The house was absolutely spotless after Lucas stopped by the residence to clean things up, and the only thing out of place were the 'Get Well Soon' cards and flowers that the precinct had sent Hank's way after word of his stroke had spread. Having been visited from every familiar face in the bullpen at least twice Hank was sick of the good cheer and just wanted to go back home to finish his now two week long recovery. The doctors were optimistic that Hank wouldn't suffer any long term or permanent effects from the stroke due to Connor's quick responses the wonders of t.P.A. being improved over the past twenty years, but Captain Fowler still wanted Hank to recover a while longer before returning to work.

Laying down over the length of the couch with a small ice pack pressed to his right side and a new prescription for pain medication and antibiotics to ensure his side healed properly, Hank looked as exhausted as he felt. The two days in the hospital stressed him out on a mental level and he was just happy to home with his best friend and his dog without a doctor or nurse to poke him with a needle.

While Hank was well on his way to a full physical recovery Connor was struggling to heal emotionally. The deviant had busied himself with tending to the plants outside while also keeping right on schedule with Hank's medication, and making sure Hank was getting up every thirty minutes to stretch out his legs a little to ensure no further clots would be an issue while he recovered.

As he returned to the couch after finishing his usual lap around the backyard Hank gave Connor a calm and sympathetic glance as the deviant helped him to lay back over the couch again. "You do know that I can get up and do the little things for myself right? If anything you should let me have the space to cook my own meals and get up to get my own meds' so I don't have to do those yard laps anymore."

Connor's L.E.D. had been yellow for the past two days and his voice was barely a whisper. "...I just wish to help you."

"I know, and I appreciate it. But it's okay to let me be alone for a few minutes."

"...Okay."

"Hey?" The way Hank spoke one would've thought he was trying to not disturb someone sleeping in the middle of the room. "It's okay. I won't do anything stupid if you look away for a minute."

"...I know."

It was clear that Connor was running on actual low power and needed to rest. "You're exhausted. You didn't sleep for the past two nights, did ya'?"

"...Not well. No."

"Go lay down in your room and relax. I promise I'll take my meds' and I won't move around too much and open up my side by accident. It's fine."

Not wanting to offend Hank with his worrying Connor took one final scan of Hank's vital signs, the senior detective was of course stable, and took a step back from the couch. Turning around to walk down the hallway Connor trudged very slowly and entered his bedroom with a quiet presence.

"Poor kid is going through some serious shit and I have no idea how to help him through it."

Patting the side of the couch Hank beckoned over Sumo from the dog's pillow in the corner, and ran his right hand down the Saint Bernard's back in an affectionate manner.

"Think the therapists in this town would be willing to listen to deviants without telling them that all of their problems are in their head because they're androids?"

Sumo licked his nose and sat down beside the couch as he pressed his chin down over Hank's chest. Letting out a soft sigh Sumo looked up at Hank with his big brown eyes as if trying to communicate.

"Yeah, me neither."

Pulling his phone from his pocket Hank sent a text to Lucas to thank him for his help with the house, then asked if he had any advice with dealing with deviants suffering from intense emotional distress. Unfortunately, Lucas didn't have the answer and Hank was left in the dark.

"Shit..." Dragging his left palm over his bearded chin Hank sighed and put his phone aside. "Well, I guess I'll have to think of something myself."

With the new trend of deviants having their Thirium drained from their bodies to make dangerously concentrated batches of 'red ice' spreading fear and uncertainty through the deviant community, New Jericho took steps to make their people still feel safe within the tower. Speaking with Simon and Josh in the main office of the tower Markus listened to his colleagues' opinions on the matter, while also contributing his own. The priority was keeping their people safe and ensure that anyone who felt threatened could come to the tower and seek shelter for as long as they needed. Such a gesture would be openly welcome but difficult to accomplish.

Keeping the tower accessible had already been agreed upon, but until the string of kidnapped and assaulted deviants finally ended the doors would be locked every evening at eight o'clock. Anyone who wanted inside the tower after hours would require clearance from one of the deviants already inside the tower.

"We've had word of nine deviants being abducted and drained of Thirium." Markus stated in a somber voice as he looked to his colleagues beside him. "And two of the deviants have been shutdown due to having too much, if not all, of their Thirium drained."

"How come we haven't heard anything about this earlier?" Josh wisely asked as he tried to understand the full gravity of the situation. "So many victims in such a small window of time..."

"Our connections with the police are virtually nonexistent." Unable to find a way to contact Connor, not yet, Markus felt somewhat responsible for what was happening to his people in the city. "I haven't spoken with Connor and I doubt he'd tell us anything anyway."

Simon sighed and gave his own opinion on the matter. "You know, these people who are hurting deviants need to find new victims pretty frequently. If all of our people were out here," pointing at the floor as he spoke Simon emphasized his point eloquently. "in this tower and the tower is locked down, then those dealers will either find a different source or be foolish enough to make an attempt to get to the tower and expose themselves."

