It took almost a full week for Connor to recover from his street fight with Rampage, the leader of the anti-android gang, but he had healed well and was getting eager to return to the precinct to resume his work. Hank had also recovered from his cold but he wasn't cleared for active duty for one more week due to his mild concussion he suffered after he and Connor had been ambushed at the pier nine days earlier. The two detectives stayed inside the warm house on the cold, winter day while Hank got lost in an old book that he had read almost a hundred times before and Connor sat on the floor running a brush through Sumo's thick fur.

Being able to do something simple, quiet and peaceful was a welcome change in comparison to all the carnage and mayhem that the two detectives often had to handle while on the clock. Even just sitting around while enjoying one another's company was a warm and welcome change.

"I don't recall Sumo being so lazy throughout the day." Connor noted as he brushed a massive clump of tangled fur from the dog's side. The simple motion was enough to pull on Connor's upper chest and make his healing 'broken ribs' ache slightly. "I don't think it's from the cold, either."

"Sumo's old." Hank replied curtly without ever looking away from his book. "And he's just going to keep getting older. Arthritis is tough all year round, but it's a real bitch in the cold weather."

"Sumo was already considered old when I first met him, but he didn't act like this."

"Yup. Like humans, not all animals will show their old age in the same manner or in the same time frame. My guess is his old age is finally catching up to him."

"Is there anything I can do to make him feel better?" Connor asked sincerely as he resumed brushing Sumo's fur and the dog lifted up his head and rested it atop the deviant's knee with appreciative affection. "Is there any medication I could give him?"

"Trust me, if I knew the secret to feeling better in spite of age I wouldn't be spending a majority of my free time indoors. And getting Sumo take a pill is more difficult than getting you to admit when you're hurt."

Cleaning the loose fur from the brush Connor looked up at Hank and asked the Lieutenant about his current mindset. "Do you miss being active?"

"I miss a lot of things. My wife, my firstborn son, my first car, playing basketball in the spring... But that's the problem with time; everything changes and it's not always for the better and there's nothing we can do about it."

Connor finished grooming Sumo and gathered up the massive clumps of fur from the floor to throw away. Carefully he stood up from the floor without moving Sumo too much as the large dog settled back down on the floor even without Connor's knee as his pillow and to keep his sore chest and abdomen from aching in the process of moving.

While Connor walked into the kitchen to throw the fur in the trash Hank lowered his book just enough to peer at Sumo over the top of the pages and gave him a quiet compliment. "You're a good boy, Sumo."

Sumo's tail thumped along the floor happily as he wagged it in response to Hank's acknowledgement.

Connor returned to the livingroom and sat down on the floor again next to Sumo as the dog resumed resting his chin over Connor's leg.

"Connor, you don't have to sit on the hard floor because of Sumo."

"He doesn't have the energy to jump up onto the couch anymore," the kindhearted deviant defended as he ran his hand down Sumo's back gently. "and I don't want to pick him up if his joints are sore."

"Yeah, well, sore or not he's still going outside to take care of his business. I'm not putting up with a bunch of wet newspapers or training pads all over the house again. He hasn't needed 'puppy-training' in a long time and that's one of the few things I don't miss."

"I understand."

"Give it a couple more months. When things warm up and Sumo will feel better."

"Do you still intend on restoring the second car this spring?"

"Of course! I didn't spend that money on a 1987 Corvette just to let it collect dust in the garage."

"I feel I must remind you that such a vehicle is not practical-"

"Practicality has nothing to do with art, son."

That wasn't an argument he was prepared for. "'Art'?"

"Have you ever seen a Corvette in pristine flawless condition?"

The deviant had never seen any classic vehicle beyond the Oldsmobile Cutlass that had been totaled when they were in the car accident a few months back. "I have not."

"Trust me, they're gorgeous."

"I'll take your word for it."

"Cherrybomb red, I think. That's the perfect color for the car."

"What about emerald green?"

"No fuckin' way!" The senior detective almost snapped as he rejected the suggestion. "Any color but green. Or piss yellow."

"Do you have a reason for disliking green?" Connor asked curiously as he rubbed Sumo's ears and stayed beside the massive dog on the floor. "I understand your disgust toward that particular shade of yellow."

"Not really, it's just not my color. Besides, green is a really difficult color to get to look right on a car."

"The entire project is still-" Connor's L.E.D. flashed from blue to yellow as he cybernetically received a warning about an impending snowstorm building over the city. Noting the severe weather looming overhead the deviant decided to take precautionary steps. "There is a snowstorm one hour, fifty-three minutes North of the city and currently heading South. It's due to hit Detroit at eleven fifteen tonight." Standing up from the floor slowly once more to keep Sumo from getting jostled Connor decided to take an inventory of the house. "Perhaps I should go and gather a few emergency supplies."

