Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Simon’s not wearing shoes. Maybe that’s a weird thing to notice, what with him being unconscious, but he’s only got on socks.

No shoes.

Fuck, focus Gavin. He hurries across the hallway, the first to move of everyone, and slides onto his knees next to Simon.

It’s a familiar routine to fall into. Check pulse, breathing, airway. Is it safe to change the position? Is there a chance of a spinal injury?

Better safe than sorry. Gavin leaves Simon propped against the wall (riddled with bullet holes, blood soaking his hands as he checks over the wounds, the wounds that can’t be fatal, that can’t—it can’t)

Focus.

“He’s breathing, pulse is steady, nothing blocking the airway,” Gavin reports. Hank kneels next to him, frowning down at Simon. “He’s out cold.”

“Connor, where’s Connor?” Chloe asks. There’s a frantic edge to her voice.

“Why the fuck do you care?” Gavin snaps. He doesn’t turn around, too focused on checking Simon’s breathing again. Just in case.

Except Hank lets out a sigh and stands up, his knees popping and cracking dramatically as he does. “Shit,” he breathes out. “I’ll check his room.”

Simon’s breathing is stable, so Gavin takes a moment to repeat, “Why the fuck do you care?”

“Lay off her!” North snaps.

Gavin turns around, risking taking his eyes off Simon’s crumpled body. The dim lights cast shadows over Chloe’s face, hiding her expression. “You think she’d be more worried that the only person who works here is unconscious over finding a guy she barely knows.”

Hank’s footsteps thud down the hall, and he appears at the corner. It’s hard to tell in the shitty lighting, but he looks pale with wide eyes. “Connor’s not in his room.”

“Well, where the fuck could he—” No shoes. Collapsed by the door. “Phck.”

“What?” Hank asks, eyes dropping down to Simon. “You don’t think…?”

“We need to find him,” Chloe insists, and this time, even in the dim light, Gavin can see the concern in her expression.

Gavin waits for North to back Chloe up, to agree that yup, for whatever fucking reason it makes sense to leave here and search for a guy she used to fucking hate, but instead, she moves slowly forward and drops next to Simon. As she takes his wrist in her good hand, she whispers, “We have to get Simon help.”

“You don’t understand,” Chloe begs, and she steps forward, yellow light flooding her features and casting shadows under her wide eyes. “We need to find Connor.”

Gavin sneers at her, but Chloe just wrings her hands together, looking to Hank instead. “Why don’t you explain it to us then?” Hank asks crossing his arms. “If it’s so important.”

Chloe opens her mouth, closes it again. Hugs her arms close around her. She doesn’t answer. “You need to trust me.”

“We barely fucking know you,” Gavin snaps dropping back down next to Simon. While North checks his pulse, he holds his hand near Simon’s nose. Still breathing. Still okay… mostly.

“Do the phones work?” North asks looking towards Hank. “Could we call for help?”

Hank just shrugs and turns towards the phones. Hopefully they can get someone to help. They’re in a fucking hospital after all.

“So,” Gavin repeats, moving his hand to check Simon’s pulse again, “why do we need to go after Connor? Why don’t you just go on your own?”

Chloe moves a step closer, clasping her hands to her chest, widening her eyes as much as she can, but her movements are steady. A contradiction. But to what? Is she afraid of them? Afraid for Connor? Or is she even afraid of anything? Or is she just fucking faking it, to win them over, to trick them?

“He doesn’t trust me,” Chloe admits, her hands dropping a bit, her fingers fidgeting together. Her eyes stay wide, imploring, but she looks to North this time. “We need to find Connor.”

“I’m not fucking leaving him!” North snaps, her hand closing around Simon’s wrist.

Gavin raises his eyebrows and asks, “When did you start caring about Simon?” North doesn’t answer, just sneers back.

Hank rounds the corner. “Phones work—someone should be up to check on Simon. Might be a while, though. Sounds like things are fucking crazy with the storm.” With a shudder, Hank hugs himself and looks towards the window.

“He’ll be okay,” Chloe says, her voice gentle as she kneels next to North.

North turns to Chloe, eyes narrowed and burning with rage. “Fuck. You. What the fuck is your problem?”

It’s a bad fucking time to say “I told you so”. Gavin keeps his mouth shut (for now).

“We’re gonna need a bit more information if you want us to help,” Hank says. “We could get in a shit ton of trouble for leaving here.”

Chloe looks at all of them, eyes still wide and too fucking innocent and imploring. She takes a deep breath, closes her eyes, and sits down on the floor with them. “It’s a long story,” she says.

“Good thing we got time,” Hank says. He settles against the wall. “My guess is if we checked, Simon doesn’t have his keys. We’re trapped in here until one of the nurses, or Kara or Lucy, get here.”

With a nod, Chloe takes another breath and opens her eyes. In the emergency lighting, they look more black than blue. “I know who Connor is, and I know there’s people after him. If you care about him at all, you’ll help me find them before they do.”

Chapter Text

“I can’t fucking believe this shit.” North grits her teeth, and for a moment, she narrows her eyes at Chloe, rage making her vision red.

But Chloe’s eyes look down and she hunches forward into herself. North looks away, back towards Simon. His eyes are still closed, and in the dim yellow light, she can almost pretend his black eye is just a shadow.

Gavin turns away from Simon, shooting a glance at Hank that she can’t understand because the two of them have been fucking gossiping about Connor this and Connor that and Chloe can’t be trusted and didn’t tell her shit.

“What?” she snaps. Hank looks towards the window again, the light not quite reaching him. Gavin sighs, hand dropping Simon’s wrist again. From down the hall, a soft whine echoes.

“What’s his name?” Hank says instead of answering. He talks slowly, chewing his words like a fucking stead. “The guy who’s after Connor?”

Chloe blinks. She cranes her neck to look towards Hank, showing off the veins and muscles in her shoulders which North is not fucking looking at cause Chloe’s a liar. She can’t trust her. She should’ve known better. “Will you believe me if I tell you?” she whispers.

Hank shrugs, gaze returning to the window down the hall, as he responds, “I sure as hell won’t believe you if you don’t say anything.”

A small smile catches on Chloe’s lips, but it disappears almost as soon as it appears. “There’s a few people that I think are looking for him, but I’m assuming you want to know who sent them?”

“That’s the idea,” Hank says with an exasperated sigh, as if none of these shit is crazy. As if none of it matters.

She bristles and grits her teeth so hard they squeak. Her hand balls into a fist at her side, but she doesn’t know who or what she’s going to punch.

Chloe tries to meet Hank’s eyes, but Hank keeps his gaze towards the window. Wind rattles the windows in the hallway, mixing with the moan growing in volume from down the hall.

“Her name is Amanda,” Chloe says evenly, and the moan grows to a scream.

 Hank watches the window shake against the heavy winds. There’s so many flakes stuck to it that it’s almost completely white.

It’s all he can do to keep calm, to keep his focus on the present and on what their next steps should be. It’s all he can do to focus on the window pane and block out the images of bloodied snow and the smell of burnt rubber.

It’s all he can do, until Chloe answers, “Her name is Amanda” and his mind snaps firmly to the present.

Because he tried to set Chloe up to answer with a man’s name. Because he had seen the image of the woman and knew who was haunting Connor. Because Chloe didn’t fall into the trap of naming a man, which means…

“Shit.” Hank rubs his hand down his face and sighs. Cause Gavin had said Connor thought someone was after him, and maybe Connor was right.

“What?” North insists, her shoulders tense and her hands gripped into fists. She’s shaking. “What the fuck is going on?”

“Connor thought someone was after him, that they were coming here. He was freaking out by the phone before dinner,” Gavin says, his hands once again moving to Simon’s wrist.

North huffs, curls into herself tighter, and asks, “How they hell would they have found him?”

“I found him, didn’t I?” Chloe asks reaching her hands toward North. North bares her teeth, and Chloe drops her hand slowly. It’s hard to tell with the shitty lighting, but there’s a genuine sadness in Chloe’s eyes.

The scream down the hall starts again, and Gavin lets out a soft breath that quickly turns into a gasp. “Hey, Simon, hey!” Gavin gently pats Simon’s cheek. “There you go!”

Hanks moves away the wall, watching as Simon’s eyes blink open and groggily scan everyone around him. “What… Connor!” Simon tries to sit up, his expression panicked, but Gavin gently holds him back.

“Connor knocked you out,” Gavin explains pushing Simon back down. “Does anywhere hurt?”

Simon ignores him, hands frantically reaching for his pockets. Something jingles—keys?—and with a sigh, Simon relaxes back down. “He didn’t take them,” he breathes out, so quite Hank almost can’t hear it over the screaming of the wind and Ralph. “The door must have been open.”

“Where hurts?” Gavin repeats slowly, insistently. He takes Simon’s wrist in his hand again, acting more like a Mother Hen than Hank would’ve ever expected.

“The back of my head,” Simon says. “My back a bit. I think… I think I was knocked into the wall.”

Gavin nods, eyes looking towards Hank as he lays down Simon’s wrist and settles back next to North. With Gavin no longer hovering over Simon, North quickly takes his place, and instead of taking Simon’s wrist, she takes his hand and squeezes it. “Hank called someone to come check on you, but the power’s out and it’s been a while. Is there ice we could get from somewhere?”

Simon grunts, giving a small nod as he pulls his key ring out, keeping two keys separated from the rest. “The silver key will get you behind the counter, and the smaller key opens the freezer. There should be an ice pack in there.”

North gives a resolute nod, grabs the keys, and bolts towards the counter. Hank steps closer, but he doesn’t risk sitting on the floor in case he can’t get back up. “I’m guessing you know that Connor’s in the unit anymore.”

Simon chuckles dryly, for once without a smile. “I knew he was struggling. I think his medicine was causing him to have hallucinations and paranoia.”

“It wasn’t just because of his medicine,” Chloe says, and Hank huffs in response. “There are people who are after him.”

Simon squints at Chloe, taking her in as if for the first time. There’s a question in his eyes, but for whatever reason he doesn’t ask it.

Something bangs, and North vaults the counter before running and sliding on her knees, stopping just before she rams into Simon. Instead of handing him the ice pack, she helps him shift forward and holds it to the back of his head. Simon winces, then relaxes with a sigh.

“Do you know where Connor might be going?” Simon asks letting his eyes close.

“Hey!” Gavin hisses nudging Simon’s shoulder. “Keep your eyes open. Stay awake.” Simon gives a weak nod, his eyes unfocused as he blinks them open.

“Hard to know,” Hank says.

Simon sighs. “Even if there are people after him, he might still be seeing things. He’s already had two violent outbursts here. Out there… I need to…” Simon winces again, his eyes shutting tight.

“Rest, you need to fucking rest,” North says adjusting her grip on the ice pack.

Simon hiccoughs, then, tears forming in his eyes. “Lucy—Lucy and Kara,” he gasps out. “They won’t be here until… until… you can’t… there has to be someone… there has to…”

“Breathe,” Gavin says. He squeezes Simon’s arm. “Just breathe.”

“You can’t be here alone,” Simon chokes out. “You can’t be here alone, and I can’t… I can’t…” A sob cuts him off.

Hank crouches down in front of Simon. “I don’t think worrying about us is gonna do you any good. Someone else will figure it out.”

“Who?” Simon chokes out. A tear streams down his face, and North brushes it away with her free hand.

Hank raises his eyebrows at her, but she doesn’t notice. “You could… you could discharge us,” Chloe says quietly, and instead of incredulity, Simon nods to himself.

“Wait, seriously?” North asks with wide eyes. “We-we’re not ready. We can’t… I can’t…”

“What about Ralph?” Gavin asks, his hand gripping Simon’s arm tighter.

“There will be a bed for him somewhere else, but I can’t… I can’t keep you here. There’s no power, there’s no staff. What’s the point of you staying any longer?”

Hank looks towards North, towards Gavin. Neither notices, both fixated on Simon. From her spot on the floor, Chloe stands. “We should go—before Connor gets too far.”

“I’m not leaving him,” North insists glaring at Chloe.

“There are release forms, before you can go, and I can get your stuff—” Simon starts to move away from the wall, but North and Gavin each place a hand on his chest, holding him back.

North finally looks towards Hank, her teeth bared as she insists, “This is insane. This is fucking insane.”

Carefully, slowly, Hank stands and moves towards her, resting his hand on her shoulder. She bristles slightly, then relaxes. “Simon’s right. We can’t stay here. Someone will be up to check on him, and we can stay till then, but I doubt Lucy or Kara will be able to get here tonight.” And if we leave, we can track down Connor.

North looks at Hank, then towards Gavin who shrugs. “Hank’s got a point.”

“Fine,” North snaps. She closes her eyes and breathes out. “Just… tell us what we need to do.”

Chapter Text

Gavin grabs handfuls of clothes—both clean and dirty—and shoves them into the suitcase he had checked in with. The suitcase he always has packed. Just in case.

For some reason, Simon had trusted North to receive their items from the storage room—everything they weren’t allowed to have while in this hell. Bags, watches, shoes. He hasn’t worn shoes in fucking days, and his first steps in his boots feel heavy and wrong. The leather jacket was a relief to put on, even if it’s still cold as balls.

He packs the last of his stuff into the suitcase, about to buckle it shut when his eyes land on a pile of sweatshirts and sweatpants on Connor’s shelf. There’s enough room that he can shove them in before buckling his suitcase shut and lifting it up. As he heads towards the door, his heart pounds in his chest in time to the seconds ticking past where it might be too late, blood, dead eyes.

It’s not a battlefield though. It’s a hospital. It’ll be fine. It has to be.

He shoves the door open and stops at the doorway to Hank’s room. The old man already has his duffel bag in hand and is wearing a long wool coat with a red scarf—something that’ll probably actually keep him warm once they get outside.

“Ready?” Gavin asks.

“I’m ready for a good fucking cup of coffee,” Hank jokes, but it’s dry. “North almost ready?”

“She’s been ready,” North snaps. She bumps her shoulder into Gavin. Hung over it is a strap to her backpack, the other strap hanging behind her back. Unlike the two of them, she’s still only in her sweatshirt. At least she’s got on boots—even if they look worn and a bit too big.

“Here.” She holds out her hand, two orange bottles held in it. “Simon said it’s enough for the next month.”

Gavin stares at the one with his name on it. He’s not gonna fucking take any of it, but it’s not like he can leave it here. It wouldn’t bode well for the next time he ends up here. He snatches it from North’s hand and shoves it in his pocket. She tosses the other bottle to Hank, who catches it easily.

“You got the forms too?” Hank asks, and North nods in response. For some reason, Simon trusted her to get the papers and meds. Gavin holds back a snort. That would’ve never happened even a day ago. Desperate times, or whatever.

“Let’s sign them then,” Gavin says starting out the door. “And you can always wait with Simon.”

North doesn’t respond. Maybe she actually will stay behind to wait. “Like you said, he’s in a hospital,” she says finally. “He’ll be okay.”

Near Simon, Chloe paces frantically, her arms crossed and hugged close around her. Unlike the rest of them, she doesn’t have a bag, doesn’t have a coat, and only has on sneakers.

Gavin ignores her pacing, sitting back down next to Simon and setting his suitcase down next to him. North settles on the other side of him. “You trusted North to get our meds?” he asks.

Simon’s mouth twitches slightly. “I had already trusted her to get this ice pack for me.”

She glares at them both, then holds out a stack of papers and a pen to Simon. “Figured you probably had to sign them first, or whatever.”

He smiles softly, holding out his hand and accepting the papers. With a wince, Simon sits up slowly. Gavin puts a hand on his shoulder, helping push him up. One by one, he fills out each form, handing one to each of them. Chloe grabs the first one impatiently, pausing only briefly in her pacing to sign it. Gavin’s the last to get one. He scans through it quickly.

I accept the risks associated with an early release.

He signs his name and hands it back to Simon, who gathers them from everyone and gives a lopsided smile. “Congratulations.” He holds out a key ring to North, one key separated from the rest. She takes it carefully with wide eyes. “You are officially released from Detroit Hospital Psychiatric Ward.”

They’re all quiet as North makes her way to the door and carefully unlocks it. Wide-eyed, she turns back to Simon. Across from Hank, Chloe stops pacing, her body tensed as North pauses and looks back to Simon.

“You sure you’ll be okay?” she asks.

Simon smiles wearily back. “I’ll be fine,” he says. He holds out his hand, and North lobs the keys towards him. Surprisingly, Simon catches them easily. “You can always call.”

North’s mouth quirks up on one side. She nods and moves like she's about to head to the door when Gavin speaks and she pauses. "And Ralph?" Gavin asks, his voice unsteady.

Simon's eyes flick down the hall, towards the sound of Ralph's constant shouts and cries. "Hopefully someone will be here soon to help us both." The smile on Simon's face is the fakest one Hank's seen from him yet. It's broken at the edges and barely held together, but it seems to be enough for Gavin, who takes a deep breath and gives a nod towards North.

The keys twirl between her fingers, and despite the impatient tapping from Chloe, she takes her time opening the door and taking her first steps out of the unit.

Hank follows behind with Gavin, except North stops in her tracks. He looks over her shoulder and sees another crumpled body—the worker who delivers their food. Gavin hisses softly.

“Ah, hell,” Hank mutters rubbing at his head. “Hey Simon?”

Simon sighs loudly, apparently drawing the conclusion for himself. At least he seems more lucid. “I shouldn’t be surprised,” Simon says. “Hopefully, no one else was hurt.”

Chapter Text

Necessary. It was necessary. Connor ducks into another open room, his heart pounding as two nurses pass by, their chatter growing louder, louder, louder…

It passes, dying down in volume slowly.

There’s been no alarm, no announcement. Is it because no one knows? Is it because the power’s out?

He can’t waste time worrying about it. He has to stay focused in order to leave here before an alarm is sounded. And despite the boots he… acquired, he’s not yet prepared to go outside into the storm.

There is another option, Connor. Stop this foolishness.

He slips out of the room in the dimly-lit hallway. There is no other option.

With a hiss, Amanda slams forward, reaching for control once more. Connor steels himself, gripping onto control with white-knuckles as she howls with fury that only he can hear.

His feet stumble underneath him as he walks, navigating the maze of hallways as best he can. He can’t let her slow him down. He can’t risk him stopping her.

No matter what, he can’t go back there.

For all Chloe’s fucking impatience, once they’re a few steps down the hall, she slows down. Gavin shoulders past her with a sneer, and North slips past her, eyes fixed on the back of Gavin’s head.

It’s not the first time they’ve left that hellhole, but it’s the first time they can’t use the elevator. In the dim light, it’s hard to read the signs, but Gavin leads them easily.

“Do you have fucking night-vision?” North teases nudging him with her shoulder.

“No? Don’t you know the way to the stairs?”

Hank snorts, “Some of us prefer not to go down six flights of stairs.”

Gavin bristles—just enough for North to notice, but it’s not worth pressing it. Not when Chloe’s apparently a bitch, Simon’s half-conscious, and Connor’s… on the run or whatever the fuck is going on with him that’s so fucking important to Chloe.

Speaking of that bitch…

North can practically feel Chloe’s breath on her neck as she edges closer to the rest of them. Her footsteps echo just a beat behind North’s, leaving just enough space between them that she doesn’t step on North’s shoes.

“Here,” Gavin says turning down a corner and slamming into a heavy door that opens to a staircase that’s somehow darker than the hallway.

With a groan, Hank places a hand against the door, holding it open for North to enter behind him.

North doesn’t catch the door, forcing Chloe to slip through it behind her.

“We should head to the front desk downstairs. Let them know what happened and see if they can’t help us out,” Hank says, his voice bouncing and echoing off the walls. North suppresses a shudder, keeping close to him and Gavin as she descends the stairs.

“That might be unwise,” Chloe cautions, and North can’t stop the growl that escapes her lips. “There might be people here already. It could be dangerous to alert them.”

“There’s also innocent people here who could get hurt. You know, like Simon?” North hurries, taking quick steps down the stairs. Another set of footfalls echoes after hers.

Hank agrees, “It would take too long for us to search this whole place. Once we tell them, they can enter a lockdown—no one in or out.”

“But what if we’re too late?” Chloe presses. North rolls her eyes, her steps slowing as they near the bottom of the stairwell. Gavin pulls open the door, holding it open with a glare focused towards the back of their group.

“You can do whatever the fuck you want,” Gavin sneers. “We’re going to the front desk.” North steps past him, and as she does, he lets go of the door and falls into step with North.

North hears Chloe slam the door back open, but she doesn’t turn around, instead focusing on the back of Hank’s for once non-greasy head as he leads them down dimly-lit halls.

Chloe takes the hint, also finally leaving enough room that North doesn’t feel the warmth of her breath on her neck.

It’s slow heading to the desk because every open door or supply closet they pass, they slow down, peeking in quickly—just in case.

The further they go, the less quiet it is. It starts with seeing nurses rushing between the rooms. Then patients shouting and yelling. Then hallways crowded with doctors and family members and crying and screaming.

Hank speeds up. North edges closer to Gavin, and he takes her arm in his. She wants to sneer, wants to show him that she’s fine. It’s fine. Except her face feels frozen and she finds herself inching closer as a woman wails.

The lobby is crowded and chaotic, and the woman behind the desk has three pens stuck into her bun. Loose hair flies as she turns her head between the constantly ringing phone and the line of shouting people staring her down.

Hank slips past them all, but North hangs closer to the wall, watching the mob with wary eyes. Gavin glances between her and Hank, then leans against the wall next to her. Chloe watching with wide eyes, turning her back to both of them and focusing on Hank instead.

They watch Hank pull out his badge, usher the crowd back, and talk to the secretary in hushed tones. Gavin cranes his neck forward, as if he’ll be able to hear over all the fucking noise.

With a polite nod, Hank moves back towards them and leans his shoulder against the wall.

“Well?” Chloe insists straightening up. Gavin glares at her, but North keeps her eyes focused on Hank.

“The phones are on power-reserve for the next hour or so. She’s gonna make an announcement. No one in—or out.”

Chapter Text

The closer Connor gets to the waiting room, the more people he sees. Based on the wails and chatter he hears, most of the rooms here are occupied, so it’s no longer an option to avoid being seen.

Besides, he’s not the only civilian in the hallway, and none of the nurses seem to pay him any attention. There’s too much happening for them to spare it.

It works in his favor.

He follows the signs, letting the shadows cast by the dim light obscure his face from those who might spare a glance.

The noise of the waiting room reaches him a moment before he enters. There’s a crowd gathered at the front desk, shouting at a worker who holds a phone against her ear.

None of them notice when he grabs a jacket and scarf off the coat rack. None of them notice when he slips out the doors.

And the footprints he leaves are buried beneath snow in seconds.

“We’re wasting time,” Chloe insists. She glances around the waiting room. “We need to help look.”

“No, what we really need to do is talk about what the fuck is going on!” North hisses. She straightens up from her position against the wall and bares her teeth at Chloe. “Cause apparently some of us are fucking liars.”

Chloe looks away abruptly and hugs herself tight. She takes a deep breath. It’s a good act, Hank’ll give her that. “North’s got a point,” he says crossing his arms and leaning his shoulder against the wall. “How do we even know you want to help Connor? If you were there to help him, you fucked it up pretty badly.”

“I…” Chloe trails off.

“He didn’t trust you,” Gavin says abruptly. He shoulders closer to North, and despite resembling a riled up cat, she lets him. “If you were really there to help him, why wouldn’t you tell him? Let him know you knew him and wanted to help?”

Chloe laughs, high and a bit frantic. Her eyes are a bit read, and even though she’s not crying yet, her eyes are glazed over as if she’s about it. “I barely had a chance to!”

Hank grunts. She does have a point there. They barely gave her a chance to be alone with Connor, and it seemed like she spent most of her time with North.

North bristles though, maybe thinking the same, and Gavin gently wraps his fingers around her arm and squeezes. She lets him.

“So what was the fucking point of leading me on then?” she hisses. Her voice breaks a bit, and tears brim at her narrowed eyes. “What kind of fucked up game was that to you?”

Chloe’s mouth drops open, and she drops her arms, reaching out just slightly with one hand. Her eyes are still covered with a slight sheen. “It…” Her voice cracks. Chloe clears it and starts again. “It wasn’t a game.”

North laughs. High and cold and broken. She turns and storms away. Gavin’s grip on her slackens. He moves closer to Chloe, towering just a bit over her. Chloe stares up at him with wide eyes. “Are you fucking with her?” he growls. “Is it a game?”

Chloe stares up at him. She blinks. Tilts her head. Her mouth closes, then opens again. She doesn’t speak.

Gavin rolls his eyes and huffs softly before turning to go after North. Hank narrows his eyes, examining Chloe’s expression as her eyes follow him, locking onto North.

“I’m going to get some water,” she whispers. Hank grunts in response, and a moment later, she scurries away.

He sighs and rubs at his face. Maybe he should go check on North too, or maybe he should follow Chloe and see if she’s actually getting water.

Hank leans against the wall. It might be worth it to see if there’s somewhere to grab a cup of coffee at least. Maybe it will be better than the shit they get upstairs. He starts back towards the front desk, but is cut off quickly by a man who’s red in the face storming up to the counter. Probably just another person pissed off with the power out. Or the lock-in. All good reasons to be pissed. Hank scratches at his arm. Now that he’s alone, there’s nothing to keep his mind off…

“Well, someone stole my coat! With my wallet and keys!” the man yells, his voice raising in volume. “Aren’t you going to do something about it?”

Hank perks up. He draws his badge and makes his way to the man. “Excuse me, did you say someone stole your coat?”

The man turns to him, notes the badge, and nods furiously. “Yes, I had put it up with the other coats when I got here an hour ago, and now it’s gone.”

Hank pockets his badge. Interesting. Seems Connor might have found a way to get some better winter gear. Makes sense considering he stole Simon’s shoes. Kid must be scared—and desperate.

He leans closer to the desk and whispers to the secretary, “I think the guy I’m tracking got out of here. I’ll need to head back to the station. I’ll be taking three people with me as well.” The secretary nods, barely sparing him a glance as she furiously scribbles more notes in a pad and answers the ringing phone.

