The sky was bright on the cold, white morning as the dreaded winter settled over the state with a notable presence. A pure white layer of thick clouds had been overshadowed by rogue gray snow clouds all throughout the horizon that smothered out the blue expanse of the seemingly eternal sky beyond it. Massive white snowflakes gracefully fell from the clouds in dense ivory sheets and easily covered everything they touched under a pristine layer of flawless white ice. The trees, the roads, the buildings, and even the powerlines were all sheathed in a thick layer of ice that glistened in the natural sunlight that struggled to pierce through the building cloud cover overhead.

Already sick of the cold air, Hank let out an annoyed sigh as he drove through the snowy streets of Ann Arbor with Connor at his side as his only passenger. The early fall snowstorm had rocked the lower half of the state in the middle of the night, which in turn had caused the city to enter a level one snow emergency as schools and small business were closed for the day. Unfortunately, the mandatory meeting that Hank and Connor had been so graciously assigned had gone on as scheduled, which of course meant after the meeting was over the duo had the chore of returning to Detroit by traversing the snow and ice slicked roads leading back to their home forty-eight minutes away to assist in taking care of their city during the snow emergency.

As the Oldsmobile idled at a red light Connor glanced out his side window and watched as a group of school children gathered in a large park and began building snow forts, snowmen, pulled around their sleds and began picking sides for a snowball fight. As the playful fight began between the two teams Connor's L.E.D. flashed from blue to yellow with curiosity. The unusual display taking place elicited a chorus of laughter and shouting from the participants which contrasted against the seemingly violent nature of the game.

"Those children are fighting with one another, but they seem to be enjoying it." Connor observed with a tangible confusion in his voice as his yellow L.E.D shifted back to blue. "I don't understand this custom. Is it normal?"

"What're you talking about?" Hank turned his head to look out Connor's window for a moment before he stared back through the front windshield waiting for the red light to turn green. "It's called a 'snowball fight'. Kids have them all the time."

"Why? It seems violent, unpleasant and unnecessary to be willingly struck with spherical projectiles of ice and snow."

"It's just what kids do. I can't explain it." The light finally turned green, and Hank pulled through the intersection as he followed the directions on his G.P.S. back to Detroit along the snowy and somewhat slick streets. "Kids find the weirdest shit to be fun."

"Did you participate in snowball fights as a kid?"

"Yeah, I did. Everyone did."

"Did you knowingly-"

"Stop." Hank sounded annoyed and ready to snap at any moment. The outburst had caused Connor's L.E.D. to flash from blue to yellow in surprise as he turned to look at Hank with thick guilt in his soulful brown eyes. "I can't explain every little damn thing humans do, all right? Humans are just fuckin' weird; we do stupid shit and there's nothing more to it! End of story!"

"...I'm sorry. I'll stop asking questions." Connor's L.E.D. transitioned back to blue after he apologized, and he silently resumed staring out his window as he took in the sight of the new city that he had only seen for a few hours that day. "I didn't mean to irritate you."

The wounded offense in Connor's voice struck a nerve with the senior detective and he immediately felt like an ass for barking at the curious deviant.

"...No, I'm sorry." Keeping his one hand on the steering wheel Hank ran his other hand through his shaggy, gray hair in building distress. "I didn't mean to yell at you. You didn't say anything wrong."

"It's okay. I know I tend to-"

"I just... I hate winter." Clearly on edge Hank seemed to glare through the building snow as the windshield wipers pushed it aside in rhythmic swipes over the glass after interrupting the deviant's needless apology. "It's cold, everything is gray and dead, people get sick, people get hurt because of all the fuckin' ice and cold, the roads become..." It was too painful to continue his original train of thought. "Everything just gets worse, and it makes me feel worse, too."

"I understand." Connor knew that Hank had his own very good reason for hating the season and he didn't need to explain it. It was during the winter that Hank had tragically lost Cole in the car accident, and it was all due to the dangerous weather and a negligent doctor. "You don't have to justify your emotions. I'll be quiet now."

"Don't." Still feeling like a jerk Hank urged for Connor to not be silent. "Don't go quiet on me. Like I said, you didn't do or say anything wrong. I was being an ass and I'm sorry for yelling at you."

"...Perhaps some music then?" Connor suggested casually as he turned on the radio and found the first channel playing heavy metal music. Turning up the volume to an audible degree Connor sat back against his seat with perfect posture and folded his hands together neatly over his lap. "We'll also be able to better monitor the weather reports this way."

"Weather." Hank briefly glanced over at Connor, noting the deviant's ramrod posture and stoically unreadable face, before returning his full attention to the road stretching out before him. "Yeah, sure. Fuckin' snow drops on us before it's even winter and we have to deal with it whether we want to or not."

The falling snow was as obstructive as it was thick. The roads were becoming increasingly slick with building grease and ice causing Hank to slow the car's speed to keep it from skidding out of control or slipping into the opposite lane of traffic. As the snowstorm continued to rage on the radio station cut away to an emergency broadcast bulletin regarding the weather.

'As of 02:43pm the counties of Oakland, Washtenaw, Wayne, Monroe, Lenawee and Hillsdale are now under a level two alert advisory until 08:00pm tomorrow night. Repeat; level two alert advisory until 08:00pm tomorrow night for-'

"Shit." Hank turned off the radio and let out a deep sigh of building frustration. "We need to get home. There's no fuckin' way we'll find a vacant hotel room in this kind of weather. We better just head for home."

"The most direct route home is also our current route." The deviant detective agreed without any hesitations or doubts. "At our current rate of speed, we should reach home in approximately two hours, nine minutes and fourteen seconds."

"Fantastic." The time frame wasn't ideal but at least it was reasonable. "I wonder how many idiot drivers are going to be on the road tonight?"

"Including us?"

"Smartass. Just make sure the way home stays clear."

Connor's blue L.E.D. flashed yellow again as he tapped into the emergency broadcast channels to keep track of the dangerous weather while also keeping apprised of the road conditions as the weather continued to worsen at a steadily increasing rate. Reacting quickly Connor made the necessary adjustments to the G.P.S. to keep them safe and on track on the safest route possible.

"The expressway has been closed due to the dangerous weather." The update was as beneficial as it was unnerving. "I have uploaded an alternate route to Detroit."

"Son of a- All right, fine..." Hank noted the change of direction on the G.P.S. mounted on the dashboard and drove accordingly. "As long as we get home, I don't care what road we take."

The time ticked by sluggishly as the car slowly inched toward the city through the building snow and ice. Barely able to see the road before himself Hank slowed even further as the car turned onto a somewhat desolate road in favor of the detour that the G.P.S. was guiding him along. The tires of the large vehicle struggled to maintain traction on the unplowed and unsalted road. Such a lack of traction couldn't be changed until the car reached a clear, dry patch of road. Trees sheathed under thick layers of piercing snow and ice lined the road with an ominous presence as the storm strengthened with each passing minute. The dark clouds overhead began to thicken as the snow fell in massive sheets that practically blinded Hank as he attempted to drive through the snowstorm and could easily bury the car under feet of smothering snow in a matter of minutes.

Remaining in control of his every decision Hank took a deep breath and focused on his driving. The day was eerily reminiscent of the horrendous night that Cole had been killed in the car accident. It was snowing and ice covered everything it touched then, and it was happening again now. Another driver just trying to get home had lost control of his vehicle and had struck Hank's own car causing it to roll twice before coming a stop on its side. Hank had fractured a couple ribs and had a nasty cut on his brow, but Cole had suffered internal injuries from physical trauma to his chest and abdomen.

It was easy enough to patch up Hank's injuries but for Cole it was a special case. He needed emergency surgery to stop the internal hemorrhaging, but the only emergency surgeon on call that night was high out of his mind on 'red ice'. The attending android medic had done their best to keep Cole alive on the operating table until another surgeon could've been located, but by then it was too late.

Cole didn't survive the delayed surgery despite the android medic doing everything in their power to save the innocent little boy.

The way the snowstorm of the present mirrored the snowstorm of the past made Hank feel physically ill.

A rogue tear began to roll down Hank's face as the senior detective stared through the snowstorm brewing all around the car and the bleak memory settled into the front of his mind like a crushing lead weight. It never failed. Every winter he thought of that tragic night and ached to hold his firstborn son in his arms just one more time even for single heartbeat.

"Hank?" Connor interrupted Hank's intense concentration and dark thoughts with a gentle voice. "Are you all right?"

Too preoccupied with his own inner darkness that consumed his mind Hank didn't hear Connor's voice and remained silent.

"You seem distracted." Needing to reach his partner Connor tried again and put his hand to Hank's right shoulder to try to get a response. "Are you-"

As soon as Connor's hand met his shoulder Hank shrugged it off bitterly and quickly wiped away the tear on his face with a quick wipe of his right hand before returning it to the wheel. "What?"

"You appear to be unresponsive, if not emotionally-"

"I'm fine." Very close to snapping again Hank blurted angrily as he tried to brush off the incident as nothing more than fatigue. "...Tired. I'm just tired and want to get home. That's all."

"Do you want me to drive instead?"

"No! No. I got this." It wasn't that Hank didn't trust Connor to drive through the storm, it was that he still didn't fully trust himself to navigate the snowy roads after he lost Cole in the car accident. He needed to do this, he needed to drive in order to prove to himself that the accident truly wasn't his fault, to prove that he hadn't failed Cole as a protector, guardian and as a father. "I'm fine. Really."

"...Very well." The deviant ran a biometric scan over Hank's body and noted that the senior detective was exhibiting all signs of emotional distress - elevated heart rate, increased blood pressure and an increase in his norepinephrine levels indicative of undeniable stress. "If you get too tired I can-"

"I know." Needing to focus on the storm Hank snapped again as he tried to concentrate on the road. "I'll tell you."

