While he slowly recovered from his injuries Connor had taken to sleeping on the couch for a few more nights as he was still hesitant to be alone, even if that meant being in a separate room from Hank for even a few hours. No longer suffering from chronic nightmares or pain, Connor managed to doze comfortably without any further incident during his final days of healing. With Sumo laying on the floor next to the couch and Hank asleep in the recliner a few feet away, the unorthodox family had found a few moments of peace after enduring days of Hell courtesy of hatred and bigotry still scarring parts of the world with blackness.

Barely three in the morning was greeted by a low 'buzzing' sound that emanated from Hank's phone sitting on the small table next to the recliner. The sound was enough to rouse the sleeping senior detective from his slumber despite his own exhaustion. As he looked at the caller I.D. displayed on the glowing screen Hank's grogginess was replaced by an anxious alertness causing him to practically jump to his feet as he walked through the livingroom to answer the phone outside the backdoor more discreetly.

"Hank?" Connor's eyes partially opened as he sensed the senior detective now awake and heard the phone 'buzzing' in Hank's hand. "What's wrong?"

"...Nothing. It's a personal call." Hank never broke his stride as he crossed the livingroom into the kitchen and pulled open the backdoor to answer the phone in private. His voice was as alert as his pace as he stepped outside and addressed Connor from the distance. "Go back to sleep, I'll be back in a minute."

Still too tired from his devastating injuries and still needing to rest in order to fully reboot his processor, Connor willingly laid his head back down on the pillow and closed his eyes to return cooperatively to rest mode once more. Laying still and quiet Connor listened to the sound of Hank pacing about on the back deck, his heavy footsteps moving rhythmically back and forth outside the door, then stopping abruptly.

At the silence Connor turned his head slightly against the pillow as he listened to the sudden quiet and waited for the backdoor to open up, but it remained shut. Curious about the unexpected stillness and corresponding silence Connor waited for a few minutes before he rose from the couch and walked very slowly toward the kitchen, craning his neck to try to see Hank on the back deck through the kitchen window as he walked.

Sumo got up from the floor and joined Connor in the kitchen with his own curiosity, but the deviant didn't want Sumo outside so late at night.

"No, Sumo. Go lay down."

Reluctant to go away Sumo continued toward the backdoor with his tail wagging slowly.

"Sumo." Connor didn't raise his voice but he did put some authority into it as he tried to command the almost grown puppy into obedience. "Go lay down."

The still learning but lovable young dog slowly walked away from the door and eyed Connor expectantly as if the deviant was going to suddenly change his mind and let him outside.

"Lay down."

Moving quicker Sumo finally went to his pillow in the corner of the livingroom and laid down with a slight grumble under his breath as he watched Connor walk to the backdoor without him.

"Good boy. Now stay."

Peering through the window of the backdoor Connor saw Hank sitting down on the steps of the back deck with his hands folded neatly together as a single fist and pressed against his bearded chin as he leaned forward with his elbows propped up against his knees. The phone was sitting next to Hank completely forgotten and the lack of motion from Hank himself was disconcerting to the ever empathetic deviant who saw him.

Opening the door quietly Connor stepped through and stared at the senior detective's back as he called his name. "...Hank?"

"Go back inside." Hank's voice was devoid of all emotion as he spoke without ever looking at the deviant behind him. "It's late."

"What's wrong?"

"...You need to be resting."

Connor stubbornly closed the door and joined Hank on the back steps while ignoring Hank's attempt to deflect the question. As he sat down beside the fatherly figure who had taken him in as family, Connor saw that there were fresh tears running down Hank's face in heavy streams that were unmistakable.

"Please talk to me." Connor wanted to put his hand on Hank's shoulder as a sign of support but he knew that right now the senior detective was standing on an emotional precipice and didn't need anyone accidentally pushing him one direction or another. "I want to help you."

Wiping his hand over his damp irises Hank removed the tears from under his eyes, but the red puffiness that Connor had witnessed before as the result of humans experiencing intense emotional sorrow was still there. Ignoring the deviant at his side Hank sat in silent contemplation with his tear filled eyes staring straight ahead at the fence that lined the rear of the property.

Connor had never seen Hank in such emotional distress and was completely unsure of how to act in this situation. Deciding that maybe his best of course of action would be to listen to Hank's suggestion and return to the house, Connor hesitantly stood up slowly and stepped away from the senior detective without another word.

"Connor."

Freezing in place with his right hand wrapped around the doorknob Connor stood his ground and waited for Hank to speak again. "...Yes, Hank?"

There was a pause before Hank spoke again. "...What does the name Wallace Caius mean to you?"

