During a dangerously stormy day the two detectives were returning to the city of Detroit after enduring a lengthy and annoying 'business trip' in Lansing regarding the latest protocol revolving around deviant related crimes. During the long drive back home, Hank found himself drifting in and out of a light sleep from the passenger seat as Connor drove the car through the troublesome storm courtesy of the hastily arriving summer bringing about a sudden windstorm and humid deluge over the entire lower peninsula of the state. Hank was leaning back in his seat with his arms crossed over his chest and the collar of his coat pulled up to his ears as if he was somehow feeling cold. The senior detective had his blue eyes closed to try to rest but he was still aware of every little turn and every patch of slick road that the large car drove over as the storm quickly evolved into a full-blown thunderstorm.

The older human felt absolutely exhausted and had experienced some stomach pain for the past two days but hadn't let it get in the way of his job. Connor had insisted on Hank seeing a doctor before they left Lansing, but Hank refused as he was convinced that it was just a mild stomach flu and would pass in another day or two. Even despite developing a mild fever two days before Hank continued to refuse to see a doctor.

"You look pale." Connor observed with a cool tone of voice as he glanced over at Hank's face while driving over the slick roads carefully. The heavy rain mixing with the gusting wind caused troublesome roads for the large car to navigate without getting blown into the ditch. "You also seem to be uncomfortable."

"It's cold as fuck after being hot as fuck." Hank snapped as he pressed his palm to his forehead. "Of course I'm pale, kid. Shitty weather does that to people."

"It's... currently eighty-six degrees Fahrenheit with a humidity level of ninety-six percent."

Hank scoffed at the comment as he tried to blow off Connor's worries with an indignant snarl. "Whatever. The A/C is blowing, and I FEEL cold, all right?"

Connor slowly reached his hand over and pressed his palm against Hank's forehead to gauge the elevated temperature his that his biometric scanner already noted.

"Hey, hey!" Angrily Hank batted Connor's hand away and sighed with tired irritation. "I'm not that sick."

"Yes you are. You have a fever." The deviant detective confirmed somewhat stubbornly as his L.E.D. turned from blue to yellow with worry. "You've had a mild fever over the past forty-eight hours, twenty-two minutes and forty-one seconds, but now it's increasing to a higher degree."

"You've been monitoring my body temperature for two days?"

"I have been checking your vital signs hourly since you first became ill." Connor explained coolly as he continued to keep his eyes on the road and monitor Hank's vital signs biometrically. "I have an extensive record of your current health history if you'd like me to review it."

"That seems like a huge invasion of privacy."

"I'm sorry, I should've asked your permission first." Feeling as if he crossed a big line Connor apologized sincerely, his yellow L.E.D. returning to blue as he ended the constant biometric monitoring. "I will stop scanning your vitals if you wish."

"Don't worry about it. Just don't ask me to turn my head and cough." Hank quipped and followed it with a light laugh, only to press his hand down against his abdomen reflexively in pain. "...Fuck."

Noticing the reaction Connor resisted the urge to begin another biometric scan over Hank's body. "Are you experiencing pain, Lieutenant?"

"Nothing I can't handle." Hank deflected the question expertly as he looked through the windshield at the disappearing road in front of him. The rain was coming down harder and flooding the ditches at an alarming rate as the roads became slicker. The powerful gusts of wind threatened to push the Oldsmobile off the road and into a ditch at any moment. "Hey, thanks for driving for me, kid. I don't think I'd be able to keep control of the car during these conditions right now."

"You're welcome. Fortunately, my scanners have access to G.P.S. mapping and the Doppler radar allow me to detect where the surface of the road begins and ends without having to visually process it through the rain."

"Damn. I wish I could do that." The old car suddenly made a loud 'bang' followed by a groaning noise that made Hank jump a little in his seat. He had worked on cars long enough to know that a tire had been damaged by the horrible road conditions and had failed entirely. "Ah, shit..."

Responding to the new problem Connor scanned the hood of the vehicle and found that the engine itself was still running properly, but the rear driver's side tire had suddenly gone flat. The sound was from the tire popping and now dragging dangerously from the rim and along the road beneath the car's heavier frame.

"It appears we have a flat tire."

"Yeah, I know that!" Unintentionally Hank snapped bitterly at what he perceived to be the obvious as Connor pulled the car to the right side of the road. They were caught in the middle between Detroit and Lansing in a wooded area that rarely saw traffic even when the weather wasn't terrible or dangerous. "And I don't have a spare in the trunk. Fuck, I knew I forgot to do something when I changed the oil last week."