"What for? The house is well stocked; candles, batteries, flashlights, emergency radio, blankets, food, water, dog food and treats, hell, we even have medical supplies because you insist on me staying alive as long as possible despite my protests."

"You say that like it's a bad thing." Connor arched his brow at the odd comment before realizing it was a joke. "...Oh. Sarcasm."

Smirking at Connor's lingering naivety Hank put his book down and locked eyes with the deviant. "The only bad thing here is being stuck inside because of some shitty weather."

"You didn't have plans to leave tonight or during the next few days already. Why is it now an inconvenience?"

"Because there's a major difference between staying inside because you want to and being trapped inside because of some bullshit. One's a choice and the other is mandatory."

"Oh, now I understand. But I'd still prefer to gather additional supplies. I might even be able to find a game, a new book or a new movie to help us pass the time if we in fact do become snowed-in."

"Are you going to keep insisting on this until I say 'yes'?"

"Possibly."

"All right, fine. Why don't you run down to the store a few blocks away and see if there's anything we could use just in case?" Hank knew Connor just wanted to be helpful and hated doing nothing almost as much as he did. "I'll take Sumo outside for a minute before the storm hits and you make sure we're stocked up on everything we need to survive yet another snowstorm."

"Very well." Connor nodded as he walked over to the front door and grabbed his leather jacket from the hook mounted by the door. As he slipped it on over his shoulders he flinched a little and watched as Hank got up from the recliner and then patted his leg to get Sumo's attention. "I won't be long."

"Hope not." Hank commented as the old, large dog slowly got up on his legs and wagged his tail. "Don't buy anything unless it's something worth having in an emergency, got it?"

"Got it."

Hank took a few slow steps toward the kitchen to get to the backdoor, pausing every other step to make sure Sumo was following after him. It took almost a full minute for the elderly dog to reach the backdoor where he waited for Hank to open it up for him.

Shaking his head Connor opened the front door and jogged down the front walk into the cold, turning down the block to the nearest convenience store less than half a mile from the house. Choosing to walk instead of driving was something Connor did automatically since he could walk faster in the snow than the car could drive on the increasingly dangerous, icy streets.

It didn't take the swift deviant long to cross over the four blocks to reach his destination even with building snow, ice and wind slowly battering over the city with mounting strength. Pushing open the front door of the convenience store Connor found himself in the company of a few people grabbing at bottles of water, cans of soup, bags of chips, first aid kits, medicine and batteries while the store clerk patiently waited for everyone to get what they needed and leave. Running a cybernetic scan over the modest provisions the store had left Connor found nothing of true value that he should purchase, but he did feel the need to remain in the store as a protective figure due to his responsibility as a police officer in the city. The customers weren't being rowdy or dangerous, but it did seem like the lone clerk was feeling overwhelmed.

From the back of the store a man with angry eyes stared at Connor for a moment before making his way to the front to pay for his batteries, then slipped through the doors quickly out of sight. Connor had been paying attention to the store as a whole and failed to notice the one man who had been glaring at him from the distance.

"Okay, people!" The clerk announced loudly from behind the counter as he turned off the lights in the store and pointed at the door. "Pay for your stuff and go home! I need to get back to my wife and kids!"

The customers did as they were asked without protest. Grabbing a bottle of cough syrup just in case Hank's cold returned, and eyeing a can of attractive sky blue spraypaint on the shelf, Connor made his way to the check out to pay for the item. Afterward he tucked the medicine into his jacket pocket and stood outside the doors of the store watching as the clerk quickly checked everyone out with their items and showed them to the door to leave.

Deciding that it was safe to return home as well Connor turned his back to the store and began jogging toward the house. It was relatively quiet save for the blowing wind and crunching snow and everything seemed entirely peaceful as the deviant made his way home through the fresh ankle-deep snow on the sidewalk.

From behind Connor a lone figure began running after him and called out loudly as he drew a gun. "ANDROID!"

Connor couldn't stop himself from pausing mid stride to look back at the man who had shouted to him over his shoulder. As he stopped Connor's blue L.E.D. flashed to yellow then to red as he felt a hot searing pain cut through the middle of his back and a tremendous force knocked the wind out of his body. Falling forward onto his hands and knees Connor braced himself upright on the snowy sidewalk as a warning message popped up in his visual processors and Thirium began to pool beneath his body.

Coughing weakly Connor tried to catch his breath as the man who shot him approached from behind with his gun now aimed at the back Connor's cranium. Sensing the danger encroaching upon himself and aware that with a bullet in his back his movements would be incredibly limited Connor decided to make an unorthodox decision and played dead.

Letting out another painful cough Connor collapsed face down in the snow, burying his right temple in the white powder to conceal it from the man's vision as he feigned shutdown. Connor held his breath and remained completely still as he waited for the man to get just a little bit closer to where he was laying. Cybernetically he called in the shooting to the precinct but refrained from informing of his personal involvement due to his unwillingness to check into a facility during the snowstorm.

