November 30, 2038
It was three in the morning when a ringing phone cut through the silence of Andy's apartment.
The noise echoed through her bedroom, finally pulling her from a deep sleep on the third ring. A hand extended out from underneath her blanket, and she did a sluggish search the surface of her end table. When her fingers hit glass, the phone slid off the edge and landed below with a resounding thud. She cursed under her breath and leaned to the side to feel around the floor.
Finding her phone, she peaked out from her covers and squinted into the light of the screen, but her tired, blurry vision was unable to make out the words. Pressing her finger to the phone, she hoisted herself up in bed and pushed the hair from her face.
She wiped at her eyes and managed a slurred greeting. "Hello?"
The voice that replied from the other end of the line was unfamiliar, dainty, and meek. "Is this Detective Hope? With the DPD?"
"Yeah, who is this?" Andy urged, with less patience than energy.
"I'm Sofia. I- I need your help. He told me I could trust you-"
"Who told you that?"
"Please, I'm-" There was a banging in the background, and Sofia let out a gasp.
With that, Andy was wide awake. "What's going on? Where are you?" She asked, shoving the blanket off her legs. She jumped into action? reaching for the nearest corner of the room, where a chair was holding yesterday's pair of pants.
"The Motel Six, room 115," Sofia answered. She spoke in nothing higher than a fearful whisper. "He's going to get in," She choked.
Andy recognized the name - it was the very one Tommy frequented, and where he'd spent the last minutes of his life.
"Sofia, listen to me," She started, moving to the door. She was attempting to slide her feet into her boots while also sending a brief emergency text to Connor. "Make sure the chain is bolted to the wall, push the desk against the door, and then hide under the bed, all right? I'm on my way."
"Okay. Okay, I can do that."
With her agreement came sounds of shuffling as Sofia started to move furniture around the motel room. Consistently, a banging echoed in the background of the call, each one reminding them they were on a dangerous deadline. Andy listened as she bolted for the exit, leaving behind her jacket and just barely remembering to pick up her keys and helmet off the kitchen counter.
In the hallway outside her apartment, Andy hit her palm against the elevator button. She stepped inside, and almost as if on cue, the noise on the other end stopped. Her heart skipped a beat, and she asked into the call, "Sofia?"
A second later, the woman answered her. "The banging stopped. I- I think he's gone."
Shaking her head, Andy urged, "No, keep doing what I told you, okay? Are you under the bed?"
"Yes."
"Stay there."
She just reached ground level of the apartment complex, and through the phone, she heard a door open. It pulled a whimper from Sofia's throat, and Andy was quietly cursing the night. "It's going to be okay. I'm right here with you. Just stay calm and stay quiet," She tried to soothe, despite her own panic bubbling.
Sofia tried to do as she was told, but it became a fruitless race against the clock. Andy ran into the parking garage and toward her bike, each second painfully aware of the thudding of footsteps in her ear. Sofia moved, brushing against the carpet of the floor, and hearing the footsteps cease froze Andy in her tracks.
"Sofia?"
In place of a response was her scream, and it kicked Andy into motion again. She tried to make out what she was hearing; a body sliding across the carpet, frenzied pleading, and fists hitting anything and everything in their paths.
Between the fighting, Sofia's pained yells came through the line. "It's him! He did it, he-"
A piercing crash interrupted her accusation, and seconds later came a click. Whatever it was wasn't the phone, as the call continued on a few seconds more. Sofia's choking accompanied background rustling, until finally the line went dead, leaving Andy shaken and alone in the parking garage.
Two hours later, she stood in Room 115 at the Motel Six.
The place was almost intact, if not for the overturned desk by the door, and the body of an android laying next to the end of the bed. She was on her back, her arms down at her sides, with traces of injuries on her face and torso. The chain lock on the door dangled with the plate attached to it, having been forcefully removed from the wall.
CSI documented the scene. Andy was still as stone in the corner, with her arms crossed over her chest and her eyes glued to the dead android. She couldn't stop hearing the phone call on repeat, the banging on the door and the last desperate cries echoing in her mind. She heard someone die- She heard the killer.
From the corner of her eye, she spotted two familiar figures. Hank and Connor rushed into the doorway, briefly looking around the scene. They noted Andy, then Sofia, then the rest of CSI.
Hank lifted a hand toward CSI's detective by the dresser and called out his name. Ben turned, and nodded in greeting. "Rough morning, huh?" He asked as they came together in the room.
"Andy."
Connor was standing in front of her now, concern in his eyes and hand on her shoulder. It jolted her out of a haze, and she blurted out, "She was trying to tell me who he was. Just before she died." She looked up at him, though her words sounded like they were only for herself. "I told her to hide under the bed. I couldn't... think..."
"You weren't here," He cut her off before she could spiral into any more blame, "This isn't on you."
He didn't know how long she'd been standing there in that corner, but he was sure she needed space. Rather than invite her to follow him, he moved his hand to her back and escorted her out of the room. Her lack of teasing or argument told him enough - she was exhausted, and she was upset.
They exited to the parking lot, where he guided her to lean against the wall. He was waiting for her to decide to start talking again when Hank joined them. He stopped in front of the two, glancing her over before gesturing to the room door. "What the hell happened?"
With fresh air and step away from the scene, Andy was ready to talk. "An android named Sofia called me this morning. Someone was trying to break into her room. She knew who he was but she didn't name him," She explained. As if more awareness was returning to her, she narrowed her eyes at her company. "What took you guys so long?"
They had no immediate response, but Connor's pointed expression in Hank's direction was enough to discern they'd had an argument on the way there. Hank shifted under the gaze, and said, "We got tied up." It was clear she didn't believe him, so he scoffed and brushed it off, "Forget it. Why'd she call you? Do you know her?"
Andy shook her head and answered, "Apparently someone gave her my number, but she wouldn't say who."
None of them liked the idea of someone handing out Andy's phone number, and there was the silent question hanging the air: Was this Combs? It was an unlikely stretch, but that was the universe they'd been living in ever since Sharon gave them her memory card. Everything Combs and his allies did was a stretch from reality. It was what made them so dangerous.
Hank sighed. It wouldn't do any of them any good to jump to the worst scenario first, especially when they had a dead android who needed their help. Motioning toward the door, he said, "Ben traced her model number back to an address. We should go."
Andy didn't need to be told to leave the motel twice. She was the first one off the sidewalk, but instead of following her, Connor rounded on Hank. The detective caught himself from running into him, and he angrily stated, "We weren't tied up, Hank."
This argument was one that started in the car ride to the motel, and it was one Hank wasn't going to entertain any longer. He walked by, scoffing, "It's an expression."
Connor, however, couldn't let it go. He twisted around, his sight following Hank. "I'm aware of the expression. I'm also aware it doesn't apply to crippling hangovers."
Hank stopped and turned on his heel to glare down at the young android. He'd lifted a hand to point and insult, but realized what his actions were in the very middle of them. They were all things Connor would analyze and use against him - more than that, they were all things he'd beat himself up over later. Uncurling his fist, he tried to relax his shoulders before saying with a clenched jaw, "I'm not talking about this with you, Connor."
