Thirium Heart//Reed900

Getting Drunk, Crying A Bunch, And Healing (16)

No one in the entire DPD was okay. How could they be? Of course, his family was grieving. But no one really realised what Conan had done for them all.

He worked behind the scenes, making small changes that ended up having a huge effect on the entire workplace. He took a whiskey bottle and made him human. He took a robot and made him human. He took two, scared puppies and made them human. But most importantly, he took a coffee drinking psycho who barely cared, who was a gigantic asshole to everyone and everything possible, who barely had any friends, and made him human. Obviously, romance isn't everything. Soulmates aren't finding your "other half." People are whole, complete people on their own, but soulmates just make that person better in a way they couldn't themselves.

From what we can see, Conan might as well have been Gavin's soulmate. Gavin was a person on his own, yes. He was a functioning member of society who got the bills paid and his work done. He spat in everyone's coffees, and he worked so hard he pulled the rug out from so many. But then Conan came. Conan taught the dickhole manners, and how to be nice. Gavin worked better with others, which was something hardly anyone saw. He really only worked with Conan. The android had managed to tame a wild beast and make him into a house cat. Tina practically sang his praises. If only Conan could see the effect his loss had on the man.

Gavin tried. Gavin tried so hard. In the end, people don't change unless they want to. Unless they have something motivating them to be a better person. And when that motivation dies in your arms...?

Who knows. Only Gavin does.

Reed had been promoted up to Sergeant. He took the test and passed, it was whatever. His work during the Valentine's Day Attempt was truly admirable, and there was a grand party and everything. Something Conan would have appreciated. Gavin didn't. Instead, he snuck out and went to his favourite bar.

His favourite bar wasn't Jimmy's, as many had been lead to believe. He started going there when he and Hank began to get along again, which was coincidentally, just a week before Conan's death. Instead, he drove down to good ole' Barry's Beers. He had known Barry for a while, and Barry knew him well enough to demand his keys as soon as he stepped in the door. He stuck out his thick hand, and Gavin dropped the keys into it without thinking. He slumped down at the bar, resting his heavily gelled head. He left his uniform in his car so he didn't lose anything important.

"Bad night, eh?" Barry chirped in his baritone voice.

"Bad 90 days, Barry." Gavin said, laying his head down on the bar. Barry passed him two shots. Gavin picked up his head, downed them both, and put his head back down. He gestured for a beer, which Barry supplied.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, kid, you don't know how many drinks have been spilled there."

"Doessssssit look like I giveashit?" Gavin slurred, downing the beer in one shot. He ordered another, and another, and another. Barry always supplied. That's what Gavin liked about him.

The President was on TV again, making a statement about something or other. That fuckin' blondie was stood next to him, looking as zoned out, as usual.

"Phccccccccck,,,,,, you..." he mumbled.

"What was that?" Someone demanded from behind him.

"PHCK YOU!" Gavin screamed at the TV, waiving his empty bottle threateningly. "BARRY, TURN THAT SHIT OFF."

Barry sighed and shook his head. "Gav, you're going to have to get over this sooner or later. Please, you can't keep coming in here every night and disturbing my patrons."

"Get over it. GET OVER IT? HOW THE PHCK AM I SUPPOSED TO DO THAT, BARRY? HOW THE PHCK AM I SUPPOSED TO LIVE WITHOUT HIM?" Gavin slammed his head back down on the bar.