#dbh connor x you

[thesudokukid]

Basic Decency, Ch. Three: OVERRIDE via ASIMOV-FIRST-LAW

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Pairing: Autistic!Connor x Autistic!Reader

WC: ~2,500 words

Summary: Connor fights his programming, makes a big speech about "you" and Hank being irreplaceable, you begin realizing the other shoe is not going to to drop, and Connor accidentally triggers the beginnings of a panic attack by denying the personhood he doesn't think he has.

Excerpt:

The realization of it hits you more than the words themselves. If you had died just now, [Connor] would have gone to your funeral with full intentions to be there at your funeral specifically. Not out of pity or to support your dad. Or even to mourn your lost potential, because you had died before your time and so on. He would have gone because it was YOURS.

Note:

Another instance of "You can't kill me in a way that matters. I don't care if I'm alive." Also ableism from Cyberlife. (More in depth notes for sensitive readers can be found at the AO3 link)

ALSO: This is my favorite chapter.

As Connor leaves the dilapidated, decayed bathroom and puts the journal in his pocket, he's struck with an idle "curiosity". Specifically focused on Ainsel's thoughts about the journal. Both its encryption and the birdseed in its pages.

He doesn't know them as well as he'd like but judges that it might be their core grievance with this particular Deviant besides its poor pet ownership. Its potential maltreatment of books and book-like objects.

Sure enough Ainsel is muttering under their breath about books being disrespected and mistreated as he walks towards them. And he 'delights' in the accuracy of his prediction.

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY ^

Upon seeing them he can't help but notice they're approximately as far as they can get from one corner in particular.

They walk over to him and point out the corner as soon as they notice him. There is only one thing in that corner. An innocent green armchair that's sitting directly underneath a hole...in the ceiling.

"If the Deviant is in this place at all..."

When he notices Lieutenant Anderson watching, Connor gestures up at the ceiling. The man looks at Ainsel's former location and back at the ceiling. He then nods and mouths a "careful" at Connor before giving Ainsel a thumbs up.

Connor's stress levels lower, knowing that the two of them will at least be able to look after each other (why does he see it that way?) should the Deviant happen to lead him on a chase. He won't need to worry about their safety. They'll be fine.

Knowing this he goes and stands near the armchair, fully aware the Deviant might jump out. Almost "praying" that it will. The better to explain his trust in Ainsel to Amanda and therefore Cyberlife.

Luckily for him, Ainsel's suspicion proves to be correct. The Deviant is in fact in the ceiling.

---

The Deviant leaps out at him and he follows as soon as he recovers, temporarily leaving Hank and Ainsel to fend for themselves.

He doesn't have time to process why he sees it that way as he runs down the hall, out a door, across a roof and through an agricultural field.

This is the first true test of his skills in the real world. Cyberlife will surely expect him to act like it.

He pushes himself as hard as he can while chasing the Deviant down across rooftops and through buildings and greenhouses. Of course he does. He's meant to be the pinnacle of Cyberlife's technological research after all. They will not forgive him if he fails this.

The last portion sees him run through another greenhouse and a monotonous course of obstacles as well as one last field.

The first thing he sees upon leaving it is Ainsel getting pushed off the edge of the roof. They only just manage to save themselves.

Ainsel's words from the hostage situation rattle around in his head as he considers if he could have been faster. "You can't kill me in a way that matters. I don't care if I'm alive.”

He has to prove to them that someone does.

---

It's in this spirit that he begins to move towards them. He is stopped at the halfway point by his programming.

He knows Cyberlife is dissatisfied with his choice. Wants him to go after the Deviant even with Ainsel's 11% chance at living. His programming gives him its own calculation. 89% chance of survival, taking Lieutenant Anderson's presence into account.

The man is hardly going to let the last member of his family die, his programming suggests. He’ll surely at least try to save them. Anyone would, in his position.

Connor blinks and his vision is entirely obscured by popups. No doubt because he's entertaining the idea of arguing for saving Ainsel.

Said popups show him a cost benefit analysis of saving Ainsel versus taking in the Deviant. And then end by deciding against Ainsel. Even worse, all of them have the audacity to mark Ainsel a liability due to their autism. Even despite all the help Ainsel has offered. All the care they've shown him.

