DBH: Accident Prone - Becoming Human

by WayWardWonderer

Connor struggles to comprehend his newly found emotions and learns what it means to be human as Hank guides him along his journey of self-discovery as his deviancy evolves him into something more than a machine. Connor isn't indestructible and his impulsive, selfless nature to accomplish his mission will be the death of him, or even Hank, as he learns what it means to be alive.

55. Feeling

The morning following the near tragedy was thankfully sunny and warm. After bringing Connor back home to finish resting Hank had carried Connor into the house and placed him in the deviant detective's own bedroom to continue to recover in peace and quiet. Connor was now in the forty-ninth consecutive hour of emergency stasis mode - his rest mode was still trying to compensate for the horrific damage he had suffered to his heart three nights prior. The catastrophic injury that Connor had suffered, as well as the emergency repairs that he endured after being rushed to New Jericho Tower, had drained him of his strength. The deviant's systems were functioning on low power mode as his self-healing program worked to recalibrate the repaired Thirium pump still gratefully beating away in his chest courtesy of some clever ingenuity and a touch of desperation.

Standing in the dimly lit doorway of the bedroom Hank watched as his friend; his son, slept peacefully in the large bed beneath the thick brown quilt with Sumo loyally stretched out over the foot of the bed alongside him. Connor seemed very peaceful and almost human as he slept with Sumo cuddling alongside him. Slowly Connor's head lolled slightly to the right against the pillow and easily smothered out the low blue glow of the L.E.D. in his temple. The lack of light only emphasized his human appearance in that rare moment.

From the doorway Hank could see Connor slowly breathing and that his face was content; there was no pain or distress on his expression whatsoever. It was a close call the night before, and Connor had nearly died from the wound that no one believed that he'd be able to survive. Once again Connor overcame the odds stacked against him and persevered thanks to the talented hands of Lucas himself. Despite the reassurance from both Lucas and Markus that Connor would make a full recovery before the week was over, the senior detective couldn't help but worry for the deviant's health.

Sumo suddenly lifted his head up from the bed and looked over at Connor curiously. The Saint Bernard's ears twitched as if he could hear something that Hank could not and had put the large dog on guard.

"Something wrong, boy?"

Hank asked in a whisper as to not disturb Connor's sleep. Creeping into the bedroom Hank leaned over the bed and watched Connor more closely. It was then he saw that Connor's chest wasn't rising or falling anymore, and Hank felt a terrified chill shoot up his spine.

"Son?"

Remaining calm Hank gently placed his palm down on the center of Connor's chest, his fear abating once he felt Connor's heart still thrumming at a normal rate under his touch. Shortly thereafter the direct contact, Connor took in another breath and resumed a normal rate of ventilation. The deviant's eyes never opened, and his rest mode never disabled.

"Fuck... Even in your sleep you can scare the shit out of me."

The senior detective quietly lamented as he retracted his hand from Connor's chest. Looking over at Sumo, who was still watching over the deviant loyally, Hank rubbed the dog's ears as if he needed to reassure Sumo as well as himself.

"He's okay, Sumo. He's just tired."

Sumo let out a deep yawn before resting is chin back down atop his massive paws and settling down on the bed to sleep once more. It seemed the large dog understood what Hank had said and knew it was all right to resume his own nap.

Creeping back out of the bedroom Hank shook his head at himself as he stepped into the livingroom with silent steps to give Connor some space as he rested.

"Man, I haven't had to check on a sleeping kid in years. And I still hate doing it."

Exhausted from his own lack of consistent sleep and emotional distress, Hank resided to himself on the couch with his feet kicked up on the coffee table and an untouched mug of coffee gripped in his hand. As he leaned back against the couch cushions Hank's tired eyes began to drift closed steadily and was on the verge of sleep when a soft and unexpected knock at the front door awoke the man once more.

"Who the hell is that?"

The senior detective asked himself in a groggy tone as he put his mug down on the coffee table and glanced at the front door. Standing up from the couch he walked over to the door and pulled it open only to find two familiar and very welcome visitors.

"Lucas, Markus." Hank greeted in a casual tone as he took in the sight of the two deviants on his doorstep. "What brings you by?"

"We wanted to make sure everything is okay." Markus replied politely and kept his voice low as to not draw any unwanted attention from possibly nosy neighbors who might be eavesdropping. "We're not intruding, are we?"

"No, no. You two are always welcome here." Rubbing his palm along his messy gray hair Hank looked as tired as he sounded and felt. "I just wasn't expecting any guests, that's all."

Lucas was trying to conceal the support brace still secured around his left forearm beneath his white jacket as he stood at the front door next to Markus. "I wanted to check in and monitor Connor's progress. May we come in?"

"Yeah, sure." Hank stepped back and let the two deviants into the house. Closing the door quietly Hank motioned to the hallway and pointed Lucas in the right direction to find Connor as the deviant detective continued to rest. "His bedroom is right there, across from the bathroom."

"Thank you."

As Lucas walked alone down the hallway while Hank reached out an arm to keep Markus from following after him. The deviant leader stopped trying to walk and gave Hank a studious gaze of true curiosity.

"Lieutenant, is something wrong?"

"You tell me." Hank gave the deviant leader a suspicious but lighthearted glance as he lowered his voice. "Why is Lucas's arm in that sling?"

---

Working alone and very discreetly Lucas fully pushed open the already partially opened door to Connor's bedroom and crept inside the room to check on his recovering 'older brother' as Connor continued to rest without any sign of physical distress. As the deviant technician approached Connor with a calm demeanor, Sumo raised his head and let out a puzzled whimper as he watched Lucas curiously hovering over Connor. Sumo had never met Lucas before, and he was now perplexed as to why there were seemingly suddenly two Connors in one area. The confusion was mutual as Lucas had never seen a dog before and was unsure at how to approach the massive, but gentle, animal without making any mistakes.

The two unacquainted allies to Connor locked eyes for a moment as Lucas ran a cybernetic scan over Sumo. Determining Sumo's breed, approximate age, weight and the name on the gold tag hanging from Sumo's collar had all helped Lucas to relax just a little while in the presence of a mammoth and unpredictable beast.

"Hello, Sumo..."

Lucas noticed Sumo watching him intently and decided to acknowledge the large dog directly. Reaching out his hand toward Sumo very slowly Lucas let the dog take in his scent and recognize his movements as non-violent.

"I'm here to help Connor."

Though still confused by the second Connor standing in the bedroom Sumo sniffed Lucas's hand and then laid his head back down and watched as Lucas sat on the edge of the bed to examine the real Connor as he slept. Sumo's slowly wagging tail and big brown eyes emphasized his docile nature toward Lucas.

"Are we... friends?"

The tentative technician asked Sumo and received more gentle wags of the tail in response. Understanding that particular form of canine body language to be calm and friendly, Lucas was willing to trust the Saint Bernard and let his guard down.

"I will take that as a positive sign."

Pulling an audioscope from the pocket of his jacket Lucas somewhat clumsily placed the earpieces where they needed to be with just his right hand, then pulled the quilt down from Connor's chest. Pressing the bell of the audioscope against the black fabric of the t-shirt over Connor's repaired heart Lucas listened intently to the Thirium pump thrumming in perfect rhythm as it should.

Connor never reacted to Lucas sitting beside him on the bed or to the sensation of something being pressed down, albeit lightly, against his healing chest. The lack of a pained response was a very good sign on top of the regular pump function.

"Normal rhythm. No faltering."

Lucas commented with a relieved grin as he retracted the audioscope and awkwardly pulled it from his ears to place back into his pocket. Putting his hand against the side of Connor's face, Lucas tilted Connor's head to the left slightly to examine the L.E.D. cycling a healthy blue. Next, Lucas pressed his fingertips against the L.E.D. and cybernetically connected to Connor's system's vital readings for a more thorough examination.

"...Thirium volume holding at one-hundred percent capacity, core temperature nominal, Thirium pump rate at sixty-two beats per minute and ventilation is at fourteen vents per minute. Full system reboot estimated in in six hours, thirteen minutes, fifty-four seconds."

Satisfied that Connor was completely stable and recovering at a steady clip, Lucas pulled the quilt back up over Connor's chest and rose from the bed steadily without disturbing Connor in the process. Passing by the foot of the bed Lucas paused for a moment and gently put his hand down on Sumo's head. As he lightly pet the massive dog's ears, Sumo's tail wagged harder, and he seemingly approved of the second deviant's presence before Lucas exited from the bedroom.

"Good dog."

Hank was standing with Markus in the middle livingroom speaking with the deviant leader when Lucas rejoined the duo after finishing his exam. The senior detective's arms were crossed over his chest, and he was giving Lucas an odd look from where he stood that immediately caught the deviant technician's attention.

"So, what's with your arm?"

Lucas immediately froze and looked over to Markus who just gave him an indifferent glance. Returning to look at Hank with mild fear in his green eyes Lucas told him the truth regarding his arm's current condition.

"I used circuitry from my left forearm to repair and replace the damaged circuits in Connor's Thirium pump." The admission felt somehow relieving as if Lucas had confessed to a crime to absolve himself of any sin. "My arm needs... time to heal. And it will fully heal."

"Uh-huh." The answer was satisfactory but not fully informative to the seasoned Lieutenant. "And why didn't you say anything about what you did after Connor pulled through his operation?"

"Because I..." Trailing off for a moment Lucas shook his head as if ashamed of himself. "I'm unsure."

"It's because you risked your own wellbeing in the process, didn't you?"

"Y-Yes." There was no reason to even attempt to lie to the keen-eyed and skilled detective. "I believe that's it."

"Right. Don't worry about it." Hank let his arms drop away from his chest casually to take a less defensive posture. Flashing the timid deviant a kind smile Hank softened his overall demeanor as he fully understood Lucas's decisions and actions. "You did what you had to in order to save Connor. No one's mad at you."

The understanding reaction was entirely unexpected considering Hank's reputation as a stern detective. "Y-You're not?"

"No. We just wish you had told someone of your little idea before you performed a self-mutilating surgery on yourself. That's all."

"I'm sorry if you felt deceived."

"No need to apologize." Hank just waved it off and smirked as Lucas shared much of Connor's shy and humble personality. "How's your arm holding up?"

"My strength has diminished, as have my reflexes." Lucas admitted as he carefully flexed his supported hand to test his range of motion. "In time my remaining circuitry will recalibrate for what I've lost, and I will regain full use of my arm."

"And how's Connor doing?"

"Stable." With mild confidence returning to his voice Lucas seemed to be holding his head a little higher as he spoke to Hank. "He will awaken in six hours, nine minutes and twenty-four seconds."

"So, his heart is functioning correctly?"

"Yes." Lucas confirmed with a notable reassuring nod of his head. "His self-healing program has accepted the replacement circuitry with no sign of rejection. The required recalibration is responsible for his slow recovery rate and has resulted in his prlonged stated of unconsciousness."

"What about..." Hank was still righteously worried for the young deviant's health and couldn't help but worry about potential side effects. "Are there any other problems that could happen?"

"Problems?" Lucas gave Hank a concerned and confused stare. "What do you mean?"

"Earlier this morning I went to check in on him to make sure he was still... well... alive. And he stopped breathing for a few seconds." Feeling a tad foolish, like he was being an overprotective parent, Hank had to force himself to follow up on his previous statement. "Is that normal?"

"Yes." Markus stepped forward and clapped his hand on Hank's shoulder lightly to try to reassure him. "Ventilation, or artificial respiration, in androids is used solely to prevent our internal core temperature from overheating." The deviant leader explained cooly. "If he stopped breathing for a few seconds, especially since he's already in low power mode as well as stasis mode, his core temperature is going to remain cool without the need for constant ventilation."

"Right." With a breathy sigh Hank was genuinely relieved to hear a positive answer. "Okay, that's good to know. I'm not being paranoid about him then."

"No, you're not being paranoid." Lucas grinned slightly as he looked down at his left hand resting in the plastimetal support at his side and flexed his fingers again. "I should get back to New Jericho and run some tests on my arm." Returning his gaze to Hank the reformed android nodded at the senior detective with respect. "If you need anything don't hesitate to contact us. I will return."

"Yeah, thanks for coming by." Hank appreciatively patted Lucas's good arm as the deviant technician passed him by to reach the front door. "And the same goes to you guys. If you need anything call me or Connor. We'll be there for you."

"Thank you, Lieutenant." Replying with gratitude Lucas acknowledged the generous offer. "We'll be in touch."

"Please," following after the two deviants as they passed through the front door Hank called out to them one last time. "call me 'Hank'. Both of you!"

The two deviants both gave Hank respectful nods before continuing down the sidewalk and over to the autonomous cab idling on the street outside the house.

With a quiet close of the from door Hank threw the lock into the place and returned to the couch to get some rest himself. Exhausted but relieved Hank found himself dozing lightly for several hours after Lucas and Markus had stopped by to check in on Connor. Unwilling to return to his bedroom to sleep, at least not until Connor had finally woken up, the dedicated senior detective and fatherly figure slept while fully stretched out on the old furniture with his eyes closed and his head propped up under his arm and against a thick, fluffy pillow.

A sudden 'thump' followed by clicking along the hardwood floor in the hallway drew Hank's attention as Sumo had finally jumped off the bed and was now happily trotting down the hallway and into the livingroom. Pushing himself upright from where he was laying Hank looked over the back of the couch with glazed over eyes and caught sight of the blue colored L.E.D. in Connor's temple as the deviant slowly walked down the hallway toward the livingroom.

Connor's footsteps were shaking, uncertain and slow. The deviant himself looked confused and lethargic, but he was determined to move about on his own and find Hank to figure out what had happened.

"Connor! It's about time you got up." Hank commented dryly as he himself rose from the couch to greet the now conscious deviant at the end of the hallway. Giving him a kind grin Hank stared at Connor's tired face as he watched the recovering deviant detective approaching him slowly. "How do you feel?"

"I feel... strange." Connor's brow was furrowed slightly as he pressed his left hand over his chest while his right hand gripped his left forearm just below the wrist. As he reached the end of the hallway Connor swayed a little on his feet, threatening to lose his balance entirely and fall over. "I also feel tired."

"Yeah?" With a paternal reaction Hank quickly reached up and put his hands on Connor's shoulders to hold him steady where he stood. "What do you mean by 'strange'? Are you sick? Should I call New Jericho?"

"No. I'm not ill." Slowly Connor shook his head in the negative as he spoke. Warily Connor lowered his left hand from his chest but kept his right hand clutched around his left forearm as he spoke. "I'm experiencing a new... I believe the most accurate word would be... 'sensation'."

"What's going on? Talk to me." Hank lightly pulled on Connor's shoulders to prompt the deviant into taking a single step forward. The protective Lieutenant kept his hands on Connor's shoulders to support the unsteady deviant as he walked over to the couch to sit down for a moment. "Please tell me you're not going into some kind of rejection to those new circuits in your heart."

"No. My system has recalibrated my Thirium pump to accommodate the more advanced circuitry." With Hank's guidance Connor sat down slowly on the couch and Hank sat down beside him. "It's not my heart that feels different. Releasing his grip from around his left forearm Connor rested his arm atop his lap and began flexing his fingers slowly. "It's my arm."

"Your arm?" The senior detective looked down at the supposedly affected limb curiously. There was no sign of damage or structural modifications, and by all account it appeared perfectly fine. "Seems normal to me."

"I'm aware that Lucas had taken circuitry from his own system to repair the damaged circuits in my system." The perplexed deviant noted as he tried to understand what was happening to his body. "Do you know which circuits he had used?"

"Yeah, I do actually." Now Hank's own brow began to furrow with mild confusion. Pointing to his own left forearm Hank motioned to where Lucas had retrieved his own circuitry and began to wonder if there was a link between the two deviants experiencing some unusual activity in their own forearms. "He took it from his arm."

Connor's blue L.E.D. flashed to yellow for a moment as he failed to get a more conclusive answer for his question. It just seemed to confuse him all the more.

"Hey, you're okay." Hank insisted calmly as he grabbed Connor's left forearm to 'look' at it as a means of keeping his friend from getting too worked up during his recovery. "Lucas and Markus were both here a few hours ago, they checked in on you and you're perfectly stable."

"I see." The yellow L.E.D. transitioned back into blue as Connor did begin to relax a little. "...Could you do me a favor?"

"Sure. Name it."

"Press your fingertips down right here." Connor motioned to a point of interest on his forearm just above Hank's grip, right around his own wrist. "Tell me if something catches your interest."

"Okay." Flashing Connor an odd look Hank followed the request and pressed his fore fingertips down against the inside of Connor's wrist as he had been directed. "If you're really-" Something unexpected did in fact catch Hank's attention and stole his words. "What... the fuck?"

"You can feel it too?"

"Connor?" Hank pressed down with additional pressure and noted the unusual and consistent motion fluttering beneath his fingertips. It was a perfect rhythm and very steady to count. "Why do you have a pulse?"

"I... believe it's an unintended result of the more advanced circuitry from Lucas's programming adapting to my own system. His programming is much more advanced than my own, and despite my own sensors being the most advanced ever created by CyberLife at the time of my initial activation, they had given Lucas more... 'human'... anatomical responses. In theory, such responses would make it easier for technicians to diagnose glitches and errors."

"So... Lucas has human pulse points, and now you do too?"

"Correct."

"Wow." Curious about Connor's claim Hank moved his fingertips from the side of Connor's wrist to the side of the deviant's neck and lightly pressed down. Sure enough, there was another pulse point under his fingertips. It was racing as quickly as one might expect for someone who was dealing with a fearful new sensation, but it wasn't out of control. "And this scares you?"

"I'm... not supposed to have such functioning constituents. The concept of a palpable pulse beyond that of a heartbeat- the rhythm from my Thirium pump," Connor needlessly corrected himself quickly as if he needed to remind himself that he was an android. "is worrying. It's not normal and I dislike it."

"Why's that?" Hank asked as he pulled his hand back and watched his friend sitting beside him lost in the throes of concern. "There's nothing wrong with having a pulse point or two."

