The long grueling day at the precinct had come to a merciful end for the two detectives. Following Hank into the house after an exhausting day at the precinct, Connor found himself somewhat distracted by the perpetual ache in his head that his self-diagnostic program couldn't properly identify. Said ache had seemingly permanently dyed his blue L.E.D. a deep shade of amber yellow. As the day went on the dull ache that had accompanied him as he awoke from rest mode became steadily more intense and his visual sensors became suddenly sensitive to brighter lights. It seemed that even certain sounds would cause the deviant detective to experience bouts of unexplainable pain throughout the day and it was undeniably distracting. The worst part was when it felt like his gyroscope was malfunctioning and causing him an intense, unexplainable nausea that made his symptoms practically unbearable.

Doing his best to appear as normal as possible, Connor didn't once complain about his discomfort and managed to handle all of his necessary paperwork on time without any complications along the way. Thankfully the day was long and boring instead of being long and eventful. Such high stress activity would've surely knocked the deviant down from just the pain alone.

"I need a shower." Hank tiredly announced as he shrugged off his coat and hung it on the hook by the front door and kicked off his shoes. The spring thaw was around the corner and gave the city a calm aura of seasonal changes. "I smell like the interrogation room and idiot-sweat. Let Sumo out for a few minutes for me, okay?"

"Y-Yeah." Pausing for a moment Connor briefly pressed his hand over his eyes then dropped his hand back down to his side as he answered. "...Okay."

As pained and distracted as he was Connor almost tripped over Hank's shoes as he passed through the front door but caught his balance without any problem as he used his hand to balance against the wall. Sumo of course ran up to Connor wanting his ears rubbed and Connor obliged for a few minutes before opening the door wider to let the dog outside for a few minutes.

"Thanks, kid." Just hearing the door open and shut and not actually seeing Connor doing anything, Hank went about his own routine as usual as he headed down the hallway to get in to a nice hot shower in the privacy of the bathroom. "It's your turn to pick the movie tonight too. Find something while I'm in the shower."

"...Okay."

Sitting down on the couch very slowly Connor ran another self-diagnostic in an attempt to finally identify why he was experiencing such odd reactions to his overall senses and to get some answers. Closing his pained eyes Connor felt a modicum of relief as the overhead livingroom light was shut out for a moment, and his L.E.D. flashed from yellow to red. Soon he heard every sound in the house as if each little noise had its own unique volume enhanced to an obnoxiously high level just for the sake of annoying him.

The sound of the shower running in the bathroom, the sounds of cars driving down the street, even the patter of Sumo's nails on the front walk seemed to be resonating at an impossibly high decibel to the seemingly malfunctioning deviant. The most distracting sound came in the form of his own Thirium pump; his heart, pounding in his chest hard enough that it echoed in his ears.

Stranger still, Connor was suddenly aware of every scent in the air. The fresh spring rain building in the clouds outside, Sumo's thick fur strands all over the furniture and floor all around him, and even the lingering smell of the precinct had indeed clung to his clothing just as Hank had stated earlier. Only now the odor was making Connor feel nauseated again and his artificial stomach threatened to betray him at any moment.

Even the touch of the fabric against his body was somehow uncomfortable to the deviant's artificial skin under his palms. The light blazer resting atop his shirt and against the back of his neck was the most aggravating. Every fiber on the beige couch cushion felt soft and abrasive at the same time. Every single strand of Sumo's loose fur felt like needles digging into his artificial skin.

Lifting up his hands from the couch Connor curled his fingers into tight fists and let them rest atop his lap and away from the strangely overwhelming furniture to avoid further discomfort. The effort did very little to ease his misery as his head continued to pound, his stomach churned, and the air began to feel like it was crushing down on him.

The fourth self-diagnostic of the day finally ended and highlighted an unusual error in Connor's software regarding his Thirium pressure. A minor glitch had caused an unnecessary spike in the amount of Thirium volume that was usually reserved for when he needed to run analysis samples gathering in his cranium. Without the analysis program actually functioning for nearly a full week, the collected additional Thirium had nowhere else to go and just started to collect in his intracranial processors causing a tremendous pressure to build inside of his head.

