Lately, you’ve noticed a shift in Connor—subtle at first, but undeniable. He’s grown more conflicted, as if the rigid certainty that once defined him is beginning to crack. His entire existence had revolved around one mission: hunting deviants, identifying the flaw in their programming, and ensuring order. But ever since the two of you visited the inventor of the first android, something in him has changed.

He’s more irritable now, more reactive. It’s not like him. That much became clear on the drive back to the department when you finally asked the question that had been weighing on your mind.

“Why did you do it? You had the chance to kill her. To get the information we needed. But you didn’t.”

His jaw tensed. He stared straight ahead, hands clenched in his lap. Then, suddenly, he snapped. “Look, I don’t know why! I just couldn’t!”

His voice, usually so composed and measured, was sharp, almost desperate. The outburst startled you. It wasn’t like him at all.

Connor must have noticed your surprise because his posture stiffened, and he let out a slow, quiet breath. His fingers twitched slightly before he turned to the window, retreating into silence.

He knew what this looked like. What you might be thinking. And the last thing he needed was to be seen as the very thing he was built to eliminate.