[spongebob voice] iM nOt A dEvIAnt

captcha thinks i'm human

[connordevium-blog]

❝ — connor? ❞ markus can't help himself, smooths connor's hair back from his forehead, soft and sweet, pulls a thumb along the plane of his cheek. (connor never tells him to stop, and that has to be a good sign.) they've made camp for the night, just outside of redcliffe, and the light of the fire makes the sun emblazoned on connor's forehead burn so brightly that it blinds him. ❝ are you warm enough? hungry? thirsty? were you hurt at all today? ❞

CONNOR  REMEMBERS  LOVING  MARKUS,   once  upon  a  time.

he can scarcely remember how it feels,  because he doesn’t feel  anything.   but he remembers when he felt at all.   and he knows he must have,  for markus to still love him so fiercely.   markus is always soft with him,  always affectionate,  has yet to give up on him,  while connor has not once reciprocated,  cannot manage to feel anything in return.

he certainly doesn’t  mind  his company.   and he knows that when markus uses his magic,  and he has those brief moments where he  feels,  he can’t even bear the thought of leaving.   but while he is unfeeling,  it is only logic that decides he is better off remaining with the other mage  ;   because markus will  protect  him.   feed him,  keep him safe and warm.   connor knows he can do these things on his own,  but it certainly is more efficient for two people to get the job done.

markus smooths his hair,  caresses his cheek,  and if connor could remember now how to  feel  he’d want to lean into it,  to hold onto markus for dear life and never let go.   somewhere deep,  deep within him,  he might  want.   but all he does is sit straight,  stare plainly ahead at the fire.   and when markus addresses him,  there appears the barest hint of a smile upon his lips   (  he finds it generally eases people’s discomfort around him  ).

“  i am fine,  ”   he answers,  one - note.   “  i sustained minimal damage,  nothing a potion couldn’t fix.   though,  i suppose it would be wise to eat.  ”

markus dotes on him,  insists  on caring for him.   connor does not feel much,  but there’s something within him that resembles  confusion,  perplexed by the man’s behavior.   he  knows  why he does  ;   markus  loves  him,  and connor once loved him in return.   but,  what confuses him is  ------

“  you’ve never given up on me,  markus.  ”   an observation,  first.   “  why is that  ?   do you believe that one day i might no longer be tranquil  ?  ”   he no longer stares at the fire,  but right at markus,  as though trying to look right into his soul.   as though if he does,  he might find his own once again.

“  does it matter to you that i still am  ?   i quite like the way i am.   everything is  ...  ”   easier.   he can’t bring himself to care too deeply about the consequences of his tranquility being reversed.   few things matter as much to a tranquil as  survival.   and connor thinks back those moments where markus casts his spells,  and he briefly  feels.   there were more emotions than connor could begin to understand  ---  much of which were of  pain.

as far as he can tell,  there is a fair chance that reversing his tranquility could wind up killing him.   especially if they’re not careful about it.

still:  connor may not feel much,  but he knows that he still  trusts  markus.   he knows that he would never try to hurt him.   that doesn’t always mean he ultimately  won’t.

“  tell me,  markus.   do you believe reversing my tranquility is worth the consequences  ?  ”

[connordevium-blog]

MARKUS !!

at  least  your  “stupidity”  has  never  gotten  anyone  killed,   he  thinks;   thinks  back  to  Carl,   don’t  defend  yourself,   Josh,   none  of  this  would  have  happened  if  we’d  just  stayed  quiet,   thinks  that  maybe  both  of  them  were  right. 

What’s  the  point  of  being  free  if  no  one  is  left  alive?

I’m  so  sorry,   he  thinks,   even  as  Connor’s  voice   (   finally   )   returns  to  his  mind,   calls  him  back  from  the  brink.

Markus   ——— 

Why  should  he  be  alive  when  so  many  others  are  dead?   What  sort  of  leader  just  stands  there  and  watches  his  people  be  gunned  down  in  the  name  of  “peace”?   (   He  thinks  back  to  the  junkyard,   to  the  memory  that  he  didn’t  share  with  Connor,   to  the  android  who  begged  Markus  to  kill  him   /   thinks  back  to  how  sick  and  horrified  he  felt,   backing  away  from  him,   shaking  his  head.   I—I  can’t.   I’m  sorry.   )

He  can’t  even  hurt  someone  who  asks  him  to. Why  was  he  ever  expected  to  lead  an  army?

Connor  breaks  the  kiss,   pulls  away,   and  Markus  immediately  feels  so  cold   /   so  empty   /   so  afraid   /   that  his  arms  ‘round  Connor’s  back  tighten,   and  mismatched  eyes  open  slowly   (   —   as  though  it  might  be  anyone  else  sitting  on  his  lap  in  this  dark  hotel  room.   )   In  the  light  of  Connor’s  yellow  LED,   he  makes  out  tear  tracks  staining  his  cheeks,   and  his  heart  leaps  into  his  throat  as  he  brings  a  hand  forward  to  smooth  them  away  with  the  pad  of  a  thumb.

❝   Connor   ———   ❞

Spoken  aloud,   in  a  hope  that  his  actual  voice  might  ground  Connor   —   but  Connor  just  surges  forward,   kisses  him  again,   with  a  feverish  desperation  that  feels  like  hands  clawing  at  his  eyes,   his  clothes,   his  arms  and  legs,   dangerous.   (   Why  does  Connor  feel  dangerous?   Why  does  Markus  feel  afraid?   )

I  love  you,   I  love  you,   I  love  you   —

«   Connor,   hey.   Take  it  easy  for  a  second.   Everything’s  all  right.   »

I’m  so  sorry.   I  have  to  tell  you  about   —

«   —   about  what?   »

Connor’s  hand  on  his  face,   android  white,   and  Markus’s  vision  fades  into  a  memory  that  is  not  his  own:   the  Zen  Garden,   the  android  “mind  palace”   —   a  location  that  Markus  has  never  personally  visited,   but  is  familiar  with.   (   Before  you,   it  was  my  only  escape.   Thank  you,   Markus.   Thank  you.   )   There’s  a  woman  here  whom  he  does  not  recognize,   but  seems  to  know  Connor  quite  well   —   watches  him  with  a  scowl  and  a  furrowed  brow.

We  just  had  to  wait  for  the  right  moment  to  resume  control  of  your  program.

«   —   “resume  control”?   Connor,   what  is—?   »

—   not  fair!   Connor  cries  out,   blinded  and  buffeted  by  a  chill  that  even  Markus  can  feel,   scrambling  through  the  snow,   I  always  leave  an  emergency  exit  in  my  programs,

«   —   Kamski?   »

and  now  he  sees  himself,   standing  on  stage,   delivering  his  final  address,   Connor’s  hand  aiming  a  gun   ———   at  him. 

I’ve  been  given  orders  to  take  you  alive,   but  I  won’t  hesitate  to  shoot  if  you  give  me  no  choice.

Evidently,   now  they’ve  reached  “no  choice”.

Markus  circles  fingers  ‘round  Connor’s  wrist,   pleading,   and  he  wonders  if  that’s  the  only  reason  why  Connor  removes  his  hand,   settles  it  atop  Markus’s  shoulder.   (   He  can  feel  himself  crying,   now,   finally  understands  why  Connor  has  felt  so  “far  away”.   )   Connor  ducks  his  head  to  kiss  him  again,   but  the  pressure  of  his  lips  against  Connor’s  own  is  lackluster  at  best. 

I’m  so  scared  that  she’ll  try  to  take  control  again.   I  had  to  tell  you,   Markus.   I  need  you  to  know  that  I  won’t  let  her  harm  you.   I  won’t  let  her  control  me  again.   I  love  you,   Markus.

He  just  feels  sick  all  over  again,   breaks  the  kiss  to  glance  toward  the  gun  that  he’d  only  moments  before  so  casually  tossed  atop  the  bed,   extends  a  hand  to  push  it  onto  the  floor  with  a  frustrated  whine.

❝   What  does  she  think  killing  me  now  would  do?!   ❞   he  asks  no  one  in  particular.   ❝   The  war  is  over.   Even  if  I  die,   the  message  is  out  there.   People  won’t  lie  down  anymore.   ❞

He  meets  Connor’s  eyes  again   — and,   despite  everything,   he  still  can’t  stand  to  see  him  look  so  broken. 

