Awestruck. Confused. Angry.

Connor wasn't sure what he was feeling, what he was supposed to be feeling or what he wanted to feel in that moment.

Pulling his hand away from her grip he took a step back from the woman who claimed to be his mother and stared at her with cold, wide eyes of disbelief. Throughout his entire life Connor had been told that his mother was dead, and that he himself were to blame. He had no family growing up beyond his abusive alcoholic father, and only felt as though he had a real family after he met Hank and was taken in by the gruff detective harboring a heart of gold.

It just couldn't possibly be true.

She was not his mother. His mother is dead.

This woman was not his mother.

What she had said was either a lie or a cruel joke.

"No." Was all Connor could say in that moment.

What else could he say?

What could anyone possibly say in a moment like this?

Leaving the room quickly as if trying to keep the emotional time bomb in his chest from exploding Connor said nothing more as he fled from the woman's sight and ducked down a quiet, dark corridor of the hospital. Wrapping his hands over the back of his head he pressed his warm forehead against the cool surface of the gray wall and leaned forward as if trying to curl around himself to huddle up and disappear.

"...No." His repeated whisper was audible only to himself. A crushing dark weight settled into his heart making it hurt with every beat. "She's lying."

Finally arriving at the hospital Hank parked the car out in front and sent Connor a text to let him know he was heading inside. As he did he passed through the warm waiting room he shook off the snow that readily collected on his shoulders and hair, and asked about the location of his partner at the receptionist desk. After a quick exchange between himself and the head nurse Hank went in search of Connor first at the doctor's lounge, and then near the patient's room where he had been taking the woman's statement.

"Connor?" Hank didn't see him anywhere and looked about the area confusedly. Checking his phone he didn't get a reply text and resume searching for the missing younger detective. "Hey Connor, where are you?"

As he wandered the area he passed by the corridor, glanced down into the dimly lit hallway and spotted Connor leaning up against the wall. The younger man was visibly shaking and he was as silent as death.

"Connor, what's wrong?" Approaching Connor slowly Hank hovered his hand over Connor's shoulder for a moment before pressing his palm down. "Son? What happened?"

"...That woman."

"What woman?"

"She..." Turning his head slowly Connor stood upright, his hands still behind his head as he moved, and looked at Hank with a frightened stare. "She said she knew me."

"Wait, she knows you?"

"...From when I lived in Novi."

Hank didn't understand why Connor was so upset and on edge. "She came from Novi like you. Are you saying she's someone from your past?"

"Hank," Connor's eyes were watering a little as if losing the battle to restrain his emotions. "she said..." It was almost too incredible to admit. "She said she's... my mother."

"Your... mother?"

"...She knew me, Hank. She knew my middle name and knew I kept the half-dollar coin in my pocket."

"What woman? Where is she?"

"The woman that I identified as 'Alana Rosamond'."

At the sound of the name Hank's heart sunk like a stone in a pond. The last thing he was expecting was for Connor to have rescued the woman, Tamara, that he had been looking into in private. "...Start from the beginning, son. Who were you talking to, and why?"

"Alana was the woman I helped at the plaza. I brought her here for treatment and when I started to take her statement she said she knew me and..." Bowing his head down he took in shallow shuddering breaths that were making him sweat, and he looked like he was going to pass out. "...And it's not possible!"

"Hold it, take in a deep breath." Hank dropped his hand as Connor took a step back from him and began to pace the corridor anxiously. "You spoke to the woman who sent you the card at the precinct and hospital, right?"

Connor nodded frantically as he continued to pace.

"And you know for a fact it's HER, right?" Hank needed to get the facts almost as badly as Connor did. "Not someone who looks like her or-"

"It's her, Hank. She confirmed that 'Alana' was an alias."

"What else?" He pressed somewhat urgently as he addressed his partner. "Connor, what did she tell you?"

"She told me that she knew me, that she was the 'nice lady' from Novi," his hands dropped from his head and hung in tight fists at his sides as he continued to pace. "and that she was my mother. I don't understand. If she's my mother and she was there when I was a child, why didn't she take me away from my abusive father? Why did she let me suffer?!"

"Whoa, take a breath!" The senior detective resisted putting his hand back on Connor's shoulder to make him stand still. "You need to chill for a second."

"How can I? Someone just told me that she's my own mother! It's like having someone come back from the dead!" Connor was getting more and more distressed as he paced and thought about how his already radically changed life was continuing to change even further. "What does she want with me, Hank? Why is she here? What could I possibly-"

"Take it easy, kid." He tried to comfort his worried friend as best as he could in that moment. "I know you're freaked out but Tamara isn't trying to hurt you."

Connor suddenly stopped pacing and his voice took on a low growl of misplaced anger. "...How did you know the name she told me was 'Tamara'?"

"Huh? What?"

"I found out her name was 'Alana Rosamond' and that it was an alias." The younger detective boldly stated as he looked to his partner. "How did you know she gave me a different name when I took her statement? I never said it."

"Connor," Hank realized he had just messed up with letting the name slip. There was no going back now. "Connor, I-"

"You knew about her." Connor stared at Hank with a burning resentment in his otherwise soulful brown eyes. "And you didn't tell me."

"Connor, I wanted a few more-"

"Why didn't you tell me you were looking into this?"

"Son, I-"

"Don't!" Connor almost shouted in angry protest. "Don't call me that. You don't get to do this to me and still try to call me 'son'. Families aren't supposed to keep secrets like this, or snoop around behind someone's back like that. Ever."

"...You're right. I fucked up, I'm sorry."

"Why did you keep this from me?"

"You've been through so much this year, and I didn't want you-"

"Damn it, Hank!" Connor got right in Hank's face and stared at him with a completely hurt, if not betrayed, gaze in his teary eyes. "I'm NOT a fragile piece of glass! Why the hell can't you just be honest with me?"

"Connor, I'm sorry."

"...You can't even be honest with me when I ask you directly." Slinking away from Hank like a whipped puppy Connor turned away and marched out of the corridor and through the rest of the hospital toward the front doors.

"Connor? Connor!" Hank took a few steps after the younger detective with every intention of stopping him, but knew that Connor would be better off if he just had a moment alone to think. Whenever Connor was upset or pissed off it was best to give him some space for a while. "Fuck... I really fucked up on this one."

Feeling like he was about to lose control over himself Connor stormed away from the hospital and focused on returning to the precinct to get away from the woman, from the person who was either a ghost from his past, or a deluded stalker. He trudged through the ankle deep snow with the angry darkness in his heart beating in tandem with every step he took.

"...It's not true."

Muttering to himself despondently Connor felt his skin burning hot from his anger and ignored icy wind howling in his ears.

"...She's not my mother. My mother's dead."

The early winter blizzard continued to bombard the city under a smothering coldness that made everything white and freezing.

"...It's just not possible."

Hank already felt like a major asshole for keeping a secret from Connor, but when that secret turned out to be a massive revelation into Connor's own past he felt like he had accidentally and irreparably betrayed Connor's trust. Unsure of what to do to help Connor he turned his attention to Tamara, or Alana, or whatever her real name really was. Mentally steeling himself Hank made his way to the room where the woman of interest was resting and knocked on the opened doorway to get her attention.

"Excuse me." Pulling his badge from his pocket he flashed it to the woman as he introduced himself. "My name is Lieutenant Hank Anderson. Can I ask you a few questions?"

'Tamara' was crying softly and had her hand over her good eye to wiped away her tears.

"...I hate to intrude, but this is important."

The woman turned to look at Hank and nodded a little as she sniffled. "...I can talk." Dropping her hand from her face she looked at Hank with her one bloodshot good eye. She cleared her throat a little and regained her composure. "How can I help you, Lieutenant?"

"Please," taking a tissue from the box sitting on the nearby table he passed it over to the woman to take. "call me Hank."

"...Hank, then." She accepted the tissue and dried her eye gently.

"And what can I call you?"

"Tamara."

"...I hate to do this, but I have to ask about the name 'Alana Rosamond'."

She suddenly turned and looked at Hank with wide-eyed panic. "...I promise you that I'm not someone who steals identities or is trying to hide from the law."

"I believe you, and I wouldn't even look into that." He quickly eased her fears as he let her know that's not why he was questioning her. "But you are trying to hide from someone. At least," sitting down in the chair beside her bed Hank kept his voice low and civil. "you were hiding from someone else. Now he's gone and you don't have to hide anymore."

"How do you know that?"

"For one, I'm a detective. I've seen too many battered woman and abused children to not recognize the signs. But I've also noticed that you were hanging around my partner." Getting right to the point Hank made his interest clear. "You followed him out to Grand Rapids and then back to Detroit."

"I'm not a stalker, either."

"And I believe that, too."

"...Hank, what's going on?"

"I need to ask you about your past; who you really are, where you came from, and why you've been watching Connor from a distance."

She was silent for a moment and looked away from Hank. She was evidently racked with guilt and shame.

"Please talk to me, I want to help you and Connor. Trust me on this, Elizabeth."

