A total of four long and slow days passed since the tragic shooting, and Connor remained vigil at the observation window overlooking Hank's private room in an attempt to find a way to make amends with his wounded ally. During his stay at the hospital, Lucas would frequently check in on Connor and noted that his oldest brother seemed to be suffering from mild hypothermia after being out in the forest for so long. With their newly enhanced biocomponents allowing them to feel sensations fully, the upgrades had also left the prototype deviant far more susceptible to the cold in general. Even with his system struggling to recalibrate after the unwarranted and unwanted upgrades to his system, Connor refused to admit he wasn't feeling as if he were running at optimal parameters.

Captain Fowler had stopped by the hospital to visit as well, and he let Connor know that he wasn't going to be charged with any crime since it was Stanley Fordon who made him attack Hank and then shoot him. For the most part everyone was remaining optimistic in Hank's recovery, but Connor himself was still worried that Hank wasn't going to make a full recovery or be able to move on after the incident.

Short periods of rest mode in the chair in the corridor outside the private room had weakened Connor's constitution considerably, and the frequent nightmares kept him feeling exhausted all day long whenever he was fully awake. As he finally caved in and allowed himself to sleep in full rest mode Connor became suddenly aware of a presence watching him and a gentle hand resting on his shoulder.

Opening his heavy brown eyes Connor recognized Dr. Nachman and realized that the doctor was trying to get his attention. As Connor lifted his head up, he watched the hand fall from his shoulder and could only think to ask one question. "Hank?"

"He's awake." The skilled doctor confirmed as he watched Connor's posture straighten before he stood up from the chair. "And he was asking to see you."

"...Me?" Such a request wasn't one Connor was expected to receive. "Why me? Shouldn't he be resting?"

"Apparently Hank is worried about you and wants to make sure you're okay."

"I see." Peering past Dr. Nachman to look through the window Connor saw a nurse checking Hank's vital signs and adjusting the I.V. drip giving the man fluids, antibiotics and painkillers as he healed. It was haunting to see the strong man being monitored so closely by medical equipment. "...I'm not sure if I should do that."

"I understand that you're uneasy about speaking with him, but since it was his idea, I get the feeling that it'll be okay. In the end it's up to you if you want to go in there or not."

"I'll... I'll do it." Connor decided as he pressed his right palm over his left bicep. The guilt of shooting Hank gave Connor an empathetic reaction to how Hank must've felt after he shot both Sydney and Connor himself on the night of the Revolution. "I just need a moment."

"When you do go in don't be surprised if he drifts off to sleep or seems confused. He's exhausted and it's going to take some time for him to fully recover after awaking from his coma. He'll also need to remain here for another forty-eight hours for observation, then he'll be able to go home as long as he has someone to help him during his recovery."

"Of course."

Taking a moment to compose himself Connor removed his fedora and tucked it into the interior pocket of his trench coat to keep it safe while he visited with the healing man. The act of removing one's hat was seen as a sign of respect and it was such a simple gesture that Connor couldn't resist the chance to show Hank that he wasn't going to be hostile toward the recovering man in any capacity.

Holding his head up high Connor passed through the door to the private room and nodded at the nurse to acknowledge her. Walking slowly over to the bed Connor took a chair beside the bed and sat down without saying a word. The way Hank looked so pale, exhausted and weak was all it took for Connor to lose any cohesive thought and feel only guilt down in the pit of his artificial stomach.

The senior detective gave the deviant a sleepy look as Connor's eyes suddenly darted away from him in shame as he nervously began fussing with his coin on the back of his knuckles. "...C-Connor?"

"I'm here beside you, Lieutenant." The deviant confirmed as he watched Hank blinking slowly. The man was struggling to gain his bearings and think after being unconscious for so long. "The doctor is confident that you'll make a full recovery."

"...Connor." Hank's voice was hoarse from being intubated during the surgery and from the respirator breathing for him. The lack of use over the previous five days wasn't helping his vocal chords either. "You... look like shit."

"...I feel like shit." Connor admitted as he stared at Hank's broken right wrist as he slipped his coin back into his jean pocket. He found it impossible to look Hank in the eyes out of his relentless guilt eating away at him. "You're finally awake and that's all that matters."

"Son," Hank's voice slowly regained his strength the more he spoke. "I remember what happened. It's okay."

The deviant visibly tensed up as he awaited Hank to either yell at him or hit him, but instead all he heard was kindness, compassion and understanding.

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

"...I hurt you, Lieutenant." Needlessly admitting to unnecessary guilt, Connor felt warm tears welling up in his eyes. He wanted Hank to yell at him and insult him since it'd make things so much easier to handle on an emotional level. "I can never forgive myself."

"Stop. You did NOTHING wrong." Moving his hand very slowly Hank want to grab the deviant's shoulder, but the cast was making the effort impossible. "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. I remember that, too."

Connor flinched again as Hank raised his voice but he didn't budge from his seat.

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

"...How did you know I stopped Fordon?"

"Because I was still awake. My eyes were closed but I could hear everything around me." Hank leveled off his voice as much as possible. It was clear that speaking was putting a strain on his weak body. "You saved my life that night, son. Thank you for that."

