December 18, 2038
It was the first day of Andy's personal weekend, which normally meant an opportunity to get to the gym early. This morning was different, and she let herself sleep in late. Rather than her alarm, she was disturbed by the sunrise, though it was more a gentle greeting than any kind of disturbance.
She opened her eyes and found herself on her stomach, cuddled into the pillows with a puffy blanket wrapped between her legs. She couldn't remember getting there on her own the night before. In fact, her last memory was Connor critiquing an especially long fight scene filmed in a smoky bar. He must have carried her to bed after she fell asleep, she supposed. The thought pulled a small smile from her, followed by an amused roll of her eyes.
How content she was to be content with him continued to surprise her.
A distinct smell wafted into the room, and she lifted her head from the pillow to direct a curious stare at the door.
Moments later, she emerged from her bedroom. Across the way was the kitchen, where Connor was scooping scrambled eggs onto a plate. He'd rolled his sleeves into cuffs at his elbows, and undone a few of the top buttons of his shirt. Strands of hair had fallen out of place from his night on the couch.
She was leaning on the door frame and appreciating the view when he looked up and smiled at her. "Good morning."
"Morning."
He held out the plate, luring her from the door. "I thought I'd make you breakfast."
"I noticed," she hummed, coming to a stop in front of him to inspect his gift. It didn't take long, and it didn't seem to be a serious inspection, but it still made him nervous. Finally, she took a bite and murmured, "Thank you."
He gave a quick nod before moving on. "Hank and I are going to the mall this afternoon. Would you like to join us?"
Her eyes darted up at him with a look he'd seen once before. He almost didn't place it, until he remembered the night he told her they were investigating the Eden Club. He didn't understand why until she asked, almost incredulous, "Hank's going to the mall?"
"We're getting suits for The Nutcracker, and I think he also wants to find a present for your mother."
Andy had almost forgotten that Natalie managed to worm her way into everyone's schedule for the end of the month. She had plenty of leverage against Andy after Sharon interrupted her last visit, and no matter how much Hank may have wanted to spend his holidays drunk, he would never turn Natalie down. As for Connor, it quickly became transparent that Hope women had a special way of getting into his head.
None of that made it seem any less out of character for the lieutenant to be going to such lengths, however. With a light huff, Andy mused, "That sentence got weirder as it went on." She stabbed a bit of eggs with her fork as she shrugged, "So sure, I'll tag along."
A knock at the door stopped Connor from responding. Andy put her plate on the counter and went to answer it as he started cleaning the pan he'd used.
Two familiar faces stood in the hallway outside her apartment, donned in uniforms: Officers Chris Miller and Jesse Dreesens. They both hooked thumbs into their belt loops, though their stances were wildly different. Where Miller shifted weight onto one foot and tried to appear approachable, Dreesens was leaned slightly back and gave off an air of confidence.
Neither looked genuine, Andy thought. "Oh good, my department-issued stalkers," she complained with pursed lips and an unimpressed stare. "I was hoping the captain forgot about that."
Miller grew a smile that said he wasn't putting too much weight in her unpleasant tone. "Good morning to you, too, Andy."
"Is it?" She quipped.
"We're just letting you know we're here. You won't have to share your space with us," he told her, holding up a hand in reassurance.
Cocking her head to the side, she asked, "So in addition to losing what little privacy I have left in this country, I also get to feel bad about you two staking out the most boring apartment in Detroit from a stuffy patrol car?"
Miller's smile remained. She would have to try harder than that. "That's it," he nodded.
Beside him, Dreesens spoke. "You could invite us in," he suggested in a casual tone with just a touch of sarcasm.
She shot him a snide smile. "I'll manage with the guilt, thanks."
She began to turn away until she caught sight of Connor's scolding gaze from the kitchen. It stopped her in her tracks, and she fought to ignore it, but a moment later, she let out a slow and irritated sigh. Looking back at the officers, she reluctantly told them, "Hank and I have plans today. We're going to the mall."
Dreesens gestured toward Miller with a nod of his head. "Miller can go with you. I'll watch the apartment."
Miller beamed at being given the opportunity. "I'll try to stay out of your way."
His optimism against her attitude was a bit like an unstoppable force meeting an immovable object. With a deadpan expression, she retorted, "I'll make you miserable if you don't. I'm very good at it."
"I don't doubt that," Dreesens mused.
She directed another fake smile his way. "Have fun outside in the cold!"
"Thanks," he muttered.
"Yep!"
The door shut in their faces, and she turned back toward the kitchen. Connor stood at the sink, still with that scolding look on his face. It made her feel guilty, sure, but only a little. Shrugging, she said, "He started it."
It didn't take long for Hank to spot Andy's security detail when he pulled up to her apartment complex. They were parked across the street in a squad car, facing the front of the building. He didn't know Dreesens well - the guy usually worked nights - but he knew Miller was a good kid and eager to please. He was a decent choice.
Hank navigated the garage of the complex, and found the reserved space for guests. Parking the car, he removed the key from the ignition and leaned back in his seat. He needed a moment before he let Connor know he'd arrived. He needed to prepare himself, for there were some difficult conversations on the horizon.
He was going to finally have those heart-to-hearts he'd been avoiding. Or, well, he was going to start them. Not everything was going to be fixed or said all at once, and he certainly wasn't ready to talk at length about his drinking or past regrets, but... opening a dialogue or whatever had to count, right? Taking the first step and all that. He wouldn't admit it, but he was listening to all that crap Nazarian said in their sessions, and he was trying to apply it now. So today, he was going to start these conversations. No matter how much he wanted to run from them.
He took in a deep breath, and started to reach for the handle until he heard the passenger door burst open.
"What the-"
Andy dropped into the seat beside him. "Lunch is on me for the rest of the month if you drive right now."
"What?" He asked, looking over his shoulder as if he would see the trail of her footsteps. He didn't even hear her approach. Was he that out of it? Shit, was she just waiting in the parking garage?
A second later, Connor appeared on the other side of Andy's window. His presence was also sudden, surprising both of them. "Sh-!" Andy cut off her own curse as she watched the android lean down to peer at her. "Connor."