"...Wh-Why is this happening?"

Shrugging off his gray blazer Connor tossed it to the back of the couch and leaned forward, resting his face into the palms of his hands and his elbows against his knees. Connor let out a deep, breathy sigh of frustration as he tried to understand what was happening to him. Time seemed to slow down and race by all at once as Connor endured the relentless pain mounting in his head while the rest of his body felt uncomfortable all over.

It wasn't until a cold wet nose firmly pressed against his hand did Connor bother to sit upright, only to flinch in pain and put both of his hands against the sides of his head to try to keep the pain from becoming relentless.

"...S-Sumo? How'd you- Ow."

"Connor?" Hank had finished his shower and let Sumo back inside the house, but somehow Connor never noticed or heard a thing. "You okay? Your light thingy is red."

The deviant detective didn't answer despite hearing the simple question. He wasn't sure how to answer. He was in pain, but he didn't know what had caused it or how to make it stop.

"Hey, Connor?" Lightly Hank put his hand on Connor's arm only to flinch and retract his palm when Connor suddenly jerked away. "Whoa! Something wrong?"

"...M-My head." Connor whispered pathetically as he refused to open his eyes. The deviant was convinced that if he opened his eyes that the light would absolutely blind him and cause exquisite pain that he'd never be able to endure. "It... It hurts. Too much pressure. The pressure... is too much. It's hurting... my head. Hurting it... on the inside."

"I thought something was bothering you all day." Standing back Hank lowered his voice to a whisper as he watched Connor struggling to comprehend what he was feeling. "Why didn't you say anything before?"

"Because I don't know what to say." It was hard to describe a pain and sense of being physically overwhelemed that he had never felt before. "I... I still don't know what's wrong with me."

"Headache?"

"I don't know. I've never had a... headache before."

"Describe what's happening to you."

"It's... difficult to explain." Connor tried to open his eyes to look at Hank but immediately shut them again as the light was proving too painful for him to withstand just as he had feared it would. "...There's a strong pain in my cranium and everything seems to hurt my eyes, my ears, my stomach. Even my blazer and the couch felt abrasive to the touch."

"Oh, okay." Hank got a somewhat amused look on his face as he instinctively lowered his voice even further to help ease Connor's sensitive ears. "Good thing I know you, otherwise I'd say you're suffering from a hangover."

"Hank?" The distress deviant was losing patience and was beginning to breathe rapidly in pain. "Do... you know what's wrong with me?"

"I think you, my deviant friend," the experienced Lieutenant stated in a somewhat confident voice as he hovered over Connor sitting on the couch. "are suffering from what we humans call a migraine."

"...M-Migraine?

"Never had one myself but, I've seen plenty of other officers get taken down by them in the past. I know they're a bitch to handle and they seem to rival hangovers."

"What do I-" Trying to keep himself from worsening his condition Connor paused and took in a deep breath again to quell the nausea welling in the pit of his artificial stomach. "...How do I make it stop?"

"From what I've seen the only thing you can do is wait it out and try to sleep as much as possible." Hank resisted his paternal instincts of putting his hand on Connor's shoulder again in case his touch caused the ailing deviant to react painfully again. Taking a step back from the couch Hank gave Connor some space and help him feel less overwhelmed. "Why don't you go lay down in my bedroom? It's darker in there than it is out here, and you can close the door to keep Sumo from bothering you while you sleep."

"But I-" Connor tried to open his eyes again, but it was still too painful to endure such a simple act. "I... I can't intrude on your personal space."

"It's not intruding if you're invited." Hank reminded Connor with an almost sing-songy lilt to his voice. "And you're sick. You've spent enough time being laid-up on the couch whenever you've been knocked on your ass, so it's about time you had a proper bed to sleep in while you're miserable."