Turning his head quickly Connor let his hand fall from the doorknob and he stood behind Hank warily. "...He was a surgeon. Dr. Wallace Caius." Connor waited for Hank to react but he didn't budge in the slightest. "He was arrested on October 12, 2035 for possession of 'red ice'. He... He was also the surgeon on call the night that... you and Cole-"

"Yeah, that asshole." Hank confirmed in a low emotionless voice before Connor could finish his sentence. "Did I tell you that the fuckin' prick only spent six months in prison and got one year of probation for showing up to his shift high as a fuckin' kite and committing negligent homicide?"

"N-No." Connor's brow furrowed with confusion at the comparatively lenient sentence that the man had received in light of his crimes and failures as an emergency physician and surgeon. "That is a very inappropriate punishment for the crimes in which he was convicted."

"Yeah, well, where the law failed us personal pain intervened."

"How so?" Turning away from the door Connor took a step toward Hank once more thoroughly intrigued. "What happened?"

"Like that asshole's wife divorced him while he was behind bars and she took their kids and left town. When he got out of prison he went right back on 'red ice', sold everything he had left to his name and ended up living on the streets to keep up his drug habit."

"You've never mentioned him before..." The deviant noted keenly as he rejoined Hank at the back step and stood beside his adoptive father. "Why now?"

Hank suddenly fell silent again.

"I remember what you told me about not bottling up my sorrow." Connor stated in a stern tone as he sat back down next to Hank on the steps of the back deck to ensure Hank wasn't alone anymore. "And I remember you told me that it was okay to cry when upset. You also told me that in times of emotional distress that it's best to talk about it." Waiting only a moment Connor turned to look at Hank before continuing. "Talk to me. I'm here to listen."

Hank's eye briefly darted over to the phone sitting idle beside him on the opposite side of where Connor was sitting before his gaze rose to the fence in the distance. "...I got a call a while ago. It was from a friend who is still working in narcotics across the city." Pausing briefly to clear his throat of any and all emotion threatening to well up in his voice Hank continued on. "...And Wallace's body was found under a bridge near the outskirts of the city about two hours ago. He overdosed on 'red ice'."

"And you don't know how you feel, how you want to feel or how you should feel about his death." Connor realized empathetically. It was easy to understand Hank's internal conflict. "You don't want to admit it, but you feel a sense of relief - maybe even happiness, knowing that someone who had caused you so much pain is finally dead."

"How in the hell do you know that?" Hank asked in a stunned tone of voice as he finally turned his head to look at Connor with an emotional gaze. "That's really insightful."

"...That's how I felt when you told me that Chance had been murdered after being arrested. A part of me was relieved that he was no longer a threat," Connor's soulful brown eyes lowered guiltily to the deck at his feet as he spoke. "and then another part of me was actually happy that he had been killed. I was happy that he had suffered a terrible fate and perished in the end for his crimes. But now I'm... ashamed. I feel horrible for finding solace in the demise of another person's life."

"Don't be." Hank insisted in a low but firm voice as he reassured Connor that his feelings were justified. "It's normal for humans to want revenge when they've been wronged. I wouldn't expect anything different from deviants."

"If it's normal," his eyes returned to Hank in a searching gaze. "then why are you behaving so abnormally about the situation?"

Without any shame in his voice Hank answered the question with total honesty. "Because, I wanted to be the one to kill Caius."

"You wanted to..." Trailing off for a moment Connor tried to contemplate how different things in his and Hank's life would be in that moment if Hank had actually carried out his desired act of revenge. If he had been the one to kill Caius then where would they be on that night? "If you had succeeded and killed him-"

"I would've gone to prison and I don't give a fuck! He killed Cole. He wasn't even in the same room but he was responsible all the same." Wrapping his hand over the back of his tense neck Hank tried to ease the tightening knot working up his back and threatening to overwhelm him with a migraine. "I wanted nothing more than to strangle that irredeemable bastard with my bare hands, but he was so high, so pathetic that I couldn't do it. And ever since Cole's funeral all I wanted to do was track him down after he got out of prison and put a bullet between his eyes... But he disappeared with the other junkies. So I pinned all my anger and hatred on androids instead. I was easier to hate someone who tried to help Cole, to hate a face I could actually see, than it was to think about the man who killed him."

Connor looked away again as his hands empathetically flexed into tight fists atop his lap.

Sensing the tension Hank let out a breathy sigh of self hatred in response. "Guess that's just a weakness of character. My first reaction is to hurt people who hurt me, even if they don't really deserve it."

"You're not weak." The reassurance in Connor's voice was sincere as he sat with Hank on the back deck. "At least you didn't track him down and actually hold a gun to his head... Like I did when I tracked down Perkins."