"Andy," he bit back.
"Do you really have to be a stickler for the rules right now?" She asked through gritted teeth.
His brows knitted together, head reeling back just slightly. "I'm not a stickler-"
"Then get in the car!" She exclaimed, slapping a hand down on the car frame.
Hank refused to watch them bicker about... whatever it was they were bickering about. Glaring at the both of them, he snapped, "Will someone fill me in?"
While Andy refused to look at him, Connor pursed his lips and said, "Officer Miller is supposed to be joining us."
"Ah." Now everything made sense. She was trying to ditch her security.
"No!" She yelled, turning toward him. "Not 'ah.' Don't 'ah.'"
Narrowing his eyes at her, Connor states, "I'm alerting Officer Miller we're about to leave."
"Oh god damn it," she grumbled, sinking into her seat as she lowered her head into her hand.
Connor moved away from the window and began to get into the back of the car while Hank watched her pout. Between his previous contemplation and his memory of their conversation the night prior, he found himself with a sudden bout of patience for her antics. She just... She looked like him. Irritated with the world. Uncomfortable with being cared about. Too stubborn for her own damn good.
He was chuckling under his breath, bitterly almost, and she aimed her pout at him. "What are you laughing at, old man?"
"You can put up with this for a few days," he told her, reaching for the ignition.
Rolling her eyes, she turned to the window as she muttered, "Easy for you to say."
Hank and Connor had already made the initial purchases of their suits and given their measurements. Today was their last fitting at the local alterations shop on the second floor of the Detroit Mall.
"Good afternoon!"
An assistant greeted them as they entered the small but lush lobby. Hank met him at the nearby counter, saying, "Yeah, afternoon. We've got an appointment. Name, Anderson."
After a quick search on his computer, the assistant nodded. "There you are. Follow me." He motioned for the group, moving around the counter toward a hallway leading to the back. He glanced to Andy and Miller, adding, "There's a waiting room I can sit your friends in."
"Friend. Just one," Andy interjected. Gesturing to the officer behind her, she said, "He's not staying."
Hank shot her a weak glare. "Be nice to Miller."
"No," was her plain reply. She glanced at Miller and offered a barely apologetic shrug. "It's not personal."
Miller smiled. Again. She was going to break him one of these days. "It's fine. I get it."
"Er... Right," the assistant tried to chuckle.
He began to lead them down the hall, and as they fell into line behind him, Hank mumbled, "If it wasn't Miller, I'd say she might just manage to annoy her own security detail into quitting."
Connor huffed. "Don't let her hear that."
"So how's Jericho doing?"
Hank and Connor were left in the dressing room, waiting for the tailor to arrive. They sat in chairs by the door, suffering a tense silence until Hank broke it with an awkward attempt at small talk. Connor wasn't going to complain. As long as he wasn't being given the cold shoulder anymore, small talk was a good sign. "They're making good progress with Urban Farms," he answered.
"CyberLife giving them any trouble?"
"No more than usual," He replied, shaking his head. He thought of another challenge they were facing, and added, "Kamski keeps postponing his meeting with Markus."
Hank scoffed. "Figures." He looked down at his lap and took in a deep breath. "What about you?"
That stopped Connor, and he glanced to the other man in worry. It wasn't often Hank was checking in. "I'm all right," he said simply.
Hank gave a small nod, but didn't seem to want to end it there. "Listen, uh...," he trailed off, then pushed himself to finish what he started. Leaning his elbows on the armrests, he waved a hand toward the android and said, "I was thinking. Are you still doing all that weird soul searching stuff?"
Raising a brow, Connor rephrased the tactless question, "Do you mean am I looking for hobbies?"
"Yeah, that."
"...I am."
Hank shrugged and averted his gaze. "I don't know if you'd be interested, but I got a guy who says he can get his hands on tickets to a Gears game," he said in a casual tone, trying to make the exchange feel lighter.
Connor immediately straightened. The Detroit Gears was Hank's favorite basketball team, he recalled. It was a surprising invitation, almost as surprising as the timing - things hadn't been well between them - but he was excited by the idea. "I would definitely be interested, but isn't your schedule full for the rest of the month?"
"This month? No, no, for January," Hank corrected with the shake of his head. With a somewhat amused huff, he mumbled, "Doesn't matter how good Pedro says he is, he's not getting anything that short notice."
The excitement died a little. January was a mysterious time for androids, and Connor wasn't sure that would be possible. He couldn't resist his shoulders sagging in disappointment. "I don't think we should be making plans beyond the year."
"Well I do," Hank snapped, steeling himself. After all the awkward lead-up, he was certain about this much. It was not just for his sake that they should expect good things, he'd decided. "We all need something to look forward to around here."
Connor wasn't so sure about that, but he didn't have a chance to reply before the tailor entered the room, carrying two suits over his shoulder. Each man went to a separate stall with their new suits, and began to swap their pants and shirts for fancier articles of clothing.
"Have you ever been to a play before?" Connor asked as he folded his pants to place them neatly on the chair behind him.
"Once, with the ex-wife," came Hank's voice from the adjacent stall. The man dropped his jeans to the floor as he went on, "I had just made detective, so she decided I was finally good enough to introduce to her parents."
Connor picked up on the edge in his voice. "Were you nervous meeting them?"
"Who wouldn't have been?" Hank asked with a small chuckle. "That kinda thing was getting outdated even back then - women needing their parents' approval - but she just had to impress her family."
Save for the wedding date and the divorce, Connor didn't know anything about Hank's marriage. He didn't talk much about his past, but especially not about her. The ex-wife jokes littered around his desk at work, and the judgmental tone of his voice now, indicated that this reluctance was not due to any left over feelings of love.
"Do you remember anything about the play?" Connor asked.
He could hear Hank snort and retort, "If I did, I don't think be I'd agreeing to sit through another one."
Connor found that hard to believe. "I doubt you would have said no to Natalie," he said.
Silence followed, but he could feel the tension radiating from the other stall. A few seconds passed before Hank mumbled, "Andy and I knew you two being together all that day was going to end up weird."
The android smiled a little. "She said you were patient with her."