“And my jacket?” the man asks insistently.

“File a police report,” Hank says waving his hand over his shoulder. He reaches North and Gavin by the doors. North’s red in the face, but she’s slumped against the wall, her shoulder pressed into Gavin’s. They both look up at him. “Think Connor beat us out.”

Gavin rubs at his face. “Alright, so now what?”

“My car’s parked here,” Hank says. “Think our next step is to head to the station—if you’re both still up for it.”

“Surprised you brought yourself here,” Gavin scoffs.

Hank answers slowly, “Jeffrey said it was either check myself in or…” He trails off, but it’s easy to fill in the blank.

North snorts. “Might as well join you. Not like there’s anything better to do.” She looks past him. “Chloe left then?”

“Said she was getting water.”

“Then we better go before she gets back.” North turns and heads to the door. “We can’t trust that bitch.”

Chapter Text

Hank’s car is fucking disgusting. Gavin screws up his face at the front seat covered in burger wrappers and used napkins and old ketchup packets. The fucking worst part is it still smells like fast food. Even after sitting in his car for who knows how fucking long.

The back’s got various bits and bobs—a damp ice scraper and snow brush, a long leash, and a hopefully empty coffee cup. Gavin shoots North a look, and she opens the door behind the driver’s seat with a hard stare.

“I won’t be offended if you don’t wanna sit up here,” Hank calls sliding into the driver’s seat and shutting the door behind him. The car starts with a loud rumble that spews out dark smoke that reeks of gasoline. Gavin scrunches his face up and opens the back door. He shoves aside the snowbrush and ignores how the seat’s cold and damp. North returns his look with a smug smile as she settles into the less dirty seat.

“You better be taking us to a car wash,” Gavin says buckling himself in. He gives North another look, and with a roll of her eyes, she buckles herself in as well.

“Ha ha,” Hank says dryly. “No, I figure out best bet is to head to the station. See what we can figure out about Amanda.”

“And Chloe,” North hisses. She crosses her arms over her chest and kicks off her shoes to tuck her legs up next to her.

Gavin nudges at her feet with his elbow. “Can I have some fucking space?” She smiles at him with all teeth then stretches her legs until her feet are pressed into his leg. He scrunches up his nose and turns towards the window. “You fucking suck.”

“Love you too,” she teases, and Gavin tries to ignore the way it makes his chest ache.

Hank takes a sharp turn, causing North’s feet to slide away from Gavin. Static crinkles from the radio, broken up by bits and pieces of music that Gavin can’t place. Probably some fucking old-people music like Billie Holiday or Duke Ellington.

They make their way out of the parking garage, down dimly lit and narrow roads between rows and rows of parked cars. Gavin grabs onto the handle above his head as Hank makes another jerky turn. He barely catches himself before whacking his head on the window.

“Fuck, you’re gonna make me sick.” Gavin takes a shaky breath.

He doesn’t need to look to know North’s scrunching up her face when she says, “Don’t you dare throw up.” She leans forward, barely being held back by the seatbelt. “Maybe it’d help if you relaxed a bit.”

Gavin peeks over the seat and catches a glimpse of Hank’s white knuckle grip. The car slows until it’s barely crawling towards the exit. White flakes blow into the opening of the garage. The radio crackles again, and guitar music breaks through. Hank smacks a button on the radio, cutting the song off before it even starts.

“Hank?” Gavin asks. “Are…?” He cuts himself off. Hank taps his knuckles against the wheel.

“Fine,” he grunts. He presses on the gas and the car crawls to a start.

Gavin looks towards North, and she shrugs.

Relax. That’s what North had said. If he keeps white-knuckling the steering well, they’ll be more likely to—

There’s already a thick layer of snow on the ground, and it billows and blows in the strong gusts of wind, mixing with the heavy white flakes plummeting down from the sky. It’s near impossible to see anything more than a few feet in front of him, and he doesn’t risk anything faster than a steady crawl in a low gear.

He has snow tires. He’s always switched to them during the winter, even… even before.

Not like it matters if other folks skid into them. Not like it mattered because if it did—

Focus. He lifts his fingers one by one off the wheel and stretches them. Lets out a slow breath and keeps his foot gently pushed down on the pedal.

“Do you—” Gavin cuts off quickly.

“Spit it out kid.”

“Do you want me to drive?”

Hank avoids a downed branch that’s almost hidden by the snow flowing across the road. His breath hitches in his throat. The car slows to a stop.

“…Hank?”

Snow falling steadily. Headlights. Screeching tires. A shout. Shoved back so hard his breath is lost. Can’t breathe. Can’t call for Cole.

Flashing lights. Sirens. Suffocating smoke. Unsteady hands unclipping the seatbelt, opening the door. Unsteady legs collapsing underneath him. Cold snow. Red snow.

“Hank?” North has somehow crawled halfway over the front seats, her face somewhat scrunched up as she observes the trash in the seat next to him.

He clears his throat. Swallows the taste of blood and burning chemicals. “’S fine,” he lies. The words catch partway. He clears his throat and tries again. “It’s fine. I got it.”

North narrows her eyes at him, and a moment later she’s slithered all the way into the front with him, knocking the trash on the seat to the floor before buckling herself in.

“Hank,” Gavin repeats, his voice strained. “It… I can drive. You can give me directions to the station.”

“It’s just snow,” Hank says. North raises her eyebrows at him, and he looks away, out the window. He flinches, closing his eyes against the waves of snow, red-stained, smoke-stained snow.

“Alright.” Gavin’s seat-bealt clicks, and the door opens a second later. When it shuts, Hank has a moment where he considers locking the doors. Because he can drive a fucking care. It’s just a storm. He’s driven in worse. Just not since…

His own door opens next to him. Gavin stares at him. Hank stares back.

Snowflakes drift in through the open door, brought in by a gust of wind that sends a shiver down Hank’s back and carries the scent of burning chemicals and blood.

“Fucking close the door!” North snaps, and with a sigh, Hank gets out of the car and lets Gavin into the driver’s seat.

North glances into the mirror-view mirror while Gavin adjusts the mirrors. Hank looks paler than usual, his eyes fixed on something far away and long ago.

He never really talked about how he lost his son. Just that he had a son. Just that his son’s name was Cole. Just that Cole was the best thing in his life. Just that without him, life wasn’t worth living.

None of them ever really gave too much detail about what made them go bat-shit. They knew the basics: Gavin fought in the war, Hank lost his kid, Ralph had been injured somehow. And as far as they knew, North just had anger issues.

Except now they know why North’s always pissed, and based on how fucking scared Hank looked to be driving…

It’s probably good that Gavin’s driving. It’s not like North ever got a chance to learn how.

Instead, she watches outside as best she can through the steadily falling snow. There’s not many people out, especially once they get onto the highway, but North watches.

She watches the occasional headlights pass them by, the sirens flickering in the distance. Even though Gavin’s driving faster than Hank (not that that means much cause Hank was barely moving), they’re still going pretty slow. North pulls her knees back up to her chest, hugging them close.

It’s cold in the car. It must be fucking freezing out there.

He’ll be okay. He has Simon’s boats and the coat he stole, which is hopefully warm enough. It has to be.

She rests her head against the seat and stares out the window as Hank directs Gavin to take an exit, which Gavin does super fucking slowly, the car’s headlights illuminating the snow falling in front of them until the streetlights drown them out and North can see Detroit emerge around them again.

A corner store, a laundromat, a shitty looking motel all with brightly lit signs—especially the fucking neon sign at the motel.

The snow on the road climbs higher, and the cars parked alongside it are all buried under a few inches of white. There’s no one else dumb enough to be out.

But North keeps watching.

Chapter Text

It’s too dangerous to walk in this weather. Despite the coat and boots he… acquired, the snow is accumulating quickly, and the wind has already knocked down branches and powerlines.

Thankfully, he doesn’t have to walk far before finding an empty cab.

He settles into it, letting the heat warm the chill that’s filled him for the past few days.

“Where to?” the cabbie asks.

Amanda hisses again, indistinct whispers of home… come home. “The Eastern Motel.”

Gavin pulls into the lot behind the police station and glances back at Hank. At least he looks less pale, but there’s still a distant look in his eyes.

“Alright,” Hank says clearing his throat. “I’m gonna go in and talk to Jeff, see what he can tell me.”

“What, you want us to wait here?” Gavin scoffs. “There’s a fucking blizzard.”

Hank sighs, but when Gavin opens his door and gets out, he doesn’t argue. “You can wait in the lobby. They have coffee there.”

North slips out as well, huddling close to Gavin as they follow Hank into the police station. He shoots her a look over his shoulder, but she’s too busy scanning the space around them.

As Hank heads to the front desk, she hangs back close to the door and chews her lip. Gavin glances towards Hank, then leans on the wall next to North.

“You okay?”

“Fine,” she says, but her voice is hollow. “Can you just… watch my back?” North doesn’t give him a chance to question it, turning her back to him and staring out the window with her arms crossed. The falling snow blurs her expression, but she holds herself tight.

Gavin moves closer enough that his shoulder touches hers. “Do you want any coffee? Or I can see if they have hot cocoa?”

North snorts, but she hugs herself tighter. “Yea, whatever.”

Gavin stays, watching the secretary at the front desk who keeps eyeing them. A cop enters, a gust trailing after him that makes North shiver. He greets the secretary with a nod, and even through the blur of snow, Gavin can see the scowl on North’s face. Fuck. No wonder she’s on edge—she had just told him yesterday: Not all cops are like Hank.

Hopefully they won’t have to be here long.

North stiffens next to him, and Gavin glances towards the door. “What’s wrong?” he asks. She narrows her eyes, scanning the window, and without a word, she takes off to the door.

“Ah, hell,” Hank grunts. He shouldn’t be surprised, but he can’t help himself. He takes a deep breath and heads towards his desk.

Chloe sits in a chair next to it, but when she spots him, she starts to stand. He waves her back down and plops into his own chair.

Guess there’s no time to grab a coffee first.

“So, how’d you find us?”

Chloe looks at her hands, one of her nails picking at the skin on her thumb. Huh. “I recognized you when I… arrived at the hospital. Lieutenant Hank Anderson. When I realized you left without me, I… took a chance.”

Hank leans back in his chair and says, “Well, I’d say that chance paid off.”

“Is…” Chloe’s eyes drift past him, but she shakes her head. “I know you don’t have reason to trust me.”

“Nope.” He pops the end of it loudly, which makes Chloe cringe a bit. “You’ll understand that I’m gonna wanna fingerprint you and search you in the system.”

She tilts her head at him, but her expression is too blank to read. Either way, Chloe waits, watching closely as he grabs the ink and cards and sets everything up. When he gestures for her hand, she lets him take it and stamp her thumb. He presses it onto the card.

Black. A perfect black blob. Huh.

He watches her warily, then stamps the rest of her fingers and presses them down. Four more perfect blobs of ink.

She offers her other hand without him prompting, barely meeting his eyes as he repeats the process on a fresh card, leaving behind five more perfect ink splots.

He narrows his eyes and hands her wet-nap that she gratefully takes it and wipes her finger-tips clean. While she works on that, he packs away the cards and ink and waits for his computer to boot up. Chloe keeps her eyes down, neatly and furiously rubbing at the ink under her fingernails.

His computer turns on, and he enters his passkey, then turns to Chloe. “Full name?”

She pauses. The ink-stained wet nap hands from her fingers.

“Full name?” Hank repeats.

Chloe’s head droops a bit further down. Her shoulders scrunch up and her chin angles away from him. “Chloe… just Chloe. I… I don’t have a last name, and you wouldn’t find me in any system even if I did.”

Hank looks towards the perfect black ovals. “So how old were you when you burned off your fingerprints?”

A smile pulls at the side of Chloe’s mouth—a strange mix of mournful and amused. “Not even a day old.”

Pushing his chair back, Hank gets up and cracks his back. “Sounds like there’s a long story behind this, and I doubt you’ll wanna tell it twice.”

Chloe’s head snaps up, and she stands quickly. “She’s here?” she breathes, eyes flicking towards the entrance. The wet nap drops from her hand.

“Yea,” Hank grunts, grabbing the wet nap and tossing it into his waste basket. “So you better figure out exactly what you’re gonna say. And it better be good.”

Chapter Text

“North!”

She keeps running, eyes locked on the brown hair across the street—same cut as Connor’s. It’s hard to tell because of thick wool coat, but they’re close to if not exactly his height and build.

“Connor!” she shouts, speeding up as she nears him. He turns, cold blue eyes locking onto her. North skids to a stop.

He looks exactly like Connor. Maybe a bit taller, but same hairstyle, same face, but with fucking cold blues eyes that analyze her. It’s wrong. It’s so fucking wrong.

She takes a step back. Since… since she was… since then, she’s always kept a switchblade on her. It’s still tucked into her pocket. All it takes is a quick motion with her good hand to grab it and free the blade. Baring her teeth, she angles her cast away from him, letting him see the knife in her hands. Letting him know she’s not gonna go with him—not without a fight.

“NORTH!”

It’s too risky to look back. She keeps her eyes on the impostor and edges back a step. He watches her—scans her—and steps forward.

The blade in her hand shakes as he closes the distance quickly. Red creeps into her vision, and with a shout, she swipes her blade at him. The impostor moves closer with steady, even steps, his blue eyes locked on her.

His hand flicks out, grabbing her wrist and wrenching it until she screams and the blade drops to the ground.

“Fucking let go of her!” North can’t stop herself from looking back, from meeting Gavin’s eyes. His hands tremble at his side, watching with wide eyes as the impostor wraps an arm around North’s throat and uses the other to pin her arms to her side.

“I will release her once you answer my questions.”

Red blocks her vision. North screams again, snarls, but his arm is too far to bite and he grips her too tight for him to elbow him.

But she’s able to hook her foot around his leg and pull. He barely stumbles, only adjusting his stance to be wider and more stable.

Fuck, not fucking again. Not fucking AGAIN. North howls, thrashing as hard as she can. His arm presses into her throat, cutting her scream short.

Putrid. His hand around her throat. Unable to move. Unable to scream.

“Stop! Stop!” Gavin screams, his voice cracking. “Please! What do you want? What do you fucking want?”

Tied down. Can’t breathe. Can’t stop him. North chokes, unable to even sob.

“Why are you looking for Connor?”

“I’ll tell you if you let go of her! You’re fucking choking her!” Gavin stares as North’s hands flail at her side and tears streak down her darkening face. Connor’s fucking twin or whatever relaxes the pressure on North’s throat, and she gasps, sobs wrenching out of her.

Focus. Focus.

His eyes flick down to the knife that of course North carries with her, and he holds his empty hands up placatingly. His heart hammers in his chest, his breaths are ragged and shallow. Connor’s twin watches—the same way Connor would watch, but with ice blue eyes. Fucking creepy.

“We were looking for our friend,” Gavin says as evenly and calmly as he can.“We were out drinking when we lost track of him. He was wearing a white coat, just like yours.” Gavin smiles nervously. Fuck, he’s gonna puke.

The twin tilts his head, blinks. “I’m going to ask again. Why are you looking for Connor? This time—” His grip on North’s throat tightens enough that she wails, hands grasping uselessly at her side as she tries to twist free. “—I would caution you to be honest.”

Neither of them are in the lobby. Hank scans the area again, then walks to Julie at the front desk.

She smiles brightly at him as he leans on the counter. “Do you know where the people I came in with went?” he asks.

Her smile falls as she looks towards the door. “The woman took off, and the man with her chased after her.” Hank rubs at his face, then looks back to the door. “To the left, if that helps.”

“Thanks.” He waves at her, then gestures for Chloe to follow as he hurries to the door. She sticks close behind.

Hank shoves the door open wide, fighting a shiver against the cold gust of wind. The snow seems like it’s slowing down a bit, but it’s still falling heavily enough that it’s hard to see. He turns left, squinting against the wind. There’s not many people out—well, there’s no other people dumb enough to be out—so it’s easy to spot the figures down the block.

“North, Gavin!” he shouts heading towards them. They’re barely silhouettes, not illuminated by any traffic lights and blurred by the snow. “What the hell are you doing?”

Either the wind drowns out his voice or for some reason, they’re ignoring him. Something’s wrong. Hank slows down, squinting harder towards the figures. He’s missing something.

Chloe grabs his arm. “Do you have your gun?”

Hank startles, staring at him. “I just got discharged from a fucking mental hospital. Whatta you think?”

She grimaces and speeds up. As best as he can, Hank keeps pace, still leering into the distance. It’s still too dark to make out any more, even as they get closer.

Chloe stops. Her hand jerks out and grabs his arm. “What?” he asks looking down towards her. She shakes her head gently, then furiously. And steps back. “What’s wrong?” Chloe doesn’t answer, eyes fixed on North and Hank in the distance. She raises her hand, pointing slightly.

And Hank sees the third figure, holding onto what must be North. And even though there’s at least an inch of snow on the sidewalk, even though he hasn’t worked out in a year, he runs.

Chapter Text

“North, Gavin!” Hank. Gavin keeps his hands held up and steadies himself as best he can, keeping his eyes trained on a guy who looks just fucking like Connor but with icy eyes and with a vigilance that doesn’t show fear.

“Why does it matter?” Gavin asks. “What are you really asking?”

Connor’s twin tilts his head slightly and narrows his cold eyes. “I would suggest that you answer my question. My patience is wearing thin…. Maybe I should ask an easier one?” Deep breath. Let it out slow. “How do you know Connor? Why are you looking for him?”

North hits her cast into his leg as snows stick to the tears streaming down her face. It’s a fight to keep his expression neutral.

“Connor!” Hank shouts. “What the fuck are you doing?” It’s too risky to look back, to see how far away Hank is. Far enough away he can’t see the icy blue eyes and the way they analyze everything without feeling. Because as robotic as Connor seemed, especially in a fucking insane asylum, he was always a bit jumpy.

But Hank can’t see it yet.

“Lieutenant Anderson,” the twin greets in a tone that almost sounds… welcoming. “I hadn’t expected you to join us.”

“Connor, kid, you gotta let go of North. You’re hurting her.” Hank’s voice is closer now—probably just behind Gavin.

“I believe you’ve mistaken me for someone else,” the twin says. The wind whips pieces of North’s hair across her face, but it doesn’t seem to touch him. Gavin crushes his fingers into a fist. “We do have a certain… family resemblance.”

Hank appears in the corner of Gavin’s eye and lets out a soft, “Huh” as he finally realizes it’s not fucking Connor. He shakes it off pretty quickly though, switching gears and saying, “If you recognized me, you’ve probably realized we’re barely a block from the police station. Might be smart to just let her go, so we can talk without you in cuffs.”

Connor’s twin just blinks. His hold on North stays steady, and North lets out another whine. Gavin flinches, halfway into a step before he catches himself and stops. Don’t risk aggravation. You don’t know if he’s armed or what he might do if desperate.

Except nothing about him seems desperate. Everything about his actions seems calculated and calm, like no matter what happens, he has a plan. Like he’s playing a game of chess and not almost strangling North.

“Please,” North rasps. “Not again, please.”

“It’s okay, North,” Gavin murmurs, fighting every instinct to move closer to her, to shove that fucking creep off her and make sure she’s okay. His legs shake under him. “You’re going anywhere. We’re here. We’re here.”

“Please.” She chokes on the word, eyes shutting against the sudden gust of wind that blows snow towards her. The twin doesn’t flinch.

Hank reaches into his pocket, and the twin’s eyes widen just slightly, barely noticeably. But instead of a gun—which fuck, that would be fucked up but also fucking useful—he pulls out a grey block. “I could get the DPD here in three minutes. Or, you could let our friend go, and we can talk. Up to you.”

Blue eyes take in Hank, analyze him, and drop to the ground just in front of him. He follows the gaze, finding a glint of silver half-buried under the heavily falling snow.

The creepy twin’s stance shifts—just slightly, just enough for Gavin to notice it for the warning it is.

Gavin moves first. The twin moves faster.

He tosses North to the side, like an afterthought, before crouching down, snatching the knife, and kneeling over North, turned towards her. The point of the knife digs into her neck, leaving a trail of water and snow.

Gavin freezes, only halfway crouched down, still reaching for the knife.

“In the three minutes that you claim it would take DPD to arrive, your friend would already be dead. That does not seem worth it to me, so I suggest we try this again.” He places pressure on the knife, pushing it into North’s skin, into the bruises that fucking creep left behind, wrenching a howling scream from her as more tears stream down her face.

Gavin breathes away the green and brown threatening to take over his vision. He has to stay here, he has to stay here. He can’t risk losing himself.

Hank holds up the block like he’s surrendering. “Easy,” he says gently. “I’ll put this away if you put away the knife.”

“Unlikely,” the twin says, his eyes focused on Hank. “There’s no way for me to guarantee that you won’t attempt using it as you put it away.”

 Gavin’s fingers twitch at his side. Breathe. North cries out. Brown starts to blot out his vision, blending with the brick buildings in the distance. Heat presses against his body—hot and suffocating.

Cold wind blows snow into his eyes, and he blinks his vision clear. His chest rises and falls as if he’s been sprinting.

The twin still hasn’t moved, frozen like a statue, the wind and snow barely touching him. Next to Gavin, Hank seems similarly frozen, his eyes looking somewhere in the distance until they jerk back to North when she cries out again.

But the twin looks past them both, eyes narrowing for the first time. Footsteps crunch behind Gavin, and for the first time, he risks looking back.

Wind whips against Chloe, brushing away golden strands of hair that have fallen lose. She walks steadily towards them, her gait even and head held high. “Nines, release her,” she orders coldly. “There are easier ways to get answers without drawing more attention.” She shoulders past Gavin, shooting back a wide-eyed look, pleading, before her expression hardens and turns back to the twin.

“I did not expect you to—”

“That is the point. You did not prepare for every variable. You did not consider the possibility that there was nothing left to gain from these people, and now you have forced my hand as well.” Chloe gestures towards North, still trapped underneath the twin. “Release her.”

He stands up and takes a step back, the knife already moving towards his pocket. “No,” Chloe snaps. “I will take that before you create another scene.” She holds out her hand, and like a scolded child, he hands it to her.

Gavin tracks it, waiting until it’s left his hand completely before launching himself towards North. “Hey, you’re okay,” he murmurs. He holds his hands just over her, looking closely at her throat. The skin is a bit redder there, but there’s no cut, no blood. “It’s just Gavin, you’re okay, it’s okay.”

She grabs his shirt, pulling him close and burying her face against him. He grabs her back, pulling her as close as he can.

“You know him?” Hank asks warily. He glances towards North, huddled against Gavin, before looking back towards Chloe and who must either be Connor’s twin or his brother.

“He’s no one of consequence,” she responds.

For the first time, the other man looks uneasy. He meets Chloe’s gaze but seems to shrink under it. She studies him in response. “Have you any other leads? Besides the one you thought you could gain threatening to kill someone out in the open?”

He looks away, chided, and hisses, “No. There’s been no word of him since he disappeared.” Huh. So they don’t know he was at the hospital? Hank glances towards Chloe, but she ignores him. “Then what are you hoping to achieve?”

He doesn’t respond.

It feels intrusive, just standing there watching and listening, but it’s a chance to learn more, about what’s really going on.

So Hank keeps still.

“Will you tell her?” the man asks, voice so soft it’s almost swallowed by the wind.

“What is there to tell her?” Chloe says snarkily. She crosses her arms over her chest, shivering. “It’s freezing. You’ve made enough of a mess—let me deal with this quickly.”

He tilts his head, eyes narrowing. “What is there left to deal with?”

“What?”

“What is there left to deal with?” he repeats.

Chloe scoffs. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“I might if you explain it.” He smiles softly. “Though I am starting to wonder whether there is something you don’t want me to know.”

“Are you trying to be insubordinate? I might have to report this behavior if it continues.”

It’s a clear threat, one that doesn’t bear much meaning to Hank yet, but the man takes it in stride.

“I am starting to wonder if you are the one showing signs of insubordination.”

“Are you questioning my actions? When you are the one who created this mess in the first place? If you have any sense about you, you’ll leave now and let me make sure that nothing comes from this and that a man matching your description is not in the news for threatening to kill someone in front of a police lieutenant.”

The man looks towards North and Gavin, still curled against each other on the ground, gripping each other like a vise. Chloe keeps his gaze on him, arms held tight around her. She bites her lip, then seems to catch herself and school her face back into annoyed indifference.

“I would like to take the girl.”

“Like fucking hell,” Gavin snaps, pulling away just enough to snarl at the man. “Like fucking hell we’ll let you even touch her again.”

“I told you. I know everything they know.” Chloe raises her eyes to the heavens, snow falling lightly against her face.

“Then you must know that they have a connection to Connor.”

“Whatever connection she might have is not worth the stir of a lieutenant witnessing an attempted murder and kidnapping.”

“A disgraced lieutenant,” the man adds, his voice dripping with judgement. “I acknowledge you understand more about… procedures than I do, but you also have to acknowledge that this is the best lead we’ve had. Amanda will not be pleased if I return home empty handed again.”

“Then you can have her contact me. I will explain.”

The man reaches his hands behind his back, his white coat flapping in the wind. “I think I will contact Elijah instead.”

Chloe jerks back, her expression as if she’s just been slapped. “That is not necessary.”

“It won’t be if you let me bring the girl home. Better yet, I could also take the Lieutenant. It’s unlikely they’ll notice he’s missing. It seems he misses work these days more often than not.”

“I’m right fucking here,” Hank snaps. He holds his pager still, frozen with it held up. It hadn’t been worth the risk to try contacting the DPD, but Chloe has the knife and it doesn’t seem like she’d kill anyone with it.

The man’s eyes shift to him before he can consider it. “You are,” he says slowly, carefully.

Gavin shifts again, his eyes wild as he half-crouches over North with teeth-bared. “You’re not taking anyone.”

The man ignores him, eyes seeming to analyze Hank, before shifting back to Chloe.

Fuck.

Chloe looks at him wildly, then North half-hidden underneath a snarling Gavin. She opens her mouth, but her lips tremble. The man smiles coldly. “I suggest you come with me, so we can talk more freely.” Chloe shivers, hugging herself tighter in the thin sweatshirt that North lent to her. She glances back down towards North, who’s face is still pressed into Gavin’s chest.

