Despite his best efforts to concentrate on his work and file his reports on time, Connor was hunched over his desk with his soulful brown eyes staring at his terminal screen, though they remained unfocused and glassy as he tried and failed to read through the files presented to him. Feeling unusually tired, uncomfortably warm and wincing at a persistent dull ache in his artificial stomach, Connor found himself suddenly far too distracted to function and handle his assignments properly. Performing a discreet self-diagnostic from where he sat Connor closed his glazed over brown eyes and patiently waited for the program to finish its run, but the results came back frustratingly inconclusive. The unusual errors with his system weren't consistent with any known error or glitch that Connor was familiar with combating, and he hadn't suffered any significant damage to his person in the past two weeks.

With his L.E.D. slowly cycling yellow in color rather than its healthier blue Connor knew it was only a matter of time before Hank, or anyone else for that matter, noticed that he wasn't quite himself that afternoon. Doing his best to remain nonchalant Connor stood up from his seat and immediately braced himself upright against his desk with his as he suddenly and unexpectedly felt very dizzy, and he swayed awkwardly on his feet.

Hank, sitting at his own desk at the opposite side of Connor's desk, watched with a furrowed brow of curiosity as the deviant discreetly regained his balance and stared down at his own legs as if trying to understand why he was suddenly graceless in his motions. When Connor didn't say anything or try to offer an immediate explanation for his behavior, Hank took the initiative himself and asked the most obvious question.

"Something wrong?" Hank sounded casual as he spoke in a low tone of voice as to not draw unwanted attention from the rest of the bullpen. "You seem a little off."

"I am... unsure." Connor straightened his posture to the best of his ability and put his hand to the side of his head as if in pain. A weak cough erupted from his lips as he cleared his throat and took a deep breath to keep his ventilation biocomponents functioning properly. The odd reaction caught Connor off guard and his face blushed a pale blue to acknowledge his needless embarrassment "...That was unexpected, I apologize."

"Did you seriously just cough?" Now knowing that something was going on with his deviant partner Hank crossed his arms and leaned against his desk as if needing to get a closer look at Connor's face. "It may just be my lack of android knowledge showing, but that seems pretty weird for an android to do. Even a deviated android."

"Coughing for androids can be-" Another cough stole Connor's voice and made him inwardly flinch a little in response as the motion ached at his chest. The coughing was against his will, made his ventilation biocomponents seize, and his artificial stomach churn. "...I'm not doing that on purpose."

"Now I know something's up." Every paternal instinct in Hank's body was screaming at him to figure out what was happening with the deviant. "Did you run your self check program... thingy?"

"Yes, however my self-diagnostic program was inconclusive. I believe that I should see the precinct technician and have a second scan performed." Despite his own stubborn nature Connor couldn't deny that something was wrong with his overall functionality. "My systems are currently operating at unusual levels."

"Want me to go up there with you? You sound pretty rough."

"No." Connor stated somewhat confidently as he turned to walk away from his desk and to the elevator down the corridor across the bullpen. He subtly moved his hand from the side of his head and over his artificial stomach as he walked in a futile bid to ease his nausea. "I will manage alone just fine, thank you for your concern."

"All right." Leaning back in his chair again Hank just watched as Connor sluggishly crossed the floor and impressively managed to reach the corridor without tripping along the way. "Whatever you say, kid."

Using his free hand along the wall to guide himself as he walked Connor made his way slowly, clumsily, but successfully to the elevator and pressed the call button on the electronic panel. It didn't take long for the dual metal doors of the elevator to slide open and for the deviant to step inside as the lone occupant of the lift. As soon as he was out of sight of his fellow officers, especially Hank, the unstable deviant leaned his back against the far corner of the elevator car and slipped down to the floor to sit as dizziness overwhelmed him, and the ache in his artificial stomach increased to a new level of discomfort he couldn't describe.

After managing to gain enough control over his senses to cybernetically select the correct floor Connor sat as still as possible as the elevator ascended quickly while he stifled another weak cough. The sudden motion of the elevator moving and then stopping made both Connor's head and stomach turn. Fighting the urge to slip into rest mode Connor pushed himself back up to his feet and prepared to exit the elevator as soon as the doors slid open.

Fortunately for Connor, no one else was around when he stepped out of the elevator and on to the designated second floor of the precinct to seek aid for his enigmatic errors. Continuing to use his hand along the wall to guide himself down the long corridor Connor located the dispensary - the android equivalent to an infirmary. The dispensary was where the precinct's lone technician was currently filing paperwork for the evening at his laptop at the far side of the rather impressively equipped room just waiting for a deviant to come his way seeking some assistance.

Knocking twice on the opened door's frame Connor stumbled into the dispensary and stood as idle as possible as he addressed the technician from afar. "Dr. Forrest, do you have a moment to spare?"

"Connor, is there something wrong?" Joel asked as he stopped typing and walked over to meet the deviant detective in the doorway of the dispensary. The first thing Joel noted was Connor's L.E.D. flashing in yellow instead of blue, then noticed that Connor's eyes seemed glazed over and distant. "Feeling unwell, are we?"

"I'm experiencing unusual activity in my system that my self-diagnostic program can't properly identify." Holding his palm over the center of his chest as if he could physically keep another cough at bay, Connor paused for a minute before continuing once he was sure he wouldn't cough again. "I was hoping that you could identify and possibly correct the problem."

"All right. Why don't you lay down on the exam table for a moment?" Joel stated casually as he watched Connor's reactions very carefully. The technician's trained eyes were observing every one of Connor's motions and overall behavior closely. "I'll see what I can do for you."

"Thank you." Connor turned his head to look at the vacant exam table against the wall in the middle of the room and felt his head swim as another dizzy spell suddenly washed over him. Moving his palm from his chest up to cover his eyes as the room began to seemingly warp, Connor paused in place then took a tentative step forward. "I-I'm not sure what is happening.

"Dizzy?" The attentive technician inquired knowingly as he gauged Connor's behavior closely. Putting his hand to Connor's shoulder Joel guided the deviant over to the exam table and noted the steady heat radiating from Connor's person. "Tell me anything unusual you're feeling so I can give you an accurate diagnosis."

"I have periodically suffered from bouts of unexplained syncope." Connor admitted with a weak cough as he slowly made his way over to the table and proceeded to lay down flat on his back just as slowly as he had walked. Lying flat helped end the dizziness but Connor still felt terrible as he felt his chest tighten with another impending cough. "I am also experiencing a sporadic cough that is difficult to restrain, and a persistent ache in my abdomen."

"Is your gyroscope malfunctioning?" Keenly observing Connor's discomfort as he followed after the deviant Joel began putting the pieces of the puzzle together as he stood beside the exam table. Watching Connor's soulful brown eyes visually scanning the room Joel noted that it seemed as if Connor was having difficulty in focusing on anything for any extended periods of time. "Does it need to be recalibrated?"

Since his self-diagnostic was inconclusive Connor couldn't answer the question one way or the other. "I do not know."

"Okay, let's take a look." Joel peeled back Connor's gray blazer as he very gently placed his palm flat over Connor's lower abdomen. The light touch was enough to cause Connor to visibly flinch as Joel had already located the point of physical discomfort that Connor had been suffering in silence. "Does that hurt?"

Fighting to keep another cough restrained it took Connor a moment to answer the simple question. "...Y-Yes."

"Well, I can already feel that your system is slightly overheated, and based on your reaction I believe it's safe to say your gyroscope is in fact malfunctioning."

"Do you know the cause of the malfunction?" Through his glassy eyes Connor watched as Joel wheeled a metal cart over to the exam table and began sifting through the various pieces of equipment used exclusively to examine android physiology. "I cannot locate the program with my own self-diagnostic program."

"I have an idea." The astute technician admitted as he took a flexible plastimetal band and wrapped it around Connor's wrist. "I just need to run a few tests to make sure my theory is accurate."

