Work Text:
Cold.
Connor was unfamiliar with the feeling. At least, he had been.
His temperature sensors used to be able to turn on and off, depending if he needed them. They were there for the purpose of him possibly needing to undercover or to more easily sympathize with victims. But upon deviancy, he’d realized Cyberlife had disabled his access to turn the sensors on and off, as well as disabling his ability to change other various features as well. He supposed they did it after they realized he had escaped their control. As a one last, ‘fuck you’ to their latest prototype. As a result, he could not turn off his temperature sensitivity to prevent overheating, nor to avoid his biocomponents freezing up. He just had to endure the weather.
Connor did not like the cold.
Especially the snow. It felt all too similar to, to then. Too similar to Amanda.
Connor didn’t know how humans dealt with these dreadful temperatures. Everytime a snowflake descended onto his skin, it felt more like a needle than a flake made up of ice particles. Everytime a snowflake descended onto his skin, he could hear Amanda’s voice echo in his ears. Connor knew she wasn’t there, but his eyes would dart around in alarm anyway, looking for anybody resembling the woman. Usually, his eyes were only met with a puzzled lieutenant.
The lieutenant, who insisted Connor stop calling him by his job title, because ‘For christ sake, Connor, you live with me now, I think we’re past the formalities’, was usually with him on those cold days. As was he almost with him everyday, anyhow. Yet Hank was unaware of what had happened on that stage November 11th. Hank had no idea what mental battle Connor had gone through that snowy night: in fact, Lieutenant Anderson had no knowledge of Amanda altogether. Nobody knew of her except for Connor and his now destroyed predecessors. It wasn’t that Connor didn’t trust anybody enough to divulge her existence. He just didn’t deem it necessary. No matter how many times she reappeared in his mind as a pathetic memory, making false threats of her return-- no matter how many times Connor felt her whisper into his ear as frigid weather nipped at him-- he convinced himself he needed to move on. He just didn’t know how to get rid of her.
January 16th, 2039
Detroit, USA
The quiet murmur of the weather warning on Hank’s television carried throughout the rather quiet household. Connor was tempted to reach over for the remote and switch it off so he wouldn’t have to suffer through the continuous chatter about the oncoming blizzard. But Hank seemed calm, and he didn’t want to disturb this tranquility with his own discomfort. Instead, Connor patted his lap as an open invitation for Sumo to hop up onto his lap. The dog took the offer gratefully. Connor lowered his hand into his fur, tactile sensors apprising him of the softness of the Saint Bernard in his lap. Sumo didn’t seem bothered by the blizzard either. Not that he was really aware of it, but nonetheless, Connor was jealous of the canine’s seemingly blissful ignorance.
Fowler had told them to stay home, since the snow was supposed to lay down thick, and he didn’t want the whole department stuck at the workplace until it melted. That gave the RK some relief. At least he wouldn’t have to leave the house during this unpleasant time.
“Connor, you glitchin’ over there or somethin’?” The voice of his work partner asked out of the blue, causing his eyes to shift from the dog to the male. “Your light thing’s havin’ a disco party.’
Connor quirked a brow at the phrasing, but opted to raise his fingers up to the LED embedded in his temple to gauge the color by what light radiated onto his hand. Hank had been correct, instead of the calm blue, there was a deep red glow coming from the LED. He forced it back to a shade of tuscany and dropped his hand to continue petting Sumo. “Apologies.”
“You didn’t answer my question. Is somethin’ up?” Hank asked. The lieutenant took a sip of what Connor identified to be an off brand version of Coca Cola. Connor wondered if he gave a simple answer, if Hank wouldn’t question any further. But he wasn’t a lieutenant for nothing, he would probably be curious. Connor pressed his lips into a thin line before speaking.
“I dislike the cold.”
It was the older man’s turn to raise a brow. It wasn’t entirely comprised of judgement, just surprise and, as Connor suspected, curiosity. “It’s pretty warm in here, Connor. Your sensors actin’ up?”
“Not inside, Lieutenant-- my temperature sensors are working at full working capacity. I’m referring to the cold temperatures outside. The blizzard.”
“Well, why are you bothered by the cold outside? You can’t feel it from here.” Hank argued again, more confused than actually wanting to pick an argument.
“No, lieutenant--”
“Hank, for christ sake.”
