It had been a stressful past twenty-four hours on both a physical and emotional level for the two detectives. Connor was sitting at the kitchen table in the early morning hours with the android exclusive first aid kit wide open next to him just as his system indicated his Thirium level had depleted to eighty-four percent. The warning popped up in his visual sensors in obnoxious red digits. The bullet wound he had suffered to his right forearm the afternoon before was still painful to the touch, still healing, and worryingly enough, still bleeding. If the bleeding didn't stop on its own, then Connor would need to see a technician to have the damage repaired by a professional to ensure he didn't suffer any permanent impairment to his arm, wrist or hand.

With his gray CyberLife blazer and black tie draped over the back of the chair where he sat, and his white shirt sleeve rolled up to his elbow, Connor removed the sling supporting his arm and then removed the old bandages from around the wound. Connor grimaced thickly at the sight of the still wet Thirium stains that saturated the protective fabric considering how old the wound was.

Using a clean towel to cushion his arm atop the kitchen table, Connor gently wiped away the still leaking Thirium that oozed through the fractures that marred the white plastimetal frame of his plastimetal humerus beneath the damaged artificial skin, then applied additional astringent over the bleeding wound. It was a simple means of preventing internal harm, yet still painful to endure.

A sharp gasp escaped through Connor's gritted teeth as the sterilizing agent made contact with the exposed Thirium lines through the painfully wide fractures of his arm through his fractured frames. His L.E.D. had been cycling yellow as he tended to his wound, but it flashed to red as he endured the painful sensation that was searing through his entire arm.

"Sh-Shit." Dabbing at the wound gently Connor cleaned it up as best as he could before he set about wrapping the damage back up. "...Why am I still bleeding?"

"I wish you wouldn't perform first aid on yourself in the kitchen." Hank had heard the gasp of pain as he entered the kitchen and watched Connor trying to push through the agonizing ordeal long enough to clean up his injured arm. The red glowing L.E.D. and pained expression on Connor's face gave everything away with a single glance. "Hurts that bad, huh?"

"Yeah." Connor admitted as he flexed his right hand a few times and watched the components inside his forearm respond through the fractures. A few Thirium lines had been repaired beneath his frames, but others were still leaking. "My self-healing program is having difficulty repairing the entirety of the damage and is beginning to cause an ache down the length of my forearm."

Pouring himself a cup of coffee Hank joined Connor at the kitchen table and looked at the blue blood stained limb resting atop the equally stained hand towel beneath it. The consistent but slow seeping of Thirium through the fractures, torn synthetic muscle and artificial skin worried Hank as any bleeding wound would. Human or android, such wounds were prone to an infection.

"Damn." Leaning over the table to get a better look at the injury Hank shook his head at the appearance of Connor's bicep. "How long has it been like this, kid?"

"Going on two hours, sixteen minutes, forty-four seconds." Keeping track of his discomfort down to the millisecond made the experience feel all the more agonizing. "I must've unknowingly aggravated the injury while I was in rest mode during the night."

Hank took the bloodied towel in his hands and lightly wrapped it around Connor's bicep to stem the bleeding through direct pressure. As he applied light pressure to the affected limb the wounded deviant winced again and his red L.E.D. flashed rapidly in a pained response.

"Maybe you should call off sick today. I don't think Fowler would mind since you've already racked up every possible minute of overtime he's offered to you."

"I'll be okay." Connor promised as he flexed his hand again. Additional Thirium seeping into the towel quickly and he restrained another pained hiss. "Besides, if I go to the precinct, I'm sure Dr. Forrest will be able to find a way to stop the Thirium leak."

"You're sure?"

"Yes." Nodding a few times Connor was firm in his decision to work through his injury. "I want to go to the precinct."

"All right." Hank slowly lessened his grip on the wound and took the towel back from Connor's arm. There was a pale blue smear all around Connor's forearm that stretched down the center of the limb up toward his elbow, and was beginning to go down the forearm and to the center of Connor's palm. "Let's get you patched up and we'll head out to work. I can't have ya' bleedin' all over the Oldsmobile."

"Thanks." Grateful to have Hank on his side once again Connor let out a small sigh of relief. "I appreciate it."

"Don't thank me yet, son." Not wanting to let his guard down Hank gave the bloody limb one last uncomfortable look before exiting the kitchen to get ready for the day in the bathroom. "I still think you should stay home and rest."

During the drive to the precinct Connor kept his hand pressed down on his blazer and dress shirt sleeves over the fresh gauze that Hank had wrapped around his still bleeding wound before leaving the house. As per Connor's instructions, Hank had wrapped the gauze tighter than what would be considered comfortable for a human as a means of keeping the fractures in the plastimetal radial-ulna frames as stable as possible, and to keep additional pressure on the leaking Thirium lines to try to stem the residual bleeding. Unfortunately, the added pressure and tighter bandages didn't seem to be making a difference as Connor continued to bleed at a steady, aching pace.

