The morning was less than ideal and culminated in rather nasty car accident before noon. A fully loaded autonomous semi truck had lost control when a car in front of it braked unexpectedly in order to avoid smashing into the side of a second car driving erratically through a busy intersection. Unable to stop in time the semi truck rear-ended the car and pushed it onto the sidewalk and into the corner of a large brick building. The truck then skidded and tilted onto its side spilling its glass contents all over the road causing other cars behind the truck to slide out of control and slam into one another creating a massive pile-up in the middle of the city.

The fire department was on the scene of the accident within a few minutes, while the location of the accident being in close proximity to the Central Precinct required Connor and Hank's presence. The autonomous truck would also need to be carefully checked over for any sign of malfunction, hacking or sabotage as anything regarding androids, deviancy and autonomy were a part of the two detective's division.

Annoyed and unimpressed with the scene of the accident Hank crossed his arms as he stepped over the shattered bottles of wine that littered the street from curb to curb. The street was soaked a deep burgundy color and smelled of sweetly fermented fruit that was sure to linger for hours courtesy of the truck spilling its load. Eyeing Connor who was standing beside the overturned truck with his L.E.D. glowing yellow Hank waited for the deviant to make his current report to the precinct on the situation.

"Well, Connor." Stepping up onto the sidewalk and away from the spilled alcohol Hank awaited Connor's assessment. "Is the truck at fault or the driver of the first car?"

"Neither." Connor confirmed as he joined Hank on the other side of the street opposite the truck. Wine stained the bottom of his shoes and glass crunched under each step he took as he followed behind his partner. "According to the dash camera footage of the truck, the car in front had swerved to avoid impact with an erratically driving blue car speeding through a red light at the intersection."

"Can you get a make and model of the blue car from the footage?"

"Yes. The camera failed to capture an image of the license plate but the car has been identified. I have already cybernetically issued an A.P.B. for the royal blue 2025 Dodge Pace with the broken front right headlight. It was last seen heading West."

"Good work, kid." Hank turned to look at the firefighters hosing down the street to rid it of the spilled wine and broken glass easily. The surrounding traffic had been barred from using the street until the mess was cleaned up. "Once the street's cleared we can head back to the precinct and file our report. It shouldn't take too-"

Screeching tires filled the air as the blue car that had been identified as the culprit of the pile-up sped down the street and up onto the sidewalk at a frighteningly high speed. The obviously impaired driver swerved dangerously over the mess he had left in his wake as he now barreled dangerously fast toward the first responders at the scene. Before anyone had the chance to react the car was practically on top of the group and showed no sign of slowing down.

Turning to look at the oncoming vehicle Connor ran a preconstruction of the scene and weighed his options regarding the rapidly closing window of time that he had been granted to react: Step aside and Connor had a one-hundred percent chance of survival, while Hank would have only eighteen percent. Push Hank out of the way then the senior detective's chance of survival rocketed up to eighty-four percent while Connor's plummeted to fifty-four percent. If he were to try to cybernetically hack the car to stop the vehicle it would skid to a halt but not before striking down half a dozen firefighters whose odds of survival ranged from as low as twelve percent through seventy-one percent.

Connor made his choice.

Moving as quickly as his body would allow Connor pushed Hank aside from the sidewalk out of the car's path of destruction. Despite his speed Connor was unable to get himself out of the way in time and his body struck the windshield of the car with a violent impact on his right side.

"C-Connor?!"

Connor let out a gasp of pain as his right arm and shoulder smashed through the glass of the windshield with his arm getting ensnared on the jagged shards of glass from the elbow and up. His right leg smashed over the metal hood of the car denting it immediately from the powerful strike and caused the deviant further pain and immobility. The driver didn't stop even as Connor's body rolled up over the windshield and onto the roof of the car.

The deviant's arm was still ensnared in the broken windshield and was torn from his shoulder's socket causing a devastating injury that erupted with Thirium as the lines within his arm were severed as the arm was torn from Connor's body. The damage was undeniable and caused immediate alarm to those who were unfortunate enough to witness the graphic scene.

