Chapter 7
Monday, November 7th, 2038

❝ 𝘊𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦'𝘴 𝘉𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘺 𝘐𝘯 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘉𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 ❞

It wasn't a person. It wasn't a person. It wasn't a person.

The mantra repeated relentlessly in Evangeline's mind, as if by sheer will she could convince herself. Her gaze drifted through the rain-streaked car window, but she saw nothing beyond the horrific image that had seared itself into her memory. The mangled android's face flashed before her again—half of its skull pulverized, its hand crudely severed, its metallic limbs twisted and broken in ways that made her stomach churn. The blue blood staining the pavement... she couldn't stop seeing it.

It wasn't human, she reminded herself. Just a machine. In theory, no more significant than a shattered device you'd drop and forget about. But her mind kept circling back—how disturbingly human it had looked in death. A lifeless body. A hollow stare. It felt wrong. It wasn't human, she repeated, but it looked so much like one.

Eva shut her eyes tightly, trying to block it out, but the gruesome details only sharpened in the darkness behind her eyelids. She could still see the way the thirium oozed from the android's wounds, too similar to human blood for her comfort, even if it was blue. Her heart raced as she relived the scene again, over and over, trapped in the nightmare she couldn't seem to wake from.

"Hey!"

A sharp voice cut through her spiralling thoughts, followed by a loud snap of fingers in front of her face. Startled, Eva blinked and jerked her head toward the source. Hank sat in the driver's seat, his eyes narrowing with impatience as he took in her blank expression.

"We're here," he said, his voice gruff but not unkind. He nodded toward the precinct building looming ahead of them.

Eva's grip on the door tightened, her knuckles white. She hadn't even noticed the car had stopped. She glanced back at Hank, feeling his gaze linger a little longer than usual. The hardness in his face softened slightly as his eyes swept over her pale features.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice gruff but with a hint of genuine concern. "You look like you've seen a ghost—"

Before he could finish, Eva's stomach lurched violently. She flung the car door open and pushed her upper body out of the car as she emptied the contents of her stomach onto the pavement. Her whole body heaved, spasming with the force of her nausea, and for a moment, it felt like everything inside her was trying to escape.

"Oh, Jesus," Hank muttered with a grimace, turning his head away, clearly uncomfortable with the display. His hands tightened on the steering wheel, his jaw clenched as he listened to the sound of her retching.

After what felt like an eternity, Eva wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She sat back upward, eyes closed, the aftertaste of bile burning in her throat. Her head spun, the remnants of both the nausea and the mental strain colliding like a storm inside her.

She pulled herself back into the seat, slamming the door shut with more force than intended. Her hands trembled as she wiped the sweat from her brow and ran her fingers through her dishevelled hair. "Sorry," she croaked, her voice hoarse and barely above a whisper.

Hank glanced at her again, his usual sternness giving way to something softer, though it was clear he was trying to hide it. "You seriously need to get yourself together," he said, more as a command than advice, but the tone wasn't as harsh as she expected. He chalked it up to the booze binging, she knew, but deep down, she wished it was just that. If only the alcohol was the reason for the sickness gnawing at her gut.

"Alright, alright. I will." Eva forced herself to sound nonchalant, but her voice wavered slightly as she pulled the door open again, stepping out into the cold air. She needed water. Something to wash away the taste of bile, and maybe, just maybe, the images still haunting her.

As they approached the precinct, Eva could feel eyes on her. She didn't need to look to know who it was. Connor's gaze followed her like a shadow, unblinking, observing. She glanced over at it, expecting the usual neutral expression, but this time its eyes held something else. Concern. Or was it? With Connor, she could never quite tell. Its face betrayed little emotion, yet something about the way it looked at her now made her pause.

For a moment, their eyes met. Its stare was steady, but not cold. There was a question there, unspoken but clear in the way he stood, unmoving. It was as if it was searching for some explanation in her face, trying to understand what she couldn't bring herself to say.

Eva swallowed hard, breaking the connection as she turned her head away. She didn't want to meet that gaze for too long. She wasn't ready to confront the vulnerability it might reveal in her.

