Laying on the couch and resting peacefully to allow his self-healing program to repair his 'busted rib' as Hank had called it after a run-in with a panicking deviant the previous day. Connor felt no pain as he rested, and he was finally able to jumpstart his self-healing program to full power. Wearing only his dark jeans and black t-shirt without a tie, dress shirt or gray CyberLife blazer made the deviant look entirely human save for the L.E.D. that still glowed blue at a steady pulse in his temple even as he slept. The white bandages were somewhat obscured beneath the fabric of his shirt as they protected Connor's healing chest and applied enough pressure to help stem the lingering small internal Thirium leak where he had been struck the afternoon before.

As per usual Connor was laying on his back on the couch in Hank's livingroom with his system deep in rest mode for the night. Sumo was sleeping between the couch and the coffee table to keep Connor company as the deviant rested in the livingroom. It was a gesture that the massive dog had picked up shortly after Connor moved in, and the deviant detective didn't mind the large dog watching over him in the least.

The injured deviant detective was sleeping peacefully when his auditory sensors picked up an alarming sound coming from the bathroom of the small house. Sitting upright on the couch with minor difficulty Connor swung his legs over the edge of the furniture, careful not to step on Sumo in the process, and listened intently to the odd sound resonating from down the hallway.

"...Lieutenant?"

Connor called out to his friend as he stood upright on somewhat shaky legs and looked to the closed bathroom door a few feet away. Connor's L.E.D. was flickering in yellow instead of blue as the distressing sound drew in his full attention.

"Are you all right?"

Sumo, who had been awoken by the same sound, lifted his head from atop his outstretched paws and whimpered slightly as he too sensed something was wrong. Whining a little Sumo stayed on the floor and watched Connor curiously.

The intrusive sound coming from the bathroom continued loudly followed by a choking and coughing fit that grew louder and louder over the passing seconds. The sound was too distinct and too pained to be ignored as Connor knew that his human companion was in some form of physical distress, perhaps even pain.

"Lieutenant? Hank?"

Slowly Connor walked around the couch and down the hallway to stand outside the closed bathroom door. His yellow tinted L.E.D. glowed brightly in the dark hallway and illuminated the silhouette of his face against the surface of the bathroom door in an amber glow as he placed his hand on the door and knocked twice.

"Can you hear me?"

There was no answer, only the sound of painful retches and coughing. Connor had finally identified the sound as vomiting - a symptom of illness as well as poisoning. It was something that Connor had experienced with Hank the night that he had found the senior detective passed out on the kitchen floor and required his assistance to investigate the deplorable 'Eden Club'.

"...Hank, are you ill?"

Connor called out again knowingly through the closed door as he knocked twice again. He needed to check on his friend and ensure that he wasn't in need of medical attention.

"May I come in?"

No answer yet again.

"Hank?"

Checking the doorknob Connor found that door had been thankfully left unlocked which meant a more aggressive entrance wouldn't be necessary. Turning the knob slowly Connor pushed open the door gently and peered inside the dimly lit room to check on the sick detective from the doorway.

Hank was on his knees in front of the toilet as he continued to throw-up in massive retches. The man's face was frighteningly pale and drenched in a cold sweat from physical exertion. Traces of vomit were dripping from Hank's chapped lips as he heaved what little contents that remained in stomach into the basin that his hands were clutching onto so desperately to keep himself upright on the floor while being sick.

"Hank?"

Connor fully entered the bathroom and put one hand over Hank's sweaty forehead and the other hand against the middle of Hank's back to support the violently sick detective as he threw-up yet again. The action was almost automatic as it had been the same reaction Hank had shown toward Connor whenever Connor himself had been ill or injured in the past.

"What happened? What's wrong?"

"F-Fine." Hank stammered out in an open lie as he spit the lingering foul taste from his mouth into the porcelain bowl. His entire body was trembling from weakness as a result of the chronic vomiting fit, and he was evidently suffering from an undeniable fever. "I'm fine!"

