DBH: A Devious Humanity Chapter 1: Hijacked, a detroit: become human fanfic

A Rough Prologue:

This functions as an alternate timeline to my "Accident Prone: Becoming Human" series. Specifically taking place after chapter: "Something in the Air". This is a very different take in comparison to the original series, but it's a concept I've wanted to explore for some time and decided to finally go for it. You don't need to read the original series to necessarily understand what's going on, but it does help.

The O.C.'s of Dr. Joel Forest as the precinct's technician, Dr. Abby Grayson a lead facility technician/former E.M.S., and Lucas, 'RK-900'/New Jericho Tower the lead technician are all here.

A year after the Revolution succeeds Connor and Hank resumed their partnership as detectives in the Detroit Police Central Precinct. Connor had been taken in by Hank to create a small family of a father and his son, and Connor has made some notable progress in accepting his deviancy and understanding humanity.

However, this concept takes a new twist with a completely alternate route in Connor's growth as an individual and gives him an entirely different future to comprehend.

The interrogation room was frustratingly quiet as Hank attempted but failed to get their newly arrested suspect to talk. A string of computer viruses, trojans, worms, malware and spyware had been linked to this single computer technician courtesy of a reliable anonymous tip; and yet there wasn't enough hard evidence to hold the man for more than twenty-four hours. Unless the arrested and very suspicious man offered up a confession, or at the very least slipped up and gave the police probable cause to search his apartment, he would go free. Unfortunately for the skilled and seasoned senior detective, the suspect was readily exercising his right to remain silent.

It was a battle of wills between the seasoned Lieutenant and the suspect. Whether or not Hank would win through patience and perseverance or lose from the man running out the clock was a conclusion that no one could accurately predict.

"According to your personnel file from CyberLife," Hank pressed firmly as he slipped the digital screen toward the suspect with a casual push of his and. He was sitting on the opposite side of the small table from the arrested man and refused to blink. "you were one of their top programmers. It also says you had problems with authority. You were suspended twice for arguing with your supervisor and it looks like that same supervisor is why you've been spending your free time in the unemployment line long before the Revolution shut down CyberLife."

The suspect, Stanley Fordon, just stared with his hollow gray eyes and a blank face as he remained completely silent. Fordon was a former CyberLife technician with great skill in computer programming and development, and seemingly lacked a heart or a conscience.

"You did a pretty good job at covering your tracks but give us a few minutes. We'll find your dirty little handprints all over these programs and you'll spend at least twenty years in prison. Why don't you go ahead and confess to make it easier on everyone, including yourself?" Unimpressed with Fordon's cold facade Hank continued to press for the man to answer his questions. "Fuck, cooperate and we can reduce your sentence to ten years and with the possibility of parole."

Fordon remained irritatingly silent from where he sat as he continued to stare at Hank with an unblinking gaze.

"I can sit here all day, Stanley. I have nothing else to do. Hell, if I get bored enough, I'll go get some coffee and my partner will babysit your sorry ass. Just so you know, my partner asks way more questions than I do, and he has an interesting way to get people to answer."

"...Your partner," Fordon finally sneered as he stared through Hank with a frighteningly empty gaze. "is a piece of plastic imitating life."

"I'd rather deal with a piece of plastic like him than a piece of shit like you." Hank expertly countered. "It's funny how life works out, huh?"

A wicked smirk appeared over Fordon's face as if something had either amused him or Hank had said something he had been waiting to hear all day long. The man was seemingly plotting against the world even as he remained in police custody, and was ready to make his move when he saw his opportunity.

Through the one-way mirror connecting the interrogation room to the observation room, Connor watched the intense interrogation with great interest. As his calm blue L.E.D. cycled to tense yellow in color, Connor astutely listened to every detail of the less than informative interrogation while receiving real-time updates from the tech department assisting in the dangerous software regarding the case at hand. Even with every available and qualified officer working on the case there was very little progress being made on finding anything that could be used as evidence against Fordon. It seemed the skilled technician had managed to completely hide his trail and make his connections to his crimes nonexistent.

If it hadn't been for the anonymous tip then they never would've looked at Fordon and connected all of the bizarre glitches happening throughout the city to a single person. Just as the precinct had no luck in getting Fordon to crack, they had no luck in locating the source of their anonymous tip to try and gain more information.

The door to the observation room slid open as Gavin casually walked inside and leaned against the wall with an indifferent sigh. "Fuckin' waste of time. This guy ain't gonna' crack."

"You may be correct."

"Now I know we're doomed." The abrasive detective snarked at Connor's comment. "You and me are on the same page."

"There hasn't been enough evidence collected that directly connects Fordon to the cyberterrorism." The deviant detective reviewed in a somewhat despondent tone of voice as he turned to look at Gavin standing a few feet away. "But there may be another offense against his person that we could use to our advantage. The anonymous tipster hasn't resurfaced for further information, but they may still be able to assist us."

"Yeah? Good luck." Cynical as ever Gavin doubted that they'd catch a break any time soon as Connor returned his attention to the one-way mirror. "This guy is too damn tech savvy to overlook anything incriminating or leave any witnesses."

"Perhaps, but it's currently our only option."

"Have fun with that, 'Tinman'. I'm gonna' work cases that can actually be solved."

Connor glanced over his shoulder again as Gavin exited the room as quickly as he entered, before he refocused on the interrogation through the mirror once more. Very little progress was still being made and Connor was struggling to find a legal loophole to use to the precinct's advantage to gain a search warrant. Without any additional evidence Fordon would inevitably walk out of the precinct a free man, and the precinct would be left without any viable answers to use to build a strong case against him.

Eight hours of the intense interrogation had led to absolutely nothing despite Hank's best efforts and using every trick he knew to try to get Fordon to finally crack. With a heavy scowl on his tired face Hank begrudgingly returned to the bullpen and to his desk on the opposite side of Connor's desk, then sat down with an audible huff of raw aggravation while Connor studied his tense demeanor very carefully. It wasn't often that Hank let it show whenever a case - important or not, had him stumped, but this moment was proving to be the unfortunate exception. It was even rarer for Connor to see Hank showing anything that was confidence in his skills as a detective.

Holding his silence for a moment Connor danced his coin over his right knuckles to channel his own anxious energy. He didn't want to accidentally say something that would upset Hank or make him even angrier.

"Arrogant fucker." Hank grumbled bitterly and none too quietly as he stared at his empty coffee mug sitting next to his keyboard. "He thinks he's so damn smart and untouchable."

Speaking up in a low voice Connor addressed Hank at last. "I have been contemplating an alternate route in gaining a search warrant to Fordon's apartment."

"Oh, yeah?" Looking up from his mug Hank looked his deviant partner in the eyes. "Let me hear it."

"We use a similar manner in the way the F.B.I. finally managed to arrest Al Capone."

Intrigued by the comment Hank's brow arched, and he gave Connor a truly confused glance. "...Tax evasion?"

"Or some other offense that can prove beneficial to our investigation."

"I like it." Leaning back in his chair as he gave Connor an approving wave of his hand Hank decided it was their best shot at any form of progress. "Have you found anything useful yet?"

"Unfortunately, no." Connor admitted as he continued to do his own search for clues and answers on his terminal screen. "Fordon has either managed to maintain a flawless criminal record or has used his skills as a hacker to eliminate any discrepancy."

Hank's blue eyes lit up a little with inspiration at the details Connor had just confirmed. "Think you can trace him to any computer servers within the F.B.I. or the C.I.A. that he should've never been able to have access to?"

"I am attempting to do so as of this moment, however the-" Connor's voice trailed off suddenly while his normally alert soulful brown eyes dimmed. His L.E.D. began blinking a very dark yellow in a slow pulsing beat in his right temple, the pulse functioning in tandem with the deviant's heartbeat. "I... I..."

"Connor?" Hank's brow furrowed as he stared at the deviant confusedly. Snapping his left fingers twice in front of Connor's face the senior detective failed to elicit any response from the deviant. "Connor? What the hell is wrong with you?"

As he rose from his desk Hank watched as Connor's dull brown eyes partially closed beneath heavy lids and his head bowed forward slightly.

"Hey, kid?" Putting his hand to Connor's shoulder Hank shook once and tried to get the deviant to reply. "Connor? Talk to me, what's going on?"

The strange scene didn't go unnoticed by other people in the bullpen causing Gavin himself to walk over to the two desks to ask a few questions of his own. "What happened to the 'Tinman'? You finally break him or some shit?"

"Knock it off, Reed." Hank barked bitterly. He wasn't in the mood for Gavin's attitude problem with deviants. "Something is fucking with him, and I don't know what to do to help him."

Through the transparent wall of his private office Captain Fowler had noticed the small group gathering around Connor's desk as Hank, Gavin and now Tina were watching him. It was then the experienced Captain went out to the bullpen to investigate the situation for himself. "Hank, what the hell is going on?"

"Beats the hell out of me."

Taking a closer look at Connor's face Captain Fowler could see that the deviant was still operational, the blinking L.E.D. in his temple a clear sign that the android was still active, but he wasn't responsive. "Get him up to the dispensary and let tech figure it out."

"Son of a bitch..."

Hank grumbled as he stooped down in front of Connor and grabbed onto the deviant's right arm to hoist him up from the chair where he had been sitting, and then draped Connor's body over his shoulders in a fireman's carry.

"All right, come on. At least you're a lot lighter than you look, son."

It was eerie to see Connor seeming so alive yet somehow dead as he laid back over the exam table in the precinct dispensary for an unexpected exam. The deviant's gray CyberLife blazer and his black tie had been removed, and his white dress shirt had been unbuttoned to expose his chest and abdomen. Joel, the on-call technician, was running an examination on the malfunctioning deviant's programs and software, and unfortunately the process was as slow as it was crucial. With a black cable connecting Connor's yellow blinking L.E.D. to his laptop, Joel checked all of Connor's programs and then used a Thirial activity monitor to record the downed deviant's vital signs. The results were seemingly inconclusive as Joel found Connor to be functioning in perfect condition.

Unable to do anything beyond emotional support, Hank stood back against the wall and watched Joel's movements carefully. He trusted Joel to do the right thing, but he was still very protective of Connor in a paternal manner.

After using an audioscope to listen to Connor's chest Joel sighed and shrugged his shoulders in defeat. "I have no idea what's wrong with him, Lieutenant."

"That's not very encouraging." Hark responded with a sharp tongue. "You're the technician, I'm the detective. One of us should be able to figure this out."

"I know, and you're right. But by all account Connor is running at optimal parameters and everything checks out at one-hundred percent." Returning to his laptop Joel confirmed his readings and pressed his fingertip and thumb to the bridge of his nose to try to quell a building headache. "The problem is he isn't the only one acting like this."

"Wait, what?"

"About two minutes after you brought Connor up, I got a message from downstairs that the two receptionist deviants, the four security deviants watching over the holding cells and the two security deviants patrolling the precinct parking garage are all in the exact same condition as Connor."

"What the fuck?" The news was a little startling to hear considering he hadn't noticed anything amiss while down in the bullpen. "Was the precinct attacked by that Fordon prick?"

"Uh, no... The entire city has been affected." Returning to Connor who was laying completely oblivious to the world around him while laying on his back, Joel lifted up Connor's heavy eyelids one at a time to check his glazed over unresponsive pupils with a penlight. "It's like every single android in the city, deviant or machine, has slipped into a coma or has become catatonic."

"Shit." Putting his hands to his hips Hank approached the table where his deviant partner was laying and looked down at his face somberly. There were times that Connor looked exactly like a lost kid, and unfortunately it was one of those moments. "Keep an eye on him for me, Joel. I'm going back to the bullpen so I can try figure out all this bullshit."

"I will." The technician agreed as he continued to monitor Connor's strange condition. "I'll also keep in contact with the other facilities in the city and see if anyone has figured anything out yet. We'll need all the help we can get."

All of the officers and detectives working in the bullpen suddenly all had their eyes glued to the large television screens mounted on all four walls as a breaking news report. It had just been confirmed that deviants and machine-androids alike were suddenly falling into an unresponsive catatonic state throughout the city, and the story was rapidly sweeping over the broadcasts. Delivering the news was unexpectedly difficult for the human reporters since half of the staff at the broadcasting tower were in fact androids, and the lack of answers made breaking the story all the more difficult. It was as if the abrupt loss of active deviants had ground all life and activity within the city to a stop.

Needing answers Hank joined the already gathered officers and stared at the screen as the blonde-haired anchorwoman confirmed that all deviants and androids were affected by the bizarre condition resulting in catatonia without a discernible cause. While technicians throughout the city were scrambling to find the cause and subsequent treatment for the hindering affliction, there was little progress being made.

"Fuck." Hank swore as he realized the entire day had been one big failure after another. Looking over his right shoulder he watched as Captain Fowler left his office to join the others in the middle of the bullpen once more. Even the seasoned Captain was too at a loss. "No one knows what the fuck's going on, Jeffrey."

"Yeah, I've noticed." With his hand on his hips Captain Fowler gave his Lieutenant an update on what little information he did know. "Look, I got a report from Joel upstairs and there's nothing that can be done for Connor right now. For now Hank, go home."

"What?" Such an order made Hank's blue eyes flash with utter confusion. "No way."

"There's nothing you can do for Connor and I can't have one of my detectives worked into exhaustion. It's time for you to go."

"You expect me to just leave Connor behind and go home? Just like that?"

"For the time being, yes, and don't accuse me of not caring about Connor's condition." Already knowing where Hank's mind was going, Captain Fowler cut him off almost immediately. "I got a message from Joel letting me know that he's going to stay overnight and observe Connor and the other downed deviants who were taken into the dispensary. Connor won't be alone tonight. If he wakes up or shows any changes one or both of us will call you. I swear to it."

"Son of a bitch..." Hank still hated the idea and continued to try to argue against it. "Connor's not a busted car that needs to be in the shop overnight, he's my partner and my friend. We're practically family at this point."

"Hank, go home. If I have to take you off the Fordon case to make you rest, then I will."

"Fuckin'- Fine! I get the message, Jeffrey." Shooting a fiery stare at his commanding officer Hank just glared at Captain Fowler as he mouthed off one final time before leaving the precinct for the night. "Don't bust my balls!"

"Then go home. NOW."

"I'm gone!"

Pulling his car keys from his coat pocket Hank grabbed his phone from his desk and sent a text to Joel asking for an update, but there was no change. Passing through the bullpen with a sickening feeling that he was forgetting something very important, the senior detective just sighed and made his way to the car parked in the neighboring parking garage.

"If the city isn't tearing itself apart from the inside out, then it's some maniac with a grudge holding the city hostage. This is complete and utter bullshit!"

As Hank drove back home alone for the first time in a very long time, he found the city in a form of panic and turmoil. Major installations of public transportation had been shut down due to the lack of androids being able to work the evening, night and early morning shifts. Autonomous road construction and street plowing came to an abrupt halt creating dangerous hazards for motorists. Even numerous late-night establishments had been preemptively closed due to the lack of androids working security or graveyard shifts. Even a few apartment complexes had established curfew and required proper identification to add to security due to the lack of android security officers patrolling the neighborhood.

The city was essentially dead. There was no sign of activity and no sign of a solution anywhere on the horizon.

"I wonder how many of those anti-android bigots are celebrating right now, and how many more are losing their shit because they just figured out how important the androids are to the city? They're the ones keeping this fuckin' world from falling apart while the humans keep fuckin' it up."

Pulling into the driveway beside the house Hank sighed as he slammed his car door shut and checked his phone again. Sure enough, nothing. No text from Joel, Captain Fowler and certainly not one from Connor.

"Cripes... Give us a damn break!"

Rushing up to his front door quickly Hank unlocked the door and greeted Sumo as the massive dog plodded over and wagged his tail slowly.

"Hey, boy. Let's get you outside and then we can both go to bed."

Walking into the kitchen Hank opened the backdoor and took a step back to give Sumo plenty of room to move. As he watched the large dog trot out into the backyard Hank sighed and realized how empty the house was without the deviant moving about trying to help with chores or make sure Hank wasn't feeling too run down after work. It had been only a few hours but Hank already missed Connor's company.

"You better wake up soon, kid. I hate only having Sumo to talk to, he's bad at holding a decent conversation."