"It's too dangerous for us to continue driving with the car in this current condition." Connor's blue L.E.D. flashed yellow again as he attempted to cybernetically contact road assistance for help but there was seemingly no one available due to the building thunderstorm overhead. "The storm has also left us stranded without any means of mechanical assistance."

"Great." Growling at the unfortunate situation Hank shook his head and ran his fingers through his gray locks of hair. A faint layer of sweat was causing his hair to become heavy and stick to the top of his head in an uncomfortable manner. "What the fuck do we do? Sit in the car and wait it out?"

"Unlikely. While the car will provide some degree of shelter the current fuel supply will deplete before nightfall and fail to keep us cool in the extreme heat. And even if we turned off the engine and waited for nightfall before engaging the heater to keep up warm instead, the fuel supply would still deplete before help would arrive in the following morning." A raucous thunderclap echoed through the area and a nearby lightning strike caused a static charge to fill the air. "...Not to mention the fact that we're technically encased in a very effective lightning rod."

"So..." Glancing at the storm raging outside the car through the windshield Hank dared to ask the big question. Going out in the rain, the wind, the thunder and the lightning was enough to make Hank suddenly feel even worse. "We're walking?"

"There is a campground two point two miles down the road." Connor confirmed without actually saying 'yes'. "We can take shelter and possibly find assistance there."

"Yeah, fuckin' right! No one in their right mind would be at the campground during this fuckin' storm." The man protested as he mentally weighed his and Connor's extremely limited options. "Besides, it's too hot for 'camping season'. People won't be back until the fall."

"We should go there anyway." Insistent on walking to the campsite Connor continued to push Hank toward leaving the Oldsmobile behind as he removed his seatbelt and turned off the car's engine to pocket the keys. "It's the safer alternative compared to us both overheating in the car or becoming struck by lightning."

"Fine, whatever." Hank threw off his own seatbelt and pushed open his door begrudgingly to step out into the intensely humic and harsh storm. Wrapping his thick dark coat around himself as tightly as possible Hank endured the brutal weather as best as he could. "Damn, this sucks!"

Having taken the initiative to use his G.P.S. to track their every step Connor joined Hank outside of the car on the passenger side. His own discomfort against the heat and humidity was less audible and more internal as his visual processors warned him of the dangerously high temperature threatening to destabilize his thermal regulator once again. Any nearby lightning strikes could also affect his processors and knock his system offline.

The thunderstorm was more aggressive than the extreme heat Connor experienced the previous week and with that reality settling in Connor knew time was critical for himself and more importantly for Hank. Deviants and humans were equally susceptible to extreme weather, but Hank's health history indicated that he'd be particularly vulnerable to infections if his fever continued to climb, stayed in the humid air or managed to catch a chill from the relentless rain.

"We must move quickly." Preconstructing the most efficient route from the car to the campsite Connor prompted Hank to begin walking. "We'll both succumb to heatstroke due to the extreme weather in less than one hour."

"Shit, you don't have to tell me twice!" Trusting Connor's judgement Hank was eager to get out of the rain again. While it wasn't as annoying to him as the snowstorms that rocked Michigan every winter, being caught in the middle of nowhere in a storm still wasn't fun. "Lead the way."

With Connor leading the way through the rain and wind Hank pulled the collar of his coat up higher to protect his throat and ears as he followed closely behind the deviant along the side of the road. As he walked Connor had his arm up and over his face to shield his eyes from any bits of debris that could get blown into his ocular relay units that could damage or otherwise impair his vision. The wind was whipping his tie around and blowing his blazer wide open as Connor trudged through the deepening rain and mud puddles lining the side of the dirt road leading to the campsite in the middle of the forest.

Already both detectives were in danger from the prolonged exposure to such a drastically hot and humid temperature, but they had little choice in the matter at hand.

"You really need to start wearing that leather jacket in the rain, Connor." The senior detective cautioned as he watched Connor trying to keep the wind and rain from affecting his systems as it cut through his thin gray blazer. Something about Connor walking around in the storm without a proper jacket brought out Hank's paternal instincts yet again. "What's the point of having it if you're not going to wear it?"

"I wore it the night of the Raid."