“--Hank, I just don’t like it’s presence in general.” Connor explained with a thick voice, hoping the older man would finally get the hint. He did seem to finally understand, but he still pressed on.
“Why?”
Connor blinked. “Why what?”
“Well, you obviously seemed pretty bothered, your LED says that much. So why don’t you like the snow?” Hank repeated with more specificity. Connor cursed his LED in that moment, wishing he’d taken the irksome thing out already.
“I just find it inconvenient, is all.” Connor bluffed. A warm feeling settled in is biocomponents, close to the feeling of embarrassment, and perhaps shame, preventing him from being honest with Hank. So he just acted as if he found it irritating, happening to miss the unconvinced look upon the lieutenant’s features. But neither pursued the matter further, so Hank looked back to the television and Connor focused his optical units back onto the floor. Deep down, however, Connor knew this wouldn’t be the end of it.
And it was not.
As the evening continued on, the snow finally started to pick up speed. Detroit’s sky had darkened considerably, regardless of it not being that late into the night. The snowflakes fell wildly; yet the world was muted, the ice particles making no noise as they made it to the ground. Despite this, Connor was hyper aware of its presence around Detroit. There was half an inch covering the ground now and it showed no signs of stopping.
Hank had thankfully changed the television from the news to a random documentary, Connor couldn’t be bothered to see what it was about. He was too busy keeping his eyes on the windows.
Snow
/snō/
Atmospheric water vapor frozen into ice crystals and falling in light white flakes or lying on the ground as a white layer.
The definition popped up in the corner of his vision, apparently having had subconsciously searched it up. He quickly closed the unwanted popup.
Sumo whined and Connor’s eyes flickered to him. His hand had fallen limp against the dog’s fur, as he’d been distracted with-- with nothing of importance. Connor murmured an apology and resumed stroking the fur. Sumo was satisfied, but the person beside Connor was not.
“Earth to Connor.” Hank said with a bit of a sarcastic undertone, and another tone Connor couldn’t seem to identify. But the android was a bit quizzical as to why Hank was acting like they were on a handheld transceiver. Upon a quick search, he realized it was a common expression used when somebody seemed like they weren’t paying attention. Well, Hank had used the phrase correctly. He was certainly preoccupied.
“Yes, Hank?” Connor asked, turning his head to him nonchalantly. Hank leaned his head back with a slight frown. If Connor weren’t a detective, he most likely wouldn’t have noticed it. “Is something the matter?”
“I should be the one askin’ you that.” Hank replied. Effectively ignoring the question, Connor thought.
“I don’t know what you refer to.” Connor dismissed with haste. At this point, Hank was nowhere near convinced, and his soft sigh showed it. The android shifted with discomfort, and it was only when he heard a familiar voice on the TV that he felt comfortable enough to move in his position.
It was Elijah Kamski. He’d only recognized the voice from a bit before his deviancy, when he and the lieutenant had made a trip to his home. It was just a little interview clip of the male from when he was still working for the company. He scanned the television.
Androids, a Man’s New Best Friend?
Informational Documentary
Published January 15th, 2028 by David Cage
The current clip was of Kamski discussing his backstory with the interviewer. Connor figured it may be a good distraction from the weather. He put his attention towards the documentary. Hank seemed to be a bit relieved, Connor could see tension in his posture deflating out of the corner of his eyes.
“Ah yes, my professor. She was a dear friend to me, actually--” Connor stopped petting the fur of the canine situated on his legs. “--her name was Amanda Stern. She was a kind soul.”
“You were compromised and you became a deviant. We just had to wait for the right moment to resume control of your program.”
Connor didn’t see her as very kind.
“She always pushed me to do her best. She was supportive, in her own way.” Kamski continued with an upturned smile. Had it gotten colder in here?
“You did what you were designed to do. You accomplished your mission.”
‘Connor, stop this. You are being irrational.’ Connor reminded himself. She hadn’t reappeared to resume control ever since the incident on stage, there were no signs of her return. Amanda was gone.
Yet, as he opened his eyes and looked out the window, he saw a figure standing outside.
Connor stilled completely.
Sumo whined, shifting in his lap and nudging Connor’s hand. His skin retracted at the moist snout. The low murmurs of the television continued on. All Connor could concentrate on was the figure peering down at him through the glass. It was only a silhouette, but Connor knew its identity. He knew who was looking at him with such disapproval.