Resuming his quiet disposition Connor returned his focus back to the road ahead of the car and actively cybernetically scanned the passing environment. The severe cold of the storm had caused significant damage to the aged and poorly maintained wooden power poles the lined the road, and the same could be said for the partially paved and dirt roads ravaged by unpredictable and extreme weather changes. Slick muddy surfaces now coated in ice made the roads more difficult to navigate, and the harsh blowing wind only added an unnecessary level of difficulty to the journey home.

After a few minutes Hank was the one to finally cut through the dense silence in the air as he eyed the fuel gauge warily and noted the remaining distance recorded on the G.P.S. screen on the dashboard. "How far away are we from the city?"

"In distance or time?"

"Time."

Connor's blue L.E.D. blinked yellow for only a second before he replied. "Forty-two minutes, twelve seconds."

"Great... Progress."

The glowing L.E.D. in Connor's temple only had the chance to resume its standard blue color for a few blissful seconds before it returned to yellow as his scanner detected a dangerous collapse over the road just a few yards ahead. A wooden power pole that had rotted to the core had snapped under the mounting weight of the building ice and the pressure of the gusting wind. As the pole fell it collided with two surrounding trees suffering from root rot forcing the trees to snap and crash over the road creating a massive, impassible barricade of nature across the road.

It was a domino effect of heavy lumber as the surrounding trees and power poles snapped, all falling in a cascade of timber and ice all around the road behind the wall of billowing white snow.

Before Connor even had the chance to make a comment about the catastrophic conditions a tree collapsed over the road directly in front of the Oldsmobile with a thunderous 'crash'. Hank attempted to stop but the slick conditions proved the effort to be in vain and the car slid around uncontrollably despite Hank's skill at attempting to keep the car stable.

In a matter of seconds, the car slid on its four locked wheels along a streak of muddy ice directly toward the large obstructive tree over the road. The out-of-control vehicle struck a blind pothole hidden beneath a thick layer of snow during the slide. The impact of the front tire against the deep, unforgiving pothole caused the car to tilt and the ice forced the off-balance vehicle to slip entirely onto its side as it continued to slide toward the tree. The car tilted completely on its side causing it to roll over four times before coming to a crushing halt against the side of the tree, landing upside onto its roof in a chorus of crunching metal and shattering glass as time itself seemed to suddenly stand still.

Everything was suddenly still, and everything was unnervingly silent.


The concealed afternoon sun had given way to the evening. but the storm continued to rage on without any sign of slowing down or seemingly ever stopping. Freezing snow, slick ice and deafening wind proceeded to howl as the winter storm quickly buried the upside-down wrecked car under a layer of contrasting pure white against the vehicle's darker body that had been marred by thick brown mud. The entire body of the upside-down vehicle was virtually invisible as it remained on the side of the road and buried beneath the building snow. With very little traffic on the isolated road due to its location and the weather practically guaranteed that the car wouldn't be discovered until the storm had passed.

Blackness encompassed the trapped two occupants of the now wrecked vehicle as the horrific crash took its toll on the duo in the same merciless fashion as their totaled car. A strangely familiar and pained groan was enough to pierce through the darkness of Hank's mind as his stolen consciousness steadily returned.

Opening his pained blue eyes Hank was greeted by a throbbing pain in the left side of his head and his left shoulder as the blackness in his vision began to steadily brighten. The sickly-sweet taste of blood was present in his mouth causing him to swallow in an attempt to remove the foulness from his tongue, but all it did was upset his stomach. A massive cut was running along the left side of his face starting from his hairline and stretching down across his face toward the bridge of his nose. Numerous smaller cuts marred his face, neck and hands with small bits of glass fragments that stung at him mercilessly with each movement he dared to make.

Letting out a weak groan of pain of his own Hank found the strength to speak through his pain and call out to his deviant partner and adopted son.

"...C...Connor?"

No answer.

As Hank opened his eyes fully, he became aware of the blistering cold wind stinging at his face and his hands as he laid on his pained left side atop the ice laden interior roof of his own car. The front windshield had been shattered and allowed the wind to freely blow through the car in strong gusts and with the wind came the very snow and ice that had caused the accident itself.

Glancing about to gain his bearings Hank realized the vehicle was upside down and that the older seatbelts of the vehicle had broken from their support binds during the accident allowing both Hank and Connor to fall free after the car landed on the roof. Pushing himself upright on one hand, his palm becoming agonizingly speckled with fragments of sharp glass, Hank looked about the carnage of the wrecked vehicle in search of the silent deviant. His blurry eyes fell onto the rapidly blinking red L.E.D. of Connor, who had been rendered semi-unconscious by the accident as he laid beside him.

The deviant was laying on his back with his one arm draped over his stomach and his other arm stretched out at his side. There was a massive blue stain of Thirium spreading over the center of his white dress shirt under his limp arm and along the roof all around the injured duo. As Connor let out a gasping cough Hank saw the small specks of Thirium that escaped the deviant's lips in tandem with the painful sounding breaths that were frighteningly weak.

"...C-Connor?"

Hank dragged himself toward the deviant with his forearms over the snowy roof and came to a rest beside his injured friend. Reaching his hand up to Connor's neck the injured man pressed his fingertips down against the side of the deviant's throat and registered a weak, rapid pulse. The damaged deviant was still breathing but each breath he took was slow, deep and strained.

"Connor?"

Numerous cuts left deep blue bloody wounds over Connor's face and neck, but it was the already massive and still growing blue stain over Connor's chest and abdomen that drew Hank's full concern.

"Connor? Can you hear me?"

Hank tried to get his injured friend's attention again as he awkwardly shifted his weight so he could balance on his knees while inside the upside-down car. Moving his hands lightly toward Connor's abdomen Hank pushed aside Connor's arm and peeled back the lapels of the altered gray blazer, then pulled open the stained fabric of the white shirt beneath. A massive shard of jagged glass had become embedded in Connor's left side creating a gaping, bleeding wound that nearly gushed Thirium with each deep, slow breath the deviant took.

"Fuck! Connor?!"

Pressing his hand down against Connor's abdomen and chest near the injury site Hank was met with a groan of pain from Connor in response to the pressure and Connor's blood-red L.E.D. pulsed a little quicker. Palpating the wound in the abdomen with a careful touch Hank watched as the deviant's brown irises slowly reappeared as he began to regain consciousness.

"Connor? Look at me." Hank urged as he put his other hand to the side of Connor's bloody face gently and turned head so they could lock eyes. His artificial skin was already dangerously cold, like that of a corpse. "You're going to be okay, son. I'm going to get you through this."

"...H-Hank?"

"I'm here, it's okay, son." In a paternal manner Hank pressed the palm of his hand firmer against Connor's cold cheek to try to give the deviant some modicum of comfort. "I'll get you some help. Just hold on."

"...I-I already called... 911." Connor weakly stated and licked at the drying blue blood that had stained his lips from his earlier weak cough. "...M-Might take a m-minute... to get here." Reaching up his own trembling, bloody hand Connor grabbed onto Hank's left shoulder weakly causing Hank to wince a little under Connor's icy palm. "...Y-You're injured."

"I'm fine, kid." Dismissing his injuries for the moment Hank focused entirely on Connor. "It's just a cut."

"...Your shoulder is p-partially dislocated." Despite his own injuries Connor noted Hank's condition with a brief but effective biometric scan. "...Two f-fractured ribs." Connor was losing strength quickly as he spoke and diagnosed Hank's condition. "...H-Hypothermia setting in. ...Low blood pres...sure."

"Connor?" Hank didn't like the way Connor was breathing or the way his speech was slurring and slowing down. Grabbing the deviant's blue blood covered hand from his shoulder Hank held it just a little too tightly to try to cause enough pain to keep Connor alert. "Talk to me. How badly are you injured?"

Connor's breath stuttered and he let out a deep groan of agony while his red L.E.D. began to blink rapidly while a series of warnings flashed in his visual processors. It was all too overwhelming, and the damaged deviant couldn't concentrate enough to answer the question properly.

"Connor? Come on, keep focused on me." Hank squeezed Connor's hand even tighter as he raised his voice and hoped to get through Connor's hazy mind as his reactions and responses began to dip. "You're injured, stay awake and tell me what's going on. Please, kid. Keep talking."

"...M-My internal Thirium f-filter..." Connor's eyes began to drift shut as low power mode took over his system and he vainly fought to override it. "Filter. It's..."

"Hey, hey, hey!" Shouting again, his own body aching in protest at the aggressive motion, Hank patted Connor's cheek just hard enough to rouse the deviant without hurting him any further. "Stay awake! What about your Thirium filter? What is it? What's wrong with it?"

"It..." Connor took in a deep shuddering breath and winced as the shaking motion of his shift caused the glass embedded in his side to shift uncomfortably. "It f-filters the... Thirium in my system... as it cycles." Pausing for a moment Connor struggled to breathe and keep his thoughts focused. "It... i-isolates impurities. Cleans the Thirium. It f-functions like a... human's liver... det-toxing the blood."

The information made Hank's blue eyes go wide at the startling revelation. He didn't need to be a technician to know that any biocomponent that filtered blue blood was designed to hold a lot of that very same blood. If the biocomponent had been compromised by the glass and was now leaking into Connor's body then that meant Connor was at risk of bleeding to death within a matter of hours, maybe even minutes.

Keeping calm Hank remembered his emergency training and proceeded to give the deviant the most effective first aid that he could.

"How do I stop the bleeding?" Hank asked as he kept his voice impressively calm, but Connor was beginning to close his eyes again and Hank firmly squeezed his hand in return to keep him awake. "CONNOR. Talk to me and tell me what to do. How do I stop your bleeding?"

"...Ap-Apply pressure to the damage." Connor suddenly snapped back to the waking world as Hank's voice got through his foggy thoughts. "I... I will cease my... ventilation program."