Dark rain clouds were building over the city as the cold weather refused to be outmuscled by the impending spring thaw just yet. A gust of wind brought a bone chilling cold that swirled small rogue snowflakes that had only just begun to fall from the sky above in a taunting circle all around the city. The unbearably cold weather wasn't anything new to native Michiganders or Canadians right over the border, but that didn't make it any easier to endure.

"Looks like we're going to be in for a nasty storm tonight." Hank observed as he parked in the Oldsmobile in its usual space at the precinct garage and tried not to look at Connor's affected arm. The way Connor was protecting the limb was enough to make Hank wince sympathetically. "We might want to get some supplies after we clock-out tonight. Water, food, first aid supplies, flashlights... That type of thing."

"Yes." Connor confirmed with subtle nod of the head as he cybernetically tapped into the weather report. "My scanner confirms Doppler reports of an impending snowfall as well as heavy rain."

"Snow again?" The idea of snow at the end of December made Hank sigh despondently. The man had survived the holiday season yet again without any trouble, and now he just needed for the snow to melt to ensure he didn't lose his mind waiting for the cold to fade away. "How much?"

"One to four inches overnight."

"Shit, let's make sure we get out of here by seven then. We should be able to get home before the city goes on emergency alert and get a few necessary supplies picked up without too much trouble."

"Agreed." Awkwardly Connor reached over himself to open the car door with his left hand as opposed to his right hand to avoid further pain. Mindful of his damaged forearm Connor proceeded to follow Hank into the precinct through the front doors to go about his shift as normally as possible. "I'd like to see Dr. Forrest before we begin our afternoon patrol."

"Good. Saves me from having to drag your stubborn ass up to the dispensary myself."

"I'm aware of my weakened condition." Connor muttered defensively as they walked through the front doors together and kept his hand pressed over his bandaged forearm as he ran a self-diagnostic and got an update on his own system. "I'm not being stubborn about this."

"Yeah, you are." Replying in the contrary Hank just smirked as he and Connor passed through the front reception together and made their way into the bullpen side by side. He didn't mean to make Connor feel self-conscious, only self-aware. "It's not a bad thing, kid. It's just a you thing."

"Not by choice."

"Try not to sweat it." Hank stayed by his desk as he shrugged off his coat and watched Connor head toward the elevator by himself. "I'm sure your unlucky streak will wear out soon enough."

As morning turned to noon and crept toward the evening Connor was sitting at his terminal with his good hand absentmindedly rubbing at his aching forearm as he worked patiently through the numerous case files that currently needed his attention. During his trip to the second floor dispensary Joel had provided Connor with a small amount of replacement Thirium that was laced with a type of additive to work with his self-healing program to help stop the leak in his damaged arm. However, the treatment wasn't working as efficiently as expected. The bleeding had slowed to a point where Connor was no long bleeding through the bandages as readily, but the painful bleeding still hadn't stopped entirely.

Hank had quickly noticed of Connor's L.E.D. cycling in yellow rapidly and would occasionally flash to red in perfect rhythm with his pained flinches that the deviant tried and failed to mask. By all account, Connor needed to go back home to rest, yet the deviant detective refused to go down without a fight or head for home until he was absolutely incapacitated.

"How's your arm, kid?"

"...Sore." Connor admitted as he dismissed another red warning in his visual sensors about his Thirium volume being under eighty-five percent, again. The frequent drop in his Thirium volume was courtesy of the non-stop bleeding in his forearm. "I'm just healing slower than usual."

"How long is it going to take until you're fully healed?"

"...Unknown." Such a question made Connor let out an exasperated sigh as he told Hank the truth. "I should've been completely healed by now. I find the lack of progress perplexing and frustrating."

"Take it easy." With a paternal instinct Hank urged Connor try to relax and do so with empathetic patience from where he sat. "No one's indestructible, and I don't expect anyone to ever just 'walk off' a bullet wound. You have nothing to be ashamed of."

"Sorry. I just wish I knew why my self-healing program isn't functioning as it should be."

"Didn't Joel check your systems when you went to see him?"

"Yes, he did as soon as I explained my current ailment to him." The pained deviant confirmed as he forced his L.E.D. to remain yellow in color to keep Hank from worrying too much about his condition. It wasn't impossible for a deviant to control their L.E.D. color, but it did take a conscious effort to do so. "There was no anomaly detected in my systems or programs."

"Then maybe your program is functioning as it should be, but you're just too damn impatient for your own good." The smarmy senior detective got up from his desk with his empty coffee mug in his hand with the intention of heading out to the breakroom for a refill. "After all, you are stubborn.

"Perhaps you're right about the impatience, but I am not stubborn."

"Are too."

"I am not."

As Hank wandered into the nearby breakroom to refill his mug Connor shrugged his gray CyberLife blazer from his shoulders and let it slip down his arms to expose his white dress shirt beneath. Rolling up his right sleeve to his elbow Connor eyed the gauze around his forearm and saw that a small blue dot of Thirium was beginning to ooze through the fabric as his arm continued to bleed despite the pressure being applied and the coagulating additive he had ingested into his system.

"Damn it." Another cybernetic scan confirmed the compromised Thirium lines and steady leak under the bandages. "This needs to stop."