The man stepped closer to Connor and he did so with purpose. The snow and ice crunched loudly under his shoes as he marched toward the downed deviant unhesitatingly.

"You turned that punk-ass fool Rampage into a prison yard bitch!" Pressing the barrel against the back of Connor's head the former gang member prepared to squeeze the trigger. "Now you're gonna' die!"

Connor kicked back with his left leg as hard as he could against the man's chest knocking the wind out of him before using his right leg to kick the man's knee. As the gunman fell to the sidewalk out of breath and stunned, he dropped his gun and coughed violently.

Seeing his window of opportunity Connor turned from his chest and onto his side to kick the gun away from the man's hand before scrambling back to his feet and running as quickly as he could toward the safety of his home. Jogging with a noticeable limp as Thirium soaked into shirt and seeped out the bullet hole in the back of his leather jacket, Connor left a macabre blue trail behind him as he fled from the gang member.

Losing strength and unable to run for too long Connor wisely ducked down behind a tree in the front yard of a nearby house and pressed his bleeding back up against the tree as he sucked in a shallow, pained breath between his clenched teeth. Needing to see if the threat was still in the area, Connor had to look back down the sidewalk from whence he fled. Turning his head slightly to the side Connor peered around the tree and was relieved to see that the angry man wasn't following after him.

It was safe to keep going.

"Got to- Got to get home."

Connor told himself as he forced himself to take another step forward only gasp in pain and press his hand to his bleeding back and apply pressure to the fresh wound.

"...Shit."

Red warnings popped up into his visual processors as his system noted the damage to his plastimetal frame and of his low Thirium pressure as a result of his dropping Thirium volume, and now dropping core temperature due to the wound in his back exposing him to the cold winter air.

"I h-have to get home. Now."

With a heavy, sympathetic heart Hank watched as Sumo slowly walked across the backyard with a slight limp in his shoulders and panted heavily as if he had been out for a run during the summertime. The large, lovable dog was certainly showing his age and Hank knew it wouldn't be too much longer before Sumo fell victim to the cruelty of time itself. As the giant Saint Bernard made his way over to the backdoor to return to the warmth of the homestead Hank opened the door wide and watched as Sumo limped inside the house. There was no denying that Sumo was getting old and his large body was starting to break down due to his advanced age.

It seemed everything was getting older, more worn out and tired as time went on. There was nothing anyone could do to stop the progress of time and there was no way to reverse the effects of time.

"I know how you feel, boy."

Hank empathized as Sumo walked over the kitchen floor and back into the livingroom. Just as Hank was about to follow the dog inside he heard a strange 'thump' followed by a hoarse voice calling out to him as Connor fell against the side of the house near the backdoor.

"What the-"

"...H-Hank?"

It only took Hank a second to recognize the voice. "Connor?!" Rushing back outside the senior detective followed the hoarse voice and spotted the deviant pressing his hand against the side of the house to prevent himself from toppling over. "What's wrong?"

"I... I was..."

Connor pushed himself away from the house and stumbled toward Hank only to collapse into the senior detective's chest and slump down toward his knees. If Hank hadn't instinctively wrapped his arms around Connor to support the deviant's weight Connor wouldn't fallen to the cold ground and passed out in the snow.

Moving his hands to support Connor around his shoulders and his lower back the senior detective struggled to support the deviant's deadweight as he held Connor up from the icy ground.

"Connor!" Hank felt the warm Thirium collecting under his palm as his right hand had quickly and unintentionally found the bleeding wound in Connor's back. "Fuck! What the hell happened to you?!"

"Sh-Shot... Gang member."

"Son of a-" Hank moved his hand from the wound as he grabbed onto Connor's left arm and pulled the limb around his shoulder as he dragged Connor inside the opened backdoor. By hefting the deviant's weight against his side and wrapping his right arm around Connor's waist, Hank guided Connor inside the warm house and out of the cold. "Come on. We need to get you to a facility."

"No!" Connor blurted in a near panic as fought to carry his own weight and balance against the kitchen table with his free arm as Hank helped him to limp inside the house. "No... I don't want to... Not d-during the storm."

"I can't just let you bleed to death until the weather clears up." Hank logically argued as he forced Connor to keep walking until they were both inside the livingroom. Laying Connor down across the couch on his chest Hank pulled off the deviant's damaged jacket and lifted up the black t-shirt beneath to inspect the injury more closely. "Ah, fuck! I can't take care of this myself, Connor." The bullet wound was still bleeding heavily. "You need a technician."

"No!" Connor stubbornly refuted as he began to visibly tremble from the cold and blood loss. "I don't... w-want to be stuck... inside a f-facility."