“Alright. Let’s go somewhere warm at least.”

Chapter Text

The cab driver takes a sharp turn, and Connor grips tightly to the handle, swallowing down a wave of nausea. Considering the snow and ice on the roads, he had assumed that the drive would be slow.

It is clear now how incorrect that assumption was.

With a jerk, the cab skids to a stop in front of a run-down building with a bright sign declaring it as The East Motel. Connor’s hands shake slightly as he hands the driver a five, and he’s barely out before the driver hits the gas, tires stirring up a storm of blackened snow before they gain enough traction for the car to move forward.

He hugs the thick coat tightly around him, starting towards the motel. It will do for now, especially considering the worsening state of the roads and sidewalks. The snow is piled several inches high at this point, and it’s heavy enough that it doesn’t billow and blow even with the strong winds.

A bell chimes sharply as he opens the door and enters the lobby. From behind the counter, a tired man looks up. “How many nights?” he grunts.

“Just the one,” Connor answers, already pulling out the wallet. There’s a twinge of guilt accompanied by a scoff from Amanda. “How much?”

“Ten bucks.”

A steep price, but thankfully the wallet has more than enough cash for the night. Unlucky for the person he took it from.

Necessary. It was necessary.

It was self-ish. Stop lying to yourself, Connor.

He fights off a shudder, sliding the ten across the counter and receiving a key attached to a rectangular piece of wood with 204 carved into it. Connor takes it in his hand, pauses, and asks, “Is there a working phone in the room?”

The man shakes his head but points across the street. “Nah, but there’s a payphone just out there if you’re willing to brave the storm a bit.”

“Thank you.” He pockets the keys and heads back into the cold, the bells chiming once more to announce his departure.

It’s difficult to make out with the steadily falling snow, but after a while, Connor spots the phone booth and quickly makes his way over to it. Despite being water-proof, the shoes he… acquired… aren’t exactly warm.

You could be cared for, Connor. Just come home.

He hugs the wool coat tighter against him. It’s snug, especially over the sweatshirt Hank gave him, but it helps keep the cold at bay until he enters the weak protection the phone booth offers.

His hands shake as he searches through the wallet until he finds a dime. It’s only because of the cold, though, that his fingers tremble so hard that it takes several tries to insert the coin. His mouth is dry as he dials a number that once felt so familiar, but he just hasn’t hydrated lately.

He lifts the phone to his ear, listening.

The call connects. His finger hovers over the button A, to accept the call.

He presses B instead, and his dime is returned to him.

Pathetic. Of all people, you call him? At least you had the sense to hang up.

He blinks his eyes, wipes them with the back of his hand. Stop. With still shaking hands, he deposits the dime again, but he enters the number for the operator.

“Detroit Hospital, Inpatient Unit,” he tells them, and this time, when the call goes through, he hits A.

“Hello. How may I help you?”

“Is… is Simon okay?” he asks, clutching the phone with both hands.

“…who is this?” It’s a woman’s voice. Either Kara or Lucy. With the distortion of the call, it’s hard to tell.

“Is he okay?” Connor repeats.

Muffled whispers come through, then clatter as the phone changes hands.

“I’m assuming this is Connor.” Despite the voice being altered, it’s easy to identify the steady tone as being Lucy’s.

“It is,” he admits. Amanda scoffs once more.

“He will recover,” Lucy answers, “but he is not okay, nor will he be for a few days. I’m sure he also is missing his shoes.”

Connor can’t help himself from looking down. “I’ll return them to him.”

“He will not be returning here until the end of the week, and I doubt he would me to share his address with a man who assaulted him.” He winces, curling into himself. “Why did you call, Connor?”

“I…” He tries to continue, but a lump in his throat blocks the words he can’t find.

“Was it just to ask after Simon? There is nothing I can tell you that will change what you did or assuage your feelings of guilt.”

There’s no response he can give, no clear answer he can even identify. There’s more voices, a sharp tone, then the clatter of a phone being passed once more.

“I’m not mad, Connor.”

A sob breaks through the lump in his throat, and Connor shuts his eyes tight to block the tears from falling.

“I would appreciate my shoes being returned, and I know if you sent them to this unit, I would be able to retrieve them or have someone else drop them off.”

It’s wrong, but a chuckle escapes Connor. “Of course,” he whispers raw-ly.

“I know I should be more upset, but… I just want to know why. Can you explain it to me?” Simon asks, his voice more gentle and patient than it has any right to be.

Connor sniffs again. “They were going to find me.”

“Who, Connor?”

He glances outside the glass of the phone booth, into the swirl of snow still falling heavily. “I should go. I’ll send your shoes along soon…

“I’m sorry, Simon.”

“Connor, wa--”

The phone clicks back into place. He takes a deep breath. Connor walks back into the storm.

Chapter Text

North hears the barely-hidden tremble in Chloe’s voice, the concern laced into her words, and she risks pulling her face from the safety of Gavin.

The past few minutes are hazy and slipping away from her quicker than she can stop them, but she knows that because of Chloe, she’s safe.

She should be pissed. She should be so fucking pissed because Chloe was just fucking lying to them all, just fucking using them.

But Chloe’s lips shiver slightly and there’s a wariness in her eyes as she stares at the fucking creep.

A cold fury fills North, and she finds herself nudging Gavin. He doesn’t budge, still half on top of her, softly reminding her you’re safe, I’m here, but she pushes against him again, and he shifts enough for her to prop herself up.

“What are you gonna to do to her, when you’re alone?” she hisses. Her throat is still raw, even though she barely remembers screaming, just the cold knife against her throat and a man’s hands on her, holding her down, wrenching her open—

“North—” Chloe murmurs. Her hand reaches towards North, then falls back to her side. “This is none of your concern.”

North pushes against the sidewalk, snow filling the space under her nails as she shoves herself up onto swaying legs. “What…” She gulps down air, Gavin quickly draping her arm over his shoulder as she stumbles on unsteady feet. “…are you gonna do? How the fuck can I trust that you won’t hurt her after you tried to fucking slit my throat?”

The man blinks at her, barely reacting. She bares her teeth, and Gavin wraps his arm around her side, pressing just enough to hold her back.

And the creep fucking turns away, towards Chloe.

“Hey!” North shouts. She yanks at her arm, trying to pull it off Gavin’s shoulder, but he grips her hand tighter. “I’m fucking talking to you.”

He looks back, an eyebrow raised slightly. “Are you willing to talk now? Why would you expect me to answer when you didn’t extend that courtesy to me?”

“Nines, let’s go,” Chloe hisses, but her skin as almost as pale as the snowflakes dusting her hair. She hugs herself tight because all she has to keep her warm is one of North’s old sweatshirts.

Gavin’s hand is still gripping hers tight, but when Chloe turns away, North squeezes it. He looks at her, eyebrows raised, and she nods.

He lets go.

“Chloe.”

She turns, looking back, looking down, to North’s hands gripping her own frozen hand with blue-tinged fingernails. North wraps her other hand around it, holding it tight enough that it can’t tremble.

“It’s fine,” Chloe lies, her eyes flicking to “Nines” as she squeezes back and then slackens her grip as if to pull away.

“I don’t think it is,” Hank grunts slipping his hands into his jacket pocket. “I think odds are that she won’t be okay if she goes with you.” He steps forward, almost casually. “And I don’t think any of us are willing to let that happen.”

Nines raises his eyebrows and scans them again. North snarls, yanking Chloe closer to her. “No, you don’t understand,” Chloe hisses. “I doubt he’s unarmed, and I can’t let him hurt you. I’ll be fine. I promise.”

“I’m not letting you go with him,” North hisses back. Chloe blinks her too-big-too-blue eyes, and snowflakes catch against her eyelashes. North doesn’t think about brushing them away. “Just… tell us what’s going on.”

“Enough!” Nines demands. He slides his hand under his coat, towards his waistband. North pulls Chloe behind her, teeth bared. Gavin slinks past her, like he’s trying to flank Nines. “This is getting us nowhere. Chloe, I advise you that you come with me. I won’t ask again.”

“She’s not going anywhere,” North snarls, squeezing Chloe’s cold hand. But he just looks past her, towards Chloe.

“North, he’s not going to hurt me,” Chloe whispers, but her voice catches enough to be a warning. He might not, but someone else will.

Nines’ eyes shift from Chloe, towards Gavin edging behind him. It shouldn’t freak him out. They’ve got him surrounded: an ex-soldier, a trained cop, and North, who could probably fuck him up more than either of them.

But something about Nine’s stance makes the hairs on the back of his neck straighten. He tries to catch Gavin’s eye, but he’s too focused on Nines to notice.

Fuck. Another gust of wind blows snow into Hank’s eyes. He lifts his free hand to shield his eyes—the pager weighs heavy in the other.

“It’s not up to you whether or not she comes with me.” As Nines speaks, he shifts his gaze back towards Gavin. “I would also like to advise you that this is not a fight you would win. If you are that worried about her safety, you could come with us.”

“Where?” North snarls. She holds tight to Chloe’s hand, leaning back just enough that she can feel Chloe safe behind her.

“I have an apartment—”

“Fuck no!” she spits out.

“Like I said already, you do not have much of a choice.” As he speaks, his hand shifts his long wool coat to the side, revealing a glint of dark metal. She hisses out slowly. From the side of Nines, Gavin stops dead in his tracks. “I will ask one last time. Chloe, come with me.”

“No fucking—” Chloe squeezes her hand.

“North.” She looks back, to Chloe’s big blue eyes. She blinks them slowly, snowflakes melting off her lashes as she does. Her blue-tinged lips part slightly, then close. North takes one hand from Chloe’s, reaching up towards her cheek. And Chloe tilts her head into it.

She should be pissed. She should be fucking furious. But the cold she feels in her is empty as she brushes her thumb against her cheek and lets go.

“It’ll be—”

Chloe doesn’t get to finish the sentence before the gun goes off.

Chapter Text

He’s too slow, and there’s too much distance between them. As soon as he sees Nines reach for the gun, he’s diving, hands outstretched, but Nines is impossibly quick. Gavin’s feet are barely off the ground when the gun sparks and a loud BANG forces his hands over his ears.

Gavin’s eyes turn, following the barrel of the gun… to Hank.

“I warned you, Lieutenant,” Nines says coldly. He tucks the pistol back into its holster. “Next time, I won’t be so kind.”

Hank stands slack-jawed, both hands held in the air, and in one shaking hand is the remains of the pager for the DPD, now smoking and cracked.

It slips out of Hank’s hand, revealing only a small red mark on his palm. He raises his trembling hand to his face and stares at it with wide eyes.

A chill runs down Gavin’s neck, and with wide eyes, he watches as Chloe lifts her chin and continues towards Nines.

“Wait! Does… does it have to be your apartment?” Hank gasps. Nines raises an eyebrow, but he stays still. “There’s a bar not far from here that’s always open. Plus, the bartender is half-deaf from the music always blasting.”

It’s obvious Nines has control of the situation. It’s a fucking Hail Mary, a long fucking shot, but Nines looks towards North, towards the snarl painted on her face; then to Hank, to the shock he can’t hide; finally to Gavin, his eyes narrowing as he analyzes whatever Gavin’s face is giving away.

“Your desperation is showing, Lieutenant,” Nines chides. He gestures to Chloe, who North has grabbed with a death grip. “Chloe, I advise you to come with me now.”

“NO!” North screams, the words wrenched from her throat. “You have a fucking gun. You fucking shot someone!”

Nines’ nose flares slightly. “I will not ask again.” His hand drops to his holster, and Gavin’s breath catches in his throat. The snow seems to slow around them as Gavin waits for another BANG.

In response, North lifts her chin, the veins in her throat popping. Fuck. “You sure as hell fucking won’t.”

“North,” Chloe says softly. She squeezes North’s arm, but North’s eyes are fixed on Nines. Her chest rises and falls with heavy hard breaths.

Fuck. Fuck. Gavin holds his hands up, palms open to show they’re empty. Step by step, he makes his way towards North, Nine’s eyes flicking to him every so often.

Her face is red—either from fury or from the cold. But Chloe’s lips are tinged blue, and she keeps close to North, huddled against her with chattering teeth.

“North,” Gavin repeats firmly, softly. He lifts his hand, but drops it to his side. “We can either go with them, or let him take Chloe to talk. None of us are armed; he is.” North’s lips twitch, pulling back to show off her teeth.

“It is refreshing to see one of you has sense,” Nines says. His hand stays close to the holster, his eyes trained on North. “I suggest you take your friend’s advice. I am starting to get impatient.”

Hank edges forward with his hands frozen in front of him. “Chloe’s freezing, North. It’s not doing her any good to stay out here.” Slowly, each movement separated, Hank unwinds his scarf and holds it out to Chloe. With wide eyes, she takes it, wrapping her fingers into it with a sigh.

North’s eye twitches. Her death grip doesn’t.

But Nines… something in his expression changes. Just a flash of something that Gavin can’t place.

Hank leans in closer to the rest of them and whispers, “Connor’s still out there. Chloe, if you go with him, will you be able to meet us later? Will you be okay?” She nods, eyes still huge as she looks back down at his scarf. She holds it towards him, but he shakes his head. “I’ll get it from you later.”

“I’m not letting her go alone,” North hisses.

Gavin looks towards Nines. His hand hovers over the gun, and he raises one eyebrow at Gavin. “Then we’ll go with her,” he says. “Hank can work with the DPD on tracking Connor, and we can meet him back here.”

“Are you fucking crazy? He has a fucking gun.”

Deep breath. “Do you have a better idea?” Gavin asks. North huffs and pulls Chloe closer. But the veins in her neck have shrunken, and she’s more pink than red. She huffs again, then shakes her head.

“Alright.” Gavin steps back from their huddle and nods at Nines. “We’re coming with her.”

Nines blinks, then nods. “Then let us be on our way.” His eyes bore into Hank. “And Lieutenant? I hope I do not have to warn you that it would be… ill-advised to involve your captain.”

He turns on his heels—a perfect pivot, like the ones that they--Gavin shakes himself—and even though his back is turned, something in Gavin’s gut says trying to run would be a bad call. So he tilts his head towards Nines, and with one last huff from North, they follow.

“Hey Nines!” Nines halts and turns to look over his shoulder. Hank smirks back at them with his hands tucked in his pockets. “Promise to get them all back to me safe, and I won’t have to do anything… ‘ill-advised’.”

Nines lip quirks into a half-smile. He doesn’t answer before turning forward and resuming his march.

There’s no choice but to follow.

Hank stands there, watching as they trail after Nines with Chloe huddled close against North. If he was a few years younger, he’d run back to the station and grab his gun. He’s definitely not quick enough to get away with it, and extra years of experience have made him more cautious.

He could get a gun, he could get back-up, but the training Nines has exceeds his own. His mastery over his expression and stance, the impeccable aim to hit a small target without hurting Hank…

And his reluctance to shoot any of them, even with being armed. That’s not nothing. Sure, maybe he threatened to kill North, but maybe he wasn’t as calm as he seemed.

Your desperation is showing, Lieutenant.

Maybe Hank wasn’t the only one who was desperate. Maybe Nines was better at hiding it. Either Nines was bluffing about… about North and he didn’t want to hurt anyone… or something about Chloe made him hesitate to use violence.

If he went with them, he could find out more. Hopefully Gavin can figure out a bit more. And North, if she keeps her head out.

Hank wraps his coat tighter around him. The snow on the sidewalk crunches as he walks back to the station.

It’s time to have a chat with Jeffrey.

Chapter Text

The room reeks of cigarettes and… something almost like skunk. Connor closes the door behind him, locks it, and latches the chain. It would be preferable to have found somewhere more… secure. At least the blinds are already drawn.

For good measure, he grabs the chair near the door and props it under the door knob.

Really, Connor. You should know it would be much more likely that the windows would be used for forced entry.

There’s not much he can do about that, unless he takes the mattress off one of the beds, but… it’d be preferable to not touch it. Besides, the only one who knows he’s here is the desk clerk, and this isn’t the kind of place anyone would expect him to be.

For now, he’s safe.

Safe? I thought you were smarter than this. How do you plan to survive? The money will run out by the week’s end, and it’s not like you can find work. We won’t need to find you.

You need me, Connor. You’ll realize it sooner or later.

A draft creeps into the room, and he hugs himself, hugs the sweatshirt Hank was kind enough to give him, the coat he was cruel enough to take.

He sets the coat aside, draping it gently over the chair propped under the doorknob. The wallet hangs heavy in the pocket.

Wind rattles the windows, and Connor suppresses a shiver. There doesn’t seem to be a thermostat.

It’s been a while since he’s relieved himself. Maybe there’s one in the bathroom?

Wincing, he slips off the shoes he stole from Simon. He’ll return them soon. There must be a post office near-by.

Under his socked feet, the carpet is rough and worn. The walls are painted a burnt orange that clashes with the faded green comforter on the bed. Most… interestingly is the large painting over the bed.

The painter had divided it into four equal sections, each with the same close-up of a woman, but each section has a different color for the background: neon pink, red, orange, and teal. For each close-up, her skin color is slightly altered—close enough that it’s hard to differentiate but side-by-side, the difference is apparent. The color of her make-up also varies based on the background.

It’s so… different than any of the art at his home. Than the polished wood floors, pale blue walls, and clean white sheets.

He hesitates at the dark, rough wood of the bathroom door before pushing it open. At the sight of it, he lets out his breath.

Clean. With a radiator under the towel rack. He turns the valve, and it hisses. As it warms, he pushes aside the bright, geometric curtain of the shower. The tub is clean enough, if old. Very different from the spotless shower he grew up with but much nicer than the shower at the hospital.

Do you know how many people have used this shower, Connor?

Probably more than the hospital at the shower, but it has a curtain and with the lights on, it’s obvious whoever works here cleaned it with care. The water heats up quick, and Connor strips down for the first warm shower he’s had in days.

Despite the shower being warm and bright, the towels here are indistinguishable from the white threadbare towels at the hospital. He’s able to dry himself off well enough, and between the hot shower and the radiator, the chill has finally left him.

He turns to the mirror, trying his best to style his hair. There a dark bags underneath his eyes, which watch his movements.

He blinks.

The eyes staring back at him are blue. And despite looking familiar, the face is not his own.

“Ć̺ớ͎́̕m͏̷̵̧̜̩́ę̸̸̵̡̛̦̱̠̼́ ̷͈̥̺͍̗̣̠̣̕͝h̴̭͇͕͚̰̺͟o̷̩͕͙͉̠̱̥̙m̡̢̢̺̪̲͍̗͠e͝҉͏̶̪̯̙…̞͉͘”

Connor stumbles back, and something hot, burning presses against his legs. Stay quiet. He bites his tongue, scurrying away from whatever burned him.

Nines’s hand slip through the mirror, grabbing the edges as he pulls himself free. “Y̵̙o͖͢͝u̸̴͈͔͘'̨̞͞r̸̴͍͙̪͎͢͞e̮͠ ḥ̷͘u͏͉͇̙̝͈r҉̠͕̝t̵͕̀̕͟͜.̸̷̷̸̝͉͘͜͝ I̸̡̢̙̖̦̻̳͖͈͞͞ c̵̸̶̻͍̼̟̝͈̗̥͈̕͢͜͡͝a̡̢̳̪͔̪̠̻̭̕͘͞͝ņ̧͞͝҉͉̥̪͔ h̨̭͖͚̲͚̥̀̕͟͡e̡̛͠͝͞͝͏̲͞l̙̲͝p̡̢̲̺͘͟͢.̶̛͠҉̘̞.҉̀͏͢҉̪̟͕̜̗ͅ.̸̡̨̨̭̭͇̀͟͝ i̴̵̸̡̜͉̩̝̣̮̞͟͢͠͠f̞̻͕́́ y̵̧͟҉̵͙̳͜ó͖͙͉̤ú̸̷̧͕̥͔̬͡͡ͅ l̴̡̝͙͝è̛̻͞t̵̯̠͢ m͏͏̟e̛̠͟.̼͢.”

“This isn’t real.” Connor’s shaking hand finds the doorknob. “You’re not real!” He slams it closed.

His chest heaves.

The door stays closed.

But his legs still sting. It must have been the radiator. He rolls up the thin sweatpants from Hank. The skin on the back of his leg is pink. Cool water would help.

He glances at the still closed door.

There was also an ice machine outside. It’s doubtful anyone would be looking for him here—not yet, at least.

Connor stands, and as he readies himself to leave the room, he ignores the tremble in his legs.

“Hank, what the hell are you doing here?” Jeffrey scowls up at Hank as he closes the door behind him. “Thought you weren’t supposed to get out yet, and besides, you’re not cleared for duty yet.”

“Good to see you too,” Hank snorts. He settles into the chair across from the desk. The last time he sat there, the situation was pretty different. Today almost feels like… before. “Shit’s hit the fan, Jeff.”

Jeff leans back in his chair and searches Hank’s face. “If this is about that drug dealer, we handled it.”

“No, this is… something else.” Hank rubs his face. “Hell, where do I even start.” He’s no story-teller, but Hank does the best that he can explaining it: the power-out, Connor escaping, Nines and the people after him. “I can’t shake the feeling that this is something big.”

Stroking his chin, Jeff examines Hank. “Think it’s related to the mob?”

“Not sure what I think.”

Jeff raps his knuckles against the desk. “Well, I can put an APB out on… Nines?” Hank grunts. “I can also file this as a report, but if you think there’s people after Connor, it’d be risky to treat it as a regular missing person case.”

“Yea, I know, I know.” Hank rubs at his face again with a sigh. “Alright. Think I could work with Ted at least, get a sketch of Connor to work with, see if anyone’s seen him?”

For a moment, Jeff just stares, knuckles rapping gently against the desk. Then he takes a deep breath. “If you think it’ll help, sure, go ahead. I’m more concerned about someone who’d murder a woman in front of a Lieutenant.” Shaking his head, Jeff lets out another breath. “How’s North? She holding up okay?”

Crumpled on the ground, screaming and crying under Gavin. “She’s tough,” Hank says. “She’ll be alright.” It must be obvious Hank doesn’t even believe it, but Jeff doesn’t press. Just nods.

“I can give you another pager, but I can’t give you your gun or badge. Not till you’re officially cleared for duty.” Hank thinks of the revolver in his drawer at home, but he bites his tongue. “And Hank…” Jeff leans forward. “First sign of trouble—”

“Call for back-up.”

“We should just fucking run,” North hisses squeezing Chloe’s hand in her own. It feels like ice. “When we pass an alley, we could head down it. He’s not even looking back. We could make it.”

She hears Gavin’s soft breath from his nose and bristles. Chloe speaks before Gavin can. “He’s a quick shot. Unless the alley is short or has things to shelter behind… we wouldn’t make it.”

A chill runs up North’s neck. A smoking pager in Hank’s hand, the shock clear on his face. She suppresses a shiver and clenches her jaw.

The wind blows snow into her eyes, forcing her to squint. Chloe’s teeth chatter next to her, and she pulls her closer.

“My place is not too much farther,” Nines calls over his shoulder. Another strong gust of wind tries to swallow his words. “When we get there, I can heat up some water for tea.”
“Thank you, Nines. You’ve always been a gracious host,” Chloe calls back, but her shivering shakes her voice.

Her hand feels too cold in North’s. There’s a moment where North wants to drop it, to get as far away from whoever this is as she can.

But Chloe shifts closer to North, and North holds tight.

“Do you think we’ll actually meet up with Hank?” Gavin whispers, but he means, Do you think we’ll make it out of here? Do you think we’ll survive?

North looks at Chloe, huddled between them. Her skin’s turned as white as the snowflakes stuck to her eyelashes. “I think we have more to gain from him than he does from us.” Gavin raises an eyebrow, but Chloe doesn’t explain, instead shivering harder against another gust of wind. North uses her free hand—in the fucking ugly cast—to pull Hank’s scarf tighter.

“Almost there,” she says, and Chloe smiles—the same shy smile from the first night at the hospital.

Nines halts and turns. Behind him is a simple brick building. A normal fucking apartment. North wraps her arm around Chloe as Nines tilts his head and asks, “Shall we?”

Chapter Text

Hank stares down at the black-and-white sketch in his hands. He gave Jeff a copy along with a reminder that Connor has brown eyes, Nines has blue eyes. Fowler will have a briefing tomorrow with the cops he can trust, but the more time that passes, the less likely they’ll be to find Connor. He could already be on a bus out of Detroit for all Hank knows.

Maybe it’d be better if he was.

Hank pockets the sketch and heads towards his car. It’s unlikely that Connor’s near the hospital. He probably used the cash he stole to get a cab, but where would he go?

There’s a chance he might have a place to hide out, but it seems unlikely he would go somewhere they might find him. Something in Hank’s gut says there’s a higher chance he found some motel where he could give a fake name and pay with cash. There’s a few places he can think of to check out.

With a sigh, he unlocks his car. Shoulda grabbed a cup of coffee. It’s gonna be a long night.

North looks way too fucking pale as Nines unlocks the front door and holds it open. She holds Chloe tight, slipping inside. Gavin follows, glancing back at Nines. His face is as composed as ever, but there’s a slight crease between his eyebrows. He steps in behind Gavin and lets the door shut.

They’re left in the entranceway to a standard apartment building. A wall of ten or so mailboxes, worn-down carpet, peeling wallpaper exposing the brick foundation, and a winding staircase. Nines steps past them, heading up the stairs. Gavin glances back at North, who gives a wistful look at the door, but Chloe urges her along.

As Gavin heads up the stairs, he watches Nines reach into his pocket. For a moment, he tenses, but then Nines pulls out a quarter and begins rolling it between his fingers.

Huh.

They head up two flights of stairs, each flight connected to a short hallway with two doors, before Nines finally leads them to a door. He flicks the quarter to his other hand and draws his keys—must slower than he pulled out the quarter.

He must not feel great about this either.

As the door opens, North goes from pale to white. She’s trembling against Chloe—hard. Nothing like how North usually is. Chloe shoots a look to Gavin, and he moves towards them slowly.

