After enjoying a week of relatively quiet cases and a light caseload in general, Connor and Hank found themselves in the middle of a stand-off as two prison escapees opened fire on the responding police officers through the broken window of the second floor motel room in which they had barricaded themselves within. With Gavin taking charge of the tense scene along with Chris as his partner while Tina was off shift for the day, Hank and Connor provided back-up and attempted to calmly talk the two armed men into surrendering peacefully before anyone was injured. The main goal was to bring the stand-off to a peaceful end with as few casualties as possible.

With Connor's experience as a hostage negotiator proving to be an invaluable asset during the crisis, the deviant detective was ready to take the lead and talk to the prisoners himself. The last thing Connor wanted to do was wash more innocent blood from his hands.

"I can attempt to negotiate with the gunmen." Connor volunteered as he and Hank ducked down behind their car with their own guns drawn and at the ready in case they needed to defend themselves. "One of the shooters has been injured and requires medical attention."

"How do you know that?" Hank asked as he peered up at the window over the hood of the car without giving away his position. "Can you see through walls now?"

"No, there is a significant smear of fresh blood on the door to the room that is type 'A' negative, and based on the provided prison records of the two men it is a match to one of the prisoners; Shane Gregson. He has been wounded and has been bleeding for almost an hour."

"If you think you can talk them down, then go for it."

Nodding in agreement Connor holstered his gun under his gray blazer around his back and crept along the first floor exterior wall of the motel and swiftly moved up the metal staircase leading to the second floor a few yards away.

"Connor's going to try to talk these idiots down." Hank shouted over to Gavin who was ducked down behind his own car next to Chris. "Hold your fire."

"...Right." Gavin lowered his gun and patiently watched as Connor approached the room but kept clear of the door and the already broken window to ensure he wasn't in the line of fire. "This better work."

"Mason Greene, Shane Gregson." Connor addressed the prisoners by their names in a calm but serious tone. "Detroit Police. Drop the weapons and open the door, slowly."

"FUCK OFF MAN!" One of the men, Mason, shouted in response to the demand through the window. "WE AIN'T GOIN' BACK TO PRISON!"

"Your friend has been injured, correct?" Connor paused and waited for a response but no reply came. "Surrender and we'll get him the help he needs."

"No way! As soon as we open the door you're going to shoot us dead!"

"No. We do not want to harm you, we only want this to end peacefully."

"You're a fuckin' cop, man! I don't trust you!"

"You don't have to trust me, you just have to trust what I'm saying." The emphasis in Connor's voice was palpable as he impressively remained in control of the situation. "Allow me to help your friend."

Silence.

"Your friend has been bleeding for a dangerous amount of time, he needs help immediately. He won't last much longer without medical intervention."

"...A-All right," Mason was willing to let Connor inside the room but the hesitation in his tone was evident. "but just you! No one else! No gun!"

"Yes. I'll enter alone."

"No weapon?"

Knowing he had little choice in the matter Connor unclipped his holster from around his shoulders and waist allowing his gun to drop to the concrete terrace beneath his feet and behind him out of his range. "No weapon."

There was another pause before the sound of a metal lock being opened sounded off with a dull 'thunk'. "All right. The door's unlocked."

Connor slowly made a move for the door and tested the doorknob. As the knob turned easily in Connor's grip he waited before entering in the event that either Mason or Shane panicked and opened fire again. Slipping into the room calmly Connor assessed the situation and sent a cybernetic report to the precinct and relayed a message to Hank's phone via cybernetic text.

Mason closed the door behind Connor and kept his gun trained on the back of Connor's head as the deviant entered the room and eyed Shane leaning up against the corner of the small room with a blood soaked towel pressed against his abdomen. Shane was sweating, shaking, pale and barely conscious as he fought to stop the bleeding of his own injury.

"How long ago was he shot?" Connor asked as he knelt down in front of the wounded man and pressed his fingertips to the side of the man's sweaty neck to count his pulse. "Try to give me an accurate approximation."

"Like... I don't know, an hour ago, maybe two." Mason admitted as he kept his eyes transfixed on Connor's every move. "Why?"

