Three weeks into Connor's resignation from the precinct the deviant found himself needing to preoccupy his time through random tasks throughout the house in order to keep himself from thinking too much about Skye or even Lucas. The painful loss drudged up equally painful memories and the complexity of human emotions was still something the deviant needed more experience with in order to fully comprehend with what he was feeling. After cleaning up the livingroom for the fourth time in two days he caught sight of Hank walking down the hallway with a pale, sweaty face and a hand pressed to his lower back, and Connor decided he needed to check on the senior detective to make sure he wasn't ill.

"Hank?" Connor's brow furrowed with intrigue as he approached the senior detective slowly. Running a biometric scan over Hank's body Connor found his vital signs less than ideal as Hank was running a fever and the increase in his blood pressure and heart rate was indicative of pain. "You've become ill because of your prolonged exposure to the cold while on out patrol."

"It's just a little cold. I'll be fine." Hank tried to dismiss the worry as he put his right hand on the doorknob to the bathroom and stepped inside the private room for a moment. "If I feel too shitty to work I'll clock-out early today."

"You shouldn't be going to work at all if you're ill."

"I'm fine, kid."

Closing the door Hank went about his business and stepped into a nice hot shower to wake up and ease his discomfort.

"...I hope so."

Connor retreated back down the hallway to prepare Hank a proper breakfast to keep his strength up.

"Being ill is very unpleasant."

As the coffee brewed in the coffee maker Connor set about making a vegetarian omelette with two strips of bacon, all the while Sumo watched from under the kitchen table with a faint trail of drool on his fuzzy maw. It didn't take the deviant long to finish preparing the meal and setting it out while Hank showered off and prepared to get ready for his shift. In that time Connor also cybernetically downloaded numerous possible causes for Hank's illness and subsequent possible remedies for his ailment.

"Did you make bacon?" Hank asked as he entered the kitchen already dressed, his heavy coat wrapped around himself and his gray locks of hair still damp from the shower. "I may have a little cold but I swear I can smell bacon."

"Yes. Due to your current illness you will require the additional calories to keep up your energy."

"Jeez, how come you didn't do this all the other times I got sick?"

"You weren't also experiencing extreme cold on a regular basis due to harsh weather."

"Oh, so that's the catch." Staring at the set table Hank eyed the plate somewhat warily before walking over to the refrigerator to pull out the carton of orange juice in favor of coffee at the moment. "Thanks, I guess."

"Are you not hungry?"

"Not really. Don't worry, I'll eat something before I go."

"Perhaps you should stay home." The lack of appetite made Connor all the more worried for Hank's health. "I won't be there to monitor you or drive you home if your health deteriorates throughout the day."

"It's fine." Pouring the juice into a small glass Hank sipped it slowly and tried to read the deviant's concerned face more accurately. The wary deviant was staring rather intently at him and it made Hank a little nervous. "...What?"

"You're sweating."

"It happens."

"I don't like this."

"Trust me, I don't like it, either." Looking about the incredibly tidy and organized house Hank decided to offer his own suggestion toward Connor's daily routine just as he had made suggestions about his own. "Why don't you go check in with Abby or something? I'm sure she'd love you to clean her house and cook for her while she's pregnant."

"Abby has Gavin to look after her."

"Yeah, but I think Gavin is a little afraid of her now that she's... how far along?"

"Twenty-two weeks."

"Right. Gavin was never great at reading people's emotions, I doubt he's gotten any better with his girlfriend being pregnant and uncomfortable with her body constantly changing against her will."

"...Girlfriend?"

"Yeah, turns out he really likes her and she really likes him. Good thing, too."

"Appropriate timing as well."

"Yup." Putting aside the now empty glass Hank picked up one of the pieces of bacon from the plate and bit into it. "I have an idea, why don't you meet me at the precinct for lunch today? That way you can keep an eye on me without actually keeping an eye on me."

"That is reasonable." Agreeing to the meet up at noon Connor visibly relaxed a little. "Send me a text and I will meet you."

"Good. And while I'm gone STOP cleaning everything." Hank tossed the unfinished bacon strip back onto the plate and grabbed a thermos to fill with the fresh coffee from the hot brewer. "I swear you'd polish the garbage if it were possible."

"I'm merely trying to keep busy."

"You can do that outside of the house, too."

"...I am planning on going somewhere today. In private."

"Oh, right. Sorry." Twisting on the lid to the thermos Hank made sure his car keys were in his coat pocket before he headed toward the backdoor. "Connor?"

"Yes?"

Planting his hand on Connor's shoulder Hank gave the deviant a small shake. "...Feel better, son."

"I'm trying." Feeling his shoulders slump with his lingering melancholy Connor did his best to appear confident. "I really am."

As Hank took his leave of the house through the front door Connor eyed the untouched breakfast sitting on the kitchen table and sighed. Carrying the plate over to Sumo's bowl he scraped the omelette and bacon into the bowl and called Sumo over.

"Here you go, boy. It's better than letting perfectly good food go to waste, and since you helped save my life I think I can look the other way this one time about you eating bacon."

Sumo wagged his tail and readily chomped down the special breakfast greedily. Being given something other than a dog biscuit as a treat really made the fluffy dog's morning special.

"I'll be back in a few hours. This time I won't wander away and I won't need you to rescue me."

Responding to Connor's voice Sumo licked his lips and then licked Connor's cheek before going back to his special meal.

"Thanks, Sumo." Using his shirt Connor wiped off his cheek and carried the plate over to the sink. "You're a good boy."

It was a relatively calm, but still very cold, autumn day as winter loomed ominously over the city. After cleaning up the kitchen and letting Sumo have the breakfast that Hank didn't have the appetite to eat, Connor forced himself to leave the warm and secure sanctuary of the house and step out onto the snowy streets of the city for the first time since the incident. Wrapped up tightly in his leather jacket and his woolen black beanie Connor drove about the city aimlessly until he found a small flower shop that was still open even during the cold season and felt compelled to make a select purchase before he went anywhere or did anything else.