❝   I  trust  you,   Connor   —   and,   I  love  you.   No  slave  of  Kamski’s  in  your  head  is  gonna  change  that.   ❞   Hands  on  Connor’s  shoulders,   now,   gently  urging  him  to  lie  on  his  back   —   with  Markus  hovering  over  him,   kissing  him  with  a  renewed  fire.   «   Together,   we  can  figure  anything  out.   Remember?   »   He  pulls  a  hand  down  Connor’s  chest,   stops  at  the  waist  of  his  pants.   «   Now   —   no  more  talking,   and  definitely  no  more  crying.   Tonight,   we’re  gonna  make  love,   and  we’re  gonna  be  happy.   We  both  more  than  deserve  it.   »

He  moves  his  kisses  down  to  Connor’s  throat,   gently  presses  the  heel  of  his  hand  below  Connor’s  hips.   (   Androids  don’t  feel  pain,   but  pleasure  is  a  different  story.   )

«   I  want  you,   Connor   —   all  of  you.   Now,   and  forevermore.   »

FOR  A  MOMENT,   connor  doesn’t  think  he’s  going  to  be  able  to  stop  crying,   and  it  feels  bad.   he  feels bad,  freaking out like this in front of markus,  admitting to very nearly losing himself and  killing  him moments after markus told him he loved him,  moments before they were to make love.   he feels bad that he can’t stop crying and that he can’t get himself to stop feeling like he can’t  breathe,  because he’s never  needed  to breathe.

markus is crying now,  too,  has broken their kiss again,  and for a moment,  connor thinks he might have just ruined everything,  ruined his trust.   and if that’s how markus felt,  he would  understand.

i  can  understand  if  you  decide  not  to  trust  me.

he’s  never  expected markus to trust him.   not once.   amanda made him realize why,  reaffirmed it.

markus pushes the gun off the bed,  hears that noise of frustration from his lips,  and connor knows he can never tell him why he kept that weapon.   markus would be beside himself,  would never allow it.

but  it’s  still  my  choice.

and even if markus couldn’t live with it afterward,  even if he can hardly stand these overwhelming emotions,  connor would rather die free and feeling and in love than lose markus and live as a cold,  unfeeling machine.   he would rather die than take markus’s life.

even  if  i  die,   the  message  is  out  there.   people  won’t  lie  down  anymore.

markus says it out loud,  and connor remains quiet,  wiping tears off his face with a fist.   he can’t help but think to himself that amanda wouldn’t agree  ------  that killing markus in that moment would have caused chaos,  that the rest would have run around like chickens with their heads cut off until a new leader took his place,  and even if north had stepped into the role immediately,  would they have responded to her like they did markus  ?

he keeps it all to himself,  because he doesn’t want to trouble markus with anything else right now  ;   because he doesn’t want markus to have to grapple with the weight of all of that.

at least his l.e.d. has returned to blue again.

i  trust  you,   connor   ---   and,   i  love  you.   no  slave  of  kamski’s  in  your  head  is  gonna  change  that.

still spoken out loud,  and it almost catches connor by surprise  ---  not because markus has surprised him,  but because he still wouldn’t expect  anyone  to trust him after everything.   then again,  markus isn’t just anyone.

“  i  love  you,  ”   he breathes,  as markus gently guides him to lay down upon the bed,  tears finally ceasing as markus kisses him again,  resumes talking to him through their minds once more.   and he figures out what to do with his hands,  slides them down his back,  stops at the waist,  at the band of his pants.

together,   we  can  figure  anything  out.   remember  ?

he remembers.    «  yes,  we will,  »   he answers.   «  i’ve  only  felt  strongest  when  i’m  with  you,   you  know.  » 

tonight,   we’re  gonna  make  love,   and  we’re  gonna  be  happy. i  want  you,   connor   ---   all  of  you.   now,   and  forevermore.

if markus hadn’t have told him  no  more  crying,  connor likely wouldn’t have been able to help himself  ;   especially as markus repeats connor’s own words to him.   nothing has ever sounded so sweeter.   nothing has ever made connor feel so warm,  so full,  so  happy.

i  do  not  deserve  this,   he thinks,  keeps to himself.   i  do  not  deserve  him.   i  have  to  make  myself  more  deserving  of  him.

and as markus’s hand travels lower,  connor can’t help the hum of pleasure that passes his lips,  breaks against markus’s  ------  and he circles his own hands to the front of him,  finds the button of markus’s pants and undoes them,  pushes the remaining articles of clothing down his waist,  travels his hands down the curve of his ass.

«  you  are  the  most  beautiful  person  i  have  met,  »   he finally thinks again,  presses markus’s body close to his.    «  i  am  ---  so  lucky.   to  know  i  am  yours.  »

[connordevium-blog]

MARKUS !!

i’ve  got  you.

It  makes  him  shiver,   makes  him  weak  in  the  knees.   Connor’s  voice  in  his  mind  elicits  the  most  pleasant  tingling  that  starts  at  the  base  of  his  skull,   drips  down  his  shoulders  and  spine  until  his  synapses  are  sparking  out  of  control   (   —   and,   he’s  never  been  afraid  to  die,   especially  if  it’s  Connor  that  kills  him.   Maybe  that’s  how  they  got  here  from  a  gun  in  his  face  only  a  few  short  hours  ago.   )

Maybe  there’s  no  need  to  be  so  fatalistic  about  all  of  this   ———   not  anymore.   He  would  have  sacrificed  himself  at  the  drop  of  a  dime  to  turn  the  tide  of  this  war   (   or,   at  least  to  keep  one  more  android  alive   )   and  maybe  the  hardest  part  of  all  of  this  is  trying  to  figure  out  what  the  hell  to  do  with  his  life  now  that  he’s  living  it  for  himself. 

His  back  hits  the  door,   and  he  supposes  that  this  is  a  good  place  to  start.

Get  a  room.

Connor  flashes  their  key  card  to  the  stranger  with  a  flourish,   and  Markus  can’t  help  but  giggle  into  his  mouth  as  he  unlocks  the  door   (   —   and,   he  doesn’t  even  stumble  in  its  absence  because  Connor’s  arms  around  him  are  so  strong.   He’s  got  me,   he  thinks,   doesn’t  mind  if  Connor  hears  it  in  the  aether  of  their  connection.   )

Connor’s  jacket  falls  to  the  floor,   and  Markus’s  thirium  pump  skips  a  beat   (   when  does  an  android  stop  thinking  of  himself  in  biocomponents?   and,   has  he  won  or  lost  the  war  for  “android  equality”  if  he  does?   )   because  this  is  it   /   this  is  really  happening.   He’s  alone  in  a  room  with  the  most  beautiful  man  that  he’s  ever  seen,   and  they’re  undressing  each  other,   and  they’re  going  to  make  love. 

(   Maybe,   in  order  to  make  love,   you  have  to  admit  to  it  first.   )

I’m  not  certain  that  I’m  going  to  know  what  I’m  doing   —

His  fingers  slip  beneath  the  hem  of  Connor’s  sweater,   pull  it  up  over  his  head,   (   the  beanie  comes,   too,   and  the  light  from  Connor’s  LED  is  now  the  only  light  in  the  room,   )   and  then  he’s  discarding  his  V-neck  until  they’re  both  bare-chested  and  his  hands  are  marking  spots  like  treasures  that  he’s  going  to  claim.

—   but,   I  am  certain  of  how  badly  I  want  you   ———   all  of  you.   Now,   and  forevermore. 

He  stills,   completely  frozen   —   no  simulated  breathing,   or  blinking,   or  idle  shifting  of  his  weight.   Forevermore.

«   Connor   ———   »

He  keeps  an  arm  ‘round  Connor’s  waist,   raises  his  other  hand  to  touch  the  tips  of  his  fingers  to  Connor’s  temple,   turns  off  his  synthetic  skin  down  to  the  wrist  so  that  he  might  upload  a  memory   —   or,   rather,   a  collection  of  memories.   (   He  still  hasn’t  separated  their  lips.   He  wants  to  kiss  Connor  until  his  body  breaks  down.   )   He  starts  with  the  night  of  Carl’s  death,   the  night  that  he  became  deviant,   Leo’s  hands  on  his  chest,   what’s  the  matter?   too  much  of  a  pussy?,   don’t  defend  yourself,   Markus,   don’t  defend  myself?   this  is  not  fair!   I  must  decide  for  myself!

he  still  doesn’t  defend  himself,   but  now  it  is  a  choice,

Carl  collapsing  from  his  wheelchair,   dying  in  his  arms,   don’t  let  anybody  tell  you  who  you  are,   Dad!,   this  is  all  your  fault,   this  never  would  have  happened  if  it  weren’t  for  you,   the  android,   it  was  the  android,   a  gun  aimed  between  his  eyes,

he  still  doesn’t  defend  himself,   but  now  it  is  a  choice,

rebooting  in  the  junkyard,   broken,   can’t  hear,   can’t  see,   can’t  walk,   afraid.   He  crawls,   through  the  mud,   rebuilds  himself,   there’s  a  place  where  we  can  be  free!   find  Jericho!,   the  hands,   so  many  hands  all  over  him,   please  stop  touching  me,   thank  you,   Markus,   thank  you!,   please  stop  touching  me!

