ALIVE [Connor]

[16] Waiting For Isla

A/N: A bit of a longer chapter for my awesome readers, to say thank you for the amount of favourites this fanfiction has received. 

I didn't think it would soar into the hundreds, seeing as I was quite content with about seven people taking a chance to read it on the bus or something.

But that's been surpassed and it's...well, it's pretty great that I get to share and bask in the cheesiness that is ALIVE [Connor/OC].

So thank you for that.

***

November 6th. 2038.

AM 10:01:20

"For God's sake, will you sit down?"

"Isla is an hour and twelve minutes later than expected."

"Yeah, well - she's fine. If there was an issue, she'd call. Stop pacing, she'll be here."

"She's becoming a liability to the investigation. She's preventing it's completion."

"Relax, okay? She probably slept in."

"We could have gotten onto the case at least half an hour ago."

"Jesus, will you stay still? I already can't get rid of you, and now you're gonna make me sick."

"If there's a cause for concern-"

"Connor."

The android halted dead in his tracks, shooting an expressionless glance over at Hank, who shifted from left to right in his office chair, hunched over a cup of black coffee and nursing a tender headache.

"What's with the concern, anyway?" The lieutenant prompted as he kneaded his forehead. Connor said nothing initially, for he wasn't at all sure where the root of this brewing concern was actually emanating from.

"Aren't machines supposed to just be ignorant to any and all emotion?" Hank's eyes reduced to a squint, narrowing upon Connor still standing there. "She's taken a liking to you," He muttered, gaze unmoving. "Fuck if I know why-"

"Hank!" came the voice of his superior, Captain Jeffrey Fowler, having emerged from his glass office to the left of the desks. He was portly in shape, displaying a look of utmost displeasure.

"My office." He instructed plainly before stepping back inside. Hank groaned, accompanied quickly by a sigh as he rose to his feet and stretched until his shoulders clicked loudly.

Connor was peering at him rather intently as Hank caught onto his gaze and muttered several profranities incoherently.

"Fine, if it makes you feel better..." He rolled his eyes, collecting his coffee. "Go and get her. Pretty sure you know the route by now."

Connor nodded. "I won't be long, lieutenant," He assured briskly, before stalking off towards the lobby.

Hank lingered at his desk to watch after him, eyeing him almost fuzzily, thanks to his headache, as he swigged from his bitter tasting coffee.

"Hank!"

"Yeah, yeah..."

*

November 6th. 2038.

AM 10:20:45

There was a trail of spittle creeping down from the corner of Isla's mouth, partly open as she slept on through the later hours of the morning. Crumpled on the couch, Isla had collapsed there out of much exhaustion and worry. Her mind vigorously roving over the departure of the two androids whom had now strayed to the ultimate deviancy.