With his beautiful chosen flowers in hand Connor stood before the two headstones in the modest android cemetery and placed down a white lily and a yellow rose on Lucas's grave, while placing a second white lily and a red rose down on Skye's grave. Kneeling down on the chilly, snow covered grass Connor bowed his head a little as he began speaking to his departed loved ones.

"I wanted to tell you both something important, but it's taken me a long time to get the courage to come back here. I'm sorry for making you wait." Rubbing his left hand over his teary eyes Connor took a moment to take in a deep breath before speaking. "...I'm going to continue on the work that you both had started before your unfair deaths."

Turning his head a little Connor focused on the name of his little brother engraved on the headstone before speaking another word.

"I do not have the same technical skills as you had Lucas, but I am attempting to do better by our people and for humans alike. I thought about what Hank had said about referring to the shelter as one protecting 'youths' and how it sounded as though it was a sanctuary for runaway teenagers, and I thought about how Hank had his own home designated a safe delivery zone for young women in distress. So I decided that the tower will protect deviants and humans without any discrimination; not just battered women or runaway teenagers. Anyone who just needs a friend or a safe place to get away from a harmful environment will be welcomed with open arms."

Lightly Connor dusted the thin layer of snow from Lucas's headstone with the palm of his right hand as he spoke.

"I will establish an emergency repair ward to tend to damaged deviants, an emergency medical wing to help young humans who have been injured or could be ill, and provide shelter to both parties for as long as they need. To ensure that the humans have a second chance to live fulfilling lives the tower will provide education and allow humans and deviants to interact directly with one another. No fear, no judgment, no discrimination."

Slowly Connor looked to the neighboring headstone and his eyes lowered away from the name of 'Skye' engraved on the newly erected headstone with lingering deep grief. Unsure if it were in fact appropriate to give Skye the surname of 'Anderson' despite being Connor's bondmate had left him conflicted. It seemed somehow selfish to the newly widowed deviant to include his last name, but he wanted to make sure Skye was remembered properly. Until he could decide her name would be left as it was.

"From the new tower I will provide secondary protection to New Jericho and continue my work as detective. However my services will be that of a private detective who will work to aid people who are too afraid to speak to the police or may have been targeted by the police through lingering bigotry and discrimination. I will no longer isolate myself from our people due to any residual mistrust toward my person, but I won't be residing at New Jericho Tower without you, either. I just bring myself to return to the precinct yet."

Running his left fingertips over the soft petals of the red rose Connor stood upright and said his goodbyes to his late little brother and late bondmate.

"It's not much, but it's a start. I hope in time such sanctuaries will no longer be necessary, but until then I will do the best with what I have already provided."

Taking a slow step back from the two graves Connor bowed his head one last time respectfully.

"I miss and love you both. I do hope we'll be reunited on the 'other side' when the time comes for me to shutdown. Until then, your memories will reside inside my heart and my mind."

Begrudgingly Hank sat at his desk bored and feeling incredibly tired. Without Connor to speak to he had resorted to either sitting in silence or letting Gavin talk his ear off with paternal worry for his unborn child. Despite his best efforts he couldn't seem to get the Sergeant to accept that fact that he wasn't going to repeat the same mistakes that his own terrible father had made while poorly raising him and that cycles of abuse can be broken. Fortunately for Hank, a call came in that required Gavin and Tina's attention out in the field and as a result Hank was given back some form of peace and quiet to savor as he tried to ignore his headache and keep his stomach from rebelling against him.

Sending a text to Connor to meet with him at the parking garage for lunch, Hank clocked-out for an hour and stood up from his chair with his left hand pressed to the small of his back as he walked slowly to the front doors of the precinct to head over to the neighboring garage. Feeling exhausted and feverish Hank didn't mind when the cold air hit him and gave him a mild reprieve from his too hot skin that made him sweat uncomfortably.

"Hank." Connor addressed the senior detective from afar as he stood between their cars parked side by side in the precinct's parking garage. "Are you feeling any better?"

"Jeez, you got here quick."

"I was already in the area when I received your message." As Hank approached him Connor ran another biometric scan and noted Hank's still elevated vitals and pulled open the passenger side door to the Corvette. "You're still ill, and it appears your back is hurting you again. You should sit down."

"It's not as bad as it seems."

"You're running a temperature of one-hundred point two degrees. You should go back home to rest."

"I'll be home in a few hours, I can make it."

"I know you can." Connor reassured him as Hank took his seat in the front of the Corvette and Connor reclaimed his own seat behind the wheel. "But you shouldn't have to."

"Sorry, kid. I'm staying until the end of my shift."

"Very well." Turning the key in the ignition Connor pulled out of the garage carefully and onto the snowy street. "Where did you want to go for lunch?"

"Uh, nowhere in particular. I just want to get something light to eat."

"You barely ate this morning. Is your stomach upset?"

"Nothing you need to worry about."

"You know as well as I that I will worry about your health regardless of what you tell me."

"It's fine, son."

"Then you do not want to stop by your usual spot and for your usual meal from Gary?"

"No, not today."

"Interesting." Connor cybernetically checked through the menu of every opened restaurant and diner in the area and found a small place just three blocks away that had a slightly healthier menu than that of the 'Chicken Feed'. Neither had been there before so it'd be a new experience for both detectives. "I know where I can take you for a reasonable lunch."

"Reasonable sounds reasonable to me." Hank quipped as he leaned back in his seat and let Connor take him to their destination without any further questions or suspicion. "As long as you're buying, that is."

"Of course." Willing to pay for a healthy meal Connor didn't have any issue with paying for Hank's lunch. "It's my treat today."

Arriving at the small diner that had caught his attention Connor parked the Corvette along the street just outside the modest restaurant and waited for Hank to slowly open his door before exiting the car himself. Walking a pace behind Hank as he entered the doorway into the tiny diner, Connor made sure the ill senior detective didn't stumble or lose his balance as he walked over to a nearby vacant booth near the front of the restaurant and sat down, only to get back up and head for the restroom.

Connor approached the front counter where a waitress, an older woman with some gray shining through her raven black locks pulled back in a neat bun, was passing a new order to the cook through the small window connecting the front of the restaurant to the kitchen in the back.