Evangeline stormed into the break room, the adrenaline still coursing through her veins. She made a beeline for the water cooler, her hands shaking slightly as she filled a cup and gulped it down in one go, hoping the cold water would settle her churning insides. Wiping her mouth with the back of her sleeve, she sensed a presence hovering nearby. It didn't take long for her to figure out who it was.

"What now?" she snapped, not even bothering to look, her voice tight as she refilled the cup.

"Everyone heard about your little game of chicken on the highway," came Gavin Reed's smug voice, his words dripping with mockery. He leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed, enjoying every second of her discomfort. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

Evangeline let out a long, steadying breath before taking a slow sip. "What makes you think that?"

Gavin's smile widened, relishing the chance to needle her. "Well, let's see. You're always drunk. You're depressed. You suppress your feelings with sex, and let's face it—you've got no one in your life. No one who really cares, anyway." His words were cutting, deliberate, each one a twist of the knife. "You keep throwing yourself into dangerous situations, like in August, and today. It's almost like you're trying to end it... but you're too much of a coward to do it directly."

Evangeline's grip on the cup tightened as every word burrowed under her skin, like shards of glass digging deeper and deeper. She felt her jaw clench, her nails biting into the paper cup as it crumpled in her hand. Reed was doing what he did best—pushing buttons until they broke.

"Maybe," he continued, with that sickening smirk of his, "you're just looking for someone to finish the job for you. Because you're too much of a pussy to do it yourself."

Evangeline snapped. In an instant, she had Gavin pinned against the wall, her fists tangled in the collar of his jacket, her face just inches from his, seething with raw fury. Her breath came fast and hot as she glared at him, her eyes blazing with rage.

"Give me one good reason," she hissed, her voice low and dangerous, "why I shouldn't rip your fucking throat out, right here, right now, Reed."

Gavin's smile didn't waver, even with her pressed up against him, her fists trembling with barely contained violence. If anything, his grin widened, a smug gleam in his eyes that made her want to punch him even harder.

"Because," he whispered, his tone slick and oozing with satisfaction, "you can't afford another fuck-up, sweetheart. You're already on your last warning. One more strike, and you're out." He leaned in closer, his lips brushing her ear as he added, "Better watch yourself, angel. Or they'll chew you up and spit you out."

Evangeline's vision went red. She pulled her arm back, ready to smash her fist into his face with everything she had. She could already feel the satisfying crunch of bone under her knuckles, the way his smug grin would twist into pain—but before she could land the punch, a firm hand gripped her wrist, holding her back.

"Let it go." Hank's gruff voice cut through the haze of her fury. She jerked her head around, still fuming, but the sight of the lieutenant calmed her just enough to stop her from doing something she couldn't take back.

Gavin straightened himself, brushing off his jacket, a satisfied smirk still plastered on his face. "That's what I thought," he sneered, enjoying every second of her defeat.

"He fucking deserved it," Evangeline snarled as Hank dragged her away from the break room, her body still shaking with rage. She shot one last furious glance over her shoulder at Gavin, who was leaning against the wall with that same insufferable grin.

"I'm sure he did," Hank muttered, barely glancing back as he led her toward her desk. His voice was low, filled with a quiet understanding that did little to quell the storm raging inside her.

"Sit your ass down and chill out before you get yourself canned," Hank ordered, releasing her once they reached her desk. Evangeline slumped into her chair, still seething, her mind racing. She could still feel the tension coiled tight in her muscles, the ghost of her nearly-thrown punch tingling in her fingers.

Her heart pounded, her pulse racing as her eyes flicked across the precinct, the noise of the office falling into the background. She wasn't sure what burned more—the fact that Gavin had gotten under her skin, or that a part of her knew he wasn't entirely wrong.

Evangeline dropped into her chair with a heavy sigh, her arms crossed tightly against her chest. She watched Hank lumber back to his desk, her mind finally catching up to her body. Now that she had a moment to breathe, the exhaustion hit her like a tidal wave. The endless running, the near-death experiences, the stress—it all weighed on her like an anchor.

Rubbing her tired eyes, she glanced up at the familiar figure stepping into her line of sight. Connor stood there, watching her with that ever-curious tilt of its head, its synthetic eyes taking in her every movement.

