The day had been chilly and boring for a majority of the precinct. With a complacent stare in his soulful brown eyes Connor sat behind his terminal with a large stack of paper files regarding deviants that needed to be digitally copied and filed into the precinct databank to officially be recognized. Meanwhile, Hank had the joy of questioning a rather rude and disrespectful suspect in interrogation well into the late evening hours. The suspect himself wasn't a deviant but he was a known drug dealer, specifically 'red ice', and Hank's notable history with the narcotics division gave him more than enough experience to question and hopefully get some answers from the suspect without anything needing to escalate to a physical level.

Due to the late hour Gavin himself sat quietly at his desk finishing up his own report and sipping at his bitter coffee with an annoyed grimace plastered on his gruff face. Having forgone any sugar or sweeteners to keep his blood sugar from spiking, the coffee was particularly bitter to his tired palate, and it gave the detective an equally bitter facade as the unappealing flavor lingered on his tongue.

Connor heard the door to the interrogation room slide open and he looked up in time to see the suspect being escorted to his cell by Tina while Hank rejoined the deviant at their adjoined desks. The interrogation was finally over, and everyone was eager to finish up and go home at last. As the senior detective sat down with a heavy grimace Connor reluctantly asked about the interrogation.

"Did you gain any valuable information from your suspect?"

"One of the perks to leaving narcotics was NOT having to deal with any more cracked-out junkies." Hank sighed as he leaned back in his chair and rubbed his hand over his aching head just above his tired eyes. "I guess someone didn't get the memo. That guy wasted all my time and made my head hurt in the process."

Empathetically the corner of Connor's mouth twitched a little as he finished one file and proceeded to work on the next. "Perhaps some coffee will aid your headache."

"Yeah. You're probably right."

"On it!" A passing rookie officer, one that had only begun working at the precinct a month prior, sat Hank's usual coffee mug down on the desk on Hank's behalf without needing to be asked. "Here you go, Lieutenant. Sweetener's already in it."

"Uh, thanks." Hank's brow furrowed at the new guy as he walked away from the desk as quickly as he approached. The young officer was younger than Connor and the other rookies and seemed very shaky as he moved. Most likely from nerves. "That was weird."

"That is the young officer you worked with yesterday." Connor turned to look at the young officer as he disappeared through the front area of the precinct into the receptionist bay out of sight. "Is he attempting to make friends?"

"I dunno'. To be honest I didn't even know that guy was still assigned here. He showed up while you were in a coma and hasn't exactly stood out from the crowd aside from being a little weirdo, so to speak." Accepting the offered coffee Hank picked up the mug and sipped at it only to immediately put it back down on the desk after a single disgusted taste. "Ugh. That didn't help at all."

"Something wrong?"

"It tastes terrible." Pushing the mug away Hank sighed and hoped the nasty taste wouldn't linger on his tongue for too long. "I thought that new coffee maker would finally stop the coffee from getting burnt, but I guess not. Either that, or the kid mistook the sugar for salt."

"Maybe if you-" Connor noted a sudden change in Hank's pallor as Hank's face paled and he began to sweat. "Hank, are you feeling well?"

Astute and on guard Connor's L.E.D. flickered from blue to yellow briefly as he ran a precautionary biometric scan over Hank's body.

"I have detected a sudden increase in your heart rate causing a slight arrhythmia, and you appear to be suffering from mild respiratory distress."

"...I-I don't know." Letting out a weak sigh Hank leaned forward against his desk and pressed one hand against the center of his chest while his free hand wrapped around his abdomen protectively. "I don't feel right. S-Something's wrong."

Rising quickly from his desk Connor stood next to Hank and pressed his fingertips against the side of Hank's neck to monitor his struggling pulse. The yellow L.E.D. in Connor's temple flashed to red in worry as his advanced scanner confirmed the unsteady and erratic vital signs.

"I'm taking you to the hospital. You're in physical distress."

"I don't think it's-" Hank suddenly curled around himself and clenched his teeth as a burning pain erupted from his chest beneath his grasping palm. Whatever strength he had left in his body quickly ebbed away as he began to fall from his chair and his entire form went limp from pain and the sudden illness. "...Sh-Shit."

"Hank?"

Connor grabbed on to the senior detective's shoulders as he carefully guided the ill man from the chair and onto the floor beside the desk. Keeping one hand under Hank's head Connor laid Hank onto the floor on his back and knelt over him protectively.

"Hank, please remain as calm as possible. I'll get you medical attention."

Gavin had heard the brief panic in Connor's usually calm voice and rushed over to investigate the scene for himself. "Whoa... What's going on?"

Reacting quickly Connor's L.E.D. flashed to red then back to yellow as he cybernetically called 911 to report to the precinct. He kept his hand under Hank's head to help the sick detective lay flat on the floor more comfortably while keeping his airway completely unobstructed. Pulling open Hank's black and white button-down shirt with one hand, Connor pressed his palm flat over the gray t-shirt beneath over Hank's chest to directly keep track of the man's vital signs.

"Gavin, get help." Turning to look at Gavin standing him Connor expressed his righteous fear. "I suspect that he's having a heart attack."

"F-Fuck... Fuck!" Gavin took off like a shot to find any medic who was still on call at the precinct's infirmary while Connor monitor Hank's condition very closely. "We need help over here! Officer down!"

Tilting Hank's head back a little to ensure the detective's airway remained clear and unobstructed, Connor forced his voice to steady as he addressed the man he had come to know as his father in the most reassuring and comforting manner possible.

"You're going to be okay. I'll see you through this."

Hank's eyelids were screwed shut so tight from the pain that the skin around his eyes was turning red against his otherwise deathly pale, gray pallor. As he took in deep labored breaths Hank's heart began to race faster and faster causing him further pain and distress. Keeping his arms wrapped around his chest and abdomen he lolled slightly from right to left as he did his best to endure the relentless pain and stay on his back.

A small gathering of curious officers crowded around the desks and began pushing aside the furniture to create more space in the event of the medical emergency to ensure the medics had room to work. Forcing themselves to back away since they couldn't do anything more for Hank than what Connor was already doing, the officers maintained control over the precinct while their ranking officer was down.

"Medics are on their way." Connor stated almost bluntly as if that alone would be enough to quell Hank's righteous uncertainty. "You're going to be okay."

Hank opened his pained blue eyes a little and stared up at Connor's face intently as the deviant continued to hover over him. A blend of seldom seen fear and panic shone across his blue irises as he looked up at the deviant protectively watched over him with his hand pressed down over Hank's chest.

"C-Connor."

"I'm with you, don't worry." It was hard to keep his voice level and his emotions in check, but Connor was determined to remain strong on Hank's behalf. "Try to take it easy."

"...Pr-Proud of you." Forcing his hand to move Hank put his palm over the back of Connor's hand as it rested over his chest and kept it there even as the appendage began to grow cold and weak. "I'm s-so... proud of you, son."

Connor's hand pressed down firmer with shock against Hank's chest as he realized that Hank had already accepted his death. The deviant wasn't going to let the senior detective face off against something as cruel and infinite as death by himself.

"Hank? Please don't speak like that, stay with me."

"Do... you hear me?" Giving Connor an incredibly weak passing grin Hank let out of faint breath and his entire body fell limp as his heart suddenly seized into stillness under Connor's palm. "So... proud."

"Hank?"

Connor moved his hand from Hank's chest to the side of his Hank's face and patted the senior detective's cheek lightly but failed to provoke a response.

"Hank?!"

Leaning his head down to press his ear against Hank's chest, Connor only confirmed what his scanner already knew. Hank had fallen into cardiac arrest. Straightening himself up Connor pushed Hank's arms aside, laced one hand over top the other to create a single fist and instinctively began compressing Hank's chest directly over his stopped heart.

"No... You're not going to die like this. I won't let you die like this, dad!"

Gavin returned to the bullpen with the paramedics behind him where Connor was now performing C.P.R. on Hank. Moving quickly the two paramedics tore open Hank's gray t-shirt from around Connor's strong hands and attached wireless leads to the unresponsive detective's chest as they hooked him up to a cardiac monitor.