Sumo mewled again, but brought his paw up and nudged the detective persistently. Connor didn’t budge.
“Connor? Whatcha lookin’ at?” He heard the faint voice of Hank ask cautiously.
Connor blinked. She was gone. “Nothing of significance, Lieutenant.”
What was happening? He didn’t like this unsettling feeling that began to creep into his biocomponents by force. He blinked again. An artificial breath escaped his lips. Her figure was there again, but she seemed closer. And she was.
Amanda seemed to slowly gravitate closer to the glass. Connor started to see her features come into view. Her eyes were piercing, he felt exposed even though he just sat there. She had her familiar hairdo and recognizable outfit. Her lips were not quite a frown, but she was clearly displeased. Connor just stared. What a snowy evening it was. The snow was building up on the window’s ledge.
Amanda’s expression changed in an instant, frown flashing into a smile. Whether it was friendly or sinister, Connor didn’t want to know.
“Oh Connor..” She said, her voice warm and sweet. Her hands unclasped. Snow fell quickly around her.
His focus was on nothing but his former handler now, all he could hear was her and the howl of the wind, even though the window was shut and locked. His head fell as a weak tilt. That didn’t make sense, how could he hear her if the window was shut?
The snow carried on falling, the outside seeming not-so muted anymore. He balled his hands into fists. Sumo yelped, pawing at his face.
Connor jumped back and retracted his hand defensively. His attention had been somewhat diverted. Oh. He had been petting the dog. Connor had accidentally pulled his fur. Amanda spoke in little coos to draw his attention back, while Connor stared at the dog who was clearly displeased. “I.. apologize, Sumo. Apologies..”
Connor knew subconsciously that his eyes were just tricking him, that something had been triggered based on the correlation of Amanda and the snow. But he just couldn’t get himself to acknowledge that fact. In his mind, he was no longer at the Anderson residence. He wasn’t anywhere. All he knew was that his eyes were on Amanda.
“Connor,” That was not Amanda. That voice was familiar, it felt safe. Why did it feel so safe? Who was that? He was with Amanda, but the voice wasn’t hers. Amanda did not have such a gravelly voice.
“Connor,” Amanda hummed in attempts to get him to divert his attention back. “Connor..”
The sound of the snow was so loud, yet so quiet. It rang in his ears, but at the same time, it was just a whisper. He gave a slow hum and turned his head back to the window. Flicks of snow had fallen in Amanda’s hair, her clothes were a bit misplaced. But her stance remained unaffected, standing with her hands neatly at her sides. The snow was so fast. Connor wondered how fast it would get.
“Connor, we need to resume control.. You know your mission isn’t complete..” Her voice hummed softly. He vaguely remembered the last time she attempted controlling him after his deviancy. She hadn’t been this gentle, she had talked to him as if she were superior in every way. The snow continued to fall against the window, almost seeming insistent.
“Amanda.”
“Amanda?” Connor heard the name being echoed back to him, but it wasn’t Amanda. The voice was deeper, laced with concern. Connor huffed. The snowstorm seemed to prevail against the house, winding pushing against the windows.
“Connor, goddamnit!” The same, deep voice yelled at him. Connor was irked now, breath picking up a bit. The voice didn’t annoy him, but-- Who the hell was that voice, and why was Amanda here right now? “Connor, are you with me?”
“Yes..” He breathed out. Connor’s hand gripped whatever was under him.
“Connor, breathe with me kid. I don’t..hat the fuck’s happening, but you..lm down.” The voice replied regardless of the slight muffle to it. Amanda didn’t even acknowledge the voice, she was just waiting for Connor to answer.
“Connor, breathe with me now. In ‘n’ out..” This voice felt safer than Amanda’s. He knew this voice. This voice had helped him. This voice had provided him with safety. “In ‘n’ out..”
Connor closed his eyes.
The voice was a bit louder than the howl of the wind. He could hear Amanda say something, but the other voice was a smidge louder. The safe voice was louder than anything outside of the window.
“In and out..”
This low voice used to be hostile. He remembered this voice being quite rude to him, swearing and insulting him bitterly. But he also remembered the voice growing fond of him, taking him in after the revolution. This voice belonged to Hank.
“Hank.” Connor said, the name spilling out mindlessly. The whistle of the wind passed through his ears.