Connor didn't say another word. All he could do was put his hand over top Hank's hand and stare blankly into nothingness. "I wish what I had done was worthy of thanks. For now, I'll take what I can."

"How's... How's Lucas and Sydney?" Struggling to remain awake Hank took in a deep breath and fussed with the nasal canula under his nose while he spoke. The nurse pushed hand back down and proceeded to use her stethoscope to listen to his chest. "Are they okay?"

"Yes. We're all okay." Connor replied in a hushed tone. As he spoke Connor felt the corner of his mouth tic with anxiety as he told the senior detective what he had missed while in a coma. "The cyber attack was effective, but Lucas and Dr. Forest were able to create an effective patch and help the deviants recover. Lucas is at the brownstone with Bruno and Sumo, we've been taking care of Sumo for you, and Sydney... Sydney is gone."

"...Gone?" The urge to sleep was strong but Hank was stubborn enough to fend it off for a while longer as he weakly pushed the nurse back so he could still see Connor beside him. "Where'd he go?"

"Sydney went to Washington D.C. to work alongside F.B.I. Director Norman Jayden." The sudden change in career wasn't frowned upon, just unexpected. "We discovered this last night when we tried to contact Sydney cybernetically and discovered that he had already left Detroit."

"That's... That's good." Letting his eyes fall shut Hank approved of Sydney's decision to move on with his life and not linger in Detroit. "Sydney needs to... experience life and see the world. Jayden seems like... a good guy, too. They'll be fine out there. He... might even be happy out there."

"I hope so." Connor knew Hank was trying to make conversation to keep his mind off the incident at hand, but it wasn't much of a distraction. The way Hank was fighting to remain awake just emphasized how weak and tired the man truly was. "Lucas and I weren't close with Sydney, but he's still our brother. We want him to be safe and know that he's wanted. He will always have us as his family."

"Sounds like you're... a good brother."

"Another thing I hope is true." Connor closed his eyes as he filled Hank in on the other things he missed while comatose. "...Just so you know, Stanley Fordon was not only responsible for the cyber attack on the city, but he was the one who had me shot that night at the park. He made another deviant attack me just as he made me attack you."

Hank's eyes blinked rapidly a few times as if he had to fight to process the information that had been given to him. "F-Fordon tried to kill both of us?"

"That's correct."

"What a dumb fucker."

Connor imagined he would've smirked at the comment if he didn't have a painful pit in his stomach.

"What else did I miss?"

"You need to be resting, not worrying about the city."

"I live in the city." Letting out a weary sigh Hank lost the battle against his eyelids and began to doze off. "I live here... We live here."

"The city can wait for you to recover." Rubbing his hand over his eyes Connor removed his tears and decided to remain in the seat beside Hank's bed to keep the man company even while he slept. "So can I, and I'll be here when you wake up. We have a lot to discuss."

In another area of the city a deviant who had no direct connection to either of the deviant detectives or to New Jericho Tower in general, was beginning to forge her own path through life by selecting a new career of her own. Housed in a large and comfortable loft at the top of a public library downtown, Skye continued to pour over the hundreds of legal textbooks and law documents at her disposal to ensure that she could become a skilled and dedicated attorney to help give her people the justice and equality they all deserved. Being in the library guaranteed the studious deviant plenty of privacy and material to ensure she was able to properly document and memorize every single aspect of the law to protect her people from future crimes, and it gave her a quiet place to live in general.

While the brunette sat beside the large, dark tinted window that overlooked the street outside with a textbook in her hand, her roommate remained idle and quiet as she sat in the large chair positioned in front of the muted television. Just as Skye was trying to forge a better life for herself, North was trying to find a way to salvage what was left of her life after her exile from New Jericho Tower.

"Now I know why it takes humans a minimum of seven years to earn any form of usable education in the law." Skye closed her book and turned her attention toward North. She knew what her old friend had done, and while she didn't approve of North's behavior, she could understand her fears and why she did it. "I wonder how many humans start studying for law and then drop out after the first few hours thanks to the tediousness of reading and researching?"

North had no interest in human activities beyond what she was seeing on the news. The devastated and disgraced deviant leader hadn't spoken much since she had gone to Skye in tears with nowhere else to go after being banished from New Jericho Tower. She told her old friend, Skye from the 'Eden Club', what had happened - of how she had admitted to trying to murder Connor, and was surprised when Skye was willing to hear her out rather than turn her away.

"Things will get better." Speaking from her heart Skye left the window and proceeded to pick up the small violin she had purchased from a small music store to help her find hobbies and interests in her deviant life. As she pressed the bow to the violin's perfectly tuned strings, Skye let out a small breath and let her cheek rest against the support of the cool feeling instrument as she began making it sing. "I'll defend your case on March 1st and help you gain leniency."

"Against attempted murder?" North's doubt was as palpable as the icy chill still lingering in the winter air outside. "I appreciate your optimism, but there's no way you can make this go away."

