Slightly annoyed by his current task, Connor was running a strong, thick bristled brush through Sumo's damp, tangled fur with one hand, and had his other hand was wrapped around Sumo's leather collar. The deviant was fighting to keep the massive pup from trying to get away from the necessary grooming. Having gone to the cabin with Connor and Hank over the weekend, the energetic young dog managed to get thick tree sap and strong pine needles caught in his fur, as well as a few stubborn ticks. But the worst part was when Sumo jumped into the lake for a swim. Connor had to jump into the lake after him and drag him out of the water, and the two then proceeded to smell of wet dog and lake water for the duration of the weekend.

Unwilling to risk a tick or flea infestation Connor decided it'd be best to give Sumo a thorough grooming and brush out his fur as much as the energetic dog could stand it. Unfortunately Sumo wasn't the most patient of pups and wanted to go and play, not be groomed.

"Almost done, Sumo." Connor was practically leaning his entire weight on Sumo's back to keep the young dog laying down on the livingroom floor. "Stay!" Connor commanded as Sumo tried again to wriggle away from his grip and whined. "The knots are out at least..."

Hank walked into the livingroom from the kitchen with a mug of coffee in his hand and watched as Connor fought to groom the dog's long fur. "Remember how I told you I didn't take the original Sumo camping for this very reason? The bugs, the tree sap, the water..."

"...Yes." Connor admitted as he combed through the final tangled strands of Sumo's fur and finally let the massive pup go. "I was unaware that Sumo would take off into the woods and roll through a bush. Or jump in the lake."

Sumo trotted off down the hallway and proceeded to jump up onto Connor's bed and roll around on the soft quilt to get what little dampness remained in his freshly shampooed fur out while also reclaiming his scent over his freshly washed pelt.

Hank just shook his head and finished off his coffee with a grin on his face. "Yeah, well, at least you got that lake smell out of his fur. Now we just need to wait for it to leave the bathroom."

"I would've bathed him out in the backyard but I was afraid he would've rolled around in the mud produced by excess water from the garden hose."

"Don't worry about it." After he finished off his coffee Hank stepped back into the kitchen to put the empty coffee mug down in the sink. "We have about an hour before we need to clock-in, so go take a quick shower and get the wet dog smell off yourself, otherwise you're riding to work in the trunk."

Connor looked down at his wet black t-shirt and jeans with mild disgust at his own appearance. "You're correct. I'll shower and change into my uniform."

Arriving at the Central Precinct in a timely manner the duo were met with a few handshakes as well as a dozen or so 'welcome back' greetings as they returned to their desks and set about resuming their normal work routine. Between Hank being stabbed in the back and Connor being abducted and tortured for over a week, the two detectives had been out of commission from the precinct for almost two solid months. In that time many things had transpired throughout the city during their absence, and a few new faces popped up as rookie officers were introduced to the precinct to help fill the void left behind. The rookies were either doing great or requesting transfers already.

The drastic changes helped break up the monotony of paperwork but left the bullpen feeling a little low when it came to morale.

"I forgot how uncomfortable this chair is." Hank muttered as he turned on his terminal screen and proceeded to log in for the day behind his desk. "I already miss the couch."

"I was unaware of how much I relied on my cybernetic connections until I had lost them." Connor noted as he stared at the massive log of reports on his own terminal screen that he'd have to sift through quickly and efficiently. "I estimate these reports will take eighteen hours, twenty-six minutes and thirteen seconds to file properly."

"Better hope we don't get assigned a new case anytime soon."

"Agreed. I dislike falling behind in my current assignments."

"Relax, kid. We were both out on the injured reserved list for nine weeks total." Giving the deviant a coy smirk Hank leaned back in his chair to try to loosen up his already tight back muscles. "Fowler will cut us a break."

"It doesn't make me dislike this any less."

"Dislike it all you want, just don't obsess over it."

Heeding Hank's warning with a sincere acknowledgment Connor pressed his right fingertips to his blank L.E.D. and nodded. "...I won't."