"He's lost a substantial amount of blood and is slipping into hypovolemic shock."

"What can you do for him?"

"I can attempt to stem the bleeding," Connor explained as he applied more pressure to the towel already over the wound and was met with a deep groan of pain from Shane as a result. "but he requires immediate medical attention that I cannot provide myself."

"And how do I know that the guys down there aren't going to just run up here, finish him off and put a bullet between my eyes?"

"Because I gave you my word."

"And what good does that do me, man?"

"They won't open fire if I'm here because I'm an officer." Shane had lost consciousness entirely and slumped over in a dead, cold faint onto the floor under Connor's hands. "Shit. He cannot wait any longer."

Mason was beginning to pace about nervously as he watched his best friend dying right in front of his eyes.

"Mason, you must allow me to help him. I cannot do it alone."

"Okay! Fine! Just save him..." Mason tossed his gun to the other side of the room onto the bed to surrender. "He's my best friend. He's all I got left in this fucked up world."

Connor nodded as he cybernetically updated the other officers on the situation and asked for paramedics to be shown up to the room. "An ambulance is en route, it'll be here in less than one minute."

The sound of sirens filled the air as the requested ambulance raced to the scene right on schedule.

Waiting to be arrested Mason looked at Connor as the deviant did his best to keep Shane as stable as possible. "...You ain't like those guards back at the prison, man. You actually talk to us like we're people."

"You ARE people." Connor replied with a stern voice as he pressed his right hand firmly against Shane's bleeding abdominal wound and kept his left fingers wrapped around Shane's right wrist to track his pulse. "Prisoner or not, you're still a person and should be treated as such."

Scoffing a little Mason gave Connor an almost amused smirk. "Tell that to those guards back in the prison."

Connor's brow furrowed as he heard the genuine desperation and fear in Mason's voice and realized that he may have uncovered the motivation behind the prison escape. "...To which guards are you referring?"

Taking charge of the scene since it was his partner now in the middle of the stand-off as the negotiator, Hank led the paramedics and their gurney up to the room in question while Gavin reported the events as they unfolded to dispatch over the radio. Drones were circling the motel and recording everything taking place outside the occupied room where the two escapees and Connor were currently residing. Motioning for the medics to stay back a few feet Hank picked up Connor's gun and tucked it into his coat pocket as he cleared his throat and addressed the occupants in the room with loud voice to let everyone in the room know that help had arrived.

Motioning for the paramedics to keep back with his hand, Hank made sure the duo were wearing their Kevlar vests and were keeping away from the door and windows. He didn't need to deal with two paramedics getting shot while trying to do their jobs.

"Connor?" Keeping his voice loud but level Hank called out to his deviant partner inside the motel room. "The paramedics are here."

"Both suspects are unarmed, Hank." Connor confirmed through the closed door as he continued to hold pressure on Shane's wound. "One is severely injured with a single G.S.W. to the lower left quadrant of his abdomen. He's lost an estimated two and half pints of blood."

"We're coming in..." Hank opened the door to the hotel room and spotted Mason already kneeling on the floor with both hands behind his head to surrender. "Where's the gun?"

Connor answered from where he was kneeling down in front of Shane. "It's on the bed."

Holstering his own gun to his right hip Hank took the handcuffs from the back of his belt and cuffed Mason's hands behind his back before leading him out of the hotel room. "All right, let's get you downstairs and the medics will check on your friend. You're under arrest, by the way."

"Yeah..." Mason grumbled as Hank escorted him out of the room. "I figured that out myself. I won't resist."

"Good answer."

As Mason was taken from the motel room Connor moved to the side without releasing the pressure as the paramedics approached Shane and began assessing his critical condition. Standing upright as a paramedic took his place, Connor proceeded to pick up the discarded gun from the bed and step out of the motel room to reunite with the other officers outside in the parking lot.

"Nice work, Connor." Hank complimented as he turned Mason over to Gavin, who promptly placed the arrested men in the back of his patrol car. "What'd you say to get him to surrender so quickly?"

"I just spoke to him. Acknowledged him as an intelligent being, not as a prisoner with only a cell number rather than a name."