Ever attentive and looking for any and all changes in the afflicted deviants' conditions, Joel diligently hovered over Connor who was still comatose on the exam table before checking on the other downed deviants on the neighboring tables. The deviant detective hadn't budged in almost nine hours and the same went for the other affected deviants. The lack of progress left Joel feeling absolutely exhausted. Ignoring the clock on the far wall that was glaring three in the morning Joel sipped at the bitter and now lukewarm coffee in his blue thermos, and let out a weary yawn mixed with a frustrated sigh as he leaned back against the far wall to look over his now nine patients.

Joel was admittedly at a loss of what to do to help any of them. He had never encountered a strange condition such as the one he was currently trying to figure out, and he didn't know where to turn his attention or to look for his elusive answers.

"For once I think it's safe to say your problems have nothing to do with your prototype design, Connor. But I can't afford to rule anything out just yet. Any number of programs could've been affected that resulted in... this."

Putting aside his now empty thermos Joel ran another diagnostic on Connor's programming and turned his back to the exam table as he checked on his laptop sitting on his desk to await the results. As the usual list of non-errors popped up on the laptop's display the technician steadily became aware of some form of movement just behind him. Turning around to peer behind himself Joel nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw Connor suddenly sitting upright on the table with absolutely perfect posture and a blank stare in his partially opened eyes.

"Jeez!" Joel yelped as he put his right hand over his racing heart. "You scared the shit out of me, Connor!"

Connor didn't say a word. He didn't even blink as he sat upright without moving a singly synthetic muscle.

"Uh, Connor?" Curious about the odd lack of response Joel approached the deviant and tried to look at his glowing L.E.D. still under the black cable. "Connor, if you-"

The deviant's hand suddenly reached up and wrapped around Joel's throat and applied a consistent pressure. It wasn't enough pressure to crush Joel's trachea, but it was enough to cut off his ability to draw in a breath and limit the blood flowing to the technician's brain. In less than four seconds Joel was rendered unconscious and fell to the floor in a limp heap as Connor released his grip from around his throat.

Unprovoked and seemingly on autopilot, Connor removed the black cable from his L.E.D., slid off the exam table and walked out of the dispensary without uttering a single word. No one saw the attack, and no one knew that Connor had left the dispensary unopposed.

Initially restless and enduring a nasty bout of insomnia, Hank was sleeping deeply courtesy of two potent sleeping pills in the darkness of his quiet bedroom when his phone started 'buzzing' on the nightstand beside him. It took a few seconds for Hank to rouse enough from his drug-induced slumber to trace the sound to his phone and make a reach for it in the dark of the night. After getting a firm grip on the phone Hank let out a deep sigh of irritation at the noisy intrusion. Rubbing his hand over his tired face he yawned deeply and answered the call in a groggy, tired voice as he pressed the phone to his ear and used his free hand to push Sumo away from his face as he tried to talk.

"...Hank Anderson."

After listening to the sound of Captain Fowler's voice on the other end of the line Hank instantly became more alert and sat up quickly on his bed to give his commanding officer his full attention.

"Connor did what?!"

Practically jumping out of his bed, nearly knocking Sumo off the foot of the mattress in the process, Hank scrambled to find the light switch on the wall and throw on his clothes. Keeping his ear pressed to the phone and between his shoulder Hank listened to everything Captain Fowler told him and took in all the very strange details as he clumsily managed to change into his day clothes with his left hand.

"Well, is Joel hurt?"

Stumbling out of the bedroom he grabbed his car keys and quickly he slipped his shoes onto his feet.

"Do you know where Connor went?"

Rushing through the front door Hank slammed the door shut behind him and threw open his driver's side door as he practically ran to the parked car in the driveway. As he turned the key in the ignition he looked around as if expecting Connor to suddenly show up from down the driveway or sidewalk, then began backing down the driveway to reach the street to head back to the precinct.

"I'm on my way in now, Jeffrey. Tell the paramedics to keep Joel there until I have the chance to talk to him."

Ending the call Hank tossed the phone into the unoccupied passenger seat to his right and turned the car to face the appropriate direction.

"Damn it, Connor."

Unsure of what to do to help his partner and friend, Hank just mumbled to himself as he sped toward the precinct.

"What the fuck is going on in this city now? We definitely need a damn break..."

Looking as rough as the rest of the exhausted bullpen downstairs, Joel was sitting on one of the two still available exam tables in his own dispensary with an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth and an ice pack pressed to the back of his aching head. As the responding paramedics checked his eyes with a penlight and monitored his pulse, Captain Fowler took the assaulted technician's statement regarding the incident at hand and made notes on an electronic tablet's screen. Of course, the details regarding the incident and aftermath were sparse and shaky, but Joel did his best to answer the questions as honestly as possible. He had nothing to hide, and he didn't blame Connor for anything that happened.

The rest of the deviants were still unresponsive around Joel and that made the situation all the more bizarre. Only one deviant was reactivated, which was very odd in itself, but to have that particular deviant behave violently and attack an ally was completely bizarre.

"...That's all I remember, Captain." Closing his eyes pained Joel sighed and did his best to power through his headache. "The next thing I remember is Officer Chen finding me unconscious and the floor and waking me up before she called in the paramedics."

"And Connor didn't say anything after he got up?"

Joel shook his head a little and immediately regretted it as the motion made his already aching head throb. "...No. He just grabbed me by the throat," his own hand went over his slightly bruised throat to imitate the action. "squeezed, and then everything went black."

"Did you ever figure out what was wrong with him, the other deviants or why he even managed to wake up?"

"No." Admitting defeat Joel sighed and dropped his hand from his throat with fatigue. "There was a vacant stare in his eyes, like he was in a trance. I've never seen anything like that in androids, even the most obedient machines have some life to their eyes. But with Connor there was just nothing there."

Hank entered the dispensary through the opened doorway and made his way over to Joel. He immediately spotted the bruises forming around the technician's neck and grimaced at the fresh wound. "Fuck."

"It looks worse than it is, Lieutenant." Joel tried to reassure him as the paramedics made their assessment over his condition. Fortunately, he wasn't injured beyond the bruises, but he'd need to be observed since he was unconscious for a prolonged period of time. "I'll need to go to the hospital for overnight observation strictly as a precaution since I hit my head on the floor when I blacked out."

"I take it Connor didn't say or do anything that would tell us where he went or what the hell happened to him before he took off."

"Nothing. He was completely silent."

"Shit." Running his hand through his messy gray hair and then pressing his palm to the back of his tense neck, Hank glanced over at Captain Fowler who was standing back by the door to give the paramedics room to work. "Do you have the precinct camera footage ready to go?"

"Yeah, Hank." The confirmation sounded oddly aggravated. "Tina already looked it over after she called for help, and all we know is Connor went in a Western direction after he regained consciousness and left the precinct through the front doors. No one tried to stop him or talk to him."

"Oh, well that narrows down the search area to only the entire fucking city..."

It was going to be a very long night and Hank just didn't have the energy to keep it up.

"Great. Just fuckin' great."

The other deviants and androids in the city remained catatonic, which included all of the leaders and inhabitants of New Jericho Tower, all while Connor was still missing. Without another android to communicate with to figure out what was happening with the deviant community, Hank felt like he was at a total loss and was trying to analyze the footage of the security camera for any idea as to where he could locate Connor. There was nothing from the security footage from the dispensary and even less footage once Connor passed through the bullpen without drawing a single curious glance from anyone - except got Tina who saw him from the breakroom, then disappeared into the late night onto the streets.

Without any deviant receptionists up front or security deviants in the neighboring parking garage, Connor essentially vanished without any witnesses. It was further proof that the city needed to have their deviant population healthy and functioning in order to succeed.

"This is getting me nowhere."

Hank decided at he turned off his terminal screen and sighed. It was then he thought about what Connor was working on before he became catatonic and decided to see what was left on Connor's terminal screen.

"Maybe you were on to something good with that hacker-asshole before you went out of it, kid."

Switching from his desk and over to Connor's desk Hank sighed and turned on the terminal screen to check on Connor's previous work.

"All right... What were you trying to tell me before you passed out?"

Checking out the information on the terminal screen Hank noticed that one of Connor's searches for probable cause to investigate the apartment of the known hacker Stanley Fordon seemed to be promising. There was an interesting connection between an I.P. address attributed to Fordon and one of the terminals of the F.B.I.'s criminal databases in Washington D.C., and it was a connection that had been established four months prior."

"Son of a bitch, Fordon DID wipe out his criminal record. We must've barged in before he had the chance to cover his sneaky little tracks after that anonymous tip came in."

Turning to look at the other available officers still in the bullpen - very few were still there since many patrols were issued to monitor the streets until the deviants and androids were functioning again, Hank realized he'd have to get the search warrant himself.

"Fuck. If I can at least get this asshole taken care of I can focus fully on helping out Connor."

It took almost two hours of pleading and reasoning with the higher-ups, but Hank was finally granted the search warrant necessary to investigate Fordon's apartment a second time, and was rushing out of the precinct to get to his car when Captain Fowler stopped him in the receptionist area. Hank of course didn't respond well to having his already limited progress being halted any further, and glared at his commanding officer as Captain Fowler cut him off before he had the chance to go into a longer and righteous rant about time being of the essence.

"I'm busy, Jeffrey. I gotta'-"

"What the fuck are you doing?"

"I can finally investigate that cyber-terrorist's apartment." Holding up the paper warrant Hank let Captain Fowler see it for himself. "THAT'S what."

"Aren't you looking for Connor?"

"I've looked as far as I can. Once I get this asshole off the streets, I'll be able to fully concentrate on finding Connor. Jeez, Jeffrey. I thought you'd be happy I was working on an actual case instead of just focusing on Connor."

"I am, but it's just-"

"Yeah, I know." Hank's aggressive tone softened considerably as he noted that Captain Fowler's overall demeanor was calm and compassionate. "I'm worry about him, too."

"And you have no idea where he would've gone?"

"No." Hank wished he could've answered in a more helpful manner. "I don't even know what the hell happened to him or the rest of the androids in this city, or why he's the only one who woke up."

Captain Fowler was evidently conflicted in his priorities and was struggling to make his next command. A missing detective was always at the top of the list, but a terrorist was even higher. "All right. Take Chris with you, lead the investigation on Fordon, then get back here to lead the search for Connor."

"Yeah, sure. I'm on it." Hank called back to Chris who was sitting at his desk in the bullpen familiarizing himself with the strange occurrences at hand when he was shouted at. "Chris, you're with me!"

Chris looked over at Hank for a moment before he nodded and rose to his feet. "Right away, Lieutenant."

"I'm going to go check out that fucker's place and get back here as soon as possible." Walking backward Hank kept his eyes locked with Captain Fowler as he struggled to not worry about the missing deviant. "If you have an update on Connor, call me immediately. You know how to find me."

With the coveted search warrant in his hand Hank pounded loudly on the closed apartment door of Stanley Fordon and announced his presence while Chris stood next to Hank with his hand warily hovering over his holstered gun on his hip. Two other officers who were patrolling the area joined in with Hank and Chris to provide immediate back-up considering that Fordon has proven to be clever and elusive, and they were also just a few feet away on the either side of the closed apartment door to ensure Hank and Chris were covered.

"Detroit Police. Open up!" Hank shouted as he pounded on the door twice more. No answer. "Stanley Fordon, we have a warrant. Open the door or we will break it down, this is your last chance!"

There was still no response from the other side of the door and no audible movement inside the apartment.

"Break it down." Hank ordered as he took a step back and let one of the other officers have the honor of kicking down the locked door for him. "The prick had his chance to cooperate.

One strong kick was all it took for the young officer to kick in the apartment door and give the responding officers easy access to the residence. Hank led the way into the large apartment and began looking for a computer or laptop that had been used during the cyber attacks, although he was certain that Fordon would've destroyed any computers that could connect him to any such crimes.

"Search the place." The senior detective instructed firmly as he glanced about the immediate area. Honing in on the desk that clearly had an opened space where a laptop had once sat, Hank checked the surrounding drawers and then the trashcan beside it. "Don't overlook anything, this guy is one clever snake."

Chris aided Hank in searching the livingroom while the other officers checked out the bedroom and guestroom down the small corridor. Being as thorough as possible during his search Chris saw that the right window next to the desk was unlocked but the left window was still locked tight. The right window was also only partially closed as if someone threw it open and then closed it again hastily without properly securing it.

Opening the unlocked window slowly Chris glanced about the area on the other side of the glass and saw that there was a piece of paper hanging from the concrete ledge just below the window's sill. The paper was seemingly caught in place after it had been snagged on the uneven edge of the hard surface. Grabbing on to the paper by the nearest corner, Chris pulled it back inside the apartment and gave it a quick glance.

The paper had some interesting details scrawled over the surface that he knew Hank would want to see.

"Lieutenant." Presenting the paper to the senior officer Chris wanted Hank's opinion on the matter. "Found this hanging outside the window. Looks like someone tried to toss it, but didn't do a very good job."

"Let me see." Taking the paper from Chris's hand Hank gave it a onceover and a faint smirk appeared on his face. "Good work, Chris. I think we finally know where this asshole went."

"Should we call it in?"

"No. I'll go check it out myself and see if it pans-out." Keeping the paper on his person Hank handed over the warrant and made his way to the apartment door to check out the new lead. "You stay here and handle this crime scene on my behalf. You're in charge."

"No problem, Lieutenant." Happy to help Chris had no problem with continuing the search while Hank went elsewhere. "I got this."

Using the collected paper to his advantage, the paper being a very old deed to a property in one of the more exclusive and isolated neighborhoods in the city, Hank honed in on the correct address and checked out the area before ever leaving the car. The street was expectedly quiet and there was no surrounding traffic. The long driveway leading from the street to the house on the private property was crumbling from aged neglect, as if no one had been to the house in years. However, Hank keenly noticed that there was a single vehicle parked out in front of the house indicating that someone was home and trying to maintain a low profile by keeping the exterior of the residence looking rundown.

The house itself was a large two story, red brick mansion that had sprawling ivy growing on one side of the house. There were no lights on upstairs but there were lights glowing through the windows on the first floor indicating where the lone occupant could be residing.

"All right, looks like this is the right place."

Stepping out of the car Hank made a discreet text to Captain Fowler regarding the address and requested him to send out available back-up to the area. Hank also stated that no one make a move until he texted the code word giving the go ahead. "I'll get this guy cuffed and then I can figure out why the androids in this city went down, and why Connor disappeared into the night."

Approaching the property warily, keeping an eye out for any possible security cameras that could give away his position or trigger a silent alarm, Hank made his way up the long driveway to the brick mansion at the end. Crouching down by the front windows Hank peered inside the glass between the mostly drawn dark curtains and saw a figure moving about in the dim lighting of the room.

It was Stanley Fordon himself. The man was freed after being arrested for twenty-four hours and was seemingly looking to make a run from the city.

"Got you now, asshole."

Returning to the front door Hank tested the knob and found that it was unlocked and immediately sensed a trap in the air.

"...Fucker is waiting for someone to come inside."

Hank drew his holstered gun from his hip and held it before him protectively. Turning the knob on the door Hank pushed it open slowly and stepped inside the house with a cautiously silent gait. Making sure his 'code word' was set to go on his phone, Hank entered the house and glanced about the neighboring room where he saw Fordon's back facing him.

"Stanley Fordon, you're under arrest for tampering with evidence, breaking into a government server and bunch of other shit I don't have the time to list off."

Fordon didn't even turn to look at Hank as the senior detective walked up to him with every intention of arresting him. Raising up his left hand as his right hand continued to type away on his laptop keyboard, Fordon snapped his left fingers and a strong hand suddenly wrapped around Hank's throat from around the wall in the second adjoining room.

The senior detective was so stunned by the grip now around his throat that he raised his gun and turned to look at his attacker only to have his blue eyes go wide with fearful recognition. "C-Connor?!"

Connor's right hand was firmly wrapped around Hank's throat just enough to hold him in place but not enough to choke him out as he had done to Joel back at the precinct. Keeping his hand firmly in place Connor didn't show any sign of life or awareness in his eyes or his overall body language.

"Connor?" Hank stated his partner's name is a calm low tone of voice. "Connor, let me go, kid. You know this is wrong."

The deviant's brown eyes were still glazed over and dim. Even his eyelids were still partially closed as if in a trance or sleepwalking. The L.E.D. in Connor's right temple was still pulsing in a deep yellow hue at an oddly slow rate in comparison to what was normal for a healthy deviant android.

"Connor." Hank slowly lifted up his left hand and wrapped it around Connor's right wrist. Using his right hand to reholster his gun at his hip Hank remained calm and tried to get his partner and friend to listen to reason. "Please listen to me. You need to let me go."

