It was early in the morning and Connor sat on the couch with Sumo at his feet and his hand lightly pressing against his lower abdomen as a lingering ache constantly distracted his every thought and action. It had been four days since he had become ill with a serious case of ventilation profusion; also known as android-pneumonia, and in that time he had stopped coughing, but it seemed that the constant barrage of strong coughing fits had done some damage to his sore torso. It was similar to muscle strain or even organ rupture in organic lifeforms after excessive coughing. With androids having synthetic muscles as a regenerative part of their artificial skin it wasn't uncommon for deviants to feel muscle pain from time to time.

As the deviant sat idle on the couch running another self diagnostic over his systems Hank walked down the hallway to check on the sick deviant only to stop short at the sight of Connor sitting upright on the massive soft couch already fully awake. He wasn't expecting to see Connor alert when he still had at least a day to go in regard to his estimated time frame for a full recovery.

"Connor," the sleepy senior detective's voice sound groggy and rough. "are you all right?"

Without moving or looking over the back of the couch Connor answered with a level voice to the righteous question. "I'm fine, my abdomen is just sore from my previous chronic coughing."

"Yeah, I get that." Instinctively Hank wrapped his right hand around Connor's forehead as he stood behind the couch and sighed. "You're still running a fever."

"It's declined to one-hundred point two degrees. It's not serious."

"But it's still there." Dropping his hand Hank leaned over the back of the couch as he spoke to Connor with a tired voice. "You finished off that bottle of medicine already, too."

"My self diagnostic has confirmed that the ventilation profusion has cleared from my system." Turning to look at Hank over his shoulder Connor tried to sound less lethargic than he truly felt. "I suspect the overheating I'm enduring is a direct result of the physical strain of the aforementioned coughing fits."

"You 'suspect'? You can't confirm it?"

"It's difficult for my self diagnostic to definitively identify the exact cause of my discomfort after being subjected to an extreme glitch in a now deleted software update, as well as a subsequent malfunction resulting in my illness."

"It's like... four in the morning." Dragging his left hand over his tired eyes Hank struggled to understand a single word the deviant just said. "Can you simplify that for me?"

"Oh. My self diagnostic can't isolate one problem from another. I need more time to recover and afterward my system will fully reboot and recalibrate to optimal parameters."

"So what you're say is you need a few more days to heal?"

"Correct."

"Why didn't you say that at the beginning?"

"I did. But it was spoken in 'android' rather than 'human'."

"Smartass. Do me a favor, will ya'?"

"What's that?"

"Keep an ice pack on your head for the rest of the night so you don't burn up in your sleep."

"That is reasonable."

"Uh-huh..." Now Hank was getting a little suspicious of Connor's unusual eagerness to cooperate. Walking into the kitchen Hank shouted to Connor from the opened freezer door before making his way back to the livingroom. "And stay asleep until after I get up."

"When will you be awake?"

"I don't know. Noon, maybe." Putting his hand down on Connor's left shoulder Hank lightly pushed the deviant over until he was laying down over the length of the couch again. Placing the ice pack over Connor's forehead Hank yawned and made his way toward the hallway. "Just sleep and don't do anything stupid that'll make yourself sick again."

"I will remain in the livingroom."

"Good. See you in a few hours, son."

"Goodnight, dad."

At the senior detective disappeared back down the hallway Connor discreetly pulled the bag of ice from his forehead and pressed it to his aching abdomen and held it there under his hand. Leaning to his left and rolling over entirely onto his left side, the deviant tried to curl around himself as much as possible while keeping the ice in place against his sore stomach.

With a heavy sigh Connor closed his eyes and pulled the comforting blanket up and over himself up to his shoulders to wrap himself up under the thick fabric and finally get some more sleep. Sumo's ears perked up as he watched Connor trying to rest and let out a single sympathetic whine, which elicited a simple response from Connor in turn.

"...Good boy."


Almost nine hours had passed before Hank returned to the livingroom to find Connor laying on left his side and stifling a small groan of pain. Reacting as any parent would toward their sick child, Hank lightly put his right hand over Connor's forehead; the unexpectedly cool touch of his palm causing Connor jump in surprise, and noted that Connor's fever was higher than it had been before. As his hand made contact with the deviant's too warm artificial skin Hank managed to hear Connor muttering in his sleep as if talking to himself or was entirely delirious.

"Connor, what the hell?"

"...Huh?" Connor opened his glassy brown eyes that were filled with pain as he looked up at Hank's face while the senior detective hovered over him. "Hank?"

"Jeez, you're burning up. What's going on?"

"I... I don't know."

"What's your temperature?"

Blinking slowly Connor failed to gather the appropriate information as requested. "...Unknown."

"Shit. All right, stay there and I'll be right back." Retreating to the bathroom Hank sought the digital thermometer kept inside the medicine cabinet above the sink and ran another washcloth under the cool tap. Wringing out the excess water Hank brought the two items with him back to the livingroom and readied himself to scold Connor for even trying to get up while still so weak. "Lay back down. You're still sick."