Hank stopped again, hand hovering over his unfinished tie. "Patient?" Wasn't every day he heard that. Wasn't... any day he heard that, actually.
"I was also surprised," Connor mused.
Hank tossed out a glare at the wall that separated them. "Funny."
After her companions were taken to a separate room, Andy was led into the viewing room. It was a cozy space with a short but wide podium in the middle, and three sofas pressed side-by-side. The walls were covered in floor-length mirrors, and corners were filled with large synthetic plants.
She was relaxed on one of the sofas, scrolling through the news feed on her phone. Russia was accusing the US of creating an android rebellion to manufacture a moral high ground for their presence in the Arctic. Canada remained steadfast in their refusal that androids had ever crossed their border. Android athletes were commenting on whether they'd return to their teams in the event their rights were acknowledged; most were saying yes, but the few who weren't had now raised questions surrounding the ethics of all previous android employment. The United Nations were having unscheduled talks without letting Russia or the US in the room.
The world was already on the brink of chaos before all of this, but it seemed Jericho sped up the process.
Hearing movement by the doorway, Andy looked up from her phone to see a young man leading Hank and Connor to the podium. Hank wore the classic combination of a sleek black suit and a crisp white shirt, paired with a black tie. Despite the sleeves still being a little too long and his facial hair being barely maintained, it was the most sharp he'd looked in years.
He saw the amusement flash in her eyes a second before she spoke. "You look like a fed."
Pointing a finger at her, he warned, "Hey, watch it."
She swallowed the mischievous chuckle, and turned her focus onto Connor. He was dressed in a modern slim suit, the kind she often saw on famous figures. He wore it much better than any of them, she decided. It fit him like a custom-made glove, the smooth fabric emphasizing his lean build. What pulled her in most, however, was the color: a beautiful red wine with a simple white shirt and black tie.
His fit was something the man taking his measurements also seemed to notice. He shook his head as he adjusted the android's sleeves, letting out a faint huff of disbelief.
Connor, a man both unaware and indifferent to his own appearance, grew concerned. "Is something wrong?"
"No, no, just the opposite," the tailor was quick to answer, shaking his head. He took a step back and looked over the suit one last time. With nothing short of awe on his features, he said, "It fits you perfectly. I didn't believe my assistant when he said we wouldn't need to make adjustments, but he was right. It's... amazing."
If he was expecting his words to be taken as praise, he would find himself mistaken. They had the exact opposite effect, instead making Connor self-conscious and a little frustrated.
Hank may not have been the most emotionally 'checked in' person around, but he liked to think he knew Connor well enough to understand the growing tension. Even if he was wrong about why, he knew at the very least that a change of topic was needed. With an obnoxious scoff that interrupted their exchange, he complained, "We get it, the kid's a perfect specimen."
The tailor took it as envy, which was fine by Hank. "Oh, your suit is almost perfect, of course," he claimed, rushing to repair what he thought was an insult to his client.
"Uh-huh," Hank hummed.
Beaming with a bright but nervous smile, the tailor waved for him to step off the podium. "Just a few extra adjustments is all. Would you follow me back into the dressing room?"
Hank grumpily complied with the request. The two retreated into the hallway, leaving Andy and Connor alone in the viewing room.
Connor turned to look at himself in the mirrors as Andy put her phone away. She stood from the couch and approached, coming to stand just behind him on the podium. When the reflection of their eyes met in the mirror, she smiled. "You look good."
It felt better coming from her, but the tailor's reaction was still echoing in his head. "Courtesy of CyberLife," he bit.
She didn't take the tone personally. Sliding her hands into her jacket pockets, she let her gaze drift away in thought as she tried to recall something she'd heard before. "The... earth makes the sunset, but that doesn't mean it's... not the painter's?" she stumbled through with a growing grimace of confusion.
Connor's hands, which were tightening his tie, stopped. Tearing away from the mirror, he looked at her directly and asked, "Are you all right?"
She shrugged and confessed, "It's something my mom said. I think. I don't know, I tune her out a lot." Leaning toward him, she lowered her voice and said, "Point is, I like who I'm looking at, not what."
This wasn't just to placate him: he had his boyish nerdy charm most days, which she loved, but the suit emphasized another side of him that delighted her. It was the side that took her to a skating rink for an excuse to hold her, or could pull her using the straps of a bulletproof vest like it took no effort. The attitude was what she saw when she looked at Connor. The suit just showed it off.
Although her response was simple on the surface, as they usually were, it still carried a great deal of power, as they usually did. She sounded so sure of herself when she spoke on his insecurities, and he believed so deeply in her, that she had a real chance to convince him the sky was falling if she gave it a good enough try.
He started to feel bashful, until she raised a hand and gently plucked at the fabric at his sleeve. As if it were an afterthought, she joked, "Color's nice to look at, too, but I'm a sucker for red."
"I know."
Her eyes darted up from the suit to meet his, and he gave her a small knowing smile. It turned flirtatious quickly, and he was rewarded with a pleased grin of her own.
"I should change," he said, lowering his hands to his side. She replied with an affirmative hum as he stepped down from the podium and returned to the dressing room.
Now she was alone again. In a quiet room.
She started to bounce on the balls of her feet. Discomfort and boredom crept up her spine, so with a short sigh, she crossed the room to the doorway the three men left through. Peeking her head inside, she told them, "Hey, I'm gonna head out, take a walk."
"Don't lose Miller!" Hank called.
Rolling her eyes, she started to walk away. "If Miller gets lost, he's bad at his job!"
"Andy-"
"I'll go easy on him," she yelled before grumbling under her breath.
In a jewelry store across the hall, a middle-aged man was pleading with the employee at the counter. He was trying to buy for a fiancé and a girlfriend, and his desperation indicated that neither partner knew about the other. A woman walked by the windowfront, maintaining a white knuckle grip on the strap of her purse with one hand and clutching a taser inside the purse with the other. She was nervous to be among crowds. Her path took her past a toy store, where a little girl was sneaking a candy bar into her backpack while her parents discussed their limited gift budget after a job loss this year.
You could see almost anyone's secrets if you paid enough attention.
