Keeping his gun drawn before himself Connor crept through the dark multi-floor parking garage in pursuit of the fleeing suspect who had been linked to a dangerous 'red ice' dealer in the heart of the city. Hank, also in pursuit, was creeping between the cars one floor below Connor's current position in an attempt to head the suspect off before he disappeared into the night. As Connor's blue L.E.D. flashed to yellow his sensors indicating movement nearby and confirmed that he was very close to a human who wasn't Hank or any other responding police officer. The deviant detective paused in place and listened very carefully for any additional sound to give away the hiding suspect's current position.

A burst of movement in front of Connor held his attention as the suspect, who had hidden himself behind a large parked car, maneuvered in such a way that he was able to silently run up behind the deviant and strike him in the head across his L.E.D. with the butt of his gun. The blow rendered the oblivious deviant unconscious in a matter of seconds as the strike was strong enough to knock his intracranial process offline. Connor fell face first onto the garage floor as a puddle of blue blood began to collect under his head courtesy of a raw opened wound.

Thirium leaked from a deep laceration against Connor's right temple went unchecked as the deviant detective succumbed to unconsciousness and was left to bleed in the middle of the dark parking garage. The suspect didn't hesitate to run off and attempt to flee into the night as the wounded deviant dropped to the concrete floor behind him.

Carefully patrolling the garage without making a sound, Hank caught sight of the suspect running through the garage away from Connor's body with his own drawn gun clutched in his hand. The moment Hank saw the man trying to run the seasoned Lieutenant tightened his grip on his weapon and prepared to take charge of the unusual situation.

"FREEZE." Hank commanded as he cut off the suspect's path and aimed his gun at the fleeing man's chest. "Detroit Police. DROP THE GUN."

"O-Okay!" Wisely the suspect dropped his gun and held his hands into the air to surrender. "Don't shoot!"

"On your knees."

Without taking his eyes off the man Hank ordered the suspect to the ground as he approached with his gun still drawn before himself. Using the handcuffs attached to the back of his belt Hank cuffed the suspect's hands behind his back and hauled him back up to his feet. Keeping one hand on the suspect's shoulder Hank radioed dispatch and confirmed the arrest.

"Suspect in custody. Send a unit to my location."

Leading the suspect outside of the garage Hank kept a firm grip on the man's shoulder and happily turned him over to Gavin and Chris as they arrived at the scene as requested. The two younger officers almost looked surprise to see that it was Hank who had captured the fleeing suspect considering Hank's advanced age and previously poor health.

"Here's your man, Chris." Hank announced as he let the youngest officer lead the suspect away. "I'm going to go find Connor and meet you back at the precinct."

"No problem, Lieutenant. We got this."

Gavin just silently scoffed at the sight of the older detective easily subduing a younger suspect, but he wisely didn't say a word. It seemed that Gavin didn't entirely despise Hank as the senior detective slowly repaired his tattered reputation and regained respect among his peers.

Returning to the parking garage Hank holstered his gun on his hip and looked around for Connor. He began calling out for his partner to get his attention as he just couldn't seem to find the deviant anywhere, which in itself was very unusual.

"Connor, I got him!"

Hank's baritone voice echoed through the garage with unmistakable sense of authority. No one was else was around, and it gave the parking garage an eerie atmosphere.

"Let's go, we're done here."

There was no answer and no sign of Connor despite Hank repeatedly called out to him.

Walking up to the next floor where he knew Connor had been searching for the suspect, Hank called out for him again. The man wasn't going to leave the garage without his partner and best friend beside him.

"Connor? Where are you, kid?"

A low groan of pain caught Hank's attention as it emanated from between two large parked cars a few feet away. Rushing toward the sound with his hand hovering over his holstered gun, Hank caught sight of Connor resting on his knees with his head bowed down as he tried to curl around himself in tremendous pain. The injured deviant had his hand pressed against the bleeding wound to the right side of his head and seemingly didn't hear Hank approaching him where he was kneeling.

"Connor?"

Hank ran over to Connor and knelt down beside his partner to check him over. Putting his hand on Connor's shoulder Hank supported the wounded deviant as he spoke to him calmly and tried to assess how severely he had been injured.

"What happened? Hey, look at me. Look at me, son."

