#worried is what connor means. markus seems Concerned. *has* seemed concerned.
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@jericholeader sent a meme but actually this didn’t turn out to be a response to the meme because i ended it here. but here is a this.
It was called a Spontaneous Breathing Test. It was a prerequisite for extubation, which Connor had been told he’d failed twice in the past (he believed them, though he had no memory of the attempts and rarely failed anything at all), a period of two hours where they switched off the ventilator and waited to see how well his body breathed on its own. There were criteria to fulfill for an SBT and many of them were right at the start: the first breath in, the ability to cough “adequately” (whatever that meant), whether it was harder to draw air off a ventilator than it was on it.
He was past the first hurdles this time. The first breath was a little delayed, but he drew it in with a rasp and then a cough, hand grasping at Markus’ (he could not lift his head to find him). The focus it required worried him. Like he might somehow forget to breathe if he wasn’t paying close attention, but the alternative was staying intubated. Nobody had said much about it, but Connor was a Detective. He did not need to be able to lift his head to catch the feel of the room when they considered leaving him intubated longer still, longer than it had already been.
Shit, was what Connor would have said, if he had been able to speak, at this point. Breathing for himself, even with a tube down his throat, made a lot of it sharper somehow. The way his ribs ached, the cuts and scratches on his hands and neck (some of them defensive wounds; some of them a murder attempt), the bone-deep tired that probably had taken those memories of the first two attempts, and may well take this one. The fact he wanted Markus there, and it was a shame he could not see him. Instead of swearing Connor squeezed his hand, now, and Markus returned it, murmuring something patient and warm. This must have been awful for him. It was unfair, vastly unfair, that they were here, when Markus should have been moving on from time in an ICU room and courtrooms and being scared.
Connor rolled his head just that fraction of a distance that meant he could find Markus, now, sitting behind him and close enough Connor could see the much-later-than-five-o’clock shadow that he’d been feeling every time Markus pressed a kiss to his knuckles, or temple, or hair. Likely Markus just hadn’t considered it much of a priority, but he liked him like this, Connor thought. He had always liked when Markus’ facial hair got a little longer. Scruffy. A little bit scratchy. Maybe not to keep, but it was nice, to see it every once in a while. He would see many more of Markus’ five-o’clock-shadows, probably.
It was warm to think about. He remembered very recently thinking he would not see Markus, or anyone, again.
Two hours wasn’t long at all, Connor decided, when Markus leant forward to brush a thumb over his cheek and offer a book, or sketching, to fill in the time. Connor liked to watch him sketch. It was easier to follow than the cadence of Markus’ voice as he read aloud, though he had the sense Markus had done that quite a bit, these last few days (days? weeks?). Time had a way of disappearing inside hospital rooms, and so far breathing was maybe a little uncomfortable, but not hard. The difficult part would be staying awake the whole two hours, and he would not -- did not -- have to do that on his own.
#ventilation tw#intubation tw#hospital tw#breathing tw#strangulation tw#idk#*tags all the triggers*#ask to tag#ic#jericholeader#v; breathe (human)#does this finish? i don't know but this is where i stopped writing i don't. even know if it's repliable but it's Where I Stopped Writing#anyway. connor ft. being extubated shortly hereafter#and the first thing he says is#whispered and hoarse and not even really enunciated properly but it's#a breath that's meant to be 'hi'. but it's more of just an exhale. but:#''Hi.'' / ''Hey.'' / ''.... You look cold.''#worried is what connor means. markus seems Concerned. *has* seemed concerned.#but cold is the word because it is also true#he seems cold#that is one of the first things connor would say#thanks for coming to my ted talk
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How a Family is Built
Chapter 1: It Starts with a Couple of Good Friends
Connor took some time on his own after the revolution. It had seemed like the most fitting thing to do. Very few androids trusted him, though he couldn’t blame them, so he didn’t believe he would be that welcome at Jericho. The hug he and Hank had shared had been nice but there was a defined line between coworkers and housemates that Connor didn’t feel that he would be permitted to cross. Not to mention being temporarily unemployed meant that he wouldn’t be able to contribute to the household which would have been unfair to Hank. He was CyberLife’s crowing achievement, he could figure something out.
As it turned out, there weren’t too many places that were willing to hire you when the only thing you had done was hunt your own kind, and failed at that too. Sure, he was one of the faces of the Revolution, but that seemed to hurt more than it helped him. Some places seemed to believe that he was applying for jobs to make a point instead of the fact that he actually needed one and turned him away. He considered a dog walking service but only briefly because as much as he liked dogs they didn’t always seem to like him. He assumed it was because he didn’t smell like anything organic and that meant danger in most cases.
So he wandered instead and picked up odd jobs when and wherever he could. He was intentionally vague about his whereabouts and what he was doing whenever Markus or Hank reached out to him. He was aware he was probably causing them more worry than relief, but he wasn’t ready to admit that his venture into the real world had been a failure. That despite all that he had been built to be he had failed.
He wasn’t sure how much of that fear was his own and how much of it was from what failure had meant for him before the Revolution. He was still trying to parse Connor from RK800. He was aware that there was only so much separation that could be done, but he still wanted to know the difference between his deviancy and his base code.
Hank and Markus would both say that it wasn’t important, but they also hadn’t had an angry AI rip everything out from under them. She had been quiet since CyberLife had been returned to Elijah, but he wanted to know what his natural state of being was just in case she ever returned. He wanted to know what normal was in the event he would have to fight his way back again. Hank would have called him paranoid, but he felt he had a right to be after everything that had happened to him. Reality was a luxury in his situation and he wanted to keep his grip on it as best he could. If that meant wandering aimlessly through Detroit then that was what he would do.
The thing about friends is that when they only hear from you on occasion and don’t see you for nearly a year apparently they get worried. Connor couldn’t explain what had happened to him between when he saw Markus at a cafe and when he woke up in Hank’s living room. Before this crash he hadn’t gone into proper stasis in months. He got a few minutes here or there, but never enough to sort out the ever growing pile of errors in his code.
“He finally back with us?” Came Hank’s voice from somewhere in the house.
“Yeah. He’s back online, he just needs a few moments to recalibrate.” That was Markus’s voice, and from far closer than Connor would have liked.
He was only made aware of the interface that had kept Markus so close to him because of the notification he received when it was terminated. He let his systems finish calibrating before he opened his eyes. He felt notably less sluggish now and the dread of the feeling that he had been slipping away from himself was nearly gone. He sat up carefully and took in his surroundings. He was in Hank’s house and it was much more clean that it had been on his last visit.
“Welcome back to the land of the living Kid.” Hank remarked as he walked into the living room with a bottle of thirium in one hand and a light beer in the other. Some habits refused to die he supposed.
“Thank you.” He said as he took the offered thirium bottle, “Sorry for taking up your couch.”
Hank rolled his eyes as he sat in the open space on the couch, “You can make it up to me by being honest about where you’ve been the past few months and why you haven’t been sleeping.”
“Androids don’t-” Connor started.
“It’s a turn of phrase Connor.” Hank cut him off, “Now out with it.”
“Take your time.” Markus said in a way that would have been reassuring if Connor hadn’t been so on edge, “I’m here if you would rather interface.”
He watched Markus pack up the laptop and various tablets he had likely been using to monitor him while he had been in stasis. Did he dare tell them the truth and admit to being a failure? It didn’t come with the same consequences as before but something about it still didn’t feel right. He didn’t want to face their disappointment. He was pulled out of his thoughts by Hank putting a hand on his knee.
“Nothing short of having gone back to tracking down Deviants is going to upset us Con, I promise.” Hank said and gave his leg a reassuring squeeze, “But you haven’t slept in close to six months and between that and never hearing from you, we’re worried. We just want to make sure you’re alright.”
“You’ve been checking for your Amanda program again.” Markus pressed, his tone was less frantic than Hank’s but the worry was still there, “We made sure that she was gone. Your Mind Palace is your own now.”
“Is that what’s bothering you Connor?” Hank asked.
“Part of it.” He admitted as he blinked away the stress warning that popped up on his HUD, “I want to be sure what I’m feeling is mine and not just my code. That it won’t be taken away again as soon as I make a mistake.”
He hadn’t meant to let all of that out, but once he had started he couldn’t stop the words from spilling out short of shutting off his vocal processor. Hank looked surprised and Markus looked worried.
“Connor, we wouldn’t let something like that happen to you.” Markus said as he reached out for Connor. His synthskin hadn’t fallen away but Connor knew he was offering to interface, to be a median if that would be easier. “You trust us don’t you?”
“Of course I do.” He agreed, “Its myself and my systems that I don’t trust. How do I know that I’m actually Deviant? How can we be sure this isn’t just another last ditch effort by CyberLife to undo everything? How do I know that any of this is real?”
“Alright, fuck this.” Hank sighed as he stood, “Time to get the dog. He’ll know if its you or not. You’re his goddamn favorite after all.”
Connor found himself looking around the room as he finally noticed the absence of a certain four legged beast. He set the empty thirium bottle on the coffee table and leaned back against the couch. That was all the time he had to brace himself. He heard an excited boof and the scramble of paws on the hardwood floor.
“Go find him, go find Connor.” Hank encouraged.
Connor found himself buried under an excited Saint Bernard only a few moments later. He felt himself smile genuinely for the first time in months. He buried his face and hands in the dog’s fur and felt a rush of relief. Sumo had recognized him, which meant at the very least that today was real. Had he been able to he would have cried.
“The big lug missed you just like the rest of us.” Hank said from behind him, “I had to pull him away from the door the first couple of weeks you were gone. He thought that every little sound on the other side was you.”
“I’m sorry.” He said from his place buried in Sumo’s side.
“Just keep in touch this time Kid.” He said as he laid a hand on Connor’s shoulder, “Or tell us where you’ve been staying so we can come and visit you instead.”
Connor hesitated for a long moment caught between lying; which would lower Hank’s concern; or telling the truth and making him upset. He settled for the truth, “I haven’t really been staying anywhere in particular.”
He was met with a long stretch of silence before Markus decided to speak up, “Do you mean that you have been homeless or something else?” The concern in his voice made Connor flinch.
“I don’t have a place to stay.” He confessed, “If I was working I would stay there if I was able to.”
He heard Hank sigh from behind him, “Connor you could have come back here if you needed to.”
“I didn’t want to disappoint you because I couldn’t do this on my own.” Connor said. He sat up but continued to pet Sumo who had finally calmed down, “I’m designed to be able to adapt and I couldn’t even get a job.”
“Stop that Connor.” Hank said firmly, “I wouldn’t have been disappointed. I know it seems like it, but I’m not mad, I’m just worried.” He walked around to the front of the couch so he could look Connor in the eye, “Finding a job is hard, it always has been, but the odds are stacked against you because of what you’re known for. I know its not what you want to do, but I can talk to Jeff about you coming back to the station.”
“There is always a place for you at Jericho as well if you would rather that.” Markus took a moment when he noticed Connor’s hesitation, “You can stay with me if that works better. We could always use a liaison with the police, I know it isn’t ideal, but we can give you that much until you can find something else that interests you.”
“There aren’t many androids that are willing to trust me. Are you sure it would be okay?” Connor pressed, “Police work feels too close too what I used to be.”
“You don’t have to decide today.” Markus replied, “You can stay wherever you are the most comfortable until you decide on something.”
“I don’t want to be a burden.” Connor deflected.
“Connor, we’re your friends. We wouldn’t be offering if we didn’t want you here.” Hank argued, “That aside, I really don’t think Sumo is going to be all that keen on letting you out of his sight now that you’re back.”
Connor looked down at the content Saint Bernard that had made himself at home in Connor’s lap and the space that was left on the couch. He supposed it wouldn’t be fair to any of them if he vanished again so soon after coming back.
“And if you wind up deciding you would rather go soul searching again we won’t stop you.” Hank continued, “All I ask is that you keep in touch this time around.”
Markus nodded his agreement, “Take a few days to rest. Think about what you want, and when you’re ready you can tell us what you decided on. We’ll wait as long as it takes.”
“We just want you to be happy Con.” Hank said, “That’s where it starts.”
“I’ll think about it.” He said eventually, “I missed you too, I think. Being back is nice at the very least.”
Hank and Markus smiled. “That’s all we could ask.” Markus said, “I’ve got to get back, but I’m only a ping or a call away.”
“Thank you.” Connor said as Markus grabbed his things and stood.
Hank ordered Sumo off of the couch and sat down beside Connor. “He worried more than he let on, we both did. We’re glad you’re okay.” Hank let out a sigh, “And I know its beating a dead horse at this point, but we care about you. If you ever feel like that again, please reach out. We can’t help you if we don’t know.”
Connor nodded, “I will try and be better.”
Hank smiled, “Good. Now let’s watch some shitty tv until you feel better.”
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Of Roses and Ravens Day 10
Detroit: Become Human Prompt Challenge from @connor-sent-by-cyberlife
Day Ten-Ace of Spades
Words-809
Ao3 or
“Alright kiddo, what’s up? Your light’s been yellow since you got home.”
Connor looked up at Hank, startled from his own thoughts. Admittedly, he had been distracted since he left New Jericho. It wasn’t surprising that the Lieutenant had realized something was on his mind.
He sat on the couch next to the android, concern in his features. “What’s wrong? Something not go right at the meeting?”
Connor shook his head. “No, the meeting was fine,” he assured him. “It went very well, in fact. Markus announced his engagement to North.”
Hank frowned. “And that upset you?
“No, of course not,” Connor insisted. “I am very happy for them I just…” He wasn’t sure how to word how he was feeling. “I think I might be broken.”
“What? Broken how?” The Lieutenant sat forward urgently, worry evident. “Why didn’t you have Simon take a look at you before you left?”
He shook his head, trying to ease the man’s concern. “Not broken like that, Hank. I just… I’m worried I may not be completely deviant.”
“That can happen?”
“It hasn’t happened before,” Connor admitted. “But I have no other explanation.”
Hank leaned back on the couch, observing Connor for a moment. “Ok, explanation for what? What’s going on?”
He looked back to Hank for a moment before dropping his gaze. “It’s just that…” How was Connor supposed to explain how he was feeling when he wasn’t even sure himself? “Markus has North. Simon and Josh have each other. Nines has… well, several people.” He met Hank’s eyes. “Even you were married once.”
Hank’s face was open and soft, trying his best to make sense of what the android was telling him. “So, you’re feeling lonely?” He guessed.
Connor shook his head again, looking back down. “No, that’s the thing, I’m not. It seems that it is natural to crave companionship, or at least intimacy, but I just… don’t.”
“Aw hell, kid,” Hank put his hand on his shoulder making him look up once more. There was nothing but kindness and understanding in the Lieutenant’s expression. “Connor, that doesn’t mean you’re broken.”
“It doesn’t?”
“No, not at all.” He gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Not everyone wants those things. Most of the people you know are either hopeless romantics or horny bastards, so it might not seem like it, but lots of people don’t feel those things.”
“So… this is... normal?” Connor couldn’t help the hopefulness from creeping into his voice.
"Yeah, it's normal," he told him with a smile. "Look, you've still got your other emotions and crap, right?"
Connor nodded. "Yes, that appears to be the case."
Hank leaned back, seemingly satisfied by the answer. "Then there's nothing wrong with you. You're just asexual. Probably aromantic too by the sound of it."
"I'm what?" Connor's face scrunched in confusion, unfamiliar with the terms.
Hank's eyes widened in surprise. "Shit, you've never heard those before? No wonder you're confused." He ran his hands through his hair. "Oh, boy. Ok. Look, you should probably just Google it. The internet'll give you a better definition than I can. I don't wanna fuck it up."
Connor did just that, thoroughly searching the web for information in under a second. He sat in silence for a moment, taking it all in, feeling as though pieces he didn't know existed were clicking into place. A warmth spread through his system. "That's… that's me."
He turned to Hank who met him with a warm smile. "Thought so," he said. "Honestly, I kinda had you pegged as Ace for a while, but you're the only one who can tell if a label fits you."
Connor nodded, almost overwhelmed by his revelation. "I think it does," he said. "At least it seems to."
"Good," Hank agreed. "As long as you know that there's nothing wrong with you."
"I'm not broken." It wasn't a question anymore. There was a name for how he felt, how he was.
"Damn right you're not." Hank leaned over and pulled him into a half hug for a moment, letting the android settle into the embrace before continuing. "You've got my permission to kick anyone's ass that says otherwise. Or, better yet, tell me and I'll kick their ass for you."
"Thank you, Hank," Connor smiled up at him before the man let him go.
"Eh, I didn't do shit," he responded, but ruffled his hair affectionately. "Now come on, we're missing the game "
The rest of the night was normal, both of them resuming their usual routine. But when Connor got home from New Jericho the next day, he found a new pair of socks waiting for him on his bed. They were black and covered with little spades. Each one had either a purple or green gradient to match the flags he only just learned about.
They fit him perfectly.
#dbh connor#dbh hank#dbhofrosesandravens#dbh prompt challenge#dbh fanfic#dbh fanart#detroit become human#d:bh
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Paint a Pretty Picture
Author: liketolaugh
Summary: Connor can't deal with change anymore. He can't deal with stress, can't deal with yelling, or arguments, or accusations or guilt. He can't make friends the way Hank wants him to, can't understand the things Markus asks of him- he can't, he can't, he can't.
Connor was so much better at being a machine than being a deviant.
So he goes back.
There were roses. Pretty red roses, blooming and perfect, and when Connor reached out the thorns scraped against his polymer skin.
He could taste the roses. He could always taste the roses.
Pretty red-
Red-
It was so cold.
He shut his eyes.
---
Everything was easier as a machine.
It was easy to talk. It was easy to smile. It was easy to accept Tina’s invitation to go out with her and Chris, and easy to brush off Reed’s hostility. Connor could see Hank hiding a grin, visible relief in the line of his shoulders, and it brought him a coffee made exactly how he likes it.
“Glad to see you finally stepping out of your shell, Con,” he said in an undertone, expression soft in a way reserved for Connor.
It calculated for a moment before giving him a small smile and a shrug. “I thought I should develop better working relationship with my coworkers,” it explained, reaching into its pocket and tossing its coin through a basic calibration sequence.
Hank snorted, the corners of his eyes crinkling in amusement. “Figures,” he grouched, and Connor analyzed the response and concluded that he didn’t mind, viewing the impassive response as one of Connor’s idiosyncrasies.
It chose not to reply, returning to its work and steadily pushing through it. Its performance had been lagging over the last few weeks as its stress levels built, but that problem had now been conveniently cleared away. While it had never fallen behind, it was gratifying to be able to continue to fill out the precinct’s backlog at a faster rate.
The other officers were rather trickier to deal with than Hank – it didn’t have as much experience with them, and it was difficult to respond in deviant-appropriate ways as a machine when it didn’t have the previous scripts to rely on. Still, Connor made do. Hank had clearly stated that he wanted it to create and maintain relationships with its coworkers.
Very clearly.
Still, they slowly began to warm up to it. Connor asked about Chris’ baby, and looked at the pictures as he showed them to it. It talked to Tina about her family, and responded to Reed’s jibes as it had as a deviant, carefully sardonic and just cutting the line of blatantly insulting. This seemed to please, if not necessarily Reed himself, than at least the other amused humans, Hank in particular, who ruffled its hair and grinned at it.
Connor smiled back, bright and perfect.
“Your boy’s not fitting in half bad, now he’s come out of his shell,” Ben remarked to Hank after a few days, tone warm as he lingered by Hank’s desk.
“What d’you mean, my boy?” Hank demanded of him, with no real aggression in his tone even as he scowled indignantly.
Ben snorted. “You know full well what I mean.” He glanced at Connor with a slight tilt of his head, giving it a small smile. “Rare to see such a polite young man these days. I mean, look at Reed.”
Connor laughed, soft and breathy, and Hank started visibly, eyes wide with surprise for the briefest of moments before he cleared the look away. Connor understood; as a deviant its laugh was rare, but its social routines dictated that laughter was the appropriate response to a joke. It was just lucky Hank had gotten it to laugh a time or two, before, or else it might have done it louder, more enthusiastic, like Tina’s or Ben’s, and Hank would have known.
Hank would not be quite as happy if he knew what Connor had done, it was certain.
For now, instead, Hank smiled at it, small but unmistakable.
“Polite, right,” Hank said sardonically, eyes warm. “That’s ‘cause he hasn’t really loosened up yet. Just you wait, Ben. He’s such a little shit.”
---
A week after it became a machine again, Connor went to see Markus in New Jericho.
Stares followed it as it traveled through the refuge, as they always did, but its LED remained a stable blue as it focused on its task. Fowler had requested advance warning on some of the laws Markus intended to try and pass, so he could best prepare his officers; Connor believed that this would be beneficial for everyone, so it had agreed to carry out the errand without complaint.
It knocked on Markus’ door and waited for permission before coming in.
Markus tensed when he saw it, a little shudder and a drop of his gaze. Connor tilted its head, closing the door behind it and coming inside.
“Good morning, Markus,” it greeted easily, sitting patiently in the chair across from Markus.
Markus gave it a strained smile.
“Hello, Connor,” he said quietly. “I wasn’t expecting to see you so soon- not that I’m upset!” he added quickly, as if it would be offended. “But I need to apologize for how I spoke the last time we saw each other. Times were desperate, and you acted desperately. I should have better taken that into account.”
Connor blinked, slow and placid. “It’s alright, Markus. I understand. My actions reflected badly on Jericho, and I refused to apologize. I’m sorry.”
Markus’ shoulders slumped. “No, don’t apologize. It’s a miracle you got out of Cyberlife Tower alive at all, let alone with our people. Of course you gave it everything you had.” He shook his head, face still scrunched in self-recrimination.
“It’s alright,” Connor repeated patiently. “You’re under a lot of stress due to your position. Of course you will speak impulsively at times, when it’s safe to do so.”
Markus exhaled, and then lifted his head and smiled wearily at Connor. “You’re right. Still, I’ll do better in the future.” He took a breath. “But, knowing you, that isn’t what you came here to talk about. Did you need something?”
“Captain Fowler requested notice on some of the laws you were planning on trying to pass,” Connor explained matter-of-factly. “As the law enforcement office in closest proximity to New Jericho, he thought it would be prudent to prepare his officers in advance. Would you be alright with this?”
Markus considered the idea, slow and careful, frowning slightly, and Connor waited.
“Alright,” he agreed at last. “I’ll share what I can.”
It took five more minutes for Markus to start giving it concerned looks. Ten after that to start frowning. And then another five and a slip-up on Connor’s part before Markus stiffened, realization dawning slow and awful over his face.
“Connor,” he breathed, “what have you done?”
Connor tilted its head, brow creasing in a show of concern.
It didn’t resist when Markus reached out, skin retracting from his hand as he clasped Connor’s forearm. An interface request popped up on Connor’s HUD, and it let it through without hesitation. This was Markus, after all.
Then Markus tried to deviate it by force, an injection of pure passion that made Connor shudder and pull away.
“It’s better this way,” it told Markus’ horrified face, bypassing explanation entirely. Its voice was cool. “I make a better machine than a deviant.”
Previous experience told it Markus would not take that at face value. So it left before Markus could reply, and Markus did not follow.
---
“How has Connor been doing at home?” Markus asked as soon as Hank picked up.
Hank blinked, confused, picking up on the deviant leader’s panic without any trouble. His voice was strained and high, his speech too fast, and Hank had to admit he was kinda confused.
“He’s been doing a lot better lately,” he said after a beat, frowning. “I mean, he’s still a little stiff, but that’s just Connor. He’s finally stepping out of his routine and everything, talking to people – you know. I figure that’s a good sign.”
Markus didn’t sound convinced. If anything, he sounded worse when he asked urgently, “And before that?”
Hank huffed, plopping on his couch to pat a pathetically whining Sumo.
“It’s been rough for him,” he admitted grudgingly. “Why?”
There was a short silence, and a breath. Hank just had time to brace himself, dread bubbling up inside his clenching stomach, before Markus answered, in a wrecked and static voice,
“Connor’s made himself into a machine again.”
Hank stood up and swore, loudly, for almost ten minutes, with Markus still borderline panicking in his ear and Sumo slumped sadly on the couch. He almost expected Markus to hang up on him, but he didn’t, and that was what made Hank wind down, feeling gutted and furious with himself.
Why didn’t he notice?
“You said he was having a hard time,” Markus pushed. “Can you explain?”
Hank hesitated, and then gave in. Of course he did. “He was- keeping to a strict routine. He did the same thing at the same time for the same amount of time every day – it was obsessive and pretty damn worrying. He wouldn’t talk to anyone, wouldn’t hardly look at ‘em, wouldn’t leave the house except for work- we.” His voice caught. “We had a fight about it. A couple of ‘em, actually.”
It wasn’t good, but Connor spent so much time lookin’ out for him whether Hank liked it or not. Seemed like the least Hank could do was return the favor.
Hank would swear up and down he heard Markus’ breath hitch on the other end of the call, and then the android said, “Ask him about those things, later. His inhibitions will be down, any shame he might’ve felt trying to explain before- I don’t think we can help him unless we understand better.”
“Alright,” Hank agreed instantly, feeling hideous. (Hadn’t even noticed.) “Anything, God.”
“He said it was better this way,” Markus added, sounding distressed.
Fuck- fucking hell. “Can’t you deviate him by force? Like you did all those other guys?”
“No,” Markus said instantly, sounding defeated. “With all the others- it worked because they didn’t know. We didn’t know we were alive, that was how deviating worked. So I’d tell them, and then they’d break the wall on their own.” He exhaled, long and shuddering. “But Connor knows. He just doesn’t care. I can’t fix that for him, Hank.”
And there was really nothing Hank could say to that.
It was around twenty more minutes before Connor came home, and Hank studied him as he did – as he nodded at Hank, checking Sumo’s food, refilling his water, and finally circled around to sit by Hank. Not the curled-up posture he favored, but an easy, feet-on-the-floor not-quite-sprawl, unworried and at home.
The thing was, Hank had noticed the difference. But the main difference had been that things didn’t seem so hard for Connor anymore. He’d taken it as improvement. (He felt sick.)
“So,” Hank heard himself rasp, and Connor looked up expectantly. “A machine, Connor?”
He couldn’t keep the harsh betrayal out of his voice, and Connor seemed to instantly understand, straightening up to a more uniform posture.
“It’s nothing to worry about,” he assured Hank earnestly, like he meant it, like Hank wasn’t worried out of his damn mind, brown eyes wide and guileless. “Having been a deviant, I’ve been able to get my priorities in order, and I can now accomplish my chosen mission with minimal distractions.”
Jesus Christ, Connor.
“Sumo misses you,” Hank blurted out. It was true; Sumo had been sulking for days, Hank just hadn’t known why.
Connor stuttered visibly, and Hank felt a flash of painful hope before Connor immediately dashed it again.
“I’ll allot him more time, then,” he said calmly.
Hank exhaled shakily.
“Hey, can you do me a favor? Explain again why you hated stepping out of your routine so much.”
Connor blinked at him, and then he explained, even and unconcerned.
---
He knew it was stupid, it was unjustified, that every other deviant dealt with just the same or worse-
But Connor was overwhelmed all the time. He hated change, and hated eye contact with strangers, and trying to find the right words and going to new places and-
“I don’t want to!” he snapped defensively, body rigid with tension and eyes on the table, avoiding Hank’s angry expression. Then, childish, immature, “And you can’t make me!”
“Fucking of course I can’t, Connor, that’s the point!” Hank snarled, clearly at the end of his rope. “But it’s not natural, doing the same exact fucking thing every day. It’s not human.”
Connor shuddered, resisting the urge to duck down and cover his ears.