"My sense of touch feels greatly enhanced." Connor explained as he rubbed his thumb over his fingertips as his tactile sensors reacted swiftly. "My ability to register pain has increased significantly as well."

"You've endured some pretty nasty wounds in the past." The empathetic detective stated curtly as he leaned back against the couch cushions and crossed his arms over his chest. The way Connor was so worried about his enhanced senses now made total sense in Hank's mind. "I doubt feeling pain to a more extreme degree is going to stop you from working as a detective. You're too damn stubborn for your own good."

"I didn't enjoy the sensation of pain before, and now I'm afraid of how much more uncomfortable it will feel after these enhancements."

"Want to go to New Jericho?" Hank suggested more as a means of helping Connor feel better than trying to find an actual solution to his predicament. "Maybe Lucas can undo these changes now that your heart has been repaired and you're a lot stronger. You should be able to withstand the repair procedure without any problems this time."

"No. Adaptation has always been a part of my programming." Connor refuted with a certain tone to his voice, though a modicum of doubt was still audible in his soft words. "This will just be a new challenge for me to overcome."

"I'm not surprised you'd say that."

"You aren't?" Contemplating how his future might play out Connor sought some guidance from his most trusted friend. "Will you help me learn how to deal with this?"

"Of course I will, son. Just take it easy, give yourself some time to get used to your new sensor thingies, and everything will be fine."

Such confidence was enough to ease Connor's own worries and help him finally relax. "Thank you."

"How about you go and get some more rest, and I'll do the same?" Letting out a deep yawn Hank sank down into the couch cushions as temptation of sleep was too damn potent to ignore. "We've been through a lot and need to sleep so we don't get sick or something."

"Okay, that is a wise decision." With nothing better to do Connor readily agreed to the simple plan of action as he traced his fingertips over the newly developed pulse point in his wrist. "I'll do that after I replenish my Thirium reserve."

"Good. And trust me, son." Putting his hand down on Connor's shoulder Hank gave the deviant a reassuring pat and then a light shake to bring his friend a sense of comfort. "You'll get used to your new sense of touch in no time. You're a clever guy and too stubborn to let something like this hold ya' back."

---

After two additional days of rest and familiarizing himself with his enhanced sense of touch Connor was finally ready to return to the precinct. While he had become increasingly fond of petting Sumo - the dog's thick fur suddenly felt very soft beneath his palms and through his fingers - other objects were unsettling for him to grasp at times. Touching anything cold was unpleasant and he wasn't too fond of wool or cashmere as he found the textures to be scratchy and irritating. However, it was the act of reaching for his gun in its holster that had given Connor unexpected pause and made him wary of any potential fieldwork. While always aware that guns were heavy, cold hunks of metal, Connor hadn't realized exactly how heavy and how cold the metal felt in his grip until after his tactile sensors had been unexpectedly enhanced.

The same uncomfortable sensations could be said with the brutally cold chill of the spring rain settling in the air. Annoyingly persistent snow falling against Connor's artificial skin was markedly colder than it had been during winter. Harsh gusts of wind seemed to cut into his skin like a knife and it made Connor shy away from the cold altogether. Reaching for a cold metal car door handle sheathed in a thin layer of ice was just as unpleasant as the raw snow. The intense cold seemed to actually physically hurt his skin as a result.

"How're you feeling?" Hank asked as he turned up the music on the radio before he adjusted the heat in the car slightly. Connor sat down beside him in the front seat and flexed his hands anxiously after fastening his seatbelt. "Too hot? Too cold?"

"No." Connor stared out the front windshield as he danced his coin about his fingertips casually. It was the first time that he truly felt every ridge on the sides of the coin, how cool the metal was against his skin, and he could feel the metal of the coin steadily increasing in temperature from its prolonged exposure to his direct touch. "I'm comfortable. I think."

"Hell of a time to gain a boost in your senses, huh, kid? Horrible cold, deafening wind, slick ice." Backing the Oldsmobile down the driveway Hank turned the vehicle around on the street to head out to the precinct to begin their shift. "By this time next week all this damn snow will finally be gone. Fuck, we'll probably end up with a stifling summer just as quickly."

"This wasn't something that I had anticipated happening." Connor flipped the coin up high with the flick of his thumb and caught gracefully in the palm of his same hand. The quarter was already quite warm, and it felt good in his grasp in comparison to the cold door handle. "It's been a very interesting experience."

"Can you do anything to mellow it out? Even for a few minutes?"

"No." The deviant admitted as he resumed dancing the coin over his fingertips rhythmically. "I cannot reduce the sensitivity of my tactile sensors without shutting them off entirely. And as you can imagine, having all of my sensors functioning is crucial to my work."

"Yup. I know exactly what you mean."

Connor's fingers suddenly twitched causing him to drop the coin under the front seats much to his embarrassment.

"You good?" Hank noticed that Connor dropped his coin for the first time since he'd known the deviant and wondered if that was an effect of his enhanced sense of touch or if something else was bothering the deviant. "Need another day to relax?"

"Unknown." Unsure of how to answer Connor ran a self-diagnostic and came back with a perfectly healthy result. "...Should I refrain from work until I know the full extent of my enhanced senses?"

"Take my word on this, son. You'll never know the full extent of your senses. Ever. You'll learn something new about yourself every damn day."

As Connor awkwardly fished his coin out from under the front seat, he became uncomfortably aware of all the clutter that had collected beneath the car seats from months, if not years, of neglect. Old candy wrappers, crumbs, ticket stubs and a few wads of chewing gum tucked inside paper littered the floor. Such filth made Connor's hands feel very dirty and the deviant felt as if he needed to find a sink and wash his hands off as soon as he could.

"Hank..." Connor retrieved his coin and wiped his hand off against the side of his jeans, then resumed fidgeting with the quarter in his same hand. "I think one of us should clean out the car before it becomes too unsanitary to drive in."

"Uh-huh." The senior detective suddenly snatched the coin from Connor's hand and tucked it into the front pocket of his coat for 'safekeeping'. "And you should find a real hobby. Stop fiddling with that damn coin all the time. It's annoying."

Feeling suddenly underdressed in his usual uniform and thin gray CyberLife blazer, Connor sank back in his seat and folded his arms across his chest to keep his hands warm and still during the drive. It felt wrong to not have his coin anywhere on his person. The deviant detective had very little to his name and that coin was his most prized possession.

"Sorry, Hank."

The Lieutenant heard the sincerity of Connor's apology and then an intense guilt settle into his gut. As much as Hank wanted to just give Connor his coin back and apologize himself, Hank knew he needed to stand firm in his actions since he was trying to help Connor improve as a person. Caving in every time he accidentally hurt the young deviant's feelings would cause more problems than solutions as they both continued to grow and better themselves as individuals.

---

The drive to the precinct remained unusually quiet as the two detectives kept their thoughts to themselves. After finally arriving at the precinct Connor checked in with both Captain Fowler and Dr. Forrest before he was cleared for active duty once more. It didn't take long for Connor and Hank to find themselves working through yet another dangerous case revolving around deviant activity out in the city itself. While the prime deviant suspect in question hadn't shown any aggressive tendencies toward humans, he had proven himself to be a dangerous, resourceful thief who wasn't afraid to destroy anything he came across in order to escape with his stolen goods. Unfortunately for the thieving deviant, the original responding officers to the complaint was Gavin, and Gavin wasn't in the mood to deal with a thief after working so much overtime to help cover Connor and Hank's shifts.

Everyone involved in the investigation was losing their patience fast. Gavin had aggravated the deviant into a violent episode and had taken into hiding within the confines of an automotive junkyard to elude the police pursuing him. The massive junkyard was a labyrinth of twisted metal and broken glass that'd take hours to navigate. That was time that no detective in the city had to spare.

"Shit. This is going to take forever!" Hank lamented as he and Connor pulled up in front of the junkyard to try to track down the deviant criminal. The entire property was covered with staggeringly tall towers of ruined cars just waiting to be disposed of as they created a staggering maze of forgotten metal. "You head east, I'll go west. We might be able to corner the deviant and take him in without further incident."

"Hank?" The suddenly physically sensitive deviant clutched both of his hands into tight fists as his hands trembled with fear where he sat. Even Connor's L.E.D. flashed yellow in a nervous color. "I'm not sure I can do this. At least... not yet."

"Then you stay here." The senior detective encouraged empathetically as he opened his door to exit the vehicle. "If you aren't ready to handle this then don't risk it. I'd rather go at it alone than risk your health or sanity, kid. Just keep me posted if you see anything unusual, and if you see Gavin lurking around, point him in my direction. Okay?"

"...Okay." Nodding a little Connor acknowledged the much easier orders. The deviant detective hated to let Hank go in search of a potentially dangerous deviant without him, but he was admittedly too frightened to be of much use at the moment. The idea of being surrounded by icy cold metal was enough to make Connor's healed heart momentarily hitch with fear. "I'll immediately send you an update if I see the suspect."

"Good." Slamming his door shut Hank spoke to Connor through the window and pulled his coat's collar up higher to protect his throat and ears from the biting cold air swirling around him. "Stay here and I'll be back as soon as I can."

Obediently Connor stayed in the front seat of the car and watched through his side window as Hank ducked down slightly to walk between the massive stacks of metallic debris without drawing any unwanted attention from deviant lurking unseen in the junkyard. As Hank drew his gun from the holster secured to his hip and kept the barrel of the gun pointed at the ground before himself, Connor thought about his own gun and how it suddenly felt strange to hold.

With that sense of dread of holding the cold, heavy weapon came a sense of self doubt. Something Connor never experienced before.

Wanting to avoid as many uncomfortable sensations as possible Connor kept his hands firmly planted atop his legs to avoid making contact with anything unpleasant as he waited for Hank's return. The warmth of his own body heat and the softer material of his jeans was all he wanted to feel in that moment as his hypersensitivity to touch began to slowly affect his judgement and ability to think clearly.

"Be safe, Hank. That's all I want from you today."

---

Using his own senses and experiences to his advantage Hank managed to locate the wanted deviant through the expansive mess of mangled cars fairly quickly. The sound of clattering metal accompanying frantically running steps gave away the fleeing suspect's immediate location causing Hank to react with his trained instincts cautiously guiding his every move. Raising his gun up from the ground Hank stepped into a large aisle between the towering stacks of smashed cars and located the deviant suspect with his back pressed up against a pile of metal as the suspect tried and failed to elude the police. With nowhere to run and nowhere to hide, the arrest of the deviant suspect should've been as simple as it looked.

Cutting off the only means of escape, Hank locked eyes with the blond haired 'AX' model suspect and gave him a deep barking order of authority. The towering aisles of cars made his voice echo with a booming lilt that caught the ear of anyone in the junkyard and directed their attention to the scene of the impending arrest.

"Hold it! Detroit Police." The deviant no longer had his L.E.D., but the enraged glare in his gray tinted eyes told Hank everything that he needed to know about the state of mind that the suspect was currently in. "Put your hands in the air. You're under arrest."

Slowly the deviant raised his hands, revealing he wasn't armed, and placed them behind his head obediently.

"Turn around." Hank commanded as he took a single step forward to secure the deviant's wrists in a pair of handcuffs. "Slowly."

The deviant turned around fully, presenting his back to the detective as ordered, while keeping his hands behind his head. By all account the suspect was being fully cooperative despite his obvious anger toward Hank and the police in general.

"On your knees."

Keeping his motions slow and calculated, the deviant rested on his knees on the snowy ground until Hank got closer to where he had knelt. As soon as the suspect felt Hank standing directly behind him, the enraged deviant spun around quickly and grabbed on to Hank's forearm and snapped the human's wrist backward forcing Hank to drop the gun at his feet as the strength in his hand immediately failed.

"Son of a bitch!" Hank swore as the deviant disarmed him and rushed him in a flash of a few seconds. "Get the fuck-"

The suspect managed to get behind Hank and kick the senior detective in his back causing Hank to fall forward on the slippery ground. The stunned detective was unable to regain his balance in time and was left prone to the attacking deviant as he fell to his stomach. Reacting quickly Hank rolled to his side to either curl around himself protectively or defend himself from incoming blows as the suspect hovered over him.

"Back the fuck off!" Hank shouted as he tried to get up to his feet, but the stronger deviant put his foot down on the center of Hank's back and forced him to lay on his stomach on the snowy ground again. "I said fuck off!"

Hostile and desperate to get away from the police, the suspect reached into the crumpled hood of one of the nearby cars and pulled a bundle of thick wires free from the mangled engine compartment. Pulling the wires taut with both hands, the suspect slipped the thick cables around Hank's neck and began to pull back with all of his strength to effectively choke the injured detective.

Hank's hands, one still strong and the other weak, began to try to pull the constricting cables away from his throat but he couldn't get his fingers between the tightening wires and his neck. Slowly Hank's air supply was cut off and Hank's ears began to ring as his vision tunneled with pure blackness.

"Con-"

Hank wheezed desperately as he felt his strength waning from his entire body. Darkness encroached on the corners of his vision and his ears began to ring even louder.

"...C-Con...nor?"

Still enraged by Gavin's behavior earlier toward his very existence, the deviant began dragging Hank backward toward the tower of crunched metal as he continued to strangle the disarmed, helpless senior detective out of misplaced petty revenge. Climbing backward and up onto the tower of cars, the metal structure swaying and creaking under the added weight, the suspect looped the opposite end of the cables through the jagged metal of the wrecked vehicle's front bumpers and secured the end of the suffocating wires to the debris to effectively hang the senior detective out of an unnecessarily cruel act of misplaced hatred toward all cops.

The malicious deviant jumped down from the stack of vehicles never looked back as Hank struggled to remove the cables from around his throat and kicked futilely in the air as he tried to plant his feet on something solid to stand up on to remove the constricting weight from his neck. The slippery surface made finding any solid footing impossible, and soon Hank's already dwindling strength failed him entirely as the suspect walked away without a shred of regret.

Darkness stole the hanging Lieutenant's cloudy vision and within seconds Hank knew nothing more of the waking world around him.

---

From the safety of the warm and isolated Oldsmobile Connor noted a disturbance on one of the towers of discarded vehicles a few yards away, and curiously scanned the area from where he sat. The dangerous deviant suspect rushed away of the shaking aisle from where he had attacked Hank, and he almost ran directly into Gavin as the hotheaded detective finally caught up in the pursuit of the missing suspect. Connor's brow furrowed inquisitively as he watched Gavin swiftly chase after the dangerous deviant suspect without any sign of Hank in further pursuit. The shuddering disturbance of the vechiles in the junkyard, the fleeing suspect, and the missing senior detective gave Connor an uneasy feeling in his core.

Sensing that something was very wrong Connor unfastened his seatbelt with a slow hand and forced himself to open the door beside him. The cold metal of the buckle and the icy cold door handle made Connor's hands feel tense and a little chilly. Having such tactile sensitivity was proving itself to be quite the nuisance.

"Hank?"

Opening the car door fully Connor stepped out into the cold air and immediately shuddered in response. Wrapping his blazer tightly around his chest Connor crossed his arms over himself to stave off the merciless cold as best as he could. As he rubbed his hands up and down his arms, the friction induced heat causing his L.E.D. to flash between yellow and blue as he endured the cold, he began a search for his missing partner while focusing on the comforting warmth being created under his palms.

"Hank, where are you?"

Walking down the narrow aisle from whence the deviant suspect had fled Connor scanned the area and noted the disturbances in the snow as well as the mildly swaying metal of the stacks of cars that created the aisle itself. Something in Connor's program, his instincts, told him that something was very wrong.

"Hank?"

Venturing deeper into the unusual aisle Connor continued his search for his missing partner.

"Hank? Are you-"

It was then that Connor felt something in his heart that was colder than the air that surrounded him as his soulful brown eyes drifted upward and locked onto the sight of Hank hanging limp against the stack of cars with no emotion on his face. A reflex biometric scan over Hank's body told Connor everything he didn't want know; no sign of consciousness, no pulse, no respiration.

"H-HANK?!"

Moving as fast he could Connor rushed over to where his partner was hanging without paying any attention to the slippery terrain. Putting his shoulder under the heels of Hank's shoes Connor tried to muscle his partner's limp and heavy body upward enough to loosen the cables around Hank's throat, but the cables were already too tight to be loosened by gravity alone.

"Hold on! I'll get you down!"

Hank's face was horribly pale, and his lips were already turning blue; but whether it was from suffocation or from the cold Connor couldn't be certain. The simple act of lifting Hank up a little higher to take the strain off of Hank's throat did little to aid the unconscious senior detective.

"Come on, Hank! Take a breath!"

Grabbing on to the stinging ice cold of the metal cars with both hands, Connor began to climb the stack of mangled metal as he made his way up to the cables to wrest them free from Hank's throat. The stinging and burning cold were making the rescue a difficult task, but it was a task that Connor was bound and determined to succeed in completing to save Hank's life.

Gavin, having heard Connor's frantic shouting, walked back down the aisle with the newly arrest deviant in handcuffs. It only took the abrasive detective a passing glance to get a haunting image forever burned into his memory.

"What the fuck!?"

"Gavin!" Connor pleaded with the second detective as he struggled and failed to free Hank by himself. The cables were too tight, and the metal bodies of the cars were too cold for his hands to grasp for too long. "I can't get him loose!"

"Fuck!" Gavin swore again as he took a second pair of handcuffs and slapped one cuff around the deviant's wrist and secured its mate to a nearby door frame of another destroyed car to keep him from getting away again. With the suspect secured Gavin would be able to fully focus on helping save Hank's life. "Shit! Hold on, 'Tinman'!"

"He's not breathing!" Connor initiated another biometric scan to check for possible internal damage to Hank's cerebral spinal column or spinal cord and found only a modicum of relief. No internal damage. "His neck is stable, but he can't breathe."

"Fuck..." Without even the mildest trace of panic Gavin ran over to Hank and took his weight from Connor's shoulder to give Connor more room to work. As Gavin helped lessen the strain against the cables pulled taut around Hank's throat, he pulled a pocketknife from the back of his jeans and held it out and up toward Connor to take. "Use this to cut him loose."