Hank watched in horror as Connor's body rolled over the car and fell off the edge onto the sidewalk with a tremendous 'thud' that left the deviant laying on his left side completely stunned, bleeding and barely conscious. In a matter of seconds Hank sprinted over to where Connor was laying as the car continued to speed recklessly down the sidewalk until the driver lost all control and skidded into the side of the already overturned truck. The slick road littered with glass guaranteed an accident for any driver foolish enough to drive down the barricaded street.

The collision against the truck ended the driver's reign of terror as quickly as it began. As the firefighters gathered around the vehicle and sprayed down the car to ensure no fires could start and cause an explosion, the driver stumbled out of the vehicle and promptly threw-up his beer all over the street.

"Connor?!" Hank knelt on the ground beside the damaged deviant and put his hand on Connor's back as Connor weakly rolled from his bloodied side to lay flat on his back. He gasped and panted for breath as Hank supported his weight as much as he could. "Are you okay?! Talk to me!"

Connor's eyes were open but glassy and his L.E.D. was cycling in red quickly. As he stared up at the sky past Hank and into nothingness he swallowed once and suddenly clasped his left hand over the socket of his right shoulder where his right arm had been torn away from his body. Dark blue tinted Thirium seeped profusely from between Connor's fingers as it collected on the gray sidewalk beneath his battered body from the heavily damaged lines.

"Connor?" Hank kept one hand against Connor's back as the deviant laid down against the sidewalk and pressed his damaged body down firmly against Hank's palm. Connor needed to feel secure as he endured the intense pain as a result of the damage he had sustained. Putting his own hand atop Connor's hand to help apply pressure to the bleeding wound of his right shoulder, Hank kept talking to the wounded deviant to try to keep him calm. "Connor, talk to me. How badly are you injured?"

"Hank..." Scared, shaking and weak Connor began to stammer from his horrific injury. "M-My arm..."

The emergency technician who accompanied the fire department to the scene of the accident had seen the car strike Connor and raced over to where the deviant was now laying with Hank hovering protectively over him. Moving quickly the technician set about stemming off the bleeding Thirium lines to keep Connor from bleeding to death or slipping further into shock.

"H-Hank..." Connor was taking sharper, more shallow breaths as he began to panic. "My arm! My arm is... damaged."

"I know, I know." Hank shrugged off his dark overcoat and draped it over Connor's body to keep the deviant warm as he bled out. Pressing the fabric of his overcoat against Connor's shoulder over Connor's hand and around the technicians hands, Hank again tried to apply pressure to the wound. "Try to take it easy, help is already here. A technician is right here, son."

"Hank..." Connor's eyes were wide with fear as he tried to curl around himself on his left side as if to protect the horrific injury from further harm. Both Hank and the technician kept Connor on his back so the wound could be tended to properly. "I can't... I can't feel-"

"It's okay." Hank slipped his arm under Connor's left shoulder to lift the deviant up from the cold sidewalk and hold him again his warmer side while the technician worked on Connor's right shoulder. Pressing Connor's left side against his chest he gave the attending technician full access to Connor's damaged right side. "I'm right here... You'll be just fine, kid."

Moving quickly the technician, a dark haired and dark skinned young man named Jordan, dropped his canvas satchel from his own shoulder as he resumed checking over Connor. The massive amount of lost Thirium pooling on the sidewalk around the deviant's body already told the skilled technician that the damage was significant, but he still needed to perform a thorough examination. Pulling back the heavy overcoat Jordan was able to see the main source of the bleeding and react accordingly.

Hank watched Jordan work and spoke to him in a low voice to keep Connor calm. "How is he?"

"His entire right arm as been torn from its socket."

Jordan peeled back the empty blood soaked right sleeve of Connor's tattered gray blazer and then opened up Connor's white dress shirt to remove the garment. Gently lifting the fabric of the second sleeve from Connor's right shoulder Jordan stared at the gushing exposed Thirium lines and sparking wires from the massive opening in the socket where Connor's right arm had been previously attached to his shoulder. Even Connor's artificial skin had been torn away leaving a ring of blood stained plastimetal around the opened socket in a grotesquely painful manner.