"We're out of here in an hour, so try not to think about it." Hank commented as he returned to his desk, his arrival prompting Connor to roll his sleeve back down quickly to hide the staining gauze. "Once we're home, you can zone out on the couch and slip into your sleep mode, or rest mode, or whatever you call it, and relax."

"Yes. Okay."

Hank walked around Connor's chair and patted Connor's shoulder as a kind gesture but as soon as his hand made contact with the deviant's shoulder Hank noted that Connor seemed to be running hotter than normal. Such a physical reaction was always indicative of an internal problem for androids whenever they weren't being actively exposed to extreme external heat.

"What the hell?" Instinctively he lifted his hand away from Connor's shoulder as he reclaimed his seat behind his terminal and put his mug down on his desk. "Are you starting to run a fever?"

"I am beginning to overheat." Not wanting to lie to Hank anymore about his injuries, Connor admitted that his core temperature had in fact elevated despite all of the treatment his damaged forearm had received. "...My self-healing program has been running for nearly thirty-three consecutive hours. It is exerting my systems as a result and causing my core temperature to rise."

"All right, let's go." Quickly Hank downed the coffee he had just refilled and turned off his terminal screen with focused haste. "That's enough for today."

"Go?"

"Yeah, you're sick. We're going home."

"My temperature has elevated, yes, but it's not to a dangerous or even noteworthy degree. My system hasn't even raised a warning about my increased core temperature."

"Kid, you took a bullet to your arm and were chased down by a zealous officer with a grudge who wanted to kill you and every other android in the city; one of those androids being your newly adopted 'little brother'." Flashing a knowing grin as he folded his arms over his chest Hank waited for Connor to get up on his own. "And all of this happened yesterday afternoon. I think you're entitled to an hour shorter schedule for today."

"That may not be necessary." Reluctant to leave without finishing his work but wanting to reassure Hank that he wasn't going to try to hide his physical injuries or system glitches from him anymore, Connor agreed to leave for home a little earlier than usual. "...But all right. Let's go."

"Really?" Hank looked genuinely shocked as he rose from his chair and waited for Connor to join him. "You're not trying to argue about shift hours or trying to convince me that you'll be just fine if I don't worry?"

"No." Connor picked up his gray blazer and awkwardly slipped his arms back into the sleeves one at a time very carefully. "I'd prefer to be home than here at the moment. I dislike being viewed as weak."

"You're NOT weak, son. You're hurt."

"It feels all the same to me."

"Man, you must be sicker than I thought!" Trying to lighten the mood Hank joked as he walked with Connor to the front doors of the precinct to head for home. "You never admit to feeling tired or sick."

"I'm not sick."

Again, Connor muttered under his breath as he and Hank stepped out into the swirling cold snow dancing through the brisk air. The dark clouds had opened up and began dropping the rain and the snow down in a heavy torrent of total heavy whiteness. Powerful gusts of wind shook the buildings and sent deep chills that cut right through any exposed skin like a sharp knife.

"...The storm has arrived early."

"Yeah, come on." Hank ushered Connor forward with a hand against the deviant's too warm shoulder to get to the neighboring parking garage. "It's going to be a slow drive home."

As the rain and the snow continued to smother the city under an increasingly deep layer of unseasonable whiteness the roads became slick, icy, and harder to navigate even at a slower speed. Traffic was also heavily congested as numerous people were attempting to return to their homes before the storm reached its full intensity, but also had difficulty in safely traversing the streets during the dangerous weather conditions.

While Hank patiently waited for traffic to resume moving, he looked over at Connor who was seemingly asleep in the seat next to him. Connor's eyes were closed, his L.E.D. was cycling yellow, and his arms were crossed firmly over his chest as if he were cold. Checking the heat inside the car Hank couldn't understand how Connor could be feeling cold when the strong heater was working at full blast.

"You gonna' make it?" Hank asked and watched as Connor's brown irises slowly returned to the waking world after hearing his friend's voice. "You seem exhausted."

"...Yes." Connor nodded as he slowly turned to gaze toward Hank. "We've been idle for almost sixteen minutes."

"One more block and then we're home."

The yellow L.E.D. in Connor's temple flashed to red and held the color for a few seconds before cycling back to yellow.

"You're sure nothing else is wrong with your systems?" As Hank reached the back of his hand out to press against Connor's forehead the deviant shook his head slightly to try to dodge the instinctive fever check. "You're not acting like yourself."

"...I just received a warning about my core temperature rising."

"You do feel pretty hot." The senior detective retracted his hand and turned off the heat in the car. "Like you are in fact running a fever."

"No, don't turn off the heater." Protesting the reaction Connor didn't want to see Hank sacrifice his comfort or possibly his health on account of his own system being uncooperative. "You'll get cold."

"I can survive a little chill for one block, kid. How high is your temperature?"

"One moment..." Connor ran a self-diagnostic and noted his current core temperature at a much higher than normal degree. "It's currently one-hundred and two point four degrees Fahrenheit."

"That's pretty high, at least for a human. When does your temperature become critical?"

"One-hundred and four degrees Fahrenheit. If I were to reach such a degree, I'd be forced into emergency stasis mode."

