A/N Hey all! It's been a while! I've been in love with this game for a little while now, so I decided to write for my favorite characters!

This story is almost finished, with over 100,000 words and what will likely be 20 chapters. I don't know why I went with a Mental Health Care Facility AU, other than I'm a psych major and really love Psychology, but I don't really know what goes on in facilities, other than what I've seen on TV and the little I was told in class. So, apologies if my information is inaccurate. I do go into some psychology techniques, and while I take some liberties, what I write is mostly correct for how to deal with these disorders. I think.

Anyway! I hope you like! Please comment and let me know what you think! This story is different to my usual fare, less doom and gloom and more hopeful, so feedback would be appreciated. Constructive Criticism is appreciated, as long as it's nice. Please.

Also! I'll be posting the second chapter tomorrow, to get the exposition out of the way, and then will go on to post once a week, typically on Friday, Saturday, or Sunday. :-)

Obligatory "I own nothing but my own ideas," thingy.

Enjoy!

(P.S. I put my drawing of Connor as the title thing, just because I'm proud of how it came out. :-) )

Update: I forgot to mention! This story will have no "smut," or whatever the youth are calling it these days. I just don't really like adding that sort of thing in my stories. So if you're looking for sex, this ain't the fic for you. Sorry!

Tags:

Relationships:

Hank Anderson/Connor, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Connor & Alice Williams, Connor & Kara, Connor & Luther.

Characters:

Hank Anderson, Connor, North, Markus, Simon, Josh, Rose Chapman, Adam Chapman, Captain Allen, Jeffrey Fowler, Kara, Alice Williams, Luther, Gavin Reed, Upgraded Connor/RK900, Richard Perkins

Additional Tags:

Mental Health Care Facility AU, Mental Health Issues, Depression, Implied/Referenced Suicide Attempt, Depersonalization Disorder, (Mentioned) Child Death, Past Child Abuse, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Roommates, Canon-Typical Violence, Government Conspiracy, Human Modifications, Some ableist language, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort

Summary:

"Life at Jericho Mental Health Facility wasn't as bad as Hank had thought it would be. Sure, the ceiling was more watermarked than it strictly should be, the main TV was old and staticky, and some of the patients made Hank raise both eyebrows, but it had its charm."

Life at Jericho Mental Health Facility wasn't as bad as Hank had once thought it would be. Sure, the ceiling was more watermarked than it strictly should be, the main TV was old and staticky, and some of the patients made Hank raise both eyebrows, but it had its charm.

When he had first been told he was being sent to a mental hospital, he'd been spitting mad. Well, as mad as one could be while lying in a hospital bed, bandages covering his bullet-hole filled head.

Point was, he'd been livid. He'd told the doctors he was fine, that it had been an "accident," that he just wanted to go home to his dog and forget this whole thing had ever happened. Of course, he probably shouldn't have mentioned that he'd planned on drinking until he passed out to assist in that endeavor, but he had a bit of an excuse called a traumatic head injury.

Despite his anger and rage, he'd been court-ordered to go to the facility for at least a year, possibly (and now definitely) more if he didn't show signs of improvement. He was pretty sure Fowler had made sure of it, the fucker. He'd been sent to the facility as soon as he was deemed street-worthy, a couple weeks after he'd woken from his coma. He had been lucky, the doctors told him. An inch to the right and he wouldn't have survived the bullet. Hank had simply sneered and mentally rejoined that that had been the point.

He'd hated Jericho at first. It looked old and decrepit, the facility falling apart at the seams. While his insurance through the department was pretty decent, it apparently wouldn't cover any state-of-the-art mental healthcare facilities. Hank was pretty sure he'd have hated the place even if it had been state-of-the-art, so he supposed it didn't matter.

He'd also hated the doctors. They'd been too... nice. Too... friendly. Which, admittedly, wasn't the worst thing in the world. But he had thought it was too false. Like they were trying too hard. And all they wanted to talk about were feelings, and his so-... more than that, the volunteers were boring, and the nurses weren't even hot. It was, altogether, unbearable.