Speaking over the howling wind Connor never took his eyes away from the preconstructed path he had laid out for Hank and himself as he and Hank trudged to the campsite. They needed to get to shelter fast, otherwise Hank's illness would worsen, and Connor would begin suffering from the dangerous electric currents coursing through the air as the lightning continued to strike.

"The jacket was meant to be a part of a disguise, not to be worn regularly."

"Tough shit!" Wincing a little Hank tried to ignore the pain in his gut as he and Connor ignored the thunder taunting them overhead as lightning continued to flash in the distance. "If you gotta' better jacket then wear it."

Trudging through the rain and mud Connor used his sensors to track his current location through his cybernetically installed G.P.S. while traversing the slick, humid terrain. Having traveled less than a mile Connor became worried when he turned to look over his shoulder to see that Hank was moving with some difficulty through the ankle deep mud. Hank's pace was slow, and his movements seemed uncoordinated with each sluggish step.

The senior detective's pale pallor looked whiter even after less than twenty minutes of walking. What was more alarming was courtesy of the smothering humidity Hank's temperature was steadily getting higher. The man needed to stop for a minute to catch his breath as his strength and energy ebbed away against his will.

"Hank?" Connor instinctively ran another biometric scan over Hank's body, his L.E.D. flashing from blue to yellow with concern over the significantly elevated temperature that he had detected. Backtracking to where Hank was standing as he seemingly froze in place Connor stood before Hank and grabbed on to his upper arms with both hands to support the ill detective. "We must get you to shelter, your health is declining."

"Yeah, I know. Damn flu." Hank grimaced at a sharp pain in his right side as he tried to keep walking. A bright flash of light followed by a deafening crash of thunder made Hank duck for a minute as if he could somehow dodge the storm. "...Son of a bitch."

"Hank, you're showing signs of physical distress that have no association with the flu."

"I'll be fine." Hank insisted with an irritated tone as Connor practically pulled him along the road to the campground. The muddy path leading to the campsite was difficult to navigate but not impossible. "It's just a stomach bug."

"I suspect otherwise." The statement was lost in the wind as Connor slowed his own walking pace to stay with Hank at his side. "We're getting close."

Pushing through the wind and the blinding rain Connor located the campground with relative ease during the last of the trek, whereas it was far more of a challenge for Hank to see where he was going. By the time the two crossed onto the main drive leading toward the unoccupied campground Hank was practically hanging off of Connor's arm as he suddenly felt too weak and far too sore to keep walking under his own strength.

"It's just a little further." Wrapping his arm around Hank's waist Connor began dragging Hank through the rain puddles and mud in a style that reminded him of the night that he had found Hank passed out drunk on the kitchen floor and had to sober up the stubborn detective with a cold shower. "You'll be out of the storm soon."

"Connor?" Hank's face had grown several shades paler, and his movement seemed limited on his right side. "I don't feel so good... I think I'm going to puke."

Hastening his speed Connor dragged Hank through the rain and to the nearest cabin for shelter. Stopping at the door Connor tried to turn the knob but the door was expectedly locked due to the lack of activity at the campsite. Planting himself firmly before the door Connor swiftly raised his leg to kick down the door just below the handle with an aggressive motion while also keeping Hank upright with his arm.

The cabin was thankfully unoccupied just like the rest of the campsite.

"You're safe." Connor sighed as he carried Hank inside the vacant, tiny cabin and over to the lone bed in the middle of the main room. Laying Hank down on his back as gently as possible Connor lifted the ill detective's legs up and over as he helped Hank to lay flat and straight to ensure he was comfortable. "Try to rest until your fever begins to break."

The bed was small and had one fluffy white pillow with a thin red and black checkered quilt over top of it. Luckily the thin sheets beneath wouldn't provide much heat as the senior detective attempted to cool off after being subjected to the humidity and warm rain outside.

The cabin wasn't luxurious, but it was comparatively much cooler than the outside. It was built with a single main room that contained the lone bed, a wooden chair against the far wall, a large hearth and a small kitchenette to the side that only had a sink, a squat refrigerator and a tiny stove. Tucked away in the far corner of the room was a gasoline powered generator used to provide heat as an alternative to the hearth during the winter. One door down the short hallway led to the small bathroom, the second door led to a storage closet, and a small hatch in the ceiling to led to a smaller attic storage space above the main room.

The building itself was basic but overall effective at keeping occupants safe and sheltered.

"I'll build a fire." Connor announced as he cybernetically scanned the interior of the cabin. "If the storm blacks out the area, then we'll need some form of light and warmth during the night."