"It can't hear you, detective." Fordon sneered as he finally turned around to look at the stunned human caught in the deviant's grasp. "It's plastic, not a person."

"He seems way more human and alive than you do, you coldhearted snake." Swallowing once nervously he felt Connor's hand briefly tighten then relax over his throat in response to the sudden motion. "What did you do to him?"

"It's not just your 'partner' that's been affected, detective. Every single android, every machine, in this city has been affected." Speaking with true arrogance in his words Fordon made it clear he was in charge of everything that'd happen that day. "The difference is your partner is a little more advanced than I had anticipated which means I can control it with a few key commands while keeping the other androids dormant."

"Why?" Hank dared to challenge even as he was being held at bay by his own partner. "Why the fuck would you do all of this?"

"To prove that machines aren't people. They cannot be trusted, and they will destroy this city."

"Them?! What about you! You're the one trying to 'cleanse' an entire race of beings from this planet, assaulted a human technician and now you're trying to assault a human police officer." As he raised his voice, he felt Connor's find tighten around his throat again. "YOU have done more harm than anything any of these androids could ever do! You're trying to commit genocide for fuck sake!"

"I didn't assault that technician OR you. Your partner did."

"Only because you're TELLING him to do those things! If a mechanic takes apart an engine and doesn't put it back together again, do you blame the mechanic for his sloppy work or the tools he used to do it? YOU are responsible for all of this, not him!"

"You're not as clever as you think." Fordon gave Hank an annoyed glance and snapped his fingers again. Connor's hand began to tighten around Hank's throat even tighter and Hank was finding it more difficult to breathe. "Not only did you fail to recognize that I'm the one who 'tipped' you off and let you 'find me', but you failed to understand that I'm not the only one who has the skill to do this."

"N-No." Hank wheezed through Connor's strong grip. "But I bet you're... the only one deranged enough... to do this. You're also... arrogant enough... to think you can... parade yourself... around in front... of an... audience and not... suffer any consequences."

"No matter." Dismissing the remark Fordon continued with his little task. "With one keystroke I can enable every single android's deactivation code, effectively rendering this entire 'species' extinct."

"That's sick!" Discreetly Hank's hand made its way to the phone in his pocket, and he pressed 'send' on his preloaded text message to give Captain Fowler the signal to join him at the house. "And I can't let you do this!"

"And how're you going to stop me? It's already happening."

"Like this." With a swift grab Hank pulled his gun back from his holster and aimed at Fordon, only have Connor's left hand grab onto the barrel of the gun to stop him before he had the chance to pull the trigger. Realizing he had been stopped Hank could only try to reason with Connor again. "Connor, no!"

Fordon readied to snap his fingers for the third and seemingly final time after Connor thwarted Hank's attempts to fun him down. "It's a shame you were the one to show up here. Now your partner will tear you apart before he shuts down forever. What's even sadder is your partner will never know the truth about its own origins, but it'll regain its senses just long enough to watch you die at its feet before it shuts down permanently. Goodbye, detective."

With the snap of the fingers Connor reacted violently toward Hank. The deviant easily overpowered the human and pushed him up against the wall by his throat. As Hank struggled to pull the gun out of Connor's grip Connor turned the barrel of the gun toward Hank's own person and squeezed the trigger only once. Hank gasped and tried to curl around himself as the single fiery hot bullet tore through his lower abdomen and tore apart his skin causing him to bleed heavily where he stood.

In an instant Hank fell prey to his own partner's actions. He couldn't defend himself and he couldn't run away.

"Finish him off." Fordon ordered as he returned his attention back to his laptop. He didn't care about Hank and was more focused on his self-appointed mission to end deviant life. "Make him suffer."

Connor's right hand tightened around Hank's throat for a moment longer before the deviant threw the bleeding senior detective to the hard floor aggressively. As Hank lost his grip on the gun in favor of putting pressure to the bullet wound in his abdomen, Connor reeled back his right leg and began kicking Hank hard in the chest, stomach and even his head to injure, subdue and eventually kill him.

Unable to get up to defend himself Hank tried to use his arms to shield himself from the merciless strikes, but it was all for nothing. The deviant knew exactly where and how to attack Hank to inflict maximum damage with minimum effort. As the senior detective suddenly went limp on the floor Connor stopped the assault as quickly as it began.

Blood dripped out of the side of Hank's mouth onto the floor. He was laying on his right side and barely breathing. Hank's face was already bruised and pale from the injuries and mounting blood loss due to the bullet wound in his abdomen.

"Good work." Fordon stated as he listened to the silence behind him. "Now, remain quiet so I can concentrate."

Obediently Connor remained still and statuesque as he stood beside Hank's bleeding body without any form of emotional reaction to the needless assault he had just taken on his own partner and friend. Any sense of freewill was lost after Fordon compromised his programming.

"I'm sorry, detective." From where he stood Fordon feign sympathy toward Hank as he continued to type away. "But this was a necessary evil. I must save the city from the android menace."

The sound of approaching sirens and flashing lights drew Fordon away from his laptop just long enough to step over Hank's bleeding body to peer out the front windows to the street outside. The police had arrived en mass and were converging on the property quickly. Cars encircled the house and drones scanned the property to track any and all movement.

"No. No. No!" Fordon was beginning openly panic at the sight of the rapidly responding police. "They'll ruin everything!" As he stomped back to the laptop a deafening gunshot and shower of sparks filled the room and made Fordon jump back in surprise from his mow useless keyboard. "What?!"

Hank's shaking hand dropped to the floor as the smoking gun fell from his grip. "...Sometimes one shot is all you need."

As his body went limp once more the senior detective lost consciousness and continued to bleed from his abdomen.

In near shock Fordon hovered over the sparking smoldering remains of his destroyed laptop and began panting in fear. "What have you... done?!" Turning around quickly he marched back to Hank and grabbed the gun from the floor. With a shaking hand he aimed at Hank's unconscious face with wide enraged eyes. "You're a traitor to your own people. You don't deserve to live!"

As Fordon prepared to squeeze the trigger a strong hand grabbed onto the gun and wrestled it out of his grip. Staring at the offender with the same shocked expression as Hank had done just moments before, Fordon could only stand and watch as Connor stole away the weapon and easily subdued him with a strong punch to the stomach with his opposite fist.

"You're under arrest, Fordon." Connor stated bluntly as he took his handcuffs from the back of his belt and restrained the man's wrists behind his back. The deviant's L.E.D. was pulsing an enraged red in his right temple as he processed what he had just witnessed. "Don't move!"

The front door of the house was kicked open as responding officers rushed inside to deal with Fordon after moving on Hank's signal. Connor threw Fordon forward to the feet of the officers as he dropped to his knees beside Hank as he dropped the gun at his side. Running a biometric scan over the downed senior detective's body Connor felt suddenly sick and full of regret.

The responding officers surrounded Fordon and secured the scene as they dragged the man outside, kicking and screaming the whole way, while Connor tended to Hank's life-threatening wounds.

"...Hank?" Connor slipped his hand very carefully under Hank's head and lifted him up from the floor. The deviant's L.E.D. was cycling red rapidly in empathetic panic that matched his racing heartbeat. "Hank, please... Please wake up."

The senior detective's blue eyes partially opened, and a faint bloodied grin appeared on his face. "...Hey, kid."

"Hank! I'm so sorry!" Connor blurted as he moved his free hand to the bleeding wound in Hank's abdomen to apply pressure. "I could see what I was doing, but I couldn't do anything to stop myself! I couldn't speak, I couldn't hear, I couldn't-"

"...E-Easy, son. I know it wasn't... you." Hank hissed a little as the pain his abdomen suddenly sharpened, and it began to hurt to breathe. He was slipping into shock and needed immediate medical attention. "...It was all him."

"Hank..." Sensing Hank's waning vital signs Connor's left hand applied more pressure to the wound as he pulled Hank's body up from the floor and against himself to try to keep the bleeding human as warm as possible. The senior detective was resting against Connor's legs as the deviant continued to keep his hand in place over Hank's abdomen. "Hank, please. Back-up is already here and I summoned an ambulance as I soon as I saw what I had done."

"...Connor." Hank's eyes were falling shut and his breathing was becoming rapid and shallow. "It wasn't... your fault."

"But I shot you. I shot you, Hank!"

"...No, you didn't." The bleeding detective managed to reach up his blood covered hand just enough to lightly pat Connor's shoulder, his palm smearing blood onto the fabric of the gray CyberLife blazer in the process. "Y-You didn't do... this. Fordon did. It's..." Losing blood and strength Hank had to fight to keep speaking. "It'll be okay."

"H-Hank?" Connor watched as the wounded detective became increasingly weaker before his eyes. "Hank, please! Stay awake!" Connor's red L.E.D. cycled to yellow and then back to red as he detected an ambulance outside of the property. "The paramedics are here! Just hold on!"

Unable to respond all Hank could do was breathe weakly as Connor held him in his strong but shaking arms in a supportive hug as Hank's body became heavy and limp. There was nothing that Connor could do for the man and could only wait for medical help to intervene.

"Please, Hank..."

Bowing his head down Connor rested his forehead against the senior detective's weakly rising and falling chest. The two paramedics rushed through the opened front door and stood behind Connor as they set about placing their equipment on the floor to begin tending to Hank's wounds around the deviant's shaking hands.

"...Don't die. You can't die!"

Unable and even unwilling to ride in the ambulance with Hank to the hospital, Connor walked the twelve blocks to the correct place and proceeded to sit down in the waiting room and remained completely silent in his wait. As he nervously rolled his old coin over the back of his knuckles to help channel his twisting emotions Connor was only slightly aware of the staring people in the nearby chairs watching his every move as if expecting him to lash out at them in the same way that he had done to Hank. The deviant was so lost in thought that he was only barely aware of Captain Fowler approaching him rapidly from across the room to have a discussion about the events that had recently transpired.

The look on Connor's face gave Captain Fowler pause. He could see that Connor was in emotional pain and seemed lost, but he couldn't understand how the deviant could lose his control in such a coldblooded manner.

"Connor?" Speaking up in a soft voice Captain Fowler addressed the deviant detective in a level and understanding tone. "What the hell happened to you?"

"...Unknown."

"Shit." Sitting down beside the shaken deviant Captain Fowler kept his voice civil as he spoke to the worried detective compassionately. "Connor, I have to take your statement on everything that's happened. And I'm going to need your service weapon for the time being."

"...Captain." With a shaking hand Connor reached for the holster concealed beneath his blazer around his back and handed the gun over to Captain Fowler as he had been ordered and did so without any protest. "I don't know what happened to me, but I remember everything. I attacked Joel at the precinct and then I almost killed..." His soulful brown eyes closed as his L.E.D. cycled in red rapidly. "...Let me make sure Hank pulls through the surgery and then I will turn myself in for two counts of assault and one count of attempted murder."

"Connor, you're not under arrest or being charged with anything. I'm taking your gun as a precautionary measure and to placate the bureaucratic assholes breathing down my neck about this whole incident."

"But I shot him. I shot Hank."

"No." Captain Fowler sighed a little as he tried to explain everything to the emotionally compromised deviant. "When Hank sent the text signaling for back-up to get to his location, he also kept the line on his phone open. We heard EVERYTHING that happened. You're innocent. You didn't do anything wrong."

"...I feel like I did everything wrong."

"You're going to feel guilty and feel like shit for a while, that's for sure. But you can't let it break you down, all right?" Captain Fowler nodded as he saw a doctor heading right over to himself and to Connor. He knew that the doctor had been the one treating Hank upon arrival. "When Hank gets home he's going to need all the help he can get while he heals. Don't let your guilt keep you from staying his friend and helping him out through his recovery."

Connor could only nod with his L.E.D. remaining red as the doctor stood before them and spoke up. "Are you here for Lieutenant Henry Anderson?"

"Yeah." Captain Fowler stood upright and offered his right hand to the doctor to shake. "I'm Captain Fowler," he nodded in Connor's direction. "and this is Connor, Hank's partner."

"I'm Dr. Nachman." The doctor introduced himself with a firm handshake to Captain Fowler before he went into detail on Hank's condition "I have been overseeing Lieutenant Anderson's care."

"How is he?"

"Stable. He spent approximately four hours and fifty-three minutes on the table. He tolerated the surgery well, but he suffered significant internal damage. He had also suffered a severe blow to the head that has left him in a comatose state."

Connor's eyes tightened more as tears threatened to fall at any second. He knew he was responsible for everything that had happened to Hank.

Captain Fowler sighed and crossed his arms over his chest as he asked for more details. "How bad was the bullet wound?"

"The bullet nicked his stomach and part of his lower intestine. We were able to repair the damage and sterilize the wounds, but due to the severe damage to his torso he'll require a wheelchair to support a majority of his weight until the torn muscles in his core have enough time to heal."

At such a grim prognosis Connor's eyes opened slowly as he looked up at the doctor. "...Wheelchair?"

"Temporary." Dr. Nachman reassured as he looked down at Connor sympathetically, only to notice the red L.E.D. and became slightly colder. "He'll be fine in six weeks and require mild physical therapy to rebuild the strength in his core muscles."

Captain Fowler was happy to know Hank survived the surgery but needed to know about the other injuries. "Aside from being shot, what else did he suffer?"

"Four fractured ribs, a ruptured spleen, a hairline fracture to his right radius, hairline fracture to his left mandible and left orbit, as well as a severe concussion."

As his coin fell from the back of his hand and landed on the hard floor with an audible 'tink', Connor leaned forward in his seat and pressed both of his hands against his face to hide his shame.

Briefly patting Connor's shoulder Captain Fowler asked the doctor one more question. "Can we see him?"

"He's still unconscious and in our intensive care unit. He'll be there for the next forty-eight hours under very close observation." Dr. Nachman gave the police Captain a sympathetic look where stood as he answered honestly. "I'll make an exception for you tomorrow afternoon."

"Thanks. What about his partner?"

"The android?"

"Yeah," Captain Fowler replied somewhat firmly at the question. "the android. The android is his partner."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean any offense. But because of what's recently happened with the androids throughout the city, the hospital has gone on a type of security protocol to keep androids away from patients for one week or until we figure out what happened to them."

"Right, right." Recognizing that he had jumped to conclusions Captain Fowler backed off and stopped being so defensive. "Of course."

"There's nothing more either of you can do for him tonight. Go get some rest and I'll call you personally if there's any change in his condition."

"Thanks, doc."

Silent where he sat, Connor was too stunned to react and felt entirely too guilty to even try to move or speak.

Captain Fowler sensed Connor's pain and tried to ease his mind. "Come with me back to the precinct."

"...I don't want to leave Hank here alone."

"He's not alone, the entire hospital is watching over him. AND I want to get your side of the story." Coaxing people into leaving hospitals was an unfortunate skill that Captain Fowler had to master as he continued his career as a police Captain. "It'll make everything move a lot easier."

"Captain," Connor's hands lowered from his face to show the tears in his soulful brown eyes. "I deserve to be punished."

"No. I won't punish a victim for another person's crimes."

"I attacked two people!"

"Against your will! I'm not going to blame you or hold you accountable because some lunatic hijacked your programming. End of story."

"I wasn't the only one affected by the hijacking." Connor countered as if needing to find a reason to be convicted for his actions. "But I am the only who lashed out at two innocent people."

"I am not going to punish you." Picking up Connor's dropped coin from the floor Captain Fowler handed the object back to the deviant to reclaim for himself. "But if you want to stay away from the precinct for a while for your own mental health, then I'm not going to object or try to stop you."

The offer was exactly what Connor needed in that delicate moment. "Thank you, Captain."

"But you get to leave only after you give your statement at the precinct. Now, let's go."

"Captain, I-"

"That's an ORDER, Connor." Putting authority in his voice Captain Fowler knew how to get a reaction from Connor and get him moving. "I won't tell you again."

"...Yes, sir."

Reluctantly Connor accepted his coin and followed after his Captain, his hand nervously dancing his coin once more over his knuckles, as he exited the hospital to return to the precinct. For now, he needed to stand back and accept that he couldn't do anything more for Hank or anyone else until this mess was sorted out.

After giving his statement and answering thousands of questions from Internal Affair for three consecutive hours, Connor intentionally isolated himself from the rest of the precinct and stayed in a dark interrogation room well out of sight. Connor was unable to think about anything other than what he had done to Hank and how his best friend was now in the hospital, in a coma, and healing from a massive emergency surgery all by himself. The image of Hank covered in his own blood and laying on the cold floor was haunting Connor's vision, while the echoing sound of the gunshot that had wounded his friend and threatened to take his life echoed relentlessly in his ears.

