Stop interrupting my thought proc- 3/10
https://archiveofourown.org/works/18122630/chapters/45520225
Fandom: Detroit: Become Human
Pairing: HankCon
Warnings: major character death, suicide, angst, memory alteration
Rating: M
As always, beta'd by the talented @honkforhankcon ~
WARNING! This chapter contains major character death, aggressively behaving animal and gore (both android and human). Read at your own discretion.
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Day 3
Connor came out of stasis all giddy and refreshed. He and Hank had kissed! He hugged Dewey to his chest and rolled a few times in bed, definitely not squealing happily all the while. His voice modulator just glitched, thatās all.
Instead of getting up right after waking, like he usually does, he decided to stay in bed some more. It wasnāt like he had to do much before leaving for work ā he had plenty of time to spare. The buzzing in his head that normally accompanied thinking about Hank wasnāt there so he let his mind wander.
Connor closed his eyes and replayed the memory file from yesterday. His lips tingled as the video played behind his lids, the image of Hankās beard scratching against his face causing a physical reaction. As the memory-Hankās hand travelled down memory-Connorās spine, a shiver wracked through the real-Connorās body. The hand that was curled around Dewey placed the plushie on one of the pillows, while his other palm glided smoothly down his front. He bit his lower lip.
But as Connorās fingers skimmed along the waistband of his sleeping pants, he stopped. He opened his eyes and took a deep breath, calming himself. He couldnāt. Or, well, he could but he didnāt want to. No, this wasnāt right either. He wanted to. But he wanted Hank to be the one to do this even more. Connor smiled. Now, with their relationship improved even more, this want might actually be fulfilled. He shivered in excitement again. He couldnāt wait for the end of their shift already.
Or was it too soon? Connor worried about it while ridding himself of his sleeping clothes and putting on work-appropriate attire. He decided on something nicer today. For the past five months or so he dressed as casually as he could get away with. This time he fished a blue button-up, black tie, black vest and dark jeans from his closet.
ā¦or maybe he should just dress casually? Behave like always and not worry about anything? Will dressing up make it weird? Does Hank even like when Connor dresses up? Or does it remind the Lieutenant of the times when Connor was just a machine?
Connor sat down on the bed with two vastly different outfits strewn around him, his head in hands. The buzzing might have stopped but he suddenly got something akin to a headache overthinking about what to wear.
In the end he decided to put on the nice shirt but left the first button open and skipped the tie. He also picked jeans from the ācasual pileā ā a dark pair that was criminally tight, something Hank might appreciate. Maybe. Connor just hoped it wonāt end with one of them having a heart attack.
Connor pulled on his leather jacket as an afterthought and left for work in higher spirits than ever before, his mind swimming with thoughts of Hank.
***
But when Connor arrived at the precinct there was no sign of Hank anywhere. It was fine, the Lieutenant was late sometimes. True, days like these occurred less frequently nowadays, but there was no need to panic. Not even when Connor was called in and had to go with Gavin instead of his partner.
Oh, who was he kidding? Connorās LED was stuck on yellow, sometimes blinking red when his processors got particularly creative with various reasons as to why Hank might be late.
"Stop thinking! Geez, I can hear the cogs in your head turning."
Gavin, charming as always. Connor would probably find that mildly amusing if he wasnāt worried sick. Hank always tells him whenever heās going to be late or absent. He hadnāt heard a word from him since last night.
What if Hank regretted it? Did he drink himself into a stupor and is still passed out on his kitchen floor? Or maybe he didnāt drink but decided that ghosting Connor was the best idea? Orā¦ maybe he got so disgusted with Connor, he changed jobs or moved overnight?
Connor groaned and bumped the back of his head against the headrest, startling Gavin. The car swerved dangerously but Reed managed to regain control in time. He swore.
"What the fuck, tin can? Iām driving here! Jesus!"
"Sorry, Detective."
"Just. Shut up. Donāt talk, donāt move and donāt even think. Itās bad enough I have to endure your presence."
Connor wanted to make a snide comment about Gavin using big words but he really wasnāt in the mood. He turned to the window with a sigh.
"And donāt sigh either!"