"Excuse me." Connor caught her attention with a kind voice. "Do you have any soup still available?" Discreetly gesturing to Hank as he exited the bathroom to resume sitting by himself in the booth just behind him Connor gave the waitress an idea of what he was handling. "He is feeling unwell and needs something light."

"No problem, honey." The waitress smiled as she quickly scribbled something down on her notepad with a pencil. "I know just what your dad needs."

"Oh." Connor arched his brow at her comment slightly before politely thanking her with a faux grin. "Thank you."

Joining Hank at the booth, sitting on the opposite side of the senior detective on the red colored and padded cushion, Connor slipped off his leather jacket and found it curious that Hank hadn't already done the same with his own coat as he was visibly hot and sweating. Hank had his arms crossed over his chest as if cold and was even trembling slightly which only made him appear colder.

"The waitress is going to bring you something to eat that will be easy on your stomach." The deviant stated casually as he continued to study Hank's demeanor curiously. "I'm unsure what that will be."

Ignoring the comment Hank honed in on Connor's current behavior. "You okay? You look a little confused."

The deviant's mouth twitched a little but he answered honestly. "...The waitress referred to you as my 'dad' and she called me 'honey'. How did she-"

"She just assumed." Hank laughed a little at how Connor could be somehow be brilliant and yet somehow still naive. "And she isn't wrong, is she?"

"About our familial relationship, no. But I do not know why she addressed me with what you humans refer to as a 'pet name' upon our initial meeting."

Hank casually looked over to the counter where the waitress was still standing and kindly chatting up two other customers sitting at the counter with their own meals and steaming mugs of coffee. "She's just a friendly person, and some friendly people refer to other people they don't know by a first name with terms of endearment. Why? Does it bother you?"

"No. It was just the first time I've been referred to as such. It was... nice."

"You're a nice guy."

"I'd like to think so. I don't want to be hostile or unpleasant." Giving Hank a somewhat worried glance Connor reached his right hand out and pressed it down against Hank's shoulder rather than his forehead or the side of his face simply because of the fact they were in a public setting. "You're still running an elevated temperature. You should take off your coat."

"Nope."

"Do you have the chills?"

"It's freezing outside, kid."

"It's currently thirty-eight degrees Fahrenheit, which is six degrees above freezing."

"You know what I meant, smartass."

"Please be honest with me."

"All right, yeah." Hank knew there was no point even trying to deny that he was sick and chilled to his bone. "I got some chills goin' on."

Before Connor had the chance to comment any further on the situation the kind waitress walked over to the booth with a serving tray in her hands. A small bowl of chicken soup with two small crackers and a glass of water was placed down before Hank and the waitress politely offered to bring the senior detective anything else he may need.

"There we go. Homemade chicken noodle soup, fresh from the kitchen. Can I get you anything else?"

"Thanks..." Hank looked up at her for a moment as he relished in the warmth and aroma of the fresh soup surrounding him. "But, I'm good."

"Nothing for you, honey?" The waitress, Dorthy according to her name tage, asked as she looked toward Connor expectantly. "Anything at all?"

"No, thank you. I do not have an appetite."

"Are you feeling under the weather, too?"

"No. I'm merely... uh..."

"Deviant, huh?"

His brown eyes briefly flashed with surprise as Dorthy figured him out pretty quickly. "...Yes."

"Well, let me know if you want any warm Thirium. I keep a steady supply in the kitchen in case any cold deviants happen by. The winters in this city can be so cruel to those in need of help."

"...Thank you."

As the kind woman walked away Connor made a cybernetic note to New Jericho about the diner and of the incredibly warm hearted waitress who was working there. It was important to him to find as many safe havens for deviants to venture when in need of help and to make sure kind people were being protected against cold hearted bigots.

"Nice woman." Hank picked up the spoon beside the white bowl and lightly dipped it into the broth as if he needed to study the soup before he began to actually to eat. "It's amazing how after so many generations humans still rely on these homeopathic remedies to feel better."

"According to numerous medical and scientific analyses based on homeopathic remedies, this particular soup does seem to help." Connor observed casually as Hank continued to fuss with the spoon in the broth. "If your vitals don't improve within the hour I strongly suggest-"

"Yeah, yeah." Dismissing the worry Hank slowly began to eat the soup in very small amounts as he tried to ignore the uncomfortable knot in his stomach and the second knot his lower back. "So, what did you do before meeting me for lunch?"

"I went to speak with Lucas and... Skye."

"Oh? Letting them know what you're planning this spring?"

"Yes." Connor folded his hands together somewhat nervously on the table before him as he tried to comprehend his own actions. "Is it normal to speak to those who are gone as if they can still hear you?"

"Yup. I do it all the time when I visit Barb and Cole."

Nodding a little Connor relaxed and leaned back against the relatively soft cushion of the booth. "It made me feel better after I spoke with them. I'm glad it's considered normal."

"Don't worry about being 'normal', son. It's an intangible idea and no matter what you do or say someone, somewhere, will still think you're weird."

"How so?"

Setting aside the spoon for a moment Hank elaborated in a soft tone. "What's weird to you can be viewed as normal to me and vice versa. That applies to every single person, human or deviant, on this entire planet. So it all depends on your personal view of what can be considered normal and fuck everyone else who tries to argue with ya'."

"Why do I get the feeling 'fuck everyone else' is your personal mantra?"

Laughing at the comment Hank sipped at the water and gave the deviant an approving glance. "Because you're a good detective. That's why!"

Despite Connor's pleas Hank returned to the precinct after his break had ended and resumed the rest of his shift. Connor resisted the urge to accompany him inside the precinct or send a text to someone else already inside the bullpen to keep an eye on Hank, and decided that he needed to respect Hank's judgment regarding his own health and overall strength. It seemed more beneficial to check in on Abby than to hover over Hank at the moment, regardless of the situation anyway, and keep his mind preoccupied. Unwilling to risk getting lost within his own dark thoughts again Connor did his best to focus on the other people around him instead.