Slowly Connor lifted his glassy gaze from the floor of the garage and looked at Hank as he had been instructed. Blue blood was smeared against the right side of the deviant detective's face and the palm of his right hand as it rested over top the injury. From under Connor's palm the red glow of his L.E.D. emphasized the severity of the pain and damage that had sustained.

"Connor?" Looking past the blood Hank focused on Connor's eyes and tried to get him to speak up. The distant gaze was very disheartening. "Are you okay?"

Instead of answering Connor just stared at Hank's face confusedly and lowered his hand from his head to stare at the blue blood smeared on his palm as if unsure of where it had come from.

"I'm..." Pausing for a moment Connor struggled to articulate what has just happened to him. "I'm damaged."

"Let me see." Hank put his hand under Connor's chin to gently turn the deviant's head to the side to examine the fresh wound. "Man, he got you good. As soon as we're back to the precinct Joel is going to check you over, all right?"

The name somehow seemed foreign to Connor's mind, yet he knew that it was a name he had heard before. "...Joel?"

"Yeah, the precinct technician. Remember?"

"I..." Connor's blue blood covered hand returned to the still bleeding wound as he fought to fully access his compromised memorybank. "I-I know the name. And you. You're Hank."

"That's right." Grateful that Connor at least remembered who he was Hank decided that Connor wasn't as damaged as he had feared. "Come on, let's get out of here and get you patched up."

"To the precinct?"

"Yeah, that's right." The senior detective confirmed as he studied the dazed deviant's every move. "Can you stand?"

"...I believe so."

"Okay." Putting both of his hands around Connor's biceps Hank helped pull Connor up from the cold floor of the garage to stand upright, and then pulled Connor's arm around his shoulders to help the deviant walk without stumbling. "Lean on me and I'll get you to the car. Okay?"

"...Yes." Struggling to focus on anything and speak Connor could only stare at the ground and respond in short answers. "Okay."

"I'll walk slow and drive slow, too." Having dealt with too many dazed cops and detectives for his own comfort Hank knew that too much movement would make someone feel sick or even pass out. "The suspect's been caught and we can call it a night. No rush for either of us."


After returning to the precinct thanks to Hank reacting calming and quickly to the situation, Connor was sitting upright on the exam table of the precinct dispensary while Joel checked carefully the deviant's eyes with a penlight. Connor's pupils still reacted to the light but reacted slower than usual as his visual processors were temporarily stunted by the damage he had suffered to his head. With a simple application of a special android unique bandage to the bleeding cut along the red flashing L.E.D. the Thirium leak stopped, and the artificial skin began its very slow regeneration cycle to cover up the injury. While the laceration was healing Connor's confusion and dazed demeanor remained.

It took a while to figure out what happened but eventually Connor confirmed that he was struck from behind after being distracted by something happening in front of him while searching through the parking garage. Turns out the flash of movement was from a very large rat trying to find some food in the parking garage, and the suspect just happened to luck out and catch Connor momentarily off guard.

"Connor, follow my finger with your eyes." Joel held up his index finger and moved it slowly from side to side and then up and down in front of Connor's face as he watched Connor's brown irises successfully, but groggily, track his finger. "Good."

Standing a few feet away from the exam table Hank watched curiously as the technician completed the exam over the damaged deviant. "How's he looking, Joel?"

"Well Lieutenant," Joel pocketed the penlight and checked the now yellow colored L.E.D. blinking in Connor's temple, as well as the bandage over the healing laceration. "Connor has suffered a concussion."

"What?" That wasn't the answer that Hank had been expecting. "You're shittin' me."

"Nope. An android can be concussed in a manner similar to that of humans if they take severe enough damage to their head. That blow the cranium has compromised his memorybank as well as the connection between his primary sensory units. His self-healing program is functioning and working to repair the damage, but until Connor enters rest mode it'll only be able to repair the external laceration to his head and not any of the internal systems."

"Because while he's awake, he's constantly using his affected sensory units." Joel replied curtly as he lowered his hand and watched as Connor continued to track his finger for a moment longer. "Take him home and let him rest. If his systems aren't back to one hundred percent in two days, then take him to a facility to have another technician run a more thorough diagnostic on his cranium and check for internal hardware instability."

"And that's it?" The solution seemed too simple and too good to be true. "He just needs to sleep it off?"

"Unfortunately, no. Since he's suffered a blow to the head, you're going to have to keep an eye on him like you would a human who's been concussed."