"You know, there are times when I really hate how human you can be."

"...Sorry. I didn't mean to get sick."

"Don't worry about it, it's not your fault and that's not what I was talking about."

"It wasn't?"

"No. I was talking about how you look so miserable and fragile. That type of behavior makes me think about all the times I had to take care of a Cole when he was sick, and I couldn't stand seeing him look so miserable and fragile too."

Connor looked down at his damaged forearm again and rolled up the sleeves of his blazer and his shirt to examine the white gauze wrapped around the damaged limb. The small spot of blue had spread considerably and was beginning to stain the overlaying white sleeve of his shirt as a result.

"Ah, shit." Hank noticed the blue blood from the corner of his eye and outwardly swore. "I thought Joel would've been able to fix you right up."

"It'll be fine." Connor visibly winced in pain, his L.E.D. flashed to red and then back to yellow as he rolled the sleeves back down over his arm. "I just need time to heal. Patience is apparently key."

"I hope so." Pulling the car through the now green light Hank sighed at the idea of Connor actually resting and letting his body heal. The deviant admittedly hated being idle for too long and not doing anything productive. "If that's the case, then I fear you might be doomed."

It took another twenty minutes for Hank to drive the final block back to the house through the mounting snow, and almost lost control of the vehicle as he parked in the slick driveway beside the safe, warm homestead. Careful of his footing, Hank opened his door and waited for Connor to slowly do the same from his side of the car as he pulled up his coat collar to protect his throat and ears. Once outside the vehicle Connor managed to very slowly walk around the front of the car and stand beside the front door of the house next to Hank, but soon his L.E.D. flashed from yellow to red again and the consistently stubborn deviant dismissed numerous warnings about his rising core temperature.

There was no denying that Connor was in fact ill and needed to give his body time to recover. There was no way for Connor to even try to push himself to heal faster or tough-out the pain as his core temperature rose and his Thirium volume simultaneously dipped.

"Hank?" Voice low and nearly cracking Connor updated his friend on his condition. "I don't feel... right."

"Shit." A knot suddenly formed in Hank's gut at the sound of pleading in Connor's voice. It was like a frightened child who didn't understand what was happening in the world around him and needed a parent's protection. "Hang on."

With a gentle strength Hank grabbed on to Connor's good arm and pulled the overheating deviant inside the house behind him. The heat radiating from Connor's body was alarmingly high, almost like the senior detective was walking next to a furnace. Fighting to keep upright as he stepped on to the hardwood floor of the livingroom that was made instantly slippery from the snow and ice under his shoes, he shut the front door and guided Connor over to the kitchen to sit down at the table for a minute to have Connor's arm tended to yet again.

"Wait right here." Letting go of Connor's arm Hank made sure Connor wouldn't slump over and fall off his chair and onto the floor. "I'll be back in a minute.

"O-Okay."

Connor leaned heavily against the top of the kitchen table as Sumo wandered out of the livingroom and sat beside the ill deviant to greet his returned master with a cold, wet nose to Connor's good hand hanging limply at his side. The large dog knew when someone needed some cuddles and was always happy to oblige.

Mindful of the wet floor Hank walked down the hallway and pulled open the hall closet door to retrieve a clean t-shirt for Connor to wear, a dozen candles, a lighter and a large flashlight. Keeping the flashlight in hand Hank set about placing and lighting the candles throughout the house along the tables, bookshelves and counters as a precaution in the event the storm knocked out the electricity. Handling a sick person and a power outage wasn't the most ideal circumstance to find yourself in.

"I get the feel we're going to lose power." Hank stated logically as he finished lighting the candles and set the last one down in the livingroom on the coffee table alongside the black t-shirt. A gentle glow filled the house and gave off a warm aura that helped keep the relentless cold feeling at bay. "If we do, then we can handle it without any problems."

A distinct 'thud' from the kitchen followed by Sumo whimpering made Hank rush back into the adjacent room to see what had happened. Looking around it didn't take long for Hank to track down the source of the noise and the semi-conscious deviant laying limp on his side in the middle of the kitchen floor.

"Connor!"

Kneeling down on the floor Hank put his hand to Connor's shoulder and gently rolled him from his side and onto his back while Sumo curiously circled around the two detectives worriedly. Connor's L.E.D. was pulsing red slowly and his eyes were partially opened as Hank pressed his palm down against Connor's forehead again to check on his fever. Connor was undoubtedly burning up.

"Shit, I'm going to call Joel. Let's see if he can give me any information on what the hell's going on with you."

"...H-Hank?"

"I'm right here, son." Hank fumbled to pull his phone out of his pocket as he kept his opposite palm against Connor's forehead. The line picked up after two rings and Hank spoke quickly to the answering technician. "Joel, it's Hank. Connor's arm was still bleeding all afternoon and evening, and now his temperature is getting dangerously high." There was a pause before Hank spoke again. "Yeah, he collapsed but he's still conscious."

Connor wanted to cybernetically tap into the phone to listen to the conversation from both sides, but his system was too compromised from his self-healing program to properly initiate the function. He'd have to use context clues from Hank's responses to guess at what Joel was telling him over the line.