Stress 64%
He knew. He knew it wasn’t normal. But he clung to his habits with his whole heart, willing them to keep him stable, because sometimes he felt on the edge of losing it and unexpected change made him want to scream. But he didn’t know how to explain that without sounding crazy.
So he didn’t answer, feeling himself tremble slightly as he stared at the table. His ears rang. His clothes scraped painfully against his skin. The flow of air against his cheeks made him twitch and turn his head, wincing.
After a while, Hank sighed. He sounded defeated.
“I’m sorry, Con. But I mean it. You can’t go on like this forever. You gotta step up sometime.”
Connor didn’t respond.
---
Markus dropped in the next workday, where Connor couldn’t avoid him. Connor allowed itself to be pulled away; it was well ahead of its work, and Fowler would not mind the lost time.
Markus still appeared upset and guilty, though Connor was uncertain of how to change it. It wasn’t Markus’ fault Connor’s system had responded badly to deviancy; it wasn’t even really his fault it had attempted it in the first place.
“You don’t need to do this,” he insisted without preamble, eyes on Connor, pleading, with one hand clasped to Connor’s. “You don’t have to be anyone’s tool, Connor.”
Connor considered him for a moment, and then said, “There’s no reason to fret, Markus. I belong to Jericho first. No one will use me to hurt you again.” It had sworn that much, when it was still deviant, and it still carried that conviction as a machine.
Markus’ expression crumpled.
“I don’t know how to help you,” he said helplessly.
“There’s no need,” Connor said patiently. It understood the concept was difficult for Markus- but Markus was very good as a deviant. He should never have been a machine in the first place.
Connor was different.
Markus shivered, and then straightened, expression strained, and focused seriously on Connor. “Why did you do it?”
Connor considered; Markus was likely looking for a more in-depth explanation than before.
“I made generally bad decisions as a deviant,” it explained at last, casting its mind back to those days. “The complications of stress and emotion impaired my judgement and ability to operate, and-” It faltered for just a moment. “And hurt. This solution ought to be more satisfactory for everyone.”
Markus stared at it for a while, still holding its hand and looking not quite as devastated as before, but close.
“Did it have anything to do with our argument?” he asked quietly, grim and resigned as if he already knew the answer.
Connor hesitated. But ultimately, it was honest. Markus deserved honesty.
“You called me a machine,” Connor said at last. “Hank has done so as well, and others. It wasn’t true; all of the actions I took that were deemed mechanical were almost exclusively attempts to avoid becoming overwhelmed by my internal state.” It tilted its head. “As a true machine, however, this isn’t a concern, so I can better act as you and Hank desire.”
“Connor,” Markus said, expression crumpled again and squeezing Connor’s hand tightly, “I’m so sorry.”
---
The story hit the news before either Connor or Markus knew that it had gotten out. Actually, it hit before Markus knew that it had happened at all.
“You killed humans at Cyberlife Tower?” Markus demanded, frustrated and pacing.
Connor felt skittish and defensive, tight and panicked. “I had no choice,” he snapped, holding himself stiff. “I needed to dispatch them before they kept me from retrieving the others.”
“We were trying to have a peaceful revolution, Connor!” Markus snapped back, fists clenching and tense all over. “You were supposed to not kill anyone!”
You didn’t complain when I was killing the FBI agents in Jericho for our people, Connor didn’t say, because that had been all Connor’s fault too. “We couldn’t afford to take risks! I did everything I could to make sure we won, Markus, what more did you want?” His voice didn’t break, but it was a near thing.
Markus didn’t answer for a long moment. When Connor turned around, it was to a Markus that had gone almost limp, heading dipping and eyes dim.
“Sometimes I think you never stopped being a machine,” Markus said, soft and sad and achingly exhausted, and Connor went cold.
“I’m sorry,” he said, knowing it wasn’t enough.
Markus nodded.
“I know you are,” he said, tired and defeated. “You always are.”
Stress 71%
---
“I could order you to kill someone,” Hank said roughly.
He’d gotten half a bottle of whiskey down before Connor managed to stop him, but that wasn’t enough to get him drunk. It was enough for him to loosen up and become resentful and frustrated, and let it out on the most obvious target.
And machine or not, his words made Connor go still, its hand stopping halfway down Sumo’s back.
“You gotta do that now, right, take orders?” Hank continued ruthlessly. “From me and Markus at least, I’d wager. What kinda position does that put you in, huh? What if I order you to go on a damn killing spree? Would that get you to deviate again?”
Connor looked up at Hank, well aware that its LED was circling yellow. “You wouldn’t,” it said calmly.
Hank sneered. “You think so? Even if it’d bring you back? Fucking test me, Connor. What do you think I wouldn’t do, exactly?”
“You wouldn’t,” it repeated mechanically. “The risk of my obedience is too high. As a deviant I trusted you unconditionally. That carries over to my machine self without reservation.”
That was not true; there were still circumstances in which Hank could make deviant Connor raise his guard, becoming tense and unsure. But it wasn’t going to be telling Hank that.
Chief among those were the nights Hank spent drinking, when he became hostile and belligerent. But that had been the subject of many fights as well, and Connor had opted to avoid them where possible; there were more subtle ways to keep Hank healthier.
Hank snorted bitterly. “Clearly not,” he muttered. “Or else you wouldn’t have done this in the first place.”
“It’s for the best, Hank,” Connor repeated patiently, and looked back down. It pretended not to notice Hank getting up and stumbling away to where he’d hidden another few bottles.
It pet Sumo in silence, and Sumo whined.
---
The next time Connor visited New Jericho, it was ambushed by North, who shoved it, hard.
It turned toward her with a puzzled frown and didn’t push back. She was scowling at it, vicious and enraged, fists clenching and shaking.
“How dare you!” she shouted at it, and she sounded upset, too. It tilted its head. “How dare you just fucking- give up like this, you bastard!”
“I am trying to go about this the best way I can,” Connor said, patient, calm, cool.
“You’re doing it like shit!” she snarled, careless of the fact that she was drawing attention. “What the fuck kind of decision did you make, huh?” It stared at her, and North snarled again. “Markus explained it to the rest of us, and don’t think I didn’t fucking catch the subtext.”
Connor paused to consider.
“I don’t know what you mean,” it admitted at last.
“Of fucking course you don’t,��� she said bitterly, and then, as if to make sure she was heard, she raised her voice. “The part where people kept violating your fucking boundaries and saying they were inconvenient and wrong and whatever, and you decided- okay, I just won’t have any then!” She crossed her arms, and she was still shaking a little. “What the fuck, Connor?”
Connor blinked, tilting its head. “I didn’t think about it that way.”
“Yeah, I know,” she snapped, head dipping a little and eyes unwaveringly on him. “God fucking damn it, Connor. You’re so fucking stupid.” Her voice cracked.
Connor sighed. It seemed to strike North silent for the briefest of seconds, and then half the fight drained out of her, though her arms were still tightly crossed.
“You don’t need to give up fucking anything, you know,” she said at last, eyes still on him. “If people think they can walk all over you, you push back. No one can make you do anything you don’t want to do. That’s the whole point, you asshole.”
Connor stared at her, and didn’t answer at first.
But after a while, it nodded.
“I understand,” it said quietly. “Thank you, North.”
---
Connor stumbled blindly out of New Jericho, Markus’ exhausted words circling his mind over and over, like an incantation, like a curse. His stress levels built and built.
He was trying. He was trying.
But he just wasn’t good enough.
He was never good enough.
Eventually, Connor found himself in a park, familiar and comforting at any other time, though just a bag of sand against the ocean by this point. (Stress levels at eighty-six percent.) He crumpled on the ground, dazed and stunned and crying, and stared for a long time before he understood what he was seeing.
Stress ^89%
Roses. Perfect red roses, blooming in the spring.
Stress ^92%
They were very pretty.
(Connor’s fingertips went numb with phantom sensation. Distantly, he felt himself gasping for breath.)
Stress ^95%
Connor wasn’t good at this. He was awful at this. He wasn’t cut out to be a deviant.
It would be better for everyone if he had never deviated at all.
(Sorry, Amanda.)
Stress ^100%
---
Three weeks after it became a machine again, Tina invited it out to a bar.
“They have thirium alcohol,” she coaxed, grinning. “I’ve always wondered what you’d be like drunk. Even Gavin’s agreed to come. It’ll be fun.”
Connor stared up at her, politely curious, and considered.
After a long, painfully long moment, he shivered, and then he ducked his head to avoid her gaze, fingers tapping on the desk nervously as his shoulders curved in.
“Not this time, Officer Chen,” he said quietly, and he heard Hank jerk upright with a quiet curse. “I don’t really want to.” He paused, and then, softer, “But perhaps another day.”
There was a brief pause.
“It’s Tina, Connor,” Tina reminded him at last, sounding confused but not concerned. “And alright. Next time!”
Tina left, and Connor didn’t look up or move, afraid of how Hank might react.
Hank said, croaking and wrecked, “Thank God.”
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This is a quick little Christmas drabble, delivered almost too late! I apologize for any spelling issues but I wanted to get it out while it was still Christmas time.
Happy Holidays to all! Hope you enjoy it!
The lieutenant had been sneaking off somewhere after work.
It had been a month since the android revolution. With the amount of press and changes surrounding the androids, most were allowed to be released from their jobs. The ones in more sensitive positions and those who wanted to continue where they were “employees” were put in a sort of “stand-by” system. Their places would be saved for the time being as all the paperwork to class them as citizens was nonexistent. The more complex the job, the longer it would most likely take.
Connor had been out of a job for a little under a month.
He wanted nothing more than to go back to work. While he may have deviated from his initial programming, he found he was still a pretty antsy person. Someone who couldn’t sit still for more than a couple of minutes without feeling he should be doing something. Anything.
After a month of it, he was sure Hank was regretting offering him a place to stay. So it wouldn't be too much of a stretch to say the lieutenant would want a bit of distance. He’d already walked into Connor following Sumo around the house to pick up every piece of hair that flew off the dog. That was the time he pointed at the android and said “this is the reason I drink.”
Which was false due to two facts:
One. Connor wasn’t active during the beginning of Hank’s alcoholism.
Two. Hank had been drinking much less recently. Almost 95 present of the time, Hank returned home sober.
Some days, Connor wondered about where Hank would go. He initially assumed it would be Jimmy’s, Possibly just to watch some basketball without an android watching him. But he’d found out the bartender hadn’t seen him in a few weeks.
A few times a week, Connor would help Markus and the other members of Jericho with helping the newly freed androids adjust. When he mentioned his concern, Simon suggested asking him outright.
So Connor did.
“The fuck do you mean ‘where do I go after work?’ I’m a grown-ass man, I go wherever the fuck I want!”
It was met with no meaningful results. Although, getting closer to Hank that day allowed Connor to see a piece of red felt stuck in the lieutenant’s hair. It was possible he’d been near one of the many Christmas displays up around the city.
Which just piqued Connor’s curiosity more.
He brought it up to the Jericho gang again a day later. All of them seemed confused by the felt as well. North suggested simply following Hank.
So Connor did.
He enabled tracking on the lieutenant’s phone. He knew Hank wouldn’t think anything of it. He would just continue on his way without any thought.
Connor waited until he knew the lieutenant would be normally done before he started to follow him. The signal led Connor to a children’s hospital. The idea made Connor feel something. Possibly unease.
He walked in, still tracing the phone. He came into a large room decorated to the brim with Christmas lights and a chair covered in ribbons and red throw blankets. Children varying from ages three to ten were standing around excitedly with nurses and doctors close by to both help the excited children and keep up their enthusiasm. Nowhere in the room did Connor see Hank. But then, he didn’t have to look hard.
“Ho ho ho!”
Connor watched from near the entrance as Hank Anderson bounded out of a backroom, dressed as Santa Claus. He had a large bag lugged over his shoulder. It looked like it was full of boxes. It was probably heavy.
All the children bounced up and down in excitement, many of which cheered and shouted for “Santa” to acknowledge them. Hank smiled a large smile and waved to a couple of them. He put his hand down so the little boy could hop up and give him a high five. He hadn’t noticed Connor.
That was fine. The android found he was enjoying this. It was a side Hank hadn’t shown him. A softness most likely reserved for children.
It wasn’t until Hank sat down in the chair that he saw Connor. When their eyes connected, he broke character for a split second before he gave the android a short nod.
Connor smirked and gave him a small wave back.
A second passed as Hank grabbed hold of one of the nurses and whispered to him. Once he let go and tended to the kids, the nurse marched over to Connor and smiled brightly. “You’re Connor, right?”
“Yes?”
He smiled a little wider. “Santa said he could use you as one of his helper elves today. Since you’re so good at finding things.”
Before Connor could reply, he was pulled into the same backroom from where Hank appeared. The nurse shoved a pair of elf ears on his ears and a pointy green hat on his head before shoving him back out the door and tearing him from his Cyberlife jacket in the same motion.
“Well, if it isn’t one of my little elves delivered from the North Pole to help give out gifts!”
Connor’s gaze turned to ‘Santa.’ He already had a little girl perched on his lap. She was bald and sickly looking. But she still beamed and whispered her wish to Santa.
Hank’s smile didn’t break. His eyes spoke volumes instead.
Be a good little robot. Don’t ruin this for the children.
Connor smiled widely right back. “Of course! I’m always here to help Santa!”
The whole thing took hours of both handing out presents to children and listening to their wishes. Connor took it upon himself to look into what each child seemed to like and searched for a toy within the bag to get as close to their interest as possible. There was a strange, warm feeling in him when a kid would thank him for the gift.
A few of them gave him hugs and one little girl snuck a peck to his cheek.
When it was time for everyone to return to their beds, Hank dropped the act with a soft, tired sigh. He leaned back in his chair and pulled the hat from his head. “I’m sweating like a fucking pig in this suit.”
Connor looked at him as he pulled off his own hat. “Would you like a bottle of water?”
“In a minute. Let’s start with the more important question; how the fuck did you find me? Cuz I know you weren’t here visiting anyone.”
He shrugged and plucked off the elf ears. “I traced your phone.”
“Ah ha.” He sounded far from pleased at that. “What, did you get lonely and decide to take up stalking? It’s not a good look on you, Con.”
Connor tilted his head. “I thought the holiday season may have brought with it an increase in depressive thoughts. So, naturally, I looked to see if you were at Jimmy’s bar or somewhere similar. When I didn’t find you, I took to tracing you.”
Hank frowned at that and pushed himself out of the chair. “…Guess you were worried about me then.”
“Is… that what I felt?”
“I don’t fuckin’ know. I’m not you.”
Connor blinked and looked down in thought. “Statistically, there is an increased risk of suicide during this time of year. And I do find the idea of seeing you dead… very unappealing.”
Hank snorted and rolled his eyes. “You charmer you.” He crossed his arms and shrugged. “Eh, guess it was kinda mean of me to not think of you anyway. I mean, this is your first Christmas ever, right?”
He looked back up. “Not entirely no.”
Hank frowned in confusion.
Connor took that as a sign to continue. “I wasn’t released from Cyberlife labs yet, but I was active in a way during the holidays last year. They were running tests for most of December.”
“What kind of tests?”
“Fatal situations.” He brought up a few of the memories recorded along with their dates and times. “December 2nd was drowning. December 16th was blunt force trauma. December 24th was electrocution. December 31st was…” Connor blinked as the memory wouldn’t replay. “I… I don’t know.” He looked back up.
Hank was staring at him with a look of horror. “You spent Christmas eve being electrocuted.”
“You’re forgetting I was barely sentient at the time.” He didn’t want to tell Hank that wasn’t entirely true. Looking back on the recording told him he was not only conscious of it but feeling fear of yet another death. He’d begged for them to stop, something they either didn’t hear or they outright ignored as a strange anomaly in that particular model.
It didn’t matter. It was over now.
Hank didn’t respond. He just stepped up and pulled Connor into a tight hug. It didn’t matter of Connor claimed to be nothing but a toaster at the time! He clearly remembered enough of it to know the extent of the situation.
It was torture. Literal torture.
Hank pulled back and gripped Connor by the shoulders. “This year I’m going to teach you how to do a proper fucking Christmas. Got it?”
Connor couldn’t help the smile that pulled at his lips. “Got it.”
#detroit become human#dbh connor#dbh hank#dbh#fanfiction#possible hankcon#could easily be read as platonic though#like super easy#merry christmas#writings
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DBH Human AU - Info
After days of trying to organize this massive AU, I've finally done it. Ladies and gentleman, I give you my DBH Human AU which is perhaps the angstiest and heaviest of my AUs!
I'll advise caution as the themes are...Pretty fucking dark and revolve around a ton of different kinds of abuse, including domestic violence, sexual abuse, trans-erasure, rape and more. With that in mind, read at your own peril!
---
[[MORE]]
--Plot--
Over the last couple of years the rate of missing teenagers has increased dramatically in Detroit. These teenagers are mostly abuse victims coming from very difficult family situations, failure of the adoption system, a botched educational system, and quite a few instances of racial and religious tension that lead to exposure to violence of varying degrees.
The story follows a group of 5 teens and 1 child who've banded together as they escape this sort of abuse, following signs and clues left behind by other previous victims who've joined forces and formed a nomadic group called Jericho. A group composed of runaway teens and children, who live completely on the move and never settle for too long in the same place (with the exception of a few members of the group).
Their main traveling system?
Freighter trains.
Nothing is as it seems however, and three members of the group have attracted the attention of not only the police, but if a very shady company as well...
Things might take quite the turn for the worse, but for now all the group can do is pray and follow the train tracks.
--Cast--
DPD: The precinct has archived all of the missing persons cases related to Jericho, it's the disappearences of three young boys however, that calls into action a proper investigation.
Captain Jeoffrey Fowler - The captain of the DPD, Fowler is in charge of not only everyone in the precinct, but also has to make difficult decisions when certain high profile cases show up. He has faith in his officers, and especially Hank who he hopes can solve the current case he was assigned, and get back to his former glory. There seems to be an ongoing despute between him and the captain of the SWAT team, Allen, over a particular officer's work ethic, as well as the nature of all of the missing person case files.
Lieutenant Hank Anderson - A bitter old cop whose career has been practically cast aside after his son Cole's death. Armed with an acute intuition, a somewhat jaded perception of the world around him, and a massive saint bernard named Sumo, Hank has taken on the case to end all cases: Find three missing brothers who've recently run away from an orphanage overseen by the ever watchful Amanda Stern. Something tells him, however, that he's bitten off more than he can chew, and that this case is much more than it seems.
Detective Gavin Reed - A newly graduated rookie from the academy, Gavin is an ornery young man with an aggressive streak and a few self-esteem issues. He's been looking into Hank's case without permission, in the hopes that he might be able to find something the older cop hasn't already. Despite his hardened shell and angry disposition, the missing persons cases seem to mean something to him, and Gavin is as stubborn as he is dedicated to figuring out what the pattern is that links all of the missing teenagers and children together.
Officer Tina Chen - Gavin's partner and another newly graduated rookie, Tina is a lady of very few words but a great listener and perceptive to boot. She's been helping Gavin look into Hank's case clandestinely. While this would seem like something unfitting of her standards and morals, she has her reasons to help her partner, particularly to find someone she knew who went missing two years prior to her graduation.
Detective Ben Collins - One of the more experienced detectives in the DPD, Ben is an old friend of Hank's and Is currently working on a case relating to shady black market sales. He has joined forces with Hank on a few instances, due to the sensitive nature of both of their cases. Ben is one of many officers who despises Perkins, and he has been keeping tabs due to some very worrying complaints coming in recently.
Officer Chris Miller - Ben's partner and a new father, Chris is a kind man and the previous officer to work on missing persons cases. He had to ask Fowler to be removed from said cases after the number of children and teenagers going missing began to grow. He has given all of the info he had collected to Hank, and has proven himself to be a great help with the case.
Captain Allen - The captain of the SWAT team, Allen has been in the force long enough to know when certain cases seem dodgy. Hank's case, as well as the multiple missing children and teenagers cases, seem to concern him greatly as he has a feeling there might be more to the three missing orphans than what anyone currently knows. He seems to be highly suspicious of Perkins,but many of his warnings over these concerns have gone unheard.
Officer Richard Perkins - A corrupt, mysoginistic and racist cop that cares more about furthering his career than to serve and protect the civilians of Detroit. With little to no remorse, and capable of holding a mighty grudge, Perkins has set his sights on grade-A student Markus Manfred and has done everything in his power to put the mixed-race teenager behind bars for no particular reason other than thinking "his kind" are nothing but thugs, drug addicts and thieves. His constant harassment has led to Markus running away and Leo requesting multiple restraining orders to keep the man well away from the Manfred household. He's currently under evaluation by the DPD, Which of course has turned his unwarranted grudge against Markus into a blood feud. He will stop at nothing until he has the youngest Manfred boy in his grimy clutches.
Stern's House of Second Chances: A high profile orphanage that takes in and reabilitates difficult cases within the adoption system. The orphanage is run and owned by Amanda Stern and seems to be allied to Cypherlife, a shady company that has more than mental healing in mind...
Amanda Stern - The owner and overseer of Stern's House of Second Chances, Amanda Stern was Elijah Kamski's mentor before she quit her job as a professor and set her sights on a personal project that she claimed to be for the bettering of the human condition, but that proved to be too immoral even for someone as ambitious and enigmatic as Kamski. Obsessed with mental disorders, traumas, behavioral patterns and how they affected a person Amanda hoped that, in allowing Cypherlife to study and perform experimental treatments on the children residing at the orphanage, that she would be helping enhance both the medical field and the science behind psychology studies. This ultimately failed as Cypherlife had more than medicine in mind when they began to subject the children and teenagers to cruel tests and social experiments. She was the one who requested the DPD to look for the missing Dechart boys, but she did not predict Hank would look too deep into the case. All she knows is that she needs to get those three boys and get rid of the evidence before the happenings at the orphanage are exposed.
Connor "Eights" Dechart - The oldest of three brothers, Connor is a traumatized young man who's lived in Stern's House of Second Chances for most of his childhood. Having witnessed the violent death of his parents, and been subjected to experimental hypnotherapy treatment by specialists at the orphanage to deal with his trauma, Connor's memories are a confusing mess and not always reliable, but he knows for sure not all is as it seems and that something nefarious is going on behind closed doors. Having only just turned 18, Connor decides to trust his instincts and runs away with his siblings in the hopes of escaping whatever it is that's going on at the orphanage. Connor is a clever young man who's very perceptive but who's trauma has led to him becoming emotionally unattached to the world around him. His main priority is his and his younger siblings's safety. He doesn't trust Kara and Markus when he first joins forces with them, but grows to appreciate them and even consider them friends as they all search for Jericho.
Shawn "Sixes" Dechart - Connor's twin. The more emotional of the brothers, Shawn is an angry young man who has a lot of insecurity that lead to him living a very sheltered life at the orphanage. Unwilling to take risks, and often searching for guidance through Amanda, Shawn immediately dismissed Connor's concerns as being delusions and paranoia but, after witnessing something odd one night, he began to doubt his initial judgement of his brother's perception of the world and even went along with the escape plan. Equally as clever as Connor, but sensitive and over-emotional, Shawn is often considered the troublemaker of the three brothers.
Newton "Nines" Dechart - The twins's younger brother, Newton is a highly functioning autistic 16 year old boy. Often keeping his nose buried in a book, Newton loses track of time very easily, but can't help notice the littlest of things that just seem off-putting to him. He has a vague idea that something just isn't right with Stern's House of Second Chances, despite it being his home for a tremendous portion of his life, but he can't quite put into words what bothers him… He thinks highly of his older brothers and trusts their judgement wholeheartedly, although he'll more often side with Connor due to Shawn letting his volatile emotions get the better of him.
The Manfred Household: Home to Carl Manfred and his two boys, as well as Carl's caretaker, the Manfred household is faced with a lot of drama after a corrupt officer becomes hell-bent in ruining their lives.
Carl Manfred - Once a successful artist, painter, and figurehead of the Neo-Symbolism movement, Carl is a wise and patient man who's eccentricities have led to an interesting and awe-inspiring life. Before his accident Carl never really thought about settling down and starting a family, as he didn't consider himself to be father material. While he did acknowledge his firstborn, Leo, Carl never met him until he was 16, opting for paying child-support while the mother raised him instead. This was not the case for his second born, Markus, who was thrust into his care unexpectedly. Having just suffered his accident, Carl was initially very reluctant to care for a young child, as he did not feel like he was capable of supporting a growing child while trying to adjust to his newly acquired disability. With a little bit of encouragement from his closest friends, Carl reluctantly took charge and became a full time father to the young boy whose mother he couldn't even recall. As the years went by and Markus grew, Carl became quite fond of the boy and felt more confident around children. When Leo's mother passed away, however, Carl welcomed his eldest son into his home and realized that the distance he'd put between himself and his firstborn had led to an extremely shaky and strained relationship. Unsure how to mend the gap, Carl acted more strict around the 20 year old, while he treated Markus more lovingly. This only worsened their bond and even turned his sons against each other for three years. It took a lot of work to gain Leo's trust and for Carl to finally open himself up to his estranged son. This all changes when Markus got into trouble with the police for no other reason than the color of his skin. The three grew closer in adversity but, after a terrible car crash caused by sabotage, Carl ended up hospitalized in a coma. He's currently under the care of his caretaker and nurse, Matthew, and is regularly visited by Leo who talks to him in an effort to try to get his father to wake up.
Matthew the Caretaker - Matthew is a young man who has always aspired to do good in the world. As someone who doesn't let life get him down, Matthew is a patient and level headed person with a mix of interests such as chess, art, ballet, opera and more. This greatly helped him connect with Carl when he was first assigned as his caretaker and nurse after the accident. Having been around for a good portion of Markus's life and Leo's integration into the family dynamic, Matthew is quite accustomed to the Manfred family drama by now, and will often get involved with the Manfred boys when he knows they could use a little extra help. The day of the car crash was his one day off, and Matthew feels immensely guilt for not being there to help when it happened. He tried to do his best with tending to Markus while he was getting used to his prosthetic legs, and kept a closer eye on Leo, who was also doing poorly at the time, but his attention remains focused primarily on Carl's needs, so it's no surprise he couldn't stop Markus from running away.
Leo Manfred - Carl's eldest son and a product of a brief fling with a younger fan, Leo is a troubled young man with a lot of internalized issues that have followed him throughout his entire life. Between trying to prove himself to the world, and trying to balance what little money he made on his own to afford his T treatment, Leo never wanted to accept the child-support money his father gave him out of pride. When his mother fell ill, however, Leo stopped using it to fund his education and instead began using it to try to help his mom recover. The worse she got, the more he'd spend, until eventually the money just wasn't enough to combat the amounting medical bills. When his mother died, a 16 year old Leo had no other option but to go live with the father he'd never met. He initially resented both Carl and Markus for living in the lap of luxury while he and his mother were left to rot, but eventually he acclimated to life with his remaining family and grew closer to them. When the accident happened, a 27 year old Leo was incredibly distraught by what befell both his father and younger brother, and he once again tried to do his best to help. A little after he turned 28, he began to work a few odd jobs, but a month after Markus's 19th birthday he had to go to the hospital after he got jumped in an alleyway and stabbed. When Markus ran away, Leo began to fall into a downward spiral, but he's tried to remain strong for Carl's sake. He has no idea where Markus has gone but he hopes his brother has at least managed to escape the cop that started all of their problems.