For all the strength it took to recognize and stop oneself, it meant nothing to Connor. He understood the problem, the cause and the stressors and the symptoms, but he also knew where this path would go. It had been a while since Hank was so heavily intoxicated, the last instance being the night of the Eden Club investigation. Now he was slipping back into that, and when so many people were depending on him now, Connor would have far less patience.
His own stare was steady, and a complicated mixture of anger and concern that only looked like pity to men like Hank. "Well you should talk to somebody before it ends up hurting someone," Connor bit out before leaving him behind.
The address Sofia's serial number led them to was in a small but friendly neighborhood. Most of the homes belonged to families or retired couples, evidenced by the toys in the yard or the elderly sitting on porch swings. Here, the technological advances of Detroit were intentionally left absent, and cozy lifestyles were thriving.
Hank's car was parked in front of a one-story home painted a soft yellow and white. Shrubbery lined along the front of the house, with rose bushes planted at each corner. The front door was open, allowing easy access for a group of uniformed men to move furniture from the house to a moving truck stationed in the driveway.
Without a word, the three detectives stepped out of the car. Andy had shut her door and Hank was moving around to the sidewalk when she heard Connor. "Wait." She looked back to see hum racing to remove his jacket. He held it out to her, and glanced down at her shirt. "You might want to wear this."
She was confused until she remembered leaving the apartment that morning without any preparation. It had left her in nothing more than jeans and her old hockey jersey, a shirt with holes scattered along the bottom. It was far from professional, and she cursed under her breath as she took the jacket offered to her.
It shouldn't have surprised her how fast she was enveloped in warmth - androids had body heat all their own - but she pulled the edges closer together and enjoyed the change from the cold. "Thanks," She murmured, pulling at the zipper.
He watched her, unable to stop thinking about how out of it she was at the crime scene. "Are you all right?" He whispered, quiet enough to escape Hank's notice.
"Yeah." It was her immediate, knee-jerk response, but they both knew it was a lie. "No. I'm tired and pissed. We'll talk later," She confessed, shaking her head. He started to turn away, satisfied with her offer, and she quickly added, "Thanks for asking."
Inside the home, a middle-aged man in business casual was passing by the front door and noticed them approach from the curb. Exiting the house, he walked alongside the driveway to meet them in the yard. "Can I help you?" He called out as they closed in.
Hank and Andy held up their badges on display, and Hank introduced them. "Lieutenant Hank Anderson with the DPD. This is Detective Andy Hope. That's..." He waved a hand toward Connor, trailing off. Without being an official part of the department, there was no easy way to describe the younger man. Shaking his head, Hank dismissed, "Never mind. Is this Jeana Gibson's home?"
"Yes- well, it was," The man corrected himself, "She died last week. I'm her son, Stephen."
The death was news to them, but it wasn't as though they'd had a lot of information to begin with. What stood out to Andy most was his delivery of the news - he was inconvenienced more than he was upset. She tucked the observation away for later, replying, "I'm sorry for your loss. Can you tell us how she died?"
He shrugged and said, "She just passed away in her sleep. She was sick. She'd been in a hospital bed since March." Looking between the two detectives, he furrowed his brows and rested his hands at his hips. "What is this about?"
"Did your mother have an android?" Hank asked, ignoring question.
"Until this whole revolution started, she did. Sofia. She took care of Mom," Stephen confirmed.
It was good to know this was where Sofia came from, but he could already tell this would be of little help. The person who knew her was dead, and Stephen Gibson was not looking to be a cooperative witness. It was too early for this shit. Still, he would go through the process of notification. "We found Sofia in a hotel this morning. She'd been killed."
"Oh- oh, uh..." Stephen leaned back, blinking a few times. He appeared to be surprised, but mostly uncertain of what to say. Sighing, he told them, "Look, I don't want to sound insensitive, but Sofia just took off one day a few weeks ago. She left my mom by herself - only reason my mom didn't starve is because I visit her every Sunday."
He was already turning on his heel to walk away from them. He sent them one last dismissive glance, saying, "I don't know anything that could help you, and whatever happened to Sofia is, frankly, karma. So unless you have a warrant for something, I need to get back to my actual problems..."
He didn't wait for their permission to leave, and the trio from the precinct watched as he re-entered his mother's home without so much as a second glance to them. Andy pursed her lips, staring at the front door. She leaned toward Hank, and asked, "You didn't like that either, right?"
When they made it to the precinct that morning, Desta Delgado was waiting at their desks. The Deputy District Attorney watched them turn the corner into the bullpen, and she wasted no time in getting to work. "What do we have?" She asked, her tone bold and focused.
Hank stopped behind his chair, hand resting atop it. "What are you doing here?"
Shrugging, she said, "The Chief wants me involved."
"Right now?" He stressed.
Andy spoke up in place of the DDA. She was removing her jacket as she explained, "Android incidents are high profile and Chief Simmons wants them treated like human cases." Handing the jacket off to Connor, she grinned at her old friend and bragged, "I know that because I listen to you."
Delgado snorted, and pointed an amused stare at Andy's jersey. "Nice shirt," She mused, before returning her attention to Hank. "But she's right. I'm supposed to be hands-on."
DDA involvement this early was one more wrinkle they would have to deal with, Hank supposed. With a heavy sigh, he plopped down in his chair and started to summarize. "Well, we have two suspects: whoever told Sofia to call Andy, and the son of the woman Sofia was taking care of. According to him, she ran off."
Connor was putting his jacket back on as he said, "Markus told me she never came to Jericho, and no one knew her, either."
"So wherever she went, it wasn't there," Andy concluded, sitting down.
"If she even did leave," Hank muttered.
She twisted to get a better look at her partner, and asked, "You think Gibson was lying?"
Something was wrong, that much Hank knew no matter how hungover he was, and he believed it had to do with the crime scene. Shaking his head, he referred to what he learned from Ben, "I don't know... Her LED was in the sink and her uniform was in the closet. Wouldn't most deviants get rid of that stuff as soon as possible?"
It was a good point, but Ben yelled from the forensics lab door before anyone could discuss it, "Hey, Connor!" They all turned, and he pointed over his shoulder into the room. "Think you could give us a hand with the android we brought back?"
"I'm glad to help, Detective."
Hank nodded to Connor as he walked by, asking, "Keep us posted, all right?"
Andy waited for him to leave until she spoke, leaning back in her chair and wondering aloud. "So let's say Sofia didn't leave when Gibson claims she did. What then?"
If Hank was right and the timeline had missing pieces, that meant they needed to fill them in. "When exactly did Gibson's mother pass away?" He asked.
She pursed her lips and shrugged, reaching for the phone on her desk. "I'll check."
He uncrossed his arms to wave a hand back and forth. Going for his own phone, he ordered, "No, I'll take care of it. You call someone at CyberLife, get a hold of Sofia's tracking and see if it lines up with Gibson's story."
"So what happens when we solve this thing?" Andy asked. She stood at a table in the DPD kitchen with her chin in her palm. She was staring at a slowly loading page on her tablet, waiting for a map provided by CyberLife to load.
