What the fuck was taking so goddamn long?

Hank was trying not to get frustrated, trying not to be bothered by the long wait, but something was grating on his nerves. This was just a checkup, wasn't it? It was supposed to be in and out. Did they find a problem? Surely they would tell them if something was wrong.

He flipped through the digital magazine for the third time. It had been well over an hour and the fact that he hadn't had dinner yet was certainly not improving Hank's mood.

As much as he projected an air of old and grumpy, Hank made it a point to not be an asshole to people just doing their jobs. That alone was the only thing stopping him from marching over to the receptionist and demanding what the holdup was. He sighed, shutting off the magazine. He really didn't care about 'the ten best workouts for a sexier butt' any more now than he did the first time he skimmed past the article.

He tapped it against his leg a couple of times before standing up and making his way to the receptionist. Asking questions was only rude if he was mean about it after all. "Uh hey," he asked as soon as she finished with the guest she was helping.

"Yes?" She responded pleasantly. The nameplate on the desk said her name was Amber, a name that matched her eyes. "How can I help you?"

"Yeah, um. I was just wondering how long this was supposed to take?" He asked. "It's kinda been a while."

She smiled at him in that too-sweet customer service way that had likely been programmed into her. She only faltered slightly when he assumed she realized he was human. "Of course, so sorry for the wait. What exactly are you here for?"

Hank sighed, trying not to take out his frustration on her. "I'm here with Connor, he's in for a recheck."

Amber's face twisted into confusion. "A… recheck?"

"Yeah, he was in a few days ago with a broken arm," he clarified. "Said he had to come back for a recheck."

Her confusion didn't subside, but she turned to the terminal in front of her. Her hand went white and she interfaced with the keyboard. "We don't typically do rechecks unless the damage repaired was substantial," she said somewhat offhandedly. "Connor you said?"

"Yeah, he's a prototype." Hank ran his hand across his face, scratching at his beard. "Looks like a six-year-old."

Whatever Amber found on the computer didn't seem to help. "I found his file from the other day, but I have no record of him checking in with a technician today."

Hank felt as though he had been electrocuted. A bad feeling settled in his stomach. "That's… not right," he said, bad feeling only growing. "He got here over an hour ago. He went back with that other receptionist guy. Eric, I think it was?"

She turned, still frowning, to the other android back in the office. "Monica?" She asked. "Did Eric work today?"

Her coworker, Monica apparently, looked up at the question. "No, I don't think so. He wasn't scheduled." She paused, thoughtfully. "Although, he did stop in for a moment. He said he had something to pick up."

Hank's anxiety spiked from concerned annoyance to downright panic. "What the hell does that mean? What did he pick up? He didn't take Connor."

"No, he wouldn't," Amber insisted immediately, but her voice wavered, not sure of her own words. "He wouldn't have a reason too. I'm sure it's just a clerical error. We'll figure out what happened."

Somehow, Hank wasn't convinced. His whole body seemed to vibrate in anxiety and his ears started to ring. Only his years of training kept him focused on the problem at hand rather than dissolving into a grief-stricken coma. But even as his body took over, following the procedure he knew effortlessly, Hank's mind could only repeat a single thought. He couldn't lose Connor again.

-o-

It quickly became clear that neither Connor, nor Eric were in the building. Just as quickly, the clinic became a crime scene. Technicians and patients alike became witnesses, not that it yielded much information. One of the techs reported seeing the android escorting the kid down the hall, but no one seemed to have any information beyond that.

After Hank had called it in, Fowler himself had come down to head the investigation. He'd been updated on everything they knew so far and it wasn't nearly enough. As much as he wanted to dive in himself, there was something else that needed his attention first.

Jeffery joined Hank outside the clinic. He was by his car pacing, agitated, worried. Everything he expected him to be. Despite the stoic mask his friend was wearing, he knew him well enough to see his devastation. He never wanted to see that look again.

"I'm going to need your statement too, Hank," Jeffery told him. He tried to keep his voice sympathetic while not letting his own worry affect his tone. It was a skill he had long since mastered, but that didn't mean it wasn't hard.

"I'll tell you anything you want," Hank all but barked at him. Jeffery could tell his focus was in a million places, categorizing everything he could remember, sifting through every face that came and went since he saw Connor last. He was desperate. "But first we've got a shit ton of people to interrogate."

Fowler shook his head. "We have people working on that."

"Yeah, well I haven't had my crack at them yet."

"Hank," he stepped into his line of sight, making sure to obtain as much of his attention as possible. He was going to fight, he knew he would. "You aren't on this case."

"Fuck you Jeffery," Hank snapped, predictably. "Don't you start with that shit."

He shook his head again. "You know how this goes, Hank. You're too close-"

"The whole fuckin' precinct is close to this!" He argued. "He's one of our own, this is personal for all of us."

"You know damn well it's different for you!" Jeffery shouted back. His composure broke for just a moment, but Hank was too worked up to notice. "That's your fuckin' kid, Hank! Everyone knows that, you can't pretend this is just about your partner! For fuck's sake, I shouldn't even be letting the two of you work together, I'm not budging on this!"

"Goddammit Jeffrey! I can't lose him again," Hank cried, voice breaking even as he swore. A tear escaped his eye, rolling down his cheek to get lost in his beard. "I can't. I need to find him, he needs to be ok. I can't lose him again!"

Jeffery was devastated himself at losing Connor. He was a good kid, and a damn good cop. But it was seeing Hank, his old friend, like this again that broke his heart. "I know, Hank. I know," he tried to console him.

