Shadow Mine 5
Title: Shadow Mine
Fandom: Detroit: Become Human
Characters: Hank, Connor, Fowler, Sumo
Rating: T
Word Count: 3,263
Summary: It's a dead end. With no leads to go on, Hank and Connor find themselves lost in their investigation, nothing left to do but return home. Instead, Hank tries to get through to his partner and help him through the intricacies of personhood. It's a long road ahead of them, and is this only the calm before the storm...?
AO3
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Hank was starting to wonder if this day was ever going to actually end.
It was late, the sun having set by now. Jeffery Fowler sat in front of him, looking down at his tablet with narrow eyes, his mouth a thin line. Hank’s report was on there; paperwork was no longer done on actual paper anymore, but that was how it was now. When Hank had been young, everyone always said that everything would be electronic in the future. Sometimes, he forgot that he was living in that future. Even his own partner was wire and plastic instead of flesh and bone.
“So the long and short of it is,” Fowler said after he’d spent a good five minutes going through Hank’s work, “we’ve got sweet fuck all.”
“Pretty much.” Hank replied. His shoulder was aching something awful. Was it time for his pills yet? Had to be. “I mean, we could’ve had something, but you thought it’d be a good idea to put that fire cracking piece of shit Gavin on the case too. I thought you wanted ‘the best’, not, ‘the bottom of the fucking barrel’.”
“Reed’s a good detective,” Fowler said, but Hank could practically hear ‘when he wants to be’ hanging in the air after the statement. “This isn’t a game, Lieutenant. You know how this is going to look if we can’t solve it? We’ve got a good man dead and an android gone too. Everyone’s on high alert.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Hank said, barely biting back his anger. “Shit, Jeffrey, we’ve got no damn motive. All we know is her model number and vaguely what she looks like, but there could be a hundred other androids out there that are her spitting image. Dammit it, this is gonna do more harm to them all as a whole, public ain’t gonna take lightly to this.”
Hank didn’t know much about Markus other than what he’d seen on TV and what Connor had told him, but he had to admire the dedication that he’d put into the immense task of fighting for his people’s rights. An incident like this was only going to be one big ugly mark on everything his revolution had stood for, was only going to damage the message Markus had been sending. Fowler leant forward on his desk, chin on his linked hands, and sighed. “The analysis on the bullets found in both Glennister and Zack is still in progress, so we’re hoping there’ll be a match on the gun to help us find the suspect. In the meantime, we’ve got jack shit to go on. Go home, Hank. There’s nothing else we can do right now.”
Hank scoffed. “No way. This ain’t over, Jeffrey, there’s gotta be something—”
“If there was, I’d be working your ass off on it. You’re still injured, Hank, you shouldn’t even be here. Get the hell out of my office and go home. I’ll call if anything comes up.”
Hank genuinely wanted to fight him on it. Logically, he knew he was right, knew that there really wasn’t anything to be done, but damn if it didn’t still piss him off. How could one android manage to kill not one, but two members of the DPD and still manage to evade them?
It was easy to blame Gavin, but Hank knew that the AX400 would have probably escaped even if the detective hadn’t nearly gotten himself killed by running out into traffic. Emotions had been high, and because of it Decker hadn’t noticed that the AX400 had never left the scene. There’d been no warning that she’d been there. Hank had assumed that forensics would have scoped the area out before actually starting any kind of investigation. None of them had been ready for a chase.
He left the office and found Connor at his desk opposite Hank’s, flipping his coin up and down. Hank had asked him why he did the tricks once, and Connor had given him some longwinded explanation about recalibration alongside other android jargon that Hank didn’t understand. It was bullshit anyway. He thought that Connor did it because he enjoyed the rhythmic action of it, an act of deviance long before he’d officially broken out of his programming.
A cup of coffee was on Hank’s own desk, still steaming, freshly made. Hank grabbed it by the handle and took a careful swig. It was black, perfectly to his liking. It burned a soothing path down his throat. “You made this?” he asked.