"We'll take over from here." One of the paramedics, Kevin, urged as he tried to take over the chest compressions for Connor, but the deviant didn't budge from his position or break his rhythm. "Sir, please."

"Fuck..." Gavin knew that Connor would be too stubborn to back off and so he interjected. "Step back!" Reaching down to Connor's shoulder with a firm hand Gavin pulled Connor backward and forced him up to his feet. "They'll save him, give 'em room to work, ya' plastic idiot."

Resisting the urge to fight back against Gavin as the detective pulled him away from Hank laying on the floor, Connor begrudgingly stood back and silently watched as everything happened in a rapid blur. It was as if Connor's sensors had been so overwhelmed by the emotionally straining moment that his own memorybank simply couldn't process the information causing his newly budding emotions to conflict and twist painfully in his artificial stomach.

"Full cardiac arrest." Kevin confirmed with both the cardiac monitor and a pulse check as he resumed the compressions to Hank's chest in Connor's stead. "Five milligrams of epinephrine; intracardiac."

"Administering 'epi'." The second paramedic, Randy, announced as he quickly picked up a preloaded syringe, ran an alcohol swab over Hank's chest just above his stopped heart above his partner's compressing hands, and inserted the needle of the loaded syringe directly into the arrested organ as his partner stopped compressions. "'Epi' is in."

Pulling back his hands Kevin looked at the monitor and saw a positive change in Hank's cardiac readout. "I got a rhythm. He's in ventricular fibrillation."

"Charging to three-hundred Jules." Placing the two remote paddles to the center of Hank's chest and to the apex of his heart, Randy set the charge and motioned for his partner to get back. "Clear?"

"Clear."

"Everyone back." Pressing a button on the defibrillator the lifesaving shock was remotely activated and Hank's body jerked in response to the jolt causing his body to physically twitch slightly. His body settled back on the floor and the medical team checked the monitor again. "No change."

The same unsteady heart rhythm was on the display of the cardiac monitor and Kevin resumed chest compressions.

"Charge again to three-hundred and sixty Joules."

Same as before once the defibrillator reached its charge Kevin pulled back his hands as Randy prepared to deliver the charge to Hank's struggling heart.

"Clear."

As before Hank's body jerked again, but afterward he took in a weak, shuddering breath that made his chest feebly rise and then fall once.

"We got a heartbeat." Kevin announced as he pressed his fingertips to the side of Hank's neck to confirm a carotid pulse. It wasn't much of a beat to speak of, but it was there all the same. "Weak and thready pulse, but I have a sinus rhythm."

"...Is he?" In what seemed like the blink of an eye Connor watched as the two paramedics administered the medication to restart Hank's stopped heart while defibrillating him twice before Hank responded and began clinging to life once more. "Hank?" Connor tried to kneel down again, but Gavin clamped down on his shoulder to keep him at bay. "Hank, can you hear me?"

The two diligent paramedics checked Hank's vital signs while an ambulance attendant wheeled in a gurney to carry Hank out of the precinct and into the back of the ambulance waiting outside. Once the pair of paramedics made a move to lift Hank onto the nearby gurney Connor all but tore his shoulder free from Gavin's grip and helped to gently place Hank on the gurney and escort the senior detective to the ambulance.

Putting his hand on Hank's shoulder while Randy slipped on oxygen mask over the sick detective's face, Connor tried again to speak with Hank as if the incredibly weak man was still somehow conscious.

"Hank, you'll be okay. You're being taken care of, I promise."

Connor wanted to accompany Hank to the hospital, but he knew that as seriously ill as Hank had become that they wouldn't permit him to ride in the back in the event they needed to work on Hank en route. A part of Connor also knew that if he rode in the front of the ambulance that if something were to happen to Hank that he wouldn't be able to stop himself from trying to assist and might prove more of a hindrance than a benefit.

Bearing a reluctant heart Connor retracted his hand from Hank's shoulder and watched as the gurney was lifted up and put in the back of the ambulance. The two paramedics climbed into the back of the vehicle while the attendant went to the front to drive the bulky ambulance to the hospital. The red lights of the ambulance flashed brightly as the heavy doors slammed shut and emergency vehicle pulled out onto the street with the sirens blaring loudly to clear its path.

Gavin had followed close behind the gurney as well and stood next to Connor on the sidewalk as he felt compelled to help in his own way. As much as he didn't like to show his emotions, Gavin knew that he couldn't hide that he was worried for Hank and actually felt bad for Connor.

"Come on, I'll drive you to the hospital, 'Tinman'."

Connor's gaze only turned toward Gavin's direction after the ambulance was out of sight as if he was responding in slow motion. Accepting the offer Connor silently accompanied Gavin to his car in the neighboring parking garage to head out to the hospital. Moving on a form of autopilot Connor didn't speak or even think for himself and he instead relied on other people to guide him through the unusual event taking place on that fateful night.

"Uh, we'll call Captain Fowler when we're at the hospital." Gavin shouted with an echo to his words as he walked into the neighboring parking garage to get to his own vehicle. He didn't want to show that he was worried for Hank but didn't want to step aside and not do his part to help out. "Until then, Ben will take care of shit here."

"...Right. That is logical."

"Having Hank down with a heart problem is bad enough." Gavin grumbled to himself as he opened his car door and waited for Connor to join him in the front seat as his lone passenger. "But an emotionally fucked up android is somehow even worse."


Unseen by the worried deviant during the transport to the hospital, Hank had become violently ill and threw-up an alarming amount of his stomach contents in painful wretches. The vomiting was a sure sign that Hank's condition was steadily worsening even with medical intervention to aid him, and his body was steadily becoming overwhelmed with physical trauma that only made his erratically beating heart work even harder to keep his blood circulating properly. The bout of extreme sickness had weakened Hank's physical resolve considerably and his tired body was slowly dehydrating from the frequent and extensive vomiting spells on top of his active cardiac distress.

An hour after Hank had been admitted to the hospital Connor found himself pacing anxiously through the waiting room with his quarter dancing over his knuckles and flipping and back and forth between his palms. With his L.E.D. flashing red with worry Connor was unable to sit down or stop moving for even a moment as his mind began racing with every possible worst case scenario.

Having voluntarily driven the deviant to the hospital Gavin was sitting in a chair in the waiting room with his arms folded over his chest and his eyes focused on Connor's pacing with an aggravated stare. Seeing the normally calm and collected deviant looking so frazzled was making Gavin worry about Hank's life as well.

"Connor, sit the fuck down! You're driving me crazy..."

Connor either didn't hear Gavin or he didn't care enough to listen to the order. Resuming his routine of pacing and juggling Connor's red L.E.D. glowed brightly while his eyes seemed dull and lifeless.

"Connor!" Gavin shouted a little louder to try to get the deviant's attention but Connor never stopped pacing and his coin never stopped dancing. "Sit your plastic ass down! You walking around isn't going to help anything and it makes me want to smack ya'."

A tall male doctor in his forties with blond hair and dark green eyes entered the waiting room and homed-in on Connor quickly. Standing before the deviant the doctor couldn't wait for Connor to stop pacing before addressing him.

"Excuse me, you're Hank Anderson's partner, right?"

"Th-That's correct." Connor stopped suddenly and his red L.E.D. cycled to yellow as he finally pocketed his coin and locked eyes with the doctor. "My name is Connor."

"I'm Dr. O'Neal." The doctor introduced himself professionally as he extended his hand to shake. "I've been treating your partner as soon as he arrived."

"How is Hank? I know he is... very ill."

"It appears Mr. Anderson-"

"Lieutenant." Connor instinctively corrected though the faint blue blush that followed expressed his embarrassment for the quick statement. "I... Sorry. That's not important right now. Please... How is he? What is his condition?"

"It's all right, no harm done." Dr. O'Neal continued on unfazed as he was undoubtedly used to emotional outbursts directed at his person. "It appears that Lieutenant Anderson has suffered from a myocardial infarction. He's stable for the moment but we're running tests to identify the cause so we can begin the most appropriate course of treatment for his condition."

"It seems it was a heart after all." Connor reflexively swallowed nervously as his L.E.D. flashed back to red. "...Can I see him?"