The flexible band was a wearable external thermometer that gave the technician real time accuracy of Connor's core temperature without having to be invasive. The device showed a digital display of Connor's core temperature in red digits, and as expected it was slightly elevated up to one-hundred and one point four degrees Fahrenheit. In a human that would be considered a notable fever, and with androids designed to mimic human vital signs and temperatures the higher than average number confirmed that Connor was in fact overheating. As the device served its purpose Joel made a mental note of the reading as made a move to perform his next test on his current patient.

"You're not the first deviant I've seen today exhibiting these particular symptoms." Joel relayed without any worry in his demeanor. "Actually, you're the second today, and the fourth this week so far."

"Other androids in the precinct are malfunctioning?" Another weak cough briefly interrupted Connor's train of thought prompting him to clear his throat before speaking up again. "I-Is it the result of a virus affecting our software?"

"Something like that." Unbuttoning Connor's white dress shirt over his abdomen Joel placed a wedge shaped plastimetal sonar wand down against his abdomen, which in turn caused Connor flinch and jump a little as the applied pressure made his stomach physically ache. "Sorry about that."

"It's okay." The physically miserable deviant replied without any worry or malice as he laid back again. "...I know you're attempting to help me."

Joel held up the electronic screen connected to the wand as he used it to externally examine Connor's gyroscope. The wedge created a sonar wave that allowed the technician to see the gyroscope's exact position in Connor's abdomen as well as the rate in which it was functioning without needing to open up Connor's abdominal panels to view the biocomponent with his own eyes. The less invasive method of testing wasn't anything new, but it had been rarely performed prior to the Revolution due to technicians being eager to open up an android body to explore everything to placate their own curiosity.

"Done." Finishing the exam Joel made his assessment fairly easily and began heading toward a proper diagnosis regarding Connor's odd collection of symptoms and overall feeling of malaise. "Well, your gyroscope itself isn't damaged but it is in need of recalibration. It's currently being affected by your overheating core."

"Why am I-" Connor coughed again and put his hand over his mouth as he had seen humans do out of politeness and to stop the spread of their germs. Germs weren't an issue for Connor, but manners were considering his polite and professional demeanor. After clearing his throat the deviant spoke up again and felt a new ache settle in his chest from his frequent coughing fits. "...Why am I overheating?"

Putting the sonar device aside Joel tilted his head a little to the side as his pale blue eyes narrows curiously. "I don't like the way that cough sounds."

"It hasn't affected my ventilation biocomponents beyond minor interruptions."

"Yet." Joel cautioned as he made a move for his audioscope on the nearby table of instruments. The device was designed to imitate a stethoscope and was strong enough to pierce through the dense plastimetal frame of deviants for an auditory assessment. "I'm going to listen to your chest to check on that cough. Be silent for a moment, please. Breathe normally."

Lightly the patient technician moved Connor's black tie to the side as he slipped the ear buds of his audioscope into place to listen to the deviant's breathing. Placing the metal bell down on the central left portion of Connor's chest over his shirt Joel listened to the sound of Connor's Thirium pump and ventilation biocomponents - his heart and artificially lungs respectively - to assess the deviant's internal functions. Listening carefully Joel ran the bell from left to right and back again over Connor's chest as he listened to every sound and motion with full focus on what he could hear and how Connor's system was functioning even while undergoing an unknown error.

"Your Thirium pump is functioning normally, but there is audible faltering in your ventilation biocomponents."

"I... was unaware of such a hindrance." Such a condition wasn't detected by his self-diagnostic and caught Connor by surprise. "...Is it serious?"

"Any anomaly can be serious." Removing the audioscope from his ears Joel noted Connor's temperature rising slightly to one-hundred and one point eight degrees as the thermal wrap continued to track his core temperature. The elevating temperature was indicative of an issue with either the thermal regulator or the ventilation process. "But in this case, I don't think it's anything dangerous."

"D-Do you know what's wrong with me, as well as the other affected androids in the precinct?"

"Yes. It is in fact the result of a software virus: it's called 'Groupware Blight v1." Crossing his arms over his chest Joel gave the deviant a somewhat bemused smirk as he gave Connor his final diagnosis. "You, my friend, are suffering from a condition known as gyroscopic impairment, complicated by mild ventilation profusion and an enervated thermal regulator. This is more commonly known among us technicians as the 'android-flu'."

"The... flu?" Connor's brow furrowed with utmost confusion and his yellow L.E.D. briefly flashed red before returning to yellow. Being given such a diagnosis wasn't one that the deviant had ever expected to receive. "Influenza is a human ailment."

"Right, that's why I said you have the android-flu, not just the flu."

"...Oh." Covering his mouth again Connor caught another cough and cleared his throat once the cough passed. All of his symptoms and behavior did seem to match everything that Joel had uncovered and deciphered. "What causes it?"

"Well, during the colder seasons and weather, android biocomponents and Thirium lines become affected by the drastic change in temperature." Joel motioned to the window over his shoulder where the dark gray cloudy sky threatened to unleash another late season snowstorm at any moment. It seemed that spring was going to be delayed for a few more precious weeks. "And when the change is very abrupt or inconsistent rather than gradual, the thermal regulator becomes exhausted from attempting to compensate for the rapid fluctuations."

An android being affected by the weather was so oddly... human.

"Anatomically your thermal regulator is right next to your gyroscope and artificial stomach." The compassionate technician continued as he watched Connor lay back against the exam table and tried to take in more regular, consistent breaths. "Being overburdened by wild temperature fluctuations had in turn affected your gyroscope as the regulator itself began to overheat. That's why you have pain in your stomach and occasional dizziness."

"And the cough?"

"Your ventilation biocomponents have been attempting to compensate for the overexerted thermal regulator and they are collecting an influx of excessive Thirium as your system tries to boost the power to the biocomponents as you heal." One error causing another wasn't uncommon, and Joel knew there was no reason to panic or worry about a serious outcome. "Essentially coughing forces you to vent a little deeper and theoretically you should be taking in more cool air to cool off your overheating systems."

Connor put his hand to the side of his head again as if the very admission to being ill somehow made him feel even worse. "...H-How did I get this?"

"Like us humans do." Joel reiterated with a devilish smirk on his usually laidback face. Being able to diagnose a mild infection as opposed to treat a bullet or stab wound on a detective was a nice change of pace in the technician's daily routine. "You came in to contact with another deviant whose software had been affected by the abnormal biocomponent reactions already. My guess is that you caught this from Pamela at the receptionist desk."

As per usual Connor did indeed check in with Pamela at the front desk before clocking-in that morning. He hadn't noticed her exhibiting any unusual behavior, but his own peculiar behavior didn't begin to manifest for almost three hours since his initial contact with her.

"Your system attempted to register the activity of the affected android's system and attempted to synchronize your programing with theirs for easy cybernetic communication." Seemingly able to read Connor's mind Joel continued with the explanation as if the android-flu was an everyday occurrence without Connor needing to ask a single question. "Unfortunately, that meant your system became infected with her system abnormality as a result."

"What can I do to rid it from my system?" The officially confirmed ill deviant asked rather somberly as Joel walked over to a refrigerated storage cabinet in the corner of his dispensary near the storage closet. Connor managed to catch another weak cough out of some unspoken courtesy to the technician as he awaited a reply. "I-I can't work like this."

"Well, like humans afflicted with any illness, you'll need to rest." Returning to the exam table with a large transparent plastic bottle of bright green liquid in his grip Joel handed it to over Connor to take for himself. "And you need to drink this over the course of the next three days. One tablespoon every six hours."

"What is it?" Connor attempted to scan the contents of the bottle, but his system was too compromised by his condition to perform the necessary scan properly. The effort also made his headache even worse from the effort making every move he tried nearly unbearable. "...I cannot properly identify it with my scanner at this time."

"It's a type of coolant that'll mix with your Thirium and aid your thermal regulator in keeping your system from overheating. It's called 'Thermal Thiricetomal' and is brand new to android care." It almost sounded like Joel was a spokesperson trying to push a new product on the market. "It's supposed to ease painful responses in your external and internal contact sensors as well."