Three hours into the boring, report-stricken shift Connor was getting restless and Hank was becoming lethargic. As the senior detective let out a sleepy yawn poorly hidden behind his right hand Hank leaned back in his chair again and folded his arms over his chest in a somewhat defensive, but mostly concentrated, pose as he read through the macabre reports he still needed to finish. It wasn't the most enthralling read but it was important all the same no matter how much Hank tried to protest it.

Connor had made a significant dent in his own work but still had many more files to sift through. Such an endeavor would remain lengthy and assuredly boring for both detectives.

"You should try to eat a proper breakfast in the morning." Connor observed casually as he noticed Hank's behavior. "Coffee isn't enough to sustain you until your lunchbreak."

"I'm fine. I've been doing this routine for years."

"The coffee or the poor diet?"

"Smartass."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to annoy you."

"You're not annoying, paperwork is annoying." Stifling another yawn Hank shook his head and tried to focus on his work. "Shit."

"I'll get you some more coffee."

"Uh-huh..." Hank was suspicious of the offer as he watched the deviant stand up from his desk and straighten the lapels of his gray blazer. "You just said I need to stop relying on coffee, so what gives?"

"If I get it for you then I can be assured that you won't consume an unhealthy amount of sugar and sweetener."

Hank shook his head a little at the deviant's clever rouse. "All right, whatever."

Casually Connor walked over to the breakroom and put his hand on the freshly brewed pot of hot coffee and grabbed Hank's usual coffee mug from its place on the high shelf. As he poured the fresh coffee Connor sensed someone walking into the breakroom behind him but didn't bother to look as he knew his company would announce themself soon enough.

"Welcome back, 'Tinman'." Gavin greeted in his usual crass manner as he pulled a small paper cup from the nearby cooler to fill with water. He was using his left hand to avoid straining his still healing right hand. "This time it's official, right? Not just a visit or something?"

"Correct. Hank and I have been medically and technically cleared for active duty." Connor confirmed as he finished with the coffee and noted the splint around Gavin's right index finger. "How is your hand healing?"

"It's fine, just three weeks and I can remove the splint." Gavin noticed the still dull L.E.D. in Connor's right temple and questioned him about it as he slowly flexed his right hand. "You gonna' get your 'headlight' replaced, or what?"

"Not at the moment, no." Rubbing his right fingertips at the blank light again Connor's mouth ticked a little as he remained uninterested in restoring the light any time soon. "It's not vital to my system's operation."

"Keep it off. It's less irritating that way."

Connor nodded subtly as he muttered under his breath. "Too bad you couldn't have a such a convenient manner to be less irritating."

Nearly choking on the water Gavin gave the deviant a wide eyed stare. "What was that?"

"I said," lying quickly Connor wisely deescalated the situation. "I'm glad you find it to be less irritating."

"...Oh." Doubtful of the comment Gavin decided to let it go since he didn't want to be the one to ruin Connor and Hank's big return. "Sure, whatever."

Smirking to himself for his own remark Connor took his leave of the breakroom and placed the coffee down on the desk for Hank. "This should taste sweet without being too sugary."

Hank picked up the offered mug and gave Connor an odd glance as the deviant sat down across from him again. "...What the hell was that?"

"What?"

"Gavin followed you into the breakroom and he didn't insult you. Does he think you're dying or something?"

"No."

"Man, we HAVE been gone for a long time... Gavin stopped being a prick."

Connor smirked a little more at the comment as he resumed his work on his terminal screen.

"And what's with the smirk?"

"Pardon?"

"You're smirking and you look amused. What did I miss?"

"Nothing." Resuming his usual professional demeanor Connor masked his grin and focused on his terminal screen again. "I'll tell you about it later."

"Whatever." Taking a sip of the coffee Hank determined that it wasn't disgusting and therefore he'd stomach it just to amuse Connor. "It'll give me something to look forward to when we leave."

"How's the coffee?"

"Good enough."

A faint smirk reappeared before Connor's professionalism again took hold. "I figured as much."

Just as the day itself seemed as though it were going to unfold uneventfully, a loud raucous commotion at the front of the precinct drew everyone's attention as Chris and Tina escorted their recently arrested suspect - a man who was dangerously high on 'red ice', into custody, only to have him attempt to resist arrest and cause a fight. The man was easily six foot in height and about two-hundred and thirty pounds of pure, angry muscle that gave him a fairly intimidating presence. The massive difference between the stronger man's build compared to the leaner officers made him appear all the more threatening.