And then Markus had shown up. And things had changed for the better.

There hadn't been anything special about Markus at first. Just that he had been a former patient who wanted to fix the place up a bit, help out where he could. He had an associate degree in psychology and a ton of cash inherited from his dead, adoptive father. He also was a revolutionary, a leading figure in the war against police brutality, which Hank privately supported. Even a cop could realize how fucking awful cops could be.

Little by little the facility changed, becoming a brighter, homelier place. While he still hated the doctors, it was nice to talk to Markus every so often, when he had time. The man was surprisingly well-learned and could hold a conversation about anything, even the gruesome cases Hank had seen daily back as a Lieutenant. More so, he actually seemed interested in the details, without seeming false. Simply put, he was a nice dude, helping put Hank at ease.

Today, Hank was in a much better place than he had been all those months ago, a little over a year. He still wasn't free to go, since he refused treatment and still had lapses into deep depression where he'd try and kill himself, but he wasn't as despondent as he'd been when he'd put a fully loaded gun to his head and pulled the trigger. If someone hadn't been walking passed the house and called the police, he'd have died that night. He's still not sure if he was glad that he hadn't or not.

That being said, this view sure was nice, and it would have been a damn shame to miss it. The rose garden outside his window, where he'd been sitting for the past hour, looked beautiful in the sunset. The roses were all dead, the November frost freezing them out, but it was still green and lush, not quite entirely dead yet. And the sunset painted the grounds with a multitude of oranges, reds, and yellows, a beautiful mix of colors. That had been one of Markus's first projects, recreating the rose gardens with the help of the patients, Hank included. While he never had cared much for gardens or green shit, he had felt accomplished after the roses he'd helped plant started to grow, blooming vibrant red, white, and pink. And it sure made a beautiful view.

So, yeah, he decided. Life here wasn't that bad. He had no roommate to bother him, after his last roommate left the facility months ago, and was kept busy with Markus's music, art, and Literature classes. Again, he'd never been interested in the stuff before coming to Jericho, but Markus was strangely compelling with his classes, his earnest and supportive personality instantly creating a welcoming environment that made the classes fun, in a way.

Hank stared out the window for a little while longer, only looking away when he heard an orderly knock on the door and say that it was time for dinner. With a soft groan, Hank hauled his aging body out of the chair and lazily made his way out of the room. When he'd first gotten there, it had surprised him how much freedom they had in the facility, as used to the jail system as he was. But, it wasn't a prison, though it had felt like it at times. The patients were given many liberties, able to walk freely, go to breakfast, lunch, and dinner at their own leisure, and were not forced to do anything, unless they were seen as a threat to themselves or others. It was... nice, not at all how he'd thought the facility would be.

After arriving at the dining hall, Hank got a plate of the food offered (Chinese, which Markus had gotten added to the menu after Hank had hounded him about it for weeks), and sat down at a table by himself, digging into the food. He wasn't upset at being alone; far from it, actually. He preferred his solitude, which is why he'd hated his former roommate, and why the facility hadn't been rushing to fill the vacancy. He'd never been a social butterfly, but after... well, /after/, he'd been particularly asocial. He hadn't wanted to be around anyone, just wanting to be left alone. It unfortunately caused him to push away his only friends, but he hadn't cared. Life was dark and bitter. Friends wouldn't help him anymore. Even now, improved though he was, he still liked solitude.

That didn't mean he didn't listen, though. If there was one truth about the world, it's that people were nosy. And mental health care patients were no exception. Today, the facility was buzzing with talk about the new patient, who everyone was very curious about. The man had yet to officially arrive at the facility, but he'd been seen a couple times over the past week, sparking rumors about who the man was and why he was there. Hank was pretty sure there was a betting pool going on among the saner members, about what the man was in for.