"I'm sorry. He's unconscious and has shown no sign of awareness yet."

"Please." Connor pressed politely as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. "I just need to see him for a moment. He's... my best friend. My family."

"Very well." Dr. O'Neal clearly had a soft spot for kids, or people who were looked young enough to be a kid, and he caved to the request. "But only for a few minutes. He needs the rest, and we'll need to continue to monitor him very closely."

"I understand, thank you."

While Gavin remained in the waiting room to await Captain Fowler's arrival at the hospital, Dr. O'Neal led Connor down the corridor to the Cardiac Care Unit where Hank was being carefully monitored for any further sign of distress, illness, or additional symptoms to help pinpoint the exact cause of the incident. The entire wing smelled of astringent and other cleaners and was heavy with emotional concern for the dozen or so other patients in the area, but it was Hank's health that was the most important to Connor.

"Dr. O'Neal, what has happened to Hank?" Speaking up in a worried and nearly shaking tone Connor dared to ask the one question he was afraid to ask. "Was it truly a heart attack, or is that your current diagnosis that needs to be confirmed?"

"All of his symptoms seem to point in that direction, but he isn't responding well to conventional treatments." The experienced doctor admitted as he tried to help Connor understand what was happening. "We're still running tests to accurately determine the exact cause of his illness."

"Do you at least suspect a heart attack?"

"We can't actively rule it out, but personally I think there is something more happening."

"What makes you think that?"

"Call it a hunch." Calm and collected Dr. O'Neal slid open the door to the room where a nurse was keeping watch over Hank as he remained unconscious and unresponsive. Motioning for the nurse to give some distance to the two detectives, the kind doctor allowed Connor to have a moment of quiet with Hank without anyone intruding. "I'll let you be alone with him for a minute."

Quiet and nearly motionless Hank himself was laying in the bed with a gray pallor and an oxygen mask over his expressionless face. A cardiac monitor recording his heart rate, blood pressure and body temperature 'beeped' rhythmically beside him and displayed his poor heart rate. An oximeter clip was attached to his right middle finger to monitor his oxygen saturation and an I.V. had been inserted into the back of his hand while concealed under a white pad of gauze as it delivered medication to keep his heart rate stable.

"He won't be able to respond," motioning toward a chair against the wall Dr. O'Neal continued to speak to Connor in a level and sympathetic tone of voice. "but he should still be able to hear you. Talk to him and let him know you're here."

Intimidated and shaken to his core, Connor stared at the numerous machines that were keeping track of Hank's vitals and gauged the displays warily. Running another biometric scan over Hank's body while putting his hand down atop the senior detective's cold forearm, Connor was able to compare Hank's symptoms to that of a heart attack, but he also noted that despite Hank's previously poor health he had made great strides and had improved substantially over the past year which meant his risk of cardiovascular had decreased.

The risk was still there, it always would be, but the improvement was still working in Hank's favor. At the moment a heart attack made little sense.

A quick scan noted that Hank's cholesterol was at a healthy level, his blood pressure was stable, his weight and his B.M.I., and even his liver function had improved from his change in diet and the dramatic decrease in alcohol consumption since the night of Revolution. Hank hadn't consumed an unhealthy amount of caffeine, he hadn't taken any medication, or had been knowingly exposed to any toxins in the recent frame of time either.

Looking more closely Connor honed his scanner in directly on Hank's heart to get a more accurate possible diagnosis. There was no sign of any plaque blockages in his arteries or any blood clots. There was no sign of trauma that could've resulted in the sudden onset of symptoms and Hank hadn't previously complained of any illness of discomfort prior to his collapse. The only damage to the senior detective's chest were the four fractured ribs from prolonged C.P.R. and mild swelling around Hank's heart for the same reason.

The evidence didn't seem to line up with Hank's symptoms beyond symptoms that could be connected to any other number of other illnesses and afflictions.

"Hank, I'm here."

Connor stated calmly as he looked down at the very sick human with sympathy in his soulful brown eyes. Trying to sound more confident than afraid Connor spoke to the senior detective; his adoptive father, in as stable a voice as possible.

"I'm... not sure what happened to you, neither is your doctor, but we'll figure out what happened to you. I promise."

Watching the nearby nurse from the corner of his eye Connor studied her movements very carefully as she used a small, sterilized syringe to draw a sample of blood from the bend of Hank's arm opposite of where Connor was standing to be taken to the lab for testing. As she applied a cottonball and a strip of medical adhesive to keep the fresh needle mark clean and to stem the bleeding, a daring thought popped into Connor's head.

"I think I know what to do."

Waiting for the nurse to turn her back as she made a note in Hank's electronic chart Connor reached out to Hank's opposite arm and peeled back the adhesive to lift up the cottonball from over the still mildly bleeding vein. In a flash of movement Connor ran his fingertip over the still bleeding puncture wound and smeared a sample of Hank's blood onto his own fingertip. Replacing the cottonball and adhesive quickly Connor discreetly pressed the blood sample to his tongue and ran an analysis of his own to try and find an answer to Hank's sudden illness.

Connor's L.E.D. flashed red quickly as his highly attuned program picked up on a foreign contaminant in Hank's bloodstream. It was a faint trace but one that was evidently potent enough to cause Hank's heart to fail within a matter of seconds upon entering his system.

"Nurse?" Connor addressed the attending nurse sharply, almost startling her as she returned the chart to the foot of the medical bed. "I know what's causing Hank's illness. Please inform Dr. O'Neal that-"

The monitors attached to the ill senior detective began to loudly screech as Hank's heart rate began to rapidly climb once more into a dangerously fast arrhythmia. The medication being administered to the man to keep his symptoms at bay were no longer effective.

"H-Hank?"

Dr. O'Neal rushed back into the room with two other nurses behind him to assist in treating Hank. Noting the display on the cardiac monitor as well as listening to Hank's chest with his stethoscope the doctor made his diagnosis and responded accordingly.

"He's in ventricular tachycardia, we need to shock him."

Connor stood back and watched as two of the nurses pulled open the pale blue hospital gown from Hank's chest while the third nurse prepared the defibrillator from the nearby 'crash cart' for Dr. O'Neal to use. As soon as the two paddles were placed down over Hank's chest Connor closed his eyes and turned his head away from the sight. He had seen Hank shocked already and it wasn't something he cared to witness a second time.

"Clear!"

Against his will Connor winced as he heard the controlled electrical discharge erupt from the paddles and surged through Hank's failing heart.

"No conversion." Dr. O'Neal noted as he prepared to shock Hank for the second time. "Charging again."

Keeping his ground but looking away Connor braced himself for the next necessary shock and hoped that it'd be more effective than the first.

"Clear."

Flinching with disgust Connor opened his soulful brown eyes again as he heard the cardiac monitor resume a calm normal heart rhythm.

"He's back." Dr. O'Neal continued to check Hank's other vital signs for himself while also comparing them to the readout on the monitors attached to Hank's body. Running the bell of his stethoscope over Hank's chest the doctor could hear the struggling beats of the senior detective's weakened heart as he returned from his second bout of cardiac distress. "We need to start treating him with-"

"Dr. O'Neal." Connor spoke up quickly to catch the doctor's attention before he made any diagnosis. "I know what's causing Hank's condition and it's NOT from a heart attack."

"You what? How?" Turning to look at Connor the doctor draped his stethoscope around his neck and studied the deviant curiously. "What do you mean you know what is causing his illness while the hospital's lab hasn't figured it out?"

"I can run analysis samples in real time. I tested Hank's blood and-"

"You what?!"

"I tested his blood," Connor resumed with a lilt of authority in his voice without showing any sign of regret in his actions. "and I found trace amounts of a potent substance called aconite; otherwise known as Wolfsbane. It's still in his system."

"Aconite is a very potent poison from Asia..." The clearly astute doctor was stunned by the revelation but familiar enough with toxins to recognize the substance that Connor had referenced. "Are you sure about this?"

"Completely. I ran the sample three times to be certain."

"I don't doubt your results, but we'll still have the lab check his blood to confirm your findings." Stepping closer to Connor to speak in a somewhat discreet manner Dr. O'Neal lowered his voice and spoke to the deviant one-on-one with nothing but professional courtesy. "If you're right then that means his chances of survival are very slim. There is no known antidote for aconite poisoning, only partially effective treatments."