"You mean he could slip into a coma, suffer dizzy spells, nausea, permanent memory loss or even stopping breathing in his sleep?"

"Yeah, pretty much. Although, androids don't suffer from comas, they suffer from permanent stasis mode that can't be reversed."

"Oh." Dragging his hand over his bearded chin Hank hid his annoyed sigh as he looked up at the ceiling overhead. "...Fantastic."

"Just keep checking in on him every so often until his L.E.D. finally turns blue. Once that happens that means he's out of the woods and he can resume his normal routine, but to a lesser degree until his systems are fully healed."

"If it's not back to blue in those two days?"

"Yellow isn't serious," the technician clarified coolly as he went into further details. "but red means he's getting worse. If his L.E.D. turns red get him to a technician as soon as you can. Don't hesitate or call me, just go."

"Sounds like a fun night for both of us, huh, kid?" Hank put his hand on Connor's shoulder as a show of good faither as he walked up to his friend to get the dazed deviant's attention. Connor, still stunned, stared blankly at the floor right next to Joel's shoe without even blinking. "Come on. Time to go."

Responding slowly Connor looked up at Hank with a confused expression on his face as he replied. "...Go?"

"It's time to go home. You're done for the day."

"...Okay." Connor put his palm back to his aching head over the bandage and let Hank guide him out of the dispensary after he slid off the exam table. On shaking legs Connor walked slowly through the dispensary door with Hank's hand still planted firmly on his shoulder. "Do you know where home is?"

"Yeah, I do." Patting Connor's shoulder once Hank tried to ease the deviant's worries. "Don't worry kid, I'll help ya' out. I always do."


The damage to Connor's memorybank was a mild hindrance, but one that the two detectives could easily overcome with a little patience. Hank had to remind Connor how to do a few basic things, such as fastening his seatbelt during the drive home, and then had to remind the concussed deviant to unfasten the seatbelt again before he could get out of the car after arriving home. It wasn't the first time that Hank had to babysit a concussed cop, but it was the first time he had to watch over a concussed android. Since Joel was willing to let Connor go home instead of trying to get him admitted to a facility, Hank took that as a reassuring sign that gave him the confidence that he needed to be able to help Connor make his slow recovery.

Leading Connor inside the house Hank waited patiently for Connor to finish petting Sumo, the act itself seemed to be the only thing the deviant reflexively remembered how to do, and then directed him to the hallway to lay down in his bedroom. Leading Connor around felt like Hank was helping a toddler learn how to walk on their own or like he was escorting a little old lady across the street.

"Okay, you need to rest now." Hank patted Connor's shoulder again and guided him down the hallway and into his bedroom. As he helped Connor sit down on the edge of the bed Hank pulled the gray blazer from the deviant's arms and then slipped off Connor's black tie. "Do you know where you are?"

"This is..." Glancing about the room Connor felt a strange sense of recognition that he couldn't quite explain. "This is 'home'."

"Right." Gently Hank pushed Connor back until he was resting his head against the thick fluffy pillow on the bed so he could sleep properly. Sitting down on the edge of the bed next to Connor's legs without jostling him around, Hank removed the concussed deviant's shoes and then placed them on the floor well out of tripping range. "And you're going to stay here and get some sleep so you can heal."

"Heal?" It took only a moment before Connor's memory played back in his mind reminding him of his current plight. "That's right, I was attacked in the parking garage earlier this evening."

"You still remember the attack?"

"Yes. I was struck from behind."

"Well, don't worry." Slowly Hank stood up from the bed and watched Connor's yellow flickering L.E.D. curiously. "We got the suspect, and he has a bonus charge of assaulting a cop on top of all the drug charges against his name. It's over."

Blinking slowly Connor struggled to look up at Hank still standing beside him as he attempted to resynchronize with his internal chronometer. "Hank?"

"Yeah?"

"What day is today?"

"It's Tuesday, kid. And we have the next two days off." Pulling the quilt up from the end of the bed and over Connor's chest Hank turned off the overhead light with the switch by the door and walked out of the bedroom. "Go into rest mode and let yourself heal. I'll check in on you from time to time, so you'll be just fine. It's okay for you to get some sleep."

