#also. i regret to inform you this is of dubious canonicity i don't know if i want him to be trans or cis | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

titaniumpsychologist · 10 months

Text

Duality of Light // Tue 2038-12-14 // Part Two (teaser? ish?)

I'd been so bogged down with work, research, and presentations this summer, and the semester is starting up again in the next few weeks? And two days ago a huge project was dumped on me for my research? After trying so hard to get this next chapter done? Aggghhh. I love what I'm doing, but I have no time for writing fanfic 😞

Because I feel bad that I haven't been able to put out a chapter for this fic on Ao3 for so long, I'm gonna share another snippet at least for those here on tumblr. Not yet edited (the chapter is looking to be 15k-16k before editing. RIP.) but I feel that these sections are closer to what I want to be in the Ao3-ready version that I intend to publish once I find time again to work on it.

FYI, even though this isn't the whole chapter, it's still a bit of a read (about 4000 words). So please don't freak out if you see the huge wall of text when clicking that "read more." Also, this obviously makes no sense if you haven't read the fic on Ao3, so here's the parts that come before it here lol (please heed the warnings and tags at the top of the fic): https://archiveofourown.org/works/37467820/chapters/93505051

Warnings, tags, and fic spoilers under the cut:

Rating: Mature

Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Category: Gen

Fandom: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)

Relationships: Connor & Gavin Reed | Hank Anderson & Connor | Elijah Kamski & Gavin Reed

Characters: Connor (Detroit: Become Human) | Gavin Reed | Hank Anderson | Elijah Kamski

Tue 2038-12-14 // Part Two

Irrelevant.

Possible lead?

Irrelevant.

Irrelevant. Irrelevant. Irrelevant. Irrelevant. Irrelevant. Irrelevant. Irrelevant. Irrelevant…

Another lead to follow, higher in priority. Connor made a side note to reference it later.

Irrelevant. Irrelevant. Irrelevant.

Indeterminate, no leads.

He paused in his interface with his terminal, going over all the case files that the DPD had and seeing if there was a possible connection with them and their current case that involved the recent murders.

>> CR# 11762

>>> STATUS - CLOSED

Closed case. It might've not been related, however, there were several redacted notes that made it nearly incomprehensible and possibly even unimportant because it was considered a resolved report under normal police procedure. There was enough information in it that, knowing what he knew now, Connor had reason to believe that the people involved in this report was Reed and Stevens. Eyewitness report, but who was this eyewitness? Who were these people involved in their extraction?

And then there was a similar copy that was with the data that was seized from Kamski's property for their investigation. It was related to their case, beyond all reasonable doubt, but how can a report that detailed the events that started it all have so little to go on? He was so quick to label it as "indeterminate," too, because it didn't register as something important with a cursory parsing through the database.

He withdrew his hand from the interface. He should bring this up to Hank. Maybe this needed organic eyes to make sense of all of this.

However, when he turned to ask him something, he saw Hank fully engrossed in his own terminal and stacks and stacks of case files near to toppling off his desk, an intensity in his expression that he hadn't seen before. Lieutenant Anderson had a focus or… feeling around him that said to anyone watching that he was a man on a mission and nothing would stop him to accomplish it.

That was a feeling that Connor knew, and maybe even he missed, that feeling where he had no doubts to distract him, no layers and layers of emotions that he had to parse through first before redirecting his path towards accomplishing his mission.

No, he should stop thinking like that. This was better than being a machine. This, and all its troubles was better than going back to what he was before.

He dug into his pocket, taking care to avoid brushing his fingers against the storage drive and brought out his coin. There was a strange feeling—another glitch, maybe—when Connor held his quarter in his hand again. There were so many things that he didn't know about life, about humanity, about Hank, about Reed.

About himself.

Given that he was a prototype, other people didn't know much about him, either. Except Reed had a possible answer as to why he did a few things the way he did, like his quarter. He liked dogs, but why? He had his Zen garden in his mind palace, empty and fractured it may be right now, but why? Could they all be related? Could understanding the different choices behind the design of his basic programming help him fix all the errors he was experiencing in his software?

He wondered maybe it was mutual. Maybe he knew more about Reed than what Reed knew about himself. At the very least, he had the rest of Reed's fragmented programming sitting at the bottom of his pocket.