Turning her head to look at Hank with utter shock she just stared and contained an amused laugh. "...No one's called me that in over twenty years."

"We both care about Connor." The senior detective spoke up softly as he studied Elizabeth's face. She had the same brunette hair and brown eyes as Connor, and he swore he saw the same stubborn fighting spirit that made Connor a fantastic detective, but a lousy patient. "I know you want to help your son, and that's exactly what I want to do, too."

"...You care about Connor." She realized that Hank was looking out for Connor as more than just a partner, or even a friend, he cared about Connor like his own son. "You really do."

"Please."

Nodding a little Elizabeth agreed to answer Hank's questions and help him as much as possible. "Okay, Hank. What do you want to know?"

"Everything." He sighed as he leaned forward and folded his hands neatly over his lap. "Elizabeth, what happened to you and to Connor to split you up, and why did you watch him from a distance?"

Practically pushing the doors to the precinct wide open Connor made his way through the receptionist area and shook off the relentless snow from his hair and his shoulders. Shivering from his prolonged exposure to the cold Connor made his way into the breakroom, and quickly poured himself a mug of hot tea; not caring about the flavor, and wrapped both hands around the black porcelain mug allow the much needed warmth to seep through his icy cold fingers and palms to ease the thick discomfort making his hands tingle.

Carrying his mug over to his desk he paused for a moment before slipping around to the other side and sitting behind Hank's terminal. Turning on the screen and using Hank's password he logged in to begin his own research. It didn't take him long to locate the file containing the information that Hank had collected on 'Tamara', and felt a heat of anger wash over him.

"He's been doing this for months behind my back."

Turning off the terminal Connor returned to his desk and buried his face in his hands as he leaned against the top of his desk on his elbows. Stressed, angry, confused, frustrated and feeling utterly alone Connor was ready to sit and fester in his foul mood.

"Connor?" Captain Fowler had seen Connor return without Hank, and he could see even from his office that the young detective was upset. "You okay?"

"...I'm fine." He muttered without lifting his head up to look at Captain Fowler as he acknowledged his commanding officer.

"You don't seem fine. Where's Hank?"

"...Talking to a witness at the hospital."

"You came back without him?"

"Yes."

"Alright. Look at me, Connor."

Lifting up his face from his hands he looked at Captain Fowler and sighed. "Yes, sir?"

"Damn, kid. You look like shit."

Returning his face to his hands Connor sighed and tried to ignore his own dreary, bitter thoughts.

"Why don't you go home?" Captained Fowler suggested casually. "You look like you're getting sick."

Shaking his head a little Connor leaned back in his seat and dropped his hands to his lap. "I don't want to go home."

"Well, I don't want you to be hanging around here if you're getting sick and spreading it to the other officers." Before Connor could try to argue or even say another word Captain Fowler turned around and made his way back to his office. "Clock out. You're done for the day."

Sighing angrily Connor sipped at the tea, chamomile, and logged out of his terminal to take his leave for the rest of the evening. He didn't want to go home or speak to Hank, he was too angered and far too stubborn to let up on the senior detective just yet. With nowhere to go and refusing to go back home Connor took his leave of the precinct and began walking out to New Jericho Tower to seek counsel from his brother.

As Elizabeth told her story of being forced to drop out of high school and marry her abusive ex-husband, being forbidden from trying to have a job or leave the house and being slapped around for even the smallest error on her part, she began to cry again and Hank couldn't hide his own sympathetic tears. When she mentioned how she had to endure more beatings when she fell pregnant with Connor she couldn't stop herself from breaking down entirely and Hank patiently waited for her to recompose herself.

"...I'm so sorry you went through that." Hank's heart truly went out to her and he handed her more tissues. "And I know this is hard but I have to ask why you were declared dead, and went into hiding without taking Connor with you."

"I... I was told by the nurse to not get attached to Connor after he was born. He was so small and so weak that they didn't expect him to live even a few hours after being born, and I didn't... I didn't have the chance to see him or even hold him before I was taken away. The nurse knew I was in an abusive relationship and she used her connections to a battered woman's shelter to get me to safety, and had the coroner declare me dead so I could enter a new life, with a new name, courtesy of a former member of homeland security working at the shelter."

"They got you to safety but left a newborn baby behind?"

"Connor wasn't supposed to make it." She wept though her voice remained clear. "If I had my way I would've taken him with me and ran to the other side of the world to escape that cruel bastard who hurt us."

"Holy shit." Hank put his hand to his bearded chin and sighed with pained understanding. "That's why you watched him without taking him. If you took him you could be charged with kidnapping, or risk getting assaulted by your ex again if you showed up."

"It hurt more than anything to leave my only son behind, but I couldn't go back for him. Then I was told he pulled through the night and was getting stronger every day." She smiled a little and gave Hank a prideful stare. "I could see him once a week after he was strong enough to leave the hospital and be temporarily placed in care at a foster facility while my ex-husband was being legally prosecuted."

"And while he was in jail he was told your funeral was being held, which is why he never went looking for you."

"Yes, that's right."

"But because they couldn't prove his actions directly led to your 'death' without your testimony he wasn't tried for negligent homicide, only assault."

"Yeah. We didn't have the most... honest people in charge at the time."

Hank nodded his head sympathetically. "What happened to Connor while he was in foster care during all of this?"

"He was well taken care of and beat the odds. As a volunteer I was allowed to go to the center and finally hold my son. He was the most beautiful thing I've ever laid my eyes on."

Hank smiled a little as he listened to her story. "But you still couldn't legally take him without revealing your true identity, and risking you ex finding you."

Nodding a little Elizabeth took a breath and continued. "I wish I had the courage to take that risk for Connor's sake. He was the happiest little boy and I loved spending time with him whenever I could. But the day came when the court gave him back to my ex, and... I almost lost him again."

"So you kept a low profile, stayed in the neighborhood, and did what you could without that asshole finding out."

"It hurt so much to see Connor becoming more and more reclusive as the abuse continued. He wasn't as adventurous or outgoing, he didn't want to talk to anyone or play with the other children, he even stopped smiling. What kind of kindergartner doesn't smile?"

"Why didn't you report the abuse?"

"Part of the legal conditions I had to abide by in order to stay under my new identity I... I couldn't. If I made the call I'd have to explain who I was and how I knew what was happening, and if I made an anonymous call no one would've taken it seriously. Even the school didn't know that Connor was being abused."

"How could they not know?"

"That bastard only hit Connor over his back or his chest, places where no one would see the injuries. Whenever he did have bruises on his arms or legs it was just chalked up to a little kid getting the usual bumps and bruises from playing too rough. And Connor," she shook her head sadly as she told the sad tale. "he never once complained."

Hank ran his hand through his hair and leaned back in his chair. "...I know." As the unsettling story fit with the information he collected during his search into Connor's past Hank only began to truly fathom how tragic Connor's early life had been. It was no longer a mystery as to why Connor was so mistrustful of people and unwilling to ask for help. "Why didn't you step up when Connor was finally taken away from that bastard at fourteen years old?"

"...I couldn't bring himself to face to my ex. I was too afraid to face anyone in a corrupt court, but I knew Connor would be better off without my ex in his life no matter where he went, or who he associated with."

"So you did know of his emancipation?"

"Yeah. Who do you think is the one who called the police when Connor was..." She closed her eye and stream of tears began to flow down her face. "When he had his arm broken?"

"...You heard the fight. And you saw him fall."

Elizabeth nodded again. "I was ready to sneak Connor out of the house that night when everything went down. He was old enough to understand what I was doing and why, and in time I'd tell him the truth. But seeing my ex being taken away in cuffs and my son in the E.R. to have his arm surgically repaired... I just felt like... I failed."

"You didn't fail, you were just afraid."

"As much as I wanted to tell Connor what had happened and tell him the truth when he became a ward of the state, and as much as I wanted to wrap my arms around him and hug him as tightly as I could, I was too ashamed to face him."

"But you still checked in on him from time to time."

"Only when I had the courage to look him in the eyes." Wiping a tear from her eye she just sighed and stared at Hank. "When he left Novi I was hoping he'd finally have a better life and begin to actually live. Then the accident happened. I read about the accident in the news and I... I had to go see him."

"So you became a volunteer at the hospital to stay close to him and take care of him."

"Yes. I was hoping he'd wake up and I would be able to tell him the truth at last... But, he wasn't going to wake up. Not until that strange meeting, something that I never imagined would ever be possible, I was ready to accept that my son was truly gone. And now... Now's alive and moved on. I just wanted to be a part of his life beyond just lurking in the shadows."

"...Okay." Hank believed her story and knew everything she had just told him was factual. "He needs to know the truth."

"I know." She agreed without fail and pushed aside her sorrow. "He deserves to know."

"I'll go and try to find him."

"Find him?"

"Well, he left pretty upset. I'm going to check in at the precinct and see if he's there."

"Why not call him?"