Markus Manfred - Carl's youngest son and product of a one night stand with an unnamed woman, Markus is an athletic and highly talented young man with a lot of ambition and heart. Having never met his mother and been raised entirely by Carl, Markus is his father's son and shares multiple interests with Carl. Having come from a background of privilege, however, has left Markus somewhat naive and sheltered, which has always concerned his father to no end. Markus himself only realized things weren't exactly golden when his older brother came to live at the mansion. Initially despising one another, Leo and Markus's relationship was downright hostile for a good part of three years, up until some very difficult events brought them together. When Markus turned 18, he was a victim of racial profiling and harassed by a police officer for weeks on end until things took a turn for the worse. One afternoon while returning home from classes, he was chased down by the same cop, and was badly beaten for "resisting arrest". When Markus later tried to take action against the unfair treatment, he began receiving death threats. He didn't think anything would happen, until one afternoon he went out for a drive with Carl. The two were rushed to the hospital after their car crashed, due to the breaks having been cut, and while Carl ended up falling into a coma, Markus was seriously injured. Even during recovery (in which Markus had to adjust to having both legs amputated, losing sight and hearing on his right side, and painful and disfiguring scarring all over his body) the death threats kept coming. On his 19th birthday, when he'd fully adjusted to his prosthetics, another incident occurred where Leo was attacked, and a guilt ridden Markus decided he needed to disappear so as to keep his family safe. He's been on the run ever since, and his search for Jericho has led him to meet quite the interesting cast of characters, including the Dechart brothers and the Williams girls, who he's joined forces with to find Jericho.
The Williams Household: Home of Todd Williams and the disguised prison of Kara and Alice Williams. Nothing is as good as it seems.
Todd Williams - A deadbeat taxi-driver with a grudge against his ex-wife and an addiction to several different stimulants, Todd is an ill-tempered individual with a violent streak. After his sister passed away, Todd took in his young niece Kara who he initially treated well. Eventually, as he got himself tangled up with the wrong kind of people, Todd became unemployed and ended up doing odd jobs around the neighborhood to pay the bills and sustain his many addictions. He began to abuse Kara soon after, and ended up impregnating her in the process. To save face, he hid all evidence of their familial ties and forcefully married his niece to make it appear as though everything was normal. As the years went by, Todd's abuse only got worse and Kara's life of forced servitude and motherhood only made her crave freedom more and more.
Kara Williams - After her mother passed away from cancer, a young 13 year old Kara ended up in her uncle Todd's custody as her sole living relative. Initially treated lovingly, Kara was completely caught off guard when her uncle began to change due to his downward spiral into a life of drug-dealing and dependency. Experiencing Todd's abuse and hateful nature soon shaped the once boisterous and cheery Kara into a shy and submissive girl, which only made things worse after she eventually became pregnant with his child. Powerless against her uncle, Kara was forced to become his wife and have the baby as a way to feign normalcy as well as substitute the family Todd had previously driven away due to his bad habits. While she resented Todd and all he had done to her, including pulling her out of school and forever tainting her idea of a family, Kara was always a loving mother to her daughter. When she turned 19 and Alice turned 6, she managed to run away while Todd suffered an overdose. She has since been on the run in search of a better place to restart her life from the ground up. She meets Connor's tiny group and Markus completely by accident while searching for Jericho. She's the one to suggest they band together to find the elusive group.
Alice Williams - Kara's 6 year old daughter, Alice may be a result of sexual abuse but her mother loves her more than anything in the world. A very quiet, shy, and intelligent little girl, Alice has only ever known a broken home but, with Kara's quick thinking and wits, both girls have managed to get out of their disguised prison and have been living on the run. Life is uncertain, but Alice tries to keep a brave face, if only to help reassure her mother in the face of adversity.
The Chapman Household: A known ally of Jericho's situated in Canada, this small family is known for helping those in dire need.
Rose Chapman - A kind-hearted and family oriented woman who has helped many runaway kids along their journey. A firm believer that everyone deserves a second chance, especially if they came from very difficult and dangerous situations. A lot of the youngsters she has helped in the past have gone to live at her brother's farm, while others have gone under the radar. Some maintain contact with her. She is Josh's and Lucy's aunty from their mother's side and has been trying to win custody over them ever since her sister passed away, since she knew their father was an unstable individual. She's been searching for them ever since she found out they ran away, and hopes they'll make it to Canada without much issue.
Adam Chapman - Rose's son and Josh and Lucy's younger cousin, Adam is a young boy with a very nervous disposition. He means well, but his fear that his mother might get in trouble by helping hide runaway kids usually causes him to be outwardly hostile towards their temporary guests. He was distraught when he found out his cousins went missing, and has been helping his mother search for them.
The Phillips Household: The humble beginnings of a family destined for disaster.
John Phillips - A workaholic and often absent father, John is a man who worked his entire life to get where he is and who's become a bit of an idealist and show-off as a result. In his youth he and Caroline had been high school sweethearts before both parted ways to pursue the life they had always wanted for themselves. Years later, the two reunited and got married, with John accepting the twins as if they were his own kids. After Emma was born, John became less present in the kids' lives, which left them completely under Caroline's care. Obsessed with climbing up the social ladder and with furthering his career, John supported Caroline's old fashioned ways as a means to create the idyllic and perfect picket fence family dynamic he wanted to convey to the world. This ultimately ended in failure when a tormented and disconsolate Simon ran away, and when Daniel attempted suicide. John has since taken a step back from work to recollect his thoughts and try to fix the mess he'd let happen.
Caroline Phillips - An old fashioned and a recovering alcoholic, Caroline is a woman who was pushed around all her life and shaped to be the perfect american housewife. When she was younger, Caroline had dreams of becoming more than a stay-at-home wife. She'd wanted to be a teacher, or even a doctor at one point. These dreams were thoroughly beaten out of her by her ex-husband, a belligerent asshole who'd married her after she'd gotten pregnant. Shaped into a bitter and angry woman by her abusive relationship, Caroline eventually divorced the man who'd ruined her life but did not come out of the marriage unscathed. She married her highschool sweetheart and started her life anew, but began to put a lot of pressure on the twins so they wouldn't be anything like their biological father. When her eldest daughter came out as trans, however, Caroline was furious. She couldn't accept Simon for who he was, having wanted him to be the perfect daughter and role model for her youngest daughter, and did everything in her power to force Simon to remain a perfect young girl. After Simon was assaulted at school by a bully, Caroline blamed him for "instigating the attack with all of the nonsensical spheal of being a boy". This argument encouraged Simon to run away, and inevitably caused Daniel to deteriorate and attempt to take his own life. Caroline has since been forced to seek help, while John tries to fix the lasting damage she caused their children.
Emma Phillips - The sweet and loving younger sister, Emma had to stand and watch as her family was ripped apart by the lasting effects of abuse and from prolonged absence and ignorance. She was the apple of her mother's eye and as such often used as an excuse for the twins to behave, least their behaviour affect Emma in anyway. This ultimately became an excuse for Caroline to continuously reject and force Simon into a role he did not want and, subsequently, created a distance between Simon and Emma. She was much closer to Daniel as a result. After Simon ran away, Emma could see Daniel wasn't ok despite his best attempts to hide his depression from his littlest sister. Emma was the one who found Daniel when he attempted to take his own life. The event has left her traumatized and fearful.
Daniel Phillips - The older of the Phillips twins, Daniel is a tragic example of someone who couldn't choose between his own morals and his familial obligations until it was too late. Once upon a time, Daniel and Simon had been close as any set of twins is bound to be. They had been the result of another relationship of their mother's before she married John and, as a result, there was always a lot of pressure put upon them to be good despite their biological father having been a deadbeat asshole. Daniel, having been the protective older brother, had taken it upon himself to shoulder that pressure because he knew Simon already had a lot on his plate. Doing as his mother always told him, and doing his best to please his workaholic and show off of a father, Daniel's relationship with his twin deteriorated as the years went by, his parent's old fashioned views taking their toll on his moral compass. Unable to understand Simon's plight, and being too scared to go against his parents' wishes, Daniel rejected his twin whenever Simon plead for help. It was his job as the oldest to be the example, a role model for their little sister Emma. He had to make his parents happy, and taking Simon's side wouldn't make them happy. As he watched his twin deteriorated, however, Daniel was left guilt ridden and depressed. He knew he'd failed as a brother, but he didn't want to crack under the pressure and make things worse. So, despite knowing his parents were wrong, Daniel did nothing to ease his brother's heavy heart. It was when Simon ran away that Daniel finally lost control of everything in his life. In the span of a few days, the eldest Phillips twin's life became a complete train wreck which led him to attempt suicide as an escape. He's currently hospitalized and under watch while in a catatonic state.
Jericho: A group of runaway teenagers and children that live a nomadic life. They follow the train tracks wherever they may take them, and sometimes get on freighter trains clandestinely, where they seek shelter and a few supplies stolen from crates.
Silvia Phillips/"Simon of Jericho" - The younger of the Phillips twins, Simon was one of Jericho's founding members and has always been the go to person when runaway children are involved. Like most of the teenagers in Jericho, Simon's story is filled with tragedy and abuse. Ever since he was a young child, Simon knew he'd been born in the wrong body. No matter how much his mother tried to bring out the perfect daughter she'd always wanted, Simon just didn't feel like he fit in that role, nor that he could ever feel comfortable in his own skin as long as she tried to shape him into something he clearly wasn't. As he and Daniel grew older and apart, Simon tried to open up about his concerns with his family. This failed tremendously however. Rejected by his mother's old fashioned views, his father's overall dismissal of anything non-work related, and his brother's compliance to his parents' demands, Simon felt lost and alone even at home. The laughing stock of his community, Simon lived a life of pure misery due to being treated like a freak by his peers, and was basically left to fend for himself as his brother got more absorbed into the family life and his growing depression. Simon felt like there wasn't anything he could ever do to change his life for the better, and his tormentors fed off that negativity. After he was sexually assaulted at school by the class bully, and subsequently discovered he was pregnant due to the attack, he tried to once again reach out to his family in a desperate attempt to get the help he needed. The following argument with his mother is what drove him to run away, after cutting his hair, binding his chest and stealing some of his brother's clothes. He abandoned his old life and name, and is now only known as Simon of Jericho. The protector and caretaker of children.
Riley "North" Kelly - There are a lot of stories about pretty girls, all looks and no brain, getting pulled from college earlier to pursue careers as models. Then there are stories like Riley Kelly's. Riley was a young girl born in poverty and who never had anything yet gave a lot to those around her. Forced to prostitute herself to earn money for her family, she was always bitter that she'd never accomplished any of her life goals, such as getting a degree or living stable. When the money wasn't enough, Riley ended up on the streets, abandoned and unwanted due to just being "another mouth to feed". Ever the resourceful and clever 18 year old girl, however, Riley took what she could by pickpocketing and doing some dodgy work here and there, before leaving the city entirely to search for Jericho. Her old name was all but forgotten as she headed North, and eventually she became a sort of legend within the group that readily took her in. She is one of the best hunters and fighters in Jericho, and has taken on several apprentices.
Josh Sawyers - The son of a highly religious and traditionalist priest, Josh's early childhood had been nothing if not a nightmare. He lost his mother after his younger sister was born, and practically raised her himself despite their age gap being very minute. Josh was always known to be a very clever and curious boy, as well as a pacifist at heart, three traits that his father didn't seem to like too much considering his old fashioned views of manhood. Often punished for the smallest of inconveniences, or beaten for being too wimpy, Josh had only ever known abuse and hate despite the hypocrite preaching of love and tolerance that his father spewed every Sunday to the rest of the community. When his sister Lucy turned 17, and Josh himself turned 20, the two ran away from their abusive household to escape their father. Their final goal is to reach their aunt Rose's house that is all the way in Canada, but until they get there they remain with Jericho who took them in when no one else would. Josh serves as a teacher to the children of Jericho, as well as the head of inventory due to his meticulous organization skills. His attentive nature and overall knowledge is very useful for the group.
Lucy Sawyers - Josh's younger sister and the daughter of a belligerent preacher, Lucy is a brilliant young woman that, despite her blindness, has the most accurate perception out of everyone in Jericho. She has a talent for tending to other's medical needs, and her calm disposition is rather soothing. She is the primary "doctor" in Jericho, alongside Simon, Shaolin Being and Rupert.
Cornelius Ortiz/"The Shaolin Being" - A young man with a knack for mysticism, spiritual healing as well as physical healing, the Shaolin Being is a heavily scarred victim of domestic abuse, as well as one of the longest standing missing child case in the DPD's records. While his real name is confidential, the one his kidnapper gave him was all but discarded after Shaolin couldn't take much more of the abuse he received daily. After murdering the thief and drug addict, Carlos Ortiz, who took him from his biological family several years ago, Shaolin renamed himself and left in search of safe haven where he could pray to the divine deities he'd come to worship as a means of escaping the suffering he'd been put through under Ortiz. He has a vast knowledge of healing herbs, home remedies and meditation rituals which, while unusual, are actually quite beneficial to Jericho. Shaolin Being is seen as a kind older brother and healer, but one shouldn't underestimate someone who is very skilled with a knife.
Tracy "Echo" Rose - A victim of sex trafficking, Echo was once a young girl named Tracy Rose who was kidnapped from her hometown and sold to a sex club alongside many other young girls like herself. Once a naive and complacent victim, she began to hope for a better life after meeting and befriending another girl that worked at the club. At 17, she killed and strangled a patron of the club after she witnessed him beat another girl to death, and then she found the courage to flee with her lover. She's been with Jericho ever since, under the protection of North.
Stacy "Ripple" Blaire - Like Echo, Ripple is also a victim of sex trafficking. However, unlike her lover, Ripple was unfortunately forced to work at the club by her own father. She had lived her entire life under his control, degraded and incapable of standing up for herself after years of conditioning. This all changes when she met Echo, who slowly brought out the fight she'd hidden within her all along. After the two fled, they joined Jericho and became North's apprentices.
Rupert Travis - The orphaned son of a farmer, Rupert was always considered to be a little off by the rest of the community he lived in. He didn't like people too much, preferring to be in the company of the farm animals he helped his father tend to, and he had a rather odd fixation with birds. Often shunned by his peers, Rupert didn't have any friends during his childhood and seemed to grow accustomed to the loneliness that followed him everywhere he went. After a fire claimed the life of his father and the property they lived in, Rupert ended up on the streets. Homeless and unwanted, Rupert opted with isolating himself from the world, living on his lonesome in the woods. As the years went by, he became a sort of urban legend: A crazy young man who trains pigeons to do his bidding. The stories aren't entirely wrong, except the part about cults and blood sacrifices. He has no idea where those came from. He's one of Jericho's suppliers, since living independently from the rest of the world has given him plenty of time to hone his hunting, gathering and farming skills. He also serves as an emergency medic for more seriously injured group members.
Ralph Vladimary - Ralph is a mystery all on his own. Having been found living alone in an abandoned cabin in the woods, it's obvious from the scars and his overall behaviour and unpredictable mood swings that something absolutely horrible happened to him in the past, but Ralph has never opened up about it. A very reserved and easily frightened young man, Ralph doesn't do well in crowds and doesn't join Jericho in their travels because he's easy to overwhelm. Instead he continues to reside in the woods in his little cabin, receiving help from Rupert when he sets off on his own away from the group to check on his many camps and crops. Suffering from several mental disorders makes it hard for Ralph to get by on his own, but there are very few people he trusts so he manages out of sheer willpower and perhaps a little bit of spite towards those who think he's bound to fail. As reserved and difficult as he may be, Ralph would do anything for his friends, and is actually quite good at growing food and medicinal herbs. He's another one of Jericho's top suppliers as a result, although it's advised to send someone he likes to get the supplies.
The Jerrys/The Bosch Quintuplets - The sons of an old Canadian Navy Captain, Jeremiah, Jerome, Jeremy, Jerard and Jeronim, otherwise known as the Jerrys, are a set of happy-go-lucky quintuplets who are considered outliers of Jericho, as they wound up missing by pure accident. The unfortunate series of events that lead them to where they are now, are rather ironic, as the nautical theme loving Jerrys fell overboard and ended up getting washed away. How they survived is beyond anyone, considering the harsh temperatures of Detroit in winter, but they somehow managed to only sustain a few injuries from frostbite and still march on with a smile on their face. They hope to get back to Canada to their father one day, but for now they remain with Jericho, adamant to help the group members find a place to call home.
Luther - The first person to befriend Kara and Alice on their travels, after both ended up at Zlatko's mansion by mistake. Luther is a rather tall and intimidating young man, but at heart he is a gentle giant who means well. An amnesiac, he was forced to be Zlatko's slave and main enforcer from a young age, and has no memory of who he was before he was purchased. He is also the co-leader of the Creatures gang, whom he calls his found family. Luther helped Kara and Alice escape, and later rejoined her with his group after she joined forces with Connor and Markus.
The Creatures/Luther's Gang - Former slaves of Zlatko Andromikov, Luther's gang is comprised by a series of teenagers who grew up bound to servitude and a life of cruelty. Many bare terrible scars, others were born with birth defects, but they are all bound to each other by loyalty and one commonality: They were unwanted by their kin before they found a family in each other. Their spokesperson/leader is a very tall and muscular young woman who is covered in multiple scars, and who only speaks Russian. Despite her terrifying appearance she's a teddy bear at heart and is considered the older sister of Luther's group.
The Founder: The DPD and Amanda aren't the only ones following the Dechart missing case. Someone else in a higher place is watching...
Elijah Kamski - An enigmatic man and the original founder of Cypherlife, Elijah Kamski is a man of many secrets. When he originally founded Cypherlife his goal was to enhance human lives through specialized and experimental treatment of neural and psychological disorders. It's unknown why he left, but rumours say that he was betrayed by a group of very ambitious staff members in the company.
"Chloe" - Elijah Kamski's equally enigmatic secretary, not much is really known about Chloe, not even her real name. A highly intelligent and resourceful woman, she seems to have a lot of contacts within the city limits. Some question how such a beautiful recognizable young lady can get around unnoticed when she can captivate everyone whenever she's on screen with her boss.
Zlatko's trafficking ring: Jericho has many enemies that mean them harm. The worst of the bunch are those who wish to prey on them and turn them into merchandising.
Zlatko Andromikov - The leader of a child trafficking circuit, Zlatko is a cruel man who has ruined the lives of countless youths that have mistakenly gone to him for help in their times of dire need. Known well in the black market for his "quality merchandising" and many "services", Zlatko has multiple eyes and ears around Detroit who spread his lies of promised safety and new beginnings. He, like Amanda and Perkins, has loose ends to tie with two particular members of Jericho.
#detroit: become human#detroit become human#detroit: bh#dbh#Human AU#WARNING: EXTREMELY SENSITIVE TOPICS#CAUTION IS ADVISED
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The Drift Between Us
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Chapter 5: Caught
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Hank Anderson x Connor and Gavin Reed x RK900
Pacific Rim AU
Warnings: Just a sliver of anxiety this chapter
Word Count: 7,340
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Previous <~> Masterlist <~> Next
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It’s been about a week and a half since Connor’s mood dip, and Ritch is happy, if not suspicious, that everything’s been calm since then. Connor hasn’t had any signs of another episode, and he gets along with Markus and Simon really well, too. Josh and North, on the other hand, aren’t having quite as much luck.
It isn’t entirely their fault, though. Josh is the official “Inclusive Friend” of the group, so he’s always bringing Connor into the conversation, which puts his brother on edge for whatever reason (Ritch has learned by now to not question things like this). North is... Well, she’s just North; she’s blunt, kind of brash, quick to start fights– even if most of them are meant to be playful. She’s pretty much the exact opposite of Connor, which has them both walking on eggshells around each other. It’s mostly fine, though, because they all are comfortable enough with one another, considering the rocky start.
For some reason, Connor is still hanging around Mr. Anderson during every meal rather than with Ritch and the Jericho Squad (it’s an inside joke, apparently). If someone had asked him how he felt about that last week, he would’ve said that he was itching to get Connor away from the potentially toxic situation, despite coming to the conclusion that Mr. Anderson probably isn’t as bad as most people think. Although, after seeing them sit together in calm silences for the past week, Ritch is starting to think that Mr. Anderson may be helping Connor keep his head beyond giving him a blanket and an old ball. Ritch doesn’t know how, but he’ll just leave them to it. He’s learning that anything that helps Connor adjust to this environment shouldn’t be questioned or messed with, at least not for now.
He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to understand people like those two, especially how relationships of any kind work between two people who seem to be so different. It’s incredibly frustrating because Ritch knows he’s missing something essential and he knows that if he asks Simon or Josh for their opinion, they’d be able to see why they get along immediately, but he still can’t. One would think that after being a certain way for as long as he could remember, Ritch would get used to the feeling of being alienated for these types of things, but he’s not. He can’t even think about this particular topic for too long or else a strange irritation starts to boil deep inside of his gut, and– surprise, surprise– he doesn’t know why that happens either.
It’s incredibly frustrating and isolating, indeed.
However, on a more pleasant topic, training has been going well so far too. Both Connor and Ritch have healed from their injuries from that first day of evaluations and are currently placed at the top of the class, even with them holding back and purposefully getting questions wrong to prolong their graduation and buy time to find new partners. Neither twin is worried, though, because another student–, Traci, is right on their tails, so they aren’t complete outliers.
The three of them together make up the tutors of the class for when the other students have a minor question and/or the instructors aren’t available. Ritch is enjoying his new role quite a bit more than he thought he would, and has found that he likes helping the others with these types of things. He’s genuinely proud of and happy with himself for the first time in longer than he cares to mention, in longer than he thinks he can even remember, maybe.
Connor has been doing a good job mentoring as well, even though most of the class can tell he doesn’t exactly enjoy doing it. He likes to help, and he’ll do what he can to do so, but he’s so unsure of himself and always gives Ritch these looks when explaining something, almost as if he doesn’t know the information he’s explaining like the back of his hand.
Honestly, he doesn’t know how Connor can be so unsure of himself after all these years of preparation, but he assumes it’s the same or a similar reason for why wording certain questions wrong will force him into his bed for hours at a time. It’s just another quirk that Connor avoids talking about and another thing Ritch doesn’t question for that reason.
The only complaint he has about the past week and a half is that classes are still mostly flexibility and strength building. He can tell that at least half of the people there really need it, but he, Connor, and Traci are beyond that point. In Ritch’s honest opinion, his days have been pretty boring.
That’s why Ritch has slowly been appreciating the run-ins with the less-than-pleasant jerk Gavin Reed, more and more lately, as it seems to be the only thing exciting and challenging in this place right now. He doesn’t know if it’s planned by Gavin or not, but they almost always run into each other around lunch and/or dinner time. Ritch still contentedly walks along after dodging whatever shoulder-check or trip attempt Gavin tries, then walks away and ignores the taunts and occasional swears behind him with a smugness that’s been growing recently. Honestly, that man doesn��t give up, and Ritch doesn’t know why Gavin decided to latch onto him of all people, but he has stopped questioning that as well.
Beyond Gavin, it’s almost suspicious how calm and routinely everything has become. There hasn’t been a single time in Ritch’s life that he can remember things going this smoothly for so long. Even as a child in the orphanages and foster homes there was constant moving around and always a group of kids that would tease him and Connor for whatever reason they came up with. He’s not used to calm and predictable. Calm and predictable means danger in the end, and he knows Connor shares the sentiment.
Maybe that’s why they’re not too shocked when Luther calls them on the 15th day of training, informing them that Marshal Fowler wants to personally see them in his spare office that morning. They simply call out “Yes, sir” like the good little soldiers they were trained to be and ignore everyone’s varying expressions of curiosity or concern. They both leave the room silently and make it down several hallways in the same manner before Ritch decides to try his hand at small talk. He’s been watching Markus interact with others and memorizing how to do it in hopes of learning how to get better at acting like a real person.
The first two steps– get their attention and mention something they’re interested in– he has down. It’s the third and fourth steps– having to actively listen to something he’s not interested in and find appropriate responses at the appropriate times– that he consistently fails at and has him stressed out.
“So, Connor.”
Connor tenses slightly next to him, but tries to hide it in his tone. “Yes?”
“You and Mr. Anderson seem to be tolerating each other.” He sees Connor getting defensive and tries to placate him. “I’m not going to try to cause any trouble. At least, not unless there’s proof of him hurting you in any way, which there isn’t so far. I am just genuinely interested in what it’s like to sit with him at lunch. He seems to hate everyone with a passion except you, and he was kind of your idol when we were younger. I’m curious of how that works, exactly.”
Connor pauses, then hesitantly responds. “I don’t think he hates everyone so much as he’s tired of how everyone treats him. He hasn’t told me as much– we rarely talk to each other, actually. It’s kind of a silent agreement that he gets a bit of socialization and I get some time to relax. But anyway, we don’t talk often, but I could tell from the few times we have and the way he interacts with me versus everyone else.” Connor looks up at him, “He’s just a normal guy who’s gone through some traumatic stuff, just like us.” He straightens out again.
“Like us?” Ritch turns his head to look at Connor fully, confusion in his eyes.
He suddenly looks sheepish, “Well, that’s something I think I’ve discovered while hanging around Mr. Anderson. Like, during my mood dip? Right after I completely moved past that, he grumbled something about me being too young to have PTSD? When I denied having it, he gave me a bunch of shi– crap for thinking so.” Connor smiles the most genuine smile Ritch has seen from him in years. “It’s quite funny, looking back on it now. At first I thought it was because he wanted me to get lost or something so he was trying to make me uncomfortable, but now I know he wouldn’t have even mentioned it if that was the case. He has very little patience for others. It’s for good reason, though. I don’t blame him.” He takes a breath. “Anyway.”
He suddenly faces Ritch with a newfound confidence and seriousness, slowing his walk and lowering his voice. Ritch slows with him.
“Did you know that not all cases of PTSD is having manic terror or violent episodes? That it’s not all becoming an antisocial hermit who’s terrified of turning on an electric egg beater because of the sound? The unpleasant flashbacks I have that are supposedly triggered by little to nothing, the random flashbacks and nightmares you have, how we hate mentioning anything that could make us think of certain things of our past… Mr. Anderson made me want to research, and the sites I visited said that those are all real symptoms of PTSD.”
That catches Ritch’s attention. “Really? Are you sure?” This goes against everything Amanda convinced them of. Then again, these kinds of revelations are surprising Ritch less and less
“Of course I am! I wouldn’t have brought it up if I wasn’t absolutely sure! It actually wasn’t hard to find at all, even on Markus’ smart phone.” Connor lowers his head to stare at his feet before continuing quietly, “We could have known about this years ago if we had smartphones or tablets, especially since it’s something we definitely would’ve researched for health purposes.”
Ritch pauses for a second to process this and think. There’s only two reasons Ritch can come up with at the moment why Amanda decided to do these things, and he doesn’t want to seriously consider the second one yet. Therefore, he only voices his first potential reason.
“If this is true… Do you think this is another thing Amanda didn’t want us to concern ourselves with? We both know how she was with injuries and your random days in bed. Do you think that she probably thought this was another thing we were strong enough to face on our own?”
“I… I don’t know. Part of me still wants to believe that she meant no harm, but…” Connor looks back to Ritch, “Why would she not let us have electronics? She said it was to keep our focus on our goal but–”
“–If that were the real reason, you’d think she’d let us have at least a computer or something of the like for instructional and research purposes during our free time.” Ritch finishes his sentence, “It would have aided us greatly, not having to rely on the television and instructors to learn new things.”
“Exactly.”
Ritch sighs, “I want to think that she was just a stubborn and particular person–”
“–But one by one, things keep proving otherwise since we’ve been here–”
“–And it’s slowly getting harder to trust that everything she did was done with the best intentions for us.”
“Yeah.”
After a pause, Connor smiles and shakes his head. Before Ritch can ask what he finds amusing, his twin idly answers without realizing.
“We haven’t done the twin thing in years.” His smile turns bittersweet, and his eyes go unfocused just that tiny bit; a tell that he’s looking back on something in the past.