"Your stress levels have increased by 89% since this morning, detective," it said softly, its head tilted slightly to the left, brows drawing together in what could almost pass as concern.

Eva gave a half-hearted shrug, her attention already shifting to the pile of paperwork that awaited her. The idea of sitting through hours of tedious forms made her want to crawl under her desk and never come out.

"If..." Connor began hesitantly, taking a small step closer, its voice quieter now, as if testing the waters. "If you'd like, I could handle your paperwork. I believe some rest would be beneficial for you."

Evangeline blinked, looking up at it, her brows knitting together in confusion. An android—offering to take on her work? The gesture was simple, but it threw her off balance. "Really?"

Connor nodded, "You've been through a lot today. I think it would be best if you went home and rested."

For a moment, Evangeline just stared at it, her hard exterior slowly softening. The weight in her chest lightened as his words sunk in, and the smallest, most genuine smile tugged at her lips. "Thank you, Connor," she whispered, her voice quieter than she expected. There was something about the way it was looking at her that made the gratitude in her hazel eyes shine a little brighter than usual.

After a quick goodbye to Hank, who waved her off with a gruff "Take care," she left the precinct and headed for her car.

Once inside, as the door clicked shut and the world outside became a distant hum, the emotional dam she'd been holding back all day finally broke. Sobs wracked her body, her hands pressed to her face as tears flowed freely. She wasn't even sure what triggered it—maybe the relentless stress, the near-death experiences, or maybe it was the simple kindness of an android offering to take care of her. It was a flood of everything she hadn't allowed herself to feel, and it all came pouring out.

For the first time in what felt like forever, she let herself cry, the tension easing with every tear. And when the sobs subsided, she felt lighter, as if that little breakdown had been exactly what she needed to move forward.

☆ ☆ ☆

Evangeline was slouched on her couch, one leg draped over the armrest, lazily humming along to the soft music filling the room. "I will never know, 'cause you will never show, come on and love me now..." she sang quietly, twisting the grinder between her fingers. This was her idea of the perfect night—a bit of solitude, some tunes, and a freshly rolled joint to cap off the day. After Connor had miraculously handled her paperwork, she'd snagged a much-needed nap, taken a long shower, rebandaged her collarbone, and now, she was finally unwinding in bliss.

As she moistened the rolling paper with a flick of her tongue, her thoughts wandered back to Connor. The mental image of the android taste-testing random things in his investigation process brought a brief, amused grin to her lips. What was it with him and sticking things in its mouth like some kind of robotic lab rat? She chuckled softly to herself, but the smile quickly faded as she shook her head. Why was she even thinking about that? The absurdity of it made her feel a little ridiculous.

She lit the joint with a casual flick of her lighter, inhaling deeply, and sighed in satisfaction as she blew out the smoke. Sinking further into the couch, she closed her eyes, letting the next song on her playlist wash over her like a warm blanket. Every inch of her body relaxed into the cushions as the stress of the day began to melt away with every slow exhale.

Then came the knock at the door, a sharp contrast to her peaceful reverie.

"God fucking damnit," Eva grumbled under her breath. She heaved herself off the couch, dragging her feet toward the door, every step reminding her of how much she wanted to be left alone. She pulled open the door, half-expecting it to be some neighbour asking for something trivial or, god forbid, Dexter- again.

Instead, it was Connor, standing there in the dim hallway like an overly punctual visitor. Its presence startled her enough that she quickly hid the joint behind the door, her old habit of hiding her vices kicking in. Weed had been legal for over a decade, but for some reason, she still felt the need to be discreet. Then it hit her—why the hell did she care what an android thought about her habits?

"Connor," she muttered, leaning against the doorframe, staring at it with a raised eyebrow. "What are you doing here?"

"Lieutenant Anderson sent me to check on you," Connor said, its voice neutral, its face as expressionless as ever. "He mentioned you seemed... off after your encounter with Detective Reed earlier."

Eva sighed, rolling her eyes as she stepped back to let it in. Of course, Hank had sent Connor. Couldn't be bothered to do it himself, so he'd pawned the android partner off on her. Babysitting duty, again.

