A narrow brick alleyway in the industrial district was coated in the invisible blue blood of four deviants that had been executed one at a time during the late hours during the dark, cold previous night. Each deviant victim had been shot directly in the back of the head with a single bullet. The piercing damage from the bullets instantly shutdown the deviants in a macabre eruption of blue blood from their own destroyed craniums. The deaths were as enigmatic as they were brutal. There was no clear motivation behind the quadruple homicide, but Connor and Hank were determined to solve the graphic case and bring all four murder victims justice.

Police had already sectioned off the immediate area with holographic police tape and were searching for witnesses to the murders along the neighboring streets and buildings. Reporting to the scene of the quadruple homicide had given Connor pause as he realized that the violence toward androids seemed to be escalating at a disturbing rate despite the peaceful Revolution.

Seasoned from years of experience on the job Hank could see the emotional distress reflected in Connor's soulful brown eyes and needed to ask him if he was going to be able to handle the scene as they approached the four bodies. "You okay, kid?"

"Huh? What?" Connor tore his eyes from the four bloodied humanoid forms concealed under the white sheets strewn out before him. He looked away from the blue blood that only he could still see staining the walls and ground to look to his partner in the eye. "...Did you say something?"

"Want me to take this one?" The urge to protect Connor prompted Hank to take the lead. "I can work it solo."

"No, I'm fine." Refusing to back down from the case Connor remained professional and set about examining the scene as necessary. "I can do this."

Folding his arms across his chest Hank stood back and watched as Connor slowly approached the scene of the deviant massacre and prepared to do his job. The yellow L.E.D. in Connor's right temple showed that the deviant detective was already emotionally upset and needed the space to think and work out what he was feeling.

With a heavy heart Connor knelt down beside the first body to lift the white sheet from his face, and ran a scan to identify the victim to get a name to go with the body. "'Travis'." Confirming the name Connor gave additional details regarding his life. "A 'WM-500' model. He worked as a mechanic downtown at a family garage for six years."

Slowly Hank shook his head as he watched Connor lift up the sheet from the next victim and ran his cybernetic scan for a second time.

"A 'MC-500' model. 'Heather'. She was a nurse in a human hospital for twelve years." Repeating the action for the third victim Connor swallowed nervously as he looked at the face and scanned his identity like the previous two victims. "A 'WK-500' model; 'Aaron'. He worked construction for nine years." As he reached his hand out to lift up the fourth sheet Connor had to hold his breath to keep his hand from shaking in the process. "And a 'WM-400' named 'Michael'. He was an electrician for five years."

"Do the four androids have anything in common aside from being, well, androids?"

"...Unknown at this time."

"Can you estimate a time of death?"

Connor's L.E.D. flashed rapidly in yellow as scanned the evaporated Thirium and noted its age and the overall weather conditions that could potentially alter the time frame for complete Thirium evaporation. "The first death occurred at two-o-four this morning and the fourth death occurred at two-o-six this same morning."

"Fuck... Whoever did this didn't hesitate." A piece of Hank's mind began to reel at the prospect of the brutal execution. "Four shots in less than two minutes."

"There is no common ground shared amongst the four deviants that would've justified this crime." Connor lamented as he stood upright and carefully stepped around the bodies rather than over them as he went to exit the alley. Rubbing his left hand along his right shoulder then down to his right forearm, Connor felt the dull ache of his previous injuries from a week before still gnawing a little at him. "They had no criminal history. They were all pacifist in nature and all had obtained honest work long before the Revolution and continued to perform their tasks as such. They were not a threat to anyone and had no known enemies."

"Gang violence." Hank stated curtly as he lowered his voice with repressed anger. "I guarantee you this was a hit by a that damn anti-android gang. Probably an initiation ceremony."

The deviant agreed with Hank's assessment as he stood beside his partner near the Thirium covered bodies. "We'll need to have the bullets extracted in order to-"

Screeching tires filled the air as an old, worn down car sped by the alley and began firing a barrage of bullets at the two detectives. A known member of the anti-android gang leaned out the passenger side window with his gun aimed at the detective duo with the intent to kill. Squeezing the trigger of the semiautomatic weapon the man had his burning gaze fixed on the glowing L.E.D. in Connor's temple and at Hank's chest.

Connor reacted to the sound of gunfire with incredible speed and tackled Hank down to the ground as the dozens of bullets screamed through the air and became embedded in the surrounding brick walls behind them. As Hank landed hard on his back on the cold pavement he instinctively pulled his gun from the holster on his right hip and rolled to his side as he began returning fire as quickly as he could.

Two of the bullets had struck the side of the car as it sped by and pulled around the corner and out of sight. The vehicle's license plate was partially obscured but Hank caught the front two digits of the plate's number in an attempt to identify the registered owner.

"Son of a bitch! Those fuckers actually had the balls to-"

Hank looked to his side and froze as he saw Connor laying beside him chest down on the pavement with his face turned away from Hank. A growing puddle of blue blood was forming under Connor's head beneath his right temple where he was laying.

"Shit! Connor?!"

The deviant detective wasn't moving.

"Fuck! No!"

Rolling and then rocking onto his knees Hank pressed his hand down on the center of Connor's back and shook him lightly. The deviant didn't respond or move even in the slightest despite the urgency in Hank's voice calling out to him.

"Shit, Connor..."

Kneeling beside the unresponsive deviant Hank slipped his hand around Connor's shoulder and rolled him from chest, onto his side and then flat onto his back as he supported Connor in his arms. Connor's head lolled limply as he came to a rest against Hank's strong bicep and showed no sign of consciousness. The deviant's soulful brown eyes were closed, his L.E.D. was a dull red and he was barely breathing.

"Connor... No."

Hank's eyes fell to the gruesome wound and his beating heart suddenly clenched in his chest.

A bullet had lodged itself inside Connor's right temple against his L.E.D. tearing open his artificial skin in the process as it lodged firmly in the white plastimetal frame beneath. The light was blinking red very slowly and dully as blue blood poured from the wound down the side of Connor's face and onto Hank's coat as he held the critically damaged deviant in his arms. Hank could see the shiny casing of the bullet lodged in the side of Connor's cranium wedged dangerously close to Connor's delicate intracranial processor.

"Connor?"

Hank slipped his trembling hand up to the side of Connor's neck and felt a very weak and slow pulse thrumming against his fingertips.

"Connor... Can you hear me? Son?"

In spite of Hank's voice calling out to him Connor remained completely silent and motionless as Hank clutched his body tightly in a protective embrace.

"Shit... Hold on, son. Hold on!"

Slipping his other arm under Connor's legs Hank lifted Connor's limp body up into his arms without jostling him. The deviant's bleeding head rested against Hank's shoulder and chest as the senior detective scooped him up from the blue blood soaked pavement.

"I'll get you some help!"

Hank carried Connor over to the Oldsmobile parked a few yards away and pulled open the passenger side door with a firm yank. Placing Connor down in the front passenger seat quickly but carefully, Hank slammed the door shut and rushed around to the other side of the car to get behind the wheel while he pulled his radio from his pocket to call in the shooting as well as an officer down.

Speeding out and away from the crime scene to the nearest Android Emergency Care Facility several blocks away, Hank pressed his right hand over Connor's chest to hold the deviant upright against the seat as he steered with his left hand through the streets. Connor's head was slumped forward limply as he showed no sign of consciousness at all. Blue blood dripped down from the wound to his cranium and stained Hank's hand a sickly shade of dark blue in the process.

"Hold on, Connor."

Pleading with the deviant under his palm Hank tried to push away the memories of past funerals and of the very recent image of Connor laying on the pavement bleeding heavily from the bullet to his head.

"Just hold on... That's all I ask."

Screeching to a stop outside the front emergency entrance of the first facility he saw Hank threw the car into park and rushed around the front of the car back to Connor's door. Pulling the door open quickly Hank bent down and hefted Connor back up into his arms as he rushed the dying, blood covered deviant through the front doors drawing the full attention of everyone inside the main lobby and waiting room of the building.

"He's been shot! I need some help here!" Hank shouted and was immediately swarmed by a blond, male android technician named 'Jarvis' who took Connor out of his arms and into his own. "It happened barely two minutes ago..."

With his own L.E.D. flashing between yellow and red Jarvis cybernetically contacted additional assistance to the lobby and was promptly met with a second deviant. It was the same deviant receptions who used to work at the abandoned 'Pirate Cove' amusement park outside of the city, Barry. In a matter of seconds Barry and was wheeling a gurney into the lobby to assist Jarvis with Connor's treatment.

"Do what you have to do." Hank pleaded as he watched the two deviants tending to Connor's injury. "Just save him."

Connor's limp body was laid over the gurney while the two deviants technicians turned Connor's head toward the left to keep the bullet wound in his right temple elevated. Jarvis applied pressure to the wound and Barry checked Connor's pupils with a penlight. Barry next pressed his hand down over Connor's chest to check his pulse, but there was a look of concern in his kind green eyes as he glanced at his partner.

Tearing open Connor's white dress shirt Barry pressed his palm flat over the center of Connor's chest and gave Jarvis an alarmed response immediately. "He is not ventilating and his Thirium pump is faltering."

Instinctively Hank made a move toward the gurney to assist but Jarvis pushed him back a few inches as the senior detective tried to get closer to check on the downed deviant. "Connor?!"

"Sir, please stay back." Jarvis commanded as he checked Connor's fading L.E.D. for any sign of system response. "There's nothing more you can do for him."

Before Hank had the chance to say anything else the two deviants exchanged glances of mutual fear before they reached a silent, cybernetic decision and rolled Connor through the neighboring pair of sliding double-doors and into the adjacent corridor leading to the emergency repair ward in the depths of the Zeta Facility. In a matter of seconds Connor was out of sight and heading into the emergency examination and repair ward of the facility, and there was nothing more that Hank could do to help him.