They only fade when he looks in the direction the Deviant ran in. As Connor is trying to decide what to do, which argument to make for Ainsel's all too-fragile life, they scream. And then it comes to him.

Stressful situation aside, there's Ainsel's fear of heights to account for. It's more likely than not they'll pull Hank down by sheer accident. Similar to how drowning people will accidentally drown their rescuers. So if Connor chases after the Deviant instead of pulling up Ainsel, it's a near certainty that Hank and Ainsel will both die. And he'll be reamed out regardless. The way forward is not only clear but blindingly obvious.

OVERRIDE via ASIMOV-FIRST LAW: A robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm.

He comes to with their screams ringing in his ears. He bolts to rescue Ainsel before they fall.

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY ^^^

---

You look at the ledge of the roof you're hanging off of and can't help but feel you're going to die. Ironic really that you finally find some semblance of a will to live right when you're probably going to die.

You don't want that to come to nothing. To be for nothing. So you decide to try and see if you can save yourself. Even if it turns out you can't, there's no harm in trying. You've got nothing to lose. And everything to gain. It all comes down to this.

It rained earlier in the day, so you try to be careful when pulling yourself up to get some perspective on what's going on.

The way your specific fear of heights works, looking up or even across is way worse than looking down. Because looking down, the ground is more or less where it's supposed to be, just smaller.

But looking forward or especially up makes it clear you're much higher up than you usually are. It reminds you that you're up high.

And in this situation, you have almost no choice but to do that. So of course, your hands start to slip. Because you're nervous. And scared. And you never planned to be in this situation.

You scream. For a few seconds all you can do is scream before gathering your courage to try again.

Because why the hell not? Might as well die knowing you tried everything right?

Before you can do that, before you can slip and fall to an accidental death, you get saved. And NOT by the person you expected. Not that you're complaining.

---

You relax a little when you hear Connor's voice.

But you don't dare relax your grip until you actually see Connor's hand reaching out for you. It's not that you don't trust him. You absolutely do. But your natural reaction when surprised is to let go of what you're holding or step back and you can't afford to do that here.

When Connor grabs hold of you and starts pulling you up, you're honestly not sure what to do, and so settle on not fighting it. Because why would you?

Your stomach churns and you feel absolutely sick with relief. As well as guilt for not being able to get back up by yourself. He doesn't let go until you're safely away from the edge of the building. And when he does he seems almost... reluctant to let go.

---

This is probably the most embarrassing thing you've experienced this year.

"Thanks," you say. "For saving me. And for what it's worth, I'm sorry. For not..."

You bite your lip, hesitating on what to say next.

Connor cuts you off with a shake of his head before you can start apologizing again. Immediately you feel relieved. You feel ashamed enough. You didn't want to force yourself to pile on even more shame on top of it.

Your dad nods before he chimes in too. "Yeah. Thanks for saving them when I was too fucked up to do it myself. I'm sorry I was such a shitbag to you earlier. You were just tryin' to help. I shouldn't have acted like an asshole when I was turning you down. When you were just tryin’ to help. Call me Hank, yeah? No more of that Lieutenant stuff.”

Maybe you're reading too much into a simple gesture but you could almost swear he’s shaking his head. Like he’s trying to say both of your apologies are unnecessary.

He looks at you first.

“It's perfectly fine that you needed help. And entirely understandable considering the unusual pattern your fear of heights seems to take. The apology is not necessary."

He looks almost...troubled for a minute. He isn't a Deviant. Not as far as you know. So he isn't supposed to have emotions. Wondering about what's going on in that head of his is enough to take the edge off the near death experience you just suffered. To lower the intensity of it to something that you can manage on your own.

Then you realize that he said it sympathetically. Like he actually meant it. Like the feeling behind the words is sincere. Gently too. Like he's wary of causing you any kind of alarm or discomfort. Like you're important to him. Not because of your job or who your dad is but because you, specifically, are important to him.