"I... I'm not sure if I can move. Everything just... It's too much for me."

"Come with me, I'll help you." Keeping his motions careful and deliberate Hank slowly put his hand on Connor's arm to urge Connor to stand up without causing any physical distress in the process. Motioning for Connor to walk around the couch and step over Sumo without tripping Hank escorted his unexpectedly ill friend down the hallway to rest. "Try to sleep for just a few hours. That'll at least give you some respite from the pain."

Resisting the urge to pull away from Hank's hand Connor allowed the senior detective to guide him away from the couch and down the hallway to the bedroom at the end of the corridor. Connor kept his eyes closed and trusted Hank to guide him to where he needed to go.

"...Will this work?"

"Only one way to find out." Hank replied curtly but softly as he all but pushed Connor into the dark, cool bedroom and toward the warm, soft bed. The king size mattress had kept Hank plenty comfortable even when he felt like death warmed over. "You'll tell me when you wake up in a few hours."

"How-" Connor stumbled a little bit as he found his way to the bed and clumsily laid down on his side. It was the first time Connor had a bed to lay down in since he was assigned the small private quarters at the top floor of CyberLife Tower. It was nice to have a private space, even if it was only temporary. "...How long is a few hours?"

"Try to aim for at least six. Let me know how you feel." Lightly Hank pressed the back of his hand to the side of Connor's neck and was relieved to know that Connor wasn't overheating again. Grabbing on to the knot of Connor's black tie Hank loosened the garment and took it away from the deviant's neck so Connor could be more comfortable as he slept. "I'll get you a cold washcloth. That usually helps with headaches, so maybe it'll help your migraine too."

"I'll try anything." Pressing his hand over his closed eyes Connor to block out every speck of light as he fought to get some rest. "...This is awful."

"Man, you must feel like shit. You're actually admitting that you're sick."

Chuckling a little Hank went into the neighboring bathroom, placed a clean white washcloth under the cool tap in the sink and wrung out the excess water before he carried it back into the bedroom and smoothed it out over Connor's forehead and over his closed eyes. The simple gesture and act of kindness were all that Hank could do to help his friend feel better.

"Leave it there, it'll help block out more of the light and spare you some pain."

"...Okay."

"Take it easy and don't move around too much." Hank urged in an understand manner. "You should feel a lot better once your headache lets up."

"...I will attempt to do so. My self-healing program should... correct the pressure imbalance as I rest."

"Good. I'll be out in the livingroom with Sumo if you need anything."

"Hey, Hank?" Connor's voice sounded weak and tired but alert all the same. "Wait a moment, please."

"Yeah?" The senior detective stopped just outside the bedroom door before he closed it behind himself. "What's up?"

"...Thank you."

"Sure, no problem." A proud smirk appeared on Hank's face as he realized that Connor really did trust him. It took some time to earn, but Connor trusted Hank with his wellbeing and his life. "Sleep for now, and you should feel better when you wake up."

Turning his head slightly Connor partially buried his face in the thick pillow and entered rest mode fairly quickly as the pain of the day exhausted his body as well as his mind. The red L.E.D. became yellow and pulsed slowly in tandem with his slowing heartbeat.

Hank quietly shut the door behind himself as he took a few silent steps back down the hallway to get to the livingroom and let Connor sleep. Passing by Cole's old bedroom door - a door that had been left shut for far too long - Hank stopped and stared it for a moment as a strange idea popped into head and another faint grin appeared on his face as he continued walking into the livingroom to go about his own business as quietly as possible.

Sitting down on the center of the worn-out couch Hank called over Sumo and was met with the massive dog pressing his chin down on top of his knee seeking attention.

"Hey, Sumo. Have a good day today?"

Rubbing the massive dog's ears Hank smirked to himself and decided that it was time to offer Connor more than just the hall closet for his extra clothes and a couch to crash on every night. The deviant deserved far more than just a few spots in the entire house to call his own.

"How'd you like your old spot on the couch back?"

-next chapter-