Taking control of the situation Connor closed the cabin and volunteered for the task as he eyed the large pile of firewood stacked beside the empty hearth. Placing several small logs and dried twigs into the fireplace was a great start. Afterward, Connor located a book of matches atop the mantle over the hearth with some relief as he didn't have an alternate way of starting the fire. The deviant struck a match without trouble and lit the logs in bright orange flames that quickly consumed the provided tinder to produce heat and light.

After just a short amount of time had passed, Hank was deathly pale and his face was drenched in a cold sweat. The ill human was also beginning to breathe quickly as he endured a mounting pain in his lower right side. As Hank took in shallow rapid breaths Connor quickly detected the labored breathing and ran another biometric scan over his body as a precaution.

"Hank?"

Returning to the bed Connor pressed his palm against Hank's sweaty forehead for a more direct check of the man's vitals. It was burning hot, and Hank was beginning to become delirious from a readily spiking fever.

"Shit. You're extremely ill."

Reacting quickly Connor proceeded to sit Hank up enough on the bed to pull Hank's coat off of his arms and slip it from around his shoulders. Putting the coat down at the end of the bed neatly Connor checked through the refrigerator in the small kitchenette and found several cubes of ice in the freezer but nothing more.

"I'm going to get your temperature down, Hank."

Rushing into the bathroom down the short hallway Connor found a single cloth hand towel hanging on the edge of the sink and decided that it'd have to do as a compress. As he wrapped the limited supply of ice in the towel, he noticed Hank trying to sit up from the corner of his eye and responded with a protective nature.

"No, lay down. Don't try to get up."

"I'm-"

"No." Connor hustled over to the bed and pushed Hank back down by the shoulders before smoothing the compress over Hank's too warm forehead. "You're dangerously ill and must rest. I'll take care of you until I can get you to a hospital and be examined by a doctor."

"Connor... L-Let me up." Hank huffed with great discomfort in voice as he pressed his hand over his stomach. "I think I'm going to be sick."

"Oh. Of course, I'll help you."

Thinking fast Connor raced to the bathroom and looked in the modest bathtub for something useful, then under the sink where he found an empty bucket and a bottle of bleach. Handing the empty bucket to Hank the ill detective immediately threw-up what little contents he had in his stomach into the container while Connor kept his hand on Hank's back to support him.

"Hank, I suspect that you have something far more serious than the flu."

"Yeah, me too." Hank threw-up again then laid flat back down as Connor took the bucket away from him. Wincing at the continuous pain in his right side that somehow felt worse and then a little better, Hank eyed Connor curiously. "...What do you think is wrong with me?"

"I'm detecting a great inflammation in the lower right quadrant of your abdomen. I believe it's due to appendicitis."

Pushing through the fever fog smothering his mind Hank was able to figure out what Connor was hinting toward. "...My appendix?"

"Correct." Connor adjusted the cool compress over Hank's forehead slightly and kept his hand in place over the icy cloth. "You require an operation to have it removed."

"Good fuckin' luck." Glancing at the window beside the cabin's front door Hank watched the rain and wind battering against the window courtesy of the intense thunderstorm rocking the area. Thunder shook the cabin and lightning flashed brightly through the windows in blinding bursts. "There's no way I'm getting to a hospital in this weather."

"I agree, so I will attempt to contact a hospital cybernetically. Perhaps they can provide enough information for me to aid you until the storm clears."

"Sure, go ahead." The Lieutenant didn't dare to question Connor's resourcefulness or his resolve, but he did question whether or not the deviant would be able to succeed due to the storm overhead. "I doubt you'll-"

Before Hank could finish his skeptical thought Connor's blue L.E.D. blinked yellow quickly as he made cybernetic contact with the nearest hospital. Connecting with another medically programmed deviant Connor was able to remotely gain the proper information needed for him to take care of the ill human detective while relaying the man's symptoms to the hospital for a confirmation on the probable diagnosis.

"I'll check the cabin for any medication that can help alleviate your pain." The attentive deviant disappeared into the bathroom again to rummage through the medicine cabinet over the sink and returned with the only available medicine in the entire campsite; a bottle of Ibuprofen. "It's not potent but it should help."

In too much pain to protest Hank allowed Connor to place two of the pills in his mouth as he didn't have the energy or the coordination to do it himself. Swallowing the pills quickly Hank sighed as the pain in his right side suddenly flared with a vengeance prompting him to try to curl onto his side in utter agony.

