I posted the first chapter and it got such a HUGE response, omg! So thank you all so so much it honestly blew me away! It also means the pressure's on to keep the quality up lmao, so I hope all of y'all enjoy this as much as you seemed to enjoy the first one. If it's trash please tell me, I need to be put in my place like the fool I am

Before I forget: I completely forgot Carl's son is called Leo, lol. I just chose it for the android's name because I was reading through a book of children's names, trying to decide, and then my gecko jumped from my shoulder onto the book and her little gecko hand landed on Leo. You can't argue with the gecko.

Shoutout to my irl friends Alice and K (who can be found on AO3 as luciferismyspiritanimal) for beta'ing this for me and also basically telling me to shut the fuck up and stop worrying about whether my writing didn't flow. You're the real MVPs of my life

"You all right, kid?"

Connor starts. "I'm fine, Hank. Just doing some research."

"Yeah? What kind of research?"

"I imagine that Detective Reed is not going to be happy upon four more androids appearing in the station today. Therefore, I am taking the precaution of searching my database for 'sassy comebacks'."

Hank nearly veers the car off the road. "Sassy comebacks, huh?" Connor nods. "Well, can't say Gavin the fuck doesn't have it coming to 'im." He turns the music up a dial more, leaving Connor to try to figure out when Detective Reed gained his new explicit epithet.

He doesn't have long to ponder; Hank swerves roughly into the station's parking lot a couple of minutes later, narrowly missing a bollard on the corner, and turns to look at him. He says seriously, "Connor, if that piece of shit gives you any trouble, serious trouble, don't get involved. Get away from the situation using any means necessary, find me or the Captain – or Chris or Ben, Tina too – and tell us what's happened."

"I understand, Lieutenant. But I have to admit, I'm confused. You seem to go out of your way to antagonise Detective Reed at any opportunity."

"Yeah, well, do as I say, not as I do. Laws for androids are still shaky, kid, I don't know what would happen if Reed made a formal complaint against you."

"I'll do my best not to find out," Connor says, and smiles at Hank when he turns to look at him.

Hank grimaces. "Connor, I've told you before. Don't do that. You don't look normal. I don't like it." He gets out of the car, muttering what sounds suspiciously like "freaky androids."

"Right, I'm going to get coffee," Hank announces as soon as they sign in at reception and go past the barrier. Since he stopped drinking so heavily at night and began coming in to work on time, Connor has noticed that the Lieutenant has been compensating with caffeine. It alarmed him at first, but a quick search revealed that most humans were reliant on caffeine early in the morning, so Connor does not worry about it. It's also apparent that going to the staff room during the morning to get coffee is something of asocial activity, and Hank has had an increased level of interaction ever since he began substituting alcohol for caffeine. Connor definitely did not get this information by hacking into the security cameras, but even so it's clear that Hank's mood has increased, as has his reputation among their co-workers now that he actually spends a few minutes making small talk with them.

Connor has no need for beverages, caffeinated or alcoholic or otherwise, so he heads straight to their adjacent desks. As usual, Hank left last night with his desk in a complete mess, and as usual Connor begins to clear it up. If he doesn't then Hank won't either, and Connor has discovered that his stress levels rise rapidly and refuse to fall back down ("just call it anxiety, Connor, Jesus") when he's surrounded by mess.

A quick glance over Hank's workspace and computer as he's sorting shows that he still has three outstanding reports, one half-finished form, and several finished reports that just need to be officially formatted and submitted. Connor sorts everything into piles, then pulls the unstarted work onto his own desk. He remembers all the cases, and even if he didn't, he can scan the folders within a matter of seconds, faster than Hank can read them. He can also generate a report from his findings in just a few minutes. At first Connor had simply written the reports for Hank, but the Captain had quickly recognised either Connor's style of writing or the lack of Hank's style of writing, and threatened to give them both disciplinaries. Then Hank had dictated his reports to Connor to save his wrists from the typing, but Connor had recorded every word without discretion, and so the report ended up being full of 'fuck's and 'shit's and 'argh what happened next's. They both did receive a disciplinary that time.

Now Connor constructs a plan for a report – which takes him ten seconds on a bad day – and sends it directly to Hank's computer, leaving him to flesh it out. Connor wonders sometimes if this is what people call cheating, but it cuts down the time that Hank has to spend doing paperwork, which in turn raises his mood and lowers his stress level. Connor is pleased with the system they've established, and will fight anybody who criticises it.