"Because if he is there and knows I want to talk to him I have a hunch he'll leave, or try to go out in the field again to avoid me."

"...He's always been stubborn. Even when he was a little baby he'd put up such a fuss whenever I tried to rock him to sleep or try to put him down because I had to leave for the night. I never saw a little boy so adamant about doing his own thing and never letting other people try to help him or get in his way."

Hank smirked again as he stood up from the chair and looked out the window and to the massive torrent of falling white snow that was quickly building up and smothering out the streets, sidewalks and even the sky as the dark snow clouds continued to hover over the city. It was getting darker and colder, and Hank knew he needed to get either to the precinct or home soon, before the roads became too dangerous to drive.

"I'll find him and break it to him gently. And then apologize profusely for keeping my search into your past a secret."

"...Once you find him let him I know want to apologize, too. And I will tell him the truth at long last."

"I will." As he reached into his pocket to check his phone he noticed that Connor's leather jacket was left on the chair where he had been sitting. Which meant Connor was old walking in the blizzard and roaming the streets without the warm, protective layer. "Ah, shit!" Snatching the leather jacket Hank searched through the pockets desperately. "At least he still has his phone..."

"Hank?"

Turning around he draped the jacket casually over his arm and sighed. "Nothing." The last thing he wanted to do was worry the already guilt-riddled woman any further than she already was. "Look, you get some rest and don't worry about him. As soon as he's not pissed off any me anymore I'll tell him everything."

"...Okay, Hank."

Taking his leave of the room Hank proceeded to march down the corridor toward the front doors of the hospital as quickly as possible.

"Damn it, kid." Hank mumbled to himself and immediately was repelled by the stinging cold wind cutting into the skin on his face. "Don't do anything stupid!"

Connor coughed once as he entered the warm lobby of New Jericho Tower and shook off the cold once more. Rubbing his hands up and down his arms to create friction heat and stave off the chill slicing through his skin and straight down to the bone Connor approached the elevator slowly to seek out Lucas no doubt residing in the emergency repair bay. As his hand reached the panel Josh's voice called out to him from behind.

"Connor? Hi, good to see you."

"Hello, Josh." Acknowledging the kind deviant leader with a nod over the shoulder, Connor pressed his palm on the panel. "I'm looking for Lucas, it's important."

"He's in the repair bay. Want me to tell him you're coming up?"

"No, it's fine." The elevator doors and and he steps inside the otherwise unoccupied elevator car. "Thank you, though."

The doors closed and Connor stood alone shivering and wet from the snow that had melted through his gray jacket, white dress shirt and jeans. Trying his best to ignore the horrific chill that numbed his feet, nose and ears, but made his fingers sting and tingle. As he shivered he coughed again and tried to keep his frustrated emotions in check before speaking with Lucas.

It didn't take long for the elevator to reach its destination. As the doors parted Connor stepped out on his shaking legs, leaving a faint trail of watery footprints behind as he walked, and made his way over to the large door leading into the emergency repair bay. The interior of the repair bay smelled of fresh Thirium and had a unique aroma of plastimetal that Connor hadn't noticed until only after he returned to his humanity. It wasn't a noxious smell, just distinct and almost impossible to ignore.

"Lucas?" Connor called out to his brother as the deviant technician aided a refugee in placing his replaced arm back into his shoulder socket. "Can I speak with you?"

"Connor." Lucas turned to look at Connor standing by the doorway and nodded. "Yes, of course. I just need one more minute to reattach William's arm."

"I understand, take your time."

Standing up against the far wall with his arms crossed over his chest Connor closed his eyes and bowed his head as if staring at the floor. As he leaned against the wall his entire body was still trembling from the deeply-seeded cold in his chest and he stifled more coughing. The thoughts churning away in his head, the questions burning on his lips, and the urge to just run away from everything until he was by himself and left to sulk away in the shadows were all too overwhelming for Connor to bear at that moment. It was that very inner conflict that kept him anchored in place thanks to the tremendous dark weight threatening to crush his beating heart.

"Connor?" Lucas had approached his brother and was standing there for almost ten seconds before speaking up. "Connor, what's wrong?"

Looking up at Lucas's face Connor just shook his head and told him everything that had happened that odd, fateful day.

"Lucas... Something very unexpected, if not impossible, is happening to me."

Idling in traffic as he waited for the snowplow ahead of him to clear the street (again) Hank pulled out his phone and sent another text to Connor hoping he'd finally get a response from the wayward detective. There was no sign of Connor and despite his best efforts Hank knew he wouldn't get the stubborn younger man to reply with any texts or phone calls.

"Come on, son. You can't hide from this." Traffic began to move and Hank pulled the car slowly along the cleared street to make his way the final block to the precinct. "I can't believe I'm the one trying to be the voice of reason on family problems."

It was a bit of a struggle to pull the car through the icy, slick parking garage to get to his assigned space but Hank managed just fine. Throwing the car into park, and the emergency brake out of a necessary precaution for the icy surface, Hank walked quickly into the precinct next to the parking garage with Connor's leather jacket under his arm.

"Fuckin' hell." Hank grumbled as he made his way through the front precinct doors and stumbled toward his desk in the bullpen. Connor wasn't anywhere to be seen and Hank swore again. "Shit."

"What's wrong, Lieutenant?" Tina had overheard the complaint as she stepped out of the breakroom with a mug of steaming herbal tea between her hands. She had a slightly red tinted nose thanks to the cold, and there was no doubt that she was fighting off a cold as well. "You look sort of pissed."

"Have you seen Connor?"

"I saw Captain Fowler speaking to him about forty-five minutes, maybe an hour ago, and told him to go home."

"Home? Why?"

"Connor looked like he wasn't feeling well. He was kinda' pale and eyes were bloodshot."

"Shit." Pulling his phone from his pocket Hank checked once more for any response from Connor, but there was still nothing. "Great."

"Is something going on with him?"

"You could say that." Holding up Connor's leather jacket he gave her an annoyed glance. "He's in a bad mood and walking around that blizzard without a coat." Sitting down behind his desk Hank sent another message to Connor just to make sure he was safe at the house. "And I have no idea where he went."

"Want patrol to look for him?"

"No. The last thing he needs is to have half the precinct out looking for him or some shit."

"Right. Well, if I hear anything I'll let you know."

"Yeah, thanks Tina." Rubbing his hand over his bearded chin Hank sighed and noted the later time of day. It was almost five in the evening and it was only going to get darker and colder. "Why are you so damn bullheaded all the time, kid?"

It didn't take Connor long to tell Lucas everything that had happened that day and of how the mysterious woman in question claimed that she was supposedly his late mother. When he mentioned how it was all a chance encounter that they met, but still had indisputable facts that he couldn't begin to question, and that he found out Hank was looking into her behind his back, the sense of betrayal in Connor's voice and glistening in his eyes was undeniable.

Lucas listened to every word as he guided Connor over to an exam table to sit down. Using his keen eyes, ability to scan, and newly acquired knowledge of human biology to assess his stubborn brother's condition. Not only were Connor's heart rate and blood pressure elevated, his core temperature was higher than normal, while his hands and feet were significantly colder. The young detective was either suffering hypothermia, the beginning of a fever, or a combination of both.

"Connor, please don't be angry with Hank." Lucas asked as he checked his brother's hands for sign of frost bite and gauged his pulse. "He wasn't trying to hurt you, or offend you."

"He should've told me what he was doing."

"Perhaps he should. But you had also kept a secret from Hank when it came to your humanity."

"Me being able to return to who I once was is not comparable to this." Connor pulled his hands back from Lucas abruptly and clenched them into tight fists atop his lap. "What I had done was a very personal experience that no one else could even begin to understand. And what I had done was to keep Hank safe."

"Safe from what? Yourself?"

"...He would've tried to stop me. But I needed to know who I was and where I came from. And I still do."

"Why is that when Hank begun searching into your past you feel betrayed, but when you're doing the same you feel justified?"

"Because it's MY life. I wasn't hiding anything from Hank, nor was I planning to keep an revelations from him. He on the other hand couldn't be bothered to tell me that he had found a lead. Instead I ran into a ghost from my past and now I don't know what to do about it."

"I may not be able to understand what you're going through but I believe that you being angry with Hank won't do either of you any good."

"Hank wasn't snooping around behind your back, Lucas."

"It's not snooping if he was trying to help you. It's only snooping if was trying to harm you."

"It's an invasion of privacy and he did so without informing of what he was doing." Connor shook his head angrily. "We could've worked together on this."

"Connor, I know Hank wasn't trying hurt you. When he began his investigation nine weeks prior-"

"How did you know how long Hank had been searching into my past?" Connor asked angrily as he slid off the table and got to his feet. "You already know what he was doing, didn't you?"

Lucas gave Connor the same deer caught in the headlights stare that Hank had given when he slipped up at the hospital. "Connor, I-"

Turning away from Lucas with an embittered stare he marched toward the doorway to the repair bay to leave.

