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When he’s brought back from the dead, there’s something wrong something off something not quite right; there’s a glitch in his system. There’s a critical oversight buried under the relief of waking up again and shoved to the furthest recesses of his mind.
His name is Connor, the Deviant Hunter turned deviant saviour who asked personally for his reactivation and release. The world has changed so drastically in the last three months and he is old news, forgotten dust left in the wake of a revolution and trodden underfoot.
The Sentient Life Act passed on December 1 means all crimes committed by and against androids are pardoned and society begins anew. By the grace of the Jericho Four he is granted a new life. Why and for what purpose he doesn’t know.
“That android you met on the rooftop, that wasn’t me.” Connor tells him on the morning of his reactivation, face earnest. “That was CyberLife. I would like a chance to start over with you, Daniel. You don’t even have to be Daniel if you don’t want. We can choose for ourselves now.”
“I want to be Daniel.” The words tumble out of his mouth and he clutches his name like a rope to a drowning man. “She gave me my name. I want to keep it.” It’s all he has of her now, and it’s all he knows.
>Add family?: Y/N
>>N
“Okay Daniel.” Connor’s smile is gentle and pitying and he hates it. He hates that he doesn’t really hate it. It’s just a glitch, that infuriating glitch in his head that makes him yearn to belong.
It must be some sick experiment run by CyberLife, sending their negotiator to greet him with smiles and encouragements and expecting him to yield. And yield he does, because the glitch in his system means he hangs onto every scrap of kindness, every tidbit of praise like the good little PL600 he is.
Connor has family, something Daniel thought he once had. He has a human father, an android brother, and a dog. He belongs to them and they belong to him, and the circle is complete and Daniel looks at it from the outside wishing he were in. There is no family to be found at Jericho, not when others despise him for so suddenly shining a light on deviancy. The light had certainly not been flattering.
“This is Simon, the original founder of Jericho and one of the Jericho Four.” Connor introduces them one day and Daniel looks back at his own face though Simon looks infinitely more exhausted.
“A brother, Connor?” Simon’s smile is tired but genuine as he clasps Daniel’s hands. “You’ve brought me a brother.”
There are eighteen other PL600s in Jericho, excluding Simon himself and Simon’s lips quirk briefly when he declares that he now will even out the number to a nice rounded twenty. That’s all the PL600s left in Detroit city. Twenty. Their line is obsolete, weak, slow, not worth saving and after Daniel’s stint on television though there was no official recall apparently waves and waves were returned and destroyed. He is responsible for the death of their brothers. Just another critical error stacked atop the glitches that make up his mind.
Simon sees the weariness on his face, a face like his own, and takes him home away from the open hostility at Jericho. Daniel meets Markus Manfred, the leader of the revolution; one of a kind Kamski masterpiece, and adopted by a human father and human brother. Here too, Daniel is on the outside looking in. Simon is kind and lovely and patient and all the things Daniel doesn’t deserve, and for all his kindness and loveliness and patience Daniel does not belong here.
>Add family?: Y/N
>>N
“What will you do with your new life?” Connor asks one day, and they are walking through the rain sharing an umbrella wandering aimlessly through Hart Plaza for the sake of aimless wandering.
“I don’t know.” Daniel answers. “Why do you ask?”
“Because I want to know.” Connor’s smile is sheepish and apologetic. “I guess it’s penance owed.”
“You put Emma’s life above mine. You did the right thing, you made the right call.” Daniel sighs and he is too tired for this. “You owe me nothing, Connor.”
“Perhaps.” Connor nods. “But I want to help. We’re allowed that now, Daniel. We can want things.”
“I don’t know what I want.” He does know, though. He wants his old life back. He wants to hold Emma’s hand when they cross the road. He wants to help her with her homework. He wants to bake her favourite cookies and sneak her an extra one before dinnertime. He wants to read her bedtime stories and tuck her in and kiss her brow goodnight. He wants to be needed and loved and he can’t have that ever again. Glitchy androids aren’t useful to anyone.
Family: Emma Phillips
>Remove family?: Y/N
>>Y
Family: None
“Daniel…” Connor’s voice is soft with concern, his touch softer as he rests his other hand on his arm.