"Significant Thirium loss." Jordan confirmed with his just his eyes. "Insipid shock is a very prominent risk."

Hank tightened his grip around Connor's left shoulder as he held the deviant steady against his own body. "What can you do for him?"

"I can stop the bleeding." Sounding entirely confident Jordan pulled a large bottle of the orange incrassation compound from his satchel and proceeded to pour the liquid over Connor's exposed right shoulder, eliciting a pained gasp from Connor in the process. As Hank tightened his grip yet again he stared with disgust at the mixture of orange and blue dripping from Connor's open wound as it created a macabre tea colored puddle on the sidewalk around them. "And I can close off the socket itself to prevent any further damage or foreign contaminants from getting inside."

Connor's eyes were wide and unfocused as he took in deep panting breaths to try ease his discomfort and overall shock. While he continued to stare directly into the nothingness of the street before him the deviant was still fully aware of the world around him. As soon as he felt Jordan insert the plastimetal 'cap' into the opened socket to temporarily replace the missing arm Connor let out a deep grunt of pain and visibly flinched as he turned his head away from his shoulder and buried his face against Hank's shoulder like a frightened child.

The cap would have to remain in place until the missing arm could be reattached to his body as it stopped the bleeding and help filled the opened void.

"He's weak but stable." Astute with his observations Jordan noted Connor's alertness and overall very conscious responses to pain and touch. "Take him to the Zeta Facility two blocks from here on Tenth Street. I'll salvage his arm and bring it over as soon as I can."

"Yeah, sure." Hank steadily rose to his feet and pulled Connor up along with him as he replaced the deviant's shirt and blazer over his capped shoulder. Not taking a single step until he was certain Connor wasn't going to stumble or collapse Hank escorted his stunned, shaken partner from the sidewalk and to the car parked far down the street just past the fire engine. "You hear that, son? You're going to be just fine."

"Hank... I don't... I don't have my right arm." Connor's voice was shaking and his L.E.D. was any angry red as it blinked rapidly in his right temple. It was as if he was just beginning to comprehend what had happened to him. "My arm's gone."

"I know that, but we'll get you fixed up. Just stay awake for me." Keeping the deviant at his side Hank walked fairly quickly and kept Connor balanced upright side so ensure that Connor didn't stumble as they walked down the street. "You'll be okay."

"I can't feel it..." Scared and still in shock Connor whimpered as he was practically dragged forward by Hank toward the Oldsmobile. "but... but I can still feel it. It's there but it's not there!" The red L.E.D. began to blink even faster as Connor began to panic and his Thirium pump pounded in his chest. "I don't understand! Hank, what's happening to me?!"

"It's called a 'phantom limb'." Hank explained calmly as he directed Connor toward the front of the car then looked him in the eyes. "Humans can experience it, too. Don't worry about it and stay calm."

Still frightened Connor swallowed once as if to quell a nauseous uprising in his throat. There was something unsettling about feeling something that he knew was completely impossible to feel; to sense something that was lost to him and to know the plight of a human who had been crippled due to injury or illness. In the end he'd be able to have the damaged limb replaced entirely without the need for a prosthetic whereas organic lifeforms didn't have such a luxury.

It felt like he had an unfair advantage that humanity had yet to achieve in spite of the numerous biological and mechanical advances that had been made in the previous thirty years.

"...I dislike this." Struggling to remain composed Connor pressed his palm over his capped right shoulder and winced in pain. "I... I want this feeling to stop!"

"Come on, the sooner we get you to the facility the sooner you can be patched up." Hank stated as he pulled open the passenger side door of the car and sat Connor down in the seat lightly. Taking his own seat behind the steering wheel he reached his hand over and buckled Connor's seatbelt on the deviant's behalf before buckling his own and starting the engine. "You holding up okay?"

"I'm... I'm functioning." Connor admitted in a shaking voice as his head bowed down slowly and he stared blankly at the floor beneath his feet. His left hand remained clamped down on his right shoulder where he could feel the temporary cap sitting where his arm should be. "...I'm functioning."