Annoyed, Connor put himself on standby, eager to escape Reedās verbal abuse.
***
The scene was a nightmare to navigate. There were body parts strewn everywhere, blood on almost every surface, fingerprints upon fingerprints. That, coupled with trying to stop Reed from trampling all over the evidence he couldnāt see, was making Connor experience something resembling exhaustion. He decided he didnāt much care for this feeling.
"Fuckās sake, you bag of bolts, let me do my job!" Gavin was furious when Connor tugged him away from the crime scene yet again.
"Detective Reed, you almost stepped on what might be crucial evidence if I hadnāt stopped you. Please, donāt contaminate the crime scene."
Gavinās eyes glinted dangerously. "You saying I donāt know how to do my job? Iāve been doing this before you were even born, stupid plastic fuck!"
Connor grit his teeth and counted backwards from ten. He didnāt know how Tina or Chris dealt with Gavin, they must have been saints in their previous lives. Angels in disguise descended from Heaven. Or something. Connor wanted to know their secrets.
"No Detective, thereās just a lot of evidence material not visible to the human eye, thatās all."
"Oh, I have excellent eyesight, Mr. Iām Better Than Everyone. Now get out of my way."
Gavin tried to make another step but Connor was still holding onto his sleeve. With a frustrated growl, Reed slipped his arms out of his jacket and went to examine the scene, leaving Connor behind. The android could only stare in horror as precious evidence got trampled under Gavinās heavy boots. A pitiful sound almost left Connorās lips but he managed to force it back before it could. No reason to make the rat bastard even smugger.
Connor abandoned Reedās jacket where he stood and went to rescue as much evidence as he could from being stomped on.
***
Gathering the evidence from the crime scene took them the better part of their shift. It was getting dark outside, automated lamps flickering to life. Reed proved surprisingly useful, when he wasnāt ruining the samples that is. Connor estimated the losses to be about 14%. Not a great outcome but acceptable, all things considered. He expected it to be way more if he was being honest with himself.
All that was left was submitting the evidence. Normally Connor would stay longer and examine everything that had been collected more thoroughly but his mind was constantly drifting to Hank. He was worried and distracted, which wasnāt a good combination. So then Connor left the precinct at the exact time that his shift ended, earning a few odd looks from his colleagues.
He took a taxi to Hankās house, fiddling with his coin nervously. He wondered if it was a good idea to visit the Lieutenant after all. Maybe it would make matters worse?
As soon as the thought crossed his mind, a notification popped up on his HUD, indicating an incoming call from Captain Fowler. Despite the thoughts raging inside his head he picked up the call immediately ā he was a detective after all, he couldnāt just ignore his duties in favour of his personal life.
"Yes, Captain?"
"Connor, hate to do this when youāve already clocked in so much overtime this month but youāre needed on scene. Initial investigation hints at this murder being related to that other case you and Reed worked on today."
"Understood. May I get the address?"
"Corner of Trinity and Joy, not far from where the old Royal Car Wash was." Connor interfaced with the taxi console and put the address in. "Reedās already on the scene. Youāll work together again, seeing as Anderson still didnāt show up. Good luck." The Captain hung up and Connor ground his teeth in frustration. Gavin was probably trampling all over the evidence again.
***
Connor reluctantly stepped out of the taxi, not eager to spend even more time with Reed than he already did. Ben seemed to notice it right away because he sent him a sympathetic smile as soon as he closed in.
"Hey Connor, busy night, huh?"
"You could say that, Detective Collins."
Ben scowled, though there was also amusement in his eyes. "You can just call me Ben, how many times do I have to tell you that?"
"Sorry Ben," Connor corrected himself quickly. "Guess old habits die hard."
"Donāt even worry about it." Ben waved him off and Connor made his way through the holo-tape.
The first thing he saw was Gavinās scowl. Ugh.
They didnāt talk this time, not even a stray curse from Reed in his direction; a sign of how tired the detective was. They split up and thoroughly checked the crime scene. It wasnāt as messy as the previous one but Connor already saw the similarities. It was uncanny. After scanning the victim (Victor Crowley, aged 27Ā, part-time accountant, no past offences) Connor determined the crime was committed an hour after the previous one. Impossible, seeing as it was near Chandler Park, on the other side of Detroit. There had to be more than one perpetrator. Similar MO suggested they talked about how to kill their victims. One glaring difference between the two crime scenes was that this time there was only one victim.