"I'm aware of his odds." Connor swallowed once nervously before he replied. "...Statistically speaking there's always a chance for unlikely events to take place."

"I'm also aware that you've been listed as his next of kin and medical proxy in his personnel file. Do you want us to begin treatment for aconite poisoning or run additional tests to rule out other possible illness? After all, Lieutenant Anderson had an extensive history of poor health."

Looking past Dr. O'Neal Connor stared at Hank lying unconscious in the bed with the three nurses taking care of him compassionately. Connor knew he needed to go with his gut since he knew that's what Hank would want him to do.

"...Treat him for the aconite poisoning." The deviant detective made his decision knowing that Hank's life was on the line. "I'm going to locate the source of the poison to confirm the diagnosis and figure out how it got into his system to begin with."

"We'll pump his stomach as a precaution." Dr. O'Neal stated as he accepted Connor's decision for the proper medical treatment. "Ingestion is the most likely cause in these types of scenarios. Although his vomiting spells in the back of the ambulance during transport will make that task somewhat easier."

"Agreed."

Nodding once Connor stepped around Dr. O'Neal and grabbed Hank's hand lightly. Pulling his coin from his pocket Connor slipped it into Hank's palm and closed his fingers around the coin so that in the event Hank did wake up he'd know that Connor had been beside him.

"We're going to save you; I swear to it. But you must hold on a little longer and you cannot give up. I'm going to see you through this."


Even though Captain Fowler had yet to arrive at the hospital to check on his deathly ill Lieutenant, Gavin still agreed to drive back to the precinct with Connor to figure out exactly what had happened to Hank. After he had been given a brief summary of what Connor had found in Hank's blood Gavin agreed to help in locating the source of the poison and determine who had tried to murder Hank in the middle of their own bullpen. Considering Hank was famous for bringing down massive and numerous 'red ice' rings throughout the city and arresting powerful drug Kingpins, the two detectives were aware that there would be no shortage of enemies who would want to see the famous Lieutenant dead.

Still unsure of how Gavin would react to his presence Connor sat in silence during the drive back to the precinct and nervously fidgeted his empty hand at his side as he cybernetically downloaded every viable piece of information on Wolfsbane to study. It was a rare poison, very effective and would be incredibly difficult to locate in the Western Hemisphere. Even with the additional information gathered Connor was still struggling to solve the mystery.

"So... Where do you think he got poisoned?" Gavin asked somewhat uneasily as he drove the dark streets of Detroit back to the precinct. "I mean, we know he went down at the precinct but was he hurt during patrol or what? Like, he could've gotten something spiked during his lunchbreak, you know?"

"Dr. O'Neal and I agree that accidental ingestion is the most logical source of the poison."

"'Accidental', huh? I don't think there's anything 'accidental' about what happened to Hank tonight, 'Tinman'."

"It wasn't an attempt at suicide," Connor remarked defensively as he turned his head slightly to glare at Gavin. "if that's what you're implying."

"Relax, you plastic asshole. All I'm implying is that the poisoning wasn't an accident but deliberate." Gavin could smell a rat just as quickly as any other well trained and attentive detective. "Someone targeted Hank and I want to know how and why."

Subtly nodding Connor agreed with Gavin's assessment. Running numerous scenarios through his mind Connor tried to reconstruct the possible events leading up to the poisoning itself, as well as the fact that poison mimicked the symptoms of a heart attack. Connor had spent the entire day and shift with Hank even during their breaks, and Hank hadn't exhibited any signs of illness during breakfast or lunch.

The only time Hank showed any ill health was just seconds before he collapsed to the floor. To be more specific, Hank collapsed just seconds after drinking the foul tasting coffee that he was given by rookie officer Kenneth Davidson.

"Hey?" Gavin could see the yellow L.E.D. in Connor's temple frantically blinking as the deviant sat in deep, quiet thought beside him. "What're you thinking?"

"...The coffee."

"What about it?"

"Hank became violently ill after drinking only a very small amount of the coffee."

"I had some of that coffee, too." The argumentative detective logically rebutted as he tried to figure out the mystery as well. "Why aren't I sick?"

"Unknown."

"Great. Just great." Gavin let out an annoyed sigh as he returned to the parking garage of the precinct and reclaimed his usual assigned parking spot. "All right, let's get this investigation underway before anything else happens."

Following after Gavin and quickly overtaking the human detective with his hastier pace, Connor entered the precinct and made an immediate beeline from the front receptionist area toward Hank's desk in the bullpen in search of the remaining coffee that the senior detective hadn't consumed. The moved desks had been replaced to their usual places after the group had left with the paramedics and everything seemed to have been left as it should have been. However, there was one critical change that made Connor tense with frustration.

The coffee mug was empty.

"Shit." Connor swore as he looked down into the empty white mug now grasped in his hands after he snatched it up from Hank's side of the desk. "It's gone."

Gavin caught up to Connor and noted the deviant's gripe easily. "I thought you said he only drank a little bit of that stuff."

"He did. Someone disposed of the remaining coffee." Connor confirmed as he scanned the mug for fingerprints quickly. There were only two sets of fingerprints on the sides of the cup; those belonging to Hank and those belonging to the 'new guy' who had delivered the mug. It was very limited information, yet it could also be the most damning clue during the whole investigation. "Where is the new officer who had been recently assigned to the precinct?"

"Dunno'." Curiously Gavin glanced about the bullpen but didn't see the rookie officer in question. "Hey!" He shouted arrogantly to get everyone's attention in the bullpen. It was quite effective as everyone swiveled their heads to look in Gavin's direction. "Where's the new guy? That, uh... Davidson kid!"

"He went home." Tina confirmed with a shrug of her shoulders as she looked up from her own terminal screen and toward Gavin. "What's up? How's the Lieutenant?"

"We need to ask the new guy a few questions. There's a chance he might know what happened tonight."

"I'll go pick him up." With a nervous acknowledgement Tina volunteered quickly to find Davidson as she waved to Chris to accompany her out to the city. "I know where his apartment is."

"Seriously? Just like that, Ti'?"

"Sure." Securing her jacket over herself Tina gave her partner a determined glance. "That guy creeps me out, so if you think he knows something or did something I want to help you get rid of him."

"Thanks." Gavin smacked the side of Connor's forearm and pointed to the breakroom as he made his way over to the coffee maker. "He got to the mug but maybe he forgot to dump out the rest of the coffee before he took off."

Agreeing with the suspicions Connor sat the offending mug down on the desk and joined Gavin in the breakroom. The coffee pot had been left untouched save for the small amount that Gavin and Hank had taken that evening. Connor ran another scan over the immediate area and found the fingerprints of every officer assigned to the precinct all over the handle of the coffee pot, the activation buttons, and even the side of the coffee maker itself.

However, Gavin and Davidson's fingerprints were the most recent.

"This is where Davidson contaminated the coffee." Connor picked up the pot and opened the lid. Running a direct scan there was no sign of contamination to the coffee to be found. Dipping a finger down into the coffee itself Connor pressed it to his tongue but failed to detect any of the poison. "Nothing."

"Then how'd he poison Hank?"

"I'm still trying to make that determination." Taking a visual inventory of everything on the counters in the breakroom Connor zeroed-in on the small porcelain bowl containing sugar packets, the stainless-steel thermos containing creamer, and a box containing small packets of artificial flavoring. "Did you add any sweetener or cream to your coffee?"

"No." The detective's diabetes kept him from having anything sweet very often. "I have to keep tabs on my sugar, so I always drink it black."

Connor turned his attention to the numerous packets of sweeteners and the creamer that was available to every officer in the precinct. Despite his extensive scans over the contents Connor was unable to locate any external breeches in the sugar packets that would allow anyone to add the poison and he was unable to detect any poison in the creamer. Thinking quickly Connor's yellow L.E.D. flashed to red as he returned his attention to the empty mug on Hank's desk.

"If Hank truly was the target, then the odds of Davidson contaminating the community supplies are extremely minimal."