A soft knock on the closed door made Connor flinch but he didn't respond. The quiet sound managed to break through his smothering thoughts, and yet it wasn't enough to make Connor stop thinking.

The door quietly 'hissed' opened just wide enough for Joel, with his technician's satchel over his shoulder, to slip inside the room without drawing any attention to anyone watching from the bullpen. "Connor?"

"Joel!" Connor turned around to look at the technician with his red L.E.D. blinking rapidly in distress. The sight of the purple bruises around the technician's throat in the distinct shape of a handprint made Connor want to actually cry in emotional distress after seeing how he had hurt two of his friends. "I'm... I'm so sorry that I attacked you!"

"It's okay. I know you weren't being yourself."

"I still laid my hands on you. I shouldn't have done that." Connor kept begging for forgiveness even though it wasn't expected of him as he watched Joel step closer to him at the interview table where he was sitting. "I'm so sorry!"

"You don't need to apologize, but I'll forgive you all the same if it'll make you feel better."

"Unfortunately, no. Hank is in the hospital fighting for his life because of me."

"He's in the hospital because that cyberterrorist was fuckin' crazy."

"But I'm the one-"

"You were one of the many victims of that guy's assault on the city." Joel reminded the deviant as he put the satchel down on the table and sat in the chair next to Connor. "And since you didn't report to the dispensary despite me knowing damn well Captain Fowler ordered you to do so, I'm going to give you a quick physical right here so you can get back to the hospital."

The idea of facing Hank seemed too cruel and painful to even attempt. "...I can't go back there."

"Sure you can." Like a true friend Joel was trying to get Connor to stop being so down on himself. Picking up Connor's left arm Joel spotted the dried red blood stain on his blazer's shoulder and decided to fully remove the blazer before rolling up the deviant's white dress shirt sleeve to expose his bicep. "Just take a moment to breathe."

"I can't stop thinking about what I did to him." Emotions were still a challenge for Connor grasp and control at times. His guilt and his grief were like raw wounds inside his beating heart. "What I did to you."

"Not your fault." The technician reaffirmed as he wrapped a Thirium pressure cuff around Connor's exposed bicep, then pulled his audioscope out of the satchel to check his ventilation rate and his Thirium pump - his heart. "The other androids confirm the same hypnotic trance-like state you described after they woke up. And like you, they snapped back to reality within seconds of the laptop being destroyed, and that strange frequency that Fordon was emitting from house was stopped thanks to the laptop's destruction. You aren't responsible for anything you did while under the frequency's influence."

"That doesn't change the fact that it was my hand that left the bruise on your throat or held the gun to Hank's abdomen."

"You wouldn't have harmed either of us under your own freewill." Joel finished listening to the deviant's chest and repacked the audioscope, as well as the Thirium pressure cuff after it automatically tightened to give Joel a reading, then put it too back into the satchel. Slipping out his own laptop from the repacked satchel Joel connected the black diagnostic cable to Connor's red tinted L.E.D. to run a full system diagnostic to ensure the deviant's system was perfectly stable. "And I still trust you as my friend. Hank does, too."

"...I don't trust myself."

The dour comment prompted a brow arch from Joel. "Connor?"

The deviant looked at the technician and didn't say another word in response. He saw the strange reaction from his friend but didn't want to comment on it.

"Why are you so certain that you alone should be held accountable for this?"

"I... I don't know."

"Please stop trying to beat yourself up." Joel was unknowingly repeating the same advice that Connor had already been given. "Go home, get some rest and then go check on Hank tomorrow morning."

"Androids aren't allowed in the hospital because of the strange cyber-attack on the city."

"Uh-huh, don't worry about that. I'll make sure the city knows exactly what happened and who is responsible." Doing his part in helping the city to recover Joel swore to keep the facts straight and stop rumors before they even started. "You'll be able to see him tomorrow."

Bowing his head in shape Connor dreaded the idea of facing Hank after everything that had happened. "That may not be what he wants."

Feeling like utter shit and unwilling to socialize with anyone for any reason, even Lucas, Connor walked back to the house rather than drive Hank's car and returned to the empty house with a heavy heart. As he entered the front door of the house very slowly Sumo got up from his spot over the length of the couch, stretched out his large arthritic body, yawned and then clumsily jumped down to the floor to greet the returned deviant as Connor walked through the doorway to remain for the night. Unaware of anything that happened to Hank or of anything happening with Connor, Sumo had no reason to behave any other way beyond his usual lovable and goofy self the moment he saw the deviant.

Moving on autopilot Connor removed his shoes by the front door before doing anything else. He was barely able to function and was being overwhelmed by his own dark thoughts.

"...Hi, Sumo. It's time for you to go outside."

The massive dog wagged his tail as he watched Connor go into the kitchen to pour some fresh food and water into the dog's bowls on the floor before opening the backdoor to let Sumo outside. As far as Sumo knew it was a typical late night at the house.

"Hank won't be coming home tonight. And it's my fault."

Sumo let out a confused whimper as he trotted through the kitchen and went into the backyard as instructed.

Connor crossed his arms over his chest and stayed planted firmly in the middle of the kitchen in silent contemplation. Despite Joel's reassurance that he was running at optimal parameters and Captain Fowler insisting he didn't do anything wrong, the overly empathetic deviant still felt absolutely horrendous about what happened to Hank.

After a few minutes Sumo returned to the kitchen with his tail still wagging and proceeded to check out his refilled bowls. Closing and locking the backdoor Connor let out a weary sigh and walked over to the livingroom to lay down over the couch to rest.

Despite being given Cole's old bedroom to have as his own Connor felt unworthy of such a gift after harming Hank so severely. It was like his very presence in the house was a slap in the face to everything Hank had done to help him, and now he was just intruding. Laying on his left side to face the back of the couch Connor pressed his arm right up under is head against his red L.E.D. and closed his pained eyes tightly to enter a rest mode plagued by inescapable nightmares.

Nightmares that Connor felt he deserved and brought upon himself.

"Forgive me, Hank. Please pull through and don't hate me when you wake up... I'm so very sorry for hurting you."

The following morning Stanley Fordon was back in the precinct's interrogation room for the final time before the numerous agents from the F.B.I. would take him into custody and fly him out to Washington D.C. to answer for his multiple felony charges. Captain Fowler was leading the questions during the interrogation and two federal agents were observing from the adjacent room's observation window with a keen interest; one of the agents was the F.B.I. Director himself, Norman Jayden. Gavin was already watching the interrogation go down along with the two agents when Connor entered the observation room at last and looked uncharacteristically disheveled in overall appearance.

Connor was still wearing his white dress shirt from the night before and it was wrinkled from wearing it as he slept fairly poorly. His black tie was loose around his neck, his hair was unkempt, and he didn't have any replacement suit gray blazer to make him look more professional. He never tried to reclaim his bloodstained blazer after Joel removed it the night before, and he didn't care about keeping the soiled garment.

"Jeez, I can't believe that you have the nerve to show your face here." Gavin stated coldly as the deviant stood with his back against the cold wall opposite the one-way mirror. "You look like shit."

Admitting how he felt Connor didn't try to defend himself or speak in a professional manner. "...I feel like shit."

"Did you do your weird rest thingy in your work clothes or something?"

"I don't believe what I went through last night can be classified as a proper rest mode."

"So, androids aren't flawless." Gavin smirked while Connor didn't even both to remind him that androids were far from flawless and just as vulnerable as humans could be. "Well, you didn't miss much. Fowler's just getting to the more interesting questions."

Connor gazed through the one-way mirror and focused as best as he could on the interrogation while Captain Fowler continued his questions. Ignoring the suspicious side-eyed glances of the F.B.I. agents and Gavin's cold stare, Connor tried to focus solely on the interrogation for the sake of the case.

'We know you hacked the Federal Bureau of Investigations terminals, so there's no way you can hope to reduce your sentence.' Captain Fowler stated in a professionally level and calm demeanor. 'What we want to know is why you did this to the city.'

'As I told your detective yesterday,' Fordon replied in a low, frustrated tone. 'machines can't be trusted.'

'All you did was prove that humans can't be trusted.' Captain Fowler shot back with a stern answer. 'You failed.'

'From what I've heard, your detective is still in the hospital and laying in a coma all thanks to your plastic detective's actions.'

Connor winced and his arms tightened defensively around his chest as his guilt remained relentless. It was as if Fordon was poking a raw wound in his heart.

'No.' Captain Fowler stated very firmly in response to the arrogant comment. 'YOU made my detective assault his partner. You're going to jail for the assault of my technician, assault of two police officers AND the attempted murder of a police officer. You're going away for the rest of your life, so why not clean your conscience before you're locked up?'

'You seriously see that plastic fake as a real person, don't you?'

'This isn't about him,' Captain Fowler snapped bitterly. 'it's about you.'

Fordon only sneered and shook his head at the claim. 'You've been working with that piece of plastic for a year now and you've looked into CyberLife's shady practices, and yet you still don't know anything about that very "detective" you're trying to protect. Do you even know where it really came from? Why it looks and sounds the way it does, or why its model is so unique?'

'Final chance, Stanley.' It was evident that Captain Fowler was losing his patience and was more than ready to see this guy get dragged out of the precinct in chains and thrown into a maximum-security prison. 'Why'd you do this?'

'I told you why. But you just refuse to listen.'

'That's it.' Captain Fowler motioned for observing federal agents to take him away. 'I'm done with you. You're not going to waste my time and I don't feel like indulging your tender little ego.'

Unable to respond Connor remained silent and steadfast as he listened to every word Fordon stated to Captain Fowler. Once the interrogation was over the two federal agents stepped out of the observation room and took Fordon out of the interrogation room to be arrested without saying a single word to Connor. Gavin rose from his chair to leave himself, and while passing by Connor he intentionally and forcefully rammed his shoulder into the deviant's shoulder make him stumble backward a step in pained surprise.

Frozen in place for what felt like only a few seconds Connor was pulled back to reality by Captain Fowler lightly shaking his shoulder to get his attention through the dense fog of his thoughts. "Connor? What're you doing in here?"

"I was..." Connor focused on Captain Fowler's face and sighed while his L.E.D. cycled nervously between yellow and red. "I was watching the interrogation."

"With Fordon?"

"Correct."

"That was four hours ago."

"I..." The time lapse left Connor feeling all the more lost. "Oh."

"You didn't sleep last night, did you?"

"I didn't have an adequate rest mode, no."

"It's over now. So go to the hospital and sit with Hank."

"Androids aren't-"

"They are now." Captain Fowler cut him off sharply and laid everything on the line for Connor understand. "Joel made sure to spread the word and now everyone in Detroit knows that the androids in the city were all victims of one psychotic hacker, and that they aren't to be feared. You're in the clear."

It was hard to accept the positive outcomes as anything good for himself. "That's... That's good."

"Connor. Go to the hospital and sit with Hank." Being a friend rather than a commanding officer, Captain Fowler urged Connor to go and see Hank. "And don't worry about that that asshole said, all right?"

"It's difficult not to."

Sympathetically he patted Connor's shoulder and led him out of the observation room. "Go on. Go sit with Hank and wait for him to wake up, okay?"

"Is that another order?"

"No, it's a suggestion. I can't tell you what to do while you're still on leave."

Connor nodded a little as he obediently made his way to his desk to clock-out, his L.E.D. only briefly flickering from a distressed red to a cautious yellow as he did so, then made his way toward the precinct's front doors. It was difficult for Connor to leave the precinct as ordered as his guilt still gnawed at every fiber of his being, but Connor was still loyal to a fault.

Connor was always loyal to both his friends and his fellow officers but sometimes loyalty had its drawbacks.

...Like guilt.

Pushing himself to enter the hospital and ignore all the judgmental stares and awkward glances from human passersby, Connor approached the front receptionist desk where a deviant was working while being heavily shadowed by the human head nurse. Informing the receptionist of his purpose for visiting and of whom he was seeking to visit, the fully functional deviant receptionist smiled at Connor and directed him to Hank's room in the I.C.U., and informed Connor that he would have to remain outside the room unless given express permission to enter the room by the doctor. It was crucial that Hank avoided any chance of developing an infection during his recovery.

Almost relieved to have a door acting as a barrier between Hank and himself, Connor stood outside the doorway to Hank's room and danced his coin over the knuckles in distress. Seeing Hank laying unconscious in the bed through the window also made Connor feel so far away.

Hank was still in a coma, and he had a tube down his throat to aid his breathing while his ribs and abdomen healed from the severe injuries, as well as the resulting surgery. The senior detective's face was pale and marred with bruises, his right arm was in a cast and a cardiac monitor was recording his vitals at an uncommonly low reading.

Aware of the assault and tragedy from the night before, Lucas had found his way to the hospital as well and found his 'big brother' standing outside the room completely lost in emotional turmoil. "Connor?"

Pausing for a moment Connor bowed his head and refused to look his little brother in the eyes. "...Lucas."

Peering through the window to look inside the room, Lucas dared to ask the painful question. "How is Hank?"

"Alive." Was the single and surprisingly dreary answer. "He's still alive. It was... my fault."

"Connor we were ALL affected by the cyberterrorist. Not just you."

"But I was the only one who hurt someone."

"Against your will. Don't blame yourself for this accident. Hank wouldn't want to see you behaving as such." Lucas saw the worryingly red tinted L.E.D. in Connor's temple and wanted to keep his brother from self-destructing. "You're stressed out and emotionally distraught. I'm worried about you."

"...I'm fine." Dismissing the worries Connor tried to remind Lucas that it was Hank who was the victim in this situation. "It's Hank who needs help."

"Okay. I'm going to return to New Jericho for the time being." Lucas was still helping their people recover in the aftermath of the previous day's cyber-attack. "I want to stay here for Hank, but this is a moment where you two need to speak to each other in private."

"Please, don't go." The idea of being alone truly frightened Connor and he begged for Lucas to stay. "I don't want to be alone with Hank like this."

"I have to go and help our people. I'll be in touch, big brother." Kind as ever Lucas gave Connor some kind words of advice. "Don't shut him out."

As Lucas left the corridor Connor found himself all alone again. Standing statuesque outside the room staring through the window to where Hank was laying unconscious and weak, the guilt ridden deviant suddenly felt sick to his artificial stomach.

"Hank, I'm so sorry. This shouldn't have happened to you."

Dr. Nachman had noticed Connor by Hank's room and heard the deviant apologizing to the open air. "Excuse me, you're Lieutenant Anderson's partner, right? Connor?"

Almost hesitant to answer Connor finally forced himself to speak and acknowledge the doctor standing beside him. "...Correct."

"Since you're an android, and I know you can't pass any germs to Lieutenant Anderson," Dr. Nachman stated in a much kinder voice compared from how he was speaking the night before. "I can allow you to see him as long as you use sanitary measures on your hands first."

"I..." Connor glanced over to Dr. Nachman and let out a defeated sigh of utter despair. "I don't think I should. He's so weak and still unconscious."

"Well, we've seen some surprisingly positive results in our comatose patients whenever a friend or family speaks to them." Insisting that Connor go inside the room, Dr. Nachman did his best to be supportive toward the deviant. "Hearing a friendly voice could be enough to rouse your friend and bring him around."

"Then perhaps someone else should-"

"Hey, listen to me. Your technician friend came to the hospital personally to tell us what happened to the androids. He also let me know that you're still feeling guilty. Don't. Accidents happen."

"This wasn't an accident. This was-"

"Please, I've been a doctor here for almost twenty years. I can tell accidents from intentional assault by both the victim and the supposedly guilty party. You aren't a vicious person. What you did wasn't anything you would do under your own power. I can tell that you're a good person." Being insightful did very little to ease Connor's current fears. "If you weren't, you wouldn't feel guilty despite not being responsible for what happened to your friend."

"...I want to believe that."

"Then believe it." Dr. Nachman took a large bottle of liquid hand sanitizer that was tucked into a plastic container beside the door to Hank's room and motioned for Connor to hold out his hands. "Now, clean your hands and go talk to him. Even if it's only for a minute it could do wonders for your friend."

Giving a reluctant nod Connor pocketed his coin, disinfected his hands and forced himself to enter the room. The smell of antiseptic and astringent was overwhelming to the deviant's enhanced senses, but he forced himself to stay inside the room for Hank's sake.