"I'm fine," she muttered, walking back to her couch and plopping down. "But we both know Hank doesn't actually give a shit. He just didn't want you hanging around him all night."

Connor followed her inside, carefully closing the door behind itself. It paused, watching her as she nonchalantly texted Hank, typing furiously as she sent him a sarcastic "thanks for the babysitting job" like message.

"You're suggesting Lieutenant Anderson sent me here to avoid my presence?" Connor asked, tilting its head slightly.

"Yeah, pretty much, no offence," Eva said with a shrug, grabbing her joint again and taking another puff. "It's like we're sharing custody of you."

Connor's brow furrowed ever so slightly, processing her analogy. "If my presence is unwanted, I can leave. I wouldn't want to unnecessarily disturb you, detective."

Eva shook her head, blowing out the smoke with a laugh. "Nah, it's fine. Honestly, I could use the company—even if it's from a walking tin can, such as yourself."

Connor attempted what looked like a smile, though it didn't quite reach its eyes. The awkwardness of it made Eva snort, the sight of the android trying to mimic human behaviour more endearing than she expected.

"You've got a ways to go with that smiling thing, Connor," she said, eyes twinkling as she took another drag from her joint. "But hey, practice makes perfect."

The android looked around her apartment, eyes lingering on the dishevelled mess of blankets, half-read books, and random clutter, not to mention various empty bottles of liquor. Its gaze returned to her, clearly processing the stark difference between her relaxed, messy state now and her sharp, put-together appearance at work, well, as put-together as you could get for day-old eyeliner.

"Is your friend Lynnette unavailable for company?" Connor asked after a brief pause, taking a seat on the edge of the armrest, its posture stiff as ever.

Eva raised an eyebrow at the question, surprised the android even remembered Lynnette's existence. "She's on a date," she muttered, flicking some ash into the ashtray beside her.

Connor seemed to hesitate for a moment, then asked, "And... you don't have a partner?"

Eva nearly choked on the smoke, her laughter bubbling up as she turned to look at it. "What, Connor, you thinking of asking me out?" she teased, watching with amusement as the android blinked in what looked like genuine confusion.

"I... am not," Connor replied, its tone stiff as it tried to make sense of her sarcasm.

Eva chuckled, shaking her head. "Relax, I'm just fucking with you." She took another long drag before stubbing out the joint. "Nah, I'm not really in the mood for relationships right now. Ever since... well, ever since things went sideways, my life's been a bit of a mess. Gotta get it back on track before I think about anything like that."

Connor observed her with what seemed like curiosity. "For what it's worth, you seem fairly composed. Apart from your... day drinking and the altercation with Detective Reed."

Eva snorted, running a hand through her tangled hair. "Oh, that? Yeah, I'd love to tell you that's out of the ordinary, but that would be lying."

"You and Detective Reed frequently... clash?" Connor asked, though could the android really be that surprised, especially after she'd pulled a gun on Reed earlier that day?

"'Clash' is one way to put it," Eva muttered, stretching out her arms. "Let's just say we know how to push each other's buttons, and we do, regularly and with great enthusiasm. Wasn't always like that, though."

Connor tilted its head. "It wasn't?"

Eva shook her head, her expression softening for a moment. "We were actually close for a while, but... I dunno, something changed.  But lately, he's been driving me up the fucking wall. Today was just... well, it was worse than usual."

Connor's eyes scanned her face, seemingly analyzing her words. "Interesting."

Eva smirked, leaning back and stretching her legs out. "Yeah, well, life's funny like that. People change, situations shift. You either roll with it or get crushed by it."

Connor watched her carefully, as if trying to understand more than just her words. "And yet, you continue to interact with him."

Eva shrugged, not wanting to delve too deep into it. "Work's work. And sometimes, no matter how much you want to, you can't just punch someone out and call it a day."

The android considered this for a moment, its brow furrowing slightly. "I see. It seems... complicated."

"Yeah, well," Eva sighed, closing her eyes and resting her head on the back of the couch. "Life's complicated, mio amico."

Eva sat in heavy, suffocating silence, staring down at her hands as if they held the answers to questions she hadn't even begun to ask. The air around her felt thick, weighted by thoughts too dark to speak aloud, but the silence was crushing her. She let out a long, ragged sigh, finally breaking it.

