Deviant Behavior (Connor x Reader)

Quantic Dream

November 9th, 2038
PM 01:03:35

The flutter of a butterfly's wings is said to possess the ability to unleash havoc weeks later.  The innate aptitude to disturb the universe's initial conditions with a promise to deliver large-scale change.

You hadn't known how viciously that havoc could be wrought until you were surrounded by the deterministic chaos that brewed atop the Stratford Tower; reminiscent of nonlinear systems and words of freedom twisting between gales.

You didn't have much to say after Perkins left.  How he made it a point to discuss federally-protected information in Hank and Connor's company only heightened your worries that he somehow knew they were involved.  Didn't know what you would or could say, after that.

Nothing but an apology that wouldn't have meant a damn thing.  The damage had been done, and you were tallying the body count.

You avoided the group of men on the other side roof, pressing your back to one of the HVAC units humming along.  Captain Allen was yelling at...someone, but thankfully not you, this time.

You hugged your data pad amidst the cold calamity, your tears stinging as they cooled on contact with the frigid ashes.  You were unstable, sliding to sit on the heels of your boots; trying to rationalize irrationalities as you were both awake and asleep in superposition within a quantic dream.

Things could have been different, and there was so much you wish you would've done differently.  So many timelines you wanted to skip through, tweaking decisions and letting loose the effects to ripple through and play themselves out.

But you'd have to live with these choices...or not.

"You'll live longer."

It'd been one thing to intimidate you.  Threaten your sanctions.

Special Agent Perkins had threatened your life.

This wasn't a new phenomenon, it's just...the way he did it...

Crunching footsteps came closer, and you tensed.  You didn't dare peek the corner; rather, you tapped away at the touch screen in your lap and wiped your nose with your sleeve.  You hugged yourself as you pulled your jacket closer.

Probably just one of the CSI squaddies coming to check something out...Hopefully.

"Gavin told me that FBI agent was giving you guys a hard time."

Nope.

"Came over here to yell at you some more." Chris fell into a squat next to you, lacing his fingers together, "Seems like a bad time."

You sniffed, and found a tired smile pointed at you.

"I-I'm sorry." You swallowed, "I fucked up-"

"Both of us fucked up..." He took his hat off, swiping snow from the edges of the crest.

He rocked it back and forth, the twinkle shimmering in the pale-blue light.

"We should've waited for back up..."

"We couldn't just let that guy die."

"That's what I said!"  He flipped it back over his head, "No one wanted to hear it...I guess this is what happens when you work under two people who used to work with you."

"Huh?"

"Gavin.  Old partner, now Detective.  David.  Old CO, now SWAT Captain..."  He sighed, "I got reamed, man."