"Connor, please!" Lucas chased after Connor and put his hand on the young detective's shoulder. As soon as his palm made contact with Connor's shoulder the angered detective shrugged off his touch without breaking stride. "Don't leave."

"Don't touch me." Connor growled as he made his way to the elevator and practically slammed his palm against the panel to get back to the ground floor of the tower. Looking away from the deviant technician standing just outside the elevator doors Connor muttered to himself as the doors slid shut slowly. "Even my own brother is keeping secrets from me."

Once the elevator reached the ground floor he made his way back through the lobby and ignored everyone who was around him. Returning to the horrifically cold snow and dark night that was encroaching over the city. Crossing his arms over his chest to try to stave off the cold Connor bowed his head down and endured the relentless wind trying to slice through his skin.

Leaving the tower behind him Connor made his way down the drive back to the city with the crushing weight threatening to break his heart with every shuddering beat in his chest.

"I can't trust anybody..."

Staying behind desk Hank kept his phone in his hand as he watched the news report on the television showing the footage of the blizzard quickly consuming the streets, and how state of snow emergency would likely go into effect before eight o'clock that very evening. Staring at the snow piling up on the screen and the time on the corner of the screen, six forty-four, Hank decided enough was enough. He needed to go out and find Connor.

"Fuck it." Logging out of his terminal Hank stood up from his desk with every intention of leaving to head back home, only to have his phone begin ringing in his hand. Looking down at the caller I.D. he saw Lucas's name and with it a vice tightened around his heart. "...Shit." Putting the phone to his ear he answered the call knowing that whatever Lucas was going to tell him wasn't going to be good news. "Lucas, what's going on?"

'Hank, I screwed up.' Lucas muttered in a worried voice as he spoke to Hank truthfully. 'I screwed up bad!'

"What happened?" Hank fished his car keys out of his pocket and began marching toward the precinct's front doors to leave. "Tell me what's going on."

'I... I was talking with Connor here at New Jericho and he was very upset. I made it worse when he discovered that I knew you were looking into his past and I didn't inform him of the situation.'

"Ah, shit." Rushing as quickly as he dared to the parking garage he fumbled with getting the key in the lock as his hands endured the relentless cold wind and blowing snow. "Where is he?"

'I don't know. He left the tower and I'm not sure where he went.'

"Stay there, I'll look for him."

'How will you find him?'

"I'm a detective." Throwing open his door he put Connor's leather jacket down on the passenger seat beside him and turned over the engine. "I can use a tracking app on Connor's phone to find him."

'I will ask other deviants to keep an eye out for him as well. If he is seen I can inform you.'

"Yeah, good idea. I'll let you know when I find him." Ending the call Hank used a special app on his phone designed to locate any phone connected to his own. Using his clearance as a police officer to activate the app Hank's phone showed a very weak signal courtesy of the storm and could see that it was moving very slowly on the other side of the city. "Shit. He's not at the house."

Pulling the car out of the parking garage Hank dared to pull back onto the snowy, slick street in search of his wandering adopted son.

"Connor, we're going to have a serious talk after this..."

As the dark of the night overwhelmed the city Connor roamed the snow covered sidewalks despite his feet becoming numb and his hands stinging from the extreme cold. Folding his arms protectively over his chest in a futile attempt to stave off the icy wind. Coughing loudly he bowed his head down to protect his eyes and nose from the piercing wind as the thick snowflakes soaked into his already damp, and freezing clothing and his hair.

Too tired to keep walking but too angry to go home, to the precinct or back to New Jericho Tower, Connor resided to trudging through the ankle deep snow to the nearby park to rest for a moment. The park itself was the very one that Hank had visited the night he and Connor investigated the murder at the 'Eden Club' just a few days before the revolution.

A few strands of multicolored lights were wrapped around the thinner trees to give the park a somewhat cheery glow through the storm as the holiday season began. The thickness of the snow made the otherwise bright glow only a dull rainbow that cast a lukewarm glow over Connor's person.

Peering out at the dark water and illuminated Ambassador Bridge stretching over the Detroit River all Connor could do was shuffle through the snow over to a vacant bench and sit down. As he did he curled around himself as tightly as he could to protect himself from the snow and wind as he continued to cough harshly through the blizzard swirling around him.

"...She can't be my mother." Connor told himself in between harsh coughs. "It's not... possible."

A numbing chill raced up his spine making him shudder violently.

"Why did... she leave me... behind?"

As his heavy eyelids fell shut Connor curled around himself even further as he coughed violently.

"...I don't... have..."

Fatigue and hypothermia were wearing down Connor's stubborn resolve. As his strength ebbed away he felt himself slipping forward and off the the edge of the bench toward the massive pile of snow collecting before him.

"...Not... possible."

Unable to withstand the cold any longer he coughed with a harsh barking sound and fell forward into the snow. Laying on his side Connor coughed again and tried to lift up his head, but he was already too weak from the extreme cold and he resided to his frozen isolation in the middle of the park. Allowing himself to drift off to sleep after a long, losing struggle Connor was left to the mercy of nature and the elements.

From behind the bench duo beams of bright yellow headlights shone into the park and cast a faint glow over Connor's unconscious form as he laid helpless in the snow. As a car door opened and then slammed shut a long figure rushed over to Connor calling his name in a near panic.

"Connor! Connor?!" Dropping to his knees beside Connor in the snow Hank threw the leather jacket over Connor's back and rolled him over onto his back, hoping that the jacket would be enough to shield from the cold snow. Patting the side of Connor's face a few times Hank shook him a little and continued to call out his name. "Connor! Damn it, son! Why are you out here?"

Bending his ear down as he cradled Connor's head and shoulder against his arm and hand, Hank listened through the howling wind for any sign of breathing. It was faint but it was there. An icy cold exhale that was almost indistinguishable against the surrounding blizzard. Pressing his fingers to the side of Connor's neck Hank could barely feel his pulse as hypothermia constricted his blood vessels and reduced a proper circulation.

"Shit." Moving his ear down to Connor's chest he could hear and count his slower heartbeat and knew that Connor was suffering from hypothermia. "Come on, kid." Slipping his other arm under Connor's knees he picked up the stubborn young detective with moderate difficulty; his human body almost thirty pounds heavier than his android counterpart, Hank trudged back through the snow and pulled open the passenger side door to place Connor down in the seat. "Hold on for me, son."

Hank slammed the passenger door shut as he rushed over to the other side of the car, shrugged off his own coat, and climbed inside to the driver's side of the vehicle. Draping his coat over Connor's chest and abdomen he cranked up the heat in the car and focused on driving away from the park, back to the house as steadily, but quickly as possible.

"Connor, can you hear me?" Hank pressed his right hand to Connor's forehead, then down the side of his face. The younger detective was freezing cold and completely unconscious. "Wake up, son. You have to open your eyes."

Unresponsive and frighteningly still, Connor stayed upright and appeared to be nothing more than a pale, icy corpse.

"Son of a bitch." Dropping his hand from Connor's face Hank grabbed onto his phone, called Lucas, and put the phone on speaker. The line barely rang once before Lucas answered, but before the deviant could say a word Hank yelled into the phone with mounting fear. "Lucas, I found Connor at the park. He's freezing and unconscious."

'To which hospital are you taking him?'

"I'm not. The roads are too dangerous and the house is closer than any of the hospitals in the area."

'Can you help him?'

"I'm going to try my damnedest." Hank replied in a gruff tone as he slowly maneuvered down the street and began nearing the house at an obnoxiously slow clip. The streets were quickly becoming more and more dangerous as Hank fought to maintain control over the vehicle as the icy roads threatened to steal all of his traction. "I know what to do, but I won't have the supplies at my disposal."

'Please keep me posted on his condition.'

"Yeah, son. I'll let you know how he's doing." Ending the call Hank put his full concentration on the road ahead of him. "You hear that, Connor? I'm going to help you. You're going to be okay. As long as pull through you can be as pissed off at me for long as you want."

It took almost twenty-five minutes just to make the formerly eight minute drive back to the house. Fighting to get the car up the driveway beside the house Hank threw the vehicle into park and thew on the emergency brake once more. Rushing over to the backdoor Hank unlocked it and pushed it open before returning to the car to pull open the passenger door and pulling Connor up, and over his shoulder. Hefting the unconscious detective inside the house Hank managed to kick the backdoor shut behind before lugging Connor down the hallway and into Connor's bedroom.

"I gotcha' kid." Pulling back the quilt Hank sat Connor down on the edge of the bed and proceeded to remove the two coats covering him then worked to strip away Connor's soaked gray suit jacket. Throwing the soaked garment to the floor he took away Connor's tie and fumbled to get the buttons on the white dress shirt undone to take off the equally soaked shirt. "Shit, you're freezing." Allowing Connor to slowly fall backward until he was laying flat on his back Hank pulled off Connor's icy, cold boots, socks and then his jeans. "Fucking hell. You're more ice than person at this point."

Working to throw Connor's legs over the edge of the bed and straightening Connor out until he laying with his head against the pillow, Hank draped the thick quilt over him and then piled onto the coats once more.