Reaching down Connor took the offered tool and flipped out the blade with a flick of the wrist. As his hand tightened around the metal hilt of the knife; the uneven grip leaving an uncomfortable sensation on his palm, Connor raised the blade up toward the cable behind Hank's head and began cutting through the restraining wires with precise motions. With a fraying break, the cables were severed free from around Hank's throat and Connor pocketed the knife. Moving quickly Connor managed to press one hand up against Hank's chest to keep him from falling forward in a limp heap as the cables were cut away.

"He's free!" Connor shouted as he awkwardly began climbing down with his one hand hanging on to the cars and the other hand still supporting Hank's body as much as possible. "Get him down."

"I got him!"

Gavin replied as he wrapped his arm around Hank's legs and let the senior detective fall limp over his shoulder. Kneeling down on the snow covered ground, Gavin lowered Hank from his shoulder and laid him flat on his back. Pulling the damaged cables from around Hank's throat Gavin pressed his fingertips against the side of Hank's bruising neck to check for a pulse. The lack of activity under his fingertips set Gavin on edge.

"Shit, shit, shit..."

Connor practically leapt down from the stack of cars and slid on his knees beside Hank to check on his partner. The fear in Gavin's eyes told the deviant detective everything he needed without even needing to ask.

"I can't find a pulse and he still isn't breathing."

"Call for an ambulance."

Connor commanded as he cybernetically made the call himself before he carefully straightened Hank's neck and pressed his fingertips against the previously constricted carotid artery in the side of Hank's neck. With a ginger touch Connor lifted up Hank's eyelids and stared at the distant gaze in Hank's glazed over blue irises. Just as his scanner had shown, and just as Gavin had previously noted, Hank didn't have a pulse no pulse or a heartbeat.

"Shit, he's in full cardiac arrest."

"I already knew that, dipshit."

"Unless you're going to help, shut the hell up." Pulling open Hank's coat and the bright blue and orange dress shirt beneath Connor rested the palm of one hand flat atop Hank's chest and felt no respiration whatsoever. "Beginning C.P.R.; note the time."

"You're what?!" Gavin blurted as he fumbled for the phone in his pocket and was shoved roughly aside by Connor as the deviant detective assessed his partner's poor condition to try to provide emergency first aid. "You can do that?"

"Of course I can! Any android is capable of performing emergency first aid."

Placing his left hand over top of the right hand and interlacing his fingers togetherm Connor squared his shoulders and began pressing the heel of his palm downward near the center of Hank's stilled chest - over his motionless heart. Using perfect rhythm Connor compressed Hank's chest with his two hands now combined into a single fist. Rapidly and firmly Connor tried to force the stopped heart back into motion through chest compressions alone.

Seeing Hank laying prone on the ground with a stopped heart made Connor wonder if the dread he was feeling was the same feeling that Hank had endured when Connor had been stabbed. Knowing that his partner and friend's life was at stake only motivated Connor to keep his rhythm as precise as possible to give the man every chance necessary in order to be revived and survive being hung.

"Shit..." Gavin swore again as he stepped back and called for an ambulance and confirmed their current location to dispatch having no idea that Connor already placed the emergency call himself. "This is really fucked up!"

"Please, Hank." In a whispering voice Connor begged for a response as he counted the compressions without breaking stride. "You must regain consciousness."

Hank's heart and entire body remained unresponsive beneath Connor's hands as the deviant tried to revive his fallen partner. The lack of motion beneath Connor's palms was as unsettling as the stinging cold against his exposed skin as he endured the harsh weather in favor of saving his best friend's life. Tilting Hank's head back Connor lowered Hank's jaw and then pinched his nose shut as he gave the senior detective two strong rescue breaths. After Hank's chest rose and fell twice the second set of compressions began.

"Come on." There was still no response from Hank's heart, but a faint 'crack' was heard and felt under Connor's hands as the compressions had resulted in at least one fractured rib. Refusing to stop even for a second, refusing to give up on his friend - the man who had become a father figure to him - Connor continued the compressions without hesitation. "I need you to respond!"

Gavin crouched down beside Hank opposite of Connor and watched silently as Connor fought to revive the downed senior detective. Watching as Connor delivered two more rescue breaths the usually emotionally cold detective felt a twinge of worry surge through his own heart that was cruelly racing while Hank's remained unnaturally still. It seemed that the abrasive detective couldn't hold a grudge against Hank forever, especially with his life dangling by a thread.

Running another biometric scan over Hank's body Connor felt his fear rising with every passing second that Hank remained lifeless under his hands. The deviant began to fear that his efforts to save Hank were all in vain.

"Come on, Hank!" Reeling back one arm Connor created a fist and slammed it down in the center of Hank's chest in a desperate bid to try to jumpstart Hank's heart before beginning a third round of compressions. The hard thump to Hank's chest only caused his heart to skip a beat rather than resume a normal sinus rhythm. "Please, Hank! Respond!"

The arrested suspect watched the scene unfold from where he was cuffed and began to sneer, almost laughing at the endeavor. Gavin took notice and angrily shouted at the captured deviant causing the arrested deviant to jump in response.

"Shut your fuckin' mouth, asshole! You'll be lucky if you don't get fuckin' torn into pieces on the way to your goddamn cell!" Quieting his voice Gavin shook his head a little and addressed Connor in a surprisingly calm and sympathetic tone. "Connor? It's... too late, man. You tried."

"No." Connor continued the compressions without ever looking away from Hank toward Gavin, then delivered another duo of rescue breaths. "I won't give up on him. He never gave up on me, and I won't give up on him. Ever."

"Connor!" Yelling to try to get the desperate deviant's attention Gavin was beginning to lose what was left of his already short patience. "Even if you can restart his heart he's probably going to end up going through life with some fuckin' form of brain damage or shit from being hung up for so long! He went too long without breathing, so let him go with dignity."

"We cannot just stop because the situation is grim." Refusing to just let Hank go without a fight Connor refused to stop the chest compressions and continued try to revive the man. "I won't stop."

"Connor!" Gavin stood up and began pacing around angrily behind the defiant deviant as his own emotions were beginning to well up. "Who the fuck knows how long he was up there without breathin'? His brain's gotta' be toast by now!"

"The cold." Connor remarked sharply as he continued compressions and silently biometrically scanned over Hank's body for any sign of returning life. "The cold can preserve organic tissues against decaying damage, including brain tissue. I can't-"

"He's already gone. Just stop."

"I won't!"

With a burning determination Connor reeled back his fist again and again, each time was seemingly a fruitless endeavor as he struck Hank's chest to try to restart the senior detective's still motionless heart.

"Hank?!" As he began shouting for his friend to awaken tears formed in Connor's frightened eyes and threatened to fall at any second. "Come on, Hank! COME ON! You didn't give up on me and I swore that I won't give up on you!"

"This fuckin' bullshit." Shaking his head Gavin put his hands to his hips as he looked down at Hank's pale face somberly. "Connor, you need to-"

A weak gasp escaped Hank's blue tinted lips as his heart began fluttering into motion under Connor's hands at long last. Every ounce of energy that Connor put in to reviving the senior detective hadn't been wasted after all.

"H-Hank?"

Connor's voice was shaking in relief as he stopped the compressions and put his hand under Hank's head. The ice and snow that clung to Hank's gray locks began to melt into Connor's contrastingly warm palm, but Connor didn't react to the cold as his focus was entirely on Hank. Placing his opposite hand down against Hank's steadily rising and falling chest Connor felt the fractured ribs near the center of the revived detective's chest as well along with his struggling breaths.

"Keep breathing." The deviant detective managed to instruct even as he tried to keep Hank warm and stable. "You're going to be okay."

"Holy shit..." Gavin stared at Hank in absolute shock. In spite of the odds stacked against him Hank was still alive. "It fuckin' worked."

Hank took in another weak gasp before he began taking in deep, slow breaths that made his fractured chest shudder slightly. His heart fell into a steady rhythm as life returned to his body and his body itself began to shiver slightly from the cold. Even though Hank had been successfully revived he wasn't out of the woods just yet.

Ambulance sirens screeched and flashing lights encroached on the junkyard as medical help mercifully arrived just in time. Police drones accompanied the ambulances and began circling above the junkyard to locate the trio of detectives and lead the paramedics to where their patient was waiting treatment.

"Look at me." Connor pleaded as he gently lifted Hank's eyelids again. The blue irises remained unfocused and glassy. "You're going to be okay."

Reluctantly Connor took his hand from Hank's head as he shrugged off his gray blazer and draped the slightly warmer garment over Hank's body. Replacing his hand beneath Hank's head Connor supported the senior detective up from the snowy ground and did his best to keep him warm until the paramedics could place him onto the gurney and load him into the back of the warmer ambulance for transport.

"You'll be okay, Hank."

Continuing to speak to Hank as if he were perfectly conscious, Connor stayed calm as he knelt in the snow and his legs began to freeze from the direct contact with the icy, cold ground.

"I'll take care of you."

Watching as the two paramedics arrived with their gurney being wheeled between them Connor felt his hands also growing cold from the snow as he supported Hank's head up from the ground and rested his palm on Hank's chest. He couldn't bear the idea of leaving Hank alone in the freezing junkyard.

"I promise that I'll help you just as you helped me. You will be okay, I know it."

Moving back only when the paramedics directly him to do so, Connor stood idle while Gavin took the arrested suspect to the precinct for questioning. Everything was a blur of motion and voices that made the deviant feel all the more uncomfortable. Trailing after the paramedics through the junkyard Connor prepared to take the long drive to St. Mercy Hospital by himself to follow Hank in the ambulance to the medical facility.

Connor had done everything he could to help Hank, but now all he could do was sit back and wait for an update on his friend's prognosis.

---

The entire day felt like a nightmare ensnared in a confusing blur. Shivering noticeably from where he stood outside the recovery room in the hospital corridor, Connor watched through the large observation window as a skilled doctor shined a penlight into Hank's heavy eyes to check his pupillary responses to the stimuli. The injured senior detective hadn't yet regained consciousness after being given C.P.R., but his vitals were holding strong with no sign of any complications. Recovering quietly in the private room, Hank was unaware of the group of worried people steadily gathering outside his room out of sheer concern for his wellbeing. Mercifully, Hank was also unaware of how close he had come to death that terrifying day.

Patiently and silently Connor stood idle as he waited for any sign of change in his friend's condition by watching everything through the observation window. Only when a nurse sheepishly addressed the deviant detective did Connor turn his attention elsewhere. Connor's gray CyberLife blazer was draped over the nurse's arm after it had been quickly cleaned of any snow and ice, and was soon to be returned to the deviant detective.

"Excuse me, Connor?"

Slowly turning his head to look at the nurse Connor's L.E.D. flashed from yellow to red briefly as he recognized her. She was the same nurse he had aided during the prisoner fiasco at the same hospital just a few weeks prior. She was the very nurse who hated androids and had kept Connor from boarding the doomed helicopter before it crashed shortly after takeoff from the hospital's helipad, and subsequently saved Connor's life while becoming injured during the helicopter accident in return.

Nurse Sophist had made a full recovery and was back to work as usual.

"...Yes?" Connor replied hesitantly as he forced himself to make eye contact with the human. The last thing Connor wanted to deal with was a bigot holding a grudge or looking for a fight. "Can I help you with something?"

"You look like you could use this." The formerly harsh nurse's voice was surprisingly sweet and kind as she handed the blazer back to its rightful owner. "You're freezing."

"...Yes." Connor's trembling hand reached out and accepted the offered garment. Slipping it back on over his arms and his shoulders Connor felt slightly warmer but continued to rub his hands up and down his arms to generate additional friction heat. "Thank you."

"Uh, what you did for me back during that helicopter mess..." The previously grouchy nurse showed her change of heart toward androids as she spoke up and swallowed her pride to give Connor credit where it was due. "I just wanted to say, 'thank you'. You saved my life, and you gave me a new appreciation for life and androids in general."

It was hard just to converse, and Connor responded slowly to the kind praise. "...You're welcome."

"And," she continued shamefully before leaving Connor alone with his thoughts. "I wanted to say that I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" Connor's brow furrow slightly at the offered apology. "For what?"

"For my past behavior. I was treating you like a second-class citizen and I wrong to do so. You saved my life despite the way I behaved, and I can't begin to tell you how appreciative I am. So, I'm sorry for being such a bitch, and thank you for saving my life." As she spoke the nurse's blue eyes filled with regretful tears. "You made me realize that androids, all androids, are in fact alive and capable of feeling. I only wish I could've recognized that fact sooner."

"You're welcome again." A small smile appeared then disappeared from Connor's face as he looked away from the nurse with unspoken gratitude. The red tinted L.E.D. transitioned back to yellow as Connor felt only a twinge of relief overcome him. "I'm glad that you're okay."

"And I'm relieved to see that you're okay too. Take care of yourself, Connor." Truly humbled, the nurse stated her piece and then carried on with her rounds. "And take care of your friend. He'll a friend like you after what he went through today."

Leaving Connor alone again Nurse Sophist went about her business while the deviant detective remained vigil outside the recovery room. Gavin and Captain Fowler soon joined Connor in the relatively vacant corridor and looked in at the resting senior detective through the observation window as well. The trio didn't look at one another as they peered through their reflections on the glass window and just stared at Hank's pale, expressionless face on the other side. It was hard to believe that the Lieutenant had gone through yet another ordeal where his life had been left hanging by a thread only to have someone swoop in just in time to prevent death from claiming the man for another day.

"I just spoke to Hank's neurologist." Captain Fowler stated somewhat blandly as he addressed his deviant detective standing just beside him. It was easier to check in with the doctors himself than wait for a doctor to talk to Connor and for Connor to then update him at a later time. "There's a high chance that Hank will be suffering from some minor memory impairment when he wakes up."

"Memory impairment?" Connor's yellow L.E.D. flashed back to red with understandable concern. Memory impairment was a sign of potential brain damage. "...Did I hurt him? Am I-"

"No, Connor. It's caused by 'anoxia' from having his air supply cut off for so long." Captain Fowler cut-in sharply before Connor had the chance to blame himself for something that was beyond his control. "They're starting him on a drug called 'Memantine' to help prevent any permanent memory loss or cognitive function while he recovers. Fortunately, about five years ago, there was a major breakthrough in the treatment of memory loss in people suffering from Alzheimer's and dementia, and this drug had done wonders for memory loss and even reversing brain damage. The doctors are hopeful that this treatment will reverse the memory loss quickly before it becomes permanent, and basically keep Hank from getting too confused while he heals."

Connor's L.E.D. remained red as he watched Hank through the window and contemplated everything he had just been told. "...Permanent damage?"

"Try not to worry about it. He'll be a confused for the next couple days, but he'll be fine after he has time to heal. I'll go check in with his doctor again and see if he can tell us anything else." Captain Fowler volunteered to find more information as he walked down the corridor to seek out the same neurologist that he had spoken with earlier. The seasoned Captain didn't want Connor to stress out any further than he already was. "I'll see if we can speak with Hank once he wakes up."

While Captain Fowler walked away Connor glanced over at Gavin who looked as concerned as Connor felt. Reaching into his pocket Connor reclaimed the pocketknife that Gavin had given him earlier and handed it back to the detective with gratitude.

"Thank you for helping." The deviant detective whispered as he held out the folded knife toward Gavin to reclaim. "I appreciate your assistance, and I know Hank does as well."

"Sure." Gavin accepted the knife and pocketed it quickly out of sight to keep anyone from calling security. "Whatever."

After four excruciatingly long hours of waiting for Hank to finally wake up, waiting for the doctors to finish running their tests on Hank's vital signs and his memory, and waiting for Captain Fowler to get done speaking with Hank and Hank's doctors, Connor was allowed to enter the room to check in on his now conscious friend. As he stepped through the doorway Captain Fowler stepped out of the private room and he pushed Connor back a few paces to speak to him in private in the corridor. The look in the experienced Captain's eyes told an entire story without him even needing to utter a single syllable.

"Connor, listen. Hank... He, uh, doesn't really remember much before the accident. He doesn't really remember... you." The tone of the commanding officer's voice was low and yet spoke volumes as his gaze flashed with uncomfortable grief. "The last memory that Hank has of you is the interrogation room after your first case together before the Revolution. The night you two first met is his last memory of who you are and of how you two even know each other."

"He-" Connor's L.E.D. cycled in red rapidly with emotional distress. "Everything we had accomplished after that night... It's gone?"

"Yeah." Captain Fowler confirmed with an awkward bite at his lower lip. "I told him about the Revolution and of your continued partnership, but, if he doesn't remember anything then he won't act as you've come to know him. I don't think he really believed me even after I showed him the news reports on my phone of everything that's happened and everything you've accomplished together."

Nodding subtly Connor mentally steeled himself for what he was about to encounter when he finally set foot inside the private room. "...I understand."

"I'm not so sure you do." Sympathetically Captain Fowler placed his hand on Connor's shoulder as he passed the deviant by to let Connor finally enter the room to speak to Hank. "Don't take anything he might say personally. Give him time to heal and remember on his own at his own pace. You're a deviant now, and I know you can't just brush off his insults and threats like you could when you first met Hank."

Connor peered through the doorway at his somewhat amnesiac partner and ran a biometric scan to assess the environment as well as Hank's overall condition. The senior detective was fully conscious and showed no other ill effects from being hanged other than his memory loss, some fresh purple tinted bruises that encircled his throat, and a massive headache. The recovering senior detective's blue eyes were slightly bloodshot but that could either be from the hanging or from exhaustion at this point.

Hank himself was laying in the bed propped up slightly with a nasal canula under nose giving him fresh oxygen to breathe. A splint was wrapped around his right hand courtesy of the deviant breaking his wrist, while an I.V. of the Memantine as well as a gentle painkiller had been placed in the bend of his left arm. An ice pack was pressed against the center of Hank's chest to help numb the fractured ribs he had suffered as a result of the living saving C.P.R. performed by Connor himself. By all account, Hank seemed to be resting well but was obviously tense as he stared at the attached cardiac monitor recording his heart rate and blood pressure with utter resentment in his fatigued gaze.