"You're sure? Okay, I'll call you in an hour. Thanks for the advice." Hank ended the call and pocketed his phone again as he returned his full focus to the ill deviant beside him. "Come on, Connor. Get up."

Leaning entirely on his unaffected arm Connor pushed himself upward from the floor while Hank placed his hand against Connor's back to help him sit up. Without a word Hank pulled on the collar of Connor's gray blazer to remove the garment from the sick deviant's shoulders and off his arms. As soon as the right sleeve tugged on Connor's forearm the wounded detective audibly gasped in pain.

"Sorry about that, but you need to get cooled down as soon as possible."

"I-It's okay." Resisting the urge to press his palm over his bleeding wound again Connor remained as still as possible. "I know you're trying to help."

"Let's get you up and off the floor." Grabbing on to Connor's good arm Hank pulled the overheating deviant up to his feet and guided him toward the couch in the livingroom to rest. "Lay down. I'll get your arm cleaned up again."

As soon as Connor was lying flat on his back on the couch Hank walked back down the hallway into the bathroom to retrieve a cold, wet washcloth as well as a few clean towels. It wasn't the first time that Hank had to give Connor emergency first aid, but it didn't make the experience any easier to deal with just because he had some experience.

Feeling entirely of place Connor looked about the livingroom in a slight daze, his glassy brown eyes coming to rest on Sumo's face watching him from the end of the couch. The large dog had his chin planted down against the armrest near Connor's legs and showed no sign of moving anytime soon as he instinctively knew that he needed to watch over his ill master.

"...Good boy."

Connor whispered as he looked at his damaged forearm and sighed somberly. There was a large blue stain of Thirium in the fabric of his sleeve that was blossoming larger right before his eyes. A red warning flashed in his visual processors indicating that his Thirium volume had depleted to a worrying low seventy-five percent.

"H-Hank?"

"Right here." The senior detective replied calmly as he stepped around the side of the couch and placed the cold washcloth over Connor's forehead and held his palm down against the cold compress for a few seconds. He waited for Connor to settle down as the overheating deviant reflexively jumped at the cold washcloth coming into contact with his too warm artificial skin. "What's going on?"

"M-My Thirium level is low." Connor held out his bleeding forearm and Hank immediately wrapped the entire limb in a clean, white towel. "...It hurts."

"What the hell is wrong with your arm?" The amount of blood seeping through the fabric of the white shirt and the towel was very concerning. "I've never seen you bleed like this before. Can androids suffer from anemia?"

"M-My self-diagnostic didn't find any malfunctions." Connor stated tiredly as Hank took hold of his left hand and pressed it against the towel to add more pressure to the bleeding forearm try to stop the persistent bleeding. "But my self-healing program can't seem to repair the damaged lines or mend the fractured frame."

Hank ventured back into the kitchen to pick up the android first aid kit that was left on the table from that morning and brought it back into the livingroom. Sitting on the edge of the coffee table, the concerned senior detective took hold of Connor's right forearm in his hand and unwrapped the towel to check out the injury site again more directly. The amount of lost blood was very disconcerting.

"Did you damage an artery? Or... whatever the hell android's have instead of major blood vessels?"

Connor shook his head 'no' before verbally answering. "...The rotary Thirial line is higher up on my arm; the bullet didn't damage it."

"I don't like this." Hank admitted as he pulled his phone back out his pocket and pressed re-dial to seek additional assistance. With a ginger touch Hank rolled up the sleeve of Connor's shirt to fully expose the bleeding fracture before wrapping the towel around the damage site a second time. "I'm going to get a hold of Joel again."

"It hasn't been an hour."

"Too bad. I'm not going to wait until you get worse before- Yeah, Joel..." Hank replied to the familiar, laidback voice on the other end of the line and turned away from Connor for just a moment. "The bleeding is pretty bad. How do I stop- Yeah, hold on."

Hank held his phone out to take a quick live recording of the bleeding of Connor's arm with his camera and sent it to Joel to review. Turning Connor's entire arm over to record every source of the bleeding, Hank could feel Connor trying to pull his pained limb back but resisted the urge and endured the discomfort fairly well. Ending the recording Hank put the phone back to his ear after pressing 'send' on the video.

"Did that give you any help?"

Hank listened for a few minutes before wrapped the towel back around Connor's arm and placed the limb over Connor's chest to give it a rest. As he listened to Joel's instructions Hank began searching through the first aid kit at his side.

"This orange colored stuff is what I need, right? Yeah, it says, uh, 'liquid artificial incrass- 'incrassation' compound'? And I just pour it over his arm or-" Another pause as he listened to Joel's instructions over the phone very carefully. "Oh, half goes on his arm and other half goes in his mouth. Great..."

Connor looked over at Hank as a faintly amused grin appeared on his face.

"Okay, then what I do to keep him from overheating?" There was a pause again as Hank listened to the advice with full attention. "No, I think I can manage that. I'll call you if-"

The wind suddenly picked up and as it blew over the house in a quaking gale the power to the house failed, as did all of the cell towers in the area. The house became hushed after a pitiful groan of failed power sounded off through the modest home blanketing the house in darkness.