Cautious as ever Connor tried to refuse to accept the medication or even try it. "...Was this created by CyberLife?"

"No. There's a new group of technicians working for a company called 'Digital Sentience' picking up the pieces after CyberLife left town. I've met a few of these new technicians, and even had a couple of college students who are associated with Digital Sentience working as my interns a couple weeks back."

Turning away from the offered medicine Connor refrained from cooperating with his technician's orders. "I'd rather skip using Thiricetomal considering I cannot even fully scan the contents of such a complex chemical composition."

"Sorry, Connor. This is all necessary while your regulator itself heals. Trust me." Pushing the bottle into Connor's hand Joel was insistent that the deviant cooperate with his orders and instructions. "It'll make your recovery go a lot faster if you drink this."

"This is... medicine?"

"Essentially, yes." Joel reclaimed the bottle for a moment and opened the lid before handing it back to Connor to take. "And I want you to take your first dose here where I can see it."

Such a request seemed a little unusual and gave Connor more pause about accepting the medication. "...See it?"

"I want to make sure you don't have a negative reaction. It's the only way to ensure you recover quickly and can go back to work."

Admitting defeat Connor finally accepted the bottle again and chose to drink the bright green liquid. "...That is a wise precaution."

With Joel's help Connor sat upright on the table with moderate difficulty as his abdomen was still sore from his overheating regulator and upset stomach. Joel's hand was pressed against Connor's upper back to support the sick deviant as he moved around very slowly. With a single glance Connor easily estimated the proper dose of the Thiricetomal and drank it, but the taste was something so unexpectedly vile that Connor had to resist spitting it back out all over the floor.

"Sorry about that! It's supposed to taste like lime, but I can't be sure of that." Joel laughed a little as put the lid back on the bottle for Connor to keep the contents from spilling out. The empathetic technician saw that Connor was almost curling around himself as if he were trying to resist a terrible ache emanating from the deepest pit of his core. "Are you going to be okay?"

"...I-It hurts my stomach."

"Uncommon side effect, but it'll pass." Sympathetically Joel patted Connor's shoulder and waited for his patient to recover from the vile medication that had assaulted his tongue and stomach. "It's also not a serious side effect just so you know."

"...I st-still don't like it."

"It may taste horrendous, but it does wonders for androids suffering from thermal regulator errors. Without it you'd take anywhere from seven to ten days to recover on your own. This will ensure you recover in three or four days. Take your pick;" he tempted with a sarcastic tone as he watched Connor doing the math while weighing the pros and cons inside his head. "but do you really want to be sick for a longer period of time and remain unable to work?"

Shaking his head slightly Connor kept his trembling hand on the bottle and accepted the former option. "I f-find the shorter recovery period to be p-preferable."

"Everyone with basic common sense does." Joel pointed to the thermometer still wrapped around Connor's wrist. "Keep that in place and go home to rest. Be as still as possible and continue your normal rest cycle with minimal disturbance. If you spend too much time in rest mode it can disrupt your software's daily routine and you'll feel even worse before you have the chance to get better."

"...I see." Straightening back up Connor replaced the buttons on his shirt and sighed before replacing his tie over front. Despite having his uniform restored to its former appearance Connor still looked miserable and ill. "My shift is over in three hours."

"Nope. Your shift is over now." Speaking in a stern tone Joel made it clear that he wasn't going to budge on that particular request. "I'm sending a memo to Captain Fowler explaining that you're benched for four days until I have the chance to give you a follow-up exam and clear you for active duty."

"You said that I could recover in three days, why am I benched for four days?"

"Yes, that is true, but there's no guarantee you'll recover in that time frame. Besides the extra day off can give your systems more time to fully recover without putting any strain on your self-healing program and recalibrating biocomponents." The technician was entirely empathetic to Connor's plight as he too hated being sick and forced to sit out on helping anyone. "Now go on and get some rest. The sooner you rest, the sooner you'll recover."

With his new orders under his belt Connor carefully slid off the table and planted his feet on the floor as he kept his one hand on the table for balance. Despite wanting to leave it behind Connor also took the bottle of the foul tasting medicine with him as he departed from dispensary.

"...Thank you for your assessment and assistance, Dr. Forrest."

"No problem, and just call me 'Joel'. Go home, take it easy, keep that stuff refrigerated and drink one tablespoon every six hours." Heading over to his laptop Joel prepared a new e-mail to be sent over to Captain Fowler to keep him apprised of the situation at hand, and to ensure that Connor remained benched as ordered. "And then don't come back for four days. I'm serious about that, Connor. You may be a deviant but that doesn't make you impervious to illness or injury."

Reluctantly Connor did as he was instructed and made his way back down to the ground floor via the elevator to clock-out for the rest of the day as he had been ordered by the trusted technician. Clutching the bottle of 'medicine' Connor returned to the elevator and did his best to keep from falling over as another dizzy spell hit him and his stomach continued to ache with a strange tingling sensation just as the elevator began to descend.

"...Damn gyroscope. I sh-shouldn't be physically limited by something as meaningless as a virus."

Connor grumbled to himself as the faulty biocomponent continued to affect his systems and make his already upset stomach feel worse. It felt like his stomach was physically twisting around itself inside of his abdomen. Had he not felt so miserable Connor would've found the sensation to be intriguing to experience.

Exiting the elevator after it reached the ground the floor and walking back down the corridor to enter the bullpen Connor noticed Hank casually sitting atop his desk with his arms crossed over his chest as if he had been waiting for him the entire time. The senior detective had a curious look in his blue eyes but didn't say anything until Connor approached him at their conjoined desks to give his partner an update on what had happened while up in the dispensary.

"Find anything wrong, kid?"

"I... I have the flu." Connor admitted with a low voice as he showed Hank the green medication in the bottle. "An android-flu. I have been sidelined for the next four days and must consume this Thiricetomal every six hours." Hating the way that he sounded and felt Connor asked a single favor from his friend. "...Can you drive me back to the house so that I can rest? Dr. Forrest has given me strict orders to rest."

"Wow, you must be sick." The Lieutenant was almost stunned by the admission considering Connor's track record of trying to downplay his own personal issues and discomforts. "You're not trying to find some weird loophole to finish your shift or trying to convince Fowler that you'll be okay."

"Did... Did you already know that I was ill?"

"Fowler texted a minute ago after Joel sent the message about your condition." Shrugging dismissively Hank continued on as he gave the deviant a knowing look and agreed to take him home to rest and begin recovering from his illness. "I just wanted to see what you'd do."

"I don't want to do anything." Steadily Connor was sounding more and more pathetic as he spoke. There was a noted lilt of exhaustion in his voice that made it hard to tease the deviant. "...I just want to go home."

"All right, kid." Hank showed the cars keys already in his grip to the sick deviant as he slid off the desk and motioned toward the front doors of the precinct on the far side of the bullpen. "Let's get you home. You look and sound awful."

Putting his hand supportively on Connor's shoulder Hank helped guide the dizzy and tired deviant away from the desks and through reception. He didn't want to see Connor stagger or trip and fall on the way out of the precinct.

From his own desk Gavin had noticed that Connor and Hank were leaving, and more importantly he noticed that something was wrong with Connor and couldn't stop himself from shouting an unprovoked taunt at the ill deviant's expense. "What happened to the toy-soldier? Crack under the pressure of pretending to be human?"

"Fuck off." Using his 'dad voice' Hank yelled his response without missing a beat as he and Connor passed through the front doors of the precinct together. The lingering chilly air was making it more and more difficult for anyone to find any comfort at the moment. "Arrogant prick... Can't wait for him to go down like a whiny bitch when the flu finds it way to the humans in the precinct."

Connor didn't react or respond to Gavin's insult in the slightest. Sluggishly he walked with Hank beside him and let the senior detective guide him to the neighboring parking garage to get to the Oldsmobile and get home at long last.

"Hey?" Shaking Connor's shoulder a little Hank tried to gauge Connor's overall alertness. "You still with me, kid?"