"No, you're not." Stubbornly Connor refuted the claim as he easily scanned the human's vital signs and processed Hank's current condition. The ill detective was suffering with both elevated vitals and body temperature that made Connor righteously worried. "I'm detecting an imbalance in your gamma-aminobutyric acid as a result of-"

"Connor." Too sick to listen to such details, Hank snapped at Connor and did so in a way that he hadn't done in quite some time. "Shut up!"

The concerned deviant paused for a moment as Hank's back suddenly tensed beneath his touch while Hank proceeded to vomit once more. The gruff and ailing detective continued to throw-up violently and Connor turned his focus entirely toward keeping his friend as stable as possible until the physically exerting episode mercifully transpired. The more Hank vomited the more erratic his vitals became: His heart began to race and pound, and his body temperature would temporarily spike from increased blood pressure until his body relaxed after the vomiting spell ended.

"I-I'm fine..."

Hank mumbled as he spat into the porcelain bowl before him. He reached a shaking hand up and pushed Connor's own hand from his forehead before he turned onto his hip to sit down on the cold linoleum floor to lean back against the side of the cool bathtub. Slapping his hand down on the handle of the toilet Hank flushed away his mess and he let out a weary breath to try to calm down his racing heart.

"I'm okay."

Connor looked down at the ill detective with a heavy heart and righteous doubt. The soulfulness of Connor's brown eyes betrayed the mounting concern that he knew Hank would simply dismiss as if nothing were wrong just to make the deviant stop fussing over him.

"What?" Feeling Connor's eyes boring into his very soul Hank snarled bitterly as he pressed his hand to his sweaty forehead. His gray locks of shaggy hair clung uncomfortably to his face courtesy of the collected sweat beading on his skin. "What the fuck are you staring at?"

"I'm detecting an alarming change in your vital signs: Heart palpitations, tremors, nausea and an elevated temperature despite no present infection being isolated in your system." The helpful deviant's voice was steady though his eyes were gleaming with his new found emotional empathy as he finished his biometric scan. "I've also detected no trace of alcohol in your bloodstream. These are all symptoms of-"

"Of WHAT?" The miserable Lieutenant demanded, his face was still pale and his body visibly shaking as if he were cold. "What Connor? Spit it out for fuck's sake!"

"...You're going through withdrawal."

"I'm-" Bitterly Hank tried to deny what Connor was telling him, but he was too tired and too weak to argue. Especially since he knew that Connor was right about everything. "...Shut up! Just shut up."

"You've cut back on your alcohol considerably, but you haven't had anything to drink in over two days; fifty-two hours, twenty-nine minutes and fifty-five seconds to be exact. When you were hospitalized in the past, your doctors were able to supply you with an ethanol drip to prevent full withdrawal symptoms. Your body is beginning to have a negative reaction to the sudden lack of ethanol that you've become accustomed to consistently having in your system."

"No, shit!" Still feeling sick Hank panted as he leaned back against the tub until his head was resting atop the edge. He closed his bloodshot blue eyes and breathed heavily through the nausea and his headache to focus on the deviant standing over him. "I stopped drinking because you said I should. So... way to go! Happy?"

"Why would I be happy to see you ill?" Connor looked sincerely hurt by the crude question. As he spoke Connor eyes were full of sorrow and his face was holding a slight grimace as he tried to be of some comfort to his ailing friend. "I want to help you, not harm you."

"If want to help me then leave me alone!" The man had such an intimidating growl that it actually made Connor jump back as his yellow L.E.D. flashed to red for a heartbeat." Beat it! Let me be miserable in peace..."

"I only want-"

"I said get out of here!" Hank shouted angrily as his entire body felt like burning hell while he sat on the bathroom floor. "Piss off, you fuckin' robot!"