Noting Hank's continued pain Connor sent an update to the hospital to received additional assistance. "What's the current level of your discomfort?"

"Seriously?!" Closing his eyes so tightly tears began to stream down his fact Hank growled at Connor again. "Fuckin' eleven!"

"I see..." Connor's yellow L.E.D. flashed to red for a moment before returning to yellow. Wringing his hands together anxiously Connor stood beside the bed and gave his critically ill friend a nervous glance. "Forgive me, but I must physically check your abdomen."

"Don't touch me, damn it!" Too weak to put up a fight Hank could only verbally protest as Connor forced him to roll onto his back again. "I'm. In. Pain." Putting emphasis in his words Hank made it clear that he was miserable and didn't want to be touched. "That's all that matters, so let me rest."

"Hank, please." Connor refused to back down and kept pushing for the man to cooperate with him. "I must know the severity of the inflammation."

"Can't your scanner do that for you so that you don't have to touch me?"

"My biometric scanner can only detect so much when it comes to medical diagnoses as my model was not designed for medical roles. I can visually confirm that your appendix is inflamed," he explained in a very collected and sympathetic tone as he stared at Hank's abdomen. "but I cannot determine whether or not your appendix is in danger of rupturing without a more direct examination by palpation."

Aware that he didn't have much say in the matter, Hank winced again and held his breath before he finally nodded as the pain was quickly becoming too much to bear let alone brush off. "...Fine. But be fast."

"I will attempt to do so."

While Hank laid back Connor unbuttoned the more colorful blue and orange dress shirt over top of the faded black t-shirt beneath. He then lifted up the hem of the t-shirt to expose Hank's abdomen before he placed his palm down against Hank's lower right side of his now bare lower torso. The ill detective gritted his teeth and sucked in a pained breath as soon as Connor applied any pressure to his abdomen. However, it was when Connor lifted his hand did Hank truly understand the severity of his condition as the rebound pain from the lessened pressure was beyond anything that he had experienced before.

"FUCK!" Hank swore loudly as he pushed Connor's hands from his abdomen and wrapped his arms protectively around his stomach. "SHIT! Son of a bitch!"

"Sorry! Sorry." Connor put his hands down on Hank's shoulders to keep him as still as possible on the bed. "I won't touch it again."

"F-Fuck off... That fuckin' sucked."

Connor dismissed the remark knowing that Hank's bad attitude was linked directly to the tremendous pain in his side and nothing that Connor himself was personally accountable for. Reconnecting with the hospital cybernetically Connor's red L.E.D. pulsed at a rapid rate as he was informed of the only treatment option available considering the severity of Hank's condition. Unfortunately, the treatment wasn't going to be pleasant for either Hank or Connor to endure.

"Hank..." Ending the cybernetic call Connor's tone of voice told Hank everything he needed to know. "It needs to be done."

"No!" Pained blue eyes went wide with impending fear and righteous hesitation as Hank knew to what Connor was referring. "No. Fucking. Way."

"I'm sorry, but if I don't do it then you'll..." The idea of Hank slowly dying a painful, sickly death made Connor feel a horrible pain in his own stomach that he couldn't put into words. It was almost as bad as the pain he felt in his heart when he and Hank were shot at the docks the previous spring. "I can't just sit here and watch you die when I can do something to help you."

"And I'm not going to let you live with the knowledge that you gutted me like a damn fish!"

"I'm actively in contact with the hospital as we speak." The empathetic deviant tried to reassure the stubborn detective as much as he could. "They can guide me through every step of the process, AND I've already downloaded all of the medically necessary software for both abdominal and thoracic surgery."

"Connor-"

"Please, Hank!" Shouting for a moment Connor tried to convince Hank to consent so he didn't have to do something against Hank's wishes. Regaining his composure Connor took in a deep breath and lowered his voice to a less hectic, demanding tone. "I've even granted the medical android working at St. Mercy Hospital access to my visual and auditory processors, they'll be able to see everything I can see and hear everything I can hear."

Before he could utter another protest Hank's head suddenly lolled to the side and his eyes closed as he trailed off with a breathy sigh and single word escaped his chapped lips. "D-Don't..."

"Hank?"

Connor pressed his fingertips to the side of Hank's neck and counted his rapid pulse as the ill detective fell unconscious. Hank's skin was also much warmer due to the increasing fever which meant Hank's appendix was dangerously close to rupturing.