"I didn't say I could make it go away. I said I could help you get some leniency." Turning on her heels Skye faced her friend as North pulled her legs up from the floor and rested her chin atop her knees. She knew that North was a fighter and seeing her so unwilling to defend herself made her own heart ache. "I'm not going to pretend that I can ignore you doing... well... you know. BUT... I can help gain you sympathy since you were trying to keep yourself and the tower safe."

"Attempted murder and premeditated murder aren't exactly sympathetic situations."

"Maybe."

"Why are you so certain you can help me through this?" The way Skye was so calm and confident just made North feel even worse. "You're not even officially recognized as a lawyer, and you have no idea what New Jericho is going to do with me."

"Because I have a feeling that despite everything that's happened, you'll have more allies than you could expect."

"If that was the case then I wouldn't have been banished without my supposed friends making a single argument against it."

The song stopped suddenly as Skye lowered her bow from the violin's strings and her previously calm blue L.E.D. flashed to red for a beat. "North, is there something about the night Connor was poisoned that you're not telling me?"

"What does it matter?" Turning off the television with a cybernetic signal North rose from the chair and walked over to the large bed that was previously contained within the pull-out-couch and laid down on her side. Turning to face the window as she tried to ignore Skye behind her, North did her best to close her eyes and disappear from the cruel world around her. "The evidence points to me, and a witness put me at the scene of the crime. Guilty until proven innocent, and that's never going to happen."

"Now I know there's something more to this situation than you're telling me."

North felt the side of the bed dip down slightly as Skye sat down beside North's legs and put her hand to her friend's shoulder in a comforting gesture.

"Talk to me. I can't help you if you won't let me help you."

Refusing to answer North let out a small sigh that caused her long auburn hair to flutter away from her cheek as she settled in for a long rest mode. It seemed all North wanted to do as of late was either sleep or watch the world pass her by through the television screen.

"All right. I'll wait for you to come to me when you're ready."

Returning to her song Skye played a somber melody to reflect the mood as she took a small break between her study sessions and focused on becoming the world's very first deviant attorney. Deep down inside Skye knew that her very first trial was going to go down in history, and not just because she was breaking new ground with her career selection. Whether or not that historic moment would be famous of infamous had yet to be seen.

The forty-eight hours of observation were over at last, and Hank was given the medical clearance to go home. As much as Hank hated it, he allowed Connor and the attending nurse to escort him out to the Oldsmobile near the front entrance of the parking lot in the wheelchair, and then help him to climb into the front passenger seat of the car to ride shotgun all the way back home. Hank was indeed wheelchair bound until the damage to his abdomen healed properly, and he would need help for the next six weeks in getting around, keeping his wounds cleaned and undergoing his mild physical therapy. Hank was very unhappy about the arrangement since it meant he'd be essentially helpless, but he wasn't going to take his anger out on Connor or Lucas for trying to help him.

Connor opened the front passenger door of the car and helped Hank to sit down in the seat and tilted the seat back slightly to keep the seatbelt from pressing against Hank's healing abdomen. While Connor tended to Hank the nurse folded up the temporarily 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, son." Hank rubbed his left 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."

Connor remained quiet as he focused on driving Hank 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, Connor couldn't help but feel as if Hank should remain under a doctor's care for a while longer.

"Kid, will you please stop moping?"

"...I'm sorry, Lieutenant."

"Don't be sorry, just stop trying to kick yourself in the ass. And call me 'Hank', we're not in the precinct and I don't hold rank over you anyway."

"...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. He could feel his warm tears returning to his eyes and his hands tightening around the aged vinyl wrap of the old steering wheel.

"Connor. Answer me, please."

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

"Did you talk to anyone after what happened?"

The light turned green and Connor pulled the car through the intersection. "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 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." Having the new biocomponent enhancements were making Connor feel twice as vulnerable and weak. "I can't avoid them all."

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

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

"All right, fine. But if you do want to talk about it, I'll be there for you."

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

The rest of the drive remained tense and quiet as Connor passed through downtown and returned to Hank's relatively quiet neighborhood. It was a little awkward getting Hank out of the car, into the provided wheelchair and then through the front door of the house, but Connor managed to succeed in the endeavor. As Hank was wheeled inside the house and into the livingroom 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 the dog's ears with his left hand while Connor closed the front door and set about getting Hank settled in.

Lucas had been getting the house ready for Hank's return and made sure Sumo had a nice bath before being brought back to the house to help keep dirt and loose fur to a minimum. He was happy to see how much Sumo missed Hank and the way Hank was relieved to see his loyal dog safe and sound.

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

"We kept him at the brownstone alongside Bruno." Connor mentioned in passing as he crossed the livingroom past Hank. "I hope you don't mind."

"Nope. Not at all."

To keep his mind 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 in that moment that he couldn't stop thinking about or stop himself from worrying about Hank's health, his new biocomponents, the Winters case and Sydney.

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 over the length of the soft furniture. "Hank, you should've asked Lucas or myself for help."

"I can get from one chair to another, kid." The senior detective quipped as he laid over the couch and rubbed his hand over his sore ribs as he settled in over the well worn furniture. "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 you're still suffering from a concussion." Connor argued as Lucas joined him in the kitchen as if to help. "I'm going to have to monitor your breathing for another four weeks until you've recovered from your head trauma and your ribs have healed."