"Yeah, so?"

"I believe I've figured this out."

Marching over to Hank's desk once more Connor picked up the empty coffee mug and ran his finger over the interior of the mug itself. Pressing a trace amount of the coffee against his tongue Connor nearly spat out the sample as he ran the analysis and confirmed the coffee was laced with the poison.

"Found it." Connor grimaced as he turned to Gavin who was standing just inside the breakroom watching him. "It was placed directly inside the mug. I can detect small granules of the poison that hadn't fully dissolved into the coffee. The poison itself was derived of the dried leaves of the toxic flower's petals and effectively tainted the entire mug."

"Then Hank was the target, and it wasn't a freak occurrence. What the hell for?" Gavin walked over to the desks to speak with Connor directly and lowered his voice to keep the other nosier officers from eavesdropping and spreading rumors. "What did Hank do to that Davidson kid to end up like this?"

"Nothing. Hank has had no direct interaction with Davidson beyond their previous patrol together, nor do they have a shared history."

"All right, why don't you go back to the hospital and sit with Hank?" Showing some compassion Gavin tried to help Connor feel better about the entire ordeal where his adoptive father's life was on the line. "When Tina gets back here with Davidson, I'll figure out what the hell's going on."

"Why are you helping me so much?" The last person Connor had expected to help him during a family emergency was Gavin Reed. "You despise me and you're not on the best of terms with Hank."

"It's because I heard what you called the Lieutenant when he went down."

"To what are you referring?"

"You called him 'dad'. That means you really care about him, and Hank needs someone like that by his side." A little embarrassed to admit he had a soft side Gavin crossed his arms over his chest in a defensive manner. "So go and stay with him while I handle all the bullshit back here." He could see that Connor was embarrassed as well and wanted their conversation to end. "I won't tell anyone what you said."

"Okay." While a part of him wanted to stay and finish the case a bigger part of him compelled Connor to take up Gavin on the offer and return to the hospital. "Thank you, Gavin."

"Whatever." Dismissing the comment Gavin waved Connor off and pulled his phone from his pocket to get an update on the impending arrest from Tina and Chris's end of the investigation. "Just don't let it slip that I'm doing ya' a favor. You OWE me, 'Tinman'."


Using the Oldsmobile to his advantage Connor drove back to St. Mercy Hospital to watch over Hank and tend to his medical needs if and when necessary. Just as he had feared, Hank's condition had worsened during his absence as Hank's newly developed respiratory distress only further exasperated his already strained heart. No longer able to breathe on his own Hank had to be intubated and hooked up to a respirator to give his lungs a chance to rest after a chest tube was inserted to drain the collected fluid from his pulmonary tissues. The respirator would have to remain in place until Hank's lungs had healed enough to function without the secondary aid of a machine.

Quietly Connor sat idle in the waiting room of the hospital while he patiently kept cybernetic tabs on the reports being filed at the precinct and patiently awaited any update on Hank's condition. The hospital confirmed Connor's suspicion of the poison as Wolfsbane and as a result Dr. O'Neal began using common sense medicine to treat Hank's symptoms while also putting the senior detective on dialysis to help his system clear the remaining poison from his body.

As night gave way to early morning hours Connor was finally joined in the waiting room by Captain Fowler who had the unfortunate honor of telling Connor everything that had happened during the interrogation at the precinct. Connor recognized Captain Fowler from the corner of his eye as his Captain sat down beside him and whispered an update on Hank's condition to his commanding officer.

"...He went into respiratory arrest seven minutes after I left the hospital with Gavin." The deviant lamented with misplaced guilt. "His lungs are filling with fluid that requires constant drainage from a chest tube inserted between his fourth and fifth lateral ribs, and he's being kept alive solely because a respirator is breathing for him due to how weak he has become."

Captain Fowler didn't know what to say. His oldest friend had begun to live again and find a reason to stop drinking, start focusing on his work again, and stopped being angry at the world every day of his life. Now Hank was fighting for his life because of an unknown vendetta. All the seasoned Captain could think to do was inform Connor on the case at hand and keep the worried deviant up to speed.

"Gavin and Tina were able to get a confession out of Davidson." The empathetic commanding officer confirmed with a bittersweet grin of cautious optimism. "Turns out Kenneth Davidson was the former best friend of Benjamin Perkins." As he spoke Captain Fowler noticed Connor's posture visibly stiffen and his red L.E.D. blinked faster in anger at immediate recognition of the name. "...And it was disgraced former agent Richard Perkins who paid Davidson to slip the poison into Hank's coffee as a revenge ploy from behind bars."

Staying silent Connor's eyes fell to the floor solemnly as he thought about the needlessly tragic ordeal.

Revenge. It was simple, obvious and worst of all, effective.

"This poison was a common weapon used in F.B.I. assassinations. At least that's what F.B.I. Director Jayden told me." Captain Fowler continued on bitterly. "It mimics the signs of a severe heart attack and is virtually undetectable. The only reason we were able to connect Perkins to this sick assault is because of you, Connor. You saved Hank's life and identified his would-be killer."

Connor's L.E.D. flickered red rapidly again before slowing to a calmer pulse as heartache abruptly set in.

"It wasn't enough for Perkins to take my only brother away from me." Whispering his rage only made Connor's emotions all the more extreme. "Now he's gone after-"

"Connor, in these types of situations my training tells me that I need to tell you not to lose your cool and to not worry." Captain Fowler interjected with a firm but kind tone of voice. "But my every instinct tells me as that no matter what you say or do, this asshole deserves it. I can't condone any violence or revenge against Perkins or Davidson, but I can't stop you from feeling angry. So be angry, plot revenge, fantasize about carrying out that revenge, but DON'T blame yourself. All right?"

"What good could possibly come from revenge?" Feeling totally lost Connor didn't know what to think or do. "Perkins is already in prison, his son has been scarred for life and is serving his own prison time, Lucas will still be dead, and Hank... He'll-"

"Hank will be just fine." Speaking like a father rather than a detective, Captain Fowler was determined to keep Connor from losing what was left of his emotional resolve. "As long as you're still going to be looking out for him, he'll make it."

One of the nurses that had been helping to take care of Hank entered the waiting room with an electronic clipboard in her hands and a sorrowful glance in her eyes as she turned her focus toward Connor.

"Detective Anderson?"

Connor homed-in on the nurse's voice and stood up and slowly to greet the young woman. "...Yes?"

"Dr. O'Neal would like to speak with you."

Straightening his posture abruptly Connor locked his gaze with the nurse as he addressed her cautiously. "Is Hank... stable?"

"Please." The nurse insisted while remaining emotionally cryptic for the sake of professionalism. "Come with me. Dr. O'Neal will explain everything."

At the sound of her voice Connor's soulful brown eyes filled with fear and hesitation as he warily followed after the nurse as she escorted him to the Critical Care Unit of the hospital. Such a unit was on a different floor of the hospital than the Cardiac Care Unit where Connor had last seen Hank after being admitted for treatment. Keeping his eyes fixed on the tile floor before himself Connor silently followed the nurse at her heels and didn't stop walking until she did. Counting every step that he took and counting each tile he stepped over, the deviant was doing anything and everything he could to distract his thoughts for a moment longer.

"Right in here." Pushing her palm to the electronic panel beside the door's frame the nurse unlocked the door as it slid open slowly. The nurse motioned for Connor enter the room while she stayed outside. "Dr. O'Neal will speak to you in private."

Holding his breath Connor walked into the new room and saw Hank laying on the bed with just as many machines recording his vitals as before while a nearby dialysis machine helped filter the poison from his blood. Hank was still pale and displayed a weak heart rate, but as long as his heart continued to beat Connor was content with the ill detective's current state of health.

Seeing the respirator forcing artificial breaths into Hank's lungs was incredibly unsettling to the compassionate deviant and it made his artificial stomach knot. Humans weren't meant to live on machines, humans were meant to function of their own freewill by natural instinct and reaction and not by a machine forcing their bodies to continue to function.

It was just wrong to see Hank being kept alive by machines.