"He told me I throw myself into danger... trying to get myself killed. And I can't help but think he's right," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper, her gaze flicking toward Connor. Its face, usually neutral and emotionless, hardened just slightly at her words. It wasn't much, but she could see it. The tightening around his jaw, the way its eyes narrowed, processing her admission.

"I kill myself slowly, every goddamn day, with alcohol," Eva continued, her voice faltering, but once the floodgate was open, there was no turning back. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her fingers trembling as she did. "I put myself in these situations—dangerous, reckless situations—because it's like I want to die... without actually being the one to pull the trigger."

Her voice cracked slightly, and she quickly swallowed the lump forming in her throat. "In August... when I got shot... I didn't even think twice before running out there. I just acted. Like some part of me was hoping it would end me and it almost did."

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the painful rush of emotions threatening to overwhelm her. "I don't remember much from that night. Everything was a blur. But... I do remember one thing," her voice was barely a whisper now, "when I was bleeding out on that rooftop, I knew... I knew I didn't want to die."

The words felt hollow, but also terrifyingly real, like speaking them aloud gave life to something she had tried to bury deep within herself. Her throat felt dry, her chest tight, but for the first time in a long time, she was being honest—not just with Connor, but with herself.

Connor remained silent, its gaze unyielding, its expression filled with an intensity Eva wasn't sure an android was even capable of. But there it was, something unspoken passing between them, something she couldn't quite name. She hadn't meant to unload all of this on it. God, why was she even telling an android her darkest thoughts? Yet somehow, talking to Connor felt safer, easier, than speaking to anyone else. Even her therapist hadn't seen her like this. Not like this.

Connor seemed to struggle with the weight of her words, its synthetic mind grappling with the complex emotions she had laid bare. After a moment, the android spoke carefully, its voice low, tentative. "If you didn't want to die... shouldn't that give you your answer?"

Eva turned her head slightly, her eyes meeting Connor's. There was a genuine curiosity in its question, as if it was trying to piece together the logic behind human despair and the instinct for survival. "I guess it should," she muttered, looking away again, her shoulders sagging under the invisible burden she carried. "I wish it was that black and white."

"I suppose that's what it's like for androids, huh? Black and white thinking," she muttered, raising her gaze to the ceiling.

Connor hesitated, clearly processing her response, its gaze drifting to the floor as if searching for the right words. "You'd think so, wouldn't you?" he murmured, his voice softer now, almost... unsure. "It's supposed to be that simple. Black and white. Yes and no. But..."

Eva's brow arched slightly as she shifted on the couch, scooting just a little closer, curious now. "But?"

Connor's eyes darted to her for a brief second before looking away again, a hint of something—was it doubt?—flickering across its face. "When the lieutenant was hanging over that ledge, during that chase... my programming told me to pursue the deviant. It calculated that he had an 80% chance of survival on his own. But..." Connor paused, its voice laced with confusion, something Eva had never heard from it before. "But I felt compelled to help him. My software didn't override that feeling."

Eva leaned back, folding her arms across her chest as she considered its words. "You think your software's compromised?" she asked, a hint of a smile pulling at the corner of her lips, though there was no humour in her voice.

Connor's brow furrowed deeper, its internal conflict palpable. "It doesn't make sense," it said quietly. "I was programmed to follow logic, to prioritize the mission. But in that moment... it wasn't logical. I didn't act on probabilities. I acted on... something else."

Eva let out a slow breath, her eyes softening as she took in the android's uncertainty. She wanted to offer it some kind of explanation, something that might ease its confusion. "Maybe there's some kind of program in you that prioritizes human life. Especially those you're working with. Makes sense, right?"

Connor's eyes lifted to meet hers, searching for some kind of reassurance. "Do you think so?" The android asked, its voice almost... hopeful.

She nodded, offering it a small, gentle smile. "Yeah, I do. You're not broken, Connor. You're just... learning." The words felt strange, but also right. She didn't fully understand how an android could experience doubt or guilt, but she could see it in the android, and she knew what it was like to feel out of control.

