Three weeks after being discharged from the hospital, Hank was required to return for a check-up regarding his still healing injuries and Connor took it upon himself to take care of Hank every step of the way. Although Hank was given a pair of crutches to walk on to support his weight as he recovered, he preferred to use only one crutch to balance on while keeping his free hand on Connor's shoulder and letting the deviant guide him to and from the car. As soon as he was placed in the front passenger seat of the old, reliable car Hank cranked up the radio and watched with the side mirrors as Connor stored the crutches in the backseat behind him before sitting down in the driver's seat beside him.
By all account Connor seemed to be on a mission despite there being no such need. It wasn't that strange to see Connor so focused on something important, but it usually meant the deviant was beginning to obsess over that same something. Obsessions could be dangerous even when that object of said obsession was something positive and good.
"Damn doctors." Hank swore as he rubbed his hand along his bicep where he had his blood drawn and an unexpected vaccine administered. "They'll find any damn reason they can to poke you with a needle."
"The blood test was necessary." Connor replied as he sat down behind the steering wheel of the car and pulled away from the hospital's parking lot onto the street to return home. The summer heat had finally broken and now the leaves were starting to turn from green to every other autumnal color in the book. "You had endured major emergency abdominal surgery only twenty-three days ago. Infection is still very much a threat."
"Yeah, kid. I know. I was there." Grumbling a little to himself Hank dropped his hand from his arm and let out a tired sigh. "I'm not talking about her drawing blood; I'm talking about her sneaking in that little flu shot when I wasn't paying attention."
"All first responders and emergency personnel are required to receive a mandatory influenza vaccination for every winter." The sight of the trees turning red and orange with faded shades of green was a perfect reminder of the time of year. "Why do you show such great disdain toward an annual procedure?"
"Because every time I get one of those damn flu shots it works a little too well, and I end up with the damn flu! That's the last thing I need right now."
"That seems contradictory." Confused by the statement Connor's blue L.E.D. temporarily flashed to yellow and his brow furrowed slightly as he pulled up to the red traffic light and stopped to wait for the signal to change. "I believe it'd be more apt to state that an internal infection would be the last thing you'd want to sustain, not an illness to which you've been given immunization."
"Connor." Hank turned his head to give the deviant a somewhat irritated look. "I was being sarcastic."
"...Oh. Sorry." That particular dialect was one that Connor just couldn't seem to master. "Sarcasm is still a somewhat foreign concept to me."
"Yup. I can tell."
The light turned green, and Connor continued on their way home as he pulled through the intersection. "May I ask you something?"
"You don't have to ask if you can ask me something, kid. What's on your mind?"
"You claim that every time you receive a flu vaccination you become ill with the flu. Why didn't you become ill last year or the year before?"
"Because I didn't get one last year. Or the year before."
"How did you-"
"I told the doctor who was handling all of the precinct vaccinations what was going on and as a favor every year for the past twelve years he'd mark off my name without actually giving me the shot. Apparently, this doctor didn't get the memo."
"...I see."
"Hey, don't act like I was doing anything illegal, all right? I just got so fuckin' tired of being sick as a dog every winter, so I found a doctor who'd accommodate me instead of talking about procedure and protocol."
"Sick as a-"
"It's an expression. Don't read too much into it." Hank sighed again and turned down the heat in the car with a quick flip of the dial. "I'd rather deal with a minor bout of the flu that lasts for three or four days for skipping the shot, instead of throwing-up, sweating to death, having my skull feel like it's caving in, not being able to breathe, and then coughing and sneezing for a full week like whenever I do get the shot. I hate the damn flu."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be. You're not the one who gave me the fuckin' shot."
As the car pulled into the driveway beside the house Connor ran a biometric scan over Hank's body and noted that his overall temperature had risen from its normal ninety-eight point six degrees to ninety-nine point one degrees. It was entirely possible that the increased temperature was due to his close proximity to the heater in the car, but it could also be the result of the shot.
It could also be the primary symptom of the flu indeed setting in.
"I'll take Sumo outside for a few minutes after I get you settled inside." Connor volunteered as he opened his door and made his way around the opposite side of the car to help Hank step onto the driveway without losing his balance. A nasty slip and fall would be the last thing Hank needed. "Do you want to return to your bedroom to read or-"
"Livingroom." Replying sharply as he used his crutches and Connor's arm for balance, Hank was determined to have a somewhat normal day. "The world series should be starting soon, and I don't want to miss any of it."