"Fine." Waving his hand dismissively Hank closed his eyes and wrapped his arm around Sumo's neck as the large dog sat on the floor beside the couch to rest his chin alongside Hank's chest. "Just don't wake me up while you're fuckin' around in the kitchen."

"I will do my best."

Lucas lowered his voice as he gave Connor a rather stern look. "You shouldn't try to push him to admit to being weak like that."

"I'm not-" Connor wanted to argue but he knew that his behavior could easily be misconstrued as such. Wrapping his right palm around his left bicep Connor winced a little as he realized that his tense synthetic muscles were causing the bullet embedded in his arm to ache in response. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be so controlling, I just don't want to see the Lieutenant suffer from a delay in his recovery because he's trying to do too much too soon."

"Lieutenant Anderson is very much aware of his own physical limitations, he'll be able to tend to himself without needing one of us constantly hovering over him." With a quick cybernetic scan Lucas looked at Connor's left bicep and could see that his brother's arm was having a negative reaction to the bullet that had been embedded in his body for over two months. "I trust you're aware of your own limitations as well."

"It's fine." Lowering his hand slowly Connor turned around and began searching through the cupboards to find something to cook for Hank's lunch. He knew Lucas had noticed his pained reaction to the old injury. "It's only recently become more notable courtesy of the updates and upgrades to my system."

"Does it hurt?"

"...Occasionally."

"Allow me to examine your arm."

"It's all right, it's not a hindrance."

"You're being as stubborn about accepting help as Lieutenant Anderson."

Connor wanted to make a comment about the comparison, but he didn't know what to say. Returning his focus on his current task Connor did his best to stop thinking about the pain in his arm and the emotional distress in his heart. "I'll prepare some soup. It'll be ready within an hour."

"While you're making the Lieutenant his lunch, I'll finish washing his bedding. It'll greatly reduce the risk of him developing an infection during his recovery."

Keeping his silence Connor waited for Lucas to leave the kitchen before he rubbed at his sore bicep again. The uncomfortable sensations he was now experiencing thanks to his enhanced biocomponents had been slowly wearing away Connor's emotional resolve. He was tired of trying to clean up all of the messes in the city, tired of trying to move on from his less-than-ideal past, and he was tired of feeling pain physically, emotionally and psychologically.

In the end, Connor was just plain tired.

The three detectives settled into a new routine of six hour intervals regarding Hank's medication, resting and limiting his physical exertion during the final weeks of his recovery. As much as Hank hated having to use the wheelchair to get around his own house, the idea of getting a lecture from the two protective deviants regarding the possible hindrance to his recovery if he refused to cooperate was far more unappealing. For a solid week the trio stayed in this new 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 wheelchair as he tried to keep himself from going stir-crazy.

Lucas had taken Sumo for a walk so he could also check in on Bruno out at the brownstone and give Connor some alone time with Hank. The apprenticing technician and detective knew that Connor was struggling emotionally and needed to talk things out with Hank before it gave him any further issues.

"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." The senior detective almost barked in frustration. "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 recovering detective his medication or brought Hank something else 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 the deviant to forgive himself and nothing seemed to work. Letting out a tired sigh Hank called out to him. "Hey, Connor?"

"...Yes?"

"Come here for a minute."

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

"If I didn't know any better-" He grabbed onto Connor's left arm and the deviant almost jumped back in fear as he wrestled his arm free of Hank's weak grip. Hank immediately noticed that strong and his brow knitted together in confusion. "Why are you afraid of me?"

"...I'm not afraid of you." Connor admitted as he returned his right palm to his left bicep. Such a strong physical reaction made his arm throb with renewed pain. "I'm afraid of myself."

"You're not going to hurt me. It was ALL Fordon's fault and you're in no way to blame."

Connor shook his head as he stepped back from Hank. "I'm sorry, but I don't believe that."

"You need to-"

"I'll go and purchase replacement groceries." The emotionally shaken 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. Lucas will back soon."

"Connor?"

Hank tried to keep the deviant 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 Connor had gone to the grocery store just as he told Hank and proceeded to purchase a few items, but he didn't go back to the house just yet. Stopping by New Jericho Tower first, he went to speak with Markus and to ask a few questions of his own regarding the cyber attack against their people and to learn if anyone else had been remotely controlled by the demented technician. He also wanted to let Markus know about the contents of the two metal cases and reassure the deviant leader that such delicate and controversial technology was never going to fall into the wrong hands. The way Markus had been giving Connor space and privacy prompted Connor to keep Markus well informed under his own freewill.

The urge to discuss the other prototype 'RK' models and of Zhorra assaulting him and Lucas out in the forest was strong, but there was nothing to be gained by turning Zhorra into a target. What had happened couldn't be changed, at least not without Connor letting another technician open up his chassis and alter his biocomponents by hand. That was an experience that Connor did not want to endure.

"I'm not sure what you're expecting to find." Markus stated as he escorted 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 CyberLife's true intentions weren't just for selfish profit or control."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know how else to explain it but," his right hand pressed against his left bicep again to rub against the embedded bullet. "but I feel like I'm just scratching the surface of CyberLife's crimes."