"I'll take that as a modest 'no'." Knowing that Connor was in desperate need of repairs and a quiet moment to himself, Hank decided to drop the subject for a moment as he drove the two blocks to the facility as instructed. "Just hang on a minute more, son. You'll be taken care of soon."

It didn't take long for the duo to arrive at the Zeta Facility and it took even less time for the on-call technician to see to Connor's horrific injury and move him to the top of the priority care list courtesy of Barry bringing Connor's condition to his arrival. The facility was the one that Abby often worked at as the lead technician, but it was her day off. Her current protege, the technician who would often take her place whenever she had a day off or was helping out at New Jericho Tower, was now looking after Connor for the first time. It was a rare opportunity to work on a prototype model and the learning technician was eager to keep learning and growing as a professional.

With Connor's electronic file in his hand the young technician escorted Connor to a treatment room with Hank's help. Thirium didn't phase the young man and considering Connor was covered in it that was a very good trait to have mastered.

"My name is Dr. Ian Ross, but just call me Ian." The technician introduced himself kindly as he removed Connor's blazer and pushed back his shirt to examine his damaged shoulder. Ian had sandy blond hair, dark blue eyes that shined brightly through his glasses and meek presence as he spoke to the two detectives. "I've been training with Abby and I'm her top student. Don't worry, I'll get your arm replaced as soon as it arrives. Until then, I need to cauterize the leaking Thirium lines in your shoulder until they can be reattached to your arm."

Connor only nodded in agreement as let Ian fully remove his blazer and dress shirt to expose his shoulder fully. It only took twenty or so minutes to clean and cauterize the lines, and only ten minutes for Connor to drink the needed Thirium to replenish what he lost. By the time Connor was prepped for the procedure his arm had arrived from the scene of the accident but it was too damaged to be replaced as soon as they had hoped.

Getting a little restless Hank crossed his arms over his chest as Ian explained that the damaged arm itself would need to be repaired entirely as a separate piece before it could be fitted back into Connor's shoulder socket. It seemed so strange having to wait for repairs but Hank knew far too little about android anatomy to offer any kind of worthy protest to the scenario that he and Connor were now reluctantly apart of.

"Shit..." Grumbling at the idea of leaving Connor without his arm for an extended period of time Hank dragged his hand over his tired eyes as he spoke in a gruff tone. "So, how long do we have to wait?"

"Based on the severity of the damage," Ian stated calmly as he stared at the severed limb laying on the smaller exam table at the opposite side of the room from where Connor was sitting on the larger table. "I estimate that I can have it fully repaired and operational within nine concurrent hours. By noon tomorrow you can come back and I'll have the arm ready for reattachment."

"And he's just supposed to walk around without an arm the whole time? That's really fucked up..."

"I'm sorry, Lieutenant." Ian apologized sincerely as he turned back around to face the two detectives behind him. "There's nothing more I can do."

"You don't have any spare limbs here?"

"We do. But due to Connor being an advanced model AND a prototype it'd take his system nearly a full week to properly recalibrate to the new limb as opposed to waiting a day for the original limb to be repaired."

"Fuck." Hank swore again as he uncrossed his arms and put lightly his hand on Connor's injured shoulder to give the deviant much needed support. "All right, we'll manage until then. Right, kid?"

Connor nodded weakly, his L.E.D. pulsing a slow red in his temple. The deviant had been muted by his painful experience and was still trying to understand the odd sensation in his shoulder trailing all the way down to his non-existent fingertips.

"It'll be fine." Ian helped Connor to replace his shirt to cover his missing arm and tucked the empty sleeves of both his shirt and then the blazer in such a way to keep the fabric from dangling loosely at his side. "Once the arm is back into place he'll have one-hundred percent functionality of the limb after only one hour of recalibration. Go home. Try to relax, I know it won't be easy."

"Yeah, don't we know it." The senior detective agreed with a heavy grimace on his face. "Okay, Connor. Let's get ya' home so you can rest."

Staying silent Connor just slipped off the table and let Hank lead the way out of the facility and back to the Oldsmobile outside.

