Winter was hanging over the entire city and quickly dumping snow, ice and harsh blistering winds all over Detroit. Tossing a warm, red plaid scarf around his neck Hank stood by the front door as he slipped on his heavy black overcoat up over his arms to his shoulders to prepare for the icy weather waiting for him on the other side of the door. Turning up his coat's collar to shield his throat and ears even further from the intense cold, the senior detective looked back at the old couch where Connor was sitting idle in a black t-shirt and jeans with Sumo's chin resting over his lap and his coin sitting still on the back of his hand. By all account Connor seemed to be alert and resting comfortably.

The deviant was still recovering from the bomb blast the day prior and was thoroughly exhausted as he body continued to heal. Although Connor wasn't complaining about any pain or even the mildest of discomfort Hank knew that Connor was still sore thanks to his deviancy allowing him to feel pain to its fullest extent.

"I shouldn't be more than an hour, but I still hate to leave you alone when you're still recovering."

Hank lamented as he pulled his phone out of his pocket to re-read the message sent to him that morning by Captain Fowler. They had a lead on a previous case that needed to be followed before the trail went cold.

"If Chris is right, and the nut-job who put the bomb in the office building was also the one who left the bomb at the precinct two months ago, then we need to get all the details straight to keep him behind bars for life."

Connor turned his head to look at Hank over his shoulder as he sat on the couch with his hand resting on Sumo's fuzzy head. "I'll be okay, by myself. I'm fine."

"I can see it in your eyes." Doubting the comment Hank slipped his phone back into his pocket out of sight. "You're still in some pain, so don't try to deny it."

"That is true, I am still healing." Gently pushing Sumo aside Connor stood up slowly with his hand reflexively pressing against his abdomen while his other hand slipped the coin back into his pocket. The gesture was meant to show Hank that he was strong enough to move about under his own power, but the effort only needlessly strained his damaged systems as they struggled to fully heal. "H-However, I'm not in any danger."

"Is that why your L.E.D. blinks yellow for a few seconds every time you move?" With a keen eye Hank indicated to the light in Connor's temple. "Don't think I haven't noticed that."

A little embarrassed Connor put his hand over the L.E.D. to try to hide it. "My systems are still recalibrating, it's a normal reaction." Restraining a grimace of discomfort the stubborn deviant refused to admit that he was experiencing tremendous physical discomfort welling up in his stomach. "I assure you that I will be all right on my own for a few hours."

"Uh-huh..."

"I'm fine. I may not feel... optimal right now," the clever deviant detective chose his words very carefully as he tried to convince Hank to let him be. "but I'm not in critical condition."

"Yeah, okay. Whatever you say, kid." Hank pulled open the front door and braced himself against the cold winter wind that gusted throughout the city and viciously up against his person. Winters in Michigan were never pleasant to experience. "Try to take it easy while I'm out. I'll call you if anything important happens at the precinct."

"Okay." Wanting to reassure Hank that he wasn't in any danger Connor promised to stay out of the cold and where it was safe. "I won't leave the house and I'll rest."

"Right."

Connor watched as Hank stepped through the front door and into the late winter snow. As soon as the senior detective was out of sight Connor pressed his hand more firmly against his abdomen and nearly doubled over where he stood. Placing his other hand on the nearby coffee table Connor lowered himself slowly to the ground and knelt on the hardwood floor as Sumo worriedly pressed his cold wet nose against Connor's arm as if he needed to check on his deviant master.

"...I'm okay, boy."

Needing to ease Sumo's worries Connor managed to state the lie through his gritted teeth as the dog began to whimper. Sumo was clearly sensing the deviant's pain and wasn't going to back away on his own. Pulling his trembling hand from the table he gently pet Sumo's back in a comforting manner.

"L-Let's go outside. Once you've been taken care of, I'll be able to r-rest easier."

Forcing himself to stand upright very slowly and carefully Connor regained his balance before he began walking toward the kitchen to reach the backdoor. Sumo followed behind closely at Connor's heels while the deviant used the surrounding furniture and walls to guide him into the kitchen to open the door for the dog to pass through. A blast of cold air washed over Connor's face and the fatigued deviant leaned into it as if he found the sudden chill surprisingly soothing.