As Hank ate, he listened to the conversations around him, musing on what he heard. All he had learned about the man over the past week was that it was, indeed, going to be a man, with dark hair and dark eyes; tall, with good, if freckled, skin and "pillowy lips." At least, that's what Old Margaret said, though she was known for being a bit over the top. Honestly, it wasn't much to go by, which rubbed the detective in Hank wrong.

Even after all his time in the facility, he couldn't get away from the detective inside him. He had become a cop mostly because his piece of shit father hadn't left him much of a choice, but he'd found that he really loved it. He'd become the youngest Lieutenant in Detroit history, busting multiple drug dealers and trafficking rings. His crown jewel in his record was the massive red ice operation he had put an end to, several years ago. Despite the hardships of the job, he'd been good at it, and adored it. So, whenever he heard of a new rumor, no matter how insignificant, he chased it. He had even been able to catch a nurse who had been stealing drugs from patients to sell illegally, which had left him feeling satisfied for weeks.

With this in mind, Hank resolved to find out more about the new patient, before the man arrived. Call him curious, call him nosy, but he truly had nothing better to do with his time, so he might as well do something, right? Finishing his food, Hank casually got up and threw the trash away, loitering around the trashcan to listen in on more conversations. Chances were he'd not learn any more out here, but it could never be said that listening for information wasn't worth a try before bringing out the harder methods.

After a few minutes of nothing, Hank sighed, running his hand through his long hair, fingers catching on the scar that was still there, and always would be. Grumbling to himself, he left the room and went to the common room, where a handful of patients lingered, watching TV or playing games. It was time to pull out the big guns.

The room itself wasn't that great, he thought with distaste as he walked through. It was a reasonably large space, but that was one of its only good attributes. The room was filled with old, stained plastic tables and chairs, with a scattering of torn books, games with missing pieces, old magazines, yellowed newspapers, and crusty art supplies. There were a couple of fucking ugly pea green couches in the center with mysterious stains on them, facing an aging TV screen that worked only half the time, and a handful of matching armchairs scattered about. There was also a Baby Grand in the corner, courtesy of Markus, which Hank could sort of play (also courtesy of Markus, and his music classes). Though, he supposed that was another plus about the room, eyes glancing at the beauty.

He snorted, however, when he saw a patient sitting in front of the piano, staring blankly at the keys. Hank did his best not to judge the patients here, after his doctor had gently reprimanded him for his, admittedly, rude comments towards his fellows. But it still baffled him at what some patients would do. But he supposed he was lucky. Had his bullet passed through the brain any differently, maybe he'd be the same as old Luther, staring at piano keys, eyes blank and sightless as the horrors played inside his mind.

Hank shook himself out of his thoughts and turned to his intended destination, the nurses' station attached to the room. While the HIPPA laws forbad doctors and nurses from conversing with patients about other patients, it didn't stop them from taking to one another. And while they were supposed to talk in privacy, away from prying ears, they were careless sometimes. Good for Hank and his prying ways, bad for the doctor-patient confidentiality bullshit.

Casually leaning against the wall beside the station, Hank flipped through an old newspaper he'd read last week, not bothering to read the words, just listening in. The last few days hadn't brought much information, but he was willing to try before he got himself in trouble breaking into the station to look at the files. Not that he would, of course. He was a cop, or had been, and he wasn't planning on breaking laws if he didn't have to. If this didn't work, he'd likely ask Markus about it next time he saw him, probably tomorrow. Or maybe Simon. Markus was smart and didn't fall for Hank's interrogation techniques, but Simon was trusting and tended to be more susceptible.

However, he didn't have to go that far, because within a few minutes of standing around, he'd hit pay dirt.

With a grin, hidden by the paper, Hank listened in as some nurses chatted about the new patient, not realizing that Hank was listening in.

