#don’t mind me reposting this the hair made it look like Markus had a really long beard

[fj-drawss]

This goes out to the person who went wild in my tags in my last oc posts please know you’re the light of my life

[sethrine-writes]

I Will Fight This War For You (Hold On), Ch. 5

Pairing:  Connor x  Female Reader

Words:  2428

Chapter Warning:  Discussions of murders (pertaining to investigation),

Story Summary: “Our choices define us. Don’t let them tear you in two.”

Your investigation into the string of deaths of both humans and androids takes a drastic turn when a victim is purposely left alive. The killer’s intent is the same, to prove a point you have yet to figure out. The change, however, is the power of choice.

Stress and exhaustion lead you astray as you and Connor are both thrust into a war between the mind and the heart. You can only hope everyone involved makes it out alive.

IMPORTANT A/N:   This is a repost of a DBH fic I started over a year ago in response to a challenge a friend of mine posted up, at the time. I’ve also gone through and edited/cleaned up each chapter for a better reading experience! I’ll be posting a chapter or two every day until I’ve posted all current chapters, and then I’ll be updating with a brand new chapter for the first time in nearly a year!

Inspired by the song Torn In Two by Breaking Benjamin.

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Chapter 5 - Is This the Way It’s Gotta Be?

The DPD, unsurprisingly, was rather quiet, save for the few night officers who came and went from time to time, rotating like clockwork. Stella was rotating in, having already returned from the crime scene and taking up her designated desk to file a report. You would have greeted her, but you felt completely worn out from everything the night had thrown at you.

As it was, you were on the fast track to passing out in Connor's desk chair while waiting for him to return from wherever it was he had disappeared to, head leaning against a propped up arm and eyes fighting to stay open. Hank was pacing anxiously as he stewed in his own thoughts, and watching him move back and forth like that was making you feel dizzy, even more nauseous then what you had been for most of the night. Your stomach grumbled in agreement to your thoughts, though it was a wonder you had anything left in your system, considering what had happened earlier.

Suddenly, you were struck with an odd thought. When was the last time you had eaten, exactly?

“Your last proper meal was three days ago, unless you consider the single piece of toast you ate yesterday morning an adequate one,” Connor answered as he approached, holding items that could only have come from the break room. Your cheeks flushed slightly, realizing you had asked your question aloud, and you grimaced in slight embarrassment.

Connor seemed unfazed, however, and proceeded to give you what he was carrying, a pack of peanut butter cracker sandwiches and a cold bottle of water from the vending machines. He smiled as you took them and gently caressed your cheek with a stroke of his thumb.

“It's not much, but it'll help settle your stomach until we can get you something more substantial to eat.”

“Thanks,” you murmured without hesitation, tearing open the crackers with weak, aching fingers and downing four from the pack of six.

Connor watched you for a moment, seemingly placated that something was finally getting into your system. He waited until you needed the water, reaching out to open the tightly sealed cap before moving to stand right behind you.

He had been acting strange since returning to the station. It was sort of subtle, but the difference was still there. Connor was hovering, in a way, staying rather close to you and absentmindedly touching you whenever he could. It was welcomed, of course, and much better than the cold shoulder he had been giving you beforehand, but it was also a bit startling, especially when he was one to give you space when you were both at work.

You didn't have much to go on as to why he was acting this way, but if you were taking a wild guess in the dark, you believed it might've coincided with what he had said to you in the parking lot of the E.R. over half an hour ago.

 “I love you."

Just thinking about it, how Connor had spoken those three little words with such conviction, how he had gazed at you with absolute adoration and relief, even after you had just got done fighting-

It scared you, and you didn’t know why.

“Are you alright?” Connor asked, one of his hands reaching out to rub along the back of your neck, fingers lightly digging into the tense muscles there.

A groan nearly escaped your lips, but you were able to hold it back, both grateful for the touch and slightly embarrassed at your reaction. He continued the light massage for only a moment longer before his hand was moving down and across your shoulders, touch light as he rubbed across the upper portion of your back.

“Y-yeah,” you stuttered, clearing your throat before continuing, “I'm good. Just trying to piece things together in my head. Where…where did we leave off?”