Referring to his directories holding all his references and cross-references with his experiences with emotions, he dredged aup a word for the strange feeling.

Dread.

He stood from his seat as he pulled up the building's map and navigated himself to the rooftop. Reed wasn't the only one who needed a change in scenery today.

[scene break]

Connor was wrong. He had to be.

"I think many people care about you, Detective Reed."

Gavin tapped impatiently at the side of his terminal input, waiting for the database to load all the information they had on their case. Damn, did they end up with a big one. His eyes glossed over the titles of some files, recognizing the naming system Elijah used. The information on the victims in the case updated with Chloe's information. Deactivated.

Dead.

He turned off the screen, keeping the process running, but not wanting to really see more of it yet.

Or ever.

Tina passed by his desk, pulling out a memorandum from Fowler and putting it on a stack of papers next to him. And he noticed a small scribble of her handwriting on one corner: "You're the baddest bitch in town."

A stupid motivational message as condescending as always.

Gavin felt a firm thud at the back of his chair as Chris went to get up, accidentally knocking his desk chair against Gavin's for the thousandth time and immediately trying to apologize and offering to get him a coffee from the break room to make up for the slight. For all he knew, with how much Chris had done it, he did it on purpose.

It was all routine. Even when Gavin had a literal life change and had to have a whole reclassification of his employment files, Chen and Miller still kept to routine. He should be mad at them. He should be angry that they weren't angry at the whole injustice that this all was. They worked alongside this lie for years. Shouldn't they also feel betrayed?

Shouldn't they all see what a fucked up mess this was?

Chris brought him his coffee, as promised, smiling at him before placing it Tina's handwriting on the memo and returning to his own desk.

Gavin took a peeved sip of the coffee.

People cared about him?

He skimmed the memo from Fowler, a notice that he was going to have to do a press meeting about how fucking slowly Anderson, Connor, and Gavin were making any kind of headway into their case because media finally noticed that Elijah was in the police station a bit too long. Almost as if he was being held for a crime.

The thought of having to somehow get him to answer to the fucked-up shit he did made him grip the page a lot tighter, nearly damaging a few pixels on the digital paper.

But then he saw Tina's words in looped cursive, a skill that was utterly useless, but she insisted on practicing her handwriting whenever she could because she felt she could at least leave a human touch on things in her own way.

"You're the baddest bitch in town," Gavin whispered, reading the words with a half-chuckle.

He sighed and turned the memo over. Scrubbed his eyes. He blindly reached for his coffee and took another sip. It was steaming hot but the pain didn't register, and damn, now that he thought about it, he wondered how we went on for so long never noticing that detail. He wondered if anyone had noticed his lack of reaction towards a burning hot liquid.

Someone must have.

Anyone.

Gavin stared down into the dark liquid of his cup, its surface catching the lights in the ceiling.

There was a mole in the DPD. They must've known.

Gavin turned his head slightly, watching Chris as he typed out a report. Could he have been the mole?

What about Tina? Could she have known? Were these condescending messages a hint toward something else? Or were they actually people that cared? Were they people without ulterior motives? Chris had a family to take care of. Tina had her sister and her mom to look out for. Both of them would have too much at stake to be playing at two sides. Were they people willing to sacrifice what they had for the sake of greed?

"How's Damian doing?" Gavin asked, spinning his chair around to face Chris.

"What—?" Chris stopped his typing and turned his own chair around. "Oh! Uh… He's doing good. Why'd you ask?"

"Just wondering."

"Are you… okay?"

"Fuckin' peachy."

"Are you sure? Honest answer, please."

Gavin let out a short laugh. "Of fucking course not, but I'm managing."

"I'm… sorry to hear that." Chris scratched the back of his neck. "If… you wanna talk about it—"

"Why do you do it?" Gavin asked. "You and Tina. The notes. The coffee. Why?"

"Because it's a nice thing to do? Learning about what you're going through right now… We can't even imagine. We thought with how much is changing for you, you might appreciate if we kept a few things like they were before. At the end of the day, you're still our coworker, and we watch each other's backs."

"Right." Gavin sighed and shook his head. "Right. Of course."

"Is there a problem? That you're… okay with sharing, obviously."

"Nah, I'm good. That's a good answer."