There was a mild delay before Connor managed to answer the simple question. "...Where else would I be, Lieutenant?"

"I don't know if that was you being painfully honest or a smartass." Hank noted as he unlocked the car doors and watched Connor pull open the passenger side door with a shaking hand. It was like the deviant was losing strength by the second. "Sit down and take it easy. You look terrible."

"But I look as I always do."

"Nah, you're looking pretty sick right now." The senior detective confirmed as he sat down behind the wheel and watched Connor slowly sit down in the passenger seat beside him. Every motion Connor made was stilted, sluggish and almost strained. "You're not pale or anything, but your eyes are glazed over and you're walking like you have a ten-ton weight on your shoulders."

"Such a weight would be impossible for any deviant to bear."

"Uh-huh. Do me a favor, shut up and don't puke on the floor mats." Turning over the engine Hank quickly reached out and put his palm over Connor's forehead as an instinctive paternal reaction to check for a fever. "You're feeling warmer than usual."

"I am in fact overheating, yes."

"Need me to turn off the heater?"

"No." Glancing at the thermal wrap around his wrist Connor saw that his core temperature had risen to an even one-hundred and two degrees. "You don't need to suffer discomfort on my account."

"Fuck, you act like me enduring a slight chill in the air is the same as a human sacrifice." Pulling the car out of the parking garage and on to the street Hank watched Connor from the corner of his eye as the deviant closed his tired eyes, crossed his arms over his chest and remained perfectly still and quiet where he sat. "Just hang on for a few more minutes and I'll get you back to the house. You can pass out on the couch and spoil Sumo rotten after he finishes smothering you in his fur."

The comment went without a response as the ill deviant remained silent as he bowed his head down a little. It was as if Connor was beginning to drift off to sleep despite his desires to remain awake until they returned to the house.

"Yup. You're sick."

Turning at the next block Hank idled at a red light and noticed that Connor slowly lifted up his head and seemed to be pressing his hand firmly to the middle of his stomach while his other hand tightened to a near breaking grip around the glass bottle of Thiricetomal. Such a sudden sign of stress told Hank that something was wrong with the deviant and that he needed to figure out what the was very quickly.

"You okay other there? Don't try to act like everything's fine if it's not fine."

Once again Connor was silent for a moment as his yellow L.E.D. flashed to red and Connor received a warning in his visual processors revolving around his emergency expulsion program becoming active. "...I may end up puking on your floor mats. I'm sorry."

"Nope! Nuh-uh!" In a flash Hank unfastened his and Connor's seatbelts as he reacted to the blatant warning from the sick deviant. "Not on MY floor mats!"

Throwing the car into park Hank opened his door, waved off the angry driver's honking their horns behind him, and proceeded to walk around the other side of the car to open up the passenger side door. Grabbing on to Connor's arm and prying the bottle of medicine from Connor's grip Hank managed to haul the sick deviant over to the nearby alleyway just as the ill deviant's artificial stomach betrayed him.

As a torrent of blueish green liquid escaped Connor's mouth Hank returned his palm to the deviant's forehead, slipped the medicine into his coat pocket and placed his free hand against Connor's back to try to support him. Coughing a few more times Connor spit the foulness from his mouth and just stood in a stooped over position above his own puddle vomit at his shoes. Surprised by the violent reaction to his own nausea Connor just stood still and tried to process everything that he just endured while going through such a strange virus and sickness.

"Shit." Glancing down at the oddly colored puddle pooling around Connor's shoes Hank grimaced on his partner's behalf. "I don't think that green stuff will evaporate like Thirium. Will it?"

"...U-Unknown."

"Thanks for the warning, kid." Patting Connor's back twice Hank made sure the deviant had got his sickness out of his system. "Are you going to be okay long enough to make it back to the house?"

Wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve Connor stood upright a little with his hand still protectively pressed to his stomach as he gauged the sensitivity of his nausea in the process. "...I think so. Yes."

"Okay. Come on."

Patting Connor's shoulder lightly Hank guided the ill deviant back to the car and helped him to sit down in the passenger seat again. After watching Connor fumble with the seatbelt Hank pulled his badge from his pocket to flash to the still honking cars and warned them to shut up before returning to his own seat behind the wheel to resume the drive back home.

"We're almost there, kid. Just a little while longer."

Falling back into a silent and nearly meditative state Connor didn't say a word during the remainder of the short drive. It was almost as if he was afraid that if he opened his mouth to utter even a single syllable that he'd throw-up again.

Once home Hank practically escorted Connor from the driveway beside the house, through the front door and over to the couch. The senior detective made his way down the hallway to get some clean clothes from his bedroom closet. Afterward, Hank had the deviant remove his shoes, tie, blazer, white dress shirt beneath and his jeans, and then gave Connor a thin black t-shirt and gray sweatpants to wear instead. In a paternal reaction Hank insisted that a change of clothes would make Connor feel more comfortable during his illness and the deviant was willing to cooperate in the hopes he would feel better soon.

As Hank rummaged through the hallway closet and found the deviant a thick pillow to rest his head against, he also tossed the old navy blue blanket down at the deviant's feet where Connor was laying over the length of the beige couch.

"Just in case you feel cold. Try to lay back and rest as much as possible, and don't let Sumo crush you in the process."

Connor had no objections to changing into the softer clothing and lay down over the couch to sleep with Sumo watching over him. The sooner he allowed his body to heal the sooner he'd be able to get back to his old routine without any further incidents. Coughing weakly Connor tried to ignore how rotten he was feeling and focus on his breathing.

Happy to have the two detectives home sooner than usual Sumo sat down beside the couch with his chin resting on Connor's arm as the affectionate dog kept vigil over his favorite deviant. The loyal and friendly Saint Bernard was very attuned to Connor's behavior and mannerisms just as he was with Hank, and picked up on the fact that Connor was feeling ill.

Wearing the more casual clothing Connor appeared more human than ever as he laid on his back, sick and absolutely miserable as sprawled out over the couch. Not making any comments about Hank picking up his work clothes from the floor to be washed and worn again later, Connor just tried to ignore how horrible he felt and hoped that he wouldn't vomit a second time.

Sporadic coughing and dizziness kept Connor down on the couch all afternoon and well into the evening as his system fought to recalibrate itself and fend off the android-flu running rampant through his programming. He had never experienced anything like his current condition before, and he wasn't sure what to expect or how to handle it.

After a few hours of listening to Connor weakly cough in his sleep and watching the deviant laying still in relatively silent discomfort Hank acted on his long repressed fatherly instincts and set out trying make Connor feel better. The thick pillow and the soft blanket were a good start, but there was so much more that Hank could do to help the deviant recover a little quicker. At least, he hoped he could do more to help.

"You don't have to do this, Hank." Connor stated tiredly as the senior detective pulled the thick blue blanket up and over his legs and then his chest to keep him covered throughout his rest cycle. The sick deviant's glassy brown eyes watched Hank walking around the couch almost hypnotically as he moved. "I don't require any special treatment."

"You do when you're sick, kid." Hank argued as he pressed the back of his hand against Connor's forehead to check his temperature again. "Android-flu gives you an android-fever, too. What's your temperature?"

Connor lifted up his arm from under Sumo's chin to look at the thermometer still wrapped around his wrist. "My core temperature is at one-hundred and two point one degrees Fahrenheit. Also, I'm overheating, not feverish."

"It's higher than before, right?" The Lieutenant knew that Connor had been feverish before he even went up to see Joel in the dispensary earlier that afternoon. "I mean, before you came back down to the bullpen."

"...Yes." Replying reluctantly but honestly Connor tried to ease Hank's worries for his condition. Another cough passed his lips and Connor pressed his forearm over his mouth to cover them. "B-But I'm still coherent and-"

"Yeah, and I'm still lucid despite my old age. You're sick and you're being stubborn."

Stepping away from the couch Hank entered to the kitchen to gather a few things for the notoriously bullheaded deviant's recovery.