Connor's yellow L.E.D. flashed to red once more as the comment affected him on an emotional level that had previously never been offended by Hank's temper or outbursts. Squaring his jaw defiantly Connor stood his ground and refused to leave the sick detective alone. As his red L.E.D. returned to a yellow glow Connor turned on the faucet in the sink and reached for a clean washcloth resting on the small shelf to his immediate right. After soaking the washcloth under the cold tap Connor turned off the faucet and wrung out the excess water all the while refusing to leave Hank's sick side.

"What're you doing?" The gruff Lieutenant growled as he watched Connor at the sink from the corner of his eye. "Go on! Leave me alone!"

"No."

"No? What do you mean 'no'?"

"I mean, no. I won't leave you alone."

Wrung-out washcloth in hand, Connor walked over to the tub and sat down on the cold floor beside Hank. Steadily the kindhearted deviant reached his arm around behind Hank's neck to support him, and then pressed the washcloth against Hank's forehead gently with his opposite hand as a means of trying to provide even a modicum of comfort to his suffering friend.

Hank's neck was propped up against Connor's bicep and seemed to find the presence more comfortable than the surface of the cold tub, even if Hank was trying to deny it. Stubborn as ever Hank tried to push away from the deviant but Connor, who was just as stubborn, wouldn't let him.

"Connor! Get out of here! Leave me the fuck alone!"

"No, Hank. Not this time..."

"Fuck off! I don't need your help!"

"Actually, Lieutenant, you do." The attentive deviant ran another biometric scan over Hank's vital signs and noted the still irregular heartbeat, as well as the sick detective's steadily climbing core temperature. If Hank's fever spiked to a dangerous degree, then he could possibly suffer brain damage. "Forgive me for this."

"What're you-"

Wrapping both arms around Hank's chest Connor hauled the sick man up to his feet and lifted him up from the floor just enough to step into the bathtub. Connor then began hefting Hank inside the tub along with him to stand under the shower. Standing in the middle of the shower Connor turned Hank around to make the detective stand before him with his hand holding Hank in place by the back of his shirt collar to make Hank face the shower head. The deviant then reached out with his free hand and turned on the water.

"FUCK!" Hank swore as he tried to fight out of Connor's grip as soon as the cold water hit him in the face. The slick surface of the tub and his stunted reflexes made the action moot and graceless as Hank flailed about in angry protest. "Turn that shit off!"

"I can't do that." Connor mumbled as he adjusted the temperature of the water to keep it cool but not skin-piercing cold. It was an effective way to cool down Hank's core without sending him into shock in the process. "You need this."

"Let me go!"

"I won't do that right now."

"Fuckin' piece of-"

Hank reached his hand around to try to swing at Connor, but he missed. If Connor wasn't already holding onto him Hank would've slipped and bashed his head against the yellow tile wall at his side. Slumping down weakly in defeat against Connor's chest Hank let his legs give out on him, and he fell to his knees in the tub to kneel down in the cool water pouring from the shower.

Patiently Connor supported Hank's weight and helped him to kneel on the bottom of the tub at a controlled pace. Kneeling down behind his friend Connor let Hank lean back against him entirely as Hank shifted his weight to sit down without risking a slip or stumble.

"...Connor, why are you helping me?" Hank asked in a pathetic whisper as he closed his exhausted blue eyes and ignored the cool water running down his chest making his gray t-shirt cling to his skin uncomfortably and his gray locks of hair sticking to his forehead. "...Why waste your time on an old drunk who just yells at ya', swears at ya', and is Hellbent on self-destruction?"

"Because you're my friend." The answer was as simple as it was sincere. Connor's own hair was hanging down and clinging to his forehead in dark wet locks, with his L.E.D. cycling in a worried yellow in his temple. "I want to help you just as you've helped me. You're a good man, Lieutenant. I know you are in pain and that you have difficulty in letting go of your past, I wish to help you move on from your own traumatic pass just as you've helped me to move on from my own past."