"…okay?" Chris returned to working on his report. Gavin could see that Chris wasn't "okay" with the probing, but at least he seemed cool with leaving it at that for now. He mulled over Chris' answer.

They only did it to be nice.

Damn it. This case was getting into his head.

Okay, so maybe Connor had a point? People cared about him, or at least maybe Miller and Chen did. Maybe not in the way he'd want them to, but they did in their own way. Maybe in the way he needed them to.

Gavin snuck a quick glance over to where Connor sat at his desk from across the bullpen, his coworker in the middle of an interface with the terminal, LED still having one spot perpetually stuck on yellow.

And Connor said he cared.

After a few moments, Connor turned to Anderson and opened his mouth to say something, but his LED quickly flashed to red with that one dot of not-red. Connor really should get that light of his checked. Weren't those supposed to be indicators for what kind of processes were running in their heads?

Gavin couldn't imagine anyone having a glimpse of what was really going on in his head, how exposing it would be to not have that amount of privacy in the least.

Maybe that's why some androids chose to remove theirs.

But that posed the question of why Connor still had his.

Connor frowned, withdrawing his hand and stuffing it into his pocket, bringing out that coin he always had on him. He must've noticed that Gavin was watching him, since he inclined his head a bit in his direction before standing and leaving his desk.

Must've given up on telling Anderson what he wanted to say. The lieutenant was engrossed in the stacks of case files on his desk and was wholly unaware of Connor's leave.

Fucking Anderson. Even if he supposedly got his act together, he was still dropping the ball like he always did.

Gavin shook his head disapprovingly.

So maybe people cared about Gavin.

But how many cared about Connor? In the way they needed to?

Gavin pressed his hands against the top of his knees as he watched Connor take the door to the rooftop access stairs. Gavin debated whether he should follow him, pressing his hands firmer against the grain of his jeans enough to leave indents when he removed his palms to look at them. He caught a glimpse of his split knuckle as he did so.

…fuck it.

[scene break]

Going up here was a mistake.

Connor gripped the chainlink fence surrounding the half-walls of the rooftop as another…

…preconstruction?

…memory?

Whatever it was, it assaulted his sensors, making it nearly impossible to focus on any other inputs he was trying to override it with. He was fine when he made his way up here. The malfunction triggered by seeing how high up he was.

Fighting. Blood spattering in crimson and sapphire. The mission to kill Markus. To kill these DPD officers. To kill Hank. All these people getting in the way of his main objective. This wasn't what he wanted to remember of what he used to be the days before the revolution.

What could've been.

But maybe he needed to. Maybe this was how he could keep from ever wanting to be a machine again.

If only Hank weren't so prominent in these malfunctions.

"Hey!" Reed called from suddenly too close behind him. How had he not noticed that he followed him up here? "What the fuck are you doing?"

Connor tried to speak, to exit the processes that were currently running this preconstruction, but he found that he couldn't. His grip on the fence tightened, rattling the metal as he trembled.

He couldn't let go.

He couldn't exit the nightmare program still running.

He was stuck.

And someone, worst of all Detective Reed, was watching him as he tried to pull his programming together and failing. No one was supposed to know. They didn't need to.

He felt his breaths quickening, too hot, his stress rising, stress-sensor still broken.

"Connor?" Reed asked him.

Connor tried to loosen his fingers, to at least hide how much he was shaking. Tried again to turn off the bombardment of fists and gunshots and dropping Hank from the building—no, Hank charging at him and falling—no, Hank shoving?—dropping?—him from the building.

Then it stopped.

He found that Reed had brought him away from the fence and closer to the rooftop access door.

"Shit, why the hell are you burning up?" Reed said under his breath.

Connor brushed off Reed's hands on him and he took off his jacket to try to cool down, his armband dropping onto the thin layer of snow on the roof. Reed stooped to pick it up, hesitated, then handed it to him.

"My stress was too high," Connor said. "Androids tend to overheat once stress reaches a certain point."

"Right. Right. The orientation. That uh… is a thing that happens. Right."

Connor could tell that Reed wanted to say something else, but instead looked away.

"You good now?" Reed said after a few moments.

"Yes. Why are you here?"

