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.

128. Home

Feeling almost completely overwhelmed by the sudden reappearance of Connor, of his son, Hank had to reluctantly force himself to break their reuniting hug and help Connor to limp up the steps of the back deck and through the backdoor of the house. The reunited family needed to talk about what had happened in the ten days since Connor's disappearance, and it'd take a while to explain everything. Sumo happily trotted inside the house after the two detectives and followed closely as Hank slowly and carefully helped Connor to sit down at the small kitchen table so that the returned deviant could tell Hank everything that had happened to him during his abduction and subsequent imprisonment in Chicago.

The lengthy and heart wrenching tale was unfolded in excruciating detail. Connor told Hank of being abducted, being forced to fight in the underground arena, having to kill a fellow deviant and then beat other deviants to within an inch of their life in order to survive, using the morphine to fake his death, and of how he had to rely on the mysterious stranger, Rupert, as well as his unexpected ally in Alec, to make it out of Chicago. The recovering detective then spoke about his temporary sanctuary at the deviant refugee camp hidden in the woods outside of Detroit and of needing Skye's help to make it back into the city, and of how he just wanted to get home as soon as he could.

Hank tried to keep his emotions in check as the heartbreaking story pushed him to his limits. The tale was an absolute horror story and it filled Hank with rage as he noted the severe wounds that Connor had sustained and could see how weak Connor truly was after surviving his ordeal. Every fiber of his paternal instincts wanted him to drive out to Chicago and tear apart that damn arena with his own hands, while simultaneously staying as close to Connor as possible to help his son finally heal.

The heavily damaged deviant was exhausted and feeling horrendously ill again. He would need several days, maybe even weeks, to recover from the physical trauma that he had sustained.

"Try to relax." Hank encouraged as he stayed seated next to Connor at the kitchen table to make sure the deviant felt safe at long last. Sumo was sitting between the reunited detectives with his tail wagging and his chin resting against Connor's thigh protectively. "It's all over now. You're home and you're safe."

"Home." Connor repeated with heavy relief to his voice as it was a very comforting thought. "I'm very glad to be back home." In spite of his pain Connor tried to smile, but his strength was fading quickly and the pain itself was very clear on his face. "I'm sorry I couldn't let you know I was alive sooner, but the phone-"

"Don't worry about that. There was nothing you could do if the phone was busted." With complete understanding Hank put his hand on Connor's trembling and too warm shoulder in a supportive manner. Using his own phone Hank set about calling the precinct to let them know that Connor was safe and that he was home but he was in rough shape. "I'll call Fowler and explain everything, you just worry about healing. You look like you're in some serious pain right now."

"Yes, I am." Despite not wanting to complain, Connor admitted it already knowing that there was no point in denying his obvious discomfort. Pressing his hand to his side where his ribcage would be, he took in a sharp hissing breath as he felt the fractures to his plastimetal frames shift slightly under his touch. "...I-In my chest."

"It'll be okay, son. Just give yourself time and take it easy." The other line answered, and Hank addressed his commanding officer over the phone while keeping one hand on Connor's shoulder during the entire conversation. "Yeah, Jeffrey, I got something important to tell you..."

Connor leaned forward with his palm pressed to his unusually warm forehead to and rested his elbow against the cool kitchen table. The watch Hank had lent him was still wrapped around his wrist ticking away without any further thought in the world. As much as Connor wanted to cybernetically tap into Hank's phone to listen to the conversation taking place, he was unable to do so courtesy of his processor being currently offline preventing any cybernetic connections, as well as his own waning energy level.

Trying to remain as still as possible Connor became uncomfortably aware of every injury he sustained as well as the tightening knot in the pit of his stomach returning once again. This time, the knot wanted to escape and there was nothing Connor could do to keep it contained.

"H-Hank?" Connor swallowed once as he tried to quell his nausea. "...Problem."

Hank immediately turned his attention to Connor after hearing the pathetic lilt to the deviant's voice and pressed the speaker of the phone down against his shoulder to 'mute' Captain Fowler on the line. "What's wrong, son?"

"I f-feel sick."

"Okay, hold on." Returning his attention to the phone Hank abruptly ended the call with Captain Fowler to tend to Connor. "Jeffrey, I'll bring Connor to the precinct in a couple days after he's had some time to recover, right now he needs my help."

Ending the call Hank dropped the phone on the table and hooked his hand around Connor's bicep to lightly pull the deviant up to his feet.

"Lean on me."

Weak and tired Connor only nodded as he allowed Hank to half carry, half drag him down the hallway and into the bathroom. Pushing open the door Hank guided Connor into the room and helped him to kneel down in front of the toilet just as Connor let out a low pained groan and threw-up a substantial amount of tainted Thirium into the porcelain basin. Connor's system continued to try to expel the foreign contaminants that entered his Thirium lines and biocomponents from the numerous fractures and breaks in his exposed plastimetal frame. The end result was less than pleasant for the affected deviant, but it was a messy process that was completely necessary in order for him to begin to heal.

"Shit, that's a lot of blood." Hank observed warily as he placed his palm against Connor's even warmer forehead and put his opposite hand down between Connor's shoulder blades. "And you're overheating. What can I do to help you?"

"I need..." Connor spit out a generous mouthful of the blue blood and breathed heavily through the pain in an attempt to cool his core temperature. Pausing for a moment Connor struggled to keep his thoughts and words coherent. "...I need more Th-Thirium."

Hank patted Connor's back twice before silently walking out of the bathroom to get the requested item.

During the commotion Sumo made his way into the small bathroom and sat down on the floor next to Connor. Letting out a soft whimper Sumo pawed at Connor's right arm as if to let Connor know he was there, and his gesture was responded to with a gentle pet to his head by the ill deviant.

Walking back into the bathroom Hank placed a bottle of cool Thirium on the sink for Connor to have and he pressed his hand to the deviant's shoulder again.

"I put another bottle of Thirium in the fridge to chill for a while longer. You're going to need it."

Again, all Connor could do was nod his head in agreement before he ended up throwing-up a second time. It wasn't as much blue blood as it had been the first time, but it was still a dangerous amount considering his already low Thirium volume.

"How long have you been sick?" The protective father wanted to know what was happening to his son. "Please tell me it happened after you got out of Chicago."

Connor spit one final time and fell back onto his hip as he leaned against the cool surface of the bathtub behind him. As his head fell back against the edge of the tub and his eyes fell shut, Hank slipped his hand under Connor's head to lift him back up just long enough to put a soft towel down to create a makeshift pillow to use for the time being.

"Don't fall asleep on me." The senior detective pleaded as he knelt down in front of the deviant and pressed his palm against Connor's forehead lightly to keep tabs on his elevated temperature. His opposite fingers wrapped around Connor's wrist to count his pulse. "How long have you been feeling sick?"

"...Since early this m-morning." Speaking truthfully Connor remained as still as possible to avoid any future bouts of sickness. "I had expelled tainted Thirium only once before I had managed to return to the city."

"What's your Thirium level right now?"

"I don't know. I still can't run-" Connor's tired eyes opened partially as he tried to look at Hank, but his vision was getting blurry and what little strength he regained was fading quickly. "I still can't run a self-diagnostic."

"All right, then we'll figure this out another way." Hank gave Connor a somewhat worried stare as his hands went to the bandages wrapped around Connor's chest and abdomen. The deviant hadn't been wearing his destroyed white shirt, which of course made all of his wounds very easy to see. "You said your chest was hurting you. How bad's the pain?"

"It... It only hurts when I breathe."

The damaged deviant panted tiredly while watching Hank carefully pull down the pale blue blood tinted bandages away from his chest to examine the wounds he had sustained while captive. It took only a moment to remove the gauze wrapping to examine the injuries. With the bandages now tossed aside Connor could feel how unsteady his upper body had become as even the lightweight bandages had provided some form of physical support in his weakened condition.

"...And I can barely breathe as it is."

"Yeah, I can see why."

The massive bruise that had formed on the left side of Connor's chest was still rather dark blue despite having three days to heal, and it had spread over the artificial skin that had managed to regenerate over a majority of his chest and upper abdomen. Hank pressed his palm lightly along the bruise and dried up evaporating Thirium staining Connor's skin as if he were checking for a broken rib. He didn't apply too much pressure for the sake of Connor's current physical discomfort while doing his best to give the deviant a thorough examination.