"Don't fucking tell me that you know!" Hank snapped, more angered than placated. Another tear escaped even as he yelled. "You don't know. How could you possibly know?"

He was right, of course. There was no way Jeffery could truly know how Hank felt right now. He could only speculate, knowing he would be inconsolable if anything happened to his girls.

"You're right, Hank. I don't know," he admitted, bitterly. "I don't know what you're going through, and I pray to god I never will. But I know you're hurting. I know it hurts, and if screaming at me will do anything at all to help, you go right ahead. I'm here for you for whatever you need. But I can't let you on this case."

Instead of continuing to yell, Hank crumbled. Sadness won out over anger and, as though his body had only been held up by his rage, he collapsed as it drained from him. Jeffery helped support him, leaning him against the car so he wouldn't fall. "I can't do this again, Jeff. I can't do it."

It wasn't often that Jeffery didn't know what to say. "Hank, I… I'm sorry," was all he could think of.

Hank didn't seem to be expecting any kind of real answer though. He just looked, heartbroken, through the car window, eyes glued to the empty child seat as though staring at it could make the kid appear. He rubbed at his face, dislodging a few more tears. "How can I just do… nothing?" He asked, hopelessly.

"You aren't doing nothing, Hank." He told him. He put as much reassurance into his voice as he could. "You're doing your job. Stepping back and letting us take the reins to avoid conflict of interest."

"Stowe your PR bullcrap, Jeffery," he sighed. He could tell that Hank knew he was right, that he knew he had to concede, and that was proving to be too much for the man.

Jeffrey bit down on his tongue. There were so many reassurances he wanted to give him, but they would all be empty nothings. Hollow words that would only reflect how hopeless the situation really was. He pulled open the car door, maneuvering his friend to sit, afraid he would fall under the weight of his grief. "You're going to be ok, Hank," he promised anyway.

Hank didn't believe him, and he sure as hell didn't blame him. He leaned back in the seat, eyes clouded and watery. His hand fell on Connor's stuffed turtle. "Oh…god…" he sobbed, pulling it into his arms.

"Hank-"

"I was supposed to… He didn't want to come," Hank almost choked out the words. The lump in his throat nearly stopped him from breathing, let alone speaking. "He didn't want to come. I basically forced him. God, Jeffrey. I promised to protect him and I just handed him over to this asshole."

"Stop it. Don't do that to yourself, Hank," Jeffrey ordered. "This wasn't your fault, you know that. The only person to blame here is the fucker that took him."

Hank sighed miserably, but at least he seemed to listen. "Lotta good blame will do if we can't catch the bastard. We've got nothing, Jeff, nothing."

That was fair, honestly. The cameras were scrubbed and nobody had seen anything. All they really had was what his van looked like and his license plate. It was a start, but they wouldn't even have enough to convict unless they found something concrete.

No way in hell he could say that to Hank though.

He leaned against the car, standing close, hoping just being there would help, even minutely. "You said so yourself. This is personal for all of us. We're gonna put our all into this, we'll find him, Hank."

The look that Hank gave him was devoid of any of the reassurance he tried to give him. Piercing, devastated, eyes that knew the answer to his question before he asked it. "Alive?"

It was something they both knew he couldn't promise. Hank had been at this job too long to not know Connor's chances. This asshole wasn't after a ransom, wouldn't gain anything from keeping the kid alive. As it was, Fowler knew damn well they were probably already searching for a corpse. Bastard already killed him once.

He stood beside Hank silently. As a Captain, he couldn't make vows that they had no way of keeping. But, he couldn't bring himself to voice the truth.

"Lie to me, Jeffery," Hank said. His voice was soft, but the emotion behind it shook him painfully. "Lie to me."

Lie. That he could do. Hank didn't need a police captain right now, he needed a friend. A friend that would tell him a comforting distruth to give him something, anything, to hold onto. "He's gonna be ok," he said, almost automatically. "We're gonna find him right away. He's gonna be just fine. That fucker won't have harmed a hair on his head."

The choked sob that came from his old friend said it wasn't as comforting as he had hoped. Tears ran freely down his cheeks now and he clung to Connor's turtle so tight, he thought a seam might burst.

Jeffery swallowed down his own tears. "I'll keep you in the loop as much as I can, Hank," he promised. That at least wasn't a lie.

Hank nodded stiffly. Tears aside, he looked numb, which Jeffery would count as improvement. "Find him Jeffery," he implored, his voice wet and hollow. "Find him, he's… he's my little fish."

He reached over, giving his friend's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "You should go home, Hank. We'll find Connor. You, go home."

He wondered if Hank had heard him at first. He sat silently, unchecked tears soaking the stuffed turtle. Jeffrey opened his mouth to speak again before he beat him to it.

"Yeah," he sighed. "Yeah I'll… I'll go. I'm keeping you." Hank looked up, hollow but imploring. "You hear anything, anything, you call me."

"I will," he promised automatically. "Come on, I don't want you driving. I'll get someone to take you."

Jeffery was glad he didn't protest to that at least. The man looked beyond drained. He summoned officer Collins, reasoning he would be one of the least likely to upset Hank even more. As he watched him go, he wished more than ever that there was more he could do to make this right for his old friend.

"Captain?" Detective Miller called from the doorway.

He took a breath, steadying himself, shoving down all personal feelings besides vengeful determination. "We're catching this motherfucker," he said before pushing past him and walking back into the building.

He had work to do.