It's not normal.

He remembers this feeling. It's hard not to because it had been such a memorable moment in his life. When he had first contracted a virus - it came with major mood changes - and it had thrown him into a loop. He couldn't control what he felt and his feelings steered his thoughts into irrational corners. What he feels is something akin to the virus - something that doesn't belong in his systems - but it still plagues him. He tries to find the cause in his memory banks but there's nothing that would suggest a virus. It certainly resembles one, but he couldn't find any stray string of code that didn't belong.

Connor is…

Well…

"Connor, what the hell!?"

He's different.

He's strange and it's not right.

Hank, his newly founded father, had returned from a grueling day of work. When the front door opens, he drags himself in and slams it behind him. The first thing he does is give Sumo an affectionate rub on the head, scratches underneath the fluffy dog's ears, and then takes a few moments to stretch. His back had been stiff after a long day of researching a homicide case involving a divorced couple. His eyelids also looked heavy after hours of staring at research files so Hank looked as if he could collapse at any minute.

And then? And then Connor is odd and there's something wrong with him. Hank was unaware of Connor standing in the hallway, staring at him with calculating eyes, and then Connor waltzes right up to him to grab his arm into his own.

Hank curses at the jolt of his arm and takes one good look at his son.

"Can you let go?" Hank seems exasperated. His exasperation is a facade to hide his confusion and his concern for Connor's abrupt change of nature. Connor didn't… cling. Not like he was now.

"What if… I don't want to…?"

Hank opens his mouth but closes it before he says anything he might regret.

Instead, he settles for, "What in the world is wrong with you?"

Connor blinks innocently.

"Something is wrong with me?"

He lowers his gaze from Hank's and looks down at himself.

"Oh. You might be right."

"Yeah. Might be," Hank says slowly. He didn't know a thing about technology so he didn't know if there was something wrong with Connor's workings. If there was, he didn't think he'd be able to fix it, so that's why Hank reaches for the phone in his pocket to call the mechanic that had been in his house just a mere days ago. Connor doesn't let his arm go so it becomes a bit difficult to navigate the phone to his ear. He decides to ignore the way Connor looks at him, like a child looking for a father's approval, and instead focuses on how exactly he's going to explain this situation.

"Hello?"

Hank nearly sighs in relief.

"Um, yeah, hey. It's Hank Anderson."

"Oh yes, I remember," the mechanic says in recognition, "with that RK800 model, correct?"

"Yes. That's me," Hank averts his gaze from Connor's and his eyes linger on the sleeping form of Sumo. "Something is wrong with him, Connor, I mean."

"What's the problem?"

"He's…" Hank trails off, looking down at his son as he tries to find the words to explain, "well he's not himself."

"Hmm… yes… remember what I told you before I left?"

"You said he might act strange-..." Hank is beginning to understand.

"Yes. Since he's a state of the art android, it was a bit difficult navigating around his programming to check if he was functional, so I didn't know if there would be any side effects or not after running a typical scan."

"You mean you went in blindly?" Hank can't believe what he's hearing.

"I did the best I could. He's okay now, isn't he? Anyway, the side-effects should disappear within twenty-four hours. Tell me, how is he currently behaving?"

Hank looks at Connor's eyes. The android looked like a kicked puppy.

"He's… hell… I don't know how to put it," Hank sighs.

"Hmm… I see… well…" the mechanic pauses and then continues, "He's okay. He'll return to normal in no time. Good luck."

"Hey wait-!" Hank cries out as the mechanic hangs up on him. Hank scowls and pulls the phone away from his ear. He looks at the status that shows the mechanic had indeed hung up on him and curses under his breath. He then looks at Connor once more, stuffs the phone in his pocket, and uses his only free hand to scratch his head.

"How am I supposed to handle this?" He whispers to himself.

Connor doesn't say anything.

"Okay um… look… Connor… I.. uh… I'm not really good at this sort of thing so… could you… let go?"

Connor's hold tightens.

"Okay. I see that's not an option."

Hank ends up doing all of his daily routines with Connor clinging to his arm. He tries to ignore it, honestly, and pretend everything is normal. He heads to the kitchen, makes himself a sandwich with one hand (with great difficulty), and then he sits down to watch the daily news. Once he's finished with that, he thinks he might just listen to some of his music in his room, but of course, he can't do that with a certain plastic son holding onto his arm with a death-grip. Any tighter and Hank swore his arm would turn blue with the pressure.

And then Hank gets tired and wants to go to bed.

"Connor, for the last time, let go."

Connor shakes his head furiously.

"You can't sleep in the same bed with me-..." Hank groans.

"Why not?" Connor asks.

"My. Bed," Hank thought he made it clear with just two words but Connor's blank look shows that everything Hank said didn't reach him. Hank has to remind himself that this isn't… Connor… well… he is Connor, but he isn't exactly in his right mind. If he were completely here, with his mind in proper order, he would have left to his own room without question.

"I don't want to be alone," Connor suddenly whispers, violently pulling Hank from his thoughts.

Hank hated his stupid robot son and the way he could easily manipulate him with that dumb crack in his voice. The crack that reminded him of a broken man - except the man in front of him was an android - and he was currently refusing to let go of him. Hank also hated how stupid he was for falling for it so easily because when Connor says it, he immediately gives in like the weak-hearted fool he is, and he pretends that it isn't he love in his heart that steers his choice to give in.

Hank massages the crook of his nose with two fingers once he realizes he's already been defeated.

That's why Hank settles himself in bed with an android who cuddles up to him like the kittens he had picked up off the street. He curls into Hank's side, eyes closed, even though the android didn't need to sleep. Androids could enter states of dormancy, sure, but they were never truly asleep. That's why Hank found this whole thing ridiculous, but as he stares down at Connor a wave of fondness surges through his blood.

"You just have me twisted around your little finger, don't you?" Hank sighs for the third time that day. This wasn't something that was going to happen often, he knew that, because he wouldn't allow it. However, he supposes that just this once... it'd be okay.

So Hank closes his eyes and he sleeps.

He dreams of a different world.

He has two sons in it.

Cole.

Connor.

And he smiles in his sleep.