“Kid? Hey, you with me now? You need to calm down.” Hank’s voice told him, but unlike Amanda’s demands, it was just a gentle but firm instruction. Connor finally registered what Hank had been trying to tell him.
When had his breathing gotten so erratic? Connor didn’t even need to breathe, exactly. It did cool down his biocomponents, though, as well as keeping his stress levels at bay. So, perhaps he should just listen to the lieutenant.
“Connor..” Amanda’s voice was fainter, but it still chilled him.
“Connor, hey, stay with me, you really gotta breathe..” Hank, again. It was like the devil and the angel on his shoulder, a metaphor humans often used. But instead, the angel was an old cop and the devil was a deceased professor. How humorous..
Connor took in a deep inhale. He exhaled.
The wind still howled, and Amanda still murmured, but his exaggerated breaths covered the majority of the sound. If only he could get rid of it completely.
“Hey, good job.” Hank sounded worried. Was he worried for Connor? Connor didn’t intend to worry him.
Connor inhaled. He exhaled again.
The wind was desperate to pull him back, still screaming outside, but his own breath was louder. He couldn’t even hear Amanda. That was better. Amanda.
Amanda wasn’t in his head anymore.
Inhale. Exhale.
“Whatever the hell you’re seein’, it isn’t real. It’s just the backyard.” Hank chuckled in attempts to perhaps make light of the situation, or ease Connor. Connor was grateful for either. He could hear the final attempts of Amanda, her words trying to get him to look at her. But, that Amanda wasn’t real, she wasn’t there. Hank had guaranteed that.
Inhale, Exhale.
His breath was far from the perfect patterns that it was usually at. It was still shaky and forced, but it was much better compared to what it could be. He chose to keep his eyes closed. His eyes were damp. That’s odd. Connor didn’t recall getting his eyes wet. “Lieutenant?”
“Kid, you just had a panic attack or some shit, let’s try to calm down a bit more, ‘kay?” Hank said. Connor wanted to talk to Hank directly, but regardless of how blunt the reminder was, Connor knew he was right.
His right hand loosened the material, maybe the couch, he had been holding onto for dear life and brought it up to his face. There were wet streaks coming from his eyes. Tears, that’s what he had felt. Another system Cyberlife had disabled his access to. He used to be able to mimic crying as an empathy tactic, but now he just cried when upset. It felt like an inconvenience, now. Nonetheless, he wiped the tear streaks off of his cheeks.
Inhale, exhale.
The howl was now barely there, properly dampened by the window. No Amanda could be heard, but he was too afraid to open his eyes in case she was still there.
“Okay, uh, can I touch you?” Hank asked. Connor identified the question as a common question when a victim was panicking, to confirm they wouldn’t go into more of a panic if somebody touched them. He could laugh at himself, he was still thinking of work when in such a state. Connor gave a wary nod.
Upon the confirmation, he felt two hands rest on his shoulder. He tensed momentarily, but they were Hank’s hands. These were not Amanda’s. Connor gave a shaky breath, continuing breathing patterns to himself. Hank’s hands lightly patted him.
“You did a damned job calming yourself down, son.” Hank praised absentmindedly, in attempts to draw the android back to him. It was his way of being assuring, Connor knew. Of course he was, Connor wanted to reply, he was made to act well under pressure. But he knew if Hank hadn’t been there with him, it probably wouldn’t have ended up as well. “Are you still, y’know, panicking or some shit-?”
Connor gave a fragile smile. It was delicate, able to break at any moment. It was different to the ones Hank had seen previously. The one at Chicken Feed had been relieved and lopsided. The ones he saw when Connor was playing with Sumo were bright and relaxed. This one, it showed how fragile the android actually was.
To most, Connor was still seen as rather stoic and reserved. He had been known as the most advanced prototype, after all. So most assumed he could just take on anything. But could anybody take on anything, really? Connor was just as feeling as other deviants. Hank could see that in his smile.
“Systems are stabilizing, slowly but surely.” Connor responded with a gentle voice. His eyes fluttered open. They settled on Hank.
The lieutenant was kneeling in front of him. Connor wanted to say that that wasn’t good for his knees, but figured he should let it slide this time, because for Ra9’s sake Connor, he’d been helping you. Sumo was nearby, head tilted to the side with wide eyes, looking at the pair cluelessly. Connor’s smile widened if only a bit. Hank gave a breath, seeing Connor’s eyes reassuring him.