"Guess that's why you're the negotiator." Casually Hank handed Connor over his gun and watched as the deviant easily replaced the weapon and holster back into place around his shoulders and around his back beneath his blazer. "Glad you thought to do that."

"You do the same. You always spoke to me as if I were an intelligent being long before I deviated and began to truly think for myself."

From the second floor the paramedics began to awkwardly wheel the gurney down the stairs with Shane still unconscious and strapped down for safety reasons. The unexpected and unintended jostling of the gurney managed to rouse Shane back into a bleary state of consciousness and he began to panic as he saw police officers suddenly all around him with no memory of how it happened.

In a moment adrenaline fueled fear, Shane managed to pull his right arm free of the restraint and pulled a hunting knife from a hidden pocket concealed within the back waistband of his jeans. As Shane pulled the knife on the paramedics. Hank caught sight of the glinting metal and pulled his gun out of its holster on his right hip and aimed it at Shane.

"DROP THE KNIFE."

Connor turned around quickly to see where Hank was aiming only to witness the knife being plunged into the hip of the closest paramedic and hear the sound of a single gunshot escaping from Hank's gun to his immediate left. With that sound came a burning pain over the top of Connor's left shoulder followed by a splash of Thirium pouring down his arm within seconds.

"Shit!" Pressing his right hand over his left shoulder Connor stepped back from Hank and stifled a groan of pain as Hank proceeded to address the armed man on the gurney while the uninjured paramedic tended to her wounded partner on the terrace clutching at his hip. "...Damn."

"I SAID DROP THE KNIFE." Hank repeated loudly as kept his gun trained on the armed man. "I WILL NOT ASK AGAIN."

The sight of Hank's gun and the loud echo of the gunshot still ringing in his ears was enough to make Shane drop the knife from his trembling right hand and immediately fall back unconscious against the gurney.

"That's better. Moron..." Hank righteously muttered as he holstered his gun once more and turned to look back at Connor. "How'd he-" The sight of the deviant standing back with his head bowed down and his right hand covered in his own blue blood as he pressed his palm down to his own wounded left shoulder made Hank instantly sick. "Shit! Connor!?"

"...I-It's okay." Connor managed to reply as he felt Hank's hand left press down over top of his own against his still bleeding shoulder. "...It just grazed me."

"Holy, shit. Connor... I shot you!"

"Accidentally."

"Come on, son, come on..." Hank pushed Connor toward the car to sit down in the front passenger seat as Connor kept his hand on the wound. Pulling Connor's hand from the injury Hank peeled down the fabric of the gray blazer and then did the same for the white dress shirt beneath to expose Connor's shoulder and the subsequent injury. "Aw, man. Fuck..."

"The bullet didn't hit any biocomponents or main Thirium lines. It's merely a scratch."

"...But I still shot you."

"Hank, it was an accident." Connor responded firmly as he saw the guilt in Hank's blue eyes. "I should've stepped aside sooner."

"No, Connor." Utter regret and remorse filled Hank's heart as he stared at the wound while fighting the urge to throw-up. "This is my fault."

"I failed to properly check the suspect for any concealed weapons before I left the paramedics unattended. It's MY fault."

Hank stared at the seeping blue blood that stained Connor's shoulder through the missing artificial skin and the cracked plastimetal frame beneath. While it wasn't a critical wound it was still serious enough to warrant a technician's care. "...I'll take you back to the precinct to get patched up."

"Hank?" Connor could hear the hurt in the senior detective's voice and didn't want to see Hank kicking himself over an accident. "I promise you that I'm okay."

"...Yeah." Closing the passenger side door Hank walked around the front of the car and pulled open the driver's side door with a slow motion. "...I know."

With his Thirium soaked blazer and white dress shirt removed Connor sat on the exam table in the precinct's dispensary as Joel easily stopped the bleeding with a small amount of incrassation compound to the wound. With some temporary bandages to keep the wound cleaned and covered until Connor's self healing program remedied the damage within a few hours, Connor was deemed cleared to resume work. Though Connor didn't lose a lot of blood Hank insisted that he drink some Thirium to replace what little amount he lost and to jumpstart the self healing program in general. Connor didn't argue as he wanted Hank to feel better and immediately cooperated with the suggestion.