Defeated and tired, Hank turned around awkwardly on his knees to face the deviant and gave him a somber nod. Weakly he pressed his face into the middle of Connor's chest as he began to weep in irritation and emotional frustration for how pathetic he looked and felt in that moment. The senior detective could feel and hear the deviant's heart beating in Connor's still bandaged chest and made him feel even worse for how he had been treating Connor.

"...I'm sorry, kid. I'm so sorry!"

"It's okay, Hank."

"No, it's not. I've been a huge asshole to you and all you've done is help me." As he choked back a sob Hank tried to curl around himself and ended up falling on to his hip beside Connor instead. The shower had managed to cool off Hank's temperature and helped him regain his senses. "Maybe it's better that Cole isn't here... If he saw me like this-"

"Lieutenant, NO."

"...I'm pathetic."

"No, you're not pathetic." Refusing to let Hank punish himself Connor interrupted his self-loathing with logical insight. "You're in pain."

"I should be stronger than this."

"You're the strongest person that I know. You continue to work to protect everyone in the city despite your unbearable loss." Standing by his comments Connor refused to let Hank try to tear down his own emotional resolve. "That's a sign of strength, not weakness."

"...I'm so ashamed of myself."

"Don't be." Adjusting his position so that he was sitting on the bottom of the tub beside his friend, Connor let Hank lean up against his side as he sat with his distraught, ill friend in a supportive manner. "You just need to give yourself time to heal and you need to learn how to forgive yourself. That's what you've tried to tell me to do whenever I've blamed myself for situations that I cannot be held accountable for. Why should you expect anything different from yourself?"

Without jostling Hank in the process Connor reached over and turned off the water as he pulled Hank's arm around his shoulders and helped him to climb back out of the tub to sit down on the floor and catch his breath. Taking a towel from the nearby stack beside the sink Connor draped it around Hank's shoulders to try to make him feel more comfortable as he sat down at Hank's side again. Repeating the motion with a cool, damp washcloth Connor wrapped his arm around Hank's shoulders and used his hand to press it to Hank's still feverish forehead in an attempt to try to quell his lingering fever a few more degrees.

As his regained his senses Hank grabbed on to Connor's wrist with the intention of forcibly pushing the deviant's hand away from his forehead, but something deep down inside of him made him stop. Sighing wearily Hank acknowledged that he had been defeated and begrudgingly leaned into the cool washcloth in Connor's grip as the attentive deviant stayed at his side.

"...Connor?"

"Yes, Hank?"

"I'm sorry for yelling at you."

"It's okay." Connor's yellow L.E.D. returned to blue upon hearing Hank's tone of voice soften as he sincerely apologized. "I want to help you."

Slowly Hank's bloodshot blue eyes closed, and his breathing became deeper and slower as he steadily drifted off into a light sleep under Connor's watch. "Don't waste your time on account of me."

A smile crept over Connor's face as he patiently sat with his friend on the cold bathroom floor, ready to aid the ill detective if he fell into another bout of sickness or collapsed from exhaustion. With a gentle motion Connor pulled Hank a little closer until the senior detective's head was now resting against up his shoulder instead of the bathtub. It was a gesture that Connor had witnessed amongst deviants aboard the original Jericho as a sign of trust in one another and felt that the motion would be beneficial in the moment.

Hank silently agreed to let Connor help him as he let himself fall asleep against the deviant's strong shoulder. "...Thanks, son."

"You're welcome."

Glancing about the dimly lit bathroom Connor reached up to the towel rack just to the side of the sink and pulled down. Lightly Connor used the towel to wipe away the collected sweat on Hank's warm forehead and the residual vomit from around his mouth.

"I'm glad I could help you, even if you didn't want it."