"What do you mean?" Escorting Connor to the archives Markus intently listened to everything Connor had to say. "They've declared bankruptcy and fled the city. They're all gone and we've won."

"It's not that simple." Shaking his head with uncertainty Connor approached the massive terminal screen and pressed his exposed right palm down over the modem to unlock it and gain access. The moment he released pressure from his left bicep his persistent pain angrily flared up with a new vengeance. "Wh-What I want to know is why Fordon attacked us after the Revolution and used a remote access to control me. He could've attacked us and left the city, but he stayed here for a reason."

"That is very peculiar behavior." Markus agreed as he watched Connor sifting through the unlocked files. "I haven't really thought about it. I'm so used to humans being vicious without purpose that I hadn't even considered that there'd be an ulterior motive behind the attack."

"I also suspect that the person Fordon was working for won't back down after Fordon's arrest."

"Do you know who that person might be?"

"...I have a hunch." Keeping the Winters family a secret was crucial to Connor's case. He couldn't risk rumors spreading and alerting the Winters's that he was looking into their behavior and past activities. "For now I want to continue to process my theory."

"Okay. I'll leave you to it."

"I don't know how long I'll be down here," the deviant detective admitted as he continued to check through the provided files. "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?" The desire for discretion and privacy was strong enough to give Connor every reason to politely excuse Markus from the archives. "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 CyberLife, the 'soul chips', the 'Zhorra project' and Stanley Fordon's activity. What the deviant uncovered seemed to only lead to more questions than answers, but he was bound and determined to understand what was really happening in the city and expose CyberLife's corruption once and for all.

For the most part the details on 'RK' prototypes' make and model were consistent with the information he had already been provided, but whenever he searched for anything regarding the 'soul chips' or the 'Zhorra project' - specifically what Zhorra's purpose was, he was met with a dead-end. All of the details revolving around Stanley Fordon had also been expunged shortly after his termination.

There was effectively no trail left to follow.

"Damn it. This isn't what I wanted to find."

A sense of despair filled Connor's find as he logged off the terminal and returned his palm to his bicep. The bullet felt like fire in his arm and every beat of his heart made the burning pain throb with a fresh ache.

"I have no choice but to wait for new evidence to come to light."

Admitting defeat for the time being Connor retreated from the archives to return to the house and check in on Hank again after searching for almost three hours. Even though he was struggling to just be in the same room as the man and address his current personal issues, Connor wanted to do his part in helping Hank recover and get back to his old life without needing constant assistance.

The house felt a little warmer than usual after Lucas returned with Sumo and Bruno at his side. The empathetic deviant didn't like the idea of leaving Bruno all alone at the large brownstone, and without any clients stopping by there was no reason to stay at the brownstone in general. The two dogs seemed to like each other, and they helped make the house feel a little safer, too. With everything being taken care of at the house Lucas was able to assist Hank with his latest dose of medication and he was able to have a sit down to talk with the senior detective regarding Connor's odd behavior. The two detectives wanted to help Connor overcome his guilt and move forward, but neither detective knew how to handle such a delicate situation.

Having very little experience with emotions had left Lucas feeling very out of his depth and in need of Hank's guidance. The senior detective was the only human that Lucas really knew, and as a result he felt as if Hank was the only human he could turn to in that moment.

"If he knows that he's not responsible for what happened to me, then why is he trying to kick his own ass?" Hank asked as he and Lucas sat together in the kitchen. Being kept on a strict diet and medication regimen left Hank feeling less in control over his life, and he absolutely hated it. "I can't exactly judge him for being a little... self destructive. I've danced with that particular devil myself. But why is he trying to take the blame for something he was a victim of?"

"I wish I knew. He's in a lot of pain and I suspect that his memory is still compromised in some capacity."

"Shit." Rubbing his hand over his bearded chin Hank noticed two things. One, he needed to have a bit of a trim after being unable to shave for so long, and two, he'd need to rely on his instincts as a father to help the young deviant come to terms with his past behavior and decisions. "Once he gets back here I'll try to get him to talk to me again. He can't start the bad habit of holding shit in all the time."

"I appreciate your help with this."

"Hey, even if he doesn't believe it right now, I can promise that I am his friend." The sound of the Oldsmobile pulling into the driveway beside the house drew Hank's attention toward the front door as he spoke to Lucas. Both Sumo and Bruno also faced the front door and started wagging their tails as they laid together on the large pillow in the corner of the livingroom. "I'll do whatever I can to help him out."

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 stepped through the front door with the bags of groceries in his arms. He hadn't been able to escape his thoughts or block out his pain and negative thoughts.

"Hey, son." The senior detective greeted with a sincere warmth behind his voice. "How're you feeling?"

"I'm well." Lying wasn't one of Connor's strengths and he knew it. Carrying the groceries into the kitchen Connor proceeded to unpack everything and put everything away while keeping his back to both Hank and Lucas. "I apologize for the delay in my return."

"Connor, what's going on with you?" Hank didn't delay addressing the issues with Connor's behavior and asked about it immediately. "And be honest with me. I won't judge you or be mad."