"Get off me bitch!" The man was easily twice the size of Tina and unphased by her presence, but she wasn't backing down. "Get the fuck outta' here!"

"Hey!" Chris tried to wrestle the man to the ground but the man was too strong and angry to go down so easily. "Shut the hell up! Stop resisting!"

Simultaneously Hank and Connor rose from their desks with the intention of aiding the other two officers when the man managed to break one of the links on the cuffs around his back and get his arms free. Grabbing onto Chris by the collar of his shirt the man threw the young officer over a desk and raised his right fist as he readied to strike Tina. Connor raced over and put himself between Tina and the suspect as he grabbed onto the man's fist, his own right hand wrapping around the man's knuckles, and slowly bent the man's hand backward until his wrist threatened to snap.

"Stop resisting." Connor repeated to the arrested man while Hank checked on Chris, and Tina aimed her taser at the man's chest. "You've just assaulted a police officer and attempted to assault a second."

"Piss off, 'pretty boy'!"

The man was too high to feel the painful pressure being applied to his right wrist and lashed out with his left hand striking Connor in the right eye. The blow sent a wave of pain and flashes of horrible memories from his captivity in Chicago through Connor's mind. Letting go of the man's hand Connor took a single step back, his left hand covering his right eye and a wave of red hot rage swept over him.

Overwhelmed with conflicting and powerful emotions Connor was forced into a type of autopilot. Reeling back his own right fist Connor struck the man as hard as he could in the left side of his jaw, fracturing the man's mandible and breaking the man's nose with an impressive crimson gush of blood causing him to collapse backward in a dead faint on to the floor.

"Knock-out..." Tina complimented Connor as she replaced her taser to her belt and nodded at Gavin as her partner left an interview room to see what was happening out int he bullpen. "Are you okay?"

Connor was staring down at the unconscious man on the floor before him with a silent glare. With his eyes glazed over and his right hand trembling as it remained clenched in a tight fist Connor didn't reply and seemed to be lost within the confines of his own mind.

"Connor?" Hank helped Chris up to his feet and checked on his partner while Chris, Tina and now Gavin worked to drag the suspect into the nearest cell and call for the precinct medic to check in on him as soon as he was locked away. "Are you hurt?"

Unable to find his voice all Connor could do was subtly shake his head 'no'.

"Hey? Look at me." Lightly Hank put his hand on Connor's right shoulder only to have the deviant fearfully shrug away the touch and take a step back from Hank defensively. "Whoa, hey, it's all right."

"Hank? I think..." Reality and awareness suddenly returned to Connor as the horrible memories faded away. "...I think there's something wrong with me."

"What's wrong?"

"I'm... tense. And I'm... afraid. I don't... I don't know how to describe it, but it's like I want to fight someone, but... I also want to hide."

"You're pissed off and you're still stressed out." Hank tried to reassure the shaken deviant in a calm voice. "It's normal, it happens to all cops and detectives at some point in our careers."

"But... I struck him. I hit another person."

"In self defense."

"No. It was different." Connor looked down at his shaking right hand, his knuckles were covered in the man's red blood and it felt so foreign to him. "My reaction was different."

Captain Fowler had witnessed the entire scene from his private office and was now standing behind Connor as he exited the isolated space to get the full story. "Connor?" His voice wasn't strict or even aggressive, only professional. "I need to see you in my office."

Connor was too shaken, too confused, to move.

Hank nodded as he watched Captain Fowler return to his office to wait for the deviant to arrive. "Connor. Go." He insisted calmly as he motioned to Captain Fowler's office with a casual thumb over his shoulder. "We'll talk about this later, kid. It's okay."

Slowly but obediently Connor turned around and walked toward Captain Fowler's office as ordered, his hands still shaking with unreleased stress and rage. As he entered the office Connor bowed his head slowly with shame at his previous actions and sat down in the chair across from Captain Fowler's desk with perfect posture and his trembling hands folded neatly on his lap.