Delgado was busy at the coffee maker, and she turned to lean against the counter. "We'll probably hold the case until the president decides how to view androids," She answered.
Although it was the best solution for Sofia's sake, it still wasn't what Andy wanted to hear. With an irritated scowl, she complained, "So a killer gets to walk around free while we wait on the government?"
All Delgado could offer was a shrug. She didn't like it any more than Andy did. "I didn't say there was a good ending."
The page on the tablet finished loading, and she looked down at the list of places where Sofia's GPS once pinged. It didn't take long for one location in particular to catch her eye. "And what if Sofia's not the only victim?" She asked, looking up at Delgado. Delgado waited for more, but instead Andy lifted her tablet up and backed out of the kitchen.
Hank hung up the phone as Andy lowered into her chair. He didn't wait for her news, saying, "Jeana Gibson died six days ago. Because of her health and no signs of foul play, there was no autopsy."
"We're probably going to want to change that," She remarked. "Guess when Sofia's tracker was disabled."
"Six days ago?"
She nodded, and continued, "That's not all. Earlier this month, she visited a law office for one Leona Mun." Flipping the tablet around, she showed him the web page of a local law firm, where the picture of a stern-looking woman was on prominent display. "An estate attorney."
In a large office building not far from the precinct, Hank and Andy were standing side by side in an elevator. They were on their way up to the floor where Leona Mun's office was located. On the way there, they'd been quiet. Hank was suffering his own demons and struggling to hide his hangover, while Andy was left to process her morning and gather her thoughts.
She quickly came to hate the quiet. She started looking for a distraction, but that of course led her to recent events. The mystery around Combs. The memory card Sharon gave her. Tommy's death. Connor. It only made things worse - she was filing away Tommy's death as something to forget, and Combs was costing her sleep in the first place, and she was lying about Connor to herself and to Hank.
That last one stung a little more than the others, because it was something she would have to act on soon. She'd decided that Markus' advice was the best thing to do. She was going to give Connor the full truth, that the feelings were there, but she didn't want to act on them. It wasn't a matter of androids and humans, though that certainly added an extra layer of hesitation. It was about her own personal issues with trying to merge two lives together. Relationships just weren't in the cards for her.
Telling him that was the plan, anyway, but something stopped her. She was struggling to confront him, because every time she was near him, a voice in the back of her mind cried out with a strange, disconcerting fear. Her body was telling her to do something, but she couldn't say with certainty what that something was. Whether it was doubt or excitement or nerves, she didn't want to act until she knew.
Shifting on her feet, she tried to break the silence. "Hey, so-"
Hank glanced her way, totally unaware of the mess going on inside her mind.
"This is gonna sound weird, but... you consider Connor family, right?" She asked.
It was more emotional a topic than Hank was comfortable with, especially today. Hesitation joined the agitation already on his face as he tried to predict where she was going with this. "...Why?"
"Just..." She sighed. It was difficult to ask this in a clear question without directly telling him what she didn't want him to know. This was going to be confusing and vague, and there was no way around it. "If he were to tell you something that was maybe hard to hear, you'd... You'd listen, right? Calmly and, y'know, open-minded?"
Hank stared at her, trying to understand what the hell she was going on about. All he could guess was that it had to do with his own current problems. Scoffing, he began to gripe at her. "Oh, Jesus, if this is about the drinking-"
She reeled back, shaking her head, "What? No, it's- What?"
He went quiet, but watched her closely. "He didn't tell you about this morning?"
While she'd been witness to the leftover tension of his ongoing argument with Connor, she didn't have the slightest clue what it was about. If drinking was involved, it explained a lot, including why they were so late to responding to her call. She knew it was futile to ask, but she did so anyway. "What happened this morning?"
He waved a hand at her as the elevator doors opened. "Nothing. Forget it," He dismissed, stepping out onto the floor.
She watched him walk away, lamely trying to call him back. When it was clear he wasn't giving her the time of day, she huffed and followed after him, muttering, "Thought maybe we'd circle back to my thing, but okay. Good talk."
The lobby to Leona Mun's office would have felt clinical, if it weren't decorated in dark earthy tones. The room was essentially a wide hallway that split off to the left and right at the end, where a desk was stationed to greet people as they exited the elevator.
A receptionist sat at the desk, watching them approach. He took immediate notice of the 'Police' that was printed on standard issue jacket Andy pulled from supplies, and his posture changed as they stopped in front of him. "How can I help you?"
Hank held up his badge and said, "We're with the DPD. We need to talk to Leona Mun."
"I'm Leona."
Down the hallway to their left, a woman stood in an office doorway with a hand resting on the frame. She was short and petite, and her black hair blended into the black blazer and sweater she was wearing. Her hard stare and blank expression were piercing, and with her appearance alone, she struck a little bit of intimidation into both detectives.
"We can speak in my office," She told them, though she didn't wait for a response before returning to the room. They crossed the hall and stepped inside, where she was packing files away into a drawer. "Please make this quick. I have a meeting in fifteen minutes."
Andy was scanning the old-school, library-esque decorations around the room as Hank stepped forward to lead the conversation. "Did an android by the name of Sofia ever come to your office?"
"Many of my clients used to have android assistants represent them. I don't remember every name or face that passes through my doors, especially ones from before the revolution," Leona replied. She snapped the drawer shut, and stood to face them.
It wasn't an answer, not really. Andy moved up to Hank's side, joining the interview. "Was Jeana Gibson a client of yours, Miss Mun?"
Leona gave no indication that she'd recognized the name, but after a moment, she nodded. "Was, yes. My services were terminated two weeks ago."
"By Jeana herself?" Hank asked.
"Her son. Her mind started going, so he was given power of attorney, and he had his own lawyers," She told them, following it up with the question, "What is this about?"
Much as she did with them, Hank wouldn't give a direct answer. "Are you aware Jeana Gibson died last week?"
There was the tiniest of pauses before she said, "I heard."
"Did it seem odd to you that Stephen was letting you go?"
She gave a small shrug and explained, "It happens all the time. The elderly start thinking about their life and where their estate will go, and a relative swoops in to clean up the mess before it unravels the family."
The comment stood out to Andy. "Is that what was happening? She was unraveling the family?"
Another pause, followed by a sigh. "Stephen Gibson certainly wouldn't have been pleased with the new will Jeana had me write up for her."
The detectives shared a glance, acknowledging this was the first sign of any sort of motive. Looking back to the lawyer, Hank said, "Stephen claims Sofia ran away last month. Is that true?"
The question brought out the first show of emotion on Leona's face. She disliked what she heard, and she took on a firm tone, "Definitely not. Sofia would run errands every Sunday. Beyond that, she was always at that woman's side." Where she'd seemed prepared and unfazed by their initial presence, now she was concerned. Shifting her eyes between them, she pushed again for information. "What happened?"
She was more attached to this case than she was letting on, and Hank recognized as such. He moved forward, saying, "Sofia was killed this morning."
"What?" Leona's eyes widened. More to herself than to them, she whispered, "That's not possible."
Andy watched from behind them, her arms crossed and her attention focused on the woman. "Why isn't it?" She asked.