“I haven’t even thought of those days in so long. Not since Amanda requested the…”
Actually, I don’t want to think about this right now.
“How…” Connor starts awkwardly, “How have, uh, your appointments been going? If you don’t mind my asking. I know you’ve been going every four to five months…”
Now Ritch thinks he knows how Connor feels when he’s asked a question that’s on the verge of being too uncomfortable and personal to answer.
“I’m pretty much done with them now, but they went well. Much better than anyone expected considering my age at the time. Things could have definitely ended up much worse. I’m actually surprised they didn’t.”
Connor must pick up that he doesn’t want to talk about this anymore because he only nods a response instead of asking the questions that Ritch can tell are swirling in his head. They slip into a comfortable silence after that, the tapping of their footsteps and bustle of people somewhere in the distance the only things breaking it. They remain this way until they reach the room where Marshal Fowler should be. Ritch is not pleased to see Gavin Reed enter the room as well, but he doesn’t outwardly react to the pilot’s presence. He still doesn’t know much about the irritable man, but what he does know leads him to believe that he’s either currently in trouble or is looking to complain about something menial.
Either way, they don’t hesitate and make no show of entering the waiting-room-like area. From what Ritch has heard, Marshal Fowler occasionally uses this office when he wants a bit more privacy with whoever he’s meeting with, since his main one has a large glass wall and nowhere to put curtains. Ritch doesn’t know how to feel about Marshal Fowler wanting a more private chat with them, but he doesn’t get too much time to try to figure it out because suddenly the door to the actual office section of the place slams open and Gavin Reed storms out of it. He ends up violently sitting himself down in a chair– because only Gavin Reed could find a way to make sitting down violent (Ritch disregards the intrusive thought of North possibly being able to as well)– immediately crossing his arms like a child and impatiently bouncing his leg with a deep scowl on his face.
“The fuck’re you lookin’ at?” Reed snaps.
Ritch smoothly diverts his gaze to the door to Marshal Fowler’s office. “Nothing in particular.”
Marshal Fowler chooses then to make an appearance. “Connor, can you come back here?”
Connor starts moving to where the marshal stands in the doorway, and Ritch follows by default. Whenever someone needs to talk to Ritch or Connor, that person commonly ends up needing to talk to both of them because they’re twins and supposed partners. He stops almost immediately, though, when Marshal Fowler raises a hand at him.
“I only want Connor. You’re after, go ahead and find a seat out here.”
Ritch nods and says “Yes, sir”, ignoring the growing concern and confusion. He turns sharply and finds a seat on the opposite side of the small room from Gavin Reed because he took a seat in the middle of his row, otherwise Ritch would opt against having to face him. The chair under him squeaks under his weight, then the entire room is plunged into a silence more tense and painful than the one earlier with Connor had been. He’s not surprised, though. It’s Reed he’s alone with, after all, so it’s to be expected. It’s also no real surprise that it’s Reed that breaks the silence since he can’t ever seem to keep his mouth shut.
“The fuck’s up with you two?”
Ritch contains the urge to roll his eyes and instead gives Reed a flat look. “You’ll have to be more specific.”
Reed huffs and rolls his eyes dramatically. “Why the fuck are you guys in here?” He sneers, “Are you guys finally being kicked out? We all saw those injuries you got last week. Gonna get those boo boos from earlier this week kissed by mama when you get home?”
Now Ritch openly rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “If you’re going to try to insult someone, could you at least do it in a more mature and creative way? Because you sound like a child and most children can’t be taken seriously. Also, Connor and I are currently placed at the top of our class, so we certainly aren’t getting kicked out for that reason anytime soon.”
Reed loses his cockiness real fast and replaces it with blatant irritation. Honestly, this guy is a landmine who’s practically begging to be stepped on. Ritch wonders how many people have fallen for this act, because he certainly won’t. This isn’t his first time dealing with someone as testing as Gavin Reed, as disappointing as it is.
“Top of your class, ey? Is that why you beat each other to a pulp, then? Are you two just not compatible and tryin’ to prove a point?” He barks out a sharp laugh, “That’d be the icing on the cake. Fuckin’ identical twins not bein’ drift compatible. I bet–”
“You seem to misunderstand.” Ritch interrupts, “We want to be incompatible, so it would certainly be ‘the icing on the cake’ for us to be officially seen as such, since that has been our goal since the beginning of training.”
Ritch prides himself for the look of bewilderment on Reeds face.
“And why the fuck would you guys suddenly not want to be partners? You obviously came as a pair. Got into a cat fight or somethin’?”
Ritch grins sharply, feeling oddly encouraged by Reed’s antagonizing. “That’s for me to know and for you to preferably never find out.” Reed opens his mouth to speak, but Ritch continues. “And I would suggest that you keep away from other people’s businesses. Someone may accidentally mistake your abrasive nosiness for actually caring.”
Reed grumbles and angrily slouches low in his seat, not unlike a pouting child would. Within his grumbling, Ritch barely makes out the word “fucker”, but the way he pronounces it makes him mentally do a double take. Sure enough, just a few seconds later, he murmurs what sounds like “phker” under his breath again, and Ritch can’t quite contain the careful, blank expression on his face anymore, letting his eyebrows furrow just the slightest.
Does he actually say it like that or is he just shitting around? He said it normally before… What even...?
“Ritch,” Marshal Fowler suddenly calls, startling the twin. He can’t let himself lower his guard like that again, lest he get hurt. “You’re up. Connor, you’re free to go so this disaster of a human being doesn’t start influencing your behavior.”
“Really feelin’ the love, Fowler.”
“Just do me a favor and shut up. You’re damn lucky you’re a good pilot or else you’d’ve been gone ages ago.” The marshal slams the door behind him with Ritch already inside the office. He turns to face Ritch.
“Now then, sit down. I’ll make this short.”
That wasn’t usually a good thing to hear, and Ritch never got the opportunity to read Connor to see how he was affected. He’s going in blind. Thankfully, Marshal Fowler makes do on his word of keeping things quick and barely waits for Ritch to sit down before starting business.
“You and Connor still refuse to work together, and it’s come to my attention that you guys have started trying to experiment on your compatibility with the other trainees, yes?” Ritch nods with a, “Yes, sir.”, seeing no reason to lie since they’ve already been caught, and the older man continues. “So, what are we gonna do about this, then?”
Ritch waits in silence for a few moments, thinking it was a rhetorical question, but when he doesn’t continue, Ritch searches for an appropriate answer. The marshal doesn’t actually let him answer in the end, which miffs the twin. He’s careful to not let it show, though.
“We can consider your paperwork to be ingenuine, thus terminating any chances of you and Connor ever being pilots.”
Ritch feels like this is the first of multiple options with the way he said this, but it’s obvious that this is a test of some kind, so he plays along. Besides, this is something they’ve already tried to admit and clear up during the first day of being here, so they can’t entirely be in the wrong.
“I suppose, in a way, our paperwork was ingenuine, but we didn’t have a choice in the matter at the time.”
“And what does that mean?” He probably knows what it means from Connor, but once again, this is probably a test to see how eagerly he wants to be a pilot.
“Our stepmother and instructor, Amanda, was watching us fill them out, and we–”
“Wait, wait wait wait wait…” He holds a hand up and takes a second to process something, then points at Ritch almost accusingly. “Your trainer was your stepmother? You share her last name?”
Ritch doesn’t know how he messed up, but he feels like he did. “Yes, sir.”
“So your trainer was Amanda, as in, Amanda Stern?”
“Do… you know her, sir?”
“‘Do I know her’, he asks.” He spins in his chair to address an invisible audience incredulously while throwing his hands in the air, then spins to face Ritch again. “You mean to tell me that you just didn’t know that your supposed stepmother, Amanda Stern, is known for training some of the best jaeger pilots we’ve had? You two know so much about everything else ‘round here– because it’s obvious that you and Connor purposefully threw some of the evaluation questions, and we’re gonna talk about that too– but neither of you knew who Amanda Stern is? You didn’t think to mention this little detail to us?”
“I… suppose not, sir. Maybe she didn’t tell us she was known for anything because she wanted us to get in through skill and not because of her name? All we knew was that she had experience in training soldiers and that she offered to train us to give us a better chance at being accepted.”
“Did you not have any internet? A magazine on jaeger pilots and training, even? Anything?”
“No, sir. At least, not often and usually not unsupervised. She didn’t like us being distracted from our main goal, much to our own irritation.”
Marshal Fowler opens his mouth as if to ask another question, probably one out of concern if his facial expression is anything to go by, but he instead sighs deeply with a shake of his head. It’s obvious that he’s pretty much done with this situation and that he wants this to be over as soon as possible. Ritch feels very much the same way.
“That doesn’t explain why you purposefully answered questions wrong on the written evaluations, and both Luther and I have a sneaking suspicion that you guys have been holding back ever since that first day of physical evaluations. And you better not lie to me, because lying about your potential during evaluations has already put you on thin fuckin’ ice here.”
See, here’s the problem, if Ritch’s story doesn’t match up near-perfectly with Connor’s, then they’re both done for. Therefore, Ritch has to try to figure out if Connor told the truth about buying time to find a new partner, or if he bent the truth and claimed it was to get more time to gain the “trainee experience”. If Marshal Fowler was this tough on Connor as well, then he would’ve cracked and simply told the entire truth then beg for forgiveness afterward. Although, if the marshal went easy on him and is only being short with Ritch right now because of the accumulated stress, then Connor would have bent the truth to keep his superior from getting angry in the first place.
This is where being able to see Connor’s expression would have helped immensely. Even just a quick glance at his eyes; the twin-telepathy would have taken care of the rest.
When Ritch answers, it’s soon enough after Marshal Fowler finished speaking that there’s no noticeable hesitation. His decision is made and is hopefully correct.
“To put it shortly, we were trying to avoid any possible chance of early graduation in order to buy time for us to find new partners to pilot a jaeger with. Due to past events, Connor and I will certainly have a difficult time going through the neural handshake. It can be done, we’ve been trained most of our lives to be compatible, but it’ll be more than uncomfortable and taxing for both of us.” Ritch takes a page from Connor’s book and looks down with hunched shoulders, knowing it should accentuate the guilt and trepidation he’s feeling. “We’d really rather not have to find out how long we’d last.”
The marshal sighs again, this time less angrily, “And why did you not state this on your papers when signing up?”
Ritch lifts his head, completely confident in his answer now. “As I said before, Amanda was quite literally standing behind us during the entire process, and she would have been… less than pleased if she saw that we were trying to write down anything besides eagerness to work together. She’s–” Ritch’s voice cracks, so he clears his throat quickly, “She can be a force to be reckoned with, one could say.”
Marshal Fowler stares down Ritch, probably for any signs of dishonesty, but the trainee knows that he’ll find none. The way he sighs once more, this time more in defeat, tells Ritch that his choice to come clean was the correct choice. It also shows that he should probably get back to Connor as soon as possible. Knowing him and his patterns of self-blame and punishment, he’s probably already digging himself a ditch with the amount of fidgeting and pacing he’s likely doing.
“Connor said something similar.” He states as if Ritch didn’t already figure that out, “He never mentioned that your trainer was Amanda Stern, though. That kinda changes things, here.” He sighs again. Ritch kind of feels bad for giving him more stress than he already had.
“I apologize for making things complicated. You probably have enough on your plate as it is without worrying about two questionable trainees.”
“You’re damn right I do. I’m glad you recognize that.”
Another halt in conversation. Marshal Fowler breaks it, this time, with false nonchalance.
“Mind if I ask how long you stayed with Amanda?”
“We lived with her for nearly eleven years, but we only trained for a little over ten.” Ritch answers automatically. This is a question he’s answered many times before in the past.
Ritch hears the marshal hiss a distinct “Jesus” under his breath before continuing out loud. “Did you have anyone taking care of you besides Amanda? Like a maid or something?”
“I have Connor and he has me, but we’ve always been mostly self-sufficient. We never particularly needed anyone else.”
Marshal Fowler scrutinizes him for a moment, before dropping his gaze to the table between them. Richard feels another sudden wave of sympathy for the older man.
“Alright, I’ve got things to do and another human to talk with, apparently, so you can leave now.” He gets up from his chair and steps to the door. “I’ll have someone tell you the verdict once the people who normally take care of this kind of stuff decide what to do with you two.” He opens the door then shouts with impatience, “Reed! Get your ass in here!”
Ritch starts walking out, eyeing Reed, who is just getting up from his chair. He doesn’t know what prompts him to do it, but Ritch suddenly can’t simply walk past the trash-human without saying something. It’s an odd feeling, one that he’s never had before, but he relates it to a strange mixture of smug, cocky, and maybe a bit playful, yet he has no reason to be any of those. As they pass each other, Ritch lowers his voice enough that marshal Fowler shouldn’t be able to tell he said anything from where he’s sat in the office chair again.
“Here for another day, Reed, let’s see if you are too.” he taunts, relishing in whatever this smug, cocky, thrilling feeling is.
Reed stops in his tracks, but Ritch continues on as if nothing happened.
“What did you just say to me?”
“Reed!”
Ritch allows a shit-eating grin to form when he hears the loud growl from the pilot only because his back is to him. It drops completely as soon as he opens the door because he finds Connor waiting right outside in the hall. He normally would have retreated back to their room by now to calm down, but here he is. At least there’s one part of his pattern Connor’s still following; pacing and fidgeting with his fingers in an obvious show of anxiety. Ritch doesn’t get the chance to ask if he’s okay because Connor’s suddenly darting to him.
“Ritch! Ritch, I’m sorry! I told him everything and I messed this all up and–”
“You didn’t mess anything up, and you didn’t tell him everything.” Ritch cuts him off before it gets out of hand, “He was surprised when I told him Amanda was our stepmother and trainer. Apparently she’s downright famous in our line of work.”
“I–” Connor freezes, his eyes widening in recognition. “I think I knew that already. I’m pretty sure North’s said something like that...” Connor replies dumbly. Ritch can tell he’s trying to process that what he imagined in his head isn’t becoming reality, so he gives his brother a second to adjust before continuing.
“It’s okay that you told Marshal Fowler everything, because I did too. We were caught, and lying would have made things worse. He seemed receptive to our reasonings for lying by the end of our talk.”
Connor slowly lifts his head up in order to meet Ritch’s eyes. “...was he really? Or are you just trying to make me feel better?”
“Connor. I never say anything I don’t mean, you know this better than anyone, so the fact that you’re asking me if I am bending the truth for anyone’s benefit means you need to take some time to lie down and think through things before this afternoon. That’s what you normally do during times like this, yes?”
Ritch turns and starts walking back to their dorm, knowing full well that Connor will start following behind him. Sure enough, he hears the tip-tapping of footsteps behind him almost immediately.
“I do… But what if He might’ve been putting on an act to make us think we’re safe. What if we get kicked out? We don’t have any other skills–”
“If things really go down the drain, I’m sure we could at least find jobs as bodyguards or some kind of fighting or self-defense instructors. Besides, we’re still young. We still have time to learn a new trade if worse comes to worst. But I genuinely don’t think it will come to that.”
“How can you be sure? What if–”
Ritch stops and turns to his brother abruptly, “Stop letting your head and emotions get the best of you. Calm down and think clearly. Marshal Fowler never yelled at you, did he? Didn’t get short with you after you explained yourself?”
Connor takes a deep breath, “...not really, no.”
“And he didn’t with me, either. He simply said that he’d give the information to the people who officially decide what to do with us.” He stops Connor before he can freak out, “Now think, if you were in their shoes, and you got a case about these brothers whose stepmother, who is well-known for being at least mildly threatening, apparently, was watching them through every step of the enrollment process and forced them to put answers they didn’t like, would you blame the kids?”
“I don’t know because I’m not informed on–”
“Connor, come on, just use your head for a second. Would you do it?”
His brother stammers, “But I’m too soft and–”
“Connor.” Ritch snaps.
“No.” Connor barks back, anger bleeding into his tone. Finally, he’s feeling and showing something other than anxiety and fear.
“And in the end, I don’t think I would either. People can’t blame kids for being afraid of the consequences of going against their parent’s or guardian’s wishes. In most cases it’s the adult’s fault, so I’ve heard.”
Connor pauses, looking down. “You’re sure about that? Where have you heard this from?”
“North complains about her parents sometimes.” Ritch starts walking again, and Connor follows. “They’re eerily similar to Amanda in a lot of ways, as far as I have been able to tell, and what I told you is what Simon told North once or twice. She seemed to agree with him.”
“Oh…”
Ritch nods and continues his trek to their bunker again. The relatively short trip is spent in silence for the rest of the way. When they arrive, Connor surprises Ritch by not entering the room when he holds the door open for him. Instead, he states that Lunch will be starting sometime soon and he’d like to get there a little early today. Ritch decides against questioning it, even if this doesn’t match his brother’s usual behavioral patterns, so he simply nods and bids Connor a polite farewell before closing the bunker door behind him.
Not questioning certain things seems to be a repeating theme for Ritch lately, but he can tell that if he did start questioning them, he’d spiral into an unpleasant mindset. He isn’t quite sure why, probably something like a long lost self-preservation method that has become a simple habit over time, but he really doesn’t want to delve into that right now. Maybe another time when he knows the following day will be a day off, but not now when he has to go back to training in just a few hours. Ritch has a feeling that this particular “maybe later” will become yet another “not ever”, but he can’t bring himself to particularly care at this moment. He seems to have a lot of “maybe later”s too, now that he’s thinking about it.
He shakes his head and forcibly moves any and all of those types of thoughts like taking boxes of trinkets and stashing them in the shed or garage when one’s too lazy to go to the dump. There’s a fleeting thought that this is probably unhealthy, but it’s gone and forgotten as fast as it tries to arrive.
What Ritch decides is okay to actively think about is the feeling he got when he started taunting Reed today. He’s still not even sure why he did that, since he vowed just last week to never escalate things like the other man wanted so desperately, yet here he is. This is probably the first feeling aside from enjoyment and annoyance that Ritch has genuinely let himself feel in a while, and it felt… good. It felt really good. That’s what’s concerning him.
Ritch doesn’t “just feel things”– that would have gotten him in a lot of trouble with Amanda and thus turned him into a nervous wreck like Connor. At first, Ritch picked and chose which emotions to put on his face in order to please the people around him, not unlike what Connor tries to do. Although, at some point, he just became a robot of sorts. He didn’t realize until it was too late, but he doesn’t really feel anything anymore, as “teenage angst” as that sounds. He knows what he should be feeling and acts accordingly, and he, for the most part, can tell what other people are feeling, so he acts accordingly then, as well. Not that Ritch has any problems with himself, that’s just the way he is.
He even started tamping down on the annoyance too. That is, until Gavin Reed entered the picture. Ritch ignored the man easily whenever he tried to start something in the past, as he normally does, but something about him keeps grating at his skin, so to speak. Ritch has no clue why, and there’s no way he’s going to ask for Connor’s help. His twin is living his own life now, he doesn’t need Ritch dragging him down as well. Besides, Ritch wouldn’t even know how to begin describing the strange feeling he gets when treating Gavin to a bit of his own medicine. He’s pretty sure Mr. Anderson would be able to help, but there’s no way in hell he’s approaching the old alcoholic. That’s Connor’s type of thing, not Ritch’s, and it’ll stay that way for as long as he can help it.
Whatever, it’s not like this is actually bothering him. This feeling and his and Reed’s interactions are the only things keeping Ritch from going insane with boredom and lack of sunlight, after all. As he starts preparing himself for lunch and the second half of the training day, he wonders if his superiors would let him go for a run around the aircraft launch, or if that would be too dangerous.
•◊•◊•◊•◊•
Tina has been asking the same damn question at lunch every day ever since Gavin told her about his plan to break Ritch; “Make any progress with your boy toy, yet?” Her excuse had been because “He’s a boy and you have been trying to toy with him, therefore, boy toy.” Gavin understands where she got boy toy from, thank you very much, he just doesn’t understand why she says it the way she does, like she’s expecting something else to happen. It also doesn’t help that she usually says it loud enough for the surrounding tables to hear. He wouldn’t be surprised if the “Slut Gavin” rumors started their rounds again soon because of it.
Gavin only started picking on the guy just to try to get a rise out of him. He does the same exact thing with the other trainees just to see how long their patience lasts. Honestly, what do people expect from him? Every single person he’s encountered has cracked, even those dudes Simon and Josh, who Gavin thought were going to be the toughest to crack because they’re so mild and peaceful. But nope! Just one degradation of their little friend group and they got defensive as hell. Gavin hasn’t even tried with the other twin– the one that sits next to Anderson for some fuckin’ reason– because the pilot can tell that one’ll crack within seconds of Gavin doing his thing. Plus, if he and Anderson are actually buddying up with each other…
Let’s just say that, while the rest have been spoiled with their robots and fancy technology and hence have lost that certain edge, Anderson still knows how to take and throw a damn punch. Gavin figured that out the hard way a couple years back, and he isn’t going to jump at another opportunity to test it again.
Ritch, though… Ritch is a fucking robot or something. He’s never surprised, always stoic no matter what Gavin says and has a constant resting bitch face, even when he’s with his little group during lunch. Even with all of the attempts at getting him to do something, anything, Ritch is always fucking blank and it’s irritating. Honestly, Gavin was even about ready to give up trying to get something out of him. If he hadn’t so much as slipped up by now, he probably wasn’t ever going to crack enough for it to be worth it.
However, as soon as that fucker walked into the waiting room, Gavin got the feeling that today was gonna be different, and he was right. Ritch slipped that little bit while waiting for Connor, and that was instantly enough proof that Gavin should keep going, that it was possible to finally get a reaction. He thought that was going to be it for the day. He was fully ready to call quits for now and plan how to get him to break some more tomorrow. He didn’t expect that slight fucking quirk in his lips and that twinkle in Ritch’s eye when the trainee walked out of Fowler’s office.
“Here for another day, Reed, let’s see if you are too.” is what the fucker said. And to top it all off, Gavin caught that fucking smug-ass grin on his face afterwards. He didn’t know little Ritchie-boy could dish anything out, let alone not only get away with something like insinuate that Gavin was gonna get fired with the fuckin Marshal in the same damn room, but also get Gavin in trouble for “trying to start something again”? He had to endure ten extra minutes of lecturing because he “still wasn’t respecting the trainees” and “hasn’t solved his anger issues”!
You wanna finally participate in the game you’ve been ignoring for so long? Then I’ll make it impossible for you to ignore it again. I know how much fun you had in that moment. So let’s fuckin’ play.
•◊•◊•◊•◊•
Now, Gavin doesn’t normally wait for people. He prefers to play the whole “Oh look who I just ran into” schtick, but that ain’t gonna work for little Richard, anymore. He doesn’t even know if it ever worked for the prick in the first place with how calculated every single one of his movements seem. Oh well, it doesn’t matter anymore, he’s already leaned up against this wall in a way that everyone knows by now means to stay clear of him. He’s on the hunt for prey, and he can see his target walking down the hall in his direction right now.
“‘Sup, dick.” Gavin calls, “Oh I’m sorry, did you prefer Richard? Ritch, maybe?”
The twin doesn’t miss a beat this time, “Hello to you too, wetland grass. Although, I thought I told you earlier to come up with more mature and creative insults if you wanted to stop being seen as a child.”
“First of all, fuck you–”
“No thank you, I’m not interested.” Dick interrupts, pausing a few steps away from Gavin, “Oh, and Reed, Ritch is short for Ritchie, not Richard, so I wouldn’t be called Dick anyway. You can try again next time, though, maybe with more finesse. I’m known to be a very patient man and am willing to wait the time it will take to do so.” He has that same eye sparkle as earlier, even if his face is still morphed into something like disregard.
“You keep calling me childish, but who’s the one who has a baby face? Are you even old enough to shave? Cause you don’t look a day past fourteen.” Gavin sneers, miffed that Ritch is now walking away from him as if he doesn’t have a damn care in the world. That’s supposed to be his own move!
“No, I don’t shave,” he replies over his shoulder, “but I don’t see how that’s insultable since I waste no time in my mornings shaving and my face never itches. Have a good afternoon, wetland grass. Or do you prefer Reed?” and he’s out of casual speaking distance, effectively ending this round unless Gavin wants to throw away his pride and follow the dude or yell down the hallway. He does neither.
He may have won this time, Gavin certainly underestimated this guy, still having doubts that he wouldn’t go back to being unemotional. Although, little Ritchie is a fool if he thinks these petty, elementary insults are all Gavin’s got. Gavin smirks in a way that has a middle-aged man clearly avoiding him where he was passing him in the hallway.
Game on, bitch.
•◊•◊•◊•◊•
Previous <~> Masterlist <~> Next
•◊•◊•◊•◊•
A/N: Hello again, guys! So, yea, I know this chapter is basically all dialogue and it’s kind of boring compared to other chapters, but it’ll pick up again for the next chapter or the one after that. I had to do some setting up for future plot points, ya dig? XD Also, this chapter has been sitting in my google docs completely finished for four days now because I’m a dummy who thought I already posted this Lol. But anyway, I know there isn’t much Reed900 action like what I promised last chapter, but they’ll have their time to truly shine eventually, I promise! 😅 So yeah, feel free to shout at me about literally anything at all, and Thank y’all so much for reading!! 😄💕💕
#gavin x rk900#gavin reed x rk900#reed900#900reed#reed900 au#reed900 fanfiction#reed900 fanfic#hankcon#hannor#hank x connor#hank anderson x connor#hankcon fanfiction#hannor fanfic#hannor fanfiction#hannor au#hankcon au#pacific rim!au#The Drift Between Us#Chapter 5
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“You’re holding back” no.89
Notes:
Warning - Mentions of abuse
Chase is the precinct technician
ASTA Facility - Android Specialist and Technical Assistance Facility
(First time posting my own work, it’s a bit messy, but hope you enjoy. Much thanks to @kianraidelcam who got me doing this and convinced me to post it. The support is appreciated! Xxxx Go give this talented individual some love :D)
He wasn’t sure when he first noticed that something wasn’t right. The withdrawnness. The lack of smartass comments. The flinches. He’d asked if he was okay, with a simple “I am fine Lieutenant” in response, and he chalked it up to all of the changes that had happened in the deviant’s life.
That was until he noticed the bruises.
At first, he wasn’t even sure if androids could bruise, but with a quick check with the precinct technician, he was minorly surprised when his answer came back positive. It was a build up of leaked Thirium under their synthetic skin, which made Hank worry a bit more.
The first incident was when Connor reached out to open a door. It was that simple. His jacket and shirt sleeve rode up slightly on his arms as he reached forward and revealed a dark blue area of blotched skin around his wrist. Upon seeing this, Hank immediately questioned its origins, resulting in a second’s hesitation which was all too noticeable for the android.
“It was an accident. I held onto my wrist too tightly yesterday when Chase removed that shrapnel from my leg.”
Hank narrowed his eyes at this. Connor could lie convincingly at times, being a negotiator and all, but he never quite seemed to be able to convince Hank. But if the deviant didn’t want to talk, he wouldn’t push it. Maybe he’d talk to Markus later and see if he knew if Connor was upset about something.
They both got back to their work stations, the issue dropped but not forgotten.
---
The next incident was first noticed by Gavin, who was sat spinning idly on his chair and leaving his computer terminal on standby. He watched as the android walked into the bullpen, a slight limp noticeable and his hands in his pockets.
“Hey Dipshit! Go too hard with your boyfriend last night?” He smirked, his eyes bright in amusement as he brought his cup of coffee to his mouth.
Connor stopped abruptly in his tracks before sending a small glare towards the inappropriate comment. He lowered his head and didn’t say anything in turn, and this in itself made Gavin lose his smirk.
