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This mission had not gone at all like Gavin had thought.
Well actually, that was a lie.
Nines had predicted that this was exactly how the mission would go and had warned Gavin multiple times against all his actions leading to this point. And the prideful motherfucker hadn’t listened. He was too busy running from his feelings while simultaneously trying to prove himself.
And now they were here.
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Six months.
They had been partners for six months.
And yes, there had been changes. They were nicer to each other, they understood each other’s boundaries, they protected each other in the field. Hell, they had even started a movie night on their off nights (so far, they’d watched three movies from the Terminator series).
And maybe, just maybe, sometimes during the movie nights, Gavin’s back would find itself resting against Nines’s chest. Maybe their legs would brush against each other or end up slightly tangled, but that meant nothing. Gavin felt nothing for the machine he called his partner, except mild appreciation and annoyance. They were, at best, friends. Occasionally, Gavin enjoyed seeing his partner, even smiling when he saw the android already sitting at their desks in the morning, but it meant nothing. And it changed nothing.
Gavin was always going to be Gavin.
He would always insist his way of doing things was better, even if it was completely wrong. He’d always hide his emotions, feelings, and conflict inside, despite knowing that talking about it would probably make it better. He’d flip on a dime if the wrong thing was said and snap something foul at whoever he was talking to. And he’d always deny caring for his android partner as anything more than the casual workmates, and maybe friends, they were.
Even after six months, even after movie nights, even after not having repressed feelings for the plastic prick, Gavin would still always be Gavin and not listen to the reasonable tin can; doing things his way even if it cost him his life.
Not like he had much to live for anyway.
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“The heat signatures indicate six men. They are likely heavily armed. I am calling for backup.”
“Don’t bother, tin can. If we don’t move now, we could lose these fuckers.”
“Backup could be here in approximately 25 minutes. That is very little time considering we have been after this group for two weeks. It would be highly beneficial to not try and engage a heavily armed group without the proper support. The men do not appear to be moving, nor do they look like they will any time soon. It would be best for everyone to simply wai—”
“Look, Nines, I’m the more experienced officer here, and I’m telling you we can easily do this. You can run the numbers and the odds all you want—”
“There is an 89.93% chance that we will be captured and tor—”
“—but I’m telling you I’m doing this. Now are you coming or not?”
Gavin knew Nines was right. He knew he should wait.
But wait for what? Wait for Hank, Connor, and half the department to show up to make the arrest for his case. Wait for everyone to see that Gavin needed an android to do his job for him. Wait to be replaced by this metal fucker who could do his job so much better than him!
Fat fucking chance.
Gavin was still relevant, still important to the department, and still better than any fucking machine.
With those thoughts swirling in his head, Gavin took off towards the building.
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“Detroit Police! Put your hands in the air and get down on the ground!”
To their credit, the men at least looked in Gavin and Nines’s direction, seemingly unbothered by the interruption.
One of them, the biggest and probably leader, even was kind enough to give the two a once over, looking them up and down before smirking widely. The men beside him cackled with laughter.
“You’re a little out of your league here, beat cop. You think having a plastic partner makes you invincible?” The probable leader chuckled, eyeing Nines quizzically. “That fucking piece of metal will let you die the moment the shooting starts to complete his little mission. He might be able to take us in, but you die in both scenarios, buddy. Now be a good pig and put down the gun.”
Gavin didn’t need Nines’s skills to know this was a shit idea on his behalf. The android had been right; they were outmanned, and every single one of those men was heavily muscled and heavily armed.
To put it simply, they were fucked.
The only way for Gavin to make it out alive was to surrender. But Nines…
Fuck.
Gavin saw the tattoos inked into the biceps of each gang member—symbols of anti-android sentiment. He scoffed. Even when he disliked androids, he’d never resented them enough to taint his body with such filth. His tattoos were tasteful and certainly not discriminating.
These men would kill Nines, the same way they had been killing and dumping androids for weeks—by beating the ever-loving shit out of them.
Gavin threw his gun to the side as one of the men approached.
Fuck.
Nines, against Gavin’s stupid wishes, had likely already called for backup. But, as he’d said earlier, it would take at least 25 minutes to get here. Could Nines last that long?