Connor settles into his own seat and checks to see if his cactus (Astrophytum asterias, common name sea urchin cactus) needs watering. The succulent seems sufficiently hydrated, so he settles for giving it a quick pat and buries himself in his own work.

Or tries to, at least, but within a minute of starting a report his computer monitor blinks to life, informing him that he has visitors incoming. Connor closes the folder, places it to the side, and straightens his tie before he turns his chair to the side.

("I bet he's going to sort his tie – knew it!" "North, keep your voice down please.")

"Markus," Connor greets first, because Markus arrives at his desk first, and is also the foremost leader of Jericho. Not for any other reason. "It is good to see you. Good morning, Josh, North, Simon." Connor realises too late that he forgot to grab any extra chairs to put on the other side of his and Hank's desks.

North solves the problem by stealing four chairs from random desks opposite them. "Good morning, Con-Con," she says cheerfully.

"I don't think I like that nickname," Connor tells her, and watches as her smiles grows even wider, and then twists his monitor so it faces them all. "Do you know the case number?"

"No," Josh says slowly. "We know the name of the latest victim, though. Samuel Monton."

"That will do," Connor acquiesces. The monitor blinks on and opens up the case files associated with the name. The first image that appears is a fairly gory photo of the victim still at the crime scene.

"Gross," North mutters, staring at the screen. Simon averts his eyes.

Markus looks straight at Connor. "There's five others like this. That we know of."

Connor shuts his eyes for a second, locates the code that links to the suspect, and opens that folder instead. Unnamed appears, and underneath six sub-folders, and a list of common factors. Well, factor.

"A bird?" Connor asks, looking to Markus for more information.

Markus nods. "Near to each victim, the android carved the silhouette of a bird into the wall or floor. Very simple, but very distinct. And exactly the same each time, that's how we knew it was an android."

"From there we just asked around, and managed to track it down to our guy Leo," Josh interjects. "A few different androids knew different things. We wrote down everything people said, anyway, just in case we were wrong." He pulls out a folded sheet of paper and hands it to Connor.

Connor scans the page. It starts off with vaguer statements ('I know the android who looked after that guy, yeah, he's called Leo) and gradually trickles down to much more obvious clues ('Leo's owner used to beat him a lot, he always said he wanted to get revenge on him'). "Was Leo's owner one of the victims?"

"The first one," Markus says. "Simon went to check it out quickly."

"Leo had a store cupboard as his 'room'," Simon explains. "There were hundreds of birds carved on the walls there, identical to the ones at the crime scenes."

Connor nods. "Did any of you meet Leo at any point?"

"Yes," North and Josh say at the same time. They exchange glances. Josh continues, "He was…kind of creepy."

North nods, and shifts forward in her seat as she says, "There was just something dark about him. He went missing shortly after that Friday. His ex-owner was killed the next day."

"It's been four months since then," Connor says. "Have the killings been evenly spaced?"

Markus shakes his head. "He killed his owner, then didn't do anything for three months. Then he killed three people in the same day, had a week's break, killed again, then waited until two days ago to murder this guy. Another week in between. And the way he killed them is—"

Markus is cut off by a loud and obnoxious, "Well, well, well." Connor, despite his earlier promise to Hank, feels the sudden urge to inflict physical damage upon Detective Reed's smug face as he approaches them.

"Detective Reed," he greets cordially. "May I help you?"

The detective snorts. "Help me?" he asks incredulously. "The day I ask one of you to help is the day I roll over and die."

"Let's hope that happens soon then," North quips, sizing Detective Reed up quickly and obviously deciding she doesn't like him. "The world would be a better place."

"North—" Markus begins warningly.

"Yes, control her, why don't you? That is what you do, right? Robot Jesus and all?" Detective Reed asks, satisfied smirk plastered across his face. Connor has a surge of anger and disgust at once.

Markus manages to stay calm, remarkably. "I understand that you may be wary of change. But I can assure you that we do not wish for any conflict between our two species."

Detective Reed laughs hollowly. "If it was up to me," he says, getting far too close for comfort, "I'd have the lot of you exterminated. Like rats." He makes sure to look directly at Connor for his last few words, making it clear who he despises the most out of all of them.

Connor has the perfect sassy comeback for this scenario. He makes direct eye contact with the detective to establish his dominance and says loudly, "I'm a bad bitch, you can't kill me."