"Okay. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

From the doorway Hank watched as Connor's yellow tinted L.E.D. glowed brightly in the darkness and began pulsing at a slower rate as he slipped into rest mode as he had been instructed. Noting the time on his phone Hank prepared for his hourly checks on the wounded deviant throughout the night until he was certain that Connor was on the mend.

"I hate dealing with head injuries."

Hank openly grimaced as he patted the side of his leg and called out to Sumo. Rubbing the dog's ears a few times after Sumo plodded down the hallway, Hank led the dog into Connor's bedroom and lightly patted the foot of the bed. As Sumo jumped up onto the bed, he cuddled up against Connor's leg, let out a big yawn went to sleep as well.

"Help me keep an eye on him, boy. I'm getting too old for these kinds of games."


Careful not to rouse Connor from his rest mode during his hourly checks throughout the night, Hank walked into the dark bedroom and observed the deviant's L.E.D. silently, only to see that it was still pulsing steadily in yellow with each passing check. It remained in such a state for the first six hours of Hank's watch but sometime before the seventh hour Connor's yellow L.E.D. had finally shifted back into a healthier blue. The positive change was greatly welcome, and all Hank needed to see in order to fully wake up after spending the less than restless night checking in on his partner. Creeping into the bedroom a little further Hank craned his neck and confirmed the L.E.D.'s blue coloration more directly.

Wanting to see how well Connor was healing Hank decided to test the deviant's memory with a series of simple questions. That was the usual routine for concussed humans and Hank figured the same procedure applied to concussed deviants. Memory impairment was a key indicator of someone suffering from significant trauma to their head.

"Connor?" Hank shook Connor's shoulder lightly to get his attention without startling him. "Wake up for me for a moment."

"Hank." Connor's soulful brown eyes opened slowly and focused on Hank's face hovering warily over him. "...Is something wrong?"

"I need to check something really quick. What's my rank?"

"...You're a Lieutenant."

"And what day is it?"

"The day?" Connor checked his internal chronometer and noted the current time. "Five-fourteen a.m.; it's now Wednesday morning."

"And what's my dog's name?"

"Sumo." The sleepy deviant detective gave Hank an odd look as his brow furrowed with confusion. "I don't understand. Why you're asking me these questions?"

"Just checking your memory, that's all. Go back into rest mode and let your healing program finish up."

"Are you worried that my concussion is more serious than Dr. Forrest initially stated?"

"Nah." Hank smiled a little at the question as it was sharp and logical. "I was just worried that you wouldn't heal as quickly as we all hoped."

"I'm sorry for worrying you last night." Lightly Connor pressed his fingertips to the bandage along his right temple and confirmed that the laceration that didn't hurt any longer. "I should've been more careful."

"Don't apologize for getting hurt. Just take the time to heal and don't push yourself, okay?" Hank walked back out of the bedroom and entered the dimly lit hallway to take his leave. "I'll see you in a few hours. Let me know if you need anything."

"Thank you for looking out me."

"You're welcome, kid."

Still tired Connor closed his less glassy eyes and ran a self-diagnostic on his processors. His systems were functioning at ninety-two percent capacity and increasing to one-hundred percent optimal levels at a steady clip. Sensing Sumo lying next to him Connor placed his left hand down on the fluffy dog's head affectionately and rubbed Sumo's ears in response.

"Thanks for looking out for me too, boy. I appreciate it."


It was almost noon when Connor's system fully rebooted, and he awoke to a peacefully quiet house. The concussion he had suffered the evening before had been repaired significantly by his self-healing program during the night, but he was still suffering from a few lingering effects from the blunt force trauma damage to his head. A mild headache accompanied with delays in his visual sensors were the key hindrances, but otherwise he was fine. There was no memory loss or impairment, no dizziness or nausea, and the recovering deviant awoke without his system being bombarded with dozens of red warnings about the damage he had previously sustained.

Sitting upright on his bed Connor looked about his bedroom and noted that Sumo was gone. Connor then realized that Hank had removed his blazer, his tie and his shoes after helping him get into bed. His white dress shirt, his jeans and his socks were still on, which meant he had been taken directly into the bedroom to sleep the moment they had returned home.

"...I remember Hank stating that we have today, which is Wednesday, and also tomorrow, off from work. That means we're not late for work."

Connor closed his eyes as he checked his memorybank for accuracy in the details and so far, everything was lining up.

"It's eleven fifty-two a.m., and Hank is most likely still sleeping due to his inconsistent sleep schedule from checking in on me throughout the night."