Hank knew exactly what Connor was referring to and didn't want the deviant to suffer the same guilt and self loathing that he was currently enduring. "The night you went after Perkins is different. What you did came out of raw pain and anger because Lucas was murdered in cold blood. What I wanted to do came out of a sense of misplaced revenge and the need to make someone else suffer for being so damn foolish and neglectful."

"It wasn't different. The only reason I didn't kill him is because I remember what you told me and that alone kept me from squeezing the trigger." Connor couldn't bring himself to look at Hank as he spoke. "You managed to keep living your life without taking revenge on someone who wasn't worthy of living and you didn't have someone there to talk you out of it. You made the decision on your own. You're a lot stronger than you give yourself credit for, believe me. I hope to understand that kind of strength for myself someday."

Hank reached his right hand up and patted Connor's left shoulder appreciatively. "...You already do, son. Don't worry about that."

"Thank you for believing in me." As he sat beside Hank on the back deck Connor felt a sudden surge of electricity flow though his cranium as his processor finally fully rebooted and allowed him cybernetic access to the world around him. Noting the late hour and the spike in Hank's blood pressure as well as his elevated heart rate, Connor decided it was time for Hank to go back inside the house and to get some proper rest. "It's late. You need to sleep."

"I'm not tired, son."

"Neither am I. But you insist I continue to rest for the sake of my own health and I must insist you do the same."

"...I don't need sleep, I need a damn drink." Hank dropped his hand from his neck and leaned back to look up at the night sky overhead and could only imagine the stars that were masked by the city's light pollution. The memory of buying and destroying the new bottle of whiskey was fresh in his mind and made him feel like he was slipping with his sobriety. "I need to drown in whiskey."

"No, you don't."

"You're right, I don't. But I still want it." Closing his eyes and Hank let out a single long repressed sob and then sighed deeply to fight to regain his emotional composure. "Fuckin' hell."

"Lay down." Urging Hank to get up and return to the house Connor's instincts to keep his father figure in good health was overriding his own need to take care of himself. "You're beginning to suffer from a severe headache, perhaps even a migraine. I can see it in your eyes."

"Headache, hangover... All the same to me." Hank dismissed as if pain was to be expected. "One just has less puke in the morning."

"No." Connor stated firmly as he wrapped his left hand around Hank's right bicep to pull him up to his feet as he stood up himself. "Come on. It's your turn to rest and I'll watch over you."

Moving slowly and heavily Hank grabbed his phone with his left hand and let Connor pull him up to his feet to lead him back inside the house. As the duo returned to the house through the backdoor Connor escorted Hank back to the livingroom and placed him on the couch to sleep.

"What're you doing?" Hank asked as put his hand over his tired eyes as he sat on the cushions heavily. "This is where you need to sleep."

"You're feeling unwell and need to lay down. Just as you watched over me while I recovered I will do the same for you."

"You don't-"

"I'll get you some aspirin and water."

Hank fell to his left side slowly as he pressed his head down against the soft pillow and didn't move one inch as even the slightest motion threatened to split his already aching skull open. "...Fuck."

Very intuitive to what was happening, Connor was aware of Hank's discomfort and made sure he kept his movements as silent as possible as to not disquiet the already pained senior detective as he opened the medicine cabinet in the bathroom and returned to the livingroom just as quietly. "Hank." Connor whispered to his adoptive father with two tablets of aspirin and a glass of water in his hands. "Please?"

"...Thanks." Begrudgingly Hank accepted the pills with his outstretched left hand and popped them into his mouth before he gulped them down with the offered water and tossed his phone down on the coffee table. "Better than nothing."

Connor took back the now empty glass and set it down on the coffee table before he draped the thin navy blue blanket over Hank's resting form. "I'll be right here if you need anything." The deviant volunteered as he sat down in the recliner and entered a light rest mode to ensure that if Hank awoke again in the middle of the night that he'd awaken too. "Rest well. I hope you feel better in the morning."

"...Sometimes I forget you're not human, kid."

"Pardon?" Connor asked confusedly from where he sat as the comment was muttered to a near inaudible degree. "What did you say?"

"Nothing. Don't worry about it."

"Okay..." Patting his leg twice Connor called over Sumo who happily rose from his pillow to sit beside the recliner and press his chin to Connor's left leg to get some attention. "Sleep. It's over and he's gone."

Tiredly Hank rested his arm over his eyes to block out all of the dim lighting in the house and let himself silently weep and mourn as he thought about Cole. It took some effort but Hank finally drifted off to a restless, nightmarish sleep from exhaustion. His sobs were silent, but painful all the same as he endured the haunting images of his firstborn son's needless death...

-next chapter-