Connor was right where Hank feared he would be.

He was standing on a box, motionless. His hand was raised, holding up an off-white sheet that he was intimately aware was there to conceal Connor's body. "Connor?" He called gently. He didn't want to startle the kid as he approached.

"I'm ok," he responded, unprompted. It sounded distant, automatic, doing nothing to convince Hank that it was true.

"I know, kid" he told him, not calling him out on the obvious lie. "I know. Come on." Gently, he pulled the corner of the sheet from his small hand and let it re-cover the familiar figure.

Hank wrapped his arm around Connor's stomach, pulling him backward until he was pressed to his chest. Connor continued staring at the sheeted form. He could feel him shaking. "I'm ok," he whispered again.

"Yeah, you are," Hank told him, trying to radiate confidence. "You're ok. You're still here, you're alright, and you'll be back in your regular body before you know it."

Connor finally looked up at him, head arching back and big brown eyes brimming with a hesitant uncertainty. He blinked a couple of times as though only just registering that Hank was there. "Hank? I… right. You're right. I'm sorry."

He pulled him around to hold him properly. "Don't apologize, Connor," he said, threading Connor's arms around his neck and lifting him to settle on his hip. "Only thing you should be sorry about is checking in on the wrong evidence."

"R-right," Connor said. "I was just… I wanted to assess the damage."

"Simon can do that. I'm sure he'll be able to fix you up no problem." Connor turned as though he was going to look back at the body, but Hank pressed his head to his shoulder instead. He didn't need to be looking at that. "Come on. Let's take a look at the forensic report."

Connor nodded, soft brown hair tickling Hank's ear, and he set about carrying him to the central terminal. It was a difficult balance sometimes, navigating the line between Dad and Lieutenant, but deep down he knew that the kid was his son first and foremost. He would try to distract him with the case, but if he couldn't handle this, he would get him the hell out of here.

"I'm sorry," Connor whispered again as Hank sat him down on the terminal. He rubbed at his face as though wiping away tears even though his face was dry.

Hank shook his head. "Stop apologizing, kid. You're fine. Nobody expects you to be ok with… well… anything right now." He brushed at the kid's hair, getting him to look up. "Just let me know if it's too much, ok? No shame in it, alright?"

"Alright," he agreed, though it didn't sound very convincing. He was pretty sure it was going to fall to him to keep an eye on the kid. He was ok with that.

Hank gave him what he hoped was an encouraging smile, then tapped his password into the terminal, unlocking the screen to display the data they were there for. "Ok, let's see what forensics dug up."

Connor looked over at the screen and it drew him in instantly, soft brown eyes lighting up as they only ever did in the face of analytical data or crime scene evidence. God, his kid was weird. "LP700, AX200, HK300," he muttered to himself. "Different biocomponents all from different androids. It looks like we were right. Black market dealing."

"God, why can't we be wrong sometimes," Hank mused.

Connor leaned over the terminal, little hands bracing on the screen as he frowned down at the data. "The androids were unregistered," he commented. "That's going to make it much harder to identify the victims."

"Shit. That means New Jericho won't even have any info on them," he agreed.

Registration was a rather new concept, but one that Markus had been pushing for. Most had taken to it rather well, but there were many still in opposition of the idea, seeing it as a form of oppression instead of inclusion. It provided an android with everything required for legal citizenship and was necessary for both housing and employment. Well, in most cases.

"Speaking of registration…"

"I'll get to it," Connor cut him off before he could continue.

Hank had to stifle a groan. The kid had been saying that since the idea was in place, and was showing no sign of even starting the process. Fowler had petitioned that Connor join the force long before registering was a thing, so he had been the exception to that rule. He'd been unable to have a bank account, so one had been set up in Hank's name ready to transfer to the android once it was legal to do so. All that, coupled with him living with Hank, gave the kid little motivation to get his paperwork in order.

It pissed Hank off.

Not because Connor was technically not a legal citizen, that didn't really bother him, and the accommodations in place to bend the rules so he could work weren't a problem. But there was still legal shit that was inaccessible while he was unregistered.

Namely, Hank couldn't adopt him.

"Right, yeah. You'll get to it," he said, unamused.

Connor shot him an annoyed look of his own before turning back to the evidence. "That's not really the point right now, Lieutenant," he scolded. "We should still contact Markus. Even if they aren't registered with New Jericho, we have their serial numbers. A couple of them had official designations too. We may be able to get some information, even if it isn't much."

