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connors-heart · 6 years

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to be human: [ch. 7. wires]

playlist - ch. 1 \ ch. 2 \ ch. 3 \ ch. 4 \ ch. 5 \ ch. 6 \ ch. 8

[ being a DCPD detective, your job was relatively normal - that is until androids came along, more specifically, RK800 ]

pairing ⟶ connor x reader

fandom ⟶ detroit: become human

warnings/a.n. ⟶ [mentions of suicide] ; im pretty sure i apologize for my slow updates everytime i post so here’s a longer chapter w some sad shit and a cliffhanger hha ahaa <333333

w.c. ⟶ 3.3k

tags ⟶ @dragoste-lunes - @swagfeatpayne - @erinacg - @thequirkyn3rd - @the-witch-in-silence - @odd-otter - @randomgrove254 - @johnmulaneyslut - @fanworrior - @sophster1881 - @wowowokapowie - @glyxiebear - @snooper1 - @nefelislytherinpride - @madammarkiplier - @losersunitetonight - @ashtonmichaelhoran - @attackonmikaelson - @deviantly-gayy - @yuckybarness- @drastically-here - @100kindsofblake - @di-the-happy-psychopath - @angrilyangry - @ystlumod-dyslecsig-deillion - @kickthenestor - @jeanxmarco - @pandemoniumambassador - @leeeggggsssssss - @glassofninjas - @pakulia1

forsakenwitchery

Tossing from side to side, your eyes landed on the fluorescent green numbers of your alarm clock, reading 1:18. An audible huff left your mouth as you stared at your ceiling, your mind anything but idle.

‘You feel it too, why don’t you tell me?’

The muttered words left your stomach tied in knots that were impossible to unwound. You couldn’t even begin to fathom the fact that the thoughts in the back of your mind animated themselves into reality. But you found no reason to complain about them, as it was apparent that Connor had reciprocated the feeling that’d been brewing now for nearly a week or two.

It also brought upon the realization that Connor was in fact a deviant, and along with it brought the worry of someone inevitably finding out. You didn’t know the exact gist of what happened after deviants were taken into custody, but you gathered it was something along the lines of deactivating them, and it was the last thing you ever wanted to happen to him.

Besides the obvious reflections of Connor, you couldn’t get the nagging thought of Hank from the back of your mind. Out of the year or two you’d known him, the two of you encountered a few disagreements, the majority of them centered around your worry about his drinking habits, but never a full-fledged argument such as the one from earlier that day.

You eyed the cracks in the ceiling, hoping they’d provide some type of remedy to bring you sleep, but to no avail. The dull thud in your nose grew more apparent, the sudden desire for painkillers brewing by the minute. Cleo’s ears perked as you pushed the covers from your legs before turning on the lamp on your bedside table. You removed your phone from it’s charging cable, making your way to the kitchen to make a cup of chamomile tea to ease your restlessness.

Standing in front of the boiling kettle, you peered down at Hank’s name in your contact list, contemplating the idea of checking up on him. You were beginning to settle on the assumption that Hank was truly and utterly pissed at you, considering the fact that he’d gone the whole night without even ringing you once, which was out of character for the older man, no matter how annoyed or drunk he was.

You sat at your couch, the files from hours prior still sat open on the coffee table, discarded long after the heap of kissing between you and Connor. A blush crept up your neck and cheeks at the thought, burning your face warm. After tossing two of the painkillers down your throat, you sipped at the tea for a while, cooing the husky who laid at your feet, panting excitedly at your words.

Discarding the now-empty mug into your sink, you leaned against the counter with a sigh, your eyes landing on your phone once again. You stared at the contact photo as if you hadn’t seen it a million times, hesitant before planting your finger on the call button, raising the phone to your ear.

“Hi, this is Hank. I’m not here at the moment, you can leave a message if that’s what turns you on - but don’t expect me to call back, beep, whatever,”

You rolled your eyes as the automated beep followed, hanging up the call before calling once again. You were anything if not sure that after several repeated calls, Hank would pick up, haul a string of curses your way, and then hang up. But it would at least be better than not picking up at all.

