Two weeks suspension without pay was a low price for Connor to pay just to have Hank back home where he belonged after the incident at New Jericho Tower. While the senior detective had forgiven him for the shooting, not that he even blamed Connor to begin with, internal affairs at the precinct had ordered that Connor had his entire programming checked by the precinct technician, as well as a 'private' technician hired by Captain Fowler himself, and to remain on suspension until he was cleared for active duty. Everything in Connor's programming passed without any incident but that didn't make the deviant detective feel any less guilty or responsible for Hank's previous and current condition.

With just three days left of his suspension before Connor could return to work soon enough, but Hank still had two mandatory weeks off to heal after being shot and spending six days in a coma. While Hank had gotten used to Connor tending to his every need, even if didn't actually need anything, the over abundance of kindness was beginning to wear the senior detective's nerves a little thin. He could only take so much of Connor's helpful nature in a single given timespan.

"Connor, you've cleaned this entire house from top to bottom four times over the past week, took the car down to the garage to get tuned up, raked up the leaves, salted the front walk and driveway, and even managed to give Sumo a bath without drowning in the process." Hank shouted from the old couch as he pet Sumo's head. The massive dog was stretched out across the couch and over his lap and loving the extra attention. "Sit down before I knock you down!"

"Doctor's orders." Connor yelled in response from the kitchen as he pulled a fresh pizza out of the oven. A pizza Connor had made from scratch as a special meal just for Hank to ensure that the man regained his strength after being comatose. "You can't take your medication on an empty stomach."

"Yeah, I know that. But that doesn't mean you have to cook every damn meal for me."

"No, but... I do find the act of cooking in itself oddly enjoyable." Putting the oven mitts aside while the pizza cooled Connor realized that his stress levels hadn't spiked once since Hank woke up and he kept himself busy at the house. "Arguably it's soothing to me."

"How can you enjoy cooking?" The admission felt almost impossible considering Connor was a deviant and couldn't consume anything but Thirium. "You don't eat anything you make. How can you enjoy it?"

"Correct, I cannot consume what I cook. However, I do enjoy following recipes and creating new items. I imagine it's like an artist completing a painting or a sculpture." The helpful deviant detective defended his logic as he walked out of the kitchen and handed Hank a bottle of water without being asked. "Also, I can taste. While I'm cooking, I can smell and therefore taste every recipe I complete without actually needing to ingest it."

"Wait..." Hank tentatively accepted the bottle of water as he gave Connor an unsettled look. "So every time we're at a crime scene and you 'analyze' those blood samples you can... Uh..."

"Correct."

"Gross, Connor!" Genuinely disgusted by the information Hank gave Connor a nauseated look. "Why'd they program that into your system?"

"Taste allows me to properly identify foreign chemicals and toxins that I otherwise wouldn't be able to process visually. It has its drawbacks, I'll admit."

"I bet." Despite his annoyance at Connor for being a tad overprotective Hank did have to give Connor credit where credit was due. The kid definitely knew how to cook and make someone feel right at home. "I will admit that you're better in the kitchen than I am. Well, you are now that you know why humans invented something called 'oven mitts' for a reason."

"Yes." A little embarrassed by his first attempts at cooking Connor just noted the incident as another learning experience. "I do regret underestimating the heat of the metal oven rack against my artificial skin."

"Took hours for that smell to go away. Mixture of burned skin and plastic..." Opening the bottle of water Hank took a sip and gave the deviant a slightly amused stare from where he sat. "Who knew that I'd have to teach you, an adult android and skilled detective, about the oven being hot?"

"I have learned from my mistake. I won't do it again." Connor's blue L.E.D. flashed to yellow suddenly as he received an update from the pharmacy, and he responded accordingly. "Your prescription has been refilled. I'll go pick it up."

"More of those damn antibiotics?" The idea of taking more of those pills was enough to make Hank squirm where he sat. "Can't you please just forget about it?"

"I'm sorry, but you need them." The attentive deviant confirmed without backing down regarding the needed medication. "This is also your final refill."

"Good." Hank winced as his still healing chest ached a little just from him moving his arms to drink the water. Physical therapy was going to be absolutely necessary for the man's recovery. "Damn pills give me the worst insomnia I've ever had, and since I've been a detective for over twenty years that's really saying something."

"Would you like me to bring back some sleeping medication as well?"