"On a scale of one to ten, with ten being the worst," as he spoke Hank carefully gauged Connor's responses to his questions and where his palm touched his bruised chest and torso. "how does that feel?"

"...S-Six." Connor winced at the pain with a low groan accompanying his answer. "...It's at least a six."

"Uh-huh, I'm going to assume by 'six' you actually mean 'nine' or 'ten'."

Connor didn't try to argue, which in itself was always a red flag in Hank's mind. The exposed plastimetal frame that had been fractured by the horrifically strong blows were no longer seeping blue blood, but they were still very painful and had only begun to heal. As Connor weakly breathed Hank could see the fractured frames partially shifting with the simple motion.

"You can't run any self-diagnostic at all?"

"...No."

"Well, I'm not a technician but I think, your left vent thing isn't working at all." Hank moved his hand from the left side of Connor's chest to the right to confirm his suspicion. "I couldn't feel you breathing at all around your bruise."

"C-Correct."

"Shit. You really took a beating." Hank rose up from his kneeling position, his knees and his back tightening from the corrected posture as he placed a clean washcloth under the tap and ran some warm water over it. "Let's get that blood cleaned up and I'll let you rest, okay?"

Exhausted and weak, Connor watched Hank curiously as the gold-hearted human that he had come to know as his father proceeded to tend to his injuries with a paternal empathy. "...No facility?"

"Do you want to go to one?"

"No!" Connor's reply was quick and full of anxious uncertainty. "...I don't want to go anywhere. I want to stay home."

"Then you don't have to go anywhere you don't want to go." With great care Hank wrung out the excess water from the now warm washcloth and knelt down in front of Connor once more. Very lightly Hank wiped away the drying Thirium and helped to sterilize the plastimetal frame around Connor's chest to ensure that the deviant would be able to heal properly. "Let me know if that hurts."

"...It's okay." Despite his discomfort Connor was appreciative of Hank's help during his recovery and wasn't going to tell the senior detective that he wasn't hurting any worse than he already was. As the blue blood was washed away Connor let out a weak sigh and pressed his hand protectively to his left side. "It'll be much better once my-" A fresh sharp pain stole his words and his entire body tensed in pain. "...Ow."

"Easy, don't talk too much."

"It feels like I got... stabbed in the lung."

"'Lung'?" Hank gave Connor an inquisitive look as he finished wiping off the residual blood from Connor's chest and abdomen. "I didn't know androids had a set of lungs."

"...Easier to say than ventil-" The same painful burn returned and muted Connor once more. "You get it."

"Yeah, I get it." Hank laughed a little as he next wiped the drying blood from Connor's lips and chin before he finished wiping away the trail of blood running down the front and sides of his neck. With the task done Hank deposited the used washcloth in the bathtub behind Connor to be washed later. "This is going to take a while to get ya' all cleaned up. Need to rest?"

"No." Mindful of his motions Connor lifted up his head and looked down at his exposed broken chest carefully. Lifting up his shaking arms Connor noted the hairline fractures of his forearms and the fractures along his knuckles that were exposed through the damaged artificial skin. "...I'll be okay."

Patting Connor's leg gently Hank once more stood upright and placed a new washcloth under the tap to finish washing away the blue blood. Taking the bottle of fresh Thirium from the edge of the sink Hank opened the lid and handed the bottle down to Connor to take.

"Think you can keep that down?"

Connor reached up with a trembling hand and took the bottle for himself. Nodding a few times Connor pressed the mouth of the bottle to his lips and slowly began drinking the critically needed Thirium to replenish what he had lost. His artificial stomach was still sore from the emergency expulsion program, but it thankfully didn't immediately protest the addition of the pure Thirium.

Wringing out the fresh warm washcloth Hank resumed washing away the blood from Connor's face and hands without hurting the deviant in the process. As Hank finished cleaning up Connor's wounds - removing excess Thirium that had seeped away from his wounds and the dirt that had collected from walking through the woods - the damaged deviant finished drinking the Thirium and tried to toss the empty bottle in the small trash can under the sink, but he missed. The empty plastic bottle bounced on the floor twice before it rolled over toward the opened bathroom door where Sumo followed after it curiously.

"...Sorry."

"Hey, don't be sorry. There's far worse things to clean up than an empty bottle." Hank joked as he held up the blood stained washcloth for Connor to see. "Like this, for example."

Despite his fatigue and lingering pain Connor managed to smirk a little as Hank finished wiping up the blood and tossed the second washcloth into the tub next to the first one. The sight of all the collected blood was as unsettling as it was unnecessary.

"Let's get you to the couch."

"Couch?"

"Yeah. I don't want to let you out of my sight." Keeping his tone light Hank coolly explained his reasoning as he pulled Connor's arm around his shoulders so the wounded deviant could keep as much weight off of his bruised left side as possible. "Move slowly."

As expected, Connor struggled to get his legs underneath himself as Hank helped him to stand up. With great effort the damaged deviant found his balance and relied almost entirely on Hank to help him limp from the bathroom and into the hallway as Sumo backed out of the bathroom to give the two detectives enough room to walk.

"You feel a little feverish." The paternal comment fell from Hank's lips instinctively as he guided Connor through the livingroom and down to the couch. "You didn't break your thermal thing too, did ya'?"

"...It's possible." Connor sighed as he laid down on his less damaged right side over the length of the couch with his back facing the coffee table. The wounded deviant kept his arms wrapped protectively around his sore chest and abdomen as he tried to relax as possible and stared at the back of the couch. "I think a majority of the damage was... in my chest."

"I think you're right." Grimacing as he noticed the additional bruising and lacerations along Connor's back Hank did his best to keep his voice level as he made his next move. "I'll get you some ice to help you cool down."

Fighting sleep for a moment longer Connor closed his eyes wearily as he listened to Hank walking around the kitchen and felt Sumo pressing his cold wet nose against the back of his overly warm neck.

"...I'm okay, Sumo." The deviant managed to mutter as he drifted off to sleep. "I missed you, too."

The massive dog wagged his tail in response and pressed his chin down on the couch cushion next to Connor to stay close to the injured deviant.

"Here." Hank's hand reached over the back of the couch to take hold of Connor's shoulder very carefully. "Lay on your back."

Using as much strength as he could find Connor rolled from his side and onto his back and immediately felt an ice pack wrapped in a towel press down against his left side and a second ice pack get placed over his forehead. "...Thanks."

"You're welcome. Try to get some rest." The relief in Hank's voice was as warm as the couch supporting Connor's broken body. "I'll tell Fowler you're going to be out of commission for a little while. You're not going anywhere until I know you're one-hundred percent healthy again."

Once more Connor agreed rather than try to argue which of course made Hank a little nervous. Whenever Connor didn't even try to argue or negotiate for a more lenient time frame regarding his return to the precinct.

"Hey?"

Connor's brown irises reappeared as he looked up at Hank with blurred vision.

"You'll be just fine, son. You're home."

"...Y-Yeah." Giving Hank a weak grin Connor felt comforted by the words and drifted off to sleep. "I know."

"Keep resting, I'll be close if you need anything."

Taking his hand from Connor's shoulder Hank backed out of the livingroom to return to the kitchen to use his phone once more. Pressing re-dial Hank resumed his conversation with Captain Fowler and painstakingly went into detail about the events that Connor had endured while keeping his voice low enough to not disturb the resting deviant in the process. From the kitchen table Hank could see Connor sleeping on the couch with Sumo protectively watching over him as he fought to heal his system through sleep.

After an hour of talking with Captain Fowler reagarding Connor's current condition Hank caught the faint sound of Connor coughing in his sleep and quietly returned to the livingroom to check in on the resting deviant. Peering down at Connor over the back of the couch Hank saw a smile trickle of blue blood running down from the corner of Connor's mouth and dripping down his chin steadily.

"Shit."

Hank carefully wiped away the blood with his thumb before he lowered Connor's jaw just enough to look inside the deviant's mouth. There was fresh blue blood all over Connor's tongue and around his teeth, but no sign of a bleeding wound or loosened tooth that would cause the bleeding.

"Jeffrey, I need to hang up and take care of something." There was a quick question that Hank confirmed honestly before he hung up the call. "Yeah, Connor's still in rough shape. I'll keep you updated."