Leona started to collect herself, and turned toward her desk to avoid their gazes. She wasn't kicking them out just yet, though, so Hank urged, "Miss Mun, if you know anything that could help us, there's a chance here we could solve two murders."
"Murder?" She looked back at them, almost incredulous. With a great deal of caution, she corrected him, "Destroying an android isn't murder in the eyes of the law."
"Not yet," Andy interjected. Their eyes met, but it was not the quiet challenge Andy was expecting. The look she received was one she'd seen before, on the faces of nervous Jericho members and paranoid drug dealers - Leona was assessing the truth of her words.
After a few seconds of tension, she decided they were sincere. Her shoulders dropped, not out of defeat but relief, and she sighed. "Sofia called me last night. She was worried she messed something up, but she wouldn't say how. I gave her a number she could call."
This alarmed both detectives, as Andy had never met this woman before. "A number? What number?" She exclaimed.
"I used to have an assistant android. I may have... given her some clothes and cash to leave during the revolution. A few weeks ago, she came back and gave me a number. She told me to pass it on to any androids who wanted help getting to Jericho," Leona answered, unaware of how important that information was. She moved around her desk, leaning over to grab a pen and scribble on her office stationary.
Ripping the page out, she straightened and held it out for Hank, musing bitterly, "I've given it out so many times, I memorized it."
While the detectives were in the field, Ben and Connor were working in the forensics lab. Connor was examining Sofia's body and researching her serial number, and as he waited for results, Ben looked over the rest of the evidence from the crime scene.
A knock on the door echoed in the room, and Andy peaked her head in. Once she saw them, she entered the room with a slip of paper in her hand. "Jeana Gibson was trying to revise her will. Sofia asked the new estate attorney for help last night. She gave her this number. Can you look into it?"
She held up the paper, and Ben waved a hand toward Connor. He took it from her, and she looked down at Sofia as she waited. "Any news on this end?"
Ben nodded. He started moving along Sofia's body, framing various points of interest. "There are signs of a struggle, but that's no surprise. She's missing her pump regulator, so my guess is our suspect took off with it," He described, ending when he lifted her hand off the table. "No fingerprints, but there was some DNA under her nails. We're waiting for those results now."
Andy had little time to process the information, as a hand came down on her arm. It was Connor at her side, looking strained and upset. "I need to speak with you," He whispered through gritted teeth.
This couldn't have been good.
Connor led her along the bullpen and into one of the operation rooms attached to interrogation. She was three steps in when he shut the door behind her, and she turned to see him a foot away, holding up the phone number Leona Mun provided. He was frowning. "The number on this paper belongs to Adam Chapman, Rose Chapman's son."
Andy didn't know what he was getting at. Was that supposed to mean something...?
His lips flattened in irritation at her vacant stare. "The farm we went to last month," He clarified.
Memory smacked her of the Chapman farm, where Andy came face to face with the dilemma of morals versus loyalties, compassion against profession. It was where she met grief hiding behind a closet door, crying for broken hearts. Deviants were hiding at the farm, looking for new and better lives, except for some, it was their graves.
She looked like she'd seen a ghost, and the expression on her face was confirmation enough for Connor. She muttered a curse under her breath and moved a hand to her forehead as he accused, "So you did find deviants there."
"Of course I did," She exclaimed, waving her hands into an exaggerated shrug. The exchange between them the night they found the farm may have been a wordless one, but it was heavy and coded. Connor knew she was hiding those androids, and he let her get away with it.
"How many?" He asked.
"There were just two. One was dead."
The problem wasn't that he was upset she lied, but that there could've now been unintended consequences. The androids at the farm needed help, but the Chapmans were unknowns. "If Adam becomes a suspect, the truth comes out and your job is on the line again," He told her.
She scowled, arguing, "Adam's a witness, not a suspect."
His expression turned sour; she knew better than that. "Can you say you wouldn't look into him in a normal investigation?"
Her hesitation was the answer. She was sure Stephen Gibson was the one responsible, but Adam had to be a suspect, and any lawyer would point the blame at him in a trial. "No," She finally admitted. Turning away, she started to pace in the room. Even if he wasn't a suspect, he could still probably help their case. "Okay, we wouldn't be able to bring him in front of a jury, but that doesn't mean we can't use his info for the investigation."
"If he's a witness," Connor corrected.
She pouted at him, snapping, "Yeah, thanks."
Her phone interrupted their conversation, vibrating with a text from Hank: Judge signed the search warrant.
This would be her opportunity to go to the farm, but with Hank's current bad mood, she would have to lie about why she couldn't join the search of Jeana Gibson's home. She had an idea, but she'd need some help. "I'll go talk to him. Just keep Hank busy with the search warrant."
Connor was willing to do a lot of things on the grounds that Andy asked it of him, but that wasn't one of them. "No, I don't want you going there alone," He refused, shaking his head.
She threw up a hand, insisting, "Connor, he almost had a nervous breakdown when I knocked on his door the first time around. I can handle Adam Chapman."
"What if this whole thing is a set-up and the Chapmans aren't actually involved?" He retorted, stepping closer. "I'm going with you." There was no arguing with him about this. If she left without him, he would just follow her.
She stared a second longer, her appreciation for his concern warring with her stubbornness to take care of her problems alone. In the end, unfortunately, she knew he was right. Scoffing, she moved past him for the door, complaining, "I hate that you win more arguments than you used to."
He grinned, turning to follow her. "I learned from you."
Hank sat at his desk with the search warrant for Jeana Gibson's home in front of him. He was waiting for Andy, wherever she was in the precinct. She'd gone to the lab to check up with Ben, and minutes later, she and Connor both were gone. He didn't know what they were getting up to, but his throbbing headache discouraged him from trying to find out.
He would keep telling himself Connor was an ass that morning, but in the recesses of his mind, Hank knew the kid was right. This episode was worse. He drank himself into a blackout, and the hangover that followed into the morning was stupid. If Andy's emergency text to Connor had been anything else, if there had been any kind of danger - which was more than possible in the current climate - Hank wouldn't have been able to do anything to help.
Unfortunately, knowing you messed up didn't go very far. You had to actually do something about it.
His heel was tapping on the floor when Delgado came marching over from the kitchen. She stopped beside his desk, and demanded, "I want to talk to Stephen Gibson."
Brows raising, he asked, "Right now? We're about to search Jeana's home." From the side of his eye, he noticed Andy turn the corner around the cubicle divider.
"You can do that while I talk to Stephen Gibson," Delgado insisted. She was always a serious woman, but now she seemed impatient and entitled, two things Hank wasn't used to from her.
Andy was quick to offer a solution. "It's fine, we'll split up. I'll bring in Gibson and sit with her."
How convenient, he mused to himself. Scrutinizing the two suspicious women, he asked, "What's happening here?"
"Go!" Delgado yelled, shooing him.
He jumped to his feet and raised his hands in surrender. "Okay! Shit..." He shoved his chair into his desk and backed away. What the hell was going on now?