"I doubt the people living outside the tower would be willing to move in to the tower, temporary or not." Recognizing the difficulty of the situation at hand Markus carefully weighed their pros and cons. "But you may be right, Simon. We should spread the word and make sure the deviants know to come here in the event of an emergency, no questions asked."

"Then I'll go prepare an emergency statement." Standing up from the small white sofa Simon gave Markus and Josh a quick nod of his head. "We'll keep it simple and do our best to keep the panic to an absolute minimum."

Markus looked over to Josh and sighed a little. "We should check our supplies and make sure we have plenty of Thirium available in the event we get a rush of panicked deviants coming our way. Can you handle it?"

"Yeah, I can do that." Ever compassionate Josh took notice of the dour mannerisms in Markus's words and voice, and reached out a friendly hand. "Worried about North?"

"No, she can handle herself and I know she's recruiting more and more deviants to help her with her cause. She isn't alone and she can fight back if she needs to."

"Then... It's Carl. I can tell you're worried about something, or more specifically, someone."

Putting his hands together Markus pressed his knuckles to chin thoughtfully. "...He's getting older and weaker. I don't think he'll make it through the spring."

"I'm sorry, Markus. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"No. I just need to find the best way to handle my responsibilities here and my priorities to Carl back at the house. It's just going to be a little tense for me for a while, that's all."

"Hey, remember that me and Simon are here to help out at all times. If you need to go back to Carl then do it, we'll understand."

"Thank you." Dropping his hands from his chin Markus let out a small sigh and tried to not think too hard about Carl's mortality slipping away. "And I know Carl would thank you, too."

The week progressed slowly as Hank healed, the precinct struggled to reign in the latest 'red ice' epidemic and New Jericho quietly reached out to the deviant community to bring as many innocent people into the tower for safety. Keeping up to date with the 'red ice' situation through reports being sent to his laptop while he recovered at home Hank knew that the sooner he and Connor returned to the precinct the better. Closing the laptop with a soft 'click' Hank rolled back in the chair to rise from the desk and proceeded to peer through the front window to the rainy spring day outside.

The air smelled fresh and clean, while the entire outside world as far as Hank could see was drenched under a warm layer of fresh rain. Above the city the dark clouds continued to build and blot out the sun even as noon came around as per usual.

"At least I have a legitimate excuse to not take ya' for a walk today, Sumo."

From the couch Sumo just yawned and rolled over from his side and onto his back.

"Yeah, I can tell you're heartbroken..."

Making his way into the kitchen Hank proceeded to take his next dose of medication right on schedule and chased the pills with a gulp of fresh water from a bottle of water. The medication would last another week and afterward Hank would be free of the annoying schedule.

"I hate medicine... Damn things always make me feel weird."

Lifting up his faded 'Knights of the Black Death' t-shirt Hank looked at the bandage covering the bullet wound in his right side and pressed his hand along the bandage. There was only mild pain, like a healing bruise, and thanks to how well Connor made sure to clean and bandage the wound every morning and night for the past week there was no sign of even the smallest of infections.

"Maybe the kid should switch from being a detective to a doctor. He does great work-" Realizing that Connor hadn't bothered to leave his bedroom to check on Hank and make sure he took the medicine, Hank began to worry. "...What's he doing anyway?"

Replacing his shirt Hank walked down the hallway and knocked on Connor's closed bedroom door. There was no reply from the other side of the door which prompted Hank to knock again before speaking up.

"Connor? You've been in your room all day. Are you okay?"

A heavy paused filled the air before Connor's voice suddenly answered in a mumble. "...I don't think so."

Opening the door slowly Hank walked into the bedroom and spotted Connor laying on his right side with his back presented to the door and his eyes transfixed on the window that was covered in raindrops. The way Connor seemed listless, exhausted and completely morose told Hank that the deviant needed some help for a problem that neither of them could readily identify.

Moving quietly Hank walked over to the bed and gently pressed his left palm over Connor's forehead on a paternal instinct to check for a fever. "Are ya' sick?"

"...I don't know."

"What do you know?"

"...I feel..." Connor was struggling to communicate his emotions without even knowing what he was even experiencing. "I feel... wrong."

Sitting down on the edge of the bed Hank moved his hand over to Connor's shoulder and lowered his voice. As the mattress dipped down under Hank's weight Connor seemed to tense up for a moment, then relaxed. "Can you tell me what feels wrong?"

A breathy sigh introduced his words as Connor closed his eyes. "Everything. Everything feels wrong."

"That's a lot to sort through. Can you narrow it down?"

"...I can try."

"Trying is the best way to start. Just start talking."

"...My mind and my heart don't feel connected. It's as if what I think and what I feel are simply incompatible."

"I can see how that would make you feel wrong."