Connor wasn’t listening to him. His eyes were focused on the coin, watching it as he went up and down. “I don’t understand.” he said. “First a human, now an android. It makes no sense. Why would the type of target change? Has the MO changed?”
Clink. Clink. The coin hit his fingers and he threw it in the air again. Again. “She was angry, I think.” Clink. “But also, she held so little regard for her own life. When she ran into the road, I don’t think she was attempting to get Gavin to follow her.” Clink. “No. She was just trying to escape and she didn’t care if she died trying.”
Hank didn’t speak, just kept his mouth shut for once. Connor’s eyes stayed on the coin the entire time, tracking it up and down. “If she doesn’t care for her own life, that suggests she has little to live for. But why take the lives of law enforcement? Why attack and kill her own people? I can’t understand it. I feel like I’m…”
“Hitting a wall?” Hank suggested, putting the coffee mug down in front of Connor. “Yeah, I get that. I’m feeling the same way.”
The thunk of the coffee mug diverted his attention away from his coin. He looked at the steaming mug, and then closed his eyes, leaning back in the chair. When he said nothing, Hank decided to pursue a different line of questioning. “You made the coffee for me?”
“I thought it was better than you returning home to a bottle of alcohol.” Connor said, keeping his eyes closed. “I checked it myself before serving to make sure it matched the coffee you usually make for yourself at home.”
Hank suddenly regretted drinking it. “You put your goddamn fingers in my coffee for a taste-test?”
“No.” Connor’s lips quirked upwards slightly. “But I would be lying if I said I hadn’t considered doing so, and we both know you can apparently tell when I’m not being entirely truthful.”
Well, that was a relief. Hank took another swig, and then sat in his chair. “So tell me Connor,” he said. “What the hell possessed you to run out into that fucking road today?”
Connor’s eyes flicked open again. He was leant so far back in his chair now that he was practically reclining. Staring up at the ceiling, he folded his arms across his chest. “My chance of catching the suspect was far lower than successfully rescuing Gavin, so I chose the option with the better prospects.”
“Okay, great. Glad to hear what your programming thinks.” Hank said. “Now let’s hear what you were really thinking.”
Connor blinked several times in succession. Hank couldn’t see his LED from this angle, which made it more difficult to gauge just how stressful Connor found the question. He rarely showed his emotions on his face. “I was thinking that I would regret it if I let Gavin die there when I knew I could save him. I didn’t want to feel that way. But I…” Connor frowned. “I was scared.”
Hank raised his eyebrows, but waited. It was human nature to want to fill silence with chatter. If he left it long enough, he hoped that the deviant in Connor would respond to that want, and lo and behold, he did. “I realised that by saving Gavin, I would be putting myself in a great deal of danger. When I ran into the road, I kept thinking, will this be the last thing I do? Will these cars be the last thing I hear? See? I’ve died before, but I didn’t really understand it then like I do now. My predecessor—the Connor that died in Stratford Tower—was he scared too?”
Hank remembered Connor throwing himself in the way of that gunfire, the way Hank had thought he might have survived only to pull his body up off the ground and find him riddled through with bullets. Though he knew Connor used to be able to back himself up infinitely, he’d never thought of the separate Connor’s as different beings, not like how Connor differentiated them now.
But was it so unlikely that the Connor sat before him was not the same one he’d met in the bar? The one that had held Hank hostage had been entirely different to his Connor despite sharing the exact same memories. What a chilling thought. He wasn’t drunk enough for this kind of chat.
“Fear’s a good thing, son.” Hank said, realising that Connor was not looking for an answer to his question. He’d dealt with him for long enough now to recognize the cues that Connor gave off, how to respond to him in a way that Connor would respond back to. Right now, he was unsure in a way only an android could be, still dealing with emotions that were new and complex. “Fear’s what keeps us alive. You were scared because you thought you might die, and that’s normal, Connor. The fact that you ran out into that road to save someone else even though you were scared? That was bravery. Fucking stupid and I could have killed you for it, but credit where credit’s due.”