“Cyberlife's involvement,” Hank spoke up suddenly, pausing in his stride to cross both arms over his chest as he looked to you and Connor, “are we ruling them out, or what?”

Hank had eyeballed Connor's closeness as well as the soothing touch he was still applying against your back; you could see the Lieutenant’s eyes flicker to the movement before looking between the both of you, almost as if he wanted to say something.

Strangely enough, he didn’t say anything at all, no teasing remarks or snippy, playful comments about PDA in the work space. Hank's favorite passive response usually involved reminding you just what Connor licked up at a crime scene whenever the android made to kiss your cheek, and yet, even with an ample opportunity, he hadn’t so much as hinted at the affectionate closeness.

He seemed much more worried about the new details involving the investigation, at the moment. You understood. The whole thing had suddenly been thrust into a whole other ball park, and the curve balls just kept coming.

“Not completely,” Connor answered as his hand made its way into your hair, the sensation of fingers lightly grazing your scalp causing your eyes to flutter closed. “With the new android laws being set into finality later this week, it’s a possibility Cyberlife could be trying to sabotage the proceedings in some way.”

“Delaying the inevitable,” Hank scoffed with a shake of his head. “They just don’t know when to give up, do they?”

“While it is a possibility, Lieutenant, the likelihood of their involvement is rather low."

“How can we explain the prime suspect being your model type, then? You think they created another one of you without all the free-will?”

“No, I don’t believe so,” Connor began slowly, brows furrowing in contemplation even as he continued to carefully run fingers through your hair. You were relaxed and pliant under his touch, so much so that you were barely keeping up with the conversation, having to really focus on your partners' words.

“They’re restricted in what they can create, at the moment,” Connor continued. “Assembling another android is out of the question, but it’s possible there are still inactive androids we haven’t yet freed.”

“More androids, huh? Speaking of, just how many of you were running around, anyway?” Hank asked curiously. His gaze flickered to you briefly, eyes softening at your relaxed features.

“Considering I was their latest prototype, Cyberlife kept me strictly within the Detroit area to test my capabilities. It wouldn’t be wise to have multiple RK800 models running amok, should there have been complications with any of my programming.”

“Mm, wait...wait, didn’t they keep several RK800 androids on-sight and inactive?” you asked, words mumbled as you fought to open your eyes and sit up a bit straighter in the chair. “Like you said, it wouldn’t do to have an army of Connors running around, but they surely had replacements, if you happened to be injured beyond repair.”

“This is true,” Connor answered as he looked down at you, “though there was only ever one available replacement at a time. Again, because I was a prototype, they couldn’t risk creating too many models at once.”

“So there were only ever two functioning RK800 models in the world, at once,” you continued to mumble. “You think they still had one over at Cyberlife HQ?”

“I don’t think so,” Hank interjected. “That night the androids won their freedom, I had a fake Connor use me as leverage against our Connor. Probably Cyberlife's last-ditch effort to stop the revolution. Long story short, he didn’t make it out of that tower.”

“He would have also been the last of my model,” Connor started up again, “as Cyberlife wouldn’t have had time to compose another, not with the outcome of the revolution in favor of androids. And with their every move being watched, compromising any remaining integrity would be out of the question.”

So far, everything was making perfect sense. Cyberlife had the means to pull off something like this, but it would risk any further relationship with the public as well as possible development for future projects, whatever they may be. With society mostly in favor of androids as people, too, doing anything to negate the peace would end badly, on their side.

The issue, then, didn’t lie with who was behind the operation, but more on how.

How had the RK800 model been activated? How was it possible when all evidence was pointing to Connor being the last of his unit?

Connor as a suspect would seem like a logical assumption, one that would usually warrant a further look into, but you and Hank already knew it wasn’t possible, not even a probability. Connor was always with either one of you, and timestamps and sound alibis could prove his innocence completely.

Another thought struck you, one that had you sitting up a bit straighter as you mulled over the likelihood of it.

“Is it possible one of the damaged models somehow came back to life?”

Connor looked at you in mild surprise, the motion of his hand in your hair pausing as he thought it over.

