Hey all!

So, I'm not very happy with this chapter. It's a little pointless, mostly Hank's reaction to the last chapter, as well as setting up later plot, but I hope y'all like it .

Also, if there are any artists reading this story, I was thinking of commissioning someone for something that happens next chapter. I can't offer much, $30 at most, but I can offer a realistic drawing in exchange, as well as a one-shot story. I won't give much detail here, but I want a specific drawing of Connor done. You can message me here, or on my Tumblr Spikeisawesome456

Oh! I also changed the summery, if anyone was curious. I felt that this story wasn't getting a lot of views, and wondered if it was the summery. So, I changed it to the first paragraph of the story. Cliche, but I didn't know what else to put. So, yeah.

Enjoy!

Chapter 11: Not Useless.

Hank stormed out into the gardens of the facility, bitter cold stinging his flesh, mind racing through everything he had just learned.

What. The. Ever. Loving. Fuck?!

What the fuck. What the Fuck?! A secret underground organization, which /Connor was a part of,/ existed this entire time, right under their noses? What the fuck?!

Hank had been a cop for over 30 goddamn years, and yet even he had no idea? What about Fowler? What about his friends on the force? Hank resolved to ask them about it the next time they came. Ben would be there in two days (with Sumo, thank Fuck. He really could use his good boy right about then.)

But for now… Hank paced the frigid grounds, the bushes now officially dead as the winter frost finally crept in, the entire landscape dusted with ice and the beginnings of snow. It was November 16th and Hank knew that before the end of the week they'd be getting many inches of the shit. Which is why he wished he could enjoy his time outside, but fucking couldn't. He hadn't even grabbed a coat on his way out of the room. That's how pissed he was.

How dare Markus, not only lying to him, but calling him weak and worthless to his face? Hank had been working on that worksheet that Rose had given, had even begun to start feeling better (not much as it had only been a day, after all,) only for that fucking shit to happen. He'd always known he was worthless but hearing someone he trusted and kind of liked say it, to his face no less, hurt like nobody's business. It was a sharp, keen ache inside and Hank hated it. He hated it with all his being.

That's why he hadn't wanted friends. Why he had just wanted to waste his way into nothing, everyone forgetting about him until there was nothing left of who he had been before that remained. It hurt so. Fucking. Much. To know he wasn't worth the effort. To know that Markus not only thought him useless but had actively lied to Hank all these months.

Hank had asked Markus about his life a few times before. Not often, as Hank knew how much it sucked to be asked constant questions, but whenever it had felt natural in the conversation, he asked. And Markus would answer.

But he'd never even alluded to what Hank had just learned. Markus had said that he'd been adopted by Carl Manfred at 10, but beforehand had been raised by strict, overly harsh parents. He'd said that he'd gone to Jericho after his father had died and his brother had blamed him, leaving Markus ostracized and doubting his very view of self. He had said that he'd come back to Jericho to fix it up and make it livelier, that was all.

And all of it, every word, was a lie. Maybe some details were accurate, maybe Markus had sprinkled truths in there, but in Hank's eyes, it was the same as if the man had been bullshitting the entire thing. None of it was true, not really.

And that stung the worst of all of it. The lying. He'd had no idea how much Markus had hid. The others he could understand how he hadn't noticed, maybe. North definitely. But Markus? Hank had liked the man because of how open and honest he had seemed. But even that was a lie. It seemed no one had been less honest here than Markus.

He was getting off topic. Slowing his frantic pace, Hank forced himself to walk carefully through the dead branches, eyes unseeing as he thought things through.

Cyber. An underground organization that modified people into super humans. Some from birth, if Markus was to be believed (and as of that moment, Hank wasn't feeling inclined to believe a single word out of that bastard's mouth), which was even worse. Kids, babies, taken from their homes and families and sold into what Hank felt was pretty much slavery. Brain-washed into believing in their cause. Dear God, it was horrifying. God, if Cole was still alive, Hank would be terrified. The only thing worse than losing Cole would have been watching him lose his sense of self. Like Connor.

Fuck. Connor.

Hank groaned loudly at that, running a hand through his hair, digging his fingers into his scar until he felt blood. He took a seat at a bench and looked blankly into the foreground, felling numb.

He could still vividly see the look of heartbreak on the poor fucking kid's face when he'd left, telling them not to contact him until he'd figured shit out. Connor had looked like someone had kicked his puppy, before bashing it to pieces with a baseball bat. It was a gut-wrenching look, causing Hank to grimace at the sensation. Distantly he could feel himself shaking from cold but ignored it. He had more important shit to care about.