The sound of commerce and foot traffic came rushing back to her as she pulled herself out of her hyper awareness. She was standing by a rack of gift baskets at the entrance of a clothing shop. She didn't know how long she'd been standing there, pretending to consider a basket of personal soaps, but it was probably enough to worry anyone who was watching her.
She looked over her shoulder at Chris Miller just outside the store. He was by the windowfront, trying to appear casual. He wanted to soothe the concerns of people who took special note of the police officer.
Uniforms made her nervous. The morning Scott Hope's body was identified, they were the first thing she saw when Natalie opened the door. As a teen, spotting one often meant running down dark alleys with her cousin, throwing cans of spray paint into dumpsters and clutching stolen bottles of beer. Maybe joining the force would have helped, had she not gone undercover. As Victoria Palmer, the uniform remained a sign of trouble, only serving to complicate matters. She had to learn to pick careful fights or avoid them altogether, and those dark alleys became her friend again when she and Jason needed a quick exit.
Thinking about that unlocked a wave of memories she'd been reserving for therapy sessions. She wouldn't have called Jason a friend even at the height of her disguise, but it was also a lie to say they were no more than colleagues. They'd been through a lot together. In a messy and unspeakable way, they owed each other their lives. And now he wanted to take hers.
A body walked up to her side, too close for a stranger to stand. She almost jumped until she realized the presence belonged to Connor. He looked at her with concern, and she immediately lightened her expression to ease the mood. "Hey. You done?"
"Hank's still getting alterations," he answered. Glancing to the shelves in front of her, he rose a brow and asked, "Are you looking to buy an assortment of soap?"
She followed his shift without a problem, rotating one of the baskets to better look at the packaging. "Sure, do you think Delgado would like some fig and cranberry?" Without waiting for answer, she began walking down the aisle that led further into the shop.
He knew her well enough by now to know the casual tone was feigned, and also that she would not tell him if she weren't ready to. He would have to wait, so he fell into step beside her and thought about a change of topic to get her mind off whatever it was dwelling on. "Hank invited me to a game," he declared as they walked.
Mission accomplished. Her brows lifted in mild surprise, and she slowed to a casual stroll. "Yeah?"
With a small nod, he replied, "He says he can get tickets for January."
At mention of the date, there was a faint frown on his lips, and Andy could guess what that meant. "And you don't know if it'll be possible," she guessed.
"I don't want to get his hopes up," he told her.
She shrugged, commenting, "Curbing expectations doesn't seem to be helping him any."
"I don't want to get my hopes up."
The confession came quicker than either of them expected, but it sounded just as bitter. Andy mulled over her potential responses carefully. Some doubts couldn't be wrestled away with a nonchalant tone and a playful answer, and what was going to happen to androids come the new year was the biggest doubt on everyone's mind. There was no 'it doesn't matter' or 'it's going to be all right' that could make that go away.
It didn't mean life had to stop, though. Taking in a deep breath, she started, "New Year's won't be the end of this either way. You can't keep putting your life on hold until the stars align, or you'll never live it."
He wanted to argue, but he knew he would only be making a flimsy case. There was always going to be something looming overhead, an uncertain future or personal insecurity that could be the next goal post for his life. It was easier to think of good things as a far away abstract for when the time was just right. The challenge was joy despite - despite the adversities, the obstacles, the 'what-if's.
He was quiet for another moment, before reluctantly giving in. "You... have a point."
She sent him a gentle smile and told him, "Make your plans. We'll sneak you into that damn game through the back door if we have to."
It sounded like a joke, but he wouldn't put it past her. "I'll tell Hank to get the tickets. Or to try to." Tilting his head slightly, he murmured, "I don't believe they'll be obtained legally."
"Atta boy," she chuckled as they came to a stop at a section of dress clothes.
Pulling at a skirt for a better view of its pattern, she blew out a big sigh. "I should probably find something for the Nutcracker too. I doubt they'll let me through the doors in jeans and a jersey." She quickly looked up in thought, adding, "That would be a way to get out of it, though."
She stepped further into that section of clothes, and he followed. "Not a fan of plays?"
"Sitting in a dark room watching people put on a performance?" she asked, throwing a pointed look over her shoulder at him. Sifting through a variety of dresses, she said, "I do that every day at work."
"I doubt this performance will be as macabre," he said with a little smile before admitting, "But I think it'll be a good opportunity for all of us. It will also be a new experience for me."
He was referring to his hunt for hobbies, and it conjured images in her mind of him reciting lines and choreographing dances. As wild as it seemed, she could see it. It may not have been her scene, but she wasn't about to support his excursion into the world of sports while getting in his way when it came to the arts. So she would go to this play without another complaint, for his sake, but she wasn't going to do so without any comments. Turning around, she leaned in and teased, "Well if you end up wanting to join the theatre after this, I'm sure my mom will be your biggest fan."
He chuckled as she picked up the last dress to catch her attention. They made their way to the dressing rooms at the back of the section, and he came to a stop when they reached the entrance. Noticing he was no longer beside her, she stopped and looked back to see him search of an inconspicuous place to wait.
She grabbed his hand to pull him along. "There are seats inside."
The dressing room was long and rectangular, with stalls on the left and chairs in a row on the right. At the end of the room was a smaller version of the viewing room at the alterations shop, minus the podium. A series of floor-length mirrors were positioned in a half circle around an open space to stand and marvel.
Andy entered a stall near the middle, so Connor went to the chair nearest it. He sat there awkwardly at first, wondering what to do with himself as he waited. Should he let Hank know where they were? No, definitely not. That could raise questions. Maybe he would make some calls for Jericho? On the other side of the stall door, he heard a zipper, and the shuffling of clothes. No, no calls for Jericho. This was too distracting for work.
...Distracting? He almost laughed at himself. He never thought he'd be somewhere like this.
"So what else is on your to-do list of potential new hobbies?"
He blinked a few times, snapping himself out of his nerves. Trying to, anyway. "I was thinking about painting. Markus seems to think it's a good way to... get in touch with yourself."
"Your words or his?"
"Definitely his," he mumbled.