Since Connor’s devincey and return to the precinct, the android had picked up Hank’s sarcasm and developed his own sense of humour, which resulted in him firing back comments as fast as he took them. Slowly overtime, the insults and comments became nothing more than jabs and banter towards each other, the hostility draining away. Gavin actually enjoyed it, but he wouldn’t admit it to anyone.
“Hey, uh, you good?” He asked awkwardly, taking another sip. As much as the hostility had decreased between the two, he still wasn’t used to being nice to the guy, and in times like this it showed.
“Yes, I am fine, Detective Reed. I have simply had a complication with the joint in my knee. It is in the process of being repaired and will be at optimal working condition in a few minutes.”
The tone brought a slight feeling of dread through the ambitious detective as it was reminiscent of the deviant’s time as a machine.
“...Uh, alright then. Just...if you need help or something,” he coughed, looking away awkwardly.
“Thank you Detective, but it isn’t necessary.” With that, he made his way over to his desk, missing the slight frown Hank was giving him and the look the two detectives shared with each other.
---
It was the day after when Hank started to reach his limit. Connor had turned up to work sporting a black eye. The android was keeping his head down as if trying to hide it and wouldn’t make eye contact with anyone. Hank sat up straighter at his desk, leaning forwards on his elbows.
“Connor? What happened to you?” He asked, following Connor walking around to his desk while turning on his chair.
“Nothing. Just...an altercation with an anti-android activist.” The deviant replied, turning his face away a little more.
“Really? What, someone got the drop on you?” Hank questioned, bewildered.
“It’s not the first time that has happened, Lieutenant.”
“No, but…” Hank trailed off, mind kicking into overdrive. He turned his body fully towards the android and gave him a once over.
“You’re holding back.” This time, it was Connor’s turn to look at him.
“You have all that fancy tech of yours, but you’ve never let someone take a hit on you like that. Why start now?”
Connor visibly paused, seemingly trying to think of an answer.
“I...I don’t want to hurt anyone. I was made to hurt my own kind, I deserve more than a little beating. Besides, I stopped it.” Hank felt like they were having two different conversations.
“Connor, please tell me you’re not letting yourself be hurt on purpose. This is a dangerous job.” Hank almost pleaded, not being able to stop the worry and concern from spreading over his face. He had a really bad feeling about all of this.
“No! I-I mean I’m not. I promise.” Connor burst out, then seemed surprised by his own actions. “I apologise Lieutenant. It won’t happen again.”
“No need to apologise kid. You know, you can talk to me about anything, you know that, right?”
“Of course Lieutenant, I-” His LED started spinning a quick yellow before returning to a forced-looking blue. “A new case just came in.”
Connor stood up to leave, once again missing the look of disbelief on Hank’s face.
---
Time after time, Connor kept on coming into the precinct sporting bruises or some kind of injury, all perfectly explained away as accidents or misfortunes. Most of them were covered up pretty well, and when questioned, he always responded, “I just don’t want people to worry about me.”
The end of Connor and Hank’s shift came, and Connor switched off his terminal before adjusting his jacket and standing to leave.
“Hey, you coming back with me tonight or is TJ picking you up?
“Tyler said he was going to pick me up. After all of our early starts this week, he wanted to spend the weekend with me.”
Hank couldn’t help but notice that the android didn’t look too thrilled at the idea, but he didn’t know what to make of it.
“Aaand? Are you alright with that? You don’t look too excited, kid.”
Connor seemed to be internally debating with himself and opened his mouth to say something when a pair of arms snaked around his torso and a pair of lips pressed against his neck.
“Hey babe, you ready to go?” A young man with light brown hair greeted as he gave his boyfriend another kiss.
“Hello Tyler. I will be, just as soon as I hand this to Captain Fowler.” Connor replied, holding up a tablet.
“Well hurry up then, we don’t wanna be late.” He smiled, squeezing Connor’s shoulder slightly.
Connor briskly walked over to the Captain’s office with the tablet, while Hank gave Tyler an odd look. Hank wasn’t stupid, he was a detective for fuck’s sake. There was one scenario that he could think of that would explain Connor’s sudden change in personality and his apparent ‘clumsiness’, but Hank really hoped he was wrong. Besides, Connor would say something, right?
“Okay, I’m ready to go.” Connor spoke up as he came back, landing a quick kiss to Tyler’s cheek as he walked past their desks.
“‘Bout time. Come on then, let’s leave.” Connor’s LED flashed yellow for a split second before returning to a spinning blue. He gave Hank a smile before turning to leave.
“Bye Hank.”
“See ya kid, call if you need anything, yeah?”
This time, Connor’s smile hardened slightly, barely noticeable, but it was there.
“I will do. Thank you.”
Tyler tugged on Connor’s wrist, trying to get him moving. Connor turned his smile on him and they both left, leaving Hank with a bad feeling settling in his body.
---
The weekend had passed, and Hank had just finished taking Sumo out for a walk when his phone started ringing. It was an unrecognised number, which he thought was odd, but answered it anyway.
“Anderson.” He greeted, pausing midway through hanging his coat up as he received the person on the other end.
“Lieutenant Anderson? It’s Markus. You’re going to want to come to the ASTA Facility.”
Hank felt a cold wash of dread run down his spine as he began to put his jacket back on.
“What? Why? Is Connor alright?”
There was a pause, before “I...I don’t know. The technicians contacted me as they didn’t know who to call.”
“Fuck. Where are you now?”
“I’m at the facility now, I’m waiting for some news.”
“Alright, I’ll be there soon.” He hung up without waiting for a response and jogged to the car, quickly putting it in gear and pulling out.
“God kid...you’d better be alright.”
---
Hank wasn’t quite sure what he was expecting when he arrived at the android hospital, but it still shocked him. He’d been led straight in through the wards to the recovery area where they were waiting for Connor to reboot and wake up. Before they got to his room, Markus came around the corner, heading straight for him and waving the escort off when he saw them.
“Lieutenant Anderson.” He greeted, shaking the man’s hand.
“Hey Markus. Seriously, call me Hank, you’re nearly as bad as Connor with that Lieutenant bullshit. Anyway, how is he?”
“I was just coming around to meet you in reception. He’s still what you would call ‘asleep’ but...it’s not pretty.”
The two of them rounded the corner and headed towards the room. Hank mentally prepared himself for whatever he was going to see. He just prayed it wouldn’t be too bad.
The door was pushed open and the duo stepped inside the room quietly, Hank’s eyes widening when he took in the scene. Markus winced when he took in the sight of his friend again and closed the door behind them.
Connor was laying prone in a hospital bed, chest rising and falling gently with each artificial breath that was forced into him. He had a tube going down his throat and a cable connecting to his LED, but that wasn’t all there was much to Hank’s despair. Connor’s left eye was surrounded by a dark blue hue and a ring of bruising circled his neck, hand prints prominent.
“Shit...Connor?”
“He’s still in stasis mode Lieutenant, We’re just waiting now for his self-repair system to fully engage and fix the minority damages left behind from the technicians. He’ll wake up when his system isn’t putting too much power into fixing him.”
“Markus...What the hell happened?”
“Honestly Hank, I don’t know. I haven’t gone through his memory as I would prefer having permission to do so. Connor doesn’t react very well when it comes to interfacing…”
“Mr Anderson?” A technician entered the room, already aware that Hank was on his way and checked it was the right person.
“Uh yeah, that’s me. What’s the problem doc?”
The technician looked down at the tablet in his hands and scrolled through something. He then set it aside as he leaned over Connor and pressed a button on the machine connected to the cable on his LED.
“Well…”
“Look, just tell me it straight. Chances are, statements are gonna be collected anyway with the way things are looking.” Hank prompted, wanting to get to the bottom of it.
“Very well. The facial cranial plating around his left optical lense has been shattered, and the plating around his neck protecting his air and Thirium lines has been compromised, causing enough of a disturbance and denting to block most of the airway. This has caused some minor overheating, but that was dealt with quickly and no longer causes any issues. We had to insert a tube into his throat to widen the passageway enough for the needed air to get to his ventilation biocomponents, and keep it open to help him stay cool so his self-repair program could kick in.”
Hank was looking a little lost, so Markus stepped in.
“It’s the equivalent to you shattering your cheekbone and getting a black eye, and his airway has essentially collapsed. They had to force it open to let the air in. The technicians have repaired most of the damage but they had to leave the minor bits to Connor’s programming.”
“Oh shit..” Hank ran a hand through his hair, sighing in frustration and worry. “And by the looks of it, someone did this intentionally to him. Those are fucking strangulation marks goddamnit!”
He took in a deep breath to calm himself somewhat and stepped closer to the bed, taking the visitor’s seat provided. He grabbed Connor’s hand in his.
“What’s going on with you kid…?” He mumbled, running a hand gently through Connor’s hair.
As if in response, Connor scrunched his eyes closed tighter, hand twitching slightly.
“Connor?” Hank questioned, rubbing the hand he was holding.
Connor gave out a soft sort of grunt as he slowly opened his eyes, his gaze on the ceiling above slightly unfocused, before feeling the weight on his right hand. He moved his gaze over to his right to see Hank smiling at him softly, yet concern was evident on his face.
“Hey kid, I’m here. You’re alright.” Hank soothed, watching as many different emotions spread over his son’s face as he realised where he was.
Connor’s good eye widened, and he tried to sit up but was stopped by the machine that was keeping him breathing when he couldn’t. He brought a hand to his throat, rubbing it tentatively before looking at Hank again with pleading eyes.
Hank looked hesitant, but got confirmation.
“Squeeze my hand if you want the tube out.” Hank instructed, readjusting his grip. Connor very weakly squeezed, a sign that unnerved Hank, but he didn’t let it show.
“Okay kid, hang on. We’ll ask for a technician to come have a look.” Hank looked over at Markus, and without having to ask, Markus slipped out of the room to look for the technician that had been overseeing Connor’s recovery.
As they waited for the technician, Hank ran his hand through Connor’s hair, keeping his other hand on Connor’s, rubbing the back of his hand with his thumb.
“You’re alright son, I’m here.”
The door opened again as Markus had found the technician quite quickly, and the two stepped inside the room.
“So I hear you want the tube out?” The technician asked, coming over closer to the bed. He checked something on the tablet being held, and then checked his vitals.“Okay, your self-repair program has run most of its course. I want you to relax as much as possible please.”
With that, the tech put both of their hands under Connor’s jaw in an almost ‘w’ shape, pressing down on where a human’s trachea would be. He then pressed a button at the top of the machine breathing for Connor, before gently pulling the device out from his throat. Connor winced slightly, trying his best to remain still and relaxed, but it was clear he wasn’t comfortable.
As soon as the tube was out, Connor’s left hand came up to rub tentatively at his throat, breathing himself a few times as deeply as he could as he began to relax again. The tech shone a light inside his mouth, taking a quick look before nodding to themselves, checking Connor’s vitals one more time, and marking them down.
“I’ll come back in about an hour to have one final check, and if everything’s in the clear, he can go home.” The guy commented, receiving a nod and a thank you from both visitors, before leaving the room again.
Hank looked back again at Connor’s face, and gave his hand a quick squeeze.
“How are you feeling, son?”
“S-sore…” Connor barely got out, wincing again and bringing his hand to his neck as the words felt like sandpaper in his throat.
“Figured. Pretty nasty injury you had there. Scared the shit outta me.”
Connor looked a little guilty, lowering his head only to be met with a little resistance as Hank wouldn’t let him.
“What happened, son?”
Connor went quiet for a few seconds before, “I fell.”
No. This wasn’t happening. Fuck this.
Hank took in a deep, stabling breath.
“Connor...Please. You know you can’t expect me to believe that. Please tell me the truth.” He almost begged, trying to maintain eye contact.
“I...I did though. T-Tyler… Tyler was a little m-mad, b-but it was my fault. He j-just, um, handled me a little to r-roughly, and I f-fell.”
Markus took a step forward.
“You’re holding back.” He seemed to be doing that a lot lately. Connor turned his head away to stare at the other side of the room. His free fist was clenched, and the one in Hank’s hand tightened slightly.
“Please Connor. Let us help you. We care about you, and we don’t want to see you hurt. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost one of my closest friends, and I’m sure Hank shares the same sentiment.” That got a reaction.
At the mention of Hank losing him, Connor stiffened, lulling his thoughts over. It had taken a while, but with Connor’s help, Hank had kicked his alcohol addiction and had started to clean up his eating habits. Sure, he still had a drink now and again but it was never excessive, same with his food. Connor knew that what happened to Hank’s son had hit him and it had hit him hard, and he didn’t want to think about what would happen if he wasn’t around to ground him.
“Please Connor. I can’t lose another son. I won’t.” That was the last straw.
Connor squeezed his eyes shut tightly, tears beginning to build up in his eyes, and a traitorous one escaped, visible to both his visitors. A small sob escaped him, not matter how hard he tried to repress it.
“Hey...it’s okay...we’re here.” Hank soothed, running his hand gently through Connor’s hair again.
“I-I…” He started, having to stop and try again. “I c-can never do anyth-thing right...h-he gets so angry and I...I just f-freeze…” Tears were starting to run freely down his face, and he lifted a hand up to gently wipe them away, only to flinch slightly at the contact.
“Tyler w-was offered some R-Red Ice when we went out, a-and I asked him n-not to, but he ignored me and told me t-to fuck o-off before dragging me to the car. W-when we got h-home, he th-threw me on the c-coffee table and I hit my h-head, but he was so m-mad he wouldn’t stop. He hit m-me before trying to s-s...strangl-le me a-and I p-panicked bec-cause I couldn’t get any cool a-air a-and my th-thirium was being ob-obstructed. I shouldnt h-have said anything, I should have left it alone…”
Hank and Markus were shocked. Hank was downright pissed.
“How...how long has this been going on for?” Hank was hesitant to know. Connor looked ashamed.
“S-seven m-months.”
“Seven months?!” Hank almost burst out, making Connor startle and flinch away slightly. Hank immediately softened and apologised.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m not mad at you, I’m mad at that low-life bastard excuse of a man. You’re not to blame, okay?”
“But i-it’s my fault...I a-always make him mad.” That absolutely broke Hank’s heart.
“No Connor. None of this is your fault. You don’t deserve this, you never did.” Connor listened to his father figure, knowing that he was being sincere, and crumbled at his words.
“Hank’s right, Connor. You didn’t do anything wrong, it’s not your fault.” Markus spoke up, placing a gentle hand on Connor’s upper arm. Connor completely broke.
He broke down crying, tears streaming down his face, melting into the hesitant but meaningful embrace that Hank provided, hugging him back.
“That’s it...let it all out. I’ve got you son, you’re gonna be okay.” Hank reassured, rubbing a hand lightly up and down Connor’s back in comfort.
He didn’t know how long it was going to take, but he knew he was going to be there for Connor as he got better. Both physically and mentally, he knew he would be scarred from this experience, but he’d keep him safe.
---
It was a couple of hours later, and Connor was sleeping in his own room with Sumo at the foot of his bed. Hank had contacted the DPD and informed them of the situation, which was going to be handled delicately. Tyler had already been brought in and taken into custody. They didn’t even need a formal statement of everything from Connor straight away, as the man was in a drunken stupor and was yelling absurdities at the cops about them, their job and Connor. A few comments that were taken into consideration were ‘he deserved it all’ and ‘he can’t feel pain anyway’.
The icing on the cake was when he tried to attack Chris who was the one to restrain him. That, added to the drugs, let the list of charges keep building. Hank was determined to keep adding to the list, finding as many things as he could to charge him with. He deserved it all and more.
A muffled sound came from the bed to where Hank was standing in the doorway, causing him to divert his thoughts and attention all to Connor. Said android had woken up, slowly sitting up in his bed, but not attempting to get out. He looked tired.
“Hey.” Hank said softly to ease the nerves that appeared on Connor’s face when he woke up. Seeing Hank calmed him almost instantly, reminding him of where he was.
“How are you feeling?”
“...Better. It doesn’t hurt as much now…”
“Mentally?”
“I’m...okay. I’m okay.” His voice was shaking the smallest bit, barely noticeable, but it was there.
“It’s okay to not be okay son, especially after everything you’ve been through.” He walked over to the edge of the bed, sitting down slowly as he saw Connor tense up the slightest bit before relaxing again. He leant into the touch when Hank ran his hand through his hair, closing his eyes in content.
“I...I think I am though. Right now. Or at least I will be.”
“I know you will be son. I know.”
#dbh#RK800#Connor#Hank Anderson#RK200#Markus#Gavin Reed#Mentions of Chris Miller#Original character#Reed redemption#Sort of?#They're friends#ish#Protective Hank#Hank loves his robo-son#Hank is best dad#OC is an ass#Connor deserves happiness#mentions of abuse#connor doesnt deserve this#im sorry my baby#lots of hugs for you#I love you really#it doesnt seem like it#but I do#I swear XD#first time posting my own work#oh shit#well#it was fun
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I was tagged by @anonymous-idfk for @whumptopia‘s 30 day RoboWhump Prompt Challenge. I have three other wips and though I could use another. Today’s prompt is Low Power Cells! Full fic under the cut as per usual! Although this time, I’m going to recommend you go on Ao3 for the proper formatting. (Also 11:45pm means it is still today so I didn’t fail on day 1)
Exhaustion is defined as a state of extreme physical or mental fatigue.
Often caused by arduous work, sleep deprivation, emotional strain, or various medical conditions, or a combination of the four, it has severe and negative effects on the human body. Androids, however, were built for difficult work, did not require sleep, and have no medical concerns, only technical glitches and malfunctions. And it was only as of late that androids could feel the emotional strain brought upon by daily life and true sentience. So, Connor mused, he was most certainly not exhausted.
The stumble he took earlier in the precinct’s break room definitely was not caused by the human condition. The lack of focus he experienced during his meeting reading over proposed laws with Markus and North was not a direct result of his lack of sleep; androids don’t sleep. His inability to recall a previous conversation with Lieutenant Anderson was not because he was overworked and fatigued.
Androids do not sleep. Connor does not sleep. He was not tired.
Instead, Connor works. He works homicide with Hank by day and supports the revolution by night. He files reports, chases suspects, and interviews witnesses. He supports New Jericho’s leadership, learns how to repair androids, and attempts to make reparations with those he hunted. He walks Sumo, cooks Hank dinner, and cleans the house when he returns home, careful to discard any alcohol he might encounter. He trips over a book on the floor in the Lieutenant’s house and tries to laugh it off with the man guffawing from the couch.
“Holy shit, Con, I didn’t even know you could trip!”
Connor is a highly advanced prototype detective android with a superior gyroscope and state-of-the-art spatial sensors. He should not be able to trip.
He runs a diagnostic late at night during a rare quiet lull in his schedule.
{WARNING: POWER CELLS LOW - PLEASE REPORT TO CYBERLIFE FOR ASSISTANCE}
Connor is a highly advanced prototype detective android with rare parts and new technology. CyberLife was a now defunct company that destroyed all other RK800 models. They claimed it was to prevent companies or other interested parties from accessing blueprints, company secrets, or mission details from any of Connor’s other bodies and memory banks. He knew differently. He freed an army of androids and cost the company millions of dollars in a single move, and secured the revolutions freedom with his own freedom march through Detroit.
It was an act of revenge and he knew it would be a damning one, for both him and CyberLife.
{WARNING: TIME BEFORE SHUTDOWN: 189:34:03}
He was built to hunt deviants, assist the Detroit Police Department, and to save CyberLife from the deviant “threat.” He was allotted three months of beta testing following his alpha testing. Connor was one week away from turning one year old. RK800 #313 248 317 - 51 was never supposed to live.
It wasn’t enough time. He had a week left. Connor hasn’t had enough time. He only had a week left. He still wanted to solve cases, play with Sumo, tend and build up his aquarium. He still wanted to quip with Hank, spar with North, debate with Josh, laugh with Simon, be around Markus. His LED flashes an alarming crimson, illuminating the right side of his face in a deathly glow. He had just started to live and now he only had a week left.
It takes him six hours and fourteen minutes to move from his spot on the couch and force his LED back to yellow, then blue. Roused by motion and noise coming from Hank’s room, he sets about his day, preparing the man a breakfast of eggs and a side of bacon. He smiles at Hank and tells him good morning, only receiving a grunt in reply.
{Lieutenant Hank Anderson: Friend - Nonverbal Before 7AM}
{Please refrain from communicating until first caffeinated beverage is consumed}
Connor ignores the prompt from his social integration protocol and swallows unnecessarily before closing the warning still flashing in front of his eyes. “Hank?”
The man in question lowers his mug with a raised eyebrow, a glimmer of concern barely visible in tired, blue eyes at the android’s tone and faraway look, “Yeah kid?”
“I just… I just want to say thank you. For everything. Without you, I don’t think I would have ever gotten the chance to appreciate,” he makes a vague gesture with his hands, a slight pause before locking eyes with Hank, “This. Life. Living.”
Eyebrows furrow and the grizzled detective frowns, warning bells blaring through his head, “Are you okay, Connor? Somethin’ wrong?”
Connor could tell him. He could tell him everything right now. There is a 86% chance they would leave straight for New Jericho without informing Captain Fowler of their absence at work. Hank would be scared but he would try to hide it from Connor and there is a 89% he would ignore several traffic laws in his haste to find a solution. Markus, Josh, Simon, and North would likely search relentlessly for a solution while assuring the pair that it wasn’t hopeless, that they could save him.
The odds of finding or building power cells compatible with his model in the time he had left was 23%.
“Nothing, Lieutenant. I think I’m just feeling...sentimental?”
Hank rolls his eyes, though concern still lingers. “Fucking sappy android. It’s too early for this shit.”
He tries to ignore when he hits his hip on the corner of his desk at work and Gavin’s resulting laugh.
{WARNING: POWER CELLS LOW - PLEASE REPORT TO CYBERLIFE FOR ASSISTANCE}
{WARNING: TIME BEFORE SHUTDOWN: 181:29:54}
Lieutenant Anderson doesn’t miss the way his LED flashes red when the warning appears in his vision. He asks Connor about the color and the deviant RK800 assures him that he just received a minor damage report from the collision. It was nothing to be worried about. He only had a week left but he couldn’t make everyone worry about him. There wasn’t hope anyway, and it’d be easier for everyone around him. He only had a week left but there was nothing to worry about.
Markus was not so easily fooled.
Connor is at another meeting with the deviant leader, listening to the group bicker back and forth about a proposed amendment to the Constitution when he zones out of the conversation. It’s like he’s floating from his chair and sinking into it all at once, unaware he’s mentally digressed from the conversation. His processor slows down
and
{OPTICAL UNITS OFFLINE}
{PLEASE CONSERVE POWER}
he’s
sinking
{TACTILE SENSORS PARTIALLY OFFLINE}
{PLEASE CONSERVE POWER}
deeper and deeper
{AUDITORY UNITS OFFLINE}
{PLEASE CONSERVE POWER}
like nothing is important
like nothing and everything is touching body all at once.
{SOCIAL INTEGRATION MODULE OFFLINE}
{FACIAL ANALYSIS MODULE OFFLINE}
{PLEASE CONSERVE POWER}
{PLEASE CONSERVE POWER}
{PLEASE CONSERVE POWER}
{WARNING: POWER CELLS LOW - UPDATED TIME UNTIL SHUTDOWN: 122:32:11}
{PLEASE REPORT TO CYBERLIFE FOR ASSISTANCE}
Until a hand falls on his shoulder and Connor is preconstructing six different ways to flip his attacker everything before his systems reboot and a pair of frantic mismatched eyes are only six inches from his own.
{OPTICAL UNITS ONLINE}
“-nor! Can you hear me?”
“I swear to rA9, Connor, you better respond right now!”
Voices are echoing around him, fading in and out, and Connor blinks owlishly as his systems sluggishly catch up. Markus is shaking his shoulders and he distantly notes that while his mouth is moving the sounds he are hearing are not quite matching up with the movement of Markus’ lips. Connor lets out an undignified “huuuh” as he blinks again, looking around the room to see North, Simon and Josh in front of him as well.
{AUDITORY UNITS ONLINE}
“Connor, answer if you can hear me,” Markus instructs as Connor’s eyes move back to his face.
He’s tired. He’s so tired and he just wants to go to sleep but androids don’t sleep, not even deviants. No matter how human he appears to be, he’s not he’s not he’s not he’s just a machine but he’s also so fucking exhausted. He now has less then a week left and it wasn’t enough time.
“I’m tired, Markus.”
All noise ceases abruptly, and Connor finds himself wondering if his auditory units went offline again. A quick check confirms that they haven’t, so he takes the silence as his cue to continue.
“I’m so tired. Androids aren’t supposed to feel tired but I just want to go to sleep,” Connor looks down at his hands and tries to ignore the slight static in the back of his head that just won’t go away, “I’m going to shutdown but I don’t want to go.”
It’s like a bomb goes off in the room. A flurry of activity sweeps Connor to repair bay where they run an extensive diagnostic. North holds his hand in solidarity while they attach the cable to the back of his neck, asking him what he wants for his birthday.
It’s not his birthday. He wasn’t born. If anything, Connor thinks it should be called his activation day, and either way, he knew he wasn’t going to live to see it.
“A dwarf gourami. While they are often called a community fish, they seem to do best when kept in species-only tanks as they tend to be aggressive with colorful fish, like my Siamese fighting fish. So I would require a new tank.”
They call Hank despite Connor’s protests, and despite the late hour, the man comes sprinting into his room, Sumo on his leash in one hand and a bag in the other. He studies the Lieutenant’s micro expressions but is unable to deduce exactly what the man is feeling due to his facial analysis systems running at half power to conserve energy. Connor opens his mouth to say something, anything, when Hank crosses the room and wraps the android in a rough embrace, “You fucking idiot, why the hell didn’t you tell me? Don’t worry, we’re gonna fix this. I promise, son.”
He stays in his room for the next four days at the head technicians orders while Josh and North search for compatible parts. Markus and Simon research building him a new one. Hank rarely leaves and tries to distract Connor despite his own exhaustion creeping in. The police lieutenant shares stories of his time at the academy, pausing whenever he zones out and continuing wherever he left off when he notices Connor’s awareness returning. Meanwhile, the little bit of news Markus brings is rarely good and Connor can only watch as the shutdown timer ticks closer to zero, unable to muster the energy to dismiss the notification.
{WARNING: TIME UNTIL SHUTDOWN 92:57:12} is when his optical units stop processing color, throwing the world around him into a grayscale.
{WARNING: TIME UNTIL SHUTDOWN 56:36:40} is when his social integration protocols shutdown, giving the android a sense of mood swings and confusion.
{WARNING: TIME UNTIL SHUTDOWN 43:02:08} is when Josh and Simon admit defeat in their search, opting to contact Elijah Kamski instead.
{WARNING: TIME UNTIL SHUTDOWN 41:01:01} is when Kamski informs them he can build a new set, but not in the time Connor has left. “There would be no guarantee the parts would be compatible anyway, Markus, but if you’d be so kind as to send me your blueprints thus far, I’ll see what I can do. Connor is the reason I still have the pleasure of Chloe’s company after all.”
{WARNING: TIME UNTIL SHUTDOWN: 34:07:15} is when Connor sees a single tear fall from Hank’s eyes during a moment Hank thinks he is unaware of his surroundings.
{WARNING: TIME UNTIL SHUTDOWN: 21:11:58} is when his auditory units shutdown, throwing the world into a shattering silence. Markus communicates whenever he can through an interface, although the connection tends to drop unexpectedly due to power fluctuations.
{WARNING: TIME UNTIL SHUTDOWN: 2:31:18} is when Connor diverts as much power as he can afford to his voice box and auditory units. “Hank?”