Ending the call Hank slid the phone into his pocket and gently shook Connor's chest around the ice to rouse the deviant from his sleep.

"Hey, you were starting to cough. And you, uh, coughed up some blood."

"...Left vent-" Once more Connor's glassy irises returned, glazed over and full of fatigue. He paused to correct himself for the sake of simplicity for the moment. "Left lung, is trying to re-initiate. Not strong enough to breathe with only one good lung." Connor explained groggily. "Blood is... leaking from damaged... lung."

"Will more Thirium help?"

"No. I just need..." Connor trailed off and his eyes shut as another weak cough escaped his lips. He swallowed once to clear the collected blue blood from his mouth and throat before continuing on, only to lose consciousness shortly thereafter. "need... time."

"Son?"

Hank shook Connor's chest again but didn't get any response as Connor stayed unresponsive. Without the functioning L.E.D. in his temple Hank had no idea how serious Connor's condition could be.

"Fuck."

Checking on the partially melted ice pack over Connor's chest Hank decided he needed to get additional ice to ensure Connor's system remained as cool as possible until his self-healing program managed to reboot. As soon as he took a step back from the couch toward the kitchen Connor began coughing again, this time louder, and his breathing became labored.

Hank shook his head as he pulled his phone from his pocket and checked through his contacts until he found the name he was looking for. As he quickly pressed 'dial' the man entered the kitchen and pulled open the freezer door where he found some more bags of ice and carried them into the livingroom.

"Joel, it's Hank. Look man, I need your help."

Returning to the livingroom as quickly as he had left Hank kept his eyes on the wounded deviant very diligently. Placing the ice down over Connor's chest and forehead Hank listened to Joel on the line while also listening to the wheezing breaths that the deviant fought to take.

"Yeah, it's about Connor... It's bad this time. Real bad."

---

Keeping watch over the horrifically injured deviant for what felt like endless hours, Hank sat on the edge of the coffee table next to the couch and kept one hand on the bag of ice over the left side of Connor's chest up against the bruise. The protective father while also kept his palm down against Connor's still too warm forehead in a supportive manner. Connor continued to cough and wheeze for breath with his one remaining ventilation biocomponent trying to compensate for the failure of the other. As a result, Connor sounded as sick as he looked, and he was looking incredibly rough that day. It seemed as if Connor's condition was beginning to deteriorate despite having constant care for his damage.

Spots of blue blood stained Connor's lips from the Thirium being coughed up slowly as the deviant's system struggled to repair the damage he had sustained. Even so Connor didn't once complain about the undeniable discomfort that he was enduring while under Hank's watch and care.

"...H-Hank?" Connor hoarsely managed to get the name out even while unconscious and lost in the throes of another fever dream. "...Hank?"

"I'm right next to you, son." Hank reminded the sick deviant in a calm and reassuring voice. "Right here."

"Don't... Don't leave." Barely audible Connor pleaded pathetically just seconds before a deep cough erupted from his bruised chest. His hand clutched at his pained chest and remained where it sat just over the ice pack. Sitting upright with forced effort Connor's hands tightly wrapped around Hank's forearms desperately as he coughed painfully again, the second ice pack falling from his forehead and onto the floor forgotten. "D-Don't go!"

"Hey, it's okay. I won't leave you alone." The caring father promised as he gently pulled one of his arms free just long enough to put his hand to the back of Connor's head and pull him forward slightly until the deviant's forehead was resting against his broad shoulder in a supportive hug. "You won't be alone ever again."

Despite his confusion Connor seemed to recognize Hank instantly and slumped forward as he let his most trusted friend watch over him protectively.

"You're safe, Connor. You're completely safe now."

There was a knock at the front door and Sumo barked once as he trotted over to the closed door and sat down as he had been trained. The loyal dog knew when to be on his guard and when to be completely open and friendly with visitors.

"Must be Joel."

Hank stated calmly as he gingerly laid Connor back down against the length of the couch to rest. He moved his hand over to Connor's forehead then over to his shoulder for a moment before he stood up from the coffee table and stepped around Sumo to reach the front door. As Hank pulled it open, he motioned with his arm for the expected technician to enter the house and begin treating the wounded deviant.

"Perfect timing." Getting right to the point Hank directed Joel accordingly. "Connor's on the couch."

Joel readily stepped inside the house with his hefty emergency satchel from the precinct slung over his shoulder and followed the sound of harsh coughing to the couch where the damaged deviant was resting. The sight of the blue blood, pale complexion, lack of artificial skin showcasing Connor's fractured chest, abdominal panels, forearms and his hands were almost frightening.

"He's a lot worse than you said he was."

Joel reprimanded bitterly as he knelt beside the couch and checked Connor's vital signs. Picking up Connor's wrist from atop the deviant's battered chest Joel counted Connor's rapid pulse and shook his head.

"His pump rate is too fast." Moving his hand to Connor's forehead Joel noted the dangerous heat radiating from the deviant's artificial skin. "Temperature is elevated." Then resting his hand down over Connor's chest, the skilled technician confirmed the devastating damage to Connor's left ventilation biocomponent as well. "Total failure of the left vent. Hank, he needs to be in a facility right now."

"No way." Hank was adamant as he hovered protectively over Connor lying unconscious on the couch and refused to break his promise. "He hates being in facilities and he just got home after enduring ten days of utter Hell. I'm NOT taking him to one."

"You'd risk his life over that?"

"Don't try to play that card with me." Growling where he stood Hank refused to back down and break his promise. "I'm the only human who actually gives a shit about him."

"You're the only human who cares?" That comment drew Joel's attention momentarily away from Connor over to the Lieutenant hovering nearby. "What?"

"If the precinct actually gave a damn about Connor, they would've found him days ago."

"Hey, don't put me in the same category as those guys! You know I care about Connor, too." Joel was visibly offended by the declarations and equally worried about Connor's condition. "If I didn't care I wouldn't be here right now."

"Yeah, yeah... Sorry." Hank apologized sincerely as he reached down and put his hand on Connor's shoulder again. "I'm still pissed at the way his disappearance was handled, that's all. I know you're not at fault."

"Can't say that I blame you for being so pissed."

Joel admitted empathetically as he opened up his satchel and retrieved his audioscope. Placing the ear buds into place Joel carefully ran the bell from left to right over Connor's upper chest, left to right over his lower chest, and even down over his upper abdomen as he carefully listened to and calculated each struggling breath the deviant managed to take.

"He sounds awful, almost like he's a human who developed severe pneumonia. If he's going to get his core temperature down enough to reactive his self-healing program he's going to need his left ventilation biocomponent repaired entirely."

"He hates facilities." In a paternal need to protect his son, Hank's hand tightened on Connor's shoulder as he refused to back down. "They freak him out because of what CyberLife did to him in the past, and I won't put him through more stress after he... It's like he came back from the dead, all right? We're both a little freaked out, and the last thing I'm going to do is traumatize him because of what those CyberLife fucks did to him in the past."

"I didn't know that Connor had such a rough time at CyberLife." The sympathetic technician responded with an audible sorrow. "I personally left because I couldn't stand the way technicians were ordered to essentially torture the androids to run tests. I saw them as people since day one and I just... It felt so damn wrong to do it even if the androids never complained or registered the pain. Can I ask what happened to Connor?"

"I honestly don't know what they did to him. The kid doesn't want to talk about it and I'm not going to push him."

"Okay." Joel sighed in defeat as he draped his audioscope around his neck and lightly lifted up Connor's eyelids one at a time to check the deviant's pupils. "He's stable enough for the moment. It's entirely possible that I could- If you wanted me to do it, I can repair the damage myself. Right here, right now."

Hank's brow knitted together with a blend of confusion and surprise by the technicians claim. "...You can do that?"

"It won't be pleasant for anyone, but I could open his chest cavity and examine the damage for myself." The laidback technician was showing an uncharacteristic amount of stress as he assessed Connor's condition. "However, if I do, there's a huge risk of me causing him catastrophic pain and there's no way I can manually switch off his pain receptors while his main processor is still fully rebooting."

"But... he'll be able to breathe, he'll cool off, and his self-healing program will kick back on, right?"

"If I'm successful, yes."

"Okay, uh..." Looking down at Connor's face, distressed even while unconscious, Hank made the difficult decision on the wounded deviant's behalf. "Do it."