"Connor..."

Hank's blue blood covered hands clenched into tight fists as he felt a horrific chill race up his spine. Connor had been shot just as Lucas had been a few months prior. It was like reliving a brutal, cruel nightmare.

"Please. Don't die."

As his legs began to shake Hank just stared at the semi transparent doors that had slid shut and cut off entrance to the corridor leading to the depths of the quiet facility.

"Don't die on me, son. I need you to pull through."

Completely oblivious to the waking world rapidly spinning around him Connor was wheeled into the emergency repair ward where Dr. Abby Grayson herself had been given the honor of saving the deviant detective's life. While the two deviant technicians who had rolled Connor into the repair ward began removing his gray blazer, black tie and white dress shirt, they also hooked him up to numerous monitors to check his vital signs. Abby herself pressed her audioscope to Connor's now bare chest and heard the same faltering of his Thirium pump that the two responding deviant technicians had detected just seconds ago out in the main lobby.

The lack of reaction from Connor and shaky vital signs were less than ideal to confirm. The longer Connor remained unresponsive the greater the odds became of Connor suffering from permanent, if not fatal damage.

"The bullet has damaged the intracranial processor. The signal to his Thirium pump regulator has been disrupted." Abby motioned to the external pump compression wrap mounted against the far wall. "Use the compressor to keep his pump beating until we can return the signal."

The compression wrap was designed to do just as it sounded - wrap around a patient's chest and provide external compressions. The wrap was composed of a flexible but strong material akin to Kevlar and had numerous wireless sensors designed to monitor the patient's Thirium pump activity, Thirium pressure and overall ventilation rate. At the surface of the wrap a strong plastimetal wedge roughly the circumference of a softball was designed to autonomously and rhythmically compress the patient's chest directly over the Thirium pump to perform constant C.P.R. and free up the responding technician's hands while the technician performs additional repairs.

Following Abby's instructions Jarvis took the wrap and lined the wedge over the center of Connor's chest just above his Thirium pump and allowed Barry to sit Connor upright on the table while Abby held supportively onto Connor's head and neck to keep him stable. Securing the wrap in place around Connor's chest by fastening the ends of the wrap together with magnetic bindings just under Connor's shoulder blades, the trio laid Connor back down gently on the exam table and turned on the sensors as the wrap recorded Connor's current vitals signs.

Once in proper position Jarvis checked the sensor read out and ensured the wedge was resting less than an inch above Connor's heart. "Ready to begin."

Abby leaned over Connor's head to check his eyes for herself with her penlight as she remained in control of the situation. "Turn on the compression wrap; aim for sixty beats per minute."

"Yes, Dr. Grayson."

With a cybernetic signal from Jarvis the compression wrap came to life and the wedge began pressing down against Connor's heart to force the faltering Thirium pump back into a consistent motion. The second sensor pad already secured in the center of Connor's chest recorded each manual beat and confirmed the appropriate pump rate on the nearby Thirial activity monitor for Abby to see for herself.

"What's his Thirium volume?" Abby asked as she powered on the portable internal viewing screen and held it over Connor's cranium. The bullet was wedged deep inside the plastimetal frame but she could still remove it without causing further damage to his skull or intracranial processor. "...Shit. I can see the bullet and it's not in a good place."

"Thirium volume is at eighty-three percent," Barry replied astutely. "and steadily dropping."

"Insert an external air intake line down his throat to assist his ventilation and hang two units of Thirium. Also begin cooling measures to ensure he doesn't start to overheat."

"Right away, Dr. Grayson."

Abby gently pressed her palm against Connor's right cheek as she palpitated the nearby wound in his temple with her fingertips. The injured deviant seemed so lifeless and defenseless. The grim sight made Abby's heart ache a little in her chest at the sigh of her friend as his life began to slip away.

"Come on, Connor."

Pleading softly Abby let her professional demeanor slide for just a moment as she spoke to Connor not as his dedicated technician but as his worried friend.

"Stay with us."

Everything was numb.

Connor felt an odd sense of nothingness despite knowing he was standing upright and was not in fact in rest mode, yet his eyes were still closed. Opening his soulful brown eyes Connor blinked a few times as he looked around and found himself standing at the start of the stone and marble trail that lead into the heart of the Zen Garden. The very garden from whence he answered to Amanda while he was still an obedient machine for CyberLife. Furrowing his brow with confusion Connor looked about curiously and suddenly realized that the Zen Garden wasn't the same garden that had haunted his nightmares, but was the new garden that had brought a peace to his dreams.

It was Lucas's garden.

"Hello, Connor."

Gazing into the center of the garden in the middle of the pond Connor spotted Lucas himself standing before the yellow roses that snaked up the trestle toward the ceiling designed to look like the blue sky of the real world. There was an odd smile of contentment on Lucas's face as he greeted his big brother from the distance and invited Connor to join him where he stood.

"Lucas." Approaching his little brother somewhat bewildered Connor trekked over the stone arching bridge that crossed over the pond full of vibrantly colored fish below. Speaking to his little brother with a sense of total loss in his voice Connor sought answers for questions he wasn't quite sure how to ask. "I do not understand. I am not dreaming, yet am I in the garden. Am I in a form of emergency rest mode?"

"No, Connor." Lucas confirmed somberly as Connor stood before him with frightened stare. Locking his kind green eyes onto Connor's soulful brown eyes Lucas replied with utter honestly despite the truth being bittersweet. "You're not."

"Then... why am I here?"

"Because," Lucas reached out his left hand gently and pressed his fingertips against Connor's right temple. The touch caused Connor's hand to reach up protectively to cover his unexpectedly pained temple, only to feel something cold and wet against his palm. "you're dying."

"I'm..." Connor lowered his hand and stared at the massive stain of blue blood now spread all over his palm. "I'm... dying?"

"Yes." Lucas confirmed with a stoic expression matched only by his voice. "Do you remember what happened before you woke up here?"

"I... I was in an alleyway working on a case." Flashes of four bodies under Thirium stained white sheets fills his eyes with a sickening horror. "There were four deviants... All of them were dead."

"Correct. What else?"

"...Murdered. They were all murdered. They were shot to-" Connor's blood covered L.E.D. cycled red quickly as he tentatively returned his hand to the bleeding wound in his head. "...I was shot. We were shot at while-" Connor's soulful eyes went wide with righteous fear as he hand dropped away and clenched into a tight fist at his side as the bleak memory returned. "HANK?! Is Hank-"

"He's fine!" Lucas grabbed onto Connor's shoulders to hold him steady as the fear caused his red L.E.D. to cycle rapidly and his heart to pound loudly in his chest as he shook with deeply seated concern. "Hank is okay, Connor. You saved him. He's alive and unharmed."

Connor's head dropped forward with a heavy sigh of relief. "...That's good. That's what's important."

"Connor," Lucas let his grip fall from his big brother's shoulders as he stepped away from the edge of the central pillar and looked down into the crystal clear pond water below. Numerous brightly colored fished swam about in a graceful dance within the body of water briefly disrupting Lucas's reflection on the surface. "you need to find a way to wake up."

"Wake up? But..." Connor joined Lucas at the edge of the pond and stared at his partially bloodied face in the reflection of the water as he stood beside his little brother at the edge of the pillar. "How can I wake up if I'm not asleep?"

"That is something you must discover for yourself, brother. But I will guide you." Giving Connor a confident stare Lucas waited for his big brother to respond to the world around me. "That is... if you will permit me."

Worried. Scared. Lost.

Unable to do anything but wait Hank sat in one of the chairs in the waiting room with his head between his hands as he leaned forward with his elbows propped atop his knees while he stared blankly at the floor between his feet. It had been almost two hours since Connor had been rushed into the emergency repair ward of the Zeta Facility and despite the time frame Hank had yet to receive a single update on the dying deviant's critical condition. As each second ticked by at a mind numbingly slow rate Hank could feel an icy chill creeping higher up his spine as an unsteady knot of pure dread tightened in the pit of his already upset stomach.

Word of the shooting spread quickly and the city was now on edge. The Central Precinct set about looking for the shooter with the little information that Hank was able to provide at the scene, and New Jericho Tower was asking for any potential deviant witnesses to come forward to help bring Connor some justice. Captain Fowler himself had arrived at the facility and took a seat next to Hank with a quiet presence.

As he sat beside his oldest friend in the waiting room the normally stoic Captain addressed the pained Lieutenant in a low voice. "Ballistics confirmed that the gang members who opened fire on you and Connor are the same shooters who murdered those four deviants. Two of your own shots struck the fleeing vehicle and helped us to identify it, and we successfully traced the vehicle back to the scene of the crime."

Without lifting his head Hank replied in a murmuring voice. "...Did you make an arrest?"

"Yes. Eight arrests to be exact." Captain Fowler put his hand on Hank's shoulder only have the gruff Lieutenant shrug his palm away indifferently. "Aside from the four murders and attempted murder of you and Connor, they were all charged with drug and illegal firearms possession. They won't be out on the street for at least forty years, and that's if they get off easy and earn a shot at parole."

Despite the relatively good news Hank didn't respond. All he could think about was Connor. The sight of Connor laying motionless on the pavement covered in his own blue blood with a bullet lodged inside of his head was too much for Hank to bear. Losing Barbara had been the first break in his heart, losing Cole had been the worst heartache of his life, losing Lucas was almost as painful, but the idea of losing Connor in such a horrendously tragic and brutal manner was the most painful idea he could possibly think of at that moment and threatened to shatter his beaten down heart into pieces.

Deep down Hank knew that if he lost Connor too then he would've officially lost everything and would be left with nothing. Nothing to fight for, nothing to call a family and nothing to live for. He'd have nothing but pain as his lone companion as dove head first back into a bottle of whiskey and placed the cold barrel of a revolver against his own head.