"Whoa, that breathing thing you do keeps your temperature normal, and it's FREEZING right now." Eyeing the ongoing storm through the broken windshield Hank watched the drifting snow building up all around the car like a grave slowly being filled in. "Can you afford to risk it?"

"I... I have... no ch-choice." Connor's other hand made a move for the glass in his wounded side, but Hank caught his hand and pushed it back from the injury. "I can't... breathe w-without... disturbing the glass."

"I hate the idea of you NOT breathing."

"S-Sorry. It's... necessary."

"Right, yeah, okay."

Pushing the macabre image of a breathless, bleeding corpse from his mind Hank returned his full focus back to Connor and to the potentially lethal injuries that had plagued the deviant's body.

"Okay," Hank shook his head a little, the pain returning to his aching skull from the motion. "so how do I apply pressure to your wound without touching or removing the glass by mistake?"

Connor's struggling breathing stopped entirely, and his head began to loll limply to the side against Hank's hand.

"No, no, no." Seeing the weakened state of the deviant Hank patted Connor's cheek again. Every movement Hank made sent painful jolts all through his body, but the man didn't dare to stop moving around since Connor still needed his help. "Do NOT fall asleep, all right? Talk! How do I apply pressure without hurting you?"

Snapping his eyes fully open Connor locked onto Hank's face, his L.E.D. flashing red quickly before settling back into a steady, slow pulse. "...M-My blazer."

"Your blazer." Parroting Connor's words Hank looked down at the gray garment wrapped around his battered chest. "Okay, I can work with that."

Using a gentle motion Hank slipped his hand under Connor's head and neck to lift the deviant upward, then slipped his other hand to Connor's shoulder to pull his right arm from the blazer's sleeve. Repeating the action for the left arm Hank was able to free the Connor's limbs from the garment before pulling the blazer out from beneath Connor's body without jostling him around too much.

"Okay, I g-got it... T-Take it easy."

Tucking the blazer around the massive shard of glass Hank was able to control the flow of blue blood and keep it from spurting out of the wound while also keeping the snow and ice from entering the wound itself. Placing his palm down against the blazer Hank began applying additional pressure to help stem the bleeding even further.

"St-Stay awake, okay? I don't want you to f-fall asleep on me." Hank was beginning to shiver as the cold cut through his bloodied skin and shock was rapidly setting it. His own voice was beginning to shake with the cold, but he was determined to help Connor survive. "Stay with m-me."

"...I'm cold."

"I know, son. I am t-too." Trying to think on his feet Hank looked around hoping to see something, anything, he could use to keep Connor warm. With nothing at his immediate disposal Hank pulled himself a little bit closer to Connor hoping that maybe they could conserve heat even though the two were already suffering ill effects from mild hypothermia. "Help will be here, s-soon."

"...S-Sleep."

"No, Connor!" Hank rebuttoned Connor's white shirt in a desperate bid to keep the relentless cold at bay from his artificial skin as much as possible. "Don't fall asleep."

"...Tired."

"Stay awake. You have to stay awake."

"...Lost too m-much blood."

Hank shook his head again as he looked down at the Thirium stained gray blazer and noted that the lost blue blood had already coagulated from the combination of cold, applied pressure and the now lack of motion disturbing the glass shard within the wound.

"The bleeding has s-stopped. You sh-should start feeling better in a few minutes."

"...No." Connor's L.E.D. blinked red rapidly then slowed to a lethargic pulse again. "...There's more d-damage."

Despite his fatigue Hank's eyes went wide again as he looked over Connor's body and tried to find any additional bleeding aside from the small cuts all over the deviant's face, neck and hands. Running his palms as gently as possible over Connor's chest and abdomen Hank checked for any sign of internal hemorrhaging or broken biocomponents, but there was no additional damage that Hank could find.

"I can't f-find any other injury."

"...N-Not internal."

"Not internal." Repeating the comment Hank whispered the information as he then checked over Connor's arms and found the two limbs to still be intact. Rocking back awkwardly on his heels in the narrow space Hank ran his hands down Connor's legs only to freeze when his hand touched Connor's Thirium drenched right knee and the deviant let out a sharp gasp followed by a deep groan of pain. "Sorry! Sorry."

"...M-My leg."

"I know, son. I'm going to l-look at it." Pushing himself back away from the crumpled front of the car Hank managed to position himself right next to Connor's legs and roll up the blood saturated denim from the affected limb. The damage beneath wasn't something that Hank was expecting, and it made his stomach knot at the sight. "Shit. Damn it."

"...It h-hurts."

Connor's right knee was smashed in at a painful angle that severed numerous Thirium lines running down his entire leg. The lines were bleeding steadily causing the physically damaged deviant to lose even more Thirium as he bled uncontrollably from opened lines exposed in the wound.

"I need t-to tie a t-tourniquet." Hank crawled back up toward Connor and put his cold hand to the deviant's shoulders as he loosened the black tie before slipping the dressy garment from around Connor's neck. "Good thing y-you wear this damn, u-ugly thing. It c-comes in handy from time t-to time."

In spite of his pain Connor managed to smile weakly as Hank took the tie and returned to tending to his broken knee.

"This i-is going to hurt, I m-mean... more than it a-already d-does." As much as he hated to do it Hank warned Connor of the impending pain as he wrapped the tie around Connor's leg just above his mangled knee and pulled the fabric tight. "I'm sorry in advance, b-by the way!"

Fighting the urge to kick Hank away from his leg Connor bit at his lower lip with a deep groan and endured the pain while Hank tied off the tourniquet. Once pulled tight the tourniquet succeeded with applying intense pressure to the wound and stunted the excessive bleeding from the damaged Thirium lines exposed in his leg reducing the blood loss to a slow trickle.

"I'm sorry. It w-was necessary."

"...s'okay." Connor slurred weakly as his soulful brown eyes began to close again from pain and exhaustion. "...I know you... d-didn't mean t-to hurt me."

"Connor? Connor!"

Hank scrambled back up toward Connor's face and grabbed on to the deviant's shoulders to shake him awake. It was then Hank noticed something unsettling beneath the white fabric of Connor's dress shirt that still concealed the upper part of his chest. The damaged part of Connor's body that Hank had subconsciously chosen to ignore after seeing so much blood all over him already was now of great interest.

Was something... moving?

"What the fuck?"

With a gentle tug Hank opened the fastened buttons of Connor's shirt over his chest and pulled the fabric apart to expose the left side of his damaged chest.

"...Oh, god. What the fuck?"

The glass had torn through the central left side of Connor's chest down toward his abdomen and had left a massive wound in its wake. In the process of cutting through Connor's body the glass had completely torn a portion of the white plastimetal frame that protected the deviant's chest away from his body and left his Thirium pump - his heart - completely exposed to the world around him.

The motion that Hank saw beneath the fabric was the steady beating of Connor's unprotected heart thrumming against the lightweight fabric of his shirt.

Hank stared at the beating blue heart as if in a trance at the sight of the dark blue pump thrumming slowly, now suddenly audibly, in an attempt to keep Connor alive. The beats were sluggish, almost as if in a constant struggle to cycle the dwindling blue blood still in Connor's system. Hovering his hand over the deviant's exposed heart, Hank resisted the urge to rest his palm against the beating biocomponent out of fear of accidentally hurting the deviant while checking for preexisting injuries inside of Connor's chest.

"Please, son." Feeling shaken to his core Hank begged desperately as he returned his focus to Connor's face and rebuttoned the shirt in an effort to keep Connor's heart protected from the relentless icy cold swirling all around them. "Stay awake."

"...T-Tired."

"Please. Just try to keep awake." The pleading in Hank's voice was as painful as the very wounds he was trying to ignore as he fought to keep Connor alive for as long as possible. "Try, that's all I ask. Try."

"...T-Trying." Connor's eyes remained shut but he kept making the effort to open them up once more. "...I'm trying."

"Come on, kid. Keep talking. Ask me all the questions you want!" Unsure of what else to do Hank encouraged Connor to speak up and placate his countless curious questions to pass the time. Raising his voice to ensure Connor could still hear him over the wind Hank unintentionally addressed the downed deviant with an emotional tone. "I'm sorry I yelled at you earlier, I was just being a dick! Forgive me for snapping at you, I didn't mean to do it. I swear to it, you didn't say or do anything wrong. It was all me."

"...No need to f-forgive you." The deviant stated without hesitation even had his voice shook. "It's okay. I know you... h-have your... reasons."

The way Connor wasn't even upset at the past indiscretion was heartbreaking. "You were asking about why kids play in snowball fights earlier, right?"

"...Y-Yes."

"The reason kids do that," Hank shivered violently as he fought back against the cold by huddling down closer toward Connor to keep their waning body heat from escaping any more than it already was. "is because it's fun. P-Plain and simple. It's a fun game. I used to have snowball f-fights with Cole once he was big enough to throw 'em at me. We had fun... T-Together. I miss it. I miss him. I miss everything about him."

From where he was lying beside Hank on the snowy, cold roof of the car, Connor's red L.E.D. began to pulse even slower as he reflexively swallowed, almost like he was trying to speak, but his voice failed to respond. The brown irises slowly disappeared as Connor lost the fight to remain awake despite Hank pleading with him.

"Connor?"

Once again Hank pressed his fingertips to the side of Connor's neck to check on the unique pulse point exclusive to Connor, but he couldn't register a palpable pulse. Holding his breath Hank lowered his head down to Connor's chest, careful not to put any pressure on the beating biocomponent, as he was too afraid to look at the possibly stopped heart. He exhaled hesitatingly as he heard the slow thrumming of the deviant's heart still beating in his chest.

"Come on, you have to keep your eyes open."

Hank straightened up again and put his hand under Connor's hair to cradle the wounded deviant's head up from the cold metal roof carefully and compassionately.

"Please."