While Hank had stretched out over the couch and fallen asleep in front of the television only an hour into the (unexpectedly boring) game, Connor set about cleaning up the house as quietly as possible to ensure that Hank could relax without the risk of contracting an infection. It didn't take the detailed oriented deviant long to straighten up the house seeing as it was just the two detectives living there, plus Sumo, inside the modest home. Yet Connor felt the need to clean up every little surface he could reach for Hank's comfort and his health. The deviant's enhanced visions allowed him to scan every surface and detect all forms of bacteria, viruses and even mold spores that were roaming the house, and within minutes Connor had effectively eradicated them all.
As Connor busied himself in the kitchen, he heard a mild groan of protest from the livingroom that made him freeze and turn around while his L.E.D. flashed from blue to yellow with worry. It was a sound that always forewarned of intense pain or illness.
"Hank? Are you all right?"
Stepping back into the livingroom Connor saw that Hank was barely standing upright and relying entirely on both of his crutches as he tried to make his way down the hallway. The healing detective was several shades paler than normal, his face was flushed, and his eyes were glazed over. As sweat collected on his brow Hank looked down at the floor like he was unsure of where he was at that moment.
Running another biometric scan Connor noted the higher blood pressure, rapid heart rate and the elevated temperature now hovering at one-hundred and one point eight degrees. Connor stood beside the sick detective and carefully took away one of the crutches so he could hold Hank up at his side. As soon as he wrapped his arm around Hank's shoulders Connor could feel the intense heat radiating from the senior detective's body and proceeded to help him walk down the hallway a few paces.
"What do you need right now?"
Slow to respond Hank swallowed once and found his voice. "...To throw-up."
Guiding Hank into the bathroom carefully Connor made sure Hank was able to kneel down without hurting himself and did so just in time as the senior detective became violently sick and vomited into the toilet. The forceful retches worried Connor as the abrupt, painful motions could aggravate Hank's still healing incision in his abdomen and potentially reopen despite being mostly healed.
"Should I call your doctor and let her know that you're now ill?"
Hank spit the lingering foul taste from his mouth into the bowl and breathed a few times before he answered in a shaky voice.
"...N-No." Panting slowly he wrapped one arm around his abdomen and used his other hand to support himself against the cool floor. "Let me just ride this out in-"
Throwing-up again Hank looked and sounded absolutely horrendous.
Kindly Connor's hand pressed down against the middle of Hank's back and his opposite hand wrapped around Hank's forehead in an attempt to steady the miserably sick man while also gauging his vital signs. Resisting the urge to run his hand over Hank's abdomen to check the healing incision from his emergency splenectomy Connor just quietly waited for Hank to finish being sick.
"You'll be okay. Unfortunately, I know how uncomfortable it is to endure pain in the splenic region."
Once Hank finally stopped throwing-up Connor helped him to shift his weight toward his left side away from his broken leg to sit down on the cool linoleum floor and press his back up against the side of the tub. The ill detective kept his arm wrapped protectively around his sore abdomen in the process as he moved and sat back against the cool tub.
Standing in front of the sink Connor filled up the glass with water and handed it to Hank who accepted it with a shaking hand. Connor then proceeded to run a washcloth under the warm tap before letting a second one soak under the cool tap in the sink. Kneeling down in front of Hank without crowding him, Connor lightly wiped the remaining vomit from Hank's chin and lips with the warm washcloth before taking the cool washcloth and draping it around the back of Hank's neck in a comforting manner.
"There is no proper flu medication in the house." The deviant stated in a somber tone. "I'll go and get some for you."
"...No." Hank gave Connor a pathetic glance through his glassy blue eyes as he sounded entirely exhausted. "I'm tired of popping pills and drinking shit that a doctor insists I take. I'd rather let my own immune system deal with this instead of relying on drugs. I can handle it. I mean, I agreed to that osteographing procedure, thing, to make my busted leg heal faster, so I've had enough of doctors and medicines."
Connor didn't necessarily disagree with Hank's decision but since the senior detective was already suffering from a rather nasty fever, he didn't feel right in letting it run its course unaided. Hank had only just begun to fully heal from his previous surgery and his leg was still in the process of healing entirely. The physical exertion that stems from being so ill could cause Hank's health to relapse entirely and require a second hospitalization.