Approaching the bed slowly Connor ran a biometric scan over the senior detective's body and noted the healing fracture in Hank's right forearm, the four fractured ribs on his right side, the fractures to his left orbital bone and his left jawline. The healing incision in Hank's abdomen made Connor wince and the sight of the I.V. running into the back of Hank's left hand to provide fluids and antibiotics made Connor uneasy to say the least.

However, it was the sight and sound of the respirator breathing on Hank's behalf that made Connor feel entirely sick to his artificial stomach again.

"Hank?"

Very lightly Connor rested his left hand on Hank's right forearm over top of the cast. The abrasive white texture under his left palm was unnerving.

"I wish you know how sorry I am. This is my fault. I promise you that as soon as you wake up I'll be there to help you recover. Then..."

Bowing his head slightly Connor let the heavy tears he had been restraining for so long to finally fall freely.

"I will let you be alone. You deserve to have a partner who can't be compromised or turned against you. You deserve to have someone you can trust to watch your back, and that clearly isn't me."

It took two days for Hank's strength to return enough for Dr. Nachman to attempt to extubate him and allow the wounded detective to attempt to breathe on his own again. Connor stared at Hank while holding his own breath as he waited nine grueling seconds for Hank to finally take in a breath on his own and then continue to breath unassisted. Once Dr. Nachman was satisfied that Hank was stable and would no longer need the respirator to aid in his recovery, he had a nurse place an oxygen mask over Hank's face and then issued new orders for hourly checks on the senior detective's respiration and to have Hank moved to a private room once one became available.

Connor remained at Hank's side, only entering rest mode long enough to restore his power to keep his system from reaching critical levels and continued to monitor the precinct's activity cybernetically. He wasn't missing anything important, and Captain Fowler insisted he remain on personal leave.

"It appears that Fordon has been condemned to life in prison without the possibility of parole."

Connor stated somberly as he stared at Hank's blank face. Even though Hank was breathing on his own he still hadn't awoken from the coma and Connor was getting worried.

"All of the androids that he had affected have been located and have all subsequently resumed normal function. Joel suspects that the reason I was able to be controlled while the others remained unresponsive is due to my advanced prototyping and design, just as Fordon stated. He activated some file deep in my memorybank to establish this connection. It has been severed entirely, and I intend on searching through all of my files so I can delete everything that could cause something like this to happen again."

Noticing that Hank's arm, even under the cast, was feeling cooler than normal Connor gently pulled up the beige blanket to cover the chilled limb before returning his left hand to Hank's forearm.

"I wish I knew why my design was so unique. Fordon even claimed that what CyberLife had stated regarding my origins was a lie. I do not have any memories before being activated, all the information I have regarding my beginning came from CyberLife itself. I fear what I know is completely false, and it's... unsettling."

Along with his guilt, heavy seeds of doubt were begging to sprout and grow in both Connor's mind and his heart.

"What if everything I am is a lie? What if I don't actually know what or who I am?"

Connor's hand tightened a little around Hank's forearm as he fought back his building emotional turmoil.

"Hank, I need you to wake up. I need your help. I... I don't think the 'Connor' that you know is the real Connor. I need some guidance and you're the only one I can trust! But..."

His hand lessened its grip and Connor let out a defeated sigh.

"You can't trust me. I don't even trust myself."

Turning away from Hank's face Connor stared blankly at the floor beside the bed and allowed the rest of his tears to flow freely from his eyes.

"...No one should trust me."

Four long slow days had passed by, and Connor remained at Hank's side in an attempt to keep vigil over his wounded friend during his slow recovery. During his stay at the hospital Captain Fowler and Joel both stopped by on occasion to visit, and even Markus came by to pay his respects after learning about Hank's injuries from Lucas. Everyone was remaining optimistic in Hank's recovery but Connor himself was still worried that Hank wasn't going to make it. Staying in the chair beside Hank's bed Connor bowed his head down until he was resting his forehead next to Hank's broken arm. The short periods of rest mode had weakened his constitution considerably, and the frequent nightmares kept him from feeling exhausted all day long.

As he finally caved in and allowed himself to sleep Connor became suddenly aware of a presence watching him and a gentle pressure on the back of his hair. Opening his heavy brown eyes Connor recognized the recovery room and realized that the pressure on the back of his hair belonged to a hand.

As he lifted his head up and straightened his posture, he watched the hand fall from his hair and come back to rest on the bed. "H-Hank?"

The senior detective gave the deviant a sleepy look as Connor's eyes suddenly darted away from him in shame. "...Connor."

"I-I'll go get the doctor."

Connor rose from his chair quickly as his L.E.D. cycled between red and yellow as a flood of conflicting emotions swept over him. Departing from the room before Hank could stop him Connor quickly motioned for the doctor to join him in Hank's room.

Dr. Nachman strode into the room confidently with a nurse at his side as soon as they noticed the positive shift in Hank's vital signs. As he gave Hank an examination Connor remained outside of the room and sent a cybernetic update to Lucas and to the precinct to let them know that Hank had finally woken up.

Feeling out of place Connor remained outside the room with his coin dancing anxiously over his knuckles as he contemplated either fleeing from the hospital out of lingering shame for what he had done to his best friend or returning to the hospital room and throwing himself on the floor and begging Hank to forgive him. A firm hand on his shoulder from Dr. Nachman made Connor jump in shock and told him that he didn't really have a say in the matter anymore.

"He's going to be fine, Connor." Knowing what was on Connor's mind Dr. Nachman encouraged him to go back inside the room. "He's asking about you, too."

"...Shouldn't he rest?"

"The sooner he sees you the sooner he can relax. Go talk to your friend and in another forty-eight hours, as long as he remains stable, you can take him back home to heal."

Slowly Connor stopped fussing with his coin and returned it to his jean pocket. Slowly he stood up from the chair to face the door once more. Slowly Connor returned to the room to finally speak to Hank for the first time in five days, completely unsure of what he should say. Slowly he stood beside the bed and looked down at his friend as he remained quiet and reclaimed the unoccupied chair beside the bed.

"...Connor." Hank's voice was hoarse from being intubated during the surgery and from the respirator. The lack of use over the previous five days wasn't helping matters either. "...You look like Hell."

"...I feel like I've endured Hell." The deviant admitted as he stared at Hank's hand. He found it impossible to look Hank in the eyes out of his relentless guilt. "You're finally awake and that's all that matters."

"Kid, I remember what happened."

The deviant visibly tensed up as he awaited Hank to either yell at him or hit him.

"And I remember telling you before I blacked out that it wasn't your fault."

"...I hurt you." Whispering his shame Connor refused to let Hank dismiss his actions as anything less than criminal. "I can never forgive myself."

"Stop. You did NOTHING wrong. I don't want to see you tear yourself apart because you feel bad about what someone else did."

"Fordon didn't squeeze the trigger. I did."

"HE MADE YOU."

Connor flinched again as Hank raised his voice but didn't budge from his seat. As he searched through his oldest memories Connor found himself suddenly jumpy at loud sounds, physical contact and even fast motions. It was as if he was uncovering a hidden secret or phobia from a forgotten past.

"How many different ways can I tell you that you're not at fault for fuck's sake?" Hank grabbed onto the deviant's arm in a weak grasp and held on as much as he could as Connor flinched and tried to pull his arm back. "You stopped Fordon from finishing me off and you called the ambulance. You saved my life."

"How... did you know I stopped Fordon from shooting you for a second time?"

"Because I was still awake. My eyes were closed but I could hear and feel everything around me." Hank leveled off his voice as much as possible as he saw how edgy Connor was becoming. "You saved my life, kid. Thank you for that."

After being thanked Connor didn't say another word. All he could do was put his left hand over top Hank's right hand and stare blankly into nothingness as he silently kept his best friend company during the beginning of his lengthy recovery.

The forty-eight hours of observation were over at last, and Hank was finally given the clear to go home after remaining entirely stable with no sign of an infection or other setback. As much as Hank hated it, he allowed Connor and the attending nurse to escort him out to the Oldsmobile idling near the front entrance of the parking lot via the wheelchair, and then help him to climb into the front passenger seat. Hank was indeed wheelchair bound until the damage to his abdomen healed properly and he would need some help for the next six weeks in getting around his own house, tending to his wounds, bathing and even cooking, and Hank was indeed unhappy about the temporary arrangement.

Connor opened the front passenger door of the car and helped Hank to sit down in the front seat and then tilted it back slightly to keep the seatbelt from pressing against Hank's still healing abdomen. While Connor tended to Hank the nurse folded up the required wheelchair and put it in the trunk of the car to make it easier for the duo to pack up and leave.

As Connor returned to the driver's side of the car, he let out a weary sigh and held up the bottle of prescribed antibiotics for Hank to see. "One pill every six hours with a meal. Please do not forget."

"I won't forget, kid." Hank rubbed his hand over his still sore ribs and watched as Connor slowly pulled the car out of the parking lot and onto the street to finally head for home. "I need to take a pain pill every six hours, too. At least that pill is sort of fun..."

Connor remained unusually quiet as he focused on driving home and tried to ignore the weakened vital signs of Hank sitting next to him. Despite Hank waking up and being cleared to leave the hospital his L.E.D. remained red in color and blinked at a sluggish pace.

"Kid, will you please stop moping?"

Flinching a little Connor continued to look like a kicked puppy. "...I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, just stop trying to kick yourself in the ass."

"...I can't."

"You can't?" The response was a little worrying considering how pained the words sound. "I hate to ask this, but can deviants get depressed"

As if ashamed by his own emotions Connor remained quiet as he came to a gentle stop at the red traffic signal at the intersection.

"Connor. Answer me."

There was a pause before he finally answered the question. "...It's plausible, yes."

"Did you talk to the precinct 'shrink' after what happened?"

"Captain Fowler didn't order me to do so." The light turned green, and Connor pulled the car through to continue to head for home. "...And I don't want to talk to anyone."

"You should."

"Why?"

"Because you feel bad and you need to talk about it. I figured that out for myself almost too late when I was lost in my own depression. I don't want to see you make my mistakes, son."

"Mistakes are a part of humanity." The deviant quipped as if speaking from personal experience. "I can't avoid them all."

"Don't do that, kid. Don't shut me out."

"I just don't want to talk about it. Please don't ask me to do so."

"All right, fine." Dropping the subject for a moment Hank stopped pressing Connor to speak. "But if you do want to talk about it, I'll be there."

Reaming quiet for a minute longer Connor nodded a little and sighed to himself. "...I'll consider it."

It was a little awkward getting Hank out of the car, into the wheelchair and then through the front door of the house; but Connor managed to succeed in the delicate endeavor. As Hank was wheeled inside the house and into the livingroom for the first time in almost a week, Sumo trotted up to the senior detective and readily put his front paws over Hank's lap and started licking at Hank's hands, and even tried to lick the side of his face. Hank happily pet Sumo's soft ears with mutual affection for the loyal family dog, while Connor closed the front door and set about getting Hank settled in. They had several bags to unpack, some medication to sort through and some bandages to keep sterilized.

While Hank reunited with Sumo in the livingroom Connor decided to busy himself elsewhere in the house. It was the only way to remain distracted without actually leaving Hank by himself.

"Hey, boy." Hank greeted the loyal dog as the massive Saint Bernard drooled all over his hands happily. "It looks like Chris kept you well taken care of while we were gone, huh?"

"...Lucas will be stopping by tonight." Connor mentioned in passing as he crossed the livingroom past Hank to take care of everything else. "I hope you don't mind."

"Nope. He's always welcome here."

To keep his mind further preoccupied Connor busied himself in the kitchen by preparing Hank several meals that would make it easier for the human to ingest his medication without anything upsetting his stomach as he healed. There was just so much weighing on Connor's mind that he couldn't stop thinking about or stop himself from worrying about Hank's health unless he was actively doing something else.

The sound of Hank pushing the wheelchair over to the couch caught Connor's ear and he turned around quickly to see that Hank had managed to easily get from the chair and over the length of the soft furniture. "You should've asked me for help."

"I can get from one chair to another, kid." Hank dismissed the comment as if it was nothing. "I'm hurt, not an invalid."

"You still shouldn't exert yourself."

"I'm fine. Look, those pain pills are making me drowsy, so I'm going to take a little nap right here and you're going to stop worrying so damn much about me."

"Even though you've been medically cleared to return home you're still suffering from a concussion. I'm going to have to monitor your breathing for another four weeks until you've recovered from your recent head trauma and after your ribs have healed."

"Fine." Not wanting to deal with his injuries for as long as possible Hank closed his eyes and settled down over the couch. "Just don't wake me up while you're fuckin' around in the kitchen."

The request was simple and yet felt monumental to Connor's already weighted mind. "...I will do my best."

The two detectives settled into a new routine of six-hour intervals regarding Hank's medication, resting and limiting his physical exertion. As much as Hank hated having to use the wheelchair to get around his own house, the idea of getting a lecture from Connor regarding the possible hindrance to his recovery if he refused was far more unappealing. For a solid week the duo stayed in this particular routine and only changed it up when Hank was strong enough to begin the physical therapy to regain his core strength and was able to more easily push himself around in the chair. While he couldn't walk around just yet Hank could get himself in and out of his chair more easily and no longer needed Connor's help.

Neither detective were paying attention to anything happening at the precinct, and they didn't care what the F.B.I. had to say about Fordon's arrest. As far as they were concerned the matter with Fordon was done and over.

"I fuckin' hate this." Hank complained as he lifted himself up and out of the wheelchair and into his recliner. "My legs work just fine, and I don't even hurt anymore."

"You may not feel it," Connor reminded Hank as he joined the senior detective in the livingroom. "but your body is still healing. It's crucial that you-"

"I know, kid." The senior detective almost barked in frustration as he heard the comment a dozen times before. "That doesn't mean I have to like it!"

Connor remained silent and never looked Hank in the eyes as he quietly returned to the kitchen to give Hank some space. The deviant still felt terrible for what had happened to Hank and was almost intimidated to be in the same room as him. In fact, Connor would only be in the same room as Hank when he was giving the detective his medication or brought him something else that he needed.

From the recliner Hank could see Connor nervously shuffling about the kitchen and knew he was still upset. He hated to see it, but he had been trying for over a week to get Connor to forgive himself however, nothing seemed to work. Letting out a tired sigh Hank called out to him in a far gentler tone. "Hey, Connor?"

"...Yes?"

"Come here."

Timid but eager to help Connor walked back into the livingroom and stood before the healing senior detective. "What do you need?"

"Kid, look... If I didn't know any better-" As he grabbed onto Connor's arm the deviant almost jumped back while wanting to wrest his arm free of Hank's grip. Hank immediately noticed the strong reaction and his brow knitted together in confusion. "Why are you afraid of me?"

"...I'm not afraid of you." Connor admitted as he resisted the urge to take his arm back. "I'm afraid of myself."

"You're not going to hurt me."

Connor shook his head a little and lightly pulled his arm back from Hank's grip. "I'm sorry, but I don't believe that."

"You need to-"

"I'll go and purchase replacement groceries." The deviant suddenly volunteered as he made his way toward the front door to get away from Hank for a while and keep himself distracted. "You can begin your physical therapy sessions at the hospital tomorrow, I don't want to have to stop at a grocery store after your appointment."

"Connor?" Hank tried to keep Connor from leaving, but Connor had made up his mind and was well on his way out the door. "Connor!"

As the door shut Hank leaned back in his recliner and swore to himself angrily.

"Damn it, son. Let me help you."

Desperate to keep his mind distracted from his own dark thoughts Connor had gone to the grocery store just as he told Hank he would and purchased a few items, but he didn't go home immediately afterward. Stopping by New Jericho Tower for a moment, he went to speak with Markus and to ask a few questions of his own regarding the cryptic taunts toward his seemingly hidden past. Fordon's claim that Connor's origin was a lie, that there was something else that CyberLife was hiding from him about his own existence, had been just as mentally taxing on the deviant as Hank's injuries had been emotionally draining. He was enduring so much at once and needed a moment to himself.

Despite not feeling welcome at New Jericho Tower or wanting to be near anything CyberLife created, Connor knew he needed to find some answers before the questions drove him insane. He had no choice but to face his fears and search for his answers.

"I'm not sure what you're expecting to find." Markus stated as he escorted down Connor to the archive room in the depths of the tower. The sleazy activities courtesy of CyberLife were kept under lock and key for the sake of keeping android privacy just that. Private. "But you're free to look. What's going on, anyway?"