"What do you need me to do, Hank?" Captain Fowler asked sincerely as he tried and failed to get a response from the obviously pained senior detective. "Just name it and I'll do it."

"...Nothing."

"Hank, don't do that." Leaning back in the chair Captain Fowler gave Hank a worried and sympathetic stare. He could see the same type of pain that Hank had endured so many times before showing on his face like a haunting mask. "You're starting to shut down again."

Feeling defeated Hank sank back in his own chair and into cold silence as he stared at the floor without even the slightest hint of emotion to his face.

"I'm going to check with the receptionist. Maybe he can tell us something about what's happening with Connor." Captain Fowler volunteered as he stood up from his seat slowly. "I know you hate waiting, but right now it's all you can do."

"...Yeah." The admission was painful and somber as it passed over Hank's lips. "Don't I know it."

The emergency repairs were underway and reaching the second consecutive hour. It had taken nearly two hours of Connor's system to stabilize enough to tolerate the necessary repairs. Abby was dressed in dark red scrubs with a surgical mask over her face, and had her long brunette hair pulled back in a neat ponytail that had been tucked under a dark red bandana. With a pair of transparent surgical goggles over her face that made her hazel eyes shine brightly and purple latex gloves protecting her hands from exposing Connor's opened wound to any foreign contaminants, she leaned over Connor's head with a pair of metal forceps in her steady hand as she prepared to extract the offending bullet at long last.

While the procedure itself wasn't overtly difficult, it was uncommon. Very few androids survive after suffering grotesque blunt force impact or penetrating trauma to the cranium.

"Okay, Connor." Abby whispered as she eyed the bullet carefully. "You're in good hands..."

Still unconscious, Connor was laying on his back on the repair table with his head slightly propped up and titled to the left to full expose his right temple. He had a dual Thirium and air intake line inserted down his throat to replenish the Thirium he had lost after being shot and to help provide fresh oxygen to his nearly unresponsive ventilation biocomponents to keep his core temperature from rising and overheating.

The external compression wrap was still forcing his faltering pump into a steady motion, and with each manually induced beat of his heart the Thirial activity monitor 'beeped' in perfect synchronized rhythm. Connor's Thirium volume pressure remained static in number as he regained Thirium just as quickly as he was losing it.

The low level and other vital signs were displayed digitally on the Thirium pressure cuff that was wrapped around Connor's left bicep and the monitor attached to his chest. Both of which were being monitored closely by Jarvis and Barry as they assisted Abby in the emergency repairs.

"The patient is remaining stable." Jarvis announced as he double checked the sensors to ensure everything was functioning properly. "Emergency stasis mode is still active."

"I need additional light." Abby stated as she studied the angle of the bullet with keen observation. It could be removed simply enough, but it still needed a delicate touch to be successful. "The internal viewing screen will have to guide me."

Responding quickly Barry adjusted the overhead lamp to fully illuminate the shining case of the bullet still embedded in the right side of Connor's cranium. Able to see everything that Abby could see, Barry knew he had the light ideally placed. "Ready to begin?"

Keeping his hands perfectly still Jarvis held the internal visual display screen over Connor's head to give Abby an internal view of the damage to his cranium as she slowly and carefully grabbed onto the end of the bullet with the forceps. "Ready."

"When I start to extract the bullet his vitals could begin to drop." Abby cautioned instinctively as she hovered the tips of the shining and strong forceps over the bottom of the bullet. "Monitor him very carefully."

"Yes, Dr. Grayson." The two deviants replied in chorus as they took their appropriate positions around the operating table. "Ready."

"Okay, Connor..." Abby tightened the forceps around the bullet and held her breath as she began to apply strength to remove it from Connor's damaged, warped plastimetal frame. "I need you to do your part and pull through."

Curious and unsure of what to do, where to go or what to say, Connor stood beside Lucas and stared at his marred reflection in the pond with a sense of wonder as he watched his red L.E.D. pulsing at a slower and slower rate in his bloodied right temple. Trying and failing to activate his self diagnostic program to gain some answers, Connor was unable to fully comprehend the severity of his condition back in the waking world or regain any sense of consciousness. As the bewildered deviant tried to regain his senses Connor became suddenly aware of a strange sensation in his throat that was distracting, nearly suffocating and very persistent.

Swallowing once Connor tried to rid his throat of the unknown sensation but it refused to leave. It was as if he had ingested something that hadn't entirely left his throat and was now just lingering in place.

"...I am, alive?" Rubbing his hand over his throat Connor felt like there was a strange pressure running directly down his throat and into his artificial stomach. There was also a strangely cool breath he could feel circulating through his ventilation biocomponents despite not actually breathing. "Yes. I am alive."

Ignoring the odd sensations Connor tried to activate any and all of his advanced programs to give him an update on his condition but nothing was responding to his commands. It was as if only his sense of self had survived entering the forced emergency stasis mode, and even then it was a very limited sense.

"Lucas," the deviant detective was at a total loss and still seeking answers. "what's happening to me?"

"I've already told you." Stepping back from the edge of the pond Lucas responded in a low somber manner. "You're dying."

"No, I mean," following Lucas away from the pond Connor clarified the meaning of his question. "how am I awake and asleep at the same time?"

"When you were shot the bullet failed to destroy your intracranial processor and merely damaged the portion of your hardware responsible for sustaining your basic vital biocomponent functions; your Thirium pump, your Thirium pump regulator, your ventilation biocomponents and your thermal regulator." The answer was as technical as it was honest. "The damage has also resulted in a failure of your self healing program which means it's impossible for you to heal without secondary measures being applied."

"So I am currently functioning, but it's the result of technical aid in direct response the damage I sustained."

"Correct. Humans would refer to this as 'life support', while androids consider this a delayed shutdown process."

"Hank must've taken me to a facility to receive treatment after I had been shot."

"Correct again." Confirming his big brother's theory Lucas reluctantly told Connor of what happened after he lost consciousness. "He carried you to the car and drove you to the nearest facility. I was able to bear witness to this heroic feat before I too was forced into this shared state of stasis mode."

Sounding afraid and lost Connor's shoulders sagged as his brown eyes filled with emotion. "Hank was too late?"

"Statistically speaking, yes. But there is always a chance for unlikely events to take place."

Connor smiled a little at the comment as it was appropriately reminiscent of the night of the Jericho Raid and of the night he allied with Markus to infiltrate CyberLife Tower. The odds of either deviant walking away from the Revolution alive were astronomically low and yet they both prevailed. If he could survive against the entire world then there was no reason that he couldn't survive a single bullet wound.

"Lucas, how can-" Connor stopped short as his hand went to his chest and he began gasping for breath. A massive gush of Thirium burst from his right temple and poured to the ground beside him as he bled heavily from the wound. "...L-Lucas? What's..."

As Connor began to collapse to the ground onto his knees Lucas reached out and held Connor in his arms, his hand going beneath his brother's head to cradle him as Lucas guided his bleeding brother down to the ground gently. "Shh, shh... It's okay, Connor. I have you."

"Wh-What's..." Blood seemed to pour from the wound and Connor gasped for breath as his heart ached in his chest with thundering pressure. "What's... What's happening t-to me?"

The Thirial activity monitor in the emergency repair bay began to screech loudly as Connor's Thirium volume suddenly dropped to a critically low level and he bled profusely from the bullet wound to his cranium. The two deviant technicians worked together quickly to add more Thirium to the line running down Connor's throat while Abby used incrassation compound to slow and stem the massive bleed in Connor's cranium as the now opened bullet wound gushed Thirium all over her hands and the floor at a frightening speed. The bullet had damaged a main Thirial line and had acted as a cork that kept the bleeding to a minimum up until it was removed.

The significant damage was proving to be a challenge to remedy. With Connor being a prototype who could respond in an unpredictable manner to treatment, the repair procedure had suddenly become more laborious and delicate.

"Shit, shit, shit! Come on!" Abby begged as she pressed her bloodied, gloved hands against the bleeding injury and tried to hastily but meticulously repair the damage to the severely compromised line before the damage proved itself to be too severe for Connor's already unstable processor to handle. "Don't do this... Hang on."

Barry pressed his exposed plastimetal palm down over Connor's chest to monitor his condition more closely. "He is not ventilating properly. I will increase the oxygen flow."

"His Thirium volume is down to thirty-nine percent." Jarvis stated dryly as he checked the pressure cuff wrapped around Connor's left bicep. "We have administered three units already."

"Start a fourth unit." Abby replied as she used metal clamps to secure the bleeding line in Connor's cranium to cut off the blood flow for a moment. "Don't add it too quickly otherwise his pressure could skyrocket and he'll bleed out even faster."

"Of course, Dr. Grayson."

"Damn it, Connor." Losing her patience but not her cool Abby maintained control over the bloody procedure and worked to keep her friend from slipping further into his stasis mode and subsequently closer to irreversible shutdown. "I won't let you die like this. But you still need to do your part and fight!"

Frightened and completely unaware of what was happening to himself, Connor coughed and gasped for air as Lucas held him in his arms in the heart of the Zen Garden. With one hand under Connor's head Lucas wrapped his other hand around Connor's shaking hand and held tight as he supported his scared dying brother without the slightest hint of fear on his own face. As blue blood pooled from his right temple Connor felt excruciating pain and horror at the prospect of shutting down with no way to save himself. Unable to breathe and unable to get up from the ground, he felt as vulnerable and defenseless he could possibly be in that fateful moment.

Lucas could sense Connor's waning vital signs and knew that the deviant detective was in trouble. The last thing he wanted to see was his own brother die and know that Hank would have to live his life alone once again.

"Connor? Look at me." Lucas remained calm and in control as he supported his frightened brother in his arms. Holding onto his hand in a tight supportive manner Lucas did everything he could to keep Connor calm. "Focus on my face."