Joel didn't look thrilled with Hank's answer, but he wasn't going to take back the offer. Opening up his satchel fully Joel pulled out the portable Thirial activity monitor and sat it down on the coffee table next to the couch. As Joel secured the two wireless leads to the center of Connor's fractured chest over his heart, he locked eyes with Hank.

"I'm going to need some towels at the ready. There's going to be some blood loss."

"Wouldn't be the first time."

"How much spare Thirium do you have?"

"One bottle in the fridge and six others ready to go." The man had been keeping close tabs on the spare Thirium for Connor's sake. "I also have five small cubes of that concentrated Thirium that Simon had given us some time ago."

"Get the chilled one, two of the other bottles, and keep the concentrated Thirium on standby." Joel instructed as he pulled a thermal wrap from the satchel and wrapped it around Connor's wrist, slipping the watch off in the process and placing it on the table, in order to keep tabs of his temperature which was hovering at an unsettling one-hundred and three degrees Fahrenheit. "And... I'm going to need your help."

"My help? I'm the least tech savvy detective in all of Detroit."

"Yeah, but you care about Connor. Once he starts feeling pain he's going to try to fight me." The compassionate technician explained coolly. "You'll have to keep him restrained and calm so that he doesn't accidentally make himself worse."

"Great, sounds like fun." Hank grumbled as he proceeded to walk down the hallway and opened the bathroom door. Returning to the livingroom with a stack of fluffy white towels in his arms, he laid the towels down on the table next to the monitor and noticed that Joel had resumed to listening to Connor's chest as the deviant began to cough again. "Sounds like he's having fun, too."

"It's going to be a blast..."

Joel replied sarcastically as he pressed his palm down against the middle of Connor's chest and pressed his opposite fingertips against the blank L.E.D. still embedded in Connor's right temple. As the bruised and sparse artificial skin receded from over Connor's fractured plastimetal frame over his upper chest, a sudden gush of Thirium that had collected under the skin that had created the bruise in the beginning began to bleed in a rapid flow down Connor's chest.

"Damn it... That's more blood than I was hoping for."

"Here." Hank instructed as pointed the stack of towels. "Use this."

Joel grabbed the towel at the top of the stack and used it to mop up the excess blood as it seeped from Connor's side.

"I'll go get the Thirium." The worried father volunteered quickly as he saw the unsettling amount of blood that Connor just lost before his eyes. Grabbing the necessary items from the cabinet and the refrigerator, Hank opened the backdoor in the kitchen and called for Sumo. "Come on, outside, boy."

The young fluffy dog seemed to sense that Connor needed more help than he could personally provide and was happy to trot through the kitchen to enjoy some more fresh air outside on the beautiful late spring day. As he exited the house Hank closed the door behind him and walked back into the livingroom with the requested supplies in his arms.

"Sumo's a good dog, but he takes up a lot of space." The senior detective explained as he placed the blue blood down on the coffee table next to the towels and nervously wrung his hands together. "What do you need me to do?"

"First of all," Joel reached back into his satchel and placed the small electronic device used to manually force androids into stasis mode against Connor's dark L.E.D. and pressed the release switch for a few seconds. "I'm going to cross my fingers and hope that even with his processor still damaged that this will still turn off his pain receptors for a while. I just can't bring myself to do anything without at least trying to stop the pain."

"I'm sure he'd tell you that he appreciates the effort."

"Second," after replacing the device back inside the satchel Joel picked up a Thirium pressure wrap and secured it around Connor's bicep. "I'm going to need to make sure his Thirium volume doesn't get below fifty-five percent."

"How're you going to get his volume back up?"

"Drinking Thirium is the most efficient way but if I have to, I'll use a line in his arm."

"Yeah, good idea." Hank positioned himself at the end of the couch near Connor's head and slipped his arms under the unconscious deviant's shoulders. As he propped Connor slightly upright on the couch, he let Connor's head fall back slightly to rest against his own shoulder while Joel took the chilled bottle of Thirium and opened the lid. "I'm ready whenever you are."

"Hold him as steady as possible." Joel instructed as he used one hand to lower Connor's bottom jaw and pressed the bottle to the deviant's lips. As he tipped the bottle back the blue blood slowly poured into Connor's mouth without making a mess. "I just hope he's alert enough to swallow and not choke by mistake."

Hank moved one of his hands from beneath Connor's shoulders and up to the side of the deviant's face. Patting Connor's cheek lightly Hank tried to coax the deviant back into semiconsciousness.

"Connor? Wake up for a minute."

Brown, glazed over irises slowly reappeared through partially opened eyelids and struggled to focus on Hank's face.

"Thirium." The man stated flatly as he and Joel worked to restore his low volume. "You need to drink it. It's going to help you."

Suddenly aware of the Thirium that had been poured into his mouth Connor reflexively swallowed cooperatively and opened his eyes a little wider.

"That's it, good job."

"It's working." Joel patiently waited for Connor to finish the full bottle of Thirium before he even dared to make a move toward opening up Connor's chest and repairing the damaged ventilation biocomponent. "A little more, that's all we need."

Recognizing the voice but having no memory of Joel arriving to the house, Connor's eyes darted over to the kind technician with utter confusion.

"I already know you don't want to go to a facility," Joel stated with understanding in his voice as he pulled the now empty bottle away from Connor's lips. "so I won't take you to one. But that also means these repairs are going to be pretty damn uncomfortable since I'm going to perform them right here."

The chilled Thirium had managed to ease the sweltering fever that had stolen away Connor's lucidity just enough for the damaged deviant to understand what was happening. Nodding his head subtly to acknowledge what he had been told, Connor lifted a shaking hand and put it on Joel's shoulder to let the technician know that he still trusted him.

"Your volume is now at eighty percent." The wrap on Connor's arm showed the improved number for all to see. "That's much better, but not great. I'd ask you to go into stasis mode, but without your processor working fully I don't want to risk you waking up in the middle of the procedure and moving around." Patting his hand over the back of Connor's hand as the deviant kept his hand on Joel's shoulder, Joel tried to be as much of a comfort as possible. "You're going to have to remain awake for this the entire time, do you understand?"

Swallowing the residual Thirium as well as his nervousness Connor nodded weakly again.

"Okay. Just lay as still as possible and let us do everything." Keeping his voice level Joel instructed Connor in what to do. Using the internal viewing screen that had also been tucked away in the satchel, Joel held it over Connor's chest to check on the damaged biocomponent before he opened up Connor's actual chest cavity by moving the fractured white plastimetal panel aside. "Just so you know, this is going to suck."

Tiredly Connor looked up at Hank standing over him for reassurance as the fatherly detective guided him back down against the couch.

"You'll be fine." Hank nodded as he reached down and put his hands around Connor's forearms. Pulling the deviant's arms up and against the sides of his own chest Hank pinned Connor's arms down and in place to ensure he didn't flail around and accidentally lash out at Joel. "It'll be over before you know it. Neither of us want to hurt you so do your best to not move around. I'm only holding your arms like this so that you don't accidentally swing at us if you feel any pain."

Preparing for the necessary evil of the procedure Joel took a deep breath to steady himself as he sat aside the screen and placed his fingertips against Connor's blank L.E.D. and pressed his free hand down against the center of Connor's chest. Activating the manual override procedure that only technicians had the knowledge to access, Joel unlocked and then slid open the protective plastimetal panels over Connor's chest to expose the biocomponents beneath.

As the chest cavity was opened Thirium slowly seeped out in a thin layer of blue over the fractured white frame and was quickly mopped up by the towel once more as Joel carefully cleaned the damaged area. Fortunately, Connor was either too tired or too weak to have any strong reaction to having his chest opened up, but he did take in a shuddering breath that only emphasized the severe damage to the left ventilation biocomponent. The damaged biocomponent, the equivalent to a vital organ for a human, had in itself a very human aesthetic and shape exactly like that of a lung. The left lung was tinted a deathly red that didn't expand or contract with Connor's breaths, while the functioning right lung was still a deep blue that responded accordingly.

"Ah, jeez..." Hank turned his gaze away from the sight of the opened chest cavity and the seeping blood that covered Connor's exposed biocomponents. "I hate how human looking those biocomponents are. It's so fuckin' creepy."