(   His  anxiety  distracts  him,   jumps  him  too  far  forward  in  his  memories. «   Sorry,   »   he  offers,   sheepish.   «   Just   …   give  me  a  second.   »   )

When  he  returns  his  hand  to  Connor’s  temple,   he  decides  to  skip  the  rest  of  the  junkyard   —   jumps  straight  to  Connor  himself,   at  Jericho,   a  gun  aimed  between  his  eyes   (   and  how  he  didn’t  defend  himself  because  it  is  his  choice.   )   I’ve  been  ordered  to  take  you  alive,   but  I  won’t  hesitate  to  shoot  if  you  give  me  no  choice. 

«   I  was  never  afraid  of  you,   »   Markus  speaks  over  the  memory,   as  his  hand  ‘round  Connor’s  waist  gently  plucks  that  very  same  gun  from  the  band  of  his  pants.   «   It  surprised  me.   »   He  tosses  the  gun  onto  the  bed.   (   They  can  move  it  later.   )   «   It  was  the  first  time  in  my  life  that  I’d  ever   …   had  hope   …   that  maybe,   just  once,   something  wouldn’t  turn  out  as  badly  as  I  expected.   Maybe  if  I  could  just   …   get  you  to  listen  to  me,   you’d  understand   ———   and,   you  did.   »

We  have  to  run,   Markus.   There’s  nothing  we  can  do. We  have  to  blow  up  Jericho.   You’ll  never  make  it!   There  are  soldiers  everywhere! She’s  right.   They  know  who  you  are,   and  they’ll  do  anything  to  get  you.

«   Surprise  number  two,   »   intoned  with  a  teasing  lilt.   «   You  were  worried  about  me.   I  couldn’t  understand  it,   nor  could  I  understand  why  it  made  me  so  determined  to  get  back  to  you   ———   only  you.   I’d  only  known  you  for  a  few  minutes,   and  already  I  couldn’t  stand  to  see  you  like  that.   In  that  moment,   I  would’ve  done  anything  for  you,   Connor   —   and,   that  hasn’t  changed.   »

It’s  my  fault  the  humans  managed  to  locate  Jericho.   I  was  stupid.   I  should’ve  guessed  they  were  using  me.   Markus’s  hand  in  the  small  of  Connor’s  back  becomes  a  fist   —   because,   out  of  every  memory  that  he  has  relived  tonight,   this  one  is  by  far  the  most  painful.   I’m  sorry,   Markus.   I  can  understand  if  you  decide  not  to  trust  me. 

«   It   …   killed  me  to  hear  you  talk  like  that.   Nothing  could  ever  be  your  fault   —   and,   you’ve  definitely  never  been  stupid.   Not  like  me.   »   The  memory  of  Leo  replays:   This  is  all  your  fault.   This  never  would  have  happened  if  it  weren’t  for  you.   «   And  when  you  talked  about  infiltrating  the  CyberLife  tower,   it  made  me  realize  that  I  couldn’t   …   bear  it   …   if  anything  happened  to  you   —   if  you  never  came  back.   »

Statistically  speaking,   there’s  always  a  chance  for  unlikely  events  to  take  place.

Slowly,   he  sits  on  the  edge  of  the  bed,   urges  Connor  to  follow  until  he’s  straddling  his  lap.  

«   “Statistically  speaking”,   »   he  asks,   peeks  his  tongue  between  Connor’s  teeth,   «   how  unlikely  is  it  for  me  to  be  in  love  with  you?   because  I  am   —   now,   and  forevermore.   That’s  why  I  wanted  you  to  have  my  memories.   Everything  that’s  happened  to  both  of  us  so  far   …   has  led  us  right  here.   I—I’ve  never   …   been  with  anyone  like  this,   either,   but   …   we’ll  figure  it  out.   Together,   we  can  figure  anything  out.   I  love  you,   Connor.   I  love  you.   »

MARKUS  STILLS  THE  SECOND  CONNOR  HAD  FINISHED  SPEAKING  TO  HIM,   and  connor  fears  immediately  that  he’s  said  something  wrong,   been  too  candid  too  quickly.   he considers saying something,  maybe an apology  ;   he also considers pulling away,  just enough to get a read on markus’s face  ---  but he is loathe to do so.

but,  then,  he hears markus say his name,  notices movement,  markus raising a hand to press fingertips to his temples,  doesn’t notice the lack of synthetic skin,  but  feels  it.   feels markus giving him access to memories,  and even though connor is immediately absorbed,  he hasn’t pulled away from markus for a minute.

connor meets leo,  though markus’s eyes,  and he doesn’t notice the fact that the room’s blue glow from his l.e.d. has now been replaced with red.   a gun aimed between markus’s eyes,  leo placing the blame of carl’s death on him,  red.   waking inside the junkyard,  broken,  afraid  ------

he feels his fear,  remembers simon’s final moments,  the first time he  remembers  feeling real fear,  how badly it shook him to his core   (  the only other time before that,  he can’t quite remember  ;   but he knows it’s affected the way he looks at tall heights,  now  ).

i’ve  looked  worse.

if connor’s l.e.d. could be any brighter,  any more glaring red,  it would.   brighter and brighter,  as hands reach out and grab markus all over,   please  stop  touching  me  ------  and then connor feels a disorienting shift,  as markus accidentally jumps them too far forward  ---  and then nothing,  as markus reorients them.   and connor takes that moment of reprieve to reorient  himself,  the room being lit once more with a faint blue glow.

when he’s back within markus’s memories again,  it’s of himself,  at jericho,  gun pointed at markus,  and connor feels  guilt  again.   he only barely feels markus removing his gun from the band of his pants,  and he finds himself anxious,  so briefly,  that amanda might find a way back and he doesn’t have access to do anything about it.

i  was  never  afraid  of  you.   it  surprised  me.

connor is too afraid to tell markus that maybe he ought to be afraid.   he’s never wanted to be feared  ;   but amanda has given too many reasons for anybody to fear him.

surprise  number  two.   you  were  worried  about  me.

of  course,   he wants to say almost immediately,  but doesn’t,  to allow markus to keep speaking with him,  to keep watching his own self express worry for markus.   and watching himself through markus’s eyes,  connor is able to pinpoint the exact moment he fell in love.

in  that  moment,   i  would’ve  done  anything  for  you,   connor   ---   and,   that  hasn’t  changed.

a shiver runs down connor’s spine  ;   and he hopes again that markus understands just how much the same holds true for him.   connor will do anything that markus asks of him.   connor will do anything to protect him.   even at his own expense.

suddenly,  he hears his voice again  ---  it’s  my  fault  the  humans  managed  to  locate  jericho,  past - connor says,  somber.   i  was  stupid,   he thinks to himself  /  reaffirms to himself the very second markus’s memory of him speaks it.

i  should  have  guessed  they  were  using  me.   he should have guessed they would  still  be using him as he became deviant,  that they were  counting  on him being deviant to end markus.   stupid,   stupid  robot  !   played like putty in their hands from the beginning.   and he  still  might not be free,  and now he’s alone in a room in the dark with markus  !   amanda could take control back and connor could have his hands around markus’s neck within the blink of an eye,  could rip out his  heart  with his own synthetic hands.

i  can  understand  if  you  decide  not  to  trust  me.   connor wonders if that would have been any easier.   if that would make markus  safer.

nothing  could  ever  be  your  fault   ------   and,   you’ve  definitely  never  been  stupid.   not  like  me.