"...I can-" Connor had managed to push himself into an upright position on the couch with his left hand only to immediately wrap his right arm protectively around his sore abdomen. "...Ow."

"Lay. Down."

Obeying with a pained sigh Connor fell back to his side and tried to bury his face against the thick pillow, only to have Hank's hand pull on his shoulder to make him roll onto his back to lay flat.

"You look like you're about to scream." Hank observed as he slipped the thermometer between Connor's teeth and under the deviant's tongue. As he laid the washcloth over Connor's still too warm forehead Hank saw the melted bag of ice on the floor from the night before and a damp spot on the center of Connor's shirt barely hidden under the deviant's arm. "I thought I told you to keep the ice for your forehead, not your stomach."

"...Th'orry." Connor awkwardly apologized around the thermometer in his mouth as he closed his eyes tight. "...It-"

"Shh. Don't say anything for a minute." Waiting for the device to 'beep' Hank pulled the thermometer from the deviant's teeth and gave him a worried glance as he stated the recorded reading out loud. "One hundred and two point four. Are you sure you don't have anything else wrong with your lungs or heart, or anything like that?"

"...Yes." Staying on his back Connor wrapped both of his arms around his abdomen and sighed as Sumo, who had been by Connor's side throughout the deviant's entire time being sick, pressed his chin down against his left bicep. "The medicine kept my thermal regulator from overheating while I coughed up the excess fluid from my ventilation biocomponents."

"And your heart?"

"No arrhythmia or tachycardia since the software containing the Thirium flux program had been deleted."

"What about your, uh, gyro-thing... Gyroscope!" Hank finally remembered the correct word for that particular piece of android anatomy. "Joel said it might've been affected by you getting sick."

"...That could be the culprit for my pain."

"Pain?" Picking up the bag of melted ice from the floor, which was now more accurately a bag of lukewarm water, Hank sat down on the couch beside Connor's legs as he gave the deviant a worried stare. "Is that why you kept the ice against your stomach? Because it hurts?"

Somewhat ashamed Connor looked away from Hank's face. "...Yes."

"Fuck. Why didn't you tell me you were in pain?"

"It will pass. Once I heal I-"

"That's not the point. I've asked you countless times to not keep it a secret if you're hurt or sick. That goes for feeling like shit even while you're already sick. Got it?"

"...I got it."

"You better." Patting Connor's right arm once Hank softened his angered tone of voice to a more sympathetic lilt. "How bad's the pain?"

"It's very... distracting."

"On a scale from one to ten; one being nothing and ten being a kick to the nuts, how do you feel?"

Connor thought quietly to himself for a moment before answering. "...Four?"

"Uh-huh, so I'm going to go ahead and assume you really mean seven or eight."

Connor didn't try to deny Hank's guess but he did try to reassure the worried senior detective who had become an incredible father figure to him that he'd be perfectly fine in a few hours. "I'll be okay, I know it. I just need time to recover properly."

"Maybe I should call Joel and let him know you're still sick."

"No, that won't be necessary. It's been four days with a more severe illness than I've previously experienced, I just need another day to fully heal."

"You're sure?" Hank wasn't entirely convinced and he knew that Connor was often too stubborn for his own good when it came to admitting weakness or injury. Reaching out his hand Hank grabbed onto Connor's arm lightly and tried to pull the limb away from over top his protected abdomen. "Maybe you should-"

"Please!" Connor nearly yelped at the sudden change in pressure over his torso and tried to shrink away from Hank. Sumo lifted his chin up from Connor's left arm and backed away as if worried he'd somehow hurt the deviant as well. "...I j-just need time to heal."

That pained reaction made every one of Hank's paternal instinct rise up quickly. "Does your stomach really hurt that much?"

Unwilling to lie to Hank or even make an attempt at the feat, Connor just sank back against his pillow and let out a pained sigh of confirmation. As he tightened his arm protectively around his abdomen Connor tried to relax as much as possible to ease the consistent discomfort in his stomach.

"Lift up your shirt."

"What?" The request was very unusual and resulted in a questioning glance from the ill deviant as a response. "Why?"

"Humor me, kid. I need to make sure you're not hiding a massive bruise or a stab wound, or something..."

"I assure you, I have not been stabbed."

"Connor." Hank just gave the deviant a stern glance that Connor had come to know as the 'dad stare', and with that particular glare he knew not to try to question Hank any further. "Let me see."

Slowly Connor lifted up his other arm and pulled on the lower hem of his black t-shirt to expose his abdomen. As he did he took in a slow deep breath and held it as he waited for Hank to say or do anything after seeing that his abdomen wasn't externally damaged. "See? No stab wound."

"Or a bruise. Do you hurt because of that medicine you had to drink?"

"...No. This is a different pain that is located near my artificial stomach, as opposed to within it."

"Your gyroscope?"

"No. My gyroscope is located slightly higher up. Right here." Connor lightly put his hand over the point of interest that was just above his aesthetically present navel. "The artificial stomach resides two inches above it and slightly to the left, over here." As he moved his hand into place the deviant didn't react to any further pain or discomfort. "Neither biocomponent is causing me pain."