She still heard it, and she chuckled before saying, "It makes sense, though. Especially considering his background."
He started to respond, but his voice became caught in his throat as the stall door opened and Andy stepped out in a dark blue dress.
She was unaware of his cycling LED as she approached the mirrors. Walking past Connor put him in view of the low cut in the back, which seemed to be designed specifically to frame her muscles. She reached for the sides of the dress, and his eyes followed her hands as she smoothed out the fabric at her hips.
It was then she noticed his stare.
She did not consider herself to be self-conscious about her body; on most days, she liked what she saw in the mirror, or at least the physical reflection. But now she had someone in her life whose opinion of her, in all respects, mattered a great deal, and that person currently looked hypnotized in his seat. She suddenly felt she was under a microscope, and she looked down at herself to avoid his intensity. Pulling at the dress, she searched for a way to busy her hands and mind.
He was not so hypnotized that he missed the change in her body language. His eyes moved up to her face, which was hidden by her hair and the angle she was turned away from him. He wasn't sure it was polite to ask, but he had to know. "Am I making you nervous?"
Meeting his gaze in the mirror, she quirked a brow and offered him a small smile. Her expression was amused, but still shy. "You can't look at someone like that and not make them nervous," she admitted.
He returned her smile with a softer one. "That wasn't my intention. I apologize."
As if flipping a switch, she straightened her stance and replied, "Not accepted. I never said it was a bad thing." Then she pulled at the fabric bunching at her arms and joked, "These sleeves, though? Downright offensive."
Those sleeves hugged her biceps, showing off what was hidden by the winter apparel she normally wore, but Connor was going to keep that to himself. He watched her return to the stall to try on a different item, and as the door clicked shut, he started thinking about the night before.
It wasn't entirely out of the blue, what happened in her apartment. Their flirtations and quality time had been headed that way - he was getting bolder around her, and she was enjoying teasing him more. It made sense that things would start to get heavy as they neared that next step of intimacy. She may have slowed them down, and he had no qualms with that, but the fact they'd gotten there at all was a big deal.
He just wanted to know if they'd get there again one day. He thought about what she said earlier, about making plans, and he decided to do just that.
Standing from his chair, he walked up to the stall and bumped a knuckle against the door. "Andy?"
"Yep."
"Can I step inside?" Realizing what the request must have sounded like, he quickly elaborated, "I... don't want to have this conversation through a wall."
There was a pause in her shuffling when she picked up on his tone. "Okay..." The door unlocked, and she pulled it open to let him join her. In the crammed space of a dressing room stall, they stood only a few inches apart from each other. "Everything all right?"
He nodded and glanced away. "I want to discuss last night."
She was not surprised for long. In fact, her expression led him to believe she may have been preparing for this herself. "That's a good idea," she agreed, before shrugging at her surroundings. "Weird place for it, but..."
That... was probably a good point. First was the dumpster, and now here: he made a mental note to start planning these kinds of conversations in better locations. After this one, though. He'd already committed to this one. "We mentioned sex once, before the relationship started, but we didn't discuss if it was something you'd want," he said. Tilting his head down to look her in the eye, he asked, "Is it something you'd want?"
She didn't answer right away. He wasn't sure what that meant. She shifted from one socked foot to the other, and rolled her eyes away, not with an attitude but in an exaggerated display of consideration. Sighing, she said, "It's something I enjoy, but it's not important. It's not a deal-breaker."
She gestured toward him, asking, "What about you? Is that even..." After she trailed off, she let out a small laugh. "I don't know how to end that question."
"I like being close to you. When I am, I want to be closer." Glancing down at that 'downright offensive' dress she was still wearing, he reached out to brush the tips of his fingers against the fabric. When she didn't back away, he confessed, "It's a step I'd like to take in the future."
She was scrutinizing him. Making sure he was saying what he meant, and not what he thought would placate her. Her silence was taken a different way by Connor, however, who thought he'd gone too far. He immediately started trying to backtrack. Pulling his hand away, he stammered, "Eventually. Only when you're ready, of course. I would never- It's not- Only if you're ready, i-if you would ever be ready. Or if you would even want to-"
A shake of her shoulders stopped him mid-speech, and he narrowed his eyes. "You're laughing at me."
A small snort she'd been trying to hold in bubbled up from her throat. She ducked her head down to cover her mouth and regain her composure. She swallowed her amusement, but the grin stayed behind as she said, "I've seen you speechless, I've seen you pout, but I have never seen you ramble quite like that."
He scoffed. "I don't pout."
"Yeah, okay," she chuckled.
As easy as that, the mood in the stall lifted and they both relaxed. He watched her with an immense amount of affection, and confided in a lighter tone, "I just don't want to mess this up."
She pursed her lips, but the reprimand she gave was more a tender reproof. "This is not nearly fragile enough to be broken with a few words," she chided, shaking her head. "We'll decide when we're ready."
It was what he needed to hear. She was right. If the dumpster confession wasn't going to scare her off, neither was an awkward conversation.
"I'm going to let you change," he said, taking a step back. He exited the stall and made his way back to the chair to wait for her, only to be stopped by a polite voice halfway there.
"Excuse me."
He looked down the hall toward the doorway, and spotted a shorter older woman with her hands clasped together in front of her. A nametag on her blouse read 'Laura.' She smiled at him, though the gesture failed to reach her eyes. With a forced kindness, she began, "I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave."
Connor's brows furrowed. Later that evening, he would berate himself for not understanding what was happening sooner. "Is something wrong?" he questioned.
She shook her head, thinking it would de-escalate the situation. "We just...," she glanced away then leaned forward, as if letting him in on a secret, "worry about your presence in the dressing room."
"My presence?" he repeated. "I wasn't aware your dressing rooms were gendered."
"N... No, they aren't. It's not about that," she said.
That was when it finally struck him. She was kicking out the android. His expression hardened as he stared at her; if he was going to suffer this indignity, he wanted to hear her admit it. "Then what?"
"You may make people uncomfortable," she warned.
"Is someone saying so?" he pressed for more information.
She felt his frustration, and it was no surprise to him that she took it as hostility. She held up a hand, almost pleading, "I don't want a fight. If you would just please follow me out of the store."