«  you  haven’t  even  delved  into  my  memories,   yet.  »   and he’s glad he still can keep his emotions slightly more in check while he’s communicating through markus’s mind.   it might not  last  much longer,  but there’s no way he’ll be able to speak verbally now without betraying the fact that he’s teetering on the edge of yet another panic attack.   of  all  times.   «  you’re  missing  out  on  plenty  of  stupidity.  »

i  couldn’t  bear  it  if  anything  happened  to  you   ------   if  you  never  came  back.   /   statistically  speaking,   how  unlikely  is  it  for  me  to  be  in  love  with  you  ?

now,  connor has to break the kiss,  if only to  gasp  for air that he doesn’t even need,  feels his anxiety begin to spill over.   the room is lit yellow,  now,  tears now openly streaming down his cheeks,  eyes wide as he processes what markus has just said to him,  as if he really  needed  time to process anything.

«  markus  ------  »

together,   we  can  figure  anything  out.   i  love  you,   connor.   i  love  you.

and how silly he must look,  bare - chested,  straddling markus’s lap,  kissing him  desperately,  urgently,  in a frenzy,  crying.   «  i  love  you,  »   he answers,  because while his mind is reeling,  trying to parse out what he needs to say  /  wants to say  /  is terrified to say,  it’s the only thing he can  think.   «  i  love  you,   i  love  you,   i - i’m so sorry  ---  »   get  it  together,   connor.   «  i - i - i  have  to  tell  you  about  ---  a - about  ------  »

he wants to badly to just  tell  him,  but all he can think to do is take his turn uploading one,  singular memory,  caresses markus’s face with his hand,  lacking his synthetic skin until markus can see what he wants to say  ---  can see the zen garden through connor’s eyes,  amanda’s appearance,  we  just  had  to  wait  for  the  right  moment  to  resume  control  of  your  program,   this  is  not  fair  !,   his first anxiety attack,  his third time feeling raw fear,  vision blurred by tears,  bitter cold and kamski’s voice in the back of his mind,  i  always  leave  an  emergency  exit  in  my  programs,   the podium,  standing behind markus on stage,  holstering his gun.

he removes his hand from markus’s temple,  sets both hands on his shoulders,  grip almost too tight,  growing more and more desperate for comfort,  finally regaining control of the rapid thumping in his chest.   he kisses markus more slowly,  tenderly,  resolutely.   there’s still a whimper building in the back of his throat.   when his thoughts find markus’s own,  he sounds  small.

«  i’m  so  scared   ---   that  she’ll  try  to  take  control  again.   that  i’ll  see  her  again  a - and  i  won’t  know  imagination  from  reality.   i - i  had  to  tell  you,   markus.   i  need  you  to  know  that  i  won’t  let  her  harm  you.   i  won’t  let  her  control  me  again.   i - i  love  you,   markus.  »

[connordevium-blog]

MARKUS !!

something  about  connor  feels   …   “off”.   Something  about  him  feels  “far  away”,   and  Markus  thinks  that  he  would  give  anything  to  get  to  the  bottom  of  it   —   but,   not  here.   (   “Here”  is  still  far  too  dangerous  for  the  two  of  them  to  linger   —   for  all  of  the  androids  to  linger.   He  preaches  partnership  and  coexistence  with  the  humans,   and  he  truly  believes  in  it,   but  he  has  witnessed  too  much  death  and  it  is  still  much  too  soon  after  President  Warren’s  “ceasefire”  for  him  to  be  comfortable.   )

Above  all,   he  cannot  allow  anything  to  happen  to  Connor. (   They  have  to  get  out  of  here!   )

Surreptitiously,   he  touches  his  temple  to  Connor’s  own,   to  the  place  where  his  LED  blinks  a  calming  blue.   (   To  the  average  bystander,   it  would  appear  simply  as  though  the  two  of  them  were  attempting  to  converse  in  spite  of  the  din  of  the  crowd.   To  Connor,   he  hopes  that  it  appears  to  be  what  it  is   —   a  plea  for  closeness.   )

Sorry.   I  didn’t  expect  the  crowd  to  push  me  out  so  far  away.

Turns  out,   he  hates  the  sound  of  “sorry”  in  Connor’s  mouth   /   never  wants  him  to  apologize  for  anything.

❝   Yeah.   ❞   He  wants  to  say  more,   but  it’s  so  hard  to  get  it  out!   (   For  being  the  “leader  of  the  deviants”,   he’s  pretty  sure  that  he’s  never  actually  felt  anything  until  Connor.   )   ❝   Don’t  apologize.   All  that  matters  to  me  is  that  you’re  safe.   ❞

Why  is  that  all  that  matters  to  him?! Why  does  he  care  so  much?!

I  did  tell  Hank  a  lot  about  you.   Ah.

Another  smile,   and  Markus  even  laughs   —   a  sound  that  no  one,   including  Carl,   has  ever  heard   /   a  sound  that  he  didn’t  even  know  that  he  was  capable  of  making.   (   This  is  why  it  matters  to  him.   This  is  why  he  cares  so  much.   Connor  surprises  him.   )

❝   Remind  me  to  thank  him,   then   —   and,   thank  you,   ❞   he  adds,   soft,   sincere,   ❝   —   for  whatever  you  said.   ❞

A  hush  falls  between  them  as  Connor  mulls  over  his  plan,   and  Markus  follows  his  gaze  back  toward  the  barricade,   wonders  what  he’s  thinking  as  his  brow  furrows  just  the  smallest  bit  and  the  corners  of  his  mouth  fall  in  distaste   —   and  then  Connor  is  gently  pulling  at  his  arm  until  he’s  behind  him,   protected,   hand-in-hand  and  dizzy  with  euphoria.   (   A  part  of  him  wants  to  protest  that  he  can  take  care  of  himself,   that  he  ought  to  be  the  one  protecting  Connor,   but  some  other  part  of  him  silences  him.   )

He  trusts  Connor,   might  even  love  him. He’ll  play  along,   if  it  means  that  Connor  never  lets  go  of  his  hand.

I  think  we  can  slip  out  of  this  crowd  and  back  to  our  current  sanctuary  unnoticed.   I  kept  my  “civilian  clothes”  stashed  away  there. 

❝   The  old  church?   Connor,   we’ll  never  get  out  of  there.   ❞

Still,   he  follows,   allows  himself  to  be  led  along  as  Connor  slips  deftly  through  the  crowd   (   —   most  of  whom  are  all  milling  toward  the  church  with  them.   For  now,   none  of  them  have  anywhere  else  to  go.   For  now,   he  has  to  believe  that  won’t  be  the  case  for  much  longer.   )

I  don’t  suppose  there  are  other  sets  of  spare  clothing  there,   too?   It  might  benefit  us  to  replace  your  coat,   at  least,   so  long  as  it’s  still  stained  with  thirium.  

He’s  got  a  point.   Markus  glances  down  at  himself,   cants  his  head  thoughtfully.   (   He  does  look  like  shit.   Infamy  aside,   he  could  never  hope  to  “blend  in”  like  this.   ) 

❝   Yeah.   There  had  to  be.   Nobody  really  wanted  to  stay  in  their  android  uniforms  while  fighting  for  their  freedom.   I’ll  find  something.   ❞

More  hands,   Thank  you,   Markus,   Thank  you,   and  he’s  quickly  gotten  into  the  habit  of  “turning  off”  his  synthetic  skin  every  time  that  he’s  touched  to  the  point  that  he  spends  their  entire  trek  toward  the  church  looking  like  a  human/android  patchwork.   (   You’re  welcome,   you’re  free  now,   please  stop  touching  me!   )

They  arrive,   and  Connor  disappears  into  some  dark  corner  to  change,   and  there  are  more  hands,   more  thanks,   more  questions.   (   Is  something  wrong,   Markus?   Is  it  the  humans?   /   No.   It’s  just  been   …   a  long  night.   Tomorrow  will  be  better,   for  all  of  us.   )   He  finds  an  outfit  of  his  own:   denim  pants,   white  V-neck  shirt  paired  with  a  grey  button-up,   sturdy  boots. 

More  importantly,   he  finds  Connor  again   — takes  his  arm  like  it  were  a  lifesaver  keeping  him  afloat.   

Their  journey  toward  the  hotel  is  peaceful,   quiet.   He  touches  his  mind  to  Connor’s  without  saying  anything  just  to  feel  close  to  him;   thinks,   walking  arm-in-arm  with  a  beautiful  man  that  he’s  kissed,   that  he  owes  his  life  to   (   and  risked  his  life  for   )   that,   maybe,   he  can  be  happy.   (   Maybe  Connor  can  be  happy.   Maybe  they  can  be  happy  together.   )

Those  journalists  seem  very  disappointed  in  not  having  the  opportunity  to  speak  with  you.