Hank watched discreetly from his own desk through the transparent wall as Captain Fowler spoke to Connor, their voices were too muffled by the barrier of glass for him to understand. While Connor looked as though he had kicked a puppy across the room Captain Fowler remained calm and spoke to him in a very level voice. It didn't take Hank long to figure out that Captain Fowler was asking for Connor to take the rest of the day off and the disappointment in Connor's soulful brown eyes only made the guilt worse.

"I should've known it was too early for you to return." Feeling responsible for Connor's current predicament Hank sighed as he realized he'd need to take steps to undo the emotional damage Connor had suffered and help him to heal. "...We're going to have a long talk when we get back home."

After being dismissed Connor exited the office with his head still hung low and walked over to his desk to sit down in silent contemplation.

"You okay, Connor?"

"...I've been asked to leave early and resume my normal shift in two days as previously scheduled."

"That's not what I was talking about." Hank clarified in a low voice for the sake of respect and discretion as he spoke to Connor as his friend and as his father rather than a fellow detective. "I want to know if you're okay."

"...I don't know. I honestly don't know."

"Come on." Hank rose from his desk and went to put his hand on the side of Connor's right arm, but just as before Connor jerked away from the touch. Understanding the reaction Hank wasn't offended and was merely motivated to help Connor feel better. "Your hand is still covered in blood."

Connor looked down at the blood staining the knuckles of his right hand and felt sick at the sight.

"Let's go. You need to be cleaned up."

Moving with slow deliberate motions Connor stood up from his desk and let Hank escort him to the men's room just down the nearby corridor.

As the two detectives entered the bathroom Hank couldn't stop himself from worrying about Connor's recent behavior and sudden lacking self confidence. "Stand over here, put your hands under the water."

"...Only one hand is covered in blood."

"I know, but trust me, washing off both of your hands will feel better than just the one."

As the deviant put his hands under the tap in the sink Hank turned on the water, adjusting the temperature until it was lukewarm but not hot, then he grabbed a couple of paper towels from the nearby dispenser.

"I'll take you home." Hank volunteered with a neutral tone as he returned to the sink and began to lightly use the towels to wipe the blood from Connor's hand without being too rough on his artificial skin. "We need to have a talk."

"Please don't be angry with me!" Pleading like a scolded child Connor sounded and looked genuinely afraid that he had somehow disappointed the one person he respected more than anyone else in the world. "I didn't mean to-"

"I'm not mad." Hank reassured Connor in a sincere and calm tone of voice as he interrupted the unnecessary apology. "Shit happens. I just want to make sure you're actually okay. That's all."

Falling into silence Connor let Hank wash the sticky blood from his hand and then gently dry off his knuckles while checking for any sign of external damage.

Without warning Gavin entered the bathroom through the sliding door and addressed Hank in a low voice. "Hey, uh, Cap' wants you to take the day off, too. Said something about no other partners being available today, so yeah. Free day off."

Recognizing lies as easily as he recognized any song by 'The Knights of the Black Death', Hank was genuinely appreciative of Gavin's discretion and played along. "Yeah, sure. Damn chair was hurtin' my back anyway."

Connor also knew Gavin was lying but he didn't have anything to say on the matter at hand. Ashamed and embarrassed of his actions Connor just held his silence as the two detectives spoke around him.

"Come on," Hank insisted with his ever calm voice as he finished drying off Connor's hands. "if we hurry we can beat the afternoon rush hour."

The drive back home was silent as Connor resided within his own confused thoughts while trying to understand what had just happened to him during his shift. Impulse control had always been something Connor had mastered and never showed any sign of faltering in the past, yet on that day he had lost control entirely and actually hit another person with enough strength to cause them real bodily harm. The deed, while understandable in itself, was something Connor simply couldn't comprehend.

Just three days prior he had found himself disappointed in Gavin for striking a person while on the clock, and now he had just committed the same misdeed.

"Connor? You coming inside, or what?" Hank asked as he stared at Connor from his seat in the car. "We've been parked for five minutes."