"Feeling any pain?" Joel asked as he finished wrapping up the injury and helped Connor to slip his shirt and blazer back up over his patched up shoulder. "Is your range limited?"

"A very small amount of pain but no limitation to my current range of motion." The deviant admitted as he rebuttoned his shirt. "I am a little confused, though."

"About what?"

"This was an accidental shooting but Hank seems to think what he had done was unforgivable."

"Well, how would you feel if you accidentally shot Hank?"

"I believe the correct 'human' term for such a scenario would be, 'like Hell'."

"You got it." Joel patted Connor's good right shoulder and stepped back as the deviant rose from the exam table to resume his shift. "He's going to feel bad for a long time even though you're okay aside from the nasty scratch to your shoulder. Guilt is a cruel emotion that humans can't seem to ever prevent. Well, at least the humans with a heart can't seem to stop, anyway."

"I see..." Connor nervously squared his jaw as he deeply empathized with Hank's plight. He knew the painful guilt of accidentally harming someone he cared about. "Perhaps I should talk to him."

"Good idea. But don't expect him to be in a very talkative mood for a while."

Heeding the technician's advice Connor sought even more wisdom for a human who had far more experience with emotions than he had. "Joel, can I ask you something rather unusual?"

"Sure. Go for it."

"Why are human emotions so complex and contradictory?"

"Damned if I know the answer to that!" Admitting he didn't know what to say Joel gave Connor a rather somber sigh. "Emotions are too damn complicated to even explain how the complications begin."

"Oh." Realizing he had a big challenge ahead of himself Connor decided he's need to find a way to reach Hank in a way that'd only work for Hank. "Thank you for your help anyway, Joel."

Refraining from the urge to put his right hand over his still somewhat sore left shoulder Connor returned to the bullpen and sat down at his desk opposite of Hank. The healing deviant proceeded to go about his usual routine as he turned on his terminal and began writing out his report on the case that he and Hank just returned from. As Connor began typing quickly on the keyboard in favor of cybernetic filing he noticed that Hank was staring blankly at his own terminal screen with great disinterest and distraction deeply seeded in his blue eyes.

"Hank? Your vitals as distressing." Running a quick biometric scan Connor noted that Hank's physical behavior was reflecting his emotional and mental states at the current moment. "Are you ill?"

Hank didn't answer verbally, he only let out a quiet sigh.

"My shoulder sustained only minor damage." Changing the subject to one of a more positive nature Connor tried to make Hank feel better. "It will heal entirely in a few hours."

"...Doesn't change the fact that I shot you."

"Stop blaming yourself for an accident. You've encouraged me to not hold myself accountable for my previous mistakes, and neither should you."

"You've made great progress in healing, kid." Hank finally looked up at Connor; the regret still welling up in his gaze. "And now I go and do something like this."

"I'm okay." Connor reaffirmed sincerely as he tried to ease Hank's guilt. "Don't worry about me, I'm going to make a full recovery and I didn't have any unsettling flashes to my past traumatic events. As you stated, I've made progress and I'm truly healing. This isn't a setback, it's a mild inconvenience."

"That doesn't make me feel any less guilty." Standing up from his desk Hank casually motioned to the front doors of the precinct as he dropped the car keys down on the desk for Connor to take for himself. "Fowler already has me benched for a week until internal affairs finishes their investigation. I'll see you at home."

"...Hank?" Connor wanted to keep the senior detective from leaving but Captain Fowler's voice sounded off through the bullpen and caught his attention and kept him from leaving. "Hank, please talk to me before you go."

"Connor." The commanding officer's voice called out a second time but wasn't full of aggression, only authority. "My office."

Reluctantly Connor obeyed his superior officer's orders as Hank trudged out of the precinct with a heavy weight crushing down against his heart and his conscience. The sight made Connor's own heart ache as he realized how truly guilty Hank felt for accidentally harming him in the line of duty. Accident or not, Hank wasn't going to be able to brush off the day's events as easily as Connor could do.