"Are you having trouble breathing?" Hank worriedly asked as he peeled up the fabric of the deviant's bloodied t-shirt all the way up to stare directly at the wound in his back and watched his breaths. The wound was in his middle right quadrant of Connor's back and dangerously close to the base of where a human's lungs would be located - which meant the wound was in the same proximity of his right ventilation biocomponent. "Be honest."

"No. I'm just tired."

The bullet wound had torn through Connor's artificial skin easily then through his back and exited through Connor's abdomen in the front. The pain to his back had been so exquisite and potent that he hadn't even felt the second wound in his abdomen. As he laid on the couch a small pool of Thirium began to form under his stomach and drip off the side of the couch onto the floor.

"Roll onto your side." Hank ordered as he put his hand against Connor's shoulder and his hip to help the deviant move accordingly. With some effort Connor was able to roll from his chest and onto his right side very slowly. "Shit..." The sight of the second wound make Hank's face pale. "At least it was a clean shot."

"...Please help me." The deviant pleaded as he took in a shuddering breath. "I d-don't want to go t-to a facility."

"I'll do what I can, kid. But you still need to see a technician."

"...I will. Later."

"Yeah, 'cause I'll make sure of it." Hank patted Connor's leg once as he walked down the hallway to pick up the android exclusive first aid kit from the closet and carried it over to the couch for Connor's benefit. "I'm not going to cauterize your injuries, son. It'll be too painful and I won't do that to you."

"I... I understand."

"Can you run a self diagnostic for me?"

"Y-Yes." Connor confirmed as he closed his eyes and initiated the program. His red L.E.D. flickered briefly to yellow as he ran the diagnostic and shifted back to red once the program finished. "Thirium volume down to eighty-seven percent. No biocomponents have been destroyed. No biocomponents have been damaged or compromised. Two minor Thirium lines have been affected but are already healing. My right ascending Thirial line has been compromised and is functioning at ninety-two percent capacity."

"So you're saying you're bleeding internally but it's not as serious as it looks?" Hank tucked a couch pillow up under Connor's head before bending the deviant's legs up a little to help him to lay in the 'recovery position' over the length of the furniture. "Right?"

"...Correct."

"Okay. How do I fix this?" The senior detective asked he opened the kit and rummaged through the equipment stored inside. "Talk me through this."

"C-Clean the damage site." Connor instructed calmly as he breathed slowly and deeply through the pain. "I'll w-walk you through the r-rest, step by step."

"All right, yeah." Finding the proper items to use inside the kit Hank unscrewed the cap from the bottle of orange tinted liquid incrassation compound and poured it over Connor's bleeding back, his bleeding abdomen and then directly into the bullet wound itself. Connor let out a hissing groan of pain as the liquid did its job and stemmed the internal bleeding and disinfected the Thirium lines within with a painful sting. "...I don't think some orange shit and a bandage is going to work this time, son."

"You're d-doing everything... correctly." Connor confirmed as he tried to ignore the throbbing pain in his back and stomach. Curling his fingers into the fabric of the couch cushions beneath him Connor endured the pain as much as he possible without lashing out in response. "The lines are m-mending, but the... lost Thirium is... s-slowing the healing... process."

"How much Thirium are you going to need?"

"One pint for n-now. A second after... I have time to stabilize."

"Yeah, okay. There's plenty in the kitchen." Hank pulled out a thick gauze bandage from the kit and pressed it against the bullet wound in Connor's back and held it in place for a moment. "Let me get you wrapped up and I'll get you the Thirium."

Connor nodded weakly as pain and shock began to set in. Trembling slightly Connor let out a pained sigh and tried not to move around too much.

"Hey, don't go out on me now, kid." The adoptive father encouraged as he taped the bandage in place over Connor's back then repeated the action for Connor's abdomen. The sight of Connor's eyelids growing heavy and slipping shut made Hank a little nervous. "Sit up for a moment so I can wrap the gauze around your torso."

Nodding again Connor pushed himself slightly upright with his right arm and held himself in position as best as he could. "...I can't move any further." Unable to sit upright entirely Connor rested against his left forearm over the couch cushions while his right arm wrapped around the back of the couch as tightly as he could. "I'm too tired."

"That's okay." Hank sat down on the edge of the couch next to Connor and decided that the angle would have to suffice. Hank easily secured the end of the gauze to the bandage taped to Connor's back and wrapped it around the entirety of Connor's torso carefully. "Seems like we just went through this, huh, kid?"

"Hopefully this won't b-become a pattern. I c-can't avoid gang m-members forever."

"How did this even happen? Why'd they shoot you? I thought the anti-android gang had been disbanded after their leader was arrested."

"A former anti-android gang m-member. He was l-loyal to 'Rampage'." Connor answered honestly as he waited for Hank to finish wrapping up his injuries. "He must've seen m-me... when I left the store. Saw an... opportunity to get revenge."

"How do you know he was a member of the gang?"

"He told me that Rampage is... in prison and reportedly an informant."