“Extremely unlikely, but, statistically speaking, it’s a possibility. Markus is a prime example of defying the odds, in such a way. We…may have to look into it.”

“Great,” Hank bemoaned, throwing his hands up in exasperation, “that's fan-fucking-tastic, just what we needed! A rogue Connor on the streets, back from the dead and, apparently, pissed off about it.”

And that was quite the horrifying thought to dwell on. Connor was an advanced prototype; he was fast, strong, more advanced than the androids meant for police work, and equipped to take on the challenges of a detective and officer with relative ease and adaptability. He was a force to be reckoned with, and to have such a force on the side of criminal intent only made things much more dangerous, even more difficult.

Still, there were more questions that hadn’t been answered yet, ones that would most likely be the driving force into finding out how to catch the rogue android.

Why was this RK800 model kidnapping, killing, and forcing others to kill? What motivated him into doing all these things? Why humans and androids, and not one or the other?

There was also the matter of whether or not the RK800 model was deviant or not. From the evidence so far, it would seem that he was, in fact, attacking of his own free will. While everything seemed meticulously thought out for each case, it was clear to see that there was a variable change in the RK800 model's tactics. His intent had stayed the same, as he seemed to want to prove a point. What changed was the power of choice, giving a single victim a chance to choose one life over another.

But, why?

The first two cases were cut and dry. One android, tied to a chair with a gunshot to the head, and one human, dead by the same means and sprawled out on the floor. It would’ve almost looked like a murder-suicide, as only the human's fingerprints were pulled from the empty gun, yet the evidence concluded that the human victim had been shot through the back of the head at an angle that suggested a third person had to have pulled the trigger. It was all the evidence needed to hint toward a double homicide, instead.

On top of that, it was concluded that the human victim was forced into shooting the android victim by means of torture. The right arm was a vast web of dark blue veins, almost like ink, trailing up the limb as if to show the trail the poison took when it was injected into the wrist.

Case number three showed the first use of the power of choice, as well as the same method of torture by means of blue blood injection, most likely to push them into making a decision between the two other victims. Anthony had survived, merely because the power of choice had shifted, and a false sense of control had been given to Winny, who had become a nuisance in the eyes of the suspected android. Lauren would have survived, most likely, had she not tried to attack the RK800 model behind her kidnapping.

The most recent case yet again gave the tortured victim the power of choice. While you didn’t have all that much information, seeing as how things had escalated between you and Gavin on the scene and you were forced away, it wasn’t too hard to guess what had happened, going by the other cases. The woman had made the choice to shoot one of the other victims, somehow managed to do so in her heavily poisoned state, and both she and the android had been freed and spared.

Choice had become an important factor, but as to why, it was still unclear. Maybe it was the RK800 model lamenting his choices and making others enact them. Perhaps it was simply as easy as saying he found some twisted joy in it after finding his first two tests fruitless in entertainment.

Whatever the reason, it was clear that he was now targeting groups of three persons that knew each other in some way, one of which was an android. He had to know their routines in order to kidnap his victims without complication, meaning he must have been watching them for-

 “Detective, please, be careful... He's…he's watching."

You nearly fell out of your chair from sitting up so quickly, eyes wide as the words Anthony had uttered to you played in your head on a loop.

He's watching.

He's watching.

Anthony had given you the warning, and you hadn’t even realized he had been talking directly to you.

“Hey, kid, take it easy!”

You looked up at Hank, who had moved just a bit closer, his expression one of worried confusion at your sudden movement. Connor was faring no better, having shifted to put you in his direct line of sight, panicked brown eyes zipping over your body. He was no doubt analyzing you at that very moment, becoming aware that your heart had picked up speed and that you were showing extreme signs of stress.

God, how could you have been so stupid?!

“I can’t work this case,” you whispered, words barely leaving your lips as the clarifying thought reached you.

“What's wrong?” Connor urged again, reaching out to touch your arm. You looked at him, eyes wide with uncertain fear.

“I…I need to talk to Fowler,” you stuttered, swallowing thickly. “I can’t work this case, anymore.”