Taking a moment to prepare himself for what potentially negative or hateful thing Hank might say or do, Connor entered the room with his original 'machine' like facade as he addressed his partner accordingly. Without waiting for an invitation Connor set foot inside the private room and stood at the foot of the bed.

"How do you feel, Lieutenant?"

"It feels like a goddamn machine crushed my chest." Hank looked over at Connor, his eyes still full of disdain and frustration, and replied with a growl. "Why the fuck are you here?"

"We're partners." Connor refuted as he expertly masked the sorrow in his voice behind a veil of logic. His L.E.D. was rapidly cycling from red to yellow as he spoke but Connor didn't pay any attention to the circle of light betraying his true emotions. "I wanted to make sure you were recovering properly."

"I'm fine, now get the hell out of here you plastic piece of shit." Giving a dismissive wave Hank tried to get Connor to go away and give him some space. "I don't need you babysitting me, and I sure as shit don't care what your orders are or who sent ya'."

"...Very well." Accepting Hank's orders Connor reluctantly took his leave of the private room without letting his voice crack. "I will be outside."

"Whatever. Just beat it!"

Timidly Connor backed out of the room without another word and returned to the corridor where Captain Fowler was waiting for him. Standing before his Captain with an ugly grimace on his face Connor shook his head in pure disappointment.

"He doesn't recognize me beyond our original assignment." The confirmation was heartbreaking. "He told me to leave, and that he doesn't care who I answer to, which means he thinks CyberLife is still active."

"I figured as much." The heaviness in Captain Fowler's voice made Connor visibly straighten with concern. "Hank's going to be sidelined for some time until he recovers and he's the only experienced detective I feel comfortable partnering you up with right now. You should take some time off and keep an eye on him from a safe distance."

"Captain, I can't just sit around doing nothing while deviant cases begin piling up." Connor sounded like a scolded child as he spoke. He didn't mean to argue or be disagreeable, the anxious deviant simply couldn't step aside and let other officers and detectives pick up his slack. "What about Chris, Tina or even Ben?"

"Chris is still on vacation for another two weeks. Tina has been pulling extra shifts to cover Chris's absence, and Ben's been busy examining busted drug dens throughout the entire city. And... There's no way in hell I'm making the mistake of partnering you up with Gavin again." Captain Fowler quickly held up a 'shushing' hand to silence Connor before he even had the chance to ask another question. "Person and Wilson aren't ready for such investigations, and no one else wants to deal with deviant cases right now. I'm sorry, but until Hank is cleared for duty again, you're going to have to sit out for a while too."

Knowing better than to try to argue any further Connor begrudgingly accepted Captain Fowler's decision, albeit with a visible reluctance in his body language.

"Why don't you go home for the night and take Hank back home tomorrow morning?" Truly sympathetic to Connor's current predicament, Captain Fowler did his best to be a voice of reason and a shoulder to lean on. "Maybe by then his memory will have improved enough that he won't be as hostile toward you."

"That is... acceptable. I will head back home for the night." Connor didn't want to leave Hank alone, but Hank wasn't truly the Hank he had befriended during their time together. For now, Connor was leaving a man who wanted to be left alone as just that; alone. "Please. Contact me if there is any change in his condition."

"I will." Showing only respect Captain Fowler swore to keep Connor in the loop during Hank's hospital stay. "You have my word."

---

Sitting behind the steering wheel of Hank's Oldsmobile and feeling entirely alone for the worst reasons, Connor gazed up at the hospital from the parking lot where he sat and wondered if he should stay just in case Hank's memory returned. It felt wrong to leave his partner and best friend behind without a kind word exchanged between them, but Connor didn't want to say or do anything to accidentally aggravate Hank or stress him out while he was trying to recover. Turning over the cold metal key in the ignition Connor turned on the radio, turned up the heat and put both of his hands firmly on the leather steering wheel as he continued to stare up at the quiet hospital before him.

Knowing that it was time to leave Connor pulled the car out of the parking lot onto the somewhat busy street to head back to the house. Glancing back at the hospital in the rearview mirror the deviant sighed and spoke to Hank despite knowing he'd never hear his words from such a distance.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Hank. I'm not going to give up on you or our friendship after everything we've been through."

Unwilling to return to the empty home just yet, unwilling to sit alone and do nothing while Hank was still in the hospital, Connor found himself aimlessly driving through downtown Detroit with his eyes wandering over to various shops and the displays in the windows as if searching for something. What that something was he couldn't be sure, but he did know that once he found it that there wouldn't be any doubts in his mind.

Suddenly the warm orange light of a music store's neon lights caught Connor's attention and prompted him to finally pull over for a moment. A dozen different guitars were on display in the front windows glowing in an amber hue, as was a large drum set, several electronic keyboards and a selection of brass instruments. There was something alluring, if not completely inviting, about the place.

The was something intangible in Connor's programming was thoroughly intrigued by the store. Perhaps it was Hank's own love of music that drew him to such a warm location on such a cold night.

Parking along the street in front of the numerous shops Connor began wandering down the snowy sidewalk toward the store that had unexpectedly stolen his full attention. Entering the store with a small bell ringing overhead in the doorway, Connor found himself alone with the exception of the owner, who was an older man with long, wild gray hair, a gray goatee, small, round blue tinted glasses over his eyes, a black leather vest over his black t-shirt and torn up blue jeans. Eccentric tattoos of various age and designs covered the owner's arms down to his wrists and dotted over his knuckles. Additional tattoos also ran up the sides of the owner's neck toward his jawline. Each piece of ink undoubtedly told a story of the man's colorful life and of his past experiences.

The walls of the store itself were lined with dozens of unique instruments each displaying their varying ages and artistic beauty. Electric and acoustic guitars were mounted proudly against the long wall opposite of the front counter, all cleaned and polished to perfection. Large drum sets and keyboards filled the back wall while violins, cellos, clarinets, flutes, trumpets, trombones, saxophones and other brass instruments were prominently displayed behind the front counter.

It was quite an impressive selection of musical instruments to be sure.

"Something you need help with, son?" The owner asked in an indifferent tone that spoke volumes of his decades of experience dealing with people from all walks of life. The open and friendliness of his voice was a sense of reassurance that the deviant detective was sorely lacking on that brisk night. "Or just browsin'?"

"Perhaps you can assist me in some way. I'm interested in music." Connor replied with thin confidence in his voice. He wasn't sure what had compelled him to enter the store or why he was suddenly intrigued by music in general. "But I do not know why I was drawn to this particular store."

"'Zat so?" The man suddenly noted the blue L.E.D. cycling in Connor's temple and shrugged his shoulders with sincere indifference. "Deviant, huh?"

Lightly Connor traced his fingertips over the traitorous L.E.D. and acknowledged the man's question. "...Correct."

"Makes sense." Smiling a little the man crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the counter casually. "You're not the first deviant who's wandered into my shop since the Revolution. But you are the first deviant to come in here who hasn't already torn that damn light from their head."

Connor's right fingertips pressed firmly against his L.E.D. as the color shifted from blue to yellow under his touch.

"Don't worry about it, I was just making an observation. So," the man asked coolly as he took in Connor's overall appearance and could tell that Connor was a long way away from truly becoming a whole deviant. "what kind of music are you interested in these days?"

"Well... I'm not sure to be honest."

"But you want to know."

"Correct."

"Let me ask you this, what about music in general holds your interest?"

"It's not so much the music as it's my friend's interest in music." Connor noted Hank's preferred musical genres back home and mentioned them accordingly to the helpful shop owner. "He seems to favor heavy metal and jazz."

"Now we're gettin' somewhere." There was an unmistakable twinkle in the man's eyes as he spoke to Connor and began to understand the deviant a little better through simple communication. "Sounds like your friend has some damn good taste. But what do you like?"

"Me?" Thinking for a moment Connor thought back to the first time he discussed music and determined his initial reaction held merit. "I do seem to be drawn more to the heavy metal genre as well. It's full of... energy. I believe that I also enjoy the blues. And I find the energy of metal and the abstruse nature of the blues to be appealing on a level that I don't quite understand."

"That they are, that they are..." The man agreed wholeheartedly with Connor's sentiment toward that particular genre. "Spoken like a man with the soul of musician."

That particular notion prompted Connor to tilt his head a little as his blue L.E.D. flashed to yellow for a beat. "...I have a musician's soul?"

"Sure as Hell you do, kid! You're drawn to something you can't understand, you keep pursuing it for a reason you don't have, and you want to know more about it. That's every true musician I've ever met in my sixty odd years of life. You're a musician deep down inside, and that musician is ready to make some noise."

"Can you assist me in finding what my inner musician wants?"

"Absolutely. I know just what you need to soothe your soul."

Connor watched as the helpful man approached the back wall of the store and grabbed on to the neck of a cherry red Fender brand solid body electric guitar. Looking over his shoulder to Connor still hovering near the door the shop owner pulled the key from his vest pocket to release the guitar from its magnetic pegs supporting it against the wall. He then asked the deviant a simple enough question.

"Are you right-handed or left?"

"I'm ambidextrous."

"Fuck yeah, you're definitely a natural born musician." The owner laughed again as he turned and presented the guitar to Connor to take for himself. "Then this is perfect for you."

"...No." Connor protested for a moment and caused the man to freeze with surprise. "Not that one." Pointing to the same guitar still hanging on the wall just two pegs down, Connor isolated the instrument that truly interested him based on its vibrant color alone. "The green one."

"Right on." Smiling even broader the owner nodded and opened the lock to the emerald green guitar as Connor requested. "Green it is."

"Will I need anything else?" Connor asked as he approached the counter while the man gently sat the selected guitar down over the countertop for purchase. The green coloration nearly glowed in the overhead light as the flawless surface glistened brightly with a genuine jewel-like sheen. "A case perhaps?"

"Damn right, you want to keep something this beautiful as pristine as possible." While the shop owner grabbed the perfect case from the neighboring wall's shelves Connor stared at the brilliant shine of the green guitar with a sense of wanting. Connor wanted the guitar, and there was no denying it. "Here's the perfect case for you, my man."

Connor watched as the guitar was placed inside a red velvet lined case composed of fine black leather. It looked... right. Everything about that moment and the impending purchase truly felt right.

"I'll throw in some extra strings and a pick for free." Holding up a brand new silver colored guitar pick, the owner presented it to Connor with pride. "That'll get ya' started on your quest to free your inner musician."

"Thank you." Graciously Connor accepted and held the pick in his palm curiously. It was lightweight, smooth and flawless. "I appreciate your help."

"My pleasure. Oh! You'll also need an amplifier." The owner tagged on casually as he watched Connor's demeanor closely. "I'll get you one from the back."

Fiddling with the guitar pick between his fingers Connor felt suddenly at ease. It was almost like when he fidgeted with his coin before taking on especially challenging cases or dispatch calls. But this time he wasn't anxious, he was excited!

"This will get you some pretty good sound." The ever helpful owner explained as he set a circular amplifier no larger than a basketball down on the countertop. A large black cable was attached the amplifier and waiting to be plugged into the guitar resting silently in the case beside it. "And it won't take up too much space. Need any 'how to' guides on reading music?"

"No thank you, I can download the information that I need."

"All right, pay your bill and be on your way. You're not gonna' regret this."

Connor happily reached into his jean pocket and grabbed the leather wallet that Hank had insisted that he carry in order to retrieve numerous large bills to pay for his new guitar. The sight of the abundance of money made the shop owner grin and he knew he had made a customer for life.

"Damn son, you've been saving up for something special. Haven't ya'?"

"...Yes." Hanging over the appropriate funds Connor realized the owner was right about him yet again. "I believe I have."

Outside the cold snow continued to fall over the city and slowly bury it under an unseasonably late layer of white. The sun had set, and darkness was soon to approach and smother out the dwindling natural light as winter seemingly refused to let up and allow spring to flourish.

"You know something?" The owner counted the offered money and gave Connor back the appropriate change. "On cold nights like this, music can be very warming to the soul. And it looks like you need something to melt your heart right about now."

"Yes." Picking up his new case protecting his new guitar and the amplifier, Connor couldn't help but agree with the owner's assessment. "You're right. I've had enough of the cold and would enjoy something warm. Thank you for all of your assistance."

"It's not a problem. Be sure to come back if you find yourself wanting to learn a new instrument or just want a proper tune-up." Walking Connor to the door the owner gave the deviant a light pat to the shoulder and watched the deviant head out to the Oldsmobile. "My door's always open for the weary soul!"

---

Despite the hazardous road conditions mounting all around him Connor's eye kept drifting to the rearview mirror and toward his new purchases sitting in the backseat of the car as he drove home at a slow pace. Earlier that very day Hank had told him to find a hobby, and when Hank had given him his own bedroom the man told Connor to find a way to personalize the space to make it his own. Perhaps that's why Connor was so determined to find something to keep his mind preoccupied while he waited until morning to return to the hospital. Or maybe there was something more than that inside of an unexplainable piece of Connor's programming that let him be himself and not a machine.

Finally back home Connor walked into the warm house and greeted Sumo as the massive dog trotted up to him for some attention. Allowing Sumo outside into the backyard for a few minutes Connor set up the guitar and amplifier in his bedroom and downloaded sheet music from various bands that he had become familiar with after spending so much time listening to the music that Hank often played while they were working cases together. There was an impressive selection for Connor to use as inspiration as he taught himself how to play his new guitar.

While he struggled to select a song to play Connor allowed the snow covered dog back inside the house, then walked over to Hank's music collection setting atop his large stereo system in the livingroom. Checking through the flawless vinyl records Connor stopped on an album by 'The Knights of the Black Death' and flipped it over in his hands to read the recorded setlist. Memorizing the eleven songs on the record Connor identified the first song that he had heard when he first noted Hank's musical taste at the precinct when they set about working together prior to the Revolution.

"I wonder if playing these songs will allow me to appreciate them beyond just listening to them? Perhaps I can understand the meaning behind the lyrics."

Connor spoke aloud to himself and to Sumo as he sat on the edge of his bed and quickly learned each note and each chord for every song he had quickly downloaded into his database. For the remainder of the night Connor played on his new guitar and distracted himself from the day's horrific events that were sure to haunt his dreams the moment he allowed himself to close his eyes to rest.

Meanwhile Sumo laid on the foot of Connor's bed with his chin resting over his outstretched legs. The large dog seemed to know that something had happened to Hank, but didn't know what it was or how he could possibly help.

The firm coating of the new guitar strings pressing into Connor's raw, uncalloused fingertips was a strange sensation, but it didn't feel wrong. Just as the pick was an acceptable replacement for his coin, the presence of the strings against the deviant detective's fingertips were also an acceptable substitute.

"...Music does seem to make me feel warmer inside. Such a peculiar and entrancing sensation."

Sitting aside his pick for a moment Connor pressed his fingertips to the side of his wrist and felt his newly developed pulse. Connor's heart was thrumming quicker in time with the tempo of the song that he was currently playing and easily mastering. Such a sensation was truly intriguing to the ever curious deviant as he realized that his heart was synchronizing itself with the beat of the music.

That was something that an android's heart could never do, but a deviant's heart could.

Such a sensation left Connor curious and wanting to learn more about it and himself as he continued to play his song and ignore the cold world outside his window.

"Is this what it feels like to have a soul? To be... alive?"

The deviant detective's somber melody flowed through the empty house and gave it a sense of life that had otherwise been lacking during Hank's absence. It was important to keep living rather than merely exist when times became tough, and that was a lesson that Connor had learned from Hank firsthand.

---

The morning that followed a melodious albeit lonely night arrived with another onslaught of freezing snow that left the entire city shivering. The snow and cold had been relentless the night before, but the streets were still deemed safe enough to drive on when driven slowly by skilled drivers. However, the numerous reported accidents and stranded motorists that Connor had received via cybernetic dispatch early that morning indicated otherwise in regard to the safety of the streets in general. Fortunately, Connor's enhanced reflexes and scanner allowed him to handle the necessary drive from the house and back to the hospital to check in on Hank without any difficulty or delay.

After returning to the hospital to take Hank back home Connor was greeted with an annoyed sigh as the healing senior detective was wheeled out of the hospital by Nurse Sophist to the parking lot and right over to the parked car. While Hank had been cooperative in taking his medication before Connor had arrived, the effects of said medication had yet to remedy his lost memories in any significant way.

"I'll have you back home soon, Lieutenant." Connor stated confidently as he watched Hank climb into the front passenger seat of the car with only moderate difficulty. Hank slammed the door shut with a firm jerk and he huffed out his pained, annoyed breath courtesy of his broken ribs. "I had also made sure to take care of Sumo for you during your absence."

"Yeah, yeah. Just get me there in one piece, all right?" The sight of all the fresh white snow put Hank in a rather foul mood. The man hated winter and he hated seeing it stick around longer than necessary. "Fuckin' snow. Just gets in the way and creates more problems to deal with."

"I will get you home soon."

"Shut up and drive, asshole. Stop trying to kiss my ass."

Despite being told by Captain Fowler himself that he and Connor had actually grown to become good friends Hank was still acting on his initial impression of Connor from over a year prior. The deviant had proven himself a capable detective during their initial investigation and subsequent interrogation, but the memory of Connor saving his life when he was nearly pushed over the roof of a building during a chase was uncomfortably absent. The tense interrogation was the only memory Hank had to work with, and it didn't say much for Connor's personality.

"Watch the fuckin' road and don't hit anything on the way." Hank barked as he secured his seatbelt. "I don't wanna' deal with cleaning up another mess made by you fuckin' machines."

"...Of course." Refusing to take Hank's words personally Connor just remained as agreeable as possible as he took his seat behind the steering wheel. "Whatever you say, Lieutenant."

It didn't take too long for Connor to get back to the house as it did to get to the hospital, but the drive was noticeably more difficult due to the mounting ice on the road beneath the falling snow. Parking the car in the driveway beside the house Connor opened his door and moved around to the other side of the car to help Hank walk to the front door without slipping on the slick surface beneath his feet.

