SEQUENTIAL ━ Connor // RK800 ✔️

seventeen ━ when in doubt, test

• • •

Had it been up to him, Connor wouldn't have stopped the car anywhere until they reached Mr. Kamski's house. Had he any real say in it, he would have definitely not pulled over in the vicinity of any town, be it even a hardly populated one, just so they could hide out for a moment in an insalubrious bathroom of a rundown and abandoned gas station.

But it simply wasn't up to him anymore and, having already disobeyed too much of his programming to get them both there in one piece, Connor would have hated having to ignore Mia's request just then, be it one that could potentially turn out to be dangerous, should their stop take too long.

That is how he had winded up leaning against a dirty bathroom sink, obediently following Mia's order to keep still while she undid one by one each of his shirt's buttons. He watched how carefully she had removed his jacket, folding it to the side, before undoing his tie and placing it on top. She undressed him even of his holster, though she seemed as adamant as him to ignoring the presence of the gun in it, then finally of his shirt, each and every time acting with such gentleness that one would think he was made out of porcelain, not a material much sturdier than her human flesh.

It was a filthy place for a stop made in the name of checking damages, but filthy abandoned places were all they could afford before this mess was over. Deep down, she tried not to let her thoughts get too loud in saying that perhaps these filthy places were where she belonged for now, given all that had occurred, still awfully fresh on her mind and on her skin. Mia swallowed her disgust, well aware letting another human weakness take over and make her feel sick from the smells in that place would not help them in any way, and focused instead on finally taking a good look at Connor's arm. They were far away from her childhood home and all she has been thinking about during the quiet drive, even if just to ignore the pounding of her heart in her chest, was that he took the hit from a bullet meant for her.

She grimaced seeing the depth of the cut into his upper arm.

"I have not registered any system alerts over the damage taken," Connor informed her.

"How about Thirium loss?"

"It's minimal, Mia," he responded calmly, but did not otherwise argue against her decision to handle this now. His answer seemed to have temporarily eased her stress, but nonetheless, it did not come close to changing her mind on the determination to get him fixed there and then, the best she could without the proper tools.

The more time passed, the more she could feel herself missing her lab become a tangible weight on her chest.

Compliant and silent defined the way Connor had decided to remain while he watched her turn to the backpack he had packed for them. He didn't dare expect any sort of comment from her on the items he put in there, but he surely never could have seen it coming to watch as some sort of guilt made her grimace.

He packs what we need for the road and what do you do? Mia's mind was a harsh critic, adamant in being heard and carelessly doing its scolding even when presented with an environment where she couldn't possibly cry without losing her dignity. Sleep, that's what you do. You let him do all the hard work and the thinking, while you sleep.

It took all her self-control to focus on rummaging through the bag without trembling beneath the hits of those harsh words. Even so, her body language was an open book to Connor, only without knowing what to make of these clear signs of emotions experienced by her, he remained silent.