Her request was punctuated with Andy's stall door swinging open. The movement caught the attention of them both, but Connor knew it was coming. Laura, on the other hand, reeled back in surprise.
Andy had only managed to get her pants on in the short time after hearing the first comment. Her shirt was dangling in her hands as she stepped out of the stall to survey the scene. "Sounds like there's a problem out here," she mused, a casual tone masking the tension in her shoulders.
Laura may have been willing to offend an android, but she was far less willing to insult a human customer. "Oh, no, not at all. There's no problem with you, Ma'am," she assured.
Andy finished pulling her shirt back on as she said, "I'll be the judge of that."
"I'm being removed from the store," Connor interjected before Laura could speak.
Andy glanced at him with big eyes feigning confusion, and then at Laura. "Why's that?"
He continued to answer for the employee. "There is concern about an extra presence in the dressing room," he recited the excuse given to him.
She hummed in thought. Waving a hand toward the line of chairs, she asked, "Are these not for waiting for whoever's using the stalls?"
Laura jumped to answer before he could. "Of course they are-"
"And here I am, his girlfriend, using the stalls," Andy interrupted. "Care to elaborate on the issue?"
As the employee stumbled over her words, it became clear that she would not be elaborating at all. She would just keep playing innocent, and he would be made the villain for it. With a small scowl, he said, "I think we know the problem."
She had the audacity to act exasperated with them now. "We're just trying to keep everyone in the store happy. This is for the safety of everyone involved," she stressed before pointed to Andy, "You, of course, are welcome to stay and peruse to your heart's content."
Andy was unmoved. "Kiss my ass," she snapped.
Laura's jaw dropped as the detective leaned back into the stall to grab her jacket off the hook on the door. She made a beeline for the entrance, and Laura tried to calm her down. "M- Ma'am-"
Andy stopped when she was next to the woman, making sure to tower over her. "That was not an invitation to keep talking," she warned before turning to leave.
Connor followed. He had nothing else to say.
When Dreesens sent Miller to the mall with Andy, the junior officer thought he was being gifted an opportunity to prove himself. In truth, Dreesens had his own motives for staying behind.
After everyone left, he waited in the squad car for ten minutes to ensure they weren't coming back anytime soon. Once he knew the coast was clear, he entered the complex and took the elevator to Andy's floor. It was a casual stroll to her front door, and with a credit card and a piece of string, it took him less than two minutes to break in. He slid inside, glancing around to make sure he was safe, and gently shut the door behind him.
His search of the apartment was quick but meticulous.
The kitchen was bare. A scarce fridge indicated she ate simple and repetitive meals, usually high in protein. The drawers were mostly empty, save for a cabinet with vitamins and protein powder, an unorganized drawer of utensils, and another with various items such as condiments and napkins taken from local food trucks. She did not spend a lot of time here.
He moved on to the living room. He scanned over each photo, taking note of Natalie and a younger Hank. He lifted couch cushions, and cleared the underside of the coffee table. He browsed the entertainment stand for an idea of her habits. The TV was left on a channel that exclusively played movies, but the channels that were favorited were centered around news, sports, and travel.
Next was the bedroom. He rummaged through every dresser drawer, finding a box of ammunition in the sock drawer next to a burner phone. He lifted the mattress and searched the end table by her bed. On the surface was a half empty water bottle and a tablet, which was locked with a passcode. Inside the end table was her gun, her badge, and a flashlight.
Looking through the closet in the corner, he found a gym bag on the floor next to a pair of worn out boxing gloves, and spotted a toolkit and a shoebox on the upper shelf. The gym bag contained the usual related necessities, as well as the toolbox, and the shoebox was home to a number of old and unsorted photographs. He shuffled through them in hopes he'd find a date or any other relevant code-related information, but instead only saw memories of her life. Bits of her childhood, relatives and friends, photos from her time at college, a photo of her and Warren Walsh sitting in a cafeteria wearing police academy shirts.
When the bathroom produced just as little results, Dreesens' frustration was starting to mount. It was almost like she'd just moved in a day ago, and had yet to migrate all of her belongings from her old home. He supposed that was to be expected - she was undercover for a long time. She was accustomed to travelling light, and hiding what she did choose to keep.
That thought put him on a new idea, and he stopped his pacing in the middle of the living room. What if the undercover detective hadn't dropped all of those pesky undercover habits?
Before he could move to check the sink, he spotted the wall vent behind an end table by the couch. He almost tossed the end table across the room as he knelt down in front of the vent and pulled a multi-tool from his pocket.
A square tin canister sat in the vent, rust almost making the logo of an old cigarette brand on the front illegible. Popping the lid open, he found a small number of personal items. What took up the most space was a rolled up wad of cash and a small joint, the smell of which he identified as marijuana. Pressed between these items and the back of the canister were two cards: a trading card for a hockey player that was signed and laminated, and an old paper business card for someone named Cairo Barnes. He flipped the can over to ensure it was empty, and out fell a key with the label of a storage facility.
He took a photo of the key with his phone before putting everything back in its place.
After their unceremonious departure from the clothing store, Andy decided it was time to eat.
They sat across from one another at a table in the mall cafeteria. Crowds were picking up for the lunch rush, so they found a spot along the edge of the seating area where they wouldn't be disturbed. She was enjoying a gyro she'd gotten from the Greek Delights kiosk, seemingly unaffected by the day's earlier events.
Connor was not so quick to forget. He was going through the motions of shame, anger, resignation, and guilt. He knew it wasn't his fault, and he knew Andy would say the same, but knowing that just made the guilt worse. He dwelled on it until he couldn't handle it anymore, and then he burst.
"You could have stayed if you wanted."
Her expression didn't change as she swallowed her food, making him wonder for a second if she heard him. Then she dropped her gyro on her plate and shot him a faint scoff. "What the hell do you take me for?"
He ignored the question, arguing, "You should have been able to finish shopping."
"I don't want to shop where you're not welcome," she said, brushing him off with a wave. She pointed, adding as a quick afterthought, "And that's not on you."