The sound of a mug shattering makes him look round, to where Hank has appeared at his own desk, and apparently dropped his coffee on the floor in favour of clutching at the side of his desk, wheezing. At first Connor worried that he's experiencing some kind of medical issue, but when Detective Reed snarls, "Stop fucking laughing," he realises that Hank is just experiencing extreme mirth. Acceptable response.

Detective Reed eyes the androids sat with him, lip curling. North cracks her knuckles and he begins to turn an interesting shade of red. "Listen here, you plastic—"

Connor isn't in the mood, frankly. "Suck a dick," he says roundly, and spins his chair around so he doesn't have to look at his face. "Markus, what were you saying?"

After a second in which Detective Reed walks away, spluttering, and the remaining four stare at him dumbly, Markus blinks and says, "Ah, yeah. So…" and is promptly cut off when there's a small crash near to them. Josh looks sideways and says, "Hank, you missed your chair."

"Give me a minute," comes the slightly breathless response from under the desk. "I need to process what just happened." Connor thinks the sound Hank makes next could be classified as a 'cackle'.

"Is the floor needed for that?" Simon asks uncertainly.

"Abso-fucking-lutely."

Connor frowns. "Lieutenant, the floor is approximately 73% less comfortable than your chair, which was specifically designed for office purpose and has a high ergonomic rating."

A pause, and then…

"Connor, you would have been such a fucking meme in the late 2010s."

Connor tilts his head. His LED flickers yellow for a second. "That's a mood," he says, then, "I would classify you as chaotic evil, Hank, according to this chart that sorts people by their alcohol preference."

"That's fair," Hank says, voice muffled by the floor. (Tina, who has been avidly watching the entire interaction from her desk, leans across to Chris and says in a stage whisper, "We stan.")

"Can we get back to the task at hand?" Simon says, somewhat desperately.

"Of course. Markus, you were talking about the android's pattern of murders?" Connor asks. Hank pulls himself up and seats himself in his chair, only to bury his face in his hands and start shaking with laughter again.

"I was going to say that the way he kills is quite brutal. It's always done with a knife, or a bat, or his bare hands, like he wants to do it himself. It's like he's trying to take revenge on all of them, but the victims didn't have anything to do each other." Markus shrugs. "I can't figure out what revenge he has to take on these other people."

Hank finally recovers himself and suggests, "Sometimes people who have abused for a long time develop a warped view of reality. They begin to view random people as similar to their abusers, for things as small as having the same eye colour. I don't see why androids can't get something like that, now that they can feel and shit."

Sometimes Hank proves to Connor just why he was the youngest Lieutenant. When he's not drunk, he can make some very intriguing suggestions. Then Hank adds, "I mean, Connor's got OCD now, so it's definitely possible."

"I do not obsessive-compulsive disorder, I just enjoy not living and working in filth," Connor retorts, hoping he's not blushing with Markus's attention focused on him so closely. "Anyway, this android – until we find out what the link is between the victims he's choosing, it's essentially random for us?"

Hank shrugs. "'Fraid so. We can't figure out this guy's next move until we figure out his pattern. Hate to say it, but the only way to do that might be to wait until he kills more."

Connor frowns. That doesn't sound like the optimum solution to him. "I would like to investigate the crime scenes that are still available. I might be able to detect something the human officers missed."

Hank nods. "Fair enough. Maybe you can find some shit to put in your mouth again." He stands up and puts his jacket on. "I'll go get the addresses."

Connor grabs his own coat and shrugs it on, head snapping up when Markus says uncertainly, "Put in your mouth?" They're all staring at him. Markus looks confused, North looks strangely delighted, and Josh and Simon just look disturbed.

"I can analyse samples in real time," Connor finds himself explaining again. "Lieutenant Anderson doesn't like it."

"Do you like putting stuff in your mouth?" North asks.

Connor blinks at her. "Androids don't eat."

"Yeah, but what about other stuff?"

Connor isn't sure what he means. "That's a strange question to ask, North. I don't know how to answer."

Markus cuts in before North can say anything else. "She's just being…rude. Ignore her."

Connor feels like he's missing something big. His suspicions are confirmed when he glances at Josh stifling his laughter. Simon, as he is wont to do, looks uncomfortable. He's saved from trying to figure out what's happening when Hank returns with a piece of paper.

"C'mon, we've been given permission to spend the rest of today investigating."