Connor's eyes remained shut as his head lolled unconsciously in Hank's palm hand. As his body became limp and heavy under Hank's grip the senior detective was overwhelmed with brutally vivid memories of the accident that had taken Cole's life.

"No, come on... Not again. Please not again."

Pressing his fingertips to the side of Connor's freezing neck for another pulse check Hank's blue eyes went wide with fear as he failed to detect even the faintest of a pulse. Almost daring himself to check Hank lifted up the fabric of Connor's shirt to look down at his exposed heart and immediately felt the chill already creeping up his spine intensify as he stared at the stopped, now red tinted, heart beneath.

"Not l-like this!"

The bold detective defied loudly as his every ounce of energy went into reviving the downed deviant.

"I'm NOT going to let you die like this! You will not die tonight."

Holding his breath Hank placed his hand down over Connor's heart and slowly applied pressure until he saw the stopped heart compress entirely under his palm and between his fingers. Without the firm white plastimetal frame of the chest to limit Hank's strength or movements, the senior detective was able to easily and manually compress the heart and force the freezing Thirium in Connor's lines to resume circulation throughout his body just by squeezing his heart with a controlled pressure rather than having to compress the chest as performed in traditional C.P.R motions.

"Come on, kid! P-Please, you need to stay with me!"

The red tint of Connor's heart faded slowly, first turning a light shade of purple and slowly returned to a healthier blue coloration as the Thirium began to cycle once more. Connor's heart began beating on its own again at an unnervingly slow rhythm between Hank's fingers and against his palm in a fluttering motion.

"That's it..."

Hank encouraged as he slowly pulled his hand out of Connor's chest and replaced the fabric of the shirt over the exposed heart to protect it from the snow and cold.

"Just stay w-with me for a little while longer. Okay? Don't... Don't give up!"

Staring at Connor's face with utter fear Hank swore the deviant's facade suddenly changed to that of Cole for the briefest of seconds. The same dark hair, the pale, cold skin, and even right down to the motionlessness of Connor's body as Cole laid dying in the wrecked frame of the car returned to Hank's mind like a cruel taunt from the past. It all happened right before Hank's eyes as if two moments in time came together as one.

"No. I'm not doing th-this again."

Wrapping his other arm beneath Connor's body Hank lifted the deviant up and held Connor against his chest to try to keep him warm. Running his hand through Connor's thick dark hair Hank found himself fighting the urge to shed tears he had long since repressed with alcohol and isolation. The images of his firstborn's face were almost haunting him, and it made his heart ache.

"Cole! Connor! Son! Please... St-Stay with me! I won't lose you again."

Hank felt the warm tears on his face quickly freezing over as the blizzard outside bombarded the smashed car mercilessly. Refusing to let Connor go, refusing to leave the deviant to die in the cold or bleed to death, Hank held the deviant tight as if that could somehow keep the deviant from slipping further into shutdown.

Alone and determined to survive, Hank endured the lethal cold that damaged his nose, his ears, his fingers and was beginning to injure his hands as nasty frostbite ate away at his heat deprived flesh. Closing his own eyes Hank held on to Connor as tightly as he could while his own breaths began to gnaw at his chest as the fractured ribs and partial dislocation of his left shoulder pained him considerably. With each escaping breath Hank felt his body becoming fatigued and colder to the point of numbness in his extremities. Shivering noticeably the senior detective embraced his fallen partner's body, his son, while awaiting the slow and inevitable creep of death to benevolently finally put him out of his misery.

"Do you r-remember the night you found me at the b-bar?"

Hank asked aloud, believing that in some way Connor could still hear and understand him.

"I was d-drunk and trying to get d-drunker. When I saw y-your face I thought I had f-finally gone crazy."

Stifling a sob Hank cleared his voice ignored the stabbing cold that was actually killing his hands. The sun was beginning to set, and the already dark sky darkened even further as the smothering cold intensified with a horrid vengeance.

"The w-way you looked... The way y-you looked at me, it was like s-seeing Cole all grown up and b-back from the dead. I just... I just couldn't t-take it. The sight of y-you. It was like f-fate itself was mocking me."

Trembling violently Hank huddled over Connor's body protectively as he spoke to the dying deviant in his arms softly.

"You two h-have the same hair, the same d-dark eyes even w-with his eyes b-being blue and y-your eyes being brown, y-you have the same f-fair skin and freckles... Hell, you t-two even have the same damn smile. It w-was like seeing the p-past and the f-future all at once. It s-scared me."

Connor never said a word as Hank supported his broken body and tried to keep him sheltered from the fatal cold that swirled around them. The red glow of his L.E.D. was being smothered out by the thickness of Hank's coat as Connor's head was lolled to the side and up against his shoulder for support.

"I'm p-proud to call you my son."

Hank whispered in a quaking voice as the wind masked his words behind deafening howls.

"The n-night you broke into the h-house all that t-time ago, you found m-me at my worst. B-But you didn't judge me. Y-You chose to h-help me even after I t-tried to push you away. I... I told you I w-wanted to kill myself b-because of my past, and instead of t-trying to lock me away or c-convince me to see a shrink y-you just gave me the t-time I needed t-to think."

His hand continuously rubbed through Connor's hair as he spoke. The broken senior detective forced his voice to steady out of sheer force of will.

"I... I realized that if y-you, someone who w-was programmed to be a cold, h-heartless machine could l-learn to think, to f-feel, to live... Then m-maybe I could learn to live again, too. You s-saved my life that night, and then you gave me something to live for."

Strength ebbing away, Hank leaned forward as he continued to hold Connor with his arms trembling and his grip loosening but never letting go.

"I know I've n-never said it to you before and I'll be d-damned if I let you go without saying it now: I love you, son."

Darkness encroached over the senior detective's vision as his eyes slowly closed, and he collapsed in an unconscious heap inside the mangled wreck of the car with Connor still cradled protectively in his arms.

The snow fell from the sky in white sheets as the sun set in the horizon giving way to utter blackness along the icy, desolate road.

"...I love you, son."


Strange voices spoke all around Hank as he felt a building warmth radiating over his body. The rhythmic sound of 'beeping' filled his ears as the heavy haze that hung over his consciousness began to lift steadily, and he became aware of something lightweight pressed against his upper lip under his nose. Weakly Hank tried to clench his hands into fists at his sides but there were thick bandages surrounding his fingers making the effort momentarily impossible. There was a slight sting radiating from the bend in his right arm and a strong sling around his left arm had kept the entire limb completely immobile against his chest; a chest that felt like it was being crushed and burned at the same time.

Lifting his right hand upward from his side to investigate the bandages Hank felt a soft unfamiliar hand press against his forehead as his eyelids were lifted open gently one at a time against his will. A bright light shone into his pupils in rhythm to check his pupillary responses. Around that light Hank spied the face of a lovely woman looking into his eyes and could hear her soft voice calling out to him with professional worry.

"Lieutenant Anderson?" The woman called his name from somewhere beyond the light. As Hank quickly deduced, the woman was a doctor in her forties with long raven hair pulled back into a tight bun, a dark complexion, and chocolate brown eyes watching him through black rimmed eyeglasses. "Lieutenant Anderson," she repeated his name as she tried to get a response. "can you hear me?"

"...Y-Yeah." Hank's vision began to clear steadily allowing him to focus on the face of the doctor leaning over him. Swallowing once, his throat raw and sore from being exposed to the cold wind for so long, Hank found it almost painful to speak. "I can hear you."

"I'm Dr. Swanson. You're in the hospital just outside of Romulus." The doctor confirmed as she pocketed the light and released her warm hand from Hank's cool forehead. She seemed satisfied with his responses and confident that he was stable. "The fire department rescued you and your android six hours ago. We've been treating you-"

"Connor!" Hank suddenly bolted upright in the bed causing the cardiac monitor recording his heart rate to sharply screech as his heart raced with panic. The jerking motion nearly pulled the I.V. line from his right arm in the process and made his damaged ribs sear in pain from the adrenaline rush. "Where's Connor?!"

Shocked by Hank's extreme reaction Dr. Swanson was stunned for a moment and completely confused. "Who's-"

"The android!" Shouting in frustration Hank told his doctor exactly who he was talking about. "His NAME is Connor!"

"Lieutenant," Dr. Swanson put her hands on Hank's shoulders to push him back down against the bed to try to keep him calm. "he's right here. Look."

"Here? In the hospital?" Hank watched as Dr. Swanson pulled back a privacy curtain that was dividing his bed from the second bed to his immediate left to let him see the second patient sharing his room for himself. There was in fact someone else in the bed beside him and it made his heart skip a frightened beat. "...Connor."

Connor was motionless in the bed. His blazer and shirt had been removed and there were heavy white bandages wrapped around his chest over his heart and all around his abdomen. The massive glass shard had been removed from his abdomen, but the internal damage had yet to be properly repaired. His right leg was propped up slightly with a splint and additional heavy bandages to keep his still broken knee stable until it too could be repaired at a later time.

"I don't understand." Taking in a sucking breath between his gritted teeth Hank leaned back against the bed and looked to his doctor for some answers. "Why is he here instead of in a facility? Look at him, he needs help!"

"The roads are too snowy to take him to a facility since the closest facility is in Detroit." Dr. Swanson explained coolly as she checked Hank's cardiac monitor and his subsequently recorded vital signs. She couldn't believe Hank didn't rip out an I.V. line or refracture one of his ribs with how abruptly he moved around. "The hospital was the closest and safest place for the both of you to be treated until the storm passed."

Hank tried to get up again, his bandaged hands struggling to pull at the wires connected to his chest and the nasal canula under his nose as he tried to move about and get to his adopted son's bedside. In that moment Hank didn't care about his own health, he just wanted to make sure his son was going to survive the night.