"Back off, I'm fine." Hank unfastened his seatbelt and stepped out of the car slowly as he pushed Connor's hands away. The driveway was icy but not too dangerous to walk on. "I got choked out and busted a few ribs, I didn't break my legs."

"Very well." Worriedly Connor watched as Hank made his way to the front door and let him inside the house to get out of the cold. "...You can take care of yourself."

Sumo greeted his human master happily before returning his attention to Connor, which of course amused Hank as he had no memory of how much Connor liked animals; specifically dogs.

"The dog likes you." The Lieutenant noted in a harsh tone. "Must be all the plastic, you smell like a new chew-toy."

Dismissing the hurtful comment as his L.E.D. flashed to yellow and then back to blue Connor took the prescribed bottles of medication from his blazer pocket and left them on the coffee table for Hank to take when necessary. There was no need to give Hank instructions on the medication since he already knew what he needed to do courtesy of his doctors speaking to him before he was medically discharged.

"Do you need anything?" Hanging up Hank's own dark coat on the hook by the front door Connor tried to make things seem as normal and orderly as possible as he walked eggshells all around the man. "Perhaps I could-"

"No! Beat it!" Hank snapped as he lowered himself down to the couch in the livingroom carefully and let out another annoyed breath as he draped his right hand, now secured in a cast, over his abdomen. "You got me home, so now you can leave. Go on."

"Y-Yes... I can now depart." Setting the car keys down on the table beside the medication bottles Connor looked to the front door then back to Hank. There were very few places that Connor could go considering he was now free and CyberLife was gone. "If you do require anything-"

"Yeah, yeah. I know. Now, get the hell out of here." Pointing to the front door Hank directed Connor out of the house. "If you really want to help me feel better, then don't bug me, got it?"

"...Yes, Lieutenant." Connor returned his gaze to the front door and his blue L.E.D. flashed to yellow with emotional conflict once again. "I understand. However, in your current condition-"

"Fuck off!" With a loud snarl Hank angrily shouted at the deviant as his pain and lack of patience pushed Connor even further away. "I told you to leave me alone and stop bothering me! Is that really so damn hard for you to understand? Or does being made of plastic make you hard of hearing?"

"N-No." Sensing he wouldn't be able to reason with Hank at the moment Connor backed off as ordered. "I'll leave now."

"Good! Get outta' here." The short-tempered man ordered as he settled in on the couch. "I don't need you and I don't want you around. EVER."

"Very well." Admitting defeat Connor kept his tears restrained and didn't show any sign of emotion to keep Hank from yelling at him again. "...I won't bother you anymore."

As a means of respecting Hank's wishes Connor exited the house through the front door and closed it behind himself softly. The snow outside swirled about in a manner just as soft as the shutting door as Connor walked down the front walk and to the street. Closing his eyes the now isolated deviant cybernetically summoned an autonomous taxi to pick him up so he wouldn't have to walk about in the cold snow. With nowhere else to go, nowhere else to take shelter from the impending blizzard, Connor decided it'd be best to return to New Jericho Tower for a short period of time.

"I won't bother you, Hank."

Entering the back of the warm cab after it stopped along the street in front of the house Connor looked back at the house, his home, and felt a sense of loss he hadn't experienced since the night of the Revolution.

"But I won't give up on you either."

---

The security of New Jerich Tower did little to ease Connor's worried mind. Sitting upright on the exam table of sublevel fifty-one with a wireless sensor pad attached to the center of his exposed chest and a Thirium pressure monitor wrapped around his bicep, Connor patiently waited for Lucas to finish running a swift courtesy examination to check the degree of functionality of Connor's previously repaired and only recently healed heart. The exam was unnecessary beyond giving the deviant detective an excuse to spend time and visit with his honorary little brother while he took shelter inside the warm tower to keep out of the cold weather now that he didn't have a home to call his own. Being kicked out of the house wasn't a situation that Connor had anticipated until it was too late to do anything.

The physical strain on Connor's body was practically non-existent despite his stress, but the emotional strain was growing stronger. It didn't take a technician to see that Connor was struggling to handle what had happened to Hank less than twenty-four hours prior. The elevated stress level that Connor was exhibiting wasn't something to take lightly.

"No faltering or software errors that I should know about?" Lucas asked as he noted Connor's current vital signs and chronicled the data for future reference in the deviant's private electronic chart. "Have you experienced any glitches or errors since your system rebooted?"

"No errors with my Thirium pump have been detected. However, I am experiencing more intense readings with my external tactile sensors." Informing Lucas of his latest update Connor made sure he wasn't keeping anything vital secret. "I can really... feel things now. I'm not just touching items; I am in fact feeling them."

Curious about his big brother's odd admission Lucas attached a second type of sensor to Connor's yellow L.E.D. and ran another system check. The readout was displayed on a diagnostic monitor beside the exam table within seconds. The resulting readings were unusual for Connor's system but not dangerous or needing any form of correction.

"It appears my enhanced circuitry had been successfully adapted to your own beyond just the Thirium pump." Lucas deduced sharply as he uncovered the cause of Connor's enhanced sense of touch. "Your physical external sensors have enhanced by sixty-three percent, which is directly responsible for your enhanced tactile sensor functionality."

"That is what I had concluded as well." Connor pulled the Thirium cuff from his bicep and the sensor pad from his chest. Standing up from the table he rebuttoned his white dress shirt and replaced the black tie before slipping back on his gray blazer to remain layered-up. "It's been an unusual change, but one that I am adapting to very well."

"I'm please to hear this." Lucas nodded at Connor and flexed his left hand as he tried to focus on his self-imposed physical therapy to regain the strength had lost after donating circuitry from his left forearm to repair Connor's Thirium pump. "We're both adapting and healing without incident."

"How's your arm?" Aware of his brother's own physical limitations Connor asked about Lucas's arm politely as he noted Lucas slowly flexing his left hand back and forth between a tight fist and relaxed palm. "You seem to be making progress on regaining your strength and dexterity."

"It has made a fifteen percent improvement over the past five days." The time since the lifesaving procedure had been beneficial but still not enough to give Lucas a chance at a full recovery. "It has taken my self-healing program much longer to recalibrate for missing circuitry as opposed to correcting damaged circuitry."

An interesting idea popped into Connor's head as he reached into his jean pocket and pulled out a quarter. The coin had been part of the change that he received after paying for his guitar the night before. Just as he had done hundreds of times before, Connor began sliding the coin over his knuckles, spinning it on his fingertips and slipping it back and forth rapidly between his two hands before he caught it with incredible precision between the tips of his index and middle fingers of his left hand.

"Catch." Connor stated as he tossed the coin to Lucas, who then caught it clumsily in his left hand. "Try to copy my motions. I found it to be greatly beneficial in attuning my overall senses whenever I have been presented with a particularly taxing case or crime scene. It steadies my mind and stimulates my physical reflexes regarding my hand-eye coordination."

"Interesting." Lucas arched his brow as he set the coin atop his left hand and began to slowly, but effectively, juggle the coin in the same manner as Connor had shown him just seconds before. "Thank you. I will attempt to utilize this technique to my own advantage as a form of physical therapy."

"I will be sure to stop by the tower at the beginning of the next month." Wanting to spend more time among his people, Connor stated his new plan as he watched his little brother imitating his previous motions with the coin. "I wish to make it a habit of visiting you more often since we are in fact brothers. Family is important."

Lucas stopped fiddling with the coin and stared at Connor's face curiously as he sensed that there was something weighing heavily on Connor's mind.

"Is there something else you wanted to talk about?" The keen-eyed technician knew that Connor was holding something back. "I'm glad that you came in for a moment, but I now suspect that your visit revolves beyond something as mundane as a brief examination."

"It isn't so much something that I wished to discuss," the deviant detective admitted in a low tone as he stayed honest with Lucas. "but I am finding it difficult to comprehend my current situation with Hank."

"Yes. We know of the deviant who attacked Hank at the junkyard. The deviant had been outcast from the original Jericho long before Markus had become the leader due to his violent and unpredictable nature." Pocketing the quarter into his white lab coat Lucas gave Connor a sympathetic look. "We are all sorry that Hank had been so grievously injured because of him. How severe is his condition, if I may ask?"

"Aside from physical abrasions, small lacerations, broken right wrist and four rib fractures due to the assault and accompanying C.P.R., Hank has suffered significant memory impairment." Connor's soulful brown eyes began to glisten with distressing emotions. "...He's forgotten about me as his friend."

"That is truly unfortunate." If Lucas still had his recently removed L.E.D. inserted in his temple it would've flashed red with empathetic distress. "What is being done to treat his condition?"

"Medication and rest as of the moment."

"What have you attempted to do to restore his memory?"

"Nothing. Hank doesn't want me around." The sorrow in Connor's voice was almost heartbreaking. He sounded as though he had been abandoned and left to rot in a gutter. "And I don't want to upset him while he's still recovering, it'll only make things worse."

"Then stay here with us at New Jericho until Hank remembers you."

"I cannot stay here." Connor's shoulders visibly slouched with disappointment. "The inhabitants of the tower are still uneasy about my presence. I had been the biggest threat to all of the deviants in the city prior to the Revolution, and I know that I am still not trusted. I also suspect that my presence is unwelcome but deemed tolerable solely from Markus's personal intervention."

"Connor, don't dismiss yourself like that. You're welcome here and shouldn't leave."

"I'll be fine." Connor tried to reassure his younger brother but the uncertainty in his words was unmistakable. Despite his distress Connor's L.E.D. remained blue all the same as he spoke. "I'll let you know once Hank has made a substantial recovery. I promise."

"...Very well." As much as Lucas didn't want to see Connor leave, he knew he couldn't say or do anything to make Connor stay where he didn't feel comfortable. "I trust your judgement."

"Thank you. I'll see you soon, Lucas."

On that final goodbye Connor took his leave of the emergency repair bay. The sound of the coin he had given to Lucas being flicked back and forth between the deviant technician's hands resonated loudly as Connor entered the elevator to return to the ground floor of the tower to continue roaming the city in search of something to do and somewhere to go.

As he departed the floor Connor felt a familiar and unsettling feeling return to his heart that he wished would leave and never return.

Connor truly felt alone.

---

Tired, irritated and very sore from head to toe, Hank was sitting on the couch with his right arm wrapped around his chest as he breathed through the lingering pain that felt like it was squeezing his ribs as the fractures attempted to slowly knit back together. Having taken his medication at every six hours - the instructed intervals that he had received from the doctor before he was discharged and written in black ink on the side of the bottle by Connor - Hank's mind was beginning to race with bizarrely frantic images and odd sounds that were seemingly triggered by everything in the house. The memory restoration drug was beginning to take effect on Hank's confused brain and allow him to recall memories that were otherwise lost to time.

The sound of the basketball game on the television reminded Hank of the night that Connor had found him getting drunk at "Jimmy's Bar" while he was watching a previous game on that small, grainy television set. The memory came flooding back like a tide over the shore and nearly overwhelmed the man. The determined android had negotiated with Hank to get him to respond to the scene of the homicide by buying him another drink and winning him over with his supposed "brown nosing" program.

"Kiss-ass piece of plastic... Ruined a perfectly good game for me."

Sumo was resting his chin atop Hank's leg and the warmth from the dog's fur reminded Hank of the first time he had held Sumo as a small puppy in his arms after he rescued the pup from an illegal puppy breeding mill. Cole, only a toddler at the time, was excited beyond measure to have his own dog to play with that winter and his late wife Barbara loved having a rescued puppy now a part of the family.

"Man, Sumo."

Hank rested his casted hand very lightly on the dog's head to rub at Sumo's ears.

"You were big even as a puppy."

The sight of the dog watching him with his big brown eyes and wagging his tail made Hank smirk a little. Sumo walked over to his pillow in the corner of the livingroom to retrieve his green fetch ball and promptly dropped it on Hank's lap as he invited his master to play.

"Seriously?"

Picking up the drool covered ball in his good hand Hank looked at the chewed-up toy and laughed a little.

"I have only one good hand and you-"

It was then a foggy memory of Connor playing fetch with Sumo came to Hank's mind.

Where did that come from? When did that even happen? Connor was sitting on the couch tossing a green colored fetch ball down the hallway and into the kitchen to play with Sumo in vivid detail. It also looked like Connor was hurt; he was wearing clothes that were fully casual as opposed to his dress uniform and it looked like he was recovering from a previous injury.

"When the hell did that chunk of plastic spend time on MY couch playing fetch with MY dog?"

Hank asked himself as he put his hand atop Sumo's furry head again and let the ball roll away on the floor.

"Was that another drunken hallucination, or am I finally going crazy?"

Getting to his feet Hank wandered into the kitchen in search of a beer, only to find the refrigerator alcohol-free. As he closed the fridge door Hank turned around and suddenly remembered the night that he had gotten drunk enough to pass out before he could finish his game of Russian Roulette. Connor had found him, sobered him up and taken him out to a crime scene at the now defunct 'Eden Club' downtown.

"Fuckin' android broke my window."

Muttering to himself Hank wandered down the hallway and flipped on the light in the bathroom as he continued to recall that particular night. However, a new set of memories encroached over that older memory and Hank recalled enduring alcohol withdrawal and getting sick in the middle of the night. Having Connor taking care of him and staying beside him while he was so sick were big reasons behind Hank's ongoing sobriety, even if he didn't realize it.

"Damn piece of plastic lurking around my house... What a joke!"

A knock at the front door almost made Hank jump in surprise at the unexpected sound and visitor. The snowstorm had grown more intense, and the roads were closed off to civilians. Only emergency personal and first responders were permitted to drive until further notice. The sight of the snow through the front window triggered another memory, one more bleak and painful than all of the rest.

The images of the car accident that stole Cole's life played out against Hank's will and brought forth heavy tears of emotional pain and anger. The smell of the hospital, the sound of the car tires squealing, and shattering of glass haunted his senses ever since the night of the accident. Even inside of his mind it seemed all so real to think about.

A second aggressive knock at the door snapped Hank back to reality and made Sumo bark in response.

"...Who the fuck is out here in the middle of a damn blizzard?"

Hank asked himself as he wiped away his tears and recomposed himself.

"I bet it's that dumb piece of plastic trying to check in on me."

As Hank trudged slowly toward the front door Sumo followed right at his heels and snorted in disgust at the door before Hank even opened it.

"Easy, Sumo. You should at least see who it is before you start growling." With a firm yank Hank pulled open the front door and eyed Gavin standing on the front step already completely covered from head to toe in snow with a cardboard box in his hands. Gavin looked as amused as Hank felt. "Never mind Sumo, as you were."

Gavin sneered at Hank before looking down at the large dog beside his leg. "Mangy, flea-bitten mutt."

"What're you doing here?" In no mood to deal with the abrasive detective as Sumo let out a low growl Hank refused to let Gavin upset him. "There's no way you're crashing on my couch if your crazy 'bitch-of-the-week' threw your sorry ass out on the street again!"

"Shut up." Gavin shoved the box toward Hank, but the senior detective refused to take it. "Take this shit, Fowler's orders."

"Can't." Hank smirked sarcastically as he lifted his right hand to show him the cast. "Bum wrist."

"Shit, fine." Gavin stomped through the house and sat the box down on the coffee table in front of the couch and ignored Sumo as the large dog sniffed at his shoes curiously as snow and ice fell from his soles and soaked the floor. "Fowler thinks digging through some of your old files will jog your memory or some bullshit. I think it's stupid and a total waste of my time to send me out here."

"Surprised he didn't send Connor over with all this crap."

"He would've if he hadn't already benched Connor because you're down on your sorry ass."

"He benched Connor?" Knowing that the very android assigned specifically to the precinct to handle deviants wasn't doing just that seemed very odd. "What the hell did he do that for?"

"Because you're the only one who can stand working on those damn deviant cases and those fuckers are Connor's specialty." Scoffing with disgust at the notion of referring to Connor as a fellow detective Gavin told Hank the truth with annoyed lilt behind his words. "He's benched for as long as you are."

"Oh, for fuck's sake..." Rubbing his good hand over his forehead Hank released a deep sigh through his nose. "I've been busted up by a piece of shit machine and sidelined, and now Fowler seriously thinks having me sift through all this bullshit is somehow going to be good for me?"

"I said it was dumb, but he didn't listen. Might as well let that plastic-pet of yours recount every damn second of your lives together since you two were assigned as partners." Shivering slightly Gavin lamented his return drive through the blizzard outside. It seemed the disdain toward the cold weather was contagious. "It's a hell of a lot easier than lugging around boxes in the middle of a damn snowstorm."

"Yeah, sure." Sighing with heavy exasperation Hank then ran his hand through his hair with irritation and walked slowly over toward the couch to stare at the large cardboard box. "All right, where the fuck is Connor right now?"

"Beats me. And I don't care."

"You're a fan-fuckin'-tastic detective, you know that?"

"Hey! He's YOUR partner!" Pointing at Hank for a moment Gavin rudely reminded Hank of his role with Connor, then pointed at himself with his thumb. "It's not MY job to keep track of him!"

Sumo began to growl again as he stood loyally at his master's side and planted himself between Hank and Gavin.

"Hey, I'm the one who's INJURED." Hank's right arm was wrapped around his chest as all the yelling was causing him uncomfortable pain in his fractured ribs. "It's not MY responsibility to keep an eye on some fancy piece of plastic dressed up to look like a cop!"

"Yeah, and you'd be DEAD if it wasn't for that plastic-punk saving your dumb ass at the junkyard!"

"Hold up..." Hank's brow furrowed at the last comment as it was strangely blunt, even for someone like Gavin. Dropping his hand from his chest Hank eyed the abrasive detective suspiciously. "I'd be what?"

"Who do you think cut you down after that crazy deviant strung you up? Or brought you back from the dead with that rib crushing C.P.R. that you're still feeling?" The look in Gavin's stare was as intense as it was sincere. "Hey, nothing personal, but when I saw you hanging there all blue and shit, I figured you were long dead. I didn't find a pulse and you weren't breathin'." Softening his tone Gavin told Hank details that Captain Fowler couldn't. "Connor revived you and didn't give up until you finally took a damn breath on your own. He saved your life."

