Chapter Text
Squad cars and AES ambulances had already swamped the scene by the time Connor and Hank arrived, parking at the edge of the property. It was an old house with an overgrown yard, reduced to mud in stretches where the police had been moving as they assessed the scene.
Gavin had called it in as a potential site of an android parts black market, though in the span of his radio conversation with dispatch, he had shifted to calling it an “android chop shop.” The DPD had been closing in on the top dealers of illegal android parts for months, and now it sounded like they had busted the shop of one of the main suppliers. Three orange and blue AES ambulances had their lights on, but nobody around them was in a hurry…which meant there were no survivors found here.
Connor grimaced, trailing after Hank as the lieutenant cut a path through the chaos, and Connor looked around, scanning the familiar faces of the DPD and the AES uniforms, as well as identifying any onlookers who had stopped outside the police tape to watch the commotion. It took a moment for him to notice, but he soon realized that everyone was watching him. His fellow officers and the emergency technicians on site were all busy processing the scene, but their eyes were lingering on him in a strange way as he and Hank approached.
Hank’s stride was slowing as he picked up on it too, glancing back at Connor with a frown.
Connor was unsettled. “What is happening—“
“Hey.” Gavin materialized through the front door of the house, making a beeline toward Connor and Hank.
Unlike the staring and shuffling of the others, Gavin was moving purposefully toward them, and he held out a hand as if to stop them.
“What’s going on?” Hank demanded.
Gavin glanced at Connor, with that same strange linger, before focusing instead on Hank.
“The guy isn’t here. Looks like he’s long gone, and he left a blood bath behind for us to sort through,” he started, putting his hands on his hips and standing squarely between Hank and Connor and the property behind him. “We, uh…We found one android still alive in there, but he, uh, we were too late getting here…There was no saving him.”
“Shit,” Hank hissed, running a hand through his hair in frustration.
Another strange glance from Gavin, and Connor narrowed his eyes at him.
“Is there something more, Detective Reed?”
Gavin set his jaw, looking at him and then to Hank, who just raised his eyebrows.
“Either spit it out or move aside. This lunatic isn’t going to catch himself,” Hank said. “The sooner we can process the scene, the sooner we can start tracking him down.”
“We’ve…got it under control here,” Gavin stated vaguely.
“Reed, I swear the God—“ Hank seethed.
Gavin glared at him, then sighed heavily, looking behind him and then back to Hank and Connor, lingering on Connor.
“There was an RK800 in there.”
Androids didn’t get ‘chills’ in the way that humans did, but something inside Connor crackled to static at those words all the same.
Was.
“He didn’t make it.”
It took a moment for those simple words to register. An RK800 had been here…in this hellhole, and he had not walked out of it.
“Didn’t—He was alive when you got here?” Hank asked.
Gavin paused. “He was missing some critical biocomponents and was already shutting down. There wasn’t enough time to do anything.”
“Where is he?” Connor blurted, straightening up and looking past Gavin toward the house.
Gavin raised his hands higher. “Person and Chris found him. They stayed with him until it was over. You don’t—“
Connor started to push past him.
“You don’t want to see that—“ Gavin called after him.
Hank followed after Connor, gently taking his elbow. “Slow down, hey, Connor—“
“He was…There was an RK800—alive…” Connor stammered, wrestling his elbow from Hank but not continuing forward.
Instead, he turned on his heel and looked at his friend pleadingly. It was a foolish thing that bubbled up in his chest and crackled across his circuits: a desperate plea for Hank to fix this. To make it untrue. To somehow, magically, make it so that Connor hadn’t just lost another brother. To take away this repeating nightmare of finding his predecessors too late, of finding only their bodies, their parts, their bloodstained remains.
Hours ago, this last one had been alive. He had been here. He had maybe even been salvageable. If only they had gotten here sooner. If only they had investigated this house sooner. If only Connor had done something…anything…sooner…Maybe the RK800 could have been saved. Maybe this story could have a different ending, and he wouldn’t continue to be the only one of his line that had survived. He was tired of mourning brothers that he had never had a chance to know.
Hank absorbed that agonized stare, reflecting back some of his own, and he carefully touched Connor’s arm again.
“Connor—“ he started carefully.
There was a shift in the air that gave them both pause, and more purposeful movement came from the front of the house. Hank looked first and stiffened, and Connor watched him for a delaying moment before steeling himself and turning to look as well.
He recognized one of the technicians from the android coroner’s office, walking alongside a gurney that was being supported by two other technicians. There was a closed body bag lying on the gurney, and a solid mass was inside it, jostling ever so slightly as the technicians carried it over the rough terrain of the yard. Person was trailing after it.
The officers parted as the coroner led the gurney toward one of the ambulances, giving him a clear path with a wide berth. There was a thick tension mounting in the stillness, and though eyes were on the gurney, attention was on Connor.
How was he going to react? They would be wondering, ready to shift into their training if he fell apart like the loved ones of other victims that they had seen in other cases.
But the problem was…he wasn’t a loved one of the victim. They weren’t even ‘related’ in such human terms. He referred to the other RK800s as brothers because “predecessor” and “fellow prototype in his line” felt so cold and detached. He had never known the person in that body bag. He was a stranger. So his co-workers’ concern should not have been necessary.
But if all that was true, why did it hurt so…so goddamn much?
“C’n’r,” was the garbled, choked sound that came out of Person, as she broke away from the procession and staggered toward him.
Her face was white, but her hands and the front of her shirt were stained blue. Connor involuntarily held his arms out to steady her wobbly steps. Her wide eyes were locked on him and watery, and he hastily closed the distance between them, getting his hands on her arms. As soon as he made contact, Person grabbed at him, pulling him close into a bone crushing hug.