"...Shit. I'm sorry, but I must do this even without your consent."

Realizing there wasn't any time to argue Connor scrambled about the cabin looking for anything he could use to perform the surgical procedure. Searching through the closet in the hallway, the attic space, back through the bathroom and through the drawers in the kitchenette, Connor managed to collect a very small array of tools. A small sewing kit, a sharp hunting knife and two blankets that could all possibly be used to proceed with the very gruesome but necessary task at hand.

"These need to be sterilized before I even consider using them as surgical instruments."

Connor spoke aloud to himself as he grabbed a large pot out of the kitchen cabinet and filled it with water from the tap. Placing the collected tools inside the water for a proper cleaning Connor positioned the pot on a cast iron hook inside the hearth to boil the water and sterilize the tools off before use.

"I don't think CyberLife could have ever prepared me for something like this."

Getting himself ready for the unsettling procedure Connor then slipped off his gray blazer and placed it on the end of the bed next to Hank's coat as he prepared for the messy task at hand. Unbuttoning the cuffs of his white dress shirt, he rolled the sleeves up to his elbows and removed his tie to place alongside his blazer to keep the dressy garment from dropping down and getting in the way of the procedure.

Draping one of the two blankets over Hank's chest and slipping the other under his lower back, Connor mentally steeled himself and cybernetically reconnected with the surgical deviant at the hospital as his guide and potential lifeline. It also helped Connor feel less alone in that very dire circumstance that he didn't want to be in, especially against his will.

Reestablishing contact with the hospital unexpectedly put Connor in contact with someone else. It was now in fact a human doctor who was preparing to watch the procedure through Connor's eyes on a special CyberLife sanctioned laptop which in turn eased Connor's worries a little. The laptop was designed to record the memories of androids who were registered at the hospital as surgical staff, but Connor was made the exception as it was an emergency situation and an officer of the law who needed assistance.

Through Connor's frightened eyes and through the second deviant acting as a link between the doctor and Connor himself, it would be an awkward but plausible remote surgery in the middle of the relentless thunderstorm.

A surgery that was absolutely necessary to save Hank's life.

Connor had let the water boil for five minutes before he retrieved the pot and drained the water carefully down the kitchen sink. Placing the collected tools onto a clean tray; a pair of sharpened fabric scissors, an 'eXacto' knife, a large sewing needle with silk thread and a Flathead screwdriver, Connor walked over to the bed and set the tray of eclectic tools down carefully atop his blazer as he prepared to begin with the surgical procedure despite not actually being a surgeon.

Pressing the back of his hand against Hank's cheek Connor determined how conscious his friend still was and grimaced at the possible dreadful outcome if Hank were to wake up during the surgery. Hank would be too weak to put up a fight but too alert to lay completely still. Worst of all, he'd be able to feel every agonizing second of the gruesome procedure he was about to endure.

"I need to find a way to ensure you remain unconscious, Hank. Please don't be angry with me when this over."

Heeding the cybernetic instructions from the doctor Connor did as he was told and returned to the bathroom to claim the bottle of bleach and set it down on the kitchen counter. Taking a clean cup out of the cabinet above the sink Connor checked on the fuel gauge of the generator in the corner of the room and sighed with relief seeing that there was plenty of fuel inside. Removing the cap to the fuel tank Connor awkwardly tilted the generator down until a proper amount of the fuel had been collected in the cup before placing the generator back upright.

Using his scanner Connor checked the amount of methane-based gasoline he had collected in the cup and then scanned the bottle of bleach next. Calculating the proper dosage for each liquid Connor mixed the two together by using a spoon from the nearby drawer to stir until he had a crude but effective concoction of makeshift Chloroform.

"I'm sorry about this, Hank. But I have to do it. I'm just obeying the doctor's orders."

Leaning over the bed Connor dipped the corner of the blanket over Hank's chest into the Chloroform to absorb the liquid anesthetic and then pressed the soaked edge of the blanket firmly against Hank's nose and mouth. After a minute of Hank pathetically and deliriously attempting to resist Connor's hands the noxious chemical forced the ill detective into a deep chemically induced slumber that would potentially keep him unconscious throughout the entire procedure.

"Hank?"

There was no response from Hank as Connor called his name.

Sighing with relief Connor next retracted the artificial skin from his hands, as the layer already kept his plastimetal frame beneath completely sterilized, and promptly prepared for the doctor's next set of instructions. Listening to the doctor very closely Connor biometrically scanned over Hank's vitals to keep track of his heart rate, respiration, blood pressure and body temperature.