"...Well, then." Hank put his now useless phone back into his pocket as he stared at Connor's face in the amber glow of the candlelight. Removing Connor's black tie and unbuttoning the deviant's white dress shirt Hank pulled Connor's bloody right arm loose from the sleeve entirely and removed the Thirium saturated bandages away from the slowly healing wound. "I guess I'll have to call Joel back after the storm passes."

"U-Understandable." In response Connor sighed a little as he watched Hank open the transparent plastic bottle containing the orange liquid to try to help his injury stop bleeding and finally mend. Clumsily he managed to shrug off the rest of his dress shirt and loosen the tie before slipping on the t-shirt with Hank's help. "...Did Joel say anything about the Thirium?"

"Yeah, he said to wait until the bleeding begins to slow then ingest your usual weekly replenishment over the next couple of hours." With a controlled strength Hank took Connor's damaged forearm in his hand and let the blue stained towel drop to the floor between the couch and the coffee table. "Now, please don't scream when I start to pour this over your arm. I don't want to hurt you."

"I don't know how it'll feel, but I won't-"

Without warning Hank poured the orange liquid over Connor's right forearm along his bleeding fractures and Hank had to tighten his grip around Connor's wrist as the pained deviant had a strongly negative reaction and tried to pull his arm back. It was an instinctive reaction that Hank couldn't fault the deviant from having.

"Sorry!" Hank apologized sincerely as he gingerly turned Connor's arm over to ensure the compound drenched every fracture and exposed Thirium line in the opened fractures. The orange liquid managed to wash away the blue as the two colors mixed into a sickly dark tea shade that dripped steadily onto the towel sitting on the floor below. "Hey, what the hell is 'incrassation', anyway? Never heard of this stuff until you showed up with that fancy first aid kit."

Connor panted quickly before he caught his pained breath and answered through gritted teeth and pushed through the monumental ache. "I-It's the chemical equivalent to h-human blood clotting medication. It's a f-form of artificially induced coagulation."

"Oh, well whatever it is, we're done with this crap for now." Hank set aside the bottle for the moment and proceeded to wrap fresh gauze around Connor's disinfected forearm. The white bandages were instantly stained in pale blue and vivid orange as Hank carefully bandaged the damaged limb all the while trying to keep Connor as alert as possible. "How're you holding up? What's your temperature?"

"O-One moment..." Needing to check on the climbing number Connor closed his eyes for a moment as his L.E.D. cycled yellow then back to red as he finished performing his self-diagnostic. "It's currently at one-hundred and two point seven degrees Fahrenheit."

"I'll get another cold towel for you. Do you know why your arm kept bleeding?" Testing Connor's lucidity with a few questions Hank wanted to know if the deviant was in danger from extreme overheating. "Joel suspects some kind of software malfunction that's keeping your program from repairing the lines because it doesn't know to temporarily stop the flow of Thirium."

"I..." Sluggishly Connor opened his glazed over eyes and sighed tiredly as he tried to answer as accurately as he could. "I can't confirm or deny his theory." Letting his eyes slip shut again, Connor's body began to relax as fatigue won out. "...I f-feel very tired."

"Hey, hey! Stay awake, just a little while longer." Hank pleaded as he finished wrapping up Connor's forearm and gently placed the limb down on the couch next to the deviant's overheating body. Lightly Hank tugged on the hem of the t-shirt and made sure Connor was fully covered and comfortable. "I'm going to try to keep you cool, so just stay awake for me."

"I'll... I'll try to r-remain conscious."

"Good, that's all I ask." Very lightly Hank patted Connor's shoulder once before he stood up to disappear back down the hallway to the bathroom. "Keep awake for a few more minutes and then you can sleep."

As he had been requested, Connor kept his eyes open and dismissed the numerous system warnings that were constantly appearing in his visual processors. Staring at the odd shadows being cast along the walls of the livingroom courtesy of the dancing candle flames that surrounded him where he was laying Connor felt suddenly uneasy, as if the shadows were somehow encroaching over him in an ominous manner that he couldn't explain.

"...Hank?"

The shadows climbed up the walls and darkened as they took the form of misshapen humanoid figures and monstrous entities. As Connor stared at the shadows with a terrified intrigue, he felt his heart rate beginning to climb and his breaths deepened considerably. The shadows grew taller, became darker, and seemed to loom closer to Connor as the howling wind outside carried a strange sound that he swore were disembodied voices.

"H-Hank?" Connor called out as a loud instinctive cry for help as he began to panic and try to push himself up from the couch to flee. "Hank!"

A gentle cold pressure to his right arm made Connor turn his head in fear. His brown eyes locked on to Hank's face as the senior detective wrapped a cool, damp towel around Connor's freshly bandaged forearm.

"Hank?!"

"Right here, son." Slowly Hank's hand pressed down against the already warmed washcloth draped over Connor's forehead to check on the deviant's fever. "You're really starting to burn up. Try to keep calm. What's wrong?"