He recognized that tone - it was the one that said there was no room for arguments. "I'm still sorry it ruined our time," he murmured.
"It didn't ruin anything," she insisted. Tossing up a hand, she told him, "I just got done saying we weren't fragile. You're the one who said things weren't going to play like normal for us. We knew this would happen eventually."
He remembered the speech he once gave her outside of Hank's, where he told her there would be obstacles, and he would be ready to overcome them. He was regretting the question even as he asked it, but he couldn't stop himself from wondering: "Would you prefer normal?"
She had gone back for her gyro, but that stopped her in her tracks. Her eyes darted up at him in concern, and then drifted away in thought. "I prefer you," she said quietly.
The joy that answer brought him was indescribable.
"Now stop that train of thought, because I'm not taking apologies or suggestions," she spoke again before he could outwardly react. She followed her declaration with a sharp bite out of her gyro, and returned to what she was doing before the crisis: people watching.
The mall was decorated for all of the upcoming holidays. Large festive decals were plastered over the walls, and silver snowflakes dangled on fishing wire attached to the ceiling. Holographic ads of chic models in suggestive poses had been swapped for chic models in slightly less suggestive poses, now with colorful hats. Music playing from hidden speakers carried a twinge of whimsy that was no doubt fraying the nerves of every employee in the building. On a less cynical note, more people were shopping in groups this time of year. Couples held hands while they ordered hot chocolate from the drink stand, and friends stood around store entrances window shopping. The talk of gifts and parties floated from one conversation to the next.
Eager for a new topic to distract her and Connor, the jolly cheer gave her an idea. "So I know we're not doing gifts, what with...," she paused to consider an easy word for rebellion, murders, and cyberterrorism. "...everything. But if we were, what would you want?"
It was an odd question, if only because he'd never been asked it before. He didn't even know where to begin. Shrugging, he said, "There's nothing I particularly need."
Her face scrunched as she replied, "Gifts don't have to be about need. They can be a luxury."
"Well I don't know what sort of luxury I'd enjoy," he stressed with a small, amused smile. "What about you?"
She waved her half eaten gyro around as she mumbled, "Eh, I get anything I can take to the gym or use on my bike and I'm happy." A memory crossed her mind, one she hadn't thought about in a long time. Her voice softened as she recalled it. "My dad was big on gifts. He had this pocket watch he made a huge deal out of passing down one day. Said it was about gathering history."
It was a nice sentiment, but with an ability to record his memories and without anyone to pass anything down to, momentos sounded like a foreign concept. History was going to have to be gathered in his own way. "Right now, the only history I want to make are memories and experiences."
She quirked a brow and mused, "Like going to a basketball game?"
"Yes...," he conceded slowly, unsurprised when a smug grin pulled at her lips in response. He chuckled, saying, "Artifacts like pocket watches can come after."
The conversation came to an abrupt end when a tray was dropped onto the table. Hank stood beside them, wearing an annoyed frown. "No one was gonna tell me you were already having lunch?" he complained.
Andy shrugged and said in an innocent tone, "We figured you'd end up here after your fitting anyway."
He wasn't buying it, and he squinted at her in irritation. Dropping into the seat next to Connor, he reached for his burger and took a large bite. As he chewed, his hand sought out something that was missing on the tray. Gesturing to the android, he mumbled, "Do me a favor and get me some napkins, will ya?"
Connor nodded and walked away, leaving his companions in a tense silence.
Swallowing his bite, Hank asked, "Where's Miller?"
Without removing her attention from her own food, Andy pointed an index finger over her shoulder. He followed the line she drew, and spotted Miller a few yards away by the wall. Hank had to hand it to him; two hours into one of the most boring jobs the precinct had to offer, and the man was still dutiful.
At least it gave them the space they'd need for this. "I think we need to talk," he said.
She was in mid-bite of a fry, which she had yet to put down. Skeptical, she urged him for information. "About...?"
He leveled a flat stare across the table. "Take your pick."
A beat later, she pulled her gaze away and bit down on the fry. "Nah."
He expected as much. "Do you think I want to be having this conversation?" he retorted, tilting his head for emphasis.
Well then don't start it, she griped to herself. Resigning herself to the situation, she dropped the other half of her fry onto her plate and straightened in her seat. Preparing herself for a fight.
But Hank didn't want to fight anymore. He never did want to. With a frustrated sigh, he tried to begin reconciliation. "Look, I know we've had some..."
"Disagreements?"
"Arguments," he corrected, sharp. "And I know I haven't exactly been taking any of this well." She scoffed at his understatement, and he lamented, "It's a lot, all right? Thinking about how much shit you two are getting involved in makes me nervous, and I was just trying to look out for everyone."
She averted her gaze, like a child in trouble. Quietly, she argued, "So were we."
The response sent a pang right through his chest. He knew protecting him was their motivation, but that was the problem: they weren't supposed to be looking out for him. That was his job.
And look at how well that's been going.
He frowned, beginning to pick at the corner of the wrapper on his plate. "Maybe we all need to find a better way of doing that," he acknowledged. "All I know is I don't like that you don't think you can rely on me anymore. You and Connor."
She looked up to protest what he'd said, but he raised a hand. With a stern expression, he ordered, "And don't say you don't think that. We both know it's bullshit."
She still wasn't ready to admit it, that she'd stopped relying on Hank, but in the back of her mind, she knew it was true. It wasn't necessarily out of spite or ill will. She still had a great deal of care and respect for him. That never changed - he did. She knew that three years ago, when he was forced to step down from his role as her handler, and she was reminded of that when she reached out about deviants and saw a broken man in place of her mentor.
It wasn't that she cared any less; it was that she knew he couldn't take much more of a beating.
"We just didn't think you'd want to help," she said gently. An unspoken part followed that they both knew was there: we didn't think you would be able to.
He stared at her with a tightening jaw. "I wouldn't have," he admitted. Taking in a deep breath, he told her, "I'm trying to fix this. But I can't do that if you aren't up front with me."
It was a major step, and she wanted to rejoice it, but she wasn't able to make any immediate and enthusiastic promise to lay out all of her truths for him. Some things she just couldn't say, and she knew that Hank would understand that more than anyone, but the other reason was a secret she and Connor were keeping. That was one truth maybe one she could let him in on.