It was going to be a messy and uncomfortable procedure, but Connor managed to obey the doctor's every word flawlessly as he used the clean 'eXacto' knife to cut into Hank's abdomen, to create an incision and used the other instruments he collected to hold the incision open wide enough for him to peer inside through the layer of skin, fatty tissue and muscle to locate the offending sick organ.

Under the doctor's guidance Connor managed to quickly and efficiently remove the infected appendix before it could rupture and make Hank's condition so much worse by causing sepsis, if the infection not outright kill him. If any of the infected tissue entered Hank's bloodstream or leaked pus or gangrenous tissue in Hank's abdomen, then the man would need to have a far more serious procedure to properly sterilize his abdominal cavity. After thirty tense minutes of listening to the doctor's instructions Connor was given the clear to cauterize the incision where the appendix had been cut away; the Flathead screwdriver and the fire roaring in the hearth allowing this to be possible, then stitch the external incision closed with the sterilized needle and silk thread.

It was easily some kind of new speed record for appendectomies, not that Connor was looking to get his name published in any medical journals. The deviant detective just wanted his partner and best friend to survive the night. Keeping Hank alive was Connor's current and only priority as he looked after Hank while they waited for the storm to pass and road assistance to aid them with replacing the Oldsmobile's flat tire.

Shaking from the very unorthodox and gruesome experience Connor rinsed off his blood drenched plastimetal hands in the kitchen sink and kept his hands under the hot tap until the red water ran perfectly clean. After all of the blood was washed away Connor swiftly replaced his artificial skin over his white tinted appendages to resume his normal aesthetic.

With his hands cleaned up Connor resumed tending to Hank's incision. Cutting a swatch of fabric from the blanket draped over Hank's chest Connor soaked it in ice cold water and placed it over the incision site to reduce swelling, ease the pain, and try to numb the immediate area just in case Hank awoke before he was able to get the ill detective to a hospital for proper treatment and post-operative care.

Sitting beside Hank's bed all night long in the wooden chair Connor resolutely tended to Hank's dwindling fever until it finally broke at nearly two in the morning, all the while he kept the incision in Hank's abdomen clean of any infection. The storm outside began to subside just before dawn at last. The rain stopped pounding the roof of the cabin, the thunder quieted, and the lightning stopped its natural display of electricity through the sky. Only after the storm quited was Connor able to hear the loud roaring engines of trucks and emergency lifts clearing the tree covered road just down the drive from the campsite.

By all account the worst of the situation was finally over.

"The roads are being cleared off. I can call for an ambulance to transport you to the hospital now."

In a soft tone Connor spoke to his still unconscious friend as he cybernetically contacted emergency services and waited patiently for their arrival. It wouldn't take too long for emergency services to arrive, but it would still be a painfully slow wait as Connor would need to keep Hank calm and stable until the paramedics arrived.

"I hope you remain unconscious until well after you've arrived at the hospital for proper treatment."

Lightly Connor applied a fresh cool compress to Hank's warm forehead to keep the fever at bay and simultaneously provide a comforting presence.

"You don't need to feel any more pain, and I don't want you to be angry with me."

It seemed Hank's wrath was far more of a threat than any storm ever could be.

"I only did what I needed to do in order to save your life."


Fortunately for both detectives, Hank had remained unconscious long until after he was taken to the hospital by a team of paramedics in the back of an ambulance for further treatment. After being admitted to St. Mercy Hospital for care and after regaining consciousness in a private room, the doctor who had been responsible for Hank's care explained to the recovering detective what had happened to him while he was ill at the cabin. The empathetic doctor also emphasized how by Connor performing the surgery with remote assistance was the only way to keep him alive. Hank wasn't happy about learning Connor performed the surgery against his will, but he couldn't necessarily be mad about it either.

After all, Connor did save his life.

While unsure of how to react toward his partner - gracious or annoyed - the lack of response did create a very uncomfortably tense ride back to the city once the Oldsmobile had finally been towed to the nearest garage to have the flat tire replaced. Connor had made sure a spare had been thrown into the trunk just in case of a potential second flat tire and to try to make amends with Hank by taking care of the vehicle in his stead.

Unwilling to speak to Hank out of fear of angering or even offending the recovering man, Connor kept silent and drove home without even looking over at the internally seething human one time during the tense trip. Returning to the city was a welcome relief to both detectives as there wasn't nearly as much storm damage throughout the streets. Less rain, mud and downed trees of course meant a quicker trip back home after enduring the strange day at the cabin.