After the fifth attempt, you stared down at your phone, an immense feeling of worry growing in the pit of your stomach. There was always the possibility that Hank was just ignoring your calls, but you knew better than to assume he had the patience to let the call ring through every single time. You took a final glance down at your phone before throwing on a jacket and sliding into your shoes, grabbing your keys from their lone place on the counter beside the door.

“Don’t get into any trouble while I’m gone, Cleo,” you murmured, glancing at the blue-eyed dog before closing and locking the door.

It was a 15 minute drive to Hank’s house. Making your way to the front door, you noticed a peak of light from the living room window, presumably from the T.V. You knocked on the door, awaiting a response. A beat of silence passed, earning another, harder, knock on the door. An exasperated sigh left your mouth as you called his phone once again, met with the same monotone voicemail.

You reached for your keys, unlocking the door with the ‘emergencies only’ key Hank had made for you a while back. Upon walking in, Sumo greeted you in a nonchalant manner, licking your hands as you kneeled down to scratch his head.

“Hey pretty boy,” You cooed, “Where’s Hank at, huh?”

You rose to your feet, walking into the living room. You glanced into the kitchen, your heart skipping a beat as your eyes landed on Hank, collapsed onto the tile floor. You rushed to his side, falling to your knees next to him. “Hank?”

There was an empty bottle of scotch next to him, alongside a revolver. His chest rose slowly, a low grumble of a snore passing his lips. You shook the lieutenant’s shoulders, “Hank,” you called out. A drunken murmur escaped his mouth. You shook your head slightly, “I hate you so much,” you muttered before grabbing a hold of his arms, pulling him up with a strained groan.

He grumbled in response, his eyes blinking open in a slow daze, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

You brought him to his feet, slinging his arm around your shoulder, “I was making sure you weren’t fucking dead, you asshole,” you muttered, making your way as best you could to his bathroom. He trudged along lazily as you lead him to the bathtub, sitting him down.

“What are you doing?” he mumbled in annoyance. You turned the tub’s knob, a stream of cold water landing onto him, eliciting a surprised cry from his mouth. “Turn it off!”

You stared at him for a moment before turning it off. He peered up at you through silver strands of hair, “I called you five fucking times and you didn’t answer,” you spat.

He blinked, sitting up with a sigh, “I don’t know what you want me to tell you, kid,” He raised to his feet with a slight wobble, his face paling as a wave of nausea hit him. You watched with a blank expression as he made way to the toilet, gagging before coughing up the content in his stomach. You left the bathroom, closing the door behind you as you walked back to tidy up the kitchen.

After every liquor and beer bottle was discarded, you picked up the revolver, treading into Hank’s room and sitting on the edge of his bed as you looked over it. The safety was off, and there was one bullet in the cylinder, lined up to escape the barrel as soon as the trigger was pulled.

It was an unspoken agreement that you didn’t bring up Hank’s past. You didn’t know every detail, but enough to gather a story. There was a photo that rested upon the bookshelf in Hank’s living room. Besides the rest of the photos and trinkets that had dust long settled upon them, the particular photo was clean and kempt, as if Hank moved it frequently.

Putting two and two together, after a while you concluded the young boy in the photo was his son, the edges of the photo were frayed, and a smudged scrawl of Cole, January 2035 written on the back. You settled on the assumption that either Cole’s mother had divorced Hank and taken their son into her custody, or somehow someway, he passed away. You’d hoped the latter wasn’t true, but from Hank’s failing sobriety, it began to grow more and more as a possibility to you.

You barely noticed the bathroom door open, Hank dragging his feet to the doorway of his room. Standing up, you watched as he attempted to put together an apology. Before he could speak, you cut him short, “Why did you have a gun?”

Hank stared at you before rubbing his face in a tired motion as he leaned against the door frame. “‘was playing russian roulette,” he concluded.

You looked at him through tired eyes, “Why?”

He shrugged, a motion too nonchalant for your liking, “What do I have to lose?”

Your face twitched in a tinge of sorrow, tears stinging the corners of your eyes as you threw the gun onto the bed behind you. Hank’s face fell as a choked sob escaped your mouth. He hesitated, walking over to you before pulling you into a hug. “Jesus, kid,” he murmured, your muffled cries enough to break the arrhythmic heart tucked in his chest.

It would take a blind eye to disregard the obvious fact that Hank meant more than a normal coworker. After losing your mother, he grew to be something of a parental figure in the long run, and with that came the impending anguish of having to see him rot away in real time.

