AN: This is my first foray into the Almost Human fandom, but I love the show. All errors, grammatically and otherwise are mine as story is unbeta'd. I'm a huge fan and have been watching the show almost religiously, so yeah.. Also, the M Rating is simply for language, violence and the mention of child abuse/torture. The title of the story is completely on purpose. This is a non-slash pairing of our two favorite Detectives. Questions/comments welcomed and appreciated. Try to keep flaming to a minimum though as no one wants to be on the receiving end of that. Thanks, and enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own nothing. There's no monetary gain by what I'm doing here. Just sharing in the awesome that is Almost Human. So don't sue me, I'm pretty damned skint at this point..

Update: This is a slightly edited update for chapter one. Still working on Chapter 6, but you know how it goes. Gotta go in and clean up details, add new ones, that sort'a thing. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter One

Waking up in his apartment, Detective John Kennex half-expected it to be just another day. He really did. Of course, that was his pre-coffee brain, realizing that he was waking up on the first day off of many following a suspension began to crowd into his brain. A suspension that was wrongly dumped on him. An investigation was pending and the outcome would determine his return to the precinct. Or release.

Fuck.

It was two days 'til Christmas.

'Focus on something else.' He silently chided, dragging his ass out of bed. Anything but the suspension. Anything but the absolute shitstorm that had been the investigation. His guilt was already a noose around his neck. He hopped to the charging station for his prosthetic, then poured himself a cup of coffee and did what Kennex did best.

He ignored it.

So why was it raining instead of snowing? It was damned sure cold enough to snow, at least as far as John was concerned. Whenever he ventured out on a case or off to the coffee shop, his breath puffed out in little white clouds and he tugged his coat closer to his sturdy frame. It was a vain attempt to keep himself all the warmer, without bundling up in an honest-to-god winter coat. John had one, of course. He'd done his stint in the military and earned himself a really nice winter coat. Nicer than one that could be purchased in the private sector. Thick and warm, it was designed to keep someone protected from the elements in the wilds of Alaska. And since John was one of those unlucky bastards who suffered from woefully poor circulation, having the thickness of the coat had been a bit of a godsend. When the weather proved utterly foul and unforgiving, he'd burrow into the depths of the coat that was large, even on his body, and glare balefully out at the world. The only drawback to such a luxurious bit of military genius, was the designers clearly hadn't had a detective in the line of fire, in mind. He could go around armed, but quick movement was damned near impossible. He'd learned quickly, and the coat bore the signs of needing to be patched after one too many firefights, that he needed something smaller and easier to maneuver in.

But he was home. 'Back on that again, are we?' It was the first day off of many, and he wasn't feeling in the slightest bit social. Instead, he was sitting at his bar, gazing out at the city beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. The grey, bleak, overcast city that seemed to be covered in a hazy mist of rain. Fucking depressing. It matched his mood. John snorted over his umpteenth cup of coffee and smirked at the idea of being poetic. His gaze dropped to the girls for a heartbeat and he had to tear his eyes away from them. Definitely not the day to dust either of them off. His fear, in that moment, was that he would pick up one of the girls and promptly smash them into bits on the floor of his apartment. Fucking insulting, the suspension. He still questioned it, though he was awaiting Dorian's arrival to learn more surrounding it. There were too many holes in the excuse. Too many reasons why he should be at work and not sitting on his ass being morose.

His mood matched the day, and rightfully so. Perfect for not interacting with others. So he watched the droplets of rain cascading down the glass, meeting with other droplets and becoming fat and crystalline against the clear panes. It really was beautiful, if he allowed himself the moment to appreciate it. Slowly, he stood and made his way to the windows, gazing out. Far below, he watched last minute shoppers moving to and fro, giving thugs and criminals yet more targets to attack. His post-Christmas duties should have been full to overflowing with the stupidity of humanity. Petty jealousy, theft, murder over someone having something nicer... the list was endless. But no, he was on extended 'paid leave, pending further investigation and council review.'' Which essentially meant he wasn't to even set foot on the same block as the precinct.

John scrubbed a hand through his already impressive bedhead and leaned his shoulder against the cool wood surrounding the window. He sipped at his coffee and just pondered life. From the corner of his eye, he could see the single Christmas decoration that graced his spacious apartment. Dorian had been insistent upon bringing a small tree to his apartment for the holidays. He'd called it a way to "see how humans celebrated the holidays." It twinkled merrily from its little stand in the corner. Yes, John remembered to plug it in every morning, leaving it for Dorian to see whenever they happened past the apartment. Not much, but it was something. It still did little to warm his Grinch-like heart. Holidays always reminded him of what he'd lost. Of what he'd never have again. Of the emptiness that seemed ever-present in his soul.