"I'll be fine." Hank was able to read the deviant like an opened book even if Connor himself didn't know it. "I've been through worse."
"Yes. But you shouldn't sit back and let yourself suffer simply due to frustration."
Hank almost laughed at the comment as he placed a shaking hand up on Connor's shoulder in an amused manner. "Trust me, this isn't something I'm doing willfully."
"Shall I take you back to the livingroom?"
"...Nah. The game's boring." Steadily Hank took a sip of the water previously offered and sat it down on the edge of the tub behind him. "I just want to get some sleep now. Bedroom is better than the livingroom."
"That would be the most beneficial option in your present condition. I'll assist you."
Foregoing the crutches entirely, Connor helped Hank to stand upright and balance on his one good leg while half carrying him out of the bathroom, down the hallway and into the bedroom at the very end of the hall. As Hank sat down on the edge of the bed he practically fell backward onto the thick pillow and closed his eyes quickly. The cool washcloth still pressed on the back of his neck was soothing and mercifully kept Hank's creeping headache at bay as he let his stomach settle during his rest.
"...Hey, kid?"
"Yes?" Connor watched Hank's demeanor carefully as he ran another scan and found the ill detective's vital signs still stable. "What do you need?"
"There's still an empty bucket still under the kitchen sink, right?"
"I'll go get it for you."
Connor volunteered readily as he understood the request. Stepping out of the bedroom quickly Connor marched down the hallway and made his way into the kitchen where Sumo was sitting next to his empty food bowl looking sad. The massive dog was patiently waiting to be fed and wagged his tail a little when Connor passed him by without giving him any ear rubs or chin scratches.
"Sorry, boy."
Quickly Connor pulled open the cabinets beneath the kitchen sink and located the bucket.
"I'll be back to feed you in a moment."
Retrieving the empty mop bucket from under the sink Connor felt a strange knot briefly tighten then loosen in his artificial stomach in a way that he couldn't properly explain. Pressing his free hand to his stomach Connor paused for a moment and ran a self-diagnostic as his blue L.E.D. flashed to red.
"Curious. My gyroscope must need recalibration."
Resuming his task Connor carried the empty bucket down the hallway and into Hank's bedroom to tend to Hank's illness. As Connor placed the empty bucket beside Hank's bed the keen-eyed deviant noticed that Hank was already in a deep sleep and that his fever was holding steady just below one-hundred and two degrees.
Being as discreet as possible Connor lifted up the hem of Hank's sweaty gray t-shirt and checked on the healing incision over his abdomen. Connor's L.E.D. briefly cycled in color as he noted that the violent bout of vomiting didn't reopen the almost fully healed incision and there was no sign of internal bleeding as a result. The sickness hadn't affected Hank an internal level which was Connor's primary concern.
"You've suffered no further trauma to your body, that's good."
Replacing the fabric of the t-shirt Connor pulled the thick quilt up and over Hank's stomach toward his chest in a comforting manner and decided to leave him alone to rest for a while.
"Feel better."
Exiting the bedroom Connor left the door partially opened to ensure he could still hear Hank if the ill detective needed anything else and as a means of keeping Hank from being entirely isolated from the house while he was sick. Remembering Sumo sitting in the kitchen, Connor set about giving the dog some fresh food to eat and replacing the water in the second bowl to ensure it was clean.
"I'm sorry, Sumo. I didn't mean to overlook feeding you while I was cleaning the house."
Patting the dog's back affectionately Connor felt a sudden surge of heat rise from his core and a pressure build up inside of his head causing his blue L.E.D. to shift to yellow. Shaking his head once Connor dismissed the system warnings that had popped up in his field of vision and ran another self-diagnostic.
"That was an unexpected reaction..."
Ignoring his own fleeting discomfort for a moment Connor set about cleaning the remaining rooms of the house to give Hank time to rest without hovering over him in an accidentally annoying manner. It only took a couple of hours to make the home appear spotless and to disinfect every touchable surface thanks to Connor's calculated efficiency. In that time Connor decided to check on Hank's condition without disturbing him too much in the process.
"The flu always results in a fever."
The deviant quickly noted as he downloaded information on the troublesome illness at hand.
"If Hank will not accept any fever reducing medication, then I will need to take an alternative approach to his condition."