"Lieutenant!" Dr. Swanson held Hank back again as a young female nurse with short blond hair, blue eyes and purple scrubs entered the area to assist with restraining the uncooperative patient. "Please stay still. Your android-"

"My name is Hank," the senior detective sneered as he glared bitterly at the doctor keeping him from going to Connor's side. "and his name is Connor. He may just be an android to you, but to me he's family."

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry." Genuinely trying to say or do anything disrespectful Dr. Swanson apologized as she tried to keep Hank calm. "I didn't mean to offend you."

"Fuck that! He needs help!" Motioning to Connor even as the I.V. in arm tugged with a burning pain in his vein from the movement, Hank urged the doctor to stop focusing on him and pay attention to his adopted son. "Do it!"

"We know that he needs help." Dr. Swanson released her grip from Hank's shoulders and took a step back. Taking her stethoscope from around her neck she took the opportunity to listen to Hank's chest while he was awake and rather alert. She listened to his racing heart and gasping breaths with great interest. "We've done everything we can to keep him comfortable and stable, but we don't have any technicians employed in the hospital to assist him further."

"No one here can help him?"

"Not at the moment, no."

"Then let me help him."

"Hank, you're suffering from hypothermia, frostbite to all of your fingers and your toes, you've suffered two fractured ribs, a partial dislocation to your left shoulder and the exposure to the cold has resulted in lower lobe pneumonia developing in both of your lungs." Listing off his injuries Dr. Swanson hoped she could somehow be the voice of reason and keep Hank from being too difficult to work with. "You also have a concussion from a hairline fracture to your frontal bone of your skull just over your left orbit, which means you're in no condition to be trying to do anything technical or mechanical at the moment. Your x-rays also indicate that you've suffered physical trauma only a few months prior, which means your body is absolutely exhausted. You must rest."

"I'll be fine." Hank reached his bandaged hand up toward his forehead and felt the fresh stitches in his swollen skin over his face just above his left eye. "I can still help him. Let me at least try."

"You're a technician?" She asked as she replaced her stethoscope around her neck. "Your badge and your personal I.D. confirm that you are a police Lieutenant in Detroit. I didn't see any credentials regarding technical training in your wallet."

"I've spent enough time with androids and have personally patched Connor up more times than I can count- Fuck." Hank's eyes squeezed shut tightly as the throbbing in his skull returned while his blood pressure began to rise quickly. "...My head."

"Easy." Dr. Swanson soothed as she ran her hand over Hank's gray hair kindly. She could see Hank was genuinely worried for Connor's wellbeing. "I'll call a technician so that they can talk me through the procedures over the phone while you get some rest, okay?"

"Abby."

The name popped into his head as Hank instinctively felt for the card with Abby's number written on it that had been tucked into his coat pocket since the day she had given it to him, but he was no longer wearing his coat - only a white hospital gown and pale blue scrubs for pants. With his coat nowhere to be found Hank began looking around only to have a loud ringing erupt in his ears and he began to lose consciousness.

"...My coat." Hank fought back against the impending darkness just long enough to get the information to Dr. Swanson. "Call... Abby Grayson. She's Connor's... technician."

Falling back against the thick pillow on the bed Hank was lost to the blissfulness of unconsciousness once more and everything fell silent again.


The winter storm that had been burying the lower half of the state in snow for three days now had at last subsided and the roads were now being steadily cleared as the damage caused by the storm was cleaned up throughout the morning hours. Numerous buildings had lost power due to downed powerlines while many homes were left without heat or running water. Schools had remained closed as were all the small businesses in the area, but all other crucial services were now operational as the snow alert had lifted in the middle of the night. The hospital, local fire department, local police department, and of course the city crews clearing the streets and restoring power were the places with any notable activity.

As he opened his heavy eyes Hank wasn't sure how long he had been unconscious, but he was sure how much his head was killing him. It felt worse than any of his previous hangovers, even during his darkest of days before Connor helped him to sober up. Glancing about the dimly lit recovery room Hank's eyes instinctively fell upon the bed to his left where Connor was still laying, but this time Connor too was attached to a cardiac monitor that displayed a weak slow heartbeat; but no other discernible vital signs to be mentioned.

"...Connor?"

Carefully Hank sat up in his bed again much slower than before to ensure he didn't get dizzy or pass out again from pain. With a graceless hand Hank pulled away the nasal canula from his face and the I.V. from his arm. The removed line causing blood to flow freely from the open vein as Hank then pulled the sensors from his chest, which of course caused the attached cardiac monitor to sound off with a loud 'shriek'. Ignoring the noise Hank swung his shaking legs over the edge of the bed and stood up warily as he trudged over to where Connor was laying so he could be beside the deviant.

Two cardiac sensor pads were lined up side by side in the center of Connor's chest and tucked beneath the bandages that concealed his previously exposed, beating heart. Connor himself was pale from the massive Thirium loss causing his artificial skin to function at a low power capacity. The lack of ventilation made Hank's mind focus on the prospect of death looming over the deviant's entire being as he waited for some sign of life still residing inside of Connor to show itself.

Dr. Swanson and a nurse rushed into the room only to find that the cardiac arrest they had anticipated was in fact their patient walking around without medical clearance to do so. Once the adrenaline wore off the doctor proceeded to deal with Hank in a disciplinary manner and the nurse went about her usual rounds.

"Hank!" Dr. Swanson scolded as she went to his side to support her unsteady patient on his feet as he leaned over Connor's bed. She saw the blood flowing down Hank's arm from where he had torn from the I.V. from the vein and pressed a clean bandage from her lab coat pocket against the bleeding mark. "Please, you need to rest before you make yourself worse."

"How is he doing?" The worried father could only focus on Connor. His own health could wait. "He's so weak."

Letting out a defeated sigh Dr. Swanson put her hand on Hank's right shoulder and arm to keep him as still as possible as he looked down at Connor's expressionless face with utter despair in his blue eyes.

"We managed to contact the technician you spoke of, Dr. Abby Grayson," she replied calmly and honestly. "and she was able to guide me over the phone as best as possible with Connor's basic care. The problem is he's suffered internal damage to the biocomponent she called his 'Thirium filter' and it needs immediate repair. We don't have the tools or the proper training to perform such a procedure on him from here."

"Damn." Just as there was no surgeon available to operate on Cole then, there was no technician available to repair Connor now. Hank's heart tightened in his chest as he watched Connor's face change to Cole's face in another flash of a haunting memory from the night Cole had died. "No. It's happening all over again." Hank pressed his bandaged hand to Connor's cheek as he watched the red tinted L.E.D. flickering randomly and dimly in the deviant's temple. "...Not again."

Dr. Swanson heard the comment and was intrigued by the melancholy statement. "What's happening all over again?"

"You can't just let him die." Hank's proclamation was as heartbreaking as it was determined. "Please. You have to at least try to help him. Don't let him die."

"No one here is qualified to-"

"Please!"

"...I can't. Connor's care is beyond my skills." Dr. Swanson's hand dropped from Hank's shoulder to his arm as she rubbed it sympathetically. "I'm sorry."

Hank's head bowed down, his face hidden behind his gray locks of hair hanging down as he leaned over Connor's bed and stared down at the deviant's face through tear filled eyes. The idea of both Connor and himself coming so far in their journey through trials, challenges and personal obstacles, only for Connor to lose his life in a cruelly similar manner to the way Cole had prematurely lost his life, was enough to make Hank long for the feel of the heavy Revolver in his grip with his finger delicately caressing the trigger while the icy cold barrel pressed ominously against his temple.

Staying at Hank's side Dr. Swanson motioned for the nurse to grab the nearby chair pressed up against the wall and to bring it over for the injured detective to use as he stayed next to Connor's bed. They both knew that Hank wasn't going to lay down regardless of what they said or how much strength Hank lost.

"You need to rest." The patient doctor encouraged as she slid the provided chair up behind him. "Please, sit down."

After pushing Hank down into the chair Dr. Swanson drew the privacy curtain around the bed to shelter the duo from prying eyes and left the two detectives alone for the rest of the late night and all through the early morning. Slipping his bandaged hand under Connor's limp, cold hand Hank tried to hold on to it as tightly as he could, but the burning sting at his fingertips and radiating numbness in his palm made the effort feel hollow.

It felt like he was in a dream and unable to make contact with anything in the real world.

"Hold on, son."

A tear ran down Hank's face as he felt a persistent chill run up his spine and settle into the depths of his heart as he remembered the devastating loss of Cole in full detail. The smell of the hospital astringents, the disinfectants, the cleaners, and even the latex gloves was all the same. The sound of the cardiac monitor 'beeping' in perfect rhythm with Connor's too slow heartbeat and the sight of the various machines used to keep the dead alive for just a little bit longer in a futile attempt to delay the inevitable, was far too similar and haunting.

"I can't lose you, too. I just can't."

Hank held on to Connor's hand as tightly as possible as he silently wished, maybe even prayed, for some kind of miracle to save Connor's life. Refusing to leave the deviant's side for even one minute Hank found himself drifting in and out of a light sleep as he stayed with Connor just as Connor had stayed with him for all those hours that blended into days when his heart nearly gave out after being poisoned.

The senior detective remembered all the times Connor stuck by his side and took care of him and never once shied away from doing whatever it took to help him recover: Being sick with the flu, dealing with a hangover and his withdrawal, being poisoned, the appendicitis, his broken leg, and when he had been shot and clinging to life himself... Connor never left him alone and Hank refused to do anything different for Connor.

"You need to hold on."

Hank kept repeating the mantra to himself as if it could actually have an effect on the events yet to come.

"Hold on..."

Stifling a mild cough that had settled into his chest throughout the night Hank just stared unblinking at Connor who was as weak and lifeless as the dead winter snow that covered the city. There was nothing more for Hank to do beyond wait for any sign of change that would tell him if the deviant would survive or perish.