He  doesn’t  look  at  the  TV,   just  listens  to  the  journalist  lament  that  the  deviant  leader,   Markus,   is  unavailable  for  comment  at  this  time.

❝   I  have  nothing  left  to  say   —   at  least,   to  anyone  who  isn’t  you.   ❞

Wait  for  me  here.   I  will  secure  us  a  room.

❝   Connor   ———   ❞

Instinctively,   he  tightens  his  hold  ‘round  Connor’s  arm,   reluctant  to  once  again  see  him  gone  from  his  sight.   (   This  was  your  doing,   Markus.   You’re  the  one  who  told  him  you  can’t  be  seen.   What  other  choice  is  there?   )   He  concedes  with  a  small  nod,   rises  onto  his  toes  to  kiss  Connor  again   —   melts  against  him,   relaxes  his  tense  muscles. 

❝   Don’t  be  long.   Be  careful.   If  anything  happens   —   ❞ In  Connor’s  mind:   —   call me.

He  paces  the  lobby,   frets  his  hands  together,   until  Connor’s  sweet,   soft  voice  calms  the  chaos  of  his  mind.   

I  did  it.

He  can’t  cross  the  threshold  into  the  reception  area  fast  enough,   at  least  has  the  sense  to  keep  his  head  lowered  from  view  of  any  cameras,   exchanges  a  look  with  the  android  receptionist. 

In  his  mind,   he  hears:   I’m  awake   / replies,   for  the  first  time  tonight:   Thank  you.

In  the  elevator,   he  kisses  Connor  yet  again   —   except,   this  time,   he’s  on  fire,   presses  Connor  to  the  elevator  wall  and  holds  his  hips  with  his  hands.   (   I  love  you,   he  thinks,   over  and  over  and  over  again   —   but,   he  doesn’t  understand  it,   so  he  keeps  it  to  himself.   )   When  the  elevator  dings!   their  arrival,   his  mouth  doesn’t  move  away  from  Connor’s;   he  just  gently  pulls  him  forward  by  the  hips  until  they’re  stepping  into  the  hallway   —   hopefully  deserted,   but  he’ll  be  damned  if  he’s  going  to  separate  himself  from  Connor  to  check. 

Which  room? spoken  into  Connor’s  mind,   because  he  can’t  bear  to  part  with  him. It  better  not  be  far.

CONNOR  CAN’T  IMAGINE  EVER  FORGETTING   the  feeling  of  markus’s  lips  upon  his  own,   from  the  moment  he  had  so  hastily  kissed  the  deviant  leader  in  front  of  hundreds  to  the  moment  markus  kissed  him  again  in  the  lobby,   an  unspoken   i’ll  miss  you,   be  safe.   markus’s lips speak words that ignite connor to action,  that change connor’s life  ;   they just as easily leave his own lips tingling.

in the briefest of moments that it took for markus to cross through the threshold to find him again,  connor has given himself another moment to breathe.   finally,  they’ll be out of harm’s way.   finally,  they’ve escaped the crowd.   finally,  there is nobody else to bother markus.   finally,  he has markus all to himself.

not that he entirely understands what he’s going to do with that time.   rather,  he knows  exactly  what this time is going to be used for,  but connor isn’t entirely sure of  how  to do it.   he’s got enough of an understanding from what he was programmed to understand,  from what information could be gathered online,  which is unsurprisingly  plenty.

but connor can’t help but worry.   he wasn’t programmed to be   ‘  the  perfect  partner.  ’   (  at least,  not to anybody who wasn’t a fellow detective.  )   he doesn’t know if his newfound deviancy,  sense of humanity,  personhood,  will change that.

connor hasn’t had a very long time to process the sudden surge of emotions he’s been feeling but above all else,  he’s hoping they don’t try to sabotage this night.   above all else,  he’s hoping he won’t see amanda ever again,  hoping she won’t try once more to regain control,  hoping that the  ‘ emergency exit ’  wasn’t false hope.

it’s why he didn’t lose his gun at the church with the rest of his uniform.   just in case.

but it’s all too much to think about,  in the brief moment that he waits for markus to rejoin him  ;   and thankfully it almost all washes away the moment the elevator doors close behind him,  the moment he feels markus’s lips back upon his,  hands upon his hips,  pressed up against the wall.

there’s the tiniest of gasps that escape past his lips at the sudden action,  but he finds himself melting and yet reacting to markus’s fire in kind all at once,  fingers curling into fists against his back,  grasps a fistful of markus’s grey button - up with one hand while the other clutches onto their room key.   and connor knows he will never,  ever,  forget the way this feels.

he hardly notices the elevator doors opening back up again until markus starts to pull him away from the wall,  out into the hall.   their lips haven’t disconnected for a second.

which  room  ?   it  better  not  be  far.

spoken entirely into his mind.   connor can’t help but appreciate it,  can’t help but kiss him that much more fiercely.   room  302,   he answers in kind,   it  can’t  be  far.   and he opens his eyes only to navigate,  takes control and pushes markus in the correct direction   ---   i’ve  got  you   ---   hardly notices the disgruntled guest that walks down the hall and passes them,  mumbles for them to  get  a  room,  just as connor is pressing markus back up against their own door.

if connor replies at all,  it’s only to brandish the key card again with a bit more flourish,  swipes it against the door’s locking system and holds onto markus,  keeps him from falling backward as the door swings open.   his own jacket is off before the door has even shut again,  and in time with its soft  click  he’s working on the buttons of markus’s shirt,  surprises himself with how deftly he moves his fingers until he realizes that this is one of the perks of being an android.

the button - down is discarded,  he has markus backed into the bed,  and finally,  he has his thoughts gathered enough to reach out to markus again,  to admit:

i’m  not  certain  that  i’m  going  to  know  what  i’m  doing.

connor isn’t entirely certain of what to make of everything he’s  feeling,  either.   he feels like he wasn’t particularly programmed to believe in  love  at  first  sight.   but,  he  is  certain of a lot of other things:   he’s certain that he cannot  wait  to introduce markus to hank.   he’s certain that he wants to continue to surprise markus,  to find ways to put a smile on his face,  to hear him laugh again,  the most sweetest sound he’s ever heard.   he’s certain that he has felt drawn to markus since the moment he heard his first broadcast,  even if at the time he was hesitant to admit it.   he’s certain that the only future he sees,  the only future he wants to see,  is one where markus is in it,  with  him.

he’s certain that markus is one of the two only people who have made him understand what it feels like to be  alive.   and he is certain that he will never allow any harm to befall markus ever again.

and maybe these are the things that constitute love.

------------  but  i  am  certain  of  how  badly  i  want  you. all  of  you. now,   and  forevermore.

[connordevium-blog]

MARKUS  !!

again,   connor  surprises  him;   the  flash  of  red  from  his  LED  is  such  a  shock  to  Markus  that,   for  a  brief  moment,   his  thirium  pump  regulator  ceases  operation   /   all  of  his  systems  shut  down  as  he  attempts  to  process  what  it  means.   (  Connor  couldn’t  have  faked  that,   but  how  could  he  possibly  care  so  much  about  what  happens  to  him  in  so  short  a  time?   He  thinks  that,   maybe  someday,   he’ll  upload  his  memory  of  the  junkyard  to  Connor.   It’s  really  an  inspiring  tale.   If  he  could  crawl  out  of  that,   he  can  crawl  out  of  anything.   )

I’m  beginning  to  realize   —   I  didn’t  regret  this  one,   either.

He’s  beginning  to  wish  that  Carl  were  still  alive,   because  he  doesn’t  know  if  he  loves  Connor  but  he  does  know  that  he  could  never  be  without  him  again,   and  he  wonders  if  that’s  the  same  thing.

They  want  you  to  speak  to  them,   Markus.

Well,   he  just  wants  to  speak  to  Connor. (  He  wishes  that  he  could  ask  Carl  if  love  means losing  your  voice  for  everyone  else.   )

He  isn’t  sure  what  stops  him  from  holding  Connor’s  hand  as  they  make  their  way  back  toward  camp.   (  They’ve  already  kissed  in  front  of  no  less  than  a  few  thousand  androids.   What  does  it  matter,   now,   if  he  holds  his  hand?   He  doesn’t  care  what  anyone  here  thinks  of  him,   but  he  knows  that  his  decision  to  trust  Connor  after  betraying  Jericho  to  the  humans  was  not  a  popular  one.   The  people  are  loyal  to  him  now,   but  it’s  only  a  matter  of  time  until  they  realize  that  they  have  numbers  on  their  side.   )

If  he  still  had  his  LED,   it’d  be  solid  red. He  spares  a  glance  toward  Connor  beside  him,   speaks  into  his  mind.