Connor nods and moves to follow Hank. Markus falls into step next to him, but for some reason won't meet his eyes.

They won't all fit in Hank's car; it seats four comfortably, five uncomfortably, and there are six of them. North suggests that she, Josh and Simon take a cab instead, and Hank is surprisingly quick to agree.

Markus climbs into the back of the car, nudging some empty bottles out of the way, and is surprised when Connor joins him. He doesn't know whether Connor wants to talk or not, and when the other android doesn't initiate conversation, merely stares straight ahead with a small frown and his LED cycling between blue and yellow, he doesn't speak either.

Hank blasts heavy metal to make up for the silence.

The victim's house enters into a large living room. Directly opposite the front door is an archway in the back wall, which opens to a long corridor. Doors line the two walls, and a back door sits right at the end. One of the police officers has done a rough sketch of the house to show its layout; on the left of the corridor is a kitchen, bathroom and bedroom (labelled as 'victim's'), and on the right is the office, dining room, and another bedroom (guest). The victim is in the living room, and there are no signs of a struggle or violence anywhere else in the house.

The victim, Samuel Monton, is slumped over on his front. Half of his body is draped over the sofa cushions, and one arm is flung out over the corner table next to it. There's a clear dent in the back of his head, and the copious amounts of blood there has matted his hair together. There's also blood soaked through his shirt and jeans, but it's turned the material so dark that no other injuries on the man's body can be seen. The likely cause of death is blood loss, but also possible are blunt force trauma or penetrating trauma to an essential internal organ.

The carved silhouette of a flying bird is on the table, next to the man's hand.

Connor processes all of this information in a second, and immediately sets to work. The first responding officers have diligently placed markers down next to the blood spatters and pools, as well as a bloodied pipe – made of lead, Connor analyses, and with traces of a soil that is only found at least twelves miles away – and a large steel knife, the blade shattered in two.

He'll need to analyse all of the blood stains and spatter patterns before he can start to reconstruct what happened here. He glances over to where his friends are. North is looking around, seemingly unbothered by the gore, and talking to Josh, who also appears unaffected. Simon looks queasy, and has his eyes determinedly fixed on the window. Markus is…looking right at him.

The leader starts slightly when his eyes meet Connor's, and then he smiles uneasily at him. Like Simon, he has an expression on his face that suggests nausea. Connor knows that androids are physically unable to vomit, like horses, but he still feels concern. He opens up a connection to Markus. Are you feeling okay?

Markus smiles, a little more genuine this time. I'm fine, Connor.

Do you need to leave? Nobody will mind.

Markus shakes his head. I can cope. It's just a shock. Stop worrying about me and get back to doing your thing. Markus means it. Connor seems…relaxed. In his element. He supposes it makes sense, considering this is what Connor was built to do, and all he knew for the first two months of his life. When he moves around the crime scene he does so with his usual grace, but an added confidence. He looks…almost dangerous, predatory. Markus kind of likes it.

Connor smiles suddenly, bright and wonderful, and turns back to a pool of blood on the floor, examining it intently and then analysing a sample. Markus suddenly understands why Hank hates it. There's just something unexplainably distressing about watching Connor shove blood in his mouth.

Hank finishes talking to an officer, and ambles back towards them. "Goddamn mess," he grouches. "Gonna takes hours to sort this shit out."

North perks up. "How do you know where to start?" she asks excitedly, rocking onto the balls of her feet and then back again.

"Look for murder weapons first." Hank points to the bloodied pipe on the floor, which has a small marker with '4' placed next to it. "Once you know what did the damage, you can look for the blood spatters, and place where the victim was."

"Is that what Connor's doing?" Markus asks, ignoring North's small amused snort, and Josh rolling his eyes.

Hank nods, and opens his mouth to speak when Connor walks over to them. Hank turns and drops his arms from where they were crossed over his chest, puts them in his coat pockets instead. Markus doesn't think that Hank realises how he's just changed his body language so he's more approachable.

"I'm going to have a look around, see if there are any clues about why the android killed this man," Connor tells the Lieutenant, but his eyes belie that he's waiting for Hank's – permission? Approval, Markus rectifies.

Hank nods. "Good call. Don't stick anything in your mouth." Markus subtly steps on North's foot before she can make any comment.

Connor decides to start in the bedroom. He knows this from his programming that the bedroom is where people keep their most personal items, either the ones they cherish the most, or those that they are ashamed of. He's learnt from experience, however, that people will most often hide those shameful things under their bed, or in their closet.