"Too bad I didn't have any 'android anatomy' classes in high school. Where exactly is your pain located, son?"

Moving his hand slightly to his lower right side Connor gingerly left his palm in place. "Right here."

"And what's right there? An android pancreas or something?"

"A surprisingly accurate guess when it's broken down in the most basic of terms. It's where my analysis filter is located."

"Wait... How many filters do you have?"

"Numerically or systematically?"

"Uh... both. I guess." Hank folded his arms over his chest and studied the pain glaze in Connor's eyes. "Enlighten me, kid."

"I have three types of filters and four in total."

"Okay..." Realizing he was onto something in getting Connor admit he was ill and that he was able to get some answers without having to push him, Hank kept on the subject and waited for Connor tell him everything unprovoked. "Explain it to me. Why do you have so many filters?"

"The Thirium filter is up here." Moving his hand up higher against his abdomen just under where his ribcage could be located if he had ribs, and slightly to the right, Connor identified each filter's location and purpose. "The Thirium filter is designed to do as you would expect, it filters newly ingested Thirium to ensure the Thirium isn't contaminated or expired. Its design and location is much like that of the human liver."

"I'm following you so far."

"On either side; here and here," Moving his hand lower down his abdomen and motioning toward his back Connor continued on with his explanation. As he spoke he breathed slowly as his elevated core temperature was still dangerously high. "I have two sterilization filters that are located where a human's kidneys are located. These filters sterilize the Thirium after it's been cycled through my system to collect and remove foreign matter that may have entered the line through exposure or injury."

"All right, makes sense. And your analysis filter, does that work with you licking shit at crime scenes?"

"...Correct." Moving his hand back over the painful point of interest in his abdomen he kept his hand there for a moment before he pulled his shirt back down to cover his torso again. "Every substance that I identify at a crime scene gets filtered and collects in the biocomponent to be chronicled by my system and stored in my memorybank."

"And now it hurts?"

"The pain is in the general location, but the pain itself has been caused by my coughing."

"I don't know, kid. If your self diagnostic can't figure it out, how do-"

"Because it's the only thing that makes sense."

"Fair enough, I guess." Hank didn't know anything about deviant illnesses and had no ground to stand on. "How's your Thirium?"

"Low but not critical."

"Think you can drink some of that stuff and keep it down?"

The idea of ingesting anything made Connor visibly recoil with disgust. Connor let out another deep sigh as he rolled slightly from his back and onto his left side again as if needing to protect his stomach. As he moved,around the washcloth on his forehead slipped a little to the side and Hank quickly caught it and put it back into place.

"Okay, I'll let you alone to rest. But if your fever doesn't start to come down by this evening I will take you to a facility."

"No." Connor muttered sounding more like a scared kid than a skilled detective. "Not a facility."

"Then one of the towers."

"...That won't be necessary."

"I sure hope not. Abby's still out on maternity leave." Hank stood up and patted the side of the couch to coax Sumo into jumping up and cuddling with the ill deviant as he took his leave of the livingroom for a moment. "I'm going to go take a shower and wake up a little more. Yell if you need anything."

"I'll be okay by myself for a few minutes. Don't worry."

"Kid, you're sick and you're in pain. There's nothing you could say or do that would change my mind when it comes to worrying about you."


Two hours after his shower Hank proceeded to quietly hover over Connor as the sick deviant tried to ignore the pain in his abdomen and engage rest mode to sleep through the worst of it. As the deviant slept and mumbled in his sleep, or occasionally sang a little tune to himself, Hank managed to carefully put the back of his right hand to the right side Connor's neck to gauge his fever and shook his head at what he felt. Connor was getting worse and Hank had no idea why it was happening or how to help the sick deviant.

Leaning down closer to Connor as he mumbled Hank caught the sound of a few words here and there, but the fact that Connor was singing to himself was always strange. A person talking in their sleep is indicative of stress and Hank was all too familiar with hearing it whenever Connor was overheated or in pain. Hearing him sing always seemed to be indicative of a seriously high fever.

"Fuck, kid. Why does it seem like every time you get over one thing something else happens?"

Checking the washcloth over Connor's forehead with a light touch Hank retreated to the small corner of the livingroom with a frustrated breath to sit at the desk with his laptop.

"Most advanced prototype ever created and he catches every damn bug in the city. Lazy CyberLife assholes deserved to go bankrupt..."

Sitting at the small desk in the corner Hank used his laptop to check out everything that Connor had told him about the filters and android anatomy in general to try to find some possible answers. While almost everything Connor told him was verified through numerous websites dedicated to educating people on technical intervention, Hank couldn't find anything about the analysis filter. It seemed that particular biocomponent was unique only to Connor's model and its information had been kept intentionally scarce by CyberLife for either patent reasons or because they were such a shady and cruel company.

The senior detective was willing to bank on the latter reason when it came to CyberLife.