Connor sat back up in the chair, leaning forward, his hands on his knees. “I think I needed to hear that.” he said softly. Mission accomplished, Hank thought. “What did the Captain tell you?”
“That we’ve got nothing and we should go home.” Hank sighed. “We’re still waiting on results and shit to come back, so I guess he’s probably right. You ready to head on back?”
Connor cast a longing gaze at the terminal on his desk. “No.” Hank said. “I know what you’re thinking, and you’re not staying here to work yourself half to death over information we don’t have. We are going home to get some food and rest.” he paused. “Well, I’m going to bed. You’re going to do whatever it is you androids do when you’re tired.”
“I don’t get tired.” Connor said. “It’s impossible—”
“Connor,” Hank said, standing up. “Don’t fight me on this. We’re going.”
Connor looked like he wanted to argue the point, but he relented. “I’m driving?”
“Yeah, you’re driving. I don’t see me behind the wheel anytime soon.”
--
Sumo was waiting for them when they got back, ready to jump Connor as soon as they got through the door. Hank left them to their reunion and refilled his bowl for him before heading back to his room to change. Getting dressed one-armed was an absolute bitch. He couldn’t wait for it to heal.
When he went back to the kitchen, Connor had left out his pills for him. He was in the living room now, talking gently over the phone with someone. Hank caught wind of the words pepperoni and sausage and couldn’t help but laugh. If someone had told him this time last year that he’d have an android in his house ordering him pizza, Hank would have told them to put the bottle down and move on.
Hank downed the pills and leant on the doorframe. “What’s this?” he said. “You sure you didn’t hit your head when that AX400 shoved you over?”
Connor, who had taken up residency on his claimed side of the sofa, shook his head. “I ran a diagnostic after we returned to the office. I’m fully functional.”
Hank wasn’t sure if that was a joke or not. Connor often intentionally made it difficult to tell. “You say that, but here you are, ordering pizza. I was just going to chuck something in the microwave and then head to bed, you know. It ain’t like the pizza’s more healthy than whatever I could have made in five minutes.”
A beat. Connor looked rather sheepish. “I just thought it would be easier. If it isn’t to your liking, I can always cancel—”
“No, no, don’t do that.” Hank cut in quickly. “I was just saying, I thought it was weird. Usually you’re in there cooking up a storm out of whatever you’ve decided to bring home this time, I never even get a look in anymore. Always healthy and never fun, bleugh, I thought this was my house.”
“You still eat it though,” Connor pointed out. “Anyway, I decided that it would be more beneficial to the both of us if I ordered in. So I did.”
“Oh I get it.” Hank said, and he was grinning now. “That’s a fancy way of you trying to say I couldn’t be bothered. Don’t worry, Connor, you can say it, I’m not going to judge you.”
Connor crossed his arms, clearly offended. Hank outright laughed at him. “Go get changed,” he said. “I’m tired of seeing you in that uniform. It’s like work being at home with me and I just want to forget about what we don’t know right now. Also, I don’t know if you realise it, but the blue bits can get fucking obnoxious in low light. It’s giving me a headache.”
What Hank really wanted was for Connor to dump the jacket entirely. As far as he knew, most other androids had gotten rid of their uniforms already. Connor, however, still bore his model number and Cyberlife branding like a badge of pride. Why, Hank couldn’t figure out. Was the jacket that important? Or did Connor not yet feel like he’d integrated enough to remove it?
He came back in wearing a grey, long sleeved shirt and a black pair of trousers. It was the plainest outfit combo Hank had ever seen, and yet it was a miracle he’d ever gone that far. One time Hank had told him to get changed and he’d come back sans jacket but still wearing the exact same getup. When Hank had questioned him on it, he’d just said something to the effect of, “It doesn’t matter what I wear,” and ended the conversation at that.
“You ever gonna buy yourself some other outfits?” Hank asked.
Connor glanced down at himself. “Clothes are expensive, and it isn’t as if I need a surplus of different shirts.”
“Yeah, but don’t you get bored?”