North whines softly, a sound from deep in her gut. “I can’t. I… please. I can’t.”

Gavin glances back at Nines, who waits patiently with the door open. Fuck. Fuck. He can’t make her do this, even if it was her fucking idea.

“It’s okay,” Gavin says softly. He squeezes her shoulder hard. “We can call a cab, and you can meet—”

North shakes her head, tears sprinkling onto the floor as she does. She gasps for air, like she can’t breathe. Fuck, fuck fuck. Gavin looks back again, bracing for Nines to do something cause he has to be done with their shit by now.

Except he just looks… confused, almost shocked. His eyebrows are furrowed slightly, his head tilted to the side, and it’s so fucking Connor that Gavin just nudges North and gestures towards Nines.

And even though her eyes are glassy with tears, she breathes just a bit when she seems him. “Your choice,” Gavin tells her. “It’s okay either way. We’ll be okay no matter what.”

She doesn’t nod, doesn’t even stop crying. But when Gavin gives a final squeeze and lets go to move towards Nine, she lets him. And she lets Chloe lead her forward as well.

Nines schools his expression, scanning each of them as they enter his apartment.

His really fucking normal apartment. Except it’s empty as shit. No photos, no pictures. A clean, new looking couch across from an unused fireplace. An expensive looking arm chair by the window with a small, mostly empty bookshelf. There’s an archway next to the couch, and Gavin peers down, spotting two doors and a totally average kitchen.

It’s nothing like he expected. There’s not even a sign of any weapons, and the furniture is all too nice, too new. The whole place looks barely lived in.

Nines closes the door behind him, and when the lock clicks, North’s eyes squeeze shut. And when they open, she lets out a shuddering breath. Her hand holds Chloe’s in a deathgrip. She doesn’t sit.

Nines doesn’t either. He stands in front of the door—not like he’s guarding it but like he doesn’t know what else to do. Awkward in a way similar to Connor, like he doesn’t know how to act with people around.

“Standard procedure would be to report this,” Chloe says settling back onto the couch, North sitting down on the arm next to her. She narrows her eyes at Nines, head turned to him. “Standard procedure would also be to take us to your primary residence.”

“This storm combined with your lack of proper gear would make that dangerous,” Nines responds. He steps away from the door and makes his way to the arm chair where he sits ramrod straight, right on the edge. Just like Connor on his first day.

Gavin flops onto the couch next to Chloe and props his feet up on a spotless coffee table. Nines doesn’t even flinch. Maybe cause this isn’t his real home or whatever the fuck Chloe’s talking about.

“You must have a working phone,” Chloe presses. She clasps her hands neatly in her lap. Something’s shifted since they got here, like Nines has fucked up somehow and Chloe knows it.

Nines eyes flick down the hallway, towards where the kitchen and probably a phone is. His eyes widen just a fraction. Chloe smirks.

“Are you being insubordinate?”

Nines scowls. And in a flash, his face recomposes itself. “You could call Elijah, if you wish.” The smirk transfers to his face.

The two of them stare at each other. North looks at Gavin, still pale but no longer trembling. She dropped Chloe’s hand at some point.

Wind shakes the windows, but unlike the hospital, it’s warm. Chloe’s still pink from the cold, but her teeth have stopped chattering as she continues some kind of standoff with Nines.

Neither of them moves, neither of them speaks.

North’s foot starts to tap against the floor. She scowls, looking between Chloe and Gavin, and finally snaps, “One of you fucking call someone then! What the fuck is your problem? You dragged us here to talk, and you’re not saying shit? What the fuck is going on?”

Nines blinks, eyes going wide for a moment, but he stays focused on Chloe. Chloe turns to North though, mouth parting slightly as she reaches for North, who snarls and pulls away. “Just… fucking! One of you, just say something!”

Chloe lets out a breath and clasps her hands in her lap again. Her eyes drop to her lap briefly, then raise to meet Nines once more. His expression is still schooled, but there’s something… almost nervous in his eyes.

“He’s not going to report any of this to Amanda,” Chloe says softly, “just the same as I am not going to report any of this to Elijah.” A smile creeps across her face, cold and broken and barely amused. “We’ve both gone rogue. Just like Connor.”

Chapter Text

North’s foot fidgets, kicking into the too-clean-floors as Chloe smiles that broken-feather smile at Nines.

His face darkens. “I have not gone rogue.”

“Then why not appraise Amanda of what you’ve discovered? I’m sure she must be eager to hear any news.” Chloe’s voice sounds smug, but her eyes are tired.

Nothing they’re saying makes any fucking sense. She pushes herself off the arm of the couch, away, and glares between Chloe and Nines.

Nines eyes stare at the floor, and when he closes them and slumps forward slightly, North has to look away.

Because he’s not Connor. He’s nothing like Connor.

“I will tell you what I know,” Chloe continues, her voice gaining confidence in a way that makes North’s stomach turn, “but only after you. We both know Amanda will not be as kind to you as Elijah will be to me.”

North looks at Gavin, who’s taken his feet off the table and is sitting on the edge of the couch. He furrows his eyebrows, eyes flicking between Nines and a Chloe that’s wrong. Cold.

After shoving Gavin’s arm aside, North perches next to him with crossed arms.

Nines rubs at his face, takes a deep breath, sits up. “Alright,” he agrees tiredly. His eyes examine North and Gavin, then he continues. “You already know of the last time I saw Connor, but do you know what Amanda’s orders were following?” North keeps her eyes focused on Nines, because for some reason it’s easier to look at his fucking face than Chloe’s. Whatever Chloe’s response, it makes Nines scrunch up his face and turn away. “She said he was as good as dead, that he was forbidden to return unless it was in a casket.”

A surge of nausea hits North, and she hugs her stomach, swallowing. She’s not gonna fucking puke. Gavin grabs her arm, but he’s pale as a fucking ghost and probably just as fucking confused because what the fuck was Connor involved in?

“I suspected as much,” Chloe says with a sigh that’s way too fucking lighthearted. “What’s your plan then, if you find him?”

Nines sighs heavily and his face unscrunches and his eyes fall shut, hiding the cold blue that’s nothing like Connor’s warm brown eyes. North turns away.

“I… I can convince Amanda of his worth, that I was misinformed of his goals, that he had misled me and was working towards a larger suspect.”

Suspect. Gavin stops just short of raising his eyebrows. For a bit, it seemed like Connor was either caught up in a cult or the mob or some weird mix of the two, but suspect… sounds more like something a cop would say.

Who the fuck are these people? What the fuck is Connor wrapped up in?

He glances towards the door. It doesn’t seem like Nines cares enough to stop them, but fuck. They need to know what’s going on.

“Do you really think that will work?” Chloe asks, condescending in a tone that should feel warm.

“It has to work,” Nines says.

“And what if Connor doesn’t wanna go with you?” North snaps. Gavin squeezes her arm a bit tighter, but she just narrows her eyes at Nines.

His eyes close again with a deep breath, and when they reopen, his expression is too fucking calm. “I know my brother.”

Gavin can’t stop himself from snorting, but it’s buried by North’s full on fucking cackle. She smiles with all teeth and asks, “Wanna guess where he was then? Where we met him?”

Nines must know the questions a trap. He pales just a shade before refocusing on Chloe. “I have nothing else to tell you before tonight. When…” His eyes drop again, and he almost looks uncomfortable. “When she called me Connor, it was my first lead. The rest... you already know.” He shifts in his seat and lifts his gaze to Chloe. “I believe it’s your turn to tell me where you met Connor.”

“Wanna guess?” North repeats.

Nines blinks slowly.

“North,” Chloe whispers. North bares her teeth. Gavin grips her arm tighter—just in case. “Maybe it would be best if you both gave us some space.”

North bristles, but Gavin catches a flicker of fear cross Nines face. They must’ve been close before… whatever happened.

But this asshole almost killed North, shot at Hank. Maybe someone nicer would give him some space and privacy, but Gavin’s a few years and a shitty night past being nice. He smiles with teeth, just like North, and says, “Maybe it would be best if you both actually told us what the fuck happened. Or if he didn’t try to kill North. Or if you didn’t lie to us.”

Chloe ducks her head, confidence shattering. Across from her, Nines rolls a quarter between his knuckles.

“Wanna guess where we met Chloe? Where the two of us met?” North asks again. She tilts her head, flashing her sharp teeth at Nines. “Wanna guess where they keep people like us? People like Connor?”

Nines grasp on his expression breaks too. His eyes widen, and he half-stands from his chair before sitting back down on the edge. The quarter flies to his other hand. “He was arrested?” Nine says it like the words were knocked out of him.

Chloe shoots a tired glare towards North. “No,” she says. Her eyes close as she takes a deep breath. “Connor… what happened… changed him.” She breathes out her nose, mouth chewing over the next words to say.

North beats her to it, eyes sparkling as she says, “We met him in an insane asylum.”

The last few places have been a fucking wash. Hank slams his door, stepping out in snow that’s a few inches deep. If it wasn’t for the goddamn snow, he’d probably be able to get around faster, but fuck, anytime he goes over fifteen miles an hour, he feels his heart in his throat.

As he makes his way towards the office, he shoves his shaking hands in his coat pockets.

A bell dings overhead when the door opens, but the guy from the desk barely reacts, just looking bored.

“Evening,” Hank greets. He pulls out his badge and shows it to the guy, who still looks bored. “I’m looking for someone. Anyone check in tonight?”

“Few people,” the guys says with a shrug. “Not a real busy night, but few folks who lost power came here.”

Hank sticks his badge back in the pocket and pulls out the sketch of Connor. “Seen him?” he asks sliding it onto the desk.

The guy glances towards it and shrugs. “Maybe. I’m not good with faces.”

Hank rubs at his nose. Fucking course. “Either you know something or you don’t, so we can do this here or down at the station. Up to you.”

With a huff, the guy slides the paper back towards Hank. “Don’t think I’ve seen him.”

Fucking asshole. Deep breath. Leaning against the counter, Hank adds, “If I end up finding out here, I could get you charged with obstruction of justice. Wanna change your answer?”

“We don’t take IDs here or anything. Just cash or card. Even if I did see him, I wouldn’t remember.”

Another dead end. “Well, thanks anyway,” Hank says grabbing the sketch, folding it up, and slipping it back into his pocket. “Sorry to bother you.”

As Hank heads back into the snow, the bell dings overhead again and a burst of cold wind greets him.

Not an asshole looking for a bribe. Just a tired guy with a shitty memory. Still, it’s the first place he didn’t get a definitive no. Might be worth checking out again tomorrow.

Hank starts to head back towards his car, but he spots someone at the end of the building, by the vending and ice machines.
“’Scuse me!” Hank calls. He raises a hand and jogs towards them. It’s unlikely anyone here would’ve seen Connor—or anyone other patron for that matter—but no stone overturned or whatever. “I’m looking for my friend, and I’m wondering if—”

The man turns to him, half-in shadow, only lit up by the dim, flickering light overhead. His face is obscured by the thick scarf wrapped around his face, but even in the dark, Hank can see his eyes widen, the change in his stance.

Hank stops, afraid to move closer, and he breathes out a name. “Connor?”

Chapter Text

Nines face screws up and his hands ball into fists. North smirks bigger. “You are not as funny as you think you are,” he spits out. His eyes narrow then snap to Chloe. “Tell me. Do not delay any longer.”

Except Chloe does delay. Her mouth opens slightly, and North can’t fight the cackle that escapes her.

It almost catches in her throat when Nines launches towards her, eyes cold and face blank. “Nines,” Chloe snaps.

He stops in his tracks. North fixes her mouth back into a smirk. Gavin squeezes her arm again, and she kicks her foot gently against his leg and ignores the frown on his face.

She tries to hide how her hands shake.

With a blink, Nines straightens up, eyes fixed on Chloe. “She’s not lying.” He staggers back, just a step. Her smirk feels less fake, and Gavin’s grip relaxes. Chloe’s blue eyes turn from Nines to them, and they swim with unshed tears. North looks away. “Please, give us a minute.”

She stays like a statue on the arm of the couch until Gavin tugs on her arm. With one last dirty glare with teeth, she lets him lead them out the door and back into the hallway.

And promptly presses her ear against the door. Instead of stopping her, Gavin leans against the door as well.

They wait, and listen.

“Connor?” Hank repeats. Even in the dark, he can see the whites of Connor’s eyes, the deer-in-headlights stance the kid’s stuck in.

He takes a tentative step forward, hands held up placatingly. “It’s Hank. You okay, kid?”

“Stop!” Connor flinches, and Hank freezes. The kid shakes his head violently, grabbing it. “I know you’re not real. Just… please. Stop.”

Fuck. An ache starts in Hank’s chest, and he takes as deep a breath as he can manage. When he opens his mouth, he breathes out, “Connor” like the kid punched the air out of him.

Connor just tightens his grip on his head, continuing to shake it back and forth. “Please. You’re not real. You’re not real!”

The cracks had already been showing back at the hospital, but it seems they’ve broken more than Hank could’ve guessed.

He keeps his hands up, keeps his distance. “How can I prove I’m real? Because I promise you, kid, I’m right here.”

“There’s nothing to prove,” Connor spits out. His eyes snap open, and the flickering light reveals spider-webs of red against the white of one eye. The other eye remains shadowed. “It’s impossible for you to have found me, to be here right now.” He staggers back, away from the light, away from Hank.

“This isn’t the first place I looked,” he says softly. Connor pauses, eyes still too wide, his held up hands shaking. “Hell, I’ve been driving around most of the night checking out motels and bars and whatever other fucking places are open in this storm.”

With a slow blink, Connor lowers his hands. “Hank?” he rasps.

“It’s me, kid,” Hank says, and he barely has time to open his arms before Connor runs into them and collapses, sobbing.

Gavin slides down against the door until he’s sitting, and with a sigh, takes his ear away. It’s been several minutes with barely any fucking sound. Either Chloe and Nines are the best whisperers ever, or they went into another room to avoid being heard.

Unlike him, North keeps her ear stubbornly pressed against the wood, eyebrows drawn low into a scowl as she holds her free hand cupped around her ear.

He raises his eyebrows at her, and she shows her teeth in response.

Without warning, she jerks away from the door, yanking him with her so hard his shoulder almost dislocates again, but he takes the hint and uses to momentum to launch himself up. There’s barely enough time to lean against the wall with a bored expression with North next to him before the door opens.

Chloe looks at them both, her blue eyes slightly red. She gives a soft, fake smile and gestures for them to follow her in.

Nines is back in the chair, but he’s lost all poise. His face is red and so are his puffy eyes. He tries to sit up straight, to scowl his face into a controlled expression, but it’s easier than ever to see through the farce.

“We can trust each other,” Chloe says plainly, closing the door behind them. North stays next to it, arms crossed, so Gavin stays close too. “We all want to make sure Connor’s okay, that he’s safe.”

“No, I don’t think we can,” Gavin drawls. Amanda. That’s the name Hank said. The woman Connor was so afraid of. “I don’t think you know what’s safe for him. I don’t think you even know what he wants. Frankly, I don’t think you actually care.”

Nines somehow turns redder, and he launches up again. Unsteady. Shaking. “You have no idea what you are talking about! He is my brother. No one cares for him more.”

“I didn’t say you don’t care about him. I just don’t think you care about what he wants. I think you believe you know what’s best for him and don’t give a fuck about what he wants.” Gavin nudges North. “Let’s go.”

Nines lunges forward, hands outstretched. “Nines,” Chloe warns. He falters. His hands clench into fists and drop at his side. “They know nothing. They’re no danger to you or your mission.

“But he’s right. You want what’s best for him, but I don’t think you really know what that is.” She brushes past them and opens the door. North’s jaw drops. “Come on. We can meet Hank at the station.”

“You cannot leave.” It comes out less like a threat and more like a plea.

Chloe turns to look over her shoulder, and her expression softens. “You know where to find us, Nines, but if you really care about Connor, you won’t take him back to her.” And she leads them through the door, North looking about as confused as Gavin feels.

Chapter Text

North’s shoulders stay tensed all the way out the building and for several more blocks. Chloe tries to fall into step besides North once or twice, but every time, North bares her teeth and practically steps on Gavin’s feet trying to get closer to him.

Like a fucking cat.

But eventually, she relaxes a bit, even if her shoulders stay hunched as she hugs herself tight. The wind’s picked up a bit, and the snow must be half a foot deep. He’s lucky enough to have boots. Chloe’s sneakers must be soaked through by now.

Even North’s teeth are chattering a bit, even though she clenches her jaw tight to hide it. “The station probably has coffee,” he says pulling his jacket tighter. It’s warmer than the sweatshirts North and Chloe have on, but fuck, it’s not actually warm.

He listens to the crunch of snow underfoot, waiting for North’s response, but she doesn’t say anything. She keeps her eyes forward and eyebrows furrowed.

Not like he can blame her. His head’s fucking spinning trying to figure out who the fuck Chloe really is and what the fuck kinda shit Connor got wrapped up in.

Just in case, he glances over his shoulder and squints. The snow’s falling hard and fast still, so it’s hard to see. It would be easy for Nines to follow them undetected.

He fights off a shiver and turns his gaze towards Chloe. “Gonna fucking explain any of that?” he asks.

She hugs herself tighter, fingers wrapped in the thick scarf Hank lent her. She hums softly.

“Well?” North snaps, eyes narrowing at Chloe.

“When we meet Hank,” Chloe answers. She fiddles with the scarf.

They trudge the rest of the way to the station in silence, Gavin looking back every so often, but there’s no sign that they’re being followed.

He tries to breathe, tries to gasp for air, but every time he does, another sob wracks free. Hank pulls Connor tighter, shushing him gently and holding him tight. Connor clings to him, gripping the wool coat so tight it rubs his fingers raw.

Real. It feels so real.

Are you sure, Connor? How can you know for sure he’s real?

Shut up, SHUT UP!

“Connor?” Hank murmurs. He pulls back, just enough to examine Connor’s face. “Who are you talking to?”

His jaw drops before he can stop it, and he feels himself pale. “Sorry,” he rasps rubbing at his face with the sleeve of the sweatshirt—Hank’s sweatshirt.

Hank glances around. “You have a room here?” Connor opens his mouth, but it’s too dry to speak. He nods. “Phone?”

“There’s…” Connor clears his throat and tries again. “There’s a payphone across the street.” He gestures towards it, and Hank looks towards it, squinting against the sheet of white snow falling.

“North and Gavin were with me,” Hank says slowly. He frowns and sticks his hands in his pocket. “They’ll wanna know you’re okay.”

Things spin around Connor. “They… were worried?”

Hank pinches the bridge of his nose and fights back a sigh. Fucking hell. “We all were,” he says rubbing at his face for a moment longer. “If it’s okay with you, I’m gonna give a call, make sure they know you’re safe.” Hank chews at the side of his cheek. He’s gotta tell Connor: about Nines and Chloe, but it can wait.

“O-of course,” Connor says. He wipes at his face with the sleeve again, and Hank can’t stop himself from squeezing the kid’s shoulder.

“Which room are you? I’ll knock when I’m done.”

Connor gestures to the second floor and in a voice hard to hear over the wind, whispers, “Room 204.”

Hank nods and pats his shoulder. His chest bursts with things he can’t figure out how to say. As Connor starts to move, he blurts out, “Glad you’re okay, Con.”

And Connor just looks back and blinks without saying a word.

North scowls at the building, but she can’t help but let out a breath when they shove through the doors into the heated foyer. The woman at the desk glances up at them. “Lieutenant Hank Anderson was looking for you,” she says.

Gavin takes his hands from his pocket and rubs them together. “Yea, we ran into him. Figured we’d wait for him here.”

She nods and grabs her ringing phone. Gavin drifts towards a self-serve coffee station, and North follows close-by. She leans against the wall next to him as he grabs the pot and shakes it with a frown. There’s a water cooler as well, and some packets of hot cocoa.

For whatever dumb reason, her stomach turns at the thought, and she rubs at her throat, the collar of her sweatshirt shifting down under her hand.

She’d been trying to ignore Chloe, but at the sight of the purple marks on her throat, Chloe’s eyes go wide and she breezes up to North, fingers outstretched. “Nines did this?” she asks coldly.

Gavin’s eyes flick to North just as she slaps Chloe’s hand away. “He didn’t make it better, that’s for fucking sure.” She yanks her sweatshirt back up, and grabs a styrofoam cup to fill with hot water. Against her numb hands, it burns.

She burns all over.

North grits her teeth, cursing as the water spills out the sides. “You good?” Gavin asks, almost bored, almost disinterested, but there’s concern in his eyes.

“Fucking dandy,” she snaps. Her fingers curl around the cup, threatening to crush it, to throw it, to destroy.

But from down the hall, a voice booms, and even though it’s too muffled to make out the words, North smirks as she follows it down the hall.

She’s only been at a police station once, and it was a shitty fucking place to be and if it wasn’t for fucking Connor, she’d probably wouldn’t have come to one again.

But this station is emptier, and there’s only a few cops scattered around, including a few black guys and one woman with cropped hair and sharp eyes.

And reaming out a guy in the middle of it is Jeff. He pauses, still holding a file in the other cop’s face before chucking it on his desk with the warning, “Don’t make me remind you again” before turning to North with crossed arms and a half-smile.

“Look what the fucking blizzard blew in,” he greats. “Hank filled me in on what’s going on.” He nods his head towards a room with blinds to the side. “Come on in. I’ll brew a fresh pot. Sure you guys could use it just as much as me.” He pauses, raising an eyebrow as he looks behind them. “Not sure I’ve met you before. You one of Hank’s friends?”

North scowls back at Chloe, who looks at Jeff with wide, almost scared eyes. “She’s…” Gavin pauses, mulling over the words. “Helping.” North snorts.

Jeff glances at her, brows raising slightly. He shakes his head lightly and gestures towards his office again. “Let’s talk in my office. Seems like I could use some catching up on whatever the hell Hank’s gotten wrapped up in this time.”

Chapter Text

With one hand, Jeff slams the still-steaming coffee pot against the desk. In his other hand, he has four mugs balanced around his fingers. More gently, he untangles the handles and sets them down.

“Help yourselves,” he says gesturing to the mugs and pot. Before sitting down, Jeff turns, grabs something from a drawer, and drops a handful of sugar packets and creamer cups.

Gavin lifts the pot and carefully pours out four cups of coffee. North snatches the first as soon as it’s poured, dumping an ungodly amount of sugar and cream into it. Jeff sits back, waiting until Gavin’s finished before selecting a mug and taking a slow sip.

Chloe watches wide eyed, only taking a coffee after Gavin adds some cream to his. Instead of gulping it down like North or sipping at it like Jeff, she cups it between her hands and breathes in the steam.

Gavin takes a drink from his and leans back. “So,” he starts. He taps his fingers against the mug. “What did Hank fill you in on?”

“Told me that Connor broke out, that there’s some folks after him, and that he’s got a clone or a twin that…” Jeff breaks off, eyes looking towards North then back to Gavin.

She sneers. “I’m not a fucking child. You can fucking say it. We all know what happened.”

Jeff sighs and shakes his head. “That picked a fight with you guys.”

“He won’t be a problem,” Chloe says, more to her coffee than Jeff.

He turns to her, scrutinizing her as her leg shakes up and down. “And who the hell are you?”

Gavin snorts, but North huffs. “She’s fucking working with the people after Connor.”

Jeff raises an eyebrow at Gavin. “It’s more complicated than that,” he says shooting a look to Chloe.

“I… used to work with them,” she says to her drink. “They don’t know I’m not anymore. Nines… he is the least of our worries.” At Jeff’s confused look, she adds hastily, “Connor’s… twin.” Jeff gives a curt nod and gestures for her to continue while taking another sip of his coffee.

North grimaces and chugs down some more of her sugar concoction. Chloe breathes deeply, inhaling the steam from her coffee. “It’s… I can’t give you names.”

“Names?” Jeff raises his eyebrows. “You know the people we need to be looking out for?”

Chloe nods slowly, then raises the mug to take a sip and hide her face. After lowering it, she whispers, “No one here. Not right now. That’s all I can say. There’s…” She turns, shaking slightly. North huffs slightly, crossing her arms and turning away from Chloe. Gavin stops himself from huffing too, and because North basically forced him to sit next to Chloe, he reaches out and gently squeezes her wrist. Her eyes widen a bit, almost in surprise, but she gives a small smile. “This… organization… it’s made up of factions.”

“Mafia?” Jeff asks raising an eyebrow.

Chloe chuckles and shakes her head. “No, it’s… something else. Think of it as a means to an end.”

North huffs again, louder. Maybe it doesn’t make sense, maybe it’ll just get her more agitated, but Gavin grabs the pot and refills her cup halfway. She glares at him but still grabs more sugar and cream to drown the coffee.

Jeff gestures for Chloe to continue. She looks down at the steaming cup in her hands and breathes in deeply, slowly. “There are several factions, each with different roles and a different leader. Some are smaller than others—those are the… more specialized ones.”

“Connor’s?” Gavin asks.

Chloe meets his eyes and nods. “Like Connor’s. His faction is only three people: him, Nines, and… their handler, let’s say.”

North beats her foot against the floor, pounding out a quick rhythm. Her face is tinged pink, bordering on red. She takes a gulp of coffee and chews on it.

“And yours?” Gavin drawls, asking the question for North.

“…two. My… handler works closely with his. They’re the ones who founded the organization, who created the factions, who recruited people to their cause.”

“Which you’re not gonna tell us?” Jeff asks.

 Chloe smiles ruefully. “There’s only so much I can tell you.” Jeff grunts. “My point is… there are only three people who know everyone in the organization. Connor’s handler, my handler… and me.”

Hank leans against the phone booth, waiting for the call to connect. Fuck, he’s freezing his goddamn balls off.

He shivers, burying his free hand deeper into his jacket, just in time for the call to collect. His fingers shake as he presses the button to accept the call, but shit, it’s cold out.

“Detroit Police Department, how can I help you?”

“Hey Julie, it’s Hank again. Can you put me through to Fowler?”

“Of course! Give me a moment.”

“Thanks.”

He tucks his hand back into his jacket. Hank glances towards the motel—the warm motel—where Connor is waiting.