Pressing his bearded chin down against the palm of his left hand Hank leaned on his elbow atop his desk as he mindlessly clicked and scrolled through dozens of web pages as he tried to find something, anything, that would give him some idea as to why Connor was still sick and seemed to be getting sicker. The sound of a loud 'thud' followed by Sumo's sudden bark made Hank turn around in his chair and spot Connor wandering aimlessly through the kitchen. A chair had been knocked to the floor as the deviant stumbled about the kitchen and muttered to himself incoherently.

"Connor?"

Getting up from the desk Hank made his way into the kitchen and addressed the ill deviant with a paternal tone in his voice.

"Son, what're you doing?"

The senior detective pulled on Connor's right arm to lead him back to the livingroom but the deviant didn't budge.

"You need to lay down and rest."

Connor didn't say anything or even look at Hank as he stood in the middle of the kitchen like he was lost. His right hand was pressed to his abdomen again and his breaths were rapid, shallow and obviously pained. Even as he panted Connor randomly muttered incoherent words in a slurred voice that was barely audible to anyone.

"Damn it." Stepping around the deviant to stand in front of him Hank saw the distant glaze in Connor's brown irises and became alarmed. "Son?" Waving his right hand slowly in front of Connor's face the ill deviant didn't react to the motion or even blink. Snapping his fingers twice Hank in the same position just in front of Connor's face received the same vacant response from the sick deviant. "Can you hear me?"

"...I need to..." The slurring in Connor's words had become so severe that he sounded drunk. "...Need... the... 'ztop..."

"What? What do you need?"

"...'Ztop... Stop the..." Slurring and stammering Connor stared off into nothingness where he stood. "...my mission."

Hank put his left hand over Connor's forehead and swore at the intense heat radiating from his skin. "Shit. You're burning up and you're delirious."

"...Mission. I need to... complete the mission."

"All right," thinking quickly Hank decided to play into the little fantasy world that Connor was currently lost within thanks to the intense fever. "do you know what your 'mission' is?" Looking slightly toward Hank's direction Connor didn't say anything. "I need you to go back to the livingroom and perform a self diagnostic. I need to know if there's anything wrong with your programs."

"...Lieu... Lieutenant?"

"Yeah, that's right. It's Lieutenant Anderson." Moving his hand to Connor's shoulder Hank guided the feverish and deliriously confused deviant back into the livingroom and over to the couch where Sumo was still laying. The massive dog jumped down from the couch while Hank helped Connor to lay flat on his back to rest again. "Just like that. Now, run a self diagnostic for me and then wait for your next mission. Got it?"

"...I... I understand."

"Good. That's good." Picking up the dropped cool washcloth from the floor Hank replaced it over Connor's forehead and placed the thermometer back into the ill deviant's mouth. As the device 'beeped' Hank practically snatched it back into his hand and grimaced at the temperature recorded: One-hundred and four point six. "Fuck... Damn it, Connor. I need to take you to see a technician. You're really sick."

Connor closed his glassy eyes and his head began to loll slowly back and forth against the pillow while Hank stood over him.

Grabbing on to both of Connor's forearms Hank gently placed them over the deviant's abdomen and kept them there under the light pressure of his left hand as he reached into his jean pocket to grab his phone with his right hand. Scrolling through the contacts Hank's thumb hesitated over Abby's name before remembering she was still out on maternity leave and decided to find someone else. Continuing through the names he isolated Joel's name and pressed 'dial'.

The line rang only twice before Joel answered with some alertness to his otherwise laidback voice. 'Captain? Is something wrong?'

"First of all, call me 'Hank'. Second, yeah." He confirmed the question in a stern tone. "Connor's really sick and I don't know what to do for him."

'He still has pneumonia?'

"No. He's got something else going on."

'Can you tell me what it is?'

"I wish I could. Neither can Connor."

'All right, tell me his symptoms and I'll see if I can figure it out over the phone.'

"High fev-" Correcting his term of choice Hank relayed the details as efficiently as possible. "He's overheating at one-hundred and four and a half degrees. He's also got some nasty pain in his stomach near his right side."

'What's his current pulse rate and how is his breathing?'

Wrapping his left fingers around Connor's right wrist Hank counted the pulse and reported to Joel. "His pulse is strong at one-hundred and ten. And his breathing," as he moved his left hand over to Connor's chest he paused for a moment as he decided instead to press down against Connor's abdomen. "hold on a second, Joel. I'm going to check something..."

Putting the phone down on the coffee table Hank switched it to speaker mode and proceeded to move Connor's arms aside before lifting up the deviant's black t-shirt to expose his abdomen again. Remembering what Connor had said about the location of his filters and his pain Hank slowly placed his left palm down over the middle of Connor's stomach and slowly pushed his hand to the right side of his abdomen. As Hank moved his hand around he began applying a steady pressure down toward the deviant's side that resulted in Connor letting out a deep groan of pain despite being only semiconscious and feverish.

'I heard that!' Joel's voice sounded off from the phone and made it known he was paying close attention. 'What's going on?'

"His stomach is really hurting him, at least that's what he said before he passed out."