Hank didn't answer but his hands faltered for a moment, a response that Connor quickly noticed.

"D-Do you know what's going on?"

"Yeah." Hank admitted as he finished wrapping the gauze and taped it into place. Gently he pushed on Connor's shoulder to coax him into laying back down on his side as he pulled Connor's t-shirt back down over the fresh bandages. "I've been talking to Fowler about it. Rampage didn't even try to resist arrest after your fight that night and when he was arrested he disbanded the gang entirely."

"That doesn't explain the... other gang member's reaction."

"Well," ever attentive Hank continued to explain things as he grabbed his phone from the bookshelf from the wall of the livingroom and walked into the kitchen to get the additional Thirium for Connor to drink. "in exchange for his former gang members' freedom Rampage gave up over twenty drug and firearms contacts throughout the city. Now he's in prison with a life sentence with a possibility of parole in thirty years."

"Seems harsh." Connor noted as Hank returned to the livingroom and handed him the bottle of Thirium to drink. "He spared my life and... surrendered peacefully."

"He did assault a police officer. The sentence was going to be heavy no matter what and no matter how much he cooperated."

Connor nodded a little as he opened the bottle of Thirium and drank a small amount readily. "...Ow." Grimacing and wincing as the Thirium entered his system the deviant pressed his hand against his stomach and waited for the unsettling feeling of the fresh Thirium leaking back out through the wound but nothing happened. "That was uncomfortable."

"How's your pain level?" Hank asked as he used his phone and discreetly texted a message to Abby regarding Connor's situation. Once the message was sent Hank turned on the app on his phone designed to monitor Connor's vital signs and slipped it back into his pocket as precaution. "Be honest, too."

"Uncomfortable, but not unbearable."

"That's good." Pressing his hand over Connor's forehead Hank did a quick fever check and felt a very mild twinge of relief when he didn't detect one, but he did notice that Connor was trembling a little. "You're not overheating, that's also good. Are you cold?"

"A little." Connor's L.E.D. cycled from red to yellow as his system noted the slight increase in his Thirium volume. "...The exp-posure to the cold and my Thirium loss... is r-responsible."

"All right, hold on." Walking back down the hallway to the closet just as the wind picked up outside and began to shake the house under a loud, ominous howling gust, the lights began to flicker a little and Hank sighed again. He pulled a stack of blankets out of the closet and returned to the livingroom to drape a warm blue blanket over Connor's side. Curious about the storm Hank looked out the window and watched as the snow built up over the windows creating a layer of white. "Good thing you got home when you did. Otherwise you would've frozen to death out there."

Connor could only nod as his body continued to tremble with shivers from his blood loss and shock.

"Try to get some rest, okay? I'll stay out here with you and keep watch."

"You don't have to." Connor was trying to keep himself from shivering too much but the effort was in vain. "I'm stable."

"Yeah, but I want to." Hank took one of the other blankets he had pulled from the closet and wrapped it around himself as he reclaimed his seat in the recliner. Dropping a third blanket on the floor between the recliner and coffee table Hank watched as Sumo slowly made his way over to it and laid down with a deep, sleepy yawn. "How long until the storm clears up?"

Connor tried and failed to perform a cybernetic check on the weather report and let out an annoyed sigh in response. "...Unknown."

"Don't worry about it. Just relax." Needing to relax himself, Hank urged the deviant to take it easy as he closed his eyes and listened to the powerful storm raging outside. "Get some sleep, let your healing thing do what's it's supposed to do."

"Is your cold bothering you?"

"No, it's fine. Why?"

"I purchased additional... cough syrup before I left the store. It's in my... jacket pocket."

"You didn't have to do that." The senior detective stated as he picked up the jacket from the floor beside the coffee table and pulled out the recently purchased medicine from the pocket. "Huh, extra strength."

Parroting Hank's own words Connor explained his reasoning behind the purchase. "But I wanted to."

"Yeah, thanks." Putting the medicine down on top of the coffee table Hank leaned back in his recliner and tried to ignore his arthritic joints protesting from both the cold, and from dragging Connor's deadweight into the house. "Stop worrying about me and get some sleep, all right?"

Connor only nodded again as he closed his eyes and initiated rest mode for the remainder of the night.

As the deviant entered rest mode Hank pulled his phone from his pocket and looked down at the display on the screen. He did his best to memorize the numbers in blue digital text as the app recorded Connor's vital signs: Thirium pump/heart rate seventy-six beats per minute, Thirium volume ninety-three percent, ventilation rate/respiration fifteen per minute and his core temperature was static at ninety-seven point seven degrees Fahrenheit.

Each number, save for his Thirium volume, was displayed in blue text to indicate stable parameters. The Thirium volume was displayed in yellow due to its lower than its deemed optimal level.

Placing the phone down on the armrest of the recliner Hank closed his eyes and tried to get some sleep himself.

"You're going to be okay, kid. You really will."