"...I took the time to run a second errand." The deviant dismissed the question as he focused on his current task. "I'm sorry that I was gone for so long."

"That's not what I'm talking about. You're clearly disturbed by what happened and you need to get some help."

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

"But you need to."

"Lieutenant, please." Connor deflected again as he tried to leave the kitchen to retreat down the hallway and into the bathroom 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."

"What's wrong?" Turning in his wheelchair Hank tried to follow after Connor as the deviant prepared to lock himself away in the private room. "You're acting like-"

"What?" Connor stopped short and looked back at Hank with a sideways glance. "A machine?"

"No, son." Awkwardly Hank managed to face Connor directly hoping that the deviant would finally look at him. "You're acting like a victim."

Such a description made Connor's brow knit with utter confusion. "...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..."

Hearing Hank trail off made Connor tense up as he was so desperate for answers that he was actually willing to hear Hank out. "Of what?"

"Assault."

"...Assault? That's not-" Connor stopped suddenly as he felt his heart skip a beat in his chest. Something about admitting to such an experience felt right in its own unusual manner. "I-I'm fine. I just need to rest and recalibrate my system."

"Right." Hank didn't want to let up with the questions, but he knew he needed to give the stubborn deviant some space otherwise he'd get pushed away entirely. "All right, son. Shower off the day and then get some sleep in the guestroom. I'll go to bed in a few minutes, too."

"...Thank you." The respect for his privacy gave Connor momentary reprieve. Thanks to the harsh winter air he felt chilled to his frames with the exception of the burning pain in his left bicep. "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 as he returned to the kitchen to speak with Lucas again. "Damn it."

Shortly after the bathroom door clicked shut Lucas spoke up in a low tone of voice to avoid catching Connor's ear. "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 or Connor?"

"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."

"That won't happen." Lucas wasn't going to lose his chance to form a strong brotherly bond with Connor like he had missed with Sydney. "I'll do what I can to help him through his emotional distress just as you helped him with his physical recovery."

"How about we work together?" The suggestion wasn't too out of the ordinary and seemed to be the obvious answer. Taking in a deep breath Hank tested his pain threshold in his core and was relieved that he didn't feel a sharp ache in his abdomen or chest as he healed. "Between the two of us we might be able to give Connor enough support to finally get out of his dark thoughts and get back to living his life as normally as possible."

The following morning was a nice break from all the snow and cold that had persisted over the city throughout winter. With a bright and sunny day to greet the Detroit in a welcome change of atmosphere, Hank was able to endure the protective nature of the two deviant brothers without putting up much of a fight. The senior detective had been taken to the hospital for his doctor's appointment right on schedule, and with Lucas's help Connor resided himself to a private location of the hospital and continued to keep to himself while they awaited Hank's return. It felt strange to not be working on a case at the moment considering everything they had learned, but they still needed new evidence before they could resume their investigation.

Unable to sit still for very long 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, as fortunately nothing happened to his nerves or bones. Reunited and informed of Hank's progress, Connor and Lucas were ready to get the senior detective back home to recuperate.

Connor was actively distracted by both the opened case and the ache in his left arm, and hadn't noticed that Lucas was engaging Hank in friendly conversation or that they had already arrived back at the house. The pain of having the bullet embedded his arm was now something he couldn't ignore and something he needed to address sooner rather than later, but it was also something Connor refused to admit was an actual problem.

After Hank was inside the house and comfortable in the livingroom, Connor isolated himself from the senior detective once again by taking the dogs outside to get some fresh air and run around. Sumo needed to take care of business and Bruno just loved the chance to run around in a grassy backyard and behave more like a real dog than a former police tool.

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. As he reached his hand down to rub Sumo's ears Connor was rewarded with some happy tail wags. It didn't take long for Bruno to sit beside Sumo and wag his tail just as happily.

"Are you two ready to go back inside?"

Sumo reached up pawed at Connor's right hand resting over his left bicep and the deviant held onto the paw for a second to shake. He had to keep Sumo from putting too much weight on his arm and was relieved when Bruno remained down instead of pawing at him as well.

"All right." Gently Connor pushed Sumo down and resumed cradling his sore left bicep. "Let's go inside for a while."

Walking slowly Connor returned to the house through the backdoor with Bruno and 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.

"Lieutenant, don't do that." Securing the door behind himself Connor approached the man warily while the two dogs set about their own business. "You need to rest."

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

"...Of course."

"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 sorry." Glancing about the area Connor wondered his brother had gone. "Where's Lucas?"

"Out." Hank replied sharply as he opened his book to begin reading. He knew that Lucas had a personal errand he wanted to run and had kept it quiet for a damn good reason. "Guess he wanted a change of behavior, too."

Connor hated the way he couldn't face his issues with Hank and he hated that being in chronic pain was making it all the more difficult to focus on anything. To avoid an argument Connor turned around and went back into the kitchen to find something to ease the pain in his arm in some capacity. Even the mildest of comforts would be a blessing to the deviant's frazzled and distracted mind.