Connor's soulful brown eyes were wide with fear but they drifted over to Lucas's face and stared intensely as he listened to his little brother's words. Every breath he took courtesy of an external influence made Connor's chest ache as it rose and fell in a manner that he couldn't control. The thundering beats of his heart sounded like a storm inside Connor's own mind.

"Listen to me. The pain you're feeling is a GOOD sign, okay?" The encouragement felt completely contradictory as Lucas refused to let Connor give up on himself. Not yet. "It means you're still alive, it means you still have some fight left in you."

"I... I..."

"Don't submit to the pain. I know you want to close your eyes and you want to pass out so you can sleep through the pain, but you can't. You MUST stay awake. Stay with me."

"L-Lucas...?"

"I'm right here, big brother. I won't leave you." Lucas tightened his warmer hand around Connor's cold hand as the dying deviant's grip began to steadily weaken and his breathing slowed. "You need to fight through this. The pain means you're still connected to the waking world. That pressure in your throat is being caused by the inserted Thirium and air intake line restoring your blood. The breath you can feel despite not breathing at your own control is from oxygen being given to keep your core temperature low. These are all happening in the outside world and in real time. You're still connected to the real world."

Connor seemed to understand but his body jerked and spasmed as nearly unbearable pain in his head caused his eyes to snap shut tightly as tears streamed down the side of his face from the corners of his eyes. "...C-Can't! I... I can't..."

"No, Connor!" Lucas urged firmly as he spoke to his brother and tightened his arms around the deviant. "Eyes open, now. Look at me."

More pained tears streamed down his face as Connor gritted his teeth and sucked in a pained breath.

"Connor. Open your eyes. I need you to do it, NOW."

Finally forcing his eyes to reopen slowly Connor's pain filled irises locked onto Lucas's green irises once more. "...H...Hurts. Everything... hurts."

"Don't think about the pain. Think about your life. Think about your case. Think about our father."

"Our..." The comment was a little confusing but soon Connor caught on to what Lucas meant. The very man who had adopted the brothers, given them a home and treated them like a true family. He was their father. "...H-Hank?"

"Yes. Hank needs you Connor." An uneasy smile appeared on Lucas's face as he continued to encourage his brother to fight for life. "You have to pull through because Hank needs you to pull through."

More tears flowed from Connor's eyes as he fought to endure the pain and remain conscious.

"You know what I'm talking about. I see it just as easily as you do when you look at him." Lucas shifted his position so he was sitting on the ground with one leg folded beneath himself and his other leg bent so Connor could rest up against his knee. Hanging on to Connor's hand Lucas moved his other hand from the back of Connor's head to wipe away the pained tears from his speechless big brother's face. "You know that Hank is still fighting his depression. You know that Hank still thinks about Cole every day of his life and every time he does a little piece of him slips back into that dark spiraling abyss of suicide."

Connor nodded a little as he managed to take a deep, shuddering breath that seemed to slow his thundering heart.

"That's right, breathe. You're going to be okay."

Connor fought to keep himself as calm as possible as the persistent pain in his cranium relentlessly throbbed. The Thirium continued to seep down the side of his face from his damaged right temple as his wound in the real world continued to threaten to take his life.

"Hank needed you just as much you needed him. You needed a father figure in your life long before you even had a concept of family or even accepted your deviancy. And Hank needed a friend, someone who still saw him as the great detective he had always been and still was even after enduring so much tragedy, and not be seen as the broken man he had become after Cole's death. He needed someone to see him as a figure of respect and trust like a child would their parent. He needed you and you needed him. You still do. You both still need each other."

As a sense of purpose filled his thoughts Connor's body slowly began to relax, a sense of peace falling over him as the pain began to lessen dramatically without any known cause. Weak and in a daze Connor's eyelids steadily drifted shut against his will as his breathing slowed, his heart ceased thundering and the pain lessened.

"Connor?"

Lucas spoke firmly as he tried to coax his big brother into remaining aware or what was happening to him. Rubbing his thumb over the bloody wound in Connor's damaged right temple Lucas tried to be as comforting as possible in his brother's time of need.

"Stay with me..."

Everything in the facility seemed to be under control after ten tense minutes passed. With her arms crossed over her chest Abby stood next to the bed in the recovery wing of the facility as she warily watched over her critical patient. The ever stubborn deviant managed to survive his injury and he survived the critical repairs to his cranium and intracranial processor. It was a close call but Abby managed to pull Connor through the procedure with as few complications as possible given the circumstances, and now the deviant was in the recovery wing of the facility in hope that his self healing program would be able to finish the repairs that Abby had started.

The wounded deviant's clothing had been removed and replaced with a pale blue hospital gown and pale blue scrub pants. He was laying motionless in the bed with his head wrapped up under heavy protective bandages that were stained a pale shade of blue from the residual bleeding. Only the crown of his head was free of the bandages and allowed his thick, unruly hair to be seen as the same rogue lock of hair hung downward in front of his left eye.

Slightly pale from his low power mode preventing his artificial skin from fully generating an opaque layer over his white plastimetal body, Connor looked like he was sick and at death's door. With the Thirium line still down his throat, the nasal canula now feeding him oxygen and the compression wrap keeping his heart in motion, the deviant truly looked as though he were already dead and just waiting for someone to turn off the machine to be finally be buried.

"You're still with us, Connor."

The kind technician stated in a whisper as she checked the monitors still recording Connor's vital signs and gently lifted up his eyelids one at a time to check his pupils. The brown irises were bright but unresponsive to the light as the deviant's visual processors were offline.

"Just rest for now."

Removing her Thirium stained gloves and scrubs to be disposed of in a nearby bin, Abby walked out of the room, departed from the wing and made her slow and dreaded walk down the corridor to speak to Hank in the waiting room of the facility. Some days her job was beyond satisfying, then there were other days where she felt like a failure.

Unfortunately, today was one of those latter days.

From where he was sitting Hank seemed to sense Abby's approach, his head slowly lifting up to look at the technician as she walked through the sliding doors of the corridor. He didn't say a word as he locked eyes with her.

Captain Fowler had since left the facility to return to the precinct and as a result Hank was left alone to wait for any answers to the millions of questions he had regarding Connor's condition. Remaining silent in his wait, the senior detective just watched as Abby stood before him to give him an update at last.

"Hank?"

With a shaking voice the senior detective dared to acknowledge the technician. "Is he...?"

"He's holding on." Softening her tone Abby gave him a somber glance. "But... I won't lie to you, it's bad."

"Just..." Hank ran his hand through his shaggy locks of gray hair nervously as he stood up on shaking legs. "Let me see him. I need to see him."

"Okay. Follow me."

It was like wading through concrete as the two humans ventured down the corridor and into the second floor recovery wing of the facility to check in on Connor. It was unnervingly quiet and there was a potent aroma of astringent, bleach and latex rubber gloves that made every hospital and every facility smell the same.

In a way, it was like a mixture of joy and sadness, life and death.

"I was able to remove the bullet," Abby spoke up in a dreary voice as she guided Hank to where Connor was resting in the recovery wing. "but the damage was severe. I repaired the damaged hardware, repaired his affected portions of his intracranial processor and restored his Thirium, but he's still very weak."

"How bad is it?" Hank needed to know the truth even if he wasn't ready to hear it. "Level with me."

"The bullet destroyed the portion of his intracranial processor that is responsible for triggering the Thirium pump regulator and-"

"Abby... Please." That information was bad enough, having it told to him in a manner he didn't full understand only made it worse. "Simplify things for me, I'm very tired."

"Right, sorry. The part of his hardware stored inside his head that keeps his heart beating had been severely damaged." She sounded as tired as Hank felt in that moment. "As was the part of his processor that controlled his self healing program."

His steps stumbled as he realized she was speaking in the past tense and everything she said was bleak if not morose. "...Are you saying his heart stopped and there's no way for him to recover?"

"Right now he's in a deep stasis mode that I can't manually awaken him from. It's like when a human falls into a coma." Despite the simplified explanation everything was still complicated. "The odds of him recovering are extremely low because his self healing program isn't functioning." Stopping Hank just outside the door to Connor's private room she grabbed onto his hands and held them tightly in her own. "Hank... I'm sorry. He may not survive the night."

"He-" Paling considerably Hank looked past Abby and fell upon Connor's peacefully lax face as he stared through the window of the private room. The sight of the numerous machines attached to Connor's body to monitor his vitals and to keep him alive was unsettling; almost haunting. It was like the most horrible piece of Hank's past had come to the present just to mock him. "...Is ...Is there anything you can do for him? Anything at all?"

"I can keep him on manual external support for as long as you want. But right now..." Trailing off despondently Abby didn't try to hide her own fears or sugarcoat the bitter reality that they were now a part of. "I guess in the end it's up to you."

"...Yeah. I get it."

Pulling his hands from Abby's hands slowly as if his limbs were made of lead Hank stepped away from the technician to put his palm against the electronic panel beside the door to let it slide open. Trudging into the private room with a righteous hesitation in his every step Hank looked at the broken dying deviant for only a moment before the knot in his stomach tightened to the brink of genuine pain.

"I'm here, Connor."

Glancing about the room Hank saw that Connor's normal clothing had been neatly folded and placed atop a nearby small dresser designed to give the room a slightly more homey feel compared to that of a hollow building strictly of pain and recovery. The same could be said about the padded chair next to the dresser and the large window giving a clear view to a large park area beside the facility. As the fading sunlight shone through the window and cast faint warm rays over Connor's person the deviant looked even paler than he already was.

Tentatively Hank approached the bed where Connor was laying motionless save for the compression wrap forcing his heart into motion with controlled pressure and rhythm. The artificial rise and fall of Connor's chest was the only motion in the entire room as Hank himself even seemed to have stopped breathing for that excruciating moment.

"...Connor?"