'It's sounds like he was right.'

"Yeah, it does..." A strange thought popped in Hank's head as he kept his palm in place over Connor's abdomen. The senior detective realized that the deviant's lower belly was somehow distended. Androids were incapable of such an aesthetic change unless there was something that shouldn't be under Connor's artificial skin or synthetic muscles causing such a change. "Joel, can android biocomponents go bad like organs in humans?"

'You mean like jaundice of the liver or tonsillitis?'

"I was thinking more like appendicitis."

'...Theoretically, yes. Where exactly is his pain located?'

"Toward the lower right side of his abdomen." Pulling Connor's shirt back down Hank left his hand on Connor's right bicep as a sympathetic gesture. "He said that's where his analysis filter is and it feels like there's some fluid or something collecting under his skin."

'That's right. Hank, if his filter is giving him problems then you need to bring him into see a technician, NOW.'

"Is it going to kill him?"

'It could!' Joel admitted with mounting concern in his voice. 'It's too much to explain over the phone, so just get him to me at Skye Tower as soon as you can.'

"Right, yeah." Slipping his right arm under Connor's upper back and the left arm under Connor's legs, Hank picked up the sick deviant from the couch and held him in his arms. "We're on our way."

Leaving the phone behind Hank managed to heft Connor out of the livingroom and through the front door, he walked and awkwardly forced the backdoor open with one hand. As he made his way over to the Pace parked in the driveway beside the house Hank pulled open the door to the backseat and placed Connor down inside gently.

"Hang on for me, son."

Closing the door of the car with a firm slam Hank rushed back inside the house to grab his car keys from the bookshelf, slipped on his shoes, placed his wallet in his pocket and grabbed the phone off the table to end the call that Joel had already hung up on. Picking up the cool washcloth that had been left behind on the pillow on the couch, Hank pet Sumo's ears and hustled toward the front door for a second time.

"Be good, Sumo." Hank called out to the massive dog laying on the couch where Connor had been out of a weird reflex. "Don't eat the furniture."

Throwing open the rear car door once more Hank placed the washcloth back over Connor's overheated forehead and was met with a groan of pain as the deviant's hand right pressed down over his abdomen again. Wincing in pain even while unconscious the deviant looked truly pitiful.

"Easy son, I'll get you some help."

Driving like a bat out of Hell through the city's traffic Hank arrived at Skye Tower in near record time.

Parking behind the tower Hank texted Joel to let him know they had arrived as he threw open his door and then pulled open the door to the backseat where Connor was still laying. Kneeling over the backseat Hank pressed his left hand down on Connor's chest and could feel the building heat radiating from the ill deviant's body. Looking at the deviant's abdomen again Hank saw that whatever was collecting under Connor's skin was still pooling and causing his belly to distend even further until the poor sick deviant looked like had put on ten pounds of weight.

"Fuck. Are you bleeding internally?"

When Connor's hand suddenly reached up and grabbed onto Hank's wrist in delirious fear the senior detective was now aware of how much Connor was trembling and how out of it he truly was.

"Connor, you're going to be okay."

Freeing his wrist from Connor's grip Hank maintained full control over the situation. Slipping his arms under Connor's shoulders Hank pulled the deviant out of the car and into the parking lot before he slipped his other arm under Connor's legs to scoop him back up and carry him toward the backdoor of the tower where Joel was already waiting. The deviant's lightweight frame was proving beneficial to the senior detective's old back as he was able to walk relatively quickly despite Connor being deadweight in his arms.

"You're going to get some help."

Opening the backdoor of the tower Joel checked Connor's eyes with a penlight as he walked alongside Hank toward the elevator to reach the second floor to treat the deviant in the emergency repair ward. It was evident that Connor's irises were still glazed over and unfocused. The sick deviant let out another groan of pain as his arms tightened around his abdomen as the motion jostled his already pained stomach even further.

"Joel, what's going on with him?" Hank righteously asked as the duo stepped into the elevator together. "I've never seen him so sick."

"It's just a hunch, but if I'm right then Connor's analysis filter has failed and the collected samples he's taken from crime scenes over the past three and half years have begun to leak throughout his torso." With a careful touch Joel lifted up the hem of Connor's t-shirt and saw that the sick deviant's abdomen was in fact distended to an abnormal extent. "If any of those samples are toxic or caustic then it'll poison his Thirium lines, just like how a human can become septic and suffer from blood poisoning after an organ ruptures."

"What the fuck?" Upon hearing the severity of the situation Hank was getting more and more worried as he carried the feverish deviant out of the elevator and onto the second floor as soon as the doors opened. "I knew him licking all that shit would come back to bite him in the ass some day!"

"It's not Connor's fault. It's mine."

"Wait, what?" Confused as ever Hank reached the emergency repair bay where he spotted Dr. Wilson also on call for the night and another familiar deviant was standing beside him. That particular deviant was the last deviant Hank had ever expected to see set foot inside Skye Tower. "...Chloe?"