With Connor's statement taken in regard to the accidental shooting, and with the report that Joel had filed containing details of the injury itself, Captain Fowler decided to lessen the suspension against Hank to forty-eight hours and neither detective would be held accountable for the shooting itself. Shane would be charged with assault against the paramedic - who was well on his way to a full recovery as well, and he was going to be charged with carrying a concealed weapon on top of escaping from prison. The weapon itself was concealed in a perfectly well hidden secondary pocket that had been overlooked by Connor AND the paramedics, which confirmed the unfortunate circumstances leading to the accidental shooting. No one was at fault.

After finishing his shift alone Connor pulled the car into the driveway beside the house and readily exited the vehicle to get inside and check on Hank. Sumo was sitting in the backyard and showed no interest in going back inside the house as if he were afraid to return to the modest home. It didn't take a detective to know that something was very wrong.

"Oh, no..."

As Connor walked up the steps of the back deck and through the backdoor he was greeted by the sight of Hank's heavy coat thrown on the kitchen floor, the trashcan knocked over and Sumo's bowls spilled all over the floor. Locking onto Hank himself, his back toward the backdoor as he sat at the kitchen table with a bottle of vodka in one hand and a poured shot in the other hand, Connor knew that Hank was in deep trouble.

"Hank?" Connor walked around the kitchen table so he could look the senior detective in the eyes. Noting the glass bottle in Hank's grip Connor ran another biometric scan over Hank's person and asked him a painful question. "How much have you had to drink?"

"...I couldn't do it."

"Do what?"

"I couldn't pull the trigger on myself, but I managed to do it to you."

"Hank." Connor grabbed onto Hank's shoulders as if needing to ground the shaken human as he raised his voice. "It was an ACCIDENT."

"Accident or not, I still shot you! You're supposed to be my son! Fathers don't hurt their sons..."

"Damn it." Connor swore as he pulled the shot glass out of Hank's hand and snatched the vodka bottle away. "Why are you trying to punish yourself for something you weren't responsible for?"

"I AM responsible." Hank argued with a slur as he gave Connor a pathetic stare. "I'm responsible for YOU. My son. And I failed. I failed again..."

It was then Connor realized why Hank was so unnerved by the entire event. Connor being injured by Hank's hand made Hank think back to the car accident that had taken Cole's life. Hank still felt guilty over what happened to Cole despite the accident not being Hank's fault and no one ever blaming him for a single second. While Connor was able to make peace with his own past and move on, Hank was still struggling to do the same.

"Hank... Listen to me." Easing the authority in his voice Connor took the vodka over to the sink and poured the remaining alcohol out quickly to keep Hank from harming himself any further. "You don't have to keep blaming yourself for what happened to me... Or to Cole."

At the mentioning of Cole's name Hank was immediately defensive. "What the fuck do YOU know about COLE?"

"...I know you're still trying to hurt yourself over what happened." Connor replied firmly as he turned from the sink to confront Hank directly. "Just like when-"

"Shut up!" Hank stood up quickly and threw down the chair he had been sitting in with an aggressive motion and a loud clatter. "Don't you talk about him!"

Frightened by Hank's outburst but determined to help his friend Connor didn't back down. "...You need to forgive yourself, Hank."

"SHUT UP! Don't tell me what I need to do!"

"I want to help-"

"Help me?" Hank slurred bitterly at the deviant. "Why? I'm not some busted up machine like you!"

Recognizing that Hank was intentionally trying to push him away Connor held his ground and didn't let his comment offend him. "...Hank. I forgive you."

"So what? You're just-"

"And I know Cole would forgive you, too."

At the sound of Cole's name for the second time Hank reeled his right hand back and struck Connor across his face, causing his left eye to water and his nose to bleed a little from the impact.

"I told you! I... I... Fuck!"

Connor pressed his right hand to his nose to dab away the blood as he continued to hold his ground with the emotionally unstable senior detective. "...Sorry. I won't mention Cole anymore. I... crossed the line."