Making his way over to the freezer Connor created a cold compress from a bag of ice and a clean towel to combat Hank's fever. Quietly returning to Hank's bedroom Connor pressed his palm down against Hank's forehead and checked on the severity of his fever and determined the cold compress to be his best course of action without giving Hank and medicine. Placing the cold compress down against the sick detective's overheated skin the deviant took a step back and scanned Hank's body for another vital sign check.
As soon as the cooled towel was smoothed out over Hank's forehead the ill detective's eyelids opened slowly and his blue hazy eyes struggled to focus on Connor's face as the deviant hovered over him curiously. "...Kid?"
"I didn't mean to wake you." Connor apologized as he finished his scan over Hank's body. "You've been asleep for almost two hours now. How do you feel?"
"...My head's starting to hurt." Hank admitted in a somewhat raspy voice as he stared at Connor with an inquisitive glance. "And my stomach doesn't feel all that great. How about you?"
"Me?" As his brow furrowed inquisitively Connor sat down on the edge of the bed and picked up Hank's wrist to count his pulse. "I'm okay. You're the one who requires assistance."
"Hold still."
"I don't-"
From under the quilt Hank pulled out his free hand and quickly pressed his palm against Connor's forehead before the deviant had the chance to protest or shrink away from the touch. "Shit."
Connor's brow furrowed under Hank's palm as he tried to understand the man's sudden concern. "What's wrong?"
"You're sick, too."
Denying the comment Connor just gave the senior detective an odd glance without even flinching. "I'm not sick."
"Oh really?" Not backing down, Hank challenged Connor's claim with undeniable evidence in his favor. "Is that why you're overheating and your L.E.D. is yellow instead of blue?"
"I'm merely experiencing a slight fluctuation in my gyroscope and thermal regulator due to the physical exertion of-"
"Bullshit." Interrupting sharply Hank retracted his hand and gave the deviant a somewhat scolding tone of voice as he spoke. "Don't deny it. You're sick, too."
Unwilling to upset Hank or accidentally agitate him Connor decided to admit he was feeling a little 'off'. "...I confess that I am experiencing a mild pressure in my head, and I am aware that my core temperature has risen, but my self-diagnostic hasn't indicated any foreign contaminant, malfunction or damage that would result in these symptoms."
"You've had your own bout with android-flu before. Maybe you caught it again."
"I'm not experiencing the same symptoms as that particular previous infection."
"Uh-huh, maybe-" Hank abruptly pulled his hand from Connor's grip and covered his mouth as he began coughing harshly and caught the loud mess before it sprayed everywhere. "...Damn."
"You've begun to develop mild congestion in your lungs." Connor explained calmly as he put his hand on Hank's shoulder to try to hold the sick man steady as he endured his coughing fit. "Your fever hasn't risen but it hasn't dropped either. I strongly suggest taking some form of medication to lower your temperature."
"No." The sick detective managed to find his voice between coughs. "I'll be okay."
"Please don't be stubborn."
"You, the most stubborn deviant on this planet, are asking me to cooperate?" Flashing Connor a sheepish glance Hank leaned back against his pillows as much as possible to relax and lay somewhat upright so he could breathe easier. "If I wasn't already sore from coughing, I swear I'd laugh."
"Hank." Connor lifted his hand from Hank's shoulder and stood upright from the bed. The motion caused him to sway a little on his feet, but he didn't lose his balance as he did his best to keep up the facade of being unaffected by an unknown affliction. "I'm going to get you something light to eat to keep your strength up."
"Then you're going to lay down and sleep for a couple hours."
"I don't need to worry about resting. You still require assistance."
"Uh-huh... Sure."
"I swear," putting up his hands defensively Connor tried and failed to convince Hank that he was truly all right. "I'm fine!"
"Nope."
"Maybe we can reach some kind of agreement?"
"What?" Such a suggestion actually made Hank smirk with genuine amusement. "Now we're making deals?"
"Perhaps." Even the idea of laying down and not doing anything for an extended period of time was making Connor antsy. "If I bring you something to eat and something to ease your headache so that you can sleep, I will lay down and get some rest. Are those acceptable conditions?"
"...All right." Hank covered up his mouth again as another coughing fit hit him. If it meant Connor would finally relax then Hank was willing to take a few pills. "I'll hold you to that."
It didn't take long for Connor to retreat to the kitchen in search of something simple for Hank, but his movements were somewhat sluggish and clumsy as he began to feel increasingly weak. Despite these symptoms Connor still stubbornly refused to admit he was sick. Settling on dry white toast and water, Connor located a bottle of medication in the bathroom medicine cabinet designed to ease headache pain, and only headache pain, as he wanted to respect Hank's wishes as much as he possibly could, and then placed the retrieved items on a small tray after returning to the kitchen.