Stepping outside Connor stood on the snowy, small stoop just outside the backdoor while Sumo passed by his legs to wander through the backyard. The dog began to roll about in the snow for a while before he actually took care of his business for the night. The only one in the house who actually enjoyed winter was the St. Bernard with the thick fur coat.

The same discomfort that he had been feeling intermittently in his torso all afternoon flared up and caused Connor to wrap his arms tightly over his abdomen again as he pressed his back against the side of the house. He slid down until he was sitting on the concrete step and pulled his knees up to his chest.

Unsure of what was happening to himself the wounded deviant ran a self-diagnostic that resulted in an error message regarding his current Thirium volume. The massive Thirium replenishment required to save his life during the extensive repairs he had undergone barely twenty-four hours prior had caused his systems, specifically his self-healing program, to have a negative reaction to such an abundance of physical trauma in such a small window of time.

Though his systems were in fact stable the physical strain of enduring numerous procedures had caused his system to steadily overheat. One of the solutions to his overheating system was to breathe deeply to cool his internal core temperature courtesy of his ventilation biocomponents - his artificial lungs. A second, and arguably more effective method to cool his core temperature, was to consume chilled Thirium to internally cool off Connor's system from the inside out. A third solution was to use external cooling measures such as ice pack or cool baths to bring down his temperature at a slower rate.

At the moment, none of the options seemed particularly appealing to the suffering deviant detective.

"Shit."

Connor openly swore as he finally realized what was happening. Keeping his legs pulled up to his chest Connor laid his forehead down against his knees and sighed somberly to himself.

"...Why am I s-suffering another malfunction?"

The cold winter air swirled around the deviant, dotting the locks of his dark hair with several crystal white snowflakes that clung to each strand delicately. The cool air felt nice against his overheating body, but it still wasn't enough to ease his pain.

Sumo returned from the snowy yard and sat in front of Connor as he let out another sympathetic whimper for the sick deviant. As Connor allowed the icy cold wind to circle around him, he remained quiet where he sat, systematically ignoring and dismissing the numerous warnings about his rising core temperature as well as the dropping external temperature of the outside world.

"...I think I might be broken."


The Lieutenant's errand had been finished. With the previously cold case revolving around the enigmatic dufflebag filled with a canister of android-exclusive poison finally closed, Hank returned home after three long, boring hours in a pissy mood. The unexpected overtime left him exhausted and eager to return home. It had taken much longer to file the report against the sadistic bomber than he had anticipated, which meant Connor was left completely alone for an uncomfortably long period of time. From the precinct Hank had tried to text Connor to inform him of the situation as it happened in real time, but the only cybernetic response he got from the recovering deviant was a vague 'I understand', and nothing more after that.

Driving down the street toward the house Hank had caught sight of Sumo sitting by the backdoor staring intently at something. A thin layer of white snow covered Sumo's brown pelt under a fresh coating of natural ice. Such a layer showed that he had been sitting in the same place for an extended period of time. In the past Connor never left Sumo outside long enough to get cold, and it was very unusual to see the dog in such a state.

Every one of Hank's deeply seated paternal instincts told him that something was very wrong.

"Sumo?"

Hank called the dog's name as he parked the car in the driveway beside the house and opened his door. It was only after Hank had stepped out of the vehicle and approached the backdoor of the house did he see Connor sitting on the back step with his entire body covered under a thin layer of snow just like Sumo. The deviant wasn't moving.

"Connor?"

Connor never looked up as he heard the car door slam shut, heard Hank's voice calling out to him, and eventually felt Hank's warm right hand lightly pressing down against his trembling shoulder. Such a sensation caused Connor to jump for a moment.

"What's the matter?"

Curiously Hank removed his hand from Connor's shoulder as the heat radiating from the deviant's body felt much hotter than normal. The snow landing directly on Connor's artificial skin of his exposed forearms and hands was melting fairly quickly compared to the snow resting on his hair or clothing. Hank wisely pressed the back of his hand against Connor's cheek and alarm bells went off in his head.

"You feel like you're running a fever. Damn it..." Figuring out the problem fairly quickly Hank sighed and crouched down in front of the deviant. "You're overheating, aren't you?"