Rising from his bed Connor stopped beside his aquarium up against the wall and watched the fish inside swim about for a few seconds before he sprinkled a perfectly calculated amount of fish flakes onto the surface of the water to feed his new friends. Next walking over to his closet Connor slid open the door and slipped off his white shirt and his jeans to be hung up and washed later, and then placed his shoes that were left beside the bed inside the closet as per usual to keep his bedroom properly organized.

Pulling a black t-shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants from the dresser drawer neatly tucked against the left side of the closet Connor changed into his more casual attire before exiting his bedroom in search of the senior detective. Quietly Connor ventured down the hallway and pushed open Hank's bedroom door to peer inside the room, but Hank wasn't laying in his bed.

"Hank?"

Calling the name in a somewhat confused manner Connor began searching for his friend. Leaving the bedroom door open Connor slowly turned around to walk back down the hallway without affecting his already damaged visual sensors in the process by moving too quickly. As he walked through the house Sumo ran up and greeted the deviant with a prompt wet nose against his hand. Connor rubbed at the dog's ears as he continued to pass through the livingroom and into the kitchen to try to locate Hank, but the senior detective wasn't anywhere to be seen.

Curious about Hank's absence Connor walked over to the livingroom window and peered outside and saw that the car was still parked in the driveway.

"This is unusual. Where's Hank?"

A sudden sound of retching and coughing resonated from the bathroom back down the hallway and caused Connor's blue L.E.D. to flash to yellow in response.

"Hank?"

Connor went to investigate the noise with Sumo on his heels as he knocked on the closed bathroom door. There was no answer from Hank as the distressed sound continued on with a painful retch that echoed loudly through the small, enclosed room.

"Are you ill?"

It was a dumb question, but Connor asked anyway to announce his presence as he turned the doorknob and pushed the door open slowly. Sure enough Connor spotted Hank kneeling in front of the toilet as he continued to throw-up and spit the lingering foul taste from his mouth into the basin to be flushed away. Gently Connor put his hand on Hank's shoulder and pressed his opposite palm against Hank's too warm forehead.

"How long have you been sick?"

"Start-" Hank spit again before he answered in a tired, low voice. "...Started a few minutes ago."

"You have a fever." The kind deviant noted as his L.E.D. continued to blink in yellow. Connor's highly attuned sensors in his hand cybernetically relayed Hank's current vital signs to his processors in favor of using his pained visual scanner to try to make an accurate assessment. "Your heart rate is also elevated."

"Yeah." Tired and feeling like shit Hank fell back onto his hip on the cold linoleum floor of the bathroom and away from Connor's hand. "Not surprised."

"Nine officers had recently reported ill at the precinct and called off their shifts." Connor stated with a certainty to his voice as he noted Hank's unusually pale complexion and the dark circles forming under his eyes. "Your exposure to their proximity and being in the cold rain three nights prior when you aided the stranded woman in labor must've left you vulnerable to influenza."

"Not the first time." Hank pressed his hand to the side of his head as he leaned back against the cool bathtub behind him. "Won't be the last either."

"Do you have a headache?"

"Yup. How about you?"

"Same." The recovering deviant admitted in dreary tone. The blow to his head still ached at him but he was no longer confused. "But my system is healing properly."

Taking a washcloth from the shelf beside the sink Connor turned on the tap in the sink and soaked the washcloth in warm water. After wringing out the excess water Connor slowly knelt down beside Hank and gently wiped the washcloth against Hank's pale face to wash away the sweat and traces of vomit from the ill senior detective's mouth and chin.

"I'm all right." Hank lightly pushed away Connor's hand, although he was appreciative of the gesture. "Thanks."

"Okay." Putting the washcloth aside Connor gave Hank a curious glance. "Can you stand?"

"Yeah, I can get up." Certain he'd be okay to move Hank closed his eyes for a moment and waited for his stomach to settle. "Just give me a minute."

Putting his hand back against the edge of the bathtub Hank slowly pushed himself upright from the cool floor only to sit back down on the edge of the tub as his head began to swim. Noticing the sudden bout of dizziness Connor sat beside Hank on the edge of the tub to monitor him closely. Taking the ill detective's limp arm in his grip Connor pulled the heavy limb around his neck before wrapping his opposite arm carefully around Hank's waist.