He begins with the closet. Just clothes. Some which Connor thinks could be called "a crime to fashion" (a phrase which Hank uses often and hypocritically), but aside from fashion sense he doesn't learn anything about the victim. He moves to the bed instead and crouches next to it, eyes scanning over the contents shoved underneath.

At the side furthest from him are bedsheets and blankets, folded neatly, and then closer to him are boxes. They're mostly transparent plastic and filled with books, clothes, and shoes, but there's one smaller brown box nestled amongst them all. It looks like it's designed to be inconspicuous, which is the exact reason it catches his attention.

He reaches for it, disturbing a spider which scuttles off indignantly, and pulls the small box out. It's longer than it is wide, and a quick scan shows a layer of grease and fingerprints over it. It's been handled many times, so clearly it was of high value to the man. Connor settles it on top of the mattress, long-ways up, then carefully removes the lid and peers inside. Photos, a large stack of them. The top one shows a smiling child on a swing. She's grinning in delight, a gap where her two front teeth are missing. White-blonde hair streams out behind her, caught by the wind. Connor does a quick scan: Lilly Brown, aged 6. Deceased.

Connor frowns and pulls up the file on Lilly Brown that's available in his database, and then looks back down at the photo. There's clearly something he's missing, and he feels a twitch of frustration. This seemingly random man has a photo of a child that was murdered by a paedophile seven years ago. The surname doesn't match that of the victim, so it's unlikely they are closely related. It is always possible that it is an uncle-niece relationship, or perhaps godfather-goddaughter, but for some reason it just doesn't seem likely to him. He realises with a start that this is probably the 'gut instinct' Hank talks about a lot.

Connor checks through the other pictures at the top of the pile one at a time, putting them down carefully face-down on the mattress once he's scanned them. They're all the same; children, female, between the ages of four and eight, and all murdered after being sexually and physically assaulted. It doesn't make much sense why the murdered man has these photos, unless he was some kind of journalist or private investigator, maybe. His records state he was unemployed, and Connor feels his gut instinct kick in again, warning him that something much more sinister is happening. He puts aside the last photo (Maria Gonzalez, aged five) and automatically goes to pick up the next photo.

He freezes for a second, then tips the box over neatly, looks at the stack side-on, and calculates there are 1,261 photos there. He doesn't want to look through them but he knows he must, to check his suspicions are correct. He processes them within seconds and -

His gut instinct hadn't led him astray. Another quick check through the files of the children and he sees they were all kidnapped by the same person over a seven month span, who was prosecuted not only for the torture and killing of the children, but also for selling pictures of his perversions.

Connor feels suddenly and dizzyingly horrified.

He returns to the living room, where Hank appears to be explaining blood spatter patterns to a fascinated North, clutching the box to his chest. The lid is back on firmly. He doesn't want anybody else to see this.

"Lieutenant," he says stiffly, and Hank shifts to face him, slight smile fading to a concerned frown. North turns too, and is a lot less subtle in that she jerks her head towards Josh and Simon to come join them.

Markus glances up at the commotion, then steps round the sofa slowly, like he's approaching a wild, injured animal. He eyes Connor all the while, which is strangely calming. "Did you find something?" he asks carefully.

Connor lifts the box in his hands. His voice sounds odd even to him when he says, "This needs to be taken as evidence."

"What's in there?" Hank holds his arms out and Connor gives him the box reluctantly. The lieutenant gives him a look that he once would have been unable to interpret; Connor now knows it's concern, masked as irritation.

"Don't open it," Connor warns, and Hank nods, eyes narrowed. "Do you remember the Roy Bridger case?"

"Ah - yeah, shit." Hank shakes his head, then explains for the benefit of the confused androids, "Shithead kidnapped children and took photos of what he did to them. Got caught four years ago but bodies still haven't been found. He sold the photos too, sick fuck."

"It seems that our victim was a buyer," Connor says flatly, and retreats as soon as the last word is out of his mouth. He hears footsteps behind him and assumes Hank has followed him, but when he goes to enter the bedroom again a gentle voice stops him.

"I'm sorry you had to see those images," Markus says, his tone and words genuine.

Connor slowly turns to face him. Markus looks a cross between upset and furious, but Connor can also pinpoint an intense concern on his features. He runs through thousands of dialogue options and settles on what seems to be the best one to settle Markus's misplaced guilt. "Somebody has to at some point; besides, I'm sure you did not wish for me to see them. You have nothing to be sorry for."