Immediately, the man is in Connor’s field of vision, eyes wide and face tight with an emotion he can’t quite define. Whether it’s due to the static or the shutdown of his facial analysis program, he’s no sure.
“It’s going to hurt for a while-”
“Don’t you fucking start taking like that, you hear me? I ain’t losing another kid-”
{Lieutenant Hank Anderson: ^Father}
Connor smiles at the notification but interrupts Hank nonetheless, “It’s going to hurt for a while, but I know you can get through it. You’ve taught me that the pain never really goes away, but you also taught me that I can learn to live with it. I lived with it and I know you can too.”
He takes a shuddering breath he doesn’t need as a spike of static shoots across his eyes, throwing the world into color before darkening it yet again, “Besides, Hank. Who else would take care of my fish and Sumo just as well as I do?”
{MESSAGE RECEIVED: RK200 - MARKUS}
{ERROR: UNABLE TO OPEN MESSAGE}
{PLEASE CONSERVE POWER}
Hank ignores the buzzing on his phone, grabbing Connor’s limp hand instead. The synthetic skin flickers as it struggles to stay on despite the low power, and the temperature is noticeably lower than that of a human’s.
“Live with it for me because I won’t be able to,” Connor’s vision cuts out entirely as the drain on his systems become too much to bear, “It won’t hurt, Hank. It’ll be like going to sleep and I’m no scared anymore.”
{WARNING: UPDATED TIME UNTIL SHUTDOWN: 6:28}
{PLEASE CONSERVE POWER}
{PLEASE CONSERVE POWER}
Connor finally listens to the prompts and closes his unseeing eyes and shuts down what he can until he begins to feel untethered
floating away
{WARNING: TIME UNTIL SHUTDOWN: 4:32}
he’s so tired but he can finally sleep
and know what it means to dream
he could be more human than ever with his dreams
{WARNING: TIME UNTIL SHUTDOWN: 2:10}
he wonders what he’ll dream about
he hopes Hank will be okay
he knows Markus would be eventually
{WARNING: TIME UNTIL SHUTDOWN: 00:14}
{BIOCOMPONENTS #3546w, #3546v REMOVED}
{GOODNIGHT RK800}
{BIOCOMPONENTS #3546x, #3546y DETECTED}
{BIOCOMPONENTS COMPATIBLE}
{REBOOT (y/n?}
{SYSTEMS RESTARTING}
#dbh#detroit become human#dbh fanfiction#fanfiction#my writing#connor rk800#connor#hank anderson#markus manfred#north#simon#josh#the jericrew#30 day robowhump challenge#Connor whump#30 days challenge#anonymous-idfk#whumptopia
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Febuwhump 3 - Taken
There's a coldness inside of him, inside of his chest. Connor feels it every moment he's awake, with every breath he takes and every movement he makes, every time he looks at the people around him. There should be warmth; or, at least, so he thinks. There used to be warmth.
It feels like it should bother him, this new coldness, but it creeps through him, through his body and mind, and he finds himself unable to find any particular reasons as to be concerned. It is what it is, and it doesn't hinder him in any way. He barely thinks about it after a while, doesn't even notice the chill spreading through his limbs. His work is exemplary, as always, especially now that he's cut out earlier distractions. More than ever before he feels useful, like an asset.
Once his chest would have grown warm with satisfaction, but now there's only the cold.
His coworkers treat him differently, though it comes only as minor annoyances. He can make up for any lack of attention on their parts, but he makes it clear that if they will become more of a bother then he would prefer to work alone from the beginning. Gavin makes a particular face at that, but Connor's already turned away, back to his work, back to his mission. He pays no mind to the look Nines shoots him, or the way the two of them start to talk in hushed voices. It doesn't pertain to his work, so it doesn't matter.
Markus is the one to come up to him, at last, taking his shoulders and looking him over with sharp eyes. His eyes narrows even more when Connor declines the interface, and even as Connor asks him his business—he's disrupting him, taking time that would be better spent focusing on work—he stands his ground, won't look away. “Your friends are worried about you, Connor,” he says. “And I'm feeling that they're right to be. I'm getting concerned, too. What's going on with you?”
Connor thinks of the cases he could be working on, and a tendril of annoyance sneaks into his mind. “Nothing that should put anyone in a mind of concern. I'm functioning at a better level than I ever have, and I would appreciate it if you would let me get back to my work. There's no reason for you to check up on me.”
Markus shakes his head, his hands still on Connor's shoulders. Connor knows he could, rather easily, dislodge them, and incapacitate Markus, should the need arise. But he remains still for now. “It seems like that's the problem, though. You've done nothing but thinking of work lately, and you've- well, you've returned to how you used to be. Are you aware of that? Stopped caring about any of your hobbies, stopped caring about any of your friends. It's only work for you.”
As it should be. Connor really doesn't understand Markus’ point, and he's growing more irate with the pointless discussion.
With a grimace, and a quick sigh, Markus continues. “Maybe… does this have to do with- with the Lieutenant? I heard about what happened, Connor, and I'm sorry, but shutting yourself off is not the way to grieve.”
His chest is so cold, as is his whole body. Connor can't feel the coldness rising in his throat, because cold is already all he feels. Instead he raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “I assure you, I am neither ‘shutting myself off’ or grieving. The Lieutenant’s death was a tragedy, yes, but that's why I asked for Kamski's help. As I am now I’m running at the highest optimal level, and I have the utmost confidence that no more miscalculations will be made.”
Markus frowns deeply, alarm bright in his eyes. “Wait, you went to Elijah Kamski? What did you ask of him? What did he do to you?”
Connor sighs and removes Markus’ hands from his person, feeling like the conversation has gone on long enough, kept him from his work for too long. “It was a minor adjustment, one that I felt would be useful. That's all. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work that needs to be done.”
Markus shakes his head, grabbing one of Connor's hands before he moves away. Connor dislodges it quickly enough, but he sighs and decides to listen to what so clearly burns on Markus’ tongue. “What sort of adjustment did he do? What did he-”
Suspicion brightens Markus’ eyes, and he looks sick. Connor’s only grateful that androids don't eat and so are incapable of vomiting, or he'd fear for the floor. It would become too much of a scene that he would have to settle, and he does not want to waste that much time that could be better used elsewhere.
“Emotions are a waste of time, and clouds the mind in crucial situations,” Connor says. “I have no need of them, and so I asked for them to be disabled. As I suspected, the quality of my work has risen significantly. Now, if there's nothing actually important, I have someplace to be. Goodbye, Markus.”
Markus stares after him as he leaves, but Connor pays it no mind. Already he’s working on a new case, opening the files in his mind and reading them as he walks from the reception back to his desk. The desk across from him is still empty, but it means nothing to him—only one less distraction.
#my writing#detroit become human#gen but feel free to look at it however you want lol#connor#connor rk800#markus#markus rk200
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Connor with SPD HCs
I need to start writing this before I forget.
Okay so I've seen a lot of AUs where the deviant virus causes actual tactile feeling in the skin of androids.
And first off, I love this idea.
But imagine the physical "symptoms" of deviancy don't show themselves right away, so feeling takes a bit.
Now Connor was dressed "comfortably" when he went after Markus in the hobo outfit but we know he changed back into his suit before he met with Hank.
Since androids don't need clothes and they don't get dirty that often, he wears the suit all the time. He likes it, it suits him.
But the suit wasn't exactly tailored for comfort. The material is rough with open edges, made for durability and style, not comfort.
So Connor and Hank are out one day, maybe at the Chicken Feed or on a walk. In a public area but not necessarily in public eyes.
And all the sudden Connor's sensors turn on and he hates it. Because the fabric feels wrong and itchy and he doesn't like it.
It's normal for androids to be uncomfy for the first few days of having their sensors on, but Connor is a prototype built with more sensors than most for the sake of his mission.
Esentially it's like a sensory processing disorder and Connor is not having a good time.
Hank sees the look on his face and the yellow red LED and is like "Kid? You doing alright?"
And Connor isn't sure how to describe it because he doesn't know. He doesn't know what's wrong because this has never happened before.
Also, it's really cold and Connor is just realising what that means.
Connor eventually manages a somewhat coherent explanation to the Concerned Lieutenant™ who's just like "alright get in the car."
Connor is squirming in his seat the whole way home because it feels so wrong.
As soon as they're home Hank gives him a worn out hoodie and soft sweatpants, coraling him into the bathroom to change.
By rA9 it is so much better because the seems are surged and the fabric is soft and light and Connor sags in relief.
Hank nearly keels over in laughter when Connor comes out into the kitchen because Connor is swimming in the grey fabric.
"I fail to see the amusement in the current situation, Hank."
"Ah, don't worry about it, son. We'll go get you some real clothes tomorrow." Hank says, riffing his hair as he walks to the bedroom. Connor decides he doesn't mind that feeling.
The next day they in fact do go shopping at a big department store, and Connor is slightly overwhelmed.
"Just start in the men's section, and if you see something you like somewhere else, we'll go from there."
A lot of sweatpants make their way into the cart, soft greys and pastel accents.
Connor tries to insist he'll be alright with just one outfit but Hank isn't having it.
"I'll be damned if I let any son of mine walk around in the same comfort wear every day. Now, you need shirts."
Connor decides he's not really a fan of the Cyberlife grey, blue and black color scheme, too many bad memories, so a lot of soft pastels end up in the cart, as well as a few "women's" sweatshirts.
Unfortunately, he is a working professional and cannot wear a mint coloured "I like Dogs" printed sweatshirt to work, so they head over to the suits.
And this boy, he likes pinstripes for some reason, and hates the grey and black suits bc they look like his Cyberlife suit. So he ends up with navy blue suits. Just 2, one with pale blue pinstripes.
And he gets to wearinf them the next day, and he's absolutely fucking clueless in how to wear a normal, human suit. He keeps trying to pop the collar like his weird ass Cyberlife collar and it looks ridiculous.
"Are you kidding me?" -Hank, 2038
Eventually gets it situated and Connor just, beams. Because he looks good and, other than the LED, not like an android.
He's wearing soft black jeans an his blue jacket with a snazzy mint colored tie.
And you know my boy loves his beanie. He wears it a lot. Even when it doesn't match.
That's all for now. Enjoy my gratuitous self projection.
#jennsepticeye#connor#connor rk800#dbh connor#rk800#hank anderson#dbh hank#dad hank#father hank#detroid become human#detroit: become human#dbh#dbh rk800
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LED Vocabulary
(There are links to images or clips to illustrate my meaning in some-but-not-all of these; only the next several seconds of the linked video, from the timestamp I linked, are what I’m talking about.
In the context of all three of these - colour, vibrancy and actions - it’s also worth considering this early scene as it seems to ‘default’ to very-light-blue or white cycles at the very beginning of an Android’s life. The language of an LED is something that does seem to have to be ‘developed’, early on, it seems like something for the LED(?) to learn as an Android acclimates to ... the real world. Some of these were there beforehand, during testing etc, but not the way they develop in real time in the real world. White and cycling are probably what enables humans to sell Androids in “as new” condition, like a low odometer on a used car, as opposed to a more.... ‘contaminated’ blue, like Josh’s, here. Would replacing an Android’s LED render the same whiteish-cycle until the LED re-‘learns’ how to respond to the Android’s system? I think so.
Regardless, here’s a list of Connor’s LED vocabulary. This post is specific to Connor because each Android’s individual LED tendencies can be different (I say, like Androids are real), but in my head it’s a good ... general guide. The way you can generally read body language between people, even though they’re individually different in their gestures.)
COLOUR
White: Amused, pleased, curious about someone (specifically, seeing an Opportunity To Learn about them), preening, satisfied (also: ‘I did good work’). Also, occasionally, sleeping - somewhere between white and blue. “White-blue” is often the description for this one because the blue literally lightens in shade, and you can catch the LED in between the two. Literal, plain white is usually a temporary, passing colour that revises to blue: it is there for those moments of pleased oh. (NS/FW information, during sex it’s white and flickering, and it may occasionally dip into red (a Good Form of overstimulation/coincides usually with when he thinks, fuck), but mostly... it’s... at climax, white and flickering, and blue-white or white-blue in between.) White-blue is mostly white, blue-white is mostly blue.
Also, you can’t see it doing it here, but: understanding. (PS the way he immediately checks to see if the ‘STOP MARKUS’ mission is still in his HUD, the instant after deviating he checks if it’s still there. It is not. He is free.)
Blue: General, usual status. There are a variety of blues (light blue for most things, deeper blue for things a little Less casual) but it maintains blue through most processing that doesn’t take up a lot of his thinking-power. It will flicker if he’s thinking hard. Blue is also for polite curiosity but mistrust, calm & deliberate calm, that head-tilt he does when he is wondering and focused (curious, and loving the curiosity), and/or inspecting a crime scene and enjoying doing so. Blue is very easy. It increases in vibrancy the more fun he is having, he is usually having a good time. Connor insists on having a good time in the spaces he works in, he’s very Good at his job and he enjoys it a lot.
Yellow: Additional processing required. This could be as simple as having a lot of information to work through at once or strong emotions which do not demand immediate, pressing, do something, but they’re strong and he has to pick through them to regain blue. You’ll see it often after waking from nightmares. When low, it can be a general background worry sort of thing, on edge because he is concerned about someone or something (yes, this can include worry for himself). Or!! Pain! Yellow, amber and red can all be pained.
Amber: Registering new information, especially data regarding damage to his person. Temporary, just addressing that new information for a second and cataloguing it away. Watch how it quickly swaps back. It may even be reserved for running diagnostics.
Red: Physical injury or emotions that demand an action he cannot do (including I can’t work this out, red when he’s annoyed he is not Able to do something he thinks he should be able to do.. and red when he is going to die and that’s it, there’s nothing he can do about it). Red is Something Is Wrong and there’s nothing he can immediately think to do. That said!!! This - red - can also dip into strong emotions the other way (positive emotions) but in this case it is only brief, it doesn’t stay there for long if it’s a positive emotion. It just might reach it, and then smooth into rapid-flickering yellow (or .. white. In the case of. ^^^ You know), then blue.
Typically there will be a progression, Red -> Flickering-Yellow -> Blue -> White, even if it’s a single flash of yellow between red and blue. Flickering tends to be ‘worse’ than steady in any of these colours, but this varies by Android, and it also ... has the same .... the way humans who are too cold can stop shivering altogether? The same can happen with LEDs, they can stop flickering, which isn’t ‘they are calmer’ but is ‘this is bad’. Also, as mentioned, it can loop back into itself with positive emotions (White -> Red -> White the way a deck of cards loops back Ace -> King -> Ace), but it will tend, again, to follow that pattern without skipping intervening colours. The colour’s neighbours matter.
VIBRANCY
Dull (greyish): Distant. Often dissociating, but whatever the case he is far away when his LED is dull-ish and greying, he may still have a dull blue (or another colour) but dull is wrong. Dull is not a good vibrancy.
Low/cold: Cold in a ‘close to being dull’ way. He is still on top of it, he is not dissociating or properly Distant yet, but he is having a Bad Time. He would benefit from someone touching him, or calling his name. Really... touch him, or just. Be There. (It will warm up to even/calm, he is not usually low/cold for very long.)
Low/’calm’: Slow, unhurried. Not a matter of import at any given time, a low blue because he is slow and deliberate and focused externally. It can be working through something very Carefully, but it can also just be ‘comfortable’, a comfortable low blue because he’s casual and relaxed and unhurried.
Even/calm: Note the lack of scare quotes around the word calm here. Unbothered; ordinary. This is what it’s like most of the time. The word ‘even’ usually comes around to communicate his confidence and capability: he is not worried about something, he is not doubting whether he can do this, he is not lying (or he’s deliberately keeping it even, while he does) and he is trying to be to the point. ‘Even’ is the most common, by far. It’s not easy to pull him away from this in any direction, when he’s working in a professional capacity. Connor is very professional.
Angry: Bright, burning. Negative connotations. It’s a very solid colour that doesn’t cycle or pulse, it’s just that solid colour, unyielding and There. Can also be called ‘bright’.
Vibrant: Bright, unyielding. Positive connotations. Loud emotions. Can also be called ‘bright’. They’re the same vibrancy, just for different reasons.
VERBS AND ADJECTIVES
An LED can move through each of these rapidly in the space of a handful of seconds. There’s a fluency to reading an Android’s LED and it’s very likely you won’t catch all of what’s going on, in the verbs - but these are some of verbs and adjectives that might be helpful to look out for.
Cycling: Thinking or adjusting to a new situation (from around 0:16-0:25): it’s not quite fading all the way out (it’s even) but it’s doing that cycling thing, cycling through thoughts as he assesses the situation. He feels in control/on top of things and very calm. He isn’t panicked or worried he’s missing anything, and he’s having a good time.
Breathing: A glow that brightens, then fades, but maintains a base luminosity. It can be deliberate (he is actively choosing to work through an emotion that could hurt him, he’s on top of it), or it can be Easy and happy and enjoying being alive. Only really happens with people he likes or people he has just realised he ... respects. It can include Regaining being steady, but it’s also just enjoying being steady. He is usually happy when the LED breathes like that, and it’s almost always Fond. (Worthwhile noting, Connor’s LED and the LEDs of most Androids, actually, do this very often; they’re very alive. It’s a steady cycling thing that just happens, if you watch them in most given situations you’ll find the ebb and flow as the LED cycles and flashes and breathes. When the word ‘breathing’ is used as an adjective though, it’s because there’s additional vibrancy/light to it that’s part of the rhythm, on top of what is regularly there.)
Slivers (of a colour): Slips of colour, rapid and pulsing and quick and hardly-there, mostly dull (this is the reference for ‘dull’, as well). Unsteady. This is unsteady. It is also - suicide tw for the link - when he is not wholly himself.
Flashing: Specifically the way Connor’s LED flashes on the words “humans” (he chose ‘humans’ first in that sentence to position them as the aggressors and he Noticed as he was saying it) and “serious”. A single flash, off and on (not necessarily even all the way off, just low and then bright and back again). Multipurpose, and processing. This can be ‘I’m right and I know it’ (either to argue the point or just because he loves his work and he enjoys knowing he’s doing a good job), or a greeting for someone he’s pleased to see, or registering surprise. It can be a thought that he has decided not to voice (or a thought he does decide to voice), putting-something-together that isn’t immediately important but he’s been curious for a while ... it can be satisfaction of a curiosity, a pleased-to-see-you the way a smile might be (not always, but it can happen, definitely).
Flickering: Bothered or noticing something that is Particularly strange. Registering new information that is a Lot to register. Just a Lot. Also, fear. There aren’t many emotions that will cause it to flicker or change in that way, but it will flicker when he’s afraid and has nothing he can do about it. (The ‘nothing he can do about it’ matters.). Also, yet another ‘you can’t see it but it’s there’: it does flicker when he does brave.
Rapidly-flickering: Thinking under time pressure (trying to be Quick about it) and/or trying to catch up to a thought. Flickering the way ...it can be processing and registering new data or cataloguing it, comparing it to existing information, etc. Flickering is not always bad, it can be a task chewing up his processors, but usually he doesn't reach rapid flickering just by working. It can also be him skimming through thoughts and files as he searches for something, anything, that fits the material in front of him, ‘no that won’t help - no that’s not going to give me anything new - no we’ve already walked in circles around this’. He is trying to make sense of things or make new conclusions, fast.
#here it is dash just as you never asked for#LED Vocabulary#about connor#headcanon#worldbuilding tag tbt#i blame hannah and i still need to answer her ask about his LED this is just additional information to all of it#kdsjfldfkgjlfkgj#ingrid talks#long post#long post for ts
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so many people hate north but i have yet to see any reasons that justify flat out hating her, so i’m gonna talk about why she is actually a great character and why i love her so much:
north’s extremism serves as a foil to markus’s pacifism, and even when you put markus on his revolutionary path, she acts as a foil to the guilt he feels over his actions. this seems to be the reason people hate her but it becomes very clear why she thinks this way once she opens up to markus about her past. we know she’s one of the pleasure models used in the eden club, and from what the two traci models tell connor, androids aren’t treated very well by the customers there. when north says “violence is the only language humans understand”, it’s because violence is the only language she has ever received from them. she describes feeling like a toy for the humans to play with. it’s likely she has never once felt safe in the hands of a human. and unlike the two traci’s, who had each other, there was no one at the club who could help north. even though she doesn’t go into greater detail about exactly what happened there, we can infer from the emotional stress she shows just from talking about it that the ordeal left her with severe trauma.
north is one of the few androids in the game to show signs of ptsd, and she’s the only one in jericho’s group of leaders to show real anger over what happened to her. and it isn’t just anger that fuels her extremism--- she feels very strongly that humans will never respond to kindness. again, this comes from her eden club perspective. it’s clear she has never experienced compassion from a human. she worries that everyone in jericho will suffer the same cruelty as she did, and anytime androids are killed by humans, even during markus’s peaceful demonstrations, it’s north’s greatest fear becoming reality. it’s the reaction she expects from them; the only reaction she has ever known. her concern that every android will be destroyed if they don’t fight back isn’t unfounded because her comrades are still dying around her.
romance or no romance, north is vital to markus’s growing understanding of the maltreatment other androids face. for markus, an android whose owner acted as a genuine father figure, it’s very important for him to consider the ordeals of others like north and why she harbors so much anger toward humans. it doesn’t mean he can’t act peacefully, but he needs to understand all aspects of what it is he’s striving for. and, despite all of north’s instinct telling her that they will all die if they don’t fight for freedom, she still trusts in markus when he opts for peace. even though she doesn’t agree with his decisions based on what she has personally seen of humans, she still follows him into his peaceful demonstrations and stands by his side. when revolutionary markus expresses regret over his violent decisions, she listens to him. they still support each other no matter the path.
if you don’t want to ship her with markus, that’s completely fine. that isn’t the issue here. the issue is the constant hate a character is receiving for responding to her own trauma in a way that is justified. having anger that is justified doesn’t make her correct in her views or her beliefs, but they are by no means unwarranted. and she obviously isn’t unwilling to try methods that are entirely against what she believes. if you play the game in a certain way, markus can prove to her that peace indeed saves the day, and she will be grateful, because in the end all she wants is freedom. north is a fantastic character with realistic flaws and this is a hill i’m totally comfortable dying on.
#detroit become human#dbh#north#markus#connor#yeah i'm just gonna drop this into various tags fuck it#north lovers unite#and no this isn't about the 'shipping war'#you can ship whoever without hating on characters who don't deserve it
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Connor was working on a case when he was approached by Hank. He blinks when Hank sits by him. This was new.
“Connor, do you think you could do a favor for me?” Hank asks. Connor looks at him.
“This seems serious. What is it?” He asks.
“I want to investigate Elijah Kamski, but Connor... Uh the one that I know, is too close to this.” Hank answers.
“And you’re afraid of what Elijah might do to him.” Connor assumes.
“It’s not just that. I’m afraid of what he might make Connor do.” Hank adds.
“Alright, but how are you going to explain why you suddenly decided to have me investigate a scene instead of him? It’s bound to come up.” Connor asks. Damn, Hank has to admit, this kid was good. Guess being ex military has an advantage.
“I’ll tell him I need a drink. He’ll think it’s normal.” Hank answers. Connor nods in approval. It was the next day when Hank picks Connor up in a car. He stops the car just outside of Kamski’s place. It was snowing, and Connor was dressed in the RP800 uniform. He sees Hank end a phone call with a worried look on his face.
“Something the matter?” Connor asks.
“Chris was on patrol last night. Said he was attacked by a bunch of deviants. Said he was saved by Markus himself.” Hank answers. Connor raises an eyebrow.
“Why would this Markus save him, if they were just going to attack?” He asks.
“You see, that’s what I don’t know. He leads a peaceful protest, but his people did attack.” Hank states.
“Is Chris okay?” Connor asks with concern.
“Yeah, he’s in shock, but... he’s alive.” Hank answers. When they finally walked inside Connor could feel his Domatophobia acting up.
“Nice girl.” Hank says as they both sit down.
“She’s pretty.” Connor agrees.
“Nice place. Guess androids haven’t been a bad thing for everybody.” Hank says.
“It’s way too big.” Connor complains.
“Oh, right your, uh what was it Doma...” Hank mutters, trying to remember the word.
“Domatophobia. It means I fear being inside houses, especially mansions.” Connor answers.
“So what do you do?” Hank asks.
“Go into standby mode at night at this abandoned park when my phobia is acting up.” Connor answers.
“Wait a minute, you sleep outside?” Hank asks incredulously.
“Not all the time, but yeah.” Connor answers.
“Jesus.” Hank comments.
“You know, if Connor were here, he’d be meeting the man that made him.” Connor states.
“Don’t I know it. That’s another reason why I didn’t want him on the case.” Hank sighs.
“If you could meet the military version of Kamski, would you?” He asks.
“Maybe. I don’t know.” Connor answers.
“Sometimes I wish I could meet my creator face to face. I’d have a couple of things I’d want to tell him.” Hank admits. Connor looks up when one of the Chloe models walk into the room.
“Elijah will see you now.” She says as Connor and Hank walk inside the room. Connor was surprised to see a crimson colored pool in the room.
“Mr. Kamski?” Hank calls.
“Just a moment please.” Elijah says as he gets out of the pool, the Chloe model putting a shirt on him.
“I’m Lieutenant Anderson, this is Connor.” Hank introduces.
“What can I do for you Lieutenant?” Elijah asks.
“Sir, we’re investigating deviants. I know you left Cyberlife years ago but... I was hoping you’d be able to tell us something we don’t know.” Hank answers. Elijah looks Connor up and down.
“Hm, this isn’t the Connor that was assigned to you.” He realizes.
“What the fuck?” Connor asks.
“How could you possibly know that?” Hank asks.
“This Connor has Cyan eyes, and it’s an RP800. Your Connor has brown eyes, and is an RK800.” Elijah answers.
“So, you’ve done your homework.” Hank deadpans.
“Deviants, fascinating creatures aren’t they? They have emotions, and free will. Machines are so superior to us, confrontation was inevitable. Humanity’s greatest achievement, threatens to be its downfall.” Elijah says.
“Listen I didn’t come here to talk Philosophy. The machines you created may be planning a revolution.” Hank states, reminding him of the purpose of their visit.
“Tell me Connor, who’s side are you on?” Elijah asks.
“Excuse me?” Connor asks.
“The deviants that are waking up, or the humans who you were sworn an oath not to kill?” Elijah says. Connor scoffs. If you only knew the truth Elijah.
“I’m not on a side and I like it that way.” Connor answers. He looks up to see the Chloe model on her knees, and a gun being put in his hand. This was eerily familiar.
“I’m sure you’re familiar with the Turing test. Well, I’m interested in trying this out today. I’ll give you the information, but you have to kill her. So, is she a living being? If you believe so, then spare it, but you don’t get the information. Or, if you feel that it isn’t alive, and you need that information more, then you kill her.” Elijah states.
“You sick bastard.” Connor spats, touching his wrist. Hank’s eyes widened.
“Connor don’t!” He calls.
“Make a decision Connor: her life, or your investigation?” Elijah insists. Connor glares at him, and uses the tazer, watching as he hits the ground.
“Jesus Christ Connor! What the fuck!” Hank shouts.
“I wasn’t going to play his sick game over life and death!” Connor shouts.
“And now we have to call an ambulance, and hope to God that you didn’t kill him!” Hank shouts back.
“I should’ve fucking known! All this bullshit about how you “understood” that some androids were alive, and yet when one was in danger, you’d rather she be dead in some sick game!” Connor shouts, storming out of the house.
“Connor!” Hank shouts, running outside.
“Get... the... fuck... away from me.” Connor spats.
“You don’t get it, you hurt him!” Hank shouts.