Hank spoke to the downed deviant in a whisper as he carefully ran his hand over Connor's exposed hair, mindful of the heavy bandages covering the repaired bullet wound to his cranium along the right temple.

"I'm right here, son. I just need you to wake up for me. The sooner you wake up the sooner we can head home."

Unsurprisingly Connor didn't react to the sound of Hank's voice. Laying just as still as ever the unresponsive, deviant was disturbingly quiet as Hank spoke to him in a calming, patient voice. Every word went unheard and faded way into the air all around him.

"I'll be here until you're ready to wake up."

Pulling the chair over to the side of the bed Hank sat down and proceeded to keep vigil over his adopted son and hoped the deviant would wake up soon.

"And you will wake up, I know it. You have too much fight left in you to just give up now."

As an envious tranquility set in over his entire being Connor found the temptation to close his eyes nearly irresistible. Staring up past Lucas to the bright artificially blue sky above them through his partially opened eyes, Connor began to blink slowly and his body relaxed further and further as all tension faded away in a refreshing sense of peace. The expansive sky began to darken slightly and the greenery of the garden flora slowly grayed as if going dormant for the winter season as Connor steadily started to drift off to sleep seemingly against his will. The wounded deviant was completely unaware of the changes taking place in the garden as he faded away.

As the sky darkened the yellow roses on the trestle began to close and the fish in the pond became less active. Undoubtedly if Connor died then the garden would die as well right along with him, and Lucas knew of the possible final outcome if Connor stopped fighting to survive.

"Connor. You can't fall asleep." Lucas lightly patted the side of Connor's face with his palm and raised his voice. "You still need to find a way to wake up."

"...I'm..." Grogginess made his words sluggish and somewhat slurred. "...I'm already awake."

"No, you're aware, but not awake." Emphasizing his own words Lucas tried to get Connor to respond. "You need to WAKE UP."

"...I'm tired."

"I know you are, I can feel it." Lucas watched as the surrounding garden began to darken even further as the life drained away in tandem with Connor's own life. "But you have to find a way to wake up. Connor, please. If you die then I will die with you, and Hank... Hank won't be able to live without you. We all need you to wake up and pull through this."

"I..." Connor blinked once and shook his head as if he could shake away the fog clouding his mind. The sudden motion caused a sharp pain to return to his temple and his right hand pressed protectively over the wound that had finally stopped bleeding. "...I don't know how."

"Yes you do. You've done it before."

"Lucas." Opening his eyes a little wider Connor looked to his little brother supporting him for more guidance. Some unknown instinct began guiding his next movements as if on autopilot. "Will you... help me to stand up? I need to walk. I... I want to walk."

"Of course." Pulling Connor's limp, weak arm around his shoulders Lucas held his big brother's heavy weight at his side while he slipped his other arm around Connor's waist to support him as much as possible. "Come on, you can do it."

Leaning heavily against Lucas's shoulder Connor forced himself to stand up and forced his legs to support himself upright. As he slowly moved his entire body protested the motion as his heart began to race uncontrollably in his chest. "D-Don't let me fall asleep..." Connor pleaded with a tired, shaking voice. "Don't let me... I d-don't want to die."

"I won't, but you have to fight back, too." Adjusting is own weight to compensate for Connor's added weight Lucas walked forward and waited for Connor's legs to begin moving, too. Side by side the two brothers began to walk forward at a sluggish pace to begin circling around the dull pond in the heart of the garden. "You MUST keep fighting to wake up."

"...I'll try." Connor looked out from the center of the garden to the stone and marble pathway that encircled the pond as if it were a trek of a thousand miles just waiting to sap away what remaining strength he had left. "I just want to walk. I feel like I have to walk."

"Okay." Lucas tightened his grip around Connor's waist and pulled him up until he was standing on his own two feet with all of his weight distributed as evenly as possible. "Let's go for a walk, big brother."

Obeying his incredibly potent paternal instincts Hank stayed beside Connor's bed stubbornly all throughout the evening and well into the night with a focused vigil over his comatose adopted son. If Connor was going to tragically perish in the night thanks to his injuries, then Hank was determined to not let him die alone and to let Connor know he was cared about up until the very end. Sitting heavily in the chair that he had pulled up to the side of the bed, Hank rested his hand atop Connor's left forearm and stared at the deviant's expressionless pale face as if waiting for Connor to suddenly say something or open his eyes without any provocation.

The compression wrap made a rhythmic 'whushing' noise like a respirator used to keep humans alive as it pressed down on Connor's chest to keep his heart beating while the rest of his body lingered on. The sound became dull white noise the longer the compressions continued with seemingly no end in sight.

"You're still hanging on, son."

Hank whispered to the comatose deviant in a comforting manner.

"I won't go anywhere until you do. Okay? I'm right here with you."

With a light step Abby discreetly entered the private room to check in on Connor without startling Hank as the senior detective stayed at his bedside. Wrapping her fingers around Connor's wrist she counted his weak pulse that was still active solely due to the compression wrap forcing his stopped pump into motion. Clicking on her penlight she gently lifted Connor's eyelids and checked his pupils only to see the same lack of reaction to the sudden shift in light and brightness.

There was no absolutely sign that Connor's pump was attempting to beat on its own or any sign of returning consciousness. "Damn."

"Abby?" The senior detective had to dare himself to speak up as he watched the technician's every move from where he sat. "How much longer does he have?"

"He's still stable, Hank." Abby returned the penlight to her breast pocket before lightly lifting up the heavy bandages covering Connor's cranium on the right side to check on the wound beneath. Using a small wad of gauze she took a bottle of orange tinted incrassation compound from the nearby cabinet, dabbed the gauze onto the coagulation and sterilizing agent, and gently pressed it to the still opened wound. She hoped it'd be enough to stem the remaining minor blood loss from the smaller Thirium lines she couldn't access without pulling Connor's entire cranium apart in the process. "No change in his condition could be seen as either good or bad. But right now there is no definitive answer I can give you until I see some form of change in his vitals."

"No change?" Hank smiled a little as he watched Connor laying in the bed still oblivious to the world around him as Abby tended to his wound before she decided replace his bandages entirely. "Stubborn as ever, huh, kid? Not surprised."

Proving himself to indeed be stubborn to the last of his impressive will and ebbing strength, Connor haltingly walked about the Zen Garden on shaking legs as he fought to push through his waning energy with Lucas still loyal at his side. He had already lost count of how many laps he and Lucas had taken around the garden but Connor knew that he needed to keep moving regardless of how tired and weak he felt. For whatever reason, more like an instinctual impulse, Connor knew that he needed to keep moving forward in order to find the way to finally wake up from his odd coma and he needed to move in order to think more clearly.

As long as he was still moving Connor wouldn't be able to fall asleep. As long as Lucas kept him alert Connor wouldn't be able to fall asleep. As long he remembered that Hank needed him in his life Connor wouldn't be able to fall asleep.

"...Lucas." Fatigued and on the verge of collapse Connor spoke up in a weak voice to his little brother. "My body feels numb."

"You're weak." Sympathetic to his brother's plight Lucas acknowledged his exhaustion. "You've suffered massive Thirium loss."

"...I can still feel the line going down my throat." Pressing his free hand to the front of his throat Connor reflexively swallowed as if he could remove the uncomfortable feeling with the simple gesture. "I don't know why."

"You're still bleeding. Your self healing program isn't repairing your smaller damaged Thirium lines. The work is too delicate to have a technician fully open up your cranium without causing more damage in the process."

"How long have I... been here?"

"It's difficult to say. I'm fully aware of what's happening to you because my consciousness was uploaded to your memory and your memory wasn't damaged by the bullet, but until you regain consciousness yourself time is incalculable within the confines of the Zen Garden."

"What about Hank?"

"He is still sitting with you. I can hear him speaking to you on a subconscious level." Lucas confirmed Hank's presence with a faint grin on his face. "He wants you to wake up."

"I want to wake up, as well." The exhaustion and slurring of Connor's words hadn't diminished during his time in the garden, and he was losing strength by the second making the delay in his speech pattern more prevalent. "...But I don't understand how I can wake up." he was fighting to keep his words coherent and audible as he spoke. "...I'm not actually asleep."

"The damage was substantial but not necessarily lethal." Lucas explained casually as he shifted his posture to let Connor lean against him more comfortably as they walked. "You have suffered severe trauma to your intracranial processor. Your internal biocomponents had been unaffected by physical damage but the electrical impulses between your processor and your vital biocomponents have been disrupted. How does an android recover from such damage to their system?"

"...I don't-"

"Yes you do." Swiftly interrupting his brother, Lucas shifted his weight again to support Connor in a more upright stance as they began their next lap and began walking faster. "Think."

"...I'm not a technician."

"But you are a detective. You know how to follow clues, identify evidence and solve mysteries. This is just another case you need to solve. It just so happens that this case revolves around you personally."

Connor's faintly glowing red L.E.D. flickered for a moment under the dried and evaporating blue blood before returning to stagnant pulse while remaining red.

"Come on, Connor! Think." Lucas encouraged sincerely as he hastened his pace to make Connor walk even faster. "You already know what you have to do."

Taking a deep unsteady breath Connor delved into the routine protocol that every technician followed when met with a mortally damaged android. It seemed so rudimentary, so commonplace, and yet Connor struggled to find the correct course of thinking to guide himself back to the waking world. "...I can't-"

"Think. You can do it."

Pausing for a moment Connor sorted through his programming and protocols and recited the correct procedure. "...Repairs from a technician to replace the damaged hardware is the first step." Connor's voice became more analytical and less lethargic as Lucas guided him around the garden once more. "After the hardware is repaired... back-up data for the software must be... It must... Must be..."

"That's right, keeping going." Lucas knew his big brother was on the right track and just needed a little more encouragement. "What must happen next?"

"The software must be re-uploaded." The answer flashed in his mind and was reflected in his eyes. "Recalibrated. Recalibration happens next."