Hank rested his chin atop your head, “I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

“I shouldn’t have said what I said today - I was just…” he sighed, “You fuckin’ scared me. If Connor wasn’t there you’d be gone and that would’ve been on me. I can’t handle that - ...not again,” he trailed off.

You shook your head slightly, “I can’t handle losing someone again either,” you spoke through a slight waver, “Looks like we’re in the same boat, huh?” a stale chuckle passed your mouth. Hank tensed at that. You pulled away, looking up at him through red brimmed eyes, “Just be careful, Hank,” you muttered.

He blinked, a glaze settling over his eyes, “Yeah. I will,” he spoke gruffly.

You sniffled, wiping at your damp cheeks as you nodded. “Get some sleep,” you mused, making your way to the doorway as Hank nodded meekly in response, approaching his bed. You stopped suddenly, turning back to him.

“Hank?”

He looked over, brows raised in response.

A gentle grin spread across your features, “I kissed Connor,” you spoke, lightening the air between the two of you.

Wrinkles grew apparent on Hank’s face as he grimaced, “Do you know how much shit he puts in his mouth?”

A faint chuckle passed your lips, “Yeah, my tongue is one of them,”

“Ew - okay, get the hell out of my house,” he grumbled, waving you off as you took your leave, a laugh escaping your mouth.

______

A frenzy of officers and FBI agents covered nearly every corner of the room as you entered the Stratford Tower. You’d gotten the call earlier that morning, and settled on meeting Hank and Connor there after having breakfast. A low hum of conversation filled your ears as you walked through the entrance, excusing yourself as you shuffled past the dozen men and made your way into the broadcast room.

The call had pertained to an attack enacted by a few deviants, one of which hacked the broadcast system to demand rights for androids on live television.

A part of you knew, and had somewhat hoped, something along the lines of such would happen. After gaining consciousness and free will, it was only a matter of time before the deviants would begin to protest, or even fight back. And you couldn’t blame them, after studying the various deviancy cases, you grew aware of the fact that humans were at fault, for abusing things created to be so much more complex and powerful than their agendas as machines.

You spotted Connor and Hank in the middle of the room along with Officer Miller, speaking to a man you’d yet to meet. You approached them meekly, catching the attention of the unnamed man. He squinted at you, his eyes flickering between your own and your bruised nose, “And you are?” he mused in a sour tone.

You raised a brow, introducing yourself, “I’m with Lieutenant Anderson and Connor, we’ve been working on the case for a week or two,” you answered.

He stared at you momentarily, before nodding slightly. “If you’ll excuse us, Special Agent Perkins,” Hank spat, motioning you to his side.

“Fuckin’ prick,” Hank grumbled once the three of you were out of earshot of the agent. You looked over the control desk, trying to figure out just how to replay the live video. Connor’s shoulder brushed against your own, a soft smile growing upon your lips as you looked up at him.

“Connor,” you hummed.

A knowing look rested upon his features, “Detective,”

“You got any idea how to turn this on?” you asked, turning your attention back to the various monitors and buttons in front of you.

You watched as Connor pressed a few buttons, bringing up the broadcast with ease. A skinless android appeared before you, his left eye blue and the other green.

“We ask that you recognize our dignity, our hopes and our rights. Together, we can build peace and build a better future, for humans and androids. This message is the hope of a people. You gave us life, now the time has come for you to give us freedom,” he spoke cooly, an assured look upon his face.

Your brows drew together in thought, “How are we supposed to identify him without his skin?”

“His identification number is on his cheek. He’s an RK200 model,” Connor answered swiftly, his eyes still glued to the screen as he analyzed the deviant.

“You think this could be rA9?” Hank proposed, arms crossed as he met your gaze.

You nodded slightly, “He just might be,”

“He wasn’t alone in the act,” Connor suddenly spoke, “He was with three other androids,”

You didn’t get time to ask how he gathered that from just the video you were provided, as he proceeded to make his way to the roof. Trading a glance with Hank, the two of you trailed behind the android, following him up the stairs before being met with the crisp, cold Detroit air as he opened the door.

Folding your arms over your chest, a shiver ran down your spine as you looked over the shoe prints beneath you. Your gaze followed them to the edge of the building, a confused look growing upon your face, “They jumped off the building?” you asked a nearby officer.