Opening the freezer Connor pulled out a freshly frozen ice pack and wrapped it around his burning bicep and let out a small hiss. The concentrated cold against his now very sensitive artificial skin was almost as uncomfortable as the burning ache of the bullet under his skin. Closing the freezer door Connor used a small hand towel to wrap around the ice pack to keep the ice in place, then set about finding a way to distract himself further.

"Now what're you doing?" Hank asked from the livingroom as he noticed Connor fumbling about the kitchen. "I'm not hungry and I don't gotta' take any meds' for another two hours."

"...I'm trying to remain active." The deviant responded through his gritted teeth. The pain was almost unbearable, and Connor needed to find a way to keep his thoughts distracted for a while longer. "I won't make any noise."

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

Calling Sumo over to himself, Hank rubbed the dog's ears and reached for his shoes by the front door. After slipping the shoes on to his feet Hank put his book aside and stood up slowly to head out of the house for a few minutes.

"Lieutenant, please." Connor spotted Hank clipping the leash onto Sumo's collar by the front door and tried to intervene. The wheelchair had been pushed aside to be forgotten as Hank was determined to go for a walk that afternoon regardless of Connor's protests. "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 just yet."

"Well, I want to do this." The healing detective replied with a smug half grin. He knew he was going to get a reaction out of Connor by being stubborn. "It's been five weeks and I'm going stir-crazy."

"But you can't do that."

"Too bad."

"Hank," addressing Hank by his name and not his rank helped emphasize how concerned he was in that moment. "you can completely hinder your recovery if you physically exert yourself."

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

"Please." Connor walked over to the front door where he took the leash from Hank's left 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..." Keeping his hand over the ice pack Connor fought the urge to tell Hank about his suspicions of the Winters family or of the bullet causing him horrible pain. Mentioning anything about Lucas and himself being assaulted in the forest was also out of the question. "I can't."

"Why? Are you sick or something?" Hank had a red flag go up when he noticed Connor keeping an ice pack against his arm. "I want to know so I can help you."

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 left forearm, causing the deviant to jump and pull his arm away protectively against his chest as if he had just been burned.

"All right," Hank immediately noticed the way Connor was protecting his left arm and he saw the ice pack being kept in place over his bicep. "what the fuck is wrong with you?"

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

"Go talk to someone about what's upsetting you or talk to me. I'll listen."

"No." Connor replied almost defensively as if needing protect a deep dark secret. "Talking won't help with this."

"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? We may not be close friends or anything, but I'd like to think you'd be able to let me know what's going on. If you're hurt or sick I want to help you."

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."

"Hank, 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. He didn't want to stress out Hank with mentioning the Winters case or his and Lucas's assaults. "Please, let me be alone to think."

"Why can't you talk to me about this?"

"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 voice and took a step toward Connor only to have the deviant take a step back as if afraid of him. "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. Connor's soulful browneyes suddenly went wide with fear, and he kept his left arm cradled to his chest protectively.

"Wh-Whoa... 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 annoyed, but I'm not going to hit you or anything like that. You should know that I've changed and won't ever hurt you."

Looking down at the floor Connor shook his head and backed away again as if truly afraid of the man or the consequences of keeping secrets.

"Connor, did someone attack you or something?"

"I don't-" The astute question made Connor look back up in shock. "It's just..."

"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 all 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. "Go where?"

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

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

"You can't. No one can."

"Connor, what the fuck is-"

The deviant grabbed his trench coat off the hook by the front door before he 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 had happened to Connor or Lucas while he was in a coma.

"Son of a bitch..."

Hank made a reach for his phone sitting on the coffee table in front of the couch and immediately regretted it as it ribs ached horrifically at the bending motion. Returning to the wheelchair he had pushed aside against the wall Hank decided to call Lucas and asked for the deviant to return to the house for a minute so they could talk. After that Lucas would undoubtedly go in search of Connor himself.

"Damn it, Connor."

Swearing in frustration Hank looked over at Sumo and Bruno as he vowed to not let Connor fall down the same path of self destruction that Hank himself had once walked.

"I'm not letting you run away from this. Something's very wrong and you need help."

The city air was still brisk, but the sun's bright rays were warm and welcoming. Wrapped up in only his brown trench coat to keep him warm against the icy chill in the air Connor began his slow walk back to the brownstone with his head hung depressingly low and his right hand failing to protect his left bicep from its internal ache. The extreme changes in the surrounding temperatures made the pain in his arm even worse, and now with his enhanced senses repeatedly reminding Connor that he was damaged, that he was carrying around an old bullet inside of his body and that he had never truly faced his past issues, Connor was truly lost in a misery of his own making.

As he passed by the Zeta Facility on his way back to his brownstone, Connor contemplated entering the facility to have Abby finally remove the bullet and give him some relief, but he didn't want to see her. He couldn't bring himself to face her for the same reason he couldn't bring himself to truly speak with Hank. The guilt of harming two innocent people still felt like a lead weight in his artificial stomach.

Entering the brownstone and locking the door behind himself, Connor sighed and removed his coat to hang it up where it belonged on the front hook. As he set about removing his shoes Connor noticed a peculiar manilla envelope laying on the floor just a few inches away from the door. Clearly the envelope had been slid under the door while Connor and Lucas were away.

