Natalie insisted on trying to calm her daughter. She reached forward, saying, "No can ever replace your father-"
"And don't analyze me! This isn't about Dad!" Andy yelled. "Hank's my superior- You were his therapist! There's got to be all kinds of lines you crossed!"
"Please, I was barely his therapist. He's worse than you when it comes to seeing a professional," She chided with a scoff. "He didn't ask me to dinner until after his last session with me, all right? We had Italian, we talked about our careers, a little about you, and that was it."
Andy leaned back, scrutinizing her mother for any hint of a lie. "That was it?"
With a deep nod, Natalie insisted, "Yes, Andrea, it was a very civil night."
Andy knew how childish she appeared, and that adults could do as they please, but the resistance wasn't entirely unwarranted. She'd been preparing herself all day to discuss boundaries with her mother, and discovering this felt like the rug was pulled out from under her feet.
It was stupid, she thought. When it was a crush no one acted on, it was harmless fun; once acknowledged, there were new stakes in the game. It blurred things, and risked the stability of all of their relationships. There was no turning back once that door was opened.
She steeled herself, and said, "I don't how to feel about that."
Natalie was ever at the ready with reassurances. "You don't have to feel any type of way about it," She told her, "It wasn't time for him. It'd been a year since the accident. I knew he wasn't ready. Everyone grieves in their own way, and Hank was trying to pretend he was coping."
They never talked about the accident, not after Natalie first told her what happened. It was the one call Richards would allow through from Andy's contacts, and then Andy had to return to work after the mandatory psych evaluation cleared her. There was no mourning period, no time to sit down and ask what the hell happened. She'd talked to Hank a week before, and then not again until three years later. Not being able to be there was the worst part of her time away.
"Did you go to the funeral?" Andy asked, an irresistible scowl settling into her face.
Natalie nodded. "It was beautiful." It was easy enough to read the pain, and Natalie slid closer to her daughter. "You're the only one upset with you for not being there. You know that."
Andy wouldn't try to argue it, but it didn't make her feel any better. "This whole other life went on without me," She huffed, shaking her head. "Sometimes it just feels like I don't fit anymore."
Bending over to reach up and place her hands on either side of Andy's face, Natalie made eye contact. "You will never not be the center of my universe," She stated, as matter-of-fact as she could be. Throwing her hands up, she straightened her back and declared, "And change is what pushes life forward. I wasn't the same young woman I was back then, either."
Andy's eyes shot up to deliver a flat stare. "It was five years ago," She rebutted.
Natalie ignored the guff she was being given, dramatically brushing some hair off her shoulder. "Now I'm the slightly less younger woman standing before you, and I have a new job in a new city. And androids are people! There's a new one for everybody." She picked up her plate, pinching off some pie between her fingers and popping it into her mouth. "That boy makes an excellent pie," She mused as she headed for the couch.
"It was your recipe," Andy continued trying to give her mother a hard time.
"The earth doesn't belong to the painter, but it's still his," Natalie sang.
Brows scrunching, Andy finally grabbed her plate and turned to follow her mother. "What the hell are you talking about?"