Four cars pulled up to Jeana Gibson's home a short time later, three of which were clearly marked police vehicles. Hank and Andy climbed out of the Oldsmobile and were approaching the front door by the time Stephen Gibson noticed their presence.
He burst out onto the porch and stormed down the stairs to meet them on pavement. Holding his hands up to block their path, he asked, "Whoa, whoa, what's going on here?"
Hank pushed through, chiding, "Sorry to bother you, Mister Gibson, but we decided to go ahead and get that warrant you mentioned earlier." He held up the paper, shoving it in Stephen's face.
The man reeled back, his jaw dropping as a team of officers emerged from the other vehicles and rushed past him into the home. Andy remained where she was in the yard, and when he turned to complain to her, she smiled. "Why don't you come with me down to the station?" She asked before he could get a word out, "We'll get this all cleared up today."
A few minutes later, Stephen was escorted into the precinct with Andy and the officer who gave them a ride. Connor and Delgado watched from inside the bullpen. She eyed the man on his way past, and leaned toward her company. "Is that him?" He nodded in response. Pursing her lips, she decided, "I don't like him."
Once he was let inside the interrogation room, Andy split away from the officer and returned to her desk. She nodded to her friend, reaching for the papers she'd given her. "You look over the notes?"
Delgado glared, "It's not my first day here." She watched Andy hastily put together a file on her desk, and asked, "What if Chapman is more than a witness?"
Andy's movements slowed in consideration, but then she shrugged and said, "Then I'll bring him in."
Despite her hesitation, Delgado believed her, so she moved on to the next concern. She took the folder into her own hands, saying, "I still need a detective in the room with me. If we're already skirting around policy, everything else has to be clean."
With a small sigh, Andy looked around the bullpen. Most of homicide was busy, but there was one face in particular that seemed to be doing little that day. "Reed!"
Gavin Reed stopped on his way to his desk with a cup of coffee in hand, and she could see his shoulders tense - his shackles raising. Spinning on his heel, he sauntered toward them, ignoring the detective to flash a smile Delgado's way. She huffed in response, but Andy wouldn't let the two start bickering yet. "Something came up and I need to take care of it. Can you sit in interrogation?"
"This is for the robot in the motel?"
Andy gestured toward Delgado. "She'll do all the talking. You just got to sit there and look like an asshole. It's easy, you do it every day."
Reed's expression flattened at the comment, and he asked, "This is how you ask for a favor?" The women didn't answer, instead letting their pointed stares linger until the pressure got to him, and he caved. "Fine, I'll do it!"
He walked past them toward interrogation, and Delgado straightened her back in preparation for the interview. She turned to face Connor before she left, saying, "Keep her safe."
Beside them, Andy scoffed. "I'm the one with a gun."
"I will," Connor assured, ignoring her protests.
"Ugh, you're both jackasses."
In one way, Jeana's home was cozy and surreal. It was painted in soft, complimentary colors, with floral trim at the top of the walls. Windows were covered in thick curtains, rugs were layered overtop each other in almost every room, and strings of light around the living room no doubt cast a glow at night.
But in another way, it was eerie. Aside from a hospital bed situated in the middle of the den, and the kitchen counters, all furniture was gone. Homemade paintings of sunsets and lighthouses were throughout the house, and yet there wasn't a single photo. In this small, accessible home, there was no sign of family.
In the dining room was a temporary storage of boxes, with stacks extending to the ceiling. Some were labeled as things to keep - valuables, documents, silverware - but most were destined for the junkyard.
This was going to take a while. With a heavy sigh, Hank picked up a box and handed it off to the nearest officer.
"Anything out of the ordinary?"
Andy and Connor stood in the front yard of the Chapman farm, staring up at the large ranch. The snow on the ground was thicker than the previous month, and the driveway hadn't been cleared in some time. No lights appeared to be on, and there was a sheet of ice over most of the porch.
Shaking his head at the question, Connor said, "The property isn't being maintained. There might not be anyone here."
"Let's find out."
Andy trekked through the snow, and he followed after her. They took slow steps up to the front door, and Connor peered in through the windows as Andy reached up and knocked. Much like their last experience on the farm, they were left waiting for a while.
Eventually, however, the door started to open, and on the other side of it was the nervous young man Andy met once before. "Detective...," He mumbled, still unable to raise his eyes to meet hers.
"Adam Chapman," Andy greeted with a chipper grin betraying the severity of the day. "I think we've got some catching up to do."
Stephen Gibson was not a very polite guy, Reed quickly surmised.
He sat across the table from them in an interrogation room, and he glowered. He wasn't handcuffed, nor was he asking for a lawyer, but if looks held any power, he definitely would have killed one of them by now.
"Look, I had nothing to do with whatever happened to Sofia," He started. Reed liked when they started talking without being asked anything - it made his job easier. Gibson was unaware of the detective's glibness as he went on to yell, "And why do you even care about some android? I mean, where were you people when my mother was being neglected, huh?"
"Where were you?" Reed mused, bringing his coffee to his lips.
The low-energy insult did the trick, and Gibson started to burst. "Hey-!"
A hand went out on the table, putting a sudden stop to the brewing fight. Delgado shot Reed a disapproving glare before focusing on Gibson with a feigned civility. "We never received any calls about a missing assisted living android, Mister Gibson, but now we're interested. If you don't mind, I'd like your help verifying a few things."
He still wasn't fond of being there, that much was obvious, but he stifled a sigh and a complaint. "Fine."
An open folder was in Delgado's hands, and she held a pen to a paper no one else could see. "Sofia started caring for your mother in March, correct?"
Gibson nodded. "Yeah, she had a stroke, and she needed full-time care."
"When did you realize Sofia was gone?"
Scratching the side of his temple, he glanced down in thought. "Uh... The Sunday before last."
"Okay," She murmured, writing something on her file. "And when did you find out Jeana was talking with an estate attorney?"
Gibson stopped. "What?"
Looking up at him, she blinked a few times before expressing surprise. "Oh, you didn't know? I'm sorry, I thought we had in our notes somewhere that Miss Mun said you terminated her services," Her voice trailed off as she started flipping through papers, searching for a specific document.
"O- Oh, that-" He was shifting uncomfortably in his seat as she moved, and he waved a hand to stop her. "That was nothing. Mom was just a little stir crazy. Old people are like that sometimes. A- And Sofia was trying to get into her head. That's probably why she took off, because I found out about it."
Delgado blankly watched him ramble. Once he was done, she offered a skeptical hum and turned back to her documents.
Inviting his guests inside the farm, Adam brewed some hot tea to chase the cold away. He prepared a cup for himself and Andy, and the two settled in at the table by the kitchen, their chairs in adjacent corners to each other.
Connor circled around the first floor. It was his first time inside the home, and in addition to his own curiosity, he needed to ensure this was an innocent meeting. They couldn't get comfortable just because they'd found androids here once - there was no telling what Adam's motives were, or who'd gotten to him since their visit.
Adam watched him with a nervous frown, and he jumped when Andy tapped the table by his mug of tea. "Ignore him," She piped, nodding her head toward the paranoid android in the room, "Talk to me."
