[It would be a disservice to both of them if he hadn't—and... in a way, it means it's not Connor's problem for now. Perhaps it's a cruel way of thinking about it, but he really would rather not spend more time with that PL600 than necessary. He's certain it would only give him a headache, if he were capable of feeling pain.]
[If Hank knew what Connor was thinking he'd...agree with him, actually. Having to face an android that you were in no small part reason why he sacrificed himself has to weigh heavily.]
Yeah, figured you would. Not sure why I bothered asking.
[By this time he ends up ordering a drink, since he feels they'll be talking for a bit.]
Well if this place helps him out, then it's worth it, right? Just...never expected him of all people to show up...
[The fact that Connor barely reacts to Hank ordering alcohol is another sign of his preoccupation.]
I guess so.
[He wonders if he should bring up the topic that's at the forefront of his mind—the fact that that theory of his that was based in denial ended up being plausible. It's something he'd accepted as a possibility to put himself at ease, except now... it's getting the opposite result.
His expression settles into a mild frown, a tightness around his brow as the light on his temple cycles from blue to yellow.]
[The android presses his lips together, deep in thought for another moment. But with Hank, he feels like he can be more direct. Or... perhaps it's that he feels like he owes that to the lieutenant, after everything.]
He's not the same Simon we met.
[To clarify, he continues, though he still doesn't look at Hank.]
[He knew it was a possibility since he had read some of the reports, yet never expected it happening to them. It opened a lot more questions than answers, and possibilities he didn't like thinking about. Hank sits there in silence mulling it over for what might seem like forever. Just when he's about to speak, is drink arrives and he considers downing it, but doesn't.]
That's insane...so he managed to escape?
[Does it mean that if Connor hadn't leapt at him, he might have made it? How many of those goddamn butterfly effects and universes existed? The air around them grew even colder, and his shirt now turned completely black.]
[Connor's hands tighten a bit at the cold, but he keeps any further reactions from coming through despite the irrational urge to shiver.]
It seems like it.
[He clearly did survive and escape, given what he was wearing and the apparent time he was taken from. How he did that, Connor can't be certain, but it nonetheless appears to be true... for that Simon.]
He said the last date he remembers was November 9th, the day after we investigated Markus's broadcast.
[He barely sounds certain about it. He feels guilt for his brain screaming 'it's not normal' but he quickly corrects himself; 'it's not normal in my universe'. He hates everything that this implies and quickly drowns half of his drink, the hard liquor numbing his tongue and leaving a taste in the back of his mouth that is barely better than what it had been before. It keeps him from wanting to throw up, ironically considering his entire history. Glancing at his glass for a bit, he taps his fingers and adds quietly;]
I knew parallel worlds were possible, but... reading about hypothetical situations isn't the same as being able to predict all the details and prepare for them.
[It's an obvious statement, but he's not sure what else to say. The complicated feelings aren't being eased by Hank's drink, but he doesn't do much more than glance at the lieutenant's glass briefly before turning his gaze back down to the table. His words come out almost as a sigh.]
I suppose it's fortunate that it was this PL600, rather than the other one I've encountered...
[He tilts his glass briefly to look at the remaining alcohol before deciding to drain it completely. It's still got a shitty taste, but he has to admit that it helps.]
Yeah doubt even CyberLife would be able to predict shit like this.
[But he could only imagine what would happen if they were able to harness such a power.]
I guess so...does that mean he didn't recognize you?
He did, but through reputation, if I had to guess. I didn't ask.
[Perhaps he should have. Add it to the list, he supposes. But he wonders now what sort of change would mean they didn't discover Simon there—maybe he was never shot? Or maybe he didn't track him down somehow...?
He never asked Hank what happened after his last memory. He hadn't thought about it much after that one and only discussion, and the subsequent denial. He wasn't sure he wanted to know, and he still isn't.]
I don't suppose it matters.
[That's the conclusion he comes to. What ifs don't matter, and it's only a waste of energy to consider them if there's nothing to be done.]
