Connor's artificial breaths were erratic as he left sleep mode. He gasped, physically biting his tongue to avoid crying out. He didn't want to wake Hank.

He knew the Lieutenant was worried about him. He hated that he was adding to his stress by not telling him what these nightmares were about, but he couldn't bring himself to talk to him. It would only frighten him. How was he supposed to tell Hank that every time he entered rest mode, he saw himself murder him? Every night was the same. Amanda put a gun in his hand. Hank begged him not to shoot. Connor was powerless to resist.

He took a deep steadying breath, trying to get his thirium pump back to a normal rate. No, it was far better to keep it to himself. He could deal with Hank being worried. He couldn't manage Hank being afraid of him.

Connor sat up, checking his internal clock. It was only about four in the morning, but he had no intention of resuming rest mode. His battery was at 52%. Not ideal, but it would last the day. He glanced down the hallway that led to Hank's room. The sound of soft snoring came from the partially closed door indicating that the Lieutenant hadn't woken up.

He breathed a sigh of relief.

Connor's first inclination was to start cleaning. Hank had been correct in his assessment that he had been using it as a way to earn his place there. It was something he could do to repay him for everything he had done. A way to contribute to the household.

But it was also more than that. Connor found the repetition and sense of satisfaction that came from it to be calming on his systems. He found enjoyment in it, as well as the cleaner environment. He had found it particularly helpful after a nightmare, the action giving him a sense of control over his surroundings. But judging by the day before, it would only serve to wake Hank. And that was the last thing he wanted.

Connor looked to his side. Not even Sumo had awoken from his dog bed. He felt an odd sense of loneliness settle inside of him. As much as he didn't want to worry Hank, he missed the comfort and security he gave him.

He rubbed a finger over his LED, the light casting an amber glow over the living room. At least it wasn't red this time. If he couldn't clean, he should at least find some way to distract himself.

Connor leaned back against the arm of the couch. He had a fair bit of time to kill before they would be leaving for the precinct. If he passed the psych eval today, he would start working almost immediately. He was excited, though understandably nervous.

Not of the psych eval, he knew he would pass that with no difficulty. He knew the textbook answers to any question the doctor could ask and had the programming to make it sound natural.

But he was sure Hank was expecting more than that.

Connor had no illusions that the evaluation was more at the Lieutenant's request then the Captain's. It was a thinly veiled attempt to get him to open up and deal with his nightmares. And Connor was considering it. He didn't want to burden Hank with the information, but that was what the professional was there for, why not utilize their services?

Who knows, maybe it would help.

Maybe the nightmares would stop.

Until then, he had to find something to do to keep his mind off of them. His eyes fell on the sketchbook, neatly placed on the coffee table. He picked it up gently.

He couldn't quite put into words how touched he had been that Hank got it for him. He'd never had a gift before. Practically all he ever had to his name was the clothes on his back and the single quarter he used to calibrate his system.

Now he had this. Simple but personal. An expression of self.

He loved it.

Connor didn't really need much light to see by, so he didn't bother turning on the lamp. He opened the sketchbook to a blank page before turning to his paints and beginning to work.

-o-

Connor stared out the window as Hank drove. It was really the first time he had left the house since moving in with Hank. He knew that he had been hiding. Other androids still made him uncomfortable, but it was something he had to get used to.

Markus had been clear in his support of Connor. Anyone who trusted his judgment would not be a problem. Anyone who was still a problem, would be one no matter how long Connor hid himself away.

So he took in the sights on his way to the precinct.

The city somehow looked different now that he was deviant. The streets, buildings, people, all felt more alive now that he was. The hum of the car engine sent pleasant vibrations through his frame. The radio was on, but at a volume that didn't discourage conversation. Connor was happy.

"You nervous?" Hank asked.

Connor didn't need to guess what he was referring to. "Not really," he answered. "I'm sure I'll pass the evaluation."

"Right, of course."

Connor frowned at the near bitterness in Hank's voice. "Do you… doubt that I will?" he asked, LED flickering to yellow briefly.

"I-fuck, no, it's just," he sighed, taking his eyes off the road for barely a second to glance in Connor's direction. "Look, I don't doubt that you can pass. I just… don't just tell Dr. Keller what she wants to hear, ok?"

He couldn't help but be a bit amused that the Lieutenant knew him so well. "I have no reason to lie, Hank," he told him.

"Yeah?" He didn't sound particularly convinced. The car pulled into the parking garage of the precinct. "So you'll tell her about those nightmares?"

His LED spun yellow again. "Yes," he told him honestly. "It is a factor of my mental health and therefore relevant to the assessment."

Hank frowned, not entirely pleased by that answer. "Could you be any more damn analytical about that?"

Connor figured that was a rhetorical question. "I understand that you are concerned about me, Hank," he said instead. "I appreciate it, but it is unnecessary. I'm fine."