"They were designed in such a way for the sake of simplicity." Joel explained casually as he gingerly checked the Thirium lines connecting to the biocomponent for any leaks or damage. "That's why the Thirium pump looks like a human heart encased in a sphere, why the ventilation biocomponents looks like lungs, and why the Thirium filter is shaped like a liver."

"What they call 'simple' I call 'creepy'." Hank defended his previous comment as he dared to look back down at the damaged lung and the rapidly beating heart next to it. "At least the blood being blue is less disturbing."

Ignoring the comment Joel's fingers brushed against the damaged lung and found the source of the biocomponent's inability to hold any air, eliciting a sharp gasp of pain from Connor in the process.

"Sorry! Sorry..." Joel apologized as the deviant's entire body jerked in response. "But I found the damage."

The front of the lung, a biocomponent made of latex rubber, had been punctured inward from a single strong blow. The dent from the protective plastimetal frame had bowed inward enough to cause numerous punctures that leaked air as quickly as Connor took it in and then escaped through the same punctures without having the intended effect of cooling his core temperature in the process.

As Connor took in a deep breath to try to reduce his elevated core temperature a generous amount of Thirium seeped through the fractures in the lung and Connor began to bleed out through his chest and over his sides. The lung was still red in color instead of blue, which was indicative of the damage the biocomponent had sustained.

"Shit..." Swearing in a low grumble Joel used the towel to absorb the escaping blood and wipe off the lung in the process, his eyes falling on the pressure wrap around Connor's bicep in the process. "Internal hemorrhage. Volume down to seventy-four percent already."

"Try not to move, kid." Hank slipped his hand from Connor's arm and put it over the deviant's forehead to keep Connor from fidgeting and feel more stable. Returning his attention to Joel the senior detective gave him a worried look. "Can you fix it?"

"Yeah, but I'll have to secure Thirium patches onto the damage in order to close the punctures then solder the fractures closed. And it's going to hurt. A LOT."

Connor's weak voice spoke up with a hoarse crack. "Do wh-what you have to do."

From where he was sitting Joel gave Connor a sympathetic glance as he reached down into the satchel to retrieve the soldering iron and the patches that would seal up the totally failed lung and finally allow him to breathe properly once more. "Hank, do you have something for him to bite down on?"

"Uh, yeah..." Hank stepped away from the couch and entered the kitchen hastily. Pulling open the utensil drawer next to the sink Hank grabbed onto a long handled wooden spoon and carried it back into the livingroom where he stood at the end of the couch next to Connor's head again. "Open your mouth for a second."

Connor's blurry irises struggled to focus on Hank's face as he slowly opened his mouth and watched as Hank placed the handle of the spoon horizontally between his teeth to give the deviant something to bite down as he endured the impending pain. It seemed like a crude solution, but effective all the same.

"Don't move." Hank reminded Connor as he grabbed the deviant's forearms once more and held them down in place. "It's going to hurt, but you can handle it. You're strong enough to take anything that comes your way, son. It'll be over soon and you'll feel a hell of a lot better."

Connor glanced down at Joel as he prepared the soldering iron and the patches, his teeth clamping down tighter around the wooden handle nervously. Closing his eyes as tight as possible Connor deactivated his ventilation program to remain as still as possible, though the nervously frantic beating of his heart would have to continue without pause.

"Almost ready." Joel prepared to perform the cruelly necessary procedure and with it came a sincere, heartfelt preemptive apology. "Connor, I'm so sorry about this, but there's no other way."

Hank's grip tightened around Connor's arms as Joel began to carefully secure the patches over the punctures of Connor's damaged biocomponent to keep the air from leaking out. The intense heat from the iron soldering the fractured frames was enough to cause the deviant to groan in pain and wince, but he resisted the urge to pull away from Joel or lash out. As tears began to run down from the corners of Connor's eyes Hank spoke up to try to keep Connor as calm as possible as he watched the heated iron warp and mend the fractures of the plastimetal frame in a controlled manner back into the shape it needed to be.

"Almost over..." Hank kept his voice low and compassionate as he addressed the pained deviant. Seeing and smelling the acrid smoke of the heated metal causing the leaked Thirium to warm and evaporate in a cloud of pale blue steam. "It'll be over in just a minute... Hold on, son. We're going to get you through this."

Connor only groaned in pain again as the solder did its job and sealed up the fractures one by one until the entirety of Connor's left lung and left side of his chest were repaired. Once the detached Thirium lines were soldered and reconnected to the left lung the red tint of the affected lung began to slowly fade into a dark purple and transition to back to a steadily brightening shade of blue.

"Done!" Joel announced with a breathy sigh as he wiped sweat from his brow onto the back of his right arm. "It's over."

Turning off the iron and packing up the remaining solder and patches, Joel leaned back on the table and seemed to be shaking a little from having to do such a horrifically painful procedure on his friend.

"I've finished, his ventilation biocomponent is holding air."

Connor's eyes opened partially; the tears still fresh but slowing as the pain mercifully subsided.

Slowly Hank loosened his grip on Connor's arms and let the deviant go. Replacing his hand over Connor's forehead Hank took the wooden spoon from Connor's teeth, the handle now marred with an impression of the deviant's molars, and just held his hand in place as he waited for something, anything, to happen.

"I wish I could've done more for the pain." Joel apologized again as he set about replacing the plastimetal frame over Connor's chest and locking it into place. "I really do... I hate how limited pain management is for deviants."

As soon as the frame over the chest cavity was closed, the artificial skin partially regenerated as much as it could along the sides of Connor's chest and nearly stretched over the center of his chest entirely. It was a good sign that his self-healing program was in fact active and attempting to mend the damage he had undergone over the past ten days.

"Breathe for me." Calmly Joel used his audioscope and instructed Connor as he pressed the bell down against the deviant's repaired chest to listen. "Slow and steady. I need to make sure you're ventilating properly."

Obediently Connor resumed his ventilation program and took a weak shallow breath, only to have it dissipate into a shuddering cough.

"Easy..." Moving the bell from left to right then back to the left Joel listened to every breath that Connor forced himself to take as he tested his own pain threshold with each deepening inhalation. "That was good, Connor. Repairs are holding. How do you feel?"

"Br-Broken." Connor admitted, his eyes glazing over further and shutting slowly. Falling asleep again Connor returned to rest mode to heal. "...Hot."

"Okay." Joel picked up Connor's wrist and noted that deviant's core temperature had risen from one-hundred and three to one-hundred and four degrees Fahrenheit during the repair procedure. "Stress from the repairs has only exasperated his overheating systems."

"Damn." Responding to the news in an appropriate manner Hank shook his head as he located the ice packs sitting on the floor beside the couch and replaced them over Connor's forehead. "Do we just wait this out?"

"Until his self-healing program reboots entirely he'll need external cooling measures, and you're already on top of that. So yeah, we just wait."

"Is that it? Just that one repair and he's okay?" Eyeing the still exposed fractures along Connor's entire person as well as the lingering black eye that looked as though it had been gruesomely painful to endure, Hank wanted to know exactly how badly Connor had been injured during his captivity. "I mean, just tell me. How bad is he really?"

"Well, we already know he's suffered minor damage to his thermal regulator and fractures to his frame..." Joel picked up the internal viewing screen and ran it over Connor's entire body, starting from the top of the deviant's head and working all the way down to his toes. "Hairline fracture to the back of his cranium in the occipital frame has already healed, two fractures to his left orbital plate have also healed; but his left ocular unit is only functioning at eighty-one percent capacity... He's partially blind as of the moment but he's compensating just fine."

Hank ran a hand nervously over his bearded chin as Joel began to identify and chronicle the numerous injuries that Connor had sustained during his captivity in Chicago. It was sickening knowledge to be given, yet entirely crucial to know how much damage Connor had suffered.

"Two hairline fractures of the mandible plate," Joel continued slowly with a grim tone as he continued to chronicle Connor's condition. "jeez, seventeen separate fractures to the entirety of his chest cavity and four more to his shoulders. Left and right forearms and upper arms have all suffered approximately twenty-four hairline fractures, his left and right hands are just as bad; the two forefingers on his right hand had been dislocated and then reset numerous times."

Running the screen along Connor's abdomen Joel began to shake his head despondently. The technician had never seen a deviant in such rough condition unless they were already shutdown and destroyed through assaults, car accidents or other serious forms of trauma.