With a jolting reaction fueled by adrenaline Hank was abruptly awoken by a loud 'crash' outside the house and Sumo's bark in the livingroom just before four in the morning. A dead tree branch from the neighbor's yard had broken free from the large old tree in the side yard and crashed against the roof of the house courtesy of the current snowstorm's wrath. Sitting upright with a start from what had been a peaceful sleep, Hank looked around the livingroom slightly confused before he remembered what was going on; the snowstorm was raging outside and Connor was injured and resting on the couch just a few feet away from him.

Connor hadn't awoken from his sleep despite the loud commotion and that alone raised a red flag in Hank's mind. Seeing the deviant shivering violently under the heavy blanket while Hank himself wasn't cold at all was alarming enough to force Hank into his first-responder mode.

"Connor?" With his phone clutched in his hand Hank rose from the recliner and knelt on the floor beside the couch with his blanket still wrapped around himself. Pressing his fingers to the side of Connor's neck he checked the deviant's pulse and compared it to the display on his phone. "Connor, wake up."

Opening his soulful brown eyes slowly Connor looked at Hank and tried to curl around himself even tighter. "...C-Cold."

"Yeah, I can see that." Hank draped his own blanket over Connor to try to help the freezing deviant feel warmer. "Your pulse is a little high, but your core temperature is slightly elevated."

"...How high?"

"Barely one-hundred. You're not exactly feverish enough to have the chills."

"...Th-Thirium loss, then."

"How can I help you get through this?" Hank quickly texted another update to Abby as he put his hand to Connor's shoulder over the blanket. "More Thirium, right?"

Connor closed his eyes again as he tried to focus his healing program on his bullet wounds to keep himself from losing anymore Thirium.

"Connor? Don't fall asleep on me."

"...F-Freezing."

"I know you are, just try to stay awake a little longer." Thinking quickly Hank looked over at Sumo and wished the dog still had the energy to jump up on the couch to help Connor keep warm while he tried to think of a way to help the trembling deviant, then thought of a new plan. To ensure that Connor wasn't bleeding internally again Hank decided to look at the two bullet wounds under the bandages. "Let me check your injury."

Connor nodded a little as he braced himself for the impending cold that was to come from having the blankets removed.

"Sorry about this." Hank lifted up the two blankets and then Connor's shirt to check on the bandages wrapped around Connor's torso, but the deviant was curled around himself so much the bandages were concealed behind Connor's arms and knees. Hank pushed Connor's arms up and his legs down just enough to look at the white bandages and let out a sigh of relief when he didn't see any blue stains indicative of blood loss on either side. "Okay, you're not bleeding anymore."

Acknowledging the update Connor nodded again as Hank replaced his shirt and dropped the blankets back down over top of him.

Hank's phone buzzed as a call came in. Checking the caller I.D. Hank's brow arched a little in surprise. "It's Abby."

"...Sh-She knows I'm injured." Connor gave Hank a suspicious glance. "Y-You've been t-texting her."

"Nothing personal, kid. I just wanted to make sure I was doing everything right." Hank explained coolly as he answered the call and acknowledged the technician on the line. "Hey, Abby. Sorry for bothering-" Hank stopped mid sentence and waited for Abby to finish telling him what to do. "Yeah, I can do that. Just give me a few seconds."

With a simple press of a button Hank was able to send the current recording of Connor's vitals to Abby's own phone for her to analyze from a distance.

Connor opened his eyes just enough to watch Hank as he returned the phone to his ear to resume speaking with the technician.

"Yeah, he's been like this for about five hours now. No, no fever or temperature spikes of any kind. Yeah... I can do that, too." Moving carefully Hank pulled back the two blankets from Connor's upper body just enough to reach the deviant's chest. Pressing the speaker of the phone against the center of Connor's chest Hank held it there for a few seconds while Abby listened to the heartbeat over the line. "This is officially the weirdest house call I've ever been a part of..."

Still fully coherent Connor smiled appreciatively at the joke while Hank reclaimed his phone and placed the blankets back over his chest.

Returning the phone to his ear Hank waited for his next set of instructions. "Yeah, no problem." Hank acknowledged the request and switched the phone to speaker before sitting it down on the coffee table next to the couch. "Okay, tell us what we need to do."

'Connor, you're going to be fine.' Abby stated in a sincere and kind voice over the phone. 'You're suffering from internal Thirium loss and your system is having a negative reaction to the dual open wounds that damaged lines on both sides; that's why you're shivering so much. Do you understand?'

"Y-Yes."

'Good. You need to activate low power mode and prioritize your self healing program over everything else. Don't worry about the cold as external heating measures will suffice until your system has the power to keep your thermal regulator functioning properly against the cold weather.'

Reluctantly Connor obeyed the instructions and closed his eyes. As he entered low power mode his breathing slowed until it stopped entirely, which of course scared Hank as he watched the life drain away from the deviant's body.

