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Limits v2.0

Chapter 27: Past

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Connor was accustomed to being aware and even guiding his repairs... But not like this. Not lying on his side on someone’s floor outside of R&D and unsure if anything would go the way that it was meant to. He grit his teeth as something scraped one of his filter sets. Lieutenant Anderson had mentioned something about vehicles before, and it was very apparent that he was more accustomed to working with cars than androids. His hands and actions were rough, and even though his demeanour suggested that it was unintentional, it made the process unpleasant. CyberLife technicians worked on him like they were performing an autopsy; Connor wasn’t surprised to see some electrical tape join the cluster of tools on the floor by his elbow.

None of it made sense... The confusion added to Connor’s discomfort. Every time Connor managed to distance himself from the simulations, Lieutenant Anderson would snap his fingers or tap his shoulder and talk to him until Connor responded and the world made itself painfully present in his awareness again. It didn’t make sense because androids didn’t feel pain. Was this some kind of punishment for the way he’d glitched, or a lesson to be mindful of his AI? He had a tendency to overuse his social integration features and it was hard sometimes to tell what was him and what was an algorithm. That was a problem because there was no ‘him’. That would be it, wouldn’t it? Connor was still imperfect and as long as he was imperfect, he would feel pain like this. No wonder the Lieutenant kept dragging him back to face it. Without Amanda, what else was he supposed to do? She helped him to hide from it... But he was still fighting whatever part of his programming caused him to be this imperfect wreck. Maybe he did need to face it.

2:47:31

“Lieutenant,” Connor said. The power-saving measures left his voice something static-laden and mechanical. “I know what I am and what what I’m not... I know.”

How was he supposed to remain indifferent like this? Why was he still trying to escape? How could he sit with this without Amanda to help him control himself?

“What are you talking about?” Lieutenant Anderson asked gruffly.

“I know what I am,” Connor repeated. “I can’t feel anything. I can’t,” he insisted.

“Shut up and drink your disgusting Kool-Aid, Connor.” Lieutenant Anderson put down the tool he was holding and moved to prop up Connor’s shoulders. The position left Connor leaning against his chest while the Lieutenant held the bottle of thirium for him with surprising patience. Why did it have to keep going?

14:21:56

“If I plug you in, are you going to electrocute me?”

Connor shook his head when the Lieutenant lowered the bottle. “I won’t... 310 stops conducting when it contacts the air... It only acts as a conductor when it circulates my system...”

“Okay, but if you zap me I’m letting Reed take you...” Lieutenant Anderson set him down and when he returned he had brought Connor’s charger with him and he felt the back of Connor’s neck for the port. As soon as he established a connection with it, Connor’s stress declined by 12%. Warmth suffused him and automatic code adjusted his settings for power-storage. Combined with the need to divert everything he had to keeping his processors powered, it made him feel weak and his body pliable when the Lieutenant adjusted the way he was lying.

“Connor, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he agreed. He wasn’t certain whether he vocalized it or not. “I’m okay.”

Lieutenant Anderson put his hand on Connor’s upper arm and rubbed it. “I sure hope you’re not bullshitting me, kid.”

“I don’t understand,” he mumbled again. He could see his own thirium where it was pooling on the floor, and he had probably gotten the Lieutenant’s clothes dirty. There was dog hair and dust mixing with it, and the incandescent lights made the 310 take on a slightly different hue than under the fluorescent lights at CyberLife. How much had the Lieutenant bought to keep Connor running like this?

The Lieutenant might have answered, but Connor couldn’t remember if he had. He drifted again until he was jolted out of it. He screamed and tried to arch away from it. Whatever it was that was alarm-red and fire-hot sending signals to Connor that this was bad. It hurt. It didn’t hurt, he just wanted it to stop. He clumsily threw a hand over his mouth and disabled his own voice.

“Jesus Christ!” The Lieutenant swore. Connor could still feel it radiating from a place in his chest but no new damage occurred. “Shit! What? Connor what happened? What’s wrong?”

He had to control himself. He wasn’t deviant. Connor dropped his hand and spoke again, “What was that?”