"Try again." Standing up together Connor guided Hank out of the bathroom and down the hallway back into Hank's bedroom. The duo had to step around Sumo as the massive dog loyally watched over his masters with a curious stare and wanted to know what was happening. "I'll get you some medication to bring down your fever."

"I'll be fine." Hank's voice was heavy with exhaustion as Connor sat him down on the edge of his bed so he could get some more sleep. "You're the one with the head injury. Go get some rest."

"No need." Connor stood upright and ran a self-diagnostic, his L.E.D. flashing yellow rapidly before returning to blue. "My systems are functioning at ninety-seven percent capacity. I'm healing at a rapid pace and will make a full recovery at five twenty-three this evening."

"A concussion still takes priority over a little flu, kid."

"I'll be back in a moment with the necessary medication." The always helpful deviant insisted stubbornly as he continued to prioritize Hank over himself while conveniently ignoring the quip about his concussion. "You'll need water as well in order to remain hydrated."

Hank watched as Connor left the bedroom and returned to the bathroom just down the hallway. The sound of running water in the sink filled the air as the 'clink' of the medicine cabinet opening and closing echoed briefly back down the hall. Connor returned to the bedroom with a glass of water, two pills and another washcloth in his hands.

"Take these." Connor waited for Hank to extend his opened hand before dropping the pills into his palm. As Hank popped the two pills into his mouth Connor then handed him the glass of water to drink. "You may have suffered a mild degree of dehydration due to your vomiting spell."

"I'm fine." Hank reiterated gruffly as he drank some of the water and put the glass down on the nightstand beside his bed. "You need to take it easy until you're back to one-hundred percent, got it?"

"I understand." Carefully Connor pushed Hank back by his shoulder until he was lying flat on the bed. Smoothing the cool washcloth over Hank's warm forehead Connor picked up Hank's wrist to directly count the sick detective's pulse. "However, I will not remain idle while you're ill."

"Even with a blow to the head you're still just as stubborn ever."

"I'm not stubborn." Letting go of Hank's wrist Connor gave the equally (not) stubborn senior detective a faint grin. "I will make you something light to eat."

"I don't like the idea of you messing around in the kitchen without 'adult supervision' right now." The idea of anyone with a head injury fussing with a hot stove spelled disaster with no need for explanation. "No offense."

"I'll be careful." The healing deviant replied casually as he exited the bedroom and walked down the hallway out of sight. "I promise."

Loyally Sumo followed Connor into the kitchen with his tail wagging happily, completely oblivious of what was happening to his masters.

Fatigue eventually won out and Hank closed his blue eyes as he buried his face into his cool pillow. He let out a weary sigh as he tried to sleep through the horrible nausea still lingering in his stomach and ignore the headache that was gnawing away at his patience. It was the first time in a long time that Hank had someone in his life willing to take care of him when he was sick, and it wasn't easy for him to let down his guard. Even though Connor had helped him numerous times in the past whenever he had become ill or injured, it was still a strange feeling to have someone care about him after all the years of self-imposed isolation that Hank had put himself through.

Quietly Connor set about the kitchen in an attempt to make something that wouldn't upset Hank's stomach, but in the process his visual processors and his gyroscope suddenly glitched and left him temporarily dizzy. Using the nearby kitchen counter to steady himself while staying on his feet Connor's blue L.E.D. flashed to yellow as his self-healing program recalibrated his gyroscopic input to resynchronize with his visual sensor.

"...P-Perhaps Hank is correct."

Connor admitted to himself as he realized that if his vision cut out that he might accidentally put himself in danger.

"I shouldn't be alone, and Hank can't be alone either."

Despite the recent damage to his memorybank Connor did remember that during one his recent admissions to the Zeta Facility that a familiar technician had given Hank her card in the event that they needed an emergency consultation. In that moment Connor decided what he and Hank were experiencing qualified as an emergency, and decided it'd be best to call someone who had experience in aiding both deviants and humans alike.

"We should have a second opinion from an unbiased colleague on our conditions."

Isolating the business card that Hank had slipped into the pocket of his coat as it hung on the hook by front door, Connor cybernetically dialed the number to request assistance at the house. The receptionist at the Zeta Facility, Barry, cybernetically answered the call and responded accordingly before he relayed the information regarding the call to the very technician being requested.