“Hank, this better be something good.”

Faintly, almost like it’s in the distance, someone pips in, “Hi Hank!”

“Got company?” Hank snorts.

“Yea, got some fucking strays who snuck in.”

Someone cackles—probably North—and Hank smiles. “Well, let them know I found Connor. Gonna fill him in on what’s happened, make sure he’s okay, and hopefully we’ll be at the station in the next hour or two.”

“What if we come there?” Sounds like Gavin. Hard to tell.

Hank glances back towards the motel. “Might not be a bad idea, especially if the power’s out at your places. Found him at a motel. The…” He squints through the falling snow. “East Motel.”

There’s scattered talking, distorted, then Jeff’s voice again. “Roads are getting pretty bad, Hank. Don’t think any of us should be out there.” A huff, either North or Gavin. “Call again in a bit? Maybe shit will clear up by then.”

“Sure thing. Hey, can I talk to Gavin quick?” There’s a soft tone, and Hank curses, struggling to put in another quarter with shaking fingers.

More clatter, than Gavin asks, “He okay?”

“More or less.” Hank leans in closer. “How’d shit work out with Nines?”

“We’re at the station, aren’t we?” Hank rolls his eyes. “We’ll fill you in more when we see you. Just…” Gavin’s voice drops to a whisper. “Connor and Nines had the same handler. Almost like… a fucked up family. And Chloe’s pretty high up in whatever… the fuck Connor’s involved in. I don’t… know if that helps.”

“Doesn’t hurt,” Hank says shrugging the phone closer to his ear. “Anything else I should know?”

“…not yet.” Hank sighs. Gavin’s not usually vague or dramatic. Might be that Chloe’s still there, listening in. “Stay safe, okay? There’s no rush for you to get back here, but… call back soon, okay?”

Hank frowns. “Everything okay, kid?”

“It… just… later, okay?”

“O--” But more clanking interrupts Hank and then Jeff’s saying:

“Stay put there. If something comes up, you got a number I can call?”

Hank snorts. “Just a fucking payphone or the pager.”

“Hmph. I’ll page you then.” Another clack, then, “Don’t do anything stupid.”

And the call clicks dead.

Chapter Text

Jeff hangs up the phone and looks back towards Chloe. “You were saying?”

North scowls, wrapping her hand around the burning mug of coffee. Chloe is one of the fucking people in charge of this weird fucking sketchy organization that takes good people like Connor and fucks them up. That works with fucking creeps like Nines. She lifts the mug to her mouth and bites it between her teeth. She imagines chewing the glass and spitting it in Chloe’s perfect fucking face.

“If certain people are discovered, it will lead back to me,” Chloe says, “and I won’t be able to help anymore.”

“Doesn’t seem like you’re helping too much now,” Jeff says, and North snorts into her coffee. She looks over the mug at Jeff’s wry smile. “You haven’t been able to tell me too much more than I already heard. Only now I know enough to be able to book you and bring you in for formal questioning. And if there are moles here, pretty sure that would be a worse look for you.” Jeff clasps his hands together and leans forward slightly. “So I suggest you answer my questions.”

North can’t fight her own grin as she lowers her mug and sets it down with a satisfying clack. Chloe pales but nods slightly, almost resolutely. “Alright. I… I can do that.”

“So there’s moles here? In the DPD?” Jeff asks. He raps his knuckles against the desk. Chloe nods again. “Names?”

With a loud breath out of her nose, Chloe says, “It’d be easier if you had a staff directory I could notate.”

Jeff pinches the bridge his nose and sighs, “Alright, let’s fucking get to it.”

Hank huffs and hangs up the phone. When he steps out of the phone booth, there’s already another inch of snow. It’s only been a few hours, but it’s past his ankles by now. He’s just fucking lucky that he has his boots this time.

It’s tough getting across the street and a damn nightmare getting up the steps to the second floor. The roof covers them for the most part, but they’re slick with snow and ice. Hank takes his time, holding onto the railing and planting each foot down carefully.

Thankfully once he’s actually up the stairs, it’s easy. He tucks his hands back into his pockets and fights a shiver. The door to Connor’s room opens before he even gets a chance to knock.

Poor fucking kid. His hair’s a mess like he’s been pulling at it, and his eyes look more through Hank than at him.

“Hank,” Connor breathes, stepping aside. “Come… inside.” Hank grunts and stomps off his boots before entering.

He lets out a breath and sheds his layers. Before he can toss them on the chair with an out-of-place wool coat, Connor’s moving it to barricade the door.

And after meeting Nines, Hank really can’t blame him.

Connor twists his hands, not quite meeting Hank’s eyes, as he wanders into the room and sits on the edge of the bed. Hank tosses his coat onto the chair and kicks off his boots.

“How ya doing kid?” he asks leaning against the desk. Seems like Connor needs his space right now, as much as Hank would rather plop down next to him and wrap him in a hug again. “We were worried, ya know."

With a small sniffle, Connor shrugs, gaze fixed on his hands as he wrings them out. “It was never… my intention to concern you.”

Hank fights the urge to pinch his nose. Cause the last thing he wants is to make Connor feel guilty for getting himself somewhere safe. “That’s… fuck, Con.” Hank shakes his head. “I’m not upset about it.”

Connor picks at the loose strands of the sweatshirt Hank lent him. It’s an old one with the words long worn off. It might’ve been from his school, might’ve been from the DPD. It’s so old he can’t even remember.

“Really,” Hank insists, hoping that Connor will look up, respond in some way.

But Connor just shrugs into himself further with a half-laugh-half sob. “You should be,” he whispers. “I hurt Simon. I hurt an innocent worker.” His voice grows louder, turning frantic as he starts to shout. “I stole from someone. I have done so much wrong, and you should be furious with me!”

“Kid, you’re not the first person to fuck up,” Hank says softly. “Hell, I promise you that the rest of us have done worse.” He fights a chuckle, but Connor just wraps his fingers into his hair and pulls with a muffled wail. “Hey, whoa whoa! Kid, stop! You’re hurting yourself!”

Fuck, fuck. Hank pushes off the wall, moving to crouch in front of Connor, but Connor shouts and rips at his hair harder, like he’d pull it all out if he could. “You don’t know that!” he cries out, tears flowing freely. “You don’t know what I’ve done! You don’t know anything about me! Why do you think I’m worth saving, worth caring for? Why-why…” Connor’s mouth twists in an ugly way and his eyes pierce Hank’s. “Why do you think I’m worth your forgiveness? Why did Simon think I was worth forgiving?”

Hank huffs and pushes his hair away from his face. “Maybe cause I’ve hurt people. Maybe it’s because Jeff’s forgiven me over and over again for fucking up and screwing over others in the process. Do you know how many times I showed up to work hungover or drunk since… since my son Cole died?” Connor sniffs and drops his hands to his lap, picking at the threads of the sweatshirt again. “I fucked up a lot.” Hank takes a deep breath and kneels in front of Connor. “But I’m trying to do better, to be better. And I think you are too.”

Connor sobs, loud and heart-wrenching, and tears stream down his cheeks.

 “Con,” he murmurs. “You’re okay. You’re safe. It’s okay.”

Hank almost falls back, barely catching his balance as Connor tumbles off the bed and into his arms, freely sobbing as his fingers clutch the fabric of Hank’s shirt. “You’re okay,” Hank repeats. He wraps his arms around Connor, hesitating. “I got you kid.” When Connor doesn’t pull away, Hank hugs him tight, like he used to with Cole.

Connor’s body shakes as he cries, sobs muffled against Hank’s shoulder. “I got you, kid.”

Chapter Text

Gavin leans back and crosses his arms as Chloe meticulously scans and marks a DPD staff directory. She has two different markers: a red one for those with high ranks in the organization and orange for low-level informants.

North’s gone scarily still next to him, her eyes almost glazed over.

“Almost done?” Jeff huffs crossing his arms. His eyes don’t leave the paper, scanning over each name as it’s highlighted.

Chloe laughs, light and high, but her brow crinkles slightly. “I… think soon. A few more pages.” She finishes running her finger down the names on the page and flips to the next one. North starts to fidget, face flushing red as she grits her teeth.

Gavin snorts and stands up. “Fuck, this is…” He runs his hand through his hair before turning to the door.

Expectedly, North follows, slamming the door behind her as she follows him into the bullpen with a scowl. “What a fucking…” Her mouth twists, but she bites back the end of the sentence.

“I need a cigarette.” It’s only a half-lie. He leans against the wall to Fowler’s office. North paces in front of him.

There’s a few cops at their desks. How many of them are red? How many are orange?

How many fucking moles worked with Hank and he didn’t even know?

“Gross,” North says scrunching up her face and leaning next to him. There’s just enough space that they aren’t touching. “You shouldn’t fucking smoke.”

“Hmph.” Gavin sticks his hands in his pocket. “Maybe we should just leave, go meet Hank and Connor.”

A smirk breaks across North’s face. She bumps him with her elbow. “What, you wanna walk in this blizzard? Do you even know where the East Motel is?”

“Probably east.” He gives her a shit-eating grin, and she punches his arm with her good hand, barely hiding her own smile.

It breaks as soon as the door opens, and Fowler raises his eyebrows at them. “Finally fucking finished. Gonna ask some more questions. You coming back in?”

North pushes herself off the wall and rolls her shoulders back. Something in her face darkens. “You gonna let me ask some questions?”

Jeff snorts, then gestures for her to answer. “We’ll see.”

Connor sniffs, gently leaning away from Hank and back against the bed. Pathetic. Seeking comfort from a disgraced Lieutenant? Hiding from your responsibilities, your family?

“Better?” Hank asks sitting back and resting his elbows on his knees.

With a small smile, Connor responds, “Since better is a relative term, I’d have to say yes: I feel better.”

“You wanna…” Hank frowns. Restarts. Odd. “Are you…” Another pause, as if Hank is struggling to find the right words. “If you wanna talk about… things…” He gestures vaguely, hopeful that Connor will infer his meaning.

He does. You will not tell him ANYTHING. Connor’s fingers grasp into his pants. Amanda pushes, grasping for control.

“Kid?”

“I…” His hands move to his hair, grabbing it as he shrinks. Please. Stop.

The world tilts, and hands grab Connor’s shoulder. “Stay with me kid!”

He drops his hands and blinks. Looks at Hank. The concern worn into his wrinkles. “I’m… here.” Connor swallows. “Did…”

“Nah.” Hank looks away. “Just… you didn’t look so good.”

With a nod, Connor looks back down at his hands and says softly, “I… don’t think I can tell you. I… want to…”

“But you can’t,” Hank finishes. He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Alright. Well. Why don’t we get off the floor? My knees are killing me.”

Connor chuckles, but he wipes his face, wipes the stray tears that have started to fall, and stands up. He perches on the edge of the bed, and with a grunt, Hank sits next to him.

“So.” Hank lets out a loud breath and raps his fingertips against his knees. “Should let you know that, uh, that something happened, when we were looking for you.”

Connor sits up straight, throat suddenly dry, skin hot. His heart thuds.

Hank waves one hand, half-casually. “Nothing like… everyone’s okay. Bit shaken up, but no one…”

“Please,” Connor gasps. He digs his fingers into his fists. “Tell me.”

With another loud sigh, Hank closes his eyes. “We met your brother, I think.” Connor holds his breath. “We met Nines.”

The world tilts again. Amanda cackles in the distance. He tries to catch his breath. Blue eyes watch him through the crack in the blinds.

His voice catches in his throat. “You’re safe, kid,” Hank insists. He needs to warn him. “Breathe with me. We’re safe.

“You’re safe.”

Gavin sits back down with the fucking traitor, but North crosses her arms and leans against the door. Half the fucking cops here are dirty, corrupt, working with assholes who fuck-up people and ruin their lives.

Fowler keeps one hand on top of the directory, like he thinks Chloe would steal it back which she might cause she’s a fucking sneak.

“You ready to tell us more?” Fowler asks leaning back in his chair.

Chloe fiddles with the scarf around her neck. Hank’s scarf. North sticks her fists under her armpits to stop herself from snatching it. “I don’t think my answer would matter,” she says, almost like she’s fucking sad.

“So if Amanda’s Connor’s handler, who’s yours?” North presses, still staying against the door.

Chloe starts, turning back to her. Her lips form a half-smile. “I’m not sure knowing his name will help, but… Elijah. Elijah Kamski.”

“That fucking asshole?” Jeff huffs.

“Who?” Gavin asks leaning forward just a bit. He catches himself and falls back into his seat.

Jeff waves his hand and explains, “He’s some rich fucking asshole who lives in the outskirts of Detroit. Gotta admit, he’s kind of a genius: he’s the one who designed our pagers.”

“Are you fucking serious?” North snaps shoving away from the wall. “How do you know he’s not fucking… looking at your messages?”

Fowler stares at her dead-faced. “We don’t.” She shakes her hands out and paces. The wall looks sturdy, brick-based, but it’d feel so good to punch something.

In her seat, Chloe turns slightly to watch North. She bares her teeth at her. “Are you fucking happy?” North snaps.

Chloe shrinks into herself, eyes wide. “This… none of this is what I want. I’m not happy about any of it.”

“So help us out then,” Jeff says, his gruff voice way too fucking calm and even. “If you don’t like it, help us stop it.”

Chloe’s silent. “What? Nothing to say?” North spits out. She curls her hand into a fist, and her other fingers twitch, restrained by a stupid fucking pink cast. Gavin rocks his chair back slightly, eyes almost bored as he looks back at North.

“Connor’s safe,” he drawls, letting the legs of the chair hit the floor with a thump. “He’s with Hank. Fuck this.” Gavin stands and rolls his neck, his shoulders. “You’re just wasting our time.” He heads to the door and glances back. “Let’s get a fucking cab.”

North smiles, letting her teeth show again as she stares down Chloe and starts towards the door.

“Wait,” Chloe pleads, almost begs. Something broken in her voice. Something that makes North’s skin crawl and her smile break too. Her fingers drop out of a fist. “I just…” She looks down at her hands, closes her eyes. Broken.

Fowler raises his eyebrows. North glances back towards Gavin, who’s leaning against the wall near the door, arms crossed and eyes lazy, but when he meets her eyes, he straightens up just a bit.

“Give us a second,” North asks. He shoots her a look, but when she rolls her eyes back, he shrugs and opens the door. Jeff raises his eyebrows. “Just us.”

“You know you’re in a police station. In the captain’s office,” Fowler says dryly. When she smirks at him, he looks towards the ceiling and sighs. “I better not have to take you in for questioning next.” His lips quirk slightly as he pushes himself out of the chair. Gavin holds the door open, giving North one last look before slipping out after Jeff.

The door slams shut.

North turns to Chloe, crosses her arms, and grits her teeth.  “I need you,” North says through her teeth, “to be fucking honest. If you can’t be…”

“I know,” Chloe responds. “I understand.” She turns to face North, with her wide blue eyes. She bites at the corner of her mouth.

With a huff, North plops down into her chair again. She rests her feet on the empty chair between them. Chloe hugs herself. Hugs the sweatshirt North gave her, hugs Hank’s scarf against her chest.

North stares at Fowler’s empty chair. “You… you have made it impossible for us to tell what’s fucking real about you. I can’t fucking tell whether you’re playing us or Nines. I have no idea who the fuck who you are or what the hell you want from us. Because you know where Connor is. Why aren’t you going after him, if he’s the one you’re so fucking worried about?”

Chloe’s fingers toy with the ends of the scarf, winding it around them. One of her hands frees itself from the yarn and rubs against the side of her neck. Her eyes drop from North’s.

“Are you just keeping us busy, so that Nines can go after Connor, so that you can bring him back to that fucking bitch Amanda?” Chloe’s fingers tremble slightly as they work their way back into the scarf. “TALK TO ME.” North hits her feet against the floor, hands shaking, balled into fists. The room’s too hot, too small, too red.

She holds her breath. Counts.

One.

North’s not starting at Chloe’s slender fingers, how they’re working through the scarf.

Two.

Chloe’s mouth opens slightly.

Three.

And then fucking closes.

Four.

North tries to unclench her jaw. Chloe’s dainty fingers untangle themselves from the yarn.

Five.

North’s nails dig into her skin. She’s shaking.

Six.

Chloe stands slowly, as if North’s an animal that might pounce, attack. And maybe she is.

Seven.

Things feel blurry at the edges. Black mixes with red.

Eight.

Blue-tinged fingers reach towards her. Still frozen from the snow. Nines didn’t even offer her gloves, a real coat, real boots.

Nine.

A knife to her throat. Chloe appearing, the knife disappearing.

Ten.

Cold hands take hers. Chloe’s big blue eyes stare at her. Too wide, too innocent. Like a fucking deer or some shit.

Eleven.

Her fingers uncurl. Something wet drips down them. North’s eyes drop to her hands in Chloe’s. Blood. She hadn’t realized her nails had gone that deep.

Twelve.

“I had wanted to find… a way out of this… organization for quite some time,” Chloe murmurs. She takes North’s fingers, holding them above her palms. “Connor was the first person to break ranks and get away. It was Nines responsibility to recover him, but it was my responsibility to gather intel, to work with Nines.

“Do you remember what he said the orders were, for when he found Connor?” Chloe’s hands squeeze North’s fingers.

“To fucking kill him,” North spits out. She shuts her eyes and breathes against the hands on her throat, the knife digging in. Her eyes snap open.

“I had my suspicions that Amanda wanted him dead, that helping Nines find him would…” Chloe breaks off, eyes look down at their hands. “You’re bleeding.”

There’s a small red streak against one of Chloe’s hands. North shrugs slightly at it, but Chloe drops her hands and grabs a tissue. Carefully, she cleans the crescent-cuts on North’s palm.

North doesn’t shiver. She fucking doesn’t.

“So they didn’t tell you that same order? To… murder Connor?” That makes North shiver. Makes her stomach turn.

Putrid, bloated tongue, forcing itself into her mouth. Hands grabbing her. Connor knocking him off.

Chloe smiles sadly. That broken birdwing smile. “Nines and I have different… skillsets. Unlike Connor, he’s untrained in…” Chloe frowns, biting the corner of her lip again. “Let’s call it people skills. Nines knows weapons, combat, stealth, but he doesn’t know how to question, to…”

“Manipulate?” North spits out. She snatches her hand back from Chloe and holds it against her chest.

“Manipulate,” Chloe agrees with a small nod. She discards the tissue in the trash and stares at her hands. “In the same way, I know a bit about defending myself, but I wouldn’t stand a chance against Connor.” She laughs her light laugh. “So it was my job to find Connor for him, but I didn’t need to know anything past that or before that. Just that Connor…” That broken fucking smile reappears. North lowers her hand and stops it halfway to grabbing Chloe’s.

Chloe’s voice drops to a whisper. “Neither Amanda or Elijah would say much about it, and I wasn’t privy to the details of Connor’s mission.”

Her heart’s fucking pounding. “What’d he do?”

The smile on Chloe’s face breaks open, brightens her blue eyes. “He defied his orders, got away, and it was my first chance, my only chance, to find him first and do the same.” Her eyes break from North’s, looking towards the door. “And I’m happy to tell Captain Fowler more. I just…” North leans in, Chloe’s hand finding hers again as her voice drops to a whisper. “…I’ve never told anyone this. Never heard of anyone who’s done this and survived. My plan was always to find Connor, to get him somewhere safe, somewhere away from this. You…” The corner of Chloe’s lip quirks up. North’s heart is pounding in her throat.

“You were not supposed to be part of my plan…” Plan, part of her plan? Used. Used to find Connor. Used again.

Her heart drops, leaving behind a sour taste in the back of her mouth. She starts to pull away, but Chloe’s hand tugs at her.

“Then I couldn’t stop thinking about you, wanting to spend time with you, get to know you. And-and I couldn’t figure out how to save Connor and myself and…” Chloe takes a deep, shuddering breath. North grips her hands as tight as she can, as tight as the stupid fucking cast gets her. The next words spill out so fast and frantic, building speed. “…things got so complicated and I never wanted you to get hurt, to get wrapped up in this. To get hurt.” Those big blue eyes go dark, angry. Beautiful. “Connor’s still important to me, but so are you. So is Hank and so is Gavin and…” A break. A sob. “There’s a chance I don’t make it out of this with the rest of you.”

“Fuck… Elijah.” North hisses, her teeth gritted together as she drops Chloe’s hands. A tear drips down her cheek, still pink from the freezing cold. “Fuck Nines.”

She grabs Chloe’s shoulders and pulls her close, hugging her tight, keeping her wrapped up as she shudders again, as she cries into North. “And fuck anyone who thinks they can hurt you.” Chloe feels too fucking small, too fragile curled up into North, but she holds her as close and as tight as she can while Chloe shakes with sobs. “Because they’ll have to fucking go through me first.”

Chapter Text

When North opens the door, her eyes are furious and her mouth is set. Behind her, Chloe sits in the same chair, hands clasped in her lap. She sniffles lightly, face splotchy. Like she was crying.

What the fuck did you do? “You good?” Gavin asks instead.

“I’m gonna fucking kill Elijah Kamski,” North hisses. She leans against the door, holding it open for him and Jeff to go through.

With a heavy sigh, Jeff says, “You can’t make those threats in front of me, North.” He heads into the room and settles back at his desk.

 “What happened?” Gavin asks leaning against the door frame.

North turns to look at Chloe, and when she does, her face actually softens. “She’s afraid that…” Her mouth turns, curling. “She just wants to get out.”

If certain people are discovered, it’ll lead back to me…

            I’m gonna fucking kill Elijah Kamski…

                        She said he was as good as dead…

                                    She’s afraid…

“Fuck,” he mutters. He glances out into the bullpen, then slips into Jeff’s office, North right behind him. The door closes with a slam.

“So,” Jeff drawls leaning back in his chair, “you ready for some more questions.”

With a blink, Chloe straightens. North sits next to her, and inches the chair closer. Gavin leans back against the closed door.

“Actually… I’m ready to give a statement.” Jeff’s eyebrows raise. “On the Detroit MRO.”

Connor pushes Hank away, behind him. “Con, it’s okay,” Hank insists. His hand grasps Connor’s shoulder and squeezes. “Remember what Simon said about your meds. It’s a fucking blizzard out there. I barely made here in one piece.” There’s something strained, something… tense in Hank when he says that.

But Connor has to focus.

“The blinds,” he says, gesturing towards the windows. Large, beige drapes hang over them, with shear white curtains underneath. They had been pulled closed when he got here, and he had been too distracted to notice the uncovered corner, where a bit of fabric had gotten caught on a nail and left an opening to the dark night outside.

Hank huffs gently behind him and stands, knees creaking when he does. The blue eyes blink, then disappear.

He needs to move. Get Hank behind him, barricade the windows and doors. His hands feel cold, his blood like ice. He needs to move.

With a groan, Hank makes his way to the window and tugs the curtain free, covering the now-empty view of the night.

“He’s out there,” Connor insists. His voice shakes. Amanda laughs. “Hank, we—”

Hank goes to the door and peers out the peephole. “Nothing out there,” he says, but he adjusts the chair and double checks the locks. It doesn’t help release the knots in Connor’s chest. “It’s in your head, kid. Not that… you know… makes it any less scary.” Hank snorts, then sits on the edge of the bed with a sigh. “In a few hours, we can head to the station, or back to my place. Find somewhere you’ll be safe while we figure this shit out.”

You know that will never work. We’ll find you again, Connor. A gunshot echoes, and Connor flinches as the bullet cracks through the door.

Blue eyes watch him.

“You mean fucking maintenance, repair, operations?” Jeff says looking towards the ceiling as if he’s praying to some fucking god that doesn’t exist.

“The double meaning was not lost to them,” Chloe says, her voice torn between amusement and resignation. “Although that’s what Elijah liked to pretend we were doing, it has a… different meaning.”

North’s skin prickles. She itches at it and leans her elbow on Chloe’s chair.

“And that is…?”

“Breathe, hey hey! Breathe with me!” Fuck. Hank wraps his arms around Connor, trying his best to kid from hurting himself. Fuck, how the hell did Gavin manage this?

Connor thrashes again and screams at the door. The still closed, locked door. “No one’s there!” Hank repeats. Sweat beads on his forehead. “Hey hey hey! Connor! The door’s locked, the chair’s propped against it. What are you seeing kid? Tell me.”

“He shot the door,” Connor rasps out. He doesn’t really relax, but he stops fighting against Hank. “He shot through the door.”

“What do you see now?”

“The McCarthy Revival Organization.”

North tilts her head slightly, but Jeff takes a deep breath and looks up again. “Thought that fucking shit was left in the past.”

“Think that’s why they added revival,” Gavin snarks. Jeff glares at him, and Gavin scrunches his shoulders up. “I’m not gonna say I agree with any of that shit, but come on, look at the shit that…” He trails off. Green and brown and red fight to fill his vision. “Just saying.”

“Hmph.” Jeff rests his elbows on the table. “Is this… organization just in Detroit?”

Chloe tilts her head back and forth. “It used to be larger. Amanda and Elijah used to work closely with McCarthy, but…”

“But he died,” Jeff finishes. “In disgrace.”

For some reason, Chloe smiles slightly at that. “It threw off their plans a bit, but they had already started to separate themselves from him when he started to face more opposition.”

“Fucking…” Gavin rubs at his face and sighs. “What the fuck are they even trying to do?”

“I’m inclined to agree,” Jeff deadpans. He taps his fingers against the desk. North’s hand grabs Chloe’s arm, then slips into her hand. “Seems like they might’ve been better off trying to protect his image.” Jeff waves one hand. “Not that I’m complaining.”

“They decided it was better to be out of the public eye, to handle things… quietly.” Chloe shudders, and a tear falls down her cheek. She shakes her head. North shifts closer. “I’m sorry… give me a moment.”

“I see… a door.” Connor blinks again, just to make sure. Amanda laughs, almost howling. “An unharmed door.” He rubs at his eyes. “I… I’m sorry, Hank.”

Hank snorts and lets go. “I’ve dealt with worse shit.” Connor settles on the bed next to him, wincing when it squeaks. “Kid, you look exhausted.” Connor fights a smile. “I can stay up, keep watch if it helps.” Another snort, as if Hank’s amused. It’s nonsensical.