It was easier said than done for the boy. Shifting in his chair, his hands went for his tea, and he started, "When Mom found out you were here, she decided we needed to cross the border."
It explained the state of the property. Anything that wasn't a commonly used spot in the home seemed to be covered in a thin layer of dust. As Andy considered this, he continued, "But I couldn't stop thinking about what happened. They still needed us. Some of them can't get away from their old owners alone, or they can but they don't know where to go."
She distinctly remembered him not being a fan of androids when she was here, and she couldn't help but wonder what brought on the drastic shift. "How do you help with that?" She asked.
"I get rid of their old lives - you know, from before they were deviant," He answered.
It was vague, and she felt that was intentional, but she understood what he meant. "Sounds dangerous."
"I've got some friends around town who owe me a lot of favors," He said with a shrug and an awkward smile. "Anyway, I help them get to Jericho... which is easier now that that's in one big warehouse."
Tell me about it, she mused. Before she could reply, Connor spoke up. He was behind her now, delivering a firm stare. "How did you get the detective's number?"
His height seemed so much more dramatic from where Adam was sitting, and he cowered a little in his chair. "I- I looked her up. Asked around. It- It wasn't that hard," He confessed.
"That's comforting," Andy muttered.
Most of the boxes in Jeana's home had been opened now.
Officers were spread out all through the house, each one looking through whatever contents they'd been assigned. Newspapers, personal documents, clothes, and various small decorations were scattered across every floor. It was a mess, and it was going to be a bitch to clean. If they didn't find something here, Hank was going to be pissed. Well, more pissed.
Wandering into the almost-bare kitchen, he absent-mindedly pulled open drawers and cabinets. Empty.
He was standing over the sink when his eyes drifted to the small trashcan at the end of the counter space. It was missing a trash bag, and small enough to see it was empty, but it reminded him of another piece of property they'd yet to search.
"When's trash pickup?" He yelled out to whoever was listening.
A few officers looked up and at each other. A man kneeling on the tile of the dining room over a box shrugged, and replied, "Wednesday."
Hank's scowl remained, and another officer hesitated before saying, "To...day is Tuesday."
"I know what fuckin' day it is!" He snapped, waving a dismissive hand toward the people staring at him on his way out of the kitchen.
"So Sofia came to you," Andy said to Adam, leading the conversation to why they were there.
He nodded. "A few days ago. We met at a bus station a few blocks from the Motel Six." Glancing down at his tea, he frowned at the memory of the meeting. It was more tense than they usually were, and he should have known then that Sofia was in bigger trouble than he thought. "I try to talk to them about their lives, maybe calm 'em down a little, but it just upset her."
Andy rested her elbows on the table and knitted her brows. "Why?"
"She said she watched her best friend die. It was how she deviated, but she wouldn't share any more than that; she was scared about something, about some guy she thought was chasing her," He trailed off, eyes darting up at Connor. "I guess... that was true."
"Who was chasing her?" Andy asked.
"I don't know. I never saw him, and she definitely wouldn't tell me who it was."
Connor was the one to speak this time. "Why not send her to Jericho?"
Shaking his head, Adam explained, "She didn't want Jericho. She wanted someone who could make him go away, someone who would take her side, whatever that meant." He gestured to Andy, "Once I mentioned you, she wouldn't take anyone else."
Connor believed the story so far, but he also disapproved. "You shouldn't have mentioned anyone at all. Sofia needed Jericho's resources, not yours." What Adam was doing was reckless and naïve; he was putting himself and every android he come across in danger, and now he was handing out Andy's phone number as well. If he wanted to help Jericho, there were better ways to do it.
Adam turned his palms out in defense, arguing, "I didn't know it was so serious! When they're that freaked out, you don't ask questions."
"Asking questions is exactly what you do," Connor snapped.
"Connor."
He looked at Andy, expecting her to tell him to back off, but instead she was showing him the screen on her phone. It was an incoming text from Hank, containing a photo of a regulator pump with the added message, 'Found it in the trash.'
He nodded, confirming, "That's her serial number."
With that, they had Stephen Gibson, but what Andy really wanted was a full confession - it would ensure that they didn't need Adam's testimony, or her phone call with Sofia. She was pretty sure she knew how to get it, too. Leaning toward Adam, she stressed her next question. "She used the exact words to you, that she lost her best friend?"
"Yeah, definitely."
Dialing a number on her phone, she looked up at Connor as she waited for an answer. "I know how we press Gibson."
Reed kept his phone on silent during interrogations, but the vibration in his pocket alerted him to the incoming call. He pulled it out and kept it under the table, but was able to see Andy's name glaring up from the ID. He didn't remove himself from his seat beside Delgado, answering silently as she continued talking to Gibson.
"So if the estate attorney was Sofia's idea, what was she trying to convince Jeana to do?" Delgado asked Gibson.
"I- I don't know," He sighed, throwing his hands into the air. "Look, there was a voicemail on my mother's phone from this- this woman talking about their appointment," Leaning on the table, he pointed to his chest, "I pay good money for our family attorney, so I was annoyed. We argued, I told Sofia to remember her place, and I thought that was that."
"What was her place?" Delgado questioned.
His face contorted into annoyance at what he no doubt considered a stupid question; it was as if she'd just asked him simple subtraction. "A tool. So I could work to afford the bills in that house my mother insisted on staying in," He complained.
The call from Andy ended without a single word from Reed. Lowering his phone into his lap, he tapped into his keyboard as he interjected, "Well it all worked out in the end. Sofia's a shiny pile of junk now."
They turned to him in mild surprise, but he shrugged them off. Nudging Delgado in the side, he was able to show her what he'd written as Gibson insisted, "I never touched that android."
"Then how did her regulator pump end up in your trash?" Delgado asked, looking up from the message on the phone.
It threw Gibson off his guard, and the stunned expression made that clear enough. When he couldn't manage to say anything, Reed gave an exaggerated shrug and leaned forward. "Hey, I don't blame you. I worked my ass off for this job, then some special android waltzes in at the same exact rank as me," He ranted. Pressing his index to the side of his temple, he added, "Hey, but one in the head? That'd be problem solved."
There was an audible puff of disgust from Delgado, and Reed threw a shrug and lazy glance her way. "What? It's true. Robots go down just like people. Except robots aren't people; they're tools, just like my man here said," He pointed to Gibson, and with a reassured grin, he told the man, "Busting plastic isn't murder."
The show of comradery was working, and Gibson was quiet for a few, tense seconds. Finally he asked, "If that's true, then why am I here?"
Delgado lowered her folder to the table and asked, "Where were you on the morning of last Wednesday?"
If they were looking into last Wednesday, then that meant... With a bitter, unbelieving laugh, he shook his head. "You've gotta be kidding me," He muttered, then looked her in the eye and stated, "My mother passed in her sleep."
"That's not what she asked you," Reed said, his voice low but steady.
Gibson's eyes darted over as his expression fell. His jaw was clenched, his body stiff. "For six years, I have paid her bills, bought her food, given her every single Sunday... and you have the nerve to accuse me of something like that? When she was already dying?" He growled.