"Hello, Captain Anderson." Chloe greeted politely behind a false smile as she watched him approaching warily. "I am here to help Connor."

Hank was immediately on guard and took a noticeable step back from where the female android was standing. She still bore her L.E.D. that cycled at a frustratingly calm blue in her temple and still looked as machine as she ever did. It was like the prospect of deviancy had skipped her over entirely.

Joel walked past Hank and into the depths of the repair bay to prepare for the impending repair procedure. "Chloe, come with me for a moment. I need to run some details by you."

"Coming, Dr. Forest."

"Hank?" Dr. Wilson called Hank's name in a low voice as he motioned for the senior detective to follow after him into the examination room of the repair bay. "We can't wait any longer. Connor needs emergency surgery- repairs, right now." Sensing Hank's trepidation Dr. Wilson nodded at Chloe standing to his left. "She's been interning as a nurse at the hospital. I brought her with me for my shift since her knowledge of androids has proven very useful in the past while I've treated wounded deviants in the hospitals own emergency repair bay."

Connor suddenly let out another groan of pain as he tightened his arms around his distended abdomen and he gritted his teeth. The deviant was trying to curl around himself even as Hank held him in his arms and the paternal need to protect his son pushed aside any mistrust Hank had toward Chloe. Determined to help Connor before it was too late Hank proceeded to carry Connor into the emergency repair bay and laid him on the examination table as gently as he could.

"Help him, doc. Do whatever you have to."

"I'll do everything I can." As Dr. Wilson's right hand pressed down against Connor's chest the doctor let out a surprised sigh at the heat emanating from his artificial skin and through the light fabric of the black t-shirt. "He's really burning up. I've never seen a deviant with such a high fever before."

Joel dismissed the remark as he brought up Connor's electronic file from both the precinct and New Jericho Tower to review as he walked over to the examination table. "Unlike humans, androids don't need to have a reduced temperature before undergoing repairs. Check his vitals and we can start the repairs as soon as we can confirm exactly what's wrong."

"Right, no problem."

Taking the audioscope that Joel had provided him earlier, Dr. Wilson lifted up Connor's t-shirt to listen to his chest directly while Joel located a sonar wedge to check Connor's distended abdomen for the internal hemorrhaging before making any attempt to open his thoracic cavity. As the wedge made contact with Connor's pained abdomen the ill deviant flinched again and let out another uncomfortable groan.

"Shit. The analysis filter has become engorged from years of samples and tainted Thirium." Joel confirmed as the sonar located the overheating biocomponent in the lower right quadrant of Connor's abdomen. There was moderate bleeding as the attached Thirium lines became obstructed with collected matter that cut off the flow of his blue blood to said biocomponent and began to rupture and leak throughout Connor's abdomen. "There is no Thirium cycling through the filter at all."

Hank only watched as Joel put aside the sonar wedge and was given an internal viewing screen by Chloe, who seemed more than happy to help.

"The filter is overheating causing the metal couplings and protective casing to expand with nowhere to go." The technician stated with a heavy tone of voice. "If we don't relieve the pressure and drain the bleeding Connor will begin to suffer from other complications that can affect his surrounding biocomponents."

"He's bleeding internally after all." Putting his left hand on Connor's too warm forehead Hank gave the ill deviant a somber stare. "Is that why he's in so much pain?"

"Without a doubt. The pressure in his torso must be unbearable by now and needs to be alleviated before it literally ruptures."

Dr. Wilson finished checking Connor's vitals and began gently palpitating the area around the burning out filter for himself. As fingertips applied pressure to the deviant's distended abdomen Connor moaned again and tried to turn away from the touch but Hank and Joel held him his place by the shoulders and knees in a firm grip.

"If he were human I'd say he had a ruptured appendix." The good doctor diagnosed from his years of experience with human patients. It was amazing how similar human and android anatomy truly could be. "I assume the procedure is relatively the same for androids as it is for humans in removing the damaged biocomponent?"

"Yeah..." Joel confirmed in a timid response as he mentally steeled himself as he prepared to work on saving his friend's life. "Have you done many appendectomies?"

"At least fifty. How about you and these filter removals?"

"...To be honest, I've only read about them." Joel's usually laidback demeanor became one of worry and hesitation. "They're very rare and Connor is the only android I know that actually has one."

Hank bowed his head and swore internally at the less than ideal revelation.

"It's all right, Hank." Dr. Wilson stated confidently as he slipped on a pair of purple latex gloves to prepare for the impending procedure. "We'll take care of him."

Chloe walked over to Hank with the same insincere smile on her face as she had before. The smile was of a machine trying to look human and was fake in every sense of the word. It was the same fake smile that Connor used to give before he himself became deviant. It was still unsettling to see to that day.

"Why don't you sit downstairs, Captain?" Chloe suggested in an annoyingly chipper tone of voice. "It won't take long."

"Uh, yeah... Sure." Patting Connor's right shoulder one last time Hank gave the incredibly ill deviant one final comment. "I'll see you in a few hours, son. You'll be fine."