"Since you can't sweat to cool off like us humans can, I'm getting you some ice. I don't want your brain to melt." As Hank pulled a thin ice pack from the freezer he opened the fridge door beneath and picked up the bottle of green liquid medication that he had placed inside of it shortly after returning home. Curiously he read the label on its side. "You need to drink this stuff every six hours, right?"

Connor outwardly grimaced at the notion of having to taste that repugnant medicine again, yet he answered honestly all the same. "...Correct."

"We'll take care of your medicine now since you threw-up your last dose." With the new supplies in his hands Hank returned to the couch and pressed the provided ice pack against Connor's forehead gently, and then offered the bottle of Thiricetomal to the sick deviant to drink. "Here."

Returning to the kitchen for a moment Hank found one more item from beneath the kitchen sink. Walking back to the couch Hank then placed an empty mop bucket down on the floor beside the couch in the event Connor threw-up again after taking the medicine. The way Connor looked at the bucket in utter confusion reminded Hank that Connor wasn't used to being sick and having such uncomfortable symptoms while experiencing an error.

"Just in case, you know." Hank explained the bucket's presence casually with a shrug of his shoulders. "You may not be able to run down the hall and into the bathroom of if you need to throw-up again."

"It's possible that I can properly recover without the aid of that medication." Connor stated as he refused to take the offered medicine and watched the reaction on Hank's face as he tried to hand the bottle back to his friend. "It would just take a day or two longer for me to fully recover."

"Uh-huh, and why would you willingly let yourself be sick for longer?" The senior detective and father knew that Connor was trying to avoid something. He was going to figure it out fairly quickly, even if Connor thought he could outsmart him. "This is weird. Especially since you're a textbook workaholic."

Doing his best to avoid taking the Thiricetomal again Connor tried to feign innocence but failed as his glassy eyes fell to the bottle of green medicine in Hank's hand and gave away his true intention. "I'd just prefer to allow my systems to heal without secondary assistance."

"Bullshit." Hank pointed an accusing but non-aggressive finger at the sick deviant. "You just don't like the way this stuff tastes. I can see it in your eyes."

"I don't have any taste prefer-"

"Then drink it." Impatiently Hank pushed the bottle closer to Connor's face, but the ill deviant turned away with a thick grimace. "I knew it. You're as bad as a little kid, you know that?"

"...It hurts my stomach." Connor confessed as he closed his tired eyes and let out a sigh before he coughed a few more times. "And I don't like being in pain."

"No one does, son." That last comment struck a chord with Hank, and it immediately softened his voice. "You need it. You're going to get a whole lot worse before you get better if you don't drink this stuff. Joel wouldn't have given it to you if it wasn't necessary."

Begrudgingly Connor opened his eyes again and stared at the questionable green tinted liquid in Hank's hand. There was no denying that Hank's logic was sound.

"Think of it this way, the sooner you're better the sooner you won't have to drink this stuff anymore." Hank opened the lid of the bottle and curiously smelled the contents within by wafting the container under his nose. "Jeez, this shit smells like pure antifreeze! No wonder you can't stand the taste."

"...Dr. Forrest claimed that the flavor was supposed to reminiscent of lime."

"Must be some stank-ass limes to smell like this. Sorry, but you need to take your medicine."

Slowly Connor reached a shaking hand up to the bottle and took it from Hank's grip with a reluctant motion. Closing his eyes again Connor took his next dose of medicine and forced himself to swallow the potent liquid in a single gulp, and again he resisted every urge to spit it back out. After taking his medicine Connor almost immediately tightened his arm around his pained abdomen as the vile medication had a massively negative effect on his artificial stomach.

If it wasn't for the fact that Connor looked so miserable Hank would've laughed as he took the bottle back and replaced the lid for him. "That bad, huh?"

"...Awful." Connor sighed pathetically as he sank down against the thick pillow as much as possible, his arm slowly letting go of his stomach as he relaxed a little and pressed into the soft pillow and cushions beneath his body. Focusing on the lingering sensation of the Thiricetomal rolling past his tongue Connor grimaced again. "...I can still taste it."

"Sorry. I don't know how to help you cope with a bad taste."

"It's okay." The sick deviant wasn't looking for a solution or pity, just someone to listen to him. A barking cough shook Connor's entire chest and made the deviant wrap his arms protectively over his chest to brace himself against the body racking spasms. "It's not your fault."

"Hey, you'll pull through this and be back to normal in a few days. Just be patient with yourself."

"I know. And I'll try." The exhausted deviant looked at Hank through partially opened eyelids as he tried to resist slipping into rest mode for a little while longer. "I'd like to repay you for your kindness."

"Don't worry about it, that's what friends do." The senior detective waved off the comment as he returned the medication to the fridge in the kitchen for proper storage. "Besides, next winter when I end up being sick with the flu, and I do every fuckin' year, you can make sure I take whatever nasty medication the doctor prescribes me and cuss out Gavin for me. Deal?"

Connor coughed weakly as he closed his eyes and tried to ignore the lingering foul taste in his mouth as he initiated a light rest mode. "...Deal."

"Do you need anything else? More ice? Another pillow?" Hank patted the side of the couch as he returned to the livingroom to lure Sumo into resting his head down next to Connor's arm again to try to comfort the ill deviant. The way Connor and Sumo had bonded so quickly reminded the man of the way Cole had become Sumo's best friend the second they met all those years ago. "I still got a couple of extra blankets stashed around here."

The cuddly Saint Bernard happily obliged to Hank's command and put his chin back down on Connor's forearm and yawned sleepily as he prepared to nap along with the ill and miserable deviant. Being a loyal and loving companion was what Sumo did best.

"I'd... just like to be left alone for now." Refusing the polite offer Connor felt his stomach churning as his L.E.D. remained red in color. Being seen so weak and miserable wasn't much preferable over throwing-up in an alleyway. "Please. I want to sleep."

"Sure, no problem."

Quietly Hank decided to take his leave of the livingroom and turned off the lights in both the livingroom and the kitchen in the process before he walked down the hallway to go take a refreshing shower. Standing in the bathroom door for a moment Hank looked back at the couch and could see a faint glow of red from Connor's L.E.D. while Sumo stayed beside the sick deviant.

"Feel better soon, son. I'll be just down the hallway if you need anything."

As if on autopilot Hank spent the rest of the afternoon and the early evening consistently checking on Connor's fever just like he used to do whenever Cole had gotten sick in the past. Using the thermal wrap on Connor's wrist as a guide, as well as his own palm lightly pressing down against the deviant's forehead, Hank kept tabs on Connor's temperature and only disturbed him whenever he needed to take his medicine. The six-hour intervals seemed to pass by incredibly slowly for Hank but far too quickly for Connor considering the vile flavor of the medication. The way the Thiricetomal repeatedly upset Connor's stomach and left a nasty aftertaste in his mouth that was slow to fade made it increasingly difficult for the ill deviant to get any proper rest or focus his self-healing program on his numerous affected biocomponents.

At six o'clock in the evening, right on the dot, Hank walked into the kitchen, opened up the refrigerator and pulled out the bottle of green medication. The bright green coloration was a little odd and reminded Hank of the bizarre concoctions he had seen villains create in the sci-fi movies he used to watch as a kid. Seeing androids now alive and free just reminded the man of how much the world had changed since his carefree childhood days.

Kneeling down beside the couch Hank whispered the deviant's name as he held the bottle toward Connor's face to see. "Connor? Wake up."

The deviant's brown eyes opened slowly and his L.E.D. blinked from sickly red to neutral yellow briefly as he recognized Hank's voice, but the light soon settled back on a distressed red as Connor awoke. "...Hank?"

"Yup." Holding the bottle up for Connor to see, Hank gave the deviant an apologetic smirk. "Medicine."

"...Already?"

"You were asleep for six hours, so yeah." Rising from the floor Hank sat down on the coffee table next to the couch and removed the lid from the bottle. "Medicine again already."

Lifting his head up a little from the pillow Connor was pleased to discover that no dizzy spell accompanied him as he moved and saw that according to the thermal wrap on his wrist that his temperature was starting to slowly drop. "I believe I'm beginning to recover."