He was just getting started on the list of those who had left him, or betrayed him, when the door chimed. The only person he could think of that would dare come to see him in the state of angst he was currently residing, was Dorian. It was morbidly funny that he kept referring to Dorian as a person, but the android was his partner. And a damned sight better than some of the humans he worked with. John crossed the distance from the windows to the door, bare feet making little sound, and peeked through the peep hole. Sure enough, there stood Dorian. The android waited patiently for John to answer, though no doubt, he'd felt the vibrations of John's movement within. Slowly, John opened the door and peeked out. Force of habit. Make sure the hallway was clear before admitting anyone into the interior. He almost laughed at that. For the time being, he was a private citizen, albeit a disgraced one.

"John." Dorian pulled him from his reverie, still standing in the hallway. He looked far too amused. "You gonna invite me in? Or are we discussing this out here?"

John rolled his eyes and stepped aside, pulling the door open as he moved out of Dorian's way. "Smart ass. Tell me you got something?" He made it a question, though he didn't feel like asking for much. When Maldonado had read him the riot act in her office and had him escorted from the premises, the bottom of his stomach had dropped out and he'd put up every wall he'd dared let come down. And then some. For once in his life, he'd allowed Dorian to drive him back to the apartment. Okay, let was a strong word. Dorian had to return the patrol car to the precinct, so escorting John to his apartment had been a given.

"What, no 'Hi Dorian. How was your day, Dorian?'" The DRN snarked, mimicking John's voice to an eerie degree. John glowered at him as he shut the door, and Dorian smirked. "Yes, as a matter of fact I do have some information. But you're not going to like it."

John groaned softly and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. Dorian had been there less than five minutes and he was already giving John a massive migraine. Great. "Tell me somethin' I don't know, genius. Alright. Lay it on me..." It was four words he would later come to regret.

"Well, you were right." Dorian didn't add amazingly, though it was obvious he was thinking it. John waved a hand, gesturing the DRN to get on with it. Dorian shook his head and started into the living room, pausing to gaze at the small tree. "You plugged it in, John." He turned and smiled, a genuinely happy smile.

"Yeah, I plugged it in. I told you I would. Now would you get on with what you found? I'm sitting on my ass in my apartment 'cause some fucktard decided to make me the walking scapegoat." And he hadn't even put pants on all day. He'd been wandering, in full view of his windows, in shorts and a singlet. But really, why bother? The depression had settled like a shroud over his shoulders and he really didn't care what he looked like to an outsider. He just wanted his damned information. The sooner he could find out who it was so he could beat them into a bloody pulp and go back to work.

Dorian was still gazing at the tree, the blue lights on his face lighting up to process the information. "You really need to find a hobby, John. And you need a shower..." He turned, expression a little sheepish. "We're not going to discuss the back-up.."

"No, we're not. And if you don't get on with it already, I'm going to toss you out one of my windows. Merry fucking Christmas." John growled, advancing slowly.

"Alright, sheesh..." Colloquialisms were in full force it seemed. "Though if you need someone to dust off the guitars.."

"Dorian..." There was a veiled warning in his tone. No one touched the girls but John.

The DRN turned and crossed his arms over his chest. "The boy you shot pulled through." Relief visibly replaced the frustration on John's face. "Turns out he's not the first child to be recruited by Insyndicate. He's just the first to have been caught."

And no wonder. No one wanted to shoot a child. No one wanted to injure someone who had so much life ahead of them. John had been careful, aiming for a non-vital part of the boy's body, but he'd warred with himself after that. And guilt of that magnitude, on top of the reaming by Maldonado, John was a mess. "Did he give names of other mules?"

Dorian shook his head. "Not exactly. The boy verified that it was children, all of them. Insyndicate's banking on our inability to injure children. So they're kidnapping them. Six more missing children in the last two weeks. Stahl's been questioning the boy, but she was kind enough to share her findings with me. She doesn't believe that you were any more responsible than I do."

He didn't say it aloud, but John was secretlyrelieved to hear that. There were actually detectives within the precinct who didn't immediately want to see him strung out for a firing squad. The shock, though, at being thrown under the bus by Maldonado was the thing that hurt the worst. She'd gone out on a limb to put him back into active duty. Even after the psych eval. And now that...

"John. I think there's more, but we don't have any concrete evidence." Dorian was saying, pulling John from his maudlin thoughts.

"Like what? What more can there be?" He sipped his cooling coffee, making a face. Damn. He'd let it get too cold. He turned and made his way to the coffee pot to refill and warm up what he already had.