"I..." The images he had seen in the shadows had suddenly regressed into nothingness in the glowing candlelight. "Th-The shadows... They looked- I thought they-"

"Yeah, pretty sure a high temperature is going to cause delirium in androids just like it will with humans." It only took Hank a few seconds to figure out why Connor had been panicking at seemingly nothing. "Fevers can really mess with your mind."

"D-Delirium? Fever?"

"Nothing's wrong with the shadows, they just look strange because you're running hot." Easing Connor's fears Hank fell into a rather casual routine of taking care of a sick kid despite Connor being an adult android. "It's that simple."

"N-Nothing's wrong." Feeling his heart rate calm Connor repeated the phrase weakly as Hank replaced the warm washcloth over his forehead with another colder compress. The cool sensation was soothing and helped ease Connor's discomfort physically and mentally. "...It's not real. It's all from delirium."

"Yeah, you got it. Go into rest mode." The fatherly senior detective suggested in a whisper. "Joel said it'd help kickstart your healing program thingy again, and it'll give that orange crap enough time to work before you have to drink it."

Eager to try to get the odd sensation of the shadows creeping around him and somehow being a threat from his mind, Connor closed his eyes and forced his system to enter his needed rest mode. The feverish deviant promptly fell asleep on the couch with Hank and Sumo watching over him. His L.E.D. transitioned from red to yellow as his physical distress lessened once he was finally asleep and getting some rest.

"I envy how quickly you can fall asleep, son. I really do."

Taking the navy blue blanket that had been folded over the back of the couch as per Connor's usual morning routine in his hands, Hank draped the blanket over Connor's form to ensure he was kept warm despite the fever. The way Connor seemed so pitiful and weak made Hank's heart ache on a paternal level. It was fortunate that Hank had the patience to deal with stubborn, impatient and sick detectives.

The rainy snowstorm outside shook the house and caused numerous tree branches to freeze and snap away in the strong wind gusts. Dozens of powerlines were torn down by the damaged trees, as well as the heavy ice that sheathed around the cables and as the harsh wind that bombarded the city. The entire block was bathed in darkness as the storm tore through the neighborhood relentlessly in a surge of white snow, icy rain, and endless wind.

Hank watched as Connor's L.E.D. cycled in yellow for almost an hour before it suddenly flashed red, and Connor's eyes began to twitch as he mumbled to himself.

"D-Don't... Amanda."

"Fuck." Checking the cool compress over the deviant's forehead Hank made sure Connor's core temperature didn't rise any higher. "Don't start losing it on me, kid. You're okay."

"Please... I just-"

"Connor?" Hank put a ground palm down on Connor's shoulder and shook him once to try to gently rouse him. "Wake up for me."

"H-H..." Though the response was delayed Connor's frightened eyes opened and he looked up with glassy brown irises at Hank still sitting beside him. "...Hank?"

"Good to see you awake. Thirium." Retracting his hand Hank simply stated the obvious as he presented a bottle of the blue blood for the ill deviant to take. "Drink it now while it's still cold."

"When did...?" Connor trailed off before he could finish his question. His mind was still overwhelmed by his own internal heat. "I don't..."

"You've been asleep for almost two hours." Opening the lid from the bottle Hank put his hand under Connor's shoulder and helped the feverish deviant to sit upright on the couch. "I was hoping your temperature would drop a little while you slept, but it looks like you still need a boost from the Thirium before you'll really start to recover."

"O-Okay." Connor's body was trembling from weakness as he struggled to support his entire upper body upright on his left arm. If Hank hadn't already been supporting his shoulder Connor would've fallen backward in a daze. "I'm... I feel too hot."

"I know, we're going to get your cooled off as soon as possible. Patience, remember?" Carefully Hank tipped the bottle of Thirium up to Connor's lips and waited for the sick deviant to respond. Slowly Connor began to drink the dark blue Thirium but stopped at the halfway point as he suddenly felt too weak to finish. "It's okay." With a strong hand Hank helped guide Connor back down against the couch. "You'll finish it off later."

Curious about his current condition Connor looked down at his bandaged forearm and flexed his hand a little to test his range of motion. Letting out a pained gasp of surprise Connor felt Hank's own hand press down against his chest to hold him as still as possible. The effort of moving his fingers had caused a searing pain to burn through his entire arm as a result of the simple motion, and Connor tried to curl around himself in pain as if he could somehow keep the agony at bay.

"Don't move." The protective Lieutenant urged as he pressed his other palm lightly down on the towel wrapped around Connor's bandaged arm. "What's wrong?"

"...My arm. I-It hurts."

"Let me see." The towel around Connor's forearm was warm and the cool water had dried out from prolonged exposure to Connor's overheating body. The bleeding was slowing down but the limb was still very hot to the touch as the damaged site just radiated heat. "I'll take care of it, just go back to sleep for now."

Connor didn't even have to manually activate rest mode the second time. His system automatically triggered emergency stasis mode in response to his elevated core temperature and the strain being put on his systems as his self-healing program struggled to repair his damaged arm effectively.

"Connor?"