"And I feel like I have no energy or drive to do anything, but I can't seem to stop thinking about everything and be content."

Hank could see a piece of himself in Connor at that moment as he listened to the deviant's story. "Do you feel like you're numb but in pain at the same time? Does it feel like you need to cry for no reason? Like, even the smallest of thing - no matter how insignificant, could send you over the edge and break you?"

Turning his head a little against his pillow Connor looked up at Hank with his glassy brown eyes. "...How did you know that?"

"I've felt like the way you feel right now countless times before. Depression is a real bitch."

"...Depression." Returning his gaze to the window Connor sank into his pillow and released a deep sigh. "Why are emotions so traitorous?"

"No damn clue." Patting Connor's shoulder a little Hank looked toward the window and sighed where he sat. "I've been trying to figure that out for decades now, son."

"How do I stop being depressed?"

"I don't know about that, either."

The sound of the pattering rain was rhythmic and calming in an otherwise distressing moment. "...Does it last forever?"

"Fortunately, no. It just feels like it'll never end or go away. But it does."

"How?"

"It depends on the person. Some people get a new hobby, some go on vacation, some just move to a whole new place to live or get a new job. There's no universal 'cure' to depression."

"...You said you've felt this way before. Do you feel that way right now?"

"Not at the moment, no."

"What changed for you?"

"Well, I got interrupted mid drink at 'Jimmy's Bar' by a clever deviant who bought me another drink to get on my good side, then stuck around as my partner no matter how much I tried to scare them off, or sneak away. Turns out having such a person in my life help me turn things around for myself."

"How did I help you with your depression?"

"You gave me a friend and you never judged me despite knowing my problems. You kept trying to get me to talk about them and to stop drinkingm instead of trying to get me to 'snap out of it', or just move on with my life. Sometimes all you need is a small change in your life to remind you what's living for."

"...I don't think that'll work for me. I don't want or need anything, such a change doesn't appeal to me."

"You'll find something to help you feel better. You'll see."

"I'll take your word for it."

"How about after we figure out this 'red ice' bullshit we go back up to the cabin so you can plant your flower and check on things in the clearing? It never hurts to get away from the city for a while and relax."

"...I find the cabin peaceful, but every time I go there it feels like I'm running away from my problems instead of solving them."

"There's nothing wrong with stepping back to get a different, if not better, perspective on life."

Turning to look up at Hank again Connor gave the senior detective a doubtful glance. "You sound so certain."

"Nothing's certain, son. That's why we as detectives look for evidence, talk to witnesses and never take anything at face value."

"I suppose you're right."

"Well, since it's a nasty rainy day and there's nothing to do... we should go watch a movie, and relax in the livingroom."

"Which movie?"

"I don't know. Maybe we should look for a detective movie and see which of us can figure out the case first."

Blinking slowly Connor rolled onto his back and used his elbows to prop himself upright on his bed for a moment, then sat up entirely. "...You wish to work on a fictional case that holds no real merit to the real world?"

"Think of it as practice. And like I said, a different perspective can help you see things differently." Rising from the bed Hank waited for Connor to finally get off the bed as well. "Maybe if you look at a new case through the eyes of another detective you can see things that would normally go unnoticed."

"...Very well. I suppose a distraction could be very welcoming at the moment." Standing up slowly Connor looked down at the blue weighted blanket on his bed and promptly wrapped it around his shoulders to keep a sense of security around himself. The weighted blanket really did seem to help with his anxiety and he hadn't had a nightmare since he started using it. "...Should we put a friendly wager on the case?"

"Wager, huh?" Stepping out of the bedroom with Connor following right behind him Hank admitted that he was intrigued. "What kind of wager?"

"I'm not quite sure."

"Okay... How about after we take care of the 'red ice' shit and chill at the cabin for a while, we go and find you your own car?"

"My own car? What kind of wager is that?"

"Well, I like working on cars and I know whatever you pick would be properly taken care of." Plopping down on the couch along the lounger Hank pushed on Sumo's hip to make the large dog scoot over a little as Connor sat down on the couch beside him. "So the wager should be... If you solve the case first you can pick whatever car you want from wherever you want, and I can't say a damn word about it. If I solve the case first then you need to pick something I find interesting so I can help ya' work on it and get it running smoothly."

"You could always buy a second vehicle if you wish to work on something."

"Nah! Not as fun. So, what do you think? Deal?"

"...I suppose that's an acceptable arrangement."

"All right then." Picking up the television remote Hank began checking through detective movies to watch while Sumo stretched out enough to lay over the laps of both detectives. Sumo enjoyed having both masters to cuddle on. "Let's find something-"

"The film cannot be one you've previously seen, regardless of how long ago it was. That's cheating."

"...You got me." Smirking coyly Hank agreed and cycled through the available movies more slowly. "All right, fine. A film neither of us have seen before."

-next chapter-