"...I'm fine." Connor muttered as he slowly lifted his head to look at Hank with his glassy brown eyes. As his L.E.D. slowly cycled yellow the horrible feeling in his artificial stomach returned causing him to bow his head back down against his knees. "...I'm not in danger."

"Nope. You need to see a technician. You're sick."

"I'm n-not sick. And I don't w-want to go anywhere." The pathetic tone of Connor's voice was almost frightening. "Please, don't make me go anywhere. P-Please?"

"All right." Not wanting to argue or upset the deviant while he was in such rough shape Hank was willing to negotiate a little. "How about we at least get you back inside? It's freezing out here and I don't want your skin getting damaged or your Thirium freezing up from being exposed to the cold."

"I f-feel better out here." Again, Connor mumbled as he kept his head and face buried against his knees. "It's c-colder here than inside."

"Yup, you're definitely overheating then." With a firm grip Hank grabbed on to Connor's upper arm and draped the limb around his shoulders as he coaxed Connor into standing up. The ill deviant wasn't heavy, but his height and lack of strength made the effort more troublesome than Hank was expecting. "I'll help you get inside."

"No. I don't want to move." Connor weakly protested as Hank wrapped his arm around Connor's waist to support him upright. "I just want to sit down."

"Sorry, but I can't let you sit outside all night. You'll freeze to death." Opening the back door Hank stepped inside with Connor at his side and called for Sumo to follow in after them. "Sumo, come! We're all done with the snow for tonight."

The large dog happily walked back inside after his two masters, and he shook off his snow covered fur all over the linoleum floor before strolling into the livingroom to lay down on his pillow up against the far corner of the room. As the massive dog took his spot on the floor he watched the two detectives with his big brown eyes with a sympathetic interest.

"How long were you out there?" Hank asked as he guided Connor through the kitchen carefully and toward the livingroom to rest. "You and Sumo were both covered in snow and it's not snowing that hard."

"Not long..." The deviant whispered in a fatigued manner. "Shortly a-after you left."

"Connor, that was three fuckin' hours ago."

"O-Oh. I apparently lost track of time." Stopping suddenly Connor wrapped both of his arm protectively around his abdomen and let out a weak coughing sound. As he balanced with his free hand against the back of the couch he grimaced and closed his pained eyes while he tried to understand the strange pressure welling up in his artificial stomach. "I am experiencing some... discomfort."

"Where are you hurting?"

"Hank?" Connor's brown eyes opened slowly and he gave the senior detective holding him upright by his right bicep a pleading look. "...It's my stomach. It h-hurts. It feels... pressurized. It's reminiscent of wh-when... I had the android-flu."

"Shit, okay this way!"

Reacting quickly Hank practically dragged Connor down the hallway and into the bathroom as he had a hunch as to what was about to happen. As he guided Connor down to his knees in front of the toilet the deviant let out another coughing sound and his yellow L.E.D. flashed to red. The stubborn deviant refused to give way to his nausea and let himself be as miserable as he felt.

"Connor, if you need to throw-up, you have to let it out. You'll make yourself worse if you don't let yourself be sick."

Stubbornly Connor's breathed rapidly between his clenched teeth as he fought to speak against his nausea.

"Kid?" Patiently Hank waited for Connor to do what he needed to do. "What's up?"

"I do not wish to... throw-up. "As his shoulders suddenly tensed up, he coughed again, and Hank pressed his palm against the middle of the deviant's too warm back to try to support him. "D-Don't like being sick."

"I get the feeling you don't have a choice in this. It's okay to be sick, son."

As the emergency expulsion program activated against his will Connor felt his already sore artificial stomach cramp and a sudden rush of Thirium escaped his mouth in a violent torrent of dark blue. Coughing as the Thirium filled his mouth Connor allowed himself to throw-up at last and he spit as much of the escaped blue blood out of his mouth and into the bowl with a sense of waste and frustration.

Hank turned to the sink behind him and ran a clean washcloth under the warm tap. As soon as Connor began to throw-up as his paternal instincts told Hank to try to comfort the sick deviant. The sound of Connor gagging on the Thirium being expelled from his system sounded more like a human enduring a nasty bout of food poisoning rather than a machine experiencing an unfortunate malfunction.