"Whatever..." Frustrated with his inability to remember what had happened, especially the attack itself, Hank angrily let out a deep huff. "You done here? Or do you want to keep bustin' my balls?"

"Yeah, I'm done here." Gavin walked away from the coffee table, mindful of Sumo still growling at Hank's side, and flung the front door open before storming through back outside into the blizzard. "Get well soon, I guess."

The door slammed shut behind Gavin and Sumo barked at the echoing noise.

"Easy, Sumo. He's gone."

Trepidation followed Hank as he returned to the couch and pulled off the lid to the box of case files that Gavin had brought over. Fumbling through the old paper documents - the only way to ensure evidence can remain unaltered in the very real possibility of electronic hacking - Hank pulled out file, after file, after file of solved cases that he and Connor had worked on together since the night of the Revolution.

Each case revolved around deviant androids as either the suspect or the victim. The dates on the files were also listed as taking place days, weeks and now months after the night of the historic Revolution that had taken place on November 11th, 2038. Their work was exemplary and had all but made the duo famous in the city for their dedication to the newly developed division that revolved solely around deviants.

"Shit... We really did do a lot of work together, didn't we?"

Hank eyed each file carefully as he waited for his memories to return to him. As he glanced at the attached photographs to the files brief flashes of the cases returned to his memory one by one. Slowly pieces of his memories began to fall into place like a puzzle collecting its pieces. Handling deviants who were in need of help, in need of justice and and in need of protection were all familiar even to Hank's still foggy mind.

It seemed the medication was working. It was unfortunate that it seemed to be taking effect just a few hours too late for Connor's sake.

"We even took down a domestic anti-android terrorist group? Fuck..."

Checking over the details of the file made Hank's heart race with an uncomfortable panic as he realized that the case was very recent and a case that had nearly ended Connor's life.

"This was just five days ago!"

A sudden image of Connor bleeding in horrific gushes of blue all over his own arms as a knife penetrated the android's chest appeared in his mind. With that image came a sense of dread, fear and heartbreak that could only stem from a strong friendship and desire to keep someone safe.

"Agh! Shit!"

Hank put his good hand to his head as he leaned forward on the couch in shocked pain. It was too brutal to accept but he felt it inside his heart that the image he saw was a true memory.

"Connor? What the hell was that about?"

As he pushed through the fog that clouded his memory Hank uncovered a following memory, one of himself watching over Connor as he slept in a bed while the android recovered from what should've been a fatal injury. The memory felt incredibly vivid, fresh and disturbingly real. It wasn't a strange dream or the result of a drunken hallucination this time.

The memory was undeniably real.

"What the fuck?"

Playing on a haunting hunch Hank stood up slowly from the couch and made his way down the hallway once more. With a shaking hand he pushed open the door to Cole's old bedroom and peered inside the privat space.

"...Shit."

The room wasn't bare anymore. It was furnished with a bed, dresser, a colorful lava lamp, an aquarium and now a leather guitar case leaning up against the corner near the closet. There was something eerily familiar about the setting of the bedroom as Hank recognized the room as the same room from his memory where he watched over Connor as Connor rested.

"The aquarium. Connor likes fish, it told me as much. But when exactly?"

Glancing at the guitar case Hank didn't recognize it but knew it belonged to Connor all the same.

"And it- He must've taken my advice and bought something else to call his own."

Hank quickly corrected his pronouns to refer to Connor as a 'he' and not an 'it' out of a strange reflex.

"And I told him to get a hobby. Right?"

There was no doubt about it. Hank and Connor were friends and this was now Connor's bedroom.

"All right, I need some damn answers. Connor's the only one who can give them to me, so I need to find him."

Hank marched out of the bedroom with a hearty slam of the door and back into the livingroom. Despite the foul weather Hank pulled his heavy wool coat from the hook by the front door to keep himself warm. While he fished for his car keys in the pockets his fingers instead found the coin he had snatched away from Connor the day before during their drive to the precinct.

As Hank held the coin in his hand he triggered another memory.

Hank suddenly remembered when he and Connor had been assigned to investigate an incident at the Stratford Tower:

---

The two detectives were standing side by side in a tense silence within the elevator ascending to the floor where the unusual crime had taken place within the usually secured broadcast tower. The aged coin was dancing gracefully on Connor's fingertips when Hank suddenly reached out without any provocation and grabbed the dancing quarter in irritation before the elevator reached its destination on the top floor of the tower.

"You're starting to piss me off with that coin, Connor!"

"Sorry, Lieutenant."

The duo exited the elevator after it reached the top floor and were greeted by Chris as he and the gathered F.B.I. agents and S.W.A.T. team officers informed them of the situation at hand. Shortly after the investigation began Connor had gone to interrogate three possible deviants in the kitchenette of the broadcast room and had been gone for some time.

When an android passed by Hank and the other cops without drawing any attention nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Then Connor's voice shouting from behind Hank down the hallway from where the android had walked had put himself and everyone around him on guard.

"Stop it!" Connor shouted with surprising alarm to his voice as he chased after the departing android. His shirt was torn open and there was a smear of blue blood running down his abdomen around a patch of deactivated artificial skin. "It's a deviant!"

Before Hank had the chance to react the deviant had stolen a semi-automatic gun from a nearby S.W.A.T. officer and prepared to open fire, but thankfully Connor was quicker than the deviant. Pulling the handgun from the nearby F.B.I. agent's hip holster, a man who Connor had incidentally saved two months prior, Connor shot the deviant before it had the chance to harm anyone in the hallway.

"Nice shot, Connor."

Hank complimented as he took in the chaotic scene and did so in stride. It seemed as if nothing could shake the seasoned Lieutenant.

"I wanted it alive."

The way Connor lamented the deviant's destruction was oddly human.

"You saved human lives, Connor." Hank had stated firmly, calmly to the disappointed android detective who had done his job properly. "You saved MY life."

Connor had survived his after the deviant attacked him in the kitchenette, then saved the countless other people inside the tower's hallway. Despite his potentially fatal injury Connor never complained about it, nor did he let it interfere with the investigation as he proceeded to apprehend the downed deviant to be taken back to the precinct as the investigation came to an eventful conclusion...

---

The important memory came to an end and filled Hank's heart with the same dread he had felt when he reviewed his most recent investigation. Everything came flooding back to Hank's mind in an instant. Every case that he and Connor had handled together, every moment they shared after they clocked-out after work, and every conversation they had ever shared, hit Hank like a ton of bricks right in his heart. As the memories were restored courtesy of the medication and provided case files Hank's left hand closed tightly into a fist around the confiscated coin. The old memories weren't the only thing on Hank's mind as he recalled how he cruelly threw Connor out of the house and out into the cold of the blizzard without so much as asking where Connor could possibly go.

Noting that Gavin had no idea where Connor would be and that he was benched from the precinct gave Hank a chill that rivaled the storm outside. The deviant was effectively all on his own with nowhere to go and no one to rely on.

"Son of a- Connor!"

Returning to reality Hank pulled his nearly dead phone from his coat pocket and dialed Connor's number, but the deviant didn't answer. It was a cybernetic connection, which meant even if the deviant had been stranded in the middle of a hurricane Connor would've been able to receive the call. To have the call unanswered either meant that Connor was ignoring the call, or he was simply unable to answer for some other reason.

Hank's gut instinct told him that something was wrong and that he needed to find Connor as soon as possible.

"Shit... Hang on, son."

Putting phone back in his pocket Hank slipped the sleeves of the coat up over his arms as he fished for his car keys in his pockets again but still couldn't find them. Hank looked back at the coffee table and remembered that Connor had placed the car keys there before he left for Hank's convenience. Snatching the keys from the table beside the cardboard box Hank slipped on his shoes with moderate difficulty and hustled through the front door to his car parked in the snowy driveway beside the house.

"Damn it, kid. Why'd you walk away without a fight?"

The building snow and cold all around the city only made Hank's guilty heart ache worse as he realized he kicked Connor out into this relentless blizzard hours ago with no layers and nowhere to go. The idea of the prototype deviant being stranded in the cold without any shelter made Hank feel even worse than he already did.

"Where the hell are you?"

Remembering that he had an app on his phone that could track down Connor's vital signs Hank went to turn it on but knew he'd need some help in improving the app's range during the storm. Having a low battery wasn't helping matters either.

"Okay, Lucas. You said if I need help to just ask."

Locating Markus's number in his contacts list Hank placed the call to New Jericho Tower to cash in on that particular favor. Carefully backing his Oldsmobile down the driveway Hank ventured out into the storm with the sole intention of finding Connor and bringing him back home where he belonged, and hoped that he could get some help from Lucas along the way.

"Well, I'm asking for it now!"

---

It was getting dark and the temperature was dropping down quickly despite the air already being freezing cold. Connor had taken an autonomous taxi from New Jericho Tower back to the precinct, but once he arrived he realized he had no reason to actually be there and needed to leave to avoid getting in any form of trouble with his commanding officer. Connor was benched until Hank had recovered from his injury and could return to work as his partner. That is, if Hank managed to remember who Connor was and wanted to continue to work with him after his recovery. Such a grim thought only made Connor feel all colder and more isolated as he exited the precinct and resumed roaming the city on foot in search of something to do or somewhere to go.

Home wasn't an option for Connor as Hank made him feel unwelcome and feel like an intruder inside New Jericho Tower meant there was no way Connor would go back, even if it was to seek shelter for just one night. Walking the streets of the icy cold city Connor had his hands had drawn up against his arms tightly in an attempt to stave off the stabbing cold that was hurting his artificial skin as he rubbed his palms up and down to create friction induced heat.

The wind gusted relentlessly against his now sensitive skin causing ice and snow to cling uncomfortably to his hair and to every stitch of clothing as he walked. Tired, freezing cold, and experiencing a new type of emotion he hadn't previously felt before, Connor wanted to just stop moving and hide away from the world. Using his internal G.P.S. to mark his exact location Connor realized that he was standing outside the fence of the park and playground overlooking the Detroit River and giving a fantastic view of Ambassador Bridge. It was where he and Hank had a less than pleasant discussion revolving around the prospect of an android's death just prior to the successful Revolution.

Spotting the same bench where Hank had lamented briefly about his late son while attempting to drown his grief in alcohol, Connor trudged his way through the deepening snowdrifts to the bench and sat down on the back of it drawing his legs up from the icy cold ground. Wrapping his hands tightly around his arms and his chest Connor leaned forward to try and curl around himself as much as possible to keep the wind from slicing into his body any more than it already had.

On that chilly night Connor's hands were as cold as the very ice that swirled around him. His fingers, his ears, his nose and his lips were all stinging from the cold as a dark blue hue began to discolor his artificial skin. Taking in shuddering breaths as the intense cold pained his biocomponents with the dangerously chilled air, Connor tried to enter a form of stasis mode as a means of escaping the harsh winter environment that stole away his strength even if it was just for a few hours.

Unable to take in a full breath, an act that had previously been only used as a means of controlling his core temperature but was now a normal routine in Connor keeping his emotional composure, the deviant felt as though his very life was being stolen away from his glacially cold body. Closing his emotionally pained eyes Connor buried his face against his trembling forearms as he shivered against the relentless cold that battered his entire form in brutal gusts of icy, snow laden wind.

"...I wish I c-couldn't feel an-anything anymore."

What felt like minutes turned into hours as Connor sat alone in the park and endured the harsh blizzard that threatened to freeze his body against his will. The deviant detective didn't want to stay at New Jericho Tower due to the other deviants not feeling comfortable with him around. He couldn't go to the precinct because Captain Fowler had him benched. And Connor couldn't go to the only place he called his home because Hank had kicked him out.

The deviant detective felt truly alone and like he'd never find a safe place to call his own.

Car headlights appeared in the distance behind the freezing deviant and shone faintly over Connor's body where he sat. The thick flakes of snow and ice obstructed the beams of light making them seem dimmer than usual even in the darkness of the night. As the car pulled up to the park, snow and ice crunching under the weight of the four heavy tires, it came to a gentle stop but kept the engine running as the driver reached their destination.

The car door opened and slammed shut as the driver pocketed their phone and pulled an old worn-out, blue plaid blanket from the backseat of their car before they began practically wading through the growing layer of ankle-deep snow to reach Connor sitting on the bench alone.

"Connor? Connor, there you are!"

Hank stood beside the bench and put his hand on the deviant's trembling shoulder. The horrific cold was smothering Connor's body and a growing layer of snow already covering him under a pristine veil of white. Draping the old blanket over Connor's back and shoulders Hank moved his hand from Connor's shoulder to wrap his entire arm around the deviant tightly to try to help him get warm.

"What the hell are you doing out here, kid?"

"Ha-" Slowly Connor lifted his head and turned his gaze to look at Hank. His brown eyes were glazed over under a frightening white film of ice. The red tinted L.E.D. only emphasized Connor's bleak appearance even further. "L-L-Lieutenant?" Even in his chilled daze Connor managed to correct himself and refer to Hank by his rank instead of his name. "Y-You shouldn't b-be out here! You're h-hurt! You c-could get-"

"Shut the hell up." Hank snapped as he tried to pull the freezing deviant closer to himself to help Connor get warm. "Are you crazy? You scared the shit outta' me! I had to get Lucas to talk me through turning on that damn app on my phone so I could track you down during this fuckin' storm."

Pulling the phone back out of his pocket Hank showed the frozen deviant his own unsteady vital signs on display across the screen before pocketing it again just before the phone could finally go dead.

"What're you doing out here in this storm, kid?"

"N-Nowhere else t-to go." Connor shivered, his teeth starting to chatter as the intense cold began to affect his plastimetal frame and internal joints beneath his compromised artificial skin. Trying to resist Hank pulling him closer Connor explained his logic regarding the situation. "You d-didn't want m-me around. I didn't w-want to b-bother you..."

"Damn it."

Hank swore at himself more than Connor as he kept his arm around the deviant's shoulders. The dark blue blemishes that outlined Connor's cheeks, nose and ears looked painful and were surely stinging from the cold. Even Connor's eyes were 'bloodshot' with a blue tint.

"Connor, you're not a bother. I'm an asshole."

Connor didn't know what else to say and so he turned his head away from the senior detective as he continued to shiver violently. His hands absentmindedly grabbed on to the edges of the offered blanket as he tried to wrap it tighter around himself to keep as warm as possible.

"...Yes, I am."

"If I didn't want you around why the fuck would I be out in the middle of a snowstorm looking for you? Hm?"

Unsure of how to reply Connor remained silent where he sat.

"Say something please. I need to know you're still conscious."

"...Your f-fractured ribs can-"

"No, fuckin- Not about that. How are you?" Hank was trying to gauge how weak Connor truly was in the moment. "I know you're suffering from the cold."

Intimidated by Hank's tone and very presence Connor resumed his heavy silence. The urge to not upset Hank in his condition was currently stronger than Connor's own instinct for self-preservation.

"All right, I admit it. I was a huge prick to you when I came to in the hospital, but my damn memory was fucked up. I had started to remember things back at the house, and Gavin even told me what you did to save my life." Trying again to pull Connor close to him for the sake of warmth Hank continued to apologize and ignored the icy sting beginning to gnaw away at his own hands. "And suddenly everything came rushing back to me, it was like a switch got flipped in my brain or something. I remember now. I remember you."

Connor finally looked to Hank with lingering hesitation in his hazy brown eyes as he doubted the claim.

"Connor. Son... I remember." As if to prove his point, as if he needed to gain Connor's trust all over again, Hank wrapped his fingers around Connor's wrist and felt the deviant's newly developed pulse. It was slower than normal due to the cold and barely detectable as the intensely frigid air threatened to freeze up his Thirium supply lines to his hand. "You're not a piece of plastic, you're my friend. You're my family. If I didn't remember who you were, how would I know to talk to your little brother Lucas? Or to check for your pulse in your wrist?"

Still worried that he might be annoying Hank with his presence Connor stayed quiet.

"I want you to come home with me." The remorseful detective promised as he kept his arm wrapped around Connor's shoulders. "I want you to come back to where you belong."

Nodding subtly Connor finally accepted Hank's words and was thoroughly appreciative of the faint warmth being emitted from Hank's hand around his icy wrist.

"You're freezing, aren't you?" The senior detective insisted patiently as he felt himself beginning to tremble from the devastating cold as well. As a father, Hank knew when he was looking at a kid in need of some warmth and a safe place to rest. "Level with me, how're you feeling?"

"I f-feel cold. I'm v-very cold." Connor admitted while finally allowing Hank to pull him closer against his side. The deviant let out a weak sigh of relief that was lost in the swirling wind around them. "Hank... I'm c-cold."

"Come on, let's get you home to warm up."

Hank pulled on Connor's shoulders again to pull him off the bench and back onto his feet. Connor's legs were shaking as violently as the rest of his body from the relentless cold. If Hank wasn't already holding onto him Connor surely would've fallen into the snow and collapsed in an exhausted heap.

"I'll take you home, son. We'll both go home."

Keeping his arm around the trembling deviant's shoulders Hank guided Connor over to the parked car and pulled open the passenger side door. Hank had practically shoved Connor down onto the front seat and slammed the door shut firmly before he walked over to the other side to get back behind the wheel to drive back to the house where they could finally escape from the cold.

Connor was still trying to curl around himself where he sat despite the heater already blasting on full against his frozen body, and it made him look entirely pitiful. The deviant truly hated the cold weather. Hank promptly took his place behind the steering wheel with his weaker right hand still wrapped around his sore ribs. Slowly, awkwardly, Hank backed the car through the building snow to get back out to the street to head toward home before they were stranded in the blizzard.

"You seriously need to start using that leather jacket of yours when it's this damn cold." Hank scolded like a parent would their own child. "That blazer you insist on wearing won't do jack-shit for you during a blizzard in Michigan."

Connor nodded in silent agreement and as pulled the provided blanket tightly around himself as much as possible. Aside from the blue discoloration that marred his face, Connor's fingertips were turning bright white from frostbite that had begun destroying his artificial skin and exposing the plastimetal frame beneath.