Markus shakes his head, slight smile twisting at his lips. "I'm still sorry," he breathes, "even if I had nothing to do with it." He places his hand firmly on Connor's shoulder. "You must be feeling rough." He peels back his synthetic skin and without thinking, Connor does the same and then puts his hand over Markus's.

His feelings flow into the connection. Markus makes a surprised noise when he feels Connor open his dam, apparently not expecting it, and then he shudders as the waves of repulsion, horror, overwhelming sadness anger hurt crash into him.

Connor jerks his hand away. He can't believe he burdened Markus with his troubles, he needs to apologise –

But then Markus says simply, "Oh, Connor," and pulls him into a tight hug, and Connor finds himself leaning into the solid presence and just allowing himself to be for a moment.

He only vaguely registers Markus running a hand over his back, pressure just a little firmer when he brushes over the area between his shoulder blades. He sinks into the touch even more. When Connor finally pulls away, he can still feel the weight of what he's seen on his shoulders, but he doesn't feel so burdened by it anymore. Logically, that doesn't make sense. Emotionally, it does.

"I should get back to investigating," he tells Markus, after running a quick diagnostic on his voice function to ensure it was still working correctly.

"I'll come in with you," Markus decides. "I won't get in your way, promise. Just don't think you should be alone."

After a moment of deliberation, Connor nods. He doesn't want to be alone either. Markus follows him back into the bedroom, clearly making an effort not to brush against anything. Connor is only a little surprised to realise that he finds the action endearing. "You can look around if you want," he tells Markus, who has begun to examine a bookshelf curiously. "We don't have fingerprints, or sweat, so we can't contaminate anything."

"I thought you weren't meant to move anything at a crime scene?" Markus questions, but already he's brushing his fingers over some papers on the desk, ruffling them slightly.

"They've already taken photos," Connor explains. "It's only an issue if there's no documentation in place to establish a timeline from."

Markus looks vaguely baffled by the jargon. "So…I can touch things?"

Connor nods, and smiles. Something about Markus's face and tone is making him feel warm. "You can touch things," he confirms, and Markus immediately starts reading through the papers on the table.

Connor turns his attention to the rest of the room. He scans the room and detects traces of red ice on the tables next to the bed, the windowsill, and the desk where Markus is standing. It's not enough to suggest that this man was dealing it, but there are sufficient amounts for Connor to conclude that he was definitely a user.

There's nothing else remarkable in the room, and Markus informs him that the papers are merely bills and official documents. They move back to the living room to tell Hank what they found, and find the Lieutenant talking rapidly, and quietly, with another officer.

"That doesn't look good," Markus murmurs, and Connor has to agree. He waves Hank over when he's finished talking.

"They found a hard-drive in his office," Hank says by way of greeting. He looks angry. "It was full of snuff films."

Markus shakes his head and looks away. Connor runs a search on the term.

snuff films

a genre of films in which a person is actually murdered or commits suicide, often following mental and/or physical torture

"Oh," he says aloud. "Humans or android?"

"Both." Hank looks grim. "All children."

Markus rubs the back of his neck. If he still had his LED, Connor is sure it would be cycling an angry red. It's a struggle to keep his own neutrally blue as he explains his theory.

"Lieutenant, it seems to me that this man being murdered is no accident. It would be, as you say, one hell of a coincidence for a man who has committed such grievous crimes to be killed, compared to the other people that the android could have targeted. Especially considering how difficult it would be to get in and out of his house, and neighbourhood, without being seen by a neighbour. There are many easier targets that the android could have chosen."

"You think our guy is some kind of vigilante?" Hank asks gruffly.

"In a sense. Perhaps the link that you were speaking of earlier, the one that connects all the victims…perhaps it is that they all have been abusers in one fashion or another. Of course, I would have to conduct a more thorough investigation into the other victims before I could be sure."

Hank nods thoughtfully. "Makes sense. We'll look into it tomorrow."

"Lieutenant—"

"Ah, no arguing. We're going home. It's not good for anybody to stay in a place like this for too long." Connor has the feeling that Hank isn't referring to the interior decorating.

Markus takes a cab back to Jericho with the others (after making sure Connor doesn't need anything, and giving him another strong hug), leaving Hank and Connor to drive back alone. Hank doesn't turn the stereo on this time.