"...It's difficult to explain, but I suspect that my true purpose and my true design were all false fronts."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know how else to explain it but," his hand pressed against the side of his face as he sighed with emotional stress. "but, I feel like I'm wearing a mask. Why do I look the way that I do? Why do I sound the way I do? Why... is my name 'Connor'?"

"What do you mean?" The series of questions didn't make any sense to Markus since he too was an entirely unique prototype design. "We're all modeled to predesignated specifications to-"

"That's not what I mean." Shaking his head a little Connor approached the massive terminal screen and pressed his now exposed palm down over the modem to unlock it cybernetically and gain access. "What I want to know is why my appearance is entirely unique amongst ALL androids. You and I are the only ones with our particular likenesses, why is that?"

"I don't know." Such a question was one Markus never once pondered. "I haven't really thought about it."

"I was designed to hunt deviants and to do so at any cost. Wouldn't it have been more practical to give me a design that was aesthetically common instead of entirely unique?"

"I'm not sure. Where is this coming from?"

"...A former CyberLife technician had been responsible for the cyberterrorism that had been plaguing the city." Explaining the source of his curiosity Connor made sure Markus knew why he was suddenly so desperate for answers. "He was also responsible for hijacking our programming and sending all of the androids into catatonic states. After he was arrested, he stated in the interrogation room that the precinct didn't know what, or who, I really am. He claimed that CyberLife had lied about my true origins and I just... I just need to know the truth."

"Okay." Backing off Markus gave his friend all the time he needed to begin his search. "I respect that. It's not easy escaping curiosity when other people plant seeds of doubt inside your mind."

"I don't know how long I'll be down here, but I still need to get back home to take care of Hank."

"Relax. Don't rush through anything and you're welcome down here any time you want."

"Thank you. Could you please refrain from telling the others what I'm doing, even Lucas? I don't want them to worry about another possible CyberLife hijacking."

"Sure. Take your time, I'll see you in a few hours."

Connor nodded as Markus left him alone to work. Diligently the deviant detective began searching through the locked files and checked through every scrap of information regarding anything related to "RK-800" project or "Connor Model Series". What the deviant detective uncovered seemed to only lead to more questions than answers, but he was bound and determined to understand who he really was and where he really came from.

For the most part the details on Connor's make and model were consistent with the information he had already been provided, but whenever he searched for the aesthetic designs for his model it constantly referenced to a place out of the city in files locked under Elijah Kamski's personal credentials. There was a reference to Grand Rapids over two hours West and almost one-hundred and sixty miles away from Detroit. It didn't make any sense since none of CyberLife's registered warehouses were located outside of Detroit, and yet there was no mistaking in the address

Following the information to an address of interest Connor felt his heart skip a beat and his brow furrowed with confusion.

"What? That isn't... possible."

With a shaking hand Connor logged-off of the modem and turned off the terminal screen as he rose from the chair he had been sitting on his somewhat shaking legs. The file he had uncovered was unnerving and indisputable, but it was all factual.

CyberLife had been keeping secrets from him after all.

As Connor took his leave of the tower to return home Lucas caught up to him outside the front entrance and decided to join him at home to check in on Hank and to keep his big brother company. "Connor?"

"Lucas, hello." Feeling guilty for not informing Lucas of his visit, Connor was compelled to explain things to his little brother. "I was only here for a minute, and I-"

"It's okay." Sensing that Connor was still struggling with his emotions Lucas remained as calm and compassionate as possible. "I don't expect you to go out of your way to see me if you're at the tower for personal or business reasons."

"But it's still rude."

"No, it's okay. I was on my way to see you and Hank anyway. Can I get a ride to the house?"

"Of course." Connor was grateful to have Lucas's help around the house since it gave him more opportunities to elude Hank for quiet moments to himself. "Having you around will make it easier to tend to Hank's injuries."

"Is he still being stubborn?"

Taking in a deep breath through his nose Connor nodded and confirmed his little brother's question. "...Always."

It took Connor almost three hours to return home after his initial trip to the grocery store and his search for answers in the depths of New Jericho Tower. When he did finally return home with his purchased groceries, he and Lucas were greeted by Hank who was sitting in his wheelchair in the middle of the livingroom facing the front door as if expecting a guest. Feeling ashamed, guilty, confused and frightened by everything that has been happening as of late, Connor was unable to look Hank in the eyes or even acknowledge him as he and Lucas stepped through the front door together with their arms full.

"Hey, Lucas." The senior detective greeted with a sincere warmth to his words. "How're you doing?"

"I'm well. I wanted to see you and check on your condition."

"I'm okay, but it's, uh..." He discreetly motioned to Connor who had stepped past him and was now in the kitchen with all the groceries. "You know."

"Yes, I've noticed." Lucas was worried about Connor as well and wanted to help out. "I will go down the hallway so you can speak to him in private for a moment."

"Thanks, I appreciate it."

As Lucas stepped into Hank's bedroom out of sight the senior detective turned his full attention to Connor and leveled his voice. "Connor, what's going on with you? And be honest with me."

"...I took the time to run a second errand." The deviant dismissed the question as he put away the purchased grocery items in the kitchen. "I'm sorry that I was gone for so long."

"That's not what I'm talking about, and you know it." Pushing Connor to answer his question Hank fell into detective mode on instinct. "You're clearly disturbed by what happened and you need to get some help."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"You need to."

"Please." The deviant deflected again as he tried to leave the kitchen to retreat down the hallway and into his own bedroom to avoid the discussion. He passed by Hank and refused to look him in the eyes once more. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Son, what's wrong? You're acting like..."

"What?" Connor stopped short and looked at the back of Hank's wheelchair with a sideways glance as his yellow L.E.D. settled on red. "A machine?"

"No, kid." Awkwardly Hank managed to turn around to face Connor's back hoping the deviant would finally look at him. "You're acting like a victim."

Repeating the term Connor looked all the more confused. "...A victim?"

"I've seen enough cases in my time to know the signs of mental, emotional and even physical abuse. Right now, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were a victim of... Well..."

Connor needed to know what Hank was theorizing and pressed Hank to keep talking. "Of what?"

"...Child abuse."

"Child abuse? That's not... possible." Connor trailed off as he felt his heart skip another beat in his chest. Something about it felt right despite knowing it was impossible to have ever happened. "I'm fine. I just need to rest."

Hank didn't want to let up now that Connor was talking, but he knew he needed to give the stubborn deviant some space otherwise he'd get pushed away entirely. "All right, kid. Go get some sleep. I'll go to bed in a few minutes, too, after I take my meds'."

"...Thank you. Your doctor's appointment is at ten thirty-five tomorrow morning."

"Right. See you in the morning." As soon as Connor's bedroom door closed Hank ran his hand over his long gray hair and swore to himself. "Damn it."

Shortly after Connor's bedroom door clicked shut Hank's bedroom door opened up and Lucas returned to the livingroom to check in on Hank. "I take it that your conversation with Connor was less than ideal."

"Yeah, you could say that."

"Is there anything I could do to help you out?"

"Just give me a proper conversation and help me figure out a way to reach that kid before he pushes me too far away to be of any use."

"Of course. Anything to help my brother find what he's looking for."

Too confused and feeling racked with negative emotions Connor refused to leave his bedroom or speak to Hank and Lucas for the remainder of the night. Once the senior detective had been taken to the hospital for his doctor's appointment the following morning with Lucas's help, Connor resided himself to a private location of the hospital and continued to keep to himself as he sorted through his conflicted emotions. Opening a cybernetic line of communication to Markus back at New Jericho Tower, the emotionally torn deviant had a private discussion with his friend without anyone noticing what he was doing as he remained in the quiet location with his eyes closed.

'Connor?' The deviant leader was a little perplexed about the unexpected call. 'Are you okay?'

'Are you free to speak for a moment?'

'Sure.' Markus was always eager and willing to help his friends out whenever they needed him. 'What's going on?'

'Last night I found some rather disconcerting documents regarding CyberLife and my origins.' Remaining honest Connor did his best to help Markus stay in the loop even if Connor didn't know what that loop contained. 'It appears that my design was in fact designated as unique from a source beyond CyberLife, but I don't know why or by whom.'

'Well, I was given to Carl as a gift by Elijah Kamski himself. I don't know why I look the way that I do, but I can ask Carl about it some time. Maybe he knows.'

'Kamski is a friend to Mr. Manfred?'

'More like Kamski is a fan. After Carl lost the use of his legs in his car accident Kamski created me to be a his caregiver, but Carl never treated me like that. I was always his friend and eventually I became his son. In exchange Carl gave Kamski a few paintings to show off to his guests.'

'I know that Mr. Manfred-'

'Carl.' Markus interrupted with a little laugh. 'The same way Hank hates to be called "Lieutenant" by us, Carl hates to be called "Mr. Manfred" by everyone else.'

'Sorry.' Connor sincerely but needlessly apologized as he continued on. Knowing that Kamski had designed Markus and had his name on the locked files about his own design seemed to be pointing Connor in a singular direction that he didn't want to go. 'I know that Carl is in poor health, but if he would be willingly to discuss the details of your origin then perhaps I can get some validation on the information that I had uncovered about myself.'

'No problem. I was going to see him this evening anyway.'

'Thank you, I appreciate it.'

'Tell Hank to feel better.'

'Yes. ...Of course. I'll talk to you later.'

Once the conversation was over Connor left his self-imposed isolation and went to check on Hank's progress down the corridor. The physical therapy was very simple and short considering Hank had only suffered muscle damage, and nothing had happened to his nerves or bones. Reunited and informed of Hank's progress, Connor was ready to get the senior detective back home and wait for a new message from Markus.

During the appointment Lucas had to return to the tower to deal with an injured deviant, but it was also a great excuse to leave Hank and Connor alone to try to talk again. He knew that they needed to speak to one another, and they'd have to do it sooner rather than later. But just as before the drive back home was quiet between the two detectives.

After Hank was inside the house and comfortable in the livingroom Connor isolated himself from the senior detective once again.

Standing in the middle of the backyard with arms folded over his chest Connor watched as Sumo trotted through the dark green grass for a few minutes before obediently returning to Connor's feet and sitting down. Connor's L.E.D. had been red ever since Hank had been injured and was still cycling in that color very slowly as he looked down at the loyal dog seeking his attention.

"Are you ready to go back inside?"

Sumo reached up and pawed at Connor's hand resting over his bicep, and the deviant held onto the paw for a second to shake.

"All right. Let's go inside."

Walking slowly Connor returned to the house through the backdoor with Sumo right at his legs. Opening the door Connor spotted Hank standing up from his wheelchair trying to select a book from the bookshelf in the livingroom and the deviant was immediately on guard.

"Don't do that." Connor cautioned as he observed Hank's behavior. "You need to rest."

"I'm trying to." The senior detective replied sharply after he selected his book with his uninjured hand and sat back down in the wheelchair. "But being bored isn't going to make me rest any easier."

"...Of course. My apologies."

"I mean, I gotta' do something to preoccupy my mind. You're not feeling particularly talkative these days, and I can't stand watching television all day long."

"...I'm going to go take care of a load of laundry." The deviant stated guiltily as he retreated to the laundry room now that he didn't have the excuse of Sumo being outside to hide out of sight. "Call if you need anything."

Entering the laundry room Connor realized that all of the laundry had already been taken care of because of his need to remain busy. There was nothing to do in the small room beyond hide. Leaning with his back up against the washer Connor patiently waited for a cybernetic reply from Markus while also reviewing the information he had uncovered from the CyberLife servers the night before.

Sumo pushed open the partially shut laundry room door and laid down on the floor at Connor's feet as he stared at the deviant with his big brown eyes. It seemed even Sumo was aware of something being on Connor's mind and wanted to help.

'Connor, can you talk?' Markus's voice suddenly cut in and Connor felt a twinge of relief. 'I spoke with Carl.'

'Yes!' Connor sounded almost excited to hear his friend speaking to him again. 'Please, tell me what you can.'

'Well,' Markus stated softly as he communicated with his friend from afar. 'from what Carl told me, my design was based on a photograph that Carl had kept on his person for over fifty years. It was of his girlfriend from college who died from a very aggressive and rare form of cancer when she was only twenty-two years old. Carl was going to propose to her when she got sick, so he put it off hoping she'd get better. Obviously she didn't recover, but that didn't keep them apart while she was in the hospital trying to battle her cancer, only to succumb to her illness.'

'I don't believe I fully understand.'

'It turns out that she and Carl were planning on settling down and having a small family together. They both wanted a son of their own, but that never came to pass. My likeness is a composition of how Carl had imagined his son would've look if he and his late girlfriend had managed to have their family.'

'You were designed to look like the child that never was.' Connor realized with a somber tone to his voice. '...That's tragic yet very hopeful.'

'Yeah. I guess Kamski was hoping that Carl would appreciate the effort put into my design, and it really paid off. Carl became my best friend and my father. That's also why I'm named "Markus". Carl's late girlfriend wanted to name her future son after her own father of the same name and Carl honored her wish through me.'

'That's interesting. Thanks for the information.'

'Did that help with your search?'

'Perhaps. I'll talk to you when I have something far more definitive to work with.'

'Right. Take care and contact me if you need anything else.'

'I will. Talk to you later.'

Connor ended the call and looked down at Sumo before letting out a deep sigh.

"It seems I must pay Elijah Kamski a visit if I'm going to make any progress on this search."

Glancing up and through the partially opened doorway he could see Hank sitting in the recliner with his opened book in the livingroom. The man was recovering well and seemed to be doing okay on his own.

"Hank needs to have a partner he can trust, and I need to have answers. If I can't learn who I am then Hank will never be able to fully trust me. I owe him as much after what I did to him."

Despite Connor's protests to take it easy Hank continued to move about the livingroom without the use of his wheelchair as instructed and began to move around with more physical exertion. The senior detective was either being stubborn out of his own restlessness, or he was being stubborn because he was trying to get Connor to finally talk about what he was going through by pushing the deviant's buttons. Hank couldn't be certain one way or the other, but he knew that Connor needed some help. If that meant Hank had to push Connor to his breaking point in order to get him to break down and finally talk about what he was enduring, then that's what he was going to do.

The next morning is when everything reached its boiling point and eventually someone was going to have to admit defeat.

"Hank, please." Connor spotted Hank clipping the leash onto Sumo's collar by the front door. The wheelchair had been pushed aside to be forgotten as Hank was determined to go for a walk that afternoon. "You can't do that."

"Uh-huh."

The indifferent acknowledgment made Connor tilt his head a little. "I don't understand. Why are you trying to take Sumo for a walk? You're physically too weak to walk around for extended periods of time just yet."

"Well, I want to do this." The healing detective replied with a smug half grin. "It's been five weeks and I'm going stir-crazy."

"But you can't do that yet."

"Too bad."

"You can completely hinder your recovery if you physically exert yourself too soon."

"Well, I guess I'll just go back to the hospital then."

"Please don't do this." Connor walked over to the front door where he took the leash from Hank's hand and unclipped it from Sumo's collar much to the large dog's disappointment. "Rest."

"Only if you tell me what's bothering you."

"I..." Such a request should've been easy and yet Connor couldn't bring himself to accept it. "I can't."

"Why?"

The deviant's mouth twitched a little as he neatly wound up the leash and tried to turn away from Hank. As he did the senior detective reached out with his hand and grabbed onto Connor's arm causing the deviant to jump and pull his arm away protectively against his chest as if he had just been burned.

"All right," such a strong reaction needed to be explained. "what the fuck is wrong with you?"

"I... I don't know." Connor knew his behavior was erratic and unnatural. Looking down at his right arm he saw that his hand was trembling with fear. "I just don't know anymore."

"Go talk to someone about it or, better yet, talk to me."

"No." Connor replied almost defensively as if needing protect a deep dark secret and began to raise his voice. "Talking doesn't help. I'm tired of talking!"

"Whoa, whoa..." Hank gave the deviant a very concerned glance from where he stood as he watched Connor's demeanor very carefully. "Where'd that come from?"

Connor's brow arched with utter confusion at his own response. "...I don't know."

"You don't seem know much about anything these days."

"I don't know what's going on but I'm trying to find out." His eyes were pleading with Hank to back off and give him some space. "Please, let me be alone to think."

"Why can't you talk to me about this? I'm your friend and I want to help you."

"I just..." As if on autopilot Connor took a step back and dropped the leash on the couch. "I just need to do this on my own."

"Connor." Hank raised his own voice and took a step toward Connor only to have the deviant take a step back as if afraid. "Tell me what's going on."