"Connor and I-"
She wanted to blurt it out before she could change her mind, but then he looked at her and she saw all the ways he could react. The 'happy for you's, to the 'I knew it's, to the 'what the hell are you thinking's. She saw far more worlds where knowing about their relationship, be it good or bad, just piled onto the stress. He had enough on his plate.
Unable to maintain eye contact, she lowered her head and muttered, "We're glad you're involved now."
He believed her. It wasn't a lie, but he had no reason to think she was covering for what she really wanted to say.
Lunch continued without any more problems or awkward discussions, and the three of them (four, if you counted Miller keeping his distance) made their way into a luxury shop. Andy and Connor followed Hank through the aisles as he searched for gift ideas for Natalie. Between having no idea what she would like and the exorbitant prices of everything around him, he was fast losing his patience.
Andy would have normally been overjoyed to see his struggles, had she not been thinking about her almost-confession an hour earlier. She may have backed out of revealing their secret at the last second, but she knew even getting that close was a point of no return.
They stood at the end of the aisle where they'd been watching the gift perusal, and she still hadn't taken her sights off Hank. "What if we tell him about us after the new year?" she asked under her breath.
Connor turned to her in surprise. He didn't know where this was coming from, but he suspected it had something to do with the conversation Hank orchestrated by 'forgetting' those napkins at lunch. "In January?" he asked.
Hearing the question, Hank glanced back at them. Seeing his attention on them, they leaned away from each other as if they hadn't been colluding. He narrowed his eyes but otherwise returned to the search.
Andy further lowered her voice, saying, "Warren's making a decision in two weeks. It gives us time to prepare for either version of that conversation."
It made sense, but it also made him nervous. "Are you certain about this?"
"I don't like lying to him, either," she muttered.
"I know." He paused a moment, trying to gauge her expression. "I just don't want you to do anything you're not ready to do."
She pursed her lips in mild annoyance. Shifting around on her feet, she admitted, "If we wait for me to feel good about it, we'll never do it."
He could understand that. "After the new year, then," he agreed with a nod.
Further down the aisle, Hank could hear the vague noise of their discussion, and he'd had enough. Spinning on his heel to face them, he exclaimed, "What the hell are you two whispering about back there?"
Andy straightened from where she stood, and immediately replied, "Nothing."
It was such a bullshit answer that it led Hank to believe it probably wasn't that important anyway. Didn't mean he still wasn't irritated, though. Throwing out a hand, he argued, "Well then why don't you help me out since you're not talking about anything?"
"I hear soap baskets are popular," she chirped.
"Andy!"
With an obnoxious roll of her eyes, she began listing off some of her mother's interests. "She likes pottery, abstract art, Sophistication, and expensive shawls - nothing bright."
Hank's face scrunched in annoyed confusion. "How the hell do you get someone sophistication?"
Her stare turned flat, and she pointed above his head. He turned to view the ad at the top of the aisle featuring a close-up of a glass bottle. "The perfume," she specified.
He was too old to be embarrassed. Turning back toward her, he asked, "Was that so hard?"
She grinned. "Considering you needed me to tell you, yes. It was."
"Shut up," he grunted. As he left the aisle to make his way to the perfume counter, he tossed a warning over his shoulder. "And don't tell her I asked, either."
Andy threw a palm over her chest and faked a gasp. "You want me to be an open book to you but not my own mother?"
"Oh for fuck's sake, let's just get that damn perfume and go."
Despite the health of his wallet, Hank bought a bottle of perfume for Natalie, and with nothing left on their agenda, they decided to call it a day. He and Connor went home separate of Andy, who joined Miller in his squad car back to her complex. It was a quiet ride, which neither minded. When they arrived, Dreesens was waiting in the lobby, and he returned to his current partner's side as Andy went up to her apartment.
Hours passed, and the day was looking uneventful. Miller took occasional breaks from observing guests to send texts to his wife and friends, and to show Dreesens photos of his new baby. Dreesens only gave small hums and grunts in response; he neither provided nor sought out entertainment, content to keep his full undivided attention on the apartment complex.
When he did finally tear his eyes away from the building, it was to look down at the time on the car's interface. The sun had finished setting behind the horizon, most of the apartment's residents had returned home for the night, and the streets were coming to life with neon lights and people looking for fun. Their shift was almost at an end, and two other officers would soon arrive to take their place.
A knock on glass drew the attention of both officers to Dreesens' window. Andy was standing there with a crooked grin and a red blush brought on by the cold.
They were dumbstruck by her presence, as neither witnessed her leave her complex. Dreesens wordlessly rolled his window down, which gave her room to bend over and lean her elbows on the door frame. She dangled her hands over the side into the car, revealing a to-go bag with a Chicken Feed label in her grasp. She jiggled the bag a little, just to make sure they noticed it.
So not only had they missed her leaving the building, they'd missed it a while ago. Long enough for her to travel to a food truck, and bring back an order, all without her mandated supervision. And now she was taunting them.
Her grin widened as Dreesens realized it. He deflated in his seat, aiming a bitter scowl at the windshield in front of him. He refused to look at her, but he could still feel her smugness. "Took a walk and thought I'd get you boys some dinner," she told them.
Miller's jaw dropped. "You took a walk? When?" he asked, bewildered.
Quirking a brow, she replied, "And give away my secrets? Nah, I'll let you figure it out." She held out the Chicken Feed bag, bumping it against Dreesens' shoulder in jest. "Put that training to good use, huh?"
He rolled his eyes and reached for the bag, slow and reluctant. "Thanks," he muttered through gritted teeth.
She glanced down at his hand as it came into view, taking note of the shiny watch on his wrist. It was bulky and silver, new and expensive. Maybe a gift for the holidays? Smiling up at him, she pulled out the same fake cheery tone she used that morning. "Yep!" She didn't care to wait for a response, pushing off the door to begin her trek across the street.
Dreesens retrieved the contents from the bag as they watched her return to her apartment, and he tossed a wrapped burger to Miller. At least they got free food out of it.