Halfway through the journey, Connor says, "I feel…odd. Like my thoughts cannot settle."

A quick sideways glance, and then, "You're exhausted, Connor. That was a tough case. Fucking wears you out."

"It's never happened before."

"We've never had something so…disturbing. That man – I don't like to say that people deserve to die, but if anybody did, it was him. Twisted fuck."

"I'm not sure I like this feeling," Connor admits. Hank takes a hand off the wheel and rests it on Connor's shoulder. It's not a recommended driving position, but he doesn't tell him to stop.

"Nobody does, son."

Connor's first action upon entering the house is to guide Sumo back into the living room with him, gently push him down onto his side, and then faceplant into his fur. Sumo smells comforting. He feels it, too.

"Connor, what the hell are you doing?"

"It's soft," he replies, muffled by fluff.

"You can't sleep there. You'll suffocate," Hank warns, but his footsteps retreat into the kitchen anyway. Connor lets himself enter a kind of empty mind-space, not thinking about the case, curling one of his hands around Sumo's massive paw. The dog snuffles in response.

An hour and some later, Hank returns. His footsteps aren't as loud or brisk as usual; Connor deduces that he must be making an effort to be quiet in case Connor is asleep. He raises his head from Sumo's belly, and blinks to clear his vision. "Hello, Hank," he says politely.

Hank pauses, and looks at the android in front of him. His hair is rumpled, his eyes are bleary, and he still has his entire body wrapped around Sumo, who's also woken up and is now wagging his tail lazily, making a soft thump whenever it hits the floor. "Shit," he says with his usual wit and eloquence, and grabs a blanket from the back of the couch. "Come on up here." He sits himself on the couch, and puts one of the nicer (less stained) cushions over his lap.

Connor stumbles to his feet; for all of his talk about androids not needing sleep, and about Connor himself being the most advanced model produced, he can sure as hell act like a sleepy kid sometimes. He flops onto the sofa next to Hank, and settles himself on his side, nuzzling his head into the cushion. "I think you were right when you said I was exhausted," he says somewhat sadly. Hank, almost without realizing, throws the blanket over his long body, and begins to smooth Connor's curls out.

"You're not a machine anymore," Hank reminds him, and smiles at the discontented noise Connor makes in response. "Your mind needs rest, even if your body doesn't."

Connor pats the space he's left in front of him, and Sumo bounds over and takes a flying leap to join them. He rests his head on Hank's thigh, near to Connor's own, and the Lieutenant suddenly finds himself unable to move even if he had wanted to. There's barely enough space for the two of them, let alone a massive Saint Bernard, but Connor merely shuffles backwards more and presses himself into the cushions, then loops an arm around Sumo's chest to keep him secure. "This is good," he tells Hank absent-mindedly.

"You, uh, you going to sleep tonight then?" Hank asks, hand still gentle on top of his head.

Connor considers. Even though he is mentally worn out, he will be able to push through for a while longer, and then he could take tonight to review all of the evidence he found. He won't collapse or suffer any long-term health effects; he just wouldn't feel, as Hank would put it, one hundred percent. He usually goes into stasis every two weeks, to allow his system to run a full diagnostic check and repair any minor malfunctions or programming errors. He only did it three days ago. But...stasis, the android equivalent of sleep, basically means he is unconscious for six hours. No thoughts or dreams...pure blank bliss. With what happened today, Connor thinks he might like it. "I think I will," he eventually says, and moves to sit up so Hank can go to his own bed.

Hank pushes him back down. "You just stay there," he says, unguardedly loving for once, and rearranges the blanket draped over him. Sometimes Connor is reminded all too clearly that Hank used to be a parent.

"Your back will hurt if you sleep there," Connor protests.

"Kid, you out of everyone should know that I've slept in far worse places for far worse reasons," Hank says gruffly, and then adds in an undertone, "I'll take a backache for your happiness any day of the week."

There's an odd kind of empty feeling where his stomach would be if he had one, but things don't seem as awful as before. "Thank you, Hank." He enters stasis mode almost immediately, after grabbing one of Sumo's paws again.

The name of the victim in this chapter, Roy Bridger, was created by mixing the names of two irl murderers, who caused two very high-profile cases in the UK, where I live. Mark Bridger murdered April Jones (5 years old) in 2012, and Roy Whiting murdered Sarah Payne (8 years old) in 2000.