The following morning crept in slowly and Connor waited for Hank to show any sign of consciousness before he even tried to move the ill detective out of the bathroom to take him back into his own bedroom down the hallway to rest. Throughout the night Hank's vital signs began to stabilize and Connor was satisfied that Hank was no longer in immediate danger that would require frequent observation or worse, hospitalization. The longer Hank rested the stronger Hank's vital signs became. Without any further sign of extreme withdrawal, fever, muscle spasms or vomiting, Hank was able to rest properly alongside the supportive deviant without interruption throughout the remainder of the night.

Confident that he could awaken Hank without any negative effects Connor decided to chance waking the man up and escorting him down the hallway. With very gentle motions Connor shook Hank's chest with his and whispered to the sleeping detective catch his ear.

"Hank?" Connor stated in a low voice to rouse the detective. "I need you to wake up now."

Muttering something incoherent under his breath Hank opened his glassy, pained blue eyes and looked at Connor somewhat confused. "...Kid?"

"I need you to wake up for just for a moment." Connor explained calmly as he kept his voice low to avoid causing Hank any pain if he still had a headache from being sick the previous night. "Once I have you in your bedroom you can continue to sleep."

Allowing Hank to continue to lean against his side Connor pulled Hank's arm around his shoulders and slowly stood up from where he was sitting. As Connor moved, he gently pulled Hank along with him until the senior detective was standing up on his trembling legs while still barely awake.

"Just a few steps." The empathetic deviant encouraged in a gentle tone as he noted Hank's faint sense of awareness. "That's all you need to take."

Awkwardly, but effectively, Connor led Hank through the bathroom doorway, down the hallway and into the senior detective's bedroom. Carefully as ever Connor guided Hank back down onto his bed and under the large quilt that was thrown to the side in Hank's haste to make it to the bathroom the night before. Pulling the quilt back up to cover Hank's exhausted form Connor placed his hand down lightly on the ill detective's chest to check his heart rate and his breathing before retracting his palm quietly to press against Hank's forehead for another fever check.

Despite Hank being so ill the night before he was now markedly improved, and his fever had since broken entirely. The cool shower had been effective and aided the man without causing any further issues.

Lightly Connor moved Hank's sweaty locks of hair out of his face to ensure that Hank was as comfortable as he could be. Without a word Connor turned to leave the bedroom but was stopped short by a faint voice calling his name.

"...Connor?"

Turning back curiously the deviant stared at the bleary eyed senior detective watching him from the bed. "Yes, Lieutenant?"

"...Hank, kid." The groggy senior detective replied somewhat sternly as he managed a weak smile. "Call me, 'Hank'. We're off the clock."

"Yes, Hank?" Connor corrected himself respectfully where he stood as Hank had requested. "Are you feeling unwell?"

"I feel like shit and my head's killing me, but that's not what I wanted to say right now."

Remaining silent Connor waited for the exhausted but alert detective to continue on with his thought.

"...Thanks for taking care of me last night." Despite the broken fever Hank's words were still a little slurred, however, he was entirely conscious and coherent. The fatigue in his blue eyes created a glassy film over his irises but it was evident Hank was focusing fully on the deviant watching over him. "I know I was a dick and yelled at you, so I just wanted to say sorry. Again."

"It's okay. I know that you didn't mean anything you said." Giving Hank a reassuring grin of his own Connor nodded once and backed toward the bedroom door to leave Hank alone to sleep for a few more hours. "I'll bring you some water and some aspirin. It'll help your headache and give you the chance to rehydrate yourself as you rest."

"...Hey, Connor?"

"Yes?" Pausing again at the opened doorway the helpful deviant studied Hank's demeanor carefully as he turned to glance at the ill detective over his shoulder. "What do you need?"

"Nothing." Sighing to himself Hank still tasted the foulness of his tongue but didn't dare to complain. "Just... Thanks for everything, son."

"Of course." Being called 'son' had an unexpectedly warm feeling in Connor's heart and he faintly smiled in response to the endearing term. He had been called 'son' many times before, but something about Hank's voice somehow made it seem far more important and sincere. "...You're welcome, Hank."

-next chapter-