"Oh, good lord. You weren't kidding."

That was not what Hank wanted to hear. Not from Kamski. Not about Connor. Certainly not while he had his laptop hooked up to the kids head right after Markus had told them that his code had been messed up.

"How bad is it," Markus ventured to ask quietly. He rubbed absently at his chest. The damage to his thirium pump regulator had been minimal, Kamski repaired it easily, but the area around it must still have been sore.

"It's… well," Kamski scrolled through whatever he was looking at on the computer. "I guess the only way to really describe it is bad."

Hank adjusted the bag of ice he was keeping pressed against the back of his head. "How bad," he insisted. "You can still fix him up, right?"

He leaned back, taking off a pair of glasses that Hank wasn't sure he actually needed, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "This isn't like repairing biocomponents," he explained. He gestured at the kid's temporarily repaired shoulder. "The code, everything that makes Connor Connor, is broken."

Hank felt sick and he was pretty sure it had nothing to do with his head wound. "So that's it? He's just fuckin gone?"

Elijah pursed his lips looking back at the screen. "Not really gone, that's not the right word. All his code is still here, it's just… scrambled."

"So unscramble it!"

"It doesn't work like that," Elijah explained with a frustrated sigh. "It would be like trying to sort grains of sand. I wouldn't even know where to begin. It would honestly be simpler to wipe him and start from scratch."

"We can't do that!" Markus said aghast. "That would be akin to killing him."

Elijah turned to him, "I didn't say that's what we were going to do, I said it would be simpler."

Hank gently ran his hand through Connor's hair, careful not to disturb the cord connecting him to the computer. He was sitting on the armrest where Connor was laid out on one of the hotel room's couches. "Nothing is ever easy with this kid." Condensation from the bag of ice dripped down his back uncomfortably.

Markus paced by the foot of the couch, agitated. "What can we do?" He asked.

Kamski turned back to the computer screen. "I'm not sure yet," he admitted. "Honestly, I think we should boot him up. That'd give me a better idea of what we're dealing with, see the code in action. Depending on how much of his basic functions are left, there is always the possibility that he can rewrite his own code, that it'll sort itself out."

Hank looked up, but left his hand on Connor's forehead. "He can do that?"

"It's possible," Kamski nodded. "Not going to lie, the chance is slim, but he would be the one who knows his code best. It's worth a try."

A try. It was always a try. A chance. A vague hope without promise for success. Hank looked back down to where Connor was laying. He looked so peaceful while he was asleep. For once, why couldn't there be a definite answer? "I guess that's the best we've got," he sighed.

"Great," Kamski said. "Markus, if you wouldn't mind?" He gestured towards Connor, indicating to the deviant leader he should draw him out of stasis.

Markus nodded, moving over to the couch and reaching for Connor. He hesitated a moment before retracting his skin and taking his hand. It was just waking him, there was no risk of hurting either or them. But with how shaken Markus had looked after he had ended the previous interface, he wasn't really surprised that he was less than eager to do it again so soon.

Connor's eyes opened almost as soon as they touched, and Markus let the connection end. Hank tossed the soggy bag of ice gracelessly on the coffee table so he could give Connor his full attention. He ruffled his hair gently. "Hey, kid. How you feeling?" He asked, giving him a gentle smile.

Connor stared up at him. He blinked once, then a few more times in quick succession. His back arched suddenly and he began to spasm violently.

"Shit!" Hank swore. He didn't know what had gone wrong, but he knew that this wasn't supposed to happen.

Markus tried to help as Hank reached for Connor, trying desperately to steady him. A mechanical screech echoed through the room. Like this, he looked every bit like a broken machine. Hank hated it.

Elijah rushed over from the other couch. He pushed past Markus and promptly pressed two fingers to the flashing red LED. Within seconds Connor stilled, eyes closing and body going limp.

Hank stood back, panting from both adrenaline and exertion. "What the fuck was that?"

Kamski returned to his laptop, scrolling through the data displayed there before answering. "It looks like he tried to access one of his compromised programs. It caused a feedback loop."

"Fucking hell!" Hank swore, running a hand across his face. He didn't expect the kid to just be ok, but he sure as hell hadn't expected that. "What damn program was he trying to run?"