Hank muttered out an agreement, silently reasoning that he could table the issue for now. They had a lot to worry about, it wasn't really fair to pester the kid about legal shit when he had just died.

-o-

Their meeting with Markus had gone about as well as expected. While the leaders of Jericho had been happy to see them, they had very little to offer by way of information on the victims.

"That was a complete waste of time," Connor complained.

"We knew it was a long shot." Hank had taken them to the park to cool down and talk things over. He knew that the trip to New Jericho had stressed him in more ways than one.

"I know," he groaned out. "It just feels like we keep hitting dead ends. It's as if Mr. Sawyer just stopped existing. No one has seen him in weeks, and now we can't even get any information on his victims!"

"Yeah, we really don't have much to go on," he admitted. Hank stretched his arm over the back of the bench they were sitting on, creating an opening, but leaving the decision whether or not to take it up to the kid.

Connor leaned over automatically, falling into the hug as though he didn't even need to think about it. It felt good, especially considering how uncomfortable he had been with the attention Markus and the Jerichrew had been giving him less than an hour ago. "The only person we know anything about is Bridget, and we aren't even sure she was one of his targets." He looked so small tucked against his side like that.

Hank rubbed his arm affectionately. "Maybe we should take a break, come at it fresh in the morning," he offered. "We are off the clock."

"But-!"

"Has anyone ever told you you work too damn hard?" Hank cut him off.

Oh, that pout was worth it. "I do not!"

He rolled his eyes, looking out at the kids playing not far away. Most of them were no older than Connor looked. And yet, here he was, discussing mass murder instead of begging to be pushed on a swing. "Yeah, you do. You know, life is about more than work."

"I work so that other people have a life, Hank," he countered. "Mr. Sawyer has killed dozens of androids. If we don't stop him, more are going to die."

Not for the first time, Hank wondered if this case was too personal for Connor. He was one of the victims after all. When he had first started working again, he had been laser focused on the job. It had taken months to break him out of that. Now, it was like they were back at square one.

"You're stressed, Connor," he argued. "Don't pretend you aren't. You're fuckin' stressed and you're hyperfixating. You know you aren't your best when you get like this. You need a break."

Connor looked up at him and for a moment, Hank thought he was going to continue the debate. Instead he sighed, far more dramatically than what would usually come out of the android. "I know," his eyes were watery. "It just feels like we haven't made any progress at all. It feels like… like I'm failing."

And there it was. One of Connor's biggest insecurities. One of the neurosies that had been literally hardwired into his brain. "You aren't failing, kid. I promise." Hank gave him a gentle squeeze. "But running around in circles isn't gonna solve anything."

"I know." His voice was soft and small, but at least he got through to him.

"Come on, let's get home," he prodded. "It looks like it's gonna rain." He took Connor's hand, leading him to the car.

That should have been the end of the day. They should have gone home, relaxed, maybe watched some tv before heading to bed. But what should have happened, never seemed to be the way things actually went.

The first thing Hank heard was the tires screeching. Up ahead of them, a car swerved erratically. Hank had seen enough drunk drivers to know immediately that the person behind the wheel was far from sober. It jumped the curb, and time seemed to slow. A pedestrian dodged out of the way, shouting in surprise and pain. The vehicle clipped the man in the side rather than hitting him straight on, likely only injuring him rather than ending his life.

Connor's hand slipped away from his. While time moved like molasses around him, it had apparently stopped entirely for Hank. He couldn't move. Couldn't call out. Couldn't do anything but watch as his kid ran towards the oncoming vehicle. The tiny android had apparently plotted out the car's drunken path. He used a fire hydrant as a step, jumping at it in interception with far more agility than a child should be capable of.

Hank didn't unfreeze until Connor had successfully grabbed onto the car's roof rack, bracing himself as it swayed to and fro across the park and back onto the street.

"Connor!" He shouted after him. He ran, trying to chase down the vehicle on foot, but it was too late.

In a matter of seconds it was all over. The park was abuzz with commotion in the wake of the accident. Many were crowding the man who had been hit, offering assistance and assessing his condition. Hank should have been doing that too. He should have been calling it in, getting an ambulance there. But he couldn't bring himself to do any of that.

All he could manage to do was stare uselessly after the vehicle that had just sped away and taken his son with it.