dualismail | (no subject)

He holds his hand a little tighter then. Fear is a bad echo chamber, but he's not really let himself be scared as much by this as he should be.

He doesn't really put it into words or articulated ideas. He just takes Connor's hand and wraps both of his around it, brings it up to his mouth and lets his bristly lips rest there, and he lingers like that. Just a quiet, unspoken admission that he's afraid, that he's shouting into the void.

Connor shifts one leg up underneath him on the bench so that he can face Hank properly. Watching Hank there, Connor's own hand in both of his, the brush of Hank's beard on him, he can't help feeling, just for a moment, utterly helpless.

Hank's his partner. Hank's his person. If Connor kept tasklists anymore, Make Hank happy would be sitting right at the top of his, all the time, forever. And he's failing at it miserably - this city is making him fail at it miserably.

In this very moment, Erik fucking Lehnsherr's made him fail.

"We've been here before," he says out loud as well as trying to enforce the idea mentally. Hank needs to hear this and feel it from him. "We survived last time. Helpless or not."

And that was when Connor had fought tooth and nail for most of it to stop what was happening. This time? He's on the right side from the start.

"I hate that he fuckin' made the most advanced, incredible fucking perfect being from my world be trapped in that spot." To a drunk human, even one that had a fairly good past rep, Connor had been like superman. He was an alien from a different planet.

This was a place that could strip him of that.

One foolish, sad part of him hopes if they fuck this up they still get to be together, though. And that's the most dismal thought he's had since arriving. If he gets replaced, he doesn't want the alternate him to be dead anymore. He just wants him to be Not Alone.

He shakes it quickly, pulling his mouth away from his hand and just rubbing over his delicate knuckles with his thumb. "Alright. Well. Guess that clears up what went wrong there. If I'd known I just would have sent someone else." Because as much as he hates the fucker now, it's better that he's not under the Head's control.

Connor falters a little at being described thus, but only realises how he feels about it when the warm smile spreads on his face.

"But he couldn't do it to you," he points out gently. Hank needs to hear these things sometimes - that there are things he can do that Connor can't (several, in fact). "We're partners, right? We fit together. I can do things you can't. And vice versa.

"Hey, Hank." He reaches with his free hand to tug Hank's chin, making him look at Connor. "I'm sorry, I should have told you. I didn't realise he would use it against you like that."

He leans in to press his forehead to Hank's and nuzzle against him. He can feel and hear his partner's heartbeat like this; it's soothing.

"I'm fine. And you didn't do anything wrong. And whatever happens, we're going to stick together. Alright?"

The whisky bottle's still sitting behind him. He won't stop Hank if he wants it. He just hopes he won't

He doesn't think of it at first. Just hopes that he's right, and... fuck, he hopes that them sticking together will help him get through it. But he tries pretty damn hard to shove that tragic idea out.

"Well, I gotta admit, I'm glad that me insisting on a dance was enough to distract you from something that fucking bad. I'd have been pissed for a fucking year." Hell, he might be now.

Finally he does reach to grab the whiskey, but he doesn't open it. He props it on his knee and holds Connor against his side.

"We should get home. I feel that shitty part of me wanting to give up again. Maybe if I move, it'll be fuck off for a little while."

"It did," because somehow whatever Hank needs or whatever he asks has the power to push everything else out of Connor's mind completely. "I'm not happy about what he did. I haven't forgotten. I just didn't want to dwell on it. It hurts me more than him to do that."

He shifts again so he can lean against Hank's side for a moment, eyeing the whiskey with some unease, even though Hank doesn't seem to be about to open it and down the thing.

"Let's go for a walk." He stands and offers Hank a hand to pull him up - and then not let go as they start to walk. "Knowing this place, we'll end up back at the dorms sooner or later."

Hank takes his hand, slipping his gruff fingers between Connor's elegant long ones. In his spare hand his bottle, looking like a slob next to the well kept officer holding his hand but sort of resigned that this is the status quo between them much of the time.

Maggie gets up to go with them without being told, and he silently passes a message through their linked hands.

I need your help. Not just with me, with this. I can't do this alone. Most of what he's been doing all along is ask for help. Look into this. Find answers for that. See if something can be found here. Follow a clue there. Like he would have handled cops in the past. But Connor's eye for detail is so much more impeccable than Hank's. More than that? Connor has patience and an ability to compel, a heart that can cry out for morality.

There are people that want these clones dead or think nothing of them. I'm not the right guy to stand up for them. I'm too angry. I just got pissy old white guy rage. That's not nearly as convincing as the face of someone who's suffered at not being treated like a person.

He needs him for more than the mystery. He needs him for the compassion and conviction.

Connor's never minded how much different they look - it makes things interesting. He's comparatively tall - but Hank is taller. He's slim, but Hank is broad. He dresses neatly, Hank with a freedom Connor's never going to get. That's a nice way of saying he has terrible taste and Connor can only appreciate ironically.

Weird how he knows how to appreciate things ironically these days and doesn't even know when it began. About the moment he started wearing Hank's shirts over his own sometimes and listening to music he thinks is banal just because it's catchy.

His immediate willingness to help Hank with anything, including this, passes through their connection before he's even done making the request. He knows Hank can't do this alone - no one can, and they have different enough experiences and skill sets that the things Connor can't do, Hank can help him with. And vice versa. And the clones?

I know the clones aren't 'real', but people have said that about my people. I want them to be free to live however they want as well. They're the only memorial that exists to all the people who came before them.

And even without that aspect, they're still people. They deserve dignity. They deserve a life lived free.

Edited 2020-02-02 13:28 (UTC)

You have the heart to tolerate a discussion. Me? I just wanna start a fight. And he knows that his patience wears thin real damn quick. It's not an obligation that should fall on Connor's shoulders, but it's...

It's something that Hank's pretty sure he can't get right.

It's a good way to put the role of the clones, too. Some of them are the last of their kind, carry the last memories and traces of the culture of their original. Some are the lone witnesses to cruel acts in different worlds, some are someone's father or mother or child. Sibling? Lover? Even being left in a middling existence as someone's 'unanswered question' isn't fair.

That's not saying they shouldn't exist. They should reap any benefit of it.