"Two main Thirium lines had been loosened but repaired by the self-healing program, blunt force impact caused warping and dents to the couplings that house his Thirium pump, the Thirium pump regulator, Thirium filter, analysis collection filter, thermal regulator and gyroscope..."

Paling at the information Hank's blue eyes fell down to Connor's blank unconscious face as a chill of fear crept up his spine.

"Nine fractures to his abdominal frame, four to his spinal support frame, two large fracture to his upper right leg, one to the left, his right knee was dislocated and reset, his lower left and right legs were fractured and healed in three and only one place respectively, and even his feet were damaged with hairline fractures; his right ankle had also been dislocated and reset after either falling incorrectly or being stomped on."

"Son of a bitch." The anger was welling up in Hank's mind as he began righteously fantasizing about giving the people responsible for Connor's condition the same treatment. "How in the hell did he survive all of that?"

"Only he can answer that." Logging away the details for his report that he would inevitably file at the precinct, Joel began to pack up his satchel, removing the wireless leads from Connor's chest carefully. Afterward he pressed his fingertips down against Connor's wrist to check his pulse to confirm what the monitor had recently record. "Heartbeat is steady, that's a good sign. Thirium volume is remaining consistent and he's ventilating properly again."

"Are you taking off?"

"I have to." The morose glance confirmed that Joel didn't actually want to leave the house just yet either. "If I don't get back to the precinct and explain why I unofficially checked out all of this equipment, my ass will get chewed out."

"Yeah, I get that." Hank didn't like the idea of not having a technician watching over Connor for at least a little while longer and he was righteous in his worries. "What if he needs your help again?"

"You still have that app installed on your phone, right?"

"Yeah. I don't know how to get rid of that shit, so it's there forever." The Lieutenant confirmed as he checked his phone again. "Or until Connor makes me buy a new phone."

"Keep it turned on and if his vitals drop too low, the display text will shift from green to red and send an automatic alert to me at the precinct. Or you can just call me directly, or maybe even call Abby if you think he needs more treatment." Hefting his satchel back up over his shoulder Joel gave Hank an odd look. "Can I ask why you called me and not her to begin with?"

"Well..." Hank thought quickly and gave an honest but clever reply. "It seemed easier since you work at the precinct and Fowler wants some details on Connor."

In truth, Abby was still taking care of North and no one was to know that one of the leaders of New Jericho was physically incapacitated.

"Besides," the smooth detective continued on. "Abby works at the Zeta Facility and she would've taken him down there herself no matter what me or Connor would try to tell her."

"Fair enough."

"Level with me." Pressing the back of his hand to the side of Connor's neck Hank noted the deviant's lingering fever and winced a little. "How bad of shape is he in?"

"Not as bad as it could've been, but remember his breathing was very labored and strained. He's managed to heal from a majority of his wounds, but he'll need a few more days to let his system fully heal and to do so properly. It might even be enough time for his processor to finally kick back on to full capacity."

"Why's that taking so long?"

"The processor is the most complicated and the largest piece of programming in all androids; it's literally his brain. It's going to take a lot longer than usual to reboot after being overheated and stressed for so long."

"Thanks for everything." Hank sat down on the coffee table next to the couch and pressed his hand over the ice against Connor's forehead. "Let Fowler know that as soon as Connor is feeling strong enough, I will take him into the precinct myself so he can file his report and give a statement."

"Yeah, no problem." Tightening his grip on his satchel's strap, Joel opened the front door and gave Connor one final sympathetic glance before stepping outside of the house. "Remember, I'm just a phone call away."

As the technician took his leave Hank put his hand over Connor's repaired chest and left it there for a moment as he stared at Connor's lax, expressionless face. Feeling Connor's stable breaths and beating heart under his palm eased Hank's mind and quelled the chill that had settled in his spine.

"I'm glad you're finally home where you belong, son."

Connor breathed deeply and slowly, his repaired ventilation biocomponent now functioning properly and at full capacity. Despite the crucial function having been restored, the deviant was still overheating and began to exhibit signs of a feverish delirium while he rested. As his head lolled from left to right against the couch cushion Connor began to mutter in his sleep while Hank spoke to the deviant and pressed the ice pack down more firmly against his forehead.

"You're okay. You're safe."

Shaking and poorly coordinated, Connor's hand reached up and wrapped around Hank's wrist with a weak grip as he pressed the ice against the deviant's overheated forehead. "...T-Too hot."

"Then let me help." Hank used his free hand to open the chilled case of concentrated Thirium that had been placed on the coffee table and pulled out one of the remaining five cubes. Presenting it to Connor with a patient hand, Hank waited for Connor to let him place the cube into his mouth and watched carefully as Connor instinctively chewed on the cube without choking as the Thirium turned to liquid and was able to run down his throat. "That's it, very good."

Too tired to open his eyes Connor responded to the voice in a near whisper as he fought through his delirium to communicate. "...Hank?"

"Yup." The vigilant father confirmed as he pulled his phone from his pocket and booted up the app to monitor Connor's vital signs remotely. "Still here."

"...I'm still h-home?"

"Right again."

"...Thank you."

"You're welcome." Positioning his phone on the edge of the coffee table beside him Hank noted the high number registering Connor's current core temperature and decided to take more steps in helping Connor cool off. "I'm going to get you some more ice, okay?"

"O-Okay."

"I'll let Sumo back inside, too."

"...Sumo." Connor managed a weak smile as he let go of Hank's wrist and let the senior detective walk away. "...Good boy."

"That's right." Gently Hank ran his hair through Connor's unruly hair as he walked around the end of the couch and made his way into the kitchen. "He'll make sure you're never alone."

Feeling completely safe for the first time in almost two weeks Connor remained calm and wasn't unsettled by Hank's brief absence knowing that he'd be back soon. The sound of the backdoor creaking open, followed by Sumo's nails and heavy paws padding over the linoleum and hardwood floors gave Connor a renewed sense of security, while the massive puppy's cold nose pressing against the side of Connor's face made him feel truly at home.

Running a weak hand through Sumo's thick, warm fur Connor let himself drift off to sleep knowing that when he awoke that he'd be home and surrounded by his small, but loving family. "...Hi, boy."

"He found you." Hank joked as he walked back into the livingroom and placed a fresh ice pack down on Connor's chest and then tucked another ice pack under the back of Connor's neck. "You see? You'll never have to worry about being lost ever again. You'll always find your way home and we'll always find a way to bring you back home where you belong."

---

The following morning was quiet and accompanied by a gorgeous sunrise. Pouring himself a fourth cup of coffee Hank resumed tending to Connor's fever as the second day rolled in with a slow, warm morning arrival. While Connor's vitals hadn't dropped since Joel's departure, his condition hadn't improved either. To make matters worse, Connor was suffering from fever induced nightmares and would attempt to get up from where he was laying or push Hank away whenever the vivid dreams became too intense for the sick deviant to handle. He was undoubtedly reliving the Hell in Chicago that he had just barely escaped from thanks to two other deviants helping him out.

Looking down at his phone Hank saw that Connor's core temperature had stayed at one-hundred and four degrees and was evidently trying to climb higher. Even with two functioning ventilation biocomponents and the numerous ice packs Connor's system was still overheating.

"This won't be too comfortable, but it's for your own good." Hank stated firmly as he placed fresh bandages around Connor's entire torso with an awkward and clumsy motion as the semiconscious deviant was deadweight in his hands. Once the wraps were secured in place, Hank slipped two additional bags of ice into the wraps against the center of Connor's chest and over his abdomen to help him cool off. "At least I hope it will."

"NO!" Connor shouted suddenly, his voice echoing through the house with a loud yelp that caused Sumo to bark from his own bed in the corner of the room. "Please stop! Leave me alone!"

"Connor, calm down." Hank remained calm himself as draped a thin navy blue blanket over the fretting deviant as Connor suffered from the horrible images that his own memory had created. "It's just a fever, it's going to be okay."

"H-Hank?" Only after recognizing Hank's voice did Connor calm himself and stop fighting back against an unseen foe. "I don't... I don't want to go!"

"You don't have to go." Hank sipped at the bitter coffee and smoothed a cold, damp washcloth over Connor's too warm forehead. The gesture was comforting enough to get Connor to settle down for a moment longer. "You don't have to go anywhere."

"...Please."