Through reputation?! What the hell Connor, we barely did a few cases together...
[He had a feeling android news moved fast but that was insane. He looks at Connor a little disappointed, but understanding.]
Right. Guess not. It's just...
[It's just if a single Android's death creates a branch into another universe, what else is there? What other worlds have androids and people just waiting to show up here? The glass is empty. If only he could magic it back to being full again. He knows Connor would probably worry. Goddamn it, when did he grow this stupidly soft.]
Well...I'm sure Markus will be happy...having someone come back seemingly from the dead.
We did let those deviants at the Eden Club go. And they all ended up being more... organized than I expected.
[Connor wasn't expecting to be well known either, but there's no doubt that Simon recognized him instantly, and without having actually met him. Connor is sure of that—he doesn't see meeting Simon immediately after the broadcast going well in any timeline.]
He was certainly affected by it. [Whether he'll ultimately be happy... Connor doesn't know. They'll have to see.
He hasn't missed the way Hank is looking back to his glass, however. He knew this would be surprising for his partner, but it didn't seem as strange as some of the other things they've encountered.]
Shit, that makes sense. They probably warned others once they left, if they even knew where Jericho was.
[It was good to know that Markus would have a friend back, even if this turned everything upside down. When it becomes his turn to be in the spotlight under Connor's watchful eyes, he doesn't want to answer the android's question, wondering if he should order another drink despite his initials misgivings.]
...it's nothing important.
[At least not for Connor to worry about, anyway. It's not the thoughts he really wants to share with him.]
[He's been trying not to push the lieutenant for a while now. He'd hoped his partner would open up to him after a while, but... it's still been few and far between, Hank opening up only in rare moments. He knows he's not designed for psychological therapy, but...
The tone he takes on is something between insistent and concerned. He has to try at least once.]
Hank... I can't help you if you don't tell me what you're thinking.
Edited (i accidentally a word) 2018-10-18 04:34 (UTC)
[Really, it's a testament to the fact he hasn't just walked off and ignored Connor.
The air around them grows even colder. Hank's shirt is still black, but now he's letting off steam behind him, the wisps of smoke almost as darkish as what he's wearing. He doesn't notice, too busy holding the glass with one had so hard he only stops fearing that he might break it in his hand, like he's delaying the talk.
When he glances back at the android, he just looks tired.]
I'm just overthinking things, Connor...[The alcohol had barely given him a buzz. He wasn't going to spill his guts outright, but what he wouldn't do to just get a full case of beer.] Just blame this place and what the fuck just happened with Simon.
[The android watches the emotional effects and Hank's expression with clear worry, although it gradually grows more tense as he hears Hank's decision to keep it to himself. He watches that smoke for a few moments, not sure what to do. Hank doesn't want his help, even if keeping it to himself clearly is only going to make things worse. Can he really force him to talk about things if he doesn't want to?
Connor lowers his eyes to the table, feeling like he's not going to get much out of Hank at this point and have it be productive. Not that he'd ever gotten much out of the man... nearly all of what he learned about Hank's problems were simply by observing him and researching the records he had access to. He doesn't have any records here, unfortunately. He just hopes observing him will be enough.]
[At first Hank tries to ignore him, but even he's not stupid enough to realize that something is happening and even as he frowns, he finally notices the blackness of his shirt. It changes colors back to grey as he lets out a defeated sigh.]
This fucking place.
[Anderson was always a man who kept most people at an arm's length, and despite Connor's efforts, it was still hard for him to break that habit. Back in Detroit, he knew a lot of people and was friends with just as many, but they never really knew that much of him, and he was content to keep it that way, least they all treat him like Jeffery.
He leaves the money on the table before quickly turning around when he gets up, attempting to clear his mind and avoid the android's piercing, worried gaze. It made him feel even more guilty.]
Look it's not your fault, alright? I'm just...wondering about what this all means. [Even with the shirt slowly returning to normal, the fog behind him hasn't let go, and as he walks it leaves a pathway behind him before dissipating. If he noticed, he's not speaking about it.] Let's go home.