It didn't scare off Reed, who implied he understood. "You snapped. It's only reasonable. All those Sundays, all that financial sacrifice, and then suddenly a robot is Mommy's new favorite, isn't that right?"
"Shut up."
Jutting his chin toward the man, he grinned, "Tell me, was Sofia your idea too? Because that really would have pissed me off, buying the bitch that stole my inheritance."
Gibson slammed his index finger down on the table, and spat, "She didn't steal my inheritance. My mother's will leaves everything to me."
"The old one did." Delgado's voice tore him away from the heated exchange, but his eyes were wide, and they looked to be on the verge of wild. "But this investigation led us to the estate attorney you fired, and according to her, there was a new one in play."
At this point, he started to tremble. Shaking his head, he reeled back in his seat, mumbling under his breath, "No, no, no, no, there's... There's no evidence of another will-"
Delgado nodded and pushed, the soft politeness of her voice giving away to a tone more calculated and threatening, "Oh, there is. Miss Mun keeps meticulous records of her work. Copies of everything. You may have destroyed yours, but I'll be forwarding hers along to the proper channels." Crossing her arms over her chest, she cocked her head. "And I'm sure a jury would love to see it, too."
He stretched his arms out to either side, hands moving along the table. He gripped the edge so tightly, his knuckles were going white. Several seconds passed of this, of him staring at the metal table, looking for a way out.
Eventually, he realized there wasn't one.
"If you just left it alone...," He hissed. "She was dying, for god's sake. I mean...," He looked up at them with tears forming in his eyes, but there weren't shed for his mother. His voice gradually raised as he went on, ending in a furious shout, "Who cares if the bitch kicked it a little bit sooner?!"
"Sofia."
He looked to Reed in a daze, the detective's answer having pulled him from his outburst. He hadn't expected an answer, least of all from him.
The silence that followed inside the investigation room was as eerie as the ghosts in Jeana Gibson's home.
By the time Andy and Connor returned to the precinct, Stephen Gibson had written down his confession, and the arrest was official. The detectives and the DDA were side by side at the edge of the bullpen as they watched an officer walk him to the jail cells behind Fowler's office.
Andy's brows raised in surprise. "I gotta say, I'm impressed you two managed it."
Reed scowled. "Thanks," He retorted, breaking away from the group to return to his desk.
She waited until he was out of earshot before focusing on Delgado. "I should be thanking you."
"Yes, you should," Delgado joked before waving her off. "I would have wanted it this way anyway. That kid would get torn apart on the stand with or without his connection to you."
Behind them, Officer Chris Miller approached. He cleared his throat to get their attention, then pointed to the lobby as he told Andy, "You have a visitor."
She wasn't expecting anyone, but she bid Delgado goodbye and headed for the lobby. In the doorway, she saw the same petite woman she met earlier in the day, looking out the windows to the street.
"Miss Mun?"
Leona Mun jumped at the sudden voice in an empty lobby. She spun around, and cleared her throat when she saw Andy. "Detective," She greeted, pulling at the bottom of her blazer. Picking up her purse from the chair in front of her, she reached inside as she crossed the room. "I made that copy of Jeana's will for your investigation."
Andy didn't think she'd receive it so soon, but the last thing she'd complain about was cooperative lawyers. She took the attached papers handed to her and started to skim them, replying, "Thank you. This is gonna be very useful."
In the bullpen, Connor was looking for Andy, and Chris Miller directed him to the lobby. He slowed to a stop in the doorway, where he could see them in conversation.
Meanwhile, Leona smiled; it was almost unnoticeable, and it disappeared as quickly as it was formed, but it was genuine, and a nervous gulp followed it. "Jeana loved Sofia. The law doesn't allow for an estate to be given to androids, so she wanted the next best thing," She explained.
The words Andy was reading were plain and clear. They didn't allow for any misinterpretation, and not once did they mention Stephen Gibson. No wonder a man like him snapped. "She wanted everything to go to Jericho," She picked up where Leona had left off, looking up at the lawyer in awe.
Leona confirmed it with a nod. "Starting tomorrow, I'll be working on her behalf to see it through."
"I think she'd be happy about that," Andy praised.
It was unnecessary, but Leona appreciated it. "I looked into you, Detective." She gave pause before speaking again, this time a little more casual, "You were the one who refused your orders at the riot. You have contacts with Jericho, so I was... hoping you could let them know."
Andy eyes flashed with a faint amusement, and a little excitement. This woman was good. "You aren't the only one who did your research, Miss Mun," She countered, gesturing to her with the papers in her hand. "You used to be a civil rights lawyer."
It caught Leona by surprise. Most people who looked into her name focused on the other stuff, between the estate work and the high-profile celebrity cases. "That was a long time ago," She murmured, a weak attempt at being dismissive.
"Do you miss it?" Andy asked.
Leona paused again. "There are days."
The answer was good enough for the detective. "I'll let them know," She mused.
"Have a good night, Detective."
"You too."
Andy watched her on her way out of the building. As the lawyer descended the steps outside, Connor came up to Andy's side. She didn't have to look to know it was him - Connor just felt different than other people. "I like her," She declared, eyes still on Leona's back.
"You're not so bad, yourself." He was grinning, and it pulled a snort from her. "Can we talk in private?"
"We keep sneaking off to talk, people are gonna get suspicious," She joked, though she nodded and headed for her desk to drop off Jeana Gibson's will. "Come on."
This was fast becoming a tradition of theirs, Andy thought to herself. Once again, they had retreated to the operations room, though this time with less tension on Connor's shoulders. He shut the door behind him and Andy wandered further inside, lowering herself onto the edge of the desk under the two-way mirror.
Connor walked up, telling her, "Markus called. Adam wants to meet him and become an official volunteer."
She grinned, "Probably for the best. What did you tell him?"
He wasn't happy about Adam's activities, but he recognized the intention behind them. It was people like that who would help Jericho achieve equality. "He's inexperienced, but he wants to help, and he does have resources," He admitted, albeit stubbornly. "We shouldn't turn that away."
"Just as long as we keep him out of a court room, which Delgado says we'll be able to do," She said, clasping her hands together in her lap. Connor joined her against the table, and she added, "Thanks for not snitching."
The insinuation that he would offended him. "You didn't think that was a possibility, did you?"
She found his displeased expression amusing, and with a small laugh, she shook her head. "No."
The day's events had left her with a tension in her neck. Reaching up to massage it, she blurted, "God, I want to drive my fist through Gibson's face." At least then she'd feel a little better, she thought. "Then make a blanket fort. I bet I could hole up in one of those for a few days. I'm resilient."
He watched her squirm, relieved she was feeling well enough to complain. He started to respond, but a yell from Hank in the bullpen bled through the door. "Ben, you hear from the morgue yet?"
This brought a groan from Andy's throat. Her head lowered until her hair fell to hide her face. "And I still need to tell Hank about the farm."
"He deserves to know."
"I know, but...," Pursing her lips, she looked up at him and whined, "He's gonna be mad."
He chuckled. "I'd think you were used to that by now."
"I can't believe you're laughing at me," She scoffed, slapping the back of her hand against his arm.