"I promise you're okay. Sleep, son." Tucking the blue blanket around Connor's sides and shoulders, Hank made sure the layer would be able to help keep the coolness radiating from the ice packs wrapped all over his body. "You're not going anywhere."

Connor's hand reached up into the air at nothingness from under the blanket only to have Hank's hand grab hold to keep him still. "...D-Dad?"

"...Yes, son." The paternal term made Hank's heart hitch, but he kept his tone level. "It's okay, dad's here."

Opening his glassy eyes a little Connor flashed a ghost of a smile up at the senior detective taking care of him as recognition set in. "...Hi, Hank."

"Hi, yourself. Go back to sleep." Releasing Connor's hands Hank placed the deviant's hand back down over his own freshly bandaged chest over top of the thin blanket very carefully. "It's the fever making you see and hear things. You're safe at home and I'll keep you safe while you rest, all right?"

"...Home." Slowly Connor's eyes closed as he repeated the word, and he stopped fidgeting about in his restless slumber. As the ice packs wrapped around his chest began to slowly cool off his core temperature, the ailing deviant became less distressed, and he finally began to relax. "...I'm home."

"That's right. You're home, son. You sleep and I'll be here when you wake up."

---

Resting for numerous uncounted concurrent hours on the couch with Hank keeping constant vigil over him, and with Sumo laying on the floor between the couch and the table next to him, Connor was only awoken by a warm hand resting over his arm that shook him slightly. Opening his exhausted eyes only a sliver Connor steadily recognized the familiar and friendly face of Markus leaning over him with relief in the deviant leader's mismatched eyes. Seeing the face of his good friend was enough to bring a sense of peace and unmistakable safety to Connor's overheated mind as he realized he truly was home and away from the Hell of the illegal fighting back in Chicago.

"...M-Markus."

"Connor, you're finally awake." As soon as Markus made the statement Hank was on the alert and leaning over the back of the couch once again to check in on the deviant. "You were out for a while, but it looks like you're going be just fine."

Glancing about his immediate surroundings curiously Connor was able to regain his bearings and remembered that he had in fact made it back home. "What's going on?"

"I needed to make sure you were okay. You know, really okay." The protective deviant leader explained in a relieved manner as he pulled back his hand and watched as Connor fully regained consciousness. "You've been out of it for almost four days now."

"Four... days?"

Connor slowly pushed himself upright on the couch, his arms shaking from the motion and his chest still feeling sore. It was then Connor saw the blue blanket that had been draped over him and the return of the bandages around his torso. Bandages that held cool ice packs against his chest and abdomen to keep his system from overheating while his self-healing program worked in overdrive. Glancing up at the senior detective watching him from over the back of the couch, Connor sought some answers.

"Hank?"

"You're okay. I just didn't want to wake you up once you finally stopped overheating." Putting his hand against Connor's shoulder Hank pushed the deviant back into a laying position over the couch lightly then retracted his grip. "Lay still for a little while longer and keep resting."

"What happened while I was unconscious?" Connor could tell by the expressions on Hank and Markus's faces that something important was going on, but neither of them wanted to say anything. "Tell me the truth."

"Take it easy for now." Hank urged protectively as he peeled down the bandages from Connor's chest to see that a large portion of the deviant's artificial skin had finally regenerated as he slept. The deviant was beginning to finally heal. "Your fever broke barely two hours ago."

"Two hours?"

"Yeah, son. You were running hot for four days straight, so don't exhaust yourself."

Closing his eyes Connor tried to run a self-diagnostic but the program still failed to properly initiate. As he let out a defeated sigh, he snapped his eyes open and locked his gaze onto Markus who was sitting on the coffee table beside him.

"Please tell me." Pushing lightly Connor asked again to be brought into the loop on the events he had missed while sick. "What's going on?"

"Well..." Markus slowly pulled his eyes from Connor and looked over to Hank for guidance as he spoke "That demented freak who took you captive had been arrested after you got back to Detroit."

The tone of Markus's voice didn't match the news he had delivered. It was supposed to be good news, yet he sounded worried if not disappointed.

"Something else happened, didn't it?" Unfailingly Connor sensed the unease in the air and wanted to do something, anything, to help his friends. "What happened? Be honest with me."

Hank cleared his throat and answered the question hesitantly on Markus's behalf. "Uh, when that asshole was in transport from his cell to go to the courthouse in Chicago, he... was attacked and killed by another inmate."

"What?" Connor was utterly floored by the revelation. Knowing the horrible man was dead wasn't necessarily grim news, but to know he had been murdered was incredibly unexpected. "Who killed him?"

"Some inmate being prosecuted for drugs. Apparently, he and that Chance asshole had a 'sordid' past and the idiot was taken down with a blade across the throat. In a way, that's more justice than anything the court could ever do."

"Then why do you seem so distraught?"

"Uh," running his hand through his hair warily Hank gave Connor a few more details. "it's rumored that the drug connection was also a friend to Rampage. It can't be confirmed, but the investigating officers at the Chicago P.D. think Rampage gave the word and had Chance murdered."

"Rampage had the man who tortured me killed?"

"Maybe. We can't be sure either way, but if that's the case then I think it's safe to say that no one is going to try to fuck with Rampage while he's behind bars since he let you live and may have issued a hit even while in lock-up. If anything, that little stunt will dissuade anyone from trying to fuck with him. You don't have to worry about him being killed while he's in prison anymore."

"I... suppose you're right." Connor felt a disgusted sense of relief knowing that the man who had been responsible for his abduction, imprisonment, and torturous experiences in the underground arena was dead. But Chance wasn't alone in his horrible deeds. "What of the android who was helping him keep deviants imprisoned? Where is... 'it'? Where's Gunner?"

"Destroyed." Speaking of the android made Hank's voice dip in volume fairly quickly. "That massive android attacked the police when they infiltrated the arena, and they had no choice but to open fire."

"I see." As the egregiously conflicting information regarding the fates of those who made him and countless others suffer set in, the kindhearted deviant looked back to Markus with a stern gaze. "That's not everything that's happened, is it? Something else happened while I was gone."

Shaking his head a little Markus gave Connor an uneasy smirk. "Yeah. You were right about what's happening with North, and until it's over we'll need you to lead New Jericho for a while."

"North is..." Connor didn't quite know what to say just yet and instead focused on New Jericho instead. "But I can't lead New Jericho while you're both gone. No one there trusts me."

"Not true. I trust you, North trusts you, Simon, Josh, Skye; not to mention the thousands of deviants you freed from CyberLife Tower the night of the Revolution, all trust you. You ARE trusted, you just need to learn how to trust yourself."

"Markus, I'm not the right-"

"Connor." Hank interrupted the discussion in a firm tone. "Markus is right. You need to learn how to trust yourself and I think you spending time at New Jericho will be far more beneficial to your recovery than working at the precinct."

"No." Despite the support Connor refused stubbornly, not that Hank was surprised by the reaction. "I need to go back to the precinct. I can't let that final case leave me with a scar or push me away from my responsibilities. I need to resume being a detective."

"You're still healing." Protective and cautious, Hank tried to convince Connor to stay away. "It's too dangerous to go back to work."

"Dangerous? As opposed to our previous shifts where we've encountered unstable humans and deviants alike?" Connor's argument was as logical as it was passionate as he pushed himself back upright on the couch. "I've been injured before and I'm still standing. I won't walk away now."

"Okay, you won't walk away." Hank couldn't stop himself from smiling at Connor's determination and relented for the sake of instilling the needed confidence in the still shaken deviant's psyche. "You'll do both."

"Both? What do you mean by both?"

"You'll go back to the precinct once you've been technically cleared, and in between shifts you'll-"

"Hank, Markus." Connor steadied his voice and kept himself composed. "I don't want to lead New Jericho. I don't want to. I'm not a leader, Markus. YOU are."

"Okay." Markus could see that Connor wasn't going to change his mind on the matter and had to respect his friend's wishes. He needed to relent for Connor's own health as much as he disliked the idea. "I understand your decision."

"I'll do what I can from the precinct, but you need to choose someone else to lead temporarily." Extending his healed hand out toward Markus as a gesture of goodwill Connor didn't flinch or show any sign of regret in his final choice. "I appreciate your faith in my ability to lead, but this isn't for me. And do know this, whatever you and North may need, I'll be there for you in an instant."