[Connor's gaze goes back to Hank at his remarks, and he's not ashamed to keep his eyes on the man this time. He follows Hank's movement, getting up to follow him and nodding in response. Home does sound like the right option, right now.
But he isn't going to just leave it at that. As they continue on their way out of the restaurant, he tries to keep the lieutenant from sinking too deeply into his thoughts.]
It doesn't have to mean anything. It's just... another possibility we hadn't thought about yet.
[He puts a hand on Hank's shoulder through that fog, without hesitation this time. He's determined to be supportive, however difficult it may be.]
Whatever happens, we can deal with it as it comes.
[He's not looking back anymore, just focusing on the road ahead, going through the motions to get home and probably just lie on his bed for the next few hours, looking around to stop to get a bottle or two (or three). When Connor speaks again, it sounds more like a voice behind him, echoing in his head.]
...
[It wasn't just another possibility for Hank. He knows that Connor means well from his words of encouragement, but they aren't what he needs to hear. The ability of seeing his son alive dangling in front of him is already reopening wounds that had just begun to heal. The idea that this Connor, the very one that was worried a about him may just be coming from another universe entirely was also not lost on Hank. What if this Connor does something timeline? What if he ends up shooting Chloe? How will those choice affect what comes after that?
Fuck, no wonder he hated that type of science fiction. He's too busy to notice that the fog's almost natural smoke-like movements disappear under Connor's hand, as if it is fleeing his touch. He isn't expecting it, and it sends a jolt into his entire body.
And then his thoughts go silent. The fog dissipates instantaneously.
Maybe it's the words that Connor says next. We can deal with it as it comes. Perhaps that is what Hank needed to hear, a reminder that he's not alone, at least not now. It's been damn too many years that he's felt like he has. It reminds him of other things that have transpired in this world; the birthday they celebrated together, the sunrise they watched...truthfully, he's not sure why that helps so much, but he does look grateful when he finally turns to face Connor, even if it's brief.]
Yeah...guess we can.
[He wants to thank him, but just can't quite find the words. Hank Anderson is, after all, an old man and change does take time after so many years of darkness in his life.]
[At first, he's not sure that he's said the right thing. If anything, Hank seems as if he's almost ignoring him, which wouldn't bother Connor in any other situation, but in this one, he wants to make sure that at least something gets through.
But when the smog clears and Hank finally replies, it seems like maybe he did say something useful after all. Connor smiles a little, attempting to be reassuring, and his hand lingers on Hank's shoulder for a few more seconds before he finally returns it to his side. Sometimes even the android can recognize when silence is more valuable than conversation, so he leaves it at that. As long as Hank feels a little better, he doesn't need any thanks.]
[It's an ongoing healing process that may take years, or may never leave him at all, but at that moment, he really is grateful for Connor to be around.]
Well, let's not just fucking stand here. Sumo's gonna be complaining the minute we show up.
[This was his life now. He didn't mind it. The business with Simon could be looked into later.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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...this place really is something.
[He knows he shouldn't think about it. But he can't help but hope that somehow, it will happen. If an android could get a second chance here then...]
Does Markus know? You told him, right?
[He knows the answer even as he says that, but it's partly to stop his brain from over-thinking right now.]
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[It would be a disservice to both of them if he hadn't—and... in a way, it means it's not Connor's problem for now. Perhaps it's a cruel way of thinking about it, but he really would rather not spend more time with that PL600 than necessary. He's certain it would only give him a headache, if he were capable of feeling pain.]
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Yeah, figured you would. Not sure why I bothered asking.
[By this time he ends up ordering a drink, since he feels they'll be talking for a bit.]
Well if this place helps him out, then it's worth it, right? Just...never expected him of all people to show up...
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I guess so.
[He wonders if he should bring up the topic that's at the forefront of his mind—the fact that that theory of his that was based in denial ended up being plausible. It's something he'd accepted as a possibility to put himself at ease, except now... it's getting the opposite result.
