Comfort Zone (Connor x Reader)

Forty-Two

The return to the precinct couldn't have dragged on any longer. While you and the prototype fell into near-silent conversation, Reed kept his mouth shut, staring out the passenger window. He willfully tuned out whatever was being said behind him, and in truth his stomach just sank lower and lower.

He didn't believe Fowler would give him too much shit for shooting Merrill, not when he'd almost gotten shot himself. Seeing the android block him from the bullet replayed in his head on loop, and he sort of wished he could just take a hammer and beat it out of his skull.

What hurt was knowing what he had to do still. As much as he didn't want to think about it, Reed knew what the right thing to do was.

He just hoped it wouldn't kill him.

■□■□■

The precinct was only a little empty when the four of you finally arrived. Seán had gone home, since Evelien was waiting in the car when he'd brought everything you asked for. But Jeff had stayed back once Hank sent him a message on the case. Cloud, of course, was patiently waiting for your return as well.

Returning to a good dose of applause, however, was a new experience. The lieutenant sidled away in the back while Connor, Gavin and you stood feeling only mildly awkward amidst the cheering. While the Captain approached, Cloud beat him to it, scooping you up into an enormous bear hug, spinning you around and cooing about how proud he was in his soft, low tone. And, much to everyone's surprise, he gave the same embrace to Connor, who could do nothing except let it happen, smiling confusedly.

Reed, however, stopped the taller prototype before he could hug once more. Instead he jabbed a finger into the RK900's chest. "You and I need to have a conversation, tin can. Back hallway, interrogation room three, now."

Visibly confused, Cloud glanced at you but nodded and followed the human towards the hallway in the back.

Before you could think to ask what the hell they were doing, Fowler laid a hand on your shoulder, the other on your Roomba's. "Connor, first off, I wanna say how relieved we are that you're still in working order. Hearing that you took that bullet was a dangerous move, kid, but you came out just fine. From what I've been told, you were flawless. Now," he held up the hand that had been on the RK800's shoulder, "don't get me wrong. As a detective, you are usually flawless anyways. But this undercover thing? I had the president of the Iron Coffins gushing about you. And to be blunt, I'm about to do the same. And you," Jeff went on, turning to you, "if it wasn't for everything you taught him, this case would've been a disaster. But when I've got a hardened biker gang president raving about this kid fitting in like he was born to do it, it's all thanks to you, hotshot."

Both you and your trainee had relatively warm cheeks, and your lower lip pulled inward, caught between your teeth. "Thank you, Captain," you replied softly, "but like I told Connor, a tea--"

"Detective, take the compliment," Connor interrupted, smiling. "He is right. Without you, I probably wouldn't have survived. Maybe none of us would." His dark eyes turned to Jeff, smile a bit wider. "Captain, from both of us, we thank you. Though I do apologize about the hospital bill."

Fowler gave him a look. "Connor, don't ever apologize for that sort of shit. Getting injured is part of the job. Luckily, bullets have a harder time with you than with us, being squishy and all. Some more than others," he muttered, looking down at himself. "Anyway. Despite that, I want the three of you to work from home for a few days. No offense, miss, but you look like you're fighting gravity."

He was right, of course, and you nodded a little bit. "Captain Fowler, what about Gavin...?" He tilted his head a little, so you had to elaborate. "He... he did shoot the suspect so he wouldn't run. He's not getting disciplined, is he...?"