Hank was stunned into silence by his own behavior as he saw the blue blood dripping down Connor's face and between the deviant's fingers. "...Connor?"

"Perhaps I should leave and let you be alone for a while." Unsure of what to say in that moment Connor tried a more passive route and let Hank have the illusion of control over the situation. "That is clearly what you want, isn't it? I'll respect your request."

"...N-No. Don't go!" At the sight of the blue blood on Connor's face Hank's eyes went wide with utter regret and he fought to keep his voice from cracking from overwhelming and deep emotions. "Connor, I'm... I'm sorry!"

"Hank." Connor ignored his own pain in favor of aiding Hank and ending the drunken stupor as soon as possible. "Please. You've helped me to let go of my own pain, now let me help you."

Choking back a sob Hank felt like Hell and pined for another shot of vodka. "It's not that simple!"

"Yes, it is." Determined to save Hank from himself Connor took a step forward as he boldly addressed Hank face to face. "You think you need to be punished, but you don't. I believed the same thing for a long time because of my former affiliation with CyberLife. Now I know what I had done in the past doesn't have to define who I am now and who I strive to become in the future. The same applies to you."

"You didn't kill your own child!" Hank shouted in frustration as he tried to back away from Connor, but the deviant wouldn't let him get too far. "There's NOTHING in this world that can make that right. No parent should ever bury their own child..."

"You're right, no parent should ever suffer something so atrocious. There is also nothing in this world that can bring him back if you force yourself to suffer."

"It's all I know, kid. Pain, misery, suffering... It's what I deserve."

"Untrue. You've told me stories of your past and I've seen the photographs of your life. You know what happiness is and you want to feel it again, but you're afraid of the pain that follows when you lose it. I was afraid for the longest time to allow myself to feel anything, but you helped me overcome that fear."

"I shot you and then I hit you." Breaking down thanks to the alcohol lowering his guard Hank admitted his true beliefs and began to openly sob in utter dismay and heartache. "I don't deserve happiness..."

"Yes you do. Everyone does."

"I'm a drunk asshole who-"

Protectively Connor wrapped his arms around Hank before the senior detective had the chance to back away or continue to blame himself over past mistakes. As the deviant's arms completely stilled Hank in the strong hug, the pained and grieving senior detective just stood in silence and let Connor hang onto him as an unspoken gratitude washed over him.

Fighting back the urge to cry again Hank just let the compassionate deviant give him the much needed support and make him feel stable.

"Please." On the verge of begging Connor asked for Hank to find the resolve to move on from his painful past to a happier future. "Try to forgive yourself."

"...Okay, kid." Patting Connor's right shoulder twice Hank decided he'd finally make an effort to move forward even though every step he'd take would hurt more than he could ever anticipate. "...I'll try."

Connor let go of Hank slowly only to return his hands to Hank's chest to keep the senior detective upright as he drunkenly wobbled on his legs and threatened to pass out. Running another scan scan over Hank's vitals Connor noted that the senior detective was experiencing an elevated blood pressure and heart rate, and the trace amount of alcohol on his breath indicated that he had consumed enough to make himself potentially very sick.

"I'll take you to the bathroom." The deviant volunteered as he dragged Hank down the hallway and into the bathroom. Sitting Hank down on the edge of the bathtub Connor picked up Hank's left wrist and counted his pulse. "Mild arrhythmia."

"I'm sorry." The senior detective slurred again with a utter remorse behind his drunken words. "I'm... so sorry."

"Don't apologize." Connor urged as he proceeded to wet a clean washcloth under the cold tap in the sink and press it to the back of Hank's neck to try to sober up the senior detective in a soothing manner. "Mistakes were made, that's all."

"...I hit you."

"It wasn't the first time I've been hit." Connor joked as he checked Hank's pupils for any sign of dilation. "I imagine it won't be the last."

"I sh-shouldn't have done that." Hank lamented as his words began to slur even further. He patted his hand against Connor's left cheek below his swelling eye and used his thumb to clear away the blood dripping from Connor's nose. "I shouldn't have a laid a h-hand on my own son... I'm so sorry!"