He honestly had no idea what to think about Connor. On one hand, he had the kid's confession on if he'd have ever told Hank or not if he hadn't been there. On the other, Hank /had/ been there, and Connor has willingly told him. Hell, the kid had practically begged him to stay. So could he really fault the kid for that?

More than that, though, was the fact that Connor had been part of this 'Cyber,' that he had been an assassin, apparently. A spy, his ass. No wonder the kid was so fucked up. He had been brainwashed by a fucking government conspiracy theory. Could you get anymore clichéd?

Did this change how Hank felt for the kid? Hank had figured that he hadn't fallen in love with the kid (it was much too early for any of that, no matter what he thought while drunk), but he cared about Connor deeply. He'd move mountains for the kid, he was sure of it. He didn't know if it was affection or something deeper, but the kid had wormed his way into his heart somehow.

So did learning about Connor's past change how he felt? Hank thought about it, looking at the dying trees, leaves falling rapidly.

No, he decided, long minutes later. It didn't. Connor was still just… Connor. Just Connor. And Hank couldn't fault the kid for his past. What could he have done to fight it? What could he have done different? Maybe Hank could ask for more information, learn more about what had happened. But he doubted anything he learned would change his feelings. For reasons God only knew, he had grown attached to the kid. Connor was important. Learning about what he had done, who he had been… it wouldn't make a difference. Even if Hank learned he'd killed before, he wasn't sure it would matter much. It wasn't Connor. Not really.

Fuck, this was fucked up. All of this. He had just wanted to spend a quiet night alone, writing down his negative thoughts, like Rose had asked him. He hadn't expected to become privy to a huge fucking conspiracy. Or to learn that his roommate was a product of that conspiracy. Or, or any of this!

Heaving a heavy sigh, Hank sat up and crossed his arms.

Alright. Alright. So, he had to do something about this. Whatever Markus might think (and seriously, /fuck/ him), he wasn't useless. He was a detective. Once highly respected. And despite everything, he was good at his job. So, he'd learn more about Cyber. He had access to the phone in his room and he still had many contacts from the outside world, friends who were not quite on the right side of the law. He'd ask around, find out all he could about this 'Cyber.' Then he'd give the information to Markus and let him know what he'd found. Maybe. If he was feeling charitable.

His phone line was as secure as it could be (he'd made Fowler check on it once, just to be a dick), so he wasn't too concerned about anyone unsavory learning about his line of question. Though it was still a possibility. Hm. Well, what choice did he have? He doubted any of his contacts would willingly come out of their way to meet him, so it was all he had. And if it turned out to be pointless, well, at least he'd done something. Anything. He wasn't pointless. He hadn't been made obsolete yet.

Having a plan in mind actually helped him calm down, the chill air making him shiver lightly, but it wasn't unpleasant. He was a detective, no matter what had happened over the past year. He'd get to the bottom of this mess if it killed him.

After that Hank sat there for a while, letting his mind blank, thinking of nothing. It was only when it started to lightly snow that he got up, body shaking far more than was normal. Shit. He was too old to be spending time out in the cold without a jacket on. He headed inside and noticed that it was nearing 6, meaning dinner would be served soon. Good. Hopefully it was soup today, so he'd have something to warm him up.

While he waited, he entered the common room, looking around to see if any of the people he was trying to avoid were there. Seeing they weren't, Hank looked for a place to sit. He didn't want to go back to his room just yet, in case Connor was there. He didn't want to open that can of worms just yet.

While looking, he saw the hulking form of Luther, sitting hunched up beside the piano, staring into nothing. Remembering what Markus had said about the man, Hank had a sudden desire to talk to him. Or at him. He wanted to see if there was something different about the man, now that he knew the truth.

Mind made up, Hank strode towards the African American man, taking a lazy seat in the chair next to him. Luther looked up slightly, eyes meeting Hank's, before he turned back to stare at nothing. Hank took the time to observe the man. It definitely did look like he had been modified to be a laborer. He was strong and bulky, could likely lift at least a hundred pounds, easy. And his eyes were so shrewd, when they saw, that Hank could see how his vision could be enhanced.

A few minutes passed as Hank watched the man, before Luther turned back to him, eyes piercing as they stared at him. It was like they were asking him why he was staring. What he wanted. Hank hesitated, the stare piercing into his very soul.

"Hey Luther. How's it going?" Hank eventually said, forcing himself to relax. Shit, it was just Luther. The man spent most of his time staring at a wall. It wasn't like he was the terminator or some shit.

Luther stared at him some more, before looking away again. Hank was pretty sure he saw the man shrug, but he wasn't sure. Ooookaaayyy. Guess that didn't work.