Arriving at the house where Abby and, now Gavin, were living together, Connor knocked on the front door and was greeted by the pregnant woman who was wearing one of Gavin's black t-shirts with the band 'Detroit Division' scrawled in faded red text over the front. The shirt was big enough to cover her growing bump but there was still a round outline over her belly in the stretched fabric that didn't keep any secrets.

Letting Connor inside the house Abby motioned for him to accompany her to the kitchen as she pulled a cookie out of a large glass jar on the counter and began to snack on it. "I'm glad you stopped by. I wanted to talk to you about the emergency repair ward you were going to have built in the new tower."

"That's what I am here to discuss. I have decided to expand the operations of the tower to include taking care of runaway teenagers as well as deviants in a medical manner. With that I want to include an emergency medical wing and would like your advice on the best way to make this possible."

"Well, first of all you're going to need to get your hands on a permit to allow medical procedures to be performed on the property. Second," Abby finished her first cookie and took a second from the same jar. A faint smear of crumbs outlined her lips and her fingers as she gave into her odd cravings and at the sugary sweet snack quickly. "you'll need to get your hands on some medical equipment. There should be a supplier in town who can get you what you need at an acceptable price."

"I'll make an inventory of the supplies that I will require."

"...Are you okay?" The always keen eyed technician knew Connor was still upset about something. "It looks like you're thinking about something other than building a tower right."

"You're right. I am concerned for Hank."

"What's wrong with him?"

"He is ill and refuses to return home to recover."

"He's distracting himself." Rubbing her left hand over her baby 'bump' she smiled as her hand was rewarded with a few kicks. "I do that, too."

"I'm worried that he is feeling worse than he is admitting."

"Yup, I can see that happening."

"How do I help him?"

"You wait him out. Trust me, he's as stubborn as you are."

"...I'm not stubborn."

"Yes you are." Laughing a little at the deviant she casually waved him toward the front door with her right hand as she kept her left hand pressed to her growing middle as the baby started to kick her more aggressively. "Go home and wait for Hank. We can discuss plans later."

"You're certain?" Giving the technician a wary glance Connor's eyes trailed down to her belly as he backed toward the front door. "You may need some assistance before Gavin has the chance to return.

"I'm pregnant, not dying."

"Sorry, I don't mean to be annoying."

"You're not annoying, but you are overprotective." As she watched the deviant approach the front door Abby moved her hand to just beneath her distended belly and sighed as she felt how much she had grown and how heavy her front was becoming. "If I am being honest, I don't think I can put up with this for another eighteen weeks."

"Are you in pain?"

"No, I'm just a lot heavier than I'm used to being. And it's only going to get heavier before it's over. This is a big kid and I'm not looking for the even bigger arrival..."

Cautiously Connor ran a biometric scan over Abby's body and was relieved to see that both the mother and developing baby's vital signs were stable. Giving Abby a single nod he opened the front door and took a step out. "I will inform you of my progress on the both the repair ward and the medical bay as soon as I can. If you need anything call me."

"See you later, and take care of Hank. Don't let him try to convince you he's fine when you know he's not fine."

"I won't." Opening the front door Connor stepped outside to take his leave of Abby's home to return to his own. "I will contact you later."

Taking Abby's advice to heart Connor returned home and decided to wait for Hank to finish his shift at the precinct and then ensure that Hank was resting through the remainder of his intrusive cold properly. Feeding Sumo for the evening and playing a round of fetch with the massive bundle of fluff, Connor sat in the livingroom and cybernetically compiled his list of impending supplies for the new tower and kept himself from obsessing too much on Hank's health until after the senior detective returned home. Having something constructive to work on was doing wonders for Connor's mind and kept his emotions from becoming too strong while he was lost in concentration.

The sound of the car pulling up the driveway followed by a hearty 'slam' of the door made Connor stand up as he watched Hank through the livingroom window as Hank walked toward the front door. Hank was moving slower than usual and almost seemed to be limping.

"Good, he's home."

The senior detective very slowly walked up the front walk and opened the door only to suddenly stop short in the doorway. "...Hey, uh, Connor?" Hank called out in a weak voice as he leaned back against the door frame with his left arm draped protectively over his abdomen. "...Do you think you can help me get to the couch?"

"Hank?!" The concern in Connor's voice was fully audible as he stepped around Sumo and marched over to Hank quickly. Noting Hank's pale complexion and heavy sweating Connor ran another biometric scan as he grabbed onto Hank's right arm to help support the senior detective upright where he stood. "You're very ill. Please let me help you."

"I-I'll be okay." Hank insisted yet again as Connor bore most of his weight on his right side. "I just... need-"

"Hank?"

With little warning Hank's eyes rolled up in the back of his head as he knees buckled. Falling forward in a dead faint Connor managed to guide Hank down to the floor at a controlled descent to keep Hank from hitting his head on the hard floor as he lost consciousness. Sumo trotted into the livingroom to investigate the commotion but was quickly pushed aside with a gentle yet firm hand by Connor.

"Hank?"

Laying Hank on his back carefully Connor picked up Hank's right arm and rolled up his sleeve to count his pulse directly through his wrist's radial pulse. There was an intense heat radiating from Hank's skin that made Connor worry even more than he already was.

"...Dad?"

Thinking quickly Connor registered Hank's vitals before slipping his left hand under Hank's head and neck to support him, then slowly moved him into a sitting position on the floor. It was a little awkward to pull off but Connor managed to pull Hank over his shoulders and support him in a fireman's carry.

"Forgive me, but you need to go to the hospital."

Apologizing sincerely Connor carried Hank through the front door, over to the parked Pace in the side driveway and pulled the keys from Hank's coat pocket with one hand. Laying Hank over the backseats with a ginger motion Connor proceeded to back down the drive and race off to the hospital as quickly as he dared. Hank himself was still unconscious and sweating heavily, completely unaware of how sick he truly was.

"I should've insisted on taking you to the emergency room this morning. I'm sorry."

It was almost three hours after being admitted to the hospital that Hank finally regained consciousness and was immediately on edge when he realized where he was. Sitting partially upright with a jolt he looked around himself with utter confusion before honing in on the I.V. running into the bend of his left arm feeding him fluids and antibiotics. As his right hand made a move for the line Connor's stronger hand grabbed onto his right wrist and kept him from pulling the I.V. out of his vein.