Dr. O'Neal was standing beside Hank's bed waiting for Connor to arrive. His eyes were fixed on the dialysis machine as it meticulously filtered Hank's blood before returning it to his body. The attentive doctor had his hand pressing the stethoscope against the senior detective's chest to listen to the ill man's heart and struggling lungs directly to check on Hank's respiration rate.

"Dr. O'Neal?" Connor addressed the man hesitantly as he dared to approach the bedside and look down at Hank. The coin that Connor had given Hank before he had left the hospital remained grasped weakly in Hank's hand and was still a reminder that Connor had been by Hank's side before resuming the investigation. "I was informed that you wished to speak with me."

"Yes, Connor." Dr. O'Neal pulled away his stethoscope as he turned his attention to the deviant and slung the instrument around his neck. "I wanted to let you know that your analysis was accurate and put us on the correct path leading to Lieutenant Anderson's recovery. He's still very weak and treating his condition due to the lack of antidote to this particular poison will remain touch and go for the next seventy-two hours, but I'm confident that he'll recover nonetheless."

Connor let out his breath and his shoulders slumped in relief as his L.E.D. cycled from red to yellow slowly. "...Can I stay with him?"

"For a few minutes. He needs as much rest as possible," Dr. O'Neal explained kindly as he made a new note in Hank's electronic chart. "and he'll need to be monitored closely for any changes in his condition."

"I understand."

Placing his hand down gently atop Hank's shoulder, mindful of the various wires and I.V. lines snaking all over Hank's chest and arms, the frightened deviant remained loyal at Hank's side. Just as Hank stayed with Connor during his coma Connor was going to stay with Hank.

"Remain strong for me. You were there for me during my coma and I'm going to stay here for you during this horrible event."


The dedicated precinct was able to easily connect the already incarcerated and disgraced former F.B.I. Agent Richard Perkins to the failed assassination attempt of Hank from behind bars as soon as Davidson confessed to the crime. The busted and terrified officer readily handed over the remaining poison in his possession for evidence as he gave his confession to the failed attempted murder. The letters that Davidson had received from Perkins through one of Perkins' previous pseudonyms when he had been undercover solidified the connection. Meanwhile, the personal contact that Perkins had in Asia admitted he had sent the poison to Davidson through a package in the mail. Everything the investigating officers needed had been readily made available by Director Jayden himself.

Perkins would be punished, but any possible punishment wouldn't be enough to make the snake of an agent suffer adequately. The cruel and heartless man was ironically left untouchable while incarcerated. Solace could only be found in the confirmation that the disgraced agent would never set foot outside of a prison for the remainder of his miserable life.

Activity in the hospital wasn't as hopeful as it should've been. It seemed Hank's age and previously poor health had hindered his ability to recover as quickly as the doctors had estimated. While Hank no longer required dialysis to filter the poison from his blood, he did need to remain hooked up to the respirator until he had regained enough strength to breathe on his own. It took a full fourth day of recovery until Dr. O'Neal had extubated Hank. Even though the tube down Hank's throat had been removed and replaced with a nasal canula under his nose to keep a steady supply of oxygen flowing through his still healing lungs, Hank had remained entirely unconscious and unresponsive.

Connor stayed in the hospital for as long as visiting hours would permit him for the following three days; only returning home long enough to take care of Sumo as well as his aquarium while only entering rest mode for a few hours at a time. Sitting in a chair next to Hank's bedside Connor kept quiet vigil over the semi-comatose senior detective as his body slowly healed from the ravages of the poison having a catastrophic effect on his heart, his lungs, his liver, and especially his kidneys.

Closing his eyes to enter a light form of rest mode to keep himself from collapsing or needing to return home to sleep, Connor was only mildly aware of Hank's presence as the sick detective remained as silent as the poison that had crept into his veins five days before.

"I'm still here... dad. I won't leave you."

The fog of poison that had taken over Hank's mind after he lost consciousness had steadily begun to lift as Connor reluctantly slept. Opening his heavy eyelids Hank's blue eyes shone brightly against his contrasting bloodshot sclera around it. Still feeling nauseous and tired Hank had a difficult time becoming fully awake as he glanced about the area through his hazy vision.

Blinking once Hank looked to his side and saw Connor sitting in the chair beside the bed with perfect posture even though his eyes were closed and his L.E.D. cycled in a steady yellow hue in his right temple. The deviant had one hand resting atop his lap and the other resting on Hank's left forearm.

A foreign pressure in the palm of Hank's hand caused him to reflexively squeeze his fingers around the object, his eyes drifting down to his weak fist in the process. Opening his hand slightly he recognized the small metal coin and let out a weak sigh accompanied by an equally weak chuckle. Gracelessly Hank slipped the coin from the palm of his hand and onto the back of his thumb until it was resting atop the thumbnail. Mustering as much strength as he could Hank flipped the coin from his thumb toward Connor and managed to land the quarter against Connor's knee before it fell to the floor with a distinct 'tink' against the cold tiles of the room as it landed on its side and rolled around Connor's shoe once before falling onto its side head's up.

Connor's eyes snapped open as soon as the coin struck his leg and his gaze turned to look at Hank who was watching him with a fatigued stare. "Hank."

"...Hey, kid."

"Hank!" Leaning forward in his seat Connor's hand subconsciously tightened on Hank's arm in positive response to Hank's regained consciousness. "You're awake."

"...Looks like it." Sensing that his condition was worse than he feared based solely on Connor's reaction Hank reluctantly asked what had happened and swallowed once to rid the hoarse pain from his throat. "H-How long was I out?"

"One-hundred thirty-three hours, seven minutes and fifty-seven seconds."

Hank blinked in a slow quiet obliviousness without asking a follow-up question.

Connor simplified the time frame for the sake of Hank's healing mind as he picked up on the confusion coming from the healing detective. "Five and half days."

"...Oh. How bad was it?" Hank asked sleepily as he watched Connor's dark brown eyes staring intently at him. "Must've been really bad if you're so worried."

"I do not understand." The deviant's head tilted slightly to display his verbal confusion. "How bad was what?"

"Heart attack."

Connor forced a timid smile to his face as he spoke to his ill friend - to his father. "You didn't have a heart attack. That terrible coffee you drank was laced with poison."

"...Poison?" As his brow knitted with more confusion Hank's eyes widened slightly while he studied Connor's face. "What the hell?"

"It was a failed assassination attempt by former Agent Richard Perkins. He employed the officer Kenneth Davidson to put the poison in your coffee mug."

"Poisoned. How did..." Hank looked around with mounting confusion as he studied the numerous machines recording his vital signs and the I.V. running into the back of his right hand. The sight of all the machines tracking his body's every function was unnerving to say the least. "How did the doctors know? I would've sworn I was having a heart attack."

"I... I tested your blood with a direct sample." The confession felt more like an intrusion on Hank's right to privacy than a means of helping the man. "I detected the poison and identified it properly."

"You ran the test?" A subtle but detectable grin flashed on his face as he realized what Connor had done for him. "...You saved me."

"There is no antidote to the poison that Perkins used, but you're going to recover regardless." Dismissing the remark of heroism Connor remained focused on Hank's condition and did everything he could to reassure the healing senior detective that he'd make a full recovery. "You're going to be okay."

"I..."

Dr. O'Neal and a nurse returned to the room to check on Hank and were both surprised to see the senior detective finally awake and speaking. Without a moment's hesitation Dr. O'Neal began performing a thorough examination of Hank; checking his vital signs, listening to his chest and checking his memory for any sign of cognitive impairment, and was impressed to see Hank so coherent and already so strong.

Connor had watched the same exam exactly eighteen times prior during Hank's admission to the hospital, but now that Hank was finally awake, he would be able to respond accordingly. It was the best sign Connor had seen during those eighteen previous times and the relief was audible in his words.

"I'll be outside for a moment." Dismissing himself for a minute, Connor decided to give Hank some privacy. "I'll be back soon."

Retracting his hand from Hank's arm Connor bent down to picked up his coin from the floor before rising from his chair in an attempt to give the doctor and nurse more room to work. Seeing Hank's eyes open and hearing his voice replying to the hundreds of questions being thrown his way was more than Connor could've hoped for as his L.E.D. tinted yellow with worry finally cycle back to blue in relief.