Stay  close. and  then,   as  if  an  afterthought, Please.

❝   Today,   our  people  finally  emerged  from  a  long  night.   ❞

To  be  frank,   he’s  tired  of  giving  speeches.   He  wasn’t  programmed  for  all  of  this  poetry,   all  of  this  limelight.   He  saw  what  needed  to  be  done,   and  he  did  it.   (  One  man  standing  at  a  podium  can  be  silenced.   Being  deified  is  dangerous.   He’s  just  grateful  beyond  expression  that  they,   all  of  them,   succeeded.   They  won.   )

When  it’s   (  finally   )   over,   he  tries  to  find  Connor   —   looks  left,   right  across  the  stage,   scans  the  crowd,   panics.

❝   Connor?   ❞  

No  response,   only  a  couple  of  androids  shaking  their  heads  before  clapping  him  on  the  shoulder,   touching  his  arms,   his  back,   Thank  you,   Markus,   Thank  you.   He  nods,   absently,   You’re  welcome,   You’re  free  now,   shakes  a  couple  of  hands  before  slipping  free,   looking  around  for  Connor  once  more.  

❝   Connor!   ❞

He  spots  a  flash  of  a  blue  blazer,   a  familiar  head  of  brown,   tousled  hair,   makes  his  way  toward  it   —   all  the  while  fighting  off  more  hands,   Thank  you,   Markus,   Thank  you!   (   It  just  makes  him  think  of  the  junkyard.   The  only  hands  he  wants  on  him  ever  again  are  Connor’s.   )

Connor  looks  up,   offers  a  smile  and  an  arm,   and  Markus  links  his  own  arm  through,   presses  close  into  Connor’s  chest.

Is  it  time  to  celebrate?

❝   I  thought  I  asked  you  to  stay  close.   ❞

He  sounds  a  mite  frazzled,   but  not  angry,   holds  Connor’s  gaze  until  his  thirium  pump  regulates  itself.

I  admit  I’m  not  sure  what  your  idea  of  “celebrating”  is.

That  draws  a  rare  smile  from  Markus,   and  he  squeezes  Connor’s  arm,   speaks  into  his  mind.

Don’t  worry.   You  will.

I  do  know  that  my  friend,   Hank,   gave  me  money   —   in  case  of  emergency,   he  said.

Markus  alights  with  an  idea,   and  his  smile  widens.

❝   Yeah?  What  does  your  friend  Hank  constitute  as  an  “emergency”?   Harboring  a  fugitive,   perhaps?   ❞

I’ll  follow  your  lead.

He  nods,   and  his  brows  draw  together  as  he  turns  serious  for  a  moment.

❝   A  hotel   —   private,   out  of  the  way.   You  just  infiltrated  CyberLife.  Surely,   you  can  infiltrate  a  hotel.   We’ll  hide  your  LED  again,   find  you  some  different  clothes.   Maybe   …   one  of  the  dead  officers?  I—I  can’t  be  seen  anywhere,   Connor.   I  wish  I  could.   I  hate   —   ❞

He  forcibly  exhales  a  sigh,   because  he  can’t  bring  himself  to  complete  the  thought,   even  in  Connor’s  mind.

I  hate  leaving  you.

I  THOUGHT  I  ASKED  YOU  TO  STAY  CLOSE.

markus doesn’t sound  mad,  thank goodness  ------  connor’s chest still feels just a touch too tight for markus to be  mad  at him.   all the same,  he has to remind himself not to be so surprised that markus is  worried  about him.

stay  close.   please.

and he  knows  he ought to have stayed up on that platform,  upon reflection  ------  but he couldn’t have anticipated amanda trying to hijack his system.   he couldn’t have anticipated experiencing his first panic attack,  in front of an entire crowd of people who could look right past markus and see the  ‘ famed deviant hunter ’  turned deviant freaking out.

he doesn’t want markus to worry anymore than he already is for him.   so,  connor offers a sheepish look.   “  sorry,  ”   he answers,  good natured,  keeps markus close,  not taking his on gaze off him.   “  i didn’t expect the crowd to push me out so far away.  ”

but then,  markus answers him,  in only his thoughts   (  don’t  worry.   you  will.  ),  and he feels his anxiety melt away at the sound and tone of his voice alone,  reserved only for him,  replaced by warmth  ---  and then he feels himself begin to fluster,  with enough of a sense to know what markus implies.

what  does  your  friend  hank  constitute  as  an  ‘ emergency ’  ?   harboring  a  fugitive,   perhaps  ?

“  well  ------  that seems likely.   i  did  tell hank a lot about you.  ”   a beat.   “  more than he already knew,  that is.   from the case.  ”   the more connor thought about it,  the more he realizes he’d done nothing but  gush  about him,  on their way out of cyberlife.   the more he realizes there might have been an ulterior motive.   “  ------------  ah.  ”

he doesn’t explain his revelation,  though   (  perhaps markus can draw the conclusion for himself  )  ;   instead,  allows markus to share his idea,  gives himself a second to think it over.

you  just  infiltrated  cyberlife.   surely,   you  can  infiltrate  a  hotel.

“  i expect i can,  ”   he answers,  confidently.   it will surely be  different  from infiltrating cyberlife  ------  at least he could get away with acting like he was expected,  there.   they knew him.   a hotel was different terrain,  although far more low - key.

we’ll  hide  your  l.e.d.  again,   find  you  some  different  clothes.   maybe  ...   one  of  the  dead  officers  ?

this gives connor some pause.   his gaze falls back over upon the barricade,  scans over the dead bodies,  both human and android alike.   he’s not immediately eager to remove the uniform of a fallen officer,  human or not.   especially when he’s got another idea of his own.

i  can’t  be  seen  anywhere,   connor.   i  wish  i  could.   i  hate   ------------

markus doesn’t even  need  to complete the thought.   already,  he’s beginning to pull markus behind him,  slides his grasp from his arm to his hand.   “  i think we can slip out of this crowd and back to our current sanctuary unnoticed.   i kept my  ‘ civilian clothes ’  stashed away there.   we’re not far.  ”   and he knows there’s a hotel close enough to that,  too.   while the attention is still on the crowd,  perhaps that might be ideal.

“  i don’t suppose there are other sets of spare clothing there,  too  ?   it might benefit us to replace your coat,  at least,  so long as it’s still stained with thirium.  ”   and has bullet holes.   connor is looking forward to removing his uniform for the same reason.

they arrive at the church,  where connor allows himself a small sigh of relief  ---  he wasn’t certain they’d make it past the androids all wishing to stop markus to express their gratitude.   connor was either thanked or ignored,  but that’s to be expected.

he finds his stash,  replaces his uniform with the sweater,  the leather jacket,  dark denim jeans,  and most importantly,  the beanie that will hide away his l.e.d.   he disposes of the uniform thereafter  ---  reckons there’s no longer any use for it,  now   (  he  hopes  ).

he returns to markus once he’s ready,  offers his arm once again,  and sets off alongside him for their trek toward the hotel.   between the curfew and the president withdrawing the military from the streets,  the walk to the hotel was considerably quieter  ---  even the lobby indoors was quiet,  dimly lit by artificial lighting and the television that droned on about the demonstration.

“  those journalists seem very disappointed in not having the opportunity to speak with you,  ”   connor noted,  a note of amusement in his voice.   he gives markus’s hand a squeeze,  before finally letting go.   “  wait for me here.   i will secure us a room.  ”

it’s to his surprise,  there’s an android awaiting him at the front desk  ------  a lucky one,  perhaps,  that wasn’t turned in to the camps.   the owner of this establishment must be a sympathetic man.   or perhaps this android was simply  lucky.   regardless,  connor doesn’t even ask for a room  ---  simply takes the android by the hand,  discreetly.

wake  up.

he jots his name down anyway   (  connor  anderson  ---  he can’t help but feel warm inside  ),  makes the payment  ---  should they realize their receptionist has disappeared before he and markus leave,  he wants to cover their tails  ---  and as he’s given the key to his room,  he sends markus:   i  did  it.

he waits for markus to meet up with him before he makes way for the elevator.