Connor's brow arched at the admission but continued to monitor Hank's vital signs carefully. "You need to let yourself be sick, otherwise I'll have to take you to the hospital and have your stomach pumped."

"...I think I c-can do that." Hank clumsily fell forward from the tub and onto his knees in front of the toilet as he began to vomit up the potent vodka he had drank during Connor's absence. "...Fuck."

Remembering how Hank would keep his hand pressed again his own back whenever he was ill, Connor did the same for the now sick detective as the cool washcloth fell from Hank's neck onto the floor beside him. Keeping track of Hank's vital signs carefully Connor waited Hank to finish throwing-up before he tried to speak to him again.

"Do you have the strength to get up, or should I carry you?"

Hank dragged the back of his right arm over his spit and vomit covered mouth as he forced himself to stand up slowly. "...I-I'll walk."

Connor kept his right hand on Hank's right shoulder as he guided the drunken detective out of the bathroom and back down the hallway to the livingroom.

"...Wh-Where are we going?"

"It'd be preferable if you lay on the couch and got some rest. It'll be much easier to check in on you while you recover from here than in your isolated bedroom down the hallway."

"Oh. Okay."

As Hank plopped down heavily on the couch Connor proceeded to run another scan and found that Hank's heart rate and blood pressure were slowly returning to a more stable level now that he had been sick. Worried about the strain the alcohol may have had on Hank's one remaining kidney Connor stayed completely alert and vigil as Hank drifted off into a drunken slumber of shame before his soulful brown eyes.

"You'll be okay." Connor promised as he put his right hand down over the senior detective's chest lightly to monitor his vital signs. Satisfied that Hank was stable Connor took the navy blue blanket from the back of the couch and draped it over Hank's form in a comforting manner. "I'll make sure of it."

Awoken unceremoniously by a wave of returning nausea and a throbbing headache, Hank rolled from his back and onto his side on the couch and his eyes fell on the empty mop bucket sitting on the floor beside him. Grabbing onto the bucket readily Hank proceeded to throw-up the remaining alcohol that still lingered in his aching stomach and let out a pained groan as the effort made his headache all the worse. The sickness was violent enough that Hank fell from the couch and onto the floor until the nausea passed.

As the bout of sickness finally ended Hank lifted his head up and through his blurry eyes saw four bottles of water, four bottles of different flavored sports drinks and two aspirin tablets sitting on the coffee table waiting for him.

"...C-Connor?"

Shaking his head Hank reached his clumsy right hand for the aspirin and popped the two pills into his mouth and practically tore the lid from one of the water bottles. As he downed the pills greedily he finished off the water and pushed himself up from the cold floor back onto the soft couch to sit back down in his misery.

"...Fuck. My head."

A gentle whimper from the kitchen caught Hank's ear from where he sat. Looking over he saw Sumo timidly watching him from the doorway of the kitchen as if afraid to approach the senior detective.

"...Come here."

Hank patted his hand on the couch cushion twice to call the dog over to him. Slowly Sumo walked over to Hank, his ears low and tail tucked between his legs. Reaching out his left hand Hank lightly pet the dog's ears and was rewarded with a gentle wag of the tail.

"...Sorry for last night. I was an ass and I didn't mean to scare you."

As if to forgive Hank for his attitude last night Sumo licked the side of the senior detective's offered hand and continued to wag his tail.

"...Where the fuck is Connor?"

Hank asked out loud as he looked around the house curiously. Sumo trotted over to his pillow in the corner of the livingroom and retrieved his green fetch ball and dropped it at Hank's feet expectantly.

"That's NOT Connor. Weird dog..."

A loud metallic 'bang' from the garage outside caught Hank's attention and made his aching head throb again.

"...Ow, fuck." Putting his hand to his head Hank took in a deep breath to ease his discomfort. "Think I found him."

Getting up from the couch very slowly Hank grabbed onto one of the sports drink and proceeded to drink it slowly as he walked through the livingroom and into the kitchen. The mess he had made the night before had already been cleaned up and the emptied vodka bottle was thrown into the trashcan under the kitchen sink.

"Shit... He shouldn't have to clean up after me."