"No! No more pills." Shaking his head at the offer Hank leaned back against the couch and looked past Connor to stare at the cabinet above the kitchen sink. "What I would like is a shot of whiskey!"

"No. You can't have any alcohol for another three months until your liver regenerates after being affected by the passing bullet." Mentioning the wound made Connor's L.E.D. flicker in red once out of his lingering guilt. Every time he even thought about it the shooting replayed in vivid detail against his will. "Not that you should be drinking at all, anyway."

Hank took another sip of the water as he studied Connor's demeanor curiously. "I think it'll take my liver longer than that to heal, but whatever. I know I can't change your mind once it's made up."

"Correct." Walking over to the front door Connor took his gray blazer from the hook and slipped it on over his arms before heading out. "I'll be back in less than one half hour."

"Why not take the car? It's not like I'm going anywhere anytime soon."

"The car has just recently been returned from the garage, and I'd hate to do anything that might damage the vehicle before you get the chance to drive it yourself."

"For the love of-" Hank was about to lose his patience with the deviant's misplaced guilt and smothering humility. "It's a fuckin' car! Cars are going to get damaged no matter what. It's what they do, that's why we have mechanics to fix 'em."

"I'll be fine walking. The pharmacy isn't far."

"Kid, it's starting to snow at night and you're only wearing that blazer. Please take the car or put on your damn leather jacket to keep warm."

"It's not necessary, and it's above freezing temperatures as of the moment." Connor again refused to take the offered car and had already set foot outside the front door stubbornly to go about his errand. "I'll be back soon."

"Con-"

As the door shut quietly Hank sighed and messed up Sumo's ears as looked down at the giant dog still sprawled over his lap.

"I don't know which of you needs obedience school more; you or Connor?"

Sumo just wagged his tail at the sound of his name and snuggled in more against Hank's legs.

"Yeah. It's definitely him. You're the good one."


The pharmacy was six blocks away from the house and it didn't take too long for Connor to reach his destination while on foot. As Connor entered the pharmacy to pick up the necessary medication on Hank's behalf, a group of three teenagers; two males and one female, watched the deviant with great interest from an alleyway across the street. Connor was too focused on retrieving the bottle of prescribed medication to pay them any attention, not that he saw teenagers or children as threats even while on the clock at the precinct. Being a detective made the deviant rather fearless when it came to humans trying to intimidate or threaten him under any circumstances. He was numb to being harassed and menaced.

Connor cybernetically paid for the prescription, as well as a box Chamomile tea that he located on a nearby shelf, and then set about for home unaware of the three teenagers creeping out of the alleyway to follow after him. With the pill bottle tucked away safely inside his jacket's pocket along with the tea, Connor crossed two blocks toward home without any problems. As he set foot on the third block, he heard the 'clink' of metal as a switchblade was unsheathed from behind him.

"Hey freak!" The oldest male of the three teenagers shouted in a threatening manner. Waving the weapon in in the air he tried to taunt Connor into fearful submission as he approached the deviant from behind. "Give me your stuff!"

Connor stopped and turned around to face the three teenage muggers as his blue L.E.D. became yellow with curiosity. "To what 'stuff' are you referring?"

"Those pills!" Using the knife he pointed at Connor's jacket pocket where he had seen Connor store the prescription. "Give us those pills!"

"This medication is an antibiotic, not a painkiller. It won't get you high."

"I said," the teenager rushed toward Connor and the deviant boldly stood his ground. "give me the pills, you plastic freak!"

Instinctively Connor grabbed onto the teenager's shirt collar with one hand and easily threw him aside before the could've used his knife. Seeing their friend knocked to the ground so quickly caused the other two teenagers to pull switchblades from their own pockets and lunge at Connor together. Again, the deviant was able to step back from the other two teenagers to evade their knives, but the first teenager had gotten back to his feet and reclaimed his dropped blade.

With great ease Connor managed to disarm the other two teenagers by grabbing their wrists and using pressure to cause their delicate wrist bones to fracture. But Connor had failed to disarm the first teenager before the teenager stabbed his knife aggressively and firmly through Connor's right forearm when Connor used his arm to protect his chest. As the deviant's yellow L.E.D. flashed to red with pain, he managed to grab on to the offending teenager's wrist and twist it with a violent jerk that caused the bones to snap entirely rather than just fracture.

Letting go of his blade the teenager fell to the sidewalk cradling his shattered wrist while his friends grabbed him by his arms and dragged him along the sidewalk away from the stronger deviant. The trio knew they couldn't take down Connor and decided to rush off to metaphorically lick their wounds.