"Oh... Y-Yes." Pulled back into reality Connor reacted fairly quickly and gave Hank a nervous glance. "I'm coming."

Hank waited for Connor to open up his passenger door before he did the same for his own door. Watching Connor carefully Hank followed after the deviant as he slowly walked inside the house through the front door and stood statuesque in the middle of the livingroom as he simply didn't have the energy to keep walking. Even as Sumo ran up to Connor excitedly and stood up on his hind legs to try to get some attention, Connor didn't move and his face remained entirely blank.

"Down." Hank grabbed Sumo by the collar and pulled the dog back down to the floor. "Stay."

Connor looked like he was about to cry but couldn't decide what he was going to cry about. The pained confusion in soulful brown eyes made Connor look more human than he ever had before in the past.

"Son, go sit down in the livingroom for a few minutes." Urging the deviant to move forward Hank tried to remain as patient and paternal as possible. "Take it easy for a while."

"...Hank." Breaking the silence in a remorseful tone Connor couldn't bring himself to look Hank in the eyes as he spoke. "I'm sorry."

"Don't do that. Don't apologize, because you didn't do anything wrong."

"I hit him."

"He threw Chris over a desk and was about to hit Tina, you were protecting your fellow officers. That's all."

"I hit him after he hit me."

"Right, in self defense."

"But I didn't feel threatened by him. I felt... angry."

"Ah..." Hank put his hands on his hips as if he had just figured out the solution to a great mystery. "Connor, do me a favor."

Giving Hank a sheepish look Connor remained statuesque where he stood. "...Favor?"

"Go change out of your uniform into some casual clothes, something athletic, and then wait for me on the couch. I have something I need to take care of."

"Hank, I-"

"You're not in trouble, kid. I can't stress that enough." Hank had to practically shout to get Connor's full attention and get him to finally move. "Just change your clothes and wait for me. Okay?"

"...Very well."

"Jeez, you're as bad as a little kid sometimes. I don't know what's worse," Hank muttered to himself as he opened the backdoor and pulled Sumo through along with him to go run around in the backyard. "dealing with a sick Connor or a scolded Connor."

Fearing any further screw ups that day Connor had done as instructed and replaced his uniform with another black t-shirt and a somewhat ragged pair of blue jeans. He had also changed from his nicer dress shoes and into a pair of athletic shoes that Hank insisted he wear when not at work. Sitting quietly on the couch Connor listened to Hank messing around in the driveway beside the house for a few minutes before he stepped through the backdoor and disappeared into his own bedroom down the hallway.

Sumo was still running around in the backyard and driving the local squirrels crazy as he chased them through the grassy yard with random deep barks. It was a normal sight, and yet Connor didn't feel normal.

"All right, let's go." Hank returned to the livingroom wearing casual clothes as well. He was wearing a gray t-shirt and khaki shorts with an old, worn out pair of sneakers. Hank was carrying an old, faded orange basketball under his arm as he stood behind the couch and gave Connor a stern glance. "Outside."

"...Outside?"

Hank tossed the basketball to Connor who easily caught it with both hands from where he sat on the couch and finally looked Hank in the eyes. "Yup. You'll need this."

"...I do?" Connor didn't understand what Hank was talking about. As he turned the basketball over and over again in his hands he didn't know what to say or what to think about Hank's bold claim. "What is it that I need that requires a basketball?"

"To blow off some steam."

"Steam? I still don't understand."

"It's a human phrase, son." Hank used his hand to wave Connor away from the couch as he crossed through the kitchen to the backdoor. "It means you're angry and you're holding it inside. That's not good for you and it'll make you sick, drive you crazy, maybe even drop you into a deep dark depression. And as someone who's experienced all three I can say for sure that you need to let it out before it hurts you."

Keeping both hands on the basketball Connor warily rose from the couch and followed Hank out the backdoor, onto the back deck and into the backyard. From there he saw that Hank had parked the car further down the driveway near the street and had hooked a faded basketball hoop that was missing its net around the rim to the front of the garage just above the door.

"Ready, kid?"

Staring at the hoop for a moment Connor gave Hank a puzzled look. "...We're going to play basketball?"