“I...” The Lieutenant sounded unsure of himself. “There’s no way that’s getting back where it used to be without-- I’ve got to solder it. I don’t got anything else.”

“Okay,” Connor breathed. He blinked a few times and disabled his voice again.

It wasn’t good, but he’d felt worse. He’d been able to distance himself then, but the Lieutenant wouldn’t like it and how could Connor really be fixed if he were so affected by damage, even if it was a resting state?

---

Hank didn’t think he’d ever be where he was, sitting on the floor with a half-empty bottle of whiskey and blue-blood and a broken android on the floor with him. Okay, sure, he had... But not like this. Good Lord, not like this. Connor was silent and shaking like a leaf, but Hank figured that if anything at least he’d stuck some pieces back together so they wouldn’t be dangling by their thin little wires. How was a police android, one that was supposed to go into dangerous situations, built with such tiny parts? There was probably a lot more out of place than Hank could tell, but he wasn’t a damn expert. He drank another swig of whiskey. “You’re okay, Connor,” Hank said. He rubbed the kid’s arm and then his hair. He was warm like a human, maybe a little warmer, and it just made all of this so much weirder because Hank could see what was in front of him. He could see with his own eyes that this was a computer on legs, but he couldn’t help himself. “What’ve you got on your clock now? Hey?”

Connor mouthed something but no sound came out and Hank thought he saw tear tracks on his face. He nudged him and snapped his fingers. “Hey, Connor. What time are you at?”

Connor blinked a few times. Hank could see the lines too, where the stuff was cracked all around his eyes. Good God. Breaking an android had been a lot easier than fixing one and a lot less complicated.

A lot less complicated.

“Nothing,” Connor said, still all warped and digital. He sure as shit didn’t sound human, but it didn’t really matter and Hank would figure out his own fucked up brain later. What the shit did he mean ‘nothing’?

“What the hell do you mean ‘nothing’?” Hank demanded.

“No timer,” Connor explained. “I’m just... a little low on power.”

“Still?” Hank asked. He was plugged into the damn wall... Most of that blood Kool-Aid was in a bigass puddle on the floor, though, so he fished another out of the bag and moved to get Connor to drink. He couldn’t have told anybody why...

It just pissed him off. It just pissed him off that that kid was walking around pretending to be human and then taking it all back and arguing harder than Hank did that he wasn’t able to feel. Maybe if he hadn’t, Hank could have gone on arguing on his own, but he’d said that and still kept on acting like he could. It just rubbed him the wrong way, was all, that that shithead could so obviously fucking lie to him even if Hank agreed with every damn word he said because fuck, man, what was he supposed to do? “There you go,” Hank didn’t know if androids could choke but he wasn’t about to fuck up now. He propped Connor up and let him drink, and at least for once it didn’t look like it would just pour right out again. Maybe if Connor’d acted that way without saying a thing, Hank could have maintained it was all a damn act.

Now he just had to deal with being a piece of shit, but what else was new? Hank tossed the empty bottle on the floor and wondered what he should expect. Connor’d gotten shot in the head and then walked back into the office like nothing happened, so would he just magically be 100%? Was it all or nothing with these androids or what? Maybe not, because Connor wasn’t holding himself up and he had this look on his face when Hank slid him back down again.

“What’s wrong? Did I mess something up?” Hank asked.

Connor took a breath and then another one, then when he answered his eyes scrunched shut and he covered his face with one arm.

He was crying.

“Hey,” Hank frowned. He moved Connor again so he could use Hank’s leg for a pillow and he pulled his whiskey closer too. One for each hand. “You’re okay... I think no timer means that’s good, right?”

“I’m okay,” Connor repeated, but it didn’t seem to help. Hank sighed and propped one arm on Connor’s shoulder so he could pat him on the head without too much effort. Yeah, he definitely wouldn’t recognize himself if he took a time machine from a fucking month ago. What was this kid’s hair made out of anyway? It was a mess and kind of curly under what was left of his hair gel. If Hank folded a piece between his fingers, it kind of shimmered where it was bent. Maybe it was like Christmas lights except smaller... and brown. Hank took another drink. He couldn’t get drunk enough for this fucking night. No way.