"Hank?" Speaking in a whisper Connor looked at his hands and grimaced at the painful sensation causing his fingers to tingle. "My h-hands... hurt."

"Take it easy, son. Put your palms up to the heater and it'll help. Just like when you fell in the freezing river that one winter." Watching as Connor raised his shaking hands toward the comforting heat Hank couldn't help but see him truly as a kid in need of a parent's guidance and understanding. "It'll be a slow drive, but at least we'll be home and warm when we get there."

"Thank you f-for finding me."

"Yeah, son." Hank briefly put his sore hand on Connor's shoulder in a comforting manner. "And thanks for not giving up on me. Just do me one favor."

"What's that?"

"Next time I'm being an asshole and I try to throw you out of the house, don't go! We were both fools tonight and we need to keep each other from doing stupid shit in the future."

"You're right." Agreeing to the simple request Connor let the warmth from the heater leech into his frozen palms. "N-Noted."

It took twenty painfully long minutes for Hank to drive back home through the building snow over the dark, icy streets. The senior detective's healing chest was throbbing from the cold, harsh wind battering against his fractured ribs, and his broken right wrist felt like it was going to snap off entirely from the exertion he forced upon it to keep control of the steering wheel while traversing the slick roads. The physical strain on his body wasn't helping with his lingering headache either. The injured detective was in rough shape but bound and determined to get back home in one piece for not just his own sake, but for Connor's sake after the deviant was subjected to the extreme cold for so long.

Connor wasn't faring much better in the front seat next to Hank, but he wasn't complaining. Still shivering violently from the harsh cold that he had been exposed to for several hours, the deviant looked absolutely miserable. His clothing was soaked through with melted snow and ice that only made him colder, and the blue blanket Hank had given him had also become soaked through offering little to no resistance against the merciless cold that plagued him. With his nose and his cheeks still an unsettling shade of dark blue and his eyes bearing a blue tinted 'bloodshot' effect, Connor looked ready to collapse.

A violent cough sounded off from Connor's ventilation biocomponents as the smothering cold had done its damage. The biocomponents attempted to function in spite of the horrific cold causing the Thirium in his lines to partially freeze over, not that he needed to cool his core temperature at the moment anyway. Rather than focusing on cooling his core, the ventilation biocomponents were trying to agitate the freezing Thirium to keep it cycling as much as possible through physical spasms that resulted in very human sounding coughing fits.

"That cough sounds pretty rough, kid." Hank observed as he listened to Connor coughing and near gasping for breath between the coughs. "Can you breathe okay?"

"...F-Fine." Connor lied as he shook his head a little to keep Hank from worrying too much. "I j-just need to w-warm up."

Brutal winds continued to beat against the city and the people within as the snowstorm raged on. It seemed that the change in the seasons couldn't sway the bitter cold to leave the city and give its people the chance to warm up and thaw out.

"Come on, son." Hank insisted calmly as he finally pulled the car into the driveway beside the house. Hating himself for having to turn off the engine, and with it the comforting heat, he took the key from the ignition and flung his door wide open. Once the frigid air hit his lungs Hank too began to cough harshly. "Let's get inside and warm up."

Fumbling with his door handle, his fingers still sore and partially numb from the frostbite, Connor managed to weakly push his door open and slowly swung his legs over the edge of the seat to set foot on the driveway. Connor stood up on his shaking legs as the wind and ice cut into his artificial skin causing him to wince in pain. The deviant forced himself to walk around the car and meet Hank at the front door to get inside the house as quickly as possible despite his legs wanting to give out and stop functioning.

As soon as the two detectives were inside the house Hank slammed the front door shut and locked it as he stifled another cough. "Y-You need to change into some dry clothes." Grabbing the blue blanket that Connor was clinging so desperately to around his shoulders Hank pulled it away quickly to keep the cold fabric from making Connor's condition worse. "This is soaked. It's only going to make you feel colder."

Reluctantly Connor let go of the blanket but remained where he stood in the center of the livingroom with his arms crossed over his icy chest.

"I-It hurts to m-move." Half frozen where he stood, Connor admitted that he was struggling with basic functions. "I c-can't move."

"Are you hurt?" The tone of Connor's voice was alarming, and Hank's paternal instincts came flooding forward. Hank asked about Connor's condition as he stepped in front of Connor to look the deviant in the eyes. "Are your legs damaged?"

"N-No. My Thirium l-lines are p-partially f-frozen." Connor explained rather calmly through his chattering teeth. "It makes it d-difficult to walk w-when the flow is h-hindered to my j-joints and my b-bioc-components."

"All right, we'll get that taken care of." Lightly Hank pulled on the collar of Connor's gray, snow soaked blazer and slipped it from Connor's trembling arms. Shrugging off his own coat Hank draped it around the deviant's now somewhat exposed shoulders and pushed him steadily forward and toward the hallway. "Head into the bathroom for now. I'll get you some dry clothes."

With Hank's assistance Connor made his way into the bathroom as instructed. Hank flipped on the light for Connor before heading into the deviant's bedroom across the way. Shaking with hypothermia Connor slowly fell to his knees in the middle of the floor and curled around himself thanks to the utter cold. Still shivering heavily Connor felt Sumo's wet nose press against his right arm as the massive dog sat beside him on the floor curiously.

"Hi, S-Sumo. " Connor greeted the loyal dog with a half smile on his face. "I'll be f-fine."

After gathering what he needed from Connor's bedroom - a pair of clean gray sweatpants, a black t-shirt and a pair of socks - Hank dropped the dry clothes down on the sink for Connor to wear after he returned to the bathroom. Watching Connor shivering on the floor, his face still tinted with dark blue, Hank walked over to the shower and turned on the warm water to an appropriate degree.

"You need to get warmed up." Leaning down took some effort as Hank had to be careful of his injured ribs and use his dormant left hand while his right hand still healed. "Step into the shower for a few minutes and let the water warm you up slowly."

"Sh-Shower?"

"Yup. Just like when you fell in that freezing river." Grabbing Sumo by the collar to lead the dog outside, Hank exited the bathroom and helped give Connor some space. Clearing his throat to stop another cough from escaping his chest Hank glanced back to Connor before closing the door behind himself. "I'll check on you in ten minutes, kid."

As the door clicked shut behind the senior detective, the freezing deviant was left alone in the bathroom. Lifting his head to look up at the running shower Connor forced himself to stand on his shaking legs, his hands bracing most of his weight against the sink as he stood. Being an android Connor had no real reason to shower except for when he had become disheveled in the line of work. Even then he would just replace his tarnished uniform with a clean one and use a washcloth to remove any dirt and smudges from his artificial skin.

"...Warm."

Connor muttered to himself as walked slowly toward the shower and stared at the running clear water cascading from the shower head.

"...I n-need to be warm."

---

Inside the livingroom Hank set about moving the cardboard box of old case files that Gavin had brought over to the house from the coffee table to the table in the kitchen to get it out of the way. While in the kitchen Hank pulled open the small cabinet above the dishwasher and grabbed a large plastic bottle of a red colored cough syrup that he had no memory of purchasing. After checking the expiration date on the side of the bottle Hank downed an appropriate dose of the medication quickly to keep himself from coughing any further and openly grimaced at the repulsive flavor that lingered on his tongue. Had he not gulped down the medicine Hank knew he would've spit it out in response.

Since he hated the flavor Hank knew that it was Connor who purchased the medication and stored it for Hank in secret. The clever deviant was getting to know him fairly well, but not entirely just yet.

"Disgusting... Fuckin' hate cinnamon in pure liquid form."

Grimacing at the bitter taste Hank replaced the medication in the cabinet and walked slowly into the livingroom to boost the heat by adjusting the thermostat on the wall. It was important to increase the temperature from its optimal seventy-two degrees Fahrenheit up to seventy-eight as both detectives were suffering ill effects from the cold. Hopefully the additional heat could help stave off hypothermia and possibly illness.

"Fuckin' need to keep that kid indoors until summer gets here."

Glancing at the old fireplace that he hadn't used since his last winter with his family, Hank sighed and shook his head at his own laziness.

"Or I need to get that fireplace cleaned out and functioning again. Like I said I'd do once before already..."

Mumbling to himself Hank made his way back down the hall and stepped around Sumo in the process. The large dog was sitting outside the bathroom door and wasn't going to move until Connor emerged.

"Being a lifeguard there, boy?"

Opening up the hallway closet Hank eyed the extra blankets and pillows Hank winced a little as he decided that Connor should have the blankets to keep warm, and that he should have the pillows for himself to help with his sore body as he healed. Piling as many spare blankets that he could find in the hallway closet onto the edge of Connor's bed Hank knocked respectfully on the closed bathroom door to check in on his frozen partner trying to thaw out in the shower.

"Connor? Are you okay in there?"

There was no answer, not that Hank actually expected to receive one, but a round of deep coughing was enough to coax the senior detective into checking in on his partner. Pushing open the unlocked door Hank peered inside and saw his coat left in the middle of the floor and Connor, still in his clothes, huddled up in the bathtub as the steaming water poured over him. Despite being much warmer than he had been Connor's face was still tinged blue and he was shaking a little as he sat with his arms wrapped around his legs that were pulled up to his chest in a protective hug.

"Aw, man." Hank walked over to the shower and turned off the water as he looked down at the soaked deviant. "You look as shitty as I feel."

"I-Interesting." Connor lifted his head a little to look up at Hank, his L.E.D. now cycling yellow slowly instead of red. "I imagine that I am in f-fact experiencing this 'shitty' feeling you're d-describing."

"Well, you're not shivering as bad as you had been, so that's good." Noticing the lessened stuttering in Connor's words Hank was sure they were both going to be okay in a day or two. "But you didn't take off your clothes. Why?"

"Too cold." Connor explained as his frostbitten hands clumsily reached for the drenched black tie around his neck. His uncoordinated fingers tried and failed to get the knot loose as he struggled to remove it from around his neck. "...It's also too difficult to take my clothes off with m-my hands being damaged."

"Here." Moving slowly Hank sat on the edge of the bathtub and moved to the knot on Connor's tie. Loosening the garment just enough to slip it from around Connor's neck Hank draped it over the edge of the nearby sink to dry off. "Can you get out?"

"I think so." Connor nodded a little as he tested his legs carefully. "...Yes."

Patiently Hank watched as the deviant's pale frostbitten hands grabbed onto the side of the bathtub as he clumsily pulled himself up and over the edge, and fell to his knees onto the floor. A puddle of lukewarm water formed around the kneeling deviant as he pulled on the collar of his white dress shirt to pop open the buttons one by one until he could shrug off the soaked sleeves from his shoulders and arms at last.

Grabbing on to a thick, dry towel Hank dropped it over Connor's shoulders to help the deviant temporarily cover himself as he struggled to remove his wet jeans from his chilled legs. While it was true that androids didn't have the same sense of modesty as humans it was still a gut reaction by the detective to try to help Connor spare as much of his dignity as possible since Connor naturally had a rather shy and almost reserved personality.

"...Hank?"

"Yeah?"

Taking a shaking grip on the towel Connor gave his friend a timid look. "You don't have to stay here."

"Yeah, but I feel like it." Taking a second towel Hank dropped it on the top of Connor's head in a lighthearted manner. "So, tough shit."

Reaching up for his dry clothing atop the sink, Connor's pained fingers flinched a little and retracted as his newly enhanced sense of touch told him that the damage to his fingertips was still too severe to accomplish even the most mundane tasks. The gesture wasn't as subtle as he had been hoping as Hank had taken notice of his pained reflexes.

Hank casually brushed the clothes off the top of the sink and onto the floor next to Connor without saying a word in the process.

"...Thanks."

Pressing the back of his hand against Connor's cheek Hank noted the unusually cool temperature still holding fast to the deviant's artificial skin.

"You still feel cold. What's your temperature at?"

"I'm at ninety-five point three degrees Fahrenheit." Connor's L.E.D. flashed to red then back to yellow after he ran a self diagnostic. "It's slowly increasing."

"Too be honest with ya', kid," Hank moved his hand from Connor's cheek and rested it on the towel covering the deviant's hair as he absentmindedly began drying Connor's dark locks while he spoke. "I was expecting you too be a hell of a lot colder than that."

"I was." Connor confessed as he finally managed to slip off his boots and jeans and set them aside on the floor. As he pulled the much warmer pair of gray sweatpants onto his legs Connor let out a deep cough and sighed. "When you located me in the park my temperature had dropped down to eighty-seven point nine degrees."

"Holy shit. How low can you drop before it's, uh, fatal?" Hank asked as he stopped fussing with the towel on Connor's hair and tossed it casually to the floor beside him. "I can't remember what you told me before."

"Eight-five degrees causes mandatory stasis mode as approximately seventy-five percent of my Thirium would freeze in my lines. Eight-two degrees is fatal for androids as our biocomponents freeze entirely and sustain significant thermal damage as a result."

"Good thing to keep in mind from now on."

With his clumsy hand Connor managed to pull the collar of the black t-shirt over his head, but he was having trouble navigating his sore hands and arms through the sleeves. Reaching over, Hank used his good hand to help guide Connor's hands accordingly and noted the devastating frostbite to the deviant's fingers in the process.

"Come on." Pulling on Connor's upper arm gently Hank hoisted the still cold deviant up to his feet and helped him to stand on his still shaking legs. "You get warmed in your bed, and I'll bring some bandages to wrap up your hands." Grunting a little as he moved Hank used his right arm to support his sore ribs as he walked. "I know it won't really do anything to help you heal faster, but it should ease the pain so you're not flinching at every little thing that brushes by your fingers."

"Thank you."

"Stop thanking me." Hank insisted as he guided Connor into his bedroom just across the hallway, and once more stepped around Sumo. "I'm the dumbass who threw you out into the cold to begin with."

"You weren't well." Connor reminded Hank kindly and in a forgiving manner. "I should've insisted on staying to help take care of you while you recovered."

"Guess we're both a couple of dumb fucks, huh?" Hank joked playfully as he helped Connor to sit on the edge of his bed. "Just two idiots trying to survive the cold."

"We're fools and stubborn."

"Yup. Stubborn beyond measure." With Connor now sitting on the bed Hank took one of the additional quilts from the end of the bed and wrapped it around the deviant's shoulders before he pushed Connor back until he was resting his head against the pillow. Draping the cover of the bed up and over Connor's chest Hank looked down at Connor's hands again and grimaced sympathetically. "I'll be right back. Don't move."

As soon as he was out of the bedroom Hank winced in terrible pain as the fractured ribs in his chest protested violently against the intense cold he had breathed in, as well as all the physical exertion he had put himself through hefting Connor around. Hoping the cough syrup would kick in sooner rather than later the senior detective coughed as quietly as possible as he made his way back into the bathroom.

Returning to the bathroom to reclaim his coat Hank fished his phone out of his pocket, as well as Connor's coin, and scrolled through the names in his contact list. As his right thumb hovered over the name 'Markus' again he hesitated in pressing 'dial' and decided instead to send a quick text to the deviant leader at New Jericho Tower instead.

'Found Connor, he's safe. Just cold.'

Another bout of harsh coughing sounded off from Connor's bedroom as Hank picked up the android first aid kit from under the sink and then wandered into the livingroom where Sumo was laying down comfortably across the couch enjoying the nice and warm livingroom all to himself.

'And coughing. Ask Lucas to stop by tomorrow if the roads are clear.'

Pressing 'send' Hank slipped his phone into his back pocket, hung his coat back on its usual hook by the front door and checked out the first aid kit in his grip. Popping open the lid of the plastic kit Hank took a clean roll of white gauze from its storage compartment and carried it back into Connor's bedroom.

"Come on, Sumo." Hank called loudly as he sat down on the edge of Connor's bed next to the assuredly ill deviant. The large Saint Bernard happily trotted into the bedroom and jumped up on the foot of Connor's bed to get some attention. He quickly snuggled down on the other spare blankets that Hank had gathered and wagged his tail with a content motion. "Okay, son. Let me see your hands."

Connor was leaning back heavily against the pillow under his head, his chest heaving as he took in deep breaths to try and warm his internal biocomponents and thaw the still frozen Thirium in his lines. The deep breathing was an attempt to coax the Thirium into cycling properly once more as he took in the warm air circulating through the house. At the moment Connor had his hands draped over his rising and falling chest and abdomen, his fingers and palms still frightfully white from the horrible frostbite.

"Jeez, if you were actually human, I'd swear you have pneumonia or something." Watching the way Connor was breathing Hank pressed the back of his hand against Connor's forehead to gauge his temperature the best that he could. "You certainly feel warmer. What's your temperature at now?"

"It's..." Connor's L.E.D. flashed red briefly as he ran another self-diagnostic then settled back on yellow. "I'm up to ninety-eight point nine degrees Fahrenheit."

"That's warmer than normal, right?" Hank picked up Connor's hand gently to examine the frostbite that had practically eaten away Connor's fingertips before he wrapped up the appendage. "I know it's a little bit warmer than what's normal for a human."

"My thermal regulator has temporarily increased in temperature to thaw and recirculate the frozen Thirium in my lines and thaw my biocomponents. Once all of the Thirium has thawed my temperature will reduce to its optimal degree."

"I'll turn the heat back down so you don't overheat in the night, okay?"

"You're still injured." Using his scanner Connor noted Hank's still mending fractured ribs, wrist and the raw bruises around Hank's throat. "You require medical aid to recover and I can wait a while longer for my own treatment."

"Hold up your hand." Unrolling the gauze Hank prepared to wrap up Connor's fingers and palms under the protective layer. "And did you just scan me?"

"No." Lying a little Connor held up his right hand up under his own accord as he watched Hank very lightly wrap the gauze protectively around his fingers down to his palm, and then around his wrist. "I can see the pain in your eyes, and I can hear a distinct rattling in your chest as you breathe. The cold must've impeded your recovery, if not caused a total-"

A violent coughing spell stole Connor's words as the deviant was lost in the throes of a nasty fit. The L.E.D. turned red as he coughed, then slowly cycled back to yellow as the coughing fit finally passed.