“It seems so. We’re not able to pinpoint where they landed exactly, and this weather isn’t helping,” he sighed.

You nodded slowly, approaching Connor as he kneeled before an open duffel bag, a single parachute enclosed inside. Looking back at the footprints, you counted three pairs of feet. “There were only three of them,” you noted under your breath.

Hank shrugged, “Maybe they brought an extra just in case,” he suggested, earning a swift shake of the head from Connor.

“There were three behind the camera,” Connor spoke, “One of them is still here.” You watched as he stood, beginning to trail throughout the roof.

“What you said last night,” Hank began, grabbing your attention, “You weren’t actually serious were you?” A chuckle passed your lips as you nodded, “Yes. Yes I was,”

A familiar grimace grew upon the older man’s face as he pinched the bridge of his nose, “He licks so much shit, and you kissed him?” Before you could go to respond, a sound of distress left Hank’s mouth as he motioned frantically towards Connor, kneeling down in front of a pool of Thirium, licking traces of it from his fingers.

“He’s doing it right now!” he hissed. You bit back a laugh, shaking your head, “He’s an android, I’m sure he has this super fancy disinfecting program that cleans his mouth,”

Hank’s face scrunched up, “I sure do hope so - for your sake,” he grumbled.

Before you could retort, a gunshot rang out. Your face fell as your eyes landed on Connor as he fell back, Thirium leaking from the wound in his shoulder. Both you and Hank ran towards the android, ducking from the crossfire as you grabbed a hold of Connor, pulling him into cover.

“Are you okay?” You gasped, earning a nod from him.

“If they destroy the android we’ll learn nothing!” he called out over the gunshots.

Hank shook his head, “We don’t have a choice, we can’t save it!”

Connor stammered for a moment before jolting up and charging at the deviant. “Connor!” you yelled after him. You watched as he ducked and dodged the bullets, grabbing a hold of the android as he probed his memory, before the android raised the gun to his own head, pulling the trigger and falling to the ground.

The android stood in stunned silence as you ran toward him, chest heaving. “Fuck, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he rasped out, his brows drawn together in a look of fear, a look that looked all too foreign and unrecognizable on his face.

A beat of silence passed, Connor’s eyes still glued onto the android at his feet. “I was connected to its memory - I felt it die, like I was dying…” he trailed off, “I was scared,”

Pity rested upon your features. You shook your head, reaching out and grabbing a hold of his hands, “You’re fine, okay? You’re gonna be fine,”

He looked up finally, meeting your sorrowful gaze. “I saw something… Jericho, it was written on a rusty piece of metal,”

Hank stepped forward, “Let’s get you out of here, then we can talk about this ‘Jericho’,”

______

“I’m supposing you found something that’ll actually send us somewhere in this investigation, correct?” Fowler asked. Hank and Connor stood idle in the captain’s office, doing a once over on the case while you sat at your desk, going through any and every case to find something that hinted at just what, or where, Jericho could be.

“Yeah, Detective Y/N assumed these deviants could have something of a ‘hideout’, Jericho just might be that,” Hank noted.

Connor suddenly stilled, his mind blanking before the familiar layout of the zen garden grew around him, the normally bright and full-of-life apparition now shrouded by a dusk sky and chilled by a frantic blizzard.

He frowned, looking around before his gaze landed on Amanda. Before he could speak, she stepped forward, “You’ve been deemed defective, Connor.”

The android stammered, “I don’t understand-”

“You’re off of this case. A new model will be sent to take your place,” she noted, her hands clasped in front of her, “One that won’t find itself influenced by petty human emotion.”

Connor’s mind immediately ran to you, a frightened look on his face at the thought of having to leave you. Amanda’s lip curled, snarling as she sensed the thought of you, “And to be sure these - acquaintances - you’ve made don’t miss you - we’ve manufactured a glitch in your defense mechanisms,”

A look of confusion ran across his features, promptly falling at the sound of a gunshot in the distance. He looked over his shoulder, turning back to find Amanda gone. “Jesus, Connor what the fuck are you doing?!” Hank’s shouting echoed throughout the garden.

“No,” the android breathed out, his eyes widening as the gunshots grew more frantic.

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