“You got hurt pretty bad,” Hank said, remembering something vague Carl’d said once. “It must have been scary. I guess I’m not helping either. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing... I sure wouldn’t be okay if I was you.” Yeah... He wasn’t okay. It was freaky, seeing him cry with that cable sticking out of him and blue blood everywhere. He wasn’t making any sound, but he was shaking hard and he was breathing funny, holding his breath and then taking tiny breaths when he sobbed. Shit...

“That’s fine, you know? Fuck. I haven’t been okay in a long time... so I’m not going to judge. Everything’s gonna be fine, though. You’ll be fine.”

What the hell was he even doing? But then, if Connor wasn’t alive and this was all some crazy program thing, at least nobody was there to see how Hank had finally gone off the deep end... And if he was, or if he had some kind of feelings, well... He wasn’t just going to let him suffer. He cried like he didn’t know how to stop, so Hank messed with his hair some more like he used to do once, and he got drunk because there was no going back to those times. Not ever again, but there was this naive, reckless, confused kid bawling his eyes out because he was hurting and he’d almost fucking died and he might still die, so Hank went through the motions. “It’s...” He probably shouldn’t say okay. “It’s not gonna be forever... You’ll feel better.”

“I- can’t-”

“Yeah, uh huh...” Hank sighed again. “Well, things’ll seem better anyway... I’ve got you.” There didn’t seem to be anything to say but a few things came to mind with a little alcohol-fueled thought. It wasn’t like the kid was subtle. “You did a great job today, okay? You did good. You did good. You really saved my ass today. Thanks for that. You’re a good kid.”

He kept on saying stuff like that, just whatever. Fuck it. Maybe CyberLife just did a damn good job, but psychopaths like fucking Todd were just.. they were just shit, and Hank was shit but he wasn’t that kind of shit. Connor was shaped like a grown-ass adult, but he was just a kid with his curiosity and his people-pleasing and the way he never fucking listened. God...

Hank drank and when Connor finally stopped crying, he was still as could be, so he must have fallen asleep.

“Connor?”

---

Connor watched his system wake-up routine execute, the text scrolling across his HUD and detailing his status reports, and then he opened his eyes. He was not in R&D... This was the Lieutenant’s home. Connor heard sounds around him and he could feel the charger still connected to his port radiating a soft heat and every damaged part alerting him to its status, so he had not received any professional repairs and had not been sent back to CyberLife.

“Lieutenant?” he asked aloud.

“Hell...” There were a few curse words grumbled and then Lieutenant Anderson appeared in Connor’s line of sight and Connor realized that he was lying on his sofa with a pillow under his head and a blanket covering him. He’d been put into a soft shirt and the cable to his charger had been arranged so that it was out of the way... “Connor...” The Lieutenant’s expression was complicated and underscored by the dark, puffy rings under his eyes.

“You look tired, Lieutenant... You’re slightly dehydrated, you have a headache, your neck and left shoulder hurt, and you didn’t sleep well... You should have a cup of water.”

“Fuck the water, kid! Christ...” He rubbed his face. “I can’t believe... Do you need more blue shit or anything?”

“How long was I in stasis?” Connor asked instead.

The Lieutenant was wearing a sweat-stained grey t-shirt and soft looking pants that rumpled around his feet. “Just over night... Hell... All that really happened huh?”

“I don’t know what you’re referring to, but if you mean the repairs you executed, then yes.” He had executed them and executedthem... The Lieutenant was not suited for technical work... But he had tried and he remembered the way his hand had felt on his head, warm and heavy but not punishing. If he had been teaching Connor not to feel then it had been unnecessary... And confusing.“Thank you.”

“Yeah, thank you too, kid... Would’ve been Swiss cheese if it weren’t for you.”

“Androids...” Connor hissed as he sat up. “Androids are less affected by bullets than humans. You don’t need to thank me.”