Hank was a little worried about how quickly the deviant fell back asleep and did so without any protest. Moving his hand up from Connor's arm to the center of his chest Hank could feel Connor's heart beating a little faster than normal but it wasn't at a dangerous rate.

"Please just stay like that; quiet and alive."

Throughout the snowy evening and freezing night Hank repeatedly replaced the clean towel down around Connor's bandaged forearm as he kept the cool washcloth over his forehead. Every so often Connor would twitch or jump in his sleep causing either the towel or the washcloth to slip away from their designated places without Connor even noticing. Fortunately, Hank was quick to replace the compresses to keep Connor as stable as possible as he slept.

"Easy, son. You're going to be okay."

The feverish deviant frequently muttered nonsense to himself as his high temperature caused a chronic delirium and flashes of haunting images from his traumatic past. Occasionally the muttering would transition from fear and into ramblings about New Jericho or even Lucas. The strangest reaction to the high fever was when Connor would hum or sing a few verses from various songs that he had heard, but it didn't bother Hank too much as long as Connor remained calm and slept through the worst of his illness.

As the storm mercifully began to weaken in the early morning hours Connor's L.E.D. transitioned from red to yellow, and his core temperature finally began to drop to a far more stable degree. No longer in danger of extreme overheating Connor's self-healing program was able to function without causing any unnecessary strain to the rest of his systems. The massive damage to his right forearm was finally beginning to heal and the bleeding stopped at long last.

Cool pressure against Connor's forehead caused the recovering deviant to finally open his eyes and look up at Hank who had placed another fresh washcloth down gently to replace the previously warmed compress. His hazy vision slowly cleared and he recognized Hank as the Lieutenant continued to watch over him.

"...Hank?"

"'Bout time you woke up." The relived detective pointed to Connor's bandaged forearm that was no longer covered by the towel, only clean bandages. "You stopped bleeding a few hours ago and it looks like your artificial skin is trying to cover up your arm again. I think it's safe to say that you're finally in the clear."

"...Yes." Connor tentatively flexed his right hand again and immediately relaxed as the motion didn't result in horrific pain to the rest of his arm. "It seems I've finally begun to heal."

"Finish this off." Hank handed the bottle with the remaining Thirium over to Connor, who readily took it to drink. "Obviously we're not going anywhere today." He motioned to the front window with a casual point of his thumb over his shoulder and to the aftermath of the white blizzard outside. "Which is good since we have today off anyway."

"A-Agreed." Connor's L.E.D. blinked in yellow as he received a cybernetic update on the dying down storm. "Power won't be restored to the area for another four hours, thirty-six minutes and five seconds." Sitting upright carefully on the couch Connor's yellow L.E.D. cycled into blue and he ingested the remaining Thirium without any previous. "What do humans do when they're unable to leave their homes and are without power?"

"Panic." Hank quipped dryly as he slowly stood up from the coffee table beside the ouch and stretched his sore back a little. Sumo had been sleeping on the floor between the couch and coffee table all night long and the loyal finally dog stood up when Hank did. "But in my case, I think I'll get some sleep."

"Of course. Thank you."

Walking around the back of the couch Hank paused and gave Connor an odd look. "For what?"

"For taking care of me while I was ill.

"It's easier when to do when you don't lie about being sick or hurt, isn't it?"

"Yes, and I still appreciate you helping me when I needed it the most."

"It's no problem. Just take it easy for a while longer and don't do anything to aggravate your arm."

"I'll do my best." Nodding as he lightly wrapped his palm around his healing forearm Connor let out a small sigh when he didn't feel searing pain under his touch, only a dull ache where the bullet wound was still healing. "What should I do for now?"

Checking on Connor's fever by reaching his hand down over the back of the couch to the deviant's forehead, Hank was relieved to know Connor was running much cooler than he had been before and was no longer in danger of permanent intracranial processor damage.

"You need to keep resting." Hank practically ordered out as he walked down the hallway and into his bedroom. "Or let Sumo outside. But don't lose him in the snow, okay?"

"Okay, I'll do that. Sleep well."

"Yeah, sure. And call me if you need anything else."

"I will."

Agreeing to the simple suggestions Connor placed the empty Thirium bottle down on the coffee table and patted the side of his leg to call Sumo over to him, to which Sumo quickly responded. Putting his palm down on the loyal dog's head Connor rubbed the massive Saint Bernard's ears affectionately with his fingers and enjoyed being able to use the limb and appendage once more.

"I wouldn't worry about the storm, Sumo."

Shuddering at the thought of being lost in the snow Connor pulled his blanket tightly around himself to keep warm and looked down at Sumo playfully.

"I think you're just too big to get lost so easily in any weather, boy."

Wagging his tail Sumo put his big paws up on Connor's legs and leaned in to lick the deviant's cheek. The Saint Bernard was always happy to get some attention from Connor and was happy to see his favorite deviant alert and awake once again.

"Let's get you outside quickly so that we can return here and keep warm for the remainder of the morning, okay, boy?"

Glancing up at the front window Connor grimaced at the snow and shook his head somberly.

"I greatly dislike the cold and the dark memories that it brings to the surface."

-next chapter-