"What's this?"

Plucking the envelope from the floor Connor opened the flap at the end and peered at the contents contained within. Two large black and white photographs and a single typed document had been sealed away and were clearly meant only for Connor's eyes.

"How... Where did this come from?"

The first photograph was of the night Connor had been shot in Riverside Park. It showed Connor's lifeless body being cradled in Hank's arms as the man wept over the senseless murder. The angle of the photo was a direct shot, as if someone had been kneeling down in the snow just a few feet away and in front of Hank without being detected.

"Who took these photographs?"

The second photo wasn't much better. The second photo showed an image of Lucas and Sydney disguised as Connor entering the brownstone the night Connor was secretly taken back to Hank's house to heal. The image was taken from across the street and showed the front of the Oldsmobile idling with Hank behind the wheel while Lucas and Sydney entered the brownstone to remain locked up for the night.

"Someone... knew what happened. Who would know what had happened and why would they photograph it?"

Putting the photographs aside Connor read over the note and felt his stomach drop. The note was printed in black generic Helvetica font and in bold to make the words stand out against the pristine white paper. The paper itself was standard issue printer paper that anyone could purchase without leaving a trace of themselves on the material.

"Is this a warning?"

'YOU ARE CYBERLIFE'S GREATEST THREAT. YOU WILL NOT BE SAFE UNTIL ALL THE SECRETS ARE UNCOVERED. I SWORE TO AVENGE YOU THE NIGHT YOU WERE SHOT AND I WILL CONTINUE TO SEEK REVENGE UNTIL YOU AND OUR PEOPLE ARE ALL VINDICATED.'

'YOU ARE THE ONLY ONE WHO CAN UNCOVER THE TRUTH. DO NOT STOP LOOKING FOR THE ANSWERS. I WILL BE WATCHING. - X'

Connor tried and failed to analyze the paper for any discernible clues. There were no fingerprints, no hairs and no indentations on the paper to indicate where it could've originated. The ink itself was commonplace commercial ink that anyone could buy and use in a majority of household printers.

"Who is 'X', and how do they know I have been searching through CyberLife's secrets?"

Tensing up as he read the letter Connor hissed in pain as he returned his palm to his bicep. The pain was becoming so intense that the deviant couldn't deny that he needed a technician's care.

"Damn it..."

Walking over to the display board Connor accessed the hidden compartment and stored the photographs, letter and envelope in the hidden space alongside the metal cases containing the 'soul chips'. Until he could think more clearly Connor knew he couldn't work on any cases that came his way. He'd need to have the bullet extracted before anything else happened.

Sealing up the compartment and hiding it behind the display board again, Connor stepped away from the wall and clutched his left arm in a tight grip. The pain was becoming nightmarish all thanks to his enhanced biocomponents and sensors.

"S-Stop!"

Connor yelled as he reflexively slapped his own bicep as if he could somehow make the pain stop by pressing an imaginary button.

"Agh... Sh-Shit!"

The regret was immediate as the pain in Connor's arm flared up to an entirely new level of agony for a brief moment before the pain suddenly dulled and then began traveling along Connor's arm up toward his shoulder and then his chest. A warning appeared in Connor's vision regarding a new error, and it was one the deviant new was of a grave nature.

WARNING:

[...Foreign Contaminant Detected in Left Ascending Thirial Line]

[...Obstruction Detected: Left Ascending Thirial Line - 50% Capacity]

[...Seek Immediate Technical Assistance]

WARNING:

[...Self Healing Program: ERROR

...Emergency Stasis Mode Activation: 00:00:29

...Postpone Stasis Mode? [Y/N]

Before he could even select 'no' to call out for help regarding his situation, Connor felt a strange pressure in his chest directly over his now frantically beating Thirium pump. As his palm grasped as the source of pain in his chest Connor fell to his knees and was greeted with another warning regarding a new issue with another past injury that he had failed to properly treat and correct.

WARNING:

[...Thirium Pump Regulator - OVERHEATING: ^102.2 Degrees Fahrenheit

[...Thirium Pump Regulator - FAILING: 76% Functionality

[...Seek Immediate Technical Assistance]

WARNING:

[...Cybernetic Communications - DISABLED

[...Reenable Cybernetic Communications? [Y/N]

...[Y]

...ERROR

[...Unable to Comply with Request]

...ERROR

...ERROR

...ERROR

As the timer continued counting down Connor began gasping for air as he felt the vital biocomponent in his core overheating and struggling to function at normal capacity. Falling to his side Connor felt his pained heart thundering in an arrhythmic beat and knew that the bullet in his arm had entered the main line in the limb and had then traveled along the line directly to a metal coupling in his pump that connected it to the other main lines in Connor's body. The bullet was now lodged in the coupling and obstructing the flow of Thirium and making the pump unable to properly cycle or beat.

In a way, the bullet was acting like a blood clot that would obstruct the flow of blood to a heart and lead to a single dire outcome for any living creature.

Connor had just suffered total Thirial arrest.

-next chapter-