Connor's expression softened, the tension in its features easing as it processed her words. For a moment, there was silence between them, a comfortable, shared quiet. Then, Connor's eyes flickered toward her once more. "You seem to think you're broken too," it observed quietly, its voice carrying a note of understanding.

Eva looked away, her smile fading. She wasn't sure how to respond to that. Maybe she was broken. But in this moment, sitting here with Connor, sharing her darkest thoughts with the android, she didn't feel so alone.

"Yeah," she whispered, her voice heavy with exhaustion. "Maybe I am."

After a few moments of silence, the air between them thick with unspoken words, Evangeline sighed again, this time softer, more resigned. She pushed herself up from the couch, moving toward the small window in her living room that overlooked the dimly lit streets below. The city felt quieter at this hour, the hum of traffic distant, the occasional siren far off in the background. The cool glass against her forehead grounded her as she stared blankly at the blur of lights, her thoughts swirling in time with the slow drag of her breath.

Connor hadn't moved from its spot on the arm of the couch. Its eyes followed her every step, brows still knit together as it continued to process what she'd said. There was something about the way she carried herself, the way she spoke about her own pain, that unsettled the android in a way it hadn't anticipated. Connor wasn't programmed to fully understand the complexities of human emotion—grief, guilt, self-destruction—but with each passing day, each encounter with Evangeline, the android felt like it was beginning to understand more than it should.

"Do you ever... just want to turn it off?" Eva's voice broke the silence, soft and tired as she stood facing the window, her back to Connor. "Your thoughts, I mean. Your programming. Everything."

Connor blinked, processing her question. It was such a human thing to ask, and yet, coming from her, it didn't surprise it. "I don't think I have a choice in that matter," it replied, its voice gentle, thoughtful. "My purpose is to continue functioning, to carry out my directives."

Eva let out a small, humourless laugh, still staring at the city. "Lucky you," she muttered, her tone laced with sarcasm. "Must be nice to have a clear-cut purpose."

She turned then, leaning against the window ledge, crossing her arms over her chest. Her gaze fell on Connor, who hadn't moved but seemed somehow more... present. The android's eyes met hers, and for a fleeting moment, it felt like it understood exactly what she was feeling.

"I don't know if I'd call it luck," Connor said, it's voice quieter now, more personal.

"You're more human than you think, Connor," she said softly, her voice carrying a surprising tenderness. "Maybe that's why you can't figure out what's wrong with you. Because there's nothing wrong with you. You're just... changing."

It tilted its head slightly, its gaze searching hers as if trying to understand the depth of her words. "Changing?" Connor repeated, as though the concept were foreign to it.

Eva nodded, stepping closer until she was standing just in front of the android. "Yeah," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "We all change. Sometimes we don't even notice it, but... we do. And it's scary. But it's also how we grow. How we survive."

Connor's expression softened, and for the first time, it didn't look like a machine trying to calculate every detail, every possibility. It looked... almost vulnerable. "Is that what you're doing?" It asked gently, its voice carrying a note of genuine curiosity. "Surviving?"

Eva's breath caught in her throat, the android's question hitting her deeper than she expected. She wanted to laugh, to brush it off with a sarcastic remark like she usually did. But instead, she found herself looking down at her feet, her arms tightening around herself as if to keep everything from spilling out. "I don't know," she admitted, her voice breaking just slightly. "I guess so."

☆ ☆ ☆

Evangeline sprang out of bed with a start, slamming her hand down on the alarm clock with the ferocity of someone attempting to silence a screaming banshee. She flopped back onto her mattress with a dramatic sigh, the springs groaning in protest. Her mind was a foggy mess, trying to piece together the fragments of the previous night.

With a groan, Eva reached for her phone, her eyes squinting as she tried to decipher the glowing screen. The display was a blur of notifications and digital chaos, but she managed to locate Hank's message. Her heart halted briefly as she read it, eyebrows shooting up in disbelief. Hank had, in fact, not ordered Connor to check up on her.

She stared at the message, the wheels in her mind spinning. She couldn't decide if she was relieved or even more perplexed. Was Connor really programmed with a hidden sense of duty, or had it simply taken it upon itself to check up on her?

— 𝗩𝗮𝗹