"Yup." Hank stood at the end of the driveway and motioned for Connor to stand beneath the hoop at the opposite end. "This is great for getting out stress and working through the pent up anger you're trying to deny."

"How?"

"Start playing. You'll find out."

"...Okay." Connor dribbled the ball twice before he bounced it over to Hank. "I'll try."

"Good!" Hank caught the ball easily and managed to sink a perfect shot from where he was standing at the far end of the driveway. "One to nothing."

Reacting naturally Connor caught the basketball as it dropped from the hoop and down onto the driveway beside him. Taking Hank's place at the other end of the driveway Connor dribbled the basketball twice more and then did the same as he tossed the ball and made a perfect shot himself. "...One to one."

"How's your hand?" Hank asked as he caught the basketball and bounced it over to Connor to catch for another shot. "You hit that guy pretty hard."

"...It doesn't hurt." Connor stated flatly as he caught the basketball and dribbled it twice and held it between his hands. His right hand had fully healed and show no sign of damage. "The external damage has been fully mended."

"You messed that guy up with just one punch."

As Hank made his comment Connor attempted his shot and the basketball ended up bouncing off the rim and falling to the ground as Connor missed. "...I'm not proud of myself."

"Good." Repeating himself from earlier Hank caught the basketball and bounced it over to Connor again. "You know, I've seen you take some pretty nasty hits from suspects before, but I've never you lash out like that. What's changed?"

Connor caught the basketball clumsily and he dribbled it only once. "...I can't explain it."

"Try." Pushing the matter gently Hank insisted the deviant speak up as he watched Connor fussing with the orange sphere in his hands. "Just tell me what you're feeling, I won't judge you."

"I don't know." Connor made another shot and just as before it bounced off the rim and missed the hoop. "I really don't."

"Yes you do." Hank caught the basketball as it bounced down the driveway and he began dribbling it as he approached the unsettled deviant. "Tell me what's going on inside your head."

"I don't know what's going on."

Remaining steadfast in his attempts to get the deviant to open up Hank bounced the basketball with much more strength than necessary into Connor's hands and in response Connor jumped in surprise.

"...Hank, what're-"

Hank then slapped the basketball out of Connor's hands and stole it from the deviant with an aggressive motion as he turned around and easily made another successful shot from the end of the driveway. "Two to one." Putting his hand on the center of Connor's chest Hank pushed the deviant back a little and began to taunt him. "I thought androids were better than humans. That was pretty weak."

Connor was still surprised by Hank's swift motions and had only just registered what had happened. "H-Hank?"

"Come on, kid. Give me a challenge!" Hank retrieved the rolling basketball down the driveway and began the aggressive pattern all over again. Bouncing the ball even harder than last time into Connor's hands Hank then charged the deviant and put his shoulder against Connor's chest to shove him backward, and stole the recently caught basketball. As he turned to shoot once more he didn't even bother to look at Connor as he made a successful shot. "Three to one."

"I don't understand-"

"Are you seriously going to let me just push you around like this?" Raising his voice Hank asked as he pushed on Connor's chest again as the basketball rolled by forgotten down the driveway and came to stop against the side of the house. "Huh? Aren't you going to defend yourself?"

"I don't want-"

"What?" Hank pushed him again, more forcefully this time. "You don't want to hurt me? Huh? What about letting other people hurt you?" Again Hank pushed him and suddenly Connor felt the same flash of red anger wash over him like it had earlier. "Come on! Defend yourself damn it! Don't let me-"

Connor angrily grabbed onto Hank's shirt collar and pulled the senior detective up to his own face as he reeled back his right hand ready to punch Hank in the jaw with a strong fist. As his brown irises glazed over and an intense heat radiated from his artificial skin Connor locked eyes with Hank and froze. Slowly Hank raised his hands into the air as if to surrender and he gave Connor an approving grin.

"Hank... I..." Connor let go of Hank's shirt, his hands shaking and his eyes wide with abject remorse, and terror. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"

"Don't be." Hank lowered his hands and pulled down his shirt to smooth it back out over his front. "You did exactly what I wanted you to do."

"You... wanted me to hurt you?"