"That's right. And then what?"

"...Full system reboot."

Lucas began to smile as he carried Connor around the garden and stood before the strange tone pedestal with a blue glowing panel acting as its central display. The pedestal represented the former emergency exit that once resided in Connor's mind when he escaped Amanda's attempt to control his mind during the night of the peaceful Revolution.

Connor's brow furrowed as discovery washed over his face. "...My system hasn't rebooted due to a slow recalibration process." Pausing mid step Connor finally figured out the problem. "It has not rebooted. Yet."

"Correct."

Lucas stayed beside Connor as the wounded deviant pressed for one more question to be answered. "...Why?"

"The hardware that had been affected controls your Thirium pump and Thirium pump regulator, as well as your self healing program. Without those-"

"...I must manually execute an emergency restoration program to hasten the recalibration process."

"Correct." Relief washed over Lucas as he realized Connor had finally located the problem with his own programming. "You understand."

Weakly Connor pulled his arm away from Lucas's shoulder as he finally began to stand up on his own without having to lean against his little brother for support. Honing in on the glowing blue pedestal just a few feet away from where they were standing, Connor took a shaking step forward and retracted the artificial skin over the palm of his right hand as if ready to press his palm down over the panel itself.

"If I activate this restoration point and reboot my system my memory of speaking with you in the garden will be erased, will it not?"

Giving his big brother an empathetic glance Lucas nodded to confirm the suspicion. "...Correct."

"Lucas..." Holding up his exposed right hand Connor stared at the white plastimetal frame of his palm as he flexed his fingers a few time. "I don't want to forget about you saving my life."

"It's okay. I'll remember and I'm apart of your memory." Lucas stood beside Connor and put his hand to big brother's shoulder. He saw the hesitation in Connor's movements and questioned him with a sincere inquiry. "What's wrong? What's stopping you from waking up?"

"...It isn't fair." Lowering his hand from the pedestal Connor shook his head despondently. "Why do I get to live when you had to die?"

"Because fairness and living seldom go hand-in-hand, brother."

Arching his brow a little Connor let his hand drop to his side as he gave Lucas an odd glance. "That sounded like something Hank would say."

"That's because he did. It's what he told me the night you nearly died after being poisoned and I had to replace your thermal regulator."

Connor silently stared at Lucas where he stood and waited for his little brother to elaborate on the comment.

"I was terrified you'd die and I had remained at your side while you were still unconscious long after the replacement procedure. When I felt disheartened and angry at the whole world Hank spoke with me on a level I had never known before." Speaking with full reassurance Lucas encouraged his wounded brother to do what he needed to do in order to wake up and return to their father. "He truly understands who were are, Connor. He even understands the cruelty of the world we are fighting to change." Smiling with a seldom seen smile of emotional contentedness. Lucas made sure his big brother knew it was okay to move on without him. "Our fight mirrors when he became a cop and a father. Hank knew then what was worth fighting for and he still does."

The words of wisdom coming from his little brother were as humbling as they were comforting. "...I think I understand."

"Don't be angry about my death, Connor."

That final comment made Connor's eyes widen a little and his posture visibly straightened up.

"I know you're still mad, but you don't have to be. Learn to forgive yourself and never obsess with the violence against androids. Hate begets hate, violence begets violence."

"Did Hank tell you that, too?"

"No. That time it was from Markus."

Connor's eyes couldn't help but drift down toward Lucas's chest as he thought about how he had given Markus a new heart, Lucas's heart, after Markus had been shot in the street. Knowing that a piece of his little brother was still alive and keeping their mutual good friend alive made Connor himself feel alive.

Truly alive.

"I'm proud of what you did." Lucas replied as he put his hand over his chest with a sincere smile on his face. "I'm glad you gave my heart to Markus. I was able to help my friend one final time even after my death, and that's a rare gift to give."

Unable to hold back his frustrated emotions Connor admitted to his late little brother that he wasn't just angry, he felt lonely at times, too. "...I miss you."

"I know. I miss you, too. And I miss Hank. And everyone at New Jericho Tower. But," Lucas pulled his hand away from Connor's shoulder and took a step back from his older brother to give him space to awaken from the garden. "we can't pine for the past. We must live for the future. Go on, Connor. Live. It's okay to be alive while others die.

Nodding to Lucas with a smile of respect and admiration, Connor strode forward at a stunted pace toward the glowing pedestal and all but collapsed to his knees as he fell before the panel from total weakness. Placing his still exposed right hand down atop the glowing panel Connor closed his eyes and accessed the failsafe in his programming that would allow him to return to the waking world if his system was able to reboot itself accordingly.

"I'll visit you soon, Lucas."

"I know you will. But for now, wake up."

As the late night slowly turned to early morning Hank had practically passed out in the chair from utter exhaustion. While his hand remained over Connor's left forearm his grasp had gone limp and his mind was now as quiet and unresponsive as the comatose deviant he was watching over. The recovery room itself had slowly filled with vases of flowers, 'Get Well' cards, a couple balloons and a small stuffed dog that looked like a black lab as the other officers at the precinct showed their support to the downed deviant. Half of the flowers came from New Jericho Tower and during the first day Markus had stopped by to check in on both Connor and Hank before retreating to the tower to tend to his duties. As much as he hated to leave Connor alone in his time of need Markus knew that Connor wouldn't want him to neglect his duties or their people all because of him.

During her final round of her shift Abby had found Hank asleep in the chair and draped the man's large dark overcoat over top of him like a blanket. Worried that the senior detective had been neglecting his own health as he stayed vigil for what was now the fourth consecutive day at Connor's side, Abby gave the sleeping human a quick examination - going as far to listen to his heart with her audioscope and check his blood pressure and blood with a quick test that didn't even rouse him from his much needed sleep.

She found his blood sugar to be a little too low from a lack of nutrition and decided to treat him with a fresh cup of coffee. Maybe if she was lucky he'd actually drink it.

"Hank?" Abby shook the senior detective lightly by the shoulder to awaken him without making him jump in the process. "Hank, can you hear me?"

The senior detective let out a quiet groan of discomfort from laying back in the less than supportive chair for so long as he opened his tired blue eyes and lifted up his head. Looking first to Connor then over to Abby, he blinked his sleepy blues eyes rapidly before finding his voice. "...What's wrong?"

"Nothing with Connor, but you need to eat something."

Dismissing the comment Hank crossed one leg over the other and folded his arms over his chest. "...Not hungry."

"Don't make me hook you up to an I.V. or shove a feeding tube down your throat. I have a long shift ahead of me tonight, but I won't be able to concentrate until I know you're both okay."

"I'm fine, Abby."

"No, you're not." She ran her fingers through his messy gray locks that had become slightly greasy from the lack of showers during his vigil over Connor. It was a comforting gesture and one meant to emphasize how long Hank had been sitting in the recovery room. "Hank, neglecting yourself isn't going to make Connor wake up any sooner. You're acting like this is some form of penance but you didn't do anything wrong."

"He's my responsibility. He's my partner in the field and he's my family. I'm responsible for everything that happens to him."

"Me, too." Reminding Hank that she was also taking care of Connor she reassured him that he wasn't alone. "We're both trying to take care of him and I'm going to take care of you, too."

"Abby, I-"

"You're... what? Just as stubborn as Connor?" Abby cut him off quickly before he had the chance to protest or argue. "I'm going to bring you some coffee and you're going to drink it, okay? If you cooperate I'll forgo calling your Captain and essentially 'telling on you'."

Giving her an impressed glance Hank sank down in his chair and sighed deeply. "We're not the first detectives you've taken care of, are we?"

"Nope. Why do you think I changed my career from paramedic to technician?"

Hank gave her an appreciative and good-humored smile. "Sorry."

"I'll get you some coffee." Flashing him a warm smile of her own Abby turned to take her leave of the room and take care of the senior detective. "I'll be back and you're going to drink the coffee and anything else I bring you."

As Abby left the room Hank leaned forward in his seat and rubbed his free hand down his tired face and just stared at Connor's face with a sense of loss already heavy in his gaze. Tightening his grip over Connor's forearm Hank watched as the red tinted L.E.D. partially concealed under the white bandages pulsed at a slightly faster rate while Connor himself remained unconscious in the bed.

"Red really isn't your color, kid."

Hank commented dryly as he tried to keep his tone light.

"But too much blue," referring to the color of lost Thirium in his comment Hank tried to remain somewhat optimistic. "isn't all that great, either."

A weak twitching in Connor's left hand pulled Hank's attention away from the L.E.D. as his own hand grabbed onto Connor's hand in a firm grip.

"...Connor?"

Another weak twitching without anything readily discernible was the response.

"Connor," Hank dared to hope for the best as he raised his voice and called for the deviant to wake up. "please wake up."

Abby returned to the room with a cup of coffee in her hand as promised and noticed Hank's far more alert demeanor. "What's going on?"

"His... hand moved."

With a slight arch of her brow Abby placed the coffee down on the small table against the wall before leaning over Connor laying in the bed. Retrieving her penlight from her breast pocket she shined the bright light into Connor's eyes one at a time and noticed a shift in his pupil response. With a gentle motion Abby turned Connor's head toward the left to check his still partially concealed L.E.D. as well as the mostly healed bullet wound underneath the bandages.

"Abby?" Hank stood up slowly and felt slightly dizzy as a result from being still for so long and skipping meals. "What's going on?"

Ignoring the question Abby pocketed the light and placed the ears pieces from her audioscope that had been slung around her neck into place before running the bell over Connor's chest slowly. The sound she heard nearly stole her breath. "Holy-"

"What?! What the hell's going on?"

Abby turned off the compression wrap with a simple press of the concealed power button and hovered over Connor's chest. She loosened and then pulled the wrap away from his chest and down toward his abdomen as she continued to listen to his chest with genuine intrigue. "...His heart's beating on its own."