"Easy, kid." Hank put his hand to Connor's chest and he could feel the deviant's Thirium pump thundering rapidly beneath his palm. A strong heartbeat was reassuring for both of them considering the events that the duo had just survived in the past five days. "Try not to talk as much until your temperature's back to normal."

"R-Right." Clearing his throat Connor slowed his breathing and settled in against his pillow. "...Sorry."

"Don't apologize for coughing." The fatherly figure insisted as finished wrapping up Connor's right hand and placed the limb back down on Connor's abdomen. "Let me see your other hand."

"You're sick." Arguing but obedient, Connor lifted his left hand for Hank to take care of next. As the senior detective's hand wrapped around his wrist Connor could feel the unnaturally high heat radiating from Hank's own palm. "You're suffering from a fever of one-hundred point six degrees. You need to rest."

"After I take care of you." The senior detective refuted sharply without missing a beat, his fingers discreetly pressing against Connor's newly developed pulse point on his wrist in the process. "You're the one who nearly froze to death tonight."

"You've suffered head trauma only thirty-eight hours ago."

"You can't use your hands."

"You have broken bones."

"You had major repairs done on your heart."

"You..." Connor was trying to think of something else to say to argue in his own favor, but nothing came to mind. Instead, he decided to sass his friend as a sign of goodwill and true forgiveness. "You're old."

"Seriously?" Hank stopped wrapping up Connor's hand just long enough to give the deviant an amused glance. "Is that the best you got?"

"Yes." Connor shrugged a little at the question. "It is for now anyway."

"All right, you little smartass. Once your hands heal maybe you can impress me with that guitar you bought." As he finished wrapping up Connor's left hand Hank sat it down over Connor's chest again and placed Connor's previously confiscated coin on the nightstand next to the bed. The man turned on the lava lamp to help create a warm glow that'd undoubtedly help Connor feel a little better now that he was out of the snow. "Didn't expect you to pick a new hobby like that, especially after just a few hours."

"What-" Connor paused and held back another painful cough before continuing. "What kind of hobby did you expect me to pick up?"

"I don't know. Crossword puzzles, reading, crochet or something else that you'd be able to do everywhere you go."

"Would you prefer if my hobby was a quieter one?"

"Nah, don't worry about it." Rising from the bed Hank waved his hand dismissively. "Get some rest, let your system do its thing to repair whatever damage this damn cold caused you, and I'll see you in the morning."

"What about you?" Not wanting Hank to push himself too hard too soon Connor pleaded for Hank to get some rest. "You're still ill and are in need of medical care as well."

"I'm going to take that damn memory medication and go to bed. I don't want anything I remembered to get wiped out in my sleep." Giving the deviant a confident nod Hank walked slowly toward the doorway, his hand brushing past Sumo's head as he walked around the foot of the bed. "If you need anything just yell, all right?"

"What if you need something?"

"I'll manage."

Hank turned off the light via the switch on the wall and disappeared back into the hallway before heading out to the livingroom. Grabbing the prescription pill bottle still sitting on the coffee table, Hank popped two of the pills into his mouth then reduced the house's heat to a more manageable level before retreating down the hallway to his own bedroom to rest. Passing by the still opened door to Connor's bedroom Hank peered inside and could see that the deviant was already in rest mode and seemed to be resting well with Sumo sleeping beside him.

"Damn. Wish I could fall asleep that fast."

Stumbling into his own bedroom Hank flopped down on the thick mattress and pressed his hand to his forehead as the headache he had been trying to deny all day long was beginning to make its presence known with a merciless vengeance. As he tried to relax, his chest tightened, and another coughing fit suddenly overwhelmed him. Draping his arm over his head Hank tried to get some much needed rest.

"Damn cheap medicine. Dumpin' the rest of that nasty tastin' shit down the drain tomorrow."

Hank wasn't sure how long he was asleep but he sure as hell knew the exact moment he was awoken by his violent coughing that ached his lungs with every breath. As he brought his hand up to cover his mouth he felt an odd warm pressure against his chest as if something, or someone, was pressing against it. In the darkness of the bedroom Hank's tired eyes caught sight of a red circular light hovering just above his chest, right where he felt the pressure.

"The fuck?" Hank coughed again and the pressure suddenly lessened. "C-Connor? What the hell are you doing?"

"Listening to your chest." Connor answered honestly in the darkness. The light of the L.E.D. in his temple allowed Hank to track his movement and he saw that Connor had straightened upright and was now standing beside the bed. "Your breathing is heavily congested and my scanner indicates mild pulmonary edema in both lower lobes of your lungs. Your fever has also increased to one-hundred and two point two degrees."

"You... what?" Confused and tired, Hank wheezed a little as he caught his breath and processed what Connor was saying. "You're listening to me breathe?"

"Correct." Connor weakly managed to stifle a cough of his own, his red L.E.D. blinking rapidly in response. "It's just as effective as a biometric scan."

"What for?"

"As I stated six hours, fifty-three minutes and two seconds earlier, you're ill. You need-" Coughing again Connor took in a deep breath to calm his faltering ventilation biocomponents in his chest. "...You require medical aid."

"You don't sound so good yourself. Go back to bed, I'll be fine."

Connor refused to budge as his L.E.D. blinked again, this time in yellow, indicating that he was running yet another scan over Hank's body.

"Connor, don't make me carry you back into your room." The Lieutenant threatened despite being too sick and too tired to do anything. "My head is killing me, I'm exhausted, and we BOTH need to sleep."

"But Hank-"

"Hey! When you were listening to my chest I could feel the heat radiating off your damn head." Pushing back against being treated like a patient Hank reminded Connor that he needed to recover as well. "You're sick too. Don't push yourself or you'll overheat, got it?"

"I..." Feeling somewhat defeated Connor relented for the sake of reducing Hank's stress, and he stopped trying to argue. "I got it."

"Good. Now, go to bed please."

"Okay. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, son."

Slowly Connor stepped back from the bed before he rather gracelessly exited the bedroom and returned to his own bedroom just a few feet down the hallway. In spite of everything that had happened, it seemed the two detectives had gone through too much together to stay mad at one another for too long.

"That kid's more alert than the damn dog."

Hank rolled onto his side and shut his eyes with a heavy sigh as he tried to get some more sleep before dawn.

"At least he isn't as needy."

---

Knocking at the front door of the house caused Hank's blue eyes to snap open only to immediately shut them again as the painfully bright morning sunlight hurt his strained vision. Putting his hand over his sensitive eyes Hank gingerly propped himself upright on the bed with both of his elbows as he tried to regain his senses and awaken more fully before even trying to get up from the bed. The ache in his head, his chest and his right wrist made movement and even being awake actually hurt Hank's entire body. Being older, mildly out of shape, and subjected to unseasonably cold weather after suffering significant injuries, were officially taking its toll on the senior detective on an almost personal level.

Just as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, Hank heard the front open and then shut again quietly. Listening closely Hank tried to determine if the unexpected visitor was friend or foe.

"Connor? Hank?" Lucas's familiar voice called out from within the livingroom. "Are either of you here?"

"Oh, right..." Hank dropped his hand from his eyes and tried to call out but his words were stolen by a violent coughing fit. Catching his breath and clearing his throat Hank spoke to himself as he realized what was happening. "That text I sent."

Both Lucas and Markus appeared in the doorway of the master bedroom to check in on the senior detective. The two deviants were visibly concerned for the two detectives and ready to help out.

"You sound awful." Markus commented as he made his way into the bedroom and put the back of his hand against Hank's forehead. "How long have you been running a fever?"

"Not really sure." Wondering if all deviants cared about humans or if he was just lucky to have such empathetic deviants in life, Hank sighed and replied as honestly as he could. "Since late last night."

"You suffered several fractured ribs, right?"

"Yeah. Four."

"That cough is the last thing you need." Markus used his still functional healthcare software to run a biometric scan over Hank's current vital signs. "I suspect you have pneumonia."

"Yeah?" Pushing Markus's hand back from his forehead Hank remained in the warm safety of his bed. "Too bad I'm not going to a hospital."

"Hank." The deviant leader crossed his arms over his chest and used the same playfully annoyed tone he had used so many times with Carl in the past. "You need a proper diagnosis and antibiotics if you're going to recover properly."

"Nope. I'll just deal with it from-" Putting the bend of his arm against his mouth Hank blocked another violent cough as Markus put his hand on the man's shoulder to help hold him steady until the fit passed. "...F-From here." Looking up at the deviant leader with glassy blue eyes Hank tried to change the subject from himself and to the other sick guy in the house. "How's Connor?"

"Lucas is checking on him right now. It's a good thing you found him when you did."

"I shouldn't have had to go find him to begin with." As a wheezing cough accompanied his words Hank felt himself getting pushed back into his bed by Markus's strong hand. "I'm the idiot who threw him out and into a blizzard for no damn reason."

"That doesn't mean you should punish yourself by neglecting your own health. Mistakes happen, and you were confused."

"I'm not neglecting anything, Markus." Stubbornly refusing to admit to his lingering self-destructive tendencies Hank excused his behavior in the most generic way possible. "I just hate hospitals. A lot of people do."

"Very well." Markus closed his mismatched eyes briefly as he cybernetically connected with a deviant employed at a nearby pharmacy and requested a prescription for Hank to be filled on his behalf. "I have a contact who can get you some medication without having to go to the hospital. But be warned, without a confirmation on your illness the antibiotic may not be effective."

"I can live with-" Hank coughed again causing Markus to outwardly grimace in response. "...I can live with that."

Hearing such bold words being spoken by an ailing voice was less than convincing. "I certainly hope so."

---

Ever attentive to his patients and now family, Lucas was sitting on the edge of Connor's bed with his audioscope pressed against his ill older brother's chest to listen to his ventilation and Thirium pump. Connor was resting in a somewhat upright position against his pillow to ease his ventilation as his system fought to clear up his current illness. The Thirium in Connor's lines had in fact thawed completely overnight, but it hadn't completed a full cycle through Connor's thermally compromised biocomponents yet. A weak cough escaped from his faltering ventilation biocomponents. However, it wasn't nearly as severe as it had been the previous night or as severe as Hank's own coughing had been.

Sumo was still laying on the foot of the bed and his eyes were watching Lucas inquisitively as the technician checked over Connor for the second time that very odd week. Having grown used to the idea of there being more than one Connor in the world, Sumo wagged his tail slowly as he watched Lucas's hands easily checking over Connor's system.

"Your complexion still shows signs of hypothermically induced Thirium tinting." Lucas observed as he finished checking Connor's vital signs. "But considering the extreme cold you had been exposed to it's to be expected."

"I've never had such a reaction to the cold in the past." Connor admitted as his little brother made his overall diagnosis. "This is the result of the additional sensors that have adapted to my system, correct?"

"Correct. Lift your hands for me." The deviant technician requested politely as he draped the audioscope around his neck like a doctor would do. "I wish to examine your artificial skin for any sign of lingering frostbite."

Being relatively cooperative Connor raised his hands and winced a little as Lucas gently unwrapped the gauze to examine his palms and fingers.

"Your artificial skin has begun to regenerate and there doesn't appear to be any permanent damage to your plastimetal frame either."

"How long before my hands heal entirely?"

"I estimate that your hands will recover from the frostbite within the next eight hours. And your cough will subside entirely within four hours."

"My increased temperature hasn't declined yet."

"It's most likely a result of the slow Thirium cycle you're experiencing." Lucas ran a cybernetic scan over Connor's body and determined that his temperature, though elevated, wasn't to a dangerous degree. "Once your cough subsides your temperature should drop as well."

"I suspect you're correct." Agreeing with the assessment Connor nodded a little and stared at Lucas's compromised left forearm curiously. "How's your physical therapy progressing?"

"Quite well." Lucas happily used his left hand to pull the quarter from his pocket and demonstrated the moderate skill he had acquired in juggling the coin over his knuckles to rehabilitate his left hand and forearm. "My overall strength has increased to fifty-three percent over the past eighteen hours."

"That's impressive."

"That's what Simon stated." Pocketing the quarter Lucas stood up from the bed. "Thank you for suggesting this activity."

"You're welcome. Have you checked in on Hank?"

"Markus is taking care of him." Placing the audioscope into his lab coat pocket Lucas rubbed his palm along Sumo's ears as he spoke. "He has much more experience in dealing with human healthcare than either of us."

"Last night I detected a distinct rattling in Hank's chest as he breathed." Connor explained as he swung his legs over the edge of his bed slowly and stood up as if he were about to go check on Hank for himself. "I fear he has contracted pneumonia and-"

Connor swayed a little on his feet but Lucas put his hands on his big brother's shoulders to hold him steady as he stood up swiftly.

"Your gyroscope still needs time to recalibrate after enduring a slow Thirium cycle." Lucas warned as he supported Connor upright. "Do not move too quickly."

"...Yes, of course." Looking at Sumo, who was fully content to spend the day on the bed, Connor patted the side of his leg to call the dog over to him. "Come on, Sumo. Outside."

Lucas kept his hand on Connor's shoulder as he followed his older brother and Sumo out of the bedroom and down the hallway. As soon as Connor stepped into the hallway he peered into Hank's bedroom over his shoulder and saw Markus standing beside the bed with a near scold on his face as tried to reason with Hank.

"Hank's awake." Connor commented as he reached the livingroom on his still shaking legs. Making his way to the front door rather than the backdoor due to its closer proximity, Connor pulled the door open and let the large dog pass through. Observing the streets Connor's L.E.D. flashed from yellow to red then back to yellow and remained in color as he closed the door. "Perhaps we can escort Hank to the hospital now that the roads have been cleared."

Markus walked down the hallway and joined the two deviants in the livingroom after overhearing the suggestion.

"I wouldn't count on it." The deviant leader confirmed in a low voice. "He's refused to go anywhere near a hospital, but I've taken the liberty to get a contact to fill out an antibiotic prescription for him anyway."

"Thank you, Markus." Genuinely grateful for all the help Connor nodded appreciatively at the kindhearted deviant leader for his assistance. "That will make it easier for both of us."

"And you." Casually Markus motioned toward the nearby couch. "You still need to heal."

Lucas agreed and pushed Connor over to the couch to sit down. As soon as Connor was seated Markus proceeded to clear his voice to deliver a stern but still friendly lecture to the stubborn deviant.

"Connor, next time you need somewhere to go for the night, STAY at New Jericho Tower, okay? Promise me."

"It wasn't a decision I made lightly." Feeling somewhat guilty Connor's yellow L.E.D. flashed to red with embarrassment for a moment before cycling back to yellow. "I didn't want to unsettle the deviants in the tower. I'm still untrustworthy in their eyes."

"I trust you." Refusing to let that work as an excuse, Markus gave the ill deviant a confident voice to hear. "What you did to the other deviants you did when you were still a machine. You can't be held responsible for what CyberLife ordered you to do."

"It doesn't change-"

"You're right, it doesn't change anything." Cutting Connor off sharply Markus had become a pro when it came to easing misplaced guilt. "But it doesn't mean you should be punished for a crime you didn't commit either. Isn't that what you said about us waking up Lucas and trying to connect with him?"

Glancing over at Lucas for reassurance Connor sighed and nodded as his little brother gave him a searching glance and waited for him to answer.

"...Okay, Markus." Relenting at last Connor agreed to stop avoiding New Jericho Tower so much. "I promise if I need a place to go, for whatever reason, I'll go back to the tower."

"That's good to hear. Next month Simon and I will be in Washington D.C. negotiating with the Senate on android rights, and I'd feel better about leaving the city knowing that you'll still be looking after New Jericho Tower during my absence until we can find someone to fill the role of chief of security."

"Of course. I'll help in every way that I can when I'm not scheduled at the precinct."

"Thank you." Giving Connor an appreciative smile Markus walked into the kitchen and began looking looking through the cabinets and cupboards casually as if he had gone through this routine dozens of times before. The way Markus knew his way around the kitchen was impressive and humbling. "After Hank's medication arrives, we'll take our leave of the house. Until then, I'm going to make something light for Hank to eat."

"You don't have to do that." Connor insisted as he tried to get up from the couch, only to have Lucas's hand clamp down on his shoulder to keep him on the couch. "I can-"

"You need to heal!" Markus shouted adamantly from the kitchen as he gathered the necessary ingredients and cooking implements in his arms. "I used to cook for Carl all the time, and truth be told, I kind of miss it. I don't mind doing this. Really! I'll even bring you some warm Thirium to help your system remove any and all frozen crystals lingering in your lines."

"Okay. Thank you again." Connor replied loudly and turned to look at Lucas hovered beside him. Having his little brother protectively watching over him was oddly comforting. "And thank you for everything you've both done for us, Lucas. We both appreciate it."

"Of course. That's what families do, right?" Looking toward the hallway Lucas took a deep breath and mentally steeled himself for his next cursory exam of the grumpy senior detective. "Speaking of which, I will now check in on Hank. That is, if he allows me to do so."

"Don't be afraid of him." Seeing the fear in Lucas's green eyes Connor did his best to ease his little brother's worries. "He is frequently grouchy when he is ill or in pain. As the adage goes: His bark is worse than his bite." Hearing faint scratching at the front door Connor remembered Sumo was still outside. "Sumo."

"I'll let him inside." Lucas opened the front door and was met with Sumo wagging his tail and shaking the snow from his thick fur in a massive blur of motion. Closing the door quietly Lucas watched as Sumo hopped up onto the couch and cuddle over Connor's legs to warm up his cold paws. "I'll also remember that Hank isn't angry with me, he's angry with his body being ill."

"It took me some time to see it for myself, but Hank is a very kind person who is just guarded after enduring numerous personal tragedies." Rubbing his hand over Sumo's ears Connor could see the fear ebbing away from Lucas's body language as they spoke. "He's a good man who just made bad past decisions. I think that's something we can all relate to."

"You're right." Gathering his courage Lucas crossed the livingroom and began his way down the hallway to check in Hank as the senior detective rested in his bedroom. "Common ground and personal connections help bring us all together, whether those connections are positive or negative. Feelings are truly a fascinating concept to experience and fathom."

-next chapter-