Silence reigned for the next few minutes, before Hank remembered the little girl whom Luther seemed pretty attached. (The same little girl that Hank avoided like the plague, her happy, youthful face too painful for the ex-father). Still, if there was one thing Hank knew, it was the adoration a man had for his kid. Even if the kid wasn't actually his.

"So, how's the kid? What's her name… Alice? Yeah, Alice. How's Alice?" Hank asked, stuffing his hands in his jean pockets. He ignored the ache he felt while thinking of the girl, doing his best not to let his mind go down the path it was destined to go down.

Luther looked up at that, a spark of life in his usually empty eyes. Luther looked at Hank fully, before a soft smile filled his face.

"Good. Alice is good."

"Yeah? That's great. How old is she, 7, 8?"

Luther smiled, body relaxing as he spoke of the little girl he adored. Hank bit down the pain, remembering the time such a look would cross his face, when speaking of-

"She just turned eight a couple weeks ago, right around Halloween. Kara threw her a party and I was allowed to visit. It was… very nice."

Hank did his best to return the smile but knew that it hadn't come out right. Why had he started this conversation? Yeah, he wanted to get Luther to talk, but God, at what cost? He could still remember how happy Cole had been on his sixth birthday, one month before-

Hank snapped out of his thoughts when he felt a hand on his shoulder. His eyes shot up and met steady deep brown ones, full of understanding.

"Alice is a good girl. I don't know what I'd do if I lost her."

No pity. No words of sorrow. Just simple understanding, one father (sort of) to another. Hank nodded once, taking a deep breath. He wouldn't fall apart out here. He wouldn't.

"Yeah. Let's hope you never have to."

Luther nodded back, and Hank decided he didn't want to stop talking. It hurt, being reminded of Cole, but he needed to remember. Rose was right, all those months ago. Until he confronted his memories, he'd never move on. And he wanted to. Move on. Not forget, he'd never forget Cole. But he needed to push on. Like it or not, he had survived. And Connor needed him now. People needed him. So he had to learn to live with Cole's memory. As much as he hated it.

"So. Tell me about her. Alice, that is."

Luther looked at him carefully before nodding, his eyes and smile turning fond as he thought of the little girl. For the next ten minutes he listened as he usually quiet man spoke about the girl, telling Hank about how kind and caring she was. How, when they'd first met, Alice had come up to him and introduced herself so sweetly, asking him what book he'd like them to read. When he hadn't responded, she had gone on anyway, reading her favorite book to him as other patients listened in. The next time she came, he had picked a book, and she had grinned at him so wide that he couldn't help but smile back, his first in years. After that, the two had been inseparable, the man even speaking for the first time in years to her.

As Hank listened, he felt something in his heart break, before mending soon after. It hadn't mended in the same way as it originally had been; it wasn't quite as it had been at one point. But it was no long jagged, like it had been for years. Since… since Cole. It was smoother. A little bumpy, but still good. Once Luther stopped talking, Hank chimed in, soft smile on his face.

"She sounds like a great kid, Luther. Maybe I'll say hi the next time she comes in."

Luther smiled back at that, nodding his head once.

"I think she'd like that. She and Kara will be here on Sunday, after your dog comes. Perhaps, I can ask them to come earlier. Then she can meet your dog. I think she'd like that."

Hank chuckled and nodded

"Yeah, Sumo would love that. He's always loved kids. After Cole-" Hank cut himself off abruptly, eyes jerking away to glare at the room at large. Wow. It had been a while since he'd said Cole's name aloud. Sober, at least. Taking in a shaking breath, he turned to Luther once again, eyes determined. He'd talk about his son. He had to.

"After Cole d-died-" he forced out, heart clenching- "Sumo hadn't left his room for months. I had to move just to get the dog to do anything. He'd love to spend time with Alice."

Luther stared at him, that understanding look back in his eyes. He smiled minutely and nodded once.

"Okay. I'll call Kara tonight, then, and ask her to come earlier. Around one, when your dog is here. Is that alright?"

"Yeah. Yeah, that should be fine. I'd ask Ben to come later, but it's his day off and I don't want to ask too much of the man, if it's possible."

"Okay. I should go call now, then, before dinner. Give them more time to prepare. It was good to speak with you, Hank. I'll see you around."

With that, Luther stood, massive frame towering over his seated form. The man couldn't have been much larger than he was, but he carried himself taller, broader than Hank did. With a nod of farewell, Luther left the room, headed for the stairwell.

Hank was about to try and figure out what to do then when the dinner bell rang, causing Hank to grunt. He waited as everyone left for the dining hall but decided to stay seated for a few minutes. He wanted to think a little.

