Chapter Text
Connor didn’t know why he did it. Well, he did.
The way androids felt pain was complicated. It was roughly the same mechanism that humans had— pain told a person something was wrong, discomfort and flashing signals told androids something was wrong. But Connor didn’t have that. He was built to withstand, to destroy himself if it meant the mission would be successful. Pain wasn’t programmed into him, it would only be a distraction to his task.
He hated it. He hated not being like the other deviants. He was entirely unique, no other RK800’s existed. He was a prototype, he had missing parts to his programming that left him confused and unable to process things like his own emotions. He was unstable from the very start.
So this shouldn’t have been all that surprising.
Thirium dripped onto the wooden table beneath his arm, staining it a dark blue. It would remain that way until it evaporated in the morning. But when he scanned the wood below him, he could see the traces that covered the entire table, sinking into the cracks and crevices of the old oak. This had been going on for several days now.
At first it was morbid curiosity. A small cut on his hand. Of course he didn’t feel it. The fake skin healed over immediately, closing the tiny wound he’d given himself. The next day was a bit deeper, and still nothing. His skin healed. The next day was even deeper, turning into multiple cuts.
He liked watching the thirium ooze out. The blue stained his skin, soaking into the fake pores. It looked so human-like. He didn’t even care if it was the wrong color. The fact that he was even doing this showed his deviancy. He needed to prove something to himself. He needed to know he was alive. He needed to know he wasn’t still a machine, designed to hunt and kill his own kind before he’d inevitably destroy himself. Even though that was sort of what he was doing right now.
The next day even deeper, and the next, more aggressive, the next day, desperate, practically clawing at his skin to try and feel anything. He couldn’t feel anything. He wasn’t even sad, or angry or upset like he felt he should have been.
Earlier that day he’d arrested a murder suspect, an android. He begged and pleaded to Connor to not take him in. He said he did it in self defense. Connor didn’t know if that was true or not yet, but regardless it disturbed him for some reason. It reminded him of the time before the revolution, when he ruthlessly chased deviants. He remembered the way they all screamed and cried, telling him they were innocent.
He was an advocate for androids now, pushing for better legal justice seeing as he was a part of the system that persecuted androids simply for existing. He loved his job, he loved helping people and putting evil people in jail. But sometimes, all it took was one little thing to remind him of what he was and still is— an android hunter. It didn’t matter that now he was doing it safely and without any physical harm to the androids, he was still technically following orders.
A wire sizzled and popped, making him jump back. He looked down at the puddle of blue on the table coming from the rivers that ran down his arm. He tried to heal his skin, but it only closed over the wire, stopping it from short circuiting. The cuts were still very visible, and still leaked a bit of blue. He cursed under his breath and stood up.
He quickly washed up the thirium on his arm, feeling a pang of disappointment when he didn’t feel any pain as he aggressively ran his hand over the cuts. He grabbed a few paper towels and dried his arm before walking back over to the table to wipe up the blue blood. The rest would dry up before Hank awoke. He shut his eyes closed, feeling disappointment and guilt gnaw its way into his brain.
He made his way into the spare bedroom Hank had given him and sat down on the bed. He didn’t need to sleep, but he found it useful to shut down at night to prevent boredom, which always inevitably led to him getting curious again.
When he “woke up” the next morning, he quickly got ready for work, already hearing Hank moving about the house. He stood up, putting on a white undershirt and his usual gray blazer and pants. He walked down the hall to the bathroom and fixed his hair in the mirror, making sure it looked perfect. Except for that one hair that always fell down. No matter what he did, it would never stay. He gave up after fiddling with it for a couple minutes.
He walked out, hearing a sizzling pan on the stove. Hank turned around, leaving his bacon to cook as he addressed Connor.
“Mornin’ kid.” He spoke lowly, his voice still rough with sleep.
“Goodmorning, Hank.” Connor said and sat down at the table, in the same seat he sat in last night.
Sumo sat at his feet, looking up at him longingly. He reached down and pet the dog, smiling softly.
“Goodmorning, Sumo.”