Unexpectedly, Dr. Swanson pulled back the curtain quietly and returned her hand to the senior detective's shoulder in a comforting manner.

"Hank? Someone is here to help Connor."

"Wh-What?" Hank turned his head quickly and instantly regretted the abrupt motion as it caused his entire skull to swim in agony. Peering past the doctor and the block dots dancing in his vision Hank tried to understand what was happening. "What're you... talking about?"

Abby stepped through the curtain beside Dr. Swanson with her emergency satchel slung over her shoulder as she homed in on the dying deviant quickly. Pressing her fingertips against the side of Connor's neck Abby registered his pulse, confirming the readout on the altered cardiac monitor, before opening the satchel to fish through the supplies and equipment she had brought with her from Detroit.

"Abby!?" Hank looked as though he had seen a ghost while the dedicated technician began fussing over Connor. He watched her like a hawk as she pulled out her audioscope and listened to Connor's chest while also peeling back the bandage over his chest to look at his beating heart directly. The way she lifted up Connor's eyelids to look at his eyes was oddly unnerving. "How did-"

"Try to take it easy." Dr. Swanson tightened her hand on Hank's shoulder to reassure him. "She just got here. Come on, let Dr. Grayson-"

"Wait." Abby turned around quickly and locked onto Dr. Swanson with alarm in her hazel eyes. "You're a surgeon, right?"

"Yes I am." The kind doctor confirmed with a confident lilt to her words. "How does-"

"Good, because I'm going to need your help."

"I'm not a tech-"

"I know you're not a technician, that's why I'm here." Abby stated with an urgency to her voice as she slung her audioscope casually around her neck and spoke to the surgeon as one professional to another. "I need to get Connor on an operating table right now if I have any chance of saving him."

"What-" Hank tried to stand up, but Dr. Swanson's hand was enough to keep the weakened detective seated while he was still recovering from his injuries. "What's happening to him?"

"His Thirium filter has been completely compromised and he's bleeding internally." Abby reported to maintain a sense of honesty with her patient and her patient's family despite the tense shift in the air. "If I don't stop the bleeding and replace his lost Thirium then he's going to fall into insipid shock and shutdown in less than forty-five minutes."

From beneath her hand Dr. Swanson felt Hank tense up and knew that her presence wasn't a request, it was mandatory.

"All right." The determined doctor boldly stated. "Let's go."

Dr. Swanson released her grip on Hank's shoulder while simultaneously unhooking the cardiac monitor from Connor's chest. Working with Abby the two women rolled the rolling bed that Connor was already laying on out of the room and down the corridor to enter the emergency O.R. to perform the lifesaving repairs that were almost thirty-six hours overdue.

Feeling entirely useless Hank watched with a heavy heart as Connor was wheeled out of sight and into emergency surgery.

The nurse who had been helping Dr. Swanson, Nurse Armstrong, take care of Hank walked over to the senior detective with a sympathetic gaze. It was a little unusual, but it felt necessary as she wrapped her arm around him to give the senior detective a supportive hug before she coaxed him into standing up from the chair.

"Please, Lieutenant Anderson." The softness of her words was almost like a parent speaking to their frightened child. "You really need to rest so you don't get any worse."

"...What could be worse than this?"

"I can't answer that, and I'm sorry that you're both going through this."

"Yeah. So am I."

Reluctantly but tiredly, Hank allowed the nurse to return him to his bed to allow her to change the bandages protecting his frostbitten hands and to restart the I.V. that had been giving Hank fluid and antibiotics before he had ripped the line out several hours earlier. Breathing deeply and slowly to ease the pain in his chest courtesy of the double lung infection that he had so foolishly allowed to flourish by moving about and by ripping out the I.V., Hank just stared up at the ceiling with a somber focus in usually bright blue eyes.

The man didn't want to sleep, but he didn't want to be awake. Hank just wanted to stop existing until everything was over and he finally knew what was going to happen before the day was over.

"Lieutenant Anderson, you need to eat something." Nurse Armstrong encouraged as she finished wrapping up his frostbitten hands and feet gently. She made a note in his electronic chart while gauging his responses to her simple orders. "I could bring you something from the cafeteria if you'd like."

"...That's okay. I'm not hungry."

"Well, you should eat something anyway. I'll bring you a cup of jello, that way when Dr. Swanson checks on you she'll be happy to see you're at least making an effort to cooperate." The young nurse smiled sweetly before tagging on a friendly jest. "At least a little."

He didn't have the energy to argue or refuse the offering and merely accepted it. "...Thanks."

Letting out a weak groan of pain Hank leaned back against his bed and pressed his arms against his chest to try to quell the burning pain of his fractured ribs as he fought the urge to cough and exasperate the injury. Glancing out the nearby window Hank watched as the streets surrounding the hospital were cleared away for the second time by snowplows and the drives around the hospital were salted to keep any ice from building or returning to the property.

"Here you go." With graceful motions Nurse Armstrong left the recovery room and returned very quickly with a cup of red jello and a plastic spoon for Hank. "Don't worry about actually eating it. I know it's difficult to eat when you don't feel well or are worried half to death."

Giving the empathetic nurse a faint but appreciative smile Hank watched as she peeled the lid from the small plastic cup and placed it on the nearby table with the spoon next to it.

"I'll be back in a few minutes to see how you're doing."

Making a halfhearted attempt to eat the offered jello Hank absentmindedly dug the spoon into the red tinted gelatin and scooped up a tiny amount onto the tip of the spoon, only to let it slide off back into the cup uneaten. Fussing with the spoon and the jello like a little kid playing with their food Hank just stared blankly at the crimson gelatin while he impatiently awaited an update on Connor.

Three uneventful and restless hours had passed when at long last a soft 'thud' filled the room as a gurney was rolled through the door and back into the recovery wing with Connor still lying unconscious atop of it. Hank's head turned to face the bed and spotted the deviant laying just as still as he had been, but with fresh bandages over his body and his artificial skin wasn't as pale. A part of Hank dared to hope that Connor was now getting stronger.

Abby and Dr. Swanson guided the gurney back to where it had been while the two orderlies wheeled the repaired deviant into the recovery ward as directed.

Unsure of what to say or how to react all Hank could do was call out the deviant's name. "Connor? Are you still with us, son?"

There was a pouch of fresh Thirium hanging from an I.V. pole attached to the upper left corner of the gurney and the connected Thirium line had been inserted down Connor's throat and into his artificial stomach. Massive white bandages were wrapped over his abdomen again, but the white plastimetal of Connor's own skeletal frame had been replaced over his chest protecting his heart once more. The artificial skin had yet to regenerate over his chest but at least his heart was safe and was still beating without any complications.

However, despite the massive improvements of his condition Connor still wasn't breathing. He was still too weak to initiate his artificial ventilation program.

"Abby?" Hank raised his voice as the technician hooked Connor up to the portable Thirial activity monitor she brought from Detroit in favor of the human cardiac monitor. She seemed calm and confident as she fussed with Connor's monitor now that he was out of repairs. "How is he?"

"Holding on." Abby confirmed with a sincere smile. "He lost three and half pints of Thirium and his Thirium filter needed to be replaced, but fortunately Simon had managed to properly reproduce compatible replacement biocomponents for both Connor and Markus in the event of an emergency. I also had to rebuild his right knee, but it'll be good as new in a few days once the new joint is recalibrated to sync with his system."

"Will he...?" Worried about permanent damage Hank danced around the topic to avoid asking about it directly. The fear of the deviant being permanently damaged by the accident had been weighing on Hank's heart the moment he laid eyes on Connor's mangled body within the wrecked vehicle. "Uh, you know?"

"I don't foresee any complications. Try to relax." Abby encouraged as she placed a cooling blanket over the resting deviant's body to keep him from overheating while his self-healing program initiated at full power and wait for his ventilation program to reboot. It seemed ironic to keep Connor cool after rescuing him and Hank from an accident in a snowstorm. "I know it won't be easy but be patient."

Hank just stared at Connor with a stern gaze of loss, confusion and worry. There were important questions racing through Hank's mind, and he didn't know where to begin asking.

Why wasn't he breathing? The damage had been repaired, he had received more blood, he had a noted heartbeat on the monitor, and he was stable. Why couldn't Connor just take in one breath? What was wrong with him? What weren't Abby or Dr. Swanson telling him?

Abby gently brushed the rogue lock of dark hair that always hung down in Connor's face aside as she checked the now steady pulse of the still red tinted L.E.D. in his temple. Satisfied that Connor wasn't in any immediate danger Abby walked away from the lone deviant patient and approached Hank with a motherly discipline as she crossed her arms over her chest and stared at the cup of disturbed yet untouched jello sitting on the tray next to Hank's bed.

"I know you didn't eat any of that." Abby stated with a scolding but light tone. "We've been through this before, you can't starve yourself and expect anything good to come from it."

"Aren't you a little young to being using the 'mom voice' on me?"

"Aren't you a little old to need me to use the 'mom voice'?"

"Touche." Hank smirked at the witty retort as he resumed fussing with the jello. "...I guess I should thank you for driving out here just to help Connor. I don't know of any other human who'd risk their own life for an android like that."

"Well, it wasn't exactly a risk for me to drive to the hospital after they finally plowed the streets. But I appreciate your sentiment." Humble as ever Abby showed Hank some mild affection by checking the bandage over his left eye as she spoke. "Besides, I know if anything were to happen to me that you and Connor would come racing to my rescue without any hesitation. That's what friends do."

Hank let out a pained sigh and set aside the jello for the moment. He simply had no appetite and the very idea of eating threatened to upset his anxious stomach.

With Hank being far more calm Dr. Swanson walked over to Hank casually to begin a quick examination of her most stubborn patient. As she pulled the penlight from her lab coat's breast pocket, she saw Hank already flinching in anticipation of the bright light that would be shone directly into his eyes.