"No! I wanted you to defend yourself." Once more Hank went to put his hand on Connor's shoulder but again the deviant shrugged it away and took a step back in shame. "Connor, you told me what happened while you were in Chicago, but you didn't tell me what you actually went through."

"Honestly, I still don't understand." Utterly confused by what was happening inside his own mind Connor sought more answers. "How could I have told you what happened without telling you what happened?"

"Let me rephrase that." Remaining patient Hank tried a new approach. "While you were captive what did you have to do to survive?"

"I told you..." Trailing off intentionally Connor tried to avoid the subject altogether. "I told you all that I could."

"Right, but there's something I haven't quite been able to understand." Thinking logically Hank chose his next words carefully as he began to push Connor for answers to his questions. "When deviants stress out they try to self destruct, but you didn't do that. And from what you told me the other deviants being held captive didn't try to self destruct either. Why?"

"I didn't because I couldn't let- If I died then Alec would've suffered and I wouldn't have been able to return... home. They all wanted to go home too, but they gave up. They gave up and submitted to death."

"But not you. You fought back."

Connor looked away with guilt, his eyes glazing over and his hands trembling visibly as they clenched into tight fists at his sides. "I had to fight other deviants and..." Taking in a deep breath Connor told Hank of his darkest moment during his captivity. "And I had to kill one. His name was Miles and he begged me to do it! I snapped his neck and spared him his pain. I felt him die and the people who saw it all cheered..."

"The one you killed," Hank pressed timidly without being too pushy. "you said he wanted you to do it. He wanted you to put him out of his misery... But you still took his life and you can still see his face from time to time, can't you?"

Connor closed his eyes tightly as tears threatened to fall from his soulful brown eyes.

"And you feel guilty."

"I killed him, Hank!" Connor blurted in an emotional upheaval his eyes snapped back open and he stared through Hank with utter despair in his gaze. "He didn't have to die, but he did! He's dead because I snapped his neck. I killed him... I fucking killed him!" Connor fell to his knees and pressed his hands to his face as he began to sob with the repressed guilt, anger and sorrow he had been holding onto for almost three weeks. As he wept from his breaking heart his entire body racked with shudders and he choked on his words between sobs. "I didn't want to do it! I didn't want to kill him! I don't want to hurt anybody! I'm a murderer..."

Hank knelt down in the driveway beside Connor pressing his left hand down between the deviant's shoulder blades as he wrapped his right arm around Connor to hold his palm to the back of Connor's head. The father pulled Connor in against his shoulder for a strong hug. As soon as Connor's forehead was resting against his shoulder Hank slowly rubbed his left hand along Connor's back in a soothing manner.

Weeping with painful sobs Connor all but screamed in his emotional pain. "I killed an innocent person!"

"Shh... It's okay, son."

"It's NOT." Connor sobbed again as he lowered his hands from his face and leaned into Hank's shoulder. "I killed him! I hurt so many others... And then I hurt that suspect! I can't be trusted... I'm dangerous."

"Connor, listen to me. You're suffering from what's called P.T.S.D.; Post Traumatic Stress Disorder." Hank gently ran his hand through Connor's hair as he spoke in a low voice. "This is normal, okay? You just need to give yourself time to deal with what happened. You can't just pretend what you went through never happened and expect to go back to a normal life so easily... And with everything you've been through, even before that demented fuck abducted you, it's a wonder you've made it so far without having some kind of emotional breakdown. But this is NORMAL, son. You don't have to be afraid."

"How do you know?" Connor managed to croak between sobs. "How can you possibly know what I'm going through?!"

"Because I went through the same thing when I lost Cole."

Connor was confused by the admission. How could Hank be so upset about one person but not another? "...What about Barbara?"

"Well, I had Cole to focus on, so her death didn't affect me as much as I wanted to admit until long after it happened. I guess a part of me was in denial the whole time after she died, but I didn't let myself feel anything until I had no choice but to accept that my whole family was gone."

Connor closed his eyes tighter as more tears rolled down his face and he pressed his face against Hank's broad shoulder.

"You don't have to be afraid of the world, Connor." Hank explained softly with true understanding. "Not everyone is going to hurt you, and more importantly you don't have to be afraid of yourself."