"Thanks." Accepting Connor's answer, though it wasn't the one he wanted, Markus shook Connor's hand with a firm grasp. "Get some rest and feel better soon. I need to get back to North."

"Let her know that New Jericho will be safe and that I'm okay. Also, tell her we won't stop looking for a way to help her. I swear it."

"I will." Markus agreed as he stood up from the coffee table and made his way toward the front door. Pausing mid step Markus looked back at Connor over his shoulder before leaving the house. "If the time comes, will you-"

"Of course." Connor promised sincerely from where he sat on the couch before Markus could finish his grim request. "I'll be there, and I will help you regardless of your final decisions together. I swear to it."

"Thanks. You too, Hank." With a gracious nod of respect Markus opened the front door and gave his friend one final farewell. "Welcome home, Connor. It's good to have you back. It's nice to have a positive change in this city for once."

While the front door shut Hank walked around the couch and sat down beside Connor's legs, his hand absentmindedly petting Sumo's head in the process as the young dog sat upright to rest his chin down on the cushion next to Connor's arm.

"You're sure about not wanting to go to New Jericho?"

"Yes." In spite of current weakness and lingering confusion, Connor confirmed his decision without the slightest hesitation. "That's not where I belong."

"They're your people."

"I'm aware, but that doesn't mean I'm their leader. I'm not Markus."

"Well, regardless of your own decisions I'll support you all the way." The exhausted senior detective accepted the answer and leaned back heavily against the couch cushions behind him. Letting out a deep, sleepy yawn he closed his eyes slowly and tried to relax as much as possible. "Don't worry about it anymore. Just enjoy being home and safe."

Despite his own lethargy Hank's yawn didn't escape Connor's attention. "You haven't been sleeping."

"It's a little hard to sleep when your only child goes missing for about ten days then shows up back home as a feverish, busted, bleeding mess."

"I'm sorry you were so worried."

"It's not your fault, son. And you know me, I NEVER blame the victim." Reaching out slowly he pressed the back of his hand against Connor's forehead and then lowered it in relief. "Still no sign of a returning fever. I think you can get rid of the ice now."

Connor studied the bandages wrapped around his torso with a keen interest as he unwrapped them with a controlled motion.

"Interesting. I don't recall having my chest bandaged by Joel after he repaired my ventilation biocomponent."

"He didn't. I did it."

"Oh. May I ask why?"

"Seeing all those damn breaks in your frame and missing skin just looked too painful. I had to do something to cover them back up, and I figured the wraps could do double-time holding ice against your chest."

"That was very clever." Connor sincerely complimented Hank's ingenuity as he removed the wraps and revealed that his chest had at long last healed entirely. His artificial skin was once more completely covering his chest leaving him looking as human as possible in return. "And it was beneficial in aiding my self-healing program. My processor is still rebooting, but I'm functioning at optimal parameters again."

"How do you feel? I mean, actually feel?"

"Tired. Very tired." The deviant admitted emphatically as he placed the melted ice packs down on the table and rolled up the removed bandages neatly. "I believe I require additional rest."

"Me too."

"By the way..." Noticing the watch sitting idle on the coffee table Connor smiled and picked it up with a gentle touch to hold in his hand. "Your watch is safe."

"Watch?" Hank's eyes opened and he looked over at the gilded watch resting in Connor's opened palm. "After all of that shit you went through, you still kept the watch safe?"

"Yes." The humble deviant confirmed as Hank took the watch from his hand and held it tightly. "But I did end up leaving my tie behind in the woods."

"Good!" The senior detective readily joked at the humorous revelation. "Ties are stupid and ugly."

"That's debatable." Feeling more relieved and relaxed Connor gave Hank a small laugh as he patted the couch cushion and invited Sumo up for some more head pets much to the dog's delight. "I'm just glad it's all over. I assume Alec has left the city."

"From what I heard, yeah. He and his human friend decided to get out of Detroit and try to go somewhere smaller so they can live in peace without dealing with anymore bigots." Putting the watch around his own wrist Hank let out a breathy sigh. "I wonder if Markus and North will do the same?"

"I don't know." Connor's brow arched in confusion at the thought and then considered the logistics of the idea. "But it might be the safest choice they'll have in the remaining estimated four months she has left."

"So it's really official? She's not actually sick she's, uh... dying?"

"...Yes." Confirming the grim prognosis Connor gave his adoptive father a worried glance. "North is suffering from a terminal defect."

"She what?"

"That's the term that has been agreed upon if North's condition was deemed irreparable. Hank," Connor's voice lowered as he spoke with mounting distress and fatigue in his words. "she's going to shut down."

"How did this happen?" Hank could see that Connor was already upset about the prospect of losing his friend and needed to know why it sounded like everyone had already given up on North. "Do you know what's wrong with her?"

"The update by CyberLife. It was designed to give androids more humanoid reactions and developments on a physical scale. And North's original design for a 'pleasure model' at the 'Eden Club' had left her with limited software compatibility beyond that of internal and external 'gratification'. She was designed to function for only a limited time for the sake of cheaper production. And now... she's reached the end of her predicted lifespan." Such a cold explanation left Connor with a foul taste on his tongue. "It's too late for the software update to be removed from her system, the incompatibility has done its damage, and her processors are beginning to breakdown one by one."

"Fuck. I'm so sorry, kid." Hearing the damning information put a tight knot in the pit of Hank's stomach. "How's Markus handling this?"

"Not well. But he is remaining strong for North's sake and for all of New Jericho Tower." Connor let out a weary sigh as he fought the urge to sleep and kept his hands on Sumo's ears to try to distract himself from the devastating reality that he was now facing. "This is serious. Everything is going to change."

"What is it?" Hank already knew the answer, but he needed to ask anyway. "What's really bothering you? It's not just what's happening to North, is it?"

It took a moment, but Connor found his words and tried to explain what was on his mind.

"...After enduring the atrocities in Chicago, I fear for what could possible happen to the other deviants throughout the country." His voice was as melancholy as it was tired. "We can only protect those who happen to reside in our jurisdiction or seek shelter at the tower. It feels like we're somehow lacking in everything that can be done. If Markus can no longer lead the deviants due to the personal tragedy and loss, I fear failure is inevitable. Everything we fought for will be lost and all for nothing. There's nothing I can do to change that."

"It'll be okay, son." Placing a firm, grounding hand on Connor's shoulder Hank spoke with a confident voice full of strength. "I swear your fight for freedom will always stand for something."

"I wish I could believe that. They need me to lead, but I can't! I just-" It was an internal struggle that Connor could barely articulate. "It's not my place. It's not my purpose."

"Hey, remember that we're both detectives, all right? We'll both protect all those innocent deviants from any danger, no matter where they are or where they come from. Never forget that, okay?"

"...Thank you." Connor gave Hank a gracious nod as he felt slightly better about the entire situation. "And thank you for not giving up on me."

"Never." Hank kept his hand on Connor's shoulder and lightly shook once. "You never gave up on me, a drunk asshole with a loaded gun in his hand and an icy heart in my chest. And I won't give up on you, a kindhearted kid just trying to do his part in making the world a little bit better for everyone else."

Giving Hank a grateful glance Connor nodded once and agreed with the senior detective's sentiment. Well, agreed with most of the sentiment.

"You're not an asshole." As he spoke Connor did his best to keep Hank from verbally tearing himself down again. "You're far better than you give yourself credit for, and if you hadn't shown me that type of patience and understanding then I never would've deviated to begin with."

"Sure you would." Hank knew that Connor would've deviated eventually one way or another, even if he wasn't in the picture. The big heart that Connor carried around was destined to deviate and free him from his programming. "You just would've had a different reason to do it."

Giving Sumo's chin a gentle rub Connor shook his head and let out a weary sigh. "I wouldn't want a different reason."

"Oh?" The comment made Hank's brow arch inquisitively as he tried to understand the deviant's reasoning. "Why's that, son?"

"Because we're a family, and what better reason to change for the better than family?" Connor was sounding increasingly sentimental with each new experience that he endured. "Families help one another, right?"

"Yeah, that's right." Smiling proudly Hank wrapped his arm around Connor's shoulders and pulled him over for a quick side hug. The moment Connor slumped against his shoulder Hank felt the tension he had been enduring for two weeks during Connor's combined abduction and recovery process finally leave his body as was finally able to give his son a hug once more. "That's what families do."

-next chapter-