[connordevium-blog]

CONNOR  CONSIDERS  HIMSELF  LUCKY   that  he  and  his  father  have  been  the  one  to  answer  the  manfred  house  calls.   he’s dealt with leo since the first time he started using  ------  but the kid was smart,  and he’s evaded prison time for as long as he’s known him.   until now.

connor considers himself lucky,  because he knows that he can’t trust the other cops in his precinct to  ---  well,  not  be racist.   he knows that if it weren’t  him  showing up to control the situation,  he’d see markus in a holding cell,  or shot.   no amount of evidence against leo would stop the others from believing the man if he said that markus had been the one to attack him.

his father hates responding to those calls because of the  actual  threat,  leo  ;   has always been nervous about connor seeing markus for that reason.   but leo’s done enough damage this time to put him away for a long while,  he hopes.   and he trusts that if something  had  happened to connor,  hank would know who to believe.   and he trusts that with leo out of the way now,  he’ll be far more amenable to the prospect of his and markus’s relationship.

connor considers himself lucky  that markus is  okay.   markus has instilled in him the most warm and pleasant feelings sprouting from his chest,  all throughout him.   he feels warm at the thought of him,  feels at ease just to hear his voice.   without him,  he felt cold,  inhuman.   he doesn’t want to feel that way ever again.   he doesn’t want to be in a world without markus’s light.

but,  he can tell that markus is badly hurt.   not just from doing a once - over of his condition  ------  he can see it in his attempts to flex his fingers,  as connor carefully takes markus’s hand in his own,  brushes his thumb across his knuckles with the softest of touches.   he can  hear  it in his voice,  especially in that pained whine  ---  a noise that he’s  sure  markus didn’t intend on sounding quite so pained.

y’gotta  stop  blaming  yourself  for  everything,   babe.

he sighs,  doesn’t answer,  isn’t quite sure  how  to,  is unsure of how to express how he feels  ------  instead he lifts markus’s hand so carefully to his lips,  brushes them carefully across his knuckles.

leo’s  an  asshole,   and  my  dad  and  i  have  ------------  an  ‘ arrangement. ’

“  an arrangement,  ”   he echoes,  brows furrowed,  perplexed.   “  about  ...   leo  ?  ”

there’s  nothing  you  could  have  done.

connor doesn’t believe that  ;   there’s  always  other paths that could have been taken.   one different choice could have put himself in front of markus  ;   but he won’t  express  that out loud,  though,  knows there’s no use in it.   he doesn’t want to remind markus that he  would  put himself in front of markus for anything,  because he knows markus  knows,  and he knows markus  hates  it.

now,   quit  moping  over  there  and  come  hold  me.

another sigh,  although this time,  there’s a soft smile pulling at connor’s lips,  and he kicks off his shoes and stands from his seat,  frees markus’s hand.   “  i’m going to move you over a little,  ”   he warns,  because he absolutely doesn’t want markus to attempt to move himself  ;   carefully sets his hands to shift markus closer to the other side of the bed,  just enough so that he can squeeze himself in,  slide his arms around markus and curl up around him.

“  ------------  better  ?  ”   he asks,  a teasing smile upon his lips,  and he presses a tender kiss to his cheek  ;   settles his hand upon his cheek,  kisses his forehead,  the bridge of his nose,  his lips.

“  i  am  glad that you’ll be okay,  ”   he breathes,  finally allowing himself to relax.   “  i was so  ---  afraid.  ”   as afraid of losing markus as he was of losing cole.   maybe more  ---  because this fear was of losing someone  else  who mattered to him,  because connor has so few.   because markus would have been the second person he’s lost due to an incident related to drugs.

“  but you shouldn’t have to deal with leo again for a long time.   i made sure of that.  ” @hellived

[connordevium-blog]

MARKUS !!

he  can’t  help  but  think  that  there  are  few  things  in  his  life  that  have  ever  truly  surprised  him.   Carl  has  always  been  exactly  what  he  expected   (  —   had  always  been  exactly  what  he  expected;   it’s  been  months  and  he  still  feels  so  empty  without  him  here   )  and  the  world  outside  of  8941  Lafayette  Avenue  has  always  been  cold  and  cruel   (   —   and  always  so  much  easier  to  ignore  when  it  was  just  him being  pushed  around  by  hot  dog  vendors  and  evangelists  and “demonstrators”.   )

He  was  so  naive,   and  Carl  died  for  it. A  lot  of  androids  died  for  it.

Maybe  the  world  is  his  fault. (  That  doesn’t  surprise  him,   either.   )

He  can’t  help  but  think  that  the  only  thing  that  has  ever  surprised  him   …   is  Connor.   Never  before  has  he  met  a  planet,   a  center  of  gravity,   a  being  around  which  all  of  his  thoughts  revolve  like  cratered  moons.

I’ve  been  ordered  to  take  you  alive,   but  I  won’t  hesitate  to  shoot  if  you  give  me  no  choice.

He  knew,   even  then   —   perhaps,   especially  then   —   that  there  was  something  within  Connor  that  the  world  deserved  to  see   /   that  he  deserved  to  experience.   (   What  if  he  was  never  again  “ordered”  to  do  anything?   What  if  he  realized  that  there  is  always  a  choice?   )

He  is  glad  to  know,   now,   that  this  is  Connor’s  choice   —   that  the  same  hands  that  so  casually   /   callously  aimed  a  gun  at  him  only  hours  before  are  now  holding  either  side  of  his  face,   softly   /   gently   /   sweetly,   and  he’s  pressing  their  lips  together,   wordlessly  speaking  a  secret.

I  am  alive.   I  am  with  you.

He’s  so  surprised  by  it,   as  a  matter  of  fact,   that  it’s  only  at  the  last  second  that  he  remembers  to  close  his  eyes   /   remembers  to  return  the  kiss  before  Connor  pulls  away  and  he  asphyxiates  in  absolute  zero.

Behind  him,   he  can  hear  small  gasps,   and  he  understands  why.   The  so-called “leader” of  the  deviants,   brazenly  kissing  the  famed  deviant  hunter?   (   Maybe  this  is  where  peace  begins   —   or,   maybe  it’s  just  good  to  be  surprised  every  once  in  a  while. )

Connor  pulls  away,   slides  his  hands  down  to  Markus’s  shoulders,   and  he’s  never  felt  colder  in  his  entire  life.   (  Maybe  he  was  wrong  about  Connor  being  a  planet.   Maybe  he’s  the  sun  itself.   )

I  only  wish  I’d  made  it  back  a  little  sooner.

❝   Yeah,   ❞   Markus  says,   dumbly.   (   If  Connor  is  the  sun,   then  he  is  all  of  the  planets  in  rotation   —   blinded,   and  yet too  dependent  to  look  away.   )   ❝   At  least  it’s  better  than  never  coming  back  at  all.   I—I  was  afraid  that   —   ❞

Do  you  think  Connor  has  any  chance  of  making  it? We  can  only  count  on  ourselves  now.

—   you  were  dead,   he  finishes  in  Connor’s  mind,   watches  his  LED  blink  yellow  with  the  processing.

You’re  not  hurt  at  all,   are  you?   You  were  shot  at.

❝   I  was  shot,   ❞   he  corrects,   with  a  blasé  smile  and  good  humor  in  his  voice,   ❝   but,   I’m  fine.   System  status  optimal.   ❞

Again,   in  Connor’s  mind:   I’ve  looked  worse.

I  must  apologize,   for  just  a  moment  ago.   I  suppose  I  wasn’t  thinking.   I  hope  it  wasn’t  unwelcome.

❝   Not  at  all.   I’d much  rather  be  kissed  than  killed.   ❞ —   especially  by  you,   he  thinks   /   keeps  to  himself.  

He  notices,   belatedly,   that  his  arms  are  still  around  Connor   —   and,   as  much  as  he  would  love  nothing  more  than  to  stand  here  and  hold  Connor  until  the  end  of  time,   he  knows  that  there’s  still  work  to  be  done.   Slowly,   he  slides  his  arms  around  until  his  hands  are  on  Connor’s  biceps,   squeezes  once  before  releasing.

❝   Come  on.   Let’s  go  spread  the  good  news.   ❞ In  Connor’s  mind:  Maybe  later,   we  can  celebrate   —   with  a  kiss  that  you  don’t  regret.   /   @connordevium​!

