"Housekeeping"

Hank sat patiently outside in the waiting room of one of the android emergency centers. After Connor had collapsed, Gavin had come in to check in the situation and helped Hank move him to the car. Fearing that the long drive back to Michigan would be too much for any of them, Hank decided to check Connor into a hospital and stay in Maine for at least another day. He figured that they all deserved for some time to rest before the Detroit Police Department hounded them about going AWOL on Connor's case.

More than that, Hank didn't want to imagine what they would do to Connor in that time. He was exhausted, injured, and infected and deserved at least a day of rest before being thrown into a legal battlefield.

Even now, Connor wasn't doing so hot. Though Hank wasn't fully aware of all the damage, the three months away from home with those freak hallucinations seemed like enough to scramble even android brains.

Brains? Or processors?

After spending a good deal of time with Connor, the technician finally came out to see Hank. The detective stood up from his seat almost immediately, eager for some sort of news on the android's condition.

"Mr. Anderson?" The dark skinned man approached Hank, bringing his hand out in a quick and professional gesture. Hank took his hand, exhaling heavily as he tried to catch his breath, seeming winded from standing up.

"Yeah, hey." He answered, releasing the man's hand. "What's the news then? How's he doing?"

"Well, we're doing our best to remove the malware slowly as to not completely shock his system. He isn't quite functioning at a full enough capacity to handle something like that."

"Oh yeah?" Hank asked, raising an eyebrow. "What's wrong with him—" he stopped himself, "Uh, well, other than the virus of course."

"The malware had a few unexpected side effects that were still working to identify. Honestly, my team has never seen a program like this before, even in terms of viruses. Whoever created this had a vast knowledge of the neuro processes in android physiology."

"Yeah, well the bastard had a lot to experiment with." Hank stated grimly. "But what sort of side effects are we talking about here? Like how serious, Doc?"

"It seems that the virus infected a few of his essential programs. It doesn't seem like he could force himself into stand by for several weeks and has basically been unable to recalibrate or update his systems. Healing program is offline too. He's got a stitched up bullet would that isn't healing properly. But it shouldn't be a problem as long as we wipe the program and he recalibrates himself." Hank scoffed lightly at the notion.

"Yeah good luck with that. He's not exactly the bed rest type...How is he holding up?" Hank asked, his face falling slightly. The technician frowned as well, putting a hand into the pocket of his coat.

"He's quiet." The technician answered, "I'm not sure of the details of what happened to him, but he seems cold by all standards."

"Can I see him?" Hank asked.

The technician nodded

"Of course. Although, if you can, try to convince him to let himself rest." The technician requested. "It's going to be much harder to wipe the program from his systems otherwise." Hank nodded, allowing the technician to lead him to the back.

"I'll see what I can do."

Hank walked into the exam room, spotting Connor laying dead still on the cot. He had been provided with a thin blanket but had thrown it off himself and into the floor. He was curled up on the bed and facing the wall opposite of Hank. His head and chest were fitted with small, white electrodes that were all connected to a terminal behind him. The android didn't stir when the door opened.

Hank pulled a chair up next to the bed, sitting down and stretching out his legs. He exhaled heavily, fidgeting with his hands.

"Hey, Connor." Hank called out quietly.

"Hank." Connor blandly acknowledged his partner's presence in the room, refusing to turn or look at him.

"How are you feeling?"

Connor didn't respond.

"That shitty huh? Can't say I blame ya." Hank sat awkwardly, the silence hanging loose in the air. "Is there… uh...anything I can get you? Anything I can do?"

"Well you could stop it with the small talk." Connor's voice was monotonous, his demeanor cold. "Quit pretending everything is fine and the past three months didn't even happen."

"Connor…"

"We're only here because you're stalling, Hank." Connor rolled over on his other side and propped himself up with his forearm, looking Hank in the eye. "Because you know exactly what comes next after we get back to Detroit. The best thing you can do for me is leave here and go back home without me"

"Listen kid, we're gonna take care of this and get it sorted out. Gavin and I—"

"Oh yes." Connor began, staring daggers into the eyes of his partner. "You and Gavin. I almost forgot. What exactly is your angle with him, Hank? Why is he here?" Hank could see that underneath the electrode, Connor's L.E.D. was blinking in erratic patterns. "Did you promise him a few free swings at me? Or maybe another shot at throwing my thirium pump off rhythm."

"He's the one that found you Connor." Hank came back defensively. "He connected the cases. Even discovered the virus to help with the court case."

"Right." Connor laughed bitterly. "The court case. What's your plan for that Lieutenant? Plead viral insanity to the judge? Claim Scarver's murder was just self defense?"

"It was, Connor. You received a strange and threatening call from my phone and as far as the jury is concerned, the escaped convict didn't have anything pleasant to say."

"No." Connor stated. "It isn't true." His voice grew eerily monotonous. Enough to make Hank feel slightly uneasy. "Scarver didn't threaten me, and his virus didn't make me kill anyone. Maybe Scarver was payback for what happened to you, but every other man died by my choice. And you know what, Lieutenant?"

"What?" Hank growled.

"I enjoyed it." Connor's voice lowered, almost to a hiss. "And if I could do it over again, I would do the same thing." Hank squared his jaw and remained silent. "So you can tell the courts whatever the fuck you want, Hank. You can pick up my mess and do your judicial housekeeping, but that will never change. As far as I'm concerned, you're just letting another criminal walk free."

After that, Hank and Connor stared at each other for what felt like an eternity, neither saying a word.

Finally, after some time, Connor was the first to speak.

"I'm going in to standby. Wake me when it's time to go back to Detroit." The android turned onto his side, facing away from Hank in complete neutrality.

The detective had felt his rage slowly bubbling up inside, ready to lose his shit in the middle of that room. But it was slowly being settled by a sense of unease that came with the still silence of that room. He had expected Connor to explode, yell, break down, anything in response to what had just happened to him. And Hank was prepared. He was ready to fight. In an emotionally healthy way, of course. But this..?

Robotic. That was the word he was looking for.

Hank felt his stomach churn and thought he might vomit.

"Fucking androids…" he murmured, half ironically before leaving the dead silent room.