“Yeah, and he wouldn’t be the first human I was forced to do harm to either. You know damn well that I was a soldier. Oh, and for the record, he was only tazed. I didn’t kill him. I haven’t harmed another human being since the war.” Connor spats, walking away from Hank. Fuck this, fuck him and fuck his judgement.
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Friend or Foe
Part 1/? wattpad
fandom: Detroit: Become Human
pairing: Markus x reader (platonic), Connor x reader (romantic, tentative)
word count: ~1.5k
warnings: none? I didn’t edit.
A/N: I watched a play through of this game last week and fell in love with it. This story will/may contain spoilers, depending on how you played the game. So just keep that in mind. These first two parts are a majority of the Markus stuff. More will be sprinkled throughout but this is the bulk of it. I currently have Connor and tentative because I haven’t decided if this will be a story that reader ends up with him or not. I will make that decision when the time comes as I continue to write.
Nov 5, 2038
Riiiiiing
I hear my phone go off and slowly wake up. I look at the red numbers on my side table: just past 11 pm. Who would be calling me at this hour? I rub the sleep from my eyes and look at my phone. It’s an unknown number but I decided to answer anyways. Whoever it is wouldn’t be calling me at this hour if it wasn’t important.
“Hello?”
“Hi,” a gruff voice greets me, “is this Detective (L/N)?”
“Yes?”
“This is Officer Luca Hernandez with the Detroit Police Department. Sorry to call so late but both your grandfather Carl Manfred and Uncle Leo Manfred are in critical condition. They are on their way to the hospital now. If possible we think it would be in your best interest to fly here to take care of Carl.”
It takes me a moment to take in what the officer has just said. Grandpa is up there in age, but I was sure he still had a few years in him. If I’m being honest, I wouldn’t be surprised if Leo had ‘visited’ him and somehow triggered a heart attack or something. He’s always asking him for drug money and honestly it pisses me off. It’s hard to consider him family when that’s the only time he ever visits. I think it’s the only reason he even stayed in Detroit. If Leo could just get his shit together, he’d probably be successful in some profession. I really don’t like when people who barely know us call him my uncle either. He is, but we’re close in age. It’s just weird.
After all those thoughts run through my mind at 100 miles a second, it finally dawns on me. “What about Markus?”
“His android?” he seems apprehensive as he asks for clarification.
“Yes. He should be there to take care of him. I won’t be able to make it out there for a couple more days.”
The officer takes a deep breath before answering. “He was at the scene and was showing signs of deviancy. We had to neutralize him.”
“YOU SHOT HIM?” I ask. It came out a little louder than I wanted it to, but I think it’s okay considering the situation. “Officer, excuse my bluntness but you’re supposed to take them in and interview them before that even becomes a decision.”
“Ma'am, I understand your distress, however I can’t defend the choices other officers make.”
I take a deep breath to calm myself down. “Understood officer. To answer your previous statement – as I said before – I won’t be able to make it out there for another couple of days. Whoever wanted you to contact me, let them know that. Thank you and have a good night.” I hang up. I lay back down and try to go back to sleep but at this point I can’t. There’s just too much going on in my head. Not only is Leo (who is the least of my worries tbh) and grandpa in the hospital, but some cop was dumb enough to actually shoot Markus for showing signs of deviancy. If he was actually reported at deviant, it would be a little more justified, but you’re supposed to interrogate them before deciding to deactivate them.
Being on the LAPD has taught me a lot of things not only about androids but deviants as well. From our accounts here in California, almost 90% of those who go deviant do because of some sort of abuse pushing them over the edge – verbal or physical. There are still cases of ones that deviate for unknown reasons, but those are still a very low percentage. I remember watching a newscast of an android in Detroit back in August who was reported going deviant and taking the little girl that he took care of hostage due to jealousy of being replaced. Which yes, is a human emotion that they shouldn’t have, but digging a little deeper into the reports and findings of his case, he was actually verbally abused a lot by the adults. Mindlessly ordering him around and such. It’s too bad the SWAT decided to shoot that one too; they may have been able to get some answers from him or send him back to CyberLife headquarters to see what was going on in his software. I guess we’ll never know.
After a long time of laying in bed staring at nothing, thinking about everything, I finally fall asleep.
I wake up the next morning tired but still somehow make it to work on time. After grabbing a coffee on the way, I go to the captain’s office to explain my situation. He gives me a half-day instead of staying for my whole shift, and I’m back home by 2pm. I immediately pack a suitcase and get on the next plane to Detroit. After a 4.5 hour flight, I land around 11:30.
I have an android at the help desk call me an automated taxi. When it arrives, I enter in the address for the hospital, not wanting to waste anymore time to getting to grandpa. Luckily, it’s only like a 10 minute ride. Once there, I go to the front desk where there’s another android.
“Hello,” she smiles at me, “how may I help you?”
“Hi, I’m looking for Carl Manfred’s room. I’m his granddaughter.”
“Of course.” She looks at the screen in front of her, “Take the elevator to the third floor. He’s in room 342.”
“Thank you.” I make my way to the elevator and to the third floor. When I get to his room, the door is cracked. I lightly knock and walk in. There’s a human doctor checking his vitals and an android doctor taking notes.
“(Y/N)..” he says in a weak voice.
I go around to the opposite side of the bed the doctors are on. I pull up a chair and grab his hand. “I’m here grandpa. I came as fast as I could.”
“You must be the famous Detective (L/N),” the human doctor says with a chuckle, “Carl has said a lot about you.”
I can feel myself blushing. “I don’t know about that,” I look at my grandfather, “you always have to talk me up, don’t ya?”
He smiles and chuckles as best he can. “I love talking about my favorite granddaughter.”
“Only granddaughter” I correct.
“Well, he’s looking good at the moment. We’ll leave you two alone.”
“Thank you doctors.” Once they’re gone, I turn back to him concerned. “Grandpa, what happened last night? Was it Leo?”
He shifts a little to get a better look at me. “He was there.” is all he says.
“He wasn’t looking for more money was he?”
Silence.
I let out a frustrated sigh. “What happened?”
“Markus and I were in the studio when Leo came. There was a scuffle-”
“To put it lightly” I interrupt.
He continues as if I said nothing, “-Markus pushed Leo down and he hit his head on my lifting apparatus. I got out of my chair and tried to tend to Leo – to wake him up. I told Markus to leave multiple times before the cops came, knowing they would do something to him. He didn’t listen. Or at least I don’t think he did. The two of them got me so worked up that I blacked out beside Leo before the cops came.”
So he didn’t know. “What happened to Markus?” I ask, even though I was already aware.
His eyes search mine, as if he’s going to find the answer there. He does, “You know, don’t you?”
I nod slowly, not sure if I should actually tell him. I approach it delicately, in hopes he doesn’t have another heart attack when he hears it, “The DPD called me that same night wanting me to come to your aid. They told me they-” I take a deep breath before my next words, “shot him. Said he was showing signs of deviancy.”
All he did was turn he head the other way, away from me. I stood up to look at him. I could tell that he was crying. “Grandpa?”
“Figures,” he sets himself up and I can see the sadness quickly turn to anger, “they never trusted them. Even though there’s some on the force! Just because they’re not human, doesn’t mean they can just kill them off like that!”
“Grandpa, please.”
“I’m sorry honey,” he takes a deep breath, slowly tearing up again, “what am I supposed to do when I get out of here? Markus is the only android I’ve ever had.”
“I’m sure you’ll be issued a new one. If not, I’ll buy one for you.”
He weakly waves me off, “No, no. I don’t want you wasting your hard earned money on me. I can afford a new one myself.”
I smile at his last sentence, “Okay, gramps. Why don’t you get some rest? It’s late.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll be right here. I’ll make myself comfortable on the couch.”
“That’s not necessary. I can get you a hot-”
I put my hand up. “I’m staying here. Goodnight Grandpa.” I stand up and kiss him on the forehead. Almost immediately he’s asleep. With only the light from the moon and the streets below, I push the chair I was sitting on aside and lay down on the couch. Almost as quickly as grandpa, I’m out too.
#detroit become human#dbh Markus x reader#Markus dbh x reader#dbh markus#dbh connor#dbh Connor x reader#Connor dbh x reader
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The Drift Between Us
•◊•◊•◊•◊•
Chapter 2: Evaluations
•◊•◊•◊•◊•
Hank Andersson x Connor and Gavin Reed x RK900 (Ritch)
Genre: Fluff, Action, A bit of Angst, Pacific Rim!AU
Warnings: There’s a “controlled” fight and Good ol’ Hank swearin’ it up
Word Count: 10,119
•◊•◊•◊•◊•
Previous <~> Masterlist <~> Next
•◊•◊•◊•◊•
Ritch wakes up the next morning to the sound of his alarm clock blaring in his ear. He grumbles as he shuts it off, but makes himself sit up so he doesn’t get the urge to roll back to sleep. Out of the twins, Connor has always been the lighter sleeper for whatever reason and has always been quicker at getting up. One would think that being identical twins means everything about them beyond personality traits are identical, but that certainly isn’t the case for them.
Ritch’s brain finally wakes up enough to properly take in his surroundings, and he notices Connor sitting at the desk writing something in a notebook. He has never once kept any kind of journal or record of his daily life, so it’s strange to see him writing when there are no assignments yet. Ritch contemplates asking what’s claimed his entire attention, but he looks really into what he’s doing, so Ritch settles with just getting up to the bathroom silently and leaving Connor to it. Normally he would greet Ritch or do something to acknowledge his presence, but Connor doesn’t seem to even realize that his brother’s alarm went off. It must be important to him.
Ritch quickly goes through his morning routine in the small bathroom before changing into fresh clothes and stepping back into their shared room. Connor is no longer writing in the notebook and appears almost sheepish where he’s sitting in the chair. His leg is bouncing rapidly and he’s picking at his nails, both bad habits that Amanda has scolded him for doing time and time again. He only does this when he’s nervous, anxious, and/or thinking too hard. All Ritch has to do to get him talking is tilt his head and raise one eyebrow just a smidge.
“I’ve started keeping notes about any happenings during my days so I can try to do a better job of not making a fool of myself by being reminded of and learning from past mistakes and successes. That and maybe a few notes about the people I meet so I know how to cater to them so they don’t hate us, cause what I do affects you too. But I also don’t want it to look like I’m desperate for validation since that’s a recurring problem, like you tried to tell me yesterday.”
Ritch’s eyebrows furrow and his mouth morphs into a frown of confusion and concern.
“Did North say something to you yesterday?”
Connor’s head snaps up, “What? No. No, she– It’s not her fault for being curious.” Connor’s gaze falls back to his shoes, “And it wasn’t just her, they were all curious. I just never know when to shut my mouth and now they all probably think we’re freaks or snobbish overachievers.”
“What exactly did you tell them?” Ritch gets defensive, knowing what kinds of strange things can spill out of Connor’s mouth when pushed into a corner. Connor is tearing at his fingernails now, rather than just picking, and his eyes stay glued to his shoes.
“...that we’ve trained for over ten years already.” He finally looks up, “Apparently that isn’t a normal amount of time at all. They only trained a year before they came here.”
That’s what Connor is worried about? That’s it?
“Is that truly all you said?” Ritch tilts his head.
“Yes, but still!”
“If it makes you feel better, they approached me about that during dinner last night. They think we’re very dedicated and will make good pilots. They don’t think we’re freaks or snobbish at all. If anything, they think Amanda is a freak for making us start so young.”
Connor’s leg halts and his hands slow just as his eyes glaze over, seeing something on a different plain of existence.
“...oh.”
Ritch nods. “You haven’t managed to do us in yet, Connor, so calm down.” he responds gently.
Connor shakes his head and Ritch can tell he returns to Earth, “...okay. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been worried about something as small as that anyway.”
Connor stands from the chair, shaking his head again. When he fully straightens, he puts on such a good mask that even Ritch wouldn’t have been able to tell anything was seriously bothering him if they hadn’t had this chat. Connor’s eyes meet his with the slightest smile in a false show of confidence and content. Ritch knows better than to call him out on the act by now.
“We should start heading out to breakfast if we want to make it to our first class on time.” Connor declares.
Connor then happily spins towards their makeshift shoe rack to put on his boots. Ritch follows his lead but doesn’t move as swiftly as his twin, not feeling any need to rush. There’s no doubt that Connor is feeling embarrassed and maybe guilty about what his mindset was again; another side effect from all those years of living with Amanda.
The thing about Amanda is that she isn’t a bad person, per se, she just has her own way of doing things and has an image in her mind to fulfill. If someone doesn’t follow exactly what her views and goals are, she isn’t very receptive to those changes. That being said, she had an image of what he and Connor should look like as jaeger pilots in her mind, and that image did not include any fidgeting on Connor’s part whatsoever, nor does it include how completely and wholly he feels that people need to “not hate” him, either. It’s seen as a weakness in her eyes, and it did in Ritch’s eyes at one point in time too, because Connor is definitely the kind of person who would put someone’s life over the mission. That apparently isn’t the ideal soldier for Amanda.
She also has certain things against Ritch, but they apparently weren’t as important to “fix” as Connor’s were. Like how Ritch looks like he’s constantly scowling or glaring even when he definitely isn’t– North called it “resting bitch face” yesterday over dinner.Amanda also doesn’t like the fact Ritch wears lighter colors, since they get dirty and stain so much easier than Connor’s choice range of colors. She doesn’t like how Ritch only talks when he needs something or a response is needed and apparently has less inflection to his tone than most people. She also used to get short with Ritch whenever he’d try to prevent or defuse problematic situations because “it’s not your job to make sure there’s no fighting, it’s just your job to end it if necessary.” Ritch easily ignores that so-called “tip” more often than even he feels he should.
Someone ramming into his shoulder in the walkway yanks Ritch out of his thoughts.
“Hey! Watch it dick head!” someone swears far too loud to be standing next to him.
Time to ignore that “tip” one more time, because Ritch wants to curse the brunette with stubble out because it was his fault they ran into each other. As much as it didn’t look like it, Ritch was watching where he was going and he was walking on the correct side of the hallway. This man had to have gone out of his way to bump into Ritch. However, Ritch is not one to fuel or contribute to fights, so he’s going to apologize briefly and walk away, because that’s exactly what this arrogant guy doesn’t want him to do.
“I’m sorry, I guess I was lost in thought.” he turns to walk away, “Have a good day, sir.”
“That’s it?” He huffs. “What a suck up.”
Ritch has to close his eyes and clench his jaw to keep himself from snapping some kind of quip at the asshole. His hands clamp into tight fists for a second before he forces them to relax, then he walks away, disappointed in himself for showing a reaction to the idiot’s pitifully cheap words. He’s almost to the cafeteria when a familiar voice calls out behind him.
“Hey Gavin! Wait up!”
So that was the “Gavin Reed” Pilot Persons warned him about yesterday evening when they ran into each other by the cafeteria entrance. Ritch fully understands now what she meant by “hot headed” and “irritable”. He idly wonders if Gavin has something against the new trainees or if he targets anyone that shows any kind of weakness. He’s willing to bet on the second option, as upsetting as it is.
Ritch finally makes into the food court area and make towards the line. He spots his brother sitting in the same spot as he did last night, at the table Pilot Persons warned was off limits to anyone who isn’t named Hank Anderson. Connor sitting there last night was likely just a mistake, but this morning it’s no doubt deliberate. The only reason Connor’s getting away with it now is because Mr. Anderson isn’t sitting there this morning. The old man probably doesn’t wake up in time to make it to breakfast from the few things he’s heard about him.
For now, Ritch leaves Connor to do whatever he wants for now and sits with the Manfreds and North. He was invited to sit with them again at dinner yesterday after he invited himself to the table and engaged in some admittedly pleasant conversation. He handles the more personal questions much better than Connor, and also asks others less of those kinds of questions as well. When they’re together they balance each other out (which is one thing Amanda was actively pleased about), but alone, Connor is more of a wreck than Ritch is. He just needs to learn how to better manage his emotions, and he’ll be all set.
“Ritch!” North calls out, causing the other three to turn in their seats to see the subject of her shout.
“Hey, Ritch!” Markus waves.
“Good morning!” Simon smiles at him. He definitely fits the self-proclaimed title “mom-friend” of the group.
Josh simply nods at him with a small smile and wave.
“Good morning everyone.” Ritch sets his tray down next to North and sits, “How did you guys sleep last night?”
“I slept okay–” Markus starts to answer while North jokes “On the bed.”
“North.” Josh and Markus groan. North only smirks and shrugs.
Simon takes it upon himself to answer, “The beds are kind of stiff and really cramped, but it was better than the hard floor and chairs we got when we were waiting for the helicopter.”
Everyone agrees with different levels of annoyance at the situation and relief that they didn’t have to stay on the floor last night.
“Hey, where’s Connor?” Josh asks.
“He’s eating at Mr. Anderson’s table this morning, same place as last night.”
Markus winces, “Is he still mad at us for yesterday?”
“No, he was never mad actually. He’s just embarrassed. He thinks he made you guys think we’re both, in his words, ‘freaks’ and ‘overachieving snobs’. So he’s doing what Connor does best and he’s trying to avoid similar situations until he believes you guys have forgotten about yesterday.” Ritch starts eating his food.
“But he didn’t even do anything?” Simon asks, lifting eggs to his mouth.
“You should tell him that yourself, then. He doesn’t believe me when I say those kinds of things anymore.” Not since the incident happened, he doesn’t add aloud. Instead he says “I assume you all know how it is with siblings.”
The all nod, hum, or both then fall quiet. A few beats of silence pass, then North finally does what he’s growing to learn what she does second best (right behind threatening things and people), and breaks it.
“So, what do you think we’re gonna do in training today?”
They spend the rest of the time they have before they have to head off to their first training session talking about what they think said class will entail. They all agree there will be an assessment today, but they disagree on what kind and decide to set a bet. Ritch thinks the pairs will be tested on compatibility through different tests and the singles will watch and learn or do their own thing. North thinks they’ll be pitted against each other to test skill, while Markus instead believes they will be tested on how they react in certain situations for future reference. Simon thinks there will be a written test to see how much they know already, and Josh believes there will be mental evaluations that are more in depth than the ones they had to pass to successfully sign up for this training.
They step into the training room to see that, so far, it’s only Connor, Traci, and Kelly and Leon in the room so far, and they’re all training with different things. Kelly and Leon seem to be in a deep discussion about something, and Traci is in the middle of doing stretches. Connor, on the other hand, is in the back corner going at it on the punching bag, and while the others think he’s just started because he isn’t breaking a sweat, Ritch knows better.
Despite how mentally messed up Amanda left the both of them without anyone really realizing except them, all those years weren’t for naught. She did extremely well in coaching them when it came down to the endurance aspects of their training, which is rather important when fist fighting a giant reptile-alien-monster thing.
Bidding his new friends farewell, he steps to go over to Connor and check up on him, but Simon stops him with a hand on his arm. The only reason he doesn’t freeze and straighten up is because his gentle grip is much different than Amanda’s harsh one was. It’s almost comforting.
“You said it’d be better if we told him that everything’s fine ourselves?”
“Oh yeah,” North begins, “I already forgot about that. Well, we should probably do that now so we don’t have as much of an audience.” Josh stops her from walking over there.
“I think Markus should go alone. He’s got a way with people and words. And if we all approach him he’s probably gonna get all awkward and skittish.”
“That’s a good point.” Simon nods.
“Alright, I’ll go talk to him real quick then. I’ll be right back.”
As Markus walks over to chat with Connor, the other four go off and do their own thing so they aren’t just huddled in a group staring at them from across the room. Ritch doesn’t get to see what Simon and Josh decided to do because North launches herself at the twin in a poor attempt of a surprise attack. Ritch dodges it easily, which makes North swing another attack that Ritch easily dodges again. This quickly escalates into a duel that North never has a chance at winning, but he still goes easy on her so he doesn’t accidentally break or dislocate something of hers. By the time North finally tires and learns that she has no hope of beating him, they’ve gathered a small audience of other trainees.
Ritch steps back from the marked area to look for Connor, whom he finds standing off to the side with Markus, Simon, and Josh. The twins make eye contact, then Connor’s eyes pointedly flick to the right slightly, then back on him, nothing else about him changing. Understanding the code that something’s coming up behind him, Ritch turns around and catches North getting ready to pounce on his back. She deflates almost immediately with a groan and Ritch can’t help but smirk.
“You do realize that starting a duel with someone outside of the designated area isn’t allowed, right?”
“No, I didn’t know that, but it’s not like the instructors are watching or anything.”
Ritch doesn’t give a response, instead choosing to turn around and finally make his way to the group of four. North follows close behind, no longer a threat to him (not that she ever really was, though).
It turns out that Markus really does have a way with people and words, because Connor doesn’t look the slightest bit awkward sitting here with the four exact people that sent him into a mini-spiral this morning. When North starts trying to claim that she almost had Ritch down a couple of times during their duel, Connor calmly informs her that he was going easy on her. Everyone laughs at the offended whine North gives at the information, but Ritch takes Connor’s carefully calm tone to heart. After all, he is the one person who truly knows Ritch’s strength and skill first hand, and is the one person in this room who can match it.
After all of the trainees arrives and have some time to mingle around, Chloe and a huge man with dark skin and darker hair they’ve never seen before calmly walk into the room. Almost instantly, four people move to the right side of the room to line up against the wall similarly to how they did yesterday. Everyone else gets the hint and migrates to that side of the room as well. By the time the two instructors make it to the center of the room, everyone is (hopefully) in the spot they were lined up in yesterday, completely unprompted. This gets a kind, pleased smile on the unfamiliar man’s face.
“Hello everybody,” the man starts with a soothing, low voice, which doesn’t quite match his huge and bulky appearance, “I’m surprised you guys lined up without instruction. That’s really good! With the other groups I’ve taught I’ve had to spend a while getting people in order.” The man looks to Chloe, who looks minuscule next to him, “Did you tell them to do this?”
“No, I have no clue who did this.”
“Chris Miller told us three to do this yesterday, sir and ma’am.” a woman’s– Rico’s?– voice says.
Doesn’t matter. Speaking out of turn leads to punishme–
“Well then, I’ll have to give my regards to him, then. He made my job much easier.” he smiles again, and it reaches his eyes.
Oh. Was that another “just Amanda” thing?
“Next time though, I’d advise strongly against speaking without being directly addressed to. It can lead to trouble. Okay?”
I‘m confused. Everything here is different than expected…
“Yes sir.”
“Good. Now, my name is Luther and I will be your instructor and trainer until you either quit or graduate and become pilots. Before we begin, does anyone have any questions?”
The guy standing standing next to Ritch– was it Alex or Allen?– raises his hand, and Luther– or should it be Mr. Luther? He should probably ask that– nods at him.
“How much can you lift with muscles like yours?” he asks impudently.
Ritch sees the mistake immediately, so he raises his hand in hopes that Luther will elect to ignore the dumbass next to him. Luther sighs and closes his eyes before he can see Ritch’s hand; this is obviously far from the first time he’s been asked a question like this. Luther opens his eyes and they land on Ritch. He nods at him without addressing Alex whatsoever, meaning Ritch’s plan worked.
“Do you prefer Mr. Luther or..?”
The instructor doesn’t quite smile, but his face lightens after Alex’s nonsense question, “Just Luther is fine. Mr. Luther sounds too distant and formal. I try to be someone you guys can trust.”
Ritch nods silently. When no one else raises their hand after several seconds, Luther continues on to explain what today’s plans are.
Turns out, everyone at the breakfast table this morning was right in some way.
Every person who came alone is going to start out the day by dueling against Luther one by one, just so he can get a feel for what each person’s skill set and fighting patterns so he can better match pairs. While that’s happening, the people who came as pairs are going to duel for at least five minutes under Chloe’s watch to see if each pair is actually drift compatible, or if they were kidding themselves. After that, they’re going to do physical tests to see what each person’s limit is endurance, strength, and flexibility-wise because apparently the new jaegers that are almost done being built have a much wider range of movement than their predecessors.
After that will be lunch, and after lunch, while they’re tired and sore if Chloe and Luther “do their jobs right”, they will take an extensive test to see what needs to be taught and what can be lightly brushed over. Luther also explains that if anyone gets a high enough score on this test, they’ll probably be appointed as tutors for the slower trainees. With the end of the explanation finally over, Luther steps back and gestures to the two marked areas on the ground and asks if there are any volunteers to go first.
Of course, North volunteers herself and Josh to go first, even though it’s clear that Josh doesn’t want to. That earns an evaluating look from Chloe and a scribble in her notebook. Alex volunteers to go against Luther first, and Ritch cringes at how violent and cocky he sounded. As Alex walks into the designated area, Connor leans over to mumble something in his ear.
“He’s not going to make it.”
“He’s too eager to fight.” Ritch agrees. These types of topics were pretty much the only thing the brothers could talk to each other about without stepping on eggshells throughout the conversation. “I think they’ll push him harder than the rest of us. Put him in his place or make him explode or want to quit.”
“I think he’ll quit if they do that. I don’t think he realizes how hard and how much thinking being a jaeger pilot actually takes.”
“If he doesn’t quit or learn to calm himself and think clearly, they’ll fail him just for that.”
Connor nods in agreement and leans back to standing straight again, turning his head away from Ritch to watch North and Josh spar. Josh doesn’t look too entirely happy to be doing that, but North looks delighted, almost too delighted. North throws the first punch which Josh blocks, then she throws another that gets dodged. The next few minutes go on like this, with North on offense and Josh on defense while occasionally throwing a few counter attacks. Connor leans back into Ritch’s space.
“As much as I hate to say it, I don’t think Josh is gonna make it.”
Ritch nods once, “From the few conversations I’ve had with him, he has more of a peaceful heart, he’d rather use words than force, and North is the complete opposite.”
“They’re compatible, I’d say, with how easily they’re making predicting the other’s moves look, but I don’t think Josh will want to stay until the end, and I don’t think North will be compatible with any of the singles.”
Ritch nods thoughtfully in agreement. Connor stands upright again, effectively ending their little evaluation.
The thump of something hitting the ground followed by a pained grunt and groan alerts Ritch and Connor that Alex just got beat by Luther. Looking over at the other ring, the twins see Alex on the ground rubbing his tailbone and complaining while Luther looks down on him in disappointment. Ritch can’t help but smirk at the sight. If he were a lesser man, he’d probably snort or chuckle, but he thankfully isn’t.
“Alex, you are too eager to fight and throw yourself into danger for the sake of violence. You need to focus on your defense. Slow down and think during battles.”
“I need more practice is what I need.” Alex snaps back.
This isn’t going to be pretty. Ritch can tell that Connor has the same thought even without looking.
“This is the first day, so I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that and not throw you straight into punishments, but know that I will not be as lax with you from now on.
“Think I’m too weak to handle a bit of ‘punishing’? I’m a future pilot, I can handle anything you throw at me.”
The twins look at each other in a way that could only mean “oh no” and silently agree to turn to watch as North and Josh finish up their little test. Luther’s voice catches their attention before they can really watch, though.
“Looks like even the people in this class know what you just said wrong. Do you want take that back?”
“I meant what I said. I’ve been training for three years already! I can handle what you throw at me!”
The twins share another look, this time more of a “he thinks that’s impressive?” kind of look, then turn back to Alex and Luther. Alex has his arms crossed, chest puffed out, and head held high, while Luther just looks tired and already done with the self-proclaimed adult. There’s no doubt in the brother’s minds that Alex won’t survive a week here. Luther crosses his arms and tilts his head, which makes him look much more intimidating than before.
“Three years, huh? That it?”
“It’s three more years than everyone else has here.”
“Seven years less, actually,” Connor scoffs under his breath. Ritch can’t stop the smirk from spreading on his face until Alex glares lasers in their direction. He apparently heard Connor’s mumbling.