"Thank you for staying strong."

As soon as he was out of Hank's line of sight and hearing range, Connor pressed his palm to his face and began to weep tears of joy and utter relief. The fear of losing his remaining family had scared Connor in a way he hadn't felt since Lucas had been murdered, and it was a fear he never wanted to feel for even a passing second for the rest of his own existence.

"I'm not ready to say goodbye to you."


Two additional days had passed before Hank had finally been discharged from the hospital and was free to return home to rest in comfort. Despite being discharged by Dr. O'Neal himself, Hank would still require constant supervision for another week and one more follow-up examination before he'd be fully medically cleared to return to active duty at the precinct. At that moment Hank didn't have the energy to even try to argue with the good doctor's orders or try to pretend that he wasn't still feeling entirely rundown and rotten. Connor of course had volunteered to take care of Hank during his final days of recovery at home and was more than happy to escort the senior detective back to the house himself.

Ensuring that Hank continued to take the medication as prescribed and rested properly, Connor knew he had his hands full tending to the stubborn detective back at the house. Hank didn't like doctors, hospitals or being told what to do by anyone for any reason. Even though everything was being done for Hank's own benefit Hank had an impressive ability to make it seem like he was being punished rather than helped.

"Connor, stop hovering all over me." Hank jerked his arm away from Connor's hand bitterly as the deviant tried to check his pulse rate for the fourth time that afternoon. "If this is how you're going to behave all week long, I think I'd prefer a stay in the hospital."

"Sorry. I'm merely checking for any possible negative side effects from the medication."

"I'm fine." Stubbornly Hank rolled to his side in his bed to try to get some more sleep and stop thinking for a few hours. "Go fuss over Sumo for a while, will ya'?"

"Sumo wasn't poisoned."

Connor reminded Hank somewhat sarcastically as he stayed beside the bed and ran another biometric scan over Hank's vital signs without touching him. He noticed that Hank had dropped some weight due to his prolonged stay in the hospital thanks to the poisoning affecting his body on a severe level, and also noticed some form of gastrointestinal distress still lingering in the senior detective's body.

"Sumo's leg will be fully healed in eight more weeks and he can then have the cast removed. You on the other hand may still require dialysis."

"Yeah, yeah." Hank pulled the quilt up over his head to hide himself from Connor's direct line of sight as spoke in a grumpy tone. "And I was cleared by the doctor three hours ago. Let me alone to sleep, all right? I'm exhausted."

"Very well. I will have to return in five hours, twelve minutes and seventeen seconds to give you your next dose of medication." Remaining absolutely punctual was one of Connor's strange coping techniques since he still felt as if he should've been able to do more to help Hank back at the precinct. It was an unfortunate tic that the deviant had developed as his emotions continued to grow. "You should eat something as well; you need the calories. It might also help settle your-"

"Whatever..." Waving his hand Hank hope to shoo Connor away without offending him by mistake. "Just let me sleep, I'm exhausted."

"Of course. Rest well."

"Sure. See ya' later, kid."

Exiting the bedroom quietly Connor walked into the livingroom where Sumo was plopped down on his massive fluffy bed and pillow in the corner of the room and knelt before the massive dog to greet him. Petting Sumo's head gently Connor ran a biometric scan over Sumo's still healing broken leg and gave Sumo an empathetic rub of the ears. The cone had been removed and Sumo seemed to be in better spirits because of it.

"Eight more weeks, boy. Then you'll have the itchy cast off your leg."

A small alarm sounded off in Connor's head as his internal clock informed him it was time to prepare Hank's medication and a light meal that would help the senior detective heal without making him feel sick.

"Come on, I'll feed you a little early so I can tend to Hank on schedule."

Sumo wagged his tail as he stood up slowly to balance his heavy weight on his three legs as he slowly limped after Connor into the kitchen.

"I'll also take you on extra walks to make up for your limited mobility after you get your cast off, but we won't overdo it."


Entering the dark bedroom at the designated time with a small serving tray holding the bottle of medication, a piece of dry toast and a glass of water, Connor silently placed the full tray down on the rather messy nightstand beside the bed without startling Hank with his presence. The simple toast was seemingly the only thing that Hank would be able to eat without feeling ill again as the poison had a severe effect on his stomach after it had been ingested and wreaked havoc on his internal organs in a nearly lethal manner. Even being able to drink water was questionable since Hank had been suffering nausea ever since he had awoken at the hospital three days prior.

Gently Connor placed his hand on Hank's shoulder to awaken the senior detective with a slight shake. It didn't take much to awaken the recovering detective from his slumber.

Hank grumbled without moving the quilt from his face and kept his eyes closed. "...What is it, Connor?"

"You need your medication."

With a breathy sigh Hank pushed the quilt from over his head and looked up at Connor in the dim lighting of the room with hazy blue eyes. "What's the worst that could happen if I miss one dose?"

"Renal failure, for starters." Connor retorted sharply as he tired to help Hank to sit upright in the bed. "Does the medication cause physical distress?"

"...You could say that." Wincing a little Hank pressed his hand over his abdomen and grimaced a little as a sour taste rose up from his throat. Every motion made the man's insides feel like they were being churned in every direction. "It feels like it's tearing my fuckin' stomach apart."

"Interesting." Curiously Connor picked up the bottle of pills and ran a scan over the name of the medication and compared it to a list of known side effects causing his L.E.D. to blink from blue to yellow in the process. "Intense nausea and other digestive issues have been reported with this particular medication. Would you like me to make you some mint tea? It'll-"

"I hate tea. You know that." Hank almost snipped as he endured the lingering discomfort in his stomach. "...Just give me the damn pills and let me go back to sleep so I can ignore it."

"As you wish." Connor knew that Hank's foul disposition wasn't personal or even aimed at him, Hank was just annoyed. Opening the bottle Connor dropped two of the pills into Hank's palm and handed him the glass of water. "Here you go."

Begrudgingly Hank popped the pills into his mouth and swallowed them with a mouthful of water. "There... Now, please let me go back to sleep."

"Yes, of course." Connor took away the water and the medication but left the toast behind. "Try to eat. I'll let you be alone for now. Call if you need anything."

"Yeah, yeah." Laying back down Hank pulled the quilt up over his head once more to shield himself from the light. "...Whatever."


Keeping to himself Connor quietly and patiently sat on the couch in the livingroom with Sumo's chin resting on his knee as he waited for the appropriate hour to give Hank his next dose of medication. Rubbing Sumo's ears lightly much to the dog's delight Connor considered putting in a request to alter Hank's medication to make it less potent on his stomach when he heard the bedroom door down the hallway open fully with a violent tug. Rapidly and clumsily Hank stumbled down the hallway and all but broke down the bathroom door as he sought refuge inside and slammed the door behind himself with a loud 'bang' that echoed throughout the house and made Sumo bark once.

Sensing something was very wrong Connor knew he needed to investigate what was happening. Gently he pushed Sumo off his lap in order to stand up and check in on the healing senior detective.

"Hank?"

Knocking on the closed bathroom door Connor could hear the sound of retching in the bathroom and quickly figured out what had happened. The sound was hauntingly similar to the night that Connor had found Hank passed out drunk on the kitchen floor when they were first assigned to work together, and Hank made himself sick from drinking far too much.

"Are you all right in there?"

The ill detective never answered through the door as he finished emptying his stomach. The toilet flushed and the shower began to run shortly thereafter.

Connor tested the doorknob and was relieved to find the room had been left unlocked. Pushing open the door slowly Connor peered inside the bathroom and saw Hank standing in the shower fully clothed as the water poured over him. Hank's face was red and he appeared mortified as he stood under the spraying water. He was unable to look at Connor and just pulled the curtain shut around the shower to conceal himself despite being already covered.

"Please talk to me." The deviant insisted as he hovered inside the opened bathroom doorway. "You're still recovering and need help."

"...I'm fine." Hank whispered as he pushed his wet hair out of his eyes with an unseen swipe of his hand as he watched Connor's silhouette standing on the other side of the shower curtain. "I told you those pills fucked up my stomach."