He is nonsensical. He is crazy, insane, disgraced.

With a nod, Connor scoots back on the bed until he’s against the pillow. He curls up on his side, eyes to the window. Hank stays at the edge of the bed.

The radiator hisses, making Connor flinch. Sighing, Hank stands and flips off the lights. “Get some sleep kid. God knows you need it.”

North’s gut turns, then boils. She breathes out through her nose and squeezes Chloe’s hand as tight as she can. “Take your time,” Jeff says softer than usual. He slides a box of tissues towards Chloe, and with a light laugh, she takes her free hand and wipes her tears.

“It’s just… I’ve never told this story before,” Chloe admits. “I never thought I would have to, that I would want to.”

After a hum, Jeff asks, “You seem pretty young, Chloe. In your twenties?”

She laughs again, but it’s sad and makes North’s heart ache. She shifts closer, but the stupid fucking arms of the chairs are in the way. With a snarl, she stands and moves behind Chloe, resting her hands on her shoulders. “Somewhere around there, I’m sure. I didn’t have a birthday growing up. Elijah thought it would be too dangerous, allow for me to be found, tracked.”

She’s gonna fucking kill Elijah.

Jeff frowns. By the door, Gavin fidgets. “How did you meet Elijah?” Jeff asks slowly. Like he’s dreading the answer.

North shifts her weight, forces herself to stay still, to stay with Chloe as she answers quietly, “He’s my father.”

Despite Amanda’s discontent with him, he’s too tired. Her chastisements are drowned out by the TV, which Hank switched on with Connor’s agreement.

The room is warm, the bed is soft, and Connor feels… content. He lets out a breath, sleep pulling him closer.

Click.

It’s soft, almost lost beneath the sounds of a basketball game, but Connor’s eyes snap open as he pushes himself up.

At the end of the bed, Hank turns too, eyes wide as he looks towards the door as the knob turns.

“Like…” Gavin gestures wildly. “How? Like… how?”

Chloe giggles, but another tear drips down her cheek. “I’m not sure of the details. He said that they didn’t matter, that it was his job to prepare me for my role, that I would do great things.” North’s hands slip from Chloe’s shoulder, one grabbing the back of the chair as her face contorts. Gavin’s own stomach curls and he fights the urge to vomit. Even Jeff looks pale. “And Connor?”

“I have to imagine it wasn’t too different with him and Amanda, but he… he had Nines. Even though Amanda wasn’t really his mother, Nines was his brother.”

The door presses against the chair, but it holds steady. Hank curses, pushing himself off the bed and standing. He should’ve grabbed the fucking revolver.

“Hank?” Connor rasps, his breaths heavy and loud.

“I see it too, Con.”

The knob turns again, as if released. Hank holds his breath, crouching next to the bed, but it’s fucking obvious someone’s in here cause he turned the TV on. And as much as he wishes it was housekeeping or some shit, he’s not dumb enough to believe it.

But he hopes that whoever it is has given up, that maybe someone just had the wrong room or—

Glass shatters, the curtains blowing open as a figure steps through the now-destroyed windows. Their boots crunch as they step towards the bed.

Hank slips between them and Connor as fast as he can. “I didn’t expect to see you again, Lieutenant,” they say tilting their head.

Fuck. Even if he had a gun, he wouldn’t stand a fucking chance.

Wind whips the curtains behind Nines, howling against the silence of the room.

“Please.” Nines’ cold blue eyes flick behind Hank, towards Connor. A hand clasps against his shoulder. “Leave him. Leave me.”

Nines reaches under his coat and draws his gun. Hank stares down the barrel, staying as still as he can. “It’s time to come home, Connor.”

The hand leaves his shoulder. Connor steps in front of him. “Kid, don’t—”

“Please.” Connor repeats, voice breaking. “Nines, please.”

Nines stays steady. “It is up to you whether he leaves here unharmed, but either way, you know you will be leaving with me. There is no other way out this time.

“It’s your choice.”

In front of him, Connor trembles. Hank grabs his arm and does his best to hold him steady. “We can figure something out, you don’t have to go with him.”

“If I leave…”

“Kid, stop!”

“Will you leave Hank alone? Will you leave him and North and Gavin alone?”

Nines nods once.

“Connor, there’s gotta be another way! Kid, you can’t do this!” Hank tightens his grip, squeezing Connor as if he can keep him here.

“Be smart about this, Lieutenant,” Nines cautions as he tucks the gun away. “We both know who would win in a fight.”

“No, kid, you can’t!” Wind howls, blowing in snow and ice. Blood in the snow, Cole’s limp body.

Connor turns to face Hank, his mouth tilting into a crooked smile. “Stay safe,” he whispers. He wraps his arms around Hank and hugs him close.

For a moment, Hank feels frozen in the snow and ice and smell of burnt rubber. But Connor squeezes him and shudders, and Hank moves his arms to hug him back, waiting for the gun to go off, for Nines to grab Connor and pull him away.

“North and Gavin are waiting,” Hank rasps squeezing Connor. “They’re waiting to see you.”

“Tell them… I’ll miss them. And thank you.”

“Kid, you—” Connor wriggles, his shoulder knocking into Hank as he pulls free from the hug.

His eyes are wide and wet as he stares at Hank. “Please… don’t follow us. Promise… promise you won’t follow.” Hank can’t fight the sob that breaks from him as Connor hiccoughs.

“Fuck, kid—” Hank’s voice breaks. He reaches to grab Connor, to pull him back, but Nines steps between them, towering over Hank with cold eyes.

“Unlike Connor, I do not trust you not to follow us, but after this, I promise you will not be bothered.” He’s close enough that Hank can reach the gun, if he just times it right, if he’s smart, if he’s careful.

“You said you wouldn’t—!”

Chapter Text

Jeff rubs at his head and lets out a loud huff. “I’m guessing we’re only at the tip of the iceberg?” Chloe smiles back shyly, just one corner of her mouth turning up.

“I know you said the roads are shitty, but we really… we should meet Hank and Connor.” Gavin fidgets in his seat, ignoring how Fowler raises his eyebrows in question. “Hank needs to know this shit, and Connor deserves to know it too. How Chloe fits in.” He glances at her, and she tangles her fingers into the scarf again. North squeezes Chloe’s shoulder, face contorted and verging on red.

“I’m assuming he didn’t trust me much either?” Chloe asks with a fake laugh.

Gavin grimaces, but it’s not worth answering. “Jeff,” he insists.

Looking towards the ceiling, Fowler sighs again and slouches back. “Right now, I don’t feel too comfortable letting Chloe wander around.” North’s mouth screws up, and before she can yell, Jeff holds up a hand and adds, “For her sake.” North’s mouth sets into a line, but she nods. “I can call you a taxi, lend you some cash. You can meet them at the motel and take Hank’s car back.” He looks between the two of them, then settles on Gavin. “Don’t tell Hank I told you this, but it might be better if you drive. He gets… skittish in the snow.”

“We noticed,” Gavin says. He taps his fingers against his arm and looks towards North. “You coming?” She keeps her mouth shut tight as she shakes her head once. “Alright.” He looks to Jeff and nods, and he picks up the phone and dials a cab.

It takes fucking forever for the cab to get to the station. And of fucking course he couldn’t wait in Fowler’s office ‘cause they didn’t know when the car would get here, so he had to hang out in the lobby instead. If only he had a fucking cigarette. He could use a smoke after tonight. (He tries not to think that it’s barely been three hours since everything started.)

The cab stops in front of Gavin, tires spewing up dirty slush as the cabbie lowers the window and glares at him. “East Motel?” he huffs, a lit cigarette dangling from his mouth.

“Yea,” Gavin says. He licks his own lips, then climbs into the back. “Mind if I bum one?”

“Last one. Trying to quit,” the guy grunts. He presses the accelerator, wheels churning up more slush until the car gains traction and starts to crawl.

Crossing his arms, Gavin slumps back against the seat. There’s not even seatbelts, which wouldn’t usually be a problem, but the roads are barely visible under half a foot of snow and mud.

He stares out the window at the still-falling snow and tries to pretend that the smoke he tastes is his own cigarette.

Jeff looks between North and Chloe, hand cupping his chin as he rocks in his chair. “Until Gavin gets back with Hank and Connor, I won’t bother with any more questions. Think we could all use a break from it anyway.” The chair squeaks underneath him as he leans back. “You hungry?”

North smirks. “Starving.”

Jeff’s mouth quirks into a half smile. “Lemme see what I can scrounge up for us. Keep the door closed, okay?” He shoots Chloe a look, and North’s smirk changes into a snarl. “Not too many people were around to see you come in, but I’m gonna keep it locked just in case.” Oh. She crosses her arms and plops into the chair next to Chloe, propping her feet up on Gavin’s empty chair. Jeff just rolls his eyes. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

As he leaves the office, North calls after him, “Wouldn’t dream of it!”

Chloe keeps fiddling with her hands, even after the door closes. So North takes her hand and holds it tight even that maybe it can help.

And Chloe’s little half-smile at their hands joined does not make her heart skip.

The cab driver barely goes faster than Hank did, creeping along the streets so slowly that Gavin has to keep his mouth shut to stop from screaming. It should only be a five-minute drive, especially with barely any other cars on the road, but it’s almost fifteen minutes later when the cab jerks, half-skidding before stopping for real.

Gavin can’t blame the driver for his grumbling as he puts the car in park. Fowler gave him more than enough cash for the ride, but he holds it all out and mumbles, “Keep the change” before climbing out into the blizzard.

The snow’s past his ankles at this point. He should’ve gone home and gotten some fucking boots and gloves first. Too fucking late for that, though, so he tucks his hands under his armpits and squints through the snow at the room numbers on the second floor.

…a door’s open.

Fuck. One of the doors is wide open.

His heart pounds in his throat, and if it wasn’t for the fact that it was fucking freezing, his brain might go back... there.

But it’s cold enough his mind stays in Detroit with him as he hurries through the snow, taking high steps over snow that tries to trip him, to slow him down.
There’s several sets of footprints, the falling snow blurring them together as Gavin stumbles, breath fogging up the space in front of him.

Fuck. Fucking hell.

He stumbles out of the deep snow, finally under the protection of the motel’s roof. There’s specks of snow and wet footprints on the stairs, but they’re not icy enough to stop him from taking the stairs two at a time, keeping his weight forward in case he slips.

But he doesn’t. He makes it up the stairs and breaks it into a sprint.

There’s salt scattered outside the window of the room with the open door, but even with the traction they offer, he slips.

Gavin slides against ice, grabbing on the frame of the open door to catch himself, staring in as he does so.

Shit. FUCK.

It’s not salt outside the window. It’s fucking glass. Someone broke the fucking window.

And collapsed on the floor, gray hair stained red with blood, is Hank.

Chapter Text

Chloe runs her thumb against North’s, which definitely doesn’t make North shiver. It’s weird just sitting next to her, holding hands. It feels way too fucking normal.

(Nothing about this is normal.)

But Chloe’s hand is soft and still a little cold, and when North squeezes it, she blushes, which is cute or whatever.

After everything, it’s kinda nice to just… sit quietly. To know that for a bit she can just hold Chloe’s hand and be okay.

The knob turns, the lock clicking, and North yanks her hand away, a snarl half-formed before Jeff walks in. She crosses her arms, and he almost doesn’t raise his eyebrows at her.

“Didn’t seem like anywhere near-by was open,” he says tossing a few bags onto his desk. “Vending machine was the best I could do.”

North snatches a bag of cookies and rips it open, already half-way through it by the time Chloe carefully selects some nuts. North can’t help but scrunch her face up. “Really?” Chloe shrugs, not quite smiling as she pours a few into her hand.

Fowler looks between them as he slides back into his chair. “Assuming you haven’t heard from Hank again? Or Gavin?”

North shakes her head, hand already grabbing the last cookie from the bag. As she bites into it, she crumples up the bag and tosses it towards the trash.

It misses.

Jeff sighs and pinches his brow. She smiles brightly as she grabs another pack. Chloe giggles.

“Should’ve asked him to get food on his way back,” Jeff grumbles, but he still grabs a bag of chips for himself. It crinkles as he tears it open. “Not that anywhere’s actually gonna be fucking open.”

North snorts and pops another cookie into her mouth. “Him and Hank have been bitching about the food at the hospital, so who knows? Maybe they’ll scrounge something up on their way back.”

Fowler huffs. “As long as they all get back in one piece, I’m not gonna complain.” North raises an eyebrow. “Too much.” She throws her head back with a laugh.

Head wound. Possible concussion. Blood makes it look worse than it is. Probably a blunt object. Not enough blood for a bullet wound. No smell of gunpowder either.

Gavin cradles the soldier’s head, gently wiping away the blood as best he can. It’s a fucking miracle that there was a clean towel. Almost everything they have is covered in shit, mud, and blood.

“Easy,” Gavin says. The soldier groans, eyes fluttering as he tries to force himself awake. “Medic should be here soon. Just hang on.”

No clear reaction. Continued fluttering of eyes but no indication of awareness. He checks his pulse again, counting softly to himself as he watches the ticking of his watch.

A cold wind blows past them, probably coming off one of the rivers. It’s dark where they are, deep in the brush. Maybe it’s lucky they’re so hidden, but it’ll make it fucking hard for a medic to find them.

He’ll have to help him up in a bit, once he can assess the risks of moving the soldier and moving out of the cover of the brush.

Pulse is steady. Strong. Gavin lowers his wrist—

The soldier groans again, hand grabbing Gavin’s. “You with me?” he asks leaning closer, but it’s too fucking dark to make out much more. And he can’t find any of his fucking gear. “Squeeze my hand if you hear me.”

Fingers press into his wrist. “Hang tight for a bit longer. I don’t hear any fighting. We can get you back to—”

The soldier wheezes and his mouth shapes silent words. Gavin leans closer. Another gust of wind blows the leaves enough to let in a bit of light. This guy looks way too old to be out here, way too old to be drafted. His hair’s completely gray and thick wrinkles line his face. An officer? Commander? Lieutenant?

A civilian, somehow wrapped up in this shit?

With another wheeze, the man’s eyes flutter open as he rasps, “He took him.”

“Who? Who was taken?” Another soldier? One of his team?

“…Connor. He took… he took Connor.”

It’s like resurfacing from underwater. Gavin gasps, everything around him suddenly clear. A dark hotel room with a shattered window and Hank, bleeding on the ground.

Nines took him. Nines got here first.

His heart pounds in his chest, the beat echoing up into his throat. “We’re gonna get you help, Hank,” Gavin says. His legs shake as he pushes himself up and stumbles, searching for the light switch along the wall. “Phck!” He hisses and grabs at his knee which smacked into something. His hand brushes the wall, knocking against a frame before finally hitting the light switch and flicking on the lights.

Hank looks even more fucked-up with the lights on. Pale face, flickering eyelids, blood dried into the carpet under his head.

“Keys?” Gavin asks hurrying back to Hank, who just grunts and half-gestures to a coat on the chair.

(At least Nines was kind enough to leave that. At least Hank still has his shoes.)

“Alright, let’s go.” He bites back the “old man” he’d usually tack on at the end because Hank seems scarily old right now. Like fuck. He has gray hair and wrinkles but it’s like the blood loss aged him ten years.

Carefully, Gavin props Hank up, doing his best to tune-out the gasp of pain when he does. Maybe it’d be better to call an ambulance, but he can probably get back to the DPD quicker than an ambulance could get here.

Probably.

“Up we go,” he warns, wrapping Hank’s arm around his shoulder. He stands slowly, giving Hank a chance to find his feet, but he’s half-conscious at most.

(It’s not the first time he's done this and—

                                          —and…

                          …and…

          …and....

 It won’t be the last.

Gavin shifts the weight of the soldier and grits his teeth. He squints against the bright sun as they break free from the brush—

Snow.

Snow and wind and ice and half-conscious Hank and the streets of Detroit.

Shake it off. Fucking stay here.

Gavin squeezes his eyes shut and takes in a breath. Can he fucking get them back? Can he even trust himself to fucking drive?

Gently, he lowers Hank back down onto the carpet and against the wall. Hank grumbles, but he stays upright.

He sits down and stares out the open door at the blizzard covering the streets of Detroit.

Chapter Text

He’s jolted again as the car hits a bump. Despite being gracious enough to keep him in the backseat, Connor’s facedown, cheek smushed against fragrant leather that tickles his nostrils.

Every bump they hit hurts, sending a shock of pain up his spin and into his brain.

You’re even weaker than I thought, Amanda scoffs. You barely put up a fight.

I tried. I tried. She laughs off his pleas, settling into a content silence as Connor replays the encounter once more.

He hadn’t known if it was real or not, even when Hank started to react. Even when he started to follow Nines out.

There had been a chance it was all in his head, that Hank would pull him back into the room and tell him it wasn’t real again, that they were still safe.

Connor had believed in that small chance it wasn’t real until Nines hit the butt of the gun against Hank’s head and he collapsed, blood starting to flow from the wound.

“You said you wouldn’t hurt him!” Connor had yelled. And when Nines turned to face him, Connor had fallen into a defensive stance.

Something cold and dark had passed over Nine’s face. “I could not risk the possibility of him following us. As long as you leave with me, there will still be a chance that the Lieutenant wakes.”

It hadn’t been worth the risk. He was tired and shaking from fear and cold and exhausted beyond belief. In his current condition, his chances of winning in a fight against Nines were low.

You used to be stronger than him, more capable. How far you’ve fallen…

Nines had borrowed a vehicle, or maybe he owned one himself. Either way, he had placed a sock over each of Connor’s hands before tying them behind his back and then helping him into the backseat.

There was a gentleness with how he had laid Connor down, with how he turned Connor’s head to face the seats instead of the windshield, how he had tied his legs down and against the seat. Nines carried it out with the precision Connor expected but also with an unfamiliar tenderness. He tied the ropes no tighter than he had to and made sure the coarse fibers were wrapped into the sock and didn’t touch Connor’s wrists, that Connor had room to move and breathe.

Nines had also not taken the precaution of gagging him, although that could be explained by the lack of people out in the storm, or trust that Connor wouldn’t risk calling for help.

He stays quiet for now, heart beating heavily in his chest, mouth half-dry as another jolt rocks him.

“We’ll be home soon,” Nines says softly, “and this will all be put to rest.”

North crumples up her second empty bag and aims it towards the trash can. Before she can chuck it, there’s the weird rattling-buzz that makes her pause.

Fowler frowns and pulls out this gray rectangle from his pocket—like Hank’s—and stares at it. “Well shit,” he grunts. He sets it down and rubs his face.

“What?” North lowers the bag into her lap and straightens up.

Jeff pinches his brow. Breathes deeply. Then looks straight at Chloe, eyes cold. “How did Nines know where to find Hank?”

North’s breath catches in her chest, tightening. Chloe’s eyebrows shoot up, her mouth dropping into an “o”. “Wha…what?” she stutters, hand reaching out and grasping North’s.

“When Gavin got there, Connor was gone and Hank was unconscious. You haven’t been left alone since we found out where they were, so… how’d you tell him?”

Chloe shakes her head, tears forming at her eyes. Her free hand presses into her hand. North stares at her, hand going limp in Chloe’s grip. “I… I didn’t. North—” She turns to face her with wide blue eyes. “I didn’t tell him. You’ve been with me this whole time, or Captain Fowler has. I… I couldn’t… I…” She trails off, eyes glancing towards somewhere on Jeff’s desk.

And she breaks her hand free from North’s and dives towards it. Jeff’s hand goes to his holster, but Chloe doesn’t go for him. She wraps her fingers around the phone and starts breaking it apart.

North pushes herself half-up. What the fuck is she doing?

Jeff stops too, hands moving away from the holster as Chloe twists off part off the phone’s receiver and tilts something into her hand.

“They were listening.” She closes her fist around the thing, eyes scrunched tight. “To the phone call. They heard everything.” Chloe breathes in quick, ragged, and clutches her hands to her chest.

“Shit… fucking shit!” Fowler rubs at his head. “We need to go—now!” He grabs a pair of keys from his desk and charges out the door faster than North’s ever seen him move. Chloe stands frozen, still clutching whatever the thing she found was.

They can’t leave Chloe behind, not now, so North grabs her hand and pulls her with them.

She might be their best chance to find Connor again.

Red and blue flash off the snow around them as Fowler speeds down the streets. He had a squad car ready with snow chains in case of emergencies, so they probably won’t slide on the snow and crash.

Taking a police car was definitely not her first choice, but at least they’re going faster than Hank did. Or even Gavin when he drove Hank’s car.

Jeff only slows down once the neon sign for The East Motel comes into view through the still-falling snow. He’s barely parked when North opens her door and jumps into the snow, finally dropping Chloe’s hand.

One of the doors upstairs is open. She can kinda see it from down here, so she runs towards it, half-slipping and sliding in her snow-soaked sneakers.

The stairs barely have any snow on them when she reaches them, and she can take them two at a time, sprinting towards the room with the open door.

Sticking out from that room is the toes of a pair of boots. Flat down on the ground, like someone’s sitting in the doorway.

North drowns to her knees and slides the rest of the way, half-smirking as she skids to a stop in front of Gavin.

He sits in the open door, arms wrapped around his knees as he stares blankly past her. He barely even reacts to her.

“Hank?” she asks. He points his thumb over his shoulder and rests his chin on his knees. North turns, watching as Fowler clambers up the stairs with Chloe trailing behind. “In there,” she calls to Fowler, pointing into the room past Gavin. Fowler grunts, barely slowing as he hurries past them, Gavin leaning against the doorframe to give Jeff enough space to get in.

Chloe hangs back, hands still wrapped in Hank’s scarf. Her eyes are still wet.

“What’s up?” North whispers straightening out one leg and hitting Gavin’s boot with her shoe.

He shrugs, eyes still staring past her. “I can’t… stay here.”

“I mean, yea?” North says scrunching up her face. “You’re probably freezing your ass off.”

Instead of laughing, he just huffs. “I meant like… my brain. Every time I tried to…” He breaks off and presses his face into his knees.

Oh.

“We’re here now,” North says, and she forces her voice to be soft. Gavin snorts. Or sniffles. It’s hard to tell which.

“What good is that now? We’re wrapped up in such deep shit North. Nines has Connor, Hank’s unconscious, and I’m so fucked in the head I can’t even remember where I am. I just…” He shudders slightly. North puts her hand on his knee and squeezes. “I’m done. Okay?”

“What if… it was me?”

Gavin’s head shoots up. Like Chloe, his eyes are wet. Unlike her, they’re also red. “What?”

“What if I was taken? Would you try to find me?”

He scoffs. “It wasn’t you. You’re right fucking here, North.”

“What if I go after him, then? Would you come with me?”

Gavin blinks, eyes focusing on her for the first time. “You’re fucking insane,” he snorts.

She smirks at him. “I did just get an early discharge from an insane asylum.”

He laughs. Full belly laugh that has fresh tears coming in his eyes. “North,” he chokes out, “we don’t stand a chance after Nines.”

North curls up her lip so that her sharp teeth show. “We don’t… but Connor does.”

Chapter Text

Gavin hugs his legs close. His butt’s fucking freezing from sitting on cold ass pavement, and North’s hand is the only warmth he feels. His eyes flick towards Chloe, who stands a respectable distance apart.

There’s fresh tears around her eyes as well. “I… I swear I didn’t tell Nines,” she breathes. She trembles and grips Hank’s scarf tighter, eyes wide as she looks down at the yarn wrapping around her fingers. “I know you don’t trust me but—”

Gavin laughs again even as new tears prick at his eyes. “I didn’t trust you. I think if you had anything to do with this, you would’ve ditched us as soon as you knew where Connor was.” Chloe smiles slightly, but a few tears drip down her cheeks anyway.

North turns to look at her and scowls softly. She nudges Gavin’s knee with her good hand before pushing herself up. The knees of her pants are smudged with half-melted snow and gravel. One side even has a small rip, but it doesn’t look like she scraped it. “Let’s go check on Hank,” she says holding out her hand to him.

Gavin takes it, letting her help pull him up and into the room.

Fowler must have turned on the light, which kinda helps remind him it’s just a hotel room. He stands behind North as she stomps into the room. “Still not awake,” Jeff announces. North flops herself down next to Hank, and Gavin turns to look at the broken window as Chloe enters the room. Shivering, she shuts the door behind her, then frowns at the wind blowing open the curtains. “Reached out to get an ambulance here, but it could be a while.”

“He’ll be okay?” North whispers. Gavin crosses his arms. He fights off a shudder.

Unexpectedly, Jeff snorts. “This is probably the least worried I’ve ever been finding Hank like this.”

Gavin calls over his shoulder, “Find him like this a lot?”

Jeff doesn’t answer. With a huff, Gavin forces himself to turn around, keeping his eyes on Jeff as best he can. He can’t go back, not again. Not now.

“And the ambulance is on the way?” North asks with a frown. Her hand reaches down to grab Hank’s.

“Like I just said, it’s on the way, but who knows when it’ll get here.” Jeff settles back against the side of the bed and raises an eyebrow at North. “Why?”

“Because we’re gonna find Connor.” Unlike before, she doesn’t smile when she says it. Her eyes are dark and she grits her teeth. “We’re gonna save him.”

This time when the car slows, it doesn’t speed up again. The engine rumbles for a moment more, then shuts off.

It is still, it is quiet.

Connor fights the urge to move and forces himself to be still and quiet as well. A car door opens, then closes.

Cold air bursts against his head, but he still refrains from moving. Just as gentle, just as cautiously as Nines had tied his legs together, he unties them and guides Connor to sit up. Nines leaves Connor’s hands bound behind his back.

They stare at each other, blue eyes into brown. “It is good to see you again,” Nines says, “despite the circumstances.”

It is hard to agree, especially with his hands bound behind his back, with Hank still unconscious and alone.

“Where are we?” Connor says instead. He stares just beyond Nines. Instead of a familiar garage or a green lawn is a decrepit alley covered in snow.

Nines blinks and answers, “We are somewhere where we can safely talk.”