He had to… please…
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Gavin struggled as the men grabbed him, more for his ego than any real hope of escape. Rough hands clamped around his arms, snarls and shouts echoing through his ears, which were suddenly ringing from the warning shot fired when he threatened the guy closest to him. Nines was pinned by three of the biggest men, hands secured behind his back. Not that he looked like he was going to fight back. The android stood perfectly still as Gavin was shoved to his knees, a gun pressed against his temple.
"Walk over to them," the man holding the gun said, nodding toward three others waiting across the warehouse.
Nines complied, moving with a precision that made him seem almost mechanical, even more so than usual. He didn’t look at Gavin once, but the detective knew what was going through that plastic head of his. Nines blamed him for this, for every miserable thing about to happen. He would follow orders, stand still, because it was the only way Gavin might survive.
I-I... I'm sorry...
Once he reached the leader, a hulking figure with a shaved head and a dyed, greasy goatee, Nines stopped. He was like a statue—cold, unfeeling, compliant.
“I know you,” the leader sneered, his tone dripping with disdain. “You’re Cyberlife’s last model, their latest toy.”
“That is correct.”
“You have the entire internet in your brain, can do hundreds of calculations in a second, and you’re supposed to be perfect at following orders, huh?”
“Yes.”
“Well then, you glorified piece of scrap metal. Understand these orders: You are going to stand there, and we are going to torture you. Move against us, defend yourself, or even flinch… and your partner dies.”
Gavin's heart sank. “Nines, what are you doing?! You can take these fuckers! Don’t worry about me!”
The android didn’t move. He didn’t even blink, not a muscle twitched. Gavin had never seen him so still, so... resigned. It was the way Nines would position himself before taking a blow, shielding a civilian from a stray bullet. But this time, there was no protection. Only surrender.
The leader grinned, a sick, twisted smile, and handed a pair of spiked knuckle dusters to one of his men.
The first few blows rang out across the warehouse, metal crunching against metal, each impact accompanied by a sickening scraping sound. Nines’ chassis, designed to withstand most forces, dented but held. Gavin winced with each hit, a sharp stab through his chest as if he was the one being struck. He wanted to close his eyes, but he couldn’t. He had to watch—he deserved to watch.
"Alright, that's enough!" Gavin yelled, his voice desperate as thirium began to drip from his partner’s face. "You've proved your point! You drew blood on Cyberlife’s strongest android, well done. Now stop!"
The leader just chuckled, his eyes glinting with cruel amusement. "Oh, we're just getting started." He passed the knuckle dusters to a new man, this one with a manic, twitchy energy. Gavin recognized the type—strung out on Red Ice, bloodshot eyes darting around wildly. The real psycho, the one who didn't stop until there was nothing left.
Gavin’s throat tightened. “No… no, please! Nines, fight back for fuck’s sake!”
But Nines didn’t. He stayed grounded, unflinching, as the first blow sent him staggering. The second knocked him to his knees. The third... Gavin heard a crack, something shattering deep within Nines' chest, a spray of blue blood splattering the floor.
"STOP! JUST FUCKING STOP!" Gavin was screaming now, his voice raw, eyes burning. It felt like his heart was being wrenched out of his chest, each blow another twist of the knife. He could barely breathe, his head was spinning, his vision blurred, but he couldn't turn away.
Each hit echoed in his mind, a relentless, rhythmic torment. Gavin’s eyes stung as tears blurred his vision, cheeks wet with streaks he hadn’t noticed before. He was crying, screaming, his own voice bouncing off the cold, indifferent walls. And Nines... Nines just kept looking at him, with eyes that seemed so hollow, so distant, as if the light behind them was dimming.
The leader watched, satisfied, before pulling out a long, serrated knife. He approached Nines and slowly, almost reverently, traced the blade along the android’s already damaged torso, the jagged metal cutting deep enough to tear through synthetic skin and fiber optics. Blue blood poured out, pooling at Nines' feet, and yet he made no sound, no protest.
“Why do you care so much about this piece of junk?” the leader taunted, turning to Gavin. “It’s just a machine. Just another tool. And you’re pathetic enough to get attached?”
Gavin’s head was throbbing, every word slicing through him. “You’re wrong,” he spat, but his voice was weak, shaky. “He’s... he’s not just a machine. He’s... he’s Nines!”
The leader smirked, a twisted, mocking smile. “Then watch him break, cop.”