As Connor parked the car in the driveway beside the house and prepared to exit the vehicle, Hank finally spoke up and pressed his hand to his sore abdomen protectively before uttering a single word. "Connor."

"...Yes, Lieutenant?" Connor froze immediately and his blue L.E.D. flashed to a worried yellow in response to Hank's voice. "What do you need?"

"If you ever perform surgery on me in my sleep again, I will kill you." The threat sounded serious but carried no malicious undertone. "Understood?"

"Yes, Lieutenant. I understand." Connor couldn't stop a sly grin from appearing on his face as he watched Hank slowly climb out of the car through the passenger side door and limp toward the house. His yellow L.E.D. cycled back to blue as he too stepped outside of the car and let Hank lean on his right shoulder for support. "I promise that I won't do that a second time."

"I sure as Hell hope so."

Allowing the deviant to walk over to the backdoor ahead of him Hank watched Connor unlock the door and get promptly greeted by an anxious Sumo who wanted to be let outside after being cooped up inside for so long. Sumo ran past the detectives and into the backyard to roll around in the muddy cool grass for a while, then of course take care of personal business.

"For what it's worth..." Hank stated in humble voice as he walked slowly through the opened door and into the kitchen then to the livingroom. He used the beige couch to balance and shift his weight from his sore right side for a moment as he turned to look at Connor with an exhausted yet grateful glance. "Thanks. For saving my life, I mean."

A relieved smile crept over Connor's face as he followed the detective into the warm house while keeping the backdoor open for Sumo. "...You're welcome."

"I'm going to take a nice hot shower and get some sleep." Lifting his gaze Hank gave the young deviant a knowing look. "Please don't remove my tonsils if I start to snore."

"I won't." Managing a weak laugh Connor made the promise and happily helped Hank walk down the hallway toward the bathroom. Opening the door on Hank's behalf Connor let the senior detective walk into the room under his own power. "I'm glad you're well again."

"Me too, kid." Bracing his hand against the protective bandage covering his healing incision Hank limped into the bathroom and leaned against the sink with his other hand. "I just wish you didn't have to cut me open in order to save me."

"I wasn't thrilled either, but I found the experience somewhat... intriguing." There was no denying that what Connor went through was interesting and incredibly beneficial for the future now that he had more medical knowledge logged in his memorybank. "Perhaps medicine is a second field I could look into if I become unfulfilled with my time spent as a detective."

"As long as you don't use me as a guinea pig, you can do whatever the hell you want, kid." Closing the bathroom door slowly Hank left it unlocked and proceeded to turn on the shower to try and relax. "And don't do anything to Sumo! Big oaf has enough problems!"

"I assure you that I won't. Veterinary medicine is something I'm completely unfamiliar with."

Leaving the hallway as the sound of the shower filled the house Connor walked into the kitchen and filled up Sumo's empty food bowl. As soon as the kibble hit the bottom of the bowl Connor was promptly met by the massive dog as he trotted back through the opened backdoor. Rubbing Sumo's chin Connor gave the massive dog some much needed attention after leaving him alone for so long, especially during a nasty storm.

"You're very lucky, Sumo. You don't have to deal with crime or medical emergencies."

Sumo responded to Connor's comment by licking the side of Connor's face and wagging his tail. As Connor wiped the drool from his cheek and onto the sleeve of his gray blazer the affectionate Saint Bernard checked on his refilled food bowl and continued to wag his tail rhythmically.

"Thanks, boy. I'm glad you always seemed to know what to do in bizarre situations."

Stepping over to the front window in the livingroom Connor peered out at the streets and looked at the remaining downed trees, branches and pieces of siding and roof shingles littering the area. The storm had ravaged Detroit, but it couldn't seem to knock the city down. In a way, the aftermath of the storm was beautiful. It symbolized the strength that came from resolve, dedication and the desire to embrace the progessing future.

That was an optimistic outlook that Connor himself could embrace and stand behind.

-next chapter-

Author's Note: *Do NOT try to use the same recipe for Chloroform as Connor! I just did a quicky Google search, I HIGHLY doubt my science is 100% accurate!*

**AND... I don't want reviews telling me what I got wrong/right, I honestly don't care about it; it's all for the deus ex machina!**

(I'm not kidding, I'll just delete the reviews.)