"Don't do that." The deviant insisted in a stern voice. "You're dehydrated."

"Connor?" Hank sighed as he tried to pull his hand from the deviant's grip, but couldn't break free. "What the fuck am I doing here?"

"You collapsed from an intense fever shortly after returning home." Motioning to the I.V. stand that was supporting one bag of saline solution and one bag of antibiotics Connor began to explain to the senior detective how sick he actually was. "You have a kidney infection. And it's serious."

"How serious is serious?"

"You've been admitted to the hospital for a mandatory forty-eight hour observation and are currently on broad spectrum antibiotics. If the infection can't be cleared from your system you'll... You could lose your kidney and require a transplant."

"...Fuckin' hell." In Hank's mind an organ transplant was practically at the peak of serious. "A transplant?"

"Yes." Connor was visibly concerned and righteously so as he let go of Hank's arm and sat down in the chair beside his bed. "Dr. Wilson will be in with you shortly to inform you of the full extent of your condition and of the treatment you must undergo if you are to save your kidney."

"Fuck."

"It's all right." Admitting some guilt Connor slumped down in his chair beside the bed and sighed. "I was completely unaware of the significance of your illness as well."

"I may have really fucked up this time, kid."

"Did you do something to intentionally harm yourself?"

"Not intentionally, but I hadn't exactly been taking care of myself at the precinct in the past three weeks without you there to keep an eye on me." Running his right hand over his face with embarrassment Hank shook his head at his own foolishness. "Fuck, you'd think I was a dumb kid left without parents for the weekend or something."

"Please don't be upset with yourself. You're of an advanced age, you've suffered exposure to the extreme cold because you had to look for me and your previous history of poor health were all contributing factors. You can't blame this on a few weeks of poor dieting or lack of sleep."

"Look, Connor," Hank gave the watchful deviant a respectful nod of the head as he watched Dr. Wilson enter the room. "why don't you give me some privacy with Dr. Wilson? I kinda' need to hear this for myself, you know?"

"...I understand." Standing up slowly Connor took a step back and honored Hank's request. "I will be outside if you need me."

"Right." Giving Dr. Wilson an exhausted glance Hank acknowledged the deviant just before he slipped through the automated door. "Thanks, son."

After the two days of mandatory hospitalization ended Connor was willing to take Hank back home even though the senior detective's fever hadn't broken entirely and his back was still hurting him. Obeying the doctor's instructions with utmost detail Connor proceeded to take care of Hank while also doing his best to avoid accidentally annoying Hank with his constant presence. Running hourly biometric scans over Hank's body to monitor him from afar, Connor made sure that Hank took his antibiotics as he had been instructed and properly hydrated himself while sticking to a healthy diet.

Taking care of Hank was proving to be more challenging than usual. Hank was clearly frustrated with his own body and needed to lash out.

"I fuckin' hate this." Hank grumbled, turning slightly onto his side as he laid on the couch with an ice pack pressed to his lower back. "I feel like shit."

"Perhaps a shower would-"

"Tried it."

"If you wish I can give you a half dose of a muscle relaxer to ease your discomfort."

"A half dose won't do shit for me."

"Would you like to swap the ice pack for a heating pad?"

"No!" Completely aggravated Hank snapped at Connor for a moment before softening his tone. It wasn't Connor's fault that Hank was sick and the last thing he wanted to do was put misplaced guilt on the empathetic deviant's shoulder. "I just want to fuckin' get some sleep without my damn back knotting up."

Connor was unsure of what else he could do to help Hank and he could see that Hank had lost his patience with himself. Quietly the deviant left the livingroom and retreated into the kitchen to prepare Hank's next dose of medication to prevent any further tense conversation. It was debatable who was the more stubborn patient between the two of them, but in that moment it didn't matter.

Patience was far more important than pride.

Sumo himself had been intimidated by Hank's foul mood and spent a majority of his time on Connor's bed to avoid the grumpy senior detective's attitude. Keeping out of sight the loyal dog would get very happy whenever Connor would venture down the hallway to give him some attention while Hank was asleep or just give him some fresh food and water in the kitchen.

For the past week Hank had been taking antibiotics but the infection was still running rampant through his system. Diligently Connor helped tend to the senior detective's fever whenever it spiked and made sure Hank was getting enough rest, but it seemed as though no matter how much sleep Hank had he was always tired and lethargic.

"I think I should take you back to the hospital." Connor stated timidly from the kitchen as he leveled with Hank from afar. "Your fever-"

"No. I hate hospitals."

"You're showing no signs of recovery and you-"

"I said 'no'. Drop it!" Hank wheezed a little and took in a weak breath as he pressed his right hand to his chest. It was a new symptom and it only made Hank feel all the angrier as he felt suddenly short of breath. "...Fuck."

"Are you in additional pain?" Returning to the livingroom with the bottle of antibiotics in his hand Connor proceeded to run yet another scan and could see Hank was almost gasping for breath. "Can you breathe well?"

"...It's fine."

"It's NOT fine." Connor argued firmly with a little bite to his voice. "You're very sick and need medical attention."

"Fuck that! I can beat this!"

"Hank, you have three days worth of antibiotics left and yet the week's worth you've already taken hasn't helped you."

"All right, let's do it this way..." Snatching the bottle of medication out of Connor's hand Hank attempted to down the remaining antibiotic pills but Connor was too quick and kept him from making a grievous error. As the deviant took back the bottle of pills Hank gave Connor an annoyed glance. "Let me have it."

"No! I won't let you poison yourself!" Stepping back with the bottle clutched tightly in his hand Connor angrily left the livingroom and returned to the kitchen. Pulling open a cabinet over the sink he placed the bottle inside and slammed the cabinet door shut. "...Please don't behave like this."

"Oh, that's hysterical coming from you." Hank wheezed again and proceeded to cough a little as Connor pulled something out from under the sink and return to the livingroom. Despite his snippy remark Hank found an empty bucket being placed beside him as he began to throw-up unexpectedly. "...What the fuck?"