Coughing one last time Connor spit the residual blue blood from his mouth into the toilet and slowly fell to his side and pressed the back of his arm against his mouth in disgust. He looked as miserable as he felt.

Casually Hank wrung out the excess water from the washcloth and knelt in front of Connor as he gently pushed Connor's arm away from his blue stained mouth. Using the washcloth Hank wiped away the excess blue blood and artificial saliva staining Connor's lips and his chin without flinching at the sick deviant's appearance.

"Feel better?"

"...No." Connor confessed with a slight shake of his head as he breathed deeply and slowly to keep his core temperature down. "My stomach still hurts."

"You had a major emergency procedure on the biocomponents on your abdomen." Hank replied as if it were the most natural thing in the world. The Lieutenant was aware of the painful recovery period that always followed major internal procedures. "Like any other living creature undergoing major abdominal surgery, you're probably going to be sore for a few more days."

"I don't like it. This... feeling." As he spoke Connor rubbed his palm over his abdomen as the ache persisted. "It's very disconcerting and distracting."

"No one likes feeling sick." Tossing the now blue stained washcloth on to the sink over his shoulder Hank helped Connor back to his feet by carefully pulling on the deviant's arm again. There was still an intense heat radiating from Connor's being and Hank didn't like it one bit. "Lay down on the couch. As long as you lay still that should keep you from throwing-up again."

"'Should'?" The lack of certainty was less than comforting to the sick deviant's mind. "What do you mean by 'should'?"

"It's no guarantee, but it does help to lay still after being sick."

"...I see. That did seem to be accurate after I had endured my android-flu."

Ignoring the full weight pressing against his still sore back Hank let Connor lean against his arm as he guided the sick deviant out of the bathroom, down the hallway and over to the couch in the livingroom. With a controlled strength Hank helped Connor to lay down on his back very gingerly over the expanse of the furniture to stretch out his legs and his back appropriately.

"Take it easy." Returning his hand to Connor's forehead out of curiosity Hank let out an annoyed sigh at what his palm felt. "If you were human, I'd recommend taking something to bring your fever down, but that won't work for you, will it?"

"...No." Connor confirmed as Hank retracted his hand from his forehead. "And as an android I'm not suffering from a fever, I'm overheating. We've discussed this before."

"When an android overheats that means their entire body temperature is running hotter than normal, right?"

"Correct."

"And when a human's body temperature is running hotter than normal it means they have a fever, right?"

There was marked suspicion in Connor's voice and gaze as he responded to the question honestly. "...Correct."

"So, arguably you do in fact have a fever since you're overheating, right?"

"I- Correct." Connor sighed and closed his exhausted eyes as the unusual question seemed to make his head hurt. Unable to argue logic over simplification, the ill deviant admitted defeat for the moment. "By that reasoning then I must admit that I am not malfunctioning, but I am in fact sick."

"I knew it." Feeling victorious Hank laughed a little as he walked back down the hall into the bathroom once more. "How high is your fever?"

"...Unknown. I cannot run a self-diagnostic to confirm my current core temperature."

"Fine." The man began rummaging through the medicine cabinet in the bathroom as he spoke. "Then we'll do this another way."

Waiting for Hank to return to the livingroom Connor breathed deeply and slowly in an attempt to cool off his overheating internal systems. The strain of registering, recognizing, and recalibrating the replacement and repaired biocomponents made it a nearly impossible task to accomplish.

Quietly Hank returned from the bathroom with a dark blue mop empty bucket in one hand and a digital thermometer, as well as another damp cool washcloth, in the other. Sitting the bucket down on the floor between the couch and the coffee table Hank laid the cool washcloth over Connor's forehead gently and smoothed it out over Connor's brow.

"Keep that there, it'll help bring your temperature down." Turning on the thermometer Hank motioned for Connor to open his mouth. "Put this under your tongue. It'll get you a temperature reading. I think. I've never tried this with an android before."