Setting aside the cherry flavored drink for the moment, Hank peered out the kitchen window and saw Connor still doing something out in the garage. Opening up the freezer door Hank pulled out a bag of ice and pressed it to the side of his aching head in hopes of gaining a modicum of relief from his throbbing head.

"What's he up to?"

Stepping through the backdoor and onto the back deck Hank shielded his eyes from the afternoon sun and peered out at the garage where he could see Connor walking around in front of the somewhat restored Corvette. The garage door was wide open and a faint white mist was pouring out of the garage and disappearing into the air outside.

"Connor?" Hank called out and pulled his gray t-shirt up over his mouth and nose as the noxious paint fumes hurt his head and made his sensitive stomach flip in protest. "...What're you doing?"

"I'm putting a base coat of white paint over the car." The deviant's reply sounded as casual as any every day greeting as he partially pulled down the protective mask from his face to speak. The relatively upbeat demeanor was a sharp contrast to how terrible Hank felt as he recovered from his hangover. "It'll ensure an even coat for the top color and allow the top color itself to shine more brilliantly."

"Yeah, I know that. But I want to know WHY you're doing it."

"I wanted to do something productive while you slept. Did I wake you when the paint cans fell over?"

"...No. I was already awake." Hank admitted with a heavy voice. "Never thought I'd be so happy to see a mop bucket in all my life."

"That's good to hear." Connor slipped of the mask entirely and set it aside as he approached Hank which in turn revealed his impressive black eye. "You've been completely stable since four twenty-four this morning, and showed no sign of renal distress from the alcohol consumption. How do you feel?"

Hank couldn't help but stare at the black eye that he had given Connor the night before. "...I'll live. How about your eye?"

"It doesn't hurt." Pressing his fingertips gently to the bruised eye Connor shrugged off the wound like it was nothing at all. "It looks worse than it is."

"And your shoulder?"

Connor pulled down the collar of his white t-shirt to show Hank the faint and still fading scar over his left shoulder where the bullet had grazed him. "Healed."

"Connor, I am so goddamn sorry for hitting you." Barely able to keep himself from shouting Hank apologized yet again and tried to atone for a sin he had never actually committed. "I never should've-"

"You were drunk."

"AND I never should've gotten drunk! That's even worse."

"Well, that's for damn sure, the getting drunk part, I mean." Connor managed to grin as he spoke to Hank calmly. "As I've stated before accidents happen. Everyone slips up every so often."

"It won't happen again."

"I know."

"How can you be so damn forgiving? How can you forgive me for being such a dick?"

"Because I've recently learned to let things go and learned that by holding onto grudges I'm only hurting myself by allowing anger and hatred to reside in my mind; or worse, fester inside my heart. I dislike those emotions very much and would greatly prefer to go through the remainder of my life feeling them as rarely as possible."

Hank put his right hand on Connor's healed shoulder and held it there for a few seconds. "...Thanks for putting up with a foolish old man and his bad habits."

"You're not foolish. You're just in pain, and I understand that."

"I'd like to believe it was that simple. I really would." Hank admitted only to have his face pale a few shades whiter as his stomach flipped on him again and threatened to rebel. "...But right now I need to go throw-up."

Connor wrapped his arm around Hank's shoulders to guide the sick detective back up the deck steps and inside the house to be ill. As the duo returned to the bathroom Connor patted Hank's back and stepped outside to give him some privacy while he was sick and feeling humiliated by his own reckless behavior the night before.

"You should take a shower, it'll make you feel better. I'll also make you some of Rose's tea to help settle your stomach."

"...Thanks-" Hank weakly uttered before throwing-up, only to regain his composure after he spit out the lingering foul taste from his mouth. His head was still killing him without mercy. "Thanks, son. I appreciate it."

"You're welcome. I'll be in the kitchen when you're ready to talk."

"Yeah, we'll talk everything out."

"Glad to hear it."

"Don't go far."

"I won't."

Falling silent Connor took a few steps away from the bathroom door before he quietly muttered one more sentence for only himself to hear.

"I'm not going anywhere... dad."

-next chapter-