Kneeling down on the floor Connor placed his right hand on Hank's shoulder to support him as he threw-up a second time. "You can't beat this one."

"Fuck off..."

"No. You're dangerously-"

"NO."

"...Fine."

Placing the bucket down on the floor Connor left Hank alone in the livingroom as he marched through the kitchen and stepped outside through the backdoor to cool off for a moment to keep himself from saying something regretful to Hank out of pure frustration. Pressing his right hand to his tired eyes Connor let out a deep sigh as he spoke to himself as if needing to feel grounded and seeking guidance.

"What do I do, now?"

Lifting his eyes up the night sky he peered through the clouds to the stars overhead and felt tears welling up quickly with frustrated and conflicted emotions.

"Please tell me, what do I do?"

Stressed out and angry Hank wrapped his arms protectively around his abdomen as the painful vomiting spells had left a physical toll over his already tired body. As his stubbornness began to finally wear out Hank ended up throwing-up into the bucket yet again as more nausea began to plague him. Nearly falling off the couch and onto the hardwood floor Hank felt a familiar pair of hands seemingly reach out of nowhere to support him and to keep him in place to prevent an injury or mess.

"...When the hell did you-" Hank paused only long enough to spit out the foul taste from his mouth before finishing his question. "...come back?"

"When I heard you getting sick again." The deviant replied quickly in an emotionless tone. "You sound miserable. Besides, I was merely standing on the back deck. I never actually left."

Holding the bucket for Hank with one hand and supporting Hank's shoulder with the other hand Connor waited for the senior detective to finish vomiting before pushing him back entirely against the couch to rest. Slipping his hand right up to the left side of Hank's neck Connor counted his pulse, felt the high fever, heard the shuddering breaths, saw that Hank's appendages were beginning to swell and noted the intense pressure in Hank's chest that the senior detective was trying to ignore.

Connor knew that Hank was in grave danger and needed medical attention. He needed it now!

"...Please." Trying again Connor kept his tone civil for the sake of peace. "Hank, you're in the early stages of kidney failure."

"No! No, I'm not going anywhere." Rasping for breaths Hank refused to seek any medical attention for a reason Connor couldn't fathom. "I won't go."

"Why? Why are you so steadfast on remaining here?"

"Nevermind, Connor."

"Not this time." Taking a stand Connor demanded an answer to Hank's behavior. "If you're going to sit here and let yourself die then I at least deserve to know why. Why in the hell are you acting like this?"

Finding his voice Hank all but barked at the deviant as he told him the truth. "I won't die in the back of an ambulance like Barbara!" Shouting with a hoarse voice he fought to look at Connor through the tears of anger, frustration and pain welling up in his otherwise kind blue yes. "And I won't die on the operating table like Cole! I won't do it. I won't..."

The desperation in Hank's voice had left Connor stunned and speechless. Quietly the deviant ran another scan over the senior detective's body and found Hank's vitals to be dangerously unstable.

"Please go. Please... dad." Grabbing onto Hank's pale, sweaty right hand Connor pleaded with his father to be reasonable. Bowing his head a little Connor let tears roll down his face and fall to the floor in heavy drops. "I can't lose you, too."

Those words were painfully haunting to the seasoned detective. They were the very words, the very prayer, he had uttered to himself the night that Cole had died. No one listened to him back then and it hurt more than anything. But on this night Hank could be the one to listen, he could the one to hear Connor and listen to him.

Staring at the poorly masked panic in Connor's eyes Hank couldn't help but see the same worry that always appeared in Cole's eyes whenever he came home from the precinct either sore from a chase or sick from the cold. No matter which son looked at him Hank couldn't ignore the fear and would do anything in his power to make that fear go away.

Swallowing his pride and choking back a frustrated sob Hank planted his left hand firmly on Connor's shoulder and nodded. "...Okay."

Connor lifted his head back up and place his left his hand over top of Hank's hand as the senior detective's palm remained clamped down on his shoulder.

"It's okay, Connor. Go ahead... Call 911."

Giving an appreciative and relieved nod Connor cybernetically placed the call and proceeded to tend to Hank's condition himself until the paramedics arrived.

"...Thank you." Fighting to keep his voice from becoming too heavy Connor patted the back of Hank's hand twice and took in a calming breath to settle his shaken nerves. "Thank you for cooperating."

It was a blur as the paramedics arrived and placed Hank on the gurney to be taken to the hospital. A preliminary examination confirmed Connor's fear that Hank was in complete renal failure and the paramedics were now fighting to keep him stabilized during transport. Connor held his breath and danced his coin anxiously over the knuckles of his right hand as he peered through the observation window overlooking the operating room one floor below. Hank had begun to decline rapidly in his health upon his arrival to the hospital and required dialysis to clear as many toxins from his blood stream before being prepped for emergency surgery two hours later.

Without a matching organic donor organ available Hank required two artificial kidneys to replace what he had lost earlier that year due to his previous injury and now his current illness. A double organ transplant was rarely performed unless it was an emergency situation, and in Hank's case his condition was critical and nearing grave. The only way to ensure he'd recover adequately enough to have a descent life was through kidneys to replace everything he had lost.

It took almost an hour and a half to surgically implant the first of the two artificial kidneys in Hank's body and it took almost ten minutes for the surgeons to see a positive response to the artificial organ as it was recognized by Hank's renal system and adapted. Another two hours passed before the surgeons were able to remove the dying kidney and replace it with the second artificial kidney, and again they waited for Hank's body to accept the organ before they made a move to end the procedure and close him up.

The surgery was a success and Connor sighed as a massive weight lifted from his shoulders.

Unfortunately the poor health combined with the potent infection and Hank's own stubbornness had left the senior detective in a comatose state. While he was being monitored carefully in the I.C.U. for any signs of organ rejection, post operative infection or other complications, Connor remained vigil either next to his bed or just outside of the room whenever the doctors needed to examine him privately.

Staring intently at the floor before him Connor was only vaguely aware of Hank's right hand twitching slightly as the senior detective was finally beginning to wake up after four consecutive days of nothingness. Turning his head Connor watched as Hank's right fingers lightly flexed and his head lolled slightly to the side, the nasal canula feeding him oxygen remaining perfectly in place under his nose and the cardiac monitor recording his vitals showed a mild increase as he slowly regained consciousness.