"That's a good thing, right?"

"Y-Yeah, it's a great thing! But... it shouldn't be possible." Draping her audioscope casually around her neck again Abby grabbed onto Connor's hands and then firmly she issued a command to the unconscious deviant. "Connor, squeeze my hands; left and right. Do it now."

Hank watched as Connor's hands remained limp in Abby's grasp while his red tinted L.E.D. cycled a little faster. "Connor, squeeze her hands. Come on, son. We know you can do it."

Weakly Connor's fingers curled around Abby's hands while his eyes began to move back and forth beneath his still closed eyelids.

Abby motioned for Hank to grab onto Connor's hand as she checked the monitors recording his vital signs. "That's a very, very good sign."

Hank grabbed onto Connor's left hand and held tight. "Connor, look at me. Look at me, son." As Connor's hand tightened around Hank's hand in response to his voice Hank continued to speak to him. "We know you're there, Connor. Just open your eyes and look at me."

Brown irises slowly reappeared as Connor's eyes finally opened, his focus hazy and uncoordinated. The deviant blinked a few times and tightened his hand around Hank's grip further as his right hand traced up his throat toward his mouth to pull out the Thirium line that was still snaked down his throat and into his artificial stomach.

"Hey, hey!" Hank scolded lightly as he grabbed onto Connor's right hand and held it back from his mouth. "Don't do that. You know better."

Blinking again Connor looked Hank in the eyes as if to silently communicate that he understood what the senior detective had told him and let him know that he was indeed awake.

"That's good." Nodding at Connor's reaction Hank just placed both of Connor's hands down atop his own abdomen and kept his palms pressed down on the backs of Connor's hands. "Just be patient and that tube will be taken out. You've been through a lot and need to take it easy."

"Yeah, I got this." Abby lowered the head of the bed slowly to tilt Connor's head back as she took hold of the Thirium line running down his throat and unclipped the coupling for the no longer needed replenishing Thirium hanging on the nearby I.V. stand. "I'm going to remove the tube. Coughing will help the tube come out easier." Taking a firm hold on the end of the tube Abby prepared to begin pulling it out of Connor's throat at a steady pace. "On the count of three; one, two... three!"

Hank watched as Connor shut his eyes tight and began to weakly cough as the long hollow tube that had provided the necessary Thirium directly into Connor's system was extracted at a swift pace. Once the tube was pulled free Connor coughed more harshly as a trickle of excess blue blood ran down his lips toward his chin and down the side of his neck.

"There we go, done." Abby easily wiped away the blood onto extra gauze as she studied Connor's demeanor carefully. "Connor, can you run a self diagnostic?"

Connor opened his soulful brown eyes again, his L.E.D. flickering to yellow then back to red as he tried and failed to run the program.

"It's okay, you can try again later." Lifting up the bandage over his head Abby checked for any additional bleeding but the wound was stable and healing very well. "Do you remember what happened?"

Connor weakly nodded his head as he took his right hand from Hank's grip and tried to push away Abby's hand from his bandaged temple.

"Can you talk?"

Tired but determined to communicate Connor swallowed the lingering discomfort in his throat as he hoarsely whispered to the two humans. "...My head hurts."

"I can't believe I'm happy to hear you say that." Hank gave Connor a light smile as he returned to his seat beside the bed and held tightly onto Connor's left hand. "You're going to be okay, son."

"I'll see what I can do about the pain. I might have some Thiricetomal that can reduce your sense of pain." Abby gently replaced the bandages and stood back from the bed. Re-energized by Connor's abrupt return to the waking world Abby made a few notes in Connor's electronic chart and gave the deviant a hearty pat on the chest. "I need to go run a few tests on these readings and then I'll be back." Pointing to the untouched drink sitting on the dresser at the far wall she left the room with one final threat to the senior detective as she passed through the door. "Hank, drink that coffee or I'll give it to you through an enema!"

Ignoring the order (threat) Hank just stayed by Connor and spoke to the deviant calmly. "I'm glad you woke up. I was..." Struggling to keep his emotions out of his voice Hank told Connor the truth about what he had been thinking and feeling. "Well, we didn't think you were going to make it this time."

Barely able to speak Connor closed his eyes for a moment as he tried to run a biometric scan over Hank's body but was only able to get very minimal readings from his still rebooting analysis program. "...H-How long?"

"How long were you out?"

Nodding again Connor confirmed the context of his question.

"Four days."

"...You," pausing to let his sore throat heal a little Connor finished his weak grammatically incorrect question. "...hurt?"

"Me? No way, you protected me." Holding out his arms at his sides Hank briefly patted his own chest and leaned back in his chair. "Not a damn scratch."

"...Good."

"Connor," Hank showed an uncharacteristic amount of emotion in his blue eyes as he spoke to the deviant with immense relief beating in his heart. "please don't ever do that again. You scared me shitless."

"...S-Sorry, Hank." Connor tried to give Hank a reassuring grin but he was too tired and needed to enter rest mode rather than be locked into emergency stasis mode. "...Won't do it a-again."

Noticing the way Connor's eyes were glazing over Hank was worried that the deviant wasn't as stable as he seemed. "Something wrong?"

"...Tired. I'm tired."

"It's okay. Get some rest." Hank kept his palm wrapped over the back of Connor's left hand to keep the deviant feeling safe and secured. "I'll be here the whole time."

Connor's eyes soon fell shut and his body relaxed as he drifted off into a peaceful rest mode. His hand remained gripped beneath Hank's hand as he fell deeper into sleep and at long last initiated his self healing program in order to recover properly.

"I knew you'd wake up, son. I never doubted it for a second."

Night gave way to morning and the team of technicians at the Zeta Facility went about their routines as usual. The good news of Connor's recovery spread quickly through the facility, the precinct and out to New Jericho Tower. While word of Connor's return to the land of the living circulated through the city the gang members responsible for the shooting were swiftly taken to court and tried for their numerous accounts of assault and murder. It was a trial that everyone was confident would end quickly and end with the much deserved verdict of 'guilty' considering the gang had tried to kill two detectives after murdering four innocent deviants.

Sipping at a small cup of warm coffee Abby entered Connor's private room to check on her star patient and just smirked at the sight of him sleeping peacefully without the need of the compression wrap to force his heart into motion. He had remained stable ever since he had woken up and was steadily regaining his strength as he rested.

"Connor?" Abby pressed her hand lightly against the left side of Connor's face to gently rouse the deviant from his sleep again. Slowly his soulful brown eyes opened and he stared up at her with a glassy focus. "Hi. Your vitals are stable and I can confirm your hardware and software have recalibrated. The only problem is your self healing program is functioning only at sixty percent capacity."

Connor opened his eyes more fully as he registered Abby's words and looked about the room only to see Hank was curiously absent. "...Hank?"

"I had your Captain take him home to finally get something to eat and get some sleep last night. He was here for four days and refused to leave you alone. He should be back soon though." Smirking a little Abby picked up Connor's wrist to count his pulse through the entirely unique pulse point. "It's for the best. Everyone has their limit when it comes to one person not showering."

"...Is he okay?"

"Yes, he's just exhausted." Satisfied with Connor's pulse she gently put his hand back down on the bed beside him and kept smirking. "As soon as he comes back in a few hours you can go home with him to recover in private. If it becomes necessary I'll make another house-call."

"...Am I damaged permanently?" The strain on Connor's throat had lessened but he still mildly hoarse. "...I don't feel any different."

"No. I honestly don't know how you even managed to survive the shot to your cranium, let alone the massive Thirium loss and destroyed hardware, but you're making a full recovery. It's slower than usual, but given the circumstances I'd say that slow is a fair trade-off."

Using his left arm for balance Connor slowly pushed himself upright in the bed and gave Abby a slight nod of his head. "Thank you for helping me."

"You're welcome." Checking the bandages over Connor's wound one more time Abby gave the deviant a slight grimace. "I'm going to need to give Hank a quick tutorial on how to keep your injury clean until your self healing program finishes the repairs on its own. Your plastimetal frame has been mended but your artificial skin is still open and the Thirium lines are risking exposure."

Connor acknowledged her words as he sat upright fully and pressed his right palm over the wound as Abby replaced the bandages. He winced a little as the applied pressure caused a mild headache to flair up throughout his entire cranium. "...It still hurts."

"Give yourself time to heal," Abby encouraged kindly. "the pain will stop soon enough. I'll work on perfecting Thiricetomal since it doesn't seem to help prototypes very well."

Looking over at his neatly folded clothes sitting on the dresser near the bed Connor made a reach for the clothes but he didn't have the coordination to grab them properly. He didn't quite trust his legs at that point either and didn't want to stand up just yet.

"Here." Abby happily placed the clothes down on the foot of Connor's bed on the deviant's behalf. "I'll give you some privacy, but if you need help just press your alert button on the wall. I don't mind helping a patient get back on their feet or get back into their pants."

A few uneventful minutes had passed where Connor was left alone to change out of the gown and scrub pants in favor of his normal work uniform. Only able to change back into his jeans and white button down dress shirt - he decided to skip the tie and the gray blazer for the moment, Connor was fumbling to slip his boots on when Abby and Hank returned to the recovery room. After awkwardly and just barely getting the left boot on his foot Connor sat upright and blinked as his head began to swim from the sudden motions that had proven themselves unexpectedly strenuous courtesy of his head injury. Despite being stronger he was far from fully recovered.

Without any hesitation Hank walked into the room to aid his adopted son. It was second nature to help people in need and taking care of his family was Hank's primary concern.

"I got this." Hank knelt down and slipped the right boot into place on Connor's foot on the deviant's behalf. Standing upright in front of the deviant Hank offered Connor his hand to take. "Come on, let's get you home."

