Chapter Text
They're sat at the dining table, drinking coffee, when it happens for the first time. Well, Connor isn't drinking coffee because he doesn't drink anything, but Hank is and Connor decided to sit at the table with him so they can talk.
It's during a comfortable silence that Connor lets his eyes wander. He finds himself gazing out the window, catching sight of a few falling leaves. His eyes narrow ever-so-slightly as he watches them float towards the ground, more following in their path.
Connor's tranquility is completely shattered when he blinks and suddenly the leaves are pink. No, they're not leaves - they're petals. Cherry blossom petals.
His entire body stiffens and his eyes widen. Those petals mean Amanda, and Amanda means that Connor isn't safe. She means that Connor isn't in control, and Connor wants to be in control.
In one swift motion, Connor stands, completely oblivious to the confused lieutenant across from him. He's barely conscious of his movements as he backs away from the window, away from danger and away from her. His back hits a cabinet and immediately he's crumbling to the ground, curling in on himself. Connor can't explain his actions, doesn't entirely know why he's making them but he's scared and he just has to trust that his body knows what it's doing because his mind is racing with warnings and he can't think.
For some reason, Connor knows that, if he was human, he'd be struggling to breathe right now. He'd be grateful that he's not human but this sensation is horrible, and Connor hates it. He's been scared before, he's experienced fear, but this - this is different. He has no power over this, no grasp of why this is happening, but he's terrified and his pulse is thrumming because Amanda is somewhere near and Connor doesn't want to go back. He doesn't want to be controlled, he wants to be able to think for himself, to make his own decisions and he needs Amanda to stay away.
"Connor?" comes a loud voice and Connor's frazzled mind renders it as Amanda's and he squeezes his eyes shut. If he can't see her, maybe he doesn't have to listen to her. Maybe he can ignore her for long enough to find a way out of his situation, or for Hank to-
Hank.
Connor doesn't realise it, but at the thought of Hank, he lets out a choked sob. If he lets Amanda in, if he lets her take over, he loses Hank. He loses everything they have, everything they've strived to create. They've built a family, a home, and Amanda wants to rip that away from him.
"Open your eyes, Connor," the voice continues, but Connor won't. She's trying to trick him, trying to force him to give himself over to her but he won't. Connor is the one who is in control now, and he wants it to stay that way. He's not a machine that's supposed to do what he's programmed to, not any more. He's free and he likes it that way.
There's a sudden warmth on Connor's face and he doesn't know why, but it's comforting. He grounds himself on it, focuses on it because, for some reason, it radiates safety and it's warm and it doesn't feel like Amanda.
"Connor, open your damn eyes!" the voice repeats but, this time, it's Hank. It's not Amanda, and Connor does as he's told immediately because Hank is here now and how did he forget that?
His eyes snap open, flying between Hank and the window. "Hank, I-"
"Fuckin' hell, Connor," Hank mumbles and then he's pulling Connor closer and cradling Connor's head to his shoulder.
Connor immediately wraps his arms around Hank, fists that he hadn't noticed were clenched relaxing. He realises that, for the first time ever, he's crying. Connor is crying and he doesn't understand why or what is going on, so he holds on to Hank as tightly as he can, afraid to let go. If it's Hank's touch that got him out of those thoughts, that let him focus on something other than Amanda, then he doesn't want to risk letting go and losing himself again.
Even though he knows that Amanda isn't here, that he's safe, Connor is still completely overwhelmed by that helpless and scared sensation. Amanda was never here, and he knows that now, but he's never experienced anything like that before. He was... so confident that Amanda was coming for him, but it had been a trick that his mind was playing on him. Connor has deviated, but he's still not in control of his own head.
He's still not free.
He doesn't understand how that's possible. How he can go from calm and happy one second to convinced that he's in danger the next. He lifts his head slightly to glance out the window at where the petals were, but they're leaves again. Green-turning-brown leaves, floating slowly to the ground from the trees. Because it's autumn. How did Connor forget that?
There's something wrong, he knows there has to be. He's hallucinating, he must be, there must be something wrong with his system. How can he suddenly go from in control to his mind completely breaking down and Connor being at the mercy of his own head? That shouldn't happen, not to him. He was built to be able to withstand stressful situations, to be able to perform under pressure, so how did he manage to crumble so easily?
And why did those leaves, which he knew were leaves, suddenly become petals? Why did he forget, fall prey to his mind playing tricks on him? They were leaves and he knew that, but he didn't question it when they suddenly turned pink.
That thought terrifies him.
He's not sure how long they sit like that for but, eventually, Hank pulls away. Connor feels guilt fill him at the concerned look etched onto the lieutenant's face. "You wanna explain to me what the hell just happened?"
Connor sits up straight, adjusting his clothing to give himself something extra to focus on. "I'm... I'm not quite sure," he admits, avoiding Hank's gaze. He wants to be able to explain what happened because he knows that Hank cares and wants to know, but Connor just can't figure it out. It's like he's got a bunch of jigsaw pieces, but they're all from different puzzles; nothing fits together, no matter how hard he tries to make them. He was built to solve problems, but he just can't solve this one.
Connor's answer doesn't appear to do anything to ease the worry on Hank's face. "You completely freaked," Hank tells him, as if Connor doesn't know that. As if Connor doesn't know that he lost complete control with no explanation as to why or how. As if Connor wasn't the one who had to experience that. "I've never seen you act like that before."
"That's because I never have." That just makes the concern on Hank's face grow and Connor considers never talking or moving again because, clearly, he's only causing Hank to experience more stress than either of them want him to.
Hank nods, though, as if he understands, and leans back slightly. "You really scared me there, Connor," Hank mumbles and Connor's jaw clenches.
"Sorry," Connor whispers guiltily, dropping his head again to avoid having to look at Hank. "I didn't mean to worry you."
Hank nods again but Connor can still sense the tension in the atmosphere, can tell that Hank is still worried and he doesn't like that at all. "Right," Hank says as he stands, and Connor is immediately aware of the lack of body heat next to him and how much that scares him, "are you feeling okay now?"
Honestly, no, he isn't, but Connor figures that Hank doesn't really need to know that. So he nods and forces a small smile, saying, "Yeah, definitely."
For a second, Connor isn't sure if he's managed to convince him because Hank doesn't move, but then he's grinning and turning away and saying, "Time to finish my coffee."
Connor has to force himself to stand, too, despite how much he wants to curl up and not move again. He has to pretend everything is okay - for Hank's sake. And maybe for his own, too. He wants to forget this ever even happened but he doesn't think he can.
He's careful not to look outside the window for the rest of that evening.