Walking slowly back to the kitchen Connor sat down at the table and kept as still as possible to prevent further dizziness. The wobbly deviant didn't want to collapse or cause more problems than solutions by mistake.

"I just hope that Hank doesn't mind another person coming over to the house while he is ill. I know he is a private person and wouldn't appreciate an uninvited guest stopping by the house."


After sleeping for almost an hour Hank was unexpectedly awoken by a very soft, cool hand pressing against the side of his feverish face. Opening his tired blue eyes slowly, Hank locked eyes with someone he didn't anticipate but was familiar to him all the same. Blinking a few times to make sure he wasn't just suffering from delirium from being sick, Hank watched as the hand retracted from his cheek and the familiar face watched his every reaction to their presence. It had been decades since anyone heard of a 'house call' but in that moment Hank wasn't going to pretend as if he didn't appreciate the assistance considering how rotten he felt and because of Connor's concussion.

Gaining his senses Hank felt the tight pit of nausea in his stomach and the persistent ache in his head. Slowly the sick man found his voice and asked the obvious question in a tired and raspy voice.

"...What the hell?"

"Hi, Hank." Abby, the technician who had helped to save Connor's life on more than one occasion, was now kneeling beside Hank's bed and giving him a kind glance. Sumo was sitting beside her with his chin resting on her forearm as if he were trying to help her. "You look like shit."

"Yeah?" Lightly Hank laughed at her comment. "I feel like shit. Why are you here?"

"Connor called." The caring woman explained coolly as she watched Hank's curious eyes studying her. "He told me about his concussion and about how you were ill, and he just wanted a little help. That's all."

"Is he all right?" Hank asked somewhat alarmed but refrained from getting up from his very comfortable bed. "Where is he?"

"He's fine. He's in the kitchen."

"Is the kitchen all right?"

"It's a little messy, but it's not on fire or anything."

"Good. The kid's a magnet for trouble, I swear..."

"Seems about right for a detective." Abby rose from the floor and sat on the edge of Hank's bed as she stared down at him. "You know, I was expecting to find you unconscious in a pool of your own sweat or something when Connor called. But it looks like you're already over the worst of your flu."

"You work on androids and humans?"

"Before I was an android technician I worked as an E.M.S. in Chicago. I found dealing with androids less stressful than dealing with humans."

"I think it depends on the android, but I think you're on to something with wanting a change of careers."

"Yeah, I know what you mean." Abby checked the washcloth over Hank's forehead and pulled it away to gauge his current fever. "Connor's going to be okay. I left two bottles of extra Thirium on the counter in case of an emergency though. So you don't want to worry about making a special trip into town or try to deal with online ordering while you're both feeling unwell."

"That's a relief."

"Do you want me to talk to him for you?" The technician volunteered since she had no problem with keeping her patients calm while explaining relatively complicated or worrisome situations in full detail. "I'll let him know that you're going to be okay too."

"Thanks, but I can handle it. He's just..."

"Naive?"

"No." That wasn't quite the word Hank would use to describe someone like Connor. "Sometimes I think he's just too empathetic for his own good. It makes him worry to the point of obsessiveness whenever I'm even a little sick or mildly hurt."

"Could be worse." Abby noted with a casual shrug of her shoulders. "He could be too apathetic, or still a machine and not give a damn about you or anyone else."

"Yeah." Hank remembered the first time he met Connor and compared the deviant's personality from then and now. Now was much better compared to how Connor behaved when they initially met. "Don't I know it..."


Somewhat tired and still a little dizzy Connor remained statuesque in the chair at the kitchen table in the throes of another self-diagnostic. Resting his forehead down against his forearms crossed over the surface of the table, Connor only looked up when Abby approached him and sat in the chair across the table. Her very presence pulled Connor away from the numbers and details provided by the diagnostic and back into the real world around him with a wash of momentary dizziness and swirling pain in his head. It was a relief to know that someone else was in the house and able to check on Hank during his illness while Connor himself was still injured and struggling just to take care of himself.

Forcing his eyes to focus on Abby's kind face Connor gained his bearings and tried to assess the situation based on her body language. By all account she was calm, confident, and almost entirely relaxed. All good signs.

"How's Hank?" The deviant asked without hesitation as he was more focused on his friend than himself. "Is he going to recover?"