Just as he had done just two months prior Hank found himself guiding Connor out of the facility, over to the car, back out of the car once they returned home, inside the house through the front door and finally into the livingroom where he left the deviant to sit on the couch to rest. It was rare to see Connor so dazed, if not catatonic, by the trauma he had endured. Trying to remain somewhat optimistic Hank suggested that Connor go about his usual nightly routine as much as possible after they returned home from their unexpectedly short shift, but Connor was still too stunned to function anywhere near normal with his right arm missing.

Sumo was sitting on the floor beside Connor and pressing his now healed paw down on the deviant's knee to get his attention as he wagged his tail. It seemed even the loyal dog's company wasn't enough to help bring the deviant out of his stunned trance.

"Hey?" Hank put his hand down on the back of Connor's hair and held it there for a moment as he tried to get the deviant to look at him. "You're scared, you're confused and you're in pain. That's okay." Making sure Connor knew what he was feeling was normal and it was okay to feel as he did, Hank let his paternal instincts be his guide. "Why don't you go shower off the remaining blood and dirt? Besides, your hair smells like a winery and you don't strike me as a 'wine connoisseur'."

"I..." Connor's soulful brown eyes slowly blinked as he locked onto Hank's face and noted the senior detective's calm demeanor, which in turn kept Connor calm as he steadily regained his senses. "...Y-Yeah. Okay. I'll go and get cleaned up."

As the deviant rose from the couch and walked down the hallway to the bathroom, Hank watched Connor using his remaining left hand to fuss with his blazer, the black tie around his neck and the buttons of his dirtied white shirt beneath. It was a sad sight and Hank couldn't bear to let Connor struggle alone.

"Need some help, son?"

"...I'm okay."

Connor replied quietly as he entered the bathroom and shut the door behind himself so Hank couldn't see him anymore. Letting his dirty blazer and black tie fall to the floor behind himself, Connor stared at his reflection in the mirror over the sink as he unbuttoned his equally dirty white dress shirt and stared at the perfectly smooth, blank space on his right shoulder where his arm used to be.

"...It's gone."

Running his left fingertips along the smooth surface of the cap over his shoulder, the white plastimetal texture was tangible thanks to his artificial skin being unable to generate over the cap, Connor felt that same nauseous feeling welling up in his throat once more. This time reflexively swallowing didn't make it go away. Instead he watched as his brow furrowed in his own reflection before he suddenly bowed his head down over the sink and began to throw-up blue blood into the white porcelain basin under his chin.

Coughing and retching Connor made an uncomfortable noise as he proceeded to be sick and endure the painful spasms in his abdomen from his protesting artificial stomach.

"...This is-"

Throwing-up a second time Connor sounded even more pitiful as his red L.E.D. pulsed even faster.

"...H-Hank!?"

It didn't take long for Hank to push open the bathroom door and put his hand to between Connor's shoulder blades as the deviant threw-up yet again into the sink and coughed pathetically. "It's okay." Hank reiterated in a soft voice as he pressed his other hand against Connor's forehead to help the deviant more feel stable while he vomited. "Let it out."

Connor spat out a mouthful of blue blood into the sink and stared at the sapphire tinted mess he had made over the previously white surface. "...S-Sorry."

"Don't be sorry. You have every right to feel sick."

"But I don't know why I feel sick." Straightening up a little Connor breathed deep and tried to settle his artificial stomach. "I haven't suffered any internal trauma and I'm not experiencing any software or hardware malfunctions that would cause such a reaction. Why did my emergency expulsion program activate?"

"Fear." Hank replied bluntly as he turned on the tap in the sink to rinse away the Thirium. Taking his hand from Connor's forehead Hank picked up a washcloth and soaked it in the clean tap before lightly using it to wipe the trickling blue blood from Connor's lips and chin. "Fear makes humans feel sick. I puked the first time I saw a dead body when I was still a rookie cop, and I have to fight the urge to keep puking to this very day when I go to a murder scene. You getting sick from fear is just a part of your deviancy and feeling the same emotions as a human."

"...I don't like feeling afraid."

"No one does, son. But it's the price we have to pay for feeling courageous." Setting aside the washcloth Hank turned off the water in the sink and waited for Connor to lift his head all the way back up. "We can't feel one emotion without feeling the other."