So. He was going to meet the little girl who liked to visit. He didn't know what to think about it. Thus far, he'd managed to avoid the fuck out of her. He knew she came, but the first time he had met her he'd almost broken down into tears. She reminded him so much of Cole. So kind. So caring. Cole would have loved coming to the facility to read to the patients. He was a good kid like that. God knew who he got it from, as his mother wasn't all that great, and he'd had him for a father. But despite it all Cole had been a great kid.

His heart started to clench as his mind tried to go down the path that it always did when he thought of Cole. How it wasn't fair. How he'd give anything to hold him one last time.

However, when his mind decided to think 'I should have died instead,' Hank remembered Rose and her little experiment. How he should take negative thoughts and turn them into more positive thoughts. Or at least not as negative. With a deep breath, he mentally went through the list, thinking he might write it down later.

Negative thought/belief: I should have died instead of Cole.

Where/when: Common room, at 6:00, during dinner.

How does it make me feel?: Pretty damn shitty. Like I'm a failure who got his kid fucking killed. Like I want to die.

Alternative thought:…

Now this, Hank had to think about. What else could he think that would be more positive? How could he twist the words to make them better? A minute passed, before Hank found the right words.

Alternative thought: When Cole died, I had thought I had died as well. But I didn't. I survived, and that thought still hurts so fucking bad. But Cole wouldn't have wanted this for me. I owe it to him, and maybe even myself, to try and move on.

How does that thought make me feel?: …Better. Like I don't want to die quite as much.

Okay. That was better. That worked. That he could work with. Later, though. For now he had more shit to think about. And fuck, was he tired of thinking so much.

With that nonsense done with, Hank thought more on the girl who was coming.

He had seen her around, many times. He'd watched as she played with Connor, who seemed enamored with her, for a couple hours the other day. Until it had begun to hurt too much, mind going to the idea that Cole would have loved Connor so much.

Despite how often she came to the facility, he didn't know much about her. Well, he supposed as he stood up and finally walked to the dining hall, he would just have to learn. It wouldn't be easy, spending time around the girl, but maybe it would mend parts of his broken heart to spend time with a kid again. Alice seemed like the kind to help him through it, at least. For now, Hank would put it out of his mind. He'd think on it more later, he was sure of it.

Entering the room that smelled heavenly to his growling stomach, Hank got on the line for food. He grinned as he saw the chicken noodle soup, thinking the facility might have read his mind. His smile was wiped from his face, though, as he saw the man who was serving the food. Glower rising unbidden on his face, he scowled at Markus as he reached the front of the line, the man turning his eyes on him and wincing somewhat when it was Hank's turn. Markus tried to make small talk.

"Hey Hank. How's it going?"

Oh. How's it going? That all you had to say, you fucking bastard? Hank just glowered harder, until he had been handed the tray with his food atop it. Walking away, Hank turned to his usual table, before halting in his steps.

Shit. He had forgotten he had started to let Connor sit with him at meals.

Hank hesitated for a moment. What should he do? No, he didn't blame the kid for not telling him sooner (shit, they only had known one another for a week, the fact Connor had told him anything was amazing), but he didn't know if he could handle being in the kid's presence for longer than five minutes while his mind sorted everything out. While it wasn't Connor's fault, he had been the catalyst for the entire thing. And Hank didn't want to take out any of his simmering anger on the kid.

So, Hank moved to another table, where one of the Jerry's was sitting. This Jerry was sitting quietly at the table, staring sightlessly at his food, which made Hank believe that he wouldn't bother him. Hank resolutely did not look back at Connor. He didn't think he could handle the wounded look he was sure was crisp and clear on Connor's face.

So he stared at his soup and ate as quickly as he could. At one-point Luther came over and sat across from him, near the Jerry. Luther quietly told him that Kara and Alice would arrive at 1:00, words taciturn. Hank grunted in reply, and that was that for conversation.

He finished his food in record time and fled the dining hall, eyes on the ground, determined not to look at Connor. He knew it wasn't fair, that Connor would think he was mad at him, but Hank didn't know what else to do. He couldn't talk to the kid. He couldn't.

So, for now, he'd head to his room, write out his little thought project from earlier, and then maybe try calling the contacts he remembered. Maybe he'd learn more about Cyber. He wasn't sure what he'd do with the info just then, maybe give it to Markus if it proved useful, but he had to do something.

Because he wasn't useless. He could do things that were worthwhile. His life wasn't forfeit just yet. Yeah, he'd hit his rough patches. The scars on his head and wrists were proof of that.

But, like it or not, he was still alive. He was still there. He may no longer work for the DPD, but he was still a detective. He loved to solve a problem. And that was what this was. A problem. He'd get to the bottom of it, deal with it accordingly, and then solve it. That's what he did.

That's what he was good at.