Connor fully entered the bathroom, his yellow L.E.D. blinking rapidly as he ran a biometric scan over Hank's body and detected trace amounts of bodily fluids all over Hank's mouth, chin and down the front of his shirt; as well as secondary bodily fluids running down his legs starting from the seat of his sweatpants.

Unfazed by Hank's condition Connor stepped closer to the shower as he pulled a towel from the rack on the nearby wall and handed it over to Hank through the curtain while he turned off the shower. Waiting for Hank to accept the towel Connor exited the bathroom and went back into Hank's bedroom to retrieve the ill man some fresh clothing. It was then Connor noted an additional mess on Hank's bed but remained undisturbed by the accident.

"Poor Hank. I didn't realize how severe his stomach distress had been."

Without batting an eye Connor pulled a clean t-shirt, pair of shorts and sweatpants from Hank's dresser and deposited the clothing on the bathroom sink for Hank to change in to. Discreetly Connor pulled the soiled sheets and quilt from the bed and carefully waded up the fabric in a ball before hastily depositing the sheets in the laundry room to be properly cleaned. Thankfully, the mattress had been spared and would only need a quick coating of baking soda to eliminate any lingering odors.

Tossing the sheets into the washer Connor turned on the machine and used a generous amount of detergent before making his return to the bathroom to check on the evidently ill detective. The deviant never had to worry about such accidents befalling his own person, but that didn't mean he didn't understand why Hank was so embarrassed by what had happened.

"Hank?"

Connor saw that Hank was sitting on the edge of the bathtub now stripped of his wet clothes and with the towel wrapped around his waist. It was then Connor noted that Hank's weight loss had been at least fifteen pounds from his hospital stay and he appeared somewhat frail as a result. Hank himself just stared with needless embarrassment at the linoleum floor beneath his feet.

"Are you still feeling sick?"

"...No. It's over." Still red with his mortifying experience Hank cleared his throat nervously and swept his hand through his long locks of hair again to remove them from his eyes. "Thankfully."

"Tomorrow I'll call the doctor and have him adjust your medication."

"Yeah, thanks."

"You should change into your dry clothes to get warm. I'll help you to my room."

"Your room?" Finally looking up at Connor with a hint of surprise Hank tried to decline the offer as he didn't want a potential repeat accident to affect Connor's room, too. "No, I'll sleep on the couch."

Connor shook his head as he tossed the gathered clothing from the sink toward Hank to wear. "You'll be more comfortable laying in a bed. I'll take the couch tonight."

"Kid, I-"

"I insist. Please?"

The gesture was truly sincere and one of complete understanding. Hank gave Connor a look of appreciation and gratitude fell over both of them in an instant of relief. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." Connor stepped out of the bathroom for a moment and waited patiently until Hank exited under his own volition a few minutes later. "I'll get you some water to stave off any possible dehydration you may be experiencing from your severe bout of sickness."

"While I appreciate it," Hank finished dressing and walked to the bathroom door to speak to Connor directly again. "you don't have to do that."

"I'm aware, but I want to do this." Putting his hand on Hank's shoulder Connor guided the ill detective into his bedroom and helped him to lay down on the clean bed to rest. With a reassuring nod Connor helped Hank to lay down under the quilt to finish sleeping. "You've taken care of me every time I had experienced an injury or an illness of my own, not because you had to but because you wanted to. It's what families do; we take care of each other You taught me this and I want you to know how much I appreciate your guidance."

"I'm glad I've been a good influence on you." Hank agreed as he laid back and tried to get some more sleep. As the deviant stepped through the bedroom door Hank called out to him in a somewhat shaking voice before he got too far away. "Hey, Connor, thanks for... you know. Cleaning things up. That has to be the most humiliating experience of my life."

"Please don't be embarrassed." There was no shame or hesitation in Connor's words as he spoke to Hank in a kind, understanding voice. "It was an accident and you have been very ill as of late."

"Well... Thanks all the same. Not just for cleaning up my mess, but for saving my life and taking care of me while I heal." Pulling the quilt up over his chest Hank sighed as he felt more at ease. "That's a lot for one person to undertake on their own, especially in such a small frame of time. So, thanks."

"It's okay, I'm happy to help you, but you're welcome all the same." Connor smiled warmly as he turned off the light to the bedroom and stepped outside to give Hank some privacy as he tried to rest. "I'll check on you in an hour."

"Yeah, sure. See you soon."

As the door was pulled shut quietly behind Connor during his departure Hank sighed and glanced about Connor's bedroom with an odd sense of misplacement. The last time he spent the night in that particular bedroom was the night of Cole's funeral. He had stayed in Cole's room one final time before hiring movers to collect Cole's old clothes, toys and furniture for donation. The other things he had asked Jeffrey to burn to ash.

"This feels weird."

Seeing Connor's green guitar mounted on its stand in the far corner, the perfectly organized and balanced book collection on top of the nearby dresser, the crystal clear water of the aquarium against the far wall, the large painting created by Lucas mounted on the wall at the foot of the bed, and that damned stuffed dog that Connor had been given while in a coma sitting on the nightstand beside the bed felt simultaneously out of place and normal. While Hank was glad to have given Connor a constant part of his life and some place safe where he can be his own person, having the deviant staying in the same space that once belonged to Cole still felt surreal.

"Never thought I'd feel like I was intruding in my own house."

Picking up the stuffed dog, some kind of solid black generic lab looking thing, he stared at it with a strange intrigue.

"Why in the hell did someone buy a grown man... android," he needlessly corrected himself as he pulled a little on the dog's soft ear. "a child's toy? Must've been Tina. She loves giving people stuffed animals."

Placing the toy back on the end table beside him Hank rolled onto his side and closed his eyes as he let his exhausted, embarrassed mind finally turn off for a little while. The bed wasn't his own, but it was warm, soft and comfortable all the same. He was truly grateful to have someone like Connor in his life to help watch over him and make him feel like a person who was still worthy of friends and family.

"Damn toy will probably follow him everywhere he goes, too."

Scoffing at the idea a little bit a faint grin appeared on his tired face.

"At least its smaller than Sumo. That's make it easier to deal with."

After an hour had passed Connor quietly opened the door again and peered inside the room to see Hank sound asleep and resting peacefully. Running a biometric scan over the sleeping human from the opened doorway Connor was relieved to see Hank's vitals normal and stable. Walking into the bedroom Connor put a glass of water and two antibiotic pills down on the nightstand before he put his hand on Hank's shoulder.

"Hank?"

"Hm?" Opening his eyes Hank needed a moment to gain his bearings but soon remembered that he was in Connor's room to sleep for a while. Giving the deviant an odd glance as his eyes drifted over to the offered water and medicine he sighed and reached his hand out to pick up the pills. "Great. More of this stuff that kills my guts."

"This is the last time you'll need this particular medication. Your new prescription will be ready by morning and is guaranteed to not have such an adverse effect on your stomach. I also included a medication that'll prevent such a side effect from recurring while helping you sleep."

"Good to know." Popping the pills into his mouth and gulping down the water, Hank sighed and reburied his face into the soft pillow. "Thanks, son."

"You're welcome. You'll feel better soon."

"I'm sure I will. Just let me alone to sleep the rest of the night without interruption, okay?"

"Okay. You sleep and I'll pick up you your new medication tomorrow morning." Stepping away from the bed Connor decided to give Hank one final update on the unusual circumstances they had just endured over the past week. "Davidson confessed to everything. Perkins now has his mail privileges revoked and will spend a full month in solitary confinement for what he did to you. The F.B.I. Director himself is going to oversee his further punishment and ensure his sentenced is increased in severity."

"Good. The idea of him rotting alone behind bars without anyone to hear him complaining is a comforting thought."

"I thought you'd like that." Connor grinned victoriously as he gave Hank some space to rest in the comfort of a clean, warm bed. "Sleep well."

"See you in the morning, son."

Exiting the room Connor whispered his last words in a strange hope that no one else heard him say the term he dared to speak in regarding Hank as his dearest and closest friend and his only family. While it was just Hank and Sumo in the house alongside Connor, the deviant detective was compelled to speak softly and privately even while by himself.

"I missed having you around. I'm glad you're back home where you belong, dad."

-next chapter-