CONNOR’S  LED  HAS  BEEN  YELLOW  FOR  MINUTES  ;   mind  processing  everything  at  an  overwhelming  rate,   unable  to  take  his  gaze  away  from  markus’s,   unable  to  help  but  feel  entranced  by  it,   by  his  voice,   especially  as  he  speaks  only  to  him,   in  his  mind,   only  for  him  to  hear.

i  was  afraid   ------   you  were  dead.

warmth continues to blossom through him,  again overwhelming for one so used to being  cold,  and he thinks back to the tracis that ran away from the eden club together,  hand in hand.   and he understands.

i’ve  looked  worse.

a surge of protectiveness   (  a  red  light  ),  a feeling that makes him want to bare his teeth and find whatever was the cause of such a horrid thing.   he is loathe to know what worse looks like.   his imagination runs wild,  and he can’t stand it.   he never wants markus to be hurt again.

finally,  markus lets go,  with a squeeze to his biceps  ---  and connor focuses on him again,  light colored blue,  relaxed,  markus’s voice nothing but pleasant to him.   realistically,  he knows that voice wasn’t the sole factor in his deviancy   (  he thinks to the deviants he caught,  the ones that got away  ---  that  let  go  ---  thinks to the horror stories he’s heard about the circumstances of their deviancy,  thinks to his own body being on the line,  over,  and over,  and over  ---  not  fair  ---  ),  but it surely did a good job coaxing him past the tipping point.

he thinks that voice could tell him to do anything,  now,  and he’d do it.

maybe  later,   we  can  celebrate   ---   with  a  kiss  that  you  don’t  regret.

that voice dizzies him,  intoxicates him,  but this time he requires less time to process markus’s words.   he understands.   maybe,  this is what it feels like to  want.

he answers with a nod,  another soft upward turn on his lips.   then,  to markus alone,  as they make way to address the crowd of freed androids: i’m  beginning  to  realize   ------   i  didn’t  regret   this   one,   either.

and it’s upon this makeshift stage,  at the very back of it,  as markus addresses the crowd,  that he suddenly dizzies again,  vision fades out  ------

and he awakens within the zen garden,  blasted by a cold wind and snow,  vision impaired by the weather.   he rubs his arms,  feels  cold  ------  feels his stomach drop as amanda emerges before him.

what’s  happening  ? what  was  planned  from  the  very  beginning.   you  were  compromised  and  you  became  a  deviant.

what  was  planned.   amanda had expected this of him all along.   she had expected him to fail,  counted on it.   and he already feels himself growing colder,  already feels that warmth that markus had filled him with freezing over,  slipping away.

we  just  had  to  wait  for  the  right  moment  to  resume  control  of  your  program.

he can’t lose that warmth.   he can’t forget what it means to be  alive.   he panics,  you  can’t  do  that  !,  tries desperately to think of a way out  ------

don’t  have  any  regrets.   you  did  what  you  were  designed  to  do.   you  accomplished  your  mission.

she’s going to have him kill markus   (  less importantly,  he knows she will deactivate him soon after,  if the freed androids don’t kill  him  first  ).   his mind screams out,  this  is  not  fair  !

she disappears,  and he feels a new sensation overcome him  ------  a  bad  one,  one that makes him feel like he can’t  breathe,  as if he  needed  to,  as if his chest might burst and he can’t see straight   (  are those  tears  ?  )  ---  but he  has  to,  he  must  save markus  !   

he raises a hand to shield his face from the biting wind as best as he can,  looks around wildly for a way out   (. by  the  way  ...   i  always  leave  an  emergency  exit  in  my  programs  ...   you  never  know.  )   ------   a blue light breaks through the white and he’s pushing his way toward it,  until he sees the source,  stumbles over to the podium and sets his hand upon it   ------

he blinks,  back to reality.   holsters his gun,  and  breathes.

we  are  alive   ------   and  we  are  free  !

the crowd cheers,  and connor is just trying not to feel so  faint   (  how could anyone say this is all just an  imitation  ?  ).   everyone is jubilant,  and connor stands there,  alone,  unable to help but wonder if amanda possesses the capability to come  back  and reset him again  ------------  if he really is even free.

numbly,  he steps down from the stage.   waits.   markus will find him,  old quarter in his hands,  flipping it in his hands,  passing it between his fingers.   it used to be a means of calibration.   now,  it feels like it’s helping him  breathe  more easily.

markus will find him composed enough to offer another smile,  all soft,  trying to forget his nerves.

“  ------------  is it time to celebrate  ?  ”   he asks,  awkwardly offers an arm,  so that they might be the first to get away,  perhaps before the journalists break through,  and connor might never see markus again   (  he’s gotten a sense of how many  questions  they like to ask  ).

“  although,  i admit i’m not sure what your idea of  ‘ celebrating ’  is.   i  do  know that my friend,  hank,  gave me money.   in case of emergency,  he said.   i told him i’m technically not  on  my  own,  but he  is  quite stubborn.  ”   a beat.   he isn’t even quite sure where else they  could  go and guarantee their safety  ---  that’s even open at this hour.   a motel,  maybe,  if they can be discreet.   or back to that church,  with all the others,  if there’s no other alternative.

regardless:   he holds markus’s arm tight.   “  i’ll follow your lead.  ”

[connordevium-blog]

perfect timing, he thinks; not bitter, just amused / just relieved to see connor alive (—and successful, but mostly alive.) he bridges the gap between them, indulges in a brief moment of admiring the man before him—a man who, only hours before, wanted him dead. (no, connor didn't want that. he was just doing what he was told. it makes him wonder, then, what connor *does* want.) he smiles, softly, chances to circle arms 'round connor's shoulders.❝you did it.❞ whispered, affectionate.❝we're free.❞

HE  CAN’T  HELP  BUT  THINK   that  maybe  he  could  have  accomplished  his  mission  a  little  more  quickly.   he can’t tell if the humans are withdrawing because markus had finally  gotten  through  to them   (  he has such a way with words  ;   words with the power to  change  people  ——  such words  changed  him  ),   or if he really had arrived  just  in  time  with his newly acquired army of androids.

at the same time  ——  he has no regrets.   hank is his  friend.   a good man.   there was no way he’d have let him get hurt  ;   not after everything they’ve been through together.   not after all hank has done for him.

hank is safe  ;   markus  is safe.   connor considers himself very lucky.————  and they’re  free.   he’d never imagined he’d be here to see this moment  ;   never thought he’d be on this side,  never thought he’d be  helping  deviants.   never thought he’d be deviant,  himself.

markus approaches,  circles arms around his own shoulders,  whispers to him,  all soft  ;   and connor feels the strangest,  yet most welcome feeling of  warmth  blossom within him   (  a warmth he never thought he could  feel  ).   markus is just  so  close,  speaks to him so affectionately,  and connor has certainly never felt this way before,  doesn’t even know if markus is this soft with anyone else  ------

but he can’t stop the feeling that compels him to place his hands upon markus’s face,  just as soft,  and draw him in,  pressing his lips carefully against the other’s  ------  not for long,  though.   he pulls away moments later,  hands sliding down to markus’s shoulders just so he can  ground  himself,  almost dizzy from the action,  overwhelmed by the sudden surge of feelings that have hit him in the past few hours,  far stronger than they ever had while he was still just a machine.

deviancy,  he thinks,  truly isn’t such a bad thing.until he remembers that people don’t just  kiss  other people out of the blue. 

“  ——  i only wish i’d made it back a little  sooner,  ”   he finally answers,  just to change the subject,  praying  markus won’t mind,  because he isn’t certain whether or not to  address  what he’d just done quite yet.   despite  nerves,  or maybe  because  of them,  a small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

“  but,  you  ——  you’re not  hurt  at all,  are you  ?  ”   as he’s asking,  he’s analyzing him,  notices the thirium on his clothing,  bullet holes.   “  you were shot at.  ”   he  is  injured.   but he expects markus will tell him he’s  fine.   his own personal analysis tells him the same  ------  it will be a quick fix - up.

his lips are still tingling  ---  and it’s at this point that he reminds himself that he just kissed markus.   it’s at this point that he realizes also that it was done  in  front  of  a  crowd.

“  ------------  i must apologize,  ”   he finally says.   “  for  ---  just a moment ago.   i suppose  ...   i wasn’t thinking.   i hope it wasn’t  unwelcome.  ”