Work Text:
The night feels like a dream until it doesn’t. When a deep breath of cold air rushes in his lungs, Chris jolts upwards… or is he upside down…. It’s dark but enough moonlight passing through the tinted windows allows Chris to decipher that he’s trapped in a train that rolled over.
A weight embraces him and he pushes it aside. As soon as he touches the weight, he feels a cold trickle down his hands. A red circle of light reflects on his left. The pristine hair that has a lick of rebellion on the front…
He remembers now. Chris and Connor searched for a deviant gone rampant and people ran. They managed to catch the culprit but the fork on the tracks swerved the train. Next, they were mid-air, and he could see Connor reach for him before they both tumbled and tumbled…
Shit.
“Connor!” Chris tries to get up but as soon as he pushes against the chair with his right ankle, a thundering pain incapacitates him. “FUCK!” Chris shouts.
“…Hank?” Connor’s voice is static and muffled. “No… Officer Miller… Are you alright?”
“Yeah…” Chris takes in another cool breath, “yeah. I’m alright…” he lets it out. “Can you get up Connor?”
“I think so…” Connor then slowly stands on the roof of the train. With Connor’s aid, Chris manages to scramble upwards and lean against him. Adrenaline keeps enough of the pain away from his ankle and throbbing head but it’s only about time before the rush trickles off and the pain welcomes itself.
The train rumbles as they shift their weight to the right side of the train and Chris instinctively strengthens his grip on Connor in response.
“It’s okay. We will have enough time to escape before the train rolls again,” says Connor. It doesn’t ease Chris’s tension as much as he’d like.
It isn’t until Chris manages to make it out of the train before he realizes just how bitter cold the air is. He grapples onto the trunk of a tree and climbs up the slope of snowy dirt. He looks behind himself and notices Connor is still in the train with a strong yellow glowing from his temple. The trees that holds the weight of the train are bending and ready to snap off their roots at any given moment.
“Connor! Get out of there!” Chris shouts. He feels sleepy and too cold for this shit.
“The suspect is still alive!” Connor shouts back, then disappears from sight.
Chris grumbles and searches for his phone that should be in his jacket…Shit. Must’ve fallen out. “Connor!” he shouts.
“Yeah?” Thank god Connor’s still alive.
“What’s your status?”
“I’m a detective, Officer Miller!”
“No,” Chris laughs a little at Connor’s answer. “I mean, are you good?”
Connor doesn’t answer. Instead, he arrives at the same broken window that Chris had escaped from and lifts up a limp man about the same age as Connor. Chris quickly catches on and they work together to drag the suspect out of the wreck. The train rumbles a second time in response to the movement. With Chris tightly holding a trunk from one end and the suspect in the other, Connor takes the opportunity to jump out of the train and lands face flat onto a patch of snow.
“See?” Connor wipes the leaves from his mouth, “I always accomplish my mission.” Chris chuckles in response.
The slope is steep: each step in the frosted detritus is uncertain and breaths become shallower the further they move. They take turns passing the unconscious male up the hill until they collapse onto a beaten path. Chris huffs, letting in the cool air stab back at the throbbing pain screaming from his ankle and head.
“Are you alright?” Chris huffs. Connor does not answer again.
Chris finally notices the trail of blue blood that now follows Connor. Moonlight glistens the thirium’s azure, allowing it to stand out amongst the darken and muted colours of nature. Connor notices Chris’s gaze on the trail of blue blood and grimaces before he speaks.
“The strain from climbing up the slope further damaged my biocomponents…With minimal movement, I have about an hour left until shutdown.” Connor finally admits.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Chris leans himself so he could fully face Connor. No more hiding and no more lies. His breathing only settled a moment ago but now it quickens again with vexation.
“You’re the father of a child who will need someone to love and nurture them. I’m just an android that has only killed for the sake of prejudice and greed. We both know who needs to get out of here alive.”
“And you’re the android that decided to rebel against his sole mission and saved thousands of lives! You’re the miracle that turned the saddest man in existence back into the one that shaped my career…” Chris softens his voice once he realizes Connor’s eyes are wide and his attention is completely focused on him. “…and you saved two lives today, Connor. Don’t just throw it all away now.”
Connor scrutinizes the floor like he needs a moment to process what Chris had told him. Chris proceeds to lean back onto the flattened trail and look up at the starry sky. This would be nicer under better circumstances.
Connor almost mutters his next words: “Alright. I promise I’ll do my best to avoid deactivation.”
“You better.” Chris grumbles. He’s starting to sound a bit like Hank.
