~Hank~

Hank rolled out of bed to the scent of maple and bright sunlight flooding his bedroom. Sitting on the edge of his bed, he noticed his uniform attire pressed and laid out for him. A pitiful sigh filled the air as he realized this was going to be his first day back at work.

Much like a reluctant teenager, Hank dragged his feet down the hall to see Connor and Sumo in the kitchen. Leaning against the wall, he watched as Sumo barked at Connor, who offered up bacon in exchange for tricks.

"Good morning, Lieutenant," Connor said without turning to acknowledge him. "Your breakfast is on the table."

"What'd I tell you about making me goddamn breakfast?" He started, grabbing a seat at the table.

Hank hated being taken care of, perhaps because he had been alone for so long. Honestly, he barely took care of Sumo, before Connor showed up, Hank feared he had been neglecting Sumo, who had been eating what he wanted, when he wanted, and only let out twice a day.

"I know, I know, but I made your favorite. No, avocado toast or egg whites this time." Connor said with a pleasant half-grin.

Hank groaned there was no fighting it. Connor seemed happy and Sumo did too. Sumo finally calmed down after realizing that his treats had ended. He nuzzled under Hank's arm as he delighted in the salty bacon and greasy eggs. Every bite was an explosion of fatty goodness that he had been missing. Even though Connor frequently forced him to eat healthily, he appreciated the change.

Hank spent his two weeks of administrative leave helping Connor get registered as a full-time employee rather than a resource with the DPD. Which made Hank feel a little less stressed about going back. If this was Connor's way of saying 'thank you,' Hank would need to show his appreciation one way or another. Even more so because Hank had not done much of anything these past few days. Connor had been taking care of everything from cleaning the house to paying the bills. And for all that, Hank had only provided him with a roof over his head and a couch.

Hank stood up abruptly, causing Sumo to jump back. "Sorry boy," Hank whispered. This time he made a conscious effort to place his plate in the sink and rinse it.

"Here," Connor said, handing him a thermos filled with dark roast Columbian brew. "Your clothes are-"

Hank held up his hand, immediately authorizing Connor's silence.

"Listen, I told you before not to worry about making fucking breakfast and shit," he sighed. "I don't need to be taken care of."

Hank watched as Connor's temporal light switched back and forth between blue and yellow. It was something Hank had observed happening in all deviant androids. Hank knew Connor would not admit to it but Connor was battling two immensely powerful emotions.

"Lieutenant?" He interrupted.

"No, shut it, STOP calling me Lieutenant," he shouted slamming his hand on the kitchen counter. "You've been here two weeks, Connor. Just call me Hank."

"Sorry, Lieu—Hank," he processed the significance of his name on his tongue. "I do these things because I want to. They give me a purpose." His head slumped as his light continued to flicker blue, yellow, and red.

Hank felt a sting of pain, he gripped his chest knowing it was not a heart attack. It was the emergence of something he had long forgotten.

"Connor, dammit," Hank reached out and pulled Connor into him. "Stop being so YOU and leave me something to do."

Hank did not know shit about deviancy in the eyes of an android, but he knew Connor or so he hoped. Connor had not told him much about his time at Jericho or his time with Kamski and Chloe. What he did know was that Connor had a million things on his mind 24/7, and could not have been a light load to carry. There were so many that hated Connor without even getting to know him. Connor was soft in all the right ways, Hank admitted with a smile. He was loyal as a dog, he chuckled; and strangely easy-going, but Connor was also kept to himself.

"Thank you, Hank," Connor said, pulling away from him. "I appreciate it. But please allow me to continue my work here."

Hank raised an eyebrow as he attempted to read the unreadable. There was no telling him what to do but that did not mean he would not try.

"Your work? Your job is to live your life and keep this old man company," Hank said with a frown before crossing his arms. "But never mind that. Let's get ready to go."

Hank's face turned red, realizing what he said might have given Connor the wrong idea. He did not want company in that way, at least he did not think he did. But now the words were out there, floating around in the universe.