"This should be enough to placate Hank's symptoms for an hour or so."
Placing the two pieces of toast on a plate Connor put the light meal on the tray beside the medication.
"Hank?" Connor carried the tray into the bedroom and placed it on the nightstand beside the bed. Very lightly he put his hand to the side of Hank's neck to check his pulse and his fever without startling Hank in the process. "You need to drink some water."
Somewhat drowsy but still very much aware of his surroundings, Hank pushed himself upright until he was sitting in the bed and gave Connor a groggy stare. Holding out his hand, palm open, Hank accepted the two pills Connor had provided and popped them into his mouth.
Drinking the water slowly Hank begrudgingly allowed Connor to medicate him. "There. Satisfied?"
"You also need to eat."
"For fuck's sake..." Hank grumbled as he tried to ignore the building nausea in his stomach. "Then you go lay down."
"I will. In a moment."
"Fine." Picking up the piece of toast from the tray Hank bit down on the corner and tried to eat it but his stomach was already protesting too much for him to eat any more. "There. I ate."
"Is the nausea severe?"
"No, just irritating. Now," Hank dropped the toast back onto the tray and practically sank back down in his bed. "go get some rest, kid."
"Very well. I will check on you again in one hour."
"Eight hours."
"Two hours."
"Six hours."
"I can't let you remain alone for such an extended period of time with your fever at such a high degree."
"All right, three hours."
"I..." Unwilling to argue or let Hank exert himself Connor relented and accepted the time frame. "Okay. Three hours."
"Good."
"But if your fever hasn't dropped within those three hours you will either take some medication or I will take you back to the hospital." It didn't take Connor long to force an agreement on Hank after agreeing to rest despite not wanting to lay down. "Your decision."
"Yeah, yeah." Hank pulled the quilt up over his head as he turned to lay on his side as much as possible without jostling his healing broken leg in the process. "We'll see what happens in four hours."
"THREE."
"Right..." Slyly smirking to himself as he buried his face against the pillow Hank held to the agreement. "Three. I was just testing' ya'."
With a slight shake of the head Connor walked back out of the bedroom and made his way down the hallway and into the livingroom. Laying down over the length of the couch Connor could hear Hank stifling more coughs and wanted to go to his aid, but he also wanted to keep his word and leave Hank alone to rest for the three agreed upon hours.
Sumo trotted into the livingroom and pressed his chin down atop Connor's arm that was outstretched at his side, and he let out a sleepy yawn. While he wagged his tail a little the massive loyal dog stayed loyally at Connor's side and waited for his master to feel better.
"Three hours, no more."
Connor told himself as he set his internal clock to awaken him in three hours as he entered a light rest mode in an attempt to rid his own system of his own mildly burdening fever and headache. As he closed his eyes a weak cough escaped his own lips causing his L.E.D. to briefly flash red before cycling back to yellow as a sharp pain suddenly made itself known in the pit of his stomach again.
"...Just three hours. That'll be adequate enough rest."
A whimpering plea and a cold nose being pressed to the side of his cheek brought Connor back into waking reality under a heavy fog of fatigue and confusion as he pined to return to sleep. Aside from Sumo's cold nose against his face, Connor felt a hard, cold surface pressing against his chest and his stomach as well as the right side of his face. Opening his eyes that felt unusually heavy, Connor's blurry and still fatigued vision struggled to focus in on Sumo who was staring at him intently as well as the hard wooden floor unexpectedly beneath him. Lifting up his swimming head slowly Connor looked around and realized that at some point in his rest mode he had fallen off the couch and didn't even wake up as he hit the floor.
Running another self-diagnostic the deviant noted his core temperature had risen and his internal alarm failed to engage at the appropriate time. The deviant had been asleep for almost five consecutive hours, and he hadn't even been aware enough to know he had fallen in his sleep.
"H-Hank?"
Connor called out the name in a weak whisper as an equally weak cough cut him off abruptly. Rolling to his side Connor pressed the palm of his hand down against his stomach where the sharp pain had returned courtesy of the coughs shaking his body.
"Ow..."
Connor tried to roll back over onto his stomach so he could push himself up from the floor on his hands and knees, but he simply lacked the strength to do so.
"Shit. Not now."