"Shit!" Swearing loudly the ringleader of the group wisely decided to retreat and leave Connor alone. "Let's get the fuck outta' here! That thing's crazy!"

Having fended off the three muggers Connor issued a report cybernetically to the precinct with the faces of the trio as he looked down at the switchblade still sticking out of his bleeding right forearm. The damage would need to be properly cleaned and wrapped up, but it wasn't anything serious that required a technician. In time Connor's self-healing program would easily mend the damage without any complications.

"I certainly hope that the teenager who assaulted me will find the painkillers he needs at the hospital before the police arrest him and his friends. That break will require several pins to properly set."


Quite happily Sumo was laying on the kitchen floor eating a slice of the freshly baked pizza while Hank sat at the table looking through his phone for any possible remedies to cure insomnia. Specifically, the exhausted yet restless man was looking for cures that didn't involve taking more pills, exercise, or an extreme change in his diet. What information he had managed to find was less than helpful since it didn't fit his criteria, but that didn't stop him from casually scrolling through various homeopathic remedies, at least he did until he came across meditation. Never one for any mind over matter rituals or positive thinking Hank turned off his phone and pushed it aside for a moment. He'd rather put up with Connor keeping him on a strict medication regimen than sit on pillows and breathe in incense.

Leaning back in his chair Hank rubbed his palm against the healing wound in his chest and wondered when Connor would insist on changing his bandages again. There hadn't been any sign of infection since Hank's surgery, but that didn't keep Connor from worrying about Hank's recovery all the same.

"We've been on this planet for billions of years, yet no one can figure out the damn secret to a good night's sleep. Go figure."

Hank grumbled to himself as he picked at the slice of pizza on his plate. The toppings were chosen specifically based on Hank's person taste preferences which meant the offered meal was too irresistible to the healing detective to turn away. The first bite was all it took for Hank to want to finish off the entire pizza in one sitting, but he'd never admit it to Connor since he knew Connor would continue to smother him in kindness.

"How can someone who never eats have such a skill in the kitchen? Must be an android thing."

The front door opened slowly as Connor returned home at last and took the pill bottle out of his jacket pocket for Hank to see. "I have your prescription."

"I appreciate you doing that, but I don't-" Hank's eyes fell from the pill bottle in Connor's outstretched hand and immediately locked in place as he saw the bloody switchblade sticking out of Connor's still bleeding forearm. "Connor... What the fuck is that?"

Following Hank's gaze to his affected limb Connor replied honestly and casually. "A switchblade."

"I can see that." The senior detective sounded annoyed by Connor's indifference to his own injury. "I mean why the fuck is it stuck in your arm?"

"I was jumped while returning from the pharmacy." Removing his blazer from around the blade without jostling it in his arm, Connor hung the garment up on the hook by the front door like normal. "Three teenagers must've thought the medication I was carrying could get them high. They demanded that I hand it over, and when I refused they tried to intimidate me with switchblades. As you can see it did not work."

"Ah, Jeez..." Hank rose from the table and stood before Connor in the livingroom. Carefully he took Connor's damaged right forearm and held it between his hands to inspect the wound for himself. "Let me see."

"It's not serious. The blade passed clean through the plastimetal frame, but no major lines have been severed."

"Uh-huh, but you're bleeding in my house, and you have a blade stabbed into your forearm." Emphasizing his words very carefully Hank let Connor know that he wasn't going to just let the matter of the deviant being stabbed go. "That's serious to me."

Not wanting to stress Hank out by mistake, Connor relented and allowed the senior detective to examine his injury. "Very well. The first aid kit provided by New Jericho will be more than effective at remedying my injury. I can take care of it in a moment."

"Yeah, yeah." Hank wasn't about to stand aside and let Connor tend to his own wounds after Connor had been fussing over him for almost two weeks. "Sit down in the kitchen and I'll get the kit."

"There's no need. I can-"

"Connor." Pointing to the vacant kitchen table Hank used the 'dad voice' to get the deviant to cooperate while he walked into the bathroom. "Sit down."

Unwilling to upset the senior detective during his recovery Connor obeyed Hank's instructions and stepped over Sumo to get to the kitchen table to take his seat. As he sat down at the kitchen table and propped his right arm upward on his elbow, Connor looked down at Sumo on the floor and saw what he was energetically eating.

"It's not wise for a dog to consume food intended for a human."