The realization of it hits you more than the words themselves. If you had died just now, he would have gone to your funeral with full intentions to be there at your funeral specifically. Not out of pity or to support your dad. Or even to mourn your lost potential, because you had died before your time and so on. He would have gone because it was yours.

Realizing what he's just said needs a response, you nod. Having heard the words without having actually felt them. And like before he seems to see it. You're not even baffled or confused by it anymore. You can tell he knows you didn't quite hear the actual words he said. Because he elaborates after taking a moment to watch for your reaction. And for once, just this once, you don't expect to hurt because your mind started to wander.

He nods, reaching out ever so slightly and then seeming to think better of it.

“Certain reactions are uncontrollable. Instinctive. You don't need to continue apologizing for them, despite what society might have made you think. I'll never know the depths of what you two are facing. And I’ll admit, I haven't known either of you for very long besides. But it's still quite easy to see you're both struggling with mental health issues."

Even knowing what you do about him, you can't help worrying that you're imagining his compassion about all this. That what you're seeing is just a story you're telling yourself out of loneliness. Because of how badly you want someone to take care of you because you're you. And not because you're the inheritor of your dad's brilliance.

---

When he starts speaking again, he's more emotive. There's something there, a "light", that wasn't there before. You can see it when he looks between you and your dad as if to make sure you're both paying attention to him and what he's saying.

And you think this time you might be able to. Because he made allowances the last time you weren't quite able to pay attention. For the first time in a while you feel safe. Actually safe.

"The building is fairly high,” he says. “I didn't want to take the risk that vertigo would trigger and end both your lives at once. That would be nothing short of a tragedy. I would like you both to understand that the world would be infinitely lesser if it lost one of you, never mind both of you at once. If my existence were to be… interrupted. I could be easily replaced."

He stops speaking for a moment as if he's troubled by that statement. Looks troubled by it too. You wonder for a moment how close he is to Deviating. You're not sure it matters. What does matter is that you know with absolute certainty that Connor is the one who's talking. Not his programming. And that he means every single word.

---

What he said of Hank and Ainsel is quite true. They are, in fact, utterly irreplaceable. He is not. He can be replaced as easily as a broken car part. Since he's an android, it's only right for him to be their social inferior in every possible respect.

He isn't alive after all. He's useful in his way. And a single part of a greater whole. But the fact that he isn't alive is most important. Because it means he is, in the end, utterly doomed to be replaced. The knowledge of that…hurts. It isn't supposed to hurt. Why does it hurt?

Connor pushes through the feeling. He can't afford to examine it. Not yet, at least. He needs to say something else more. And he knows, somehow, that Cyberlife will take a very dim view of his saying it.

"I can be replaced, should it come to that. If one or both of you were to die however, you couldn't possibly be replaced. Not like me. Your knowledge, your experience, and your memories would be lost forever. Nothing…”

Connor looks directly at Ainsel to whom knowledge is so, so important. Ainsel who once told him that for them the point of life is asking questions and learning. What can he say that will explain the depth of that loss? Is there anything that can express that? In the end he decides that simplicity is best. 

"Nothing could ever hope to replace that."

He takes a deep breath he doesn't need to, the better to put emphasis on what he just said. Verbal punctuation, Ainsel called it once.

“It's like the period at the end of a sentence or maybe a paragraph break,” they’d gone on to say. “It gives people time to think about what you're saying.”

He lets the silence hang in the air so Ainsel can be sure of why he's doing it. One, two, three. He continues speaking.

"If I can do ANYTHING to make sure you remember that, I- I'll gladly do it. So long as it doesn't compromise anyone's safety of course."

Ainsel nods wordlessly as if they're giving it consideration.

He turns to the Lieutenant. To…to Hank.

"It isn't necessary to apologize for 'bring an asshole towards me'. If I were a human I think I would appreciate the apology. But I'm not human am I? I'm 'not a real person' as the mother of a hostage put it. You don't owe me an apology or anything of the sort. If I were a human and therefore a 'real person' it would probably be worth discussing but seeing as I'm not-"

"Fire alarm," Ainsel says, cutting him off entirely. They take Hank's hand and then their mouth begins moving of its own volition.