[It’s late when Connor feels something terribly off with his Bond to the SQUIP. He’s felt this before, and he immediately leaves his house and runs to the room of mirrors. Maybe he can catch it, stop it—
He feels the Bond break as he runs up the path. When he reaches the room, there’s fresh glass on the floor.
The SQUIP is gone.
He stands there for a while, as though expecting it to come back... but after Justine, he knows it won’t. He feels empty, hollow where his Bond was torn away from him.
Sitting on the ground with his head in his hands, he thinks back to the past month. It had been ill, so he hadn't really spent much time with it besides to bring it a few things. He's quiet, unnaturally still, until he hears movement nearby and looks up sharply.]
Linden?
[His expression softens, just a touch. His LED whirls red, processing the fresh loss.]
[L was far slower to arrive, partly because his ability to physically reach the house was hindered more than an android's designed for active law enforcement, and because his intuition has always been almost unfairly keen. That wrenching, twisting, breaking feeling could only really mean one thing, and if his legs became the wind it wouldn't be enough to help matters in the least. It couldn't stop what had already been done.
The characteristically stoic man is quiet as he approaches. Connor will hear him when his leather boots that appear too heavy for his spindly frame scuff against shards and splinters of glass littering the floor.]
Yes.
[His features are dull, blank, lifeless and drained. Expressing anguish is beyond him; he shuts down, in times like these, withdrawing into himself, and now there's no one here to tell him how to extract and connect from the inside.]
It... hurt, didn't it.
[A passionless observation, all things considered. Both because accessing the pain only promises to hurt, and because the SQUIP's decline and illness had made it feel like it had been gone for quite some time, already. It never truly recovered, never truly accepted its new and inflicted humanity. Did some arbiter in this strange universe decide that only one fate truly befitted it, after such a loss?]
[Connor notes the lack of outward emotion, but he doesn’t care to try to pry L from his shell. His words are enough to let Connor know that he’s feeling this too.]
It did.
[It's a familiar ache, now. That familiarity doesn't make it any easier to deal with, he finds.
He gets to his feet again and dusts himself off, more out of habit than any real care for how he looks right now. He’s sullen and oddly lifeless in comparison to how he usually presents himself. There’s a long moment where he considers just leaving without saying anything else, but... L is going through the same thing as Connor right now. They've both lost a Bond.]
...There’s no use in standing here. I tried, when Justine left. It isn’t coming back.
[Often, what L doesn't say is a surer tell for what's on his mind, what he's feeling and thinking. The quieter he is when others might be compelled to speak, the surer one can be that things are not well with the detective.
He's aware of what shutting down completely can indicate to others trained to read the signs. It's worth forcing some kind of alternative reaction, so he gives it a shot, though his heart is far from in it.]
I know there's no use standing here; in truth, it felt like it left a long time ago.
[Cold, unhelpful, perhaps even hurtful. L's breathing is slow and shallow. After a long several moments, he glances up at Connor's question, seeming surprised and sounding so when he answers.]
[The words may be cold, but Connor knows where he's coming from. The SQUIP just wasn't the same. He turns to the exit and leaves wordlessly, but he does wait for L once outside.]
What will you do now?
[Connor knows he personally wouldn't want to go back home so soon if Hank had left. He wonders how L will cope when he does go back to his house.]
[L trails after Connor after a few more moments looking at the glass, careful not to disturb a single shard, treating it as a crime scene when there's no real need to. Old habits, and all, and now there is a host of them that will feel incomplete or broken without the SQUIP to inform or direct them.
L is someone who lived with a handler for the majority of his life. He's losing affection, and also a grounding and necessary presence he is crippled without. Dazed, he makes an effort to recenter himself, focus on Connor's question that should not be as difficult as it is as he joins the android outside the Mirror House.]
It's... like I said. I'm going to walk with you.
[A stalling answer, almost certainly not what Connor meant.]
...nothing rash.
[At least, not immediately. He can't even think of where to start in that regard.]
[Connor waits for the real answer without interrupting. It isn't quite satisfactory, and he has a feeling things will only go downhill from here.]
If you're not ready to go home, I have a spare room you can sleep in.
[He doesn't really expect L to take him up on the offer, but it's there regardless. For now though, he'll just walk with him. And think sullenly about how the SQUIP doesn't remember either of them right now. It has no idea what it's left behind.]
I know the SQUIP looked after you, but I'm not sure exactly how. What did it do for you?
[Is L going to be okay? Or is he going to neglect to look after himself without the SQUIP around?]
[He won't. At least, not yet. His own unspoken thoughts are heavy and brooding, every bit as difficult to parse as Connor's.
He glances aside at the question, guarded, trying to guess at Connor's motive. Not an ill one; he doubts the android has it in him to try so transparently to unmask his weaknesses for the purposes of using them against him, but... it's asking him to be vulnerable to speak of such things.]
Regulation. It... regulated me. There was a human in my world who did it before I came here.
[Because, he doesn't say, no human can be so extraordinary in some ways without being equally deficient in others.]
[Connor is still curious, and he doesn't hesitate before inquiring further.]
Can you elaborate? I'm sorry, I've just never met a human who needed regulation.
[Which isn't meant to be an insult, just a clarification on why he's so interested. And it's easier to focus on this than the lingering ache in his chest that the SQUIP left behind.]