"Following patterns is something I do." Dorian said, slowly following John. He stayed somewhat close to the Christmas tree, as if afraid it would vanish if he moved too far away from it. "This is somewhat reminiscent of our time in the Sanderson Building. Call it a hunch..." John snorted at that, though Dorian ignored it. "But it just seems as though someone needed a distraction."

Which meant one thing: they needed John out of the way. And what better way than an extended suspension?

"Okay.. say you're right. Say they needed a distraction and me out of the way..." John was trying to follow Dorian's train of thought, not liking the destination. "For what reason? The other detectives in the building are just as capable as I am." Some more than he was, given his limitations. "It doesn't make any sense that they'd single meout."

"John, don't you get it?" Dorian pressed. "Christmas. There's going to be a skeleton crew the night of. You would have volunteered to work, I know you. If you're not there, they have to bring in someone else. The MXs are going to be down below, mostly recharging for the night."

Son of a bitch, Dorian was right. John volunteered for every holiday, and had, for years. Birthday, Christmas, Thanksgiving, it didn't matter. Anna had been the only one who could have talked him out of working holidays to spend time with her. Anna. Jesus, was this some kind of misguided attempt to keep him out of harm's way after the ambush? He wanted to ask, wanted to elaborate his theories, but that would mean letting Dorian in. It would mean allowing the DRN to see the one thing he kept shuttered away tighter than a bank vault. And that was one landmine John Kennex wasn't going to step on again.

"So getting me out of the way.." He had to say something about it. He'd told Maldonado, of course. It was something vital to the case. "It's personal. Someone wants to keep me from fighting back. Question is, how the hell am I gonna get back into the precinct on Christmas without getting caught?"

Dorian smirked. The fact that John had glossed over being fired, possibly going to jail for entering the precinct after being forbidden, or worse getting killed while off duty made Dorian wonder at just how safe it was to have John on the force. Getting caught. That seemed to be his only concern. "You know it's protocol that I should caution you against such an endeavor." He said softly. But it wasn't a no. And it wasn't a case of Dorian not helping John break into the precinct.

"Noted." John said dryly. He turned and fixed his partner with a look. "If you think you're gonna stop me, you're wrong. Too many lives are at stake and I'm not gonna sit home and watch it on the news."

Dorian nodded once. "Just had to throw that out there, John. If we survive this, and you don't get fired or put in prison, they'll probably gladly give you your job back."

"Well aren't you just a bucket of rainbows and sunshine."

Dorian smiled sunnily and turned his attention back to the tree. "You don't have presents under the tree, John. It's two days before Christmas."

John meanwhile, had turned away to begin the process of becoming more human and less caveman. He'd started for his room and the shower, though he wasn't sure he was going to bother shaving. Not for breaking into the precinct. Hell, he wasn't even going to bother doing much in the way of dress. No uniform. He still had his black fatigues from his military days. Deep in thought, he almost missed the comment, but the 'C' word pulled him from his musings. He paused at the door to his room and glanced back, eyes narrowed.

"Who the hell am I gonna buy for?" His gaze flitted across the tree before settling squarely upon Dorian, fixing him with the full-magnitude of his 'what the hell are you even saying?' expression. It wasn't quite the force of his 'freeze lava in hell' expression, but it was close. "I'm not married, no kids to speak of... and nobody on the force buys into the Secret Santa bullshit. What, you want a present, Dorian? What would I buy you?" He raised a brow, ready to work himself into a snit about the damned presents. "What would you buy me?"

Dorian actually stopped to consider that. He didn't have an answer. He stayed below the precinct with the MXs when they 'slept.' He had a single locker that housed replacement uniforms when not in use. Dorian wanted for nothing and needed nothing. John, though... that was a... Dorian wasn't quite sure the colloquial term he wanted to use for John's current state.

"Well, I already have you listed on the dating site. Have you had any success with that? That might help with your... situation." He didn't gesture, but his gaze dropped toward John's shorts.

"Conversation. Over." John growled, turning to head into his room. He'd been avoiding that site and anything to do with it, not wanting to deal with private sector dating. It was almost worse than dating a coworker, not that he wanted to do that, of course. He wouldn't think of Stahl. She was a coworker, even if she actually liked a good footie match. And bourbon. Nope. Denial was not just a river in Egypt, folks. He wouldn't think about her, or the mine field that being that close to her would be.

Instead, John focused on what they'd need to get into the precinct and how best to overtake Insyndicate if that was, indeed, the plan. He could concentrate while he showered. He could force down the morose, depressed-as-shit side of himself and focus on the task at hand. John Kennex was a master at shoving things to the side and not dealing with them. His own mental stability (or lack thereof) could be momentarily ignored so that he could instead see things with an almost clinical clarity.

And he most certainly wouldn't think about the little boy in the hospital who would be scarred for life because he hadn't hesitated to pull the trigger.