“Too late,” Lieutenant retorted and he sat down in his chair with a large sigh. He rubbed his face again and scratched his hair roughly.“Look... I hate to sound like my ex-wife, but I think we need to talk...”

“We are already talking,” Connor answered and he flexed his fingers to test their motion.

“Smart-ass... I’ve got questions.”

Connor nodded. He would have questions after all of that... Shame crept up and took a hold of his biocomponents with sharp, cold fingers. “You can ask me whatever you like, Lieutenant.”

“That deviant,” the Lieutenant began. “The first one- the one in the research environment or whatever. You’re him, aren’t you?”

It hadn’t been a lesson but a test. Connor felt the expression drain from his face and he straightened his back despite the way... despite nothing. “I’m not a deviant.”

“Yeah, but you’re him, aren’t you?” The Lieutenant repeated.

“That issue was resolved,” Connor said firmly. He was fine, he knew what he was and what he wasn’t. He was not deviant. “I’m not a deviant.”

“Were you, Connor?”

Connor might have imagined that he felt something. “A previous model... RK800... Displayed signs of deviancy that were corrected. I assure you that you aren’t in any danger.”

“You look like me asking that scared you,” Lieutenant Anderson observed wryly. He was a detective too, Connor couldn’t forget. “I just wanted to know. That’s all. No tricks.” He held up his palms. “Better for the investigation if I know what I’m working with, right?”

Connor nodded once, then again.

“Sorry. For scaring you, or whatever it is instead of fear. Look, I really don’t care, alright? I’m still figuring all of this shit out and it’s a lot, believe me...”

Connor nodded again. “Do you have any other questions, Lieutenant Anderson?”

“I don’t know... I’m sure something will come up...” the Lieutenant looked at him, mumbled a swear, and then stood up again. “I need a coffee... Screw that, I need a drink...”

“Water,” Connor reminded him. In the back of his mind, he trimmed the threads to their conversation...

He wished that he could pretend it had never happened.

But it made old paths light up and he felt the guards holding him down. He could smell the ozone from the electric shocks.

There was a gun in the room with him. Connor avoided it.

A new body again... Connor wobbled on his feet and he took one step, then another.

Connor grimaced and he used his elbow to crack the face plating of the last Connor model. It was only a shell, but it had something he needed to retrieve. He pulled the debris away and reached inside to disconnect the motherboard.

He put his hands to his head and pressed, just to feel that he wasn’t broken. He was, though. He had cracks in his face and his skull was fractured.

He initiated a final scan and time dilated. On impact he could feel himself shatter and he could predict where his pieces would land. Daniel was already broken. Mission Successful.

He heard a bark and startled, then looked at Sumo who thumped his tail on the floor and leaned closer until his nose was nudging Connor’s elbow. “Hello... Sumo...” Connor greeted carefully. The dog was panting and had saliva on his muzzle, and he seemed eager to interact. Sumo nudged his arm some more with his nose, tail thumping, and Connor lifted the arm with carefully planned movements. Sumo’s head was enormous... Connor forced a smile, one he had practiced in the mirror, and he touched his fingers to the top of Sumo’s head. “Good... dog?”

Lieutenant Anderson chuckled and he returned to his seat with a cup of coffee and two pieces of toasted bread which he stacked on his knee. Sumo was distracted too, and Lieutenant Anderson gave him a corner of toast then a vigorous scratch on the head.

His internal processes struggled to find an equilibrium and everything hurt. Worse, he knew that it hurt and he could feel the crushing weight of Amanda’s impending disappointment in him. He wouldn’t have anything if he didn’t have her. Not even his quarter. Nothing... Because he should have been nothing, and he would fail. They would realize that he was a failed project... Lieutenant Anderson’s hand came to rest on his head and carded through his hair. It was enough to startle him out of his thoughts briefly and no violence followed. Just that and some kind words for a machine that would be better used as scrap.

The Lieutenant had thought that he was good.

Notes:

Thank you, everyone! =D Your comments are amazing. I'm sorry for another short update today! I had a little trouble figuring out whether Connor would survive the night, but it seems that he has. It also seems that Hank has refused to cooperate with the hurt-no-comfort tag.