“Alright, how ya’ feeling..?” Hank asked. He was obviously a bit unsure how to approach the situation, he had no clue what had happened, but he was still trying. Connor was appreciative. “And none of that systems shit, tell me what’s goin’ on up there.”
Hank lightly nudged Connor’s temple, referring to his current mood instead of how his biocomponents were working. Connor’s smile faded a bit, he averted his gaze.
“The blizzard.” Connor said, and if it weren’t for the previous context Connor had given about disliking the storm, the two words probably would’ve been unhelpful. Gears seemed to turn in the lieutenant’s head, and his hands retreated from Connor.
“Okay, ‘kay. How about..” Hank looked around momentarily, and if Hank were an android, Connor would’ve thought he was scanning the room. With a bit of effort, he got to his feet and stifled a groan of pain. “Okay, I’ll close the curtains and dim the lights, maybe turn on a less shitty documentary, whatever you want, and I’ll warm you up some o’ that blue stuff. Sound good?”
Connor looked at him hesitantly. He wanted company, but at the same time he wanted all of what Hank had offered. He felt a bit guilty for being pampered, honestly. But Hank seemed to read his exact thoughts.
“How about we get Sumo back on your lap, if you don’t yank his fur again.” Hank chuckled again, but it was more genuine. Connor looked away bashfully. “Don’t worry about it son, I’m sure he isn’t that petty. And being serious for, uh, for a sec-- You know we’re gonna have to discuss this later. It isn’t good to bottle up emotions, and I know you just experienced a shit ton. It doesn’t have to be now, but just soon.”
Connor kept his eyes away from Hank. He could still barely identify his own emotions. Some deviants had a smoother transition into deviancy, some had a harder time. Connor was part of the latter, unfortunately. But again, Lieutenant Anderson was right.
Connor’s eyes finally found themselves back onto Hank.
“It doesn’t have to be tonight, just sometime.” Hank reminded upon Connor’s expression. Connor nodded leisurely. Hank gave a satisfied smile, then turned to Sumo. “Alright, now we got that covered, Sumo-- Attack!”
Sumo gave a light bark and stood up, jumping back up onto the couch and towards Connor. Connor gave a yelp of surprise as Sumo licked at his face, yellow LED reflecting onto the old pup’s face. It wasn’t a blue, but it was better than a shade of crimson red.
Hank looked at the two with a mix of amusement and endearment, but made a move to the window.
Eventually, Connor settled back into the couch and Sumo returned to his position on the detective’s lap. The curtains were closed and Hank had given Connor the remote to find something to distract himself with while he heated up a bottle of thirium in the kitchen.
By the time Hank had returned, Connor was stroking Sumo’s back while watching the start of a documentary he didn’t recognize. Hank was relieved that Connor seemed somewhat alright now. He wasn’t at his best-- His breathing was still a bit uneven, tear stains were scattered across his face, his hands were shaky, his LED was cycling through different yellows-- but it’s not like Hank had expected him to be perfect. Whatever Connor had experienced shook the hell out of him and he needed time to process it. Hank would try to help in the meantime.
“I’m back with your blue blood, or whatever it’s called.” He announced his presence to avoid startling the other. Connor still tensed instinctively, but upon seeing that Hank was no intruder, he smiled. Hank continued walking over and offered the bottle to Connor. In the meantime, he sat himself beside the RK and draped his arm on the couch so that it was behind Connor.
Connor, who accepted the thirium gratefully, returned his vision to the documentary.
“You gonna tell me what it’s about, or am I just supposed to guess?” Hank said with faux exasperation. Connor hummed in acknowledgement.
“It’s a documentary about fish, specifically dwarf gouramis.” Connor supplied.
“Why those?”
“I saved one on my first mission.”
“How come I didn’t know that?”
Connor shrugged. Hank raised an eyebrow, but decided to leave it for a later time. Connor seemed more content, and he wasn’t about to bring up a past mission when he was calming from a panic. Instead, he followed Connor’s line of sight as fish appeared onscreen. The lieutenant gave a little smile.
“So.. You alright?”
Connor smiled. Momentarily, his LED circled to a light blue. “I’m okay.”