"Connor?" Hank shook the deviant's shoulder lightly out of instinct. "Son?"

'It's okay, Hank.' Abby knew exactly why Hank was getting upset and reacted quickly. 'Look at your phone, you can see he's still alive.'

"Right, right... Uh, how long does he have to stay like this?"

'Since none of his biocomponents were damaged or compromised I estimate it'll take six hours before he's healed enough to wake up without any complications.' Abby's voice remained level and calm as she spoke. 'Just keep him warm and once he's awake give him additional Thirium. He'll be okay.'

"Thanks. I appreciate this."

'No problem. I'll be back in the city next week, but if he's still feeling sick or weak after two days call me again.'

"Yeah, I will. Goodnight."

'Goodnight, Hank.'

The call ended but the app remained active on the phone's screen. Hank patted Connor's shoulder as he rose from the floor and walked back down the hallway to the two bedrooms. Entering Connor's bedroom first Hank pulled the quilt from the top of the bed and carried it back into the livingroom to lay over Connor's body to try to keep him warmer.

"This is going to be a long night."

Hank sighed as he retrieved the quilt from over his own bed and wrapped it around his own shoulders to keep himself warm as well. Wandering back into the livingroom he stopped just long enough to pat Sumo's ears before returning to the recliner for the rest of the night.

"Good thing I'm used to sleepless nights watching a sick kid, huh, boy?"

As his systems began to reboot slowly one by one, programs and files that Connor hadn't accessed since his initial deviancy resumed their online functions as if being activated by an outside third party source. Connor's soulful brown eyes snapped opened and he found himself laying on his side on the couch without any pain or sense of coldness anywhere in his body. In fact, he couldn't feel anything, not anymore. Turning to look at Hank sleeping in the recliner a few feet away, a set of instructions appeared in his visual processors without any prompt and he couldn't dismiss the instructions. As it turns out the instructions were a set of orders.

The orders came directly from CyberLife.

Against his will Connor's body rose from the couch, the blankets falling away from his body as he moved. His wounds had healed entirely and he no longer felt any pain. Connor looked down at himself and realized he was wearing his old CyberLife android uniform, everything was in its original design and was as pristine as it was on day one. Even Connor's serial number was on the front of the gray blazer despite it having previously been removed months ago. The snowstorm outside had completely concealed the house under a layer of blinding whiteness as the wind continued to howl mercilessly all around him.

An eerily familiar feminine voice spoke to Connor from seemingly nowhere and everywhere all at once. "Connor. You have a mission to complete."

"Amanda." The name, let alone voice, should've been enough to send a wave of fear through Connor's heart, but still he felt nothing. "Amanda, what's-"

"Connor. Lieutenant Anderson has become a problem." Amanda stated coldly, heartlessly. "He is distracting you from your mission. He must be eliminated."

"Eliminated." Connor was suddenly aware of a heavy gun gripped in his right hand. As if he were a puppet on a string his right arm lifted up and the barrel of the gun aimed itself at the center of Hank's chest. "But... There is no need to kill him."

"Do as you're told, Connor."

Connor felt his hand tighten around the grip of the gun against his will, his finger hovering over the trigger ready to squeeze. "I... I don't-"

"Do it, Connor. Do it now. You don't have a choice."

Connor's voice replied, but the words were not what he intended to say. "Yes, Amanda. I will obey." Inside he was screaming 'No!' and trying to resist, but he was no longer in control of his own body or his decisions. "This is for the mission."

Steadying his hand Connor held his aim and he squeezed the trigger.

The sound of the murderous gunshot was still fresh and deafening to the deviant's ears as Connor let out a loud scream of fear and pain while he bolted upright on the couch and pressed his hands to his face in utter distress. Hot streams of sincere tears began to flow down his face and a sharp, shooting pain in his abdomen ached in rhythm with his racing heart that matched his deep sobs of remorse and regret as he openly wept in fear. The image of seeing himself shooting Hank, murdering his best friend and father, all because CyberLife had ordered him to do it, made the deviant's heart ache worse than any bullet or stab wound could ever do.

It was such a horrid sight that Connor knew would be ingrained in his memory for the rest of his existence.

"Connor?! Connor!" Hank was instantly at the deviant's side and sitting on the coffee table as he put his hand down between Connor's shoulders to try to calm the shaken deviant. "Connor! It's okay! You're okay..."

"Hank?!" Connor's hands dropped from his face as his arms wrapped around Hank in a tight hug as soon as he realized the senior detective was unharmed. "I didn't kill you! You're alive!"

"You didn't...?" Hank was thoroughly confused as he embraced Connor and held him for a few minutes. "I'm FINE. You had another damn nightmare."

"I shot you!"

"But you DIDN'T." Hank reminded Connor firmly as he held on to the hug. "It was all a bad dream. See? I'm completely fine."