Connor pressed his left hand over his right shoulder and winced a little at the lingering pain he still felt from suffering such severe physical trauma. "And I can still feel pain in my damaged shoulder."

"Hey, I have an idea. Instead of you staring at your fucked up shoulder and focusing on the pain, why don't we go stare at the television and zone out for the rest of the night? There's a game on tonight. I'll even let you bet on the Gears."

Appreciating the gesture Connor grinned slightly as he turned to look at Hank for a moment before sighing and turning on the shower. "No. The Gears belong to you."

"Damn right they do. I was just testin' ya'."

"I guess I passed." Adjusting the temperature of the water to a more comfortable degree Connor decided to shower off and try to relax as much as he could until he could finally have his arm back in place. There wasn't much more he could do anyway. "I'll shower off and meet you in the livingroom."

"Right." Taking his leave of the bathroom Hank pulled the door partially shut and spoke to Connor one last time before he left the deviant alone to wash up. "If you need anything just shout for me, kid. I'll be in the livingroom."

While Connor had spent the night petting Sumo with his left hand like the fluffy dog's fur contained mystic healing properties, Hank had spent the night watching Connor for any sign of intense stress and imminent self destruction after suffering such a catastrophic injury and emotional reaction. The basketball game went by with an uneventful score that did little to hold Hank's attention and Connor still wasn't as invested in those type games as Hank usually was, but with time he was beginning to enjoy them more and more. However, the calm and routine evening had done wonders to help distract Connor's thoughts for the remainder of the traumatic day.

Hank himself was still a little shaken up after seeing his son being hit by a drunk driver. Remaining calm and composed for Connor's sake had allowed Hank to accept what had happened without letting it eat away at his mind with thoughts of vengeance against the driver. The driver had been arrested and had been charged with numerous offenses that guaranteed a lengthy and appropriate stay behind bars.

"Sumo's leg has healed entirely." Connor stated seemingly out of nowhere as he kept his hand on the dog's head. "Yet, he still limps every so often."

"Broken bones hurt and Sumo is getting older." The senior detective reminded the deviant as he drank a bottle of water just to make Connor happy as he avoided sugary soft drinks or additional coffee for the rest of the night. As much as he wanted a beer Hank decided against it for his son's sake and emotional content. "He's fine, son."

"Will my shoulder still hurt after my arm has been replaced?"

"I don't know. I guess we'll find out soon enough."

"Do you think I'll be able to play my guitar again?"

"Sure as Hell you will. Talent comes from the heart, kid," motioning toward Connor's left hand resting on Sumo's head Hank clarified his statement. "not the hands."

"But I need both hands to play such an instrument."

"From what I've seen in person you could play with only one hand. Hell, you don't even need a pick!"

"Maybe. But I find the pick more comfortable than strumming with my bare fingertips."

"Most people do, but I'm telling ya' that playing with just your fingers is more rewarding."

"By the way," Connor paused for a moment as he fought to find his words regarding the day's events. "thanks for staying so calm today." As he finally stopped petting Sumo's ears it seemed as though Connor had come to terms with what had happened to him and was able to accept it. "I was on the verge of utter panic but I didn't, because you didn't. I wonder why that it?"

"The more emotions you experience the more you'll learn to control them and you won't need me to help guide you through them anymore."

"How long does it take?"

Hank laughed a little as he leaned back in his recliner and closed his tired eyes for a moment. "I'll let you know as soon as I get full control myself."

"That long?" Connor joked with a quick wit as Sumo rolled onto his back over his lap and wagged his tail at the deviant in an affectionate ploy to gain some much wanted belly rubs. "By the time I'm as old as you are I'll be completely obsolete!"

Laughing again Hank just shook his head and opened his eyes again as he gave the deviant a sly glance. "Smartass."