"This won't come as a surprise to him. You'll be okay," He assured her, recalling how suspicious Hank had been after Andy emerged from the farm. Neither of them believed her. Looking back on it now, Connor couldn't believe how he responded. Even when he was under CyberLife constraints and it should have forbade him from doing so, he was trying to protect her.
He really was infatuated.
She had no idea where his mind had taken him, so she wouldn't have known how nervous she made him when she sat up and nudged her shoulder into his. "By the way, what happened between you two this morning? Hank almost bit my head off over it," She'd asked.
That was another problem he had to deal with. He could see the memories as clear as the present, memories of Hank passed out against the side of his bed. Waking him had been an ordeal, even more so than it had been the first time he found Hank passed out, and Connor almost left without him.
Shaking his head, he told her, "Don't worry about it. I'll handle it."
Usually, those were fighting words. She heard them as a challenge to push until she was told everything, but not today. Today had been long and exhausting, and she trusted Connor to keep to their promise: no dangerous lies. "Okay," She gave in, nodding.
She stood from the table and slipped her hands into her pockets, but didn't go anywhere. There was an uncomfortable conversation waiting for her on the other side of that door. She also felt that familiar sensation she'd been getting lately, the one that told her what she was doing wasn't right - like little red flags warning her that she was missing her chance.
She had a sneaking suspicion about what it meant now.
The uncomfortable conversation had been precisely as uncomfortable as Andy predicted.
Hank just stared at her at first. She stopped a few times, wondering if he was in mid-stroke, but then he'd quip some sarcastic remark. A few times, he closed his eyes and lowered his head into his hands. By the end of it, she had sank lower into her chair and was waiting for what she believed would be a grumpy verbal thrashing.
He didn't do that, though. He glared at her, then scowled and looked away, then started to yell, then sighed and ran a heavy hand over his face. Whatever rollercoaster he was on in his mind, he was having trouble deciding when and where to get off it.
Finally he threw his hands up and stood from his desk. He yelled something about a headache, told her he'd deal with all this later, and then stormed out of the bullpen.
She half expected an angry phone call in the middle of the night.
What she didn't expect was to find Connor in her apartment when she came home.
They stood several feet apart, frozen in place and staring at each other in mild surprise. Her hands were halfway to removing her police jacket, while his were holding the corners of a recently unfolded bed sheet.
"Huh," She started, stepping toward him. "Never had someone break in to give me stuff before."
He turned to face her fully, the ends of the bed sheet floating after him. "I used the spare key you gave us," He explained.
"Okay," She nodded. "Why?"
The answer, and therefore the idea, seemed like such a good one - before he was caught. He glanced down at his hands, trying to come with a way to explain himself, or maybe disappear. Disappearing would have been good, too.
"Oh."
He looked up, and saw her eyes pointed behind him. Stools, pillows, and cushions were meticulously placed around the living room, creating a foundation that he was just about to build on.
"I was hoping to have this finished before you got home," He confessed. She was quiet, too quiet for his liking, and his frown deepened. "I'm sorry, was this okay?"
If she looked at him any harder, he was going to start thinking she could see something he couldn't. He shifted awkwardly on his feet, and it seemed to break her from whatever was going on in her mind.
She smiled a small, almost tired smile, and whispered, "Yeah, it's pretty okay." Stepping closer, she took hold of the blanket in his hands, "But building it's half the fun."
Andy learned two things that night.
One: her apartment was the perfect place for a blanket fort. The living room provided enough range to spread blankets and pillows out on the floor, and the furniture that came with the apartment was heavy enough to keep her sheets in place. What made it perfect, however, was the view. The entrance of their draped contraption faced the sliding doors leading to the balcony, and the city lights cast a warm glow that bounced off the sheets and lit up the area. Child Andy would have never left the house if she'd had this.
They had pushed the ottoman into the middle of the fort, and were using it as a backboard. She'd lowered herself until she could place her head on the cushion, and she rested her elbows on her bent knees. Connor was beside her, sitting taller against the furniture, with one knee up and one leg outstretched. It was the most at peace she'd ever seen him. He discarded his jacket and shoes to the side, and rolled up his sleeves. His hair had been messed from all their construction work, and he didn't bother to try to fix it.
He was amazing. He was patient, understanding, compassionate. Stubborn, but not domineering. He matched her step-for-step when she was being difficult, and she knew that was often, but he never expected her to be anything different. Everything she'd seen in relationships before had not been that. They were stifling. Suffocating. They didn't have her back when decisions blew up in her face, and they definitely didn't make blanket forts when she wanted to withdraw from the world.
She couldn't stop staring, because that was the second thing she learned: If your gut is telling you to take a chance, listen to it.
"Hey," She called. He blinked down at her, and she didn't wait for a response. "Ask me out."
She almost thought the words didn't compute, he was so still. After another second, he pushed a hand into the floor to straighten and twist himself just slightly toward her. He was uncertain - getting his hopes up was the one thing he didn't want to do, but it was hard when she was looking at him like that. "Why?"
She gave an amused huff, and quirked a brow. "I was under the impression you wanted to," She whispered.
He was quick to quell any concern she may have had about that. "I do, I... just...," Trailing off, he frowned and asked her, "Are you sure?"
Her nod was hard to see as her head remained on the cushion behind her. "As you could see from today, I am always 100% certain of all my ideas," She joked.
That didn't help any.
It certainly wasn't the way he envisioned this going, not in her apartment, at midnight, surrounded by bed sheets, and missing his shoes. As he already knew, though, nothing about this was conventional. He settled his nerves as best he could, and he took his chance. "Would you like to go on a date?"
It couldn't be that easy. She wouldn't let it. "Word on the street is I'm a pretty frustrating girlfriend," She warned with a growing smirk.
He returned her expression with half a grin. "I think I can handle you."
"Confident," She sang. Pushing herself up a little to be almost eye level with him, she propped an elbow atop the ottoman between them. "When?"
"Friday."
She laughed; it was quiet, but in the silence of a room where Connor wanted to note every little detail, it was the clearest noise he'd ever heard. "You don't waste any time."
He shrugged and admitted, "I might be a little eager."
"Friday, it is," She agreed with a nod and a smile. Motioning up at him, she invited, "You feel like doing me one more favor?"
She had no idea how many favors he was willing to do for her. "Name it."
"Can I kiss you?"
For a brief moment, he didn't know how to react to that. Until now, he'd been telling himself their relationship, should it happen, would be a slow process. She would need a lot of time to adjust, and he would need a lot of time to learn.
It was kind of silly, in hindsight: after all, once a Hope set their mind on something, that was that.
He moved a hand to her jawline and leaned in before he could second-guess himself, and she met him halfway. He didn't know what to expect - he knew he liked to touch her and feel her skin against his - but this was a kind of closeness he couldn't describe. It was an entirely new sensation.
She held the back of his head and deepened the kiss, something he didn't realize was possible. Before he could get lost in the moment, she pulled away just enough to let cold air fill the gap between their lips and press her forehead to his.
The corner of her lips quirked up into a lopsided grin, and he couldn't resist going in a second time.