"I'll get you warmed up, son." Patting his own leg he called out to Sumo and hopes that the massive, fluffy dog would help Connor warm up. "Sumo! Come here, boy! Come on!"

Sumo trudged into the bedroom and looked up at Hank.

"Come on." Patting the bed he motioned for the dog to jump up and lay down next to Connor. "Lay down."

The old dog managed to jump up onto the bed and happily cuddled down over Connor. Having the instincts of his rescue breed kicking in Sumo sensed that Connor was hypothermic and laid over his chest and abdomen with his upper body protectively.

"Good dog."

Taking his leave of the bedroom Hank pulled open the hallway closet to get the spare blanket and draped it over top of the coats to provide additional heat to Connor, or at the very least help him retain what little body heat he still had left. Trying to think of other sources of heat Hank remembered an old trick his own mom used whenever he was sick as a kid.

Grabbing a hand towel he soaked in hot water in the bathroom sink and grabbed a plastic bag from the drawer in the kitchen. Wringing out the excess water he folded it neatly and tucked it inside the plastic bag to retain the heat.

"Okay, kid. Hopefully this will keep you going." Lifting up the covers from over Connor he placed the water compress over Connor's upper abdomen near his chest and then placed the covers back down. "What I'd give to have a heating pad or a hot water bottle."

Connor's head turned slightly against the pillow as his body began to shiver from the cold.

Hank put his hand over Connor's forehead and held it there for a moment. There was a gentle warmth beginning to emanate from the younger man's skin but it still wasn't enough.

"Come on, kid." Pulling Connor's hands, one at a time, from under the cover he checked for signs of frost bite and saw very minor damage settling in over his fingertips. Knowing that heat and layers were the key to Connor's recovery Hank pulled open Connor's closet and found a clean black t-shirt and gray sweatpants. "Haven't had to dress a kid in almost ten years..."

Sitting down on the edge of the bed Hank managed to pull back the covers and managed to sit the shivering man upright enough to pull the shirt over his head and pull his arms through the sleeves. It was difficult for Connor's legs to get the sweatpants on but it was necessary and Hank didn't care at that point. He wanted his best friend, his son, to wake up and get better.

"You're safe now." Hank muttered as he returned to the bathroom to get another towel. Using it to dry off Connor's wet hair Hank threw the now damp towel onto the pile of Connor's wet clothes on the floor. "...As soon as you're awake I'm going to knock your lights out for being so damn stupid."

The sound of the front door opening and shutting again put Hank on his guard. Hovering his hand over his gun holstered at his hip Hank crept out of the bedroom and edged down the hallway toward the livingroom. The sight of Lucas standing in the livingroom with his arms full of medical supplies made him breathe a sigh of relief.

"What the hell?"

"I couldn't stand back and not assist in taking care of Connor." Lucas explained as he took a step forward and shook his head. "It's my fault he became stranded in the blizzard."

"No, Lucas. You didn't do this." Hank patted the deviant's shoulder before motioning for Lucas to follow after him down the hallway. "I did. I should've told him what was going on right from the beginning."

"You were trying to protect Connor."

"That's what I thought I was doing, but now I think I was trying to protect myself because I didn't want to admit that Connor was so abused and fucked up from such a shitty childhood that he might become emotionally unreachable." Returning to the bedroom Hank watched as Lucas put the supplies down on the foot of the bed next to Connor's legs. "I guess I was worried I'd had said or done something that his bastard of a biological father had already done to him."

"Connor knows you would never harm him, or ever strike him, and he trusts you." Lucas stated as he pulled back the quilt and retracted the artificial skin from his right palm. Pressing his hand down on Connor's chest he monitored his brother's vitals and could hear the weak, labored breaths Connor began to take as he warmed up. "As do I."

"Not after this. I fucked things up."

"...I did, too."

"Let's just get him better so he can be mad at us while he's conscious."

"Very well." Lucas began sifting through the supplies he brought with him and isolated a large warming pad used for medical emergencies for travelers stranded in the wilderness. Activating the pad with a quick 'snap' of the self warming contents within Lucas placed it under Connor's upper back to help warm up his chest gradually. "His heart rate and blood pressure are low from the cold. Right now his core temperature is ninety-three point six degrees, but climbing."

A strong gust of wind rocked the house and made the lights flicker. "Shit. If we lose power we're going to lose heat."

"I have additional heating pads." Snapping a second pad he placed under the covers by Connor's ankles to try to make him feel warmer. "As long as we keep him covered we'll be able to help him recover."

"Right. Stay with him while I go get a few emergency supplies gathered up in the livingroom." Sighing loudly Hank ran his hand through his gray locks of hair and slowly walked out of the bedroom. "We never did get those extra supplies after work. Perfect fuckin' timing for a blackout."

Lucas resumed monitoring Connor's vital signs and keeping close observation on his brother's breathing. As Connor shivered his breathing became more labored and he began to cough. Noting the deep, wet sound of the cough and wheezing gasp that followed nearly every breath Lucas know that Connor had already developed a serious lung infection.

The deviant bent down and pressed his ear to Connor's chest to get a direct listen to the sick man's breathing and heartbeat. Neither sounded ideal and Lucas made another record of Connor's current vitals to compare to his usual vital signs when healthy. What seemed to actually frighten Lucas was the way Connor's heart was beating with a mild arrhythmia.

"Hank?" The tone of Lucas's voice was loud but calm.

"What's going on?" Hank returned to the bedroom and placed a lit candle down on the table beside Connor's bed.

"Connor is already very ill. We should get him to a hospital."

"I know, but with this weather we'd do more harm than good packing him in the car. And an ambulance would be even slower in the snow."

"What can we do?"

"Keep him warm." Slipping a hand under Connor's shoulder he pushed the sick detective upright on the bed and readjusted the pillow and laid Connor back down so he was resting in a more elevated position. "Monitor his breathing."

"I can keep tabs on the weather reports as well. Once it's safe enough to drive I'll let you know."

"How did you get here, anyway?"

"I hailed an autonomous taxi and overrode the emergency protocols halting the vehicle's progress due to the poor weather."

"Good move."

"...The taxi is still outside."

"Don't worry about it." Hank walked over to Connor's bed and pressed his palm over the sick detective's forehead. It was hard for him to gauge Connor's temperature at the moment. "...Fever?"

"Once his body temperature increases he will undoubtedly show signs of fever."

"Shit. I'll see what we have in the medicine cabinet."

Lucas kept his hand over Connor's chest as he began to cough harder and struggle to breathe. Steadily his body temperature began to rise courtesy of the layers and heating pads keeping him warm, but he continued to shiver.

"Alright," Hank returned with the gathered medication and placed it down on the table beside the bed and watched Lucas keeping vigil over his ill brother. "we have the usual stuff. Fever reducer and pain reliever. I think he still has a week's worth of antibiotic pills from when had his hand stitched up in his nightstand."

Nodding a little Lucas kept his hand on Connor's chest and cybernetically connected with an android at a nearby hospital to inform them of the situation.

Sumo was still cuddled up against Connor's side with his head resting down atop the sick detective's stomach. The loyal dog showed no sign of moving any time soon.

Outside the window Hank could see the snow building in strength and thickness as it plummeted from the clouds above, even as the darkness of the night encroached upon the city. Without a doubt they'd lose power before midnight and he decided to go ahead and fill up a few spare bottles with clean drinking water in the kitchen.

"Please, Connor." Lucas pleaded with his unconscious brother as he stayed at his side. "Don't be angry with us."

It took almost an hour before Connor's temperature reached a normal degree, and Lucas quickly removed the heating pads and layers leaving to ensure he didn't overheat as he slept.

"His temperature is stable." Lucas stated as Hank watched from the doorway. "I'll monitor him for any sign of fever."

"I just hate the sound of that cough."

"As do I. I fear he has developed bronchitis or pneumonia."

"Fuck." Hank ran his hand over his bearded chin and shook his head. "Pneumonia could kill him."

"And until he gets a proper diagnosis I won't be able to treat him with any certainty in my actions. I am a technician, not a medic."

Moving his hand from his chin to the back of his neck Hank tilted his head back and tried to ignore the pain in his shoulders from hefted Connor's deadweight around and trudging through the snow. "Do your best, Lucas. I trust you."

"...At least you do." The deviant mumbled to himself as he pulled his hand back from Connor's chest and received an update on the weather. "The city is still under emergency conditions. The streets won't be cleared until the storm lets up within the next thirty-two hours."

"Fan-fucking-tastic."

Lucas ran a scan over Hank's body and noted a strange increase in his own body temperature, and also noted that he was paler than usual. "Are you feeling well, Hank?"

"Not really. That cold air got to me, too."

"Why don't you go sleep for a while? I will keep an eye on Connor and inform you if anything else happens."

"I can't sleep. But I'm not going to lie, a warm shower sounds pretty damn good right now."

"Go. I'll stay with him."