"Detective Reed-"
"Shut up, Iām trying to think."
Connor bit his tongue so hard his analysers picked up the serial number from his thirium. He was tired, nearly mad with worry over Hank and irritated from prolonged exposure to Reed. He was not in a good place right now.
All of a sudden the buzzing in his head came back with a vengeance. It hit him so hard his vision shorted out for a few seconds. Connor doubled over with a groan.
"Go the fuck home, youāll only slow me down."
Connor looked up at Gavin from his hunched position. The Detectiveās words were harsh but a flicker of something in his eyes softened the blow. Connor realised with a start that Gavin might be worried.
"ā¦got it." With a flash of the LED Connor called a cab. He didnāt put his home address in the GPS though, making the vehicle drive to 115 Michigan Drive instead. The buzzing in his head is something Connor learned to associate with Hank.
He had a bad feeling about this.
***
The ride was uneventful. Connor half expected Captain Fowler to call him about another crime scene but, fortunately, nothing like that happened. He made it to Hankās place and exited the cab.
Full of nerves Connor knocked on Hank's door and waited. And waited. And waited some more. There was no answer. Connor knew that androids were incapable of sweating but he could swear there was a drop sliding down his neck and back. He raised a fist to knock once more, this time with slightly more force, and the doors swung open with an ominous creak.
"Hank?" Connor called but there was no sound. There weren't explosions going off on TV from whatever action movie Hank was watching. There was no barking either, Sumo didn't come bounding through the door to greet him.
Connor shivered with unease, then scolded himself for it right after. "I'm sure Hank just took Sumo on a walk. Everything is fine," he thought, somewhat unconvincingly.
Intending to wait for the Lieutenant, Connor made his way to the living room. The house was pitch black, unnaturally so, as if someone painted the windows over with black paint and then covered them with black tarp for good measure. He struggled to adjust his vision, the world going darker the more he tried.
Then, suddenly, the lights in the kitchen flickered on, blinding him momentarily. As soon as he could see though...
"Hank!" Connor ran towards the prone figure on the floor, slipping on a puddle of blood and landing painfully on his knees. The pain was insignificant though. His entire world blurred, tilted on its axis and burst into flames simultaneously. He didn't have to scan Hank to know that no amount of first aid will help.
"No..." he cupped the man's cheeks in his hands as if they were made out of butterfly wings. Tears made miniature waterfalls on his own cheeks, dripping on a chest that will never raise with a drawn breath ever again.
"It can't be..." Connor gently placed his forehead against Hank's. He could feel the bullet hole like this but somehow it made everything seem even less real.
"Please..." he stared into unseeing blues, willing the spark of life to return to them. Hoping beyond hope that the past 24 hours would suddenly reverse, that it all would turn out to have been a nightmare.
It was inconsequential that androids weren't capable of dreaming.
Connor barely registered a low growl and clacking of claws on the linoleum floor. He turned his head and through tears saw a blurry lump of brown fur stalking towards him.
"...Sumo?"
Teeth flashed and Connor didn't react in time to get out of the dog's way. Sumo went straight for his neck, sinking his teeth in and tearing out his vocal processor.
"...!" He couldn't even scream in pain, watching in horror as the creature he loves the most in the world crunches one of his components to bits. Trying to slowly reach out to Sumo only resulted in two of his fingers being bit off.
Connor weakly crawled away on his hands and knees but the dog pounced on him, tearing into his shoulder blade. His vision flickered violently, a feeling of disappointment flooding his systems. Not his disappointment though. It felt as if there was another presence inside of him.
A timer showed up on his HUD. In the last few moments that were left, Connor reached out his mangled hand towards Hank's stiff one. Before he could connect their fingers, however, a heavy boot stomped on his wrist, almost severing it right off. Connor barely managed to look up, staring right into a pair of eyes the colour of-
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Iām sorry