"Hey." Resting his left hand on Hank's right arm lightly Connor gave the senior detective a familiar presence and made sure his coin was out of sight and inside his pocket as he spoke to him. "Can you hear me?"

"...Yeah." Hank's voice was only a whisper as he turned his head toward the sound of Connor's voice. "I can hear ya'. Guess I'm not dead yet."

"You tolerated the surgery well. But... you slipped into a coma and have been unconscious for one-hundred and four hours, thirty-two minutes and fifty-eight seconds."

Opening his exhausted blue eyes a sliver Hank felt a sharp pain shooting in the middle of his abdomen, his strained vital signs being recorded on the cardiac monitor beside his bed.

Connor immediately reacted to Hank's pain and slipped the release button to control the pain medication into Hank's right hand. "Press the button, it'll increase your pain medication."

Trusting Hank to not overdose and merely take the edge off his pain Connor watched and waited as Hank's distressed vital signs began to steadily relax. Hank gradually pressed down the button with his thumb and stopped once the pain edged away to a bearable degree. "...Thanks."

Dr. Wilson entered the room and was happy to see Hank finally awake and coherent as he acknowledged Connor's presence and turned his focus to the good doctor as he approached. "Nice to see you awake, Captain." The kind doctor stated with a goodhearted nature as he began checking the senior detective's vital signs. "It was close, but you pulled through. Your body is showing no sign of rejection and we'd like to keep it that way."

"...That's 'doctor code' for saying I need to stay a while longer, isn't it?"

"Unfortunately, yes." Confirming Hank's guess Dr. Wilson made a note in Hank's electronic chart that was hooked into the cardiac monitor beside the bed. Gently he lifted Hank's eyelids one at a time to check his pupils with his small penlight. "You've been in a coma for almost four and half days, and we'd like to keep you for three more days to test for any sign of mental deficiencies or organ rejection."

"Great, just great..."

"It won't be so bad. I'll have you transferred to a private room and after three days you can go home as long as Connor, or anyone else, is there to keep an eye on you for the next three weeks. Then another three after that you can return to work, but I strongly suggest desk duty until all of your pain has completely subsided."

"Another six weeks on the injured reserved list? Fuck... It wasn't fun the first time around, I can't image the next time will be anymore fun."

Dr. Wilson tilted his head a little as he tried to give Hank a more optimistic outlook. "Could be worse."

"How's that?"

"You have two new kidneys, and since they aren't organic you won't need to take immunosupressants for the rest of your life to prevent rejection."

"Artificial kidneys, huh?" Giving Connor a somewhat sly look from the corner of his eye he tried to lighten the mood to the best of his ability as well. "Guess we have more in common now, huh, kid?"

Connor wasn't in a joking mood and despite Hank's recovery he still wasn't relieved. "...Something like that."

"Get some rest." Dr. Wilson urged as he motioned for Connor to accompany him outside the room for a moment. "I'll make sure Connor knows everything that needs to be done before you can go home."

"Yeah, thanks..." Allowing his eyes to close slowly Hank let out a weary breath and tried to relax. "I'm sure I'll be fine as long as Connor is there to kick my ass back into shape. No matter how many times he has to kick me."

Resting in his private room with a bag of ice over his still sore abdomen and a television remote in his hand, Hank tried to preoccupy his mind as a fresh snowfall blanketed the city under a bright layer of white just on the other side of his window. It was nearing midnight and visitors had been asked to leave for the night three hours ago leaving Hank alone in his room with only the company of the television to hold his attention until Connor or anyone else came to the hospital for a visit.

Dr. Wilson knocked on the sliding door before entering to check in Hank for one last time before he also went home for the night. It was routine to make one final round before leaving the hospital.

"How do you feel, Hank?"

"Bored."

"Sorry, about that. We can't control the programs." Lightly he lifted up Hank's eyelids and checked his pupils with his penlight once more and was relieved to see no sign of neurological impairment. Moving his attention to the healing incision in Hank's abdomen Dr. Wilson made light conversation to try to gauge Hank's memory and speech patterns as he moved aside Hank's scrub top by the hem and examined the bandaged incision beneath. "You look as tired as Connor."

"I think I accidentally scared the shit out of him when I got sick."

"Wouldn't be surprised considering how close you were to death."

"I'll apologize to him tomorrow. I just hope he isn't going to hold a grudge against me."

"You know," retracting his hand and replace Hank's thin scrub top, Dr. Wilson made another note in Hank's electronic chart casually. "I think that's the first time I've ever seen a deviant so petrified."

"I didn't mean to scare him."

"Well, also considering what he's been through I'm not surprised he was so freaked out."

"You know about his late girlfriend?"

"And his brother. We have deviants here in the hospital and several of the deviants caught in that riot were brought her for treatment alongside the humans. We're kept in the loop through the deviant grapevine."

"Fuck."

"Can I ask you something about him?"

"Sure. Go for it, doc."

"Does Connor normally stay awake all night or-"

"Wait, what?" The question immediately caught Hank's attention before Dr. Wilson even had the chance to finish asking it. "Stay awake?"

"Yeah. While you were in a coma no one on staff saw him sleep, and when he did leave the hospital it was only for a half hour at the most. I didn't know if that was normal for his model or if that's something you should be made aware of."

"Ah man, I really fucked up." Hank dragged his hand down his face with righteous worry. "...Not this shit again."

"Again?"

"He starts obsessing over things he can't control and stops resting properly. He's had some nasty bouts of insomnia before and it was horrible to deal with."

"Try not to worry about it. Just talk to him tomorrow and bury the hatchet." Turning the lights down in the room until they were glowing dimly Dr. Wilson took his leave of the room to let Hank rest. "Until then, you get some sleep yourself."

"Yeah, sure." Feeling as guilty as he was tired Hank knew he needed to find a way to apologize to Connor. "Whatever you say, doc."