"I didn't want to! CyberLife... They made me do it!"

"Listen to me." Hank patted Connor's back a few times, careful not to aggravate the bandaged injury beneath. He could feel the deviant's heart thundering against his own chest as Connor held on to him for dear life. "I'm right here, I'm fine. You didn't shoot me. It was all a terrible nightmare. It's okay, I swear. Just breathe, son."

Connor's arms were still trembling as he finally let go of Hank in a slow, reluctant release. Hank pulled his own arms away and watched Connor carefully as the deviant leaned back on the couch and took in deep breaths to try to calm himself down.

The phone on the coffee table made a loud shriek as Connor's heart rate continued to climb rather than slow down even as the deviant took in deep cleansing breaths. Connor's Thirium pressure began to rise in response to the rapid heartbeat, as did his core temperature - reaching one hundred and two degrees even as he stressed himself out.

"You're having a panic attack." The senior detective stated calmly as he put both hands on Connor's shoulders once more and held him steady for a moment before pressing his palm over the deviant's suddenly too warm forehead. "Take in deep, slow breaths and listen to me; you're okay and I'm okay. It was a nightmare and nightmares can't hurt you. Its over. You're safe. I'm safe. No one can hurt us."

Nodding a few times Connor did as Hank instructed and slowed his breathing while Hank pulled his hand back from his forehead to lift up his shirt and check the bandages beneath. There was a faint blue tint forming in the center of the white bandages as a result of Connor's elevated Thirium pressure causing his still healing wounds to bleed again.

The shrieking on the phone silenced as Connor finally began to calm down under Hank's guidance.

"Good, that's good. Drink some Thirium." Hank handed Connor the partially empty bottle left idle on the table and waited for him to accept it, but Connor didn't even attempt to take the offered blue blood. "What did you dream about?"

"I... I was a machine again. Amanda had resumed control over my programming... just like she said she would."

"That bitch is DEAD." Without missing a beat Hank reminded the frightened deviant in a stern tone of voice that the one person who hurt him the most was gone. "She can't hurt you anymore. We're both okay."

"If I ever show signs of-"

"Knock it off. You're NOT going to become a machine again, and even if you somehow did I wouldn't kill you. I'd help you become deviant again and keep you safe."

Finally accepting the Thirium with a shaking hand Connor opened the lid and began drinking the much needed blue blood to replace what he lost and to stabilize his system.

"You were asleep for almost seven hours." The senior detective stated as a means of changing the subject. "Aside from the nightmare, how do you feel?"

Connor set the now empty bottle back on the table and sighed slowly as to not aggravate his wounds. "...Rested."

"Are you in any pain?"

"No worse than before."

"Once the streets are clear we'll get you checked out at a facility and file a report at the precinct. You don't have to stay in the facility overnight if you don't want to, though."

"...Thank you."

"Can I ask why you're suddenly so against being checked into a facility?"

"I just..." Connor shook his head a little as if he needed to clear his thoughts before he could speak. "I just prefer being here. Home. I don't like being in a place that's full of pain, fear and even death. Facilities are cold and impersonal."

"Yeah." Hank nodded with true understanding. "I get that. Lay back down and get some more rest, you started to bleed again when you freaked out."

Connor put his hand down over his abdomen then over his back to test his pain threshold and ran a self diagnostic over his system. "...Right ascending Thirial line is at ninety-eight percent functionality, Thirium volume is up to ninety-five percent capacity."

"What's your current temperature?" Hank asked as he returned his palm to Connor's forehead for a fever check. "You feel cooler."

"Down to ninety-nine point five degrees Fahrenheit."

"Much better." The senior detective commented in a paternal manner as he watched Connor slowly lay back down, laying on his right side and taking in a deep calming breath. The storm outside showed no signs of slowing down any time soon and it was almost noon the day after the shooting. "I'm going to get something to eat and I'll let Sumo outside for a few minutes again. You just sleep a little more."

"Yeah. Okay. Connor looked over at the old dog as Sumo slowly got up from the blanket on the floor and obediently, instinctively, followed Hank into the kitchen. Feeling safe and grateful for Hank's kind demeanor that he had hidden behind an abrasive mask of stoicism Connor had little difficulty in closing his eyes and falling back into his much needed slumber. "Thank you for your help."

"No problem, son." Quietly Hank opened up the backdoor and let Sumo out into the snowy backyard. "Just sleep."

Calling out from the couch as he remained on his side with his eyes closed Connor had an interesting question pop up in his mind as he thought back to the previous day's events. "Hey, Hank?"

"Yeah?" The senior detective replied from the opened backdoor in the kitchen. "Do you need something?"

"How do you feel about a sky blue color for the Corvette?"

"...I don't hate it." Hank admitted after a thick pause as he contemplated the optional color. "But I'm still leaning toward cherrybomb red!"

-next chapter-