[What harm could it do, at this point? Though L always tenses when he's talking about his previous life, reluctant to get into any kind of details that might harm him or those close to him, Connor's had many chances to hurt him, and taken none of them. In spite of everything, Connor still cared for the SQUIP and prioritized its needs.]
You'd agree that humans have different strengths and weaknesses, I'm sure. Optimally... members of every species would be born into the world well-suited to survival. Innovation wouldn't be a priority... only ensuring the survival of the individual, the offspring, the clan.
[He pauses. Connor knows him, has witnessed his ineptitude at caring for himself, the downright childishness he handles his mundane everyday affairs with.]
Life in an organic system isn't optimal, though.
[He's not normal. That's a strangely difficult and even painful thing to say out loud.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
01-01
He feels the Bond break as he runs up the path. When he reaches the room, there’s fresh glass on the floor.
The SQUIP is gone.
He stands there for a while, as though expecting it to come back... but after Justine, he knows it won’t. He feels empty, hollow where his Bond was torn away from him.
Sitting on the ground with his head in his hands, he thinks back to the past month. It had been ill, so he hadn't really spent much time with it besides to bring it a few things. He's quiet, unnaturally still, until he hears movement nearby and looks up sharply.]
Linden?
[His expression softens, just a touch. His LED whirls red, processing the fresh loss.]
no subject
The characteristically stoic man is quiet as he approaches. Connor will hear him when his leather boots that appear too heavy for his spindly frame scuff against shards and splinters of glass littering the floor.]
Yes.
[His features are dull, blank, lifeless and drained. Expressing anguish is beyond him; he shuts down, in times like these, withdrawing into himself, and now there's no one here to tell him how to extract and connect from the inside.]
It... hurt, didn't it.
[A passionless observation, all things considered. Both because accessing the pain only promises to hurt, and because the SQUIP's decline and illness had made it feel like it had been gone for quite some time, already. It never truly recovered, never truly accepted its new and inflicted humanity. Did some arbiter in this strange universe decide that only one fate truly befitted it, after such a loss?]
no subject
It did.
[It's a familiar ache, now. That familiarity doesn't make it any easier to deal with, he finds.
He gets to his feet again and dusts himself off, more out of habit than any real care for how he looks right now. He’s sullen and oddly lifeless in comparison to how he usually presents himself. There’s a long moment where he considers just leaving without saying anything else, but... L is going through the same thing as Connor right now. They've both lost a Bond.]
...There’s no use in standing here. I tried, when Justine left. It isn’t coming back.
[He stares at the fresh glass on the ground.]
Do you want to walk with me?
no subject
He's aware of what shutting down completely can indicate to others trained to read the signs. It's worth forcing some kind of alternative reaction, so he gives it a shot, though his heart is far from in it.]
I know there's no use standing here; in truth, it felt like it left a long time ago.
[Cold, unhelpful, perhaps even hurtful. L's breathing is slow and shallow. After a long several moments, he glances up at Connor's question, seeming surprised and sounding so when he answers.]
...yes. I would..
no subject
What will you do now?
[Connor knows he personally wouldn't want to go back home so soon if Hank had left. He wonders how L will cope when he does go back to his house.]
no subject
L is someone who lived with a handler for the majority of his life. He's losing affection, and also a grounding and necessary presence he is crippled without. Dazed, he makes an effort to recenter himself, focus on Connor's question that should not be as difficult as it is as he joins the android outside the Mirror House.]
It's... like I said. I'm going to walk with you.
[A stalling answer, almost certainly not what Connor meant.]
...nothing rash.
[At least, not immediately. He can't even think of where to start in that regard.]
no subject
If you're not ready to go home, I have a spare room you can sleep in.
[He doesn't really expect L to take him up on the offer, but it's there regardless. For now though, he'll just walk with him. And think sullenly about how the SQUIP doesn't remember either of them right now. It has no idea what it's left behind.]
I know the SQUIP looked after you, but I'm not sure exactly how. What did it do for you?
[Is L going to be okay? Or is he going to neglect to look after himself without the SQUIP around?]
no subject
[He won't. At least, not yet. His own unspoken thoughts are heavy and brooding, every bit as difficult to parse as Connor's.
He glances aside at the question, guarded, trying to guess at Connor's motive. Not an ill one; he doubts the android has it in him to try so transparently to unmask his weaknesses for the purposes of using them against him, but... it's asking him to be vulnerable to speak of such things.]
Regulation. It... regulated me. There was a human in my world who did it before I came here.
[Because, he doesn't say, no human can be so extraordinary in some ways without being equally deficient in others.]
no subject
Can you elaborate? I'm sorry, I've just never met a human who needed regulation.
[Which isn't meant to be an insult, just a clarification on why he's so interested. And it's easier to focus on this than the lingering ache in his chest that the SQUIP left behind.]
no subject
[What harm could it do, at this point? Though L always tenses when he's talking about his previous life, reluctant to get into any kind of details that might harm him or those close to him, Connor's had many chances to hurt him, and taken none of them. In spite of everything, Connor still cared for the SQUIP and prioritized its needs.]
You'd agree that humans have different strengths and weaknesses, I'm sure. Optimally... members of every species would be born into the world well-suited to survival. Innovation wouldn't be a priority... only ensuring the survival of the individual, the offspring, the clan.
[He pauses. Connor knows him, has witnessed his ineptitude at caring for himself, the downright childishness he handles his mundane everyday affairs with.]
Life in an organic system isn't optimal, though.
[He's not normal. That's a strangely difficult and even painful thing to say out loud.]