“No.” Connor replied bluntly. He sat down and turned the TV on. “I’m going to go into stand-by, so feel free to watch what you want.”
Hank gave him a look. “I thought you said you weren’t tired.”
“I don’t get tired.” Connor said, echoing his statement from earlier. “I just need to stop thinking for a while. I don’t get headaches like humans do, but I feel like there is a great deal of stress on my system. It’s unpleasant.”
“Not gonna stick around for the pizza you ordered?”
“I can’t eat it regardless. And I’d rather not see the calorie count of every slice.” Connor’s smile was a sardonic thing. “If you need me, just shake my shoulders. I’ll wake up.”
“Right.” Hank said. “Wait, you’re gonna just do that sitting up?”
Too late. Connor’s eyes flickered unnervingly and then fell shut, his body going rigid. Sumo padded over from the kitchen, sitting in front of him and wagging his tail. “Christ almighty. Yeah, you’re not getting any pats out of him right now, Sumo, kid’s a fucking statue.” he paused, prodding Connor in his side as a test. Yep. He wasn’t moving anytime soon. “Does he always do it this way?”
Sumo cocked his head, and then pawed at Hank’s leg. “What? What’s up, boy?”
More pawing. For such a big dog, Sumo could sure act like a puppy when he wanted to. His doorbell rang at that moment, signalling the pizza. He sighed and got up. “Alright Sumo, give me a minute.”
The pizza wasn’t delivered by an android, like Hank was used to, but an actual human for once. Times really were changing. Connor had paid in advance, so as soon as the pizza was in hand, Hank was heading back to the living room.
Where Sumo had stolen his seat and curled up next to Connor.
“Oh, so these are the new sleeping arrangements.” Hank said, shaking his head. Connor hadn’t wanted a bed, or even a room. He was content with leaving his pile of limited clothes in Hank’s room and chilling on his side of the sofa when he wasn’t busy. “I was wondering why there was so much dog hair on my couch. I swear, what’s he done to make you love him so much huh? It’s all the petting, ain’t it?”
Sumo looked at him expectantly. Hank flipped the pizza box open and took a slice from it. “You want it? Come get it.”
Sumo looked back at Connor, and then laid his head on his leg. “Oh wow. Now that’s a damn sight. Probably for the best, he’d kill me if he found out I let you snack on pizza.”
He ate two slices of the pizza before calling it a day. Connor had ordered something too large for even him, and he was just one man on his own. He put the remains in the fridge for the morning; they’d make for a good snack on the way to work.
The Whitfield files were still on the floor by his kitchen table where Connor had left them. Hank retrieved them and chucked them on the side to be forgotten about. It sucked, but the dead shop assistant would have to wait. “Alright, Connor, Sumo,” Hank announced. “I’m heading to bed. Don’t fuck anything up, hear me?”
Sumo barked his affirmation. Connor, who was still deep in stand-by mode, said nothing.
Sleep came easy after the day he’d had. He would have been content to be late to work in favour of his bed, except he was rudely awakened by his phone going off by the side of his bed. Damn, he knew he should have put the thing in airplane mode.
He grabbed it off the side and fumbled for the accept call button. His shoulder was killing him again. “What?” Hank said blearily, not even giving the caller ID a look.
“Morning to you too, Hank.” Fowler’s voice was tinny down the line. “Where the hell are you?”
“In my bed, enjoying some well deserved sleep.” Hank replied. “What the fuck are you doing calling me at—” he checked the time. “—what the hell? It’s barely past seven, I’m not even late!”
“Another cop’s been killed.” Fowler said, his voice clipped. “The media’s got hold of it, it’s all over the fucking news. I’ve got the android she was partnered with going apeshit and everyone’s losing their goddamn minds. I need you, Hank.”
Hank closed his eyes, a heavy sigh in his throat. “Human this time who died, huh?”
“Yeah. We’ve scoped out the scene, the AX400 is gone. I’m sending you the location, you know what to do.”
He hung up at that. Hank opened his eyes, stared at the ceiling, and contemplated handing in his badge. “Fuck this all to hell.”