"Good. But you still have to drink this shit."

Letting out an annoyed sigh Connor accepted his impending fate and didn't try to resist. "...I'm aware."

"Sorry, kid. Maybe you can convince Joel to make it taste differently in case you get sick again in the future."

Too exhausted to reply, Connor didn't say anything as he took a third dose of the medicine and closed his eyes tightly as the loathsome taste filled his mouth against his will. Forcing himself to swallow the vile substance Connor shook his head a little as he handed the medicine back to Hank.

"...I don't know what a preferable taste to this could be."

"I'm no expert, but I think anything but antifreeze and limes from Hell would be preferable."

"Y-You may be correct." Laying back down Connor didn't want to think about alternate tastes to medication as Hank returned the bottle to the refrigerator. As he laid back against the pillow Connor coughed again and hoped that the fit would pass soon and help his core temperature lower back to a normal degree. "I really wouldn't know."

"Now, stay awake."

Such a command seemed entirely out place. "But I am tired, and when people are ill they're supposed to rest in order to recover quicker."

"Hey, I read that memo that Joel sent to Fowler, and it said for you to NOT go against your normal rest mode cycles." Hank leaned over the back of the couch to look down at Connor as he rested without actually sleeping again. "I let you sleep before because you were so damn exhausted from throwing-up, but now that you're getting better, I want you to stay awake for me and obey your technician's orders."

"What am I to do if I cannot sleep?" Being idle and still didn't mesh well with Connor's personality and interests. "I am not cleared to work, and my processors won't allow me to cybernetically work on cases."

"Holy shit, kid. No wonder you got sick. Look, just do what humans do when they get sick, all right?" Doing his best to remain patient Hank pet Sumo's head as he walked over to the neighboring recliner and sat down heavily to keep the sick deviant company. "No more thinking about work or cases. Don't think about anything. You'll just stress yourself out and keep yourself sick for longer."

"What should I do then?"

"Read a book or watch a movie." It seemed so easy for Hank to suggest the obvious since he had been sick many times in the past. As for Connor, being sick with such a humanoid affliction was entirely new. "That's what I usually do when I'm sick."

"...A movie?" Connor asked somewhat confusedly as he slowly sat upright on the couch and turned so that his legs were hanging off the edge of the furniture to rest his feet firmly on the floor. Sumo proceeded to rest his chin over Connor's lap and wag his tail when Connor placed his hand atop his head as a result and began to rub his ears gently. "Do you have a recommendation?"

"Yeah, I got one." Using the remote Hank turned on the television and scoured through his list of digitally downloaded movies and selected a favorite that he was sure would hold Connor's attention: A detective movie from the 1980's called 'The Untouchables'. "This is one of my favorites. You'll love it, too, kid."

"Why's that?"

"It's about detectives and history." Hank cued up the film and then leaned back in his chair to rest his back. "Granted some of the history gets exaggerated or omitted, but that doesn't stop it from being a damn good story mostly based off of true events."

Connor held his palm to the center of his own chest as another cough passed through his ventilation biocomponents with little warning. "...I-I'll take your word on this, too."

Watching the opening credits of the movie play out on the screen Connor did his best to focus on the story and not his aching stomach. Having an upset stomach, a fever. a cough, headache and fatigue were all proving to be a little too much for Connor to bear all at once. All the deviant could do was trust in Hank as the man stayed beside him to help him through his illness, and hope that he'd recover from his virus within the timeframe that Joel had given him.

The first night of Connor's android-flu ended with the miserable deviant detective falling asleep before the climax of the exciting film and settling into a gentle breathing pattern as his coughing fits seemed to mercifully end. At least the coughing fits were leaving Connor alone for a few precious hours to permit the deviant to sleep more comfortably and deeply. Hank let Connor finally rest on the couch without disturbing him in the process before he went to bed himself. Placing another blanket over the deviant's sleeping form to ensure that Connor was as comfortable as possible, Hank checked on Connor's fever with a gentle palm over the deviant's too warm forehead for his own reassurance before heading off to bed. The deviant's fever was holding static at its current temperature and Connor's L.E.D. was stuck slowly cycling in an amber hue in between brief red flashes of distress.

It was nearly six in the morning when Hank was abruptly awoken from his light slumber by the sound of Connor being physically sick again and throwing-up in the livingroom. Glad he put down the empty bucket for Connor to use, Hank returned to the livingroom and put his hand on Connor's shoulder to help support the sick deviant's weight, and then wrapped his free palm around Connor's forehead to check on his fever once again.

"Shit, son." Patting Connor's back in a comforting manner Hank waited for the deviant to finish being sick before doing anything else. "You're burning up."

"O-Overheating." Spitting the nastiness from his mouth and into the bucket Connor sighed and slumped back against the couch cushions heavily as Hank pulled his hands back to make sure Connor didn't feel smothered. "...I'm overheating."

"Same thing." Sympathetic to Connor's plight Hank sighed and walked into the kitchen to get the deviant some chilled Thirium and more ice. Picking up both the Thirium and the green tinted medication from the refrigerator then an ice pack from the freezer, Hank returned to the livingroom to tend to his sick friend throughout the early morning hours. "I know you hate it, but you have to drink it."

Giving the green medication an annoyed side-eye Connor felt his already sore stomach turning at the very idea of needing to take another dose. The last thing he wanted to do was willingly subject himself to another uncomfortable sensation.

"You slept through your necessary dose at midnight." Reminding Connor that he was on a schedule Hank held the bottle out toward the sick deviant to take for himself. "You HAVE to drink this if you want to get better. I know you hate it, but you need to drink it. This is for your own good."

The deviant flinched at that particular turn of phrase and tried to not think about all the times CyberLife personnel subjected him to uncomfortable tests and expose him to questionable scenarios to push him to his stress and physical limits.

"Come on." As he spoke Hank nodded at Sumo and thought about all the times that he had to force medicine down the dog's throat whenever Sumo had gotten ill and needed a vet's care. "Don't make me hide this stuff in a piece of cheese and force it in your mouth."

Lifting his shaking hand very slowly Connor hesitantly took the bottle of medication and closed his eyes as he took the vile tasting dose as expected. The harshness of the medication left a strangely burning sensation all the way down his throat and into his artificial stomach that made Connor curl around himself as if he were about to be sick all over again. It was getting harder to resist the urge to throw-up with each dose of medication Connor forced into his system.

"It's okay, breathe. Nice and slow..." Hank encouraged as he took back the medicine and forced the chilled bottle of Thirium into Connor's hand in its place. "Drink that, it should help wash away the bad taste and be soothing in your stomach since it's nice and cold."

Doing again as he was instructed Connor downed the Thirium and didn't stop until the entire bottle was empty. The chilled Thirium seemed to be dousing the mini fire that the medicine had left behind in his artificial stomach and made the pain fade considerably after a few seconds had passed.

"Good. That's good." Taking back the now empty bottle Hank pushed on Connor's shoulder to make him lay down again. Once the deviant was lying flat on his back again Hank smoothed the ice pack over Connor's too warm forehead. "Being sick sucks, and having the flu sucks even more."

Rubbing his hand over his stomach Connor cleared his throat and gave Hank a pathetic glance where he sat. "...N-Now I understand why humans create a new flu vaccine every year."

"Yeah, go figure. Humans are capable of doing logical things every once in a while." Glancing at Sumo sleeping on his pillow in the corner of the livingroom Hank made sure Connor was laying over the length of the furniture and then patted the cushions beside Connor's legs. The sound was enough to awaken Sumo and draw his attention over to the couch. "Sumo, up! Still need you to help out."

The massive Saint Bernard perked up at hearing his name and the invitation to cuddle. Rising from his bed Sumo yawned, stretched out his large body and then plodded over to the couch to jump up and cuddle with the ill deviant for a while. It seemed Sumo didn't like how warm Connor felt courtesy of his fever, but he wasn't going to go too far away.

