Deviant Behavior (Connor x Reader)

Part III: Disconnect Command

A/N: Getting really tired of people whining in the comments about "filler" chapters and how Connor is MIA for the majority of this story arc, considering how it ends. People deal with trauma differently, and couples do not need to be glued to each other in order to portray a realistic relationship. The focus of this arc is personal healing and leaning on support networks, and I had a great time writing it. If you don't like it, don't read it. Connor will be back in 28, and again in 32, which is where the focus on their relationship picks up again. Thanks.

November 8th, 2038
PM 12:30:21

There are few things more complicated than human instincts.

Those "gut" feelings that come in burst feeds of suggested courses of action. But then the brain gets in the way. That thing that's been crafted and cultivated based on societal norms and mental obligations; otherwise known as logic. And, on top of all that, there's the heart. The part of you that reflects the collective effort of instincts and logic:

Emotions.

These three concepts shape who we are. A complex communication network locked in a constant state of battle for server priority because what about "life" or "living" is ever easy?

Your gut had told you that you should've driven in a separate car. Your brain told you otherwise, because honestly, why bother if the three of you were headed towards the same place? And your emotions, well...They told you that you should've never come at all.

If you'd listened to your instincts, you could've been alone while dealing with the internal network failure that was rooted in a mass of misaligned receivers and signal interceptors. Your systems were in complete communication blackout. No more, "This feels wrong," "But it probably isn't," "But I feel like it is," conflicting airwaves leading to poor reaction times and bad decisions. Radio silence.

Hank's radio, his actual radio, was anything but silent. You could've avoided the screeching guitars and shouting voices if you'd listened to your instincts, too.

You bunched your jacket around your neck and sank into the corner of your seat. The windshield wipers scrapped away icy sprinkles as they collided with the glass, the slush arcing at the edges. You sighed, staring into the fog on your window.

Hank turned down his music, and the tension in the car skyrocketed.

"Well, that was a turn of events. Not quite how I thought this meeting would go."

Connor huffed.

He may have meant well, but you didn't feel like talking. Even if you had been, you weren't sure if you'd be able. What did you have to say? Your entire life's work – failed work, had just been laid out in front of two people that were close to you, but kept at a safe distance.

"Why didn't you shoot?" Hank asked Connor, and you tuned in.

"I just saw that girl's eyes..." Connor's head shifted in front of the headrest, "...and I couldn't, that's all."

Your shoulders tensed, and you tried to shrink away. Wished you could just disappear, and be in your apartment – alone.

"Yeah, you said something like that back at the Eden Club, too. And still, you're always saying you would do anything to accomplish your mission."

"Yeah, I know what I should've done," Connor snapped, "I told you, I couldn't! I'm sorry, okay?"

He was looking at Hank, turned in his seat. There was a desperate plea to understand and stop questioning him in his words. He was distraught, and you weren't equipped to help him.