And the thin drugged up man started swinging again, this time with a metal pipe, bringing it down across Nines’ back, his head, his face. It was brutal, unrelenting. Every impact felt like it was driving Gavin deeper into a dark, suffocating abyss. Nines’ LED flickered erratically, the once bright blue now dull and fading.
For a brief moment, Nines’ eyes met Gavin’s, and there was something there—a glimmer, a faint flicker of... acceptance. As if he was saying, It’s okay, Gavin. It’s okay.
But it wasn’t okay. It was never going to be okay.
"NINES!" Gavin's voice broke, raw and hoarse. "Don't... don't leave me. Please, don't leave me..."
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The warehouse door burst open, a deafening cacophony of gunfire and shouted commands flooding the space. SWAT officers stormed in, Hank at the forefront, his eyes wild with panic as he took in the scene. The man with the metal pipe was shot before he could even turn, his body crumpling to the floor. Gavin barely registered the chaos around him—the officers swarming, the thugs being subdued. He couldn’t take his eyes off Nines, who lay on the ground, barely recognizable, covered in blue blood and battered metal.
I killed him... I killed him...
As Hank knelt next to Gavin, his voice gentle yet urgent, Gavin could barely process the words. "Hey, Gavin... Gavin! Listen to me! He's going to be okay. We’ve got medics on the way."
"No... no, I... it’s my fault... I... I should’ve..." Gavin’s words tumbled out, slurred and incoherent. Hank just held him, steadying the trembling detective, even as Gavin's world crumbled around him.
Gavin didn’t remember much of what happened after that. Everything was a blur. He was vaguely aware of being escorted out, hearing someone say that Nines was still functional, that he could be repaired. But the words didn’t register, didn’t penetrate the fog of guilt and self-loathing that had enveloped him.
The next thing he knew, he was at his apartment, Hank’s hand on his shoulder, telling him he’d be back to check on him later. Gavin nodded absently; his mind still stuck back in that warehouse. He barely noticed Sooty winding between his legs, rubbing against him, seeking comfort he couldn’t give.
Gavin stumbled to the kitchen, grabbing a near-full bottle of Jack Daniels and drinking straight from it. He drank and drank, until the edges of his vision blurred, and his thoughts slowed, numbing the agony that twisted like a knife in his gut.
"It’s all my fault..." he whispered to the empty room, voice cracking. "I’m sorry, Nines... I’m so sorry..."
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Hours passed, or maybe just minutes, Gavin couldn’t tell. The room was dark, the kind of dark that suffocated, that pressed down on you until you could barely breathe. The empty bottle hung loosely in his hand, and he kept bringing it to his lips, even though it was long since drained.
His thoughts were a mess, slurred and stumbling over each other. He remembered Nines standing there, taking every blow without a word, remembered the way the android looked at him, like he was the only thing that mattered. And he remembered how he failed him, how he stood there and did nothing.
I don’t deserve you...
The thought echoed in his head, over and over, as if all the alcohol couldn’t somehow drown it out. He wanted to scream, to tear at the walls, to do something, anything, to make it stop. But he was so, so tired.
Then came the knock.
Soft at first, then louder, more insistent. Sooty was scratching at the door, yowling, but Gavin barely moved. The knock persisted, and finally, with a groan, he stumbled to the door, ready to tell whoever it was, probably Hank, to fuck off.
When he opened it, his breath caught in his throat. “Nines...”
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Gavin's head pounded as he tried to make sense of the world, slumping against the doorframe. The sight of Nines standing there, immaculate as always, made something inside him snap. He wasn’t supposed to be here, wasn’t supposed to look so put together after what happened. Gavin had ruined him, broken him, and now he stood there like none of it mattered.
"Nines…" Gavin slurred, the name heavy on his tongue. His vision blurred, tears mixing with the alcohol-induced haze. "Wh-what the fuck are you doin' here… I don’t… I can’t…" He could barely string together coherent words, his thoughts a tangled mess of guilt, regret, and a desperate, aching relief.
Nines stepped inside without hesitation, guiding Gavin back into the apartment, closing the door softly behind them. The android's movements were precise, calm, a stark contrast to Gavin's shaky, stumbling form. He could smell the alcohol, could see the empty bottle on the floor, and the way Gavin's eyes darted around the room as if trying to escape something only he could see.
"I came to check on you, Gavin," Nines said quietly, leading the detective to the couch. He guided him down gently, almost like handling a fragile object. "You weren’t answering your phone. Hank was concerned."