"Sumo can handle anything!" Hank replied as he returned to the kitchen with the necessary kit in his hands. "Besides, it's not exactly 'wise' for an android to walk around with a weapon embedded in his body, but here you are." The jaded senior detective placed the android first kit down on the table as he looked at the switchblade stabbed into Connor's forearm. Holding his breath Hank took a firm grip of the handle and locked eyes with Connor. "Ready?"

Nodding once Connor help his breath and trusted Hank to remove the blade. "Ready."

"One, two-" Hank successfully pulled the blade out with a swift yank on the silent 'three' that made Connor wince in response. "Sorry about that."

Connor gritted his teeth and let out a sigh as the wound bled even more and his L.E.D. flashed to red before settling on yellow. "...I-It's okay."

"All right. So, I pour this stuff over the wound?" Hank asked as he picked up a transparent bottle containing an orange tinted liquid. "It's like an android antiseptic, right?"

"Correct."

"Okay. Sounds easy enough." With a simple twist Hank uncapped the bottle and drenched the wound in the liquid as he tightened his grip around Connor's forearm as the wounded deviant tried to pull his limb back out of a pained reflex. "Don't move, I need to clean the damage."

"...Sorry."

"Don't be sorry, just hold still. And... Done." The liquid removed the lingering blue blood from around the wound and cleared any foreign debris from within the wound just as easily. "Now what do I do?"

"Wrap the wound in the supplied gauze." Directing Hank accordingly Connor scanned over his forearm to confirm that it was sterilized properly. "It'll prevent external debris from entering the damage site until my artificial skin can heal and regenerate on its own and cover the fractured plastimetal."

"Right." Hank did as he was instructed and wrapped up Connor's right forearm carefully under the protective white bandages from wrist to elbow. "Just so you know, you don't owe me anything over what had happened. I don't blame you and I never did, okay?"

Connor nodded slightly as he watched Hank wrapping up his injured forearm with a surprising gentleness. "Okay."

"No more cleaning the house, doing chores or slaving away in the kitchen. Understood?"

"...Yes." Connor looked away from his damaged forearm and to the floor as if he had just been scolded. "I won't do anything that you don't want me to do anymore."

"Please, don't do that. You're not annoying me or anything, you just need to stop beating yourself up." Hank could sense that Connor was still upset about the entire situation despite having done nothing wrong. Even though he wanted some space, Hank decided to give the deviant an excuse to keep hovering over him for just a bit longer. "But if you're feeling up to it, I do have a favor to ask."

"A favor?" The idea made Connor's eyes light up as he returned his focus to Hank. Anything to make amends sounded good. "Name it."

"Find a cure to insomnia."

Connor's L.E.D. blinked from a distressed yellow back to a calm blue as a sly grin appeared on his face. "Chamomile tea."

"Tea?" Hank gave Connor an incredulous glance as he finished wrapping up Connor's forearm and put the remaining supplies back into the kit to be stored properly under the bathroom sink. "You're sure about that?"

"Yes." Leaving the kitchen table Connor held his arm to his chest while he walked into the livingroom and reached into his blazer's pocket to present the box containing chamomile teabags that he picked up while at the pharmacy. "I recently purchased such a tea while I was picking up your prescription."

"Seriously?" Hank looked at the box in Connor's grip and flashed him an amused smirk from where he sat at the kitchen table. "Why do I get the feeling that you were going to offer me that no matter what I said or asked for?"

"Because you're a skilled detective."

"Smartass."

"I can prepare you the appropriate amount of tea to ensure that you rest properly tonight." Returning to the kitchen Connor placed the box of teabags down on the counter next to the stove and pulled the kettle from the back burner to fill with fresh water in the tap. "It'll only need ten minutes to properly steep and you can drink it while taking your next dose of antibiotics."

"All right." Ready to try anything to get some sleep and to make Connor feel better, Hank relented and agreed to a warm cup of tea. "At this point, I'll try just about anything to finally get some sleep."

"You could also attempt yoga to relax your body and improve your blood circulation."

"I said I'd try just about anything. Yoga is not one of those anythings." Hank immediately responded as he gave Connor a terse glare that confirmed he wasn't joking, and that he wasn't even going to try to humor the deviant detective. "If the tea doesn't work, then you owe me a shot of whiskey or an entire beer. No argument."

"Considering what we've been through, I see no reason to object to such an arrangement."

-next chapter-