Connor staggered, putting his arms around her and looking over her head to Hank with wide eyes. Hank looked unsettled as he watched Person, then eyed Connor. Connor nodded to him, and Hank frowned, going over toward Chris, who was speaking to Gavin nearby.
“It’s okay,” Connor told Person mechanically. “I’ve got you.”
Person said nothing in response, just held him more tightly and shivered against him. He subtly turned so his shoulder blocked the other officers on the scene from seeing her, giving her some semblance of privacy as she broke down. At the same time, he heightened his auditory units, focusing his receptors toward Hank, Gavin, and Chris speaking in hushed tones several paces away.
“—had whole biocomponents carved out of him,” Chris was saying. “And RK800 parts are valuable, so the guy didn’t just leave them lying around. He just left him for dead down there. There was…Please believe me, sir, there was nothing that we could do.”
“I know,” Hank assured him. “I appreciate you trying. Connor appreciates you trying.”
“God, it was…it was awful,” Chris went on. “There was blood everywhere, and he…he was trying to speak, but—I don’t know how lucid he was…We just tried to keep him comfortable…He was scared, sir…”
Connor grimaced, a swell of something sharp and throbbing moving through his primary processor as he tried to compartmentalize what he was feeling right now. To hear his brother’s final moments described…
“Person stayed with him the whole time. She didn’t give up and…she helped him find some calm and some peace before it happened. At least, I think she did. I choose to believe she did,” Chris said. “She sat with him until the coroner got here too. She, uh,” Chris’s voice thickened with emotion, “we didn’t want him to be alone down there anymore.”
Connor closed his eyes, his optical units burning as fresh grief and guilt poured over him. At the same time, gratitude warmed his chest, and he tightened his hold around his trembling friend. Person still wasn’t speaking, but she responded by squeezing him back, face firmly buried in his shoulder. He lowered his cheek to the top of her head, finding something solid in her to ground himself to.
“Thank you,” he murmured, just loud enough for her to hear.
“Yeah,” Gavin chimed in, “and she nearly pulled a gun on me when I got too close. Even when I was telling her that it wasn’t Connor.” He paused, then resumed in an uncharacteristically empathetic tone. “Somebody take her home. She doesn’t need to be here. Neither does he.”
Hank breathed loudly. “I think you’re right. If you have things under control here, then I’ll take them both home. Or back to the station. Or just…somewhere that isn’t here.”
“Got it,” Gavin agreed.
“Chris?” Hank asked.
“No, I’d…I want to stay here, get the, uh, wheels of justice moving,” Chris replied. “The sooner we—“
Connor reset his auditory sensors, letting the surrounding white noise flood back in. He didn’t need to hear anymore. Sensing that they weren’t going to be alone for much longer, Connor rubbed a hand up and down Person’s back, silently encouraging her to find her way back to composure.
She nodded, reluctantly disengaging and taking a half step back. She wiped furiously at her eyes with the back of her wrists, her hands still too covered in blue.
“Connor—“ she abruptly started, then stopped.
Her eyes tried to rise to meet his but stopped at his collar. After a beat, she managed it, staring at him. She seemed to struggle for a moment, and he just stared back at her patiently.
She swallowed and then drew herself up. “I love you.”
Connor blinked at her, having not expected that. “I…”
“You’re my best friend,” she rushed on, “and I love you. I need…I needed—I need you to know that—“
Her face started to crumple again, and he again pulled her into a hug, tighter than before, more urgent.
“I love you too,” he assured her quickly. “You’re one of my favorite people in this world, Lisa…Thank you. Thank you for being here tonight, and…I’m—Thank you.”
His voice modulator seized slightly, and he cleared his throat to try and fix it. It didn’t correct itself, and he surrendered to the momentary muteness, swallowing against it and blinking back the blurring burn in his vision. Despite knowing that he was holding her up, he didn’t feel like the stronger person in this moment.
“…It hurts,” he wheezed out brokenly. “...I keep losing them, and I don’t know how to—“
He stopped himself, turning his face away from the other officers.
“I’ve got you,” Person promised.
“And I’ve got you both,” Hank quietly ducked into the moment, lighting a hand to Connor’s back. “C’mon, they don’t need us here. Let me take you both out of here.”
Connor looked at him gratefully, relinquishing his hold on Person and looking past her, to the coroner’s ambulance.
“W-Where are they taking him?” he asked hoarsely.
Hank winced and followed his stare. “There’s an android morgue near the Detroit Alpha Facility. The coroner’s name is Dwight Tyson. I know him. He’s a good man. He’ll be respectful and take care of him.”
Connor nodded jerkily, and Person straightened up again, finding her composure while Connor searched for his own.
“Lieutenant…” she greeted him, despite her watery eyes.
Hank put a hand on her shoulder, wiggling his thumb into her collar bone. “Hey. You’re good.” He took a steadying breath, looking from Person, to Connor, and to the general area. “Let’s go.”
Person nodded, tentatively brushing her hand against Connor’s wrist. He immediately grasped her hand, holding onto it as they turned and made their way back toward Hank’s Oldsmobile. Hank’s hand stayed on Connor’s shoulder supportively the entire time, until they were climbing into the car.
Then the car doors closed, and Connor had never felt such a silence as they pulled away from the scene. Person was in the backseat with him, close against his side, still shaky and occasionally hiccupping from the emotional toll. He clung to her in return, his processors overwhelmed and struggling to digest everything all at once. It left his thoughts feeling foggy and abstract.
In the rearview mirror, he watched the coroner’s ambulance pull away from the scene in the opposite direction, its sirens mute and its lights dark, driving toward the morgue.