Hank pulled into a parking space but let the car idle for a moment. His fingers tapped an unsteady rhythm on the steering wheel. "I know, kid," he said without looking in his direction. "But I want you to be more than just 'fine'."

He smiled at Hank, hoping it was reassuring. "I think that comes with time, Lieutenant."

Hank frowned at the use of his title rather than his name. "I'm guessing that's what you're gonna be calling me at work, huh?"

"That's correct." Connor said. He was pleased that he had taken the opportunity to change the subject.

"Fine, whatever. I guess that makes sense." He turned off the car and pocketed his keys. "Just don't start doing it at home again, alright?"

Connor nodded in agreement.

Hank opened the car door, and it squeaked on its hinges. The car shook slightly as he exited. "Well, let's get you to that shrink then."

Connor exited as well and rounded the car to join Hank on the other side. He could have easily found where he needed to go on his own, but the Lieutenant seemed intent on escorting him there. Whether it was out of concern for Connor, or a desire to procrastinate getting to his actual work, he didn't know. Not that he really minded either way.

They continued their trip in companionable silence, Hank only breaking it when they reached their destination. "Well, here you are. Good luck in there, kid," he told him.

"I don't need luck, Lieutenant," Connor said, hand already on the door. "You seem to be more concerned about this than I am," he teased. "You really don't need to worry."

"Yeah, yeah, ok." He gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze before turning away. "Just… never mind. Come find me when you're done. I'll be at my desk."

"I'll see you soon, Lieutenant," he assured him.

Connor watched him go for a moment before turning to the door. He was nervous, but that wasn't going to stop him. Before he could think of a reason to delay, he turned the knob and opened the door.

Dr. Keller was waiting for him inside. She was a pleasant looking woman, dark skin and a kind face framed by curly hair and glasses. "Hello," she greeted him as soon as he entered. "You must be Connor."

"That is correct," Connor confirmed, stepping into the room and letting the door fall shut with a gentle click.

"I'm Dr. Keller," she introduced herself, unnecessarily. "I must say, I have never had an android as a patient before. Why don't you have a seat and we'll get started."

Connor obliged, sitting on the plush sofa. The room was designed for comfort, he noted. There were various artificial plants sitting in pots of fake soil, and a small fountain gurgling in the corner. The soft glow of the yellow lamps bathed the room in a warm light. There was a picture of a garden pond on the wall. Connor looked away, choosing to focus on the doctor. "I suppose this is new for the both of us then," he said.

She sat with her legs crossed professionally in front of her, giving him her full attention as she looked over the top of her tablet. "Yes, I suppose that's true," she said pleasantly. "So, Connor, why don't you tell me about yourself?"

Connor nodded before responding. "I am an RK-800 prototype android. Serial number 313 248 317- 52. My original programing was designed to assist in police investigations."

Judging by Dr. Keller's expression, Connor deduced that wasn't the answer she was looking for. "That is a good start," she said amicably. "But it doesn't really tell me anything about you." She smiled warmly. "I'm guessing you are typically a very formal person. Am I right?"

"I suppose that is a fair assessment," Connor agreed.

Dr. Keller nodded. "That's fine, but why don't we try to be a little more relaxed for now, more casual. Does that sound alright with you?"

He nodded. "I suppose that is acceptable, Dr. Keller."

She smiled again. "Good. I'll go first. Instead of Dr. Keller, you can call me Amanda."

A chill ran through Connor's system. His thirium pump stuttered and errors flashed across his vision as it attempted to correct the sudden arrhythmia. His LED flickered yellow.

"Hello, Connor," a very different Amanda seemed to whisper in his ear.

"Amanda," he said aloud, stifling the tremor that threatened to enter his voice. He forced the LED back to blue.

"That's right," Dr. Keller said with a smile. "I find most of my patients are easier to talk to if we are on a first name basis. So how about we start again? Tell me about yourself."

Connor's eyes strayed to the picture of the garden. He felt cold. "I am Connor," he said without looking at her. His voice seemed to come from elsewhere. "I am…" the android sent by CyberLife. That is what Amanda expected him to say. "I wish to be a consultant with the DPD."

"That's good," she praised. "Can you tell me what made you decide on police work?"

It is what I am programmed for. No. "I enjoy it," he said instead, ignoring the red warning that his stress levels had increased.

"What do you enjoy about it?" She asked.

He looked away from the garden, focusing on the doctor once again. But Dr. Keller was no longer who he saw.

Connor blinked, trying to clear the error in his optical units. It didn't work. There, in Dr. Keller's place was Amanda. "Connor?" She asked, when he didn't answer immediately.

"I believe I find it stimulating," he said. Neutral. Neutral was safe. Neutral would pacify Amanda. He blinked again, trying to convince himself that what he was seeing was false. He kept his LED blue.

The scent of roses overwhelmed him.