He scrolled glanced through a few more lines of code. "A facial scan, by the look of it," Kamski responded.

Hank's mouth felt dry. Like he was choking on air. Suffocating. "A facial scan? Why the hell would he need to run a facial scan?" Tears formed in the corners of his eyes. He ignored them. "Are you saying he doesn't even remember me?"

Markus sank to the floor by the couch, keeping a gentle hand on Connor. Not interfacing, but supportive. "I don't think he remembers much of anything," he said.

Hank turned away. This was too fucking much. He knew he would do anything he could to help the kid, but Connor didn't even remember him? Everything they've been through, everything they meant to each other was just gone?

"His memory files are completely jumbled," Kamski confirmed. "He doesn't even remember his own model number at this point."

"I'm so sorry," Markus said, voice barely above a whisper. "This is my fault. I should ha-"

"Shut the fuck up." Hank interrupted him.

Markus's head snapped up in surprise. "I- what?"

"I don't want to hear your damn pity-party," he went on. "It's your fault. It's CyberLife's fault. It's Amanda's fault. I don't fuckin care!" He turned back around. Tears began to fall as he yelled, and he didn't give a damn. "I don't give a fuck who's fault it is! None of that shit helps Connor!"

A tense silence fell over the room in the aftermath of his outburst. His rage died down almost as fast as it had surfaced. Hank's head hurt. He felt dizzy and nauseous. Spots filled his vision and he blinked, trying to clear them. It only led to more tears escaping his eyes.

"It's… it's not completely hopeless yet," Elijah ventured timidly.

Hank stared him down. "Unless you've got something definite, don't open your damn mouth. I'm done with this 'maybe' bullshit."

He hesitated before speaking, glancing between the computer screen, Hank, and Markus intermittently. Elijah took a breath then met the Lieutenant's eyes. "Connor is an RK model android," he explained. "His base coding CyberLife took from my notes. It should match up with Markus's, at least mostly. If I can compare the two, I can restore his basic functions."

"You're sure?" Markus asked, strength returning to his voice at the hope that something could be done.

Kamski nodded. "I'm sure. It won't do anything for his memories, I'm afraid, but it's a start. He needs his basic functions back online if he has any chance of rebuilding his own code."

Hank frowned, but walked back to the couch where Connor was laying. Still motionless, unaware of the world around him. "That sounds like more 'maybe'," his voice lacked the edge it had only moments before.

Kamski shook his head slightly. "It is," he admitted. "I know it's not what you want to hear, but it's the best we have. I can at least get him to function." He turned to Markus. "Provided you are ok with me looking at your code, that is."

"Of course," he said without hesitation. "If it has a chance to help Connor."

They both turned their attention to Hank. He stared back and realized they were looking to him to make the decision. As though he had the ultimate authority on Connor's wellbeing. As though he had any right to make those kinds of choices for the kid.

As though he were Connor's father.

He swallowed thickly, heart feeling heavy in his chest. His head pounded. What was he going to say? No? It wasn't like Connor could stay as he was. "Just fuckin do it then," he sighed.

Kamski nodded, seeming to need no further consent. "I'll get set up," he said, going back to his computer once again. "Markus, I'll need you in a few minutes."

Markus nodded in agreement. He stood and turned to Hank as Kamski called the Chloes to assist in setting up the few things he would need. He had already done the repairs that were needed to the one that had been injured, so the three of them were making short work of the preparations.

Markus reached out a cautious hand to Hank, lightly touching his arm. "This is likely going to take a while, Lieutenant," he told him. "You're still injured. You should get some rest."

He wanted to argue, but the pounding in his head agreed with the deviant leader. He looked down at Connor. More than anything, he wanted to stay with him, but he knew there was nothing he could do at this point. Whatever state he was in, Connor would need him when he woke up again. Hank wanted to be at his best, be able to give the kid his all, and to do that he would need to recover.

Hank nodded softly. "Yeah, ok," he agreed. He brushed his hand across Connor's forehead one more time.

Markus gave him a small, tense smile by way of encouragement.

He returned it briefly before heading to one of the unoccupied bedrooms, hoping that somehow everything would be ok when he awoke.