“He was whining at your door this morning. He wouldn’t leave until I lured him away with bacon.” Hank chuckled, shaking his head.
Connor’s smile faded. He looked down at the dog, who now sat with his chin resting on Connor’s thigh, whimpering quietly. He sniffed at Connor’s arm, lifting the sleeve with his nose. He quickly pulled it back down, feeling panic rise as he glanced back at Hank to make sure he didn’t see anything.
The old man was oblivious, just humming to himself as he flipped the bacon in his pan. He looked back down at Sumo and smiled softly as he stroked his head.
“It’s okay, Sumo.” He muttered.
The dog sat next to him the entire time, only leaving when Hank walked over holding a plate of bacon, eggs, and pancakes. Connor clasped his hands together on top of the table, silently thinking to himself as Hank ate his breakfast. They briefly discussed their new case, and Connor left to go grab his tablet to show Hank some pictures Fowler had submitted.
He came back as Hank finished cleaning up his plate in the sink. Connor handed him the tablet when he turned around, and he took it. But as he did, he looked down at Connor’s blazer. Blue splotches stained his sleeve.
“Connor, you’re bleeding son,” Hank threw the tablet onto the counter, immediately forgetting about the case.
He grabbed Connor’s hand right as he was about to pull away, and lifted up his sleeve.
“Connor what the fuck is this?” The lieutenant shouted, looking down at the deep gashes all along his forearm.
Connor didn’t respond. He looked down at the floor, his expression blank as he felt Hank grab and rotate his arm to inspect the wounds.
“What…” Hank’s voice lost its volume, and his confusion quickly turned to despair as he looked back and forth from the android’s eyes and bloody arm.
“Connor…” He whispered now, looking up at him fully.
Connor just stared at the floor, his LED light blinking with a harsh red. Neither one of them spoke for a long moment, but as Hank opened his mouth to say something, Connor ripped his arm from his grip.
“Let’s go lieutenant.” He snapped, his voice rougher than intended.
Hank reached forward, trying to pull Connor back. “No, no, Connor we’re not going to work right now-“
He walked away, picking up the car keys as he made his way over to the front door. “We have a case to work on, Hank.” He spoke angrily.
“Connor you get back here right fucking now.” He shouted, making Connor stop in his tracks.
He stood in front of the door, staring at the handle. Well, he was staring at it, until his vision turned blurry. His body trembled, and he clenched his hands into fists, unable to calm down the surge of emotions he was feeling. Hank’s soft footsteps appeared behind him. He felt Hank’s rough hand grab onto his shoulder and turn his body to face him. He didn’t look up at the lieutenant, but he knew he was looking at him worriedly. The silence that passed between them was torturous. Connor couldn’t speak, he didn’t know what to say. A tear fell down his cheek, landing on the floor below him.
“What are you doing, kid?” Hank mumbled softly, still holding Connor’s shoulder.
A choked sob escaped him and he shut his eyes closed, turning away from Hank. Hank muttered something else and stepped forward, wrapping his arms around Connor.
“Hang on son, it’s alright.” He held onto the back of Connor’s head as he returned the hug.
“You’re alright.” He muttered quietly.
He held him there for a long moment, feeling Connor’s body shake against his as he cried. He didn’t even know androids could cry. But he continued to quietly soothe him, never once pulling away. He eventually calmed down enough, and loosened his hold on Hank.
“You okay kid?” He asked quietly, and Connor just nodded, slowly pulling away.
“Come on, I’ll call Fowler and tell ‘em something came up. Let’s just relax, yeah?” Hank led him over to the couch
Connor didn’t resist and sat down, wiping away his remaining tears as Hank turned on the TV. He sat down next to him and wrapped his arm around the back of the couch. Connor leaned down and rested his head on Hank’s shoulder, closing his eyes as Hank hugged him from the side.
They watched television the rest of the day, neither one of them bringing it up again. Connor knew he’d have to eventually, but he couldn’t think about that right now. Hank didn’t want to push him, he let him be silent for as long as he wanted to. He’d be there when Connor was ready.
But for now, they just enjoyed a quiet moment together, taking a day off, resting with Sumo at their feet.