"Hank…" Gavin's laugh was hollow, bitter. "Of course Hank’s worried. Hank always cares. Ev’rybody always fucking cares ‘bout me… like I’m some… someone whose phcking worth car-carin about." He slumped back, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. His movements were sluggish, uncoordinated. "But I—" He hiccupped, the words dissolving into a choked sob. "I ruined everything."
Nines reached out, placing a hand on Gavin's shoulder. It was firm but gentle, steadying. "You didn’t ruin anything."
"Bullshit!" Gavin snapped, his voice cracking, desperate. "I… I nearly got you killed!" He swayed, his expression wild, eyes red from crying. "I’m s'posed to be your partner, your fuckin' backup. An' I… I just stood there an' let them… let them…." His voice broke again, and he covered his face with his hands, shoulders shaking.
For a long moment, Nines didn’t say anything. He just sat there, letting Gavin unravel, letting him pour out the mess of emotions he’d been bottling up. Then, carefully, he pulled the detective’s hands away from his face. "Gavin," he said, his voice soft but insistent, "Look at me."
It took a few seconds, but Gavin did. His eyes were glassy, lost, as if he was struggling to understand why Nines was still here, still looking at him with that same, unshakeable calm. "Why…" he mumbled, barely able to form the words. "Why do you care, Nines? Why do you give a shit ‘bout me after… after what happened?"
Nines didn't hesitate. "Because you’re my partner, Gavin. And more than that… you’re my friend." He said it so plainly, so simply, like it was the most obvious truth in the world. "No matter how much you try to push me away, no matter how many times you try to convince yourself that you don’t need anyone… I’m still going to be here detective. Because I care about you."
Gavin blinked, the words sinking in slowly, like a stone dropping into a deep, dark well. "I’m not…" he whispered, shaking his head. "I’m not worth it."
Nines moved closer, so close that Gavin could feel the coolness radiating off him. "Yes, you are." He reached out, taking Gavin's face in his hands, forcing him to meet his eyes. "I know you don’t believe that right now. But I’m going to stay here, and I’m going to remind you, every day if I have to, until you do."
Gavin's breath hitched, his chest tight, like something inside him was breaking apart. He felt raw, exposed, like Nines was peeling back all the layers he'd built up over the years, stripping him down to something vulnerable, something that hurt. "I don't…" he stammered, tears spilling over, "I don't deserve that."
"You do." Nines' voice was steady, unwavering. "And it’s okay if you can’t see it yet. I’ll see it for both of us."
For a moment, the room was silent, save for the soft, hiccupping sobs that Gavin couldn’t hold back anymore. Then, slowly, Nines pulled him into a hug. Gavin stiffened at first, like he didn’t know how to react, but then he melted, collapsing against the android, gripping the back of his jacket as if he was afraid to let go.
"I’m sorry…" Gavin mumbled against Nines’ shoulder, his words muffled, slurred. "I’m so fucking sorry…"
Nines held him, one hand stroking his hair, the other steady on his back. "I know," he whispered. "And it’s okay. You’re going to be okay."
The words didn’t make everything better. They didn’t fix the mess in Gavin’s head, didn’t make the guilt disappear, didn’t erase what happened. But they anchored him, kept him from drifting further into the dark, and that was enough for now.
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A few days later, after all the poking and prodding that was the police department’s psychiatric evaluation, an experience every officer has to go through after a “traumatic event”; Gavin was back at the precinct, a cup of black coffee cradled in his hands. He was still a mess, still trying to piece himself together, but he was there. Nines had insisted on driving him, staying close, watching him with that same calm, unreadable expression that Gavin was starting to find comfort in.
"You ready?" Nines asked as they stood outside the precinct doors.
Gavin took a shaky breath, nodded, but then hesitated. "Nines… if… if you ever want to switch partners… I’d understand." His voice was barely above a whisper. "I wouldn’t… blame you."
Nines studied him for a moment, then shook his head. "That’s not going to happen."
Gavin managed a weak smile, the first in days. "You’re stubborn, you know that?"
"I’ve been told," Nines replied, and for a moment, there was the faintest hint of a smile on his face too.
They walked inside together, side by side. There were still a lot of things left unsaid, a lot of wounds that would take time to heal. But for the first time in a long time, Gavin felt like he wasn’t facing it alone. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough to start finding his way out of the dark.