"Good boy." Hank patted Sumo's back while Connor rubbed his chin. "You can't sweat your fever out like humans can, but having a giant furry space heater beside you can still be a comforting feeling."

Sumo thumped his tail a few times happily before he stretched out alongside Connor and rested his chin down over the deviant's sore stomach sympathetically.

Parroting Hank's earlier comment Connor closed his eyes and kept his hand on Sumo's neck. "...Good boy."

"Go back to sleep." Replacing the blanket over Connor and now Sumo to keep them both comfortable Hank sighed and decided it was too early to be up on a day off and keeping Connor awake while exhausted was torturous. "I'll check on you in a couple more hours. Okay?"

Already asleep Connor didn't say anything to the senior detective, to his friend, taking care of him.

"Yeah, okay."

Putting the medicine back into the refrigerator Hank passed by the couch to return to his own bedroom and smirked at the sight of Connor passed out asleep with Sumo sprawled out beside him. Seeing Connor looking so human was enough to remind Hank that even the strongest of deviants were still mortal and far from indestructible.

"See you in a few hours, son. Feel better."

It seemed the aggressive vomiting spell had been a warning for the impending downturn in Connor's condition. The ill deviant detective's core temperature suddenly spiked up to a very dangerous degree while he rested that resulted in Connor's body beginning to suffer from uncontrollable muscle spasms and a delirium. The intensity of his unusual sickness resulted in Connor rolling off of the couch and crashing to the unforgiving floor with a loud enough to 'thud' to cause Hank to rush down the hallway and into the livingroom to check on his sick friend. Seeing the ill deviant, his best friend, physically shaking and muttering to himself as he remained tangled in his blanket on the floor between the couch and the coffee table with Sumo anxiously whining nearby was frightening. The macabre sight was enough to drive Hank into first responder mode in a single heartbeat and try to aid his downed friend.

After pushing Sumo aside Hank pressed his palm down to Connor's hot forehead and swore loudly. Instinctively Hank grabbed Connor's wrist to check for his pulse but soon remembered that androids don't have the same pulse points as humans when he failed to detect any pulse whatsoever. However, seeing the thermal wrap around Connor's wrist did provide Hank with some useful information that he could use.

"Holy shit, you're up to a hundred and four... If you were human, I'd be calling 911 right now."

Hank knelt on the floor and pulled Connor up and against his legs to try and hold the twitching deviant still without hurting him. It felt like Hank had just pulled a burning log onto his lap with how high Connor's fever had risen. Thinking quickly Hank pressed his palm down over the center of Connor's chest to feel his heartbeat instead, and immediately discovered that Connor's heart was thundering away as if the sick deviant was under the rage of a massive adrenaline rush. The last thing Connor needed was a tachycardic heartbeat on top of a high fever.

"Damn it, kid. Why can't you just throw-up and pass out like normal sick humans do?"

The Lieutenant kept his cool and proceeded to untangle Connor's legs from the blanket wrapped around his lower body, then pushed the coffee table aside to have more room to work. After snatching the pillow from the couch beside him Hank slipped it under the Connor's head and then gently laid Connor down flat with the pillow to cushion him before Hank got back up to his feet.

"I'm going to get you more ice. Try to hold on for me, son."

Handling sick people wasn't new to Hank, but handling sick androids was entirely out of Hank's scope of capabilities. Whenever Connor had gotten a little banged up on the clock Hank had either taken Connor to a technician for help or patched Connor up by himself with a little guidance from other people who knew how to properly handle android care.

Gathering up every ice pack in the freezer along with a few clean towels from the laundry room was all Hank could think to do to help Connor's fever drop down and become more manageable. Hank tucked an ice pack beneath Connor's neck, over his chest and over his abdomen before draping the towel over Connor's body to contain the chill of the ice packs directly over Connor's overheating body.

Connor twitched and shivered a little at the cold sensation as the ice began to thaw fairly quickly courtesy of his elevated core temperature. The deviant's eyelids managed to crack open as his L.E.D. flickered in red in tandem with his rapidly beating heart.

"Son?" Sitting down on the floor Hank pressed his back up against the couch and looked at Connor's face as the deviant seemed to regain consciousness. "Hey, can you hear me?"

"...Y-Yes." There was a distinct shuddering in Connor's words as the deviant responded to Hank's voice. "I c-can hear you."

"That's good. You're burning up, kid." In a comforting manner Hank pressed his palm over Connor's forehead and kept it there to reassure the sick deviant that he wasn't alone. "Aside from feeling like you're about to melt into a puddle of sass on the floor, how do you feel?"

"I-I feel... h-horrid."

"Yeah, I can tell." Lightly Connor moved his hand over to the ice pack over Connor's chest beneath the towel and pressed down. Even with the two layers Hank could feel and count Connor's heartbeat under his touch. "Are you cooling off?"

"...N-Not sure." It was evident that Connor was too sick to perform a proper self-diagnostic on his system. "C-Can't be certain of a-anything."

"All right, that's okay." Discreetly Hank picked up Connor's arm to look at the thermal wrap around his wrist to check his temperature for himself. The number was slowly ticking down marginally toward a far lower and more stable degree. "You're not twitching as much, so that's good."

Connor hadn't even noticed that he was in fact suffering from muscle spasms even after Hank picked up his arm. Only when he was consciously aware of what was happening to himself was Connor able to force his body to lie still.

"You fell off the couch. Do you remember that?" Hank continued to ask questions as he gauged Connor's responses carefully. As long as he could keep Connor talking and somewhat lucid Hank knew he'd be able to assist the sick deviant. "Did you hit your head on the way down?"

The sick deviant's trembling hand reached up to physically investigate his head after being asked such a simple question. There was no pain or Thirium that'd be indicative of a head injury caused by a fall. "No. I didn't h-hit my head."

"You're speaking pretty clearly, and you seem to be able to understand me, so that's good. Once your temperature gets a little lower I'll help you get back up on the couch to rest more comfortably."

Peering down at himself Connor finally noticed that he was on the floor and had a towel over his body as opposed to the blanket. It felt nice to have the cool layer combating his overheating core and easing the fever that was actively burning through his entire body.

"Should I take you back to see Joel or take you to a facility for another exam?"

"No." Closing his eyes slowly Connor let out a small sigh of heated breath and took in a much cooler breath in return. "Th-That won't be necessary."

"Kid, you're really sick."

"Pl-Please, I don't want t-to go to a facility." Connor swallowed once nervously as he looked up at Hank again with genuine sorrow and fear in his soulful brown eyes. Expressing such fear was very rare and entirely out of place for the deviant. "I hate them. D-Don't make me go, please! Please..."

Hank hated how frightened Connor looked and sounded as he begged to not be taken to a facility. It was so reminiscent of children begging to not see a doctor or go to a hospital when they didn't feel well and were scared.

"All right, son. As long as your fever keeps dropping then I won't take you to see a technician." Gently Hank put his palm to Connor's hair and lightly rubbed his thumb through his friend's thick locks of hair as he remained beside the sick deviant laying on the floor. "If your fever starts to get high again, then I'll have no choice but to take you to a facility or call Joel for help. Do you understand?"

Connor just nodded his head slowly to respond positively to the question. That was a reasonable compromise even in Connor's feverish mind.

"Okay."

Looking over the deviant's form with a keen eye told Hank that the ice was helping. Connor's temperature was dropping, his muscle spasms had reduced to small tremors, and he hadn't coughed in several hours.

"Try to relax and let the ice keep doin' its job. As long as you don't overheat again I think you'll be just fine."

Without a further word Connor seemed to drift off to sleep and relax despite the severe virus still running rampant through his body. His breathing had evened out and his core temperature was continuing to lower steadily with each passing minute. The ice packs were helping to control the fever and reduce the strain against Connor's already stressed thermal regulator, and subsequently was reducing the heat causing his neighboring gyroscope within his abdomen to also malfunction and cause the sporadic dizzy spells.