The following morning was unusual as awkwardly Connor dressed himself in a simple black t-shirt, jeans, his easier to slip on work boots and struggled to slip on his leather jacket over top of it to hide his still momentarily missing right arm. With only one arm to hold up the jacket it continuously slipped from his exposed right shoulder, but Hank easily tucked the sleeve up and pulled the garment forward over the deviant's chest to secure it by the top button on Connor's behalf. It was a simple gesture but one that was greatly appreciated since it came from a sincere place by a very good friend looking out for the deviant in need of some help.

Once at the facility Connor remained calm but eager as he waited for his repaired arm to be replaced to his now healed shoulder. Connor sat on the exam table of the facility with his right shoulder fully exposed as Abby, now on the clock, and Ian worked together to replace his arm into the open socket. The limb itself looked completely flawless - like it had never been affected by the horrors of a car's impact, and Connor felt a much needed wash of relief upon seeing his arm once again; causing his red L.E.D. to transition back to yellow for the first time since the accident.

"Okay, Connor." Abby held Connor's repaired arm in her hands and walked up to him to stand at his right side. Removing the protective cap from his shoulder she exposed the socket and checked the healing Thirium lines within and ensure they were ready to be reconnected to the limb. "I'm going to press your arm back into your shoulder's socket. It's going to require a lot of pressure so I'm going to have Ian and Hank hold you as still as possible while I work."

"I understand."

"All right, on the count of three." Abby lined up the coupling at the end of the arm with the shoulder socket carefully. Steadying her grip Abby prepared to insert the arm into place and apply as much strength as possible to ensure the arm locked into place. "One, two... three!"

While Abby pressed the arm into Connor's shoulder he pressed forward to help her pop the coupling into place and Ian and Hank held him in place as he sat on the exam table patiently. It took the entire group working together to get the arm to pop back into place, it was a chore that a mechanical construction limb at a CyberLife plant could've accomplished in a matter of seconds. Sure enough a loud 'pop' filled the room as the arm locked itself into place in Connor's shoulder and the Thirium lines reconnected to resume flow down the reattached limb automatically.

"Ow!" Connor shouted as he wrapped his left hand around his right bicep and watched as his artificial skin regenerated over his shoulder and upper arm's white plastimetal frame as if the arm had always been in place. The artificial skin trailed down his arm until it reached his fingertips. Steadily Connor's L.E.D. cycled back from yellow to blue as he felt and watched his right fingers wrap into a tight fist as the full feeling Thirium flow returned to the limb. "...It works. My arm works."

"There." Abby huffed as she used the back of her hand to wipe away the small amount of sweat over her brow. "Easy, right?"

"Right."Connor managed to clumsily but successfully slip his replaced arm back into the sleeve of his black t-shirt and flex his hand once more. "Thank you."

Hank noted the focus returning to Connor's soulful brown eyes as his system began recalibrating to accommodate his returned arm. "Feel better?"

"Yes." The repaired deviant confirmed the improvement as he slowly moved his right arm about carefully, rotating the limb and the shoulder slowly. "It doesn't hurt. It just feels a little... tingly. The sensations in my arm are recalibrating and my external sensors are coming back online."

Abby patted Connor's healed shoulder lightly as she nodded toward Hank in confident manner. "All of your systems check out normal and are running at optimum functionality. Go home, let your self healing program take care of your arm, hand and fingers and then take it easy for the rest of the day."

"Don't worry." With a firm grip Hank pulled Connor off the exam table by the left arm to make their way to the exit of the room. "I'll keep an eye on him."

"Good. Now try to stay out of my facility unless you just want to stop by for a friendly visit."

Feeling more at ease Connor graciously addressed the two technicians who had aided his recovery. "Thank you, I appreciate your help." Connor then gave the duo a respectful nod as he and Hank walked out of the facility together. "I think I want to practice those techniques you showed me on my guitar tonight."

"You mean the ones without using the pick?"

"Yes."

"I thought you preferred the pick."

"I do. But considering what I've gone through," Connor looked at his right hand and flexed fingers once more as he walked. "I'd like to try. I might find a new appreciation for the feeling of strings under my fingertips."

"Seriously? No pick?"

"No pick." With a faint grin Connor clenched his hand into a fist and relaxed it again as he held up the functioning appendage for Hank to see. "Just my fingers and my heart."

-next chapter-