Weak and helpless Connor was ready to admit defeat.
"We both need help."
Resting his head down against his own arm Connor remained on his side as he cybernetically sent out a distress call to Simon at New Jericho Tower to ask him to send some help to the house. He knew he couldn't help Hank by himself if he too required assistance.
Sumo laid down on the floor beside Connor and proceeded to rest his chin over Connor's ear as if he could somehow provide some sort of comfort to the downed deviant.
"...Good boy."
Closing his eyes out of sheer exhaustion Connor let out a deep sigh and winced a little at the twinge of discomfort in his stomach. Within a few seconds the deviant unexpectedly fell into a deep rest mode and knew nothing else of the world around him.
"Now I understand why Hank is so angry about becoming ill."
A fresh cold compress against the side of his face where Sumo's nose had been what felt like just seconds before, and a friendly presence, caused Connor's brow to arch slightly with intrigue. Effectively responding to the external stimuli, his external sensors managed to translate the sensations to his otherwise overheating and delayed processors just enough to allow the deviant to awaken without fully rebooting his system. The heaviness of his eyelids made it increasingly difficult to open them so he could peer around the livingroom and understand the origins of the new sensations that his body was just barely able to register. It was as if his own rest mode was working against him rather than for him.
Another sensation caught Connor's attention. He was no longer alone in the livingroom and his companion wasn't just Sumo. Someone else was inside the house.
"-nor? Connor can you hear me?" A familiar feminine voice called to the deviant as he fought to push through the darkness and regain total consciousness. "I need you to answer."
"...A-Abby?"
"Yeah, it's me. Simon told me you needed some help, so I stopped by." The ever kind technician confirmed in a calm tone. "Can you open your eyes?"
Brown irises slowly reappeared through his heavy eyelids as he obeyed the request and found himself still laying on his side on the floor with Abby kneeling down awkwardly over him between the coffee table and the couch. She had her well stocked technician satchel at her side and already flipped open. Sumo was still laying next to Connor, clearly recognizing Abby as an ally and not a threat, as she let herself into the house and didn't react violently to her.
"Hi." Abby greeted coyly as she slipped her hand beneath Connor's head to lift him up from his own arm. "Nice to see you awake."
"...Hello."
"How long have you been running an elevated temperature?"
"I- Uh..." Connor was having difficulty keeping track of the time with his system strained by overheating and exhaustion. "Approximately seven hours."
"Can you roll onto your back for me?" The request seemed simple enough, yet it was clear Abby recognized that Connor was unusually weak at the moment. "I want to listen to your chest."
"I-" Connor coughed again, wincing in pain at the discomfort returning to his stomach, and immediately felt Abby's hand press against his shoulder as she pushed him gently until he was lying flat on his back on the cold floor. "...Please see to Hank first." Clearing his voice after the coughing fit passed, he tried speaking again. "He is very ill and requires medical attention."
"Yeah, I know. I already checked on him. He's okay."
"What's his temperature?"
"Shut up for a second." Abby lifted up the ill deviant's black t-shirt and pressed her hand down against his abdomen lightly. As her palm pressed down near his artificial stomach, she felt Connor's entire torso tense in pain, and she could see him fighting the urge to curl around himself protectively. "Hurts?"
"...Y-Yes."
"Are you dizzy?"
"A little."
"Your gyroscope is malfunctioning which is why your stomach is hurting you and you're suffering from dizziness."
"What caused it?"
"Same as the last time you felt these symptoms, the android-flu. It causes your thermal regulator to malfunction for an extended period of time and its close proximity to your gyroscope causes it to also malfunction from heated metal causing the support couplings to warp slightly."
"I remember now." Connor watched Abby somewhat suspiciously as she reached into her satchel and pulled out her audioscope. As she slipped the bell of the device under his shirt and over his chest, she pressed her opposite hand back down over his forehead to check his fever. "Do I have to consume any medication?"
"You mean that weird green stuff that smells like antifreeze?" Abby asked knowingly as she pulled the audioscope from her ears and lowered his shirt back down to cover his abdomen. "Yeah, sorry. Two tablespoons every six hours."
"Can't I skip it this time?"
"Jeez, you sound just like Hank!" She laughed as she slipped her hand beneath Connor's neck and coaxed the deviant into sitting upright on the floor slowly. As he moved Connor visibly winced at the pain in his stomach and closed his eyes as a new dizzy spell hit him. "I know you don't feel like moving right now, but I need you to get up onto the couch for me."