Watching as Joel carefully removed Connor's t-shirt Hank backed away reluctantly to give the two technicians all the room they needed to work. Allowing Chloe to lead him out of the repair bay door Hank found himself standing alone in the elevator as it prepared to take him back to the ground floor of the tower. Just as the doors closed Hank caught sight of Joel and Dr. Wilson draping a blue sheet over Connor's chest and legs as they placed him in a manually activated stasis mode, placed a nasal canula under his nose to give him cool oxygen to help his core cool down and prepared to remove and replace his defective filter.

"Damn it, son."

Swearing the moment the doors shut Hank felt a fearful tremble creep up his spine.

"Why didn't you tell me you were so sick?"


The tower had been rather busy as of late as numerous teenagers had decided to use the warmer weather to their advantage and get away from abusive homes, while stray deviants who were traveling the country city by city just needed shelter for the night without worrying about being assaulted. It had been an hour into the emergency procedure and the senior detective couldn't sit still and wait any longer. Anxious and worried Hank found himself pacing about the lobby much to the annoyance of Pamela as she tried to focus on her tasks behind the receptionist desk and ignore the agitated human pacing about just a few feet away from here.

Hank himself was distracted by what Joel had said just minutes before he and Dr. Wilson prepared the emergency procedure: How was Connor's illness Joel's fault? It was an accident and nothing intentional.

Just as Hank felt like he was going to walk right through the floor after pacing across it for the umpteenth time, the elevator doors opened up and Chloe stepped out to meet with Hank in person. "Captain Anderson?"

Stopping short Hank turned to look at the blonde android with an expectant stare in his blue eyes. "Yeah?"

"Connor is in recovery. Would you like to see him?"

"Fuck yeah." Breathing a sigh of relief Hank followed after Chloe and returned to the elevator with his tense shoulders now slumped with relief. "Let's go."


No longer in pain and still in stasis mode, Connor was resting in a state of semiconsciousness in a bed in the recovery wing of the emergency repair bay as his technicians hovered nearby. With another fresh ice pack resting against his forehead and a second one pressed against his abdomen, the recovering deviant was vaguely aware of the lingering pain in his abdomen and side mercifully ebbing away. The deviant could also feel a light pressure over his torso where temporary bandages were keeping the newly regenerated artificial skin clean and a second pressure under his nose as the nasal canula feeding him cool oxygen remained in place.

A third gentle pressure on his right wrist caused Connor to open his eyes and look up at Joel who was checking his pulse as he recovered. It took a moment for Connor to find his voice and speak up.

"...Joel?"

"Connor." The technician looked a little pale and worried, but kept his voice steady. "Man, am I glad to see you awake."

"...Am I in Skye Tower?" Glancing at his surroundings Connor recognized the layout of the recovery wing and sighed. "What happened?"

"Your analysis filter became corrupted from strain and as a result it overheated and failed. After it partially ruptured it caused the surrounding Thirium lines to fail and hemorrhage as well."

"H-How did my analysis filter become strained?" Connor asked as he pushed himself slightly upright on his elbows and made sure he didn't bend his abdomen as he moved. "I hadn't sampled anything caustic while I was home, nor have I sampled anything of that nature in six months, three weeks, five days-"

"No. You didn't." Taking a seat beside the deviant as he laid on the bed, Joel let out a breathy sigh. "When your system became overwhelmed by the Thirium flux software it redirected excessive Thirium flow to your heart and your lungs; away from your other less vital biocomponents. When the software failed to shut off on its own and had to be deleted there was a rush of Thirium back to your lesser biocomponents and your analysis filter, a small filter that is unique to your model, was overwhelmed by the increased Thirium pressure and it caused the smaller interior lines to rupture."

Guilt was evident in ever word Joel spoke.

"And since your self healing program was so preoccupied with repairing your ventilation biocomponents thanks to you developing pneumonia the lines in your analysis filter were neglected."

"...The contents of the compromised filter pooled back into the biocomponent causing an obstruction." Connor was able to deduce what had happened to him and why he became so violently ill so very quickly. "And I had been exposed to numerous substances that had been collected within the filter; some harmless and other quite toxic, throughout my three year long career."

"I'm so sorry. If I hadn't asked you to-"

"It was my decision." Feeling much stronger, though still sore, Connor knew that the technician was still trying to blame himself for an unforeseeable mistake. "You didn't make me accept the update. It was my choice to do so."

"But still... I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize."

"I want to. So, sorry all the same."

"Although you don't need it, I will forgive you if it makes you feel better."

"Yeah... A little." Clearing his throat Joel handed Connor the electronic tablet that held his technical history. "We replaced your analysis filter after we removed the damaged one. It's completely clean and one-hundred percent compatible with your model."

"Where'd you get a replacement filter? I'm a prototype and no replacement parts were manufactured for my model since I was deemed expendable."

"New Jericho Tower. They supplied this tower with spare 'RK' model biocomponents after Markus had been injured in the car accident. Fortunately they thought to include one of each biocomponent unique only to your design as well, and once they have a second analysis filter completed they'll send the new replacement here to keep your emergency supplies fully stocked."