His expression settles into a mild frown, a tightness around his brow as the light on his temple cycles from blue to yellow.]
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...
[He notices the change in the LED and frowns, clearly a lack of observation from his own (and still grey) shirt.]
Is there something else?
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He's not the same Simon we met.
[To clarify, he continues, though he still doesn't look at Hank.]
He didn't destroy himself on Stratford Tower.
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[He knew it was a possibility since he had read some of the reports, yet never expected it happening to them. It opened a lot more questions than answers, and possibilities he didn't like thinking about. Hank sits there in silence mulling it over for what might seem like forever. Just when he's about to speak, is drink arrives and he considers downing it, but doesn't.]
That's insane...so he managed to escape?
[Does it mean that if Connor hadn't leapt at him, he might have made it? How many of those goddamn butterfly effects and universes existed? The air around them grew even colder, and his shirt now turned completely black.]
no subject
It seems like it.
[He clearly did survive and escape, given what he was wearing and the apparent time he was taken from. How he did that, Connor can't be certain, but it nonetheless appears to be true... for that Simon.]
He said the last date he remembers was November 9th, the day after we investigated Markus's broadcast.
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[He barely sounds certain about it. He feels guilt for his brain screaming 'it's not normal' but he quickly corrects himself; 'it's not normal in my universe'. He hates everything that this implies and quickly drowns half of his drink, the hard liquor numbing his tongue and leaving a taste in the back of his mouth that is barely better than what it had been before. It keeps him from wanting to throw up, ironically considering his entire history. Glancing at his glass for a bit, he taps his fingers and adds quietly;]
Fuck...I can't believe this.
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[It's an obvious statement, but he's not sure what else to say. The complicated feelings aren't being eased by Hank's drink, but he doesn't do much more than glance at the lieutenant's glass briefly before turning his gaze back down to the table. His words come out almost as a sigh.]
I suppose it's fortunate that it was this PL600, rather than the other one I've encountered...
no subject
Yeah doubt even CyberLife would be able to predict shit like this.
[But he could only imagine what would happen if they were able to harness such a power.]
I guess so...does that mean he didn't recognize you?
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[Perhaps he should have. Add it to the list, he supposes. But he wonders now what sort of change would mean they didn't discover Simon there—maybe he was never shot? Or maybe he didn't track him down somehow...?
He never asked Hank what happened after his last memory. He hadn't thought about it much after that one and only discussion, and the subsequent denial. He wasn't sure he wanted to know, and he still isn't.]
I don't suppose it matters.
[That's the conclusion he comes to. What ifs don't matter, and it's only a waste of energy to consider them if there's nothing to be done.]
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[He had a feeling android news moved fast but that was insane. He looks at Connor a little disappointed, but understanding.]
Right. Guess not. It's just...
[It's just if a single Android's death creates a branch into another universe, what else is there? What other worlds have androids and people just waiting to show up here? The glass is empty. If only he could magic it back to being full again. He knows Connor would probably worry. Goddamn it, when did he grow this stupidly soft.]
Well...I'm sure Markus will be happy...having someone come back seemingly from the dead.
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[Connor wasn't expecting to be well known either, but there's no doubt that Simon recognized him instantly, and without having actually met him. Connor is sure of that—he doesn't see meeting Simon immediately after the broadcast going well in any timeline.]
He was certainly affected by it. [Whether he'll ultimately be happy... Connor doesn't know. They'll have to see.
He hasn't missed the way Hank is looking back to his glass, however. He knew this would be surprising for his partner, but it didn't seem as strange as some of the other things they've encountered.]
... are you okay?
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Shit, that makes sense. They probably warned others once they left, if they even knew where Jericho was.
[It was good to know that Markus would have a friend back, even if this turned everything upside down. When it becomes his turn to be in the spotlight under Connor's watchful eyes, he doesn't want to answer the android's question, wondering if he should order another drink despite his initials misgivings.]
...it's nothing important.