Connor pulls out a phone from his pocket and passes it to Chris. The phone faintly shows the time with a photo of Hank's dog as the background. “There's no network here. If you walk down this trail-“ he points to a sparkle of light— a solar-powered street lamp—about a kilometer away, “-the road should have enough signal to call authorities.” He proceeds to remove his jacket—a thick cotton coat Hank forced him to wear—and almost reaches over to Chris’s swollen ankle until a hand stops him.
“l’ll take care of it myself. Just…rest, alright?” asks Chris. Connor lets go of the jacket and lies down. Chris will never understand how Hank manages to stay sane while working with Connor; that android seems like he would throw himself into prison for stepping on an ant.
Chris ties a makeshift cast around his ankle and tries to stand up. There’s still a shooting pain but it’s good enough.
“Chris,” Connor mutters. His voice is getting weaker.
“Yeah?”
“It’s getting a little cold.” Connor never mentioned being cold to him before. “I’ll be on stasis mode to reserve thirium…” He trails off and his LED turns from a red to a steady yellow. Still alive. After a sigh of relief, Chris drags the suspect into recovery position, then makes his journey to the distant street lamp.
Chris looks at Connor’s phone as he limps down the path to distract himself. The wallpaper fades to another photo of Sumo, but now there’s a steak in his mouth and Connor is chasing him in Hank’s backyard. Chris lets out a chuckle as he suspects Hank is the one who took the photo. Chris continues to look at the wallpapers until it cycles back to the first photo he saw. He’s only about a quarter way down the journey (stupid ankle) and 10 minutes have already passed.
Fuck.
Chris ignores the excruciating pain running up his ankle and chases for the light. Not three minutes pass until he accidentally drags his broken ankle too much and the brutal frozen dirt welcomes itself. The phone slides away from his hands and Chris watches the screen shatter.
He quickly scrambles on his knees to wipe the glass off the phone. Please work please work please work…Thank god. The glass is badly cracked but Chris can still swipe around. Chris falls to the floor, tears slipping out as he clings to the cracked phone. Everything hurts… he just wants to go home, hug his son and let everything just wash away, but the frigid path is a remorseless reminder that he needs to move.
He stumbles onto his good leg and continues limping down the path. Everything else is a blur until he reaches the streetlight, and thank fuck there it is. An SOS signal pops up on where the cellular network should be, and he scrambles to dial 911.
He wakes up to sirens and a whirring helicopter. The light stabs him when he wearily opens his eyes. His limbs are numb underneath a supposedly warm blanket. There’s a streak of his own blood that leads up to where he sits.
“Sir? Can you hear me?” A rescue team member pats his shoulder.
Chris nods. “How long have I been out?”
“We received your call one hour ago. Were there others with you?” Chris points to the direction whence he came, and two other crew members scramble down the beaten down path. He can barely keep himself awake, but he has to know Connor is okay…
Another rescue team member speaks through the radio: “We’ve located the missing people. The male sustained minor injuries. The android is…” Chris succumbs to the lull of sleep again.
Initializing startup…
Scanning for abnormalities…
Biocomponents…3 Moderate Priorities..
Thirium status…OK
.
Network Status… Connecting…
.
Exit stasis mode?
>>Y
>>N
Connor slowly opens his eyes to see a blank ceiling. He’s in a standard hospital room: a monitor—Connor suspects is used to check vitals—gently beeps and a thin blanket rests on top of him. There’s a grungy man resting his head uncomfortably against the edge of his seat with his hands gently resting on top of his own.
“Hank?”
Hank snorts himself awake. As soon as he notices Connor, who is cognizant, he reaches in for a massive hug.
“You scared the fuck out of me, kid…” Hank's voice is quivering like he’s about to cry. They are almost swinging side to side while Connor tries to pat Hank’s back to comfort him.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t expect to be gone overnight…”
Hank finally pulls away from him: “You’ve been gone for an entire week, Connor. You got lucky… If the rescuers hadn’t found you three the moment they did, you would've been dead..”
He remembers the crash, the long dialogues and the poorly wrapped ankle brace. If Connor had survived then…
“How is Chris?” asks Connor.
“Discharged a few days ago. Says he owes you a new phone or something… say, what happened to your phone? It’s all cracked and shit,” says Hank as he points to the obliterated phone on the bedside table.
“No clue…” It’s not like Connor minds. He used it to avoid useless conversations in the bullpen, anyways. As much as he hates the endless amount of paperwork, he misses subtly messing with Gavin’s psyche much more. “Hank?”
“Yeah?”
“I want to go home now.”
“Sure thing, buddy.”