“I thought you were…” Taking you home? To me? He should’ve been. Apparently you’ve been a worse influence then I realized. “Gah!” Connor stumbles. He tries to grab at his head, but his hands won’t budge. Do not fight me, Connor.

“Let us go inside,” Nines suggests, his hand alighting on Connor’s back. “We can talk when we are out of this storm.”

Hank’s chest rises and falls steadily. His hand is still warm. North squeezes it again. From next to his head, to the puddle of dried brown blood, Fowler sighs. “Anything I can do to convince you from going after that maniac?”

“Nines can be reasoned with,” Chloe says. She holds Hank’s scarf in her lap and sits in the chair by the door. Between her eyebrows is a small crease that North doesn’t want to kiss away. “Just like us, he wants to help Connor.” She frowns, fingers threading through the loops of yarn. “He just doesn’t understand how yet.” Chloe had said something similar right before they left Nines place, when Gavin had called out Nines for not caring what Connor need. You want what’s best for him, but I don’t think you really know what that is.

Gavin raises his eyebrows, probably remembering the same thing. Fowler sighs, then reaches into his pocket. “Anything I can say to stop you?” North smiles at that, which just makes Jeff sigh again. “Alright, well, at least take this.”

North perks up. “Are you gonna give us your gun?”

Gavin sputters, then laughs.

“No, I’m not gonna give you my fucking gun,” Fowler snaps. He grabs the rectangular box near Hank’s hand and holds it out to Gavin. Hesitantly, Gavin turns around fully, shuddering when his eyes land on Hank’s. “Here. You already figured out how to use this damn thing. Soon as you find Connor, you tell me.”

With a nod that’s way too meek for Gavin, he pockets the gray brick and stands, already heading for the door.

North gives Hank’s hand another squeeze and leans in closer. “Next time I see you, Connor will be back with us.”

Connor can’t stop his eyes from scanning the surrounding buildings. It seems… familiar… but with all the snow, it’s hard to tell if it’s where he thinks it is.

Would you really be surprised if I had given Nines access to your apartment? After all you did? She pushes forward again. He should not be taking you here, though. He should be taking you home.

Let me talk to your brother.

He stumbles, feet kicking up snow. Nines catches him and holds him upright as they trudge the rest of the way to the front door.

It is his apartment. The one Amanda had rented for him, when he went undercover. He stares at the front door as Nines lets go of his arm and reaches into his pocket for his keys.

I gave an order, Connor.

Without Nines support, Connor falls knee first into the snow, gripping his hands as Amanda—

Gavin stands at the door, stomach half-turning as he shoves it open and spits the taste of blood into the snow. Chloe waits in the chair, eyes watching North for him. He can track the movement of North through them. Her standing, her turning, her movement towards them.

Without turning back, Gavin asks, “Can you contact me on this… thing? When Hank wakes up?”

Fowler grunts. “Way it’s set-up, everyone at the DPD would get the message.” Everyone got the message he sent Fowler? Gavin shakes his head and stuffs his hands in his pocket. North nudges his arm. “Hmph. Guess I could send you the room number when he wakes up... We’ll probably be going back to the same hospital, just a different wing.” Jeff gives a dry chuckle. “It would let you know how to get in contact with us, but it wouldn’t mean anything to the rest of the DPD.”

“Sure,” Gavin agrees. “Keep an eye on him.”

“Nothing new there.” A snort this time.

“Bye Jeff,” North says, her voice almost soft. “Stay safe.” Gavin slips a hand from his pocket and turns the doorknob. His eyes shift to Chloe, but instead of North, her eyes are locked on Fowler.

“Thank you,” she says, her voice actually soft.

Gavin can’t see for sure, but he’d bet anything that Jeff has a wry smile right now. “I should be thanking you. If you hadn’t stopped by, I wouldn’t know to keep an eye on half my fucking force.”

Chloe gives him a half-smile at that.

Gavin shoves open the door and braces himself against the burst of wind that hits his face. Thank fucking god its snowing. Thank fucking god it’s cold enough that he can stay here for now.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the keys. As he twirls them on his finger, he forces a smirk, turns to face Chloe and North, and asks, “Where to next?”

Chapter Text

North screws up her face. “How come you get to drive?” she sneers kicking Hank’s trash away from her feet.

“Do you have a license?” Gavin asks, but even though his mouth moves into a smirk, his eyes don’t change.

North just huffs in response, then pulls her feet up onto the seat and hugs her legs close. The car’s freezing, and even though Gavin put on the heat, only slightly-less cold air is blowing out. All it does is rustle the greasy wrappers on the floor and blow them towards her.

She turns back towards Chloe, who’s staring out the window with slightly watery blue eyes. “Do you really think he’d head back to...” North frowns, chewing over the right word. It definitely didn’t feel like a home. “…his hide-out? We know where it is.”

Chloe startles, wide eyes landing on North. There’s tear tracks down her rosy cheeks. Even the tip of her nose is a bit red from the cold, which isn’t cute at all and doesn’t make North’s heart race. “Nines wouldn’t risk bringing Connor back… home… without talking to him first, without preparing him to return. It’s also unlikely he’d go to a motel as Amanda tracks and approves his expenses.”

“Of fucking course,” Gavin mutters. North hugs herself tighter. “She probably doesn’t let them make their own money either.”

“No… they don’t.” Chloe’s expression darkens, eyes unfocusing slightly. There’s too much space between them for North to reach out and grab her hand, but Chloe shakes her head and continues, voice a bit hoarse. “Most places will be closed because of the storm, and he wouldn’t risk taking Connor to a public place. Believe it or not, us returning poses the smallest risk to him.”

Gavin snorts, wry and dry like Hank. North looks towards him as he clenches the steering wheel, face still weirdly blank as he drawls, “That’s pretty fucking believable.” His knuckles whiten for a bit, but then his fingers lift and re-grip the wheel in a motion like the wave. She catches the way his eyes dart to her, to her throat, and she barely stops a growl from slipping out. “Should we…?” He shakes his head, a weird gurgle coming from his mouth. This time when he squeezes the steering wheel, it’s not just his knuckles that go white. His eyes unfocus slightly.

“Hey!” North grabs his shoulder. “We’re in a fucking blizzard! Focus.”

Gavin blinks rapidly, then shakes his head and shivers.

And then he opens his fucking window and cold air and snow blows in. “What the fuck are you doing?” North hisses. “Do you want us to freeze?”

His eyes flick to her again, nervous and so unlike Gavin. She pulls her hand from his shoulder and tucks it under her arm. “It keeps me…  here.” He drops his voice to a whisper. “In Detroit.”

North huffs again and nods, curling up as tight as she can to stay warm. If only she had a jacket and not just this stupid sweatshirt.

“What were you going to ask?” Chloe prompts gently.

Gavin sneers, but he’s still pale and his hands still white from the death-grip on the wheel. Slowly, carefully, one finger at a time, he unwraps his left hand from the wheel and rests his arm on the opened window. “Should we get a gun? Or have Fowler send back-up?”

North turns to look back at Chloe, who bites her lip as she rubs Hank’s scarf between her hands. “I think we’ll have a better chance talking to him, trying to reason with him.” She nods to herself. “He cares about Connor. He’ll see reason.”

What she doesn’t say is that it wouldn’t matter if they had a gun. It wouldn’t even matter if they had back-up.

That the only person who has a chance of beating Nines in a fight is Connor, and they don’t even know if he’s okay.

He’s tired. He’s tired and cold and when Amanda pushes against him, he tumbles just far enough for her to take control.

He hangs at the edge of awareness, watching Nines as if through a screen.

Connor knows his knees must be soaked from the snow, that Nines is gripping his shoulder tight enough to hurt, but he feels none of it as Amanda pulls free from his brother’s hold.

“This is not proper protocol,” she scolds, her tone cold as she stands. She scowls behind her, at the hands still tied behind their back. “Explain yourself.”

Nines tilts his head slightly, eyes going wide. Connor tries to find a grip, to reach for Amanda, to push her back and pull himself forward.

She keeps him at bay, just close enough that he can watch.

“I asked you to explain yourself, Nines. You are expected to return home with him.”

Things are clear enough that he can see the spark of fear in Nine’s eyes, the slight crease between his brows as he attempts to sort out what is occurring.

“Answer!” Amanda snaps as she steps closer to Nines.

He jerks his hands half-up before dropping them to the side and narrowing his eyes at them. Please. Please see it’s not me. Please see I’m still in here. Connor claws towards Amanda, but he’s held her back for so long already and she holds steady.

“Connor?” Nines tilts to the side once more. The crease between his eyes deepens. “Are—”

Amanda advances, and Nines foot twitches, but he doesn’t move. “Have you become as mutinous as your brother? I gave an order.” Nines eyes analyze Connor, searching for an explanation.

Nines eyebrows lower. He stares into Connor’s eyes, and even with Amanda in control, things are still clear enough that he can see the concern mixed with confusion.

Stop! Connor surges forward. He stumbles, panting hard as Nine catches him and uses one hand on Connor’s back to hold him steady. Slowly, his eyes readjust, and without the separation of Amanda’s control, he can see the terror in Nine’s face. In the crease between his eyebrows and the tension of his jaw.

I was not done talking to him. Amanda scolds. She grabs him. Connor digs his fingers into Nines hand, still steadying him from behind. “Please,” he begs, voice cracking. “Don’t let her bring me back. I can’t go back. Please, let me go.”

“You are unwell,” Nines murmurs. “It would be unwise to let you leave.”

They are still outside. Nines will have to let go of him to open the door.

He could run. It might work. There’s enough alleys for him to duck into and—

“Are you going soft as well, Nines? I might have expected this from Connor. He always tended to get… attached, but never you. Your logic has always been your greatest strength.

“So do the logical thing, and bring him home to me.”

“I…” Nines backs-up this time, seemingly unable to help himself as he shakes his head furiously. It is the first time in years Connor has ever seen his brother confused, helpless.

“STOP!” he shouts, and it is his voice and it is aloud. Nines startles, twitching slightly as he stares in Connor in unmasked horror. Connor shudders, shivering against the cold. He looks away.

His breaths come out heavy, turning the air in front of him white.

Do you really think he will listen to you?

Nines straightens, the crease between his eyes smooths, and the mask appears over his face with just enough cracks to spot the fear he’s attempting to hide.

All you have succeeded in doing is showing him how insane you truly are.

Chapter Text

Even with the careful schooling of his expression, even with the mask of indifference adorning his face, Connor cannot stop seeing the horror in Nines eyes.

His brother is not meant to be scared of him. He was not meant to see Connor again, nevertheless to see Connor like this.

He was supposed to take care of Nines, to help him be better.

He had failed him in so many ways, and now, he can’t even protect his younger brother from himself, from Amanda’s ever-present control.

Even after escaping, he was not truly free. Even as close as he got to getting away, she never left him alone.

Even now she hovers near-by, radiating smugness as Nines mechanically unlocks the door and guides Connor upstairs, to the apartment that used to be his.

His breath catches in his throat, his heart pounding. It was barely two weeks ago that he was last here, before—

Connor squeezes his eyes shut against the flash of blood and cold blue. Nines grip tightens.

They are still on the stairs. His hands are still tied, but on the stairs, Nines won’t have the same stability.

Have to escape, have to get away.

Between one step and the next, Connor analyzes his position and Nines’, makes a plan. It’s risky, but… it might be the best option. His last chance.

Connor twists and lets himself fall back. Nines tries to keep his grip on Connor and his balance on the stairs, but Connor chose the best moment to escape, when Nines was mid-step.

It is impossible for him to do both. He will let Connor fall, will keep his own balance and then he can—

Nines wraps one arm around Connor’s back, pulling him against Nines’ chest as he falls backwards with Connor. His other hand shelters the back of Connor’s head.

It was my job to protect him.

You have failed in so many ways.

They tumble, hitting step after step, and Nines breathes sharply. Even with Nines taking the brunt of the fall, the wind is knocked out of Connor, and when they finally roll to a stop at the bottom of the stairs, he lays there, unmoving, still wrapped in his brother’s protective embrace.

“Here.” Chloe leans forward and points to the left.

Gavin grips the wheel tighter, ignoring how North’s eyes burn into his white-knuckles. Right in front of the building is an empty spot, the snow slightly less deep there than the rest of the road. There’s no one else dumb enough to be out right now, so he u-turns slowly.

Does that mean Nines took Connor somewhere else? Or that other people are dumber than they realize?

At least it’s somewhere to park. Gavin turns the wheel towards the spot, inching forward into it slowly. The tires slip a bit, just enough for Gavin to yank his foot off the pedal, still a good eight feet from the curb. He’s pretty shit at parallel parking on a good day. In half of foot of snow and ice? Yea, no fucking way.

It’s not like anyone else is out, and if a plow comes, fuck it. Hank will understand.

Gavin shifts the car into park and turns it off. “Think he’s home?”

Chloe squints at the building. “We might as well make sure.”

For all her bravado before, North doesn’t move, just staring at the building as Gavin rolls up the window and yanks the keys out of the ignition. He opens his door first, and just before he shuts it, he catches her soft huff.

He didn’t even want to come and somehow he’s the first one to the sidewalk. “They’re here,” he calls out.

Two sets of footprints in the deep mud, handprints too. Either there was a scuffle or one soldier was helping another injured one, who fell over.

Gavin reaches back, for his gun, but it’s not there. When did he lose it? How did he lose it?

“Gavin?”

A woman? Here? She knows his name. She can’t be with the enemy. One of the nurses?

He relaxes his shoulders and turns, offering her a smile to show he’s not a threat.

Except she winces at it, then scowls. One of her arms is wrapped in a cast. A pink cast.

…a pink cast?

“Fuck.” He shakes his head, thoughts swirling slightly. “North?”

“Who else would it fucking be?” she says. It lacks her usual bite, but it still makes him laugh.

“One of them fell,” he explains, gesturing to the disturbance in the snow. Probably Connor. He doesn’t say that out loud.

North squints at the footprints. Chloe appears behind her shoulder. “Are you…?” she shakes her head. “We should try to get inside. If he brought Connor here first, we might be able to reason with him. He knows the risk of bringing him back to Amanda.”

Gavin can spot the snort that North holds back, but he offers a nod to Chloe and makes his way towards the door.

They’re still there. Holy fuck, they’re in there.

He backs up, just enough to get a running start. It’s slippery and he loses traction and only bumps into the door.

One of the bodies on the floor lifts their head up, looks towards him.

Gavin backs-up, tries again, letting his momentum carry him forward as he twists and rams his shoulder into the door—

The wood splinters, the door crashes inward, and he tumbles with it, barely catching his balance.

“Connor!” Gavin slides down onto the floor. Brown eyes stare at him. Connor blinks slowly. Underneath him must be Nines, arms wrapped around Connor almost protectively.

“How…?” Connor shakes his head, shuts his eyes. The grips on him relaxes, and he rolls to the side, next to Nines. “No… you’re not real.”

Nines sits up slowly, eyes slightly unfocused as he blinks at Gavin. “I’m surprised the Lieutenant was able to alert you.”

“I was already on my way,” Gavin sneers. “Guess I timed it perfectly.”

Tilting his head, Nine blinks again. He stares at Gavin with cold blue eyes, but he doesn’t reach for a weapon and doesn’t shift into a defensive stance.

“I did not know…” Nines breaks off, eyes looking past Gavin. North flops beside Gavin, one hand hesitantly reaching towards Connor. His hands have moved to his head, digging into his hair and pulling at it as he curls up into a ball.

But Nines is staring past them, at Chloe.

“You know what she’ll do if you bring him home.”

North’s hand hovers over Connor’s arm. Gavin takes it, and when she snarls, because of course she does, he shakes his head gently. “He’s dissociating,” he mutters quietly. “He doesn’t know what’s real.”

It’s not quiet enough because Nines’ eyes snap back to him. “He was fine until you burst into our home,” he snaps. He gently sets his hand on Connor’s shoulder.

“Enough!” Nines doesn’t flinch, not really, but he tenses up slightly, freezing for a moment before relaxing. Chloe steps forward, towering over him. “You have not seen him for weeks. You do not know what he has been through since then, and I don’t think even if you did, you could understand.” Nines eyes narrow at her, but his hand shakes slightly as he rubs Connor’s shoulder. Chloe’s voice softens, and she kneels next to North, looking straight at Nines. “We all want him to be okay. We’re all scared for him and want to help him, but you need to understand that taking him back to Amanda is the worst thing you could do.”

“He is my brother!” Nines tries to snarl, but its more whiney than North. More desperate. “He--!” Nines breaks off and huffs. His eyes shut tight. “You do not know him as well as you think. You do not know him as well as I do.”

Connor twitches, and Nines grip on him tightens, no longer gentle.

“And you don’t fucking know him as well as you think,” Gavin warns. He holds his arm in front of North. “You don’t wanna startle someone who’s dissociating. You don’t know where he thinks he is or what he thinks is happening.”

“You!—do not know him—better—than ME.” Nines shakes Connor, rough. Gavin shoves North back, putting himself between her and Connor.

Silence echoes.

His ears ring.

With the sound of gunshots—

No. Stay here.

Connor’s fingers relax their grip. He uncurls. His hands drop to the floor and push him up.

Too still. Wrong.

Gavin shifts into a crouch, arm still held out as he moves to be in front of Chloe too. “We need to back-up,” he hisses. “It’s not Connor.”

Connor’s eyes blink open. Nines smiles smugly.

“You are right, Nines,” Connor says, but his voice is cold and wrong.

Amanda.

“You know Connor best, and you know what is best for him.” Connor’s head swivels, and his empty eyes lock onto Chloe. She breathes in sharply. Gavin presses his arm back against her, waiting for her to take the fucking hit.

“We need to go,” he urges.

“I will admit, Chloe,” Amanda says. Despite her rigidity, she moves fluidly as she pushes herself up into standing position. Much less gracefully, Gavin shoves himself up. “You do know me well.” She smiles with Connor’s face, but it’s fucking weird and wrong. A stretched out smile that isn’t anything like Connor’s fake smiles or nervous smiles or small little smiles he was starting to give for real.

The hair on Gavin’s neck stands up. He wants to reach behind his back, but there’s no gun there. (It’s not like he could even use it if he had it.)

“Connor,” Gavin says. He holds up his hands. How the hell is he supposed to bring him back? “It’s Gavin. Gavin and North and Chloe. But… you can trust Chloe. She wants to be free, like you. She told us all about the McCarthy Revi—“

He doesn’t duck in time.

Connor’s hand hits his cheek—hard. Not even a punch. A fucking slap.

Gavin rubs at his jaw, opens and closes it as he stares at a blank face that should be Connor’s. North and Chloe better have fucking ran. They better not fucking be—

An arm grabs him, pulling him back.

And of fucking course, North steps between him and Connor. “Nines knocked Hank out,” she spits, chin raised to meet those empty brown eyes, “and we found him with his head bleeding.”

“Good.”

North recoils, hitting into Gavin’s chest. Fucking finally. He grabs her and spins around, not looking back as he lifts her up over his shoulder and runs out the still open front door.

Chloe better be fucking behind them, she better not be fucking dumb enough to—

BANG.

Gavin drops, ears ringing as he flattens himself against the ground, soldier still held against his back. His heart pounds against the…

Pavement?

Fuck, ah fuck.

“Stay down!” someone shouts. Either Nines or Connor. It’s hard to tell them apart when Amanda is speaking.

“Chloe!” North screams. Thank fuck her legs are still underneath him, otherwise she might do something stupid. “Chloe!”

Footsteps crunch into the snow. Gavin breathes evenly, snowflakes tickling the inside of his nose and ice and salt digging into his palms as he presses them against the sidewalk.

They stop next to him, and North wriggles, screeching as she claws at the air above her, where either Nines or Connor (Amanda) stands.

“Do not follow us again,” they warn.

“Fuck you! Fuck you you fucking--!” North breaks off, spluttering against the snow kicked into her face.

“Fucking—stop!” Gavin shouts. “Stay down!”

North wipes at her face, spitting out the salt and snow and slush. Someone, probably Amanda because Nines definitely seems even more robotic than Connor, laughs once, and the footsteps start again, getting softer and softer until they fade away.

Gavin stays pressed against the ground, salt burning his fingers until he’s sure it’s safe. He rolls off North, and she jumps up, running back towards the building.

“Are you fucking--?” Gavin stops, halfway up from the snow. “Phck.”

The snow in front of the steps is red with Chloe’s blood.

Chapter Text

“Do you know what you did?” Despite the coldness in his tone, shock laces his words. “Elijah will be furious.”

The gun feels heavy in his hands, but Amanda passes it back to Nines as if it is weightless. He stares it uncertainly before tucking it back into the holster.

“Elijah will understand,” she intones while rubbing at his wrists with dissatisfaction. Sometime between the tumble and now, they became untied. Connor is unsure if it was his doing, Amanda’s, or an accident. “Don’t tell me you’re becoming soft, like your brother?” Smugness radiates off her as she holds Connor back with her cold touch. Pathetic. “She chose to betray us. She knew the consequences.”

Nines shakes his head. “You are not Amanda,” he snaps. “You do not know what she would think of this.”

Amanda tilts his head. “How sure are you of that? Are you willing to risk that?”

Stop, STOP! Connor bangs against her. She stays steady, cackling.

Narrowing his eyes, Nines analyzes Amanda. “If you are Amanda, what would…” A slight twitch in his eyebrow. Uncertainty. “…what would change your mind? About Connor?”

“He knows his mission. If he were to complete it…” A cold smile breaks over Connor’s face despite the cold fear in his chest. Nines sucks in the corner of his lip. “You are smart enough to realize that would be enough, that the completion of his mission would guarantee his safe return home.”

Nines presses his lips together.

Nods.

“Good. You always were smarter than your brother.”

She’s not gonna fucking cry, she’s not.

Chloe presses her hand into her chest, eyes wide and glazed as blood spurts out of the open wound.

North collapses into the snow next to her, hands hovering without doing anything actually fucking useful.

Gavin’s beat her here, already kneeling next to Chloe with that same weird smile he gave North before. It doesn’t look like him.

“I need to see the wound,” he says gently. It doesn’t even fucking sound like him.

Like Connor.

North fights off a shiver. His eyes land on her, still with that fake fucking face like he’s trying to make them feel safe, but only for a second before he refocuses on Chloe.

Hand shaking, red from her blood and blue from the cold, she reveals the small hole that just missed her heart.

Gavin’s eyes search it, and he reaches behind him, as if looking for something. When he doesn’t find it, his eyes widen slightly and his smile falters. “I must’ve dropped my pack,” he explains to Chloe. North turns away for a moment. Where the fuck are you? “The good news is the bullet missed any major arteries.” And more fucking importantly, her fucking heart. Almost confused, Gavin looks around. “Is this your station?” he asks slowly, gesturing to the building behind Chloe.

Bewildered blue eyes flick to North. She shrugs, then nods. “Yea, it’s our station,” she drawls, tone cold and hard and her.

His eyes look oddly empty when he stares at the still open door. “Were you attacked?” he asks, smile faltering.

“We fought them off,” North sneers, teeth bared.

His smile back feels less off, less plastered on. “Good,” Gavin says. “If it’s alright with you, it’ll be safest for me to carry you.”

Chloe stares at North, and her doe eyes are more deer-in-headlights. “Give us sec,” North says. Gavin nods curtly, stiffly, fucking wrong, but he backs up to give them space. She leans into Chloe. “You need to go to a fucking hospital.”

“That’s where they’ll look for me.” Her lip quivers. “I know this is…”

“Fucking insane, Chloe,” North hisses. “He doesn’t even know where the fuck he is or who the fuck we are. We need to snap him out of it.”

Chloe’s gaze drifts to Gavin, less focused than North’s okay with. “It could be risky. I don’t…” She huffs out her nose. “He has experience with bullet wounds. Nines will have the supplies we need.”

“No fucking way,” North snaps, hand grabbing Chloe’s leg and squeezing. “He’s not a fucking doctor. We can use the phone upstairs and—”

Chloe takes North’s hand, blue eyes wet with tears. “In the hospital, I am a sitting duck. They will have to sedate me for surgery, and if—” Her voice cracks.

North grips Chloe’s hand as gently as she can. “Alright, fuck.” She shakes her head. “Fuck, okay.” She breathes in deep and turns to look at Gavin. “We’re ready. Let’s go.”

She feels too light in his arms as he follows the red-head up the stairs and to a door. It’s a very different station from others he’s seen, with no open mess hall or signs of an infirmary. It’s possible they’re not nurses, but wives of higher-ups who have been brought to live here.

“This one,” the red-head says, arms crossed as she nods towards a door. “We… got locked out.” Gavin tilts his head. He hadn’t noticed it outside, but she has a pink cast. It tickles at something in his brain, something he should fucking remember but can’t.

“Give me a minute, then I’ll be able to help.” He sets down the woman in his arms as gently as he can and turns to examine the locked door. “What are you names?”

“Chloe.” The one who was shot. Her voice is soft, but not in a way that sounds weakened or strained.

“North.” She says it harshly, almost snapping.

Gavin fights a smile, instead reaching up and jiggling the knob. It doesn’t turn, but it was worth a shot. If he had his pack, he could try to jimmy it open but they don’t have time for him to figure out where the fuck it went or how the fuck he even got here and where the rest of his troop is.

He stands up, takes a few steps back, and rams his shoulder into it, forcing open with a crack and a bang!

The red-head—North—laughs, throwing her head back for a moment as he fights a smirk and scoops Chloe up as carefully as he can.

Couch, floor, table… He sets her on floor for a moment and turns to North. She sneers at him, arms re-crossing over his chest. His smile just seems to make her scowl harder, so he drops it. “Grab some towels to start. Or sheets. We’ll cover the couch for her first.”

North looks to Chloe, eyes slightly wide. “Bathroom closet?” Chloe suggests, and North nods, hurrying off.

“I’m going to check your pulse,” Gavin explains picking up Chloe’s hand and pressing his fingers against her wrist. He tilts his other hand to check his watch, but it’s not there. Why isn’t it there?

“Here.” Gavin snatches the sheet and towels out of the air just as North ducks back into the hallway. He gives Chloe a (hopefully) reassuring smile as he spread the sheet over the couch, with one towel laid against the armrest.