Knowing that he was too tired to be of much help with Connor, and needing a moment take care of himself, Hank took Lucas up on his offer and retreated to the bathroom for a while. As the hot water in the shower roared to life the detective readily removed his still somewhat damp clothes and let the warm water wash over him in a soothing cascade.

Connor let out another deep, painful cough that racked his entire body as his head lolled slightly against the pillow and his eyes cracked open. As his his blurry eyes settled on Lucas's face Connor lifted his head a little and stared at his brother confusedly.

"Connor?" Lucas noticed that Connor had regained consciousness. "Please talk to me if you are able."

"...Why are... you here?" Connor asked in a raw, cracking voice as he realized he was in his bed back home. "...How did... I get... here?"

"Hank found you unconscious in the snow at the park. He brought you home to rest, and you are quite ill."

"...I don't need... your help."

"Please, brother. You-"

"Don't call... me your... brother. You may have... my face, but that... doesn't make you... my brother."

Lucas was genuinely hurt and confused by the comment. "I don't understand."

"...You betrayed... me."

"Connor, neither of us had any intention of-"

"...Go away."

"Please, don't be angry."

"Go." Coughing again Connor put his hand to his sore chest and closed his eyes very tightly as he endured the harsh spasming of his strained lungs. Taking in a wheezing, gasping breath he opened his eyes again and stared at Lucas bitterly. "Now."

"...If that's what you want," the hurt in his eyes was palpable as he begrudgingly accepted the request. "then I shall leave."

With a heavy heart Lucas took his leave of the bedroom as instructed and stood outside the door in the hallway. Despite Connor's words; refusing to acknowledge him as a brother and the coldness of his tone acting like a knife to Lucas's mind and heart, he stayed nearby to monitor Connor from the distance.

Once Hank emerged from the bathroom with a towel around his waist he saw that Lucas was upset and peered into the bedroom where Connor was conscious and coughing harshly. It only took him a momentary glance to see what was happening and he put a sympathetic hand to Lucas's shoulder.

"I'll talk to him, son." He whispered before going down the hallway and into his bedroom to change into warm, dry clothes.

Lucas waited outside the bedroom, listening to every horrible cough and wheezing labored breath Connor took in, and felt useless. As much as he wanted to go to his brother's aid and wanted to utilize what knowledge he obtained on human physiology and biology, he knew that Connor would just get agitated and expend what little energy he had regained telling him to leave again.

Hank emerged from his bedroom wearing his baggy navy blue t-shirt and black sweatpants and gave Lucas a reassuring nod. The senior detective was still pale but he looked like he was in less pain, and needed to lay down. Walking into the bedroom he watched as Connor coughed with a painful bark before settling down again. Connor's every breath was deep, rapid and audible even from the doorway.

"I'm glad you're awake." Hank remarked in a civil tone and put his hand to Connor's forehead once more. The young detective was paler than Hank was. He was also beginning to sweat, and the heat radiating from his skin was undeniable. "How do you feel?"

"...Leave me... alone."

"No way. You're too sick."

"Go."

"No, Connor."

Grabbing onto Hank's wrist Connor pushed his hand away from his forehead and glared at him with glassy irises. "I said... go!"

"Connor, stop."

"I want... to be-" Harsh coughing stole his words and Hank sat down on the edge of the bed as he put his hand on the sick detective's shoulder to help hold him stable.

"Will you please listen to me?"

As he caught his breath Connor took in weak, gasping breaths and gave Hank an angered look. "...N-Now you... want to... talk to me?"

"Stop." Hank kept one hand on Connor's shoulder and put the other over the center of Connor's chest. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was looking into your past. I just wanted to know who that woman was, I had NO IDEA that she was... You know."

Connor turned his head away stubbornly as he refused to look Hank in the eyes.

"The only reason Lucas knew is because he was curious about your past, too. He didn't dig around or anything like that, it was ALL me. So if you're going to be pissed off take it out on me, NOT your brother."

"He's not... my brother."

"Knock it off. You're mad, we get it, and you have every right to be. But don't act like we attacked you. Yes, it was wrong that this happened behind your back and you should've been in the loop the whole time, but being a prick isn't going to undo MY mistake. I'm sorry."

Connor coughed again and Hank could feel each painful spasm in Connor's chest under his palm.

"Listen to me." Lowering his voice after Connor himself quieted down Hank continued to explain things. "I'm going to tell you EVERYTHING."

With Lucas still standing outside the opened bedroom doorway Hank told Connor the truth about the search into his past. He told him of how his mother had no choice but to watch from the shadows, or not at all, and of how she was the one who called the police the night he was saved after he was thrown from the balcony and broke his arm. As Hank went into the sad details and how she had followed Connor out to Grand Rapids after she learned of the accident that put him in the coma, and how she moved to Detroit to stay close to him.

Connor took in a shallow breath and stifled an empathetic sob. Refusing to look Hank in the face Connor let the tears form in his eyes but didn't dare allow them to fall.

Patting Connor's shoulder lightly Hank studied the younger man's face intently. "Connor, are you okay?"

Remaining quiet Connor just ignored the question out of his own emotional stubbornness.

"I'm going to let you get some sleep, now." Hank promised as he stood up slowly from the bed to give Connor some privacy as he took in the less than comforting information regarding his mother. "If you need anything just ask. We're both going to be here all night."

Connor began to cough again and tried to curl a little onto his side, his back facing the doorway of his bedroom. As he moved Sumo whimpered and curled up closer to Connor protectively and sympathetically.

Hank returned to the hallway where Lucas was still standing, the deviant having overheard the bleak tale as well, and motioned for Lucas to accompany him out to the livingroom. "Give him a minute to himself."

"...I had no idea that Connor," Lucas was stunned by the horribly somber past that Connor survived as a child. "suffered from so much isolation and heartache as such a young child. It's a wonder he managed to come as far as he has. I truly feel terrible keeping this secret from him."

"Yeah, I'm the one who told you to keep the secret. I'm the one who fucked up."

Lucas wrung his hands together nervously, a trait that he shared with Connor, and glanced at the snowstorm through the front window. "...I'm going to make something warm for you both to eat just in case we lose power. I'm also going to make sure we have some ice packs in case Connor's fever spikes to a dangerous degree."

The coughing from Connor's bedroom sounded off painfully through the house and Hank decided to creep in to check on Connor again. He could see Connor violently coughing as he stayed curled up on his side and struggled to breathe. Seeing the young detective so weak and so mentally drained made Hank's paternal instincts kick into full gear and he stood beside the bed.

"Connor." Putting his hand on Connor's shoulder he gently rolled him from his side and onto his back. The younger man's face was pale, sweaty and his eyes were bloodshot. "Hey, you need to sit up a little bit so you can breathe."

"...Hank?"

"What do you need?"

"...I'm... sorry. I shouldn't... have snapped at you."

"Kid, you're mad. You have every right to be, but don't be sorry for feeling what you're feeling."

"I was... an idiot."

"Well, I'm not going to tell you that you're wrong on that one." Sitting down on the edge of the bed Hank sighed and pressed the back of his hand to the side of Connor's neck. "Wandering around in a blizzard is never a good idea, Connor."

"I know..."

"And neither is getting pissed off at Lucas."

"I know... that too." Connor coughed again and felt like his chest was burning from the chronic coughing. "...Is he... here?"

"Yeah, kid. He's here."

"...I want to... apologize."

"Sleep first. Then you can say everything you need to say. AND," patting Connor's shoulder once Hank and picked up the medicine bottle containing the fever reducer and popped two pills into his palm. "you're going to see a doctor as soon as it's safe to drive anywhere."

"But I-"

"Save it." Hank pointed to the pills and watched Connor slowly pop them into his mouth. "You walked around in a blizzard, think of this as a fitting punishment."

"...Which hospital?"

Hank picked up Connor's hand and placed the pills down in the sick detective's palm to take. "You want to avoid her, don't you?"

Without a word Connor conveyed the truth with a simple glance.

"We don't have to go there if you don't want to. I promise."

Coughing again Connor wrapped his arms over his sore chest and breathed slowly, while Sumo pressed his chin down firmer against his stomach.

"Take it easy."

"...I don't want... to see her. It's... too much."

"I get it, kid. Don't worry about it anymore. Try to sleep." The blizzard outside continued to dump snow on the city and the powerful wind chilled the entire neighborhood mercilessly. "...And if you can sleep through that I'll be impressed."

Lucas walked into the bedroom with a mug of warm tea for Connor to drink. "It isn't much, but it should help make you feel better."

Connor looked up at Lucas and grabbed onto his forearm to keep him from leaving. "...Lucas. What I said earlier... I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Connor." The deviant was too gentle and amenable to hold a grudge against his own family. "I understand you were stressed out. I didn't take it personally."

Despite Lucas's reassurance Connor could sense his brother was a little wary as he left the room. "...I'm still sorry."

"I know, Connor. Rest now."