Slowly Connor's eyes opened as he looked up at white fabric of the compress on his forehead just on the edge of his vision. The sick deviant then looked up at Hank leaning over the back of the couch waiting for him to cooperate. The coolness of the compress was soothing to his overheating form, and it did make Connor feel as though his core temperature was beginning to drop even if his self-diagnostic wasn't functioning properly enough to confirm such a feat.

"Come on, kid." Waving the thermometer back and forth, Hank tried to gently urge Connor to use the device to aid in his recovery. "Humor me."

Reaching up for the thermometer Connor did as he was instructed and put the device between his teeth and under his tongue.

"Wait until it 'beeps'." The senior detective suggested as he continued to lean over the back of the old furniture. "Your normal body temperature is that of a human, right?"

Nodding in favor of speaking Connor confirmed the question as a 'yes'.

"Good. That'll give me an idea of how sick you really are." Ten seconds passed before the digital device 'beeped', and once it did Hank took it out from between Connor's teeth readily. "One-hundred and two even. Damn. You're definitely sick."

"...I will attempt to correct this unfortunate malfunction as quickly as possible."

"Relax, kid. You'll heal when you heal. Until then, what can I do to help?"

Thinking about the offer for a moment Connor asked for a single thing. "...I could use some additional Thirium."

"Sure, no problem."

Walking into the kitchen Hank reached into the cupboards above the sink to retrieve a bottle of spare Thirium and promptly returned to the couch where Connor was laying perfectly still. Handing the bottle down to the sick deviant Hank patted Connor's shoulder before walking over to the front door casually to remove his coat, scarf and shoes.

Drinking a small amount of the Thirium to ensure he didn't throw-up a second time Connor looked to Hank hanging up his coat by the front door and called out to him in a tired voice from where he was laying.

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me." The senior detective and paternal figure requested as he slipped off his shoes. "Just get better."

"I'm attempting to do so." Exhausted, Connor sighed and closed his eyes as his L.E.D. finally cycled from a pained red and back to yellow as he relaxed. "Believe me, I am trying very hard to heal as quickly as possible."

"Don't worry about it, son. I'll take care of you until you're feeling one-hundred percent again." Sounding as casual as ever Hank sat down in the recliner a few feet from the couch to rest his back and watch over the ill deviant. "Getting sick happens to everyone. Hell, it happened to me, and you helped me out without even hesitating to step up."

Sumo yawned as he rose from his pillow and walked over to the space between the couch and coffee table to rest his chin next to Connor's arm. The massive dog pushed the empty mop bucket aside in the process as he sat down. Sensing that Connor wasn't well, Sumo wanted to do his part to help the deviant feel a little better.

"Good boy, Sumo." Briefly Connor glanced over at Hank sitting in the recliner and let out a warm sigh as his core temperature remained warmer than normal. "I apologize if this causes you any hindrances to your normal routine."

"I'm fine." As Hank turned on the television to watch the news his blue eyes drifted back over to Connor and a faint smirk appeared on his face. "Get some rest. I'll make sure you don't overheat any higher, or let anything else happen to ya' while you're sleeping."

"...I really do appreciate your help."

"I know you do." Hank wasn't one to seek recognition, he merely wanted to do the right thing by the people he cared about. "Just sleep for now and you'll feel better soon enough."

It had been a very long time since Hank found himself genuinely concerned for someone under his care. That was until Connor was assigned to him as his new partner almost a year ago. It had also been the first time in far too long since Hank let anyone get close enough to him since Cole's death, and his prematurely ended marriage, that he could call them a friend.

Maybe even his family...

"I'll be right here when you wake up, son." Folding his hands neatly atop his chest Hank looked over at Connor as the deviant's brown eyes slipped shut and he entered rest mode for the night earlier than usual. "That asshole who blew up the building yesterday was the same asshole who planted the dufflebag with the poison in the precinct, and now he's going to rot behind bars while the rest of us go about our lives free and a little bit safer."

"Good." Responding in a whisper Connor fell into rest mode without any further sign of distress as he felt far more at ease and safe where he was laying with his friend watching over him. "That's good news."

"Yup." The Lieutenant agreed wholeheartedly with the simple response as he too settled in for the night. Winter was just beginning, and it'd be nice to have it pass by without too much trouble for the detectives. "It's about damn time, too."

-next chapter-