Reaching out his hand weakly to grab the couch beside himself Connor steadily guided himself up from the floor and onto the single piece of furniture without opening his eyes to keep himself from getting too dizzy as he moved.
"That's it. Good." Abby picked up the cold compress from the floor, a damp washcloth wrapped around a small bag of ice and smoothed it out over Connor's forehead as she sat down on the edge of the couch next to his legs. "Fortunately, this is a mild case of the android-flu and will clear up in two days."
"If it's mild then why do I have to take that medication?"
"Because of your fever. I had to explain the same thing to Hank before I could come back out here and check on you."
Connor opened his eyes slowly and stared at Abby's kind face for a moment as he realized that she was right; he really was behaving just like Hank.
"Besides," she continued coolly as she reached into her satchel on the floor and pulled out a bottle of the dreaded bright green medication for Connor to see as she made a move to hand it to him. "from what my tests have shown, you're not actually suffering from a severe infection at all, only minor. This can correct it and you'll recover even quicker."
"...M-Minor infection? Then why are my systems acting so strangely?"
"My guess is that you and Hank have become very close friends, and you are now experiencing a sympathy sickness."
"Sympathy sickness?"
"You're aware of empathy and how it can affect one's judgement, right?"
"Correct." Connor's eyes fell away from Abby as he vividly remembered Kamski putting a gun in his hand and telling him to shoot Chloe just a day before the Revolution. He didn't pull the trigger, but he felt guilty all the same from ever pointing the gun at her, even if it was against his will. "...I'm quite familiar with empathy and all of its benefits and hindrances."
"Well, sometimes exceptionally empathetic humans, or in this case, exceptionally empathetic deviants, can begin experiencing the same symptoms and pain as someone very close to them." Pressing her hand down over the compress over Connor's forehead again Abby held the bottle of medication out for Connor to take from her and waited for his hand to reach up and grab onto the bottle. "In your case, seeing Hank suffering from the flu, especially after he had endured what he did a few weeks ago, you started to feel the same things he was feeling out of empathetic bonding."
"I only think I'm sick?"
"No, no. You are sick. But it's not as severe as you think it is. Like I said, you'll be one hundred percent in two days, not three or four. And I'll even be nice and let you take half the suggested medication, that is IF you stay on the couch and get some sleep."
"...We're making a deal now?"
"Something like that." Giving him a kind smile as she wrapped her fingers around his wrist to count his pulse Abby did her best to not blush as she watched Connor's soulful brown eyes scanning her face curiously. "One dose every twelve hours instead of six."
Connor couldn't help but smirk at the parallels between the conversation he was having with Abby and the one he had with Hank just a few hours prior. Parroting Hank's reply from earlier Connor agreed to Abby's terms. "...I'll hold you to that."
"Good, now drink."
"...Okay." Connor knew there was no use in arguing with her over the medication and relented before he even tried to argue. Accepting the bottle that she was holding outward to him, Connor opened the lid and closed his eyes as he took the dose and grimaced at the ever foul taste that accompanied it. "...I hate that stuff."
"Sorry." Abby laughed a little as she took back the bottle and replaced the lid. "I'll see if I can find a way to improve the taste for next time."
"Next time?"
"Trust me." Gracefully Abby rose from the couch and walked into the kitchen to place the medicine in the fridge to keep it cool. "With your susceptibility to the cold you're going to have to take this medicine every time you get sick."
"I'm susceptible to the cold?"
"All prototypes are. Not to mention your history of dealing with a damaged thermal regulator and having it completely replaced leaving your internal systems open to temperature fluctuations is only going to exasperate your overall health."
"That sounds like a major hindrance."
"Only if you let it become one. Get some sleep." Abby urged as she walked up to the couch and looked down at her favorite patient with a kind smile. "I'll go take another look at Hank and make sure he took the medicine I brought for him."
"You... brought medicine for Hank, and you convinced him to take it?"
"Yeah. Since I knew Hank was still recovering from his previous injuries, and since you actually called out to New Jericho for help, I figured you were both in need of a little help and I came prepared."
"Is that specifically why you came instead of Simon?"
"Yup. I worked E.M.S., remember?"
"I remember. You were very helpful at the scene of the collapse."