It was like the deviant was trying to bear the weight of the entire world on his shoulders and now he was beginning to suffer from the needless burden he had brought upon himself. Moving with a stilted gait down the corridor to Hank's private room, Connor wait for the door to slide open and took his place in the chair beside the bed as he resumed his vigil over the healing senior detective. It had become his new routine and the deviant was always punctual when it came to visiting hours beginning and ending.

"Hi, son." Hank greeted as the emotionally and physically exhausted deviant sat down heavily beside him. "You look tired."

"Hello, dad. I am tired, but I imagine you feel the same."

"How'd you sleep last night?"

"...I didn't."

"Connor, you need to rest."

"I can't. I'm thinking."

"Stop it."

"I can't."

"Son," Hank sat up as much as he could without causing himself any pain in the process to give the kindhearted deviant a stern glance. The sound of Hank's voice had drawn Connor's brown irises up and in his direction away from the floor, but the usually bright eyes were dull with fatigue. "I'm sorry for being a stubborn jackass. You were right to want to take me to the hospital, but I was... I was afraid. I admit it."

"...It's okay. I know you hate hospitals."

"That doesn't excuse me being an asshole. Especially since I always give you shit about not wanting to go to facilities whenever you're hurt or sick." The comment had a surprising impact on Connor that stunned the deviant into deeper silence. A silence that Hank immediately sensed. "What's wrong?"

Unsure of what to say or feel Connor sought answers and let his shoulders slump again. "Is... Is that was it feels like?"

"What?"

"Whenever I'm injured, sick or have gone missing... This horrible sense of dread and loss. Is that was it felt like for you all those times?"

Hesitating to answer out of pure reluctance Hank finally responded with a weak sigh. "Yeah, son. That's what it feels like."

"I'm... I'm so sorry!" Connor blurted from an emotional pain he was trying to hide in the depths of his heart. "I had no idea that you were suffering so much because I-"

"Hey, hey!" Reaching out his hand toward Connor's arm Hank held his trembling son as steady as possible as the deviant began to cry with deep seated frustration that he simply hadn't come to terms with. "It's going to be okay!"

"I caused you so much pain, so much worry and-"

"That's what it's like to be a father." Interrupting quickly Hank did his best to keep Connor from beating himself up over the past. "Even if you worked as a librarian in an elementary school I'd still be worried about you."

"If I had known that this how you felt I never would've been so stubborn."

"Yeah, you would. It's in your nature. And," Hank raised his left hand to 'shush' Connor before he could offer a rebuttal. "there's nothing wrong with that. It means you're strong willed, defiant and loyal. All admirable traits."

Wiping away his tears Connor took in a deep calming breaths and recomposed himself. "...I don't think I'm as strong as everyone thinks."

"Strong. Not indestructible. You've been through so much in your short life, and this year alone has been crazy!" Tightening his hand on Connor's arm Hank tilted his head slightly as he gently pulled Connor toward him as he tried to keep Connor calm. "C'mere for a second."

Following Hank's guidance Connor stood up beside the bed and let the senior detective pull him down for a quick hug. The warm embrace made Connor less tense but he was still upset about everything he had just gone through.

Keeping his arms wrapped around Connor tightly Hank tried to think of the best way to help his distraught son. "Didn't you say that Josh has a type of support group at New Jericho Tower?"

"...Yes. He does."

"Maybe you should join them one night. You know, help sort out your feelings in the company of other deviants who have gone through the same emotional extremes that you've gone through."

"I... I can't go back to that tower. It's where I lost both Lucas and Skye. It's where I almost died in a fire. It's where... CyberLife once stood."

"All right, then we'll find you a therapist outside the tower to help you talk things out so you don't have to keep everything bottled up anymore."

"I thought humans who sought therapists did so because they were mentally unsound."

"Ah, fuck. That's just a horrible stigma that humans created because we love to think the worst of everything." As Connor let go of the hug Hank watched him stand up again and sit back in the chair beside him. "There's nothing wrong with getting help, and talking to someone doesn't mean you're crazy. It actually means you're pretty damn sane; you're aware you need help and you're getting it. There's nothing crazy about that."

"Have you spoken with a therapist?"

"Once. After my mom died."

"Did it... help?"

"Uh, yeah, but I was young and I didn't take her advice very seriously. So it probably would've been better for me if I had been more serious." Lingering on the thought for a moment Hank tagged on an interesting deal. "How about we both go see therapists and work some shit out?"

"I don't know." The skepticism of Connor's demeanor was undeniable when it came to speaking with a psychiatrist. "Deviants don't think like humans, I'm highly doubtful of the success of this venture."

"Hey? Remember when Joel hypnotized you so you could uncover a repressed memory that had been blocked by CyberLife?"

"...Yes. It was very interesting, and somewhat traumatic as I recall. I nearly broken Joel's wrist in the process due to the intensity of the procedure."

"Well, my point is if you can be hypnotized then I know for damn sure you can get help just by talking things out with a professional."

Still wary of the idea Connor looked out the hospital window at the heavy snow that continued to blanket the city, only to focus on his faint reflection being cast on the flawless, shiny glass surface. The first thing his eyes did was hone in on his right temple to where is L.E.D. had once been and in that brief second Connor realized that Hank was right. There was still so much that he needed to understand about himself and what he was feeling as a deviant, and one thing he desperately needed to understand was that asking for help wasn't a sign of weakness.

"Okay, Ha- dad. I'll try." Connor wanted to sound confident but he was still shaking with uncertainty. His frail nerves were starting to get to him despite trying his best to remain strong for Hank's sake. "I'll do it."

"We'll do it. We're going to take baby-steps to get better physically, mentally and emotionally together." Hank corrected politely while giving the deviant a knowing glance. "I'm out of commission for the next six weeks, so that'll give us a good start while I'm recovering from being a dumbass."

"You're not a dumbass." The tone of Connor's voice was light but his eyes were still so heavy. Heavy with pain, emotions and physical exhaustion. "...You're merely stubborn."

"Yeah, you're right about that." Laughing a little at the observation Hank couldn't help but agree. Keeping his palm to his healing abdomen Hank breathed deeply and made sure Connor knew he wasn't alone in his pain or his recovery. "...Like father, like son."

-next chapter-