Hank was half-asleep in the waiting room - lounged low and inconspicuous, shoulder-to-shoulder with an android who'd been bludgeoned with a baseball bat, another who'd been hit by a car - when the door burst open. North and Traci rushed to the reception desk, their words hurried, breath quick.
Jerry settled them with a gesture, a reassuring smile. "She's in surgery now," he said, low and gentle. "It looks like she's going to be just fine - I'll let you know the moment you can see her."
Traci gripped the desk, her shoulders shaking. Her head bowed - a hand pressed to her wet eyes.
North grasped her, turned her around, held her in a tight embrace while Traci sobbed openly in relief, in happiness - in despair for all that the both of them had had to endure. The bottom of the river. Trapped under the floor. The horror of murder. Blood and grief and guilt, fists and knives in a back alley, a head on a pike, a months-long torture that should have killed them both.
Traci clung to North and cried for it all.
The seat where Hank had been was empty.
The sidewalk had darkened, damp from the recent rain - but a blue sky peeked through the gray blanketed clouds above. Hank trudged quietly on his way, hands deep in his jacket pockets, the acorn clutched in one trembling fist. His breath rattled; he coughed, rasping. His hair hid his haggard face from the sun.
"Hank."
Connor stood in front of him, forced him to stop - stared at him with that concerned look, a look that meant Connor wanted desperately to understand but never truly would.
Hank stifled a cough. "I need a drink." His voice was like sandpaper. He turned his eyes meaningfully past Connor, to the bar on the street corner.
"Did the paramedics clear you?" Connor laid a hand on his arm, squinted into his face.
"I'm okay." Hank shook his head, waved Connor away - slipped past him, left him behind.
After a moment, Hank looked over to see Connor walking quietly beside him.
Hank said nothing - but the tension in his shoulders had already begun to ease.
["- live footage of the site of the second explosion this morning, where firefighters are battling flames that have now spread to two adjacent units. Six people are confirmed dead, eighteen in critical condition. Sources confirm that the bomber - an HK400 model android also believed to have been behind the RA9 murders - has been killed in a police shootout. The bomber's memory is currently under evaluation and search teams are being deployed to find and deactivate any bombs that might remain -"]
Hank sat hunched at the bar while the television murmured above, sensationalizing the deadly high-rise fire. He was peripherally aware of Connor sitting next to him in comfortable silence.
Hank was glad not to be alone - and he had a feeling Connor felt the same.
"I just don't like hospitals," Hank said, after the liquor had seeped into his nerves, loosened his posture. "Or doctors. They just …" He trailed off, staring at the shelves of bottles - and he thought of Cole, and how much he would give to bring him back.
Hank was happy for Traci, to have her love returned to her - but at the same time, her tears of happiness had pierced a painful old wound.
He gestured to the bartender for a refill.
"She's awake," said Connor, after an hour of quiet company. He leaned forward a little, to see Hank's face. "They're asking about you."
"Well don't tell 'em it was me."
A small smile pulled at Connor's mouth. "It's too late. Jerry recognized you."
"Shit."
"Let them thank you," Connor suggested gently. "It'll give them peace of mind."
Hank turned his head slowly, settled Connor with a sarcastic glare. "Aren't we going to that amusement park next week? They can thank me then."
Hank returned to his drink, trying to ignore the smile on Connor's face. It could be contagious.
Over the next week, everything seemed to return to a normal rhythm. The bombs had all been found and removed, the murders stopped, and the news turned its focus again on the vigilante controversy. A tension at the Jericho office had relaxed - everyone smiled just a little more than they had before.
Only Peter seemed to grow more anxious, quieter, as the days went on without a sign of Wolf.
Hank didn't see Connor again - but he had begun to look forward to the frequent calls and messages, even just a plea for Hank to please stop tapping on the fishbowl. Hank would send Connor his random thoughts and rants, and Connor would respond with alternating wisdom and ironic humor - sometimes a video feed of what Connor was seeing, if he'd found something interesting.
For once, everything seemed as if it really would be all right.
"Jeffrey, why the hell would I know where Gavin is?" Saturday had dawned bright; Hank shouldered the phone against his ear while he put on his shoes. "Unless you think I put a bullet in him - and believe me, I've been tempted."
*BWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA*
A car horn outside blared incessantly, though the sun had barely risen. The neighborhood dogs howled along.
"Look, it's my day off and I can't help you. I gotta go." Hank didn't give Fowler a chance to respond - he pocketed his phone, put on his jacket.
*BWAAA-AAA-AAA-AAA-AAAAAA*
"All right, all right!" Hank growled, certain the neighbors would now have something else to gripe at him for.
With a jangle of keys and a steadying breath, Hank made his way outside into the dewy spring morning, and the ominous dark van waiting at the curb.
The van's side door slid open with a swish and a bang - and Hank immediately wondered what the hell he'd been thinking when he'd accepted this invitation.
The van was full of androids, all staring at him.
"Hank." Connor leaned out from the rear seat - his voice as crisp and professional as ever. "You know Jerry - this is Simon, Traci, and Trace." Simon waved with a grin - and Jerry, next to him, waved a little more enthusiastically. Traci had both cats snuggled in her lap; the orange cat raised her head and stared, bright-eyed, at Hank.
Connor continued: "North, and Markus -" Markus leaned over the back of the passenger seat with a smile, while North - behind the wheel - peered at Hank with a curious scrutiny, "- and Josh is back here with me."
"We've got a seat for you, Hank!" Josh's voice called.
Hank released a long, steadying breath. "Y'know … guys, I don't know … I'm pretty sure I'm just gonna slow ya down -"
The van erupted into a chorus of reassurance -
"C'mon, Hank!"
"We'd love to have you!"
"It'll be a chance to get to know you."
- Jerry whistled encouragement, and North sighed, "Well we came all the way out here to get you." Her mouth quirked a small smirk. "Might as well get in."
Hank stared at them all - still very uncomfortable with the idea of being the only human in a gang of androids. Gavin's words still echoed true in his mind - that hanging out with androids exclusively made Hank seem desperate for company. At the same time, looking in at all their smiling faces, Hank understood the reality of just how inferior he was to them, in every way.
Simon reached out a hand to help him in.
Hank's thoughts paused ... and his reasons for staying behind began to look more like excuses. There was a chance it wouldn't be half as bad as he imagined - he might even like it. He'd dragged Connor along on his own excursions for just these same reasons.
At the very least, it was only fair that Hank let Connor drag him along for a change.
He breathed in, offered a small hopeful smile - and climbed aboard.
A/N: Yep, Brown-haired Traci is "Trace" now because I can no longer handle the duplicate names, haha. Also apologies in advance if the next chapter or two gets a little crack-y. Can't help it. xD