"I'd like that." Though clumsy Connor was able to accept Hank's offered hand and stand up carefully on his trembling legs. "...I'm ready to go home."

Abby pushed a wheelchair from the corridor into the recovery room and motioned for the deviant to take a seat. "Well, your chariot awaits."

"I don't need it." The idea of being wheeled out of the facility was a little uncomfortable. "I can walk."

"It's protocol." Giving Connor a knowing glance Abby waved her hands toward the chair and waited for him to move. "Well?"

"...Okay." Reluctantly Connor accepted the seat and neatly folded his gray blazer over his lap and tucked his also neatly folded black tie into the jacket so it wouldn't get lost. "I'm ready to leave."

While Abby gathered up the flowers, cards and stuffed dog to carry on Connor's behalf, Hank took the liberty of pushing the wheelchair out of the room, down the corridor, into the elevator and through the waiting room of the facility to get to the parking lot outside. He had wisely parked the car close by and as such it was easier to get the wheelchair over to the car and get Connor loaded up so he could go home.

"Thank you." Connor was escorted out of the facility by both Hank and Abby and laid down across the backseats of the car as the senior detective helped him to climb into the vehicle to go home. "I appreciate your help."

"No problem." Abby put all the flowers and cards in the front seat and tossed the stuffed dog into the backseat to land on Connor's chest, and then grabbed onto the wheelchair handles to take back inside the facility. Before leaving she gave the deviant a sly glance over her shoulder and a wink. "Just take it easy and let your body heal. You'll be just fine."

"I will."

Hank smirked as he pushed the front seats forward so he could sit down in the driver's seat. "I'll make sure of it." With Connor now secured Hank took his place behind the wheel, put the key in the ignition and turned over the engine. "Let's go home."

"Yes. I'm ready."

As Hank drove home, keeping the speed slow and the journey as smooth as possible, Hank kept looking at Connor's reflection in the rearview mirror and watched him carefully. The bandages still wrapped around Connor's head wasn't an ideal sight but at least Connor was awake again. "How are you holding up, son?"

"...I feel weak." Connor admitted as he kept his right hand pressed to his healing temple under the gauze. His left hand fussed with the soft ear on the stuffed dog as the toy laid over his stomach as if he was using it to channel some misplaced nervous energy. "I also feel a little dizzy and my head hurts."

"Is that why you seem so distracted?"

"Distracted?"

"It looks like you're thinking about something. What's on your mind?"

"It's something unusual. And I don't know how to explain it."

"Try anyway. You were in a coma so it wouldn't surprise me if you have some weird memories or dreams that need to be talked out."

Pausing for only a moment Connor let out a weak sigh and glanced up at Hank from where he was laying over the backseat. "...While I was in stasis, when I was in my coma, I don't think I was alone."

"What?" Hank pulled the car into the driveway beside the house and put it in park. As he exited the vehicle he pushed up the front seats again and helped Connor to climb out of the car. Supporting Connor's weight at his side while the deviant kept the stuffed dog tucked under his arm, Hank asked a logical question regarding Connor's odd statement. "How can that be possible?"

"...This is going to sound strange-"

"Connor, before you even begin, I'm used to strange." Pulling Connor's arm around his shoulders Hank escorted the deviant through the unlocked front door, helped him to walk into the livingroom and then locked the door behind them. "So tell me what's up."

"I-" An interruption from Sumo as the massive dog practically climbed up onto Connor stole the deviant's words for only a moment. Rubbing the loyal, drooling dog's ears lightly Connor looked over at Hank standing beside him and spoke of his unusual feeling. "When I was in that deep emergency stasis mode I believe someone else was with me."

"Who?" Hank pushed Sumo down and off of Connor to keep the heavy weight off the still weakened deviant. "Do you know who was with you, or maybe why?"

"...Lucas." The reply was soft and almost guilt-ridden. "...I have Lucas's memories inside of me."

"Yeah, I know." Acknowledging the response without batting an eye Hank stepped around Sumo as the happy dog spun about in a circle at their feet. Hank practically carried Connor down the hallway and to the deviant's bedroom as he did his best to help Connor to recover faster. "Markus told me what he had done and that he had given you Lucas's memories after he... you know."

"But a piece of Lucas's consciousness... It was transferred along with the memories." The delay in Connor's speech began to lessen the more he spoke as he was able to finally articulate his thoughts. "It's like he's living inside of my mind."

"Are you saying Lucas was hanging out with you while you were in your coma?"

"I believe so." Connor admitted as Hank helped him to walk into the bedroom and lay down on his bed to rest. It was nice to be in a familiar setting and in his own bed again. "But I can't remember what he said even though a part of me knows that it was very important."

"...Is, uh, is he okay?" Hank asked sincerely as he slipped off Connor's boots easier than when they went on. Lifting up the deviant's legs he helped Connor to lay straight over the length of his bed while Hank himself sat on the edge to check on the deviant's still healing head injury. "I mean, Lucas... he's okay? Right?"

"Yes. I know he is." The confirmation made his L.E.D. flash to yellow from red for the first time in four days. It was comforting to talk about Lucas. "He is okay."

Sumo trotted into the bedroom and put his front paws up on the edge of the bed beside Hank to look at his deviant master curiously. Jumping up onto the bed without an invitation Sumo rested his chin on top of Connor's leg affectionately and wagged his tail slowly as he kept his favorite deviant company.

Hank was silent for a moment as he thought of another questions to ask. "Do you two talk often?"

"Occasionally." The answer seemed so natural despite the unnatural circumstances. "In my dreams."

"Any reason you didn't tell me about this until now?"

"I don't know. Maybe because it seems incredibly unusual; maybe even crazy." Glancing down at his clothing and to the repeatedly mended sleeves of his dress shirt as the garment suffered almost as much as he had while in the line of duty, Connor truly began to contemplate how sometimes his behavior and decisions could be seen as reckless; if not slightly insane. "...Especially coming from an android."

"It's not crazy to talk to the people you miss in your dreams, Connor. I do it all the time." Folding his hands together atop his lap Hank confessed that he too would speak to the dearly departed in his own dreams. "It's how we keep the people we love alive; through our memories."

"Do you..." More intrigued than embarrassed at the conversation Connor pressed his palm to his sore right temple and studied Hank's body language from where he was sitting beside him. "Do you dream about Cole and Barbara?"

"Yeah." Giving Connor a confident nod of the head Hank shamelessly admitted his little secret. "I've even had a couple of dreams with Lucas in 'em."

"You have?"

"Yup."

"...What do you do in your dreams? I mean, if it's okay for me to ask."

"We talk mostly. Sometimes we do other things but nothing really worth remembering. Besides, dreams are fuckin' weird enough, I don't want to remember all that freaky shit."

"I'm glad you still get to see those you lost. Even if it is only in a dream."

"Me too." With a gentle motion Hank reached over and lifted up Connor's bandage to inspect the still healing wound and watched as the deviant winced in a painful reaction. "You need that cleaned up again."

"...Are you mad?"

"Over your cut?"

"No. For not telling you about my ability to speak with Lucas on occasion during my rest mode."

"Hell no, just a little surprised. I never thought about who or what you dream about, even after you've had some pretty bad nightmares in the past."

"I don't have nightmares anymore." Motioning to the painting of the garden on the far wall Connor reminded Hank of the comforting image. "The painting that Lucas created for me has helped prevent any future nightmares from disturbing my rest mode."

"That's good." Hank reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the supplies Abby had given him at the facility: Incrassation compound and fresh bandages to help take care of Connor's injury until the deviant's self healing program finished what had been started by the emergency repairs. Placing each item on the edge of the bed he gave Connor a sympathetic glance before he began. "This is going to sting a little." Slipping away the old bandages from Connor's head with a ginger touch Hank proceeded to dab some of the orange tinted incrassation compound onto a small white gauze pad and press it over the wound and held it in place even after Connor flinched in pain and nearly jerked his head away. "Sorry about that."

"...It's okay." Connor reached his hand up to hold the applied bandage into place under his fingertips while Hank opened the plastic containing the roll of fresh gauze. The damage was mending on its own in a very slow and annoying process. "I know it needs to be done."

"That doesn't make it any more comfortable." Wrapping the roll of gauze around Connor's head, Connor keeping the bandage in place as he worked, Hank gave the deviant a reassuring grin. "Abby thinks your self healing program will restore to full power sometime tonight. When you wake up tomorrow you should fell much better and feel back to normal. At least as close to 'normal' as you'll ever be."

"Thanks, glad to know my bizarre personality will remain intact." Connor smirked with good humor at the sarcastic reply. "I appreciate you taking care of me."

"Stop thanking me for helping you. It's what we do."

"Because we're a family."

"That's right." Hank taped off the bandage around Connor's head then guided Connor back until he was laying flat against his bed and resting his head atop his large, fluffy pillow. It was a definite improvement compared to the recovery bed at the facility. "Markus will stop by to check on you soon. Until then, try to sleep through your headache. You'll feel a hell of a lot better that way."

"Okay, I'll try to sleep through the worst of."

"Good." Shaking his head at the stuffed dog that Connor had been given Hank picked it up for himself and then placed it down on Connor's chest and watched as Sumo gave the new toy a curious sniff. It was no surprise Connor would appreciate a stuffed animal as if it were real. "I'm going to shower off and get some sleep myself. But if you need anything-"

"Ask." Connor interjected with a sly smile as he put one hand on Sumo's head and his other hand on the stuffed dog's back. "I know the drill."

Hank laughed a little more and patted Connor's shoulder. "It's good to have you back home, even if you are being a smartass."

"It's good to be home and it's good to be with my family." Looking about his bedroom Connor stared at his adopted father, Sumo and then the painting on the wall at the foot of his bed. Entirely at ease Connor thought of Lucas and was happy to know that his little brother was still with him even if it was only in spirit. "This is where I belong. I can feel it."

-next chapter-