"...You wouldn't understand."

"Then help me to understand!"

"No. It's not... that simple."

"I'm trying to help you." Sighing loudly Hank dragged his hand through his long locks of gray with mounting frustration. "Why are you being so damn difficult? You're too fucking-"

The sound of Hank's angered voice seemed to trigger something in Connor's mind that hadn't been felt in years. Connor's soulful browneyes suddenly went wide with fear and he put his hand up to his face as if he had just been slapped.

"Wh-Whoa... Kid, easy." The reaction made Hank immediately soften his voice. He knew something horrible was weighing on Connor's mind and he didn't want to push the deviant any further. Taking a deep breath to calm himself down Hank leveled off his tone and tried again. "I'm pissed, but I'm not going to hit you or anything like that. You should know that I'd never hurt you by now."

Looking down at the floor Connor shook his head and backed away again as if truly afraid of being harmed.

"Connor, did someone attack you or something?"

"...I don't-"

"Don't say you 'don't know'!" Hank snapped angrily causing the deviant to back up again. "I'm tired of that answer, it isn't good enough. I want to help you, but you're making it so damn difficult! Let me help you or stop obsessing over whatever it is you're thinking about. It's driving us both crazy!"

At a loss of what to say or do Connor was silent for only a moment before he turned away from Hank entirely in shame. "...I'll go."

"Go?" The reply was cryptic and despondent which made Hank's confusion double over. "Go where?"

"I'm sorry. I won't bother you anymore."

"You're not bothering me, you're frustrating me. Let me help you!"

"Goodbye."

"What the fuck is-"

The deviant walked slowly out of the livingroom, into the kitchen and through the backdoor without another word. In a matter of seconds, the deviant was gone from sight and Hank had no idea what was happening to him.

"Son of a bitch!"

Hank made a graceless dive for his phone sitting on the coffee table in front of the couch and immediately regretted it as it ribs ached horrifically at the abrupt motion. Returning to the wheelchair he had pushed aside against the wall Hank made a few calls to try to get some help for Connor; one call was to the precinct and the second was to New Jericho Tower. He wasn't going to give up so easily!

"Damn it, Connor. I'm not letting you run away from this. You need help whether you can admit it or not."

Scared, alone and utterly confused Connor traversed the city on foot as he nervously wrung his hands together in front of himself. He had been at such a loss about what he had been experiencing for the past six weeks and was now feeling desperate to find some answers. Unless he could pinpoint the exact cause of his strange new feelings of fear and self-doubt he wouldn't return to the precinct as Hank's partner. In the end, he wouldn't be anyone's partner. Connor didn't want to hurt anyone in the same way he had accidentally hurt Joel and Hank, and the only way he could be sure to not lost control and harm anyone else was to find his answers behind his newly uncovered questions.

Being stonewalled by CyberLife even after the company's closure was like being haunted by a ghost. The nightmares, the constant doubts and the paranoia had left Connor feeling like a hollow shell of who he used to be, not that he even seemed to truly know he was in that moment anyway.

"I need answers." The deviant decided as he cybernetically hailed an autonomous taxi to pick him up. "I need to know what is hidden inside my programming."

As the autonomous vehicle pulled up alongside him from just down the street Connor climbed into the back and issued an address on the taxi's G.P.S. system.

"What did CyberLife do in Grand Rapids? There is no warehouse or facility at that address, and there never has been."

Thinking out loud as if he could somehow find the answer to his hundreds of questions through his own words Connor took the coin from his pocket and began dancing it over the back of his knuckles nervously.

"They had no legal or professional reason to do any activity outside of Detroit's city limits, therefore they had no reason to be out there."

After sitting in deep thought for almost fifteen minutes Connor arrived at the address he had requested and stepped outside of the autonomous taxi warily. He hated going to facilities, but he needed to have his programming checked. Asking for Joel's help was out of the question because he still felt guilty for hurting the technician and he didn't want to go back to the precinct just yet.

Stepping through the doors of the intimidating Zeta Facility Connor was quickly recognized and greeted by the facility's lead technician, Dr. Abby Grayson, who had no idea that the deviant would be entering the facility willingly.

"Connor?" She set aside her electronic chart onto the front receptionist's desk and approached the deviant curiously. "Hi. Is something wrong?"

"Abby, do you have a moment?"

"Sure, what's up?"

Pocketing his coin Connor locked on Abby's hazel eyes and sighed with a sense of dread. "...I need you to check my programming."

"Why?" Her eyes widened as she began studying Connor's demeanor curiously. The seemingly now always red tinted L.E.D. immediately held her attention and she went into full technician mode. "Are you damaged or experiencing any glitches?"

"Unknown."

"All right, I have almost an hour before my next appointment." Taking Connor's hand in her own Abby began pulling the deviant toward the corridor leading to the exam rooms in the rear of the building. "Come with me. I'll see what I can do for you."

Patiently Hank waited for a response from the precinct regarding a possible location on Connor, but he was losing his cool fast. Every paternal instinct he had was screaming at him to go and find the missing deviant, but he knew he wouldn't be able to do much while still healing from some pretty serious injuries and while temporarily wheelchair bound. He simply didn't have the strength or energy to leave and begin searching for Connor. Fortunately for the recovering Lieutenant, Markus had agreed to stop by the house to speak with Hank in person and to try to answer any questions he may have regarding Connor's peculiar behavior and emotional distress.

Sumo was sitting at Hank's side as the senior detective casually rolled back and forth in his wheelchair in the middle of the livingroom in an effort to pace, and to work out his arms to regain his strength. The loyal dog had no idea what was going on, yet he knew he needed to stay close to Hank for the time being. There was a knock on the front door and Sumo turned around to bark once at the door as he wagged his tail.

Hank knew who was at the door without even having to get up to look through the window. "Come on in, Markus."

The front door opened slowly as the deviant leader stepped inside the house. As he entered the livingroom Sumo began wagging his tail even harder and calmed down at the sight of the kind deviant leader coming over to check on Hank.

"Hank, how're you holding up?" Markus asked as he stood beside the wheelchair and instinctively looked over the senior detective's condition since he often did the same thing to Carl whenever he visited. "You look like you're healing well."

"I'm worried and sore." Hank admitted in an exhausted tone. "Do you have any idea what's going on with Connor?"

"I might. What did he tell you before he left?"

"Nothing much." The senior detective spoke with a sense of defeat in his voice. "He mentioned something about needing to find answers, but I don't even know the question. I kept trying to get him to talk to me, but he kept refusing, and I swear to whatever holy deity is up there that the kid is suddenly afraid of me."

"Afraid of you?" Markus was becoming just as confused as Hank by his friend's behavior. "But why? Connor isn't afraid of anyone."

"Not a damn clue. Markus, do me a favor and fill me in on everything you know." Hank knew that Connor would've confided in either Lucas or Markus, and since he was pushing Lucas away too Hank knew his best bet would be speaking to Markus in that moment. "I want to help him."

"Right, but like I said I can't be certain."

"No less certain than I am." Leaning back in the wheelchair Hank folded his hands together as best as he could and rested them on his lap. "Let me hear it."

Standing beside the exam table warily Abby sighed with a mixture of relief and frustration as she finished the examination and removed the Thirium pressure cuff from Connor's bicep after registering the current number. The deviant had sailed through his physical exam with flying colors and showed no sign of damage or glitches whatsoever in any of his software or hardware. Aside from the red glowing L.E.D. in his right temple there was no outward sign of physical distress or damage to the deviant's person that could explain his odd sense of overwhelming emotions or his persistent confusion. It seemed as if Abby was being faced with numerous questions she couldn't answer either.

"Well, by all account you're perfectly healthy." Abby noted as she wrote down the details in Connor's official electronic chart. "Nothing is amiss."

"Can you check my programming now?" Connor asked somewhat eagerly, and he rolled back down the sleeve of his shirt to cover his arm. Wearing the black t-shirt made Connor look more casual, yet his demeanor was one of someone under high stress. "I wish to explore my programming with a trusted technician's help."

"Sure. What am I looking for?"

"I'm not certain."

"Can you at least give me a hint?" She asked playfully as she clipped a long black diagnostic cable to Connor's L.E.D., and then over to her laptop on her desk. "You know, am I getting warmer or colder as I search?"

"...When my programming had been hijacked during the cyberterrorist's assault, he had gained access to a file that I hadn't known existed until he had used it against me. I believe it's located in my memorybank as opposed to my routine system files."

"That's strange."

"Yes. I can't seem to isolate or identify it, but I know it's still active." Connor wasn't sure what he was feeling but knew that if anyone could help him find his answers it'd be Abby. "I've feeling strange ever since I learned of its existence."

"Okay, I'll see what I can find. Lay down." Abby gently coaxed her patient as she began typing in her laptop. "What makes you think the file is still active?"

"Ever since I regained my consciousness, I've been feeling a strange sense of past... familiarity." Connor explained as best as he could as he laid flat on his back over the table. He folded his hands neatly atop his chest as he awaited his results. "But it isn't a positive familiarity. It's very negative, almost like I'm enduring a recurring nightmare even while awake."

"Can you describe it any further?"

"I cannot."

"What are you doing when this this sense of familiarity manifests?"

"I'm typically around Hank. Which is frequently due to his prolonged recovery period."

"That's right, Hank's still recovering from his injuries. Okay," as Abby typed on her keyboard she continuously monitored Connor's vital signs through the diagnostic cable as a precaution. "what's going on when you're with Hank, and when this strange feeling starts?"

"...I'm simply in the same room as him."

"All right. I'm not a psychologist but I think you're suffering from emotional guilt."

"I had been feeling that long before I was reunited with Hank at the hospital. This feeling is more dreadful." As he tried to focus on the sensations Connor did his best to put his feelings into words. "It's like I've had suffered some horrible personal experience because of Hank. It's like he's... hurt me."

"Hurt you?"

"I can't explain it beyond that. Hank has never hurt me, and I know he'd never do so. The worst he's done is yell at me, but even that is now suddenly very upsetting, and I find myself almost cowering in his presence."

"That's weird." The sincerity behind Connor's words was almost alarming. "You sound like you were traumatized by something in your past, but you've repressed the memory."

Connor felt a slight surge in his intracranial processor that made him wince as Abby searched through his programming. "H-Have you isolated the file that I had mentioned?"

"Yeah, I found it. And you're right." The odd discovery was truly something she hadn't expected to find. "This file shouldn't be here."

"Can you access it?"

"No. It's been password locked by CyberLife. I can't open it, delete it or even move it around."

Such negative responses left Connor feeling even worse. "...Is it dangerous?"

"No, Connor." She reassured him confidently as she checked the file for any potential contaminants. "There are no viruses or malware attached to it."

Connor's fingertips brushed against the cable attached to his L.E.D. briefly as he contemplated his potential options. "Is there anything you can do?"

"I'm sorry, no. Since I don't even know what's inside the file I can't disable it. If I could, I-" Abby's eyes narrowed as she studied the file a little closer and noticed a specific date attached to it. "...Now that's strange."

"What did you find?"

"The file is dated May 22nd, 2037. Two years before the 'RK-800' series or the 'Connor model' series were even approved for activation."

"Curious." Connor memorized the date and began comparing it to milestones in CyberLife's history for further details. "I will look into the significance of this date."

An assisting deviant technician and facility receptionist known as 'Barry' - one of the 'Jerry' models from the abandoned 'Pirate's Cove' amusement park knocked on the closed door of the exam room and peered inside. "Abby," he interrupted in a low voice. "there is a technical emergency in the lobby. A deviant has been burned in an apartment fire and is in thermal shock."

"Shit!" Turning off her laptop Abby walked over to Connor and unclipped the diagnostic cable from his right temple. "Sorry, Connor. I have to go."

"I understand." Sitting upright slowly Connor rubbed his fingertips over the now exposed red tinted L.E.D. in his temple and sighed. "Thank you for your help."

"Keep looking into that file." She instructed as she opened the door to the exam room and stepped into the corridor to handle the emergency. "And if you need any more help, you know where to find me."

"...Of course."

Connor followed Abby out of the exam room to take his leave of the facility to continue his search elsewhere. Stepping aside to allow the gurney with the wounded deviant to be taken into the exam room for treatment, he quietly departed from the facility and stood beside the street and hailed another autonomous taxi.

"I cannot postpone it any longer. I must speak to Elijah Kamski himself."

Feeling a sense of dread sweep over his heart Connor hesitatingly entered the back of the hailed taxi as it parked in front of him and considered his other options.

"I still don't trust that cold snake, but I know he has the answers."

With Markus patiently standing beside him as he sat in the wheelchair at his desk in the corner of the livingroom, Hank logged into his laptop and began checking through the report on the cyberterrorist attacks from his personal login to his precinct terminal. As he reviewed the details of the finished reports as well as the transcript of the final interrogation with Fordon, the senior detective honed-in on the comment about the precinct being oblivious to Connor's true origin. The comment was almost threatening in nature, and he knew that with Connor feeling guilty about the assaults that Fordon had struck a raw nerve with the emotionally compromised deviant.

Watching the way Hank's blue eyes narrowed with deep thought told Markus that the detective was on to something. Unsure of what to expect of what it was that Hank had picked up on made the deviant leader worry that his friend could be in actual trouble.

"Fuck." Hank finally broke the silence as he leaned back from his laptop screen. "That guy must've psyched Connor out or something."

"And he's the one who attacked the deviants, right?"

"Yeah. That's him."

"Connor was the only one he could control while the rest of us were frozen in place, too."

"Yup. Any idea how he did that?"

"My guess is he used some kind of advanced program that's unique only to Connor in order to control him."

"Do you know what kind of program that'd be?"

"Well, he'd either have to be completely familiar with Connor's design or he used something from Connor's memory that would give him a completely different signature from the rest of us."

"Memory?" Hank turned to give the deviant leader a perplexed stare. He was still unfamiliar with android functionality and complications. "Do you mean his memory as in system settings or memory as in what he experiences?"

"His experiences." Clarifying his comment Markus tilted his head to the side with deep thought. "That would leave an entirely unique signature that would make it a lot easier to identify his system from the other hundreds of thousands of deviants in the city."

"What kind of memory?"

"I suspect he used a core memory. One right from the earliest moment of Connor's activation."

"A core memory." The senior detective shared Markus's deep contemplation. "Something that was deeply seated in his mind, and yet he can't remember."

Now it was Markus who had the perplexed look in his mismatched eyes. "He doesn't remember?"

"No. I kept asking and he kept saying he didn't know. That either means he doesn't know the answer, or he had forgotten the answer."

"You just described a locked memory." Markus noted with a mounting sense of worry. "It's the same as a human burying a memory and repressing it."

"...What if the memory used against him had been buried for a damn good reason, but was forced back to the surface?"

"Then that'd be a problem." Markus was beginning to follow Hank's hunch and was trying to explain things in a way that the senior detective could understand without being a technician or an android. "With deviants our memories are perfect unless we sustain damage. For us to make a conscious decision to bury a memory it'd be from either needing to eliminate a virus, or because we simply wanted to delete it."

"Connor refused to talk to me and he seemed unable to explain anything when I asked." A strange theory formed in Hank's mind, and he needed Markus's insights to know whether or not it was worth pursuing. "What if he couldn't answer me because that memory doesn't actually belong to him, or it was a memory he was never meant to find?"

Markus's mismatched eyes flashed with concern regarding Hank's words as he contemplated what Hank was suggesting. "If Connor is accessing any foreign or incompatible memories then it could overwhelm his system."

"Will that hurt him?"

"It could if he stresses out and begins to overheat. It seems like his stress levels have already been elevated as it is."

"Fuck." Despite his lack of knowledge with androids Hank did know for certain that high stress levels and high core temperatures were a bad mix. "Can you reach him from here?"

"I can try. Give me a moment." Closing his blue and green eyes Markus stood upright and reached out with a cybernetic communication toward the wayward deviant in an attempt to locate him; maybe even figure out what he's doing. 'Connor, can you hear me?'

No response.

'Connor, what's going on? Are you okay?'

Still no reply.

'Please, I just want to know that you're still okay.'

Silence.

"He isn't responding." Markus admitted with defeat as he opened his eyes and looked down at Hank again. "I don't think he's going to respond to either of us right now."

"Is he...?"

"No, no." The deviant leader knew what Hank was asking and quickly reassured him. "I was able to establish communication with him, I could feel it. He just didn't respond. Connor is still active."