"I can help sick deviants and sick humans alike, no matter how stubborn they are. Plus, I know how to handle Hank. I think Simon is still a little intimidated by him." Picking up her satchel from the floor she slung it over her shoulder and made her way back down the hallway toward Hank's bedroom. "Try to relax, you'll both be fine soon."
"Hey, Abby?" Connor called out to her just before she disappeared into the bedroom down the hallway. "Thank you."
"You're welcome."
Sumo walked up to the edge of the couch and stared at Connor with his tail slowly wagging as if silently asking Connor how he was feeling.
"I'm okay, boy."
Seemingly able to understand what Connor was saying the large dog's tail wagged faster as he circled around between the couch and coffee table to lay down next to Connor to take a nap of his own.
"We're both going to be okay, boy. We just need to give ourselves a little more time to recover."
Fortunately, time did seem to be on the two detectives' sides. Connor awoke the next morning feeling much better and without any pain whatsoever in his stomach. Looking down at himself he saw that someone had taken the quilt from his bed and draped it over him while he slept, and he suspected it had been Abby who had done the deed before taking her leave of the house the evening before. Sitting up slowly he looked over at the coffee table and saw a handwritten note left by Abby with instructions on how to take care of Hank regarding the medication she left behind. The bottle of medicine was resting beside the note ready to be used. The note also contained a reminder for Connor himself to take his own medicine, foul taste be damned.
It appeared Abby had even taken the time to feed Sumo and let him out for a few minutes before leaving the house the night before.
Appreciative of the incredibly kind woman Connor stood up from the couch on his shaking legs, picked up Hank's medicine and walked into the kitchen where the dreaded green tinted android medication of his own awaited him inside the refrigerator. Pulling open the door he retrieved the bottle, opened the lid and quickly downed the next appropriate dose of medicine before capping the bottle and replacing it where he had take it from.
Grimacing at the flavor as his yellow L.E.D. cycled rapidly in his temple Connor closed the fridge door and sighed. "...Horrible taste."
"At least she didn't make you swallow a couple of pills." Hank commented from the doorway of the kitchen as he balanced awkwardly on his crutches to check in on Connor after he too awoke for the day. "My throat was raw, and the pills felt like glass all the way down."
"You shouldn't be out of bed." Connor turned around and ran a biometric scan over the ill detective's body instinctively. His fever had broken in the night, but he still needed to rest to ensure his health didn't suddenly relapse after enduring so much recent physical trauma. "You need to lay down and rest."
"In a minute. I just need to take a quick shower and change out of my sweaty clothes into something not sweaty so I can sleep."
"How do you feel?"
"A lot better. How about you?"
"Same."
"That's good. I hate to think you were sick and didn't have anyone to help you."
"It's okay. I can take care of myself even when sick."
"Yeah, I know that, but you shouldn't have to." The man responded with a fatherly concern. Even as he awkwardly balanced on his crutches Hank's focus was primarily on Connor's wellbeing. "Especially since you were already taking care of me after I got sick and am still recovering from surgery. It's a real pain to be sick and left alone to recover."
"No one gets sick on purpose." Empathetically Connor reminded Hank of his limitations and that they were nothing to be ashamed of. "You've told me plenty of times that no one intentionally becomes ill or gets injured. It's just a part of life that we all have to accept."
"Well, I won't say that you're wrong about that one. There's not much in life we can change or control." Hank shrugged his shoulders a little as he stared at the deviant and eyed the pill bottle in Connor's hand. "So, what little 'treat' did Abby leave for me to choke down this morning?"
"This." Casually Connor held up the pill bottle for Hank to see and the corner of his mouth twitched a little with mild intrigue. "Two pills every six hours, and if your fever doesn't return in six hours you can stop taking the medicine. At least that's what I've come to understand from reading her rather blunt instructions."
"Shit. All right, let's get this over with." Hank motioned for Connor to hand him the medicine. "I really need to take a shower."
Understanding the urgency Connor filled a glass with water under the tap in the sink and approached Hank with the bottle in his opposite hand. "How'd she talk you into taking the medicine while I couldn't?" He asked as he handed Hank the two pills, then handed him the glass. "I might want to use her tactics in the future."
"Talk me into it? She didn't." With a reluctant hand Hank put the two pills in his mouth and gulped them down with the offered water. As he handed Connor back the glass he turned around slowly and limped toward the bathroom a few feet away to shower off and freshen up. "She threatened me, and I know for sure that she is a woman who doesn't bluff."
-next chapter-