~20 minutes later~

Hank leaned against the side of his car, waiting for Connor to join him.

"You're going to wear that?" Hank said, waiting by the car. "What happened to the clothes I bought you?"

"For old time's sake?" Connor asked, dawning his CyberLife jacket only.

"Change," Hank ordered.

"But Lieu—Hank…"

"CHANGE!" He shouted.

Hank watched as Connor marched back inside. He returned a few minutes later wearing a pair of black jeans, a solid black shirt, and a high-collar burgundy slim-fit sports coat that Hank had to admit looked nice on him. He caught himself staring several times at how humanly Connor presented. His LED was the only indication that he was anything but. Hank tore his attention away from Connor as he drove down the streets of the inner-city. He had missed being behind the wheel, two weeks had come and gone so fast that he almost forgot about the approaching Christmas holiday.

"It's been too long," Hank muttered as he sped down the freeway.

Life in Detroit had not exactly gone back to normal. There were fewer cars on the roads now, which upset business, but people sure seemed to like it. Android campsites were being demolished as was the Cyberlife tower. It was a slow process, but the World Government agreed that android production halted until they had a better understanding of what happened.

Connor sat quietly playing with his coin, flipping it back and forth. Hank had learned a few tricks, but he enjoyed watching Connor entertain himself. Hank smiled.

"Why are you smiling?" Connor asked.

"No, reasons," Hank replied, covering his mouth.

Connor was staring at him, but Hank did not mind. He had not been happy to be going back to work, however, having Connor by his side made it bearable. Hank still felt as though Connor had not been acting like his usual self. Though that could be because he was a deviant now. To Hank, Connor seemed endlessly in thought.

On several occasions, he tried to ask Connor about it but could not commit; thinking about his own experiences. Sometimes a person just is not ready to share. And Hank did not know shit about how the inter-workings of an android functioned.

Hank parked in his designated spot, which just so happened to be two spaces down from Gavin, who unfortunately was standing outside talking to Tina.

"Fuck," Hank groaned exiting his car.

"Look what the cat dragged in, Lieutenant Anderson and his mother-fucking plastic pet," Gavin commented with his eyes set on Connor.

"Yeah-yeah, nice to see your goddamn face too," Hank said as Gavin brushed past him towards Connor.

~Connor~

Connor stood still as he scanned Reed predicting his movements. It would have been easy to avoid him, but Reed wanted Connor to suffer for what he did. But he had indulged Reed before, and this time would be no different. He just hoped Reed would not hurt himself. Reed's blood pressure was 25% elevated and his adrenaline level had increased by 20%.

The likelihood of getting punched was 100% guaranteed for Connor. Connor waited for the impact as Reed curled his fingers into Connor's coat and began punching him repeatedly.

"GAVIN!" Hank shouted, rushing around the car to his aid.

If Reed even attempted to punch Hank, he would intervene. Several other officers hurried over to help, but Reed was too far gone. And Connor's lack of reaction only fueled his bloodied fist. Connor had to admit Reed hit hard for a human. Blow after blow, he landed each punch on his face. He knew Reed did not like him, but Reed seemed hell-bent on making sure Connor's face matched the ugliness of his rage. At this rate, he was only causing himself more harm.

Hank tugged at Reed's jacket, but it was not until Tina and another female officer grabbed Reed that he finally stopped. Connor watched as Redd broke free and managed to punch Hank. Connor did not care whether it was intentional or not. Hank collapsed to the ground in pain, Connor reacted, he jumped up, then scanned Hank. Reed had fractured one of Hank's ribs.

Connor shot Reed, who was being detained by three officers, a chilling glare. Connor rushed to help Hank up. He knew actually what he was about to do, as he walked over to Reed and smacked him across the face. Connor left his perfect handprint itched across Reed's cheek. He had not done nearly enough damage, but Reed would have a hard time explaining that away.

"You mother-fucking piece of plastic, I'm gonna shred your ass. Just you wait." Reed shouted.

"Gavin, stop," Tina pleaded.