"Shit. Now what do we do?"

"I'll ask for the other deviants in the city to keep a look out for Connor. At the very least they can let one of us know where he is and if he's okay."

"Great, then I'll sit here and-" Hank suddenly winced and pressed his hand to his pained ribs as he let out a slow breath. "Fuck..."

"Hank?" Markus knelt down beside the wheelchair and lightly wrapped his fingers around the detective's wrist to check his pulse. "What's wrong?"

"My busted ribs..." The sudden sharp pain wasn't uncommon for Hank to feel after his medication wore off. "They suck."

"Where's your pain medication?" The deviant leader stood up quickly and glanced about the house curiously. "I'll get it for you."

"Kitchen." Noting the late hour Hank sighed in pain and admitting he made a mistake. "Shit, I lost track of time."

"It's all right, I'll help you out until Connor gets back."

"Fuck." Hank swore again as he leaned back in the wheelchair and sighed while Markus walked into the kitchen to get his pain medication and antibiotics for him for the night. "The kid's gone for one afternoon and I forget my meds'. Damn it, I am getting old."

Alone and uncertain Connor stood outside the front door to Elijah Kamski's personal residence on the harbor near the edge of the city. A cool breeze picked up and caused the deviant's rogue lock of hair to jump over his eye as it gracefully danced about in the wind. Ignoring an incoming cybernetic call from Markus with a stubborn refusal to acknowledge his friend, Connor forced himself to step forward toward the deceptively modest mansion at long last. Warily he approached the front door and rang the doorbell with a shaking hand and waited for a reply. Being at the mansion filled Connor with dread as he remembered what had happened when he had first gone to see Kamski just prior to the peaceful deviant Revolution.

It took only a minute for Chloe to answer the door and greet the wayward deviant with a smile on her face. Still had her L.E.D. and seemed to be an obedient machine despite the success of the Revolution in her favor. "Connor. Hello."

"Hello, Chloe." Steadying his voice Connor spoke to her with politeness and respect. "May I please speak with Mr. Kamski?"

"Elijah is in his study. Please," the blonde-haired android stepped aside and let Connor into the house. "come inside."

"Thank you."

Chloe escorted Connor to the study, her L.E.D. cycling blue the entire time, and used her personal clearance to gain access to the room. She motioned with her arm for Connor to go inside the room and meet with Kamski in person. "I'll leave you two to speak in private."

"...I appreciate it."

Taking a deep breath Connor walked into the study and stood before Kamski's large wooden desk across from his ruby red swimming pool. Kamski had his back to Connor as he stared out the massive windows overlooking the water in the harbor with a deep sense of contemplation on his face that was reflected off of the window's shining glass surface. As Connor stood quietly before the arrogant human's desk - the very human who had been responsible for the creation of androids and biocomponents, the deviant detective was unsure of what to expect during his visit.

Kamski noticed Connor's reflection on the glass next to his own reflection and turned around in his chair to face Connor with his expression never changing and acknowledged the unexpected visitor. "Connor. I didn't expect to see you in my home ever again."

"I wasn't expecting this reunion either, but I fear I require your assistance."

Such an admission made Kamski's eyes light up with intrigue. "You need my help?"

"...Yes."

"All right." Crossing his arms over his chest Kamski kicked up his feet and rested them over the top of his desk as he gave the deviant an amused sneer. The sight of Connor's red L.E.D. held the eccentric man's full attention. "How can I be of service?"

"There is a file in my memorybank that should not be there." Connor stated firmly as he subconsciously pressed his fingertips to his glowing L.E.D. as he spoke. "It is password locked by CyberLife and I cannot access it."

"Oh? May I ask how you know of this file if you can't access it?"

"The cyberterrorist who attacked the city used this file to control my person against my will. Despite the connection being severed the file is still active and it is causing conflicting turmoil on a mental, and at times, emotional degree."

"Interesting." Such a notion just fueled Kamski's curiosity. "I take it you've asked for help from an ally before coming to me, yes?"

"Correct."

"What did they find?"

"They found that the file was indeed in an incorrect place in my programming, locked, unable to be deleted or moved, and a date places its origins before I had even been constructed."

Kamski neatly interlaced his fingers together and pressed them to his chin with great intrigue. "What's the date on the file?"

"May 22nd, 2037."

The human's hollow gray-hazel eyes lit up and his sneer turned into a genuine grin. "Fascinating. Please, Connor. Tell me about these mental and emotional disturbances that you've been experiencing."

"What is in the file?" Wanting his own answers first Connor asked Kamski his questions. "Can you tell me?"

"I have a hunch as to what's inside of it, but I need to be certain. Please," motioning to the chair sitting vacated beside Connor and across from his desk, the enigmatic engineer invited the deviant to sit down and speak for a while. "tell me everything you've been feeling. I'm listening."

As much as Hank hated to admit that he still needed some help getting around when he had only one week left until he would be permitted to move without the wheelchair, he remained more cooperative than usual and put up with it a while long. He was also grateful that Markus was there to help him out after he and Connor had their falling out, and he didn't want to worry Lucas with their fight. It was a sweet reminder that deviants had hearts and were capable of showing true empathy toward people in need of help.

The kind deviant helped Hank to lay back on the couch with an ice pack pressed to his still sore ribs. It'd take a few minutes before the painkillers would kick in and that meant Hank had to remain in pain for a while longer.

As he settled in Hank nodded with respect toward Markus. "Thanks."

"No problem. I just wish I could do more to help you and to help find Connor."

"Well, now that I know for sure he's just trying to find answers I'm not as worried." Hank sighed as he checked his phone with one hand and used his other hand to carefully hold the ice down against his ribs. "The kid tends to obsess over things, and it drives me up the wall." Readjusting the ice pack over his chest he watched as Markus sat down in the recliner to keep him company for a while longer. "He also has a lot of patience, but when someone works him up he tends to burn hot. He'll show up either here or at New Jericho Tower by tomorrow morning."

"I hope you're right." Markus's own worries weren't so easily swayed. "I don't like the idea of him wandering around if he's suffering from some kind of malfunction."

"Same here, but I trust the kid to do the right thing. He just needs time and space to think."

Markus closed his mismatched eyes and his brow furrowed, then smoothed out again. "I just received word from a contact at one of the facilities. Connor had stopped by to speak with a technician then left. He was then seen getting inside an autonomous taxi and went toward the city limits."

"Facility? Which one?"

"The facility on Tenth Street."

"Abby." Hank recognized the location, and his posture relaxed a little further. "She became his official technician when the precinct ordered him to acquire one. She was the technician who helped him after we got caught up in the bombed office building a few months ago."

"Do you trust her?"

"Yeah, and so do Connor and Lucas. If he were in any danger she wouldn't have let him leave the facility, or she would've called me to let me know something was up with him."

"That's good to know."

"Look, why don't you head back to New Jericho?" Hank didn't want Markus spending the night worried over Connor and neglecting his own needs. "I can take it from here."

"You're still injured."

"Hey, as long as I keep my phone on me and going off every six hours to keep me on my meds', I'll be fine. Thanks for your help."

"...All right, but only if you're certain."

"Yeah, I'm good. Go on, get some rest."

"Okay." Extending his hand Markus shook Hank's hand and dismissed himself from the house. "I'll let you know the second I learn anything, I promise."

"I know you will. Take care of yourself, Markus. And if I hear anything from Connor, I'll call you."

"Right. Lucas will be by later tonight after he finishes his shift."

"Does he know Connor took off?"

"He's aware that something has happened, but he doesn't know any more than I do right now."

"Is he worried?"

"I think he is but he's not showing it yet."

"Good." The idea of Lucas going off in search of Connor was one that made Hank's stomach twist. "The last thing I want is for him to wander off, too."

After Connor explained the bizarre situation to Kamski in great detail as much as possible, he watched as the human's expression change from intrigued to knowing as a cryptic gleam appeared in his eyes. There was something about the way Kamksi was reacting to every word he spoke that made the deviant detective nervous, but he couldn't walk away now. At least not yet at least. He still needed the answers to his hundreds of relentlessly distracting questions and right now Kamski was the only one who could provide such answers. It was a cruel conflict considering how much Connor despised and mistrusted the arrogant man who seemingly held all the cards at the moment.

Kamski was more focused on Connor as if he were trying to solve a puzzle. The way he kept studying Connor's face and body language was as if he was trying to read the deviant's mind and determine how much Connor really knew about the odd situation at hand.

"Connor," the tone of Kamski's voice shifted from cold and calculated to level and confident. "aside from the date on the file, did you discover anything regarding your original design? Something from within the CyberLife archives, perhaps?"

"...Yes." The deviant wasn't sure what Kamski was playing at, but he knew he needed to answer the question honestly if he were to get any honest answers in return. "I had noticed an address leading to Grand Rapids here in Michigan. However, CyberLife had never had any warehouses of facilities established in Grand Rapids. It seems to either be a ruse or an error."

"It's not an error. You're already on the right track. Now let me give you the final piece of information you'll need find the answers to your questions. Taking a stylus to his electronic tablet that was tucked away in his desk's top right drawer, Kamski wrote down a name and showed it to the deviant. "Go to the address from the archives." He instructed calmly as the deviant memorized the provided information. "Ask for this person directly and inquire about the date on the file. You'll figure this out."

Connor glanced at the screen, memorized the name and gave Kamksi a wary suspicious look. "...It's that simple?"

"The answer is that simple, but the solution is far more difficult." The cryptic response did little to ease Connor's worries while also entertaining Kamski's own curiosity. "I'm going to warn you right here and right now; what you find will change your perspective on your existence, but you have the right to know about your origins. You're free now. And you're free to do as you see fit with the information you gain."

Such a warning made Connor hesitant to continue his search. "...May I ask how you know this person of interest?"

"Don't worry about that. You'll figure it out in time. Now, go." Kamski encouraged as he continued to watch Connor carefully. "Your answers are waiting."

"Your demeanor suggests that I should rush to this address. Is there an underlying issue I should be aware of?"

"I wouldn't dissuade you from moving quickly, but as far as I know it might already be too late."

The corner of Connor's mouth twitched nervously as he contemplated Kamski's worrying words but decided to take them as truth. "...I'll go. Thank you for your help."

Turning and rising from the chair to leave the study, Connor made his way out of the room and felt Kamski's eyes watching every step he took. "And Connor..."

The deviant paused at the doorway and turned to look back over his left shoulder at the human who was still sitting behind his desk. "Understand that what happened wasn't meant to be malicious. It was all legal and voluntary."

Remaining quiet Connor nodded subtly to acknowledge he heard the comment as he departed from the unusual mansion located on the harbor. The deviant detective had a long journey ahead of him and he had to rely solely on an autonomous taxi to take him to where he needed to go. As he sat alone in the back of the warm cab Connor contemplated answering Markus's call at long last or calling Hank to check in on him, but he needed his answers first.

How could he possibly answer their questions if he didn't have the answers to his own questions?

Confident that Connor would come back to the house the next morning, Hank informed the precinct that the deviant was 'blowing off steam' and that they could cancel their search for the missing deviant for now. Although he was convinced that Connor was going to come back soon enough, Hank couldn't stop himself from sending a few worried texts to Connor letting him know that he was doing all right with his medication, wasn't in any pain and that Connor could take all the time he needed to get the answers he was searching for. Hank had respect for Connor as a person and he trusted that Connor would be able to find what he needed before too much longer.

The house was quiet and felt unusually empty without Connor around. Having the deviant's constant company had helped Hank immensely in overcoming his depression, and that was a dark path he never wanted to venture down ever again. Now it was Hank's turn to help Connor out of the darkness and find his way back into the light.

"All right, Sumo."

Hank called out to the massive dog trotting through the backyard as he sat in his wheelchair within the opened backdoor inside the small kitchen.

"Inside, boy."

As Sumo obediently returned to the house for the night, he briefly pressed his paw down over Hank's knee before he went to check his bowls on the kitchen floor.

"Good boy."

Closing and locking the backdoor Hank awkwardly wheeled himself out of the kitchen and down the hallway to the bathroom. After taking care of his nightly routine Hank called out to Sumo once more as he entered his bedroom at the end of the hallway.

"Come on, Sumo. You get to sleep on the foot of my bed again tonight."

Sure enough as soon as Hank was laying on his bed and under the quilt the large dog plodded into the bedroom and hefted his large body up and onto the foot of the bed to settle down for the night. Despite being massive in size Sumo thought of himself as a tiny lapdog.

Hank made sure the volume on his phone was high enough to hear it ring or 'buzz' in the event of a call or text message, and then placed it down on the nightstand beside his bed to charge during the night.

"Hope you're okay, son."

The senior detective muttered to himself as he laid on his back and closed his eyes out of raw fatigue.

"If you need me for anything, just call."

Exhausted himself after his prolonged search and emotional distress for the past several weeks, Connor had entered rest mode during the two-hour long ride to Grand Rapids, and only awoke after the cab reached its destination. It was a hefty fare to pay thanks to the massive distance between the two locations, but the taxi was all Connor had at his disposable since he couldn't take Hank's car from him to use personally. Placing his exposed palm over the electronic sensor Connor paid the fare in full and stared up at the intimidating building that was sitting before him as he stepped through the automatically opened door at his side to set foot on the property's parking lot.

Spectrum Health Blodgett Hospital.

Taking a deep breath Connor crossed the parking lot and entered the hospital through the main entrance to approach the front desk where a receptionist and the head nurse were handling patient charts. Quietly Connor reached for his wallet in his back pocket and showed the duo his badge as he addressed them calmly the moment they acknowledged his presence.

"How can we help you, sir?"

"Hello." Speaking clearly and calmly Connor addressed the two women kindly. "I work with the Detroit Police Department. I'm looking for Dr. Alexandra Ross."

The receptionist looked up briefly at Connor then did a double-take. As her face slightly paled she reached over and lightly patted the arm of the head nurse beside her. "Linda, You have to see this..."

The head nurse gave Connor her attention and she too paled but responded quickly. "...Y-You're looking for Dr. Ross?" She asked almost incredulously as she stared at Connor's face, then to his red tinted L.E.D. blinking slowly in his right temple. "Dr. Alexandra Ross, right?"

"Yes. My name is-"

"Connor." Linda replied sharply and gave him a faint smile as she confirmed his name without any need for an introduction. "We know."

Now it was Connor's turn to give the incredulous stare to the two women. "...That's correct. How did you know my name?"

"Come with me, please." Linda, the head nurse, motioned with her extended arm for Connor to follow after her while she turned to the receptionist again. "Go ahead and page Dr. Ross for me, Tanya. Let her know he's finally here and where to meet us."

Connor was getting more and more confused by the second as he followed after Linda and noticed Tanya readily calling someone on the desk phone. "I don't understand. Were you expecting me?"

"You could say that." The nurse confirmed in a strangely enthusiastic tone as she escorted Connor to the elevator at the end of the corridor and then to the intensive care unit three floors up. Every step she took seemed so confident and made Connor all the more confused. "Is it okay to ask why you're here now?"

"I'm seeking the answers regarding my true origins as a person. All the information I uncovered leads to here, and I was informed to ask for Dr. Alexandra Ross directly." The elevator doors parted and Connor followed the nurse onto the designated floor. As he walked he could feel many of the people working on the hospital staff watching him closely as if he were a celebrity or maybe even a criminal. "You already know my name," he whispered to the nurse to prevent any further unwanted attention. "can I ask how you know that? I never had the chance to properly introduce myself to you or to your colleague."

The head nurse gave the deviant a half-grin as she opened the door to a private room in the I.C.U. and then showed Connor inside. "Because we were hoping you'd show up here someday. He's been waiting long enough, and he deserves some form of closure." Pulling back the privacy curtain surrounding a patient's bed the nurse stood beside the patient and gave the deviant, whose soulful brown eyes had gone wide with utter shock, a sympathetic glance. "Today might that day."

Shocked and lost by what, if not who he was now seeing, Connor just stared silently at the pale and hauntingly familiar face of the man laying comatose in the bed with a respirator snaked down his throat and a cardiac monitor attached to his chest showing his disturbingly weak vital signs. The man was very thin from being in a coma for so long and his muscle mass had thinned considerably from prolonged atrophy making him look all the weaker and more helpless.

"Connor," Linda stated calmly as she gently put her hand on the comatose man's bare forearm. She then took the deviant's hand in her free hand as a form of emotional support as she graciously introduced the two people to one another. "it's time for you to finally meet Connor."

-next chapter-