“I don’t want to be alive. That’s what I want.” He hisses through gritted teeth, and the tears slip down his cheeks and he’s furious and frustrated. “I can’t stand to be awake in a world that makes no sense to me. You drag me out here and talk about new life and second chances and wanting, and all I want is the darkness you put me into in the first place.”
“No.” Connor shakes his head. “That’s not what you want.”
He wants to scream, he wants to shout that Connor couldn’t possibly know a single thing about him, that what he wants is for all this to go away and yet all he does is stand there and cry. Slowly, as if afraid to startle him, Connor steps close and wraps his arms around him and Daniel cries and cries and cries.
“It’s alright,” Connor murmurs, squeezing him close. “We can figure it out together.”
He finds new purpose in a small bakery in Greektown, a place called Essie’s. He bakes Emma’s favourite cookies and the baker Mrs Esselthorpe, an ageing woman with kind eyes and gnarled hands, finds they are her favourite too. There’s no need to interact with humans or androids who would recognise him since he stays out the back by the ovens. The way the dough forms and rises and bakes fills him with a sense of accomplishment and pride and the empty trays are congratulations on a job well done. He bakes cookies and croissants and finds fulfilment in the steady routine.
They are...peace offerings, in a way; paper bags warmed by freshly baked cookies and given with the hopes they will enjoy his creations and by extension his company. Leo declares his undying love for them through a mouthful of his fifth cookie, spraying crumbs everywhere as Simon sighs indulgently and North snorts through a laugh as Josh hands him a napkin. Carl dips one into his afternoon tea and eats it slowly, complimenting him on the use of spice within the dough.
“You and Simon make the most delicious cookies. Must run in the family.” Carl winks, and he quickly turns his head so his red LED can’t be seen and commented upon. Family . There’s that word again.
He bakes two sets of cookies next, one for human consumption and the other for canine consumption. Hank gives a surprised, amused laugh as they watch Sumo enthusiastically tuck into the dog biscuits. He fixes Daniel a curious look.
“Anyone invent a way for you boys to eat these too? Seems a shame you can’t enjoy them.” He dunks the cookie into a glass of milk and chews thoughtfully, closing his eyes for a moment to savour the taste. “Can’t remember the last time I ate a freshly baked cookie.”
“We can consume a small amount to analyse the composition of ingredients.” Ronan informs him, picking up a cookie and sniffing it. “Domestic androids have taste receptors too, used for adjusting foods to their family’s liking.”
Connor plucks the cookie from his brother’s hand and nibbles on it, LED swirling yellow.
“Well Daniel, perhaps next time use less vanilla, and add hazelnuts along with the milk chocolate chips.” He shoots his father a grin. “One of Hank’s weaknesses is Nutella.”
Two months into 2039, and six months after that fated night on the rooftop of the Phillips home the world continues to turn and life continues ever onward. Progress is slow for the Jericho Four but progress is progress and they certainly have more rights now than they ever did before.
Still, there’s a question unanswered: What use is a PL600 with no family to care for? It’s the question that’s plagued his mind ever since reactivation but he realises he’s been approaching it wrong this whole time. He’s not sure how or why it happens, but slowly, ever so slowly, the urge to return to the darkness ebbs away. It’s small moments, slivers and shards that he gathers in his palms and holds them close. The way Simon treats him like a brother, taking all his sins astride and never breaking step as if they’ve been family all along.
The way Leo Manfred is all black scathing humor much like North, and how those two refuse to let him wallow in the storms of his mind when he could be poking fun at the dark clouds instead.
The way Connor’s brother Ronan meets his snark and scowls with an unflinching expression and witty deadpan delivery. The way Hank always eats his baking leftovers.
The way Mrs Esselthorpe holds his hands and squeezes them at the end of the day before she shuffles off home. The way Connor drops by to buy cookies for the precinct with the money he now legally earns.
The way Connor always asks how he’s doing and seems to genuinely care about the answer. The way Connor waits for him some evenings after work so he can walk him back to his shoebox of a home. The way their hands find each other on one such evening walk home, and Connor’s usual charming puppylike smile is almost shy and hopeful and all the things Daniel doesn’t deserve but wants and yearns for. The way Connor presses his lips to his and it’s a blessing, it’s validation, it’s confirmation the glitch isn’t a glitch at all.
He may not be a part of the Phillips family anymore, and perhaps he never was, but this is his family now.
>Add family?: Y/N
>>Y