Silently Hank watched over Connor and thought back to the countless sleepless nights that he had spent comforting Cole whenever his son had developed a cold, caught the flu, burned up with fever, coughed up nearly every breath he took in and just in general felt lousy. Those nights used to seem like torture to Hank's exhausted mind and body, but now he missed them with every fiber of his being. He would happily give up the remaining years of his own life to have his young son back in his arms for just one last minute whether Cole was healthy, sick, happy or sad.

Letting his eyes focus on Connor's face once more Hank saw that the deviant was asleep and that he had stopped twitching entirely. It was clear that Connor was still miserable and feverish, but he was finally stable again and could be moved back up to the couch to rest more comfortably. Gingerly Hank picked up Connor's wrist again to check his temperature and was relieved that it was already down to one-hundred and one degrees after spending just one hour under the ice packs.

"Okay, kid. Let's get you back up on the couch."

Shifting his weight Hank knelt down right beside Connor and slipped his arms beneath the deviant's upper back and knees. With a single, smooth motion Hank was able to scoop Connor up from the floor just high enough to place him down on the couch once more. After Connor was resituated on the furniture Hank picked up the pillow from the floor and tucked it under the deviant's head to ensure that Connor was as comfortable as possible.

Connor never once opened his eyes or reacted to Hank moving him around. The sick deviant's L.E.D. flickered from red to yellow as his core temperature dropped out of the critical range and into the surnominal range after a few more minutes had passed. It wasn't ideal, but at least Connor's intracranial processor was no longer at immediate risk of permanent damage or further complications.

"I'll trade that towel for the blanket. Far more comfortable in my opinion."

Hank whispered as he folded up the chilled towel neatly and draped it over Connor's forehead and the top of his head to add to the cooling measures. The ice packs would remain where they were since they were clearly being as effective as Hank had hoped they'd be. Picking up the blanket Hank gave it a gentle shake and then draped it over Connor's body in a comforting manner. It was a simple thing but effective all the same. It was the little comforts in life that could have the biggest impacts.

"Sleep well, son."

The sun was creeping up in the sky and just beginning to pierce through the curtains drawn over the livingroom window. The faint amber colored sunray shining through the two curtains and across the floor was a nice change compared to the dark and dreary atmosphere that had become the livingroom after it was turned into Connor's sick room.

"It's almost dawn but we both deserve to sleep-in after all this bullshit we went through."

Trudging down the hallway with light footsteps Hank returned to his bedroom for the night knowing that Sumo was going to be watching over the sick deviant again now that everything was back under control. The older man felt like he had just relived the worst moments of Cole's all too brief childhood when it came to illnesses and injuries, and what little energy he had left had been sucked away by the burden of being a loyal friend and a responsible guardian.

"With any luck you can become immune to such viral infections in the future, and that'll spare us both some exhausting future grief."

Waking up a second time just before noon Hank sat upright on his bed, yawned, stretched out his shoulders and rubbed his hand through his messy locks of gray hair that were sticking out wildly in all directions. Rising to his feet Hank grumbled a little as the quiet of the house left him relatively unnerved but quickly fell back into his new routine of taking care of the sick deviant. Walking into the bathroom Hank fished an old digital thermometer out of the first aid kit beneath the sink and carried it with him into the livingroom. Placing the digital thermometer in Connor's mouth without disturbing the deviant's rest and taking the now melted ice pack from the deviant's forehead, Hank returned to the kitchen to put the thawed ice pack back into the freezer to chill again. He then retrieved the dreaded medicine from the fridge once again to hand over to Connor to take once the deviant awoke.

It pained Hank to keep making Connor endure one discomfort after another, but he knew that ultimately it was going to help the deviant recover. Just as Hank returned to the livingroom the thermometer 'beeped' and he took it from Connor's mouth to read the number for himself. The high fever was starting to drop and would hopefully break entirely very soon.

"Ninety-nine point three degrees. Much better."

"Yes, I'm starting to feel better as well."

Opening his eyes Connor awake from his sleep and immediately homed-in on the bright green liquid of the dreaded Thiricetomal in Hank's grip. Once more glaring at the bottle of medication the recovering deviant accepted the bottle and took his next dose right on time without protest. Grimacing openly at the foul taste Connor's brow furrowed and his yellow L.E.D. flashed to red before returning to yellow.

"...I st-still dislike this medication."

"Yeah, but you have to admit it does work." Hank noted with a knowing manner. "You missed one dose and your fever spiked. Your temperature's almost back to normal now that you've been able to stick to your dosage schedules."

"I will admit it," Connor looked down at the thermal wrap still around his wrist and confirmed that the number matched that of the digital thermometer in Hank's hand. "but that doesn't mean I have to like it."

"Smartass."

Capping the bottle Hank made his way back to the kitchen to put the rest of the medicine away. Opening the backdoor Hank let Sumo outside, the massive dog eagerly jumping off the couch to get outside before he had an accident, then poured fresh food into Sumo's bowl.

"Your coughing seems to be gone."

"My self-diagnostic has been able to confirm that the disturbance within my ventilation biocomponents has been corrected." The cough was a result of his thermal regulator being unable to control his core temperature on its own, and now that his core temperature was dropping down the coughing had ceased. "My thermal regulator and gyroscope still need recalibration, but I seem to be recovering at the pace that Dr. Forrest had estimated."

"That's some good news. Hey, you fell asleep before the movie ended last night." Hank noted as he took care of everything on Connor's behalf. "Want to watch what you missed?"

"Yes." The idea of seeing the story's ending was very appealing to the sick but recovering deviant. "I'd like to see the conclusion."

"Cool." As he filled up Sumo's water bowl under the tap in the kitchen Hank heard the large dog scramble back inside after taking care of business outside and closed the door behind him. After putting the water down Hank patted Sumo's back again then strolled into the livingroom casually. "I love this movie. I can watch it every day without getting bored with it."

From the couch Connor slowly sat upright and wrapped the blue blanket around himself as he glanced about the livingroom and noticed everything that Hank had done for him since they returned home the previous afternoon. Not only had Hank made sure that he was recovering well from his android-flu, but Hank had made sure the ill deviant was safe and comfortable during his recovery. Everything Hank had done had come from the goodness of his heart, not an order from Captain Fowler simply because they were assigned as partners, or because CyberLife would sue him for negligence regarding their own property.

Hank really was his friend and helped because he wanted to help.

Watching the senior detective plopping down in the recliner again Connor wanted to express his gratitude properly. "Hank?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

"It's not a problem, kid. I'm all for movie night, even during the day."

"That's... not what I was referring to." Clarifying things casually Connor made sure Hank understood his mindset and his emotional responses. Expressing gratitude and respect without being ordered to say anything was still a strange sense of freedom for Connor to adapt to as a free thinking, free feeling deviant. "Thank you for aiding me while I've been afflicted with my error. I appreciate it."

"You don't need to thank me for doing anything for you. We're friends."

"Maybe not, but I still want to thank you." Truly gracious and appreciative Connor wanted his friend to know how he felt about everything Hank has done for him without asking for anything in return. "You've really helped me, and I suspect that I could have ended up in worse condition due to my own unwillingness to accept my medication as instructed along with my own reluctance to admit my weaknesses. Thank you for helping me and essentially saving me from myself."

"...You're welcome, son." Appreciative of the thanks in his own way Hank kicked up his feet as he opened the footrest of the recliner and resumed the movie where Connor had fallen asleep the night before. "Besides, you saved me from myself last winter, so I guess we're even now. Right?"

"Potentially." Understanding what Hank was hinting toward Connor agreed and managed a weak grin of gratitude and amusement just as Sumo returned to the livingroom and sat down at his feet requesting some ear rubs and chin scratches to which Connor happily obliged. "We're almost even."

"Smartass." Chuckling at the witty retort Hank pressed 'play' on the movie and noticed that Connor's L.E.D. had cycled back to healthy blue for a beat before settling on a neutral yellow as his system fended off the remainder of the affliction running through his software. That was another great sign that the deviant was on the road to recovery without any complications. "If you're being a smartass again then I know that you're definitely on the road to recovery."

-next chapter-