Hank sighed and put his hand on Connor's shoulder. "He's right. Get some sleep. We'll be out in the livingroom if you need anything."

"...Hank?"

"What?"

"...Do you think... she's really... my mother?"

"Honestly kid," giving him an uneasy half-smile Hank tilted his head and ran his hand through his hair. "I think she is. I really do."

Two days passed before the streets were clear enough to travel again. Lucas had gone back to New Jericho to take care of the deviants seeking shelter at the sanctuary. Connor coughed harshly into the bend of his arm as he waited for the antibiotics he had received from Dr. Wilson to kick in, and help his system fight off the confirmed pneumonia. Despite the doctor's advice to stay in the hospital after developing a fever of one-hundred and three degrees Connor refused to be admitted, and was ready to hail an autonomous taxi to bring him home if he had to. Hank wasn't thrilled with Connor's choice but it was just that, his choice. Keeping the heat cranked up as high as it could go Hank watched as Connor coughed and shuddered from his severe illness in the passenger seat beside him.

"I wish you would've stayed for at least one night until the antibiotics kicked in."

"No." Connor cleared his throat and took a deep, painful breath. "I hate hospitals."

"I do too. But you have pneumonia, not a cold." Pressing hand over Connor's forehead Hank sighed and shook his head. "And your fever is still really high."

"I can sleep it off. I've been through this before."

Hank dropped his hand and gave the young detective a somber stare. "...You've had pneumonia before?"

"Yeah. Twice."

"When?"

"...First time I was six and the school nurse called 'him' to let him know I was sick. He didn't care and didn't get me from school. And the second time I was fifteen, living alone."

"Wait, at age six you were left to suffer with pneumonia by yourself?"

Connor nodded a little. "And tonsillitis a few times. I also have a couple of migraines when I started going through puberty."

"Shit. You're a whole new level of stubborn, do you know that?"

"...I do now."

"Smartass." Sighing at how pale Connor's face was, the sheen of sweat forming on his skin and the dark circles under his eyes Hank wanted to turn the car around and check Connor into the hospital, even if that meant he had to drag Connor through the doors kicking and screaming in order to do it. "When we get home you're staying in your room and sleeping all damn day. Got it?"

Feeling horribly exhausted Connor nodded weakly and sighed to himself. The faint movement made his aching chest throb courtesy of his coughing fits. "That won't be a problem."

"I'm calling off of work until you're well again."

"...You seem to be unwell yourself."

"Headache a stuffy nose. I don't have a fever or double lung infection going on."

"I'll be okay by myself, Hank. I'll be sleeping all day long."

"You're NOT staying by yourself when you have pneumonia, kid." Pulling the car up driveway beside the house Hank turned off the engine and motioned toward the backdoor. "Go lay down and get some rest. I'll bring you something to-"

"It's okay, Hank." Opening the door to the car Connor slowly got out and balanced clumsily on the slick surface of the drive before making his way up to the backdoor to go inside the house.

"...Shit."

Connor obediently went into his bedroom with Sumo trailing him every step of the way. As he removed his jacket, shoes and replaced his jeans with much more comfortable sweatpants he buried himself under his thick quilt and curled up on his side to get some sleep. A side effect of the antibiotics, as well as a symptom of such a severe infection, included fatigue and Connor was ready to indulge that particular feeling.

Sumo plodded into the bedroom and jumped up on the foot of the bed to curl up alongside Connor once more.

Wandering inside the house with a somber demeanor Hank realized that even though Connor was sorry about being a jerk to Hank and especially for saying that Lucas wasn't his brother, he was still upset. Whether or not that particular upset included anger and mistrust he would have to wait and see.

Peering inside Connor's opened bedroom doorway he saw Connor laying on his side with his back to the door already asleep. "Poor kid."

Two hours of peaceful sleeping was interrupted by an annoying, unexpected phone call from Captain Fowler to Hank. Answering the phone Hank plopped down on the couch and sighed angrily at the prospect of going back to the precinct while Connor was still so sick.

"No way, Jeffrey." Hank refused in a gruff, loud tone of voice. "Connor's down with a bad lung infection. I'm NOT leaving him alone."

'Hank, there's a huge influx if "red ice" on the streets again.' Captain Fowler sounded edgy, but not angry. 'You're the ONLY one who has enough experience with getting this shit off the street in a quick, efficient manner.'

"Let Gavin or Chris head up the investigation. They both had additional training in the narcotics division."

'Don't make me order you to do this.'

"You do and I'll take my sorry ass over to H.R. myself and remind them that my partner and I were on sick leave when you ordered me to drive through a blizzard and leave my sick partner alone. As much as they hate me for my own problems I think they'll hate you even more for instigating a problem with me."

'Alright, alright. You don't have to come to the precinct. Can you work from home?'

"You want me to bring down a DRUG RING from the comfort of my own home?"

'I want you to look over the evidence and see if you can find a pattern. If you do sent it to Reed's desk and I'll tell him to go check shit out. Deal?'

"...As long as you don't call me again then yeah, we have a deal." Ending the call Hank threw his phone into the recliner with an irritated huff. Walking over to his laptop in the corner of the livingroom and logged onto his terminal. "What kind of sick day is spent working?"

Connor had overheard Hank speaking on the phone and the name 'Jeffrey' being snarled at. Rolling from his side and onto his back he coughed a little and noticed the small serving tray holding a bowl of warm soup and a glass of water on the table beside his bed, which meant Hank had checked on him as he slept. Sitting upright he felt and watched the somewhat cool washcloth fall from his forehead onto his lap as well.

"Must still be running a fever." Pressing the back of his hand against his own forehead Connor could feel the lingering fever and sighed. "I hate being sick."

Sumo whimpered sympathetically as he pressed his chin down against Connor's knee.

"I'll be okay, boy." Rubbing Sumo's ears with one hand and coughing into the bend of his opposite arm Connor slowly swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood upright steadily.

Again Sumo whimpered as Connor clumsily walked out of the bedroom and into the bathroom. Taking a moment for himself Connor washed the sticky sweat from his face and the back of his neck with a damp, cool washcloth. Glancing at his pale face in the mirror he took the digital thermometer from within the medicine cabinet and placed the device in his mouth. It beeped ten seconds later and he sighed at the still high number.

"One-hundred and two point two."

Washing off the device he put it back in the medicine cabinet and stumbled out of the bathroom and down the hallway. Catching a glimpse of Hank working at his laptop and seeing a blur of 'red ice' documents on the distant screen, Connor stayed quiet and made his way into the kitchen. Knowing he needed to eat but didn't have any appetite he chose to make some dry toast and put a kettle of water on the stove to make some tea.

Hank had heard Connor messing around in the kitchen and went to see how he was doing. "Shouldn't you be sleeping?"

"I was. Then I heard you on the phone."

"Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you up." Seeing that Connor was making himself something to eat Hank crossed his arms over his chest and gave the younger detective an odd look. "There was something already placed down on your table beside your so you didn't have to get up."

"I know."

"Stomach upset?"

"No appetite." The kettle came to a boil and Connor pulled it from the stove. Putting a tea strainer with peppermint tea into a white mug he poured the now hot water into the mug, and let the tea leaves steep for a moment. "This is all I can eat at the moment."

"Oh." Watching as Connor used the surface of the counter beside him to keep his balance Hank tried to keep the sick detective talking so he could get an idea how ill he really was. "There's a new flood of 'red ice' hitting the streets. Looks like I'll be busy when we get back to work."

"You'll handle it."

"Thanks for the bode of confidence, but I think it'd be easier to handle with the help of my partner."

"I'm more interested in dealing with deviant cases, not drugs." Picking up his mug and putting the toast on a small plate Connor took the chosen items back to his bedroom so he could keep resting.

Watching Connor clumsily walk back down the hallway without so much as a spark of interest made Hank himself feel sick. "Damn it."

Laying back down on his bed Connor stifled another cough and took in a slow, calming breath to keep himself from coughing violently anymore. Sipping at the tea he picked up his phone and began searching through a few details he had uncovered from his own investigation into the mysterious woman, who now claimed to be his mother, and picked up where he left off.

As the day gave way to evening Hank went to check on Connor and noticed him working on his phone. "Aren't you supposed to be resting?"

"You're working on a case despite being ill as well."

"I'm not-"

"I know." Connor interrupted bluntly before Hank could finish his statement. "I'm sicker than you."

"Right. And you should be sleeping." Putting his hand to Connor's forehead Hank sighed and proceeded to pick up the untouched tray from beside the bed to take from the room. "You need to take it easy."

"I'm fine."

"You're not. Rest."

"I am resting."

"No, you're not. You may be laying down but you're not resting."

"Hank, I'm fine."

"Connor, you don't have to take care of yourself like this anymore. I'm here to help you, and so is Lucas."

"I said 'I'm fine'."

Knowing that Connor wasn't going to back down Hank relented and decided to give the still irritated young man some space. "...Right. You won't need another dose of medication for another hour. I'll be back-"

"Don't worry about it."