"Still have a nasty headache, huh?" Dr. Swanson needlessly asked as she checked Hank's pupils. "I'll get you something for the pain. AND... if you cooperate with me I'll get you a wheelchair so you can sit with Connor while you both heal."

"You have a deal." Hank readily accepted the offer as he put his hand over his eyes to block out as much of the light as possible. "...Don't be afraid to hold back on the painkillers, doc'. My head and remaining sanity will thank you for that."


A calm hour passed with both detectives now making great strides in their recoveries once they finally began to rest properly. Holding a small bag of ice to his swollen face and the side of his aching head, Hank let Dr. Swanson wheel him over to Connor's bedside to stay with the recovering deviant until Connor either awoke at last or shutdown entirely. Hank of course was hoping for the former over the latter of the two options, but a lifetime of dealing with the turbulent masses of people who would elicit chaos, violence, and pure hatred from seemingly nothingness had left him pessimistic, if not completely cynical, when it comes to holding onto hope for the future. The numerous personal tragedies he had endured only left him with the faintest glimmer of hope to cling to.

Staying close by Abby checked the Thirial activity monitor and noted Connor's current Thirium pump rate as stable and nearing an optimum rate. With his Thirium volume now fully restored to one-hundred percent capacity Abby used a firm but careful pressure as she pulled the Thirium line out of Connor's throat and lightly closed the deviant's jaw by pressing her palm up against his chin as Connor rested peacefully.

"He'll be all right." Abby stated in a sweet tone as she studied Hank's demeanor intently. "Just give him more time to heal."

"Connor stopped breathing because of his injury." The statement sounded utterly despondent as it passed over Hank's lips. "You repaired the damage. Why isn't he breathing now?"

"His system has to recalibrate after the biocomponent replacement. The lost Thirium and his self-healing program take a lot of power to activate. Don't worry, once he has the energy to spare, then he'll start breathing again." The technician spoke confidently as she checked the lines and wires recording Connor's vital signs with precise motions under her fingertips. "Until then, we'll keep the cooling blanket over him, so he doesn't overheat."

"I don't know what I'd do if you were here fighting to keep him alive right now. Thanks."

"Well, he's my friend, too." She replied with an impressively casual tone. "I'm going to help him as much as I can."

"No... This," Motioning toward Abby and then Connor with a weak wave of his hand Hank was certain there was something more at play. "is more than just a casual friendship. You really care about him."

"I won't lie that he's the first guy I've met in a painfully long time that wasn't totally repulsive or a psychotic freak." Clearing her voice a little Abby removed any and all perceivable emotional reaction from her throat as she did her best to downplay everything she had done. "He's a good guy and I want to make sure he's able to help as many deviants as possible. Hell, you're both risking it all to save Detroit from itself, so the least I can do is help you two stay on your feet."

"I'm sure he'd be relieved to know that."

"Try not to worry. We both know he's too damn stubborn to just quit and give up on life like this." Pressing her hand to Hank's good shoulder as she walked away from the gurney Abby tried to remain upbeat and optimistic for Hank's emotional sake, but deep down she was worried about Connor as well. "Just be here for him and let him hear your voice. That'll help him find his way back to the waking world."

"Right."

Waiting for Abby to reach the other side of the room Hank whispered to his son as he tried to take Abby's advice and talk to him.

"I think she likes you, son."

Unsurprisingly Connor didn't respond to the playful remark. The deviant's expression remained blank and his body eerily still.

"Come on, kid. You need to be okay."

Hank whispered again as he lowered the ice from his head and stared at the bag with frustrated loathing.

"...I hate the cold."

Grabbing on to Connor's arm with his bandaged hand Hank let out a weak sigh as his chest gnawed at him, pleading him to lay down and stop moving around so much until his fractured ribs could finally heal.

"As much as I wish I had the chance to properly say goodbye to all the people in my life that I lost; Lucas, my grandparents, my mom, my dad, Barbara, Cole... I just can't bring myself to say it to you. I hate to break it to you, Connor, but right now I need a drink. I'm ashamed to admit but I won't deny it either; you don't keep secrets from me, and I won't keep secrets from you."

Connor didn't budge even as Hank spoke to him and held onto his arm while he began pouring his heart out.

"You're too damn strong to just up and die on me, son. I know that you're far more stubborn and resilient than any man I've ever known, and when I say 'man', I don't mean you as a deviant compared to a human, I mean an actual man. It takes someone with tremendous courage and a big heart to take all the risks you take just to protect other people. It isn't fair that you should have to die because I was being too much a self-centered jackass to admit..."

Guilt stole Hank's words for only a moment, and he had to fight to find his voice again.

"Damn it, Connor. You should've been driving. You wouldn't have hit that fuckin' tree and we wouldn't be in this mess right now! This is my fault and I'm so damn sorry, son. So sorry..."

Hank leaned back against the wheelchair and clutched his arm tightly around his chest to stave off the pain that had built up in his chest as a result of his sudden emotional outburst.

"You can't even breathe now because of me."

Taking a moment to recompose himself Hank steadied his voice once more.

"I just... needed to prove to myself that the accident that killed Cole wasn't my fault. That there was nothing I could've done differently to save him from death. In the end, all I did was prove to myself that I'm a world-class asshole! I may have killed you just to try to make myself feel better, and I know," Hank rubbed his bandaged hand against his eyes as he fought the urge to completely breakdown and sob. "I know you can hear me. Please, son, forgive me for doing this to you. I just need you to forgive-"

As the red tinted L.E.D. cycled back to yellow Connor suddenly took in a deep gasping breath that caused his entire chest and abdomen to rise and then fall before he fell into a calm breathing pattern that settled solely in his chest. The white bandages over his torso remained pristine and white despite the unexpected movement which meant his wound hadn't reopened and he was in fact healing properly.

No internal bleeding. No complications. No more problems.

Hank was at a loss for words as he watched life return to the deviant at long last. The red L.E.D. finally transitioned back to a yawning pulse of yellow in Connor's temple as his ventilation biocomponents resumed full function and his self-healing program focused itself on his other injuries.

"...Connor?"

Hank leaned forward and waited for any additional response from the deviant but there was nothing more. For now, the resumed breathing would have to suffice, and it was enough to bring a fleeting grin to the wounded detective's face.

"I knew you were too strong to just roll over and die like that."

Patting Connor's arm lightly Hank felt a tremendous weight lift from his heavy heart as he stayed by his adopted son's bedside.

"Stay with me, kid."

Pleading in a soft tone Hank bowed his head down and whispered to the deviant still unconscious beside him.

"I'm not ready to say 'goodbye' just yet."


Patient and accommodating toward the two detectives, Dr. Swanson allowed Hank to stay next to Connor as long as the senior detective kept the I.V. in his arm and didn't walk around causing physical exertion on his still healing body. Unwrapping the bandages from around Hank's hands the kind doctor examined his fingers and fingertips and happily noted that the severe frostbite had begun to heal with no sign of lasting damage to his skin or to the nerves beneath. The same could be said for the frostbite on his toes and for the over cuts he had thanks to the shattered glass from the windshield. Even the cut over his brow was healing without any sign of infection.

Despite the good news Hank was less interested in his own injuries and more concerned for Connor. Nothing was going to change that until Connor was finally awake and talking.

"Can you flex your fingers for me?" Dr. Swanson checked the circulation in Hank's fingertips by pinching the extremities and watching the color shift slightly from her pressure. The man's fingernails were a pale blue in color but soon regained a healthier pinkish hue. "Try to create a fist."

A little sluggish to respond Hank cooperated and slowly flexed the fingers on both hands into tight fists then relaxed them once more, extending his fingers out as far as they could go as Dr. Swanson continued to hold onto his hands in a light grip.

"Good. Any pain or limitations in your dexterity?"

"No. My skin feels dried out, but it doesn't hurt."

"Nurse Armstrong confirmed the same for your toes last evening. You're lucky that you didn't suffer any permanent injury from the cold."

"Yeah, 'lucky'."

"I know, poor choice of word." Dr. Swanson gave Hank a slight shake of her head as she pressed her stethoscope against his chest to resume the examination and check on his healing ribs and pneumonia. "Take a deep breath for me."

Remaining cooperative yet annoyed Hank breathed deeply and waited for the doctor to finish listening to his lungs and his heart. The cool metal of the bell moved over his chest from left to right as he breathed steadily as he had been instructed.

"Congestion is beginning to lessen. You'll need to stay on the antibiotics until your lungs are fully cleared." Draping the stethoscope around her neck Dr. Swanson gently checked the numerous stitches snaking down Hank's face for any sign of a possibly popped stitch or infection. "Laceration is healing well, too. How's your shoulder and your head?"

"Shoulder's fine. Head still fuckin' hurts."

"Not surprised. Hairline or not, you still fractured your skull." Turning her attention to Connor laying quietly in the bed next to Hank, who adamantly refused to leave the deviant alone, she smiled faintly at the dedication. "I've never operated on an android before. He's very... human."

Hank didn't say anything, just stared at Connor as he lightly placed his unwrapped hand down on the deviant's arm once more. For the first time since the car accident Connor's skin didn't feel icy cold or dead. It was warm like a living, breathing person once more.

"I'm going to bring you something from the cafeteria," Dr. Swanson stated with a firm tone as she walked away from the two detectives under her care. "and you're going to eat it. Dr. Grayson informed me you have a nasty habit of not eating when you're stressed out and I want to break that habit before you go. You're not going to lose a single pound on my watch."

Ignoring the comment Hank kept his focus on Connor as he awaited any response from the recovering deviant. It had been almost a full day since the emergency operation that repaired his damaged Thirium filter and saved his life, and it had been an additional six hours since Connor started to breathe on his own. However, the lingering lack of awareness and consciousness was just as disturbing as ever.