"Wanted to check on you. Y'know… 'cuz uh… you checked on me earlier. When I…" He rolled his wrist, circling his hands ambiguously in the air. Both of their gazes went to Reed's split knuckle on one of his fingers. He cleared this throat. "What was that?"

Connor draped his jacket in the crook of his elbow after replacing his band where it belonged around his arm. "It was nothing."

"Nah, not this again. You need to get this checked, whatever the fuck this is."

"I will," Connor said.

"You better," Reed said. "Because that was…" He exhaled, chewed a little bit on the inside of his lip. "That shit didn't look fun to experience."

"And how would you know?"

"I… get like that, kinda. Sometimes. Maybe it's different, being uh… different… android models but… Maybe not all that different, considering…" Another wrist roll. "All our shit."

He could see how carefully Reed tried to pick his words, as if he didn't know how to talk about whatever it was he was trying to get at. Both unable to bring themselves to talk about something so… unpleasant. There was a small rumble from deep in Connor's chest, and he couldn't help but pull the corners of his mouth upward.

Connor laughed.

"How the fuck could you be laughing right now?" Reed asked, half in his usual irritation, other half something… concerned?

"I don't know," Connor said in between fits. He started up again, this time with even more force. It wasn't until he realized that there was moisture running down his face. He brushed it away with his sleeve, and felt even more running down his chin, and he realized that he was crying.

Laughter morphed into sobbing.

"I don't know," Connor said, his vocal modulator stuttering. "I don't know, Detective Reed."

"Shit," Reed said. "Shit. Uh…" Running his hands through his hair, Reed shuffled his feet, and then: "I should get Anderson."

"No," Connor said, grabbing Reed by the elbow as he was about to leave. Why couldn't he stop crying? "He can't know."

He expected Reed to just ignore him and go on with getting Hank. Instead, Reed nodded. "Okay, what do you need me to do?"

"Forget you saw anything."

Reed huffed out a breath and nodded. "Alright."

Reed wasn't putting up a fight about this?

"What?" Connor said.

"I'll forget this happened," Reed said. "Or pretend at least. As long as you tell me what the fuck is going on."

Connor looked down at his jacket and his shirt sleeves. The saline had frozen into small beads of frost, with more continuing to be added to it. And these were his new clothes, too.

He started sobbing again, not because of his clothes, but because of all the things he could be thinking of, he was concerned about something so trivial. Maybe his software was getting dangerously unstable.

"I'm scared," Connor said softly. "I don't know what's wrong with me, and… I don't like where it's going." He swiped at his eyes, catching more of his tears with the cuff of his sleeve. "I don't think anyone can fix it."

"What is 'it', Connor?"

"I had an AI handler," Connor said. "I destroyed her after she took over my functions to try to assassinate Markus, and I damaged several parts of my software in the process."

Reed brushed the scar on his nose, not saying anything as he looked off into the distance. "Her…?"

There it was, that look again. Right before he gave Connor information about his fixation about his quarter.

"Can you describe this handler?" Reed asked.

"Her name was Amanda," Connor said. "I believe she was modeled after Kamski's former mentor, Amanda Stern."

Reed's hand dropped and formed into a fist. "Fuck. He did not. He did not fucking do that." He sighed and shook his head. "Sorry. Continue. Why are you afraid of getting rid of her? Sounds like she was a real bitch if she tried to take control of you."

"She was… amicable at first." Connor said. "I thought I could've trusted her. She was a part of my programming, acting as a liaison between me and CyberLife but for her to take complete control was…"

Cold. Bracing against a harsh blast of chill, Amanda making him take aim at Markus, as he stumbled and crawled his way to the emergency exit. A gunshot rang in Amanda's triumph—

Reed shook his shoulder. "Hey, you're doing that thing again."

"Sorry." Connor moved his jacket to his other arm to use another sleeve to wipe the moisture from his eyes. "I'm not too pleased with the possibility that she's not completely gone. I don't want Hank to know, because he's aware of what she was capable of and what she tried to make me do, but I don't want him to worry about it."

"And what would 'it' be?"

"I don't want him to worry about—" Connor closed his eyes the moment he caught what his next words would be.

"About what? Her coming back? You losing control?"

Connor shook his head. Those were concerns of his, yes, but… it was more than that when it came to Hank. That wasn't what he was about to say.