[At least not for Connor to worry about, anyway. It's not the thoughts he really wants to share with him.]
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The tone he takes on is something between insistent and concerned. He has to try at least once.]
Hank... I can't help you if you don't tell me what you're thinking.
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The air around them grows even colder. Hank's shirt is still black, but now he's letting off steam behind him, the wisps of smoke almost as darkish as what he's wearing. He doesn't notice, too busy holding the glass with one had so hard he only stops fearing that he might break it in his hand, like he's delaying the talk.
When he glances back at the android, he just looks tired.]
I'm just overthinking things, Connor...[The alcohol had barely given him a buzz. He wasn't going to spill his guts outright, but what he wouldn't do to just get a full case of beer.] Just blame this place and what the fuck just happened with Simon.
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Connor lowers his eyes to the table, feeling like he's not going to get much out of Hank at this point and have it be productive. Not that he'd ever gotten much out of the man... nearly all of what he learned about Hank's problems were simply by observing him and researching the records he had access to. He doesn't have any records here, unfortunately. He just hopes observing him will be enough.]
no subject
This fucking place.
[Anderson was always a man who kept most people at an arm's length, and despite Connor's efforts, it was still hard for him to break that habit. Back in Detroit, he knew a lot of people and was friends with just as many, but they never really knew that much of him, and he was content to keep it that way, least they all treat him like Jeffery.
He leaves the money on the table before quickly turning around when he gets up, attempting to clear his mind and avoid the android's piercing, worried gaze. It made him feel even more guilty.]
Look it's not your fault, alright? I'm just...wondering about what this all means. [Even with the shirt slowly returning to normal, the fog behind him hasn't let go, and as he walks it leaves a pathway behind him before dissipating. If he noticed, he's not speaking about it.] Let's go home.
no subject
But he isn't going to just leave it at that. As they continue on their way out of the restaurant, he tries to keep the lieutenant from sinking too deeply into his thoughts.]
It doesn't have to mean anything. It's just... another possibility we hadn't thought about yet.
[He puts a hand on Hank's shoulder through that fog, without hesitation this time. He's determined to be supportive, however difficult it may be.]
Whatever happens, we can deal with it as it comes.
no subject
...
[It wasn't just another possibility for Hank. He knows that Connor means well from his words of encouragement, but they aren't what he needs to hear. The ability of seeing his son alive dangling in front of him is already reopening wounds that had just begun to heal. The idea that this Connor, the very one that was worried a about him may just be coming from another universe entirely was also not lost on Hank. What if this Connor does something timeline? What if he ends up shooting Chloe? How will those choice affect what comes after that?
Fuck, no wonder he hated that type of science fiction. He's too busy to notice that the fog's almost natural smoke-like movements disappear under Connor's hand, as if it is fleeing his touch. He isn't expecting it, and it sends a jolt into his entire body.
And then his thoughts go silent. The fog dissipates instantaneously.
Maybe it's the words that Connor says next. We can deal with it as it comes. Perhaps that is what Hank needed to hear, a reminder that he's not alone, at least not now. It's been damn too many years that he's felt like he has. It reminds him of other things that have transpired in this world; the birthday they celebrated together, the sunrise they watched...truthfully, he's not sure why that helps so much, but he does look grateful when he finally turns to face Connor, even if it's brief.]
Yeah...guess we can.
[He wants to thank him, but just can't quite find the words. Hank Anderson is, after all, an old man and change does take time after so many years of darkness in his life.]
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But when the smog clears and Hank finally replies, it seems like maybe he did say something useful after all. Connor smiles a little, attempting to be reassuring, and his hand lingers on Hank's shoulder for a few more seconds before he finally returns it to his side. Sometimes even the android can recognize when silence is more valuable than conversation, so he leaves it at that. As long as Hank feels a little better, he doesn't need any thanks.]
no subject
Well, let's not just fucking stand here. Sumo's gonna be complaining the minute we show up.
[This was his life now. He didn't mind it. The business with Simon could be looked into later.]