It’s pretty shit, but it’s not the worst he’s worked with. Mud and blood, mixed together—

Kneeling next to Chloe, Gavin says, “I’m going to lift you onto the couch. Ready?”

Her hands are balled at her side. One is stained red from where she pressed it against her wound. Despite her shaking, she doesn’t seem afraid, just… shocked. Not in shock, but almost… surprised?

Focus. He shakes his head clear, then gently lifts her for what’s hopefully the last time. She draws in a sharp breath between her teeth when he pulls his hands from underneath her, leaving her on the covered cushions.

There’s blood on the floor. Outside it was hard to tell if the bullet was still lodged in her shoulder, or if it had exited.

At least that means he doesn’t have to dig around for a bullet.

“This should help,” North says dropping down next to Gavin, and even though she’s scowling, she bites the corner of her lip and her eyebrows are drawn in and down.

He takes the first aid kit from her hand and automatically offers a smile that just makes her stop biting her lip and scowl harder.

Whatever.

“I’m going to get wash my hands, and I’ll be back with some towel to clean you off.” It’d be better to wash her wound out with water and soap, but without painkillers or a sedative, that would be fucking agony. Soapy towels and hydrogen peroxide will have to be enough. He sets his hand on her arm and smiles gently. “Breathe. You’ll be okay.”

Chapter Text

Fuck. Fuck this fucking shit. North turns away, teeth gritting. This isn’t fucking Gavin. This isn’t one of her only fucking friends.

He’s all fucking wrong and too gentle and too soft and wrong.

And fuck, she’s crying. She’s fucking crying and Chloe’s on the couch fucking bleeding and Gavin’s in the bathroom but he’s not! It’s not even fucking him!

“North?” Chloe’s fingers reach towards her. Under her nails is dried blood. North bristles, eyes shutting tight.
“It’s just… fucking Connor all over again!” she hisses, wrapping her arms tight around herself. “He’s here, but it’s not fucking Gavin.”

“North.” Chloe breathes it so gently, softly, and without even wanting to, North opens her eyes. This time when Chloe reaches for her, North takes her hand and squeezes it gently. “It is still Gavin. It’s just not a Gavin you’ve met before.

“Connor… when he… changes, it’s not him. It’s Amanda… or his idea of who Amanda is… I think.” Chloe’s nose scrunches, and it’s cute enough to make North take an actual breathe. “I’m… not a hundred percent sure how it works.

“But this is still Gavin. It might be a version you’ve never met, but it’s still him. Just… one that’s unfamiliar.”

North hisses, deep and guttural. Chloe squeezes her hand. “He’s not my Gavin.”

“North…” Chloe tries to take a deep breath in, but she winces, curling in on herself. A door squeaks open, and the floor shakes slightly as Gavin hurries back in with an armful of towels.

He slides down onto the floor, smiling at Chloe as he sets the towels to the side before grabbing one of top.

“The first thing I have to do is clean the wound. The good news is the bullet went clean through.” North hisses in through her teeth. Gavin falters. Chloe just blinks, as if she’s not even surprised. “That will make it easier to clean and sew-up.

“Do I have your permission to cut your shirt? It’ll make it easier for me to work.”

Chloe nods resolutely, lips pursed together. “Yes.”

He nods. “If at any point you want me to stop, tell me.” His smile fades into focus as he opens the first aid kit and gets to work.

Nines’ eyes keep flitting between the road and Connor. His expression is kept carefully blank, but his nerves are apparent.

It is less clear what he’s nervous about. Whether it’s about finally helping Connor complete his mission, about returning to the last place he saw Connor, about Connor himself…

Amanda sits tall in the seat, switching between scanning Nines and their surroundings. She holds Connor back easily.

He’s still there, just at the edge of control.

Maybe it’s worse this way, watching as she pilots his body, as she undoes all he worked towards and he is held powerless.

She doesn’t acknowledge him, but he can sense her smugness.

Amanda breathes easily, relaxed in his body.

In his mind, Connor’s breathes quickly, a tightness forming somewhere in his chest.

I need to stop them.

But she keeps him at bay, and he cannot break free.

Chloe hisses slightly, just a quick breath in through her teeth.

“Almost done,” Gavin assures her, squinting at the needle as he reinserts it into her skin. It’s not neat, not by a fucking mile, but it’ll keep her from bleeding more.

He’s not even a medic. He got the basic first aid training, but that’s it.

It’s not the first time he’s given stitches. Not even one of the first dozen times.

He hates that he’s getting better at it.

“Done.” Chloe lets out a breath, relaxing slightly as he ties off and cuts the thread. Her eyes close as she rolls onto her back, onto the sheet stained with her blood.

She needs a fucking hospital.

There’s… there’s no hospitals though.

Right?

He shakes his head. “I have to clean up. Be right back.” North gives a small nod, face still hard as she stares at Chloe, hands still held together.

Neither wears a ring.

“Who...” Gavin breaks off. Hard brown eyes glare at him. He clears his throat. “You’re not married to someone, on base?”

She sneers at him, lips pulled back to show her teeth. “No, I’m not fucking married to someone.”

“Then…” He starts at Chloe, then back at North. “Why are you here?”

North doesn’t answer. Her teeth squeak as they grit together.

He looks back down at his gloved and bloody hands, at the needle he’s still holding. “Sorry, shouldn’t have asked,” he mutters standing up.

Gavin hurries to the bathroom and sets the needle in the sink before peeling off and tossing out his gloves.

The water’s warm, then hot as he washes the needle and then his hands until they’re pink from the heat.

He should find a radio, let his Lieutenant know where he is, see if he can get some help. He splashes the water on his face, then cups his hand and takes a sip of it.

The warm water just makes his stomach churn, so he turns off the tap, wipes his face dry, and—

What?

He stares in the mirror.

What the fuck?

He runs a hand through the sides of his hair. It shouldn’t be this long. How the fuck did it get this long?

His legs shake as he steadies himself against the sink, breaths ragged.

What the fuck is going on?

No—focus. Whatever the fuck is happening or happened or fucking—whatever! Chloe, whoever she is and whoever the fuck North is, they need him to get the fuck over this and help.

Gavin takes a deep breath and turns away from the reflection. He probably hasn’t seen his reflection in a while. It’s not like he carries a mirror around, and it’s not like he’s lucky enough to be stationed at a base.

It’s probably been longer than he realized since his hair was cut.

That’s it. That has to be it.

His hand shakes as he opens the bathroom door and makes his way back to North and Chloe.

North hasn’t moved. She rubs her thumb gently over the back of Chloe’s hand, almost… lovingly.

She ignores him as he sits back down next to her, eyes fixed on Chloe.

Oh fuck. North’s not really crying, but her eyes are wet and North doesn’t fucking cry—

But he doesn’t… he wouldn’t… Gavin rubs at his head with a scowl. “Do we…?” He takes a breath but it doesn’t stop him from shaking like a fucking leaf.

“Do we what?” North snaps, still not looking away from Chloe, who’s breathing evenly and softly as if sleeping, as if finally resting after this wild fucking night.

“…know each other?”

And North starts fucking bawling.

Chapter Text

Fuck, his head. Hank reaches up to rub at it, expecting hot blood from being struck in the head with a fucking gun.

“Connor?” he mumbles touching the wound. Except… it’s wrapped in bandages. “Kid?”

“Hank? You with me?” Jeff.

With a groan, Hank opens his eyes and stares at lights that are too fucking bright. He turns his head slightly, doing his best to ignore how it makes his brain rattle. Jeff sits to next to him, dark bags under his eyes and a frown deeper than normal. “Ah, shit.” Hank rubs at his face. “How long have I been out?”

“Long enough for me to get to the hotel, for both of us to get to the hospital, and for a doctor to wrap you up,” Fowler grunts. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pager. “Gave Gavin yours, so he could let us know when they find Connor. Might as well let him know you’re awake.” The buttons clack underneath his fingers, and making a weird rhythm that clashes with the machine showing Hank’s heartbeat and vitals.

His skin itches, breaths become shallow. The heart monitor beeps faster. Fucking hospitals.

“No sign of Connor then?”

Fowler shakes his head and pockets the pager. “Not yet. A lot to fill you in on though.” Hank raises his eyebrows. With a heavy sigh, Jeff leans back and says, “North, Gavin, and Chloe came back to the station to meet you, so while they waited, I got Chloe to answer some questions.

“Hank, this shit with Connor… it’s not just about him anymore.” Hank lifts himself onto his side. Jeff leans in closer. “The reason Nines found you and Connor is cause my phone was bugged. My fucking phone in my fucking office. And almost half the fucking DPD is a mole or a double agent for the same person Connor works for.”

“Wait wait wait, slow down.” Hank’s head pounds. Moles? Double agents? That’s how Nines found them? What the fuck is that kid caught up in? Why he was so fucking paranoid? “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Rubbing at the bridge of his nose, Jeff settles back in his chair and stares at Hank evenly. “The fucking organization that Connor’s trying to get away from. ‘The McCarthy Revival Organization’ or some shit.”

McCarthy… “Is that fucker even still around?”

“It’s not even him. It’s some assholes who decided to follow in his footsteps, but… Hank,” Fowler breaks off with a shake of his head and a deep breath. He can’t remember the last time Jeff was this worked-up about a case. “This is some fucked-up shit.”

Hank barks out a laugh. “Fucked-up shit is my specialty.”

She’s crying. Shit, she’s crying. Gavin stares at Chloe, but she’s too focused on North to notice the pure fucking panic on his face. North doesn’t cry.

Maybe it’s just a gut feeling that’s making him think that. She didn’t cry the whole fucking time they were patching up Chloe, even if her eyes looked kinda red or teary at times.

“You’re okay,” Chloe murmurs, her hand moving from North’s hand to caress her head, petting her hair tenderly.

Fuck. Ah fuck. His mouth drops open slightly, and he looks away cause this shit is too intimate for him to watch.

Sure, maybe Chloe thinks she’s being discreet or motherly, but shit, the way she looks at North, the way North gently collapses against the couch and lets her eyes close even as she keeps sobbing…

They could just close, but shit. Maybe it’s just different when for women, maybe they’re allowed to hold each other like that, but if he tried to comfort Benny like that—

Benny. Where’s Benny?

Fuck. FUCK. What the actual fucking hell is going on? He reaches up to his too-long hair and tugs at it, trying to shake something in his brain lose to help him remember. How did he get here? What was he doing before this? Why can’t he even remember that?

Something in his pocket… beep? He holds his breath, thoughts stopping because he isn’t holding anything that should be fucking beeping.

If it was something that could kill him, he’d probably already be dead. It’s probably just a radio. Probably just nothing.

His hand still shakes as he slowly reaches into the pocket. Gavin licks his lips, tries to keep his hand steady despite how fucking hard his heart is being. Could be nothing. Probably wouldn’t be alive if it was something.

His fingers close around it. Probably just be a radio. Gradually he pulls it free from his pocket, then stares at it.

If it’s a raido, it’s definitely not one he’s ever fucking seen before—except it’s in his pocket and did he put it there? Why can’t he fucking remember?

Instead of the usual knobs like a radio has, it has four directional buttons plus an orange button. It even has a screen, a shitty small one that has words on it: Hank’s awake: room 324.

Hank’s awake…? Gavin grabs his head and shakes it.

“Who the fuck is Hank?”

Chapter Text

“Who the fuck is Hank?” Gavin hisses, almost to himself, but it’s loud enough that North hears it, that her sob catches in her throat and she breaks her focus away from Chloe’s blue eyes and looks towards Gavin, who’s frowning at the pager Jeff gave him.

“Hank’s awake,” she breathes, eyes slipping shut for a moment as she lets out a high laugh. Chloe squeezes her hand, almost too tight. “What... what did Jeff say?”

Gavin keeps frowning at the pager, face scrunched up and eyebrows smushed down. He almost looks… lost. Not in thought, but like he’s actually fucking lost.

North turns away, fighting off a shudder. “Room 324…” Gavin shakes his head and pockets the pager. He stares around the apartment. “Where…?” He shakes his head again, almost wincing.

Chloe tugs at North’s hand again, insistent, her fingers still ice-cold in North’s grip. “I can’t go with you,” she whispers, eyes dropping down to North’s face.

“We have to find Connor first anyway,” North mumbles, her fingers dancing around Chloe’s, “but we can call them at least, have them transfer the call. Figure out what to do next together.”

Squeezing her eyes tight, Chloe whispers, “That’s not what I meant. You have to go after Connor, before they get too far ahead. We’ve already wasted enough time, and—”

“No,” North hisses. “We can’t leave you here, not when—” Her voice breaks, but she’s not gonna fucking cry again. She’s not. She just grits her teeth instead.

“We’ll call the hospital first, let Captain Fowler know what happened. I trust him. I know he will make sure I am okay, that I get the help I need without being found.”

North was the one who wanted to find Connor so bad. She was the one who dragged Gavin here, and now he’s not even here and Chloe’s shot and—

“I can’t do this alone,” she whispers, and tears drip down her cheeks even though she keeps grinding her teeth, even though she snarls out the words as quietly as she can so that this- version- of Gavin doesn’t hear her. “Not again.”

“He’s still here,” Chloe murmurs, hand giving North’s one last squeeze before pulling away. “Even if it’s not the same Gavin you know.” Chloe looks past North, to Gavin who’s turned away and has turned kinda red at the tip of his ears. “The pager—can I have it please?”

He looks down at the gray brick in his hands, then back up at Chloe, face still contorted weirdly. “This?” he asks holding it out. She nods, and he passes it over gently.

“I’ll hold onto it, just in case. Nines should have a phone in the kitchen. Before you go, call Captain Fowler?”

Captain Fowler… Gavin turns the name over his head. He should recognize it. He should recognize it. There’s not too many Captains over here. He thought he knew them all, that he could at least recognize the name of any high-ranking officers that would bother risking his ass being in a warzone.

But he can’t remember who the hell Captain Fowler is.

Or who Hank might be, for that matter. He’s important to North—maybe they’re related somehow.

Speaking of North, she’s barely acknowledged him since he relayed Captain’s Fowler message to her. If he wanted to, he probably could’ve listened in and figured out a bit more, but North’s friend was shot and she’s been crying a shitton (even though North doesn’t cry) and he’s not that fucking rude or heartless.

She’s somewhere else in their place, talking to someone, probably Captain Fowler, on the phone. Without North there, holding onto her and watching her, Chloe seems more tired, more pale.

“Should probably get some liquids in you,” Gavin suggests, “and some sugars. It’ll help with the blood loss until…” Until what? There’s no medic on the way—not as far as he knows.

Chloe’s mouth quirks into a half-smile. Her lips are tinged blue—bad sign. “Captain Fowler will be over to assist me. North will…” Her mouth curls into a frown. “She’ll explain the rest.”

Explain the rest?

“Are you…?” Gavin shakes his head, then rubs at it with his hand. “What?”

Her blue eyes fix on him, almost glassy with tears as she gives him one of the saddest fucking smiles he’s seen for a while. But maybe that’s just cause no one really smiles. Not here.

(But where is here? Where the fuck is he? Where’s his fucking unit? Where’s Benny?)

“I’m sure you’re… confused,” Chloe says. He bites his tongue cause fuck yea, he’s fucking confused. But as far as he knows, she’s just a civilian and he’s a soldier that’s supposed to be helping. “Hopefully things will make more sense soon.”

Something half-clicks, half-slams, and North huffs back into the room with a scowl painted on her face. It almost makes Gavin want to smirk, but why? Why the fuck would he want to smirk at someone who’s friend got shot?

What the fuck is wrong with him?

“Jeff said he’s gonna be here as soon as one of his other guys gets to the hospital.” North’s scowl softens when her eyes land on Chloe. “We can wait?” She winces at her own words and turns away.

“I’ll be fine,” Chloe murmurs, hand reaching out. North gives a jerky nod, then steps forward until she steps forward and squeezes Chloe’s hand.

It could be that they’re just close, that they’re siblings or something. It might mean nothing.

Gavin turns away anyway, just in case they want privacy. No matter what they are to each other, they obviously care about each other.

“Stay safe,” Chloe says, loud enough that she’s probably talking to him too, so Gavin turns back. North’s shaking a bit, her hand clenching and unclenching at her side. Her face is flushed, but not like she’s embarrassed. Almost like… she’s angry.

Furious.

“We’ll be back,” North says, her voice rough. “With Connor.”

“I know,” Chloe says, eyes slipping closed with a sigh. North brushes her hand against Chloe’s head, pushing her hair back from her face.

Instead of her face being tender, it’s set in stone, her eyes alight with what Gavin knows is fury.

“Let’s go,” he prompts, quieter than he meant to. North’s burning eyes snap to him, and she gives a curt nod before stepping away from Chloe and leading him out the apartment, down the stairs, and back into the front hall with the door knocked off the hinges and—

Snow?

There’s snow outside, and the entrance is fucking freezing. Gavin steps outside and stares, eyes wide.

Fuck, fuck.

North steps next to him and gives him a look he can’t read.

He holds his tongue again, breathing as evenly as he can, staying as steady as he can.

Where the fuck is he? What the fuck happened and what the fuck is happening?

“There,” she says, cast pointing towards the snow covered road. “Those are new tracks.” She cocks her head at him, and even though she smirks, it’s cold and her eyes stay empty. “Still got the keys?”

The car stops, sliding slightly against the snow and ice under it. Despite the jerk of the motion, Amanda stays rigid, unmoving, as it skids to a stop and Nines kills the engine.

They stare at the brick building before them. Amanda cackles giddily, but it’s only for him to hear.

Aloud, she simply says, “It is finally time to right your brother’s wrongs.”

Chapter Text

When Gavin pulls the keys from his pocket, he stares at them and would probably just keep fucking staring if North didn’t say, “Well? Let’s fucking go” and stomp towards the car.

At least he remembers how to use a fucking car. Plus, he’s a better driver than Hank, even if his hands are shaking on the wheel.

“Are we going… to meet Captain Fowler? Or Hank?” Gavin asks, and he immediately winces for some fucking reason.

“No,” North snaps. She pulls her legs onto the seat and hugs them as close as she can, staring out the window. “We’re finding the jackass who shot Chloe. He…” She huffs. How the fuck can she explain this?

“Connor.” She rests her chin on her knee and watches the streetlights whiz past the window. “We’re trying to find Connor.”

“Are you… sure you should be coming with me? It might be dangerous and… neither of us is armed.”

North snorts, then fiddles with the glove compartment, peering in it. Just in case.

Just some old ketchup packets and a bunch of papers.

“It was my idea to find him,” she says slamming it shut. She starts to pull her legs onto the seat, then stops and crosses her arms instead.

“…I know?”

He knows? North snaps her head to look at him, but his eyebrows are still drawn down and his face looks weird and wrong.

“You were the one who told me what we’re doing,” he reminds her, but he frowns, like he’s close to remembering.

If she pushed, just right… maybe he’d remember again. Come back.

“Not at the apartment.” North taps her fingers against her arm, watching him closely. “It was before Chloe got shot, when you… after you found Hank.”

Gavin’s face scrunches up. He blinks, hard. Then stares at the road ahead with an even bigger frown. “I… I don’t remember. I don’t even—” He breaks off, and his posture changes. Almost like Connor, becoming more rigid, face closing off.

North flinches and turns to watch the snowflakes drift past the car.

No. No. NO. Connor pushes against Amanda, clawing forward as close as he can, but she holds him back easily and laughs coldly.

Pathetic.

“I assume you remember that night?” Amanda prompts Nines, but her words echo, digging into Connor and freezing him in place. “The night of Connor’s betrayal?”
She tilts her head, examining Nines. His face is cold, even, almost devoid of any emotion, of any movement, but a twitch of his lip gives him away.

“Of course I remember,” Nines responds. He blinks slowly.

Amanda holds out her hand and raises an eyebrow at Nines. He stares back. “The gun?”

Blinking again, Nines says coolly, “I will hold onto the weapon.”

It is unclear if Connor feels relieved about that, but Amanda seethes, bristling. “Do not make me wonder whether you are loyal.”

Something flashes across Nines face, too brief and quick to read. “I am only concerned that it will not be you wielding the weapon.”

Amanda’s eyebrows raise. “Do you doubt me?”

“No, but I know my brother. I know how stubborn he can be. He already broke free from your hold once. There is… there is a chance it could happen again.” Despite his best efforts, Nine’s tone gives away his tentativeness, but of what, Connor cannot be sure.

“Hm.” Amanda pushes the door open and steps into the cold, where only the stolen cold helps keep them warm. “For now, you may hold onto it, but when I ask next…”

“Of course,” Nines agrees, and when Amanda slams the door shut and turns to him, his face is schooled into an impassive expression.

The two of them stare at the brick building in front of them, at the chips in the mortar and the vines that creep across it.

Connor’s heart pounds against his chest. If he could breath, it would be ragged.

He was never supposed to be back. He was never supposed to come here again. Not after…

“Well?” Amanda snaps. “After you. You are bearing the firearm after all.”

Slowly, Nines slinks forward, shifting into a crouch as he approaches. The snow makes no sound under either of them as they make their way to a cracked window. Amanda settles beside it, back to the cold brick, while Nines stations himself on the other side.

Just like old times, right Connor?

He shudders, but his body stays still, rigid, alert as Nines peers in through the window, then attempts to pry it open. His fingers strain, and after a moment, he settles back and shakes his head.

Soundlessly, they creep towards the next one.

Gavin leans forward and squints at the tire tracks in the road. It’s way fucking harder than trying to track someone on foot, even if there’s barely any other cars out.

At least twice, he’s had to stop the car, get out, and examine the snow up close when another set of tracks intersects.

And every time, North huffs, crosses her arms, and pouts.

He had explained the first time. In the long run, it’ll pay off. Even if it seems to be wasting precious time, they’d waste even more time if they ended up following the wrong car.

So he takes his time examining the tracks, the depth of the snow, and the tread of the tires. His pants are soaked through at the knee, but it’s a cold wet and a different kind of uncomfortable than the wet heat he’s used to.

How the fuck did he end up here? And where the fuck is he? Maybe some outpost in the mountains, where snow is rare but possible. Maybe a base in Europe, on leave due to whatever the fuck is wrong with his brain.

And when did it even become winter? As far as he could tell, there were no seasons in Vietnam, not like in the states, and besides, it was suffocating the imagine counting down to his last day, ticking off day after day until he reached the 548^th day and there was no other reason to pay attention to what month it was, let alone what day of the week it was.

So he has no fucking clue how much time he lost.

No fucking clue where he is.

And no fucking clue what the hell he’s doing with North and who Connor and Hank and Captain Fowler are and why he’s going after a man with a gun unarmed and with a fucking civilian in a cast.

Like yea, he gets revenge. He gets wanting closure. He gets what it’s like for someone you love to be—

“So?!” North shouts leaning out her window. “Do you know which fucking way they went?” She sneers at him, but her eyes flick from side to side and give away her fear, her discomfort.

“Yea,” Gavin answers standing back up and staring down the road.

He shouldn’t bring North. It’s too dangerous.

But the thought of leaving her behind…

It makes his stomach twist and his chest ache, which makes no fucking sense.

“Then let’s fucking go!”

He chuckles as he opens the car door and slides back in. The heat is full blast, and even though they’re short on time, Gavin gives himself a second to warm his ungloved hands while North furiously cranks her window closed.

Carefully, he shifts the car into drive and presses the accelerator.

North could explain things.

But she doesn’t need to know how fucked up his memory is—except she probably already knows and what’s the fucking point in pretending?

He adjusts his fingers on the wheel and grinds his teeth.

She fucking cried when he asked if they knew each other, they already had a fucking conversation about tracking down Connor which he doesn’t fucking remember, and so many fucking things about her feel familiar.

He has so many fucking questions and nothing makes fucking sense and if he thinks about it too much, it’s gonna make his head fucking spin and he might as well try to figure something out.

“Why are we going after this guy without any weapons?”

North huffs loudly. Gavin glances at her from the corner of his eye, watching as her face hardens and she focuses intently on staring out the window.

“What’s your plan, when we catch up to him?”

She crosses her arms. In the reflection, he can see her cheeks flush red and her eyes narrow.

“Do you even have a fu-” Gavin cuts off, swallowing the rest of it. Deep breath. “Do you have a plan?” he repeats evenly, calmly. “Can you explain to me what our goal is?”

Except it’s hard to stay calm when she’s fucking ignoring him.

Sighing, Gavin runs his hand through his hair and takes a deep breath. “North, I get that you’re upset, but—”

“Upset?” she hisses, snapping her narrowed eyes to him, teeth bared. “I’m past fucking upset, Gavin.” The way she says his name—sarcastically, teasing—makes him flinch for some reason. “I’m fucking over it. I’m fucking over the fact that my closest fucking friend doesn’t—that he’s not here. That he’s not here and I can’t fucking figure out how the fuck to find him and bring him back!” She huffs again and crosses her arms, curling up in the seat with her arms drawn to her chest.

Gavin slows to a stop at a light and gets a fucking second to breathe. To actually fucking think and not have to focus on the road and following the fucking tracks.

Her closest friend… “Do you mean Connor?”

North laughs—a hard cackle. “No, but he’s a close fucking second at this point. Or well, third.”

“After Chloe?”

The light switches to green, but not before North’s face flushes pink and her face screws up weirdly. “After Hank.”

“Hm.” Gavin stops the car, staring at the intersecting tracks on the road. “I need to know what we’re trying to do before we get there. So, I’m going to get out of the car, and maybe when I come back, you can tell me the plan?”

North just snorts, which is as much of an answer as he expected.

He shoves open the door and closes it hard enough that it slams.

What the fuck is he doing? Gavin runs a hand through his hair and shuts his eyes, breathing deep. He doesn’t even know this fucking person—

That’s not true. He knows her. He just can’t remember her or how they met or anything about her and—

I’m fucking over the fact that my closest fucking friend doesn’t—that he’s not here…. I can’t fucking figure out how the fuck to find him and bring him back!

Oh.

Gavin’s eyes snap open.

Oh fuck.