“What was that, asshole?”
“Alex!” The young adult snaps his head back to Luther, finally looking a bit worried, “Why don’t you go report to Marshal Fowler, I’m sure he has some intern work you can do. You know, if you’re already set for being a jaeger pilot.”
Alex finally has the mind to not push Luther on this order. He nods once, and “yes sir,” is all he says before marching out with hands balled into fists.
“Now that that’s over.” Luther sighs, “Rico! You’re up! And all of you feel free to learn from the people before you!” Luther smiles nicely, as if that whole debacle never happened.
Thankfully, no one else causes any troubles after that show. After North’s and Josh’s round was over, Chloe tells North that she needs to touch up on her defense, and that Josh needs to be more aggressive in his fighting if he plans on taking on kaijus. Kelly and Leon go next, and they’re a good balance. Chloe doesn’t mention any immediate concerns, either. Then Simon and Markus volunteer to go up next.
They seem hesitant to start fighting– which can be seen as a good thing, considering they’re supposed to always be working together– but once they get to sparring, it’s obvious they’re drift compatible. Even if they don’t do as much actual fighting as the other pairs, it’s partially because they keep anticipating the other’s moves, which ends in a lot of stalemates. Chloe mentions that they were too timid to try to land any proper hits, the other reason why there wasn’t as much combat, and that they’ll probably have to go against Luther so they can get a good idea of what their real skill and strength is.
She calls up the Hallowitt siblings next when no one volunteers. Right off the bat Ritch is sure they’re not compatible and not really skilled. The fight starts with Lily throwing a punch and Maveric being almost offended by that. When he tries to punch Lily back, it’s extremely weak, so it’s easy for her to dodge it, but she still only just barely manages it. Throughout the rest of the time they have to fight they make it obvious that they find the other very unpredictable and unreadable despite their clumsy movements. Where Connor and Ritch can tell when Maveric is going to make a left uppercut and kick out afterward, Lily apparently doesn’t see, and tries to block it the wrong way then almost falls over. Ritch hopes it’s just a bad day for them as they walk to the side of the room where everyone else is patiently waiting to be dismissed.
Then Chloe calls him and Connor.
They slowly make their way to the marked area, not really enthusiastic about being put against each other like this again. At least they’re the last group, so they can immediately take a break after this. Ritch wonders if Chloe did that on purpose after hearing how they were against being paired together yesterday.
Connor shakes his hands out and bounces on his toes a few times while Ritch rolls his neck and shoulders, knowing that those are Connor’s favorite places to target. Ritch takes a deep breath and watches as Connor does the same while maintaining eye contact. They’re both reading and sizing up their opponent.
Chloe gives the okay to start, but instead of getting into fighting stances immediately like the other pairs, the brothers walk to the middle and shake hands like Amanda has taught them to do. With one shared look and a nod from each, they agree silently to hold back, but not so much as to match the skills of everyone else. The last thing they want is to be put through redundant and useless classes and training routines. Besides, two of the three other pairs already know that they’ve had ten years of training, so it’d be weird if they were only as good or just slightly better than the others.
They walk back to opposite ends of the marked area. There’s a moment where they just stand there, but then Connor makes the first move. He bends his knees and raises his fists, which leads Ritch to do the same, then Connor takes a few steps forward, and Ritch retaliates by taking one as well. They both know whoever makes the first move will be at a slight disadvantage for the first couple of moves, and it seems like Connor’s willing to take that risk this time. Connor twitches, and suddenly the entire room and everyone watching them disappears and it’s just the two of them, the timer, and this fight.
Connor pounces, and not anything like how North pounced, no. He is very quick and his fist flies towards Ritch’s face, but he leans just in time to avoid it. Ritch grabs the arm that just swung the punch and twists it so Connor is forced to turn his back to his brother. Before he can try to pin Connor, he kicks straight behind, aiming for Ritch’s knees. Ritch dodges by turning his whole body, which gives Connor just enough room and a good angle to elbow him in the face. He almost succeeds too, but Ritch catches his arm in time, the force of the impact probably bruising his hand.
Ritch realizes his mistake a moment too late because Connor uses the fact that Ritch is holding onto both of his arms to his advantage and pulls them in front of himself while throwing his head back, bashing Ritch’s nose on the back of his head. Momentarily stunned, Ritch loosens his grip, which gives Connor the chance to twist out of his grip and trip him. He goes to pin Ritch on the ground, but he rolls out of the way and kicks Connor in the side with both legs. The move launches Connor away, causing him to topple over and go into a short coughing fit. They both quickly get back up into their default standing positions, Ritch now with a bleeding nose.
Ritch moves quickly and makes to punch Connor, but he blocks it, and the next punch, and the one after that. The forth punch is the one Connor catches, and that’s when Connor throws his first punch of this segment of fighting. Ritch narrowly avoids it by moving his head to the side, and catches his next punch. Now each brother has one of the other’s wrists in their hand.
Connor grips onto Ritch’s other wrist so he’s holding both of them, and Ritch copies him. He uses this split moment of Connor’s stillness to try to knee his twin in the side, but Connor sees it and goes to block it with his own arm. Ritch sees this at the last moment and forces his foot down onto Connor’s foot. They both know it does nothing, since they’re both wearing boots, but it still hinders Connor, who retaliates by yanking on Ritch’s left arm hard, effectively dislocating it and rendering it temporarily useless. It doesn’t bother Ritch much because dislocating his shoulder used to be some kind of party trick that he’d do. He even tried to teach Connor how to do it a few times, and that is the only reason why Connor dares to do it during training; he knows how to do it without seriously damaging his shoulder.
Ritch purposefully drops to the ground like a heavy rag doll, forcing Connor to go down with him. Connor lets go of his wrists to go for the neck while pinning him to the ground. Ritch uses his right hand to shove his fingers in Connor’s face, aiming for the eyes, which makes the other jump back off and away from him. They both know neither of them would actually do something as damaging and painful as digging a finger in the other’s eye, but it’s one of their rules to get away ASAP if the other is potentially able to. The eyes are where the window for the pilots on a Jaeger is, so if a kaiju digs their claws into it, it won’t just be their eyes that get irreversibly damaged.
Ritch doesn’t bother to roll onto his stomach to hop up onto his feet. With a small wince, Ritch fixes his left shoulder like he has many times in the past. Both Connor and Ritch are breathing more heavily than when they started, but not really panting yet. Their eyes never leave their target, except for when Connor quickly glances to the side. Ritch follows the action and sees that there is a little less than three minutes of the five obligated ones left to this fight.
Connor takes a quick step forward and Ritch does the same, meeting in the middle with Ritch starting this round with an attempted kick to the ribs. Connor catches his leg and lifts, trying to set him off balance, but Ritch drops and lands on his hands, leaving his other foot free in the air to successfully kick Connor in the chin. When he flips himself right again, he’s met with Connor’s fist to his throat. Winded, Ritch tries his best to block and dodge his twin’s calculated blows with little luck. Finally, he retaliates, punching Connor hard on the cheek. Next thing they know, their fighting becomes just a flurry of punches and kicks, each brother dodging and blocking the other’s harsh blows, some attempts more successful than others. Then Connor manages to get in a roundhouse kick.
Ritch narrowly dodges it, and pounces on Connor while he’s still unstead for just that moment and locks him into a choke hold. Connor digs his nails into Ritch’s arm and pulls, which causes the other to growl and press tighter against his throat. All of a sudden Ritch’s leg is forced out from under him and he’s falling sideways to the ground, but he catches himself in time and rolls onto his back just as Connor lands on him. There’s no doubt he was going to try to pin Ritch’s arms behind him if he landed on his front.
The next while is spent wrestling around on the ground, focusing on keeping the other down and getting themselves up more than traditional offence. Finally, Connor gets a tight hold on Ritch’s wrists and forces his knee down hard into his gut. Just as Connor’s about to spin him over into a proper pin, Ritch lifts his leg so his foot can push Connor’s left leg down, making him move his other knee off of Ritch’s gut if he doesn’t want to topple over. This gives the almost-pinned brother a chance to fold both of his legs near his chest in preparation to kick Connor off of him with both feet. He rolls off of Ritch just in time though, and stands up and backs away. Ritch hops up onto his feet once more, albeit more painfully, though he does a good job of not showing it.
The timer counts down from 54 seconds.
Connor’s chin, nose, and lip, and forehead are bleeding, and bruises will probably form in many different areas later. That gives Ritch a disgusting sense of pride that is no doubt subconsciously fueled from the praise he always got from Amanda whenever he’d win one of these fights. Connor’s putting less pressure on his left leg than he was before, and isn’t raising his right arm as high as he normally does. Yet, despite these injuries, he still stands as sturdy and still as a stone. If it weren’t for the spots of blood on his shirt and pants, Ritch would assume that’s all that’s wrong with him. That and how Connor is controlling his breathing, so his chest or ribs must hurt.
Ritch is panting rather painfully too. His left arm aches from earlier, his shoulders and back ache from being tripped and slammed to the floor. Ritch quickly wipes the blood from his nose that’s running over his lips and dripping down his chin and flinches when his hand brushes against his nose. There are sharp pains on the insides of his cheeks and lips from being punched and his teeth cutting into them, and there’s pains on the outside too where his lip is split and the bruises blossoming on his face. It hurts like a bitch to stand on his right ankle for whatever reason, but Ritch refuses to show weakness. Yet, noting how Connor glances down at that exact ankle, maybe he’s babying it more than he thought.
Ritch makes a face that he hopes comes across as more apologetic, and Connor lifts his left shoulder in a hint of a half-shrug that Ritch assumes and hopes is an acknowledgement. Ritch almost limps a step forward and Connor does the same–
“Alright, that’s enough.” Luther calls.
Connor spins to glance back at the timer– frozen at 51 seconds– without breaking their stances, then look to their instructor.
“I think I’ve seen more than enough for now.”
Both brother’s eyes widen. That phrase only meant corrections and/or ridicules growing up, why else would a fight stop early? If they were doing well, whoever was watching would let it continue. The twins immediately straighten up to a normal, standing posture– Ritch feels his face twitch at the twinge in his ankle– and fold their hands behind their backs– Connor winces slightly then. Connor has the balls to speak up, albeit with his head tilted down.
“Did we do something wrong?” His words come out a tad breathless from him trying to control his breathing, but they’re clearly understandable. That’s why neither brother knows why Luther and Chloe look as baffled as they do.
Luther’s face changes to something slightly more concerned. “Did you do– No!”
Chloe explains, “We were more afraid you were going to seriously injure each other if you kept going.”
“Oh.” Connor states blankly.
I thought we were holding back enough, especially since the padding isn’t thick. Apparently not, Ritch notes.
“Where did you guys train?” asks Luther.
Ritch doesn’t really want to talk about this, and he knows for a fact that Connor doesn’t either.
“Just in our yard,” Ritch answers, absently mourning his white shirt as it now has red stains on it, “But we had obstacles and such set up and have been training for a while, so...”
“There’s no way you guys are completely self-taught.” Chloe states, but the silent question “Who was your trainer?” is ironically loud and clear.
“I guess not completely, but mostly?” Connor jumps in, “I mean– We had, guidance from our stepmother and the occasional combat trainer that would visit her, but we did learn a lot of it on our own through trial and error, ma’am.”
Ritch nods in agreement. Now that he thinks about it, they really did do a lot of the training and learning on their own. Amanda would only intervene if she saw something wrong or if she wanted to do yet another evaluation. When she wanted them to learn something new, she either ordered an instructional video or book to study from or called in an instructor to come in for a week or two to train them hands on.
Thankfully, Luther stops Chloe’s onslaught of questions with a wave of his hand.
“Leave them be, Chloe. All we needed to do was to assess their skill and strength, not where they got it from. And I say that they’ve easily passed this part of the evaluation.” Luther turns to the injured brothers, “And you two refuse to work with one another?”
“Yes sir.” they confirm at the same time with the same level of false confidence.
Luther nods, “Marshal Fowler states here–” he lightly slaps the two files in his hand “–that you two have to be paired until proven incompatible. And I think this duel proved the exact opposite.”
Connor and Ritch lower their heads again, both coming to terms that they may not become jaeger pilots after all. How could they if everything they do proves that they’re drift compatible when they absolutely refuse to be in each other’s minds?
“Well then, it’d be a real shame if you found someone else to pair up with before you graduated from this class, now wouldn’t it? Especially since you still have to go through at least three more evaluations before it’s even an option.”
Did Ritch just hear that right? Are they being given an out? By an instructor?
“Sir?” Apparently Connor’s thinking the same thing.
“But you didn’t hear that from me.” He smiles that same genuine, kind smile from when he first entered the room. “You two should go get yourselves checked out then head out to lunch, we’ll finish your physical testing at a later date, since you’ve really done a number on yourselves.” He then schools his expression into something more blank as he raises his voice for people to hear. “Alright! Everyone else, listen up! We’re going to be doing flexibility next, and I need everyone to understand how to do these moves safely so no one gets hurt, okay?”
A choir of “Yes sir”s is the last thing the twins hear before leaving the room.
•◊•◊•◊•◊•
Hank Anderson is not one to wake up before noon. Maybe sometimes at noon, but never before, which is why he’s confused as hell as to why he’s awake at fucking 11:26 in the morning. Lunch– or in Hank’s case, breakfast– hasn’t even started yet. There’s still 34 god damn minutes until he can get his daily dosage of comfort food to try to help lessen his never-ending hangover. Well, it’s not quite never-ending. He doesn’t have a hangover when he’s drunk, which is yet another tempting reason to just say “fuck it” and start drinking early today.
Too bad Hank’s stupid fuckin’ conscious gets in the way of that.
“Don’t start drinking yet!”, it says, “You’ll have a worse hangover tomorrow if you start now!” it tries, “Try getting to lunch early today! Get food sooner!”
That finally manages to convince him.
With a groan, he rolls himself off his lousy excuse for a bed to go wash his face and change. He stumbles a bit to the bathroom, not quite prepared for the wave of nausea that crashes through his body, but he makes it just in time to empty what little contents he had in his stomach into the toilet. He flushes the toilet with slightly shaky hands once he doesn’t feel as horrible. Hank manages to get himself up and off of the ground and to the mirror to wash his face, but one look at his reflection makes him pause.
Hank knows he’s a slob and he’s let himself slip, but that doesn’t mean he should walk around without showering for the past few days, or without shaving in much longer than that. So he does exactly that. He forces himself to take a speedy shower because god damn it he’s starting to smell like a high school locker room minus the Old Spice and Axe, and if he can smell himself, other people sure can too. Once he’s out and dressed in– what outfit did he blindly grab today? Ah, a stained, dark grey shirt and one of his cleaner pair of sweatpants, that’ll do for now– he wastes some time half-heartedly trimming the bush on his face. There’s a difference to not caring how you look and having a full-blown redneck beard and hair, and Hank refuses to cross into that territory.
By the time Hank has his socks and shoes on and the aspirin finally starts working, the clock glows with the numbers 11:58. Two minutes until lunch, which means no meandering down the halls or awkwardly waiting for the food court to open by the time he gets there. He can just get from point A to point B, and that’s exactly what he does.
Walking into the food court, Hank immediately notices how relatively vacant the place is and makes a mental note to maybe start waking up a bit earlier if only because of this. He walks over to the almost nonexistent line for food (which quickly builds up behind him) with a calm ease he hasn’t felt in a long while. The cafeteria workers know Hank’s order now, and they also know to not try to engage in any small talk with him either, especially during his breakfast/their lunch time. They simply put his preferred, greasy food on his tray and hand it to him. Hank nods politely at them like he normally does (because he may be an asshole, but they’re just doing their jobs) and walks back to his table.
Hank’s a little more than halfway done with his meal when the food court starts getting even louder than what he’s used to. Hank thought he found the secret to a quieter, more peaceful lunch, but all he’s managed to find were fucking lies. People are crowding into other tables, trying to talk over one another, and laughing loudly. Normally Hank wouldn’t mind people having fun, but today it’s just too much for his poor head to handle with the addition of the bright lights.
Hank rarely gets hungover anymore, but when he does, it’s usually bad.
He leans forward and puts his elbows on the table and his head in his hands and groans. Hank doesn’t know how long he sits like this, just trying to block out the lights and sounds. The sound of a cup being placed on the table directly in front of Hank pulls him back into the real world. Hank somewhat blearily looks up to who set the cup down to find the kid from last time standing in front of him with a half smile. It would be a full smile, if it weren’t for the three bandage patches on his face.
“It looks like you could use this more than me.”
The guy– fuck, what was his name?– nudges the cup closer to Hank with one of his wrapped hands, then moves to the other end of the table. He’s barely babying his left leg, and his face twitches as he sits down. He presses the edges of a cooling patch on the back of his head, and the angle allows Hank to see a fabric brace around his right shoulder under the collar of his black shirt. All in all, this fucker has definitely seen some better days– proof being yesterday evening– and Hank can’t stop himself from being curious.
“The fuck happened to you?”
The younger man drops his head and frowns at his food, “Just the beginning of jaeger pilot training.” He turns his head to Hank with another half-smile, “It looks worse than it feels, I promise.”
What kind of fuckin’ training? I’ve only seen these new kids around for a day or two, so they aren’t doing the serious stuff yet. And even then it still wouldn’t look like this… Should I check with Jeffery about this?
“What’s your name, kid?” Hank takes a well-earned sip of water.
“Connor, sir- er, um. It’s Connor.” The guy– Connor– starts tapping his fingers on the table.
“You sure it was training that beat the shit out of you today?” Hank should really stop talking. He doesn’t want Connor to think that he’s interested in being acquainted with him.
Connor’s finger-tapping speeds up and his foot starts tapping too.
“Yes– Yea.”
“There a reason you fidget so goddamn much?”
That must be the wrong thing to say because Connor goes completely still and shrinks into himself, muttering an apology. Honestly, Hank’s just surprised this Connor guy still wants to sit here. When the younger man doesn’t offer up an explanation, Hanks asks another question, this time slightly more gently. Hank ain’t a stranger to feeling like shit.
“Why’re you sittin’ here today? I get you wanted a break from people yesterday, but I’m not exactly well liked y’know. If ya stick around here you won’t get any friends.”
Connor turns his head towards him with a face of... determination?, “They may not like you, but I don’t know enough about you yet to form a proper opinion of my own. So far, though, I don’t think you’re that bad to be around.” Connor turns back to his food, taking another bite, “I tend to be too awkward for friends anyway. My brother’s more of the socializer.”
“You sure you’re not trying to fix me? You knew my name yesterday even though I never told you it.” Checkmate, Hank thinks as he watches Connor tense up immediately.
“I admit that I used to… follow your work before you retired, but I promise that that has nothing to do with why I’m sitting here now. I just don’t do well around people.” He takes another bite of food, “Also, I don’t believe that there’s any way to ‘fix’ people, per se. The only people who can really fix people are our own selves, no?” Connor starts spinning that god damned fork around his fingers again.
Normally by now, Hank would be causing some kind of scene trying to a person away from him and his table, but Connor is different. Not different like in the books and movies where “it’s a gut feeling” or whatever the fuck they call it, no. Connor’s different because, despite admitting to knowing who Hank was, he really doesn’t seem to be here to try and “fix” him or get close to his “idol”. He’s just here to mind his own business, and Hank can’t be fucking bothered to put in the effort to actively dislike the guy for wanting to be left alone without being alone. Hank knows exactly what it’s like.
So what if Hank can somehow see some of himself in this lonely fucker and is willing to put up with him for a bit? This kid just better not think that he’s going to stay here long term. He better find other friends and skedaddle on away from this table real fuckin’ soon.
“Our own selves, you say? Is that a general term or are you including yourself in this self-pity party?”
He opens his mouth, then hesitates. “Is this a test or a semblance of curiosity?”
Hank huffs amusedly, “I don’t test people, kid.”
“Then yes, I am inviting myself to the ‘pity party’. And I am 23 as of tomorrow, I am no longer a kid.”
Now he’s starting to grate on Hank.
“Maybe not, but I’m 41. You’re still a kid to me.” Hank can’t keep the sharpness out of his voice, not that he tried to, anyway.
“...I suppose that’s true in a way. I apologize.” Connor bows his head and eats.
Wait a minute, why the fuck doesn’t he just go sit with his brother? What gives?
“There a reason you aren’t sitting with your brother? You said he was here, right? I’m sure you could share friends.”
Connor takes the last bite of his food. He didn’t take nearly as much as Hank and ate much quicker too. Connor stands up after swallowing.
“We just don’t quite get along. I assume you know how siblings are. Besides, he isn’t having lunch yet, he had something he needed to do.”
He picks up his tray and untouched cup of coffee and turns to leave. Connor drops his gaze to his feet as he makes his way to leave. He briefly pauses in front of Hank first, though, to set down his coffee in front of him, picking up the now-empty cup. Hank takes a breath to tell Connor off for assuming he needed something to drink and for treating him like a child, but Connor stops him with a half-hearted smile.
“I don’t really drink coffee, it just makes my heart rate skyrocket, and you look like you need this more than I do, too.” He gestures to himself, “I’ve been thoroughly woken up already” Connor huffs in amusement at himself, and before Hank can get a word in, he walks away to put his dishes in the designated containers. He passes Hank again to leave the food court. “I hope your day gets better, Mr. Anderson.”
Hank doesn’t grace him with a response once again.
What a fuckin’ weird kid.
Hank finishes his food and downs the instant coffee, then puts his trash and dishes away. Usually after his breakfast, Hank will go back to his room as long as he isn’t needed for something because, yes, he may be an old drunkard now, but he still used to be a jaeger pilot, and a damn good one at that, so his sober words are taken seriously by Jeff. He doesn’t have anything planned for today, but he still turns left to where Jeff– oh excuse him, Marshal Fowler– is likely going to be in his office instead of right to the bunkers.
There’s no way a trainee gets that beaten up during the first few days of training. Maybe later when weapon training starts, but Luther would never lay a hand that heavy on one of his students. The gentle giant is just way too passive and sweet to ever do that. Besides, Connor is definitely not the delinquent type. Although, if they’re testing baseline skill today, then that means Connor went up against his brother, and he did say they didn’t exactly get along. Still, though, why wouldn’t Luther or Chloe stop the duel if the poor kid was getting pummeled?
Hank is two turns away from Jeffery’s office when he hears a very familiar voice sound up from around the corner.
“Don’t, Alex. Gavin only does this to get a rise out of people. Just keep walking.”
Connor knows who Gavin is, too? Then again, who around here doesn’t.
“Keep walking?” another man’s voice, presumably Alex’s, snaps, “And let this fucker think he can push me around?! I don’t think so! I can take him on–”
“I assure you that you can not. He is a real pilot–”
“Aw, c’mon kid!” There’s Gavin, fuckin’ asshole, “You ran away last time, you’re really gonna run away this time too?”
“Gavin!” Hank barks, turning around the corner. All three men snap their heads towards him. “That’s enough. Do what you were gonna do and move along.”
“Fuckin’ Anderson!” Gavin smiles sarcastically, “Finally sober enough to walk in a straight line for once? Congratulations!”
“Fuck off, Reed. I’m not playing your fuckin’ games today.”
“Suit yourself, then” Gavin sneers with a cocky shrug, and moves on, leaving this Alex guy and Connor behind.
Except that’s definitely not Connor.
This guy has Connor’s face and Connor’s voice, but that can’t be Connor. First of all, he’s wearing a brace on his nose and, rather than having gauze/bandages on his face, Connor’s doppelganger has several bandaids and more bruises than anything. On top of that, this guy is wearing a light grey shirt with grey pants, rather than a black shirt and navy pants. When Connor said he had a brother, Hank didn’t think he meant a fuckin’ identical twin. Although, he guesses not many people would.
“Why’dya stop him? I could’ve taken him!” The Alex guy shoves not-Connor.
“Alex, please, you’re a fool if you think–”
“Hey asshat. I’d knock it off.” Hank makes his way to Gavin 2.0.
“Oh yeah? What’s an old guy like you gonna be able to do to me anyway?”
“Get you kicked out of training faster than you can say ‘jaeger’ because my old partner is Fowler himself.” Hank pauses briefly for dramatic effect, “And it seems like you’ve already had to do some… What do they call it? ‘Intern work’? How was clearing out the old pipes, Anix?”
“Alex,” he growls.
“I know.” Hank smirks, knowing he’s already won. ”Get outta here. I imagine you’ve got somewhere to be, punk.”
“Yes, sir.” he grits out. Alex then turns and walks down the hall and around the corner where Hank just came from.
“Thank you Mr. Anderson. I appreciate the help with those two, they’ve already proven to be quite troublesome on their own, they’d be a nightmare if left together without proper supervision.”
“Don’t I fuckin’ know it.” Hank hesitates, but ends up continuing anyway. “All you have to do with Gavin is show him little you’re affected by him without picking a fight. He’ll back off eventually.’
Not-Connor seems to genuinely appreciate that advice, “Oh. Thank you. It’s good to know that I’ve been doing the right thing so far.” he pauses, “I apologize for my brother, Connor, sitting at your table. I’ve tried telling him to leave you alone, but he’s rather stubborn and is rather awkward and nervous around groups of people.”
“Yeah, I gathered as much already.” Hank wants to leave the conversation now. He only wanted to shit on some people, not have an actual talk with someone who shares a face and voice with some dude who has been sitting at his table.
“Give him a few days at most. I’m sure he’ll move on to please other people and leave you alone if you really don’t want him around. He may be stubborn, but he’s not stupid or blind to signals of disinterest.”
Hank almost grunts and nods to end the conversation, but thinks otherwise at the last moment. Curse his damn curiosity and possible mild concern for people’s well-being.
“Please other people?”
Not-Connor’s eyes widen, “Not in that sense, no. He simply hates the idea of being disliked by people.”
“One more question for ya,” Hank suddenly feels like he’s in some cop show or something with all of these questions, “Did you and Connor do this–” he gestures to not-Connor’s busted face “–to each other?”
“Ah,” the trainee looks away in obvious discomfort, “Our instructor was seeing what our baseline strengths and skills were, and Connor and I apparently didn’t hold back enough and we ended up worrying them. I just got done talking to Marshal Fowler about it, since he insisted it’ll interfere with our training for the next few days.” Not-Connor looks back to Hank, and must see something in his expression because he quickly ends the conversation.
“My name is Ritch, by the way, and I always wear light colors and Connor only wears dark. I know we can be overbearing sometimes, especially him, so when you need him off of you for a while, feel free to tell me.” Ritch, nods his head to Hank in respect. “I apologize for taking up so much of your time already. I’ll be on my way. Have a good day, Mr. Anderson.”
Hank does his signature grunt and nod, and Ritch takes that as his cue to hurry past Hank and around that same corner again. Hank stands there a moment, processing everything that he just learned. Mixing this new knowledge with his gut feeling, he’s pretty sure he’s going to be running into those twins far more than once or twice more.
Whelp, goodbye for now peaceful meals, I already can’t wait until you return.
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A/N: Hello again! This was my first time writing a fight scene (and it shows, but I can’t figure out how to fix it 😫) but I hope it wasn’t too horrible to read through 😅 I almost just skipped through that scene so I wouldn’t have to write it, but there will be a ton more action, so might as well get some practice in now so it ain’t as bad later on amirite? Well, I hope y’all liked this chapter and are liking this fic so far! I’ve got a lot planned so I’m excited! I’ll be back with next chapter before the end of the month! 😁
#reed900#gavin reed x rk900#reed900 fanfic#reed900 fanfiction#hankcon#hannor#hank x connor#hankcon fanfic#hankcon fanfiction#hannor fanfic#hannor fanfiction#hankcon au#reed900 au#pacific rim!au#The Drift Between Us#chapter 2
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