Slowly Connor lifted up his right arm and wrapped it around Hank's shoulder to tighten the much needed hug.

"I can't pretend to know what you went through or the horrible things you had to do in order to survive, but I will be here and I'm ready to listen whenever you need to talk about it." Hank could feel the intense heat radiating from Connor's artificial skin but didn't dare break the hug. "...Just know you're not alone and I still trust you with me life, son."

As Connor's left arm wrapped around Hank's back to accept the full hug Connor began to calm a little, his core temperature beginning to drop as well as his dangerously high stress levels dipped down slowly.

"Take a minute to breathe and collect yourself, okay? This won't be easy to get through, but I know you will in time. And remember there is no shame in getting help from a professional psychiatrist if you need to talk to someone else. Okay? Talking to someone really does help."

Connor nodded as he finally let go of Hank and pulled his arms back. Shifting his weight so he was sitting down on the driveway with his back pressed up against the side of the house, Connor pulled his knees up to his chest, using his left arm to hug his legs and his right hand to run through his messy dark locks of hair. Hank sat down beside Connor in a similar pose and waited for the deviant to regain his composure and calm himself.

Grabbing onto the basketball resting a few inches away Hank tucked it under his left arm at his side as he patiently waited for Connor to make the next move or say something.

After a few minutes of quiet sobbing Connor let out a breathy sigh as wiped away the remaining tears on his face off on the heel of his palm. "...Hank?"

"Yeah?"

"...Do you really trust me?"

"Of course, I wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it. You're my partner and you saved my life." Hank lifted up his right hand and placed it onto Connor's left shoulder, relieved that Connor didn't try to shrug it away as he had before. "And more importantly you're my son. I trust you more than anyone else."

"...Thank you."

"Feelin' any better?"

"I feel... less 'heavy', if that makes any sense."

"Makes perfect sense to me."

"Is this what is feels like when you lose control over your emotions?" Using his shirt Connor wiped his tears from his face as he looked up at Hank standing before him. "To feel like everything you've ever known is somehow a lie or a hollowed out promise? To think that everyone important in your life doesn't... really care about you?"

"Unfortunately, yeah." Hank's hand tightened on Connor's shoulder for a moment to ground the shaken deviant a little more as he continued to speak to him with a paternal concern. "Give yourself time to heal and don't try to pretend that everything is all right when you know it's not."

"How long does it take to get over something like this?"

"I wish I could tell you, but it's different for everyone. Personally, it took me years to get over it, but I was alone. You won't be alone, Connor. I won't let you go through this by yourself."

"Thank you, da-" Stopping himself short Connor corrected his choice of word. "Hank." Connor cleared his throat as he took in another breath and leaned back against the cool surface of the siding of the house. Nodding at the basketball under Hank's left arm Connor tried to find a way to distract his current emotional distress for a moment longer. "...Do you want to keep playing for a while longer?"

Hank smirked a little as he wrapped his left hand around the basketball and picked it up to balance it in the same palm as he held it out at arm's length. "Absolutely. It's still three to one."

"Care to make a wager?"

"What did you have in mind?" Hank pushed himself up from the ground and offered his right hand to Connor to take and help him back up to his feet. "Money?"

Readily Connor grabbed onto Hank's hand and as he rose back up to his feet and brushed off his clothing somewhat casually. "How about... The winner picks the color for the Corvette?"

"No way!" Hank playfully disagreed as he backed up the driveway toward the garage and overhead basketball hoop. "How about loser has to clean the wet dog smell out of the bathroom?"

"Okay." Connor gave Hank a faintly crooked smile at the comment as he followed after him up the drive. "...Deal."

"Hey, what did you say earlier to Gavin in the breakroom that made you so damn happy? You said you'd tell me."

Thinking back to the moment Connor smirked again as remembered the snide comment he made and caught the ball as Hank bounced it over to him to catch. Dribbling the ball twice Connor gave Hank a mischievous grin as he decided to tell Hank the story and did so with amused pride in his voice that in turn made Hank laugh.

"Good job, son. Don't let anyone sass ya'!"

-next chapter-