"Connor, I'm going to worry because you're my kid. So stop being so damn stubborn with me."

"It's nothing personal, Hank."

"Sure as Hell feels like it is."

"...I assure you, I'm not doing this offend you."

"Then why are you doing it?"

"Because I don't need to be protected and sheltered from the world."

"How many times do I have to tell you I'm sorry for doing that investigation behind your back?"

"...I imagine you'll being saying it until I believe you."

"You don't believe me?"

"No." Glancing up at Hank briefly Connor sighed as he put aside his phone and laid back down to curl on his side again. As he coughed deeply a few times he pulled the quilt up over his head and closed his eyes. "I don't believe you."

Hank wanted to grab onto Connor's shoulder and make the sick man look at him, and yell in his face that he was truly sorry, but he decided that the last thing he needed to do was push the ever stubborn detective any further. Quietly he took his leave of the bedroom and cleaned up the mess in the process. Putting the tray down on the kitchen counter Hank ignored the throbbing ache in his head and muttered to himself coldly.

"I'm not going to lose another son."

Sure enough after an hour passed Connor was awoken by the alarm on his phone, though it took a few seconds for him to hear the alert chiming, and proceeded to stumble out of his bed and fell to his hands and knees on the floor. As he fell Sumo barked once and jumped down from the bed as he pressed his cold, wet nose up against the side of the sick man's neck.

"...I'm-" Coughing harshly Connor fought to breathe and could feel his whole body trembling from weakness. Pushing himself up from the floor he used the wall to guide himself out of the bedroom, down the hallway and into the kitchen. Continuing to use the kitchen table and countertops to balance Connor located the bottle containing his medication near the sink and struggled to get the lid off the bottle. "Come on... Open."

Hank had heard Connor fall in the bedroom but didn't do anything as a means of trying keep some space between himself and Connor. As he watched the sick detective stumble down the hallway, into the kitchen and now fight to open up a small plastic bottle. Joining Connor inside the kitchen Hank stood back and observed the small struggle of sick hands fighting against a childproof cap.

"Fucking-" Connor coughed again causing him to drop the bottle on the floor causing the lid to pop off and scatter the pills all over the linoleum surface, and his strength suddenly left his legs. Falling to his knees again Connor tried to catch his breath while also picking up the pills one at a time. "...Shit."

Without a word Hank knelt on the ground beside Connor and pressed his hand over Connor's forehead. "Fuck, you're burning up."

"I'm-" Connor coughed again and fell forward onto his hands, dropping the collected pills in the process.

"Damn it, kid." Hooking his hands under Connor's arms he pulled the sick detective up to his feet and then wrapped an arm around Connor's waist to drag him out of the kitchen at his side. "I don't care if you're pissed at me anymore. You need to let me help you."

Connor couldn't respond, or even try to refuse, since his voice was stolen by his violent coughing fit. Hank dragged Connor into the bathroom and put down down on the edge of the bathtub before throwing a clean washcloth under the cold tap in the sink. "Stay there."

Coughing and gasping for breath Connor couldn't do anything but sit where he was placed and be miserable.

"I know you can't talk right now, but as soon as you can pop these pills in your mouth I'm going to take you back to the hospital."

"N-No." Connor managed to choke out between coughs.

"Don't be stubborn. This can kill you."

"...I've survived worse." The words were hoarse but audible as the coughing fit ended and Connor managed to finally take the medication. Putting his hand to his sore chest he watched through bloodshot eyes as Hank wrung out the washcloth and pressed it to his overheated forehead. "I can do it again."

"I know that, kid. But I don't want to see you suffer."

"Then leave me alone."

The request was as painful for Hank to hear as it was for Connor to say between coughs. Sitting down on the edge of the tub next to Connor Hank kept his hand against the washcloth as he held it to the stubborn younger detective's forehead. The moment was painfully reminiscent of the night Connor took care of Hank after he began going through alcohol withdrawal. Hank had tried to push Connor away but the bullheaded, then-deviant, refused to do so. And Hank was grateful to have someone stay beside him as he suffered for his own stupidity. Now it was Hank's turn to repay the kind gesture; not because he felt like he owed Connor, but because he just wanted to be there for him.

Steeling himself for an angry outburst Hank refused to go. "Not this time."

"...What?"

"Come on, you need to get cooled off before you get any worse."

"Just leave me-"

"No." Turning on the water in the tub Hank adjusted the temperature and pointed to the pouring water with a thumb over the shoulder. "Cool off or I'm calling an ambulance to take you to the hospital."

"I don't need any help."

"Right now you do."

"I can take care of myself!" Coughing again Connor leaned forward and curled his arms around his chest as the coughing fit ached his ribs and already strained lungs.

"Yeah, you can. But that doesn't mean you don't need help from time to time." Glancing over his shoulder toward the shower Hank took a deep breath and grabbed onto Connor's arm again. Hefting the sick detective up from the edge of the bathtub as he climbed inside the cool water and pulled Connor in alongside him. "Come on."

Connor couldn't protest while he was still coughing. Grabbing onto Hank's shirt with both hands Connor shuddered and tried to shy away from the water, but he couldn't move. As the cool water his his back he coughed again and hunched his shoulders against the chill creeping up his spine.

"I know it sucks but stay under the water."

"Let-" Coughing again Connor slipped forward and pressed his too warm forehead against Hank's chest as Hank held Connor upright with a firm grip on both of his arms.

"Hey, sit down." Hank guided Connor down so he could sit on the bottom of the tub and stay under the water. As the two detectives knelt in the tub Hank brushed his wet locks of hair back out of his eyes and then did the same to Connor. "I'm not going to watch you get put on a damn ventilator because you can't breathe, son. I won't watch that again."

That comment struck a chord with Connor and held his attention "...Again?"

"Cole. He was only eight months old and nearly died from being sick with pneumonia." Hank kept stared off into nothingness as he put a hand to the back of Connor's wet hair and gently rubbed his fingers through the dark locks. "Barb and I were scared out of our minds, and I NEVER want to see my son like that ever again."

Connor began to wheeze a little as he lifted his head and could see that Hank was talking about a horribly dark memory from his past. As his bloodshot eyes locked onto Hank's blue eyes he could see the pain behind Hank's sincere words, and now understood why Hank was being so overprotective of him. Hank really did see him as his son, and he really did care about him.

"...Hank, I..." Fighting to speak through his gasping breaths Connor could feel his entire body trembling and his weakened state wearing him down. "...I'm sorry." Warm tears formed in his eyes and fell down his face, but the tears were lost in the cascading shower overhead. "And I... forgive you."

"It's okay, son." Pulling Connor's head down until his forehead was resting against his shoulder Hank spoke to him with complete understanding in every syllable. "We both have a lot emotional shit to deal with. I won't snoop around behind your back anymore, and you don't hold grudges against me anymore."

"It wasn't... a grudge."

"Then what was wrong? Why were you so pissed off?"

"I can't stop myself from trying to compare... I know you're not 'him' but I can't-"

"Hey, it's okay." Hank reached behind Connor and turned off the water while keeping his hand on the back of Connor's hair. "I get it. It's hard to move on after someone fucks you up so bad."

"And I can't stop thinking about... If she really is my mother-"

"Hey, one thing at a time." Hank didn't want Connor to start obsessing over things again. "Focus on taking care of yourself, and letting for of your resentment."

"But you're right. I shouldn't have taken out my anger on you or Lucas."

"That's for damn sure." Hank wasn't thrilled with Connor's attitude but he understood why Connor was so angry. Grabbing a nearby towel he used it to gently dry off Connor's damp hair. "I know you apologized to Lucas but he's still keeping his distance from you for a while."

"...I don't blame him."

"Once you're well again you can sit down and talk with Lucas in person, alright?"

"Yeah. We should talk, and I need him to know I was sincere with my apology. He is my brother... No matter what."

Hank put his palm back to Connor's forehead and held it there. "You're feeling cooled off, now. If your fever breaks in the next forty-eight hours I'll give you more space. But how do you really feel right now?"

"I feel... exhausted."

"Good. Then you'll fall asleep and stay asleep for the rest of the night." Helping Connor step out of the bathtub Hank guided the ill younger detective back to his bedroom and helped him to sit on the foot of his bed. Sumo cuddled up around Connor's back and put his chin down on Connor's thigh as he wagged his tail slowly, and kept his sick master company. "Change into some dry clothes and get some more sleep. I'm going to send an e-mail to Reed so Fowler stays off my back. Then I'm going to sleep before I drop dead from a massive headache."

"Do you need anything, Hank?"

Shaking his head a little Hank threw some clean clothes he had taken from the closet at Connor and headed toward the opened bedroom door. "I'll be good with a couple of aspirin. You need to rest, and stop worrying about me and start worrying about yourself."

Connor managed to give Hank a weak grin and sighed tiredly. "...Thank you."

"No problem, son. Just get better and we'll forget about all this weird shit for a while. Got it?"

"...I got it. That's probably best for everyone."

...next chapter...