"Connor," Abby reached out and put her hand on his forearm gently. "you don't have to be concerned about Hank's health."

"I..." Connor wasn't so sure considering how rough Hank's health had been when they first started working together. Hank was only now working to take better care of himself. "Before I met him-"

"Yeah, I know." Sympathetic Abby patted Connor's arm kindly. "Hank told me all about it."

"Humans can't undo years' worth of damage to their bodies in just a few months." The deviant explained his righteous fears in a logical tone. "I don't want to see his condition deteriorate any further because I couldn't assist him when he needed help."

"You're right. Human can't undo internal damage to their own bodies, but considering Hank stopped drinking almost entirely because of you, and managed to do it in a few months, is very impressive. That will amount to something someday."

"Then why do I still worry about it?"

"Because you care. That's why you've been helping him, why you've taken the time to make him some soup and why you called me." The compassionate technician explained as Sumo plodded into the kitchen to join the duo sititng at the kitchen table. "Hank will be okay, even if he won't admit to how he's truly feeling, I can assure you that he is making progress and is recovering."

Connor nodded a little as he understood what Abby was telling him and his concerns began to steadily lessen.

"Now, what I want you to do is bring Hank his soup, then go lay down and enter rest mode for two hours." Abby insisted as she watched Connor's body language and noted his glassy eyes with an attentive gaze. "As long as you both rest then you'll be able to go back to work in a day or two."

"Very well. Okay." Accepting Abby's simple instructions Connor looked over his shoulder to the stove where the pot of chicken soup was simmering, and he let out a weary sigh of resignation. "Thank you for helping us today. I appreciate your assistance. We both do."

"No problem. I'm just glad when I got the call it didn't revolve around just you for once."

Connor gave Abby an odd look from where he sat but didn't say a word.

"Don't get me wrong. I like you, that's why I don't want to see you hurt." Abby gave Connor a kind smile to emphasize the sincerity of her words and her concerns for his wellbeing. "That's why Hank doesn't want to see you hurt either. You need to take care of yourself and not worry about putting other people before yourself every day. Don't set yourself on fire to keep other people warm. Do you understand?"

"Yes, I think so." In response to the invaluable advice Connor did his best to flash Abby a kind grin, and he gave the technician a reassuring glance. "I'll do my best to avoid become damaged or destroyed in the near future because of other people."

"I hope so." Reaching out over the table Abby pressed her palm to the center of Connor's chest where she counted his pulse and gauged his temperature. She was relieved to find that he was stable and decided it was okay to leave him and Hank alone. "After you take care of Hank you need to take care of yourself and rest for a while longer. Okay?"

"Okay. I will do so."

"Good." Rising from the table Abby tightened her grip on the emergency satchel hanging heavily off her shoulder and nodded. "I'm just a phone call away if you need anything else. Don't be a stranger."

"Thank you, I'll remember that."

As Abby quietly took her leave of the house Connor stood up slowly from where he was sitting at the table and focused on bringing Hank some soup and some water to help keep the man's strength up. Locating a large bowl in the cabinet Connor prepared a helping of the soup and made sure it wasn't too hot to be eaten. Carrying the freshly cooked soup and a bottle of water down the hallway and into Hank's bedroom, Connor used his elbow to push open the closed door and step inside the bedroom to check on Hank for himself.

"Hank?"

"Still awake." Opening his eyes Hank looked over at the deviant detective as Connor placed the soup and water down on the nightstand beside his bed. "Thanks, son."

"You're welcome."

"You go and get some rest, and I'll eat something." Sitting upright in the bed Hank propped his pillow up against his back for support and looked over at the bowl on the nightstand beside him. The soup smelled enticing which meant Hank's stomach was already beginning to settle. "I'll be okay."

"I know you will." Connor moved slowly to keep himself from getting dizzy or stumbling on his feet. The last thing he wanted to do was push himself too hard. "I'll be down the hallway and in my bedroom sleeping if you need anything."

"And you know to call for me if you need anything, right?"

"Right." Pausing for a moment Connor thought about what he had just discussed with Abby and turned to give Hank an optimistic confirmation. "I know that you're watching my back and are looking out for me."

"Damn right." Relieved to know that Connor was going to be cooperative Hank instantly felt much better. "See ya' in a couple of hours, kid. Feel better."

"I'm sure I will. Hopefully you'll be able to do the same."

-next chapter-