Connor pressed his left hand lightly against his abdomen around the ice pack, his belly no longer distended and only holding a mild ache compared to the searing pain he had endured for hours all day long. "Am I going to be subjected to any other side effects or complications from the Thirium flux?"

"As long as you don't deal with any more issues from my own stupidity, you'll be fine."

"You're not stupid, Joel."

"I sure feel like it."

Hank's voice sounded off from the doorway behind Joel as the senior detective entered the room. "He's right, Joel. Stop blaming yourself."

"Yeah, sure. I'll... see you later, Connor." The flustered technician took his leave of the room while Hank walked over to the bed to check in on his son. "Feel better."

Putting his right hand on Connor's left shoulder Hank gave the deviant a relieved glance. "You're sure as Hell gave me a scare."

"I'm sorry, Hank." As his right hand reached up to the nasal canula under his nose Hank's own left hand batted it away to keep the deviant from fussing with it just yet. The longer he rested, the better. "If I had known-"

"But you didn't. You didn't know you were in that bad of shape."

"...I was in pain. And I should've told you about it sooner."

"Damn right you should've, but don't worry about it. I met with Dr. Wilson just outside the repair bay and he said you're free to go home to rest as soon as you're ready."

"I can leave?"

"Yup. He said as soon as that busted filter was removed your vitals improved drastically and your fever dropped down to a much more manageable degree. I'll have to keep an eye on you for the next couple of days to make sure your system doesn't go haywire while it, uh, recalibrates or some shit, but I'm used to that already."

"Thank you for saving my life."

"You're welcome. You're really luck, you know that."

"How so?"

Crossing his arms over his chest he gave Connor a mischievous glance. "I could've returned the favor and removed your filter the same way you removed my appendix a couple years back."

"...I'd rather we not keep score and try to do one another such 'dramatic' favors." Connor wisely suggested as he sat up a little more on the bed. "Especially if it involves medical or technical procedures."

"That's probably for the best." Locating Connor's black t-shirt folded neatly on the small table beside the deviant's bed Hank handed it back to Connor to change into before leaving. "As soon as we're home you're staying on the couch for two more nights so I can keep an eye on you."

"That's fair."

"Oh, and just a heads-up." Watching as Connor slowly pulled the nasal canula from his face and sat upright on the table, the deviant managed to get his shirt back on over his head and Hank let out a weary breath in response. "...Chloe is here."

"She is?" Connor's brow arched with confusion as he moved about carefully and redressed himself. He pressed his right hand to his bandaged abdomen protectively as he shifted his weight around very slowly. "Is she ill as well?"

"Nope. Apparently she's interning as a nurse at the hospital and is studying under Dr. Wilson as one of his most promising students."

"...I see."

"I know you don't trust her, so let's get out of here before she spots you and tries to 'chat'."

"I appreciate you informing me of her presence." Sliding off the edge of the table Connor winced a little as his side still bore a small ache but it was nothing compared what he had been through prior to the emergency procedure. "There is a set of stairs we can take to depart out of the back of the tower more discreetly."

"You really thought of everything when you built this place, didn't you?"

"I tried to, yes."

"Come on." The senior detective placed his right palm over Connor's forehead once more and noted the deviant's lesser degree temperature with a modicum of relief in his eyes. "Let's get you home so you can rest without any pain and finally break that fever completely."

"That sounds ideal."

As the two detectives reached the hidden staircase concealed behind a false wall and an electronic panel Connor walked slowly with Hank right at his side as he descended the stairs quietly. It was just one of the three hidden passes Connor had built inside the tower during its construction.

Connor sighed and winced at the pain in his abdomen still aching with a dull throb. "...I feel exhausted."

"You and me both, kid. Don't worry though, it's over and you can rest now without suffering."

Reaching the door at the bottom of the staircase the two detectives found themselves outside in the rear parking lot of the tower and the previously hidden door behind them concealed itself automatically after sliding shut and locking in place. The tower remained quiet as the two detectives made their way back to the car and slipped out of sight without drawing any unwanted attention.

"You're still sore," Hank observed keenly as he pulled open the rear passenger side door of the car. "lay down in the back so you don't hurt your stomach again with the seatbelt or something."

"Okay. That's a good idea." As the deviant laid down in the backseat he sighed and pressed his left hand over his abdomen protectively. Almost paranoid Connor glanced through the rear windshield to make sure that Chloe wasn't watching them depart from the tower through a window. "I appreciate all your help."

"It's not a problem." Hank replied as he took his place behind the wheel and backed the car out of the parking lot to turn onto the street. "Just don't make a habit out of trying to 'tough out' internal bleeding, okay?"

"Yes. It's a deal. And you don't try to deny it when your back is hurting you."

"Fair enough." Adjusting the rearview mirror Hank looked at Connor's reflection on the glass and made sure Connor saw him. "No more suffering in silence for either of us, right, son?"

With no reason to argue Connor nodded firmly. "Right, dad."

-next chapter-