"Hey, have you guys heard about the new patient we're getting? His name is Connor Stern, transferring here from the DPD holding cells. Strange, isn't it?" Nurse number one (Hank couldn't be bothered to learn their names, it was lucky he even knew a few of the volunteer's names) mentioned, giving Hank a new piece of information. Connor, huh?

"I know, right? It's been a while since we got a patient transferred from the DPD. I wonder what he'll be like? I mean, I hear he's polite, but, well... you never know, with abuse cases," a second nurse chimed in, voice going soft at the end.

"Poor kid," nurse number one mused. While he couldn't see the nurse, he could practically hear the sad frown.

"I know right? I can't imagine what he went through."

"Spending your whole life under the thumb of a controlling mother, forced to act perfect or get... readjusted or tested on medically..." the first nurse paused, a small shudder evident, "it sounds horrible. I don't blame the poor kid for what he did."

A third voice popped up after that, a snort filling the silence. "Come on guys, seriously? You feel sorry for the kid? He tried to kill Markus! He had a gun out and everything. He should be sent to jail, not here. He's probably going to cause problems, maybe even harm the other patients. I don't trust him."

Hank scowled at he recognized the voice. North. A vaguely unpleasant lady who hated his guts. Probably because when they first met, he'd mocked her for her pole dancing classes, but, well, he'd been in a bad place at the time. And even though he had apologized sheepishly later, it had been enough to make her hate him. And the feeling was pretty mutual. God knew what Markus saw in her.

"Come on, North, I'm sure he won't be that bad," number two said. "They wouldn't send anyone dangerous to the facility. Markus wouldn't have requested he come here if he was dangerous. You know how much Markus loves this place, he'd never endanger it."

A sigh. "Yeah, you're right. Still, you know how trusting Markus is. The guy tried to kill him, and he still does his best to help him out. Only Markus, right?"

After that the conversation moved on to the man in question, North getting that dreamy tone to her voice that creeped Hank out. But he'd gotten more than enough information to satisfy him, so, with a happy sigh, he brought down the paper and made to leave the common area to head back to his room, to muse over the info he'd just gotten.

However, when his eyes lifted from the paper, Hank let out an unmanly yelp he would later refuse to admit he made, as he saw the politely grinning face of Markus in front of him. While the man tried to look innocent, Hank knew he was pleased as punch that he'd startled the old detective.

"Jesus fucking Christ, kid! Don't sneak up on me like that! I'm not in my fucking 20's here," Hank exclaimed softly, so as to not alert the nurses and North that he had been listening. He scowled as Markus's sly grin got larger.

"Sorry Hank, I didn't mean to startle you. I had thought a detective like you would have heard me coming. My mistake. I'll be sure to be louder, next time."

That little shit, Hank thought fondly, shaking his head. Doing his best not to let the fond smile show through, Hank put on an exaggerated scowl.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. I'm old. Now what do you want? You're usually not here on Thursdays."

That much was true. Markus only came to the facility on Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays, and the odd weekend. Thursdays were not a day he usually came in. With a frown, Hank squinted at Markus as the man shrugged, smile still on his face.

"What, can't I come in to spend time with my favorite patient?"

Hank knew Markus was just teasing, knowing that he didn't play favorites, but it did make him feel a touch of pride. He hadn't been anyone's favorite, even jokingly, in a very long time. Still, Hank didn't let it show and just scowled harder.

"Bullshit. What's up, Markus? Something new happening? You finally replacing that fucking TV? Or is this about the new guy?" Hank was curious but tried hard not to let it show. It never did any good to seem eager for answers. Scowl firmly in place, he watched as Markus faltered, shrugging his shoulders.

"Maybe. What are you doing by the wall, reading the paper I watched you read last week?"

Markus turned the conversation on Hank, arms crossed with one eyebrow raised, a picture of soft disappointment. Hank just grunted, rolling his eyes. He thought about denying things but decided against it. He was getting tired and wanted to go to bed. He mentally cut off the 'old man' jokes his mind started to make, shrugging at Markus.