"I wonder what kind of shitty food it is they keep trying to shove down my throat?" Hank tried to joke but bowed his head a little in lingering grief. "Can't be worse than that fast food you keep me from eating every day no matter how many times I try to make a pitstop on our patrols."

"...If you fail to eat, the doctors won't let you leave."

Hank's shoulders visibly stiffened as he recognized the voice and tightened his hand on Connor's arm. "...Connor?"

Brown irises returned as the deviant's eyelids fluttered open and Connor finally regained full consciousness. Letting his eyes drift down from the blank white ceiling overhead to where Hank was sitting beside him, Connor gained his bearings and his brow knitted together in mild confusion. Lifting his head up slightly from the pillow providing him soft comfort and support, Connor turned his head gave Hank a weak smile from where he was laying.

"Hi, Hank."

"You..." Overwhelmed by emotions; relief, fear, joy... Hank had a hard time find his voice again. "You really need to stop scaring me like that!"

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"Scaring you."

"Fuckin'-" Hank laughed a little at the silly comment while Connor took the statement literally. "Well, it's my fault." The gruff detective replied somberly. "I shouldn't have been driving at all. I needed to pull over and let you drive instead."

"It was an accident." Connor sharply retorted to keep Hank from beating himself up. "The roads were going to be equally as dangerous for me as they were for you."

"But you-"

"Stop blaming yourself." Now it was Connor's turn to be the one to offer Hank words of consolation. Even while lying in a hospital bed Connor was determined to keep Hank from beating himself up. "Self-pity does not suit you."

"I fucked up royally." Hank countered with a bitter declaration. "I almost got you killed because-"

"Because you were driving on treacherous roads. I could've just as easily gotten into an accident as well." Connor sat upright slowly, his free arm wrapping around his abdomen protectively as he moved to reassure Hank that he was in fact alive and going to be okay. Even with his internal damage Connor was determined to help Hank find peace with what had happened. "The accident was not your fault. Neither of the accidents were your fault."

Hank just stared blankly at Connor for a moment as he so desperately wanted to believe what he was being told, but the part of his heart that was irreparably broken refused to accept it. Even after so many years had passed, Hank couldn't bring himself to accept that he hadn't done anything wrong regarding Cole's fate.

"You said that I gave you a reason to keep to living." Connor asserted in a soft tone as his L.E.D. cycled from yellow to blue while he spoke. He had heard everything Hank told him when they were trapped in the car after all. "And I want to help you live a happy life. Part of that happiness comes from you being able to allow yourself to be happy."

"You heard me? What I said-"

"I don't need to forgive you, either." Without any doubts Connor interrupted the man firmly to stop Hank from kicking himself any further. "You didn't do anything wrong. But you do need to forgive yourself."

Hank tried to pull away from Connor, but the deviant's hand quickly wrapped around Hank's arm and pulled him back toward himself.

"I had to learn to forgive myself after everything that happened at Jericho and after Lucas died." It seemed that even Connor was having trouble keeping his voice steady and his emotions in check. "And now I want to help you learn how to forgive yourself over what happened to Cole."

"Connor, it's not-"

Sliding off the edge of the bed Connor knelt down beside the wheelchair, his repaired knee protesting from the physical exertion and applied weight, but it didn't faze him as he wrapped his arms in a tight hug around Hank. He held Hank in an unyielding embrace, mindful of Hank's still healing fractured ribs.

"Please believe me when I say this. It's going to be okay... dad."

Unable to withhold it any longer Hank reciprocated the hug and buried his face against Connor's shoulder as he began to weep and finally come to terms with himself after the horrific night that had left a permanent black scar over his heart. Connor held on to Hank while the senior detective sobbed quietly against him and let go of the crippling pain that he had harbored within himself for years over misguided guilt and self-loathing.

As Connor's hand reached up to press against the back of Hank's head and run his fingers through the detective's gray locks and empathetic tear began to roll down his face as he remembered the pain he had felt when he lost Lucas and knew how much Hank had been hurting for all these years over the loss of Cole. Such pain was one that no person should ever have to endure.

The big difference was when Connor lost Lucas, he had Hank there to comfort him. When Hank lost Cole, he had no one.

Hank had been left entirely alone to wallow in darkness and grief.

Until now.

With his new family there to care for him Hank would no longer be alone.

"We're family." Connor confirmed their reality as he held the hug for as long as Hank needed him to. "You don't have to worry about being alone ever again. I'm not going anywhere."


Two additional days had passed by slowly before Hank was cleared to be finally discharged from the hospital. Connor was cleared just a few hours after he had initially regained consciousness. However, like Hank had refused to leave Connor alone while he was unconscious, Connor refused to leave Hank alone until the man was cleared to return home. Electing to wait at the hospital, and even humoring Abby by allowing her to help him 'rehab' his rebuilt knee during his additional time spent as a patient, the deviant detective and Hank's proud son made great strides toward a full recovery. As a result Hank too made an impressive improvement in his own health to make his son proud.

Once discharged from the hospital Abby personally drove the two detectives back to Detroit rather than have the duo hail an autonomous taxi for a long ride and big fare to pay. Connor's knee had healed considerably but it was still sore causing the deviant to slightly limp as he walked, while Hank's left arm was still in a sling to lessen the strain from his left shoulder as the muscles and tendons healed without surgical intervention. The sling also lifted enough pressure from Hank's upper body to help his fractured ribs heal easier for the next few weeks.

Suffice to say, the duo was happy to put up with their painful recovery knowing that they were both going to survive their previous accident.

"Are you sure you two don't want me to stay with you?" Abby asked as she pulled up the driveway beside the house to drop the two detectives off. The lack of Oldsmobile in the driveway was a rather grim sight to behold. "I don't mind."

"You've done more than enough for us already." Connor smiled kindly as he helped Hank to climb out of the backseat of the small blue car and balance on the somewhat icy driveway beneath their feet. "Thank you. You should go home and relax."

"Okay, but if you need some help just call! I'll be at New Jericho Tower this afternoon, so you know where to find me."

"We will. Take care."

Happy to have an ally to rely on Connor promised his friend to contact her if anything happened as he closed the rear passenger side door. Afterward he watched the car back down the driveway and on to the street before helping Hank to enter the house through the backdoor. As he unlocked the door Sumo happily plodded over to the two detectives anxiously wanting to be pet before slipping out the door and into the snowy backyard to run about in the fresh snow.

"I'm relieved that Chris was able to check in on Sumo for us."

"Yeah, Chris is a real good guy." Hank agreed as he watched Sumo trotting happily through the snow with his tail wagging happily behind him. "We should do something nice for Chris to thank him for taking care of Sumo."

Connor was about to close the backdoor when he noticed that it was beginning to snow again. Stepping back outside he limped a few paces into the backyard to call for Sumo, but the dog was too busy rolling around in the fresh pure snow to pay his owners any mind.

"Sumo, come."

"More snow, huh?" Hank followed after Connor and stared up at the sky as the snow began to fall in heavy, white flakes all over the city. "At least the snow waited for us to get home before it hit us again."

Trying again Connor patted his leg as he took a knee in the snow to try to coax Sumo into coming over to his hand. Sumo himself was digging something out of a deep snowbank by the fence that lined the rear of the property and trotted over to Connor to drop the curious item down in front of him.

"Sumo will come back inside when he's ready. The big idiot loves the snow." Hank stated as he turned to look at the driveway at the front of the house where the Oldsmobile should be, but the car had been completely totaled and towed away after the accident. It was sad to see the driveway so open and empty. "Tomorrow we'll go find a new car. I wonder if the car lot will give us a police discount?"

"I doubt it." Picking up the object that Sumo had retrieved from the snow Connor recognized it as Sumo's green fetch ball. Tossing it into the air once Connor caught it as it fell back down to his palm Connor noticed Sumo's excited reaction and held it up for Sumo to see. "Ready boy? Fetch!"

Wisely Connor tossed the ball inside the house through the still opened backdoor to playfully lure the dog back inside. As Sumo rushed past Hank's leg inside the house the senior detective turned to give Connor an approving nod, all the while Connor's L.E.D. blinked in blue rapidly as his palm fidgeted with the snow under his grasp as he remained kneeling in the white fluff.

"That was pretty clever. What made you-" Hank turned around in time to receive a clump of fresh white snow against his right shoulder as a snowball exploded into a burst of smaller flakes all over him. "Hey!? What the hell?"

"What?" Connor just stood his ground while giving Hank a sly smirk and feigning innocence as he discreetly formed a second snowball in his hand behind his back. Feeling an odd sense of humor and mischief wash over himself, Connor was unable to stop himself from smiling at the senior detective. "Something wrong?"

Sumo bounded back into the backyard with the green ball in his mouth eager to resuming playing the game, completely oblivious of Connor's previous actions.

Somewhat confused Hank brushed the snow from his shoulder and gave Connor an odd glance as Sumo circled around his legs. "Did you really just throw what I think you threw?"

"I don't know." Feeling truly silly Connor teased as he revealed the second bigger snowball from behind his back. "Did it look like this?"

"Hey!" Hank raised up his good arm to block the second snowball and hide his laugh as it exploded against his forearm in a flurry of white. "You little shit..."

"You were right." Feeling completely fine and energetic Connor couldn't stop himself from smiling even broader as the fresh snow clung to Hank's dark coat and strands of gray hair. "Snowball fights are fun."

Reaching up awkwardly with his good hand Hank brushed away the remaining snow from his shoulder again as he stared at the amused smirk on Connor's face. Yet again Hank could've sworn it was Cole looking back at him, but this time he was smiling and full of life. He was seeing the sincere smile of an innocent soul behind the empathetic, soulful brown eyes were staring back at him.

"All right, you wanna' play?" Hank taunted with an amused grin as he bent down with his one good hand and formed a pathetic looking snowball of his own. "Then let's play!"

-next chapter-