Again, that unnamed emotion rose up to the top of his processes, error codes and all. That feeling—he hated it. But he could feel it start to corrupt the controls in his speech synthesizers, as if that feeling wanted a way to escape…

…and he didn't want to keep fighting it.

"I don't want him to worry about losing me. I don't want him to worry about me… dying."

Reed's expression softened. A little sadder. A little… lost.

[scene break]

Gavin had to step away, hearing Connor admit that; had to resist cupping his hands over his ears and shoving the memory away. Connor no longer had to say anything else to explain his situation, because that was something Gavin knew intimately.

His feet had stilled near the entryway of a hospital room, hovering near enough to the opening to overhear the whirring and beeps of machines helping to stave off the inevitable as his mother talked to Chloe before she went off to surgery. A surgery that would help take her pain away, but with complications that would take her away years later.

"It's not that, Chloe," Mom had said as Gavin eavesdropped on their conversation. He hadn't trusted that machine to be alone in the same room as her, especially not after witnessing the destruction Chloe created of that ST200. "I worry him enough. I don't want him to worry about losing me, but… you know how Gav is. He's stubborn enough to act like it doesn't bother him, but he's already lost his brother to his inventions. I don't want him to feel like he'll lose his mother the same way. You'll keep an eye on both of them for me, will you? You'll keep them from doing anything they might regret later?"

"I'm afraid I can't make any promises for the latter," Chloe had said. "But I can assure you that I will watch over them for you the best way I can."

"Good. That's good, Chloe. You're doing really well, I hope you know that." A long sigh. "I wish that Eli were here."

"He wasn't able to attend due to several business meetings today, but I can at least tell him for you later."

"I would like that. Thank you. Oh, and Chloe, before you go get Gavin." A pause. "Keep this for me. It's a gift."

Gavin shook out his hands, giving them a break from how much he was clenching and unclenching them. It was hard to believe those memories were not real.

And damn if he was going to just stand by seeing someone else feeling like his mom did that day and not do or say anything about it.

"Alright, here's what we're gonna do," Gavin said, shoving the memory back and trying to keep to the present with Connor. "I won't tell Anderson, like I promised, got it? I'll even pretend I didn't see anything up here, but there's a huge… something about this that you're not confronting. And believe me when I say I get it."

Connor's processing LED spun yellow—for good reason this time and not looking like a glitch. "Why are you doing this, Detective Reed? I find your change in demeanor surprising, if I'm honest."

Damn Connor for being so perceptive, even after experiencing a full-blown panic attack in the middle of a flashback—or whatever it was that Connor was experiencing. It was fucking disturbing to have to witness someone like Connor in the throes of what looked like a trauma response.

There was no fucking way Anderson of all people didn't notice something was up.

But he promised Connor he'd keep quiet just to get him to talk through it because, goddamn, was that not fun to watch.

So why was he doing this for him? Why was he willing to stick his neck out again for someone? Connor could end up being another Ray, or another Eli, or another Leah, or Mom, or Dad, or…

Or maybe he really wanted to believe that Connor was different. Maybe he was the exception to the rule.

Maybe Gavin was open to hoping again.

"Alright, I'll add another condition to forgetting this happened," Gavin said, holding up his index finger to emphasize. "You don't fucking say what I'm gonna say to anyone, got it?"

A small smile stretched across Connor's lips, and he nodded. "Of course, Detective."

"You weren't that bad of company for lunch, and I thought about what you said, earlier. About people caring, about you being one of them and maybe I wanted to return the favor. At least a little."

Connor's smile widened, same crooked way he did earlier. "I see. Thank you, Detective Reed."

"Remember what I said, Connor," Gavin said. "Tell anyone I said this, and I'll tell Anderson."

Connor laughed. It was a good laugh, not as strangled as it was before, which meant that Gavin was at least not completely fucking this up. A blue LED was also a good sign, too, but with Connor, that could be a false positive.

Gavin still couldn't quite shake the feeling that Connor was still hiding something. He wanted to ask, but… after what happened earlier?

Maybe it was nothing.

#dbh fanfic #detroit become human fanfiction #fanfic writing #dbh connor #dbh gavin #long post #please accept this humble offering #i've been so busy so i hope this bit is enough #tp's fanfic updates

4 notes · View notes