Irreplaceable : A rk1700 fanfiction (continuing)

Memories Of The Past

"A.N! This entire chapter is in Connor's perspective. READ ON MY WAYWARD SONS/ DAUGHTERS/ OTHERS!"

I've heard that someone leaving can feel worse than if they were to die, laying in your arms. I don't know if that's true. I may never know, but I definitely feel something close to that. Especially now, I am forced to have to take in the reality, I must recognize the gravity of this. "It's better than him dying." I always tell myself this.

"You're lucky he's still here with you. It won't be that bad for you, will it?"

This is something I'm always saying. Yet, when I walk into his office, feeling the air that he took up when he sat, that smell of alcohol on his jacket and breath, that sarcastic look he gave all gone, it felt like he really was dead here.

"Ah, if it isn't our wonderful tin-can man." I heard Reed sarcastically mutter as I strolled into the department. I didn't even reply. I simply walked to Hank's... my office. I didn't care about his jabs to the gut anymore. I didn't mind being called the "tin-can man" or the "plastic prick."

None of the kindergarten slander mattered to me now. I was here to fulfill my duties, even if I never wanted to do a single thing for these flesh and bone bastards in the DPD. I knew Hank was fine, I knew he wasn't hurt and was just sitting somewhere else rather than in his office now. Probably drinking scotch on the rocks at a bar somewhere. His favorite alcoholic drink. I knew he was fine and dandy, happy as a little kid in a candy store, but even then, knowing this just made the lump in my throat feel larger once I sat in his chair.

Even though Hank retired two months ago, it still smelled of whiskey at his desk. I never bothered to spray air freshener for it. The smell comes all too naturally for me. It's a comforting scent, even if it's a bit harsh. I turned on the computer at my desk, feeling the stiff, lonesome air become ever so still as I signed into the computer and looked at our most recent files. A woman and her young daughter who apparently got attacked in an alleyway by a masked man, someone assumed to be a white male in his late 30's with dark brown hair. The woman was apparently an Android, as well as the child. An apparent AX-400 model. I knew who it was almost immediately. Alice... and Kara.

" A young female android and a smaller child, the females daughter, were both physically assaulted with a pocket knife and a taser by a masked attacker on the corner of devaroyce street at around 5:30 in the morning. The attacker, by description of the adult victim, was a middle aged caucasion male. The man appeared to be a little over 190 pounds, with long umber hair. It is believed the man was on a drug called "Red Ice" when he attacked the two, as AX-400 describes he was "wearing a black shirt with a red, crystal like substance stuck on it." They believe he fled in a black suv with 1162-8674 as the nameplate number on the back trunk. The child was found unconscious and in critical condition, while the woman had 28 stab wounds to her arms, legs, and-"

Before I could finish reading, I felt as though I had read enough of the case. It was disturbing in itself, because I felt I knew just who had attacked the two girls. I jotted down a few notes of the case and closed my notebook. I felt like the air was stuffy and awkward, nobody to tell me to "open my fucking mouth sometime" or to "tell a joke or two and stop being such a serious dipshit 24/7." I was used to hearing that deep, raspy voice of the impatient man I called my partner. I didn't know how to feel about him leaving. Of course I was happy for him, there was no denying such a fact. But somehow, somewhere, someway, I felt like I was missing something. Like how the air conditioner is on, and you don't acknowledge it or care until it's off and you realize the white noise it made was missing. Even if it felt small to your ears when you didn't notice, it was like a 100 pound dumbbell weighing on your shoulders when it wasn't there.

That is, until I heard that I'd be getting a partner to "fill the empty space he left."

And, good god damn it, was I pissed. No body can replace the air Hank could add to the office. Not now, and not ever could there be a person who is even somewhat capable of such.

Unless they could.

A.N! Soooo. This isn't my first fanfiction ever, but I still am not an experienced writer yet. I've decided to leave this her for you guys. I know it may be a bit more like an amateurs writing, but you're thoughts will change if you read for just a bit longer. Thank you for sampling my fanfiction!

WORD COUNT TOTAL: 884 WORDS