"Detective Reed, my office, NOW!" Captain Fowler demanded, looking perturbed as ever as he stood at the backdoor of the station.

Reed was forcibly escorted inside as Connor forced Hank to visit the precinct infirmary. It did not take long for the physician to confirm what Connor had already seen. Hank's 8th floating false rib was significantly fractured and required six weeks of minimal activity and rest.

Connor's face twitched as he repeatedly scanned Hank's torso. Even the loud chatter and chaos of the office could not keep Connor from replaying the footage of the events in the back of his head. Had he defended himself, perhaps this would not have happened.

"Connor, stop." Hank scuffed. "At least it's not a fucking bullet wound."

Connor wanted to agree with Hank, at least it was not a bullet wound, but it was still bad. Bad enough for Connor to hate himself for not putting a stop to Reed's assault. Connor's thirium pumps were working overtime as his thoughts spiraled out of control as reconstructed his possible actions. Injuries and death were just part of the territory. Hank would get hurt again, it was only a matter of when and how. Connor was no longer on a mission, but he equated this incident to failure.

"Anderson. Connor. My office!" Fowler ordered.

"Shit. What now?" Hank groaned.

Connor peered around Hank's shoulder to see Reed leaning against the glass wall of the office. Reed was flipping them the middle finger, while Fowler's back was turned. Typical and childish behavior not that anyone would say anything to him. Reed needed mental help as did Anderson, but that was not Connor's area of specialty.

Fowler and Hank sat in the confined office space, equally pissed in their own rights. Connor's temple light flickered red as he glanced over to Reed, whose right hand and arm were bandaged. He smirked at the red imprint of his hand on his face, which had the office in an uproar. Reed was lucky to have only broken and shattered his fist in three places. It would take approximately three months to heal back properly, or three weeks if he underwent reconstructive surgery.

"Listen, you pieces of shit," Fowler started with his fingers interlaced under his chin. "I've had enough of this bullshit. And damn it, Hank, you just got back, and already I have to file a report for disorderly conduct."

"WHY!? When Reed's the one-off his fucking rocker." Hank pointed out as Connor nodded in agreement.

"Your plastic fuck-buddy knocked the shit out of me. Or did you forget about that?" Reed snapped.

"Captain Fowler, if I may, this is a result of my poor behavior. I'd like to extend my sincerest apologies for knocking out Detective Reed and to you for tampering with secured evidence." Connor stated, bowing slightly.

"Shut the fuck up, Connor," Fowler barked, rubbing his temples. "Gavin, enough!"

Before Hank could even make a rebuttal, Captain Fowler interrupted.

"Listen, I have enough shit to deal with outside of this goddamn office as it is. I got the Feds up my ass, the Mayor down my throat and the fucking President is giving me orders. Since the shutdown of CyberLife, shit has been hitting the fan week after week. Black market activity is at an all-time high." Fowler sighed heavily as he looked throughout his department. "Public opinion may be high, but that does not stop rioters from shitting on the streets. Justice will be served in President Warren's eyes and who better than the two of you to deal with this shit. You've got first-hand experience. With Detective Reed at your disposal, I expect solutions and answers to this madness."

"You gotta be shitting me," Hank objected, turning to Reed. "We don't need this dim-witted kid on back-up."

Reed repositioned himself against the wall, seemingly already on terms with his fate. Probably because his career was endangered.

"HANK! Listen, this is non-negotiable. Reed's already been debriefed. And if you want Connor to keep his job, then do as I say. Now, say thank you and get the hell out of my office."

Hank and Reed glowered at one another muttering profanities under their breath as they exited the office.

"Fuck you! You piece of shit!" Connor heard Hank say to Reed. "I think you forget that I'm your superior."

"It's just a goddamn title," Reed responded, flipping off Connor once again.

"Great, just great," Hank complained as they made their way to the kitchen.

"Lieutenant, Connor, welcome back," Chris waved, flagging them down. "I just sent you the information for your first assignment." Chris turned to Connor with a cynical look on his otherwise docile face. "I hope you're ready to revisit Jericho."