"Not my fault these idiots can't respect their own ethical codes. I didn't even have to ask any questions, they just started blabbing like idiots," Hank snorted, finally grinning, which still felt foreign on his lips. He never had much to smile about these days, except for the one day a week that Ben kindly brought Sumo over to visit, which was easily the highlight of his week that Hank would never be able to repay Ben for. The man said it was no big deal, but Hank knew the man hadn't really cared for dogs before he'd agreed to watch Sumo while Hank was away. He knew Ben adored Sumo now, but it hadn't been easy for the man at first. Distracted by thoughts of his dog and old friend, Hank almost missed Markus's disapproving head shake, but he didn't miss the fond smile on the man's lips.

"That doesn't mean you have to eavesdrop, though. It's not polite to listen into other people's conversations, you know," Markus gently reprimanded, leading Hank to grin in response.

"Do I look like a man who cares about being polite?"

Markus laughed quietly, nodding slightly.

"Alright Hank. I should probably get going, let the nurses and North know that they should be careful what they say where patients can hear them. I'll see you tomorrow for Literature class, okay?"

Markus was about to turn to leave, when Hank remembered what he wanted to know from the man.

"Wait! Can you at least tell me if what they said is true? Did the new guy really pull a gun on you?" Hank tried not to sound concerned but feared that he didn't hide it well enough when Markus, instead of tensing, got a soft look on his face.

"Hank, you know I can't tell you about other patients. I may not be a doctor or nurse, but I still have to respect HIPPA," Markus chided gently, but didn't sound upset. Damn Markus, with his too nice, too charming personality. Hank rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, I know. But technically he's not a patient yet. And I'm just a guy concerned about his fr- another guy. Sue me." He rolled his eyes again, trying to stop the flush from rising on his face. He didn't have friends, here. He didn't care about other people anymore. So he told himself.

Still, Markus grinned at that, knowing what Hank was about to say. With a sigh, Markus looked around before leaning into Hank's space.

"Alright. Let's say, theoretically, a guy who might become a new patient here, may or may not have pulled a gun at me right before a speech I was giving on police brutality. And I may, or may not, have talked him down and learned that he needed help, not jail, so I, maybe, hypothetically, didn't press charges but asked that he be sent here to Jericho instead. That good enough for you?" Markus asked, eyebrows raised, soft half smile on his lips. His heterochromatic eyes were troubled, though, which is how Hank knew the situation bothered the younger man. Deciding not to press anymore, he nodded slowly and sent a half smile back. Then he pushed away from the wall with a soft grunt.

"Yeah, that's good. Thanks, Mark. See you tomorrow during Literature."

With that, Hank walked out of the room, leaving Markus to go put some sense into the nurses (and North, though he wouldn't be as harsh with her. While they were not dating, to Hank's knowledge, he knew it was only a matter of time. God knew what Markus saw in North, but to each their own, yeah?). It didn't take long to get to his room, where he immediately went into the private bathroom to scrub the grime from the day off. While he'd mostly spent the day in his room, Markus had convinced him to try North's slower paced dance group that morning, which he'd hated with a passion. Still, it was something to do, he supposed. It had left him all gross and sweaty, though, and even the lukewarm water was heaven when washing the sweat away. He may also have gotten some tension out by squeezing one out, quickly.

Once done, Hank returned to bed and laid down on his back, wondering about the info he'd learned. It was a good amount, he reasoned, musing on the mysterious "Conner." He'd apparently attacked Markus, but Markus hadn't pressed charges because he thought the man needed help. While a compassionate man, Hank knew Markus wouldn't help Connor out unless Connor deserved the help. The second nurse was right, Markus loved Jericho with all his being. He's never let the place be endangered by anyone, even if he had sympathy. Connor would be